PAOLO Farinati was not only one of the most prolific draughtsmen of the sixteenth-century, he was also one of the most ingenious. What is more, a strikingly large number of his drawings can be identified as preliminary studies for altar-pieces, frescoes and prints. The purpose of this note is to demonstrate that he also used drawings as preliminary studies for the small paintings, on slate and on copper, intended for private devotion, that were a feature of his work. An insight is provided into the working methods of a busy sixteenth-century artist.

BORN in Bologna in 1574, Giulio Cesare Procaccini came to Milan ten years later. Although he was a member of a family of painters, his early work, beginning in 1591, was as a sculptor. Giulio Cesare's first documented work as a painter is found in S. Maria presso S. Celso, Milan where he is mentioned as early as 1601 in connection with the Chapels of the Pieti and of Saints Nazarus and Celsus, respectively the fourth on the left and right from the entrance. The whole campaign dates from 1602 to 1607, and documents suggest that work on the two chapel ceilings began concurrently in 1602. The Chapel of the Pieta was the first to near completion. The ceiling and frescoes on either side of the central window were executed in 1602. The altar-piece, the Pietå, was in place in 1604, and in 1604 or 1605 putti were frescoed above the side windows. Three drawings for this chapel are known; two are for the altar-piece and are in the Ambrosiana, Milan, and the Metropolitan Museum, New York. A third, (Fig. 102) for the angel seated to the left of the central window (Fig.103), is in a private collection and was identified by Christian Lapeyre.

IN the Spring of 1903, Henry Cannon (whose collection of Italian Old Masters is now at Princeton) invited the already famous Edith Wharton to his villa 'La Doccia' on the slopes of Fiesole and introduced to her a compatriot, the thirty-eight-year-old Bernard Berenson, who had settled down in the nearby villa 'I Tatti'. During that first encounter, the Italianising art historian from Boston did not take to the Frenchified novelist from New York; but their second meeting, which was brought about by Henry Adams in Paris six years later (September 1909), led to a close and faithful friendship that lasted until the lady's death in 1937.

LIVING with a picture is said to be one of the most effective - and certainly one of the most pleasurable - ways of fathoming the painter's artistic personality. Among the finest pictures in the Pouncey collection is a small painting on copper of the Marriage of the Virgin by Lodovico Carracci (1555-1619). To Philip Pouncey, the connoisseur of Lodovico (just one of a whole army of Italian artists on whom he is an expert), the two paintings discussed below are offered for scrutiny; and to Philip Pouncey, whose zeal for and connoisseurship of Italian paintings and drawings have been both a valuable contribution to the subject and an inspiration to his colleagues, this short note is dedicated.

OF the many artists who emerged from the studio of Carlo Maratti, it is perhaps Andrea Procaccini (1671-1734) whose character as a draughtsman has thus far proved most elusive. It was with great interest, therefore, that one greeted the publication of a drawing representing Pentecost (Fig.88) preserved in the Museo del Prado, Madrid. Manuela Mena Marqu6s identified the sheet as a study for Procaccini's painting above the sacristy door in S. Maria dell' Orto, Rome (Fig.89), noting that pen and ink drawings that can be assigned with certainty to the artist are exceptionally rare. It is the purpose of this short note to introduce another important pen and ink study by Andrea Procaccini.

THIS short note is written in honour of my distinguished col-league and tutor, Philip Pouncey, F.B.A. To his close friends the sequence of events that I am about to unfold will come as no surprise as I am sure it has happened on countless occasions, while to those readers who have never had the pleasure of discussing drawings and paintings with the dedicatee, the most approachable of men, it will serve to illustrate his extraordinary capacity for visually digesting, sometimes unconsciously, an artist's characteristics.

MANY discoveries in art history are lucky, and serendipity has the major part to play in the association of a drawing in the Fitzwilliam Museum with the altar-piece of St Andrew in the church of S. Angelo in Pescheria, Rome.

THE least explored area of old master drawings remains, in my view, that of seventeenth-century France. Certainly there are excellent catalogues raisonnés of drawings by Callot and Claude Lorrain, and we await with great eagerness those on Simon Vouet and Eustache Le Sueur. But rare indeed is the drawings cabinet which has published its complete French holdings, and one can safely venture to claim that as long as Vienna and Darmstadt, to cite only two examples, have not reproduced their French collections in their entirety, the chances of errors and false attributions will remain considerable.

