A WANDERER INVENICE BYE. V. LUCAS WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BYHARRY MORLEYAND THIRTY-TWO PHOTOGRAPHS FROM PAINTINGS AND A MAP New YorkTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY1914 _All rights reserved_ COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1914. Norwood Press:Berwick & Smith Co. , Norwood, Mass. , U. S. A. [Illustration: THE GRAND CANAL FROM THE STEPS OF S. MARIA DELLA SALUTE] "In like manner I say, that had there bin an offer made unto me before I took my journey to Venice, eyther that foure of the richest manors of Somerset-shire (wherein I was borne) should be gratis bestowed upon me if I never saw Venice, or neither of them if I should see it; although certainly these manors would do me much more good in respect of a state of livelyhood to live in the world than the sight of Venice, yet notwithstanding I will ever say while I live, that the sight of Venice and her resplendent beauty, antiquities, and monuments, hath by many degrees more contented my minde, and satisfied my desires, than those foure Lordships could possibly have done. "--THOMAS CORYAT. [Illustration: A Bird's Eye View Of Venice] PREFACE For a detailed guide to Venice the reader must go elsewhere; all that Ihave done is invariably to mention those things that have mostinterested me, and, in the hope of being a useful companion, often a fewmore. But my chief wish (as always in this series) has been to create ataste. For the history of Venice the reader must also go elsewhere, yet for thesake of clarity a little history has found its way even into thesepages. To go to Venice without first knowing her story is a mistake, anddoubly foolish because the city has been peculiarly fortunate in herchroniclers and eulogists. Mr. H. F. Brown stands first among the living, as Ruskin among the dead; but Ruskin is for the student patient underchastisement, whereas Mr. Brown's serenely human pages are for all. OfMr. Howells' _Venetian Life_ I have spoken more than once in this book;its truth and vivacity are a proof of how little the central Venice hasaltered, no matter what changes there may have been in government orhow often campanili fall. The late Col. Hugh Douglas's _Venice on Foot_, if conscientiously followed, is such a key to a treasury of interest asno other city has ever possessed. To Mrs. Audrey Richardson's _Doges ofVenice_ I am greatly indebted, and Herr Baedeker has been here aselsewhere (in the Arab idiom) my father and my mother. E. V. L. _June, 1914. _ CONTENTS PAGE PREFACE vii CHAPTER I THE BRIDE OF THE ADRIATIC 1 CHAPTER II S. MARK'S. I: THE EXTERIOR 6 CHAPTER III S. MARK'S. II: THE INTERIOR 17 CHAPTER IV THE PIAZZA AND THE CAMPANILE 31 CHAPTER V THE DOGES' PALACE. I: THE INTERIOR 46 CHAPTER VI THE DOGES' PALACE. II: THE EXTERIOR 65 CHAPTER VII THE PIAZZETTA 78 CHAPTER VIII THE GRAND CANAL. I: FROM THE DOGANA TO THE PALAZZO REZZONICO, LOOKING TO THE LEFT 91 CHAPTER IX THE GRAND CANAL. II: BROWNING AND WAGNER 100 CHAPTER X THE GRAND CANAL. III: FROM THE RIO FOSCARI TO S. SIMEONE, LOOKINGTO THE LEFT 110 CHAPTER XI THE GRAND CANAL. IV: FROM THE STATION TO THE MOCENIGO PALACE, LOOKING TO THE LEFT 119 CHAPTER XII THE GRAND CANAL. V: BYRON IN VENICE 130 CHAPTER XIII THE GRAND CANAL. VI: FROM THE MOCENIGO PALACE TO THE MOLO, LOOKING TO THE LEFT 143 CHAPTER XIV ISLAND AFTERNOONS' ENTERTAINMENTS. I: MURANO, BURANO ANDTORCELLO 151 CHAPTER XV ON FOOT. I: FROM THE PIAZZA TO SAN STEFANO 162 CHAPTER XVI THE ACCADEMIA. I: TITIAN, TINTORETTO, AND PAUL VERONESE 168 CHAPTER XVII THE ACCADEMIA. II: THE SANTA CROCE MIRACLES AND CARPACCIO 179 CHAPTER XVIII THE ACCADEMIA. III: GIOVANNI BELLINI AND THE LATER PAINTERS 187 CHAPTER XIX THE CANALE DI S. MARCO AND S. GIORGIO MAGGIORE 195 CHAPTER XX ON FOOT. II: THREE CHURCHES AND CARPACCIO AGAIN 206 CHAPTER XXI ON FOOT. III: THE MERCERIA AND THE RIALTO 217 CHAPTER XXII S. ROCCO AND TINTORETTO 231 CHAPTER XXIII THE FRARI AND TITIAN 245 CHAPTER XXIV SS. GIOVANNI E PAOLO 254 CHAPTER XXV S. ELENA AND THE LIDO 263 CHAPTER XXVI ON FOOT. IV: FROM THE DOGAN TO S. SEBASTIANO 270 CHAPTER XXVII CHURCHES HERE AND THERE 279 CHAPTER XXVIII GIORGIONE 287 CHAPTER XXIX ISLAND AFTERNOONS' ENTERTAINMENTS. II: S. LAZZARO AND CHIOGGIA 299 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONSIN COLOUR THE GRAND CANAL FROM THE STEPS OF S. MARIA DELLA SALUTE _Frontispiece_ S. MARK'S FROM THE PIAZZA. THE MERCERIA CLOCK ON THELEFT _Facing page_ 10 THE CAMPANILE AND THE PIAZZA FROM COOK'S CORNER " 28 THE CORNER OF THE OLD LIBRARY AND THE DOGES' PALACE " 54 THE PONTE DI PAGLIA AND THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS, WITH A CORNEROF THE DOGES' PALACE AND THE PRISON " 66 THE DOGANA (WITH S. GIORGIO MAGGIORE JUST VISIBLE) " 88 DOORWAY OF S. MARIA DELLA SALUTE " 112 THE RIALTO BRIDGE FROM THE PALAZZO DEI DIECI SAVII " 126 THE RIO TORRESELLE AND BACK OF THE PALAZZO DARIO " 152 TRAGHETTO OF S. ZOBENIGO, GRAND CANAL " 198 THE GRAND CANAL, SHOWING S. MARIA DELLA SALUTE " 218 S. MARIA GLORIOSA DEI FRARI " 228 THE COLLEONI STATUE AND SS. GIOVANNI E PAOLO " 240 THE PALAZZO PESARO (ORFEI), CAMPO S. BENEDETTO " 276 THE ARMENIAN MONASTERY AND THE LAGOON " 300 VIEW FROM THE DOGANA AT NIGHT " 308 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONSIN MONOTONE ONE OF THE NOAH MOSAICS. In the Atrium of S. Mark's _Facing page_ 18 From a Photograph by Naya. THE PRESENTATION. From the Painting by Titian in the Accademia " 36 From a Photograph by Brogi. BACCHUS AND ARIADNE. From the Painting by Tintoretto in theDoges' Palace " 48 From a Photograph by Naya. S. CHRISTOPHER. From the Fresco by Titian in the Doges' Palace " 62 From a Photograph by Naya. THE ADAM AND EVE CORNER OF THE DOGES' PALACE " 70 From a Photograph by Naya. S. TRIFONIO AND THE BASILISK. From the Painting by Carpaccioat S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni " 76 From a Photograph by Anderson. S. JEROME IN HIS CELL. From the Painting by Carpaccio at S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni " 82 From a Photograph by Anderson. THE MARRIAGE AT CANA. From the Painting by Tintoretto in theChurch of the Salute " 96 From a Photograph by Anderson. VENICE WITH HERCULES AND CERES. From the Painting by Veronesein the Accademia " 102 From a Photograph by Naya. S. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM WITH SAINTS. From the Painting by Piomboin the Church of S. Giov. Crisostomo " 116 From a Photograph by Naya. THE DREAM OF S. URSULA. From the Painting by Carpaccio in theAccademia " 120 From a Photograph by Brogi. THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST. From the Painting by Cima in the Churchof S. Giovanni in Bragora " 136 From a Photograph by Anderson. MADONNA AND SLEEPING CHILD. From the Painting by GiovanniBellini in the Accademia " 144 From a Photograph by Naya. VENUS, RULER OF THE WORLD. From the Painting by GiovanniBellini in the Accademia " 158 From a Photograph by Anderson. THE ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGIN. From the Painting by Titian inthe Accademia " 164 From a Photograph by Brogi. THE MIRACLE OF S. MARK. From the Painting by Tintoretto in theAccademia " 170 From a Photograph by Anderson. THE FEAST IN THE HOUSE OF LEVI. From the Painting by Veronesein the Accademia " 176 From a Photograph by Naya. THE DEPARTURE OF THE BRIDEGROOM AND HIS MEETING WITH URSULA. From the Painting by Carpaccio in the Accademia " 182 From a Photograph by Naya. S. GEORGE. From the Painting by Mantegna in the Accademia " 190 From a Photograph by Brogi. MADONNA AND CHILD. From the Painting by Giovanni Bellini inthe Accademia " 192 From a Photograph by Brogi. MADONNA AND CHILD WITH SAINTS. From the Painting by GiovanniBellini in the Church of S. Zaccaria " 208 From a Photograph by Naya. S. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. From the Painting by Carpaccio atS. Giorgio degli Schiavoni " 212 From a Photograph by Anderson. S. CHRISTOPHER, S. JEROME AND S. AUGUSTINE. From the paintingby Giovanni Bellini in the Church of S. Giov. Crisostomo " 224 From a Photograph by Naya. THE CRUCIFIXION (CENTRAL DETAIL). From the Painting byTintoretto in the Scuola di S. Rocco " 236 From a Photograph by Anderson. THE MADONNA OF THE PESARO FAMILY. From the Painting by Titianin the Church of the Frari " 246 From a Photograph by Naya. THE MADONNA TRIPTYCH. By Giovanni Bellini in the Church ofthe Frari " 252 From a Photograph by Naya. BARTOLOMMEO COLLEONI. From the Statue by Andrea Verrocchio " 256 From a Photograph by Brogi. MADONNA WITH THE MAGDALEN AND S. CATHERINE. From the Paintingby Giovanni Bellini in the Accademia " 260 From a Photograph by Brogi. MADONNA AND SAINTS. From the Painting by Boccaccino in theAccademia " 266 From a Photograph. THE PRESENTATION. From the Painting by Tintoretto in theChurch of the Madonna dell'Orto " 282 From a Photograph by Anderson. THE TEMPEST. From the Painting by Giorgione in the GiovanelliPalace " 288 From a Photograph by Naya. ALTAR-PIECE. By Giorgione at Castel Franco " 296 From a Photograph by Naya. A WANDERER IN VENICE CHAPTER I THE BRIDE OF THE ADRIATIC The best approach to Venice--Chioggia--A first view--Another waterapproach--Padua and Fusina--The railway station--A completetransformation--A Venetian guide-book--A city of a dream. I have no doubt whatever that, if the diversion can be arranged, theperfect way for the railway traveller to approach Venice for the firsttime is from Chioggia, in the afternoon. Chioggia is at the end of a line from Rovigo, and it ought not to bedifficult to get there either overnight or in the morning. If overnight, one would spend some very delightful hours in drifting about Chioggiaitself, which is a kind of foretaste of Venice, although not like enoughto her to impair the surprise. (But nothing can do that. Not all thebooks or photographs in the world, not Turner, nor Whistler, nor ClaraMontalba, can so familiarize the stranger with the idea of Venice thatthe reality of Venice fails to be sudden and arresting. Venice is sopeculiarly herself, so exotic and unbelievable, that so far from everbeing ready for her, even her residents, returning, can never be fullyprepared. ) But to resume--Chioggia is the end of all things. The train stops at thestation because there is no future for it; the road to the steamerstops at the pier because otherwise it would run into the water. Standing there, looking north, one sees nothing but the still, land-locked lagoon with red and umber and orange-sailed fishing-boats, and tiny islands here and there. But only ten miles away, due north, isVenice. And a steamer leaves several times a day to take you there, gently and loiteringly, in the Venetian manner, in two hours, withpauses at odd little places _en route_. And that is the way to enterVenice, because not only do you approach her by sea, as is right, Venicebeing the bride of the sea not merely by poetical tradition but as asolemn and wonderful fact, but you see her from afar, and gradually moreand more is disclosed, and your first near view, sudden and complete asyou skirt the island of S. Giorgio Maggiore, has all the most desiredingredients: the Campanile of S. Marco, S. Marco's domes, the Doges'Palace, S. Theodore on one column and the Lion on the other, the CustomHouse, S. Maria della Salute, the blue Merceria clock, all the businessof the Riva, and a gondola under your very prow. That is why one should come to Venice from Chioggia. The other sea approach is from Fusina, at the end of an electric-tramline from Padua. If the Chioggia scheme is too difficult, then theFusina route should be taken, for it is simplicity itself. All that thetraveller has to do is to leave the train at Padua overnight--and hewill be very glad to do so, for that last five-hour lap from Milan toVenice is very trying, with all the disentanglement of registeredluggage at the end of it before one can get to the hotel--and spend thenext morning in exploring Padua's own riches: Giotto's frescoes in theMadonna dell'Arena; Mantegna's in the Eremitani; Donatello's altar inthe church of Padua's own sweet Saint Anthony; and so forth; and thenin the afternoon take the tram for Fusina. This approach is not soattractive as that from Chioggia, but it is more quiet and fitting thanthe rush over the viaduct in the train. One is behaving with morepropriety than that, for one is doing what, until a few poor decades agoof scientific fuss, every visitor travelling to Venice had to do: one isembarked on the most romantic of voyages: one is crossing the sea to itsQueen. This way one enters Venice by her mercantile shipping gate, where thereare chimneys and factories and a vast system of electric wires. Not thatthe scene is not beautiful; Venice can no more fail to be beautiful, whatever she does, than a Persian kitten can; yet it does not comparewith the Chioggia adventure, which not only is perfect visually, but, though brief, is long enough to create a mood of repose for theanticipatory traveller such as Venice deserves. On the other hand, it must not be forgotten that there are many visitorswho want their first impression of this city of their dreams to beabrupt; who want the transition from the rattle of the train to thepeace of the gondola to be instantaneous; and these, of course, mustenter Venice at the station. If, as most travellers from England do, they leave London by the 2. 5 and do not break the journey, they willreach Venice a little before midnight. But whether it is by day or by night, this first shock of Venice is notto be forgotten. To step out of the dusty, stuffy carriage, jostle one'sway through a thousand hotel porters, and be confronted by the seawashing the station steps is terrific! The sea tamed, it is true; thesea on strange visiting terms with churches and houses; but the sea nonethe less; and if one had the pluck to taste the water one would find itsalt. There is probably no surprise to the eye more complete andalluring than this first view of the Grand Canal at the Venetianterminus. But why do I put myself to the trouble of writing this when it has allbeen done for me by an earlier hand? In the most popular of the littleguide-books to Venice--sold at all the shops for a franc and twentycentimes, and published in German, English, and, I think, French, aswell as the original Italian--the impact of Venice on the traveller byrail is done with real feeling and eloquence, and with a curiousintensity only possible when an Italian author chooses an Italiantranslator to act as intermediary between himself and the Englishreader. The author is Signor A. Carlo, and the translator, whoseindependence, in a city which swarms with Anglo-Saxon visitors and evenresidents, in refusing to make use of their services in revising hisEnglish, cannot be too much admired, is Signor G. Sarri. Here is the opening flight of these Two Gentlemen of Venice: "Thetraveller, compelled by a monotone railway-carriage, to look for hoursat the endless stretching of the beautifull and sad Venetian plain, feels getting wear, [? near] this divine Queen of the Seas, whom so manyartists, painters and poets have exalted in every time and every way;feels, I say, that something new, something unexpected is really aboutto happen: something that will surely leave a deep mark on hisimagination, and last through all his life. I mean that peculiarradiation of impulsive energy issueing from anything really great, vibrating and palpitating from afar, fitting the soul to emotion orenthusiasm. .. . " Yesterday, or even this morning, in Padua, Verona, Milan, Chioggia, orwherever it was, whips were cracking, hoofs clattering, motor hornsbooming, wheels endangering your life. Farewell now to all!--there isnot a wheel in Venice save those that steer rudders, or ring bells; butinstead, as you discern in time when the brightness and unfamiliarity ofit all no longer bemuse your eyes, here are long black boats by thescore, at the foot of the steps, all ready to take you and your luggageanywhere for fifty per cent more than the proper fare. You are inVenice. If you go to the National Gallery and look at No. 163 by Canaletto youwill see the first thing that meets the gaze as one emerges uponfairyland from the Venice terminus: the copper dome of S. Simeon. Thescene was not much different when it was painted, say, _circa_ 1740. Theiron bridge was not yet, and a church stands where the station now is;but the rest is much the same. And as you wander here and there in thiscity, in the days to come, that will be one of your dominatingimpressions--how much of the past remains unharmed. Venice is a city ofyesterdays. One should stay in her midst either long enough really to know somethingabout her or only for three or four days. In the second case all ismagical and bewildering, and one carries away, for the mind to rejoicein, no very definite detail, but a vague, confused impression of wonderand unreality and loveliness. Dickens, in his _Pictures of Italy_, withsure instinct makes Venice a city of a dream, while all the other townswhich he describes are treated realistically. But for no matter how short a time one is in Venice, a large proportionof it should be sacred to idleness. Unless Venice is permitted andencouraged to invite one's soul to loaf, she is visited in vain. CHAPTER II S. MARK'S. I: THE EXTERIOR Rival cathedrals--The lure of S. Mark's--The façade at night--The Doge'sdevice--S. Mark's body--A successful theft--Miracle pictures--Mosaicpatterns--The central door--Two problems--The north wall--The fall ofVenice--Napoleon--The Austrian occupation--Daniele Manin--VictorEmmanuel--An artist's model--The south wall--The Pietra del Bando--Thepillars from Acre. Of S. Mark's what is one to say? To write about it at all seems indeedmore than commonly futile. The wise thing to do is to enter its doorswhenever one has the opportunity, if only for five minutes; to sit in itas often as possible, at some point in the gallery for choice; and toread Ruskin. To Byzantine architecture one may not be very sympathetic; the visitormay come to Venice with the cool white arches of Milan still comfortinghis soul, or with the profound conviction that Chartres or Colognerepresents the final word in ecclesiastical beauty and fitness; but nonethe less, in time, S. Mark's will win. It will not necessarily displacethose earlier loves, but it will establish other ties. But you must be passive and receptive. No cathedral so demandssurrender. You must sink on its bosom. S. Mark's façade is, I think, more beautiful in the mass than in detail. Seen from the Piazza, from a good distance, say half way across it, through the red flagstaffs, it is always strange and lovely and unreal. To begin with, there is the remarkable fact that after years offamiliarity with this wonderful scene, in painting and colouredphotographs, one should really be here at all. The realization of adream is always amazing. It is possible--indeed it may be a common experience--to find S. Mark's, as seen for the first time, especially on a Sunday or fête day, when thevast red and green and white flags are streaming before it, a littlegarish, a little gaudy; too like a coloured photograph; not what onethinks a cathedral ought to be. Should it have all these hues? one asksoneself, and replies no. But the saint does not long permit thisscepticism: after a while he sees that the doubter drifts into hisvestibule, to be rather taken by the novelty of the mosaics--so muchquieter in tone here--and the pavement, with its myriad delicatepatterns. And then the traveller dares the church itself and the spellbegins to work; and after a little more familiarity, a few more visitsto the Piazza, even if only for coffee, the fane has another devotee. At night the façade behaves very oddly, for it becomes then as flat as adrop scene. Seen from the Piazza when the band plays and the lamps arelit, S. Mark's has no depth whatever. It is just a lovely piece ofdecoration stretched across the end. The history of S. Mark's is this. The first patron saint of Venice wasS. Theodore, who stands in stone with his crocodile in the Piazzetta, and to whose history we shall come later. In 828, however, it occurredto the astute Doge Giustiniano Partecipazio that both ecclesiasticallyand commercially Venice would be greatly benefited if a reallyfirst-class holy body could be preserved in her midst. Now S. Mark haddied in A. D. 57, after grievous imprisonment, during whichChrist appeared to him, speaking those words which are incised in thevery heart of Venice, "Pax tibi, Marce, evangelista meus"--"Peace be tothee, Mark my evangelist"; and he was buried in Alexandria, the place ofhis martyrdom, by his fellow-Christians. Why should not the sacredremains be stolen from the Egyptian city and brought to Venice? Why not?The Doge therefore arranged with two adventurers, Rustico of Torcelloand Buono of Malamocco, to make the attempt; and they were successful. When the body was exhumed such sweetness proceeded from it that allAlexandria marvelled, but did not trace the cause. The saint seems to have approved of the sacrilege. At any rate, when hisremains were safely on board the Venetian ship, and a man in anothership scoffed at the idea that they were authentic, the Venetian shipinstantly and mysteriously made for the one containing this sceptic, stove its side in, and continued to ram it until he took back hisdoubts. And later, when, undismayed by this event, one of the sailors onS. Mark's own ship also denied that the body was genuine, he waspossessed of a devil until he too changed his mind. The mosaics on the cathedral façade all bear upon the life of S. Mark. That over the second door on the left, with a figure in red, oddly likeAnatole France, looking down upon the bed, represents S. Mark's death. In the Royal Palace are pictures by Tintoretto of the finding of thebody of S. Mark by the Venetians, and the transportation of it fromAlexandria, under a terrific thunderstorm in which the merchants andtheir camel are alone undismayed. Arrived in Venice the remains were enclosed in a marble pillar forgreater safety, but only two or three persons knew which pillar, and, these dying, the secret perished. In their dismay all the peoplegrieved, but suddenly the stones opened and revealed the corpse. Thereafter many miracles were performed by it; Venice was visited bypilgrims from all parts of the world; its reputation as a centre ofreligion grew; and the Doge's foresight and address were justified. Before, however, S. Mark and his lion could become the protectors of theRepublic, S. Theodore had to be deposed. S. Theodore's church, whichstood originally on a part of the Piazza (an inscription in the pavementmarks the site) now covered by the Campanile and one or two of theflagstaffs, is supposed to have been built in the sixth century. That itwas destroyed by fire in the tenth, we know, and it is known too thatcertain remains of it were incorporated in the present structure of S. Mark's, which dates from the eleventh century, having been preceded byearlier ones. To my mind not one of the external mosaic pictures is worth study; butsome of the mosaic patterns over the doors are among the most lovelythings I ever saw. Look at the delicate black and gold in the arch overthe extreme right-hand door. Look at the black and gold bosses in thatnext it. On the other side of the main entrance these bosses have alittle colour in them. On the extreme left we find symbolism: a goldenhorseman, the emblems of the four Evangelists, and so forth, while aboveis a relief in black stone, netted in: this and the group over thecentral door being the only external statuary in Venice to which thepigeons have no access. The carvings over the central door are interesting, although they have acrudity which will shock visitors fresh from the Baptistery doors atFlorence. As in most Venetian sculpture symbolism plays an importantpart, and one is not always able to translate it. Here are arches withinarches: one of scriptural incidents--at any rate Adam and Eve and Cainand Abel are identifiable; one of grotesques and animals; one of uncouthtoilers--a shepherd and woodman and so forth--with God the Father on thekeystone. What these mean beyond the broad fact that religion is forall, I cannot say. Angels are above, and surmounting the doorway isChrist. Among all this dark stonework one is conscious now and then oflittle pink touches which examination shows to be the feet of reposingpigeons. Above is the parapet with the four famous golden horses in the midst;above them in the architrave over the central recess is S. Mark's lionwith the open book against a background of starred blue. Then angelsmounting to Christ, and on each side pinnacled saints. It is all ratherbarbaric, very much of a medley, and unforgettable in its total effect. Two mysteries the façade holds for me. One is the black space behind thehorses, which seems so cowardly an evasion of responsibility on the partof artists and architects for many years, as it was there when GentileBellini painted his Santa Croce miracle; and the other is the identityof the two little grotesque figures with a jug, one towards each end ofthe parapet over the door. No book tells me who they are, and noVenetian seems to know. They do not appear to be scriptural; yet whyshould they be when the Labours of Hercules are illustrated in sculptureon the façade above them? [Illustration: S. MARK'S FROM THE PIAZZA, THE MERCERIA CLOCK ON THELEFT] The north façade of S. Mark's receives less attention than it should, although one cannot leave Cook's office without seeing it. The north hasa lovely Gothic doorway and much sculpture, including on the west wallof the transept a rather nice group of sheep, and beneath it a prettylittle saint; while the Evangelists are again here--S. Luke painting, S. Matthew looking up from his book, S. John brooding, and S. Mark writing. The doorway has a quaint interesting relief of the manger, containing avery large Christ child, in its arch. Pinnacled saints, with holy menbeneath canopies between them, are here, and on one point the quaintestlittle crowned Madonna. At sunset the light on this wall can be verylovely. At the end of the transept is a tomb built against the wall, with lionsto guard it, and a statue of S. George high above. The tomb is that ofDaniele Manin, and since we are here I cannot avoid an historicaldigression, for this man stands for the rise of the present Venice. WhenLodovico Manin, the last Doge, came to the throne, in 1788, Venice was, of course, no longer the great power that she had been; but at any rateshe was Venice, the capital of a republic with the grandest and noblesttraditions. She had even just given one more proof of her sea power byher defeat of the pirates of Algiers. But her position in Europe haddisappeared and a terrible glow was beginning to tinge the northernsky--none other than that of the French Revolution, from which was toemerge a Man of Destiny whose short sharp way with the map of Europemust disturb the life of frivolity and ease which the Venetianscontrived still to live. Then came Napoleon's Italian campaign and his defeat of Lombardy. Veniceresisted; but such resistance was merely a matter of time: the force wasall-conquering. Two events precipitated her fate. One was the massacreof the French colony in Verona after that city had been vanquished;another was the attack on a French vessel cruising in Venetian waterson the watch for Austrian men-of-war. The Lido fort fired on her andkilled her commander, Langier. It was then that Napoleon declared hisintention of being a second Attila to the city of the sea. He followedup his threat with a fleet; but very little force was needed, for DogeManin gave way almost instantly. The capitulation was indeed more thancomplete; the Venetians not only gave in but grovelled. The words "Paxtibi, Marce, Evangelista meus" on the lion's book on S. Mark façade werechanged to "Rights of Man and of Citizenship, " and Napoleon was thankedin a profuse epistle for providing Venice with glorious liberty. Variousriots of course accompanied this renunciation of centuries of nobletradition, and under the Tree of Liberty in the Piazza the Ducalinsignia and the Libro d'Oro were burned. The tricolour flew from thethree flagstaffs, and the two columns in the Piazzetta were covered withinscriptions praising the French. This was in May, 1797. So much for Venice under Manin, Lodovico. The way is now paved forManin, Daniele, who was no relation, but a poor Jewish boy to whom aManin had stood as godfather. Daniele was born in 1804. In 1805 thePeace of Pressburg was signed, and Venice, which had passed to Austriain 1798, was taken from Austria and united to Napoleon's Italiankingdom, with Eugène Beauharnais, the Emperor's brother-in-law, as rulerunder the title Prince of Venice. In 1807 Napoleon visited the city andat once decreed a number of improvements on his own practical sensiblelines. He laid out the Giardini Pubblici; he examined the ports andimproved them; he revised the laws. But not even Napoleon could beeverywhere at once or succeed in everything, and in 1813 Austria tookadvantage of his other troubles to try and recapture the Queen of theAdriatic by force, and when the general Napoleonic collapse came therestitution was formally made, Venice and Lombardy becoming againAustrian and the brother of Francis I their ruler. All went fairly quietly in Venice until 1847, when, shortly after thefall of the Orleans dynasty in France, Daniele Manin, now an eloquentand burningly patriotic lawyer, dared to petition the Austrian Emperorfor justice to the nation whom he had conquered, and as a reply wasimprisoned for high treason, together with Niccolò Tommaseo. In 1848, onMarch 17, the city rose in revolt, the prison was forced, and Manin notonly was released but proclaimed President of the Venetian Republic. Hewas now forty-four, and in the year of struggle that followed provedhimself both a great administrator and a great soldier. He did all that was humanly possible against the Austrians, but eventswere too much for him; bigger battalions, combined with famine andcholera, broke the Venetian defence; and in 1849 Austria again ruled theprovince. All Italy had been similarly in revolt, but her time was notyet. The Austrians continued to rule until Garibaldi and Victor Emmanuelbuilt up the United Italy which we now know. Manin, however, did notlive to see that. Forbidden even to return to Venice again, he retiredto Paris a poor and broken man, and there died in 1854. The myriad Austrians who are projected into Venice every day during thesummer by excursion steamers from Trieste rarely, I imagine, get so faras the Campo dominated by Manin's exuberant statue with the great wingedlion, and therefore do not see this fine fellow who lived to preservehis country from them. Nor do they as a rule visit that side of S. Mark's where his tomb stands. But they can hardly fail to see themonument to Victor Emmanuel on the Riva--with the lion which they hadwounded so grievously, symbolizing Italy under the enemy, on the oneside, and the same animal all alert and confident, on the other, flushedwith the assurance which 1866 brought, and the sturdy king riding forthto victory above. This they cannot well help seeing. The little piazzetta on the north side of S. Mark's has a famous well, with two porphyry lions beside it on which small Venetians love tostraddle. A bathing-place for pigeons is here too, and I have countedtwenty-seven in it at once. Here one day I found an artist at work onthe head of an old man--a cunning old rascal with short-cropped greyhair, a wrinkled face packed with craft, and a big pipe. The artist, atall, bearded man, was painting with vigour, but without, so far as Icould discern, any model; and yet it was obviously a portrait on whichhe was engaged and no work of invention. After joining the crowd beforethe easel for a minute or so, I was passing on when a figure emergedfrom a cool corner where he had been resting and held out his hand. Hewas a cunning old rascal with short-cropped grey hair, a wrinkled facepacked with craft, and a big pipe; and after a moment's perplexity Irecognized him as the model. He pointed to himself and nodded to thepicture and again proffered his open palm. Such money as I have for freedistribution among others is, however, not for this kind; but the ideathat the privilege of seeing the picture in the making should carry withit an obligation to the sitter was so comic that I could not repulse himwith the grave face that is important on such occasions. Later in thesame day I met the artist himself in the waters of the Lido--a form ofrencontre that is very common in Venice in the summer. The converse is, however, the more amusing and usually disenchanting: the recognition, inthe Piazza, in the evening, in their clothes, of certain of themorning's bathers. Disillusion here, I can assure you. On the south wall of S. Mark's, looking over the Molo and the lagoon, isthe famous Madonna before whom two lights burn all night. Not all daytoo, as I have seen it stated. Above her are two pretty cherubs againsta light-blue background, holding the head of Christ: one of the gayestpieces of colour in Venice. Justice is again pinnacled here, and on herright, on another pinnacle, is a charming angel, upon whom a lionfondlingly climbs. Between and on each side are holy men withincanopies, and beneath is much delicate work in sculpture. Below areporphyry insets and veined marbles, and on the parapet two griffins, oneapparently destroying a child and one a lamb. The porphyry stone on theground at the corner on our left is the Pietra del Bando, from which thelaws of the Republic were read to the people. Thomas Coryat, thetraveller, who walked from Somerset to Venice in 1608 and wrote theresult of his journey in a quaint volume called _Coryat's Crudities_, adds another to the functions of the Pietra del Bando. "On this stone, "he says, "are laide for the space of three dayes and three nights theheads of all such as being enemies or traitors to the State, or somenotorious offenders, have been apprehended out of the citie, andbeheaded by those that have been bountifully hired by the Senate for thesame purpose. " The four affectionate figures, in porphyry, at the cornerof the Doges' Palace doorway, came also from the East. Nothing definiteis known of them, but many stories are told. The two richly carvedisolated columns were brought from Acre in 1256. Of these columns old Coryat has a story which I have found in no otherwriter. It may be true, and on the other hand it may have been theinvention of some mischievous Venetian wag wishing to get a laugh out ofthe inquisitive Somerset pedestrian, whose leg was, I take it, invitingly pullable. "Near to this stone, " he says, referring to thePietra del Bando, "is another memorable thing to be observed. Amarvailous faire paire of gallowes made of alabaster, the pillars beingwrought with many curious borders, and workes, which served for no otherpurpose but to hang the Duke whensoever he shall happen to commit anytreason against the State. And for that cause it is erected before thevery gate of his Palace to the end to put him in minde to be faithfulland true to his country. If not, he seeth the place of punishment athand. But this is not a perfect gallowes, because there are only twopillars without a transverse beame, which beame (they say) is to beerected when there is any execution, not else. Betwixt this gallowesmalefactors and condemned men (that are to goe to be executed upon ascaffold betwixt the two famous pillars before mentioned at the Southend of S. Mark's street, neare the Adriaticque Sea) are wont to saytheir prayers, to the Image of the Virgin Mary, standing on a part of S. Mark's Church right opposite unto them. " CHAPTER III S. MARK'S. II: THE INTERIOR Vandal guides--Emperor and Pope--The Bible in mosaic--The Creation ofthe world--Cain and Abel--Noah--The story of Joseph--The goldenhorses--A horseless city--A fiction gross and palpable--A populouschurch--The French pilgrims--Rain in Venice--S. Mark's Day--Theprocession--New Testament mosaics--S. Isidoro's chapel--The chapel ofthe Males--A coign of vantage--The Pala d'oro--Sansovino--S. Mark'streasures--The Baptistery--The good Andrea Dandolo--The vision of BishopMagnus--The parasites. Let us now enter the atrium. When I first did so, in 1889, I fell atonce into the hands of a guide, who, having completed his otherservices, offered for sale a few pieces of mosaic which he had casuallychipped off the wall with his knife somewhere in the gallery. Beingyoung and simple I supposed this the correct thing for guides to do, andwas justified in that belief when at the Acropolis, a few weeks later, the terrible Greek who had me in tow ran lightly up a workman's ladder, produced a hammer from his pocket and knocked a beautiful carved leaffrom a capital. But S. Mark's has no such vandals to-day. There areguides in plenty, who detach themselves from its portals or appearsuddenly between the flagstaffs with promises of assistance; but theyare easily repulsed and the mosaics are safe. Entering the atrium by the central door we come upon history at once. For just inside on the pavement whose tesselations are not less lovelythan the ceiling mosaics--indeed I often think more lovely--are theporphyry slabs on which the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa asked pardon ofPope Alexander III, whom he had driven from Rome into an exile which hadnow brought him to Venice. The story has it that the great Emperordivested himself of his cloak of power and lay full length on these verystones; the Pope placed his foot on his neck, saying, "I will tread onthe asp and the basilisk. " The Emperor ventured the remark that he wassubmitting not to the Pope but to S. Peter. "To both of us, " saidAlexander. That was on July 24, 1177, and on the walls of the Doges'Palace we shall see pictures of the Pope's sojourn in Venice andsubsequent triumph. The vestibule mosaics are not easy to study, as the best are in thedomes immediately overhead. But they are very interesting in theirsimple directness. Their authors had but one end in view, and that wasto tell the story. As thorough illustrations they could not beoverpraised. And here let me say that though Baedeker is an importantbook in Venice, and S. Mark's Square is often red with it, there is oneeven more useful and necessary, especially in S. Mark's, and that is theBible. One has not to be a very profound Biblical student to keep pace, in memory, with the Old Masters when they go to the New Testament; butwhen the Old is the inspiration, as chiefly here, one is continually atfault. [Illustration: ONE OF THE NOAH MOSAICS_In the Atrium of S. Mark's_] The vestibule mosaics are largely thirteenth century. That is to say, they were being fixed together in these domes and on these walls whenEngland was under the first Edwards, and long indeed before America, which now sends so many travellers to see them--so many in fact that itis almost impossible to be in any show-place without hearing theAmerican accent--was dreamed of. The series begins in the first dome on the right, with the creation ofthe world, a design spread over three circles. In the inner one is theorigin of all things--or as far back as the artist, wisely untroubled bythe question of the creation of the Creator, cared to go. Angels seemalways to have been. In the next circle we find the creation of the sun, moon, and stars, birds, beasts, and fishes, and finally of man. Theouter circle belongs to Adam and Eve. Adam names the animals; his rib isextracted; Eve, a curiously forbidding woman, rather a Gauguinesquetype, results; she is presented to Adam; they eat the fruit; they taketo foliage; they are judged; the leaves become real garments; they aredriven forth to toil, Adam with an axe and Eve with a distaff. On the sides is the story of Cain and Abel carried back to an earlierpoint than we are accustomed to see it. Later, to the altar Cain bringsfruit and Abel a lamb; a hand is extended from heaven to the fortunateAbel while Cain sulks on a chair. The two brothers then share asentry-box in apparent amity, until Cain becomes a murderer. We next come, on the sides, to the story of Noah and the Tower of Babel. Noah's biography is vivid and detailed. We see him receiving Divineinstruction to build the ark, and his workmen busy. He is next among thebirds, and himself carries a pair of peacocks to the vessel. Then thebeasts are seen, and he carries in a pair of leopards, or perhaps pumas;and then his whole family stand by while two eagles are inserted, andother big birds, such as storks and pelicans, await their turn. Ireproduce this series. On the other side the rains have begun and theworld is drowning. Noah sends out the dove and receives it again; thewaters subside; he builds his altar, and the animals released from theark gambol on the slopes of Ararat. The third series of events in thelife of Noah I leave to the visitor to decipher. One of the incidents socaptured the Venetian imagination that it is repeated at the easterncorner of the Ducal Palace lagoon façade. The second dome tells the history of Abraham, and then three domes aregiven to the best story in the world, the story of Joseph. The firstdome treats of his dream, showing him asleep and busy with it, and theresult, the pit being a cylinder projecting some feet from the ground. Jacob's grief on seeing the coat of many colours is very dramatic. Inthe next we find Potiphar's wife, Joseph's downfall, and the twodreaming officials. The third tells of Joseph and Jacob and is full ofEgyptian local colour, a group of pyramids occurring twice. On the wallare subsidiary scenes, such as Joseph before Pharaoh, the incident ofBenjamin's sack with the cup in it, and the scene of the lean kinedevouring the fat, which they are doing with tremendous spirit, allbeginning simultaneously from behind. The last dome relates the story of Moses, but it is by an inferiorartist and does not compare with the others. The miracle of the manna onthe wall is, however, amusing, the manna being rather like melons andthe quails as large as pheasants. On the extreme left a cook is at workgrilling some on a very open fire. Another inferior mosaic on the northside of the atrium, represents S. Christopher with his little Passenger. It is a pity that Titian's delightful version in the Doges' Palace couldnot have been followed. The atrium is remarkable not only for its illustrations to Genesis. Itsmosaic patterns are very lovely, and its carved capitals. The staircaseto the left of the centre door of the church proper leads to theinterior galleries and to the exterior gallery, where the golden horsesare. Of the interior galleries I speak later. Let me say here that thesenoble steeds were originally designed and cast for a triumphal arch, tobe driven by Victory, in honour of Nero. Filched from Rome byConstantine, they were carried to his own city as an ornament to theimperial hippodrome. In 1204 the great Doge Enrico Dandolo, havinghumiliated Constantinople, brought the horses to Venice as a trophy, andthey were transferred to the service of the church. Here, above thecentral portal of the cathedral, they stood for nearly six centuries, and then in 1797 a more modern Constantine, one Napoleon, carried themto Paris, to beautify his city. In 1815, however, when there was aredistribution of Napoleonic spoils, back they came to Venice, to theirancient platform, and there they now are, unchanged, except that theirgolden skins are covered with the autographs of tourists. One odd thing about them is that they and Colleoni's steed are the onlyhorses which many younger and poorer Venetians have ever seen. As to thehorselessness of Venice, the last word, as well as one of the first, inEnglish, was written by our old friend Coryat in the following passage:"For you must consider that neither the Venetian Gentlemen nor anyothers can ride horses in the streets of Venice as in other Cities andTownes, because their streets being both very narrow and slippery, inregard they are all paved with smooth bricke, and joyning to the water, the horse would quickly fall into the river, and so drowne both himselfeand his rider. Therefore the Venetians do use Gondolaes in their streetsinsteede of horses, I meane their liquid streets: that is, theirpleasant channels. So that I now finde by mine owne experience that thespeeches of a certaine English Gentleman (with whom I once discoursedbefore my travels), a man that much vaunted of his observations inItaly, are utterly false. For when I asked him what principall things heobserved in Venice, he answered me that he noted but little of the city, because he rode through it in post. A fiction, and as grosse andpalpable as ever was coyned. " From the horses' gallery there is a most interesting view of the Piazzaand the Piazzetta, and the Old Library and Loggetta are as well seenfrom here as anywhere. Within the church itself two things at once strike us: the unusualpopularity of it, and the friendliness. Why an intensely foreignbuilding of great size should exert this power of welcome I cannot say;but the fact remains that S. Mark's, for all its Eastern domes and goldand odd designs and billowy floor, does more to make a stranger and aProtestant at home than any cathedral I know; and more people are alsounder its sway than in any other. Most of them are sightseers, no doubt, but they are sightseers from whom mere curiosity has fallen: they seemto like to be there for its own sake. The coming and going are incessant, both of worshippers and tourists, units and companies. Guides, professional and amateur, bring in littlegroups of travellers, and one hears their monotonous informative voicesabove the foot-falls; for, as in all cathedrals, the prevailing sound isof boots. In S. Mark's the boots make more noise than in most of theothers because of the unevenness of the pavement, which here and therelures to the trot. One day as I sat in my favourite seat, high up in thegallery, by a mosaic of S. Liberale, a great gathering of Frenchpilgrims entered, and, seating themselves in the right transept beneathme, they disposed themselves to listen to an address by the Frenchpriest who shepherded them. His nasal eloquence still rings in my ears. A little while after I chanced to be at Padua, and there, in the churchof S. Anthony, I found him again, again intoning rhetoric. S. Mark's is never empty, but when the rain falls--and in Venice rainliterally does fall--it is full. Then do the great leaden spouts overthe façade pour out their floods, while those in the courtyard of theDoges' Palace expel an even fiercer torrent. But the city's recoveryfrom a deluge is instant. But the most populous occasion on which I ever saw S. Mark's was on S. Mark's own day--April 25. Then it is solid with people: on account ofthe procession, which moves from a point in front of the high altar andmakes a tour of the church, passing down to the door of the Baptistery, through the atrium, and into the church again by the door close to theCappella dei Mascoli. There is something in all Roman Catholicceremonial which for me impairs its impressiveness--perhaps a thoughttoo much mechanism--and I watched this chanting line of choristers, priests, and prelates without emotion, but perfectly willing to believethat the fault lay with me. Three things abide vividly in the memory:the Jewish cast of so many of the large inscrutable faces of the wearersof the white mitres; a little aged, isolated, ecclesiastic of high rankwho muttered irascibly to himself; and a precentor who for a momentunfolded his hands and lowered his eyes to pull out his watch and peepat it. Standing just inside the church and watching the people swarm intheir hundreds for this pageantry, I was struck by the comparativelysmall number who made any entering salutation. No children did. Perhapsthe raptest worshipper was one of Venice's many dwarfs, a tiny, alertman in blue linen with a fine eloquent face and a great mass ofiron-grey hair. This was the only occasion on which I saw the Baptistery accessiblefreely to all and the door into the Piazzetta open. One should not look at a guide-book on the first visit to S. Mark's; noron the second or third, unless, of course, one is pressed for time. Letthe walls and the floors and the pillars and the ceiling do their ownquiet magical work first. Later you can gather some of their history. The church has but one fault which I have discovered, and that is thecircular window to the south. Beautiful as this is, it is utterly out ofplace, and whoever cut it was a vandal. But indeed S. Mark's ought to have a human appeal, considering the humanpatience and thought that have gone to its making and beautifying, inside and out. No other church has had much more than a tithe of suchtoil. The Sistine Chapel in Rome is wonderful enough, with its frescoes;but what is the labour on a fresco compared with that on a mosaic?Before every mosaic there must be the artist and the glass-maker; andthen think of the labour of translating the artist's picture into thisexacting and difficult medium and absolutely covering every inch of thebuilding with it! And that is merely decoration; not structure at all. There are mosaics here which date from the tenth century; and there aremosaics which are being renewed at this moment, for the prosperity ofthe church is continually in the thoughts of the city fathers. Theearliest is that of Christ, the Virgin, and S. Mark, on the inside wallover the central door. My own favourites are all among the earlier ones. Indeed, some of the later ones are almost repulsively flamboyant andself-conscious. Particularly I like the great scene of Christ's agonyhigh up on the right wall, with its lovely green and gold border, touched with red. But all the patterns, especially in the roof arches, are a delight, especially those with green in them. I like too thepicture of Christ on a white ass in the right transept, with thechildren laying their cloaks in His way. And the naïve scene of Christ'stemptation above it, and the quaint row of disciples beneath it, waitingto have their feet washed. Of the more modern mosaics the "Annunciation" and "Adoration of theMagi" are among the most pleasing. There are some curious and interesting early mosaics in the chapel of S. Isidoro in the left transept. It is always dark in this tiny recess, butbit by bit the incidents in the pictures are revealed. They are verydramatic, and the principal scene of the saint's torture by beingdragged over the ground by galloping horses is repeated in relief on thealtar. I have failed to find any life of any S. Isidoro that relates thestory. Note the little bronze lions on each side of the altar--two morefor that census of Venetian lions which I somewhere suggest might bemade. The little chapel on the left of S. Isidoro's is known as theCappella dei Mascoli, or males, for hither come the young wives ofVenice to pray that they may bring forth little gondoliers. That at anyrate is one story; another says that it was the chapel of aconfraternity of men to which no woman might belong. In the mosaic highup on the left is a most adorably gay little church, and on the altarare a pretty baby and angels. On a big pillar close to this chapel is aMadonna with a votive rifle hung by it; but I have been unable to findits story. It might be a moving one. It is not detail, however lovely, for which one seeks S. Mark's, butgeneral impressions, and these are inexhaustible. It is a temple ofbeauty and mystery in which to loiter long, and, as I have said, just bythe S. Liberale in the gallery of the right transept, I made my seat. From this point one sees under the most favourable conditions the mosaicof the entry into Jerusalem; the choir; the choir screen with itspillars and saints; the two mysterious pulpits, beneath which childrencreep and play on great days; and all the miracle of the pavements. Fromhere one can follow the Mass and listen to the singing, undisturbed bythe moving crowd. S. Mark's is described by Ruskin as an illuminated missal in mosaic. Itis also a treasury of precious stones, for in addition to every knowncoloured stone that this earth of ours can produce, with which it isbuilt and decorated and floored, it has the wonderful Pala d'oro, thatsumptuous altar-piece of gold and silver and enamel which contains somesix thousand jewels. More people, I guess, come to see this thananything else; but it is worth standing before, if only as a reminder ofhow far the Church has travelled since a carpenter's son, who despisedriches, founded it; as a reminder, too, as so much of this building is, of the day when Constantinople, where in the eleventh century the Palad'oro was made, was Christian also. The fine carved pillars of the high altar's canopy are very beautiful, and time has given them a quality as of ivory. According to a custodian, without whom one cannot enter the choir, the remains of S. Mark stilllie beneath the high altar, but this probably is not true. At the backof the high altar is a second altar with pillars of alabaster, and thecustodian places his candle behind the central ones to illustrate theirsoft lucency, and affirms that they are from Solomon's own temple. Hiscandle illumines also Sansovino's bronze sacristy door, with its finereliefs of the Deposition and the Resurrection, with the heads ofEvangelists and Prophets above them. Six realistic heads are here too, one of which is Titian's, one Sansovino's himself, and one the head ofAretino, the witty and licentious writer and gilt-edged parasite--thislast a strange selection for a sacristy door. Sansovino designed alsothe bronze figures of the Evangelists on the balustrade of the choirstalls and the reliefs of the Doge's and Dogaressa's private pews. There are two Treasuries in S. Mark's, One can be seen every day forhalf a franc; the other is open only on Fridays and the entrance fee is, I believe, five francs. I have not laid out this larger amount; but inthe other I have spent some time and seen various priceless temporalindications of spiritual power. There is a sword of Doge Mocenigo, awonderful turquoise bowl, a ring for the Adriatic nuptials, and soforth. But I doubt if such details of S. Mark's are things to writeabout. One should go there to see S. Mark's as a whole, just as one goesto Venice to see Venice. The Baptistery is near the entrance on the left as you leave the church. But while still in the transept it is interesting to stand in the centreof the aisle with one's back to the high altar and look through the opendoor at the Piazza lying in the sun. The scene is fascinating in thisframe; and one also discovers how very much askew the façade of S. Mark's must be, for instead of seeing, immediately in front, the centreof the far end of the square, as most persons would expect, one seesNaya's photograph shop at the corner. The Baptistery is notable for its mosaic biography of the Baptist, itsnoble font, and the beautiful mural tomb of Doge Andrea Dandolo. Andrea, the last Doge to be buried within S. Mark's, was one of the greatest ofthem all. His short reign of but ten years, 1343 to 1354, when he diedaged only forty-six, was much troubled by war with the Genoese; but hesucceeded in completing an alliance against the Turks and in finallysuppressing Zara, and he wrote a history of Venice and revised its codeof laws. Petrarch, who was his intimate friend, described Andrea as"just, upright, full of zeal and of love for his country . .. Erudite . .. Wise, affable, and humane. " His successor was the traitor MarinoFaliero. The tomb of the Doge is one of the most beautiful things inVenice, all black bronze. It was the good Andrea, not to be confused with old Henry Dandolo, thescourge of the Greeks, to whom we are indebted for the charming story ofthe origin of certain Venetian churches. It runs thus in the translationin _St. Mark's Rest_:-- "As head and bishop of the islands, the Bishop Magnus of Altinum wentfrom place to place to give them comfort, saying that they ought tothank God for having escaped from these barbarian cruelties. And thereappeared to him S. Peter, ordering him that in the head of Venice, ortruly of the city of Rivoalto, where he should find oxen and sheepfeeding, he was to build a church under his (S. Peter's) name. And thushe did; building S. Peter's Church in the island of Olivolo [nowCastello], where at present is the seat and cathedral church of Venice. [Illustration: THE CAMPANILE AND THE PIAZZA FROM COOK'S CORNER] "Afterwards appeared to him the angel Raphael, committing it to him, that at another place, where he should find a number of birds together, he should build him a church: and so he did, which is the church of theAngel Raphael in Dorsoduro. "Afterwards appeared to him Messer Jesus Christ our Lord, and committedto him that in the midst of the city he should build a church, in theplace above which he should see a red cloud rest: and so he did, and itis San Salvador. "Afterwards appeared to him the most holy Mary the Virgin, verybeautiful, and commanded him that where he should see a white cloudrest, he should build a church: which is the church of S. Mary theBeautiful. "Yet still appeared to him S. John the Baptist, commanding that heshould build two churches, one near the other, --the one to be in hisname, and the other in the name of his father. Which he did, and theyare San Giovanni in Bragora, and San Zaccaria. "Then appeared to him the apostles of Christ, wishing, they also, tohave a church in this new city: and they committed it to him that wherehe should see twelve cranes in a company, there he should build it. " Of the Baptistery mosaics the most scanned will always be that in whichSalome bears in the head. In another the decapitated saint bends downand touches his own head. The scene of Christ's baptism is very quaint, Christ being half-submerged in Jordan's waves, and fish swimming pastduring the sacred ceremony. Behind the altar, on which is a block ofstone from Mount Tabor, is a very spirited relief of S. George killingthe dragon. The adjoining chapel is that named after Cardinal Zeno, who lies in themagnificent central tomb beneath a bronze effigy of himself, while hissacred hat is in crimson mosaic on each side of the altar. The tomb andaltar alike are splendid rather than beautiful: its late Renaissancesculptors, being far removed from Donatello, Mino, and Desiderio, thelast of whom was one of the authors of the beautiful font in theadjoining Baptistery. Earlier and more satisfactory reliefs are those ofan angel on the right of the altar and a Madonna and Child on the leftwhich date from a time when sculpture was anonymous. The mosaicsrepresent the history of S. Mark. One may walk or sit at will in S. Mark's as long as one wishes, free andunharassed; but a ticket is required for the galleries and a ticket forthe choir and treasury; and the Baptistery and Zeno chapel can beentered only by grace of a loafer with a key who expects something inreturn for opening it. The history of this loafer's privilege I have notobtained, and it would be interesting to learn by what authority he isthere, for he has no uniform and he accepts any sum you give him. If allthe hangers-on of the Roman Catholic Church, in Italy alone, who performthese parasitical functions and stand between man and God, could begathered together, what a huge and horrible army it would be! CHAPTER IV THE PIAZZA AND THE CAMPANILE The heart of Venice--Old-fashioned music--Teutonic invaders--Thehoneymooners--True republicanism--A city of the poor--The blackshawls--A brief triumph--Red hair--A band-night incident--Thepigeons of the Piazza--The two Procuratie--A royal palace--Theshopkeepers--Florian's--Great names--Venetian restaurants--Littlefish--The old campanile--A noble resolve--The new campanile--The angelvane--The rival campanili--The welcome lift--The bells--Venice from theCampanile. S. Mark's Square, or the Piazza, is more than the centre of Venice: to alarge extent it is Venice. Good Venetians when they die flit evermoreamong its arcades. No other city has so representative a heart. On the four musical nightshere--afternoons in the winter--the Piazza draws like a magnet. Thatevery stranger is here, you may be sure, and most Venetian men. Some sitoutside Florian's and the other cafés; others walk round and round thebandstand; others pause fascinated beside the musicians. And so it hasbeen for centuries, and will be. New ideas and fashions come slowly intothis city, where one does quite naturally what one's father andgrandfather did; and a good instance of such contented conservatism isto be found in the music offered to these contented crowds, for they arestill true to Verdi, Wagner, and Rossini, and with reluctance areexperiments made among the newer men. In the daytime the population of the Piazza is more foreign thanVenetian. In fact the only Venetians to be seen are waiters, photographers, and guides, the knots of errand boys watching theartists, and, I might add, the pigeons. But at night Venice claims it, although the foreigner is there too. It is amusing to sit at a table onthe outside edge of Florian's great quadrangle of chairs and watch thenationalities, the Venetians, the Germans, the Austrians, and theAnglo-Saxons, as they move steadily round and round. Venice is, ofcourse, the paradise both of Germans and Austrians. Every day in thespring and summer one or two steamers arrive from Trieste packed withAustrian tourists awfully arrayed. Some hundreds have to return toTrieste at 2 o'clock; other hundreds remain till night. The beautifulword Venezia, which we cheapen but not too cruelly to Venice and theFrench soften to Venise, is alas! to Teutonic tongues Venedig. The Venetians reach the Square first, smart, knowing, confident, friendly, and cheerful; then the Germans and Austrians, very obviouslytrippers; and then, after their hotel dinners, at about quarter pastnine, the English: the women with low necks, the men in white shirts, talking a shade too loud, monarchs of all they survey. But thehoneymooners are the best--the solicitous young bridegrooms fromSurbiton and Chislehurst in their dinner-jackets and black ties; theirslender brides, with pretty wraps on their heads, here probably for thelast or the first time, and so determined to appear Continental andtolerant, bless their hearts! They walk round and round, or sit overtheir coffee, and would be so happy and unselfconscious and clingingwere it not for the other English here. The fine republicanism of Venice is nowhere so apparent as on bandnights. Such aristocrats as the city holds (and judging from thecondition of the palaces to-day, there cannot be many now in residence)either look exactly like the middle classes or abstain from the Piazza. The prevailing type is the well-to-do citizen, very rarely with hiswomen folk, who moves among street urchins at play; cigar-end hunters;soldiers watchful for officers to salute; officers sometimes returningand often ignoring salutes; groups of slim upright Venetian girls in thestately black shawls, moving, as they always do, like queens; littleuniformed schoolboys in "crocodiles"; a policeman or two; a party fromthe country; a workman with his wife and babies (for though theVenetians adore babies they see no incongruity in keeping them up tillten o'clock); epauletted and cockhatted gendarmes; and at intervals, like ghosts, officials from the arsenal, often alone, in their spotlesswhite linen. Every type of Venetian is seen in the Square, save one--the gondolier. Never have I seen a gondolier there, day or night: not because it is toogrand for him, but it is off his beat. When he has done his work heprefers the wine shops of his own sestiere. No thought of any want ofwelcome would deter him, for Venice is republic to the core. In fact onemight go farther and say that it is a city of the poor. Where the poorlived in the great days when the palaces were occupied by the rich, onecannot quite understand, since the palace is the staple building; butthere is no doubt as to where they live now: they live everywhere. Thenumber of palaces which are wholly occupied by one family must beinfinitesimal; the rest are tenements, anything but model buildings, rookeries. Venice has no aristocratic quarter as other cities have. Thepoor establish themselves either in a palace or as near it as possible. I have referred to the girls in their black shawls or scialli. Theyremain in the memory as one of Venice's most distinguished possessions. A handsome young private gondolier in white linen with a coloured scarf, bending to the oar and thrusting his boat forward with muscular strokes, is a delight to watch; but he is without mystery. These girls have graceand mystery too. They are so foreign, so slender and straight, so sad. Their faces are capable of animation, but their prevailing expression ismelancholy. Why is this? Is it because they know how secondary a placewoman holds in this city of well-nourished, self-satisfied men? Is itthat they know that a girl's life is so brief: one day as supple andactive as they are now and the next a crone? For it is one of thetragedies that the Venetian atmosphere so rapidly ages women. But in their prime the Venetian girls in the black shawls aredistinguished indeed, and there was not a little sagacity in the remarkto me by an observer who said that, were they wise, all women wouldadopt a uniform. One has often thought this, in London, when a nurse inblue or grey passes refreshingly along a pavement made bizarre byexpensive and foolish fashions; one realizes it even more in Venice. Most of these girls have dark or black hair. The famous red hair ofVenetian women is rarely seen out of pictures. Round and round goes the chattering contented crowd, while every tableat each of the four cafés, Florian's and the Aurora, the Quadri and theOrtes Rosa, swells the noise. Now and then the music, or the ordinarymurmur of the Square in the long intervals, is broken by the noisyrattle of a descending shop shutter, or the hour is struck by theMerceria clock's bronze giants; now and then a pigeon crosses the skyand shows luminous where the light strikes its breast; now and then afeather flutters from a window ledge, great bats flit up and down, andthe mosquitoes shrill in one's ear. It is an entertainment never failingin interest to the observer, and not the least amusing question that oneasks oneself is, Where does every one sleep? I shall always remember one band night here, for it was then that I sawa girl and her father whose images will never leave me, I know not why. Every now and then, but seldom indeed, a strange face or form will thussuddenly photograph itself on the memory, when it is only with theutmost concentrated effort, or not at all, that we can call up mentalpictures of those near and dear to us. I know nothing of these two; Isaw them only once again, and then in just the same fugitive way; but ifan artist were now to show me a portrait of either, I could point outwhere his hand was at fault. The band was playing the usual music--_IlTrovatore_ or _Aïda_ or _Lohengrin_--and the crowd was circulating whenan elderly man with a long-pointed grey beard and moustache and thepeculiar cast of countenance belonging to them (Don Quixotic) walkedpast. He wore a straw hat slightly tilted and was smoking a cigar. Hisarm was passed through that of a tall slender girl of about his ownheight, and, say, twenty-five, in red. She was leaning towards him andhe slightly inclined towards her. They walked faster than Venice, andtalked animatedly in English as they passed me, and the world had no onein it but themselves; and so they disappeared, with long strides and acurious ease of combined movement almost like skillful partners in adance. Two nights later I saw them again. This time she was in black, and again they sailed through the crowd, a little leaning towards eachother, he again holding her arm, and again both discussing in Englishsomething with such interest that they were conscious of nothing aroundthem. Sitting outside a café on the Piazza every evening for a month, one naturally sees many travellers come and go; but none other in thatphantasmagoria left any mark on my mind. Why did these? So much for S. Mark's Square by night. With thousands of persons, tothink of S. Mark's Square by day is chiefly to think of pigeons. Many avisitor to Venice who cannot remember the details of a single paintingthere can show you a photograph of herself with pigeons on her shouldersand arms. Photographers and dealers in maize are here all day to effectthese pretty conjunctions; but the Kodak has seriously impaired theirprofits. The birds are smaller than our London monsters and not quite sobrilliantly burnished. How many there are I have no idea; but since theyare sacred, their numbers must be ever increasing. Why they are sacredis something of a mystery. One story states that the great EnricoDandolo had carrier-pigeons with him in the East which conveyed thegrand tidings of victories to Venice; another says that the same heroicold man was put in possession of valuable strategic information by meansof a carrier-pigeon, and on returning to Venice proclaimed it a bird tobe reverenced. There was once a custom of loosing a number of pigeonsamong the crowd in the Piazza on Palm Sunday. The birds being weightedfloundered downwards and were caught and killed for the pot; but such asescaped were held to have earned their liberty for ever. [Illustration: THE PRESENTATIONFROM THE PAINTING BY TITIAN_In the Accademia_] At night no doubt the pigeons roost among S. Mark's statuary and onconvenient ledges in the neighbourhood; by day, when not on the pavementof the Piazza, the bulk of the flock are dotted about among the reliefsof the Atrio, facing S. Mark's. They have no timidity, but by a kind of honourable understanding theyall affect to be startled by the bells at certain hours and the middaygun, and ascend in a grey cloud for a few seconds. They are never so engaging as when flying double, bird and shadow, against the Campanile. Their collective cooing fills the air and makes the Piazza's day music. Venetians crossing the Piazza walk straight on, through the birds, likeMoses crossing the Red Sea; the foreigners pick their way. What with S. Mark's and the pigeons, the Campanile and coffee, fewvisitors have any time to inquire as to the other buildings of thePiazza. Nor are they of much interest. Briefly they are the OldProcuratie, which forms the side on which the clock is, the Atrio orNuova Fabbrica opposite S. Mark's, and the New Procuratie on theCampanile side. The Old Procuratie, whose main row of windows I oncecounted, making either a hundred or a hundred and one, is now officesand, above, residences. Here once abode the nine procurators of Venicewho, under the Doge, ruled the city. The New Procuratie is now the Royal Palace, and you may see the royallackeys conversing with the sentinels in the doorway by Florian's. It isthe finer building: over the arches it has good sprawlingMichael-Angelesque figures, noble lions' heads, and massiveornamentations. I don't know for certain, but I should guess that the Royal Palace inVenice is the only abode of a European King that has shops underneathit. Wisely the sleeping apartments face the Grand Canal, with a gardenintervening; were they on the Piazza side sleep would be verydifficult. But all the great State rooms overlook the Piazza. The Palaceis open on fixed days and shown by a demure flunkey in an English bowlerhat, but it should be the last place to be visited by the sightseer. Itsonly real treasures--the Tintorettos illustrating the life of S. Mark--were not visible on the only occasion on which I ventured in. Beneath these three buildings--the two Procuratie and the FabbricaNuova--runs an arcade where the Venetians congregate in wet weather andwhere the snares for tourists are chiefly laid by the dealers injewellery, coral, statuary, lace, glass, and mosaic. But the Venetianshopkeepers are not clever: they have not the sense to leave the nibbleralone. One has not been looking in the window for more than two secondsbefore a silky-voiced youth appears at the door and begins to recommendhis wares and invite custom; and then of course one moves away interror. Here, too, under the arcade, are the head-quarters of the cafés, whichdo most of their business on the pavement of the Square. Of theseFlorian's is the oldest and best. At certain hours, however, one mustcross the Square to either the Ortes Rosa or Quadri, or be roasted. Theoriginal Florian was wise in his choice of site, for he has more shadyhours than his rivals opposite. In an advertisement of the café in themusical programme it is stated that, "the oldest and most aristocraticestablishment of its kind in Venice, it can count among its clients, since 1720, Byron, Goethe, Rousseau, Canova, Dumas, and Moor, " meaningby Moor not Othello but Byron's friend and biographer, the Anacreon ofErin. How Florian's early patrons looked one can see in a brilliantlittle picture by Guardi in the National Gallery, No. 2099. The caféboasts that its doors are never shut, day or night; and I have no doubtthat this is true, but I have never tested it in the small hours. Oddly enough there are no restaurants in the Piazza, but many about itsborders on the north and west. The visitor to Venice, as a rule, eats inhis hotel; and I think he is wise. But wishing to be in Venice rathermore thoroughly than that, I once lived in rooms for a month and ate inall the restaurants in turn. Having had this experience I expect to bebelieved when I say that the restaurants of Venice are not good. Thefood is monotonous, and the waiting, even at what is called the best, the Bauer-Grünwald, say, or the Pilsen, is leisurely. Add to this thatthe guests receive no welcome, partly because, all the places beingunderstaffed, no one can be spared for that friendly office, and partlybecause politeness is not a Venetian foible. An immense interval thenelapses before the lista, or bill of fare, is brought, partly becausethere is no waiter disengaged and partly because there seems to be a lawin Venetian restaurants that one lista shall suffice for eight tables. Then comes the struggle--to find anything new either to eat or drink. The lista contains in print a large number of attractive things, but feware obtainable, for on an Italian menu print is nothing: it is only thewritten words that have any relevance. The print is in Italian andGerman, the reason being that Italians, Germans, and Austrians are theonly people who resort to restaurants. The English and Americans eat intheir hotels, en pension. (In Venice, I might say, all foreigners areaddressed first in German, except by the little boys in the streetswhose one desire on earth is to direct you to S. Marco and be paid fortheir trouble. They call you _m'soo_. ) Once a meal is ordered it comesrapidly enough, but one has to be very hungry to enjoy it. For the mostpart Venetian food is Italian food: that is to say, almost wholly vealand paste; but in the matter of fish Venice has her specialities. Thereare, for examples, those little toy octopuses which on my first visit, twenty-five years ago, used to be seen everywhere in baskets at corners, but now have disappeared from the streets. These are known as calamai orcalamaretti, and if one has the courage to take the shuddering firststep that counts they will be found to be very good. But they fail tolook nice. Better still are scampi, a kind of small crawfish, ratherlike tenderer and sweeter langouste. To the investigator I recommend the dish called variously frutta di mareand fritto misto, in which one has a fried jumble of the smaller seacreatures of the lagoon, to the scampi and calamaretti being added freshsardines (which the fishermen catch with the hand at low tide), shrimps, little soles, little red mullets, and a slice or two of big cuttle fish. A popular large fish is the bronzino, and great steaks of tunny arealways in demand too. But considering Venice's peculiar position withregard to the sea and her boasted dominion over it fish are very dear. Even more striking is the dearness of fruit, but this, I take it, is dueto the distance that it must come, either by rail or water. Norestaurant that I discovered--as in the fair land of France and indeedelsewhere in Italy--places wine or grapes free on the table. As I say, I tried all the Venetian houses, small and large--the CappelloNero, the Bella Venezia, the Antico Panada, the Bauer-Grünwald, theBonvecchiato, the Cavalletti, the Pilsen; and the only one I felt anydesire to return to was the Pilsen, which is large and noisy andintensely Teutonic, but a shade more attentive than the others. TheBella Venezia is the best purely Venetian house. I cannot remember the old campanile with enough vividness to be sure, but my impression is that its brick was a mellower tint than that of thenew: nearer the richness of S. Giorgio Maggiore's, across the water. Time may do as much for the new campanile, but at present its colour isnot very satisfactory except when the sun is setting. Indeed, so new isit that one cannot think of it as having any association whatever withS. Mark's. If it belongs to anything it is to Venice as a whole, orpossibly the Royal Palace. Yet one ought not to cavil, for it stands sobravely on the spot where its predecessor fell, and this is a verysatisfactory proof that the Venetians, for all the decay of their lovelycity and the disappearance of their marvellous power, are Venetiansstill. The old campanile, after giving various warnings, fell on July 14, 1902, at half-past nine in the morning. On the evening of the same day theTown Council met, under the chairmanship of Count Grimani, the mayor, and without the least hesitation decided that a successor must beerected: in the fine words of the count: "Dov'era, com'era" ("Where itwas and as it was"). Sympathy and contributions poured in from theoutside world to strengthen the hands of the Venetians, and on S. Mark'sDay (April 25), 1903, the first stone was laid. On S. Mark's Day, 1912, the new campanile was declared complete in every part and blessed in thepresence of representatives of all Italy, while 2479 pigeons, broughthither for the purpose, carried the tidings to every corner of thecountry. The most remarkable circumstance about the fall of the campanile isthat no one was hurt. The Piazza and Piazzetta are by no means empty athalf-past nine in the morning, yet these myriad tons of brick and stonesank bodily to the ground and not a human bruise resulted. Here itsbehaviour was better than that of the previous campanile of S. GiorgioMaggiore, which, when it fell in 1774, killed one monk and injured twoothers. Nor was S. Mark's harmed, although its sacristan confesses tohave been dumb for three days from the shock. The falling golden angelfrom the top of the campanile was found in front of the central door asthough to protect the church. Sansovino's Loggetta, it is true, wascrushed and buried beneath the debris, but human energy is indomitable, and the present state of that structure is a testimony to the skill andtenacity which still inhabit Venetian hands and breasts. What I chiefly miss in the new campanile is any aerial suggestion. Ithas actual solidity in every inch of it, apart from the fact that italso conveys the idea of solidity, as any building must which has takenthe place of one so misguided as to fall down. But its want of thisintangible quality, together with its newness, have displaced it in myeyes as the king campanile of Venice. In my eyes the campanile of S. Giorgio Maggiore now reigns supreme, while I am very much attached alsoto those of the Frari and S. Francesco della Vigna. But let S. Mark'scampanile take heart: some day Anno Domini will claim these others too, and then the rivalry will pass. But as it is, morning, noon, and eveningthe warm red bricks and rich green copper top of S. Giorgio Maggiore'sbell-tower draw the gaze first, and hold it longest. It is the mostbeautiful campanile of all, and its inevitableness is such that did wenot know the truth we should wonder if the six days of creation had notincluded an afternoon for the ordainment of such edifices. It would need a Hans Andersen to describe the feelings of the otherVenetian campaniles when S. Mark's tall column fell. S. Giorgio's Iimagine instantly took command, but no doubt there were other claimantsto the throne. I rather fancy that the Frari's had something to say, andS. Pietro in Castello's also, on account of his age and his earlyimportance; but who could pay any serious attention at that time to atower so pathetically out of the perpendicular as he now is? The new campanile endeavours to reproduce the old faithfully, and it wasfound possible to utilize a little of the old material. The figures ofVenice on the east wall above the belfry canopy and Justice on the westare the ancient ones pieced together and made whole; the lions on thenorth and south sides are new. The golden angel on the summit is the oldone restored, with the novelty, to her, as to us, of being set on apivot to act as a vane. I made this discovery for myself, after beingpuzzled by what might have been fancied changes of posture from day today, due to optical illusion. One of the shopkeepers on the Square, whohas the campanile before his eye continually, replied, however, when Iasked him if the figure was fixed or movable, "Fixed. " This double dutyof the new campanile angel--to shine in golden glory over the city andalso to tell the wind--must be a little mortifying to her celestialsister on the campanile of S. Giorgio, who is immovable. But no doubtshe has philosophy enough to consider subjection to the caprices of thebreeze a humiliation. Another change for which one cannot be too grateful is the lift. For themodest price of a franc one can be whirled to the belfry in a fewseconds at any time of the day and refresh one's eyes with the city andthe lagoon, the Tyrolese Alps, and the Euganean hills. Of old oneascended painfully; but never again. Before the fall there were fivebells, of which only the greatest escaped injury. The other four weretaken to a foundry set up on the island of Sant'Elena and there fusedand recast at the personal cost of His Holiness the late Pope, who wasPatriarch of Venice. I advise no one to remain in the belfry when thefive are at work. They begin slowly and with some method; they proceedto a deafening cacophony, tolerable only when one is far distant. There are certain surprises in the view from the campanile. One is thatnone of the water of the city is visible--not a gleam--except a fewyards of the Grand Canal and a stretch of the Canale della Giudecca; thehouses are too high for any of the by-ways to be seen. Anotherrevelation is that the floor pattern of the Piazza has no relation toits sides. The roofs of Venice we observe to be neither red nor brown, but something between the two. Looking first to the north, over thethree flagstaffs and the pigeon feeders and the Merceria clock, we seeaway across the lagoon the huge sheds of the dirigibles and (to theleft) the long railway causeway joining Venice to the mainland as by athread. Immediately below us in the north-east are the domes of S. Mark's, surmounted by the graceful golden balls on their branches, springing from the leaden roof, and farther off are the rising bulk ofSS. Giovanni e Paolo, with its derivative dome and golden balls, theleaning tower of S. Maria del Pianto, and beyond this the cemetery andMurano. Beneath us on the east side is the Ducal Palace, and we lookright into the courtyard and on to the prison roof. Farther away arethe green trees of the Giardini Pubblici, the leaning tower of S. Pietro di Castello, and S. Nicholas of the Lido. In the south-east arethe Lido's various hotels and the islands of S. Lazzaro (with thecampanile) and S. Servolo. In the south is the Grand Canal with a Guardipattern of gondolas upon it, criss-crossing like flies; then S. Giorgio's lovely island and the Giudecca, and beyond these variousislands of the lagoon: La Grazia, S. Clemente, and, in the far distance, Malamocco. In the south-west the Custom House pushes its nose into thewater, with the vast white mountain of the Salute behind it. In the westis the Piazza, immediately below, with its myriad tables and chairs;then the backs of the S. Moïse statues; and farther away the Frari andits campanile, the huge telegraph-wire carriers of the harbour; acrossthe water Fusina, and beyond in the far distance the jagged Euganeanhills. At sunset the landscape is sharpened and brought nearer. The deep blueof the real sea, beyond the lagoon, grows deeper; the great fields ofmud (if it is low tide) gleam and glisten. And so it will ever be. CHAPTER V THE DOGES' PALACE. I: THE INTERIOR Uningratiating splendour--Doges and Heaven--Venetian pride--The mostbeautiful picture of all--A non-scriptural Tintoretto--The Sala delCollegio--The Sala del Senato--More Doges and Heaven--The Council ofTen--Anonymous charges--Tintoretto's "Last Judgment"--An immenseroom--Tintoretto's "Paradiso"--Sebastiano Ziani and his exploits--PopeAlexander III and Barbarossa--Old blind Dandolo--The Crusades--Zara--TheFall of Constantinople--Marino Faliero and his fall--The first Doge inthe room--The last Doge in the room--The Sala dello Scrutinio--Palma's"Last Judgment"--A short way with mistresses--The rest of the Doges--Twobattle pictures--The Doges' suites--The Archæological Museum--The Bridgeof Sighs--The dungeons. I have to confess to weariness in the Ducal apartments. The rooms aresplendid, no doubt, and the pictures are monuments of energy; but it isthe windows that frame the most delectable scenes. In Venice, where thesun usually shines, one's normal wish is to be out, except when, as inS. Mark's there is the wonder of dimness too. For Venice is not likeother historic cities; Venice, for all her treasures of art, is firstand foremost the bride of the Adriatic, and the call of the sea isstrong. Art's opportunity is the dull days and rainy. With the best will to do so, I cannot be much impressed by the glory andpower of the Doges. They wear a look, to me, very little removed fromTown Councillors: carried out to the highest power, no doubt, butincorrigibly municipal none the less; and the journey through thesehalls of their deliberations is tedious and unenchanting. That I amwrong I am only too well aware. Does not Venetian history, with itstriumphs and pageantry of world-power, prove it? And would Titian andPaul Veronese and Tintoretto have done all this for a Mayor andCorporation? These are awkward questions. None the less, there it is, and the Doges' Palace, within, would impart no thrill to me were it notfor Tintoretto's "Bacchus and Ariadne. " Having paid for our tickets (for only on Sundays and holidays is thePalace free) we take the Scala d'Oro, designed by Sansovino, originallyintended only for the feet of the grandees of the Golden Book. The firstroom is an ante-room where catalogues are sold; but these are notneeded, for every room, or nearly every room, has hand-charts of thepaintings, and every room has a custodian eager to impart information. Next is the Hall of the Four Doors, with its famous and typicalTitian--Doge Grimani, fully armed and accompanied by warriors, ecstatically acknowledging religion, as symbolized by a woman, a cross, and countless cherubim. Behind her is S. Mark with an expression of somesternness, and beside him his lion, roaring. Doges, it appears, --at any rate the Doges who reigned during Titian'slong life--had no sense of humour, or they could not have permitted thiskind of self-glorification in paint. Both here and at the Accademia weshall see picture after picture in which these purse-proud Venetianadministrators, suspecting no incongruity or absurdity, are placed, byTitian and Tintoretto, on terms of perfect intimacy with the hierarchyof heaven. Sometimes they merely fraternize; sometimes they masqueradeas the Three Kings or Wise Men from the East; but always it is into theNew Testament that, with the aid of the brush of genius, they forcetheir way. Modesty can never have been a Venetian characteristic; nor is it now, when Venice is only a museum and show place. All the Venetians--the men, that is, --whom one sees in the Piazza have an air of profoundself-satisfaction. And this palace of the Doges is no training-place forhumility; for if its walls do not bear witness, glorious and chromatic, to the greatness of a Doge, it is merely because the greatness of theRepublic requires the space. In this room, for example, we find Tiepoloallegorizing Venice as the conqueror of the sea. And now for the jewel of art in the Doges' Palace. It is in the roomopposite the door by which we entered--the ante-room of the Sala delCollegio--and it faces us, on the left as we enter: the "Bacchus andAriadne" of Tintoretto. We have all seen the "Bacchus and Ariadne" ofTitian in our National Gallery, that superb, burning, synchronizedepitome of the whole legend. Tintoretto has chosen one incident only;Love bringing Bacchus to the arms of Ariadne and at the same momentplacing on his head a starry coronal. Even here the eternal pride ofVenice comes in, for, made local, it has been construed as Love, or sayDestiny, completing the nuptials of the Adriatic (Bacchus) with Venice(Ariadne), and conferring on Venice the crown of supremacy. But thatmatters nothing. What matters is that the picture is at onceTintoretto's simplest work and his most lovely. One can do nothing butenjoy it in a kind of stupor of satisfaction, so soothing and perfect isit. His "Crucifixion, " which we shall see at the Scuola of S. Rocco, must ever be this giant painter's most tremendous achievement; but thepicture before us must equally remain his culminating effort in serene, absolute beauty. Three other mythological paintings, companions of the"Bacchus, " are here too, of which I like best the "Minerva" and the"Mercury"; but they are far from having the quality of that other. Ihave an idea that "The Origin of the Milky Way, " in the NationalGallery, was painted as a ceiling piece to go with these four, but Ihave no data for the theory, beyond its similarity in size and scheme. The other great picture in this room is Paul Veronese's sumptuous "Rapeof Europa. " [Illustration: BACCHUS AND ARIADNEFROM THE PAINTING BY TINTORETTO_In the Doges' Palace_] The Sala del Collegio itself, leading from this room, is full of Dogesin all the magnificence of paint, above the tawdriest of wainscotting. Tintoretto gives us Doge Andrea Gritti praying to the Virgin, DogeFrancesco Donato witnessing as an honoured guest the nuptials of S. Catherine, Doge Niccolô da Ponte surveying the Virgin in glory, and DogeAlvise Mocenigo condescending to adore his Saviour. Paul Veronesedepicts an allegory of the battle of Lepanto in 1571, at which Venicetemporarily overcame the Turks. The kneeling white-bearded warriorbeside S. Giustina is the victor, afterwards Doge Sebastiano Venier, andChrist looks on in approval. Tintoretto also painted for the Palace apicture of this battle, but it perished in the fire of 1576. It isVeronese who painted the virtues and attributes on the ceiling, one ofhis most famous works being the woman with a web, who is sometimescalled "Industry" and sometimes "Dialectics, " so flexible is symbolism. "Fidelity" has a dog with a fine trustful head. To my weary eye thefinest of the groups is that of Mars and Neptune, with flying cherubs, which is superbly drawn and coloured. Nothing but a chaise-longue onwhich to lie supine, at ease, can make the study of these wonderfulceilings anything but a distressing source of fatigue. The next room is the Sala del Senato, and here again we find a blend ofheaven and Venice, with Doges as a common denominator. A "Descent fromthe Cross" (by Tintoretto) is witnessed by Doge Pietro Lando and DogeMarcantonio Trevisan; and the same hand gives us Pietro Loredanimploring the aid of the Virgin. In the centre ceiling paintingTintoretto depicts Venice as Queen of the Sea. The other artist here isPalma the younger, whose principal picture represents Doge LeonardoLoredan presiding over an attack by a lion on a bull, typifying theposition of the Republic when Pope Julius launched the League of Cambrayagainst it in 1508. The Doge does not look dismayed, but Venice neverrecovered from the blow. The room on the right of the throne leads to the chapel, which hasseveral small pictures. A Giovanni Bellini is over the altar, but it isnot one of his best. During his long life in Venice Bellini saw tenDoges, and in his capacity as ducal painter painted four of them. Returning to the Sala delle Quattro Porte (by way of the "Bacchus andAriadne" room, if we are wise), we make for the Sala del Consiglio deiDieci, the terrible Council of Ten. All Venetian histories are eloquentupon this secret Tribunal, which, more powerful far than the Dogehimself, for five centuries, beginning early in the fourteenth, ruledthe city. On the walls are historical paintings which are admirableexamples of story-telling, and on the ceiling are Veroneses, original orcopied, the best of which depicts an old man with his head on his hand, fine both in drawing and colour. It was in the wall of the next roomthat the famous Bocca di Leone was placed, into which were dropped thoseanonymous charges against Venetian citizens which the Council of Teninvestigated, and if true, or, very likely, if not true, punished withsuch swiftness and thoroughness. How a state that offered such easytemptations to anti-social baseness and treachery could expect toprosper one cannot imagine. It suggests that the Venetian knowledge ofhuman nature was defective at the roots. In the next room the Three Heads of the Council of Ten debated, and herethe attendant goes into spasms of delight over a dazzling inlaid floor. This is all that is shown upstairs, for the piombi, or prison cells inthe leaden roof, are now closed. Downstairs we come to the two Great Halls--first the gigantic Sala delMaggior Consiglio, with Tintoretto's "Paradiso" at one end; historicalpictures all around; the portraits of the Doges above; a gorgeousceiling which, I fear, demands attention; and, mercifully, the littlebalcony over the lagoon for escape and recovery. But first let us peepinto the room on the left, where the remains of Guariento's fresco ofParadise, which Tintoretto was to supersede, have been set up: anecessarily somewhat meaningless assemblage of delicate tints and puredrawing. Then the photograph stall, which is in that ancient room of thepalace that has the two beautiful windows on a lower level than therest. It is melancholy to look round this gigantic sala of the great Counciland think of the pictures which were destroyed by the great fire in1576, when Sebastiano Venier was Doge, among them that rendering of thebattle of Lepanto, the Doge's own victory, which Tintoretto painted withsuch enthusiasm. A list of only a few of the works of art which fromtime to time have fallen to the flames would be tragic reading. Amongthe artists whose paintings were lost in the 1576 fire were, in additionto Tintoretto, Titian, Giovanni and Gentile Bellini, Gentile daFabriano and Carpaccio. Sad, too, to think that the Senators who oncethronged here--those grave, astute gentlemen in furred cloaks whomTintoretto and Titian and Moroni and Moretto painted for us--assemblehere no more. Sightseers now claim the palace, and the administrators ofVenetian affairs meet in the Municipio, or Town Hall, on the GrandCanal. The best thing about the room is the room itself: the courage of it in alittle place like Venice! Next, I suppose, all eyes turn to the"Paradiso, " and they can do nothing else if the custodian has madehimself one of the party, as he is apt to do. The custodians of Veniceare in the main silent, pessimistic men. They themselves neither takeinterest in art nor understand why you should. Their attitude to you isif not contempt only one remove from it. But one of the officials in theDoges' Palace who is sometimes to be found in this Great Hall is bothenthusiastic and vocal. He has English too, a little. His weakness forthe "Paradiso" is chiefly due to the circumstance that it is the"largest oil painting in the world. " I dare say this is true; but thesame claim, I recall, was once made for an original poster in theStrand. The "Paradiso" was one of Tintoretto's last works, thecommission coming to him only by the accident of Veronese's death. Veronese was the artist first chosen, with a Bassano to assist, but whenhe died, Tintoretto, who had been passed over as too old, was permittedto try. The great man, painting on canvas, at the Misericordia, whichhad been turned into a studio for him, and being assisted by his sonDomenico, finished it in 1590; and it was the delight of Venice. Atfirst he refused payment for it, and then consented to take a present, but a smaller one than the Senate wished to offer. The scheme of the work is logical and again illustrates his thoughtfulthoroughness. At the head of all is Christ with His Mother, about andaround them the angelic host led by the archangels--Michael with thescales, Gabriel with lilies, and Raphael, in prayer, each of whompresides, as we have seen, over one corner of the Palace. The nextcircle contains the greatest Biblical figures, Moses, David, Abraham, Solomon, Noah, the Evangelists (S. Mark prominent with his lion), andthe Early Fathers. The rest of the picture is given to saints andmartyrs. Not the least interesting figure is the S. Christopher, on theright, low down by the door. At his feet is the painter's daughter, foryears his constant companion, who died while he was at work upon thismasterpiece. The ceiling should be examined, if one has the strength, for Veronese'ssumptuous allegory of the Apotheosis of Venice. In this work thepainter's wife sat for Venice, as she sat also for Europa in the picturewhich we have just seen in the Ante-Collegio. On the walls are one-and-twenty representations of scenes in Venetianhistory devoted to the exploits of the two Doges, Sebastiano Ziani(1172-1178) and Enrico Dandolo (1192-1205). The greatest moment in thecareer of Ziani was the meeting of Barbarossa and the Pope, AlexanderIII, at S. Mark's, which has already been described; but his reign waseventful throughout. His first act as Doge was to punish theassassination of his predecessor, Vitale Michiel, who, for what was heldto be the bad management of an Eastern campaign which utterly anddisastrously failed, and for other reasons, was killed by the moboutside S. Zaccaria. To him succeeded Ziani and the close of the longfeud between the Pope and the Emperor. It was the Pope's sojourn inVenice and his pleasure in the Venetians' hospitality which led to theelaboration of the ceremony of espousing the Adriatic. The Pope gaveZiani a consecrated ring with which to wed his bride, and much splendourwas added to the pageant; while Ziani, on his return from a visit to thePope at the Vatican, where the reconciliation with Barbarossa made itpossible for the Pontiff to be at ease again, brought with him variouspompous insignia that enormously increased his prestige among simplefolk. It was also Ziani who had the columns of S. Theodore and the Lionerected on the Molo, while it was in his reign that the first Rialtobridge was begun. Having been Doge for six years, he retired to themonastery of S. Giorgio and there died some years later, leaving a largefortune to the poor of Venice and the church of S. Mark. The paintings represent the Pope Alexander III recognized by the Dogewhen hiding in Venice; the departure of the Papal and VenetianAmbassadors for Pavia to interview the Emperor; the Pope presenting theDoge with a blessed candle; the Ambassadors before the Emperor (byTintoretto); the Pope presenting the Doge with a sword, on the Molo; thePope blessing the Doge; the naval battle of Salvatore, in which theEmperor Otto was captured; the Doge presenting Otto to the Pope; thePope giving Otto his liberty; the Emperor at the Pope's feet in thevestibule of S. Mark's; the arrival of the Pope elsewhere; the Emperorand the Doge at Ancona; the Pope presenting the Doge with gifts in Rome. [Illustration: THE CORNER OF THE OLD LIBRARY AND THE DOGES' PALACE] Ziani seems to have been a man of address, but the great Enrico Dandolowas something more. He was a superb adventurer. He became Doge in 1193, at the trifling age of eighty-four, with eyes that had long been dimmed, and at once plunged into enterprises which, if not greatly to the goodof Venice, proved his own indomitable spirit and resource. It was thetime of the Fourth Crusade and the Venetians were asked to supplytransports for the French warriors of the Cross to the theatre of war. After much discussion Dandolo replied that they would do so, the termsbeing that the Venetian vessels should carry 4500 horses, 9000 esquires, and 20, 000 foot soldiers, with provisions for nine months, and for thisthey should be paid 85, 000 silver marks. Venice also would participatein the actual fighting to the extent of providing fifty galleys, oncondition that half of every conquest, whether by sea or by land, shouldbe hers. Such was the arrangement, and the shipbuilding began at once. But disaster after disaster occurred. The Christian commander sickenedand died; a number of Crusaders backed out; others went direct toPalestine. This meant that the Venetians, who had prepared for a mightyhost, incurred immense expenses which could not be met. As somereparation it was suggested to the small army of Crusaders who didarrive in the city for deportation that on their way to the Holy Landthey should stop at Zara, on the Dalmatian coast, an unruly dependenceof the Republic, and assist in chastising it. The objections to thiscourse were grave. One was that the King of Hungary, in whose dominionswas Zara, was a Christian and a Crusader himself; another that the Pope(Innocent III) forbade the project. Old blind Dandolo, however, wasadamant. Not only must the Crusaders help the Venetians whom they had somuch embarrassed by their broken bond, but he would go too. Calling thepeople together in S. Mark's, this ancient sightless bravo asked if itwas not right that he should depart on this high mission, and theyanswered yes. Descending from the pulpit, he knelt at the altar and onhis bonnet the Cross was fastened. Before the expedition left, a messenger came from Alexius, nephew of theusurping King of Constantinople and son of the rightful king, prayingthe Venetians to sail first for Constantinople and support his father'scase, and to deal faithfully with Zara later; but Dandolo said that therebellious Zara had prior claims, and in spite of Papal threats and evenexcommunication, he sailed for that place on November 10, 1202. It didnot take long to subdue the garrison, but winter setting in, Dandolodecided to encamp there until the spring. The delay was not profitableto the Holy Cause. The French and the Venetians grew quarrelsome, andletters from the Pope warned the French (who held him in a dread notshared by their allies) that they must leave Zara and proceed with theCrusade instantly, or expect to suffer his wrath. Then arrived the Prince Alexius once more, with definite promises ofmoney and men for the Crusades if the allies would come at once and winback for him the Constantinople throne. Dandolo, who saw immenseVenetian advantage here, agreed, and carrying with it most of theFrench, the fleet sailed for the Golden Horn. Dandolo, I might remark, was now ninety-four, and it should not be forgotten that it was when hewas an emissary of the Republic at Constantinople years before that hehad been deprived forcibly of his sight. He was a soldier, a statesman, and (as all good Doges were) a merchant, but he was humanly mindful ofpast injustices too. Hence perhaps much of his eagerness to turn asidefor Byzantium. The plan was for the French to attack on the land; the Venetians on thesea. Blind though he had become, Dandolo's memory of the harbour andfortifications enabled him to arrange the naval attack with thegreatest skill, and he carried all before him, himself standing on theprow of a vessel waving the banner of S. Mark. The French on land had aless rapid victory, but they won, none the less, and the ex-king Isaacwas liberated and crowned once more, with his son. Both, however, instantly took to tyranny and luxurious excess, and when the time camefor the promises of reward to be fulfilled nothing was done. This led tothe mortification and anger of the allies, who declared that unless theywere paid they would take Constantinople for themselves. War wasinevitable. Meanwhile the Greeks, hating alike Venetians, French, andthe Pope, proclaimed a new king, who at once killed Alexius; and theallies prepared for battle by signing a treaty, drawn up by the wilynonagenarian, in which in the event of victory Venice took literally thelion's share of the spoils. The fighting then began. At first the Greeks were too strong, and afeeling grew among the allies that withdrawal was best; but Dandolorefused; they fought on, and Constantinople was theirs. Unhappily thevictors then lost all control, and every kind of horror followed, including the wanton destruction of works of art beautiful beyonddreams. Such visible trophies of the conquest as were saved and broughtback to Venice are now to be seen in S. Mark's. The four bronze horseswere Dandolo's spoils, the Pala d'oro, probably the four carved columnsof the high altar, and countless stone pillars and ornaments that havebeen worked into the structure. The terms of the treaty were carried out faithfully, and the French paidthe Venetians their original debt. Baldwin, Count of Flanders, the headof the Crusade, was named Emperor and crowned; Venice acquired largetracts of land, including the Ionian Islands; and Dandolo became "Dogeof Venice, Dalmatia, and Croatia, and Lord of one-fourth and one-eighthof the Roman Empire. " The painters have chosen from Dandolo's career the following scenes:Dandolo and the Crusaders pledging themselves in S. Mark's; the captureof Zara; the request of Alexius for help; the first capture ofConstantinople by Dandolo, who set the banner on the wall; the secondcapture of Constantinople; the election of Baldwin as Emperor; thecrowning of Baldwin by Dandolo. I said at the beginning of this prêcis of a gigantic campaign that itwas not of great profit to Venice; nor was it. All her life she hadbetter have listened to the Little Venice party, but particularly then, for only misfortune resulted. Dandolo, however, remains a terrificfigure. He died in Constantinople in 1205 and was buried in S. Sofia. Doge Andrea Dandolo, whose tomb we saw in the Baptistery, was adescendant who came to the throne some hundred and forty years later. Mention of Andrea Dandolo brings us to the portraits of Doges around thewalls of this great hall, where the other Dandolo will also be found;for in the place adjoining Andrea's head is a black square. Once theportrait of the Doge who succeeded Andrea was here too, but it wasblacked out. Marino Faliero, for he it was, became Doge in 1354 when hisage was seventy-six, having been both a soldier and a diplomatist. Hefound himself at once involved in the war with Genoa, and almostimmediately came the battle of Sapienza, when the Genoese took fivethousand prisoners, including the admiral, Niccolô Pisani. This blow wasa very serious one for the Venetians, involving as it did great loss oflife, and there was a growing feeling that they were badly governed. The Doge, who was but a figure-head of the Council of Ten, secretlythinking so too, plotted for the overthrow of the Council and theestablishment of himself in supreme power. The Arsenal men were to formhis chief army in the revolt; the false alarm of a Genoese attack was toget the populace together; and then the blow was to be struck andFaliero proclaimed prince. But the plot miscarried through one of theconspirators warning a friend to keep indoors; the ringleaders werecaught and hanged or exiled; and the Doge, after confessing his guilt, was beheaded in the courtyard of this palace. His coffin may be seen inthe Museo Civico, and of his unhappy story Byron made a drama. One of Faliero's party was Calendario, an architect, employed on thepart of the Doges' Palace in which we are now standing. He was hanged orstrangled between the two red columns in the upper arches of thePiazzetta façade. The first Doge to be represented here is Antenorio Obelerio (804-810), but he had had predecessors, the first in fact dating from 697. OfObelerio little good is known. He married a foreigner whom some believeto have been an illegitimate daughter of Charlemagne, and her influencewas bad. His brother Beato shared his throne, and in the end probablychased him from it. Beato was Doge when Rialto became the seat ofgovernment, Malamocco having gone over to the Franks under Pepin. But ofBeato no account is here taken, Obelerio's successor being AngeloPartecipazio (810-827), who was also the first occupant of the firstDucal Palace, on the site of a portion of the present one. It was hisson Giustiniano, sharing the throne with his father, who hit upon thebrilliant idea of stealing the body of S. Mark from Alexandria and ofpreserving it in Venice, thus establishing that city not only as areligious centre but also as a place of pilgrimage and renown. As Mrs. Richardson remarks in her admirable survey of the Doges: "Was it notwell that the government of the Doge Giustiniano and his successorsthroughout the age should become the special concern of aSaint-Evangelist in whose name all national acts might be undertaken andaccomplished; all national desires and plans--as distinct from anddominant over purely ecclesiastical ones--be sanctified and maderighteous?" The success of the scheme of theft I have related in anearlier chapter; and how this foresight was justified, history tells. Itis odd that Venice does not make more acclamation of Giustiniano (orPartecipazio II). To his brother Giovanni, who early had shownregrettable sympathy with the Franks and had been banished accordingly, Giustiniano bequeathed the Dogeship (as was then possible), and it wasin his reign (829-836) that S. Mark's was begun. The last Doge in this room is Girolamo Priuli (1559-1567), of whomnothing of account is remembered save that it was he who invitedTintoretto to work in the palace and on one of the ceilings. You may seehis portrait in one of the rooms, from Tintoretto's brush, in thecompany of Venice, Justice, S. Mark and the Lion. Of the others of the six-and-seventy Doges around the room I do not herespeak. The names of such as are important will be found elsewherethroughout this book, as we stand beside their tombs or glide past theirpalaces. Before leaving the Hall one should, as I have said, walk to the balcony, the door of which the custodian opens for each visitor with a mercenaryhand. It should of course be free to all; and Venice would do well toappoint some official (if such could be found) to enforce suchliberties. Immediately below is all the movement of the Molo; then theedge of the lagoon with its myriad gondolas; then the sparkling water, with all its busy activities and swaying gondoliers; and away beyond itthe lovely island of S. Giorgio. A fairer prospect the earth cannotshow. The first Doge in the Sala dello Scrutinio is Pietro Loredan (1567-1570)and the last of all Lodovico Manin (1788-1797) who fell before theinroads of Napoleon. "Take it away, " he said to his servant, handing himthe linen cap worn beneath the ducal corno, "we shall not need it anymore. " He retired into piety and left his fortune to good works. This room, also a fine and spacious hall but smaller than the Sala delMaggior Consiglio, has historical pictures, and a "Last Judgment, " byPalma the younger, which immensely interests the custodian by reason ofa little human touch which may or may not be true. On the left of thepicture, in the Infernal regions, low down, will be seen a largesemi-nude female sinner in torment; on the right, in heaven, the sameperson is seen again, in bliss. According to the custodian this lady wasthe painter's innamorata, and he set her in both places as a reward forher varying moods. The other pictures represent the capture of Zara byMarco Giustiniani in 1346. Zara, I may mention, had very badly the habitof capture: this was the eighth time it had fallen. Tintoretto is thepainter, and it is one of his best historical works. The great sea-fightpicture on the right wall represents another battle of Lepanto, a laterengagement than Venier's; the painter is Andrea Vicentino, who hasdepicted himself as the figure in the water; while in another navalbattle scene, in the Dardanelles, the painter, Pietro Liberi, is the fatnaked slave with a poniard. For the rest the guide-book should beconsulted. The balcony of the room, which juts over the Piazzetta, israrely accessible; but if it is open one should tarry there for the fineview of Sansovino's Old Library. The second set of showrooms (which require the expenditure of anotherlira)--the oldest rooms in the palace--constitute the ArchæologicalMuseum. Here one sees a few pictures, a few articles of vertû, somesumptuous apartments, some rich ceilings, and a wilderness of ancientsculpture. The first room shown, the Sala degli Scarlatti, is thebedroom of the Doges, with a massive and rather fine chimney piece andan ornate ceiling. The next room, the Sala dello Scudo, has a finedecorative, if inaccurate, map of the world, made by a monk in thefifteenth century. The next, the Sala Grimani, has rival lions of S. Mark by Jacobello del Fiore, an early Venetian painter, in 1415, andCarpaccio a century later. Jacopo's lion has a very human face;Carpaccio's picture is finer and is also interesting for itsarchitectural details. The next room, the Sala Erizzo, has a verysplendid ceiling. The next is not remarkable, and then we come on theright to the Sala dei Filosofi where the custodian displays, at the footof the staircase, the charming fresco of S. Christopher which Titianmade for Doge Andrea Gritti. It is a very pleasing rendering, and theChrist Child never rode more gaily or trustfully on the friendly saint. With true patriotism Titian has placed the incident in a shallow of thelagoon and the Doges' Palace is seen in the distance. Then follow three rooms in the Doges' suite in which a variety oftreasures are preserved, too numerous and heterogeneous for description. [Illustration: S. CHRISTOPHERFROM THE FRESCO BY TITIAN_In the Doges' Palace_] The antique section of the Archæological Museum is not of generalinterest. It consists chiefly of Greek and Roman sculpture collected byCardinal Grimani or dug from time to time from the soil of Venetianprovinces. Here are a few beautiful or precious relics and much that isindifferent. In the absence of a Hermaphrodite, the most popularpossession is (as ever) a group of Leda and the Swan. I noted among themore attractive pieces a Roman altar with lovers (Baedeker calls themsatyrs), No. 68; a Livia in black marble, No. 102; a nice girl, GiuliaMammea, No. 142; a boy, very like a Venetian boy of to-day, No. 145; agiant Minerva, No. 169; a Venus, No. 174; an Apollo, No. 223. A verybeautiful Pietà by Giovanni Bellini, painted under the influence ofDürer, should be sought and found. The Bridge of Sighs, a little way upon which one may venture, is moreinteresting in romantic fancy than in fact, and its chief merit is tospan very gracefully the gulf between the Palace and the Prison. Withthe terrible cells of the Doges' Palace, to which we are about todescend, it has no connexion. When Byron says, in the famous linebeginning the fourth canto of "Childe Harold, " I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, he probably meant that he stood in Venice on the Bridge of Straw (Pontedi Paglia) and contemplated the Bridge of Sighs. Because one does notstand on the Bridge of Sighs but in it, for it is merely dark passageslit by gratings. But to stand on the Ponte di Paglia on the Riva andgaze up the sombre Rio del Palazzo with the famous arch poised high overit is one of the first duties of all visitors to Venice and a verymemorable experience. Lastly, the horrible cells (which cost half a lira more), upon which andthe damp sinister rooms where the place of execution and oubliette weresituated, a saturnine custodian says all that is necessary. Let me, however, quote a warning from the little Venetian guide-book: "Everybodyto whom are pointed out the prisons to which Carmagnola, Jacopo Foscari, Antonio Foscarini, etc. , were confined, will easily understand that suchindications cannot be true at all. " CHAPTER VI THE DOGES' PALACE. II: THE EXTERIOR The colour of Venice--Sunny Gothic--A magical edifice--The evolution ofa palace--A fascinating balcony--The carved capitals--A responsiblecolumn--The _Porta della Carta_--The lions of Venice--The Giants'Stairs--Antonio Rizzo--A closed arcade--Casanova--The bronze wells--Awonderful courtyard--Anonymous accusations--A Venetian Valhalla. "That house, " said an American on a Lido steamboat, pointing to theDoges' Palace, "is a wonder in its way. " Its way is unique. The soft gentle pink of its south and west façadesremains in the memory as long and as firmly as the kaleidoscopic hues ofS. Mark's. This pink is, I believe, the colour of Venice. Whether or not the Doges' Palace as seen from S. Giorgio Maggiore, withits seventeen massive arches below, its thirty-four slender archesabove, above them its row of quatrefoiled circles, and above them itspatterned pink wall with its little balcony and fine windows, the wholesurmounted by a gay fringe of dazzling white stone--whether or not thisis the most beautiful building in the world is a question for individualdecision; but it would, I think, puzzle anyone to name a more beautifulone, or one half so charming. There is nothing within it so entrancingas its exterior--always with the exception of Tintoretto's, "Bacchus andAriadne. " The Ducal Palace is Gothic made sprightly and sunny; Gothic without ahint of solidity or gloom. So light and fresh is the effect, chiefly theresult of the double row of arches and especially of the upper row, butnot a little due to the zig-zagging of the brickwork and the vividcheerfulness of the coping fringe, that one has difficulty in believingthat the palace is of any age at all or that it will really be thereto-morrow. The other buildings in the neighbourhood--the Prison, theMint, the Library, the Campanile: these are rooted. But the Doges'Palace might float away at any moment. Aladdin's lamp set it there:another rub and why should it not vanish? The palace as we see it now has been in existence from the middle of thesixteenth century. Certain internal changes and rebuildings haveoccurred, but its façades on the Piazzetta and lagoon, the Giants'Stairs, the courtyard, were then as now. But before that time constantstructural modification was in progress. The original palace ran besidethe Rio del Palazzo from S. Mark's towers to the Ponte di Paglia, with awing along the lagoon. Its width was equal to that from the present Noahor Vine Corner by the Ponte di Paglia to the fifth column from thatcorner. Its wing extended to the Piazzetta. A wall and moat protectedit, the extent of its ramparts being practically identical with theextent of the present building. This, the first, palace was erected inthe ninth century, after the seat of government was changed fromMalamocco to Venice proper. [Illustration: THE PONTE OF PAGLIA AND THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS, WITH ACORNER OF THE DOGES' PALACE AND THE PRISON] Various conflagrations, in addition to the growing needs of the State, led to rebuilding and enlargement. The first wing was added in thetwelfth century, when the basement and first floor of the portion fromthe Porta della Carta to the thick seventh column from the Adam and Evegroup, under the medallion of Venice, on the Piazzetta façade, was setup, but not in the style which we now know. That was copied threecenturies later from the Riva or lagoon façade. In 1301 the hall abovethe original portion on the Rio del Palazzo side, now called the Saladel Senato, was added and the lagoon wing was rebuilt, the lower arches, which are there to-day, being then established. A few years later, astill greater hall being needed, the present Sala del Maggior Consigliowas erected, and this was ready for use in 1423. The lagoon façade as wesee it now, with its slender arches above the sturdy arches, thus datesfrom the beginning of the fifteenth century, and this design gave thekey to the builders of later Venice, as a voyage of the Grand Canal willprove. It was the great Doge Tommaso Mocenigo (1413-1423) who urged upon theSenate the necessity of completing the palace. In 1424 the work wasbegun. Progress was slow and was hindered by the usual fire, butgradually the splendid stone wall on the Rio del Palazzo side went up, and the right end of the lagoon façade, and the Giants' Stairs, and thePiazzetta façade, reproducing the lagoon façade. The elaboratelydecorated façades of the courtyard came later, and by 1550 the palacewas finished. The irregularity of the windows on the lagoon façade isexplained by this piecemeal structure. The four plain windows and thevery graceful balcony belong to the Sala del Maggior Consiglio. The twoornate windows on the right were added when the palace was brought intoline with this portion, and they are lower because the room they lightis on a level lower than the great Council Hall's. The two ugly littlesquare windows (Bonington in his picture in the Louvre makes them three)probably also were added then. When the elegant spired cupolas at each corner of the palace roof werebuilt, I do not know, but they look like a happy afterthought. Thesmall balcony overlooking the lagoon, which is gained from theSala del Maggior Consiglio, and which in Canaletto and Guardi'seighteenth-century pictures always, as now, has a few people on it, wasbuilt in 1404. It is to be seen rightly only from the water or throughglasses. The Madonna in the circle is charming. She has one child in herarms and two at her knees, and her lap is a favourite resting-place forpigeons. In the morning when the day is fine the green bronze of thesword and crown of Justice (or, as some say, Mars), who surmounts all, is beautiful against the blue of the sky. The Piazzetta façade balcony was built early in the sixteenth century, but the statue of S. George is a recent addition, Canova being thesculptor. Now let us examine the carved capitals of the columns of the DucalPalace arcade, for these are extremely interesting and transform it intosomething like an encyclopedia in stone. Much thought has gone to them, the old Venetians' love of symbols being gratified often to ourperplexity. We will begin at the end by the Porta della Carta, under thegroup representing the Judgment of Solomon--the Venetians' platonicaffection for the idea of Justice being here again displayed. Thisgroup, though primitive, the work of two sculptors from Fiesole early inthe fifteenth century, has a beauty of its own which grows increasinglyattractive as one returns and returns to the Piazzetta. Above the groupis the Angel Gabriel; below it, on the richly foliated capital of thissturdy corner column, which bears so much weight and splendour, isJustice herself, facing Sansovino's Loggetta: a little stone lady withscales and sword of bronze. Here also is Aristotle giving the law tosome bearded men; while other figures represent Solon, another jurist, Scipio the chaste, Numa Pompilius building a church, Moses receiving thetables of the law, and Trajan on horseback administering justice to awidow. All are named in Latin. The second capital has cherubs with fruit and birds and no lettering. The third has cranes and no lettering. The fourth is allegorical, representing, but without much psychology, named virtues and vices, such as misery, cheerfulness, folly, chastity, honesty, falsehood, injustice, abstinence. The fifth has figures and no lettering. A cobbler faces the campanile. It is above this fifth column that we notice in the upper row of archestwo columns of reddish stain. It was between these that malefactors werestrangled. The sixth has symbolical figures which I do not understand. Ruskinsuggests that they typify the degradation of human instincts. A knightin armour is here. A musician seated on a fish faces the Old Library. There is no lettering, and as is the case throughout the figures on thewall side are difficult to discern. The seventh represents the vices, and names them: luxury, gluttony, pride, anger, avarice, idleness, vanity, envy. The eighth represents the virtues and names them: hope, faith, fortitude, temperance, humility, charity, justice, prudence. The ninth has virtues and vices, named and mixed: modesty, discord, patience, constancy, infidelity, despair, obedience, liberality. The tenth has named fruits. Ruskin thinks that the eleventh may illustrate various phases ofidleness. It has no lettering. The twelfth has the months and their employments, divided thus: January(indoors) and February, March blowing his pipes, April with a lamb andMay, June (the month of cherries), July with a sheaf of corn and August, September (the vintage), October and November, and December, pig-sticking. The thirteenth, on a stouter column than the others, because it has aheavier duty, namely, to bear the party wall of the great Council Hall, depicts the life of man. There is no lettering. The scenes representlove (apparently at first sight), courtship, the marriage bed, and soforth, the birth of the baby, his growth and his death. Many years agothis column was shown to me by the captain of a tramp steamer, as themost interesting thing in Venice; and there are others who share hisopinion. Above it on the façade is the medallion of the Queen of theAdriatic ruling her domains. The fourteenth capital represents national types, named: Persian, Latin, Tartar, Turk, Hungarian, Greek, Goth, and Egyptian. The fifteenth is more elaborate and ingenious. It represents the ages ofman and his place in the stellar system. Thus, infancy is governed bythe moon, childhood by Mercury, youth by the sun, and so forth. The sixteenth depicts various craftsmen: the smith, the mason, thegoldsmith, the carpenter, the notary, the cobbler, the man-servant, thehusbandman. Over this are traces of a medallion, probably of porphyry, now removed. The seventeenth has the heads of animals: lion, bear, wolf, and soforth, including the griffin each with its prey. [Illustration: THE ADAM AND EVE CORNER OF THE DOGES' PALACE] The eighteenth has eight stone-carving saints, some with a piece ofcoloured marble, all named, and all at work: S. Simplicius, S. Symphorian, who sculps a figure, S. Claudius, and others. And now we are at the brave corner column which unconcernedly assumes aresponsibility that can hardly be surpassed in the world. For if it wereto falter all would go. Down would topple two of the loveliest façadesthat man ever constructed or the centuries ever caressed into greaterbeauty. This corner of the palace has an ever-increasing fascination forme, and at all hours of the day and night this strong column below andthe slenderer one above it hold the light--whether of sun or moon orartifice--with a peculiar grace. The design of this capital is, fittingly enough, cosmic. It representsthe signs of the Zodiac with the addition, on the facet opposite theDogana, of Christ blessing a child. Facing S. Giorgio are Aquarius andCapricornus, facing the Lido are Pisces and Sagittarius. Elsewhere areJustice on the Bull, the Moon in a boat with a Crab, and a Virginreading to the Twins. Above this capital, on the corner of the building itself, are the famousAdam and Eve, presiding over the keystone of the structure as over thehuman race. It is a naïve group, as the photograph shows, beneath themost tactful of trees, and it has no details of beauty; and yet, likeits companions, the Judgment of Solomon and the Sin of Ham, it has acurious charm--due not a little perhaps to the softening effect of thewinds and the rains. High above our first parents is the Angel Michael. The first capital after the corner (we are now proceeding down the Riva)has Tubal Cain the musician, Solomon, Priscian the grammarian, Aristotlethe logician, Euclid the geometrician, and so forth, all named and allcharacteristically employed. The second has heads of, I suppose, types. Ruskin suggests that the bestlooking is a Venetian and the others the Venetians' inferiors drawn fromthe rest of the world. The third has youths and women with symbols, signifying I know not what. All are corpulent enough to suggest gluttony. This is repeated in No. 11on the Piazzetta side. The fourth has various animals and no lettering. The fifth has lions' heads and no lettering. The sixth has virtues and vices and is repeated in the fourth on thePiazzetta. The seventh has cranes, and is repeated in the third on the Piazzetta. The eighth has vices again and is repeated in the seventh on thePiazzetta. Above it are traces of a medallion over three triangles. The ninth has virtues and is repeated in the eighth on the Piazzetta. The tenth has symbolical figures, and is repeated in the sixth on thePiazzetta. The eleventh has vices and virtues and is repeated in the ninth on thePiazzetta. The twelfth has female heads and no lettering. The thirteenth has named rulers: Octavius, Titus, Trajan, Priam, Darius, and so forth, all crowned and ruling. The fourteenth has children and no lettering. The fifteenth has heads, male and female, and no lettering. Above it wasonce another medallion and three triangles. The sixteenth has pelicans and no lettering. The seventeenth and last has children with symbols and no lettering. Above this, on the corner by the bridge, is the group representing theSin of Ham. Noah's two sons are very attractive figures. Above the Noahgroup is the Angel Raphael. The gateway of the palace--the Porta della Carta--was designed byGiovanni and Bartolommeo Bon, father and son, in the fourteen thirtiesand forties. Francesco Foscari (1423-1457) being then Doge, it is he whokneels to the lion on the relief above, and again on the balcony of thePiazzetta façade. At the summit of the portal is Justice once more, withtwo attendant lions, cherubs climbing to her, and live pigeons for evernestling among them. I counted thirty-five lions' heads in the border ofthe window and thirty-five in the border of the door, and these, withFoscari's one and Justice's two, and those on the shields on each sideof the window, make seventy-five lions for this gateway alone. Thenthere are lions' heads between the circular upper arches all along eachfaçade of the palace. It would be amusing to have an exact census of the lions of Venice, bothwinged and without wings. On the Grand Canal alone there must be ahundred of the little pensive watchers that sit on the balustradespeering down. As to which is the best lion, opinions must, of course, differ, the range being so vast: between, say, the lion on the Molocolumn and Daniele Manin's flamboyant sentinel at the foot of the statuein his Campo. Some would choose Carpaccio's painted lion in this palace;others might say that the lion over the Giants' Stairs is as satisfyingas any; others might prefer that fine one on the Palazzo dei Camerlenghiby the Rialto bridge, and the Merceria clock tower's lion would not wantadherents. Why this lovely gateway was called the Porta della Carta (paper) is notabsolutely certain: perhaps because public notices were fixed to itsdoor; perhaps because paper-sellers frequented it; perhaps because thescriveners of the Republic worked hereabouts. Passing through it we havebefore us the Giants' Stairs, designed by Antonio Rizzo and taking theirname from the two great figures of Mars and Neptune at the top by JacopoSansovino. On the upright of each step is a delicate inlaidpattern--where, in England, so often we read of the virtues of maltedmilk or other commodity. Looking back from the foot of the stairs we seeSansovino's Loggetta, framed by the door; looking back from the top ofthe stairs we have in front of us Rizzo's statues of Adam and Eve. ThisAntonio Rizzo, or Ricci, who so ably fortified Sansovino as a beautifierof Venice, was a Veronese, of whom little is known. He flourished in thesecond half of the fifteenth century. Every opportunity of passing through the courtyard should be taken, andduring the chief hours of the day there is often--but not invariably--aright of way between the Porta della Carta and the Riva, across thecourtyard, while the first floor gallery around it, gained by theGiants' Stairs, is also open. For one of those capricious reasons, ofwhich Italian custodians everywhere hold the secret, the delightfulgallery looking on the lagoon and Piazzetta is, however, closed. I oncefound my way there, but was pursued by a frantic official and scoldedback again. The courtyard is inexhaustible in interest and beauty, from its bronzewell-heads to the grated leaden prison cells on the roof, the terriblepiombi which were so dreaded on account of their heat in summer and coldin winter. Here in the middle of the eighteenth century that divertingblackguard, Jacques Casanova, was imprisoned. He was "under the leads"over the Piazzetta wing, and the account of his durance and his escapeis one of the most interesting parts, and certainly the least improper, of his remarkably frank autobiography. Venice does not seem to have anypride in this son of hers, but as a master of licentiousness, effrontery, adventurousness, and unblushing candour he stands alone inthe world. Born at Venice in 1725, it was in the seminary of S. Cyprianhere that he was acquiring the education of a priest when eventsoccurred which made his expulsion necessary. For the history of hisutterly unprincipled but vivacious career one must seek his scandalousand diverting pages. In 1755, on an ill-starred return visit to hisnative city, he was thrown into this prison, but escaping and findinghis way to Paris, he acquired wealth and position as the Director ofState Lotteries. Casanova died in 1798, but his memories cease with1774. His pages may be said to supply a gloss to Longhi's paintings, andthe two men together complete the picture of Venetian frivolity in theirday and night. The well-head nearer the Giants' Stairs was the work of Alberghetti andis signed inside. The other has the head of Doge Francesco Venier(1554-1556) repeated in the design and is stated within to be the workof Niccolò Conti, a son of Venice. Coryat has a passage about the wellswhich shows how much more animated a scene the ducal courtyard used topresent than now. "They yeeld very pleasant water, " he writes. "For Itasted it. For which cause it is so much frequented in the Sommer timethat a man can hardly come thither at any time in the afternoone, if thesunne shineth very hote, but he shall finde some company drawing ofwater to drinke for the cooling of themselves. " To-day they give waterno more, nor do the pigeons come much to the little drinking place inthe pavement here but go rather to that larger one opposite Cook'soffice. Everything that an architect can need to know--and more--may be learnedin this courtyard, which would be yet more wonderful if it had not itstwo brick walls. Many styles meet and mingle here: Gothic andRenaissance, stately and fanciful, sombre and gay. Every capital isdifferent. Round arches are here and pointed; invented patterns andmarble with symmetrical natural veining which is perhaps more beautiful. Every inch has been thought out and worked upon with devotion and thehighest technical skill; and the antiseptic air of Venice and cleansingsun have preserved its details as though it were under glass. In the walls beneath the arcade on the Piazzetta side may be seenvarious ancient letter-boxes for the reception of those accusationsagainst citizens, usually anonymous, in which the Venetians seem ever tohave rejoiced. One is for charges of evading taxation, another for thosewho adulterate bread, and so forth. [Illustration: S. TRIFONIO AND THE BASILISKFROM THE PAINTING BY CARPACCIO_At S. Giorgio dei Schiavoni_] The upper gallery running round the courtyard has been converted into aVenetian--almost an Italian--Valhalla. Here are busts of the greatestmen, and of one woman, Catherine Cornaro, who gave Cyprus to theRepublic and whom Titian painted. Among the first busts that Inoted--ascending the stairs close to the Porta della Carta--was that ofUgo Foscolo, the poet, patriot, and miscellaneous writer, who spent thelast years of his life in London and became a contributor to Englishperiodicals. One of his most popular works in Italy was his translationof Sterne's _Sentimental Journey_. He died at Turnham Green in 1827, buthis remains, many years after, were moved to Santa Croce in Florence. Others are Carlo Zeno, the soldier; Goldoni, the dramatist; Paolo Sarpi, the monkish diplomatist; Galileo Galilei, the astronomer andmathematician; the two Cabots, the explorers, and Marco Polo, theirpredecessor; Niccolò Tommaseo, the patriot and associate of DanieleManin, looking very like a blend of Walt Whitman and Tennyson; Dante; asmall selection of Doges, of whom the great Andrea Dandolo is the moststriking; Tintoretto, Giovanni Bellini, Titian, and Paul Veronese;Tiepolo, a big-faced man in a wig whom the inscription credits withhaving "renewed the glory" of the two last named; Canova, the sculptor;Daniele Manin, rather like John Bright; Lazzaro Mocenigo, commander inchief of the Venetian forces, rather like Buffalo Bill; and flanking theentrance to the palace Vittorio Pisani and Carlo Zeno, the two patriotsand warriors who together saved the Republic in the Chioggian war withthe Genoese in the fourteenth century. This collection of great men makes no effort to be complete, but it israther surprising not to find such very loyal sons of Venice asCanaletto, Guardi and Longhi among the artists, and Giorgione is ofcourse a grievous omission. CHAPTER VII THE PIAZZETTA The two columns--An ingenious engineer--S. Mark's lion--S. Theodore of Heraclea--The Old Library--Jacopo Sansovino--TheVenetian Brunelleschi--Vasari's life--A Venetian library--Earlyprinted books--The Grimani breviary--A pageant of theSeasons--The Loggetta--Coryat again--The view from the Molo--Thegondolier--Alessandro and Ferdinando--The danger of thetraghetto--Indomitable talkers--The fair and the fare--A proudfather--The rampino. The Piazzetta is more remarkable in its architectural riches than thePiazza. S. Mark's main façade is of course beyond words wonderful; butafter this the Piazza has only the Merceria clock and the Old and theNew Procuratie, whereas the Piazzetta has S. Mark's small façade, thePorta della Carta and lovely west façade of the Doges' Palace, thecolumns bearing S. Mark's lion and S. Theodore, Sansovino's Old Libraryand Loggetta; while the Campanile is common to both. The Piazzetta has acafé too, although it is not on an equality either with Florian's or theQuadri, and on three nights a week a band plays. The famous Piazzetta columns, with S. Theodore and his crocodile (ordragon) on one and the lion of S. Mark on the other, which have becomeas much a symbol of Venice as the façade of S. Mark's itself, werebrought from Syria after the conquest of Tyre. Three were brought inall, but one fell into the water and was never recovered. The otherslay on the quay here for half a century waiting to be set up, a taskbeyond human skill until an engineer from Lombardy volunteered to do iton condition that he was to have any request granted. His request was tobe allowed the right of establishing a gaming-table between the columns;and the authorities had to comply, although gambling was hateful tothem. A few centuries later the gallows were placed here too. Now thereis neither gambling nor hanging; but all day long loafers sit on thesteps of the columns and discuss pronto and subito and cinque and allthe other topics of Venetian conversation. I wonder how many visitors to Venice, asked whether S. Theodore on hiscolumn and the Lion of S. Mark on his, face the lagoon or the Merceriaclock, would give the right answer. The faces of both are turned towardsthe clock; their backs to the lagoon. The lion, which is of bronze withwhite agates for his eyes, has known many vicissitudes. Where he camefrom originally, no one knows, but it is extremely probable that hebegan as a pagan and was pressed into the service of the Evangelist muchlater. Napoleon took him to Paris, together with the bronze horses, andwhile there he was broken. He came back in 1815 and was restored, andtwenty years ago he was restored again. S. Theodore was alsostrengthened at the same time, being moved into the Doges' Palacecourtyard for that purpose. There are several saints named Theodore, but the protector and patron ofthe Venetians in the early days before Mark's body was stolen fromAlexandria, is S. Theodore of Heraclea. S. Theodore, surnamedStretelates, or general of the army, was a famous soldier and thegovernor of the country of the Mariandyni, whose capital was Heraclea. Accepting and professing the Christian faith, he was beheaded by theEmperor Licinius on February 7, 319. On June 8 in the same year hisremains were translated to Euchaia, the burial-place of the family, andthe town at once became so famous as a shrine that its name was changedto Theodoropolis. As late as 970 the patronage of the Saint gave theEmperor John I a victory over the Saracens, and in gratitude the emperorrebuilt the church where Theodore's relics were preserved. Subsequentlythey were moved to Mesembria and then to Constantinople, from which citythe great Doge Dandolo brought them to Venice. They now repose in S. Salvatore beneath an altar. The west side of the Piazzetta consists of the quiet and beautifulfaçade of Sansovino's Old Library. To see it properly one should sitdown at ease under the Doge's arcade or mount to the quadriga gallery ofS. Mark's. Its proportions seem to me perfect, but Baedeker'sdescription of it as the most magnificent secular edifice in Italy seemsodd with the Ducal Palace so near. They do not, however, conflict, forthe Ducal Palace is so gay and light, and this so serious and stately. The cherubs with their garlands are a relaxation, like a smile on agrave face; yet the total effect is rather calm thoughtfulness thansternness. The living statues on the coping help to lighten thestructure, and if one steps back along the Riva one sees a brilliantcolumn of white stone--a chimney perhaps--which is another inspiritingtouch. In the early morning, with the sun on them, these statues are thewhitest things imaginable. The end building, the Zecca, or mint, is also Sansovino's, as are thefascinating little Loggetta beneath the campanile, together with much ofits statuary, the giants at the head of Ricco's staircase opposite, andthe chancel bronzes in S. Mark's, so that altogether this is peculiarlythe place to inquire into what manner of man the Brunelleschi of Venicewas. For Jacopo Sansovino stands to Venice much as that great architectto Florence. He found it lacking certain essential things, and, supplying them, made it far more beautiful and impressive; and whateverhe did seems inevitable and right. Vasari wrote a very full life of Sansovino, not included among his otherLives but separately published. In this we learn that Jacopo was born inFlorence in 1477, the son of a mattress-maker named Tatti; butapparently 1486 is the right date. Appreciating his natural bent towardsart, his mother had him secretly taught to draw, hoping that he mightbecome a great sculptor like Michael Angelo, and he was put asapprentice to the sculptor Andrea Contucci of Monte Sansovino, who hadrecently set up in Florence and was at work on two figures for SanGiovanni; and Jacopo so attached himself to the older man that he becameknown as Sansovino too. Another of his friends as a youth was Andrea delSarto. From Florence he passed to Rome, where he came under the patronage ofthe Pope Julius II, of Bramante, the architect, and of Perugino, thepainter, and learned much by his studies there. Returning to Florence, he became one of the most desired of sculptors and executed that superbmodern-antique, the Bacchus in the Bargello. Taking to architecture, hecontinued his successful progress, chiefly again in Rome, but when thesack of that city occurred in 1527 he fled and to the great good fortuneof Venice took refuge here. The Doge, Andrea Gritti, welcomed sodistinguished a fugitive and at once set him to work on the restorationof S. Mark's cupolas, and this task he completed with such skill thathe was made a Senior Procurator and given a fine house and salary. As a Procurator he seems to have been tactful and active, and Vasarigives various examples of his reforming zeal by which the annual incomeof the Procuranzia was increased by two thousand ducats. When, however, one of the arches of Sansovino's beautiful library fell, owing to asubsidence of the foundations, neither his eminent position nor abilityprevented the authorities from throwing him into prison as a badworkman; nor was he liberated, for all his powerful friends, without aheavy fine. He built also several fine palaces, the mint, and variouschurches, but still kept time for his early love, sculpture, as hisperfect little Loggetta, and the giants on the Staircase, and such atomb as that in S. Salvatore, show. [Illustration: S. JEROME IN HIS CELLFROM THE PAINTING BY CARPACCIO_At S. Giorgio dei Schiavoni_] This is Vasari's description of the man: "Jacopo Sansovino, as to hisperson, was of the middle height, but rather slender than otherwise, andhis carriage was remarkably upright; he was fair, with a red beard, andin his youth was of a goodly presence, wherefore he did not fail to beloved, and that by dames of no small importance. In his age he had anexceedingly venerable appearance; with his beautiful white beard, hestill retained the carriage of his youth: he was strong and healthy evento his ninety-third year, and could see the smallest object, at whateverdistance, without glasses, even then. When writing, he sat with his headup, not supporting himself in any manner, as it is usual for men to do. He liked to be handsomely dressed, and was singularly nice in hisperson. The society of ladies was acceptable to Sansovino, even to theextremity of age, and he always enjoyed conversing with or of them. Hehad not been particularly healthy in his youth, yet in his old age hesuffered from no malady whatever, in-so-much that, for a period of fiftyyears, he would never consult any physician even when he did feelhimself indisposed. Nay, when he was once attacked by apoplexy, he wouldstill have nothing to do with physic, but cured himself by keeping inbed for two months in a dark and well-warmed chamber. His digestion wasso good that he could eat all things without distinction: during thesummer he lived almost entirely on fruits, and in the very extremity ofhis age would frequently eat three cucumbers and half a lemon at onetime. "With respect to the qualities of his mind, Sansovino was very prudent;he foresaw readily the coming events, and sagaciously compared thepresent with the past. Attentive to his duties, he shunned no labour inthe fulfilment of the same, and never neglected his business for hispleasure. He spoke well and largely on such subjects as he understood, giving appropriate illustrations of his thoughts with infinite grace ofmanner. This rendered him acceptable to high and low alike, as well asto his own friends. In his greatest age his memory continued excellent;he remembered all the events of his childhood, and could minutely referto the sack of Rome and all the other occurrences, fortunate orotherwise, of his youth and early manhood. He was very courageous, anddelighted from his boyhood in contending with those who were greaterthan himself, affirming that he who struggles with the great may becomegreater, but he who disputes with the little must become less. Heesteemed honour above all else in the world, and was so upright a man ofhis word, that no temptation could induce him to break it, of which hegave frequent proof to his lords, who, for that as well as otherqualities, considered him rather as a father or brother than as theiragent or steward, honouring in him an excellence that was no pretence, but his true nature. " Sansovino died in 1570, and he was buried at San Gimignano, in a churchthat he himself had built. In 1807, this church being demolished, hisremains were transferred to the Seminario della Salute in Venice, wherethey now are. Adjoining the Old Library is the Mint, now S. Mark's Library, which maybe both seen and used by strangers. It is not exactly a British MuseumReading-room, for there are but twelve tables with six seats at each, but judging by its usually empty state, it more than suffices for thescholarly needs of Venice. Upstairs you are shown various treasuresbrought together by Cardinal Bessarione: MSS. , autographs, illuminatedbooks, and incunabula. A fourteenth-century Dante lies open, withcoloured pictures: the poet very short on one page and very tall on thenext, and Virgil, at his side, very like Christ. A _Relazione dellaMorte de Anna Regina de Francia_, a fifteenth-century work, has acurious picture of the queen's burial. The first book ever printed inVenice is here: Cicero's _Epistolæ_, 1469, from the press of Johannes diSpira, which was followed by an edition of Pliny the Younger. A fineVenetian _Hypnerotomachia_, 1499, is here, and a very beautifulHerodotus with lovely type from the press of Gregorius of Venice in1494. Old bindings may be seen too, among them a lavish Byzantineexample with enamels and mosaics. The exhibited autographs includeTitian's hand large and forcible; Leopardi's, very neat; Goldoni's, delicate and self-conscious; Galileo's, much in earnest; and a poem byTasso with myriad afterthoughts. But the one idea of the custodian is to get you to admire the famousGrimani Breviary--not alas! in the original, which is not shown, but ina coloured reproduction. Very well, you say; and then discover that theprivilege of displaying it is the perquisite of a rusty old colleague. That is to say, one custodian extols the work in order that another mayreap a second harvest by turning its leaves. This delightful book datesfrom the early sixteenth century and is the work of some ingenious andmasterly Flemish miniaturist with a fine sense of the open air and themovement of the seasons. But it is hard to be put off with an ordinarybookseller's traveller's specimen instead of the real thing. If one maybe so near Titian's autograph and the illuminated _Divine Comedy_, whynot this treasure too? January reveals a rich man at his table, diningalone, with his servitors and dogs about him; February's scene is whitewith snow--a small farm with the wife at the spinning-wheel, seenthrough the door, and various indications of cold, without; March showsthe revival of field labours; April, a love scene among lords andladies; May, a courtly festival; June, haymaking outside a fascinatingcity; July, sheep-shearing and reaping; August, the departure for thechase; September, grape-picking for the vintage; October, sowing seedsin a field near another fascinating city--a busy scene of variousactivities; November, beating oak-trees to bring down acorns for thepigs; and December, a boar hunt--the death. And all most gaily coloured, with the signs of the Zodiac added. The little building under the campanile is Sansovino's Loggetta, whichhe seems to have set there as a proof of his wonderful catholicity--todemonstrate that he was not only severe as in the Old Library, andTitanic as in the Giants, but that he had his gentler, sweeter thoughtstoo. The Loggetta was destroyed by the fall of the campanile; but ithas risen from its ruins with a freshness and vivacity that arebewildering. It is possible indeed to think of its revivification asbeing more of a miracle than the new campanile: for the new campanilewas a straight-forward building feat, whereas to reconstruct Sansovino'scharm and delicacy required peculiar and very unusual gifts. Yet thereit is: not what it was, of course, for the softening quality of old agehas left it, yet very beautiful, and in a niche within a wonderfulrestoration of Sansovino's group of the Madonna and Child with S. John. The reliefs outside have been pieced together too, and though here andthere a nose has gone, the effect remains admirable. The glory of Veniceis the subject of all. The most superb of the external bronzes is the "Mercury" on the left ofthe façade. To the patience and genius of Signor Giacomo Boni is therestored statuary of the Loggetta due; Cav. Munaretti was responsiblefor the bronzes, and Signor Moretti for the building. All honour tothem! Old Coryat's enthusiasm for the Loggetta is very hearty. "There is, " hesays, "adjoyned unto this tower [the campanile] a most glorious littleroome that is very worthy to be spoken of, namely the Logetto, which isa place where some of the Procurators of Saint Markes doe use to sit injudgement, and discusse matters of controversies. This place is indeedbut little, yet of that singular and incomparable beauty, being made allof Corinthian worke, that I never saw the like before for the quantitythereof. " Where the Piazzetta especially gains over the Piazza is in its lagoonview. From its shore you look directly over the water to the church andisland of S. Giorgio Maggiore, which are beautiful from every point andat every hour, so happily do dome and white façade, red campanile andgreen roof, windowed houses and little white towers, compose. But then, in Venice everything composes: an artist has but to paint what he sees. From the Piazzetta's shore you look diagonally to the right to theDogana and the vast Salute and all the masts in the Giudecca canal;diagonally to the left is the Lido with a mile of dancing water betweenus and it. The shore of the Piazzetta, or more correctly the Molo, is of course thespot where the gondolas most do congregate, apparently inextricablywedged between the twisted trees of this marine forest, although whenthe time comes--that is, when the gondolier is at last secured--easilyenough detached. For there is a bewildering rule which seems to preventthe gondolier who hails you from being your oarsman, and if you thinkthat the gondolier whom you hail is the one who is going to row you, youare greatly mistaken. It is always another. The wise traveller in Venicehaving chanced upon a good gondolier takes his name and number and makesfurther arrangements with him. This being done, on arriving at the Molohe asks if his man is there, and the name--let us say Alessandro Grossi, No. 91 (for he is a capital old fellow, powerful and cheerful, with auseful supply of French)--is passed up and down like a bucket at a fire. If Alessandro chances to be there and available, all is well; but ifnot, to acquire a substitute even among so many obviously disengagedmariners, is no joke. Old Grossi is getting on in years, although still powerful. A youngerHerculean fellow whom I can recommend is Ferdinando, No. 88. Ferdinandois immense and untiring, with a stentorian voice in which to announcehis approach around the corners of canals; and his acquaintanceshipwith every soul in Venice makes a voyage with him an amusingexperience. And he often sings and is always good-humoured. All gondoliers are not so. A gondolier with a grudge can be a mostdismal companion, for he talks to himself. What he says, you cannotcomprehend, for it is muttered and acutely foreign, but there is nodoubt whatever that it is criticism detrimental to you, to some otherequally objectionable person, or to the world at large. The gondolier does not differ noticeably from any other man whosebusiness it is to convey his fellow creatures from one spot to another. The continual practice of assisting richer people than oneself to dothings that oneself never does except for a livelihood would seem toengender a sardonic cast of mind. Where the gondolier chiefly differsfrom, say, the London cabman, is in his gift of speech. Cabmen can becaustic, sceptical, critical, censorious, but they do occasionally stopfor breath. There is no need for a gondolier ever to do so either by dayor night; while when he is not talking he is accompanying every movementby a grunt. It is this habit of talking and bickering which should make one verycareful in choosing a lodging. Never let it be near a traghetto; for attraghetti there is talk incessant, day and night: argument, abuse, andraillery. The prevailing tone is that of men with a grievance. The onlysound you never hear there is laughter. The passion for bickering belongs to watermen, although loquacity isshared by the whole city. The right to the back answer is one which theVenetian cherishes as jealously, I should say, as any; so much so thatthe gondolier whom your generosity struck dumb would be an unhappy manin spite of his windfall. [Illustration: THE DOGANA (WITH S. GIORGIO MAGGIORE JUST VISIBLE)] The gondolier assimilates to the cabman also in his liking to beoverpaid. The English and Americans have been overpaying him for so manyyears that to receive now an exact fare from foreigners fills him withdismay. From Venetians, who, however, do not much use gondolas except asferry boats, he expects it; but not from us, especially if there is alady on board, for she is always his ally (as he knows) when it comes topay time. A cabman who sits on a box and whips his horse, or a chauffeurwho turns a wheel, is that and nothing more; but a gondolier is aromantic figure, and a gondola is a romantic craft, and the poor fellowhas had to do it all himself, and did you hear how he was panting? anddo look at those dark eyes! And there you are! Writing, however, strictly for unattended male passengers, or for strong-minded ladies, let me say (having no illusions as to the gondolier) that every gondolahas its tariff, in several languages, on board, and no direct trip, within the city, for one or two persons, need cost more than one francand a half. If one knows this and makes the additional tip sufficient, one is always in the right and the gondolier knows it. One of the prettiest sights that I remember in Venice was, one Sundaymorning, a gondolier in his shirt sleeves, carefully dressed in hisbest, with a very long cigar and a very black moustache and a flashinggold ring, lolling back in his own gondola while his small son, agedabout nine, was rowing him up the Grand Canal. Occasionally a word ofpraise or caution was uttered, but for the most part they went alongsilently, the father receiving more warmth from the consciousness ofsuccessful paternity than we from the sun itself. Gondoliers can have pride: but there is no pride about a rampino, theold scaramouch who hooks the gondola at the steps. Since he too wasonce a gondolier this is odd. But pride and he are strangers now. Hishat is ever in his hand for a copper, and the transference of your stillburning cigar-end to his lips is one of the most natural actions in theworld. CHAPTER VIII THE GRAND CANAL. I: FROM THE DOGANA TO THE PALAZZO REZZONICO, LOOKING TOTHE LEFT The river of Venice--Canal steamers--Motor boats--Venetian nobilityto-day--The great architects--A desirable enactment--The custom housevane--The Seminario and Giorgione--S. Maria della Salute--Tintoretto's"Marriage in Cana"--The lost blue curtain--San Gregorio--The PalazzoDario--Porphyry--The story of S. Vio--Delectable homes--Browning inVenice--S. Maria della Carità. To me the Grand Canal is the river of Venice--its Thames, its Seine, itsArno. I think of it as "the river. " The rest are canals. And yet as amatter of fact to the Venetians the rest are rivers--Rio this and Riothat--and this the canal. During a stay in Venice of however short a time one is so often on theGrand Canal that a knowledge of its palaces should come early. Forfifteen centimes one may travel its whole length in a steamboat, andback again for another fifteen, and there is no more interestinghalf-hour's voyage in the world. The guide books, as a rule, describeboth banks from the same starting-point, which is usually the Molo. Thisseems to me to be a mistake, for two reasons. One is that even in aleisurely gondola "all'ora" one cannot keep pace with literature bearingon both sides at once, and the other is that since one enters Venice atthe railway station it is interesting to begin forthwith to learnsomething of the city from that point and one ought not to be asked toread backwards to do this. In this book therefore the left bank, fromthe custom house to the railway station, is described first, and thenthe other side returning from the station to the Molo. The Grand Canal has for long had its steamers, and when they wereinstalled there was a desperate outcry, led by Ruskin. To-day a similaroutcry is being made against motor-boats, with, I think, more reason, asI hope to show later. But the steamer is useful and practicallyunnoticeable except when it whistles. None the less it was aninteresting experience in April of this year (1914) to be living on theGrand Canal during a steamer strike which lasted for several days. Itgave one the quieter Venice of the past and incidentally turned thegondoliers into plutocrats. But there is a great difference between the steamers and the motor-boat. The steamer does not leave the Grand Canal except to enter the lagoon;and therefore the injustice that it does to the gondolier is limited todepriving him of his Grand Canal fares. The motor-boat can supersede thegondola on the small canals too. It may be urged that the gondolier hasonly to become an engineer and his position will be as secure. That maybe true; but we all know how insidious is the deteriorating influence ofpetrol on the human character. The gondolier even now is not always amodel of courtesy and content; what will he be when the poison ofmachinery is in him? But there are graver reasons why the motor-boat should be viewed by thecity fathers with suspicion. One is purely æsthetic, yet not the lessweighty for that, since the prosperity of Venice in her decay resides inher romantic beauty and associations. The symbol of these is the gondolaand gondolier, indivisible, and the only conditions under which they canbe preserved are quietude and leisure. The motor-boat, which is alwaysin a hurry and which as it multiplies will multiply hooters andwhistles, must necessarily destroy the last vestige of Venetian calm. Asecond reason is that a small motor-boat makes a bigger wash than acrowded Grand Canal steamer, and this wash, continually increasing asthe number of boats increases, must weaken and undermine the foundationsof the houses on each side of the canals through which they pass. Theaction of water is irresistible. No natural law is sterner than thatwhich decrees that restless water shall prevail. Enjoyment of voyages up and down the Grand Canal is immensely increasedby some knowledge of architecture; but that subject is so vast that insuch a _hors d'oeuvre_ to the Venetian banquet as the present booknothing of value can be said. Let it not be forgotten that Ruskin gaveyears of his life to the study. The most I can do is to name thearchitects of the most famous of the palaces and draw the reader'sattention to the frequency with which the lovely Ducal gallery patternrecurs, like a theme in a fugue, until one comes to think the symbol ofthe city not the winged lion but a row of Gothic curved and pointedarches surmounted by circles containing equilateral crosses. Thegreatest names in Venetian architecture are Polifilo, who wrote the_Hypnerotomachia_, the two Bons, Rizzo, Sansovino, the Lombardis, Scarpagnino, Leopardi, Palladio, Sammicheli, and Longhena. In the following notes I have tried to mention the place of practicallyevery rio and every calle so that the identification of the buildingsmay be the more simple. The names of the palaces usually given are thoseby which the Venetians know them; but many, if not more, have changedownership more than once since those names were fixed. Although for the most part the palaces of the Grand Canal have declinedfrom their original status as the homes of the nobility and aristocracyand are now hotels, antiquity stores, offices, and tenements, it notseldom happens that the modern representative of the great familyretains the top floor for an annual Venetian sojourn, living for therest of the year in the country. I wish it could be made compulsory for the posts before the palaces tobe repainted every year. And so begins the voyage. The white stone building which forms the thinend of the wedge dividing the Grand Canal from the Canale della Giudeccais the Dogana or Customs House, and the cape is called the Punta dellaSalute. The figure on the Dogana ball, which from certain points hasalmost as much lightness as Gian Bologna's famous Mercury, representsFortune and turns with the wind. The next building (with a green andshady garden on the Giudecca side) is the Seminario Patriarcale, a greatbare schoolhouse, in which a few pictures are preserved, and, downstairs, a collection of ancient sculpture. Among the pictures is amuch dam-aged classical scene supposed to represent Apollo and Daphne ina romantic landscape. Giorgione's name is often associated with it; Iknow not with what accuracy, but Signor Paoli, who has written so wellupon Venice, is convinced, and the figure of Apollo is certainly freeand fair as from a master's hand. Another picture, a Madonna and Childwith two companions, is called a Leonardo da Vinci; but Baedeker givesit to Marco d'Oggiano. There is also a Filippino Lippi which one likesto find in Venice, where the prevailing art is so different from his. One of the most charming things here is a little relief of the manger;as pretty a rendering as one could wish for. Downstairs is the tomb ofthe great Jacopo Sansovino. And now rises the imposing church of S. Maria della Salute which, although younger than most of the Venetian churches, has taken the nextplace to S. Mark's as an ecclesiastical symbol of the city. To me it isa building attractive only when seen in its place as a Venetian detail;although it must always have the impressiveness of size and accumulationand the beauty that white stone in such an air as this can hardlyescape. Seen from the Grand Canal or from a window opposite, it ispretentious and an interloper, particularly if the slender anddistinguished Gothic windows of the apse of S. Gregorio are alsovisible; seen from any distant enough spot, its dome and towers fallwith equal naturalness into the majestic Venetian pageant of full light, or the fairy Venetian mirage of the crepuscle. The church was decreed in 1630 as a thankoffering to the Virgin forstaying the plague of that year. Hence the name--S. Mary of Salvation. It was designed by Baldassarre Longhena, a Venetian architect who workedduring the first half of the seventeenth century and whose masterpiecethis is. Within, the Salute is notable for possessing Tintoretto's "Marriage inCana, " one of the few pictures painted by him in which he allowedhimself an interval (so to speak) of perfect calm. It is, as it wasbound to be in his hands and no doubt was in reality, a busy scene. Theguests are all animated; the servitors are bustling about; a number ofspectators talk together at the back; a woman in the foreground holdsout a vessel to the men opposite to show them the remarkable changewhich the water has undergone. But it is in the centre of his picture(which is reproduced on the opposite page) that the painter hasachieved one of his pleasantest effects, for here is a row of prettywomen sitting side by side at the banquetting table, with a soft lightupon them, who make together one of the most charming of those rareoases of pure sweetness in all Tintoretto's work. The chief light istheirs and they shine most graciously in it. Among other pictures are a S. Sebastian by Basaiti, with a goodlandscape; a glowing altar-piece by Titian, in his Giorgionesque manner, representing S. Mark and four saints; a "Descent of the Holy Ghost, " bythe same hand but under no such influence; and a spirited if rathertheatrical "Nativity of the Virgin" by Lucia Giordano. In the outersacristy the kneeling figure of Doge Agostino Barbarigo should be lookedfor. The Salute in Guardi's day seems to have had the most entrancing lightblue curtains at its main entrance, if we may take the artist as ourauthority. See No. 2098 in the National Gallery, and also No. 503 at theWallace collection. But now only a tiny side door is opened. [Illustration: THE MARRIAGE AT CANAFROM THE PAINTING BY TINTORETTO_In the Church of the Salute_] A steamboat station, used almost wholly by visitors, is here, and then acanal, and then the fourteenth-century abbey of S. Gregorio, whosecloisters now form an antiquity store and whose severe and simple apseis such a rebuke to Longhena's Renaissance floridity. Next is adelightful little house with one of the old cup-chimneys, forming one ofthe most desirable residences in Venice. It has a glazed loggia lookingdown to the Riva. We next come to a brand new spacious building dividedinto apartments, then a tiny house, and then the rather squalid PalazzoMartinengo. The calle and traghetto of S. Gregorio, and two or three oldpalaces and the new building which now holds Salviati's glass business, follow. After the Rio del Formase is a common little house, and thenthe Palazzo Volkoff, once Eleonora Duse's Venetian home. Next is the splendid fifteenth-century Palazzo Dario, to my eyes perhapsthe most satisfying of all, with its rich colouring, leaning walls, ancient chimneys and porphyry decorations. Readers of Henri de Régnier'sVenetian novel _La Peur de l'Amour_ may like to know that much of it waswritten in this palace. We shall see porphyry all along the Canal onboth sides, always enriching in its effect. This stone is a red orpurple volcanic rock which comes from Egypt, on the west coast of theRed Sea. The Romans first detected its beauty and made great use of itto decorate their buildings. Another rio, the Torreselle, some wine stores, and then the foundationsof what was to have been the Palazzo Venier, which never was built. Instead there are walls and a very delectable garden--a riot of lovelywistaria in the spring--into which fortunate people are assisted fromgondolas by superior men-servants. A dull house comes next; then a_stoffe_ factory; and then the Mula Palace, with fine dark blue polesbefore it surmounted by a Doge's cap, and good Gothic windows. Again wefind trade where once was aristocracy, for the next palace, which is nowa glass-works' show-room, was once the home of Pietro Barbarigo, Patriarch of Venice. The tiny church of S. Vio, now closed, which gives the name to the Campoand Rio opposite which we now are, has a pretty history attached to it. It seems that one of the most devoted worshippers in this minute templewas the little Contessa Tagliapietra, whose home was on the other sideof the Grand Canal. Her one pleasure was to retire to this church andmake her devotions: a habit which so exasperated her father that one dayhe issued a decree to the gondoliers forbidding them to ferry heracross. On arriving at the traghetto and learning this decision, thegirl calmly walked over the water, sustained by her purity and piety. The next palace, at the corner, is the Palazzo Loredan where the widowof Don Carlos of Madrid now lives. The posts have Spanish colours and amagnificent man-servant in a scarlet waistcoat often suns himself on thesteps. Next is the comfortable Balbi Valier, with a motor launch called"The Rose of Devon" moored to its posts, and a pleasant garden where thePalazzo Paradiso once stood; and then the great and splendid Contarinidel Zaffo, or Manzoni, with its good ironwork and medallions and acharming loggia at the side. Robert Browning tried to buy this palacefor his son. Indeed he thought he had bought it; but there was a hitch. He describes it in a letter as "the most beautiful house in Venice. " Thenext, the Brandolin Rota, which adjoins it, was, as a hotel, under thename Albergo dell'Universo, Browning's first Venetian home. Later hemoved to the Zattere and after that to the Palazzo Rezzonico, to whichwe are soon coming, where he died. Next we reach the church, convent and Scuola of S. Maria della Carità, opposite the iron bridge, which under rearrangement and restoration nowforms the Accademia, or Gallery of Fine Arts, famous throughout theworld for its Titians, Tintorettos, Bellinis, and Carpaccios. Thechurch, which dates from the fifteenth century, is a most beautifulbrown brick building with delicate corbelling under the eaves. Oncethere was a campanile too, but it fell into the Grand Canal some hundredand seventy years ago, causing a tidal wave which flung gondolas cleanout of the water. We shall return to the Accademia in later chapters:here it is enough to say that the lion on the top of the entrance wallis the most foolish in Venice, turned, as it has been, into a lady'shack. The first house after the Accademia is negligible--newish and dull withan enclosed garden; the next is the Querini; the next the dull MocenigoGambara; and then we come to the solid Bloomsbury-blackened stonePalazzo Contarini degli Scrigni and its neighbours of the sameownership. Then the Rio S. Trovaso, with a pretty garden visible alittle way up, and then a gay new little home, very attractive, with astrip of garden, and next it the fifteenth-century Loredan. A tinycalle, and then the low Dolfin. Then the Rio Malpaga and after it a verydelectable new residence with a terrace. A calle and traghetto, with awall shrine at the corner, come next, and two dull Contarini palaces, one of which is now an antiquity store, and then the Rio S. Barnaba andthe majestic sombre Rezzonico with its posts of blue and faded pink. This for long was the home of Robert Browning, and here, as a tablet onthe side wall states, he died. "Browning, Browning, " exclaim thegondoliers as they point to it; but what the word means to them I cannotsay. CHAPTER IX THE GRAND CANAL. II: BROWNING AND WAGNER The Palazzo Rezzonico--Mr. And Mrs. Browning--Browning's Venetianroutine--In praise of Goldoni--Browning's death--A funeral service--Loveof Italy--The Giustiniani family--A last resource--Wagner inVenice--_Tristan und Isolde_--Plays and Music--The Austrians inpower--The gondoliers' chorus--The Foscari Palace. The Rezzonico palace and one of the Giustiniani palaces which are itsneighbours have such interesting artistic associations that they demanda chapter to themselves. Browning is more intimately associated with Florence and Asolo than withVenice; but he enjoyed his later Venetian days to the full. His firstvisit here in 1851, with his wife, was however marred by illness. Mrs. Browning loved the city, as her letters tell. "I have been, " she wrote, "between heaven and earth since our arrival at Venice. The heaven of itis ineffable. Never had I touched the skirts of so celestial a place. The beauty of the architecture, the silver trails of water up betweenall that gorgeous colour and carving, the enchanting silence, themoonlight, the music, the gondolas--I mix it all up together, andmaintain that nothing is like it, nothing equal to it, not a secondVenice in the world. " Browning left Florence for ever after his wife's death, and to Venice hecame again in 1878, with his sister, and thereafter for some years theyreturned regularly. Until 1881 their home was at the Brandolin Rota. After that they stayed with Mrs. Arthur Bronson, to whom he dedicated_Asolando_, his last book, and who has written a record of his habits inthe city of the sea. She tells us that he delighted in walking and was agreat frequenter of old curiosity shops. His especial triumph was todiscover a calle so narrow that he could not put up an umbrella in it. Every morning he visited the Giardini Pubblici to feed certain of theanimals; and on every disengaged afternoon he went over to the Lido, towalk there, or, as Byron had done, to ride. On being asked by hisgondolier where he would like to be rowed, he always said, "Towards theLido, " and after his failure to acquire the Palazzo Manzoni he thoughtseriously for a while of buying an unfinished Lido villa which had beenbegun for Victor Emmanuel. Browning's desire was to see sunsets from it. Mrs. Bronson tells us that the poet delighted in the seagulls, which instormy weather come into the city waters. He used to wonder that nobooks referred to them. "They are more interesting, " he said, "than thedoves of St. Mark. " Venice did not inspire the poet to much verse. Thereis of course that poignant little drama entitled "In a Gondola, " but notmuch else, and for some reason the collected works omit the sonnet inhonour of Goldoni which was written for the ceremonies attaching to theerection of the dramatist's statue near the Rialto. Mrs. Orr tells usthat this sonnet, which had been promised for an album in praise ofGoldoni, was forgotten until the messenger from the editor arrived forthe copy. Browning wrote it while the boy waited. The day was November27, 1883. Goldoni--good, gay, sunniest of souls-- Glassing half Venice in that verse of thine-- What though it just reflect the shade and shine Of common life, nor render, as it rolls, Grandeur and gloom? Sufficient for thy shoals Was Carnival: Parini's depths enshrine Secrets unsuited to that opaline Surface of things which laughs along thy scrolls. There throng the people: how they come and go, Lisp the soft language, flaunt the bright garb, --see, -- On Piazza, Calle, under Portico And over Bridge! Dear king of Comedy, Be honoured! Thou that did'st love Venice so, Venice, and we who love her, all love thee. The Rezzonico is the house most intimately associated with Browning inthe public mind, although most of his Venetian life was spent elsewhere. It was here, on his last visit to his son, that the poet died. He hadnot been very well for some time, but he insisted on taking his dailywalk on the Lido even although it was foggy. The fog struck in--it wasNovember--and the poet gradually grew weaker until on December 12, 1889, the end came. At first he had lain in the left-hand corner room on theground floor; he died in the corresponding room on the top floor, wherethere was more light. [Illustration: VENICE WITH HERCULES AND CERESFROM THE PAINTING BY VERONESE_In the Accademia_] Browning was buried in Westminster Abbey, but a funeral service was heldfirst in Venice. In his son's words, "a public funeral was offered bythe Municipality, which in a modified form was gratefully accepted. Aprivate service, conducted by the British Chaplain, was held in one ofthe halls of the Rezzonico. It was attended by the Syndic of Venice andthe chief City authorities, as well as by officers of the Army and Navy. Municipal Guards lined the entrance of the Palace, and a Guard ofHonour, consisting of City firemen in full dress, stood flanking thecoffin during the service, which was attended by friends and manyresidents. The subsequent passage to the mortuary island of San Michelewas organized by the City, and when the service had been performed thecoffin was carried by firemen to the massive and highly decoratedfuneral barge, on which it was guarded during the transit by four'Uscieri' in gala dress, two sergeants of the Municipal Guard, and twofiremen bearing torches. The remainder of these followed in their boats. The funeral barge was slowly towed by a steam launch of the Royal Navy. The chief officers of the Municipality, the family, and many others in acrowd of gondolas, completed the procession. San Michele was reached asthe sun was setting, when the firemen again received their burden andbore it to the principal mortuary chapel. " Later the municipality of Venice fixed the memorial tablet to the wallof the palace. The quotation, from the poet, cut under his name, runsthus:-- Open my heart and you will see Graved inside of it, Italy. The tablet is a graceful recognition of the devotion of Browning and hiswife to their adopted country. Did the authorities, I wonder, know thatBrowning's love of their city led him always to wear on his watch-chaina coin struck by Manin in 1848 commemorating the overthrow of Austrianpower in Venice? The Rezzonico was built by Longhena, the architect of the Salute. CarloRezzonico, afterwards Pope Clement XIII, lived here. The Emperor JosephII stayed here. So much for fact. I like far more to remember theChristmas dinner eaten here--only, alas, in fancy, yet with all theillusion of fact--by Browning and a Scandinavian dramatist named Ibsen, brought together for the purpose by the assiduous Mr. Gosse, as relatedwith such skill and mischief by Mr. Max Beerbohm. Next the Rezzonico is the commonplace Nani; then a tiny calle; and thenan antiquity store, one of the three adjoining palaces of the greatGiustiniani family, in the second of which once lived Richard Wagner. But first a word as to the Giustiniani's great feat, in the twelfthcentury, of giving every male member to the Republic. It happened thatin 1171 nearly all the Venetians in Constantinople were massacred. Anexpedition was quickly despatched to demand satisfaction for such adeed, but, while anchored at Scio, the plague broke out and practicallydemolished this too, among those who perished being the Giustiniani to aman. In order that the family might persist, the sole surviving son, amonk named Niccolò, was temporarily released from his vows to beespoused to the daughter of the Doge, Vitale Michiel. Sufficient sonshaving been born to them, the father returned to his monastery and themother sought a convent for herself. In the first of the three Giustiniani palaces Mr. Howells, moving fromthe Casa Falier across the way, wrote his _Venetian Life_. In the nextWagner wrote part of _Tristan and Isolda_. Needing solitude for this task, the composer came to Venice in theautumn of 1858, and put up first at Danieli's. Needing a more privateabode he came here. From his _Autobiography_ I take the story. "I heardthat one of the three Giustiniani palaces, situated not far from thePalazzo Foscari, was at present very little patronized by visitors, onaccount of its situation, which in the winter is somewhat unfavourable. I found some very spacious and imposing apartments there, all of whichthey told me would remain uninhabited. I here engaged a large statelyroom with a spacious bedroom adjoining. I had my luggage quicklytransferred there, and on the evening of the 30th August I said tomyself, 'At last I am living in Venice. ' "My leading idea was that I could work here undisturbed. I immediatelywrote to Zürich asking for my Erard 'Grand' and my bed to be sent on tome, as, with regard to the latter, I felt that I should find out whatcold meant in Venice. In addition to this, the grey-washed walls of mylarge room soon annoyed me, as they were so little suited to theceiling, which was covered with a fresco which I thought was rathertasteful. I decided to have the walls of the large room covered withhangings of a dark-red shade, even if they were of quite common quality. This immediately caused much trouble; but it seemed to me that it waswell worth surmounting, when I gazed down from my balcony with growingsatisfaction on the wonderful canal, and said to myself that here Iwould complete _Tristan_. " The composer's life was very simple. "I worked, " he says, "till twoo'clock, then I got into the gondola that was always in waiting, and wastaken along the solemn Grand Canal to the bright Piazzetta, the peculiarcharm of which always had a cheerful effect on me. After this I made formy restaurant in the Piazza San Marco, and when I had finished my meal Iwalked alone or with Karl along the Riva to the Giardini Pubblici, theonly pleasure-ground in Venice where there are any trees, and atnightfall I came back in the gondola down the canal, then more sombreand silent, till I reached the spot where I could see my solitary lampshining from the night-shrouded façade of the old Palazzo Giustiniani. "After I had worked a little longer Karl, heralded by the swish of thegondola, would come in regularly at eight o'clock for a few hours chatover our tea. Very rarely did I vary this routine by a visit to one ofthe theatres. When I did, I preferred the performances at the CamploiTheatre, where Goldoni's pieces were very well played; but I seldom wentto the opera, and when I did go it was merely out of curiosity. Morefrequently, when bad weather deprived us of our walk, we patronized thepopular drama at the Malibran Theatre, where the performances were givenin the daytime. The admission cost us six kreutzers. The audiences wereexcellent, the majority being in their shirt-sleeves, and the piecesgiven were generally of the ultra-melodramatic type. However, one day tomy great astonishment and intense delight I saw there _Le BaruffeChioggiote_, the grotesque comedy that had appealed so strongly toGoethe in his days at this very theatre. So true to nature was thisperformance that it surpassed anything of the kind I have everwitnessed. " Wagner's impressions of Venice, where, some twenty-four years later, hewas to end his anxious and marvellous life, seem to me so interestingthat I quote a little more: "There was little else that attracted myattention in the oppressed and degenerate life of the Venetian people, and the only impression I derived from the exquisite ruin of thiswonderful city as far as human interest is concerned was that of awatering-place kept up for the benefit of visitors. Strangely enough, itwas the thoroughly German element of good military music, to which somuch attention is paid in the Austrian army, that brought me into touchwith public life in Venice. The conductors in the two Austrian regimentsquartered there began playing overtures of mine, _Rienzi_ and_Tannhäuser_ for instance, and invited me to attend their practices intheir barracks. There I also met the whole staff of officers, and wastreated by them with great respect. These bands played on alternateevenings amid brilliant illuminations in the middle of the Piazza SanMarco, whose acoustic properties for this class of production werereally excellent. I was often suddenly startled towards the end of mymeal by the sound of my own overtures; then as I sat at the restaurantwindow giving myself up to impressions of the music, I did not knowwhich dazzled me most, the incomparable Piazza magnificently illuminatedand filled with countless numbers of moving people, or the music thatseemed to be borne away in rustling glory to the winds. Only one thingwas wanting that might certainly have been expected from an Italianaudience: the people were gathered round the band in thousands listeningmost intently, but no two hands ever forgot themselves so far as toapplaud, as the least sign of approbation of Austrian military musicwould have been looked upon as treason to the Italian Fatherland. Allpublic life in Venice also suffered by this extraordinary rift betweenthe general public and the authorities; this was peculiarly apparent inthe relations of the population to the Austrian officers, who floatedabout publicly in Venice like oil on water. The populace, too, behavedwith no less reserve, or one might even say hostility, to the clergy, who were for the most part of Italian origin. I saw a procession ofclerics in their vestments passing along the Piazza San Marcoaccompanied by the people with unconcealed derision. "It was very difficult for Ritter to induce me to interrupt my dailyarrangements even to visit a gallery or a church, though, whenever wehad to pass through the town, the exceedingly varied architectonicpeculiarities and beauties always delighted me afresh. But the frequentgondola trips towards the Lido constituted my chief enjoyment duringpractically the whole of my stay in Venice. It was more especially onour homeward journeys at sunset that I was always over-powered by uniqueimpressions. During the first part of our stay in the September of thatyear we saw on one of these occasions the marvellous apparition of thegreat comet, which at that time was at its highest brilliancy, and wasgenerally said to portend an imminent catastrophe. "The singing of a popular choral society, trained by an official of theVenetian arsenal, seemed like a real lagoon idyll. They generally sangonly three-part naturally harmonized folk-songs. It was new to me not tohear the higher voice rise above the compass of the alto, that is tosay, without touching the soprano, thereby imparting to the sound of thechorus a manly youthfulness hitherto unknown to me. On fine eveningsthey glided down the Grand Canal in a large illuminated gondola, stopping before a few palaces as if to serenade (when requested and paidfor doing so, be it understood), and generally attracted a number ofother gondolas in their wake. "During one sleepless night, when I felt impelled to go out on to mybalcony in the small hours, I heard for the first time the famous oldfolk-song of the _gondolieri_. I seemed to hear the first call, in thestillness of the night, proceeding from the Rialto, about a mile awaylike a rough lament, and answered in the same tone from a yet furtherdistance in another direction. This melancholy dialogue, which wasrepeated at longer intervals, affected me so much that I could not fixthe very simple musical component parts in my memory. However on asubsequent occasion I was told that this folk-song was of great poeticinterest. As I was returning home late one night on the gloomy canal, the moon appeared suddenly and illuminated the marvellous palaces andthe tall figure of my gondolier towering above the stern of the gondola, slowly moving his huge sweep. Suddenly he uttered a deep wail, notunlike the cry of an animal; the cry gradually gained in strength, andformed itself, after a long-drawn 'Oh!' into the simple musicalexclamation 'Venezia!' This was followed by other sounds of which I haveno distinct recollection, as I was so much moved at the time. Such werethe impressions that to me appeared the most characteristic of Veniceduring my stay there, and they remained with me until the completion ofthe second act of _Tristan_, and possibly even suggested to me thelong-drawn wail of the shepherd's horn at the beginning of the thirdact. " Later we shall see the palace where Wagner died, which also is on theGrand Canal. Now comes the great and splendid Foscari Palace, once also a Giustinianihome and once also the lodging of a king of France--Henry III, certainof whose sumptuous Venetian experiences we saw depicted on the walls ofthe Doges' Palace. The Foscari is very splendid with its golden bordersto the windows, its rich reliefs and pretty effects of red brickwork, and more than most it brings to mind the lost aristocratic glories ofVenice. To-day it is a commercial school, with a courtyard at the backfull of weeds. The fine lamp at its corner must give as useful a lightas any in Venice. CHAPTER X THE GRAND CANAL. III: FROM THE RIO FOSCARI TO S. SIMEONE, LOOKING TO THELEFT Napoleon _s'amuse_--Paul Veronese--The Layard collection--The PalazzoPapadopoli--The Rialto Bridge--The keystone--Carpaccio--The "Uncle" ofVenice--Modern painting--English artists in Venice--The CivicMuseum--Pictures and curiosities--Carnival costumes--Carpaccio andRuskin--Historical scenes--A pleasant garden. The big palace on the other side of the Rio Foscari, next the shabbybrown, deserted house which might be made so desirable with its viewdown the Canal, is the Balbi, and it has the distinction that Napoleonstood in one of its windows to see a Grand Canal regatta, the races inwhich ended at this point. Next it is the Angaran, and then a nicelittle place with lions guarding the terrace gate, at the corner of theRio della Frescada, one of the prettiest of the side canals. Next wecome to another large and solid but very dull house, the Civran(afterwards Grimani); then the forsaken Dandolo, and we are at thesteamboat station of S. Toma, where the passengers for the Frari and S. Rocco land. Hereabouts the houses are very uninteresting. Two more and a traghettoand the Rio S. Toma; then the Palazzo Giustiniani, a rich Venetian red, with a glimpse of a courtyard; then the ugliest building in the canal, also red, like the back of a block of flats; and after passing thepretty little Gothic Tiepolo palace with blue posts with yellow bands, and the larger Palazzo Tiepolo adjoining it, we are at the finefifteenth-century Pisani Moretta, with a double row of rich Gothicwindows. Here once hung Veronese's "Family of Darius, " now No. 294 inour National Gallery, and, according to Ruskin, "the most precious" ofthe painter's works. The story goes that Veronese being driven to makeuse of the Pisani villa at Este as a temporary home, painted the picturewhile there and left it behind him with a message that he hoped it wouldpay for his board and lodging. The Pisani family sold it to the NationalGallery in 1857. The next palace is the hideous Barbarigo della Terrazza, with a betterfaçade on the Rio S. Polo: now a mosaic company's head-quarters, butonce famous for its splendours, which included seventeen Titians, now inRussia; and then the Rio S. Polo and the red Capello Palace where thelate Sir Henry Layard made his home and gathered about him thosepictures which now, like the Darius, belong to our National Gallery. Next it is the Vendramin, with yellow posts and porphyry enrichment, andthen the desolate dirty Querini, and the Bernardo, once a splendidpalace but now offices, with its Gothic arches filled with glass. TheRio della Madonnetta here intervenes; then two Donà palaces, the firstdating from the twelfth century. A traghetto is here and a pretty calle, and soon we come to one of the palaces which are shown to visitors, thePapadopoli, once the Coccina-Tiepolo, with blue posts and in the springa Judas-tree red in the garden. My advice to those who visit such palaces as are shown to the public isnot to go alone. The rigours of ceremonial can be tempered to a party, and the efficient and discreet French major-domo is less formidable toseveral visitors than to one. The principal attraction of thePapadopoli Palace is two carnival pictures by Tiepolo; but the visitoris also shown room after room, sumptuous and unliveable in, with signedphotographs of crowned heads on ormolu tables. The Rio dei Meloni, where is the Palazzo Albrizzi to which Byron used toresort as a lion, runs by the Papadopoli. At the other corner is theBusinello, a nice solid building with two rows of round window-arches. Then the tall decayed Rampinelli and, followed by a calle, the RamoBarzizza, and next the Mengaldo, with a very choice doorway and arches, now a statuary store; then the yellow Avogadro, now an antiquitydealer's and tenements, with a fondamenta; then a new building, and wereach the fine red palace adjoining the Casa Petrarca, with its rampinggarden. These two palaces, which have a sottoportico beneath them leading to S. Silvestro, stand on the site of the palace of the Patriarchs of Grado, who had supreme ecclesiastical power here until the fifteenth century, when the Patriarchate of Venice was founded with a residence near S. Pietro in Castello. From this point a fondamenta runs all the way to the Rialto bridge. Thebuildings are not of any particular interest, until we come to the lastone, with the two arches under it and the fine relief of a lion on thefaçade: once the head-quarters of the tithe collectors. People have come mostly to speak of the Rialto as though it was thebridge only. But it is the district, of which the bridge is the centre. No longer do wealthy shipowners and merchants foregather hereabouts; fornone exist. Venice has ceased to fetch and carry for the world, and allher energies are now confined within her own borders. Enough to live andbe as happy as may be! [Illustration: DOORWAY OF S. MARIA DELLA SALUTE] In beauty the Rialto falls far short of most of the bridges of Venice. Its hard angle superimposed on the great arch is unpleasing to the eyeaccustomed in this city to easy fluid curves. Seen from immediatelybelow, the arch is noble; from any greater distance it is lost in theover-structure, angle and curve conflicting. Ruskin is very enthusiastic over the conceit which placed the SpiritoSanto on the keystone of the bridge, the flight, as he thinks, producingan effect of lightness. He is pleased too with the two angels, andespecially that one on the right, whose foot is placed with horizontalfirmness. On each side of the bridge is a shrine. Before this stone bridge was built in 1588 by Antonio da Ponte it hadwooden predecessors. Carpaccio's Santa Croce picture in the Accademiashows us what the immediate forerunner of the present bridge was like. It had a drawbridge in the middle to prevent pursuit that way duringbrawls. The first palace beyond the bridge, now a decaying congeries of offices, has very rich decorative stone work, foliation and festoons. It was oncethe head-quarters of the Camerlenghi, the procurators-fiscal of Venice. Then come the long fruit and vegetable markets, and then the new fishmarket, one of the most successful of new Venetian buildings, with itsspringing arches below and its loggia above and its iron lamp at theright corner and bronze fisherman at the left. A fondamenta runs right away from the Rialto bridge to a point justbeyond the new fish market, with some nice houses on it, over shops, theone on the left of the fish market having very charming windows. Thefirst palace of any importance is the dull red one on the other side ofthe Calle dei Botteri, the Donà. Then a decayed palace and the Calledel Campanile where the fondamenta ends. Here is the very attractivePalazzo Morosini, or Brandolin, which dates from the fourteenth century. Next is a dull house, and then a small one with little lions on thebalustrades, and then the Rio S. Cassiano. Next is a tiny and veryancient palace with an inscription stating that the Venetian painterFavretto worked there; then a calle, and the great pawnshop of Venice, once the Palazzo Corner della Regina, is before us, with a number of itsown boats inside the handsome blue municipal posts with S. Mark's lionon each. The Queen of Cyprus was born here; other proud and commandingCorners were splendid here; and now it is a pawnshop! The Calle della Regina, two rather nice, neglected houses (the littlepink one quite charming), and we come to the Rio Pesaro and the splendidPalazzo Pesaro, one of the great works of Longhena. Note its flutedpillars and rich stonework. This palace we may enter, for it is now theTate Gallery of Venice, housing, below, a changing exhibition ofcontemporary art, and, above, a permanent collection, to which additionsare constantly being made, of modern Italian painting. Foreign artistsare admitted too, and my eyes were gladdened by Mr. Nicholson's "Nancy, "a landscape by Mr. E. A. Walton, a melon-seller by Mr. Brangwyn, a ladyin pink by Mr. Lavery, and a fisherman by Mr. Cayley Robinson. A numberof Whistler's Venetian etchings may also be seen here, and muchcharacteristic work by Mr. Pennell. Here too are the "Burghers ofCalais" and the "Thinker" of Rodin, while a nude by Fantin Latour shouldbe sought for. One of the most interesting pictures so far as subjectgoes represents the bridge of boats to the Redentore on a recent AllSouls' day. I have been absolutely alone in this building, save for the custodians. The Venetian can live very easily without picture galleries, ancient ormodern. The Rio della Pergola washes the other side of the Pesaro palace, andthen come two or three houses, once Foscarini homes, given up toantiquity dealers, and then the florid white stone façade of the churchof S. Stae (or S. Eustachio) with a delightful little Venetian-red annexon the left. There is a campo and steamboat station here too. The nextpalace has pretty little Gothic windows, and then a small brown housestands in its garden on the site of a burnt Contarini palace. A good redbrick fifteenth-century palace, now a wine store, is next, and then theTron, now an institution, with a garden and well-head seen through theopen door. Great scenes have been witnessed in this building, for theTrons were a famous and powerful Venetian family, supplying more thanone Doge, and here in 1775 was entertained the Emperor Joseph II. Then the Rio Tron and then the Palazzo Battagia, with two rich coats ofarms in relief, which is also by Longhena, but I hope that it was not hewho placed the columns on the roof. The tiny Calle del Megio, and wereach the venerable piece of decay which once was the granary of theVenetian Republic--one of the most dignified and attractive buildings onthe canal, with its old brick and coping of pointed arches. The Rio delMegio divides the granary from the old Fondaco dei Turchi, once, after along and distinguished life as a palace, the head-quarters of the Turksin Venice, and now, admirably restored, the civic museum. It is necessary to visit the collections preserved here, but I cannotpromise any feelings of exultation among them. The Museo Civico mightbe so interesting and is so depressing. Baedeker is joyful over the"excellent illustrative guide (1909), 1 franc, " but though it may haveexisted in 1909 there is no longer any trace of it, nor could I obtainthe reason why. Since none of the exhibits have descriptive labels (noteven the pictures), and since the only custodians are apparently retiredand utterly dejected gondoliers, the visitor's spirits steadily fall. One enters to some fine well-heads and other sculpture, not verydifferent from the stock-in-trade of the ordinary dealer in antiquitywho has filched a palace. On the next floor is a library; but I foundthe entrance barred. On the next is a series of rooms, the museumproper. In the first are weapons, banners, and so forth. In the secondis a vast huddle of pictures, mostly bad copies, but patience maydiscover here and there an original by a good hand not at its best. Inoticed a Tiepolo sketch that had much of his fine free way in it, and afew typical Longhis. For the rest one imagines that some veryindifferent churches have been looted. Follow four rooms of miscellaneous articles: weapons, ropes, a ratherfascinating white leather suit in a case, and so forth. Then a room ofcoins and medals and ducats of the Doges right away from 1279. Then tworooms (VIII and IX) which are more human, containing costumes, laces, fans, the death masks of two Doges in their caps, a fine woodenbalustrade from a fifteenth-century palace, a set of marionettes withall their strings, a Vivarini Madonna on an easel. [Illustration: S. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM WITH SAINTSFROM THE PAINTING BY PIOMBO_In the Church of S. Giov. Crisostomo_] Then some stairs and a set of eighteenth-century rooms with curiouslyreal carnival costumes in them, like Longhi's pictures come to life, anda painting or two by Guardi, including what purports to be his ownportrait. Then a Chinese room, and a Goldoni room with first editionsof the little man's plays, his portrait, and other relics. This seriesundoubtedly brings Venice of the eighteenth-century very vividly beforeone. Returning to Room X in the main sequence we find wood-carving andpottery. In Room XI, just inside the door on the left, is a noblegondola prow in iron, richly wrought, which one would like to see on aboat once more. Room XII has glass and porcelain; Room XIII has ivoriesand caskets; and Room XIV has illuminated manuscripts, in one of which, No. 158, is a very attractive tiny little Annunciation; and so we comeagain to the pictures, in Rooms XV and XVI of which the second containsthe pick. But there is little to cause the heart to beat any faster. A quaint and ugly but fascinating thing, attributed to Carpaccio andsaid to represent two courtesans at home, is the most memorable. Why itshould not equally represent two ladies of unimpeachable character, Icannot see. Ruskin went beyond everything in his praises, in _St. Mark'sRest_, of this picture. He suggests that it is the best picture in theworld. But read his amazing words. "I know, " he says, "no other whichunites every nameable quality of painter's art in so intense adegree--breadth with tenderness, brilliancy with quietness, decisionwith minuteness, colour with light and shade: all that is faithfullestin Holland, fancifullest in Venice, severest in Florence, naturalest inEngland. Whatever de Hooghe could do in shade, Van Eyck in detail, Giorgione in mass, Titian in colour, Bewick and Landseer in animal life, is here at once; and I know no other picture in the world which can becompared with it. " In the same room is a figure of Christ mourned by two little angels, ascribed to Giovanni Bellini, but bearing Durer's monogram. On the stairs are historical Venetian scenes of fires, fights, andceremonials which we shall find in more abundance at the QueriniStampalia. The top floor is given to Canova, Canaletto, Guardi, andTiepolo, and is very rich in their drawings and studies. In Canova Ifind it impossible to be much interested, but the pencil work of theothers is often exquisite. From some of Canaletto's exact architecturaldrawings the Venice of his day could be reconstructed almost stone bystone. Before leaving the Museo Civico let me warn the reader that it is by nomeans easy of access except in a gondola. Two steamboat stations pretendto deposit you there, but neither does so: S. Stae, from which it is atortuous walk, and S. Marcuola, on the other side of the Canal, whichmeans a ferry boat. There is a calle and a traghetto next the museum, and then adisreputable but picturesque brown house with a fondamenta, and then thehome of the Teodoro Correr who formed the nucleus of the museum which wehave just seen and left it to Venice. His house is now deserted andmiserable. A police station comes next; then a decayed house; and thenthe Palazzo Giovanelli, boarded up and forlorn, but not the one whichcontains the famous Giorgione. And here, at the nice garden on the otherside of the Rio S. Giovanni Decollato, I think, we may cease to identifythe buildings, for nothing else is important. Beyond S. Simeone, however, at the corner of the Rio della Croce, is alarge and shady garden belonging to the Papadopoli family which may bevisited on application. It is a very pleasant place. CHAPTER XI THE GRAND CANAL. IV: FROM THE STATION TO THE MOCENIGO PALACE, LOOKING TOTHE LEFT The Scalzi--The Labia Palace--The missing cicerone--Tiepolo andCleopatra--S. Marcuola and Titian--A maker of oars--The death ofWagner--Frescoes on palaces--The Ca' d'Oro--Baron Franchetti--S. Sebastian--The Palazzo Michiel dalle Colonne--A merry tapestry--Acardinal's nursery--The Palazzo Lion--The Fondaco dei Tedeschi--Canova, Titian, and Byron. Beginning at the Railway Station and going towards the Ducal Palace, thefirst building is the church of the Scalzi, by the iron bridge. Thechurch is a very ornate structure famous for its marbles and reliefs, which counterfeit drapery and take the place of altar pictures; butthese are an acquired taste. On the ceiling the brave Tiepolo hassprawled a vigorous illustration of the spiriting away of the house ofthe Virgin to Loreto, near Ancona. Next come a row of shops, and, at the corner, the Lido hotels'motor-launch office, and then several negligible decayed palaces. Thefirst of any importance is the tall seventeenth-century incompleteFlangini with Michael Angelesque figures over the door. Then the Scuoladei Morti with its _memento mori_ on the wall, and then S. Geremia:outside, a fine mass of yellow brick with a commanding campanile;inside, all Palladian coolness. Against the church a little house hasbeen built, and at the corner of the Grand Canal and the Cannaregio isthe figure of the Virgin. The great palace a little way down the canalwhich branches off here--the Cannaregio--is the Labia, interestingchiefly as containing the masterpiece of Tiepolo, unless one agrees withSymonds that his picture of S. Agnes in SS. Apostoli is his greatesteffort. So far as I am concerned, Tiepolo painted largely in vain. I canadmire the firm decision of his drawing and his skill in composition, but I can never lose the feeling that his right place is the wall of arestaurant or a theater curtain. Still, since at the Palazzo Labia wefind him decorating a banqueting hall with a secular subject, all iswell. But first to get in, for the Labia, once so sumptuous, is now the homeof a hundred poor families, and the daughter of the concierge whose dutyit is to display the frescoes prefers play to work. For twenty minutes Iwaited in the gloomy, deserted hall while her father shuffles off in onedirection and her mother in another, both calling "Emma!" "Emma!" withincreasing degrees of fury. Small boys and girls joined in the huntuntil the neighbourhood had no other sound. At last the little slovenlyEmma was discovered, and having been well rated she fetched the key andled me up the grand staircase. Tiepolo chose two scenes from the life ofCleopatra, and there is no doubt that he could draw. In one thevoluptuous queen is dissolving a pearl in a goblet of wine; in the othershe and her infatuated Roman are about to embark in a splendid galley. The model for the wanton queen is said to have been a gondolier'sdaughter named Cristina in whom the painter found all the graces thathis brush required. [Illustration: THE DREAM OF S. URSULAFROM THE PAINTING BY CARPACCIO_In the Accademia_] The frescoes, still in fair preservation, are masterly andaristocratic; but they have left on my mind no impressions that it is apleasure to revive. Brilliant execution is not enough. Crossing the mouth of the Cannaregio we come to the Querini Palace, nowyellow, plain, and ugly. A little campiello, a tiny ugly house and acalle, and we are opposite the Palazzo Contarini, or Lobbia, with brownpoles on which a silver heart glistens. It is a huge place, now in partempty, with a pretty cable design at the corner. Next, a shady greengarden and an attractive little house with a tiny roof loggia andterrace; then a yellow stucco house with a little portico under it, andthen the Palazzo Gritti, now decayed and commonplace. A little housewith a dog in relief on it and a pretty colonnade and fondamenta, andthen the Palazzo Martinengo, or Mandelli, with that very rare thing inVenice, a public clock on the roof, and a garden. And so we reach the shabby S. Marcuola, her campo, traghetto, andsteamer station. S. Marcuola, whose façade, having never been finished, is most ragged and miserable, is a poor man's church, visited bystrangers for its early Titian and a "Last Supper" by Tintoretto. TheTitian, which is dark and grimy, is quite pleasing, the infant Christ, who stands between S. Andrew and S. Catherine on a little pedestal, being very real and Venetian. There are, however, who deny Titian'sauthorship; Mr. Ricketts, for example, gives the picture to FrancescoVecellio, the painter's son. Tintoretto's "Last Supper, " on the left ofthe high altar, is more convivial than is usual: there is plenty offood; a woman and children are coming in; a dog begs; Judas isnoticeable. Opposite this picture is a rather interesting dark canvasblending seraphim and Italian architecture. Beside the church is theshop of a maker of oars, who may be seen very conscientiously runninghis eye along a new one. A neat and smiling little house comes next, with blue and white postsand an inscription stating that it was once the home of the architectPellegrino Orefice; then a little house with pretty windows, now an"antichita"; then the Rio di S. Marcuola; and after a small and uglylittle house with a courtyard that might be made very attractive, wecome to the rich crumbling red wall of the garden of the PalazzoVendramin Calergi, which is notable as architecture, being one of theworks of Pietro Lombardi, in 1481, and also as having once housed thenoble Loredan family who produced more than one Doge. Many years laterthe Duchesse de Berry lived here; and, more interesting still, here diedRichard Wagner. We have seen Wagner's earlier residence in Venice, in 1858-59; to thispalace he came in the autumn of 1882, an old and feeble man. He was wellenough to conduct a private performance of his Symphony in C at theLiceo Martello on Christmas Eve. He died quietly on the February 13thfollowing, and was buried at Bayreuth. In D'Annunzio's Venetian novel_Il Fuoco_, called, in its English translation, _The Flame of Life_, ismost curiously woven the personality of Wagner, his ideals and theories, and his life and death in this city. It was D'Annunzio who composed thetablet on the wall. The palace has an imposing but forbidding façade, and a new kind of lionpeers over the balcony. On the façade is the motto "Non nobis, Domine. "Another garden spreads before the new wing on the right, and a fineacacia-tree is over the gateway. Next is the Palazzo Marcello, and heretoo the Duchesse de Berry lived for a while. The next, with the littleprophet's chamber on the façade and a fine Gothic window and balcony, is the fifteenth-century Erizzo. Then the Piovene, with fluted windowpillars and marble decorations; then the Emo, another antiquity shop, with a fine view down the canal from its balcony. A traghetto is here, and then the Palazzo Molin, now a business house, and the Rio dellaMaddalena. The palace adjoining the Rio is the Barbaro, with an ancientrelief on it representing little people being blessed by the Madonna;and then the Barbarigo, with remains of frescoes still to be seen, ofwhich one of a goat and infant is pretty. It was the custom once todecorate all façades in this way, but these are now almost the only onesthat remain. Now comes a very poor series of houses to the next rio, the Rio diNoale, the last being the Gussoni, or Grimani, with a nice courtyardseen through the door. It was once decorated with frescoes byTintoretto. Looking along the Rio di Noale we see the Misericordia, andonly a few yards up on the left is the Palazzo Giovanelli whereGiorgione's "Tempest" may be seen. At the other corner is the prettylittle Palazzo Lezze with a terrace and much greenery, and then themassive but commonplace Boldù palace, adjoining a decayed building onwhose fondamenta are piled gondola coverings belonging to the traghetto. A fine carved column is at the corner of the calle, and next it thePalazzo Bonhomo, with two arches of a colonnade, a shrine andfondamenta. Then a nice house with a tumbled garden, and in springpurple wistaria and red Judas-trees, and then the Rio S. Felice and theimmense but unimpressive Palazzo Fontana, built possibly by no less anarchitect than the great Sansovino. A massive head is over the door, andPope Clement XIII was born here. A little green garden adjoins--theGiardinetto Infantile--and next is a boarded-up dolls' house, and nextthe Miani or Palazzo Coletti, with two busts on it, and then the lovelyCa' d'Oro, that exquisite riot of Gothic richness. The history of the Ca' d'Oro--or golden house, so called from theprevalence of gold in its ornamentation--is melancholy. It was built bythe two Bons, or Buons, of the Doges' Palace for Pietro Contarini in1425. It passed through various hands, always, one imagines, decliningin condition, until at the end of the eighteenth century it was adramatic academy, and in the middle of the last century the dancerTaglioni lived in it and not only made it squalid but sold certain ofits treasures. Of its famous internal marble staircase, for example, notrace remains. Then, after probably more careless tenants, came BaronFranchetti with his wealth and zeal to restore such of its glories as hemight, and although no haste is being employed, the good work continues. The palace is not open, but an obliging custodian is pleased to growenthusiastic to visitors. Slowly but painstakingly the reconstructionproceeds. Painted ceilings are being put back, mosaic floors are beingpieced together, cornices are taking the place of terrible papering andboarding: enough of all of the old having remained for the scheme to befaithfully completed. Stepping warily over the crazy floors of thesevast rooms, one does not envy Taglioni when the Tramontana blew. Shewould have to dance then, if ever, or be cold indeed. The façade of the Ca' d'Oro is of course its greatest possession. Venicehas nothing more satisfyingly ornate: richness without floridity. Butlet no one think to know all its beauty until he has penetrated to thelittle chapel and stood before Mantegna's S. Sebastian, that greatsimple work of art by an intellectual master. This noble painting, possibly the last from his brush, was found in Mantegna's studio afterhis death. Notice the smoking candle-wick at the foot, and the mottowhich says that everything that is not of God is as smoke evanescent. A steamboat station for passengers going towards the Rialto is oppositethe Ca' d'Oro calle. Then comes the garden of the Palazzo Pesaro, nowthe Paraguay consulate; then the Sagredo, an extremely ancient Gothicbuilding with a beautiful window and balcony, now badly served by paintand stucco and shutters; and then another traghetto at the Campo S. Sofia, with a vine ramping over its shelter. Stucco again injures thePalazzo Foscari, which has a pretty relief of the Madonna and Child;then we come to a calle and the Ca' d'Oro steamboat station forpassengers going towards the railway. An ugly yellow building comes next, and then the fine dingy PalazzoMichiel dalle Colonne with brown posts and ten columns, now the propertyof Count Antonio Donà dalle Rose, who permits visitors to see it in hisabsence. It is the first palace since we left the Scalzi that looks asif it were in rightful hands. The principal attraction is its tapestry, some of which is most charming, particularly a pattern of plump andimpish cherubs among vines and grapes, which the cicerone boldlyattributes to Rubens, but Baedeker to one of his pupils. Whoever thedesigner, he had an agreeable and robust fancy and a sure hand. Thepalace seems to have more rooms than its walls can contain, allpossessing costly accessories and no real beauty. The bedroom ofCardinal Gregorio Barbarigo is shown: his elaborate cradle with a storkpresiding over it, surely a case of _trop de zèle_; pretty yellowpainted furniture; and a few pictures, including a fine horsebackportrait by Moretto, a Cima, a Giovanni Bellini, and the usual Longhis. But it is the riotous little spirits of the vintage that remain in themind. After the Michiel dalle Colonne is a little newish house and the GothicPalazzo Michiel da Brusà with blue posts with yellow stripes, ratheroverweighted with balconies but having nice ironwork; and then thecomfortable-looking Mangilli Valmarana with blue posts with red andwhite tops, and the Rio dei SS. Apostoli with a view of the campanilealong it. Next a dull white building with flush windows, and next thatthe fine and ancient Palazzo da Mosto. This house has many oldsculptured slabs worked into the façade, and it seems a great pity thatit should so have fallen from its proper state. An ugly modern ironbalcony has been set beneath its Gothic windows. Adjoining is a housewhich also has pretty Gothic windows, and then the dull and neglectedPalazzo Mocenigo, with brown posts. Then comes the Rio S. Gio. Crisostomo, and next it a house newly faced, and then the fascinatingremains of the twelfth-century Palazzo Lion, consisting of an exposedstaircase and a very attractive courtyard with round and pointed arches. It is now a rookery. Washing is hung in the loggia at the top, andragged children lean from the windows. [Illustration: THE RIALTO BRIDGE FROM THE PALAZZO DEI DIECI SAVII] Next, a pretty little house which might be made very liveable in, facingthe fruit market, and then the hideous modern Sernagiotto, dating from1847 and therefore more than negligible. A green little house with asottoportico under it, and then a little red brick prison and the uglyCivran palace is reached. Next, the Perducci, now a busy statuary store, and next it the Cà Ruzzini, all spick and span, and the Rio dell'Olio odel Fontego, through which come the fruit barges from Malamocco. And nowwe touch very interesting history again, for the next great building, with the motor-boats before it, now the central Post Office, is the veryFondaco dei Tedeschi, the head-quarters of German merchants in Venice, on whose walls Giorgione and Titian painted the famous frescoes and inwhich Tintoretto held a sinecure post. Giorgion's frescoes faced theCanal; Titian's the Rialto. And so we reach the Rialto bridge, on this side of which are no shrines, but a lion is on the keystone, and on each side is a holy man. After theRialto bridge there is nothing of any moment for many yards, save ahouse with a high narrow archway which may be seen in Mr. Morley'spicture, until we reach Sansovino's Palazzo Manin, now the Bank ofItaly, a fine building and the home of the last Doge. The threesteamboat stations hereabouts are for passengers for the Riva and Lido, for Mestre, and for the railway station, respectively. The palace nextthe Ponte Manin, over the Rio San Salvatore, is the Bembo, with veryfine windows. Then the Calle Bembo, and then various offices on thefondamenta, under chiefly red façades. At the next calle is a traghettoand then the Palazzo Loredan, a Byzantine building of the eleventh ortwelfth century, since restored. It has lovely arches. This and the nextpalace, the Farsetti, now form the Town Hall of Venice: hence thesplendid blue posts and golden lions. In the vestibule are posted up thenotices of engagements, with full particulars of the contractingparties--the celibi and the nubili. It was in the Farsetti that Canovaacquired his earliest knowledge of sculpture, for he was allowed as aboy to copy the casts collected there. Another calle, the Cavalli, and then a comfortable-looking house with aroof garden and green and yellow posts, opposite which the fondamentacomes to an end. Fenimore Cooper, the novelist of the Red Man, madethis palace his home for a while. The pretty little Palazzo Valmaranacomes next, and then the gigantic, sombre Grimani with its stone as darkas a Bath or Bloomsbury mansion, which now is Venice's Court ofAppeal. The architect was the famous Michele Sammicheli who alsodesigned the Lido's forts. Then the Rio di S. Luca and the PalazzoContarini, with rich blue posts with white rings, very striking, and tworeliefs of horses on the façade. Next a very tiny pretty little TronPalace; then a second Tron, and then the dreary Martinengo, now the Bankof Naples. In its heyday Titian was a frequent visitor here, its owner, Martino d'Anna, a Flemish merchant, being an intimate friend, andPordenone painted its walls. Another calle and traghetto and we come to a very commonplace house, andthen, after a cinematograph office and another calle, to the PalazzoBenzon, famous a hundred years ago for its literary and artisticreceptions, and now spruce and modern with more of the striking blueposts, the most vivid on the canal. In this house Byron has often been;hither he brought Moore. It is spacious but tawdry, and its plate-glassgives one a shock. Then the Rio Michiel and then the Tornielli, verydull, the Curti, decayed, and the Rio dell'Albero. After the rio, thefine blackened Corner Spinelli with porphyry insets. At the steamboatstation of S. Angelo are new buildings--one a very pretty red brick andstone, one with a loggia--standing on the site of the Teatro S. Angelo. After the Rio S. Angelo we come to a palace which I always admire: redbrick and massive, with good Gothic windows and a bold relief of cupidsat the top. It is the Garzoni Palace and now an antiquity dealer's. A calle and traghetto next, a shed with a shrine on its wall, a littleneat modern house and the Palazzo Corner with its common new glass, andwe are abreast the first of the three Mocenigo palaces, with the blueand white striped posts and gold tops, in the middle one of which Byronsettled in 1818 and wrote _Beppo_ and began _Don Juan_ and did not alittle mischief. CHAPTER XII THE GRAND CANAL. V: BYRON IN VENICE The beautiful Marianna--Rum-punch--The Palazzo Albrizzi--A playat the Fenice--The sick _Ballerina_--The gondola--Praise ofItaly--_Beppo_--_Childe Harold_--Riding on the Lido--The inquisitiveEnglish--Shelley in Venice--_Julian and Maddalo_--The view from theLido--The madhouse--The Ducal prisons. The name of Byron is so intimately associated with Venice that I think abrief account of his life there (so far as it can be told) might befound interesting. It was suggested by Madame de Flanhault that Byron was drawn to Venicenot only by its romantic character, but because, since he could goeverywhere by water, his lameness would attract less attention thanelsewhere. Be that as it may, he arrived in Venice late in 1816, beingthen twenty-eight. He lodged first in the Frezzeria, and at once set towork upon employments so dissimilar as acquiring a knowledge of theArmenian language in the monastery on the island of San Lazzaro andmaking love to the wife of his landlord. But let his own gay pen tellthe story. He is writing to Tom Moore on November 17, 1816: "It is myintention to remain at Venice during the winter, probably, as it hasalways been (next to the East) the greenest island of my imagination. Ithas not disappointed me; though its evident decay would, perhaps, havethat effect upon others. But I have been familiar with ruins too long todislike desolation. Besides, I have fallen in love, which, next tofalling into the canal (which would be of no use, as I can swim), is thebest or the worst thing I could do. I have got some extremely goodapartments in the house of a 'Merchant of Venice, ' who is a good dealoccupied with business, and has a wife in her twenty-second year. Marianna (that is her name) is in her appearance altogether like anantelope. She has the large, black, oriental eyes, with that peculiarexpression in them which is seen rarely among _Europeans_--even theItalians--and which many of the Turkish women give themselves by tingingthe eyelid, an art not known out of that country, I believe. Thisexpression she has _naturally_--and something more than this. Inshort--. " The rest of this amour, and one strange scene to which it led, very like an incident in an Italian comedy, is no concern of this book. For those who wish to know more, it is to be found, in prose, in theLetters, and, in verse, in _Beppo_. On this his first visit to Venice, Byron was a private individual. Hewas sociable in a quiet way, attending one or two salons, but he was notsplendid. And he seems really to have thrown himself with his customaryvigour into his Armenian studies; but of those I speak elsewhere. Theywere for the day: in the evening, he tells Moore, "I do one of manynothings--either at the theatres, or some of the conversaziones, whichare like our routs, or rather worse, for the women sit in a semi-circleby the lady of the mansion, and the men stand about the room. To besure, there is one improvement upon ours--instead of lemonade with theirices, they hand about stiff _rum-punch_--_punch_, by my palate; and thisthey think _English_. I would not disabuse them of so agreeable anerror, --'no, not for "Venice"'. " The chief houses to which he went were the Palazzo Benzon and thePalazzo Albrizzi. Moore when in Venice a little later also paid hisrespects to the Countess Albrizzi. "These assemblies, " he wrote home, "which, at a distance, sounded so full of splendour and gallantry to me, turned into something much worse than one of Lydia White'sconversaziones. " Here is one of Byron's rattling descriptions of a Venetian night. Thedate is December 27, 1816, and it is written to his publisher, Murray:"As the news of Venice must be very interesting to you, I will regaleyou with it. Yesterday being the feast of St. Stephen, every mouth wasput in motion. There was nothing but fiddling and playing on thevirginals, and all kinds of conceits and divertisements, on every canalof this aquatic city. "I dined with the Countess Albrizzi and a Paduan and Venetian party, andafterwards went to the opera, at the Fenice theatre (which opens for theCarnival on that day)--the finest, by the way, I have ever seen; itbeats our theatres hollow in beauty and scenery, and those of Milan andBrescia bow before it. The opera and its Syrens were much like all otheroperas and women, but the subject of the said opera was somethingedifying; it turned--the plot and conduct thereof--upon a fact narratedby Livy of a hundred and fifty married ladies having _poisoned_ ahundred and fifty husbands in the good old times. The bachelors of Romebelieved this extraordinary mortality to be merely the common effect ofmatrimony or a pestilence; but the surviving Benedicts, being all seizedwith the cholic, examined into the matter, and found that their possetshad been drugged; the consequence of which was much scandal and severalsuits at law. "This is really and truly the subject of the Musical piece at theFenice; and you can't conceive what pretty things are sung andrecitativoed about the _horreda straga_. The conclusion was a lady'shead about to be chopped off by a Lictor, but (I am sorry to say) heleft it on, and she got up and sang a trio with the two Consuls, theSenate in the background being chorus. "The ballet was distinguished by nothing remarkable, except that theprincipal she-dancer went into convulsions because she was not applaudedon her first appearance; and the manager came forward to ask if therewas 'ever a physician in the theatre'. There was a Greek one in my box, whom I wished very much to volunteer his services, being sure that inthis case these would have been the last convulsions which would havetroubled the _Ballerina_; but he would not. "The crowd was enormous; and in coming out, having a lady under my arm, I was obliged in making way, almost to 'beat a Venetian and traduce thestate, ' being compelled to regale a person with an English punch in theguts which sent him as far back as the squeeze and the passage wouldadmit. He did not ask for another; but with great signs ofdisapprobation and dismay, appealed to his compatriots, who laughed athim. " Byron's first intention was to write nothing in Venice; but fortunatelythe idea of _Beppo_ came to him, and that masterpiece of gayrecklessness and high-spirited imprudence sprang into life. The desk atwhich he wrote is still preserved in the Palazzo Mocenigo. From _Beppo_I quote elsewhere some stanzas relating to Giorgione; and here are twowhich bear upon the "hansom of Venice, " written when that vehicle was asfresh to Byron as it is to some of us:-- Didst ever see a Gondola? For fear You should not, I'll describe it you exactly: 'Tis a long covered boat that's common here, Carved at the prow, built lightly, but compactly. Rowed by two rowers, each call'd "Gondolier, " It glides along the water looking blackly, Just like a coffin clapt in a canoe, Where none can make out what you say or do. And up and down the long canals they go, And under the Rialto shoot along, By night and day, all paces, swift or slow, And round the theatres, a sable throng, They wait in their dusk livery of woe, -- But not to them do woeful things belong, For sometimes they contain a deal of fun, Like mourning coaches when the funeral's done. Those useful ciceroni in Venice, the Signori Carlo and Sarri, seem tohave had Byron's description in mind. "She is all black, " they write ofthe gondola, "everything giving her a somewhat mysterious air, whichawakens in one's mind a thousand various thoughts about what hashappened, happens, or may happen beneath the little felze. " It is pleasant to think that, no matter upon what other Italianexperiences the sentiments were founded, the praise of Italy in thefollowing stanzas was written in a room in the Mocenigo Palace, lookingover the Grand Canal upon a prospect very similar to that which we seeto-day:-- With all its sinful doings, I must say, That Italy's a pleasant place to me, Who love to see the Sun shine every day, And vines (not nailed to walls) from tree to tree, Festooned, much like the back scene of a play, Or melodrama, which people flock to see, When the first act is ended by a dance In vineyards copied from the South of France. I like on Autumn evenings to ride out, Without being forced to bid my groom be sure My cloak is round his middle strapped about, Because the skies are not the most secure; I know too that, if stopped upon my route, Where the green alleys windingly allure, Reeling with _grapes_ red wagons choke the way, -- In England 'twould be dung, dust or a dray. I also like to dine on becaficas, To see the Sun set, sure he'll rise to-morrow, Not through a misty morning twinkling weak as A drunken man's dead eye in maudlin sorrow, But with all Heaven t'himself; the day will break as Beauteous as cloudless, nor be forced to borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where reeking London's smoky cauldron simmers. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which were obliged to hiss, and spit and sputter all. I like the women too (forgive my folly!), From the rich peasant cheek of ruddy bronze, And large black eyes that flash on you a volley Of rays that say a thousand things at once, To the high Dama's brow, more melancholy, But clear, and with a wild and liquid glance, Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies. Byron's next visit to Venice was in 1818, and it was then that he set upstate and became a Venetian lion. He had now his gondolas, his horses onthe Lido, a box at the Opera, many servants. But his gaiety had lefthim. Neither in his letters nor his verse did he recapture the funwhich we find in _Beppo_. To this second period belong such graverVenetian work (either inspired here or written here) as the openingstanzas of the fourth canto of _Childe Harold_. The first line takes thereader into the very heart of the city and is one of the best-knownsingle lines in all poetry. Familiar as the stanzas are, it would beridiculous to write of Byron in Venice without quoting them again:-- I stood in Venice, on the "Bridge of Sighs"; A Palace and a prison on each hand: I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the Enchanter's wand: A thousand Years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles. She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from Ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers: And such she was;--her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased. [Illustration: THE BAPTISM OF CHRISTFROM THE PAINTING BY CIMA_In the Church of S. Giovanni in Bragora_] Byron wrote also, in 1818, an "Ode on Venice, " a regret for its decay, in spirit not unlike the succeeding _Childe Harold_ stanzas which I donot here quote. Here too he planned _Marino Faliero_, talking it overwith his guest, "Monk" Lewis. Another Venetian play of Byron's was _TheTwo Foscari_, and both prove that he attacked the old chronicles to somepurpose and with all his brilliant thoroughness. None the less he madea few blunders, as when in _The Two Foscari_ there is an allusion to theBridge of Sighs, which was not, as it happens, built for more than acentury after the date of the play. No city, however alluring, could be Byron's home for long, and thissecond sojourn in Venice was not made any simpler by the presence of hisdaughter Ada. In 1819 he was away again and never returned. No one solittle liked the idea of being rooted as he; at a blow the home wasbroken. The best account of Byron at this time is that which his friend Hoppner, the British Consul, a son of the painter, wrote to Murray. Hoppner notonly saw Byron regularly at night, but used to ride with him on theLido. "The spot, " he says, "where we usually mounted our horses had beena Jewish cemetery; but the French, during their occupation of Venice, had thrown down the enclosure, and levelled all the tombstones with theground, in order that they might not interfere with the fortificationsupon the Lido, under the guns of which it was situated. To this place, as it was known to be that where he alighted from his gondola and methis horses, the curious amongst our country-people, who were anxious toobtain a glimpse of him, used to resort; and it was amusing in theextreme to witness the excessive coolness with which ladies, as well asgentlemen, would advance within a very few paces of him, eyeing him, some with their glasses, as they would have done a statue in a museum, or the wild beasts at Exeter 'Change. However flattering this might beto a man's vanity, Lord Byron, though he bore it very patiently, expressed himself, as I believe he really was, excessively annoyed atit. "The curiosity that was expressed by all classes of travellers to seehim, and the eagerness with which they endeavoured to pick up anyanecdotes of his mode of life, were carried to a length which willhardly be credited. It formed the chief subject of their inquiries ofthe gondoliers who conveyed them from _terra firma_ to the floatingcity; and these people who are generally loquacious, were not at allbackward in administering to the taste and humours of their passengers, relating to them the most extravagant and often unfounded stories. Theytook care to point out the house where he lived, and to give such hintsof his movements as might afford them an opportunity of seeing him. "Many of the English visitors, under pretext of seeing his house, inwhich there were no paintings of any consequence, nor, besides himself, anything worthy of notice, contrived to obtain admittance through thecupidity of his servants, and with the most barefaced impudence forcedtheir way even into his bedroom, in the hopes of seeing him. Hencearose, in a great measure, his bitterness towards them, which he hasexpressed in a note to one of his poems, on the occasion of someunfounded remark made upon him by an anonymous traveller in Italy; andit certainly appears well calculated to foster that cynicism whichprevails in his latter works more particularly, and which, as well asthe misanthropical expressions that occur in those which first raisedhis reputation, I do not believe to have been his natural feeling. Ofthis I am certain, that I never witnessed greater kindness than in LordByron. " Byron's note to which Hoppner alludes is in _Marino Faliero_. Theconclusion of it is as follows: "The fact is, I hold in utter abhorrenceany contact with the travelling English, as my friend the Consul GeneralHoppner and the Countess Benzoni (in whose house the Converzasionemostly frequented by them is held), could amply testify, were it worthwhile. I was persecuted by these tourists even to my riding ground atLido, and reduced to the most disagreeable circuits to avoid them. AtMadame Benzoni's I repeatedly refused to be introduced to them; of athousand such presentations pressed upon me, I accepted two, and bothwere to Irish women. " Shelley visited Byron at the Mocenigo Palace in 1818 on a matterconcerning Byron's daughter Allegra and Claire Clairmont, whom the otherpoet brought with him. They reached Venice by gondola from Padua, havingthe fortune to be rowed by a gondolier who had been in Byron's employand who at once and voluntarily began to talk of him, his luxury andextravagance. At the inn the waiter, also unprovoked, enlarged on thesame alluring theme. Shelley's letter describing Byron's Venetian homeis torn at its most interesting passage and we are therefore withoutanything as amusing and vivid as the same correspondent's account of hislordship's Ravenna ménage. Byron took him for a ride on the Lido, thememory of which formed the opening lines of _Julian and Maddalo_. Thus:-- I rode one evening with Count Maddalo Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand, Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds, Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds, Is this; an uninhabited sea-side, Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, Abandons; and no other object breaks The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes Broken and unrepaired, and the tide makes A narrow space of level sand thereon, Where 'twas our wont to ride while day went down. This ride was my delight. I love all waste And solitary places; where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be: And such was this wide ocean, and this shore More barren than its billows; and yet more Than all, with a remembered friend I love To ride as then I rode;--for the winds drove The living spray along the sunny air Into our faces; the blue heavens were bare, Stripped to their depths by the awakening north; And, from the waves, sound like delight broke forth Harmonizing with solitude, and sent Into our hearts aërial merriment. When the ride was over and the two poets were returning in Byron's (orCount Maddalo's) gondola, there was such an evening view as one oftenhas, over Venice, and beyond, to the mountains. Shelley describes it:-- Paved with the image of the sky . .. The hoar And aëry Alps towards the North appeared Through mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark reared Between the East and West; and half the sky Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew Down the steep West into a wondrous hue Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent Where the swift sun yet paused in his descent Among the many-folded hills: they were Those famous Euganean hills, which bear, As seen from Lido thro' the harbour piles, The likeness of a clump of peaked isles-- And then--as if the Earth and Sea had been Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towering as from waves of flame Around the vaporous sun, from which there came The inmost purple spirit of light, and made Their very peaks transparent. Browning never tired, says Mrs. Bronson, of this evening view from theLido, and always held that these lines by Shelley were the bestdescription of it. The poem goes on to describe a visit to the madhouse of S. Clemente andthe reflections that arose from it. Towards the close Shelley says:-- If I had been an unconnected man I, from this moment, should have formed some plan Never to leave sweet Venice, --for to me It was delight to ride by the lone sea; And then, the town is silent--one may write Or read in gondolas by day or night, Having the little brazen lamp alight, Unseen, uninterrupted; books are there. Pictures, and casts from all those statues fair Which were twin-born with poetry, and all We seek in towns, with little to recall Regrets for the green country. Later in 1818 Mrs. Shelley joined her daughter in Venice, but it was atragic visit, for their daughter Clara died almost immediately afterthey arrived. She is buried on the Lido. In a letter to Peacock, Shelley thus describes the city: "Venice is awonderfully fine city. The approach to it over the laguna, with itsdomes and turrets glittering in a long line over the blue waves, is oneof the finest architectural delusions in the world. It seems tohave--and literally it has--its foundations in the sea. The silentstreets are paved with water, and you hear nothing but the dashing ofthe oars, and the occasional cries of the gondolieri. I heard nothing atTasso. The gondolas themselves are things of a most romantic andpicturesque appearance; I can only compare them to moths of which acoffin might have been the chrysalis. They are hung with black, andpainted black, and carpeted with grey; they curl at the prow and stern, and at the former there is a nondescript beak of shining steel, whichglitters at the end of its long black mass. "The Doge's Palace, with its library, is a fine monument of aristocraticpower. I saw the dungeons, where these scoundrels used to torment theirvictims. They are of three kinds--one adjoining the place of trial, where the prisoners destined to immediate execution were kept. I couldnot descend into them, because the day on which I visited it was festa. Another under the leads of the palace, where the sufferers were roastedto death or madness by the ardours of an Italian sun: and others calledthe Pozzi--or wells, deep underneath, and communicating with those onthe roof by secret passages--where the prisoners were confined sometimeshalf-up to their middles in stinking water. When the French came here, they found only one old man in the dungeons, and he could not speak. " CHAPTER XIII THE GRAND CANAL. VI: FROM THE MOCENIGO PALACE TO THE MOLO, LOOKING TOTHE LEFT Mr. W. D. Howells--A gondoliers' quarrel--Mr. Sargent's Diplomapicture--The Barbarigo family--Ruskin's sherry--Palace hotels--TheVenetian balcony. The next palace, with dark-blue posts, gold-topped, and muralinscriptions, also belonged to the Mocenigo, and here Giordano Bruno wasstaying as a guest when he was betrayed by his host and burned as aheretic. Then comes the dark and narrow Calle Mocenigo Casa Vecchia. Next is the great massive palace, with the square and round porphyrymedallions, of the Contarini dalle Figure; the next, with the littleinquisitive lions, is the Lezze. After three more, one of which is in asuperb position at the corner, opposite the Foscari, and the third has afondamenta and arcade, we come to the great Moro-Lin, now an antiquitystore. Another little modest place between narrow calli, and the plaineighteenth-century Grassi confronts us. The Campo of S. Samuele, withits traghetto, church, and charming campanile, now opens out. The churchhas had an ugly brown house built against it. Then the Malipiero, withits tropical garden, pretty marble rail and brown posts, and then twomore antiquity stores with hideous façades, the unfinished stonework onthe side of the second of which, with the steps and sottoportico, wasto have been a palace for the Duke of Milan, but was discontinued. Next the Rio del Duca is the pretty little Palazzo Falier, from one ofwhose windows Mr. Howells used to look when he was gathering materialfor his _Venetian Life_. Mr. Howells lived there in the earlyeighteen-sixties, when a member of the American Consulate in Venice. Asto how he performed his consular duties, such as they were, I have nonotion; but we cannot be too grateful to his country for appointing himto the post, since it provided him with the experiences which make themost attractive Anglo-Saxon book on Venice that has yet been written. Itis now almost half a century since _Venetian Life_ was published, andthe author is happily still hale. [Illustration: MADONNA AND SLEEPING CHILDFROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI_In the Accademia_] It was not at the Palazzo Falier that Mr. Howells enjoyed theministrations of that most entertaining hand-maiden Giovanna; but it wasfrom here that he heard that quarrel between two gondoliers which hedescribes so vividly and which stands for every quarrel of everygondolier for all time. I take the liberty of quoting it here, becauseone gondolier's quarrel is essential to every book that hopes to suggestVenice to its readers, and I have none of my own worth recording. "Twolarge boats, attempting to enter the small canal opposite at the sametime, had struck together with a violence that shook the boatmen totheir inmost souls. One barge was laden with lime, and belonged to aplasterer of the city; the other was full of fuel, and commanded by avirulent rustic. These rival captains advanced toward the bows of theirboats, with murderous looks, Con la test'alta e con rabbiosa fame. Sì che parea che l'aer ne temesse, and there stamped furiously, and beat the wind with hands of deathfulchallenge, while I looked on with that noble interest which theenlightened mind always feels in people about to punch each others'heads. "But the storm burst in words. "'Figure of a pig!' shrieked the Venetian, 'you have ruined my boat forever!' "'Thou liest, son of an ugly old dog!' returned the countryman, 'and itwas my right to enter the canal first. ' "They then, after this exchange of insult, abandoned the main subject ofdispute, and took up the quarrel laterally and in detail. Reciprocallyquestioning the reputation of all their female relatives to the thirdand fourth cousins, they defied each other as the offspring of assassinsand prostitutes. As the peace-making tide gradually drifted their boatsasunder, their anger rose, and they danced back and forth and hurledopprobrium with a foamy volubility that quite left my powers ofcomprehension behind. At last the townsman, executing a _pas seul_ ofuncommon violence, stooped and picked up a bit of stone lime, while thecountryman, taking shelter at the stern of his boat, there attended theshot. To my infinite disappointment it was not fired. The Venetianseemed to have touched the climax of his passion in the meredemonstration of hostility, and gently gathering up his oar gave thecountryman the right of way. The courage of the latter rose as thestrange danger passed, and as far as he could be heard, he continued toexult in the wildest excesses of insult: 'Ah-heigh! brutal executioner!Ah, hideous headsman!' Da capo. I now know that these people neverintended to do more than quarrel, and no doubt they parted as wellpleased as if they had actually carried broken heads from theencounter. But at the time I felt affronted and trifled with by theresult, for my disappointments arising out of the dramatic manner of theItalians had not yet been frequent enough to teach me to expect nothingfrom it. " I too have seen the beginning of many quarrels, chiefly on the water. But I have seen only two Venetians use their fists--and they wereinfants in arms. For the rest, except at traghetti and at the corners ofcanals, the Venetians are good-humoured and blessed with an easy smilingtolerance. Venice is the best place in the world, and they are inVenice, and there you are! Why lose one's temper? Next the Casa Falier is a calle, and then the great Giustinian LolinPalace with brown and yellow posts. Taglioni lived here for a while too. Another calle, the Giustinian, a dull house with a garden and red andwhite striped posts, and we are at the Iron Bridge and the Campo S. Vitale, a small poor-people's church, with a Venetian-red house againstit, and inside, but difficult to see, yet worth seeing, a fine pictureby Carpaccio of a saint on horseback. The magnificent palace in good repair that comes next is the Cavalli, with a row of bronze dragons on the façade. This is the home of theFranchetti family, who have done so much for modern Venice, conspicuously, as we have seen, at the Cà d'Oro. Then the Rio dell'Orsoo Cavana, and the Palazzo Barbaro with its orange and red striped posts, a beautiful room in which will be familiar to all visitors to theDiploma Gallery at Burlington House, for it is the subject of one of Mr. Sargent's most astounding feats of dexterity. It is now the Venetianhome of an American; and once no less a personage than Isabella d'Estelived in it very shortly after America was discovered. The older of thetwo Barbaro palaces is fourteenth century, the other, sixteenth. Theywill have peculiar interest to anyone who has read _La Vie d'unPatricien de Venise au XVI Siecle_, by Yriarte, for that fascinatingwork deals with Marcantonio Barbaro, who married one of the Giustinianiand lived here. Nothing of importance--a palace with red and gold posts and an antiquitystore--before the next rio, the beautiful Rio del Santissimo o diStefano; nor after this, until the calle and traghetto: merely twoneglected houses, one with a fondamenta. And then a pension arises, nextto which is one of the most coveted abodes in the whole canal--thelittle alluring house and garden that belong to Prince Hohenlohe. Themajestic palace now before us is one of Sansovino's buildings, thePalazzo Corner della Cà Grande, now the prefecture of Venice. Oppositeit is the beautiful Dario palace and the Venier garden. Next is the RioS. Maurizio and then two dingy Barbarigo palaces, with shabby brownposts, once the home of a family very famous in Venetian annals. MarcoBarbarigo was the first Doge to be crowned at the head of the Giants'Stairs; it was while his brother Agostino was Doge (1486-1501) thatVenice acquired Cyprus, and its queen, Caterina Corner, visited thiscity to abdicate her throne. Cardinal Barbarigo, famous not only for hispiety but for refusing to become Pope, was born in this house. Then the Rio S. Maria Zobenigo o dei Furlani and a palace, opposite thesteamboat station. Another palace, and then a busy traghetto, with vineleaves over its shelter, and looking up the campo we see the church ofS. Maria del Giglio with all its holy statues. Ruskin (who later movedto the Zattre) did most of his work on _The Stones of Venice_ in thehouse which is now the Palazzo Swift, an annexe of the Grand Hotel, alittle way up this campo. Here he lived happily with his young wife andtoiled at the minutiæ of his great book; here too he entertained DavidRoberts and other artists with his father's excellent sherry, which theydescribed as "like the best painting, at once tender and expressive". And now the hotels begin, almost all of them in houses built centuriesago for noble families. Thus the first Grand Hotel block is fourteenthcentury--the Palazzo Gritti. The next Grand Hotel block is the PalazzoFini and is seventeenth century, and the third is the Manolesso-Ferro, built in the fourteenth century and restored in the nineteenth. Thencomes the charming fourteenth-century Contarini-Fasan Palace, known asthe house of Desdemona, which requires more attention. The upper partseems to be as it was: the water floor, or sea storey, has evidentlybeen badly botched. Its glorious possession is, however, its balconies, particularly the lower. Of the Grand Canal balconies, the most beautiful of which is, I think, that which belongs to this little palace, no one has written moreprettily than that early commentator, Coryat. "Again, " he says, "I notedanother thing in these Venetian Palaces that I have very seldome seen inEngland, and it is very little used in any other country that I couldperceive in my travels, saving only in Venice and other Italian cities. Somewhere above the middle of the front of the building, or (as I haveobserved in many of their Palaces) a little beneath the toppe of thefront they have right opposite to their windows, a very pleasant littletarrasse, that jutteth or butteth out from the maine building, the edgewhereof is decked with many pretty little turned pillers, either ofmarble or free stone to leane over. These kinds of tarrasses or littlegalleries of pleasure Suetonius calleth Meniana. They give great graceto the whole edifice, and serve only for this purpose, that people mayfrom that place as from a most delectable prospect contemplate and viewthe parts of the City round about them in the coole evening. "--No moderndescription could improve on the thoroughness of that. Next is the pretty Barozzi Wedmann Palace, with its pointed windows, said to be designed by Longhena, who built the great Salute churchopposite, and then the Hotel Alexandra, once the Palazzo Michiel. Forthe rest, I may say that the Britannia was the Palazzo Tiepolo; theGrand Hotel de l'Europe was yet another Giustiniani palace; while theGrand Canal Hotel was the Vallaresso. The last house of all before thegardens is the office of the Harbour Master; the little pavilion at thecorner of the gardens belongs to the yacht club called the Bucintoro, whose boats are to be seen moored between here and the Molo, and whosemembers are, with those of sculling clubs on the Zattere and elsewhere, the only adult Venetians to use their waters for pleasure. As for theRoyal Palace, it is quite unworthy and a blot on the Venetian panoramaas seen from the Customs House or S. Giorgio Maggiore, or as one sees itfrom the little Zattere steamboat as the Riva opens up on rounding thePunta di Dogana. Amid architecture that is almost or quite magical it isjust a common utilitarian façade. But that it was once better can beseen in one of the Guardis at the National Gallery, No. 2099. Finally we have Sansovino's mint, now S. Mark's Library, with thesteamboat bridge for passengers for the Giudecca and the Zattere infront of it, and then the corner of the matchless Old Library, and theMolo with all its life beneath the columns. And now that we have completed the voyage of the Grand Canal, each way, let me remind the reader that although the largest palaces were situatedthere, they are not always the best. All over Venice are others as wellworth study. CHAPTER XIV ISLAND AFTERNOONS' ENTERTAINMENTS. I: MURANO, BURANO AND TORCELLO The Campo Santo--The Vivarini--The glass-blowers--An artist at work--S. Pietro--A good Bellini--A keen sacristan--S. Donato--A foreignchurch--An enthusiast--Signor "Rooskin"--The blue Madonna--The voyage toBurano--The importunate boatman--A squalid town--The pretty laceworkers--Torcello--A Christian exodus--Deserted temples--The bishop'sthrone--The Last Judgment--The stone shutters--The Porto di Lido. The cheap way to Murano is by the little penny steamer from theFondamenta Nuova. This side of Venice is poor and squalid, but there ismore fun here than anywhere else, for on Sundays the boys borrow anykind of craft that can be obtained and hold merry little regattas, whicheven those sardonic officials, the captains of the steamboats, respect:stopping or easing down so as to interfere with no event. But one shouldgo to Murano by gondola, and go in the afternoon. Starting anywhere near the Molo, this means that the route will be bythe Rio del Palazzo, under the Ponte di Paglia and the Bridge of Sighs, between the Doges' Palace and the prison; up the winding Rio di S. MariaFormosa, and then into the Rio dei Mendicanti with a glimpse of thesuperb Colleoni statue and SS. Giovanni e Paoli and the lions on theScuola of S. Mark; under the bridge with a pretty Madonna on it; and soup the Rio dei Mendicanti, passing on the left a wineyard with twograceful round arches in it and then a pleasant garden with a pergola, and then a busy squero with men always at work on gondolas new or old. And so beneath a high bridge to the open lagoon, with the gay walls andsombre cypresses of the cemetery immediately in front and the island ofMurano beyond. Many persons stop at the Campo Santo, but there is not much profit in sodoing unless one is a Blair or an Ashton. Its cypresses are morebeautiful from the water than close at hand, and the Venetian tombstonesdazzle. Moreover, there are no seats, and the custodian insists uponabstracting one's walking-stick. I made fruitless efforts to be directedto the English section, where among many graves of our countrymen isthat of the historical novelist, G. P. R. James. [Illustration: THE RIO TORRESELLE AND BACK OF THE PALAZZO DARIO] Murano is interesting in art as being the home of that early school ofpainting in which the Vivarini were the greatest names, which suppliedaltar-pieces for all the Venetian churches until the Bellini arrivedfrom Padua with more acceptable methods. The invaders brought in anelement of worldly splendour hitherto lacking. From the concentratedsaintliness of the Vivarini to the sumptuous assurance of Titian is afar cry, yet how few the years that intervened! To-day there are nopainters in Murano; nothing indeed but gardeners and glass-blowers, andthe island is associated purely with the glass industry. Which is themost interesting furnace, I know not, for I have always fallen to thefirst of all, close to the landing stage, and spent there severalamusing half-hours, albeit hotter than the innermost pit. Nothing everchanges there: one sees the same artificers and the same routine; thesame flames rage; glass is the same mystery, beyond all conjuring, soductile and malleable here, so brittle and rigid everywhere else. Thereyou sit, or stand, some score of visitors, while the wizards round thefurnace busily and incredibly convert molten blobs of anything (youwould have said) but glass into delicate carafes and sparkling vases. Meanwhile the sweat streams from them in rivulets, a small Aquarius everand anon fetches tumblers of water from a tap outside or glasses of redwine, and a soft voice at your ear, in whatever language you happen tobe, supplies a commentary on the proceedings. Beware of listening to itwith too much interest, for it is this voice which, when theglass-blowing flags, is proposing to sell you something. The "entrance"may be "free, " but the exit rarely is so. Let me describe a particular feat. After a few minutes, in sauntered alittle lean detached man with a pointed beard and a long cigar, whocasually took from a workman in the foreground a hollow iron rod, at theend of which was a more than commonly large lump of the glowing mass. This he whirled a little, by a rotatory movement of the rod between thepalms of his hands, and then again dipped it into the heart of theflames, fetching it out more fiery than ever and much augmented. Thistoo he whirled, blowing down the pipe first (but without taking hiscigar from his mouth) again and again, until the solid lump was a greatglistening globe. The artist--for if ever there was an artist it ishe--carried on this exhausting task with perfect nonchalance, talkingand joking with the others the while, but never relaxing theconcentration of his hands, until there came a moment when the globe wasbroken from the original rod and fixed in some magical way to another. Again it went into the furnace, now merely for heat and not for anyaccretion of glass, and coming out, behold it was a bowl; and so, withrepeated visits to the flames, on each return wider and shallower, iteventually was finished as an exact replica of the beautiful greeny-blueflower-dish on a neighbouring table. The artist, still smoking, thensauntered out again for fresh air, and was seen no more for a while. But one should not be satisfied with the sight of the fashioning of abowl or goblet, however interesting the process may be; but entering thegondola again should insist upon visiting both S. Pietro Martire and S. Donato, even if the gondolier, as is most probable, will affirm thatboth are closed. The first named is on the left of the canal by which we enter Murano, and which for a while is bordered by glass factories as close togetheras doctors in Harley Street. The church architecturally is nothing; itsvalue is in its pictures, especially a Bellini and a Basaiti, and itssacristan. This sacristan has that simple keenness which is a rarity in Venice. Herejoices in his church and in your pleasure in it. He displays first theBellini--a Madonna with the strong protective Bellini hands about thechild, above them bodiless cherubim flying, and on the right adelectable city with square towers. The Basaiti is chiefly notable forwhat, were it cleaned, would be a lovely landscape. Before both thesacristan is ecstatic, but on his native heath, in the sacristy itself, he is even more contented. It is an odd room, with carvings all aroundit in which sacred and profane subjects are most curiously mingled: hereJohn the Baptist in the chief scenes of his life, even to imprisonmentin a wooden cage, into which the sacristan slips a delighted expositoryhand, and there Nero, Prometheus, Bacchus, and Seneca without a nose. Re-entering the gondola, escorted to it by hordes of young Muranese, wemove on to the Grand Canal of the island, a noble expanse of water. After turning first to the right and then to the left, and resisting aninvitation to enter the glass museum, we disembark, beside a beautifulbridge, at the cathedral, which rises serenely from the soil of itsspacious campo. The exterior of S. Donato is almost more foreign looking than that of S. Mark's, although within S. Mark's is the more exotic. The outside wallof S. Donato's apse, which is the first thing that the traveller sees, is its most beautiful architectural possession and utterly differentfrom anything in Venice: an upper and a lower series of lovely, lonelyarches, empty and meaningless in this Saharan campo, the fire ofenthusiasm which flamed in their original builders having died away, andthis corner of the island being almost depopulated, for Murano gathersnow about its glass-works on the other side of its Grand Canal. Hencethe impression of desertion is even less complete than at Torcello, where one almost necessarily visits the cathedral in companies twenty tofifty strong. At the door, to which we are guided by a boy or so who know thatcigarettes are thrown away at sacred portals, is the sacristan, an agedgentleman in a velvet cap who has a fuller and truer pride in his fanethan any of his brothers in Venice yonder. With reason too, for thisbasilica is so old as to make many Venetian churches mere mushrooms, andeven S. Mark's itself an imitation in the matter of inlaid pavement. Speaking slowly, with the perfection of enunciation, and burgeoning withsatisfaction, the old fellow moves about the floor as he has done somany thousand times, pointing out this beauty and that, above and below, without the faintest trace of mechanism. In course of time, when he isfully persuaded that we are not only English but worthy of his secret, it comes out that he had the priceless privilege of knowing Signor"Rooskin" in the flesh, and from his pocket he draws a copy of _TheStones of Venice_, once the property of one Constance Boyle, but now hisown. This he fondles, for though the only words in his own chapters thathe can understand are "Murano" and "Donato, " yet did not his friend thegreat Signor Rooskin write it, and what is more, spend many, many daysin careful examination of everything here before he wrote it? For thatis what most appeals to the old gentleman: the recognition of his S. Donato as being worthy of such a study. The floor is very beautiful, and there is a faded series of saints byone of the Vivarini of Murano, behind the altar, on which the eye restsvery comfortably--chiefly perhaps on the panels which are only paintedcurtains; but the most memorable feature of the cathedral is the ancientByzantine mosaic of the Madonna--a Greek Madonna--in the hollow of theapse: a long slender figure in blue against a gold background who holdsher hands rather in protest than welcome, and is fascinating rather forthe piety which set her there with such care and thought to her glorythan for her beauty. Signor Rooskin, it is true, saw her as a symbol ofsadness, and some of the most exquisite sentences of "The Stones ofVenice" belong to her; but had her robe been of less lovely hues it ispossible that he might have written differently. When the church was built, probably in the tenth century, the Virgin wasits patron saint. S. Donato's body being brought hither by Doge DomenicoMichiel (1118-1130), the church was known as Santa Maria, or San Donato;and to-day it is called S. Donato. And when the time comes for the oldsacristan to die, I hope (no matter what kind of a muddle his life hasbeen) that S. Donato will be at hand, near the gate, to pull himthrough, for sheer faithfulness to his church. The gondola returns by the same route, and as we pass the Campo Santothe rays of the afternoon sun seem so to saturate its ruddy walls thatthey give out light of their own. It is in order to pass slowly beneaththese walls and cypresses that I recommend the gondola as the medium fora visit to Murano. But the penny steamers go to a pier close to S. Donato and are frequent. Murano is within every visitor's range, no matter how brief his stay, but Burano is another matter. The steamer which sails from the pieropposite Danieli's on all fine afternoons except Sundays and holidaysrequires four hours; but if the day be fine they are four hours not tobe forgotten. The way out is round the green island of S. Elena, skirting the Arsenal, the vastness of which is apparent from the water, and under the north wall of Murano, where its pleasant gardens spread, once so gay with the Venetian aristocracy but now the property of marketgardeners and lizards. Then through the channels among the shallows, north, towards the two tall minarets in the distance, the one of Burano, the other of Torcello. Far away may be seen the Tyrolean Alps, with, ifit is spring, their snow-clad peaks poised in the air; nearer, betweenus and the islands, is a military or naval station, and here and thereyellow and red sail which we are to catch and pass. Venice has nothingmore beautiful than her coloured sails, both upon the water andreflected in it. The entrance to Burano is by a long winding canal, which at the CampoSanto, with its battered campanile and sentinel cypress at the corner, branches to left and right--left to Torcello and right to Burano. Herethe steamer is surrounded by boatmen calling seductively in their softrich voices "Goon-dola! Goon-dola!" their aim, being to take the visitoreither to the cypress-covered island of S. Francesco in Deserto where S. Francis is believed to have taken refuge, or to Torcello, to allow of alonger stay there than this steamer permits; and unless one is enamouredof such foul canals and importunate children as Burano possesses it iswell to listen to this lure. But Burano has charms, notwithstanding itsdirt. Its squalid houses are painted every hue that the prism knows, andthrough the open doors are such arrays of copper and brass utensils asone associates with Holland. Every husband is a fisherman; every wife amother and a lace maker, as the doorways bear testimony, for both thepillow and the baby in arms are punctually there for the procession ofvisitors to witness. Whether they would be there did not the word goround that the steamer approached, I cannot say, but here and there thedisplay seems a thought theatrical. Meanwhile in their boats in thecanals, or on the pavement mending nets, are the Burano men. Everybody is dirty. If Venice is the bride of the Adriatic, Burano isthe kitchen slut. [Illustration: VENUS, RULER OF THE WORLDFROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI_In the Accademia_] Yet there is an oasis of smiling cleanliness, and that is the chiefsight of the place--the Scuola Merletti, under the patronage of QueenMargherita, the centre of the lace-making industry. This building, whichis by the church, is, outside, merely one more decayed habitation. Youpass within, past the little glass box of the custodian, whose smalldaughter is steering four inactive snails over the open page of aledger, and ascend a flight of stairs, and behold you are in the midstof what seem to be thousands of girls in rows, each nursing her baby. Oncloser inspection the babies are revealed to be pillows held much asbabies are held, and every hand is busy with a bobbin (or whatever itis), and every mouth seems to be munching. Passing on, you enter anotherroom--if the first has not abashed you--and here are thousands more. Pretty girls too, some of them, with their black massed hair and oliveskins, and all so neat and happy. Specimens of their work, some of it ofmiraculous delicacy, may be bought and kept as a souvenir of a mostdelightful experience. For the rest, the interest of Burano is in Burano itself in theaggregate; for the church is a poor gaudy thing and there is noarchitecture of mark. And so, fighting one's way through small boys whoturn indifferent somersaults, and little girls whose accomplishment isto rattle clogged feet and who equally were born with an extended hand, you rejoin the steamer. Torcello is of a different quality. Burano is intensely and rathershockingly living; Torcello is nobly dead. It is in fact nothing butmarket gardens, a few houses where Venetian sportsmen stay when theyshoot duck and are royally fed by kitcheners whose brass and copper makethe mouth water, and a great forlorn solitary cathedral. History tells us that in the sixth century, a hundred and more yearsafter the flight of the mainlanders to Rialto and Malamocco, anotherexodus occurred, under fear of Alboin and the invading Lombards, thistime to Torcello. The way was led by the clergy, and quickly a churchwas built to hearten the emigrants. Of this church there remain thedeserted buildings before us, springing from the weeds, but on a scalewhich makes simple realization of the populousness of the ancientcolony. The charming octagonal little building on the right with its encirclingarcade is the church of S. Fosca, now undergoing very thorough repair:in fact everything that a church can ask is being restored to it, savereligion. No sea cave could be less human than these deserted temples, given over now to sightseers and to custodians who demand admittancemoney. The pit railed in on the left before the cathedral's west wall isin the ancient baptistery, where complete immersion was practised. Thecathedral within is remarkable chiefly for its marble throne high up inthe apse, where the bishop sat with his clergy about him onsemi-circular seats gained by steps. Above them are mosaics, the Virginagain, as at S. Donato, in the place of honour, but here she is givenher Son and instantly becomes more tender. The twelve apostles attend. On the opposite wall is a quaint mosaic of the Last Judgment with theusual sharp division of parties. The floor is very beautiful in places, and I have a mental picture of an ancient and attractive carved marblepulpit. The vigorous climb the campanile, from which, as Signor Rooskin says, may be seen Torcello and Venice--"Mother and Daughter . .. In theirwidowhood. " Looking down, it is strange indeed to think that here oncewere populous streets. On the way to the campanile do not forget to notice the great stoneshutters of the windows of the cathedral; which suggest a securityimpossible to be conveyed by iron. No easy task setting these in theirplace and hinging them. What purpose the stone arm-chair in the grassbetween the baptistery and S. Fosca served is not known. One guide willhave it the throne of Attila; another, a seat of justice. Be that as itmay, tired ladies can find it very consoling in this our twentiethcentury. For antiquaries there is a museum of excavated relics of Torcello; butwith time so short it is better to wander a little, seeking for thosewild flowers which in England are objects of solicitude to gardeners, orwatching butterflies that are seen in our country only when pinned oncork. The return voyage leaves S. Francesco in Deserto on the right, withthe long low Lido straight ahead. Then we turn to the right and the Lidois on the left for most of the way to Venice. After a mile or so themouth of the Adriatic is passed, where the Doge dropped his ring fromthe Bucintoro and thus renewed the espousals. On the day which I have inmind two airships were circling the city, and now and then the rays ofthe sun caught their envelopes and turned them to silver. Beneath, thelagoon was still as a pond; a few fishing boats with yellow sails lay atanchor near the Porto di Lido, like brimstone butterflies on a hotstone; and far away the snow of the Tyrolean alps still hung betweenheaven and earth. CHAPTER XV ON FOOT. I: FROM THE PIAZZA TO S. STEFANO The Ridotto--The Fenice Theatre--The Goldoni Theatre--_Amleto_--A starpart--S. Zobenigo--S. Stefano--Cloisters--Francesco Morosini--A greatsoldier--Nicolò Tommaseo--The Campo Morosini--Red hair. Leaving the Piazza at the corner diagonally opposite the Merceria clock, we come at once into the busy Salizzada S. Moïse, where the shops forthe more expensive tourists are to be found. A little way on the rightis the beginning of the Frezzeria, a Venetian shopping centre secondonly to the Merceria. A little way on the left is the Calle del Ridottowhere, divided now into a cinema theatre, auction rooms, a restaurant, and the Grand Canal Hotel, is the once famous Ridotto of which Casanovahas much to tell. Here were held masquerades; here were gambling tables;hither Venice resorted to forget that she had ever been great and tomake sure that she should be great no longer. The Austrians suppressedit. The church of S. Moïse, with its very florid façade of statuary, haslittle of interest in it. Keeping with the stream and passing theBauer-Grünwald restaurant on the left, we come in a few minutes to abridge--the Ponte delle Ostreghe (or Oysters)--over a rio at the end ofwhich, looking to the right, we see the great Venetian theatre, theFenice. The Fenice is, I suppose, the most romantic theatre in the world, forthe simple reason that the audience, at any rate those who occupy theboxes, all arrive in boats. Before it is a basin for the convenience ofnavigation, but even with that the confusion on a gala night must beexcessive, and a vast space of time must divide the first comers fromthe last, if the last are to be punctual. And when one translates ourown difficulties over cars and cabs at the end of a performance into theterms of gondolas and canals, one can imagine how long it must be beforethe theatre is emptied. The Fenice is also remarkable among the world's theatres for its size, holding, as it does, three thousand persons. It is peculiar furthermorein being open only for a few weeks in the spring. I have not been to the Fenice, but I once attended a performance of_Amleto_ by "G. Shakespeare" in the Goldoni. It is the gayest oftheatres, and the most intimate, for all save the floor and a triflingspace under the flat ceiling is boxes; one hundred and twenty-threelittle ones and eight big ones, each packed with Venetians who really doenjoy a play while it is in progress, and really do enjoy every minuteof the interval while it is not. When the lights are up they eat andchatter and scrutinize the other boxes; when the lights are down theyfollow the drama breathlessly and hiss if any one dares to whisper aword to a neighbour. As for the melancholy Prince of Danimarca, he was not my conception ofthe part, but he was certainly the Venetians'. Either from a nationallove of rhetoric, or a personal fancy of the chief actor for the centreof the stage, or from economical reasons, the version of "G. Shakespeare's" meritorious tragedy which was placed before us was almostwholly monologue. Thinking about it now, I can scarcely recall anyaction on the part of the few other characters, whereas Amleto'smillions of rapid words still rain uncomprehended on my ears, and Istill see his myriad grimaces and gestures. It was like _Hamlet_ veryunintelligently arranged for a very noisy cinema, and watching it I wasconscious of what a vast improvement might be effected in many plays ifthe cinema producer as well as the author attended the rehearsals. Butto the Venetians this was as impressive and entertaining a Hamlet ascould be wished, and four jolly Jack-tars from one of the men-of-war inthe lagoon nearly fell out of their private box in their delight, andafter each of the six atti Amleto was called several times through thelittle door in the curtain. Nor did he fail to respond. About the staging of the play there was a right Shakespearian parsimony. If all the scenery and costumes cost twenty-five pounds, I am surprised. No attempt was made to invest "lo spettro del padre del Amleto" withsupernatural graces. He merely walked on sideways, a burly, very livingItalian, and with a nervous quick glance, to see if he was clearing thewing (which he sometimes did not), off again. So far as the Goldoni isconcerned, Sir Henry Irving, Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, Sir AugustusHarris, and Herr Reinhardt have toiled in vain. Amleto's principle, "Theplay's the thing, " was refined down to "Amleto's the thing". Yet noEnglish theatre was ever in better spirits. [Illustration: THE ASSUMPTION OF THE VIRGINFROM THE PAINTING BY TITIAN_In the Accademia_] Continuing from the Bridge of the Oysters, we come shortly to S. Zobenigo, or S. Maria del Giglio (of the lily), of which the guide-bookstake very little account, but it is a friendly, cheerful church with asweet little dark panelled chapel at the side, all black and gold withrich tints in its scriptural frieze. The church is not famous for anypicture, but it has a quaint relief of S. Jerome in his cell, with hislion and his books about him, in the entrance hall, and the firstaltar-piece on the left seemed to me a pleasant soft thing, and over thedoor are four female saints freely done. On the façade are stone maps ofZara, Candia, Padua, Rome, Corfu, and Spalata, which originally wereprobably coloured and must then have been very gay, and above are stonerepresentations of five naval engagements. All that remains of S. Zobenigo's campanile is the isolated structure inthe Piazza. It did not fall but was taken down in time. Still following the stream and maintaining as direct a line as the callipermit, we come, by way of two more bridges, a church (S. Maurizio), andanother bridge, to the great Campo Morosoni where S. Stefano issituated. For sheer comfort and pleasure I think that S. Stefano is the firstchurch in Venice. It is spacious and cheerful, with a charming rosettedceiling and carved and coloured beams across the nave, and a bland lightillumines all. It is remarkable also as being one of the very fewVenetian churches with cloisters. Here one may fancy oneself in Florenceif one has the mind. The frescoes are by Pordenone, but they have almostperished. By some visitors to Venice, S. Stefano may be esteemedfurthermore as offering a harbour of refuge from pictures, for it hasnothing that need be too conscientiously scrutinized. The fine floor tomb with brass ornaments is that of Francesco Morosoni, the heroic defender of Candia against the Turks until, in 1669, furtherresistance was found to be useless and he made an honourable retreat. Later he was commander of the forces in a new war against the Turks, andin 1686 he was present at the sack of Athens and did what he could(being a lover of the arts as well as a soldier) to check the destroyingzeal of his army. It was there that he at last fulfilled his dreams ofconquering the Morea. It was while he was conducting this campaign thatthe Doge Marcantonio Giustinian died, and Morosoni being elected in hisplace was crowned on his battleship at Porto Porro in Cephalonia. Thecarousals of the army and navy lasted for three days, at the new Doge'scost, the resources of the fleet having no difficulty in running toevery kind of pageantry and pyrotechny. Returning to Venice, after thesomewhat inglorious end of his campaign, Morosoni was again crowned. Although a sick man when a year or so later a strong hand was againneeded in the Morea, the Doge once more volunteered and sailed from theLido with the fleet. But he was too old and too infirm, and he died inNauplia in 1694. Venice was proud of him, and with reason; for he wonback territory for her (although she was not able to keep it), and heloved her with a pure flame. But he was behind his time: he was an ironruler, and iron rule was out of date. The new way was compromise andpleasure. The marble lions that now guard the gate of the Arsenal were saved andbrought home by Morosoni, as his great fighting ducal predecessor EnricoDandolo had in his day of triumph brought trophies from Constantinople. The careers of the two men are not dissimilar; but Morosoni was a childbeside Dandolo, for at his death he was but seventy-six. The campo in front of S. Stefano bears Morosoni's name, but the statuein the midst is not that of General Booth, as the English visitor mightthink, but of Niccolò Tommaseo (1802-1874), patriot and author and theally of Daniele Manin. This was once a popular arena for bull-fights, but there has not been one in Venice for more than a hundred years. Morosoni's palace, once famous for its pictures, is the palace on theleft (No. 2802) as we leave the church for the Accademia bridge. Opposite is another ancient palace, now a scholastic establishment witha fine Neptune knocker. Farther down on the left is a tiny campo, acrosswhich is the vast Palazzo Pisani, a very good example of the decay ofVenice, for it is now a thousand offices and a conservatory of music. Outside S. Vitale I met, in the space of one minute, two red-hairedgirls, after seeking the type in vain for days; and again I lost it. Butcertain artists, when painting in Venice, seem to see little else. And now, being close to the iron bridge which leads to the door of theAccademia, let us see some pictures. CHAPTER XVI THE ACCADEMIA. I: TITIAN, TINTORETTO, AND PAUL VERONESE The important rooms--Venetian art in London--The ceiling of the thousandwings--Some early painters--Titian's "Assumption"--Tintoretto's"Miracle of S. Mark"--A triumph of novelty--The Campanilemiracle--Altar-pieces--Paul Veronese--Leonardo drawings--Indifferentworks--Jesus in the house of Levi--A painter on his trial--OtherTintorettos--Another miracle of S. Mark--Titian's last painting. The Accademia, which is to Venice what the National Gallery is toLondon, the Louvre to Paris, and the Uffizi to Florence, is, I may say, at once, as a whole a disappointment; and my advice to visitors is todisregard much of it absolutely. The reasons why Rooms II, IV, IX, X, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XIX and XXalone are important are two. One is that so wide a gulf is fixed betweenthe best Venetian painters--Bellini, Titian, Carpaccio, Giorgione (buthe is not represented here), Palma, Tintoretto, Veronese, and the nextbest; and the other, that Venetian painting of the second order israrely interesting. In the Tuscan school an effort to do somethingauthentic or arresting persists even to the fifth and sixth rank ofpainter; but not so here. Were it not for the Accademia's Tintorettos, Carpaccios and Bellinis, our own Venetian collection in Trafalgar Square would be much moreinteresting; and even as it is we have in "The Origin of the Milky Way"a Tintoretto more fascinating than any here; in "Bacchus and Ariadne" amore brilliant Titian than any here; some Bellinis, such as "The Agonyin the Garden, " the portrait of Loredano, and "The Death of S. PeterMartyr, " that challenge his best here; two Giorgiones and severalpictures notably of his school that cannot be matched here; the finestCatena that exists; a more charming Basaiti than any here; a betterAntonello da Messina; and, according to some judges, the best PaulVeronese in the world: "The House of Darius"; while when it comes toCarlo Crivelli, he does not exist here at all. But it has to be remembered that one does not go to Venice to seepictures. One goes to see Venice: that is to say, an unbelievable andwonderful city of spires and palaces, whose streets are water and whosesunsets are liquid gold. Pictures, as we use the word, meaning paintingsin frames on the wall, as in the National Gallery or the Louvre, are notamong its first treasures. But in painting as decoration of churches andpalaces Venice is rich indeed, and by anyone who would study the threegreat Venetian masters of that art--Tintoretto, Titian and PaulVeronese--it must not only be visited but haunted. Venice alone canprove to the world what giants these men--and especiallyTintoretto--could be when given vast spaces to play with; and since theywere Venetians it is well that we should be forced to their well-belovedand well-served city to learn it. Let us walk through the Accademia conscientiously, but let us dwell onlyin the rooms I have selected. The first room (with a fine ceiling whichmight be called the ceiling of the thousand wings, around which areportraits of painters ranged like the Doges in the great council halls)belongs to the very early men, of whom Jacobello del Fiore(1400-1439) is the most agreeable. It was he who painted one of the twolions that we saw in the museum of the Doges' Palace, the other andbetter being Carpaccio's. To him also is given, by some critics, theequestrian S. Chrysogonus, in S. Trovaso. His Accademia picture, on theend wall, is strictly local, representing Justice with her lion and S. Michael and S. Gabriel attending. It is a rich piece of decoration andyou will notice that it grows richer on each visit. Two other picturesin this room that I like are No. 33, a "Coronation of the Virgin, "painted by Michele Giambono in 1440, making it a very complete ceremony, and No. 24, a good church picture with an entertaining predella, byMichele di Matteo Lambertini (died 1469). The "Madonna and Child" byBonconsiglio remains gaily in the memory too. No doubt about the Childbeing the Madonna's own. Having finished with this room, one ought really to make directly forRoom XVII, although it is a long way off, for that room is given toGiovanni Bellini, and Giovanni Bellini was the instructor of Titian, andTintoretto was the disciple of Titian, and thus, as we are about to seeTitian and Tintoretto at their best here, we should get a line ofdescent. But I reserve the outline of Venetian painting until theBellinis are normally reached. [Illustration: THE MIRACLE OF S. MARKFROM THE PAINTING BY TINTORETTO_In the Accademia_] The two great pictures of this next room are Titian's "Assumption" andTintoretto's "Miracle of S. Mark, " reproduced opposite page 164, andthis one. I need hardly say that it is the Titian which wins the raptureand the applause; but the other gives me personally more pleasure. TheTitian is massive and wonderful: perhaps indeed too massive in theconception of the Madonna, for the suggestion of flight is lacking; butit has an earthiness, even a theatricalness, which one cannot forget, superb though that earthiness may be. The cherubs, however, commercialcopies of which are always being made by diligent artists, are a joy. The Titians that hang in the gallery of my mind are other than this. AMadonna and Child and a rollicking baby at Vienna: our own "Bacchus andAriadne"; the Louvre "Man with a Glove": these are among them; but the"Assumption" is not there. Tintoretto's great picture of the "Miracle of S. Mark" was paintedbetween 1544 and 1548, before he was thirty. The story tells that apious slave, forbidden by his master to visit and venerate the house ofS. Mark, disobeyed the command and went. As a punishment his masterordered him to be blinded and maimed; but the hands of the executionerswere miraculously stayed and their weapons refused to act. The master, looking on, was naturally at once converted. Tintoretto painted his picture of this incident for the Scuola of S. Mark (now a hospital); but when it was delivered, the novelty of itsdramatic vigour--a palpitating actuality almost of the cinema--was toomuch for the authorities. The coolness of their welcome infuriated thepainter, conscious as he was that he had done a great thing, and hedemanded the work back; but fortunately there were a few good judges tosee it first, and their enthusiasm carried the day. Very swiftly thepicture became a wonder of the city. Thus has it always been with thegreat innovators in art, except that Tintoretto's triumph was morespeedy: they have almost invariably been condemned first. An interesting derivative detail of the work is the gateway at the backover which the sculptured figures recline, for these obviously weresuggested by casts, which we know Tintoretto to have possessed, ofMichael Angelo's tombs in S. Lorenzo's sacristy at Florence. Everyindividual in the picture is alive and breathing, but none moreremarkably so than the woman on the left with a child in her arms andher knee momentarily resting on a slope of the pillar. No doubt some ofthe crowd are drawn, after the fashion of the time, from public men inVenice; but I know not if they can now be identified. Another legend of S. Mark which, by the way, should have its Venetianpictorial rendering, tells how a man who was working on the Campanilefell, and as he fell had the presence of mind to cry "S. Mark! S. Mark!"whereupon a branch instantly sprang forth from the masonry below andsustained him until help arrived. Tintoretto, who has other miracles ofS. Mark in the Royal Palace here and in the Brera at Milan, would havedrawn that falling workman magnificently. This room also has two of Tintoretto's simpler canvases--an Adam and Eve(with an error in it, for they are clothed before the apple is eaten)and a Cain and Abel. The other pictures are altar-pieces of muchsweetness, by Giovanni Bellini, Carpaccio, Basaiti and Cima. TheCarpaccio is the best known by reason of the little charming celestialorchestra at the foot of it, with, in the middle, the adorablemandolinist who has been reproduced as a detail to gladden so manythousands of walls. All have quiet radiance. High over the door by which we entered is a masterly aristocraticallegory by Paul Veronese--Venice with Hercules and Ceres--notable forthe superb drawing and vivacity of the cupid with the wheat sheaf. Igive a reproduction opposite page 102, but the Cupid unfortunately isnot distinct enough. Room III has a Spanish picture by Ribera, interesting so near theTintorettos, and little else. I am not sure that I am not happier in Room IV than anywhere else inthis gallery, for here are the drawings, and by an odd chance Venice isrich in Leonardos. She is rich too in Raphaels, but that is lessimportant. Among the Leonardos, chiefly from his note books, look at No. 217, a child's leg; No. 257, children; No. 256, a darling little "Virginadoring"; No. 230, a family group, very charming; No. 270, a smilingwoman (but this possibly is by an imitator); No. 233, a dancing figure;No. 231, the head of Christ; and the spirited corner of a cavalrybattle. Some of the Raphaels are exquisite, notably No. 23, a Madonnaadoring; No. 32, a baby; No. 89, a mother and child; and No. 50, aflying angel. In Room V are many pictures, few of which are good enough. It belongs tothe school of Giovanni Bellini and is conspicuous for the elimination ofcharacter. Vacuous bland countenances, indicative merely of piousmildness, surround you, reaching perhaps their highest point of meekineffectually in Bissolo. The next room has nothing but dingy northern pictures in a bad light, ofwhich I like best No. 201, a small early unknown French portrait, andNo. 198, an old lady, by Mor. Sala VII is Venetian again, the best picture being Romanino's"Deposition, " No. 737. An unknown treatment of Christ in the house ofMartha and Mary, No. 152, is quaint and interesting. Mary is verycomely, with long fair hair. Martha, not sufficiently resentful, laysthe table. In Room VIII we again go north and again are among pictures that must becleaned if we are to see them. And then we come to Room IX and some masterpieces. The largest picturehere is Paul Veronese's famous work, "Jesus in the House of Levi, " ofwhich I give a reproduction opposite page 176. Veronese is not a greatfavourite of mine; but there is a blandness and aristocratic ease andmastery here that are irresistible. As an illustration of scripture itis of course absurd; but in Venice (whose Doges, as we have seen, had solittle humour that they could commission pictures in which they wererepresented on intimate terms with the Holy Family) one is accustomed tothat. As a fine massive arrangement of men, architecture, and colour, itis superb. It was for painting this picture as a sacred subject--or rather forsubordinating sacred history to splendid mundane effects--that theartist was summoned before the Holy Office in the chapel of S. Theodoreon July 8, 1573. At the end of Ruskin's brief _Guide to the PrincipalPictures in the Academy of Fine Arts at Venice_, a translation of theexamination is given. Reading it, one feels that Veronese did not comeout of it too well. Whistler would have done better. I quote a little. _Question. _ Do you know the reason why you have been summoned? _Answer. _ No, my lord. _Q. _ Can you imagine it? _A. _ I can imagine it. _Q. _ Tell us what you imagine. _A. _ For the reason which the Reverend Prior of SS. Giovanni and Paolo, whose name I know not, told me that he had been here, and that your illustrious lordships had given him orders that I should substitute the figure of the Magdalen for that of a dog; and I replied that I would willingly have done this, or anything else for my own credit and the advantage of the picture, but that I did not think the figure of the Magdalen would be fitting or would look well, for many reasons, which I will always assign whenever the opportunity is given me. _Q. _ What picture is that which you have named? _A. _ It is the picture representing the last supper that Jesus took with His disciples in the house of Simon. _Q. _ Where is this picture? _A. _ In the refectory of the Friars of SS. Giovanni and Paolo. _Q. _ In this supper of Our Lord, have you painted any attendants? _A. _ Yes, my lord. _Q. _ Say how many attendants, and what each is doing. _A. _ First, the master of the house, Simon; besides, I have placed below him a server, who I have supposed to have come for his own amusement to see the arrangement of the table. There are besides several others, which, as there are many figures in the picture, I do not recollect. _Q. _ What is the meaning of those men dressed in the German fashion each with a halbert in his hand? _A. _ It is now necessary that I should say a few words. _The Court. _ Say on. _A. _ We painters take the same license that is permitted to poets and jesters. I have placed these two halberdiers--the one eating, the other drinking--by the staircase, to be supposed ready to perform any duty that may be required of them; it appearing to me quite fitting that the master of such a house, who was rich and great (as I have been told), should have such attendants. _Q. _ That fellow dressed like a buffoon, with the parrot on his wrist, --for what purpose is _he_ introduced into the canvas? _A. _ For ornament, as is usually done. _Q. _ At the table of the Lord whom have you placed? _A. _ The twelve Apostles. _Q. _ What is St. Peter doing, who is the first? _A. _ He is cutting up a lamb, to send to the other end of the table. _Q. _ What is he doing who is next to him? _A. _ He is holding a plate to receive what St. Peter will give him. _Q. _ Tell us what he is doing who is next to this last? _A. _ He is using a fork as a tooth-pick. _Q. _ Who do you really think were present at that supper? _A. _ I believe Christ and His Apostles were present; but in the foreground of the picture I have placed figures for ornament, of my own invention. _Q. _ Were you commissioned by any person to paint Germans and buffoons, and such-like things in this picture? _A. _ No, my lord; my commission was to ornament the picture as I judged best, which, being large, requires many figures, as it appears to me. _Q. _ Are the ornaments that the painter is in the habit of introducing in his frescoes and pictures suited and fitting to the subject and to the principal persons represented, or does he really paint such as strike his own fancy without exercising his judgment or his discretion? _A. _ I design my pictures with all due consideration as to what is fitting, and to the best of my judgment. _Q. _ Does it appear to you fitting that at our Lord's last supper you should paint buffoons, drunkards, Germans, dwarfs, and similar indecencies? _A. _ No, my lord. _Q. _ Why, then, have you painted them? _A. _ I have done it because I supposed that these were not in the place where the supper was served. .. . _Q. _ And have your predecessors, then, done such things? _A. _ Michel-Angelo, in the Papal Chapel in Rome, has painted our Lord Jesus Christ, His mother, St. John and St. Peter, and all the Court of Heaven, from the Virgin Mary downwards, all naked, and in various attitudes, with little reverence. _Q. _ Do you not know that in a painting like the Last Judgment, where drapery is not supposed, dresses are not required, and that disembodied spirits only are represented; but there are neither buffoons, nor dogs, nor armour, nor any other absurdity? And does it not appear to you that neither by this nor any other example you have done right in painting the picture in this manner, and that it can be proved right and decent? _A. _ Illustrious lord, I do not defend it; but I thought I was doing right. .. . The result was that the painter was ordered to amend the picture, withinthe month, at his own expense; but he does not seem to have done so. There are two dogs and no Magdalen. The dwarf and the parrot are therestill. Under the table is a cat. [Illustration: THE FEAST IN THE HOUSE OF LEVIFROM THE PAINTING BY VERONESE_In the Accademia_] Veronese has in this room also an "Annunciation, " No. 260, in which theVirgin is very mature and solid and the details are depressingly dull. The worst Tuscan "Annunciation" is, one feels, better than this. Thepicture of S. Mark and his lion, No. 261, is better, and in 261a wefind a good vivid angel, but she has a terrific leg. The Tintorettosinclude the beautiful grave picture of the Madonna and Child giving areception to Venetian Senators who were pleased to represent the Magi;the "Purification of the Virgin, " a nice scene with one of his vividlynatural children in it; a "Deposition, " rich and glowing and very likeRubens; and the "Crucifixion, " painted as an altar-piece for SS. Giovanni e Paolo before his sublime picture of the same subject--hismasterpiece--was begun for the Scuola of S. Rocco. If one see this, theearlier version, first, one is the more impressed; to come to it afterthat other is to be too conscious of a huddle. But it has most of thegreat painter's virtues, and the soldiers throwing dice are peculiarlyhis own. Room X is notable for a fine Giorgionesque Palma Vecchio: a Holy family, rich and strong and sweet; but the favourite work is Paris Bordone'srepresentation of the famous story of the Fisherman and the Doge, fullof gracious light and animation. It seems that on a night in 1340 soviolent a storm broke that even the inner waters of the lagoon wereperilously rough. A fisherman chanced to be anchoring his boat off theRiva when a man appeared and bade him row him to the island of S. Giorgio Maggiore. Very unwillingly he did so, and there they took onboard another man who was in armour, and orders were given to proceed toS. Niccolò on the Lido. There a third man joined them, and the fishermanwas told to put out to sea. They had not gone far when they met a shipladen with devils which was on her way to unload this cargo at Veniceand overwhelm the city. But on the three men rising and making the signof the cross, the vessel instantly vanished. The fisherman thus knewthat his passengers were S. Mark, S. George, and S. Nicholas. S. Markgave him a ring in token of their sanctity and the deliverance ofVenice, and this, in the picture, he is handing to the Doge. Here, too, is the last picture that Titian painted--a "Deposition". Itwas intended for the aged artist's tomb in the Frari, but that purposewas not fulfilled. Palma the younger finished it. With what feelings, one wonders, did Titian approach what he knew was his last work? Hepainted it in 1576, when he was either ninety-nine or eighty-nine; hedied in the same year. To me it is one of his most beautiful things: notperhaps at first, but after one has returned to it again and again, andthen for ever. It has a quality that his earlier works lack, both ofsimplicity and pathos. The very weakness of the picture engages andconvinces. CHAPTER XVII THE ACCADEMIA. II: THE SANTA CROCE MIRACLES AND CARPACCIO The Holy Cross--Gentile Bellini's Venice--The empty windows--Carpaccio'sVenice--The story of S. Ursula--Gay pageantry--A famousbedroom--Carpaccio's life--Ruskin's eulogy. In Room XV are the Santa Croce miracles. The Holy Cross was brought byFilippo da Massaro and presented to the Scuola di S. GiovanniEvangelista. Every year it was carried in solemn procession throughVenice and something remarkable was expected of it. The great picture by Gentile Bellini, which shows the progress of theHoly Cross procession across the Piazza in 1496, is historically of muchinterest. One sees many changes and much that is still familiar. Theonly mosaic on the façade of S. Mark's which still remains is that inthe arch over the left door; and that also is the only arch which hasbeen left concave. The three flagstaffs are there, but they have woodenpediments and no lions on the top, as now. The Merceria clock tower isnot yet, and the south arcade comes flush with the campanile's northwall; but I doubt if that was so. The miracle of that year was thehealing of a youth who had been fatally injured in the head; his fathermay be seen kneeling just behind the relic. The next most noticeable picture, also Gentile Bellini's, records amiracle of 1500. The procession was on its way to S. Lorenzo, near theArsenal, from the Piazza, when the sacred emblem fell into the canal. Straightway in jumped Andrea Vendramin, the chief of the Scuola, to saveit, and was supernaturally buoyed up by his sanctified burden. Thepicture has a religious basis, but heaven is not likely, I think, to beseriously affronted if one smiles a little at these aquatic sports. Legend has it that the little kneeling group on the right is Gentile'sown family, and the kneeling lady on the left, with a nun behind her, isCaterina Cornaro, Queen of Cyprus. Bellini has made the scene vivid, but it is odd that he should have putnot a soul at a window. When we turn to Carpaccio's "Miracle" of 1494, representing the healing of a man possessed of a devil, who may be seenin the loggia at the left, we find a slightly richer sense of history, for three or four women look from the windows; but Mansueti, although afar inferior artist, is the only one to be really thorough and Venetianin this respect. One very interesting detail of Carpaccio's "Miracle" picture is theRialto bridge of his time. It was of wood, on piles, and a portion inthe centre could be drawn up either to let tall masts through or to stopthe thoroughfare to pursuers. It is valuable, too, for its costumes andarchitecture. In a gondola is a dog, since one of those animals findsits way into most of his works. This time it is S. Jerome's dog from thepicture at S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni. An English translation of theSanta Croce story might well be placed in this room. Before leaving this room one should look again at the haunting portraitof S. Lorenzo Giustiniani, No. 570, by Gentile Bellini, which has fadedand stained so graciously into a quiet and beautiful decoration. It is the S. Ursula pictures in Room XVI for which, after Titian's"Assumption, " most visitors to Venice esteem the Accademia; but to mymind the charm of Carpaccio is not displayed here so fully as in hisdecorations at S. Giorgio. The Ursula pictures are, however, of deepinterest and are unforgettable. But first for the story. As _The Golden Legend_ tells it, it runs thus. Ursula was the daughter of a Christian king in Britain named Notus orMaurus, and the fame of her beauty and wisdom spread afar, so that theKing of England, who was a heathen himself, heard of it and wished herfor his son's wife. His son, too, longed for the match, but the paganismof his family was against it. Ursula therefore stipulated that beforethe marriage could be solemnized the King of England should send to herten virgins as companions, and each of these virgins and herself, makingeleven, should have a retinue of a thousand other virgins, making eleventhousand in all (or to be precise, eleven thousand and eleven) forprayer and consecration; and that the prince moreover should bebaptised; and then at the end of three years she would marry him. Theconditions were agreed to, and the virgins collected, and all, aftersome time spent in games and jousting, with noblemen and bishops amongthe spectators, joined Ursula, who converted them. Being converted, theyset sail from Britain for Rome. There they met the pope, who, having aprevision of their subsequent martyrdom, resigned the papacy, muchagainst the will of the Church and for reasons which are not too clear. In Rome they were seen also by two fellow-princes named Maximus andAfricanus, who, disliking them for their Christianity, arranged with oneJulian, a prince of the Huns, that on their arrival at Cologne, on theirreturn journey, he should behead the whole company, and thus preventthem from further mischief. Meanwhile Ursula's betrothed went toCologne to meet his bride. With the eleven thousand were many of themost eminent bishops and other men of mark, and directly they arrived atCologne the Huns fell on them and killed every one except Ursula andanother named Cordula. Julian offered to make Ursula his wife, but onher repudiation of the suggestion he shot her through the body with hisbow and arrow. Cordula hid in a ship, but the next day suffered death byher own free will and earned a martyr's crown. All this happened in theyear A. D. 238. [Illustration: THE DEPARTURE OF THE BRIDEGROOM AND HIS MEETING WITHURSULAFROM THE PAINTING BY CARPACCIO_In the Accademia_] Carpaccio, it will be quickly seen, disregards certain details of thisversion. For example, he makes Ursula's father a King of the Moors, although there is nothing Moorish about either that monarch, hisdaughter, or his city. The first picture, which has the best light init, shows the ambassadors from England craving the hand of the princess. At the back is one of those octagonal buildings so dear to this painter, also in the city. His affection for dogs, always noticeable, is to beseen here again, for he has placed three hounds on the quay. A clocksomewhat like that of the Merceria is on the little tower. The Englishship has a red flag. On the right is the King pondering with Ursula overhis reply. In the next picture, No. 573, the ambassadors receive thisreply. In the next the ambassadors depart, with the condition that aterm of three years must first pass. They return to a strangelyunfamiliar England: an England in which Carpaccio himself must have beenliving for some time in the rôle of architect. This--No. 574--is adelightful and richly mellow scene of activity, and not the leastattractive feature of it is the little fiddling boy on the left. Carpaccio has so enjoyed the pageantry and detail, even to frescoes onthe house, crowded bridges, and so forth, that his duty as astory-teller has suffered. In the next picture, No. 575, which is reallytwo, divided by the flagstaff, we have on the left the departure of theEnglish prince from an English seaport (of a kind which alas! hasdisappeared for ever) to join in his lady-love's pilgrimage to Rome. Hebids his father farewell. Nothing could be more fascinating than themountain town and its battlements, and every inch of the picture isamusing and alive. Crowds of gay people assemble and a ship has run onthe rocks. On the right, the prince meets Ursula, who also has found avery delectable embarking place. Here are more gay crowds and sumptuousdresses, of which the King's flowered robe is not the least. Fartherstill to the right the young couple kneel before the monarch. Ireproduce this. The apotheosis of S. Ursula, No. 576, is here interposed, veryinappropriately, for she is not yet dead or a saint, merely a piousprincess. The story is then resumed--in No. 577--with a scene at Rome, as we knowit to be by the castle of S. Angelo, in which Ursula and her prince arebeing blessed by the Pope Cyriacus, while an unending file of virginsextends into the distance. In the next picture, reproduced opposite page 120, Ursula, in her nicegreat bed, in what is perhaps the best-known bedroom in the world, dreams of her martyrdom and sees an angel bringing her the rewards offortitude. The picture has pretty thoughts but poor colour. Where theroom is meant to be, I am not sure; but it is a very charming one. Noteher little library of big books, her writing desk and hour-glass, herpen and ink. Carpaccio of course gives her a dog. Her slippers arebeside the bed and her little feet make a tiny hillock in thebedclothes: Carpaccio was the man to think of that! The windows areopen and she has no mosquito net. Her princess's crown is at the foot ofthe bed, or is it perchance her crown of glory? We next see the shipload of bishops and virgins arriving at Cologne. There are fewer Carpaccio touches here, but he has characteristicallyput a mischievous youth at the end of a boom. There is also a dog on thelanding-stage and a bird in the tree. A comely tower is behind withflags bearing three crowns. The next picture shows us, on the left, thehorrid massacre of all these nice young women by a brutal Germansoldiery. Ursula herself is being shot by Julian, who is not more thansix feet distant; but she meets her fate with a composure as perfect asif instead of the impending arrow it was a benediction. On the right isher bier, under a very pretty canopy. Wild flowers spring from theearth. Now should come the apotheosis. Carpaccio was not exactly a great painter, but he was human andingratiating beyond any other that Venice can show, and his pictureshere and at S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni make the city a sweeter and morelovable place, Vasari is very brief with Vittore Scarpaccia, as he callshim, and there are few known facts. Research has placed his birth atCapo d'Istria about 1450. His earliest picture is dated 1490: his last1521 or 1522. Gentile Bellini was his master. Ruskin found Carpaccio by far the most sympathetic Venetian painter. Everything that he painted, even, as I point out later, the Museo Civicopicture of the two ladies, he exults in, here, there, and everywhere. Inhis little guide to the Accademia, published in 1877, he roundly callsCarpaccio's "Presentation of the Virgin" the "best picture" in thegallery. In one of the letters written from Venice in _ForsClavigera_--and these were, I imagine, subjected to less criticalexamination by their author before they saw the light than any of hiswritings--is the following summary, which it may be interesting to readhere. "This, then, is the truth which Carpaccio knows, and would teach:That the world is divided into two groups of men; the first, those whoseGod is their God, and whose glory is their glory, who mind heavenlythings; and the second, men whose God is their belly, and whose glory isin their shame, who mind earthly things. That is just as demonstrable ascientific fact as the separation of land from water. There may be anyquantity of intermediate mind, in various conditions of bog; some, wholesome Scotch peat, --some, Pontine marsh, --some, sulphurous slime, like what people call water in English manufacturing towns; but theelements of Croyance and Mescroyance are always chemically separable outof the putrescent mess: by the faith that is in it, what life or good itcan still keep, or do, is possible; by the miscreance in it, whatmischief it can do, or annihilation it can suffer, is appointed for itswork and fate. All strong character curdles itself out of the scum intoits own place and power, or impotence: and they that sow to the Flesh, do of the Flesh reap corruption; and they that sow to the Spirit, do ofthe Spirit reap Life. "I pause, without writing 'everlasting, ' as perhaps you expected. Neither Carpaccio nor I know anything about duration of life, or whatthe word translated 'everlasting' means. Nay, the first sign of nobletrust in God and man, is to be able to act without any such hope. Allthe heroic deeds, all the purely unselfish passions of our existence, depend on our being able to live, if need be, through the Shadow ofDeath: and the daily heroism of simply brave men consists in frontingand accepting Death as such, trusting that what their Maker decrees forthem shall be well. "But what Carpaccio knows, and what I know, also, are precisely thethings which your wiseacre apothecaries, and their apprentices, and toooften your wiseacre rectors and vicars, and _their_ apprentices, tellyou that you can't know, because 'eye hath not seen nor ear heard them, 'the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. But God hasrevealed them to _us_--to Carpaccio, and Angelico, and Dante, andGiotto, and Filippo Lippi, and Sandro Botticelli, and me, and to everychild that has been taught to know its Father in heaven, --by the Spirit:because we have minded, or do mind, the things of the Spirit in somemeasure, and in such measure, have entered into our rest. " Let me only dare to add that it is quite possible to extract enormouspleasure from the study of Carpaccio's works without agreeing with anyof the foregoing criticism. CHAPTER XVIII THE ACCADEMIA. III: GIOVANNI BELLINI AND THE LATER PAINTERS Pietro Longhi--Hogarth--Tiepolo--A gambling wife--Canaletto--Guardi--TheVivarini--Boccaccini--Venetian art and its beginnings--Thethree Bellinis--Giovanni Bellini--A beautiful room--Titian's"Presentation"--The busy Evangelists--A lovely ceiling. A number of small rooms which are mostly negligible now occur. Longhi ishere, with his little society scenes; Tiepolo, with some masterlyswaggering designs; Giambettino Cignaroli, whom I mention only becausehis "Death of Rachel" is on Sundays the most popular picture in thewhole gallery; and Canaletto and Guardi, with Venetian canals andpalaces and churches. For Tiepolo at his best the Labia Palace must bevisited, and Longhi is more numerously represented at the Museo Civicothan here. Both Canaletto and Guardi can be better studied in London, atthe National Gallery and the Wallace Collection. There are indeed noworks by either man to compare with the best of ours. No. 494 atHertford House, a glittering view of the Dogana, is perhaps Guardi'smasterpiece in England; No. 135 in the National Gallery, Canaletto's. Pietro Longhi was born in Venice in 1702, five years after Hogarth wasborn in London. He died in 1762, two years before Hogarth in Chiswick. Imention the English painter because Longhi is often referred to as theVenetian Hogarth. We have a picture or two by him in the NationalGallery. To see him once is to see all his pictures so far as techniquegoes, but a complete set would form an excellent microcosm offashionable and frivolous Venice of his day. Hogarth, who no doubtapproximates more to the Venetian style of painting than to any other, probably found that influence in the work of Sebastiano Ricci, aVenetian who taught in St. Martin's Lane. The brave Tiepolo--Giovanni Battista or Giambattista, as the contractionhas it--was born in Venice in 1696, the son of a wealthy merchant andshipowner. In 1721 he married a sister of Guardi, settled down in ahouse near the bridge of S. Francesco della Vigna, and had ninechildren. His chief artistic education came from the study of Titian andPaul Veronese, and he quickly became known as the most rapid andintrepid ceiling painter of the time. He worked with tremendous spirit, as one deduces from the the examination of his many frescoes. Tiepolodrew with masterly precision and brio, and his colour can be verysprightly: but one always has the feeling that he had no right to be ina church at all, except possibly to confess. At the National Gallery we have some small examples of Tiepolo's work, which, if greatly magnified, would convey an excellent impression of hismural manner. Tiepolo went to Spain in his old age to work for CharlesIII, and died there in 1770. His widow survived him by nine years, dyingin 1779. She seems to have been a gambler, and there is a story of herstaking all her losses one evening against her husband's sketches. Losing, she staked his villa, containing many of his frescoes, and lostagain. Antonio Canal, called Canaletto, was born in Venice in 1697, the son ofa scene-painter. At first he too painted scenery, but visiting Rome hewas fascinated by its architecture and made many studies of it. Onreturning to Venice he settled down as a topographical painter andpractically reproduced his native city on canvas. He died in 1768. Venice possesses only inferior works from his hands; but No. 474here--the view of the Scuola of S. Marco--is very fine. Canaletto had a nephew named Bernardo Bellotto, who to much of hisuncle's skill brought a mellow richness all his own, and since he alsotook the name of Canaletto, confusion has resulted. He is represented inthe Accademia; but Vienna is richest in his work. The great Canaletto has a special interest for us in that in later lifehe lived for a while in England and painted here. The National Galleryhas views of Eton College and of Ranelagh seen through his Venetianeyes. In Venice Tiepolo often added the figures for him. Francesco Guardi was born in Venice in 1712 and died there in 1793, andall his life he was translating the sparkling charm of his watery cityinto paint. His master was Canaletto, whom he surpassed in charm butnever equalled in foot-rule accuracy or in that gravity which makes areally fine picture by the older man so distinguished a thing. Verylittle is known of Guardi's life. That he married is certain, and he hada daughter who eloped with an Irishman. We are told also that he wasvery indolent, and late in life came upon such evil days that heestablished himself at a corner of the Piazza, where Rosen's book-shopnow is, and sold sketches to whomever would buy for whatever they wouldfetch; which is only one remove from a London screever. Guardi's pictureof S. Giorgio Maggiore in the Accademia, No. 707, shows us that theearlier campanile, which fell in 1774, was higher and slenderer than thepresent one. We now come to Room XVII, which has a number of small interesting works, some by great masters. Mantegna is here with a S. George, which Ireproduce on the opposite page. Very beautiful it is, both in feelingand colour. It is painted on wood and the dragon is extremely dead. Heretoo is Piero della Francesca, that rare spirit, but his picture, No. 47, has almost perished. The mild Basaiti and milder Catena are here; apretty little Caravaggio; two good Cimas, No. 611, sweet andtranslucent, and No. 592, a Tobias; and excellent examples of bothAlvise and Bartolommeo Vivarini, those pioneer brothers, a blue andgreen dress of the Virgin in No. 615 by Bartolommeo being exquisite. Here too is a Cosimo Tura, No. 628, poor in colour but fine in thedrawing of the baby Christ; and a rich unknown Lombardian version ofChrist washing His disciples' feet, No. 599, which is not strong inpsychology but has noticeable quality. The most purely charming work in the room is a Boccaccio Boccaccini, No. 600, full of sweetness and pretty thoughts. The Madonna is surrounded bysaints, the figure in the centre having the true Boccaccini face. Thewhole picture is a delight, whether as a group of nice holy people, alandscape, or a fantasy of embroidery. The condition of the picture isperfect too. The flight into Egypt, in two phases, goes on in thebackground. I reproduce it opposite page 266. And then we move to the room devoted to Giovanni Bellini, performing aswe do so an act of sacrilege, for one cannot pass through the prettyblue and gold door without interrupting an Annunciation, the angelhaving been placed on one side of it and the Virgin on the other. [Illustration: S. GEORGEFROM THE PAINTING BY MANTEGNA_In the Accademia_] Giovanni Bellini was born in 1426, nearly a century after Giotto died. His father and teacher was Jacopo Bellini, who had a school of paintingin Padua and was the rival in that city of Squarcione, a scientificinstructor who depended largely on casts from the antique to point hislessons. Squarcione's most famous pupil was Andrea Mantegna, whosubsequently married Giovanni Bellini's sister and alienated his master. According to Vasari, oil-painting reached Venice through Antonello daMessina, who had learned the art in the Netherlands. But that cannot betrue. It came to Venice from Verona or Padua long after Florence couldboast many fine masters, the delay being due to the circumstance thatthe Venetians thought more of architecture than the sister art. Thefirst painters to make any success in Venice were the Vivarini ofMurano. The next were Giovanni Bellini and Gentile his brother, whoarrived from Padua about 1460, the one to paint altar-pieces in theTuscan manner (for there is little doubt that the sweet simplicity andgentle radiance of the Giotto frescoes in the chapel of the Madonnadell'Arena, which the Paduans had the privilege of seeing for two orthree generations before Squarcione was born, had greater influence thaneither Jacopo Bellini or Mantegna); and the other to paint churchpageants, such as we saw in an earlier room. Giovanni remained in Venice till his death, in 1516, at the ripe age ofninety, and nearly to the end was he both a busy painter and aninterested and impressionable investigator of art, open to the influenceof his own pupil Giorgione, and, when eighty, being the only painter inVenice to recognize the genius of Dürer, who was then on a visit to thecity. Dürer, writing home, says that Bellini had implored him for a workand wanted to pay for it. "Every one gives him such a good characterthat I feel an affection for him. He is very old and is yet the best inpainting. " In his long life Bellini saw all the changes and helped in their making. He is the most varied and flexible painter of his time, both in mannerand matter. None could be more deeply religious than he, none moretender, none more simple, none more happy. In manner he was equallydiverse, and could paint like a Paduan, a Tuscan, a Fleming, a Venetian, and a modern Frenchman. I doubt if he ever was really great as we usethe word of Leonardo, Titian, Tintoretto, Mantegna; but he waseverything else. And he was Titian's master. The National Gallery is rich indeed in Bellini's work. We have no fewerthan ten pictures that are certainly his, and others that might be; andpractically the whole range of his gifts is illustrated among them. There may not be anything as fine as the S. Zaccaria or Frarialtar-pieces, or anything as exquisite as the Allegories in theAccademia and the Uffizi; but after that our collection is unexcelled inits examples. [Illustration: MADONNA AND CHILDFROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI_In the Accademia_] In this little precious room of the Accademia are thirteen Bellinis, each in its way a gem: enough to prove that variousness of which Ispoke. The "Madonna degli Alberetti, " for example, with its unexpectedapple-green screen, almost Bougereau carried out to the highest power, would, if hung in any exhibition to-day, be remarkable but notanachronistic. And then one thinks of the Gethsemane picture in ourNational Gallery, and of the Christ recently acquired by the Louvre, andmarvels. For sheer delight of fancy, colour, and design the five scenesof Allegory are the flower of the room; and here again our thoughts leapforward as we look, for is not the second of the series, "Venus theRuler of the World, " sheer Burne-Jones? The pictures run thus: (1)"Bacchus tempting Endeavour, " (2) either Venus, with the sportingbabies, or as some think, Science (see the reproduction opposite page158), (3) with its lovely river landscape, "Blind Chance, " (4) the NakedTruth, and (5) Slander. Of the other pictures I like best No. 613, reproduced opposite page 260, with the Leonardesque saint on the right;and No. 610, with its fine blues, light and dark, and the very VenetianMadonna; and the Madonna with the Child stretched across her knees, reproduced opposite page 144. Giovanni Bellini did not often paint anything that can be described asessentially Venetian. He is called the father of Venetian painting, buthis child only faintly resembles him, if at all. That curious change ofwhich one is conscious at the National Gallery in passing from Rooms Iand VI to Room VII, from Tuscany and Umbria to Venice, is due less tothe Bellinis in Room VII than to any painter there. The Bellinis couldbe hung in Rooms I and VI without violence; the Giorgiones and Titiansand Tintorettos would conflict. Bellini's simplicity allies him toGiotto traditions; but there was no simplicity about Giorgione, Titian, and Tintoretto. They were sophisticated, and the two last were also thepainters of a wealthy and commanding Republic. One can believe thatBellini, wherever he was, even in the Doges' Palace, carried a littleenclosed portion of the Kingdom of God within him: but one does notthink of those others in that way. He makes his Madonnas so much morereal and protective too. Note the strong large hands which hold theChild in his every picture. Titian's fine martial challenging John the Baptist is the great pictureof the next room, No. XIX. Here also are good but not transcendentportraits by Titian, Tintoretto, and Lotto, and the Battle of Lepanto, with heavenly interference, by Veronese. Finally, we come to the room set apart for Titian's charming conceptionof "The Presentation of the Virgin, " which fills all one wall of it. Igive a reproduction opposite page 36. The radiant figure of thethick-set little brave girl in blue, marching so steadily away from herparents to the awe-inspiring but kindly priests at the head of thesteps, is unforgettable. Notice the baby in the arms of a woman amongthe crowd. The picture as a whole is disappointing in colour, and Icherish the belief that if Tintoretto's beautiful variant at the Madonnadell'Orto (see opposite page 282) could be cleaned and set up in a goodlight it might conquer. Before leaving this room one should give the ceiling a little attention, for it is splendid in its lovely blue and gold, and its colouredcarvings are amusing. The four Evangelists have each a medallion. Allare studious. S. Matthew, on the upper left as one stands with one'sback to the Titian, has an open-air study, and he makes notes as hereads. His eagle is in attendance. S. Mark, with his lion at ease underhis chair, has also his open-air desk, and as he reads he thinks. S. John is indoors, reading intently, with a box full of books to fall backon, and a little angel peeping at him from behind his chair. Finally S. Luke, also indoors, writing at a nice blue desk. He holds his pen verydaintily and seems to be working against time, for an hour-glass isbefore him. His bull is also present. Among the many good ceilings ofVenice, this is at once the most sumptuous and most charming. CHAPTER XIX THE CANALE DI S. MARCO AND S. GIORGIO MAGGIORE Busy water--The lantern concerts--Venice and moderninventions--Fireworks in perfection--S. Giorgio Maggiore--Palladianarchitecture--Two Tintorettos--The Life of S. Benedict--Realisticwood-carving--A Giudecca garden--The Redentore--A bridge of boats--Aregatta--The view from the Giudecca--House-hunting in Venice. Strictly speaking, the Grand Canal and the Canal of the Guidecca unitein the lagoon; but the stretch of water between the Molo and S. Giorgiois called the Canale di San Marco. It is the busiest water of all. Everylittle steamer crosses it; motor-boats here are always at full speed;most of the gondolas which are hired start from here; the greatmercantile boats cross it on their way in and out of harbours; and thedaily invaders from Trieste disembark and embark again in the verymiddle. Hence it is always a scene of gay and sparkling movement andalways more like a Guardi than any other spot in Venice. It is just off the Custom House point, at night, that in the summer theconcert barges are moored, each with its little party of musicians, itscluster of Venetian lanterns, arranged rather like paper travesties ofthe golden balls over S. Mark's domes, and its crowded circle ofgondolas, each like a dark private box for two. Now what more canhoneymooners ask? For it is chiefly for honeymooners that this is done, since Venetians do not spend money to sit in stationary boats. Theseconcerts are popular, but they are too self-conscious. Moreover, thesongs are from all countries, even America; whereas purely Venetian, orat any rate Italian, operatic music should, I think, be given. The straysnatches of song which one hears at night from the hotel window;gondoliers trolling out folk choruses; the notes of a distant mandolin, brought down on the water--these make the true music of Venice. But just as the motor-launch has invaded the lagoon, so has othermachinery forced its way into this city--peculiarly the one place in theworld which ought to have been meticulously safeguarded against everymechanical invention. When I was living near S. Sebastiano, on my wayhome at night the gondolier used to take me up the Grand Canal as far asthe Foscari lantern and then to the left. In time we came to the campoof S. Pantaleone, where, outside a café, a little group was alwaysseated, over its wine and beer, listening raptly to the music of--what?A gramophone. This means that while the motor is ousting the gondolier, the Venetian minstrel is also under death sentence. It was the same if I chose to walk part of the way, for then I took thesteamer to S. Toma and passed through the campo of S. Margherita, whichdoes for the poor of its neighbourhood very much what the Piazza of S. Mark does for the centre of the city and the élite of the world. Thiscampo is one of the largest in Venice, and at night it is very gay. There is a church at one end which, having lost its sanctity, is now acinema theatre, with luridities pasted on the walls. There is anotherancient building converted into a cinema at the opposite end. Betweenthese alluring extremities are various cafés, each with its chairs andtables, and each with a gramophone that pours its notes into the night. The panting of Caruso mingles with Tetrazzini's shrill exultation. In summer there are occasional firework displays on the water between S. Giorgio and the Riva, supplied by the Municipality. The Riva is thencrowded, while gondolas put out in great numbers, and myriad overloadedcrafts full of poorer sightseers enter the lagoon by all the smallcanals. Having seen Venetian pyrotechny, one realizes that all fireworksshould be ignited over water. It is the only way. A rocket can climb asfiercely and dazzlingly into any sky, no doubt, but over land thefalling stars and sparks have but one existence; over water, like theswan "on St. Mary's lake, " they have two. The displays last for nearlyan hour, and consist almost entirely of rockets. Every kind of rocket isthere: rockets which simply soar with a rush, burst into stars and fall;rockets which when they reach the highest point of their trajectoryexplode with a report that shakes the city and must make some of thecampanili very nervous; rockets which burst into a million sparks;rockets which burst into a thousand streamers; rockets whose starschange colour as they fall; rockets whose stars do not fall at once buthang and hover in the air. All Venice is watching, either from the landor the water, and the band plays to a deserted Piazza, but directly thedisplay is over every one hastens back to hear its strains. To get to the beautiful island of S. Giorgio it is almost necessary totake a gondola; for although there is the Giudecca steamer every halfhour, it is an erratic boat, and you may be left stranded too longwaiting to return. The island is military, save for the church, and thatis chiefly a show-place to-day. It is large and light, but it has nocharm, for that was not Palladio's gift. That he was a great man, everyvisitor to Vicenza knows; but it is both easy and permissible to dislikethe architecture to which he gives his name. Not that any fault can befound with S. Giorgio Maggiore as a detail in the landscape: to me itwill always be the perfect disposition of buildings in the perfectplace; but then, on the other hand, the campanile was not Palladio's, nor was the façade, while the principal attraction of his dome is itsgreen copper. The church of the Redentore, on the Giudecca, is much morethoroughly Palladian. Andrea Palladio was born in Vicenza in 1518. In Venice he built S. Giorgio Maggiore (all but the façade), the façade of S. Francesco dellaVigna, the Redentore, Le Zitelle and S. Lucia. Such was Palladio'sinfluence that for centuries he practically governed Europeanarchitecture. Our own St. Paul's would be very different but for him. Hedied in 1580 and was buried at Vicenza. By the merest chance, but veryfortunately, he was prevented from bedevilling the Ducal Palace afterthe fire in 1576. He had the plans all ready, but a wiser than he, oneDa Ponte, undertook to make the structure good without rebuilding, andcarried out his word. Terrible to think of what the Vicenza classicistwould have done with that gentle, gay, and human façade! [Illustration: TRAGHETTO OF S. ZOBENIGO, GRAND CANAL] S. Giorgio has a few pictures, chief of which are the two greatTintorettos in the choir. These are, however, very difficult to see. Myown efforts once led me myself to open the gates and enter, so that Imight be nearer and in better light: a proceeding which turned thesacristan from a servant of God into an ugly brawler. A gift of money, however, returned him to his rightful status; but he is a churlishfellow. I mention the circumstance because it is isolated in myVenetian wanderings. No other sacristan ever suggested that the wholechurch was not equally free or resented any unaccompanied exploration. The Tintorettos belong to his most spacious and dramatic style. One, "The Last Supper, " is a busy scene of conviviality. The company is allat one side of the table and the two ends, except the wretchedforedoomed Judas. There is plenty to eat. Attendants bustle aboutbringing more food. A girl, superbly drawn and painted, washes plates, with a cat beside her. A dog steals a bone. The disciples seem restlessand the air is filled with angels. Compared with the intensity andsingle-mindedness of Leonardo, this is a commonplace rendering; but asan illustration to the Venetian Bible, it is fine; and as a work of artby a mighty and original genius glorying in difficulties of light andshade, it is tremendous. Opposite is a quieter representation of themiracle of the manna, which has very charming details of a domesticcharacter in it, the women who wash and sew and carry on otheremployments being done with splendid ease and naturalness. The mannalies about like little buttons; Moses discourses in the foreground; inthe distance is the Israelite host. All that the picture lacks is light:a double portion: light to fall on it, and its own light to be allowedto shine through the grime of ages. Tintoretto also has two altar-pieces here, one an "Entombment, " in theMortuary Chapel--very rich and grave and painful, in which Christ'smother is seen swooning in the background; and the other a death of S. Stephen, a subject rare with the Old Masters, but one which, were thereoccasion to paint it, they must have enjoyed. Tintoretto has covered theground with stones. The choir is famous for its series of forty-six carved panels, representing scenes in the life of S. Benedict; but some vandal havingrecently injured one or two, the visitor is no longer allowed toapproach near enough to examine them with the thoroughness that theydemand and deserve. They are the work of a carver named Albert de Brule, of whose life I have been able to discover nothing. Since beforestudying them it is well to know something of the Saint's career, I tellthe story here, from _The Golden Legend_, but not all the incidentswhich the artist fixed upon are to be found in that biography. Benedict as a child was sent to Rome to be educated, but he preferredthe desert. Hither his nurse accompanied him, and his first token ofsignal holiness was his answered prayer that a pitcher which she hadbroken might be made whole again. Leaving his nurse, he associated witha hermit who lived in a pit to which food was lowered by a rope. Near bydwelt a priest, who one day made a great meal for himself, but before hecould eat it he received a supernatural intimation that Benedict washungry in a pit, and he therefore took his dinner to him and they ate ittogether. A blackbird once assailing Benedict's face was repelled by thesign of the cross. Being tempted by a woman, Benedict crawled aboutamong briars and nettles to maintain his Spartan spirit. He now becamethe abbot of a monastery, but the monks were so worldly that he had tocorrect them. In retaliation they poisoned his wine, but the saintmaking the sign of the cross over it, the glass broke in pieces and thewine was innocuously spilt. Thereupon Benedict left the monastery andreturned to the desert, where he founded two abbeys and drove the devilout of a monk who could not endure long prayers, his method being tobeat the monk. Here also, and in the other abbeys which he founded, heworked many miracles: making iron swim, restoring life to the dead, andso forth. Another attempt to poison him, this time with bread, was made, but the deadly stuff was carried away from him by a pet raven. For therest of the saint's many wonderful deeds of piety you must seek _TheGolden Legend_: an agreeable task. He died in the year 518. The best or most entertaining panels seem to me the first, in which thelittle bald baby saint is being washed and his mother is being coaxed toeat something; the fourth, where we see the saint, now a youth, on hisknees; the sixth, where he occupies the hermit's cell and the hermitlets down food; the seventh, where the hermit and Benedict occupy thecell together and a huntsman and dog pursue their game above; the tenth, in the monastery; the twelfth, where the whip is being laid on; thefourteenth, with an especially good figure of Benedict; the sixteenth, where the meal is spread; the twentieth, with the devil on the treetrunk; the twenty-first, when the fire is being extinguished; thetwenty-fifth, with soldiers in the distance; the twenty-seventh, with afine cloaked figure; the twenty-eighth, where there is a struggle for astaff; the thirtieth, showing the dormitory and a cat and mouse; thethirty-second, a burial scene; the thirty-third, with its monsters; thethirty-sixth, in which the beggar is very good; the thirty-ninth, wherethe soldiers kiss the saint's feet; and the forty-fourth, showing theservice in the church and the soldiers' arms piled up. One would like to know more of this Albert de Brule and his work: howlong it took; why he did it; how it came to Venice; and so forth. Thedate, which applies, I suppose, to the installation of the carvings, is1598. The other carvings are by other hands: the S. George and dragon on thelectern in the choir, and the little courageous boys driving Behemothson the stalls. As one leaves the church by the central aisle the Dogana is seen framedby the doorway. With each step more of Venice comes into view. TheCampanile is worth climbing for its lovely prospect. From the little island of S. Giorgio it is but a stone's throw to thelarger island of the Giudecca, with its factories and warehouses andstevedores, and tiny cafés each with a bowling alley at the back. TheGiudecca, which looks so populous, is however only skin deep; almostimmediately behind the long busy façade of the island are gardens, andthen the shallow lagoon stretching for miles, where fishermen aremysteriously employed, day and night. The gardens are restful ratherthan beautiful--at least that one, open to visitors, on the Rio dellaCroce, may be thus described, for it is formal in its parallelogramsdivided by gritty paths, and its flowers are crudely coloured. But ithas fine old twisted mulberry trees, and a long walk beside the water, where lizards dart among the stones on the land side and on the othercrabs may be seen creeping. On the way to this garden I stopped to watch a family of gossipingbead-workers. The old woman who sat in the door did not thread the beadsas the girl does in one of Whistler's Venetian etchings, but stabbed abasketful with a wire, each time gathering a few more. The great outstanding buildings of the Giudecca are Palladio's massiveRedentore and S. Eufemia, and at the west end the modern Gothic polentamill of Signor or Herr Stucky, beyond which is the lagoon once more. InTurner's picture in the National Gallery entitled "San Benedetto, looking towards Fusina" there is a ruined tower where Stucky's mill nowstands. The steps of the Redentore are noble, but within it is vast and cold andinhuman, and the statues in its niches are painted on the flat. Tintoretto's "Descent from the Cross" in the church proper is veryvivid. In the sacristy, however, the chilled visitor will be restored tolife by a truly delightful Madonna and Child, with two little celestialmusicians playing a lullaby, said to be by Bellini, but more probably byAlvise Vivarini, and two companion pictures of much charm. Like theSalute, the Redentore was a votive offering to heaven for stopping aplague. Every year, on the third Sunday in July, a bridge of boatscrosses the Grand Canal at the Campo S. Zobenigo, and then from theZattere it crosses the Giudecca canal to this church. That day and nightthe island is _en fête_. Originally these bridges were constructed inorder that the Doges might attend a solemn service; but to-day theoccasion is chiefly one of high spirits. In the gallery of the PalazzoPesaro is a painting representing the event at a recent date; in theQuerini Stampalia gallery a more ancient procession may be seen. There, too, are many views of regattas which of old were held on theGrand Canal but now belong to the canal of the Giudecca. The Venetians, who love these races, assemble in great numbers, both on the water, inevery variety of craft, and on the quay. The winning-post is off the endof the island of S. Giorgio; the races start from varying points towardsthe harbour. In April I saw races for six oars, four oars, two oars, andmen-of-war's boats. The ordinary rowers were dull, but the powerfulbending gondoliers urging their frail craft along with tremendousstrokes in unison were a magnificent spectacle. The excitement wasintense towards the end, but there was no close finish. Between theraces the exchange of chaff among the spectators was continuous. The question of where to live in Venice must, I think, be a difficultone to solve. I mean by live, to make one's home, as so many English andAmericans have done. At the first blush, of course, one would say on theGrand Canal; but there are objections to this. It is noisy withsteamboat whistles and motor horns, and will become noisier every dayand night, as the motor gains increasing popularity. On the other hand, one must not forget that so fine a Venetian taster as Mr. Howells haswritten, "for myself I must count as half lost the year spent in Venicebefore I took a house upon the Grand Canal. " Personally, I think, I should seek my home elsewhere. There is a houseon this Giudecca--a little way along from the S. Giorgio end--whichshould make a charming abode; for it has good windows over the water, immediately facing, first, the little forest of masts by the CustomHouse, and then the Molo and the Ducal Palace, and upon it in theevening would fall the sinking sun, while behind it is a pleasantgarden. The drawbacks are the blasts of the big steamers entering andleaving the harbour, the contiguity of some rather noisy works, and theinfrequency of steamboats to the mainland. Ruskin was fond of this view. Writing to old Samuel Rogers, he said:"There was only one place in Venice which I never lost the feeling ofjoy in--at least the pleasure which is better than joy; and that wasjust half way between the end of the Giudecca and St. George of theSeaweed, at sunset. If you tie your boat to one of the posts there youcan see the Euganeans where the sun goes down, and all the Alps andVenice behind you by the rosy sunlight: there is no other spot sobeautiful. Near the Armenian convent is, however, very good too also;the city is handsomer, but the place is not so simple and lovely. I havegot all the right feeling back now, however; and hope to write a word ortwo about Venice yet, when I have got the mouldings well out of myhead--and the mud. For the fact is, with reverence be it spoken, thatwhereas Rogers says: 'There is a glorious city in the Sea, ' a truthfulperson must say, 'There is a glorious city in the mud'. It is startlingat first to say so, but it goes well enough with marble. 'Oh, Queen ofMarble and of Mud. '" Another delectable house is that one, on the island of S. GiorgioMaggiore; which looks right up the Giudecca canal and in the lateafternoon flings back the sun's rays. But that is the property of thearmy. Another is at the corner of the Rio di S. Trovaso and theFondamenta delle Zaterre, with wistaria on it, looking over to theRedentore; but every one, I find, wants this. CHAPTER XX ON FOOT. II: THREE CHURCHES AND CARPACCIO AGAIN The Ponte di Paglia--A gondolier's shrine--The modernprison--Danieli's--A Canaletto--S. Zaccaria--A good Bellini--A funeralservice--Alessandro Vittorio--S. Giovanni in Bragora--A good Cima--Thebest little room--A seamen's institute--Carpaccio at his best--The storyof the dragon--The saint triumphant--The story of S. George--S. Jeromeand the lion--S. Jerome and the dog--S. Tryphonius and the basilisk--S. Francesco della Vigna--Brother Antonio's picture--The Giustinianireliefs--Cloisters--A Veronese--Doge Andrea Gritti--Doge NiccolòSagredo. I propose that we should walk from the Molo to S. Francesco della Vigna. Our first bridge is the Ponte di Paglia (or straw), the wide and easyglistening bridge which spans the Rio del Palazzo at the Noah corner ofthe Doges' Palace. Next to the Rialto, this is the busiest bridge in thecity. Beautiful in itself, it commands great beauty too, for on thenorth side you see the Bridge of Sighs and on the south the lagoon. Onits lagoon façade is a relief of a primitive gondola and the Madonna andChild, but I have never seen a gondolier recognizing the existence ofthis symbol of celestial interest in his calling. The stern building at the corner of this bridge is the prison, withaccommodation for over two hundred prisoners. Leaning one day over thePonte di Paglia I saw one being brought in, in a barca with a greenbox--as we should say, a Black and Green Maria. I cannot resist quotingCoryat's lyrical passage in praise of what to most of us is as sinistera building as could be imagined. "There is near unto the Dukes Palace avery faire prison, the fairest absolutely that ever I saw, being dividedfrom the Palace by a little channell of water, and againe joyned unto itby a merveilous faire little gallery that is inserted aloft into themiddest of the Palace wall East-ward. [He means the Bridge of Sighs. ] Ithinke there is not a fairer prison in all Christendome: it is builtwith very faire white ashler stone, having a little walke without theroomes of the prison which is forty paces long and seven broad. .. . It isaltogether impossible for the prisoners to get forth. " The next important building is the famous hotel known as Danieli's, oncea palace, which has its place in literature as having afforded a shelterto those feverish and capricious lovers, George Sand and Alfred deMusset. Every one else has stayed there too, but these are the classicguests. If you want to see what Danieli's was like before it became ahotel you have only to look at No. 940 in the National Gallery byCanaletto. This picture tells us also that the arches of the Doges'Palace on the canal side were used by stall-holders. To-day they aremerely a shelter from sun or rain and a resting-place, and often you maysee a gondolier eating his lunch there. In this picture of Canaletto's, by the way, the loafers have gathered at the foot of the Lion's columnexactly as now they do, while the balcony of the great south window ofthe palace has just such a little knot of people enjoying the prospect;but whether they were there naturally or at the invitation of acustodian eager for a tip (as now) we shall not know. The first calle after Danieli's brings us to S. Zaccaria, one of the fewVenetian churches with any marble on its façade. S. Zaccaria has nolonger the importance it had when the Doge visited it in state everyEaster. It is now chiefly famous for its very beautiful Bellinialtar-piece, of which I give a reproduction on the opposite page. Thepicture in its grouping is typical of its painter, and nothing from hishand has a more pervading sweetness. The musical angel at the foot ofthe throne is among his best and the bland old men are more righteousthan rectitude itself. To see this altar-piece aright one must go in theearly morning: as I did on my first visit, only to find the centralaisle given up to a funeral mass. The coffin was in the midst, and about it, on their knees, were thefamily, a typical gondolier all in black being the chief mourner. Suchprayers as he might have been uttering were constantly broken into bythe repeated calls of an attendant with a box for alms, and it wasinteresting to watch the struggle going on in the simple fellow's mindbetween native prudence and good form. How much he ought to give?Whether it was quite the thing to bring the box so often and at such aseason? Whether shaking it so noisily was not peculiarly tactless? Whatthe spectators and church officials would think if he refused? Could herefuse? and, However much were these obsequies going to cost?--thesequestions one could discern revolving almost visibly beneath hisshort-haired scalp. At last the priests left the high altar and camedown to the coffin, to sprinkle it and do whatever was now possible forits occupant; and in a few minutes the church was empty save for theundertaker's men, myself, and the Bellini. It is truly a lovely picture, although perhaps a thought too mild, and one should go often to see it. [Illustration: MADONNA AND CHILD WITH SAINTSFROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI_In the Church of S. Zaccaria_] The sculptor Alessandro Vittoria, who did so much to perpetuate thefeatures of great Venetians and was the friend of so many artists, including Tintoretto and Paul Veronese, is buried here. The floor slabsof red stone with beautiful lettering should be noticed; but all overVenice such memorials have a noble dignity and simplicity. It will be remembered that the site of this church was determined by thevision of Bishop Magnus, S. John appearing to him and commanding it tobe built in honour of his father. The first structure probably datesfrom the seventh century; the present is fifteenth century, and beneathit is the ancient crypt adjoining the chapel of S. Tarasio, where in thetwelfth century a hundred nuns seeking refuge from a fire weresuffocated. In the chapel are ecclesiastical paintings, but no properprovision is made for seeing them. Eight Doges lie in S. Zaccaria. Outside I found a great crowd to see the embarcation of the corpse forits last home, the Campo Santo. This, I may say, was rather a latefuneral. Most of them are at eight or even earlier. It is best now to return to the Riva by the calle which comes out besideDanieli's and then walk Lido-wards over two bridges and take the firstcalle after them. This brings us to S. Giovanni in Bragora, S. John'sown church, built according to his instructions to Bishop Magnus, and ithas one of the keenest little sacristans in Venice. From altar to altarhe bustles, fixing you in the best positions for light. The greatpicture here is the Cima behind the high altar, of which I give areproduction opposite page 136. A little perch has been made, the betterto see it. It represents "The Baptism of Christ, " and must in its heydayhave been very beautiful. Christ stands at the edge of the water and theBaptist holds a little bowl--very different scene from that mosaicversion in S. Mark's where Christ is half submerged. It has a sky fullof cherubs, delectable mountains and towns in the distance, and allCima's sweetness; and when the picture cleaning millionaire, of whom Ispeak elsewhere, has done his work it will be a joy. There is also afine Bartolommeo Vivarini here, and the sacristan insists on youradmiring a very ornate font which he says is by Sansovino. As you leave, ask him the way to S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni, which isclose by, and prepare to be very happy. I have said something about the most beautiful spacious places inVenice--S. Mark's, the Doges' Palace, the Scuola di S. Rocco, and soforth; we now come to what is, without question, the most fascinatingsmall room in Venice. It is no bigger than a billiard-room and unhappilyvery dark, with a wooden ceiling done in brown, gold, and blue; an altarwith a blue and gold canopy; rich panels on the walls; and as a frieze anumber of paintings by Vittore Carpaccio, which, in my opinion, transcend in interest the S. Ursula series at the Accademia. The story of the little precious room is this. In the multitude ofseafaring men who in the course of their trade came to Venice withcargoes or for cargoes were a large number of Dalmatians, orSclavonians, whose ships lay as a rule opposite that part of the citywhich is known as the Riva degli Schiavoni. Their lot being somewhatnoticeably hard, a few wealthy Dalmatian merchants decided in 1451 tomake a kind of Seamen's Institute (as we should now say), and a littlebuilding was the result of this effort, the patron saints of the altarin it being S. George and S. Tryphonius. Fifty years later the original"Institute" was rebuilt and Carpaccio was called in to decorate it. The most famous of the pictures are those on the left wall as youenter--S. George attacking the dragon, S. George subduing the dragon, and (on the end wall) S. George baptising the king and princess. Theseare not only lovely autumnal schemes of colour, but they are perfectillustrations to a fairy tale, for no artist has ever equalled thisVenetian in the art of being entertaining. Look at the spirit of thefirst picture: the onset of both antagonists; and then examine thedetail--the remains of the dragon's victims, the half-consumed maidens;the princess in despair; the ships on the sea; the adorable citymounting up and up the hill, with spectators at every balcony. (Ireproduce it opposite page 212). And then in the next how Carpaccio musthave enjoyed his work on the costumes! Look at the crowds, the band infull blast, the restless horses which like dragons no more than theylike bears. The third, although the subject is less entertaining, shows no decreaseof liveliness. Carpaccio's humour underlies every touch of colour. Thedog's averted face is one of the funniest things in art--a dog withsceptical views as to baptism!--and the band is hard at it, even thoughthe ceremony, which, from the size of the vase, promises to be verythorough, is beginning. S. George is a link between Venice and England, for we both honour himas a patron. He is to be seen in pictures again and again in Venetianchurches, but these three scenes by Carpaccio are the finest. The Saintwas a Cappadocian gentleman and the dragon ranged and terrorized theLibyan desert. Every day the people of the city which the dragon mostaffected bribed him away with two sheep. When the sheep gave out a manwas substituted. Then children and young people, to be selected by lot, and the lot in time fell on the king's daughter. The king in despairoffered his subjects gold and silver instead, but they refused sayingthat it was his own law and must be obeyed. They gave her, however(this, though from the lives of the saints, is sheer fairy tale, isn'tit?) eight days grace, in which anything might happen; but nothinghappened, and so she was led out to the dragon's lair. As she stood there waiting to be devoured, S. George passed by. He askedher what she was doing, and she replied by imploring him to run or thedragon would eat him too. But S. George refused, and instead swore torescue her and the city in the name (and here the fairy tale disappears)of Jesus Christ. The dragon then advancing, S. George spurred his horse, charged and wounded him grievously with his spear. (On English goldcoins, as we all know to our shame, he is given nothing but a shortdagger which could not reach the enemy at all; Carpaccio knew better. )Most of the painters make this stroke of the saint decisive; accordingto them, S. George thrust at the dragon and all was over. But the truestory, as Caxton and Carpaccio knew, is, that having wounded the dragon, S. George took the maiden's girdle and tied it round the creature'sneck, and it became "a meek beast and debonair, " and she led it into thecity. (Carpaccio makes the saint himself its leader. ) The people wereterrified and fled, but S. George reassured them, and promised that ifthey would be baptised and believe in Jesus Christ he would slay thedragon once and for all. They promised, and he smote off its head; andin the third picture we see him baptising. I have given the charming story as _The Golden Legend_ tells it; but onemay also hold the opinion, more acceptable to the orthodox hagiologist, that the dreadful monster was merely symbolical of sin. [Illustration: S. GEORGE AND THE DRAGONFROM THE PAINTING BY CARPACCIO_At S. Giorgio dei Schiavoni_] As for S. George himself, the most picturesque and comely of all thesaints and one whom all the nations reverence, he was born inCappadocia, in the third century, of noble Christian parents. Becoming asoldier in Diocletian's army he was made a tribune or colonel. TheEmperor showed him marks of especial favour, but when the imperialforces were turned against the Christians, George remonstrated andrefused. He was therefore beheaded. For broad comedy the picture of S. Jerome and the lion on the right wallis the best. The story tells us that S. Jerome was one day sitting withthe brethren listening to a holy lesson when a lion came hobblingpainfully into the monastery. The brethren fled, but S. Jerome, likeAndrocles, approached the beast, and finding that it had a sore foot, commanded the others to return and minister to it. This they did, andthe lion was ever attached to the monastery, one of its duties being totake care of an ass. Carpaccio has not spared the monks: he makes theirterror utterly absurd in the presence of so puzzled and gentle aman-eater. In the next picture, the death of the saint, we see the lionagain, asleep on the right, and the donkey quietly grazing at the back. As an impressive picture of the death of a good man it can hardly becalled successful; but how could it be, coming immediately after thecomic Jerome whom we have just seen? Carpaccio's mischief was a littletoo much for him--look at the pince-nez of the monk on the right readingthe service. Then we have S. Jerome many years younger, busy at his desk. He is justthinking of a word when (the camera, I almost said) when Carpacciocaught him. His tiny dog gazes at him with fascination. Not badsurroundings for a saint, are they? A comfortable study, with a moreprivate study leading from it; books; scientific instruments; music;works of art (note the little pagan bronze on the shelf); and anexceedingly amusing dog. I reproduce the picture opposite page 82. Two pictures with scriptural subjects represent Christ in the garden ofGethsemane, and Matthew (an Evangelist rarely painted in Venice, wherehis colleague Mark has all the attention) being called from the receiptof custom. And finally there is the delightful and vivid representationof S. Tryphonius and the basilisk. This picture, of which I give areproduction opposite page 76, is both charming and funny. The basiliskis surely in the highest rank of the comic beasts of art. It seems to besinging, but that is improbable; what it is unmistakably not doing isbasilisking. The little saint stands by in an attitude of prayer, andall about are comely courtiers of the king. In the distance aredelightful palaces in the Carpaccio style of architecture, cool marblespaces, and crowded windows and stairs. The steps of the raised templein which the saint and the basilisk perform have a beautiful intarsia offoliage similar to that on the Giants' Staircase at the Doges' Palace. So much for the ingredients of this bewitching picture; but as to whatit is all about I have no knowledge, for I have looked in vain amongbooks for any information. I find a S. Tryphonius, but only as a grownman; not a word of his tender years and his grotesque attendant. Howamusing it would be to forget the halo and set the picture as a themeamong a class of fanciful fantastic writers, to fit it with anappropriate fairy story! For of course it is as absolute a fairy taleillustration as the dragon pictures on the other wall. It is now well to ask the way to S. Francesco della Vigna, where weshall find S. Jerome and his lion again. This vast church, with itspretentious and very unwelcoming façade by Palladio covering thefriendly red brick, is at the first sight unattractive, so huge andcold and deserted is it. But it has details. It has, for example, justinside the door on the entrance wall, high up, a very beautiful earlyChristian coloured relief of the Madonna and Child: white on blue, butfar earlier than the Delia Robbias. The Madonna is slender as a pole butmemorably sweet. It has also a curious great altar picture on wood by astrange painter, Frater Antonius da Negropoñ, as he signs himself--thisin a little chapel in the right transept--with most charming details ofbirds, and flowers, and scrolls, and monochrome reliefs surrounding aMadonna and Child who beam comfort and assurance of joy. The date issupposed to be about 1450 and the source of Brother Antonio'sinspiration must have been similar to that of the great Mantegna's. There are also the very delightful marble pictures in the chapel of theGiustiniani family to the left of the choir, the work of the Lombardi. About the walls are the evangelists and prophets (S. John no more than abeautiful and sensitive boy), while over the altar are scenes in thelife of S. Jerome, whom we again see with his lion. In one relief heextracts the thorn from its foot; in another the lion assists in holdingup the theological work which the saint is perusing, while in his otherhand the saint poises a model of the church and campanile of S. Zaccaria. Below, on the altar cloth, is a Last Judgment, with theprettiest little angel boys to sound the dreadful trumps. To these mustbe added two pictures by Paul Veronese, one with a kneeling woman in itwho at once brings to mind the S. Helena in our National Gallery. Furthermore, in the little Cappella Santa is a rich and lovely GiovanniBellini, with sacred relics in jars above and below it, and outside isthe gay little cloistered garden of the still existing monastery, witha figure of S. Francis in the midst of its greenery. So much for the more ingratiating details of this great church, whichare displayed with much spirit by a young sacristan who is something ofa linguist: his English consisting of the three phrases: "Good morning, ""Very nice, " and "Come on!" The great church has also various tombs of Doges, the most splendidbeing that noble floor slab in front of the high altar, beneath whichrepose the bones of Marcantonio Trevisan (1553-1554). What Trevisan waslike may be learned from the relief over the sacristy entrance, where hekneels to the crucifix. He made no mark on his times. Andrea Gritti(1523-1538), who also is buried here, was a more noticeable ruler, aborn monarch who had a good diplomatic and fighting training abroadbefore he came to the throne. He was generous, long-memoried, astute, jovial, angry, healthy, voluptuous and an enthusiast for his country. Henot only did all that he could for Venice (and one of his unfulfilledprojects was to extend the Ducal Palace to absorb the prison) but he wasquite capable of single-handed negotiations with foreign rulers. Other Doges who lie here are the two Contarini, Francesco (1623-1624)and Alvise (1676-1684), but neither was of account; and here, too, inhis own chapel lies Alvise's predecessor, Niccolò Sagredo (1674-1676)who had trouble in Candia for his constant companion. Of the Giustinianionly Marcantonio became a Doge and he succeeded Alvise Contarini notonly to the throne but to the Candia difficulty, giving way after fouryears, in 1688, to the great soldier who solved it--Francesco Morosini. CHAPTER XXI ON FOOT. III. THE MERCERIA AND THE RIALTO Walking in Venice--The late Colonel Douglas--Shops--The Merceriaclock--S. Zulian--S. Salvatore--Sansovino--Carlo Goldoni--the CampoBartolommeo and Mr. Howells--S. Giovanni Crisostomo--Piombo andGiorgione--A Sacristan artist--Marino Faliero's house--SS. Apostoli andTiepolo--Venetian skittles--A broad walk--Filled in canals--The RialtoBridge--S. Giacomo di Rialto--The two Ghettos--The Rialtohunchback--Vegetables and fruits--The fish market--Symmetrical irony--S. Giovanni Elemosinario--A busy thoroughfare--Old books--The convivialgondoliers. The best of Venice--Venice itself, that is--can never find its way intoa book; and even if it did, no reader could extract it again. The bestof Venice must be one's own discovery and one's own possession; and onemust seek it, as Browning loved to do, in the narrow calli, in the tinycanals, in the smaller campi, or seated idly on bridges careless oftime. Chiefly on foot does one realize the inner Venice. I make no effort in this work to pass on any detailed account of myresearches in this way. All I would say is that every calle leads toanother; there is hardly a dull inch in the whole city; and for theweary some kind of resting-place--a church, a wine shop, a café, or astone step--is always close by. If you are lost--and in Venice in thepoorer populous districts a map is merely an aggravation of dismay, while there is no really good map of the city to be obtained--there isbut one thing to do and that is to go on. Before very long you must ofnecessity come to a calle with more traffic than the others and then youneed but flow with the stream to reach some recognizable centre; ormerely say "San Marco" or "gondola" to the first boy and he willconsider it a privilege to guide you. Do not, however give up before youmust, for it is a privilege to be lost in Venice. For those who prefer exercise to sitting in a gondola there is thestimulating and instructive book by the late Col. Douglas, _Venice onFoot_, which is a mine of information and interest; but I must admitthat the title is against it. Youthful travellers in particular willhave none of it. If Venice is anything at all to them, it is a city ofwater, every footstep in which is an act of treachery to romance. Even they, however, are pleased to jostle in the Merceria. [Illustration: THE GRAND CANAL, SHOWING S. MARIA DELLA SALUTE] The shops of Venice, I may say at once, are not good. They satisfy theVenetians, no doubt, but the Venetians are not hard to please; there isno Bond Street or Rue de la Paix. But a busy shopping centre alwaysbeing amusing, the Merceria and Frezzeria become attractive haunts ofthe stranger; the Merceria particularly so. To gain this happy huntingground one must melt away with the crowd through the gateway under thefamous blue clock, which is worth a visit on account of its two bronzegiants: one punctual and one late, for that one on the left of the bell, as we face the tower from the Piazza, is always a minute or two afterhis brother in striking the hours. The right hand giant strikes first, swinging all his upper part as he does so; and then the other. Fromtheir attitude much of Venice is revealed, but only the thin can enjoythis view, such being the narrowness of the winding stairs and doorwayby which it is gained. At Easter a procession of mechanical figuresbelow the clock-face delights the spectators. It was while Coryat was in Venice that one of these giants, I know notwhich, performed a deed of fatal savagery. The traveller thus describesit: "A certaine fellow that had the charge to looke to the clocke, wasvery busie about the bell, according to his usuall custome every day, tothe end to amend something in it that was amisse. But in the meane timeone of those wilde men that at the quarters of the howers doe use tostrike the bell, strooke the man in the head with his brazen hammer, giving him such a violent blow, that therewith he fell down deadpresently in his place, and never spake more. " At the third turning to the right out of the Merceria is the church ofS. Giuliano, or S. Zulian, which the great Sansovino built. One evening, hearing singing as I passed, I entered, but found standing-room only, and that only with the greatest discomfort. Yet the congregation was sohappy and the scene was so animated that I stayed on and on--long enoughat any rate for the offertory box to reach me three separate times. Every one present was either poor or on the borders of poverty; and thefervour was almost that of a salvation army meeting. And why not, sincethe religion both of the Pope and of General Booth was pre-eminentlydesigned for the poor? I came away with a tiny coloured picture of theVirgin and more fleas than I ever before entertained at the same time. At the end of the Merceria is S. Salvatore, a big quiet church in theRenaissance style, containing the ashes of S. Theodore, the tombs ofvarious Doges, and a good Bellini: a warm, rich, and very human scene ofa wayside inn at Emmaus and Christ appearing there. An "Annunciation" byTitian is in the church proper, painted when he was getting very old, and framed by Sansovino; a "Transfiguration" by Titian is in the prettysacristy, which, like many of the Venetian churches, is presided over bya dwarf. A procession of Venetian sacristans would, by the way, be astrange and grotesque spectacle. The best of the S. Salvatore monuments is that by Sansovino of DogeFrancesco Venier (1554-1556), with beautiful figures in the niches fromthe same hand--that of Charity, on the left, being singularly sweet. When Sansovino made these he was nearly eighty. Sansovino also designedthe fine doorway beneath the organ. The most imposing monuments arethose of Caterina Cornaro (or Corner) the deposed queen of Cyprus, inthe south transept; of three Cardinals of the Corner family; and of theDoges Lorenzo and Girolamo Priuli, each with his patron saint above him. The oddity of its architecture, together with its situation at a pointwhere a little silence is peculiarly grateful, makes this church afavourite of mine, but there are many buildings in Venice which are morebeautiful. Opposite, diagonally, is one of the depressing sights of Venice, achurch turned into a cinema. Leaving S. Salvatore by the main door and turning to the left, we sooncome (past a hat shop which offers "Rooswelts" at 2. 45 each), to theGoldoni Theatre. Leaving San Salvatore by the same door and turning tothe right, we come to Goldoni himself, in bronze, in the midst of theCampo S. Bartolommeo: the little brisk observant satirist upon whomBrowning wrote the admirably critical sonnet which I quote earlier inthis book. The comedies of Carlo Goldoni (1707-1793) still hold the Italian stage, but so far as translations can tell me they are very far from justifyingany comparison between himself and Molière. Goldoni's _Autobiography_is not a very entertaining work, but it is told with the engagingminuteness which seems to have been a Venetian trait. The church of S. Bartolommeo contains altar pieces by Giorgione's pupil, Sebastian del Piombo, but there is no light by which to see them. It was in this campo that Mr. Howells had rooms before he married andblossomed out on the Grand Canal, and his description of the life hereis still so good and so true, although fifty years have passed, that Imake bold to quote it, not only to enrich my own pages, but in the hopethat the tastes of the urbane American book which I give now and thenmay send readers to it. The campo has changed little except that theconquering Austrians have gone and Goldoni's statue is now here. Mr. Howells thus describes it: "Before the winter passed, I had changed myhabitation from rooms near the Piazza to quarters on the Campo SanBartolommeo, through which the busiest street in Venice passes, from S. Mark's to the Rialto Bridge. It is one of the smallest squares of thecity, and the very noisiest, and here the spring came with intolerableuproar. I had taken my rooms early in March, when the tumult under mywindows amounted only to a cheerful stir, and made company for me; butwhen the winter broke, and the windows were opened, I found that I hadtoo much society. "Each campo in Venice is a little city, self-contained and independent. Each has its church, of which it was in the earliest times theburial-ground; and each within its limits compasses an apothecary'sshop, a blacksmith's and shoemaker's shop, a caffè more or lessbrilliant, a greengrocer's and fruiterer's, a family grocery--nay, thereis also a second-hand merchant's shop where you buy and sell every kindof worn out thing at the lowest rates. Of course there is acoppersmith's and a watchmaker's, and pretty certainly a wood carver'sand gilder's, while without a barber's shop no campo could preserve itsintegrity or inform itself of the social and political news of the day. In addition to all these elements of bustle and disturbance, SanBartolommeo swarmed with the traffic and rang with the bargains of theRialto market. "Here the small dealer makes up in boastful clamour for the absence ofquantity and assortment in his wares; and it often happens that analmost imperceptible boy, with a card of shirt buttons and a paper ofhair pins, is much worse than the Anvil Chorus with real anvils. Fishermen, with baskets of fish upon their heads; peddlers, with traysof housewife wares; louts who dragged baskets of lemons and oranges backand forth by long cords; men who sold water by the glass; charlatans whoadvertised cement for mending broken dishes, and drops for the cure oftoothache; jugglers who spread their carpets and arranged their templesof magic upon the ground; organists who ground their organs; and poetsof the people who brought out new songs, and sang and sold them to thecrowd--these were the children of confusion, whom the pleasant sun andfriendly air woke to frantic and interminable uproar in San Bartolommeo. "In San Bartolommeo, as in other squares, the buildings are palacesabove and shops below. The ground floor is devoted to the small commerceof various kinds already mentioned; the first story above is occupied bytradesmen's families; and on the third or fourth is the appartimentosignorile. From the balconies of these stories hung the cages ofinnumerable finches, canaries, blackbirds, and savage parrots, whichsang and screamed with delight in the noise that rose from the crowd. All the human life, therefore, which the spring drew to the casementswas perceptible only in dumb show. One of the palaces opposite was usedas a hotel, and faces continually appeared at the windows. By all theodds the most interesting figure there was that of a stout peasantserving-girl, dressed in a white knitted jacket, a crimson neckerchief, and a bright coloured gown, and wearing long dangling earrings ofyellowest gold. For hours this idle maiden balanced herself half overthe balcony rail in perusal of the people under her, and I suspect madelove at that distance, and in that constrained position, to some one inthe crowd. On another balcony a lady sat; at the window of still anotherhouse, a damsel now looked out upon the square, and now gave a glanceinto the room, in the evident direction of a mirror. Venetian neighbourshave the amiable custom of studying one another's features throughopera-glasses; but I could not persuade myself to use this means oflearning the mirror's response to the damsel's constant "Fair or not?"being a believer in every woman's right to look well a little way off. Ishunned whatever trifling temptation there was in the case, and turnedagain to the campo beneath--to the placid dandies about the door of thecafé; to the tide of passers-by from the Merceria; the smooth shavenVenetians of other days, and the bearded Venetians of these; thedark-eyed white-faced Venetians, hooped in cruel disproportion to thenarrow streets, but richly clad, and moving with southern grace; thefiles of heavily burdened soldiers; the little policemen loiteringlazily about with their swords at their sides, and in their spotlessAustrian uniforms. " Having reached Goldoni's statue there are two courses open to us if weare in a mood for walking. One is to cross the Rialto bridge and jointhe stream which always fills the narrow busy calli that run parallelwith the Grand Canal to the Frari. The other is to leave this campo atthe far end, at Goldoni's back, and join the stream which is alwaysflowing backwards and forwards along the new Via Vittorio Emmanuele. [Illustration: S. CHRISTOPHER, S. JEROME AND S. AUGUSTINEFROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI_In the Church of S. Giov. Crisostomo_] Let me describe both routes, beginning with the second. A few yardsafter leaving the campo we come on the right to the little church of S. Giovanni Crisostomo where there are two unusually delightful pictures: aSebastiano del Piombo and a Bellini, with a keen little sacristan whoenjoys displaying their beauties and places you in the best light. TheBellini is his last signed work, and was painted when the old man was inhis eighty-fifth year. The restorer has been at it, but not to itsdetriment. S. Christopher, S. Jerome, and S. Augustine are sweetlytogether in a delectable country; S. Christopher (as the photograph onthe opposite page shows) bearing perhaps the most charming Christ Childof all, with his thumb in his mouth. The Piombo--another company ofsaints--over the high altar, is a fine mellow thing with a veryGiorgionesque figure of the Baptist dominating it, and a lovelyGiorgionesque landscape spreading away. The picture (which I reproduceopposite page 116) is known to be the last which Sebastiano paintedbefore he went to Rome and gave up Giorgione's influence for MichaelAngelo's. It has been suggested that Giorgione merely supplied thedesign; but I think one might safely go further and affirm that thepainting of the right side was his too and the left Piombo's. How farPiombo departed from Giorgione's spell and came under the other may beseen in our National Gallery by any visitor standing before No. 1--his"Raising of Lazarus". Very little of the divine chromatic melody ofCastel Franco there! S. Giovanni Crisostomo has also two fine reliefs, one by Tullio Lombardiwith a sweet little Virgin (who, however, is no mother) in it, and thetwelve Apostles gathered about. The sacristan, by the way, is also anamateur artist, and once when I was there he had placed his easel justby the side door and was engaged in laboriously copying in pencilVeronese's "Christ in the House of Levi" (the original being a mileaway, at the Accademia) from an old copper plate, whistling the while. Having no india-rubber he corrected his errors either with a penknife ora dirty thumb. Art was then more his mistress than Pecunia, for on thisoccasion he never left his work, although more than one Baedeker wasflying the red signal of largesse. Continuing on our way we come soon to a point where the Calle Dolfinmeets a canal at right angles, with a large notice tablet like agravestone to keep us from falling into the water. It bears an ancient, and I imagine, obsolete, injunction with regard to the sale of bread byunauthorized persons. Turning to the left we are beneath the arcade ofthe house of the ill-fated Marino Faliero, the Doge who was put to deathfor treason, as I have related elsewhere. It is now shops and tenements. Opposite is the church of SS. Apostoli, which is proud of possessing analtar-piece by Tiepolo which some think his finest work, and of whichthe late John Addington Symonds wrote in terms of excessive rapture. Itrepresents the last communion of S. Lucy, whose eyes were put out. Hereyes are here, in fact, on a plate. No one can deny the masterly drawingand grouping of the picture, but, like all Tiepolo's work, it leaves mecold. I do not suggest the diversion at this moment; but from SS. Apostolione easily gains the Fondamenta Nuovo, on the way passing through arather opener Venice where canals are completely forgotten. Hereaboutsare two or three popular drinking places with gardens, and on one Sundayafternoon I sat for some time in the largest of them--the Trattoria allaLibra--watching several games of bowls--the giuocho di bocca--in fullswing. The Venetian workman--and indeed the Italian workmangenerally--is never so happy as when playing this game, or perhaps he ishappiest when--ball in hand--he discusses with his allies various linesof strategy. The Giudecca is another stronghold of the game, everylittle bar there having a stamped-down bowling alley at the back of it. The longest direct broad walk in Venice--longer than the Riva--begins atSS. Apostoli and extends to the railway station. The name of the streetis the Via Vittorio Emmanuele, and in order to obtain it many canals hadto be filled-in. To the loss of canals the visitor is never reconciled. Wherever one sees the words Rio Terra before the name of a calle, oneknows that it is a filled-in canal. For perhaps the best example of thepicturesque loss which this filling-in entails one should seek the RioTerra delle Colonne, which runs out of the Calle dei Fabri close to thePiazza of S. Mark. When this curved row of pillars was at the side ofwater it must have been impressive indeed. And now we must return to the Goldoni statue to resume that otheritinerary over the Rialto bridge, which is as much the centre of Veniceby day as S. Mark's Square is by night. In another chapter I speak ofthe bridge as seen from the Grand Canal, which it so nobly leaps. Moreattractive is the Grand Canal as seen from it; and the visitor to Veniceshould spend much time leaning upon the parapet of one side and theother at the highest point. He will have it for the most part tohimself, for the Venetians prefer the middle way between the shops. These shops are, however, very dull--principally cheap clothiers andinferior jewellers--and the two outer tracks are better. From here maybest be seen the façade of the central Post Office, once the Fondaco deiTedeschi splendid with the frescoes of Giorgione and Titian. Thefrescoes have gone and it is now re-faced with stucco. From here, too, the beautiful palace of the Camerlenghi at the edge of the Erberia ismost easily studied. The Rialto bridge itself exerts no spell. It doesnot compare in interest or charm with the Ponte Vecchio of Florence. The busiest and noisiest part of Venice begins at the further foot ofthe bridge, for here are the markets, crowded by housewives with theirbags or baskets, and a thousand busy wayfarers. The little church of the market-place--the oldest in Venice--is S. Giacomo di Rialto, but I have never been able to find it open. Commercenow washes up to its walls and practically engulfs it. A garden is onits roof, and its clock has stopped permanently at four. It was in this campo that the merchants anciently met: here, in thedistrict of the Rialto, and not on the bridge itself, as many readerssuppose, did Antonio transact his business with one Shylock a Jew. Thereare plenty of Jews left in Venice; in fact, I have been told that theyare gradually getting possession of the city, and judging by theirability in that direction elsewhere, I can readily believe it; but I sawnone in the least like the Shylock of the English stage, although Ispent some time both in the New Ghetto and the Old by the Cannaregio. All unwilling I once had the company of a small Jewish boy in agaberdine for the whole way from the New Ghetto to the steamboat stationof S. Toma, his object in life being to acquire for nothing a coinsimilar to one which I had given to another boy who had been reallyuseful. If he avowed once that he was a starving Jewish boy and I was amillionaire, he said it fifty times. Every now and then he paused for ananxious second to throw a somersault. But I was obdurate, and embarkingon the steamer, left the two falsehoods to fight it out. The two Ghettos, by the way, are not interesting; no traveller, missingthem, need feel that he has been in Venice in vain. At the other end of the Rialto campo, opposite the church, is the famoushunchback, the Gobbo of the Rialto, who supports a rostrum from whichthe laws of the Republic were read to the people, after they had beenread, for a wider audience, from the porphyry block at the corner of S. Mark's. Leaving the Gobbo on our left and passing from the campo at theright-hand corner, we come to the great arcaded markets for fruit andvegetables, and further to the wholesale and retail fish markets, all ofwhich are amusing to loiter in, particularly in the early hours of themorning. To the Erberia are all the fruit-laden barges bound, chieflyfrom Malamocco, the short cut from the lagoon being through the Rio delPalazzo beneath the Bridge of Sighs and into the Grand Canal, justopposite us, by the Post Office. The fruit market is busy twice a day, in the early morning and in the late afternoon; the fish market in themorning only. [Illustration: S. MARIA GLORIOSA DEI FRARI] The vegetables and fruit differ according to the seasons; the fish arealways the same. In the autumn, when the quay is piled high with goldenmelons and flaming tomatoes, the sight is perhaps the most splendid. The strangest of the fish to English eyes are the great cuttle-fish, which are sold in long slices. It strikes one as a refinement ofsymmetrical irony that the ink which exudes from these fish and stainseverything around should be used for indicating what their price is. Here also are great joints of tunny, huge red scarpenna, sturgeon, mullet, live whole eels (to prove to me how living they were, afishmonger one morning allowed one to bite him) and eels in writhingsections, aragosta, or langouste, and all the little Adriatic and lagoonfish--the scampi and shrimps and calimari--spread out in little wetheaps on the leaves of the plane-tree. One sees them here lying dead;one can see them also, alive and swimming about, in the aquarium on theLido, where the prettiest creatures are the little cavalli marini, orsea horses, roosting in the tiny submarine branches. From all the restlessness and turmoil of these markets there is escapein the church of S. Giovanni Elemosinario, a few yards along the RugaVecchia di San Giovanni on the left. Here one may sit and rest andcollect one's thoughts and then look at a fine rich altar-piece byPordenone--S. Sebastian, S. Rocco, and S. Catherine. The lion of thechurch is a Titian, but it is not really visible. As typical a walk as one can take in democratic Venice is that from thischurch to the Frari, along the Ruga Vecchia di San Giovanni, parallelwith the Grand Canal. I have been here often both by day and by night, and it is equally characteristic at either time. Every kind of shop ishere, including two old book-shops, one of which (at the corner of theCampiello dei Meloni) is well worth rummaging in. A gentle old lady sitsin the corner so quietly as to be invisible, and scattered about arequite a number of English books among them, when I was last there, asurprising proportion of American minor verse. Another interesting shophere supplies Venetians with the small singing birds which they love somuch, a cage by a window being the rule rather than the exception; andit was hereabouts that an old humorous greengrocer once did his volublebest to make me buy a couple of grilli, or crickets, in a tiny barredprison, to make their shrill mysterious music for me. But I resisted. At night, perhaps, is this walk best, for several very popular wineshops for gondoliers are hereabouts, one or two quite large, with rowsof barrels along the walls; and it is good to see every seat full, andan arm round many a waist, and everybody merry. Such a clatter oftongues as comes from these taverns is not to be beaten; and now andthen a tenor voice or a mandolin adds a grace. CHAPTER XXII S. ROCCO AND TINTORETTO The Scuola di S. Rocco--Defective lighting--A competition ofartists--The life of the Virgin--A dramatic Annunciation--Ruskin'sanalysis--S. Mary of Egypt--The upper hall--"The Last Supper"--"Mosesstriking the rock"--"The Crucifixion"--A masterpiece--Tintoretto'scareer--Titian and Michel Angelo--A dramatist of the Bible--Realisticcarvings--The life of S. Rocco--A humorist in wood--A model councilchamber--A case of reliquaries--The church of S. Rocco--Giorgione orTitian? There are Tintorettos everywhere in Venice, in addition to the immensecanvases in the Doges' Palace, but I imagine that were we able to askthe great man the question, Where would he choose to be judged? he wouldreply, "At the Scuola di S. Rocco, "--with perhaps a reservation infavour of "The Miracle of S. Mark" at the Accademia, and possibly the"Presentation" (for I feel he must have loved that work) at the Madonnadell'Orto, and "The Marriage in Cana, " that fascinating scene, in theSalute. In the superb building of the S. Rocco Scuola he reigns alone, and there his "Crucifixion" is. The Scuola and the church, in white stone, hide behind the loftyred-brick apse of the Frari. The Scuola's façade has, in particular, theconfidence of a successful people. Within, it is magnificent too, whileto its architectural glories it adds no fewer than six-and-fiftyTintorettos; many of which, however, can be only dimly seen, for thegreat Bartolommeo Bon, who designed the Scuola, forgot that picturesrequire light. Nor was he unique among Venice's builders in this matter;they mostly either forgot it or allowed their jealousy of a sister artto influence them. "Light, more light, " is as much the cry of thegroping enthusiast for painting in this fair city, as it was of thedying Goethe. The story of Tintoretto's connexion with the Scuola illustrates hisdecision and swiftness. The Scuola having been built, where, under thebanner of S. Rocco, a philanthropical confraternity might meet to conferas to schemes of social amelioration, it was, in 1560, decided to invitethe more prominent artists to make proposals as to its decoration. Tintoretto, then forty-two, Paul Veronese and Schiavone were among them. They were to meet in the Refectory and display their sketches; and on agiven day all were there. Tintoretto stood aside while the othersunfolded their designs, which were examined and criticized. Then camehis turn, but instead of producing a roll he twitched a covering, whichnone had noticed, and revealed in the middle of the ceiling the finishedpainting of S. Rocco in glory. A scene of amazement and perplexityensued. The other artists, accepting defeat, retired from the field; theauthorities gazed in a fine state of confusion over the unconventionalforeshortening of the saint and his angel. They also pointed out thatTintoretto had broken the condition of the competition in providing apainting when only sketches were required. "Very well, " he said, "I makeyou a present of it. " Since by the rules of the confraternity all giftsoffered to it had to be accepted, he thus won his footing; and the restwas easy. Two or three years later he was made a brother of the Order, at fifty pounds a year, in return for which he was each year to providethree paintings; and this salary he drew for seventeen years, until thegreat work was complete. The task comprises the scenes in the life of the Virgin, in the lowerhall; the scenes in the life of Christ, on the walls of the upper hall;the scenes from the Old Testament, on the ceiling of the upper hall; andthe last scenes in the life of Christ, in the Refectory. In short, theScuola di S. Rocco is Tintoretto's Sistine Chapel. We enter to an "Annunciation"; and if we had not perceived before, we atonce perceive here, in this building, Tintoretto's innovating gift ofrealism. He brought dailiness into art. Tremendous as was his method, henever forgot the little things. His domestic details leaven the whole. This "Annunciation" is the most dramatic version that exists. The Virginhas been sitting quietly sewing in her little room, poorly enoughfurnished, with a broken chair by the bed, when suddenly this celestialirruption--this urgent flying angel attended by a horde of cherubim orcupids and