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Extract from the February 2010 Magazine
February 2010 Magazine Pages 4-5 SOUVENIRS OF THE GRAND TOUR
by Marc Allum
No matter where in the world I am, I'm never a tourist. Tourists are always in the way, intent on making life difficult or blocking the view. My purpose is always somewhat loftier; usually, I'm on the coat tails of an 18th century aristocrat steadfastly indulging in my own Grand Tour and wrapped up in a world of half-buried unexcavated ruins and shady gentleman dealers peddling antiquities sourced from 'various sites' and 'old Italian collections'. This is all a little tongue in cheek but there is an element of truth. My fascination with collecting Grand Tour souvenirs began when I was much younger and far less travelled. The effect was to produce a desire: a psychological perpetual motion machine fuelled by acquisition leading to exploration and discovery leading to enquiry and even more acquisition. It's a journey that has proved both enlightening and fun.
The origins of the Grand Tour date from the early 1600s. Even in the 17th century eminent scholars such as John Locke were arguing that a varied environment was one of the most important factors in the development of knowledge, and that travel was one of the most important stimuli. What is certain is that by the 18th century, and even after the advent of improved travel and organised touring in the 19th century, the Grand Tour had become a tradition amongst the more privileged and moneyed classes. Despite our own rich historical legacy, Europe, North Africa and the Holy Lands were literally heaving with Renaissance gems, classical antiquities, noble families and palatable experiences beyond anything known in our own country. Nowadays, works of art travel. Our museums stage landmark exhibitions with beautiful items drawn from around the world. The world is now a smaller place but, just as it was for our predecessors, it is still preferable to view many of these wonders in situ. There is positively no substitute for the experience of standing under the oculus of the Pantheon and absorbing the atmosphere of a building that is 2,000 years old. Of course, it was a little younger in Giovanni Battista Piranesi's day, but his wonderful perspective-defying engraving of 1761 (figure 1) is just the sort of souvenir that an awe-inspired gentleman would have purchased as a memento of his visit.

Antique Collecting Feb10 Page 28Figure 6. A selection of 19th century bronze, marble and alabaster models of the Temples of Castor and Pollux (left), Saturn (centre) and Vespasian and Titus (right) at the roman Forum.

As an educational rite of passage the Grand Tour was of great cultural importance, especially for the British. My plan to gain a sense of this experience, albeit in a less flamboyant ad hoc way, and without having to dismantle my carriage before crossing the Alps, developed mainly from the early accidental purchase of a 19th century Peperino (lava stone) sarcophagus (figure 2). This is a rendition of the tomb of Lucius Cornelius Scipio Barbatus, part of the famous Scipiones dynasty and consul in 298 BC. Barbatus was famous for his military exploits, which are partly commemorated by an inscription on the front of his sarcophagus. Removed from the family mausoleum in 1780 it now resides in the Vatican collection. The pursuit of the real sarcophagus led to an early personal discovery about the power of cultural objects and places; it is truly awe inspiring in the flesh, as too is the family sepulchre on the Via Appia Antico. (No guesses as to where Robert Adam found inspiration for his 'cow-skull' frieze!)
Just like a 19th century spelter money box of the Blackpool Tower, or even a modern LED illuminated model of the Eiffel Tower, it's a tradition that endures with tourists in general: a souvenir - a 'memory', given the literal French translation of the word. It wasn't long before entrepreneurs (and rogues) began to produce the required goods. In the pursuit of political and cultural expedience the Grand Tourists provided a ready market for the supply, restoration and production of ancient and antique sculpture, objects and paintings. Many of these items were responsible for complete cultural shifts in taste; everything from porcelain to architecture bowed to the fashion, and these 'scholars' aggrandised themselves and their estates by the possession of such important works. For the contemporary collector the legacy of this obsession with history and learning has left an immeasurable number of objects to choose from, too numerous and diverse to cover here. As a result, I've concentrated on a few objects and their historical context as souvenirs from the true heart of the Grand Tour - Italy.
Rome, perhaps more than any other city, lent itself to an innumerable collection of potential souvenir subjects. Of course, it was not just about art but also about religion and power. This was the Catholic heart of the world; the tomb of St. Peter was surely every bit as important as the Coliseum? Just like the Emperors of Rome, the power and wealth of the Popes provided the raison d'etre for this concentration of art, both ancient and contemporary.
Many pieces synonymous with the Grand Tour are still popular with collectors but their context in art history has largely been lost. The 'Apollo of the Belvedere' is a case in point. It was discovered in the late 15th century and belonged to Giuliano della Rovere, later Pope Julius II, who installed the Apollo in the Cortile del Belvedere of the Vatican in 1511. This Roman marble copy of a Greek bronze became one of the most famous sculp-tures in the world and in the 18th century was con-sidered by scholars to be the epitome of perfection and form in art. The 19th century bronze rendition shown here (figure 3) captures much of that feeling and, like many such bronzes, carries no maker's mark.