IN the long and complex history of such a vast and varied collection as that of the Uffizi's Gabinetto Disegni e Stampe, the traditional classification of the drawings has often obscured the historical facts concerning them, distorting dates, schools, and attributions, with consequences that are sometimes bizarre. For instance, a scholar today going through the boxes under Albrecht Dürer's name may run across a small group of drawings, in no way related to him stylistically, which must have been placed there long ago merely on account of their 'Germanic' subject matter.

THE J. Paul Getty Museum has recently acquired from a Boston private collection a black chalk study for the figure and drapery of a seated female allegory (Fig.71). The figure holds in her left hand a book and staff and in her right the two keys of papal authority. She places her right foot upon a piece of armour, immediately next to which a helmet rests on the ground. From the inscriptions on the old mat which related the figure to the Sala Regia in the Quirinal, it was possible to identify the sheet as a preparatory drawing for the allegorical figure at the left of Giovanni Lanfranco's oval representing Moses changing his rod into a serpent situated in the centre of the narrow east wall of the hall (Fig.72).

AMONG the Louvre's holdings of drawings by sixteenth-century Italian artists, the collection of works by Battista Franco is quite remarkable for its coherence over a long period of time. The present composition of so many artists' portefeuilles in the Louvre is the result of a great deal of shuffling around, as new attributions have been proposed over the last thirty years by Philip Pouncey or in his wake (a phenomenon strikingly demonstrated by the drawings from the Cabinet des Dessins currently in the Cambridge exhibition). The contents of the Battista Franco portefeuilles, on the other hand, have hardly changed at all; for by far the greater part of the ninety-odd drawings come from the Jabach collection acquired by Louis XIV in 1671. So, unlike what often happens (the case of Semino, recently on show in the Dessins å Gines exhibition is typical), the graphic work of Battista Franco has always stayed together.

A drawing by Perino del Vaga in the possession of a Lon-don dealer during the mid-1960s was for unknown reasons split into two sheets. This villainous, though skilful, operation sundered recto from verso, and inevitably the pair thus severed parted company, the resultant two drawings winding up in different places: a New York private collection (Fig.2) and the Achenbach Foundation for Graphic Arts, Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco (Fig.6). This dissection is particularly unfortunate in the case of the Perino drawing under discussion because the two sides are significantly related. Together, they afford rare evidence for Perino's creative thought and methods and for the date of a major altar-piece from his Genoese period.

AMONG the drawings which Otto Kurz categorised as 'anonymous' in his catalogue of Bolognese drawings in the Royal collection at Windsor Castle (1955), are three from the hand of Antonio Gionima (1697-1732), the extraordinarily gifted pupil of Giuseppe Maria Crespi, whose career was cut short at the age of thirty-five. The first of these drawings, a large plague scene, is easily recognised as an example of Gionima's mode of fully realised compositional study, generously washed and heightened with white (Fig.56). It may be compared with Gionima's Esther, Ahasuerus and Haman in the same collection, which Kurz did include in the group of this master's drawings (Fig.57). The richly-figured plague scene, executed with exceptional vigour and confidence - unequalled, I think, by any other Bolognese draughtsman of the time - is a quite typical example of Gionima's hand. The brilliant effect of succulent white highlights, somewhat calling to mind a Venetian colouristic mode, reminds us that Gionima, though trained in Bologna (a pupil of Milani and Crespi), was actually born in the Veneto of a family of Paduan artists. It also brings again to our awareness that the drawings of Gionima, more than those of any of his colleagues, marked a turning point, leading to the exuberant virtuoso manner of the drawing manner of the Gandolfi.

THIS drawing of a male sphinx from the collection of Charles Ricketts and Charles Shannon, when bequeathed to the Fitzwilliam Museum by the latter in 1937, was attributed to Domenichino (Fig.54). In the autumn of 1955 it attracted the interest of A. E. Popham, who asked for it to be lifted from its mount in order to reveal the verso, showing a kneeling figure (Fig.55). He, and Philip Pouncey at that time, believed it to be the work of Correggio, and somehow connected with the sphinxes which Correggio originally designed for the cupola of the cathedral at Parma. While this attribution by Popham implies his view of the quality and importance of the drawing, he did not feel sufficiently certain of the authorship to include it in his book on Correggio's drawings.

AMONG the leading figures of the High Renaissance, Sodoma is perhaps the least well represented by surviving drawings: the corpus is small and the study devoted to it minimal. It was therefore noteworthy when a heretofore unknown drawing by him appeared at Sotheby's drawings sale in New York earlier this year, the attribution made by Philip Pouncey. The sheet measures 18.8 by 21.5 cm. (7.4 by 8.5 ins.) and is drawn on both sides. The lower left corner (seen from the recto) is made up and the collection mark of Alfredo Viggiano (Lugt 191A) appears at the lower left of the verso (Figs.47 and 52).

THERE has not as yet been published any consecutive account of the artistic beginnings of Francesco Salviati (born probably in 1510), though a number of attributions, of drawings as well as paintings, have been proposed for his early Florentine years. Of the paintings so far attributed, however, only one carries entire conviction as a product of the time that precedes the artist's move to Rome late in 1531: a Rest on the Flight in Dublin (National Gallery of Ireland; Fig.40), where it was given to the School of Fra Bartolommeo and is, in fact, dependent upon drawings by him; the identification of the painting as Salviati is Philip Pouncey's. The reference in this painting to the Frate - an honoured but by then well-past reputation in Florence - has been sieved, as might be expected in c.1530, though Sarto's current style. Despite the dominating response to these two Florentine caposcuole (there is no definable reflection of the other teachers Vasari reports (VII, 5ff) that Salviati worked with) and the young age of the painter, the Rest conveys a clearly distinguishable artistic personality. Salviati has here recast the examples of the Frate and Sarto toward a different ornamental luxury, in shape, in attitude and in modelling, and insisted on more precious and self-conscious sentiment: in a word, adulterating the manner he had learned with an incipient maniera.

AS an exiguous token of my esteem for Philip Pouncey, I should like to publish an unusual painting by that most pedestrian of fifteenth-century Florentine painters, Neri di Bicci (Fig.37). Al-though it belongs to the widely known collection of pictures assembled at Philadelphia in the early years of this century by John G. Johnson, the painting apparently has never been re-produced or mentioned in print. It depicts an angel preventing a youth in a striped red doublet and green hose from attacking with a sword a young man in a green gown and red mantle. The young man, looking up with surprise at the angel, holds the end of a long coil of dark material (the tail of his Florentine hat). The setting is a street of grey buildings with red string courses. On the left a canal runs parallel to the narrow buildings, which resemble an empty stage set.

TITIAN's woodcuts were famous and widely diffused during the lifetime of the master; they were recommended as models to the student of painting after his death by Karel van Mander, and later in the seventeenth century, Netherlandish painters still studied them, using his engraved inventions in their own work.

IN his biography of Alessandro Gherardini (1655-1726) Baldinucci describes a Medicean commission that the artist obtained when still a young man.

THIS is intended as a small tribute from a very old friend. I suppose that a list of published works by Philip Pouncey, who celebrated his seventy-fifth birthday this year, would be shorter than one would expect from such authority: they are confined essentially to his collaboration with A. E. Popham and John Gere, in three catalogues of sections of the British Museum Italian drawings - catalogues which have set a standard of scholarship for the whole art world. And yet I doubt whether there is anyone who is so often appealed to on problems to do with drawings by old masters, or whose opinions are so often acknowledged in print - which means of course that they are generously given. In every museum catalogue of Italian drawings, particularly of the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, his name is gratefully quoted.

TOUSSAINT Dubreuil is undoubtedly the most interesting French artist of the end of the sixteenth century. Unfortunately, his premature death cut short a brilliant career already marked by important decorative commissions and by very diverse creations. The two new drawings published here may serve as a contribution to the study of his draughtsmanship in pen and ink.

THERE was no question but that a contribution to celebrate Philip's attainment of an excess of the biblical age had to have an Italian connection. Though, in Philip's eyes, I may have strayed in recent years from the only true Italian faith - that brought us together so many years ago - into the heretic Netherlandish fields, I have never forgotten the lessons he taught me: how to assess a drawing by an old master, its characteristics, its highlights, its faults or weaknesses. However, few of his pupils were able to attain his skill, his perspicacity and his breadth of knowledge. As a tribute I am publishing here a recent acquisition of the National Gallery of Scotland, by an artist who straddled the northern and southern modes and who became an Italian artist by adoption. Denys Calvaert, born in Antwerp in 1540, went to Bologna in his mid-twenties and became the founder of an influential Academy where, according to Malvasia, drawing was a major concern for the first teacher of Reni, Albani and Domenichino. Unlike the dedicatee of this note, with his legendary gentleness and kindness, Calvaert appears to have been an irascible character, even beating his pupils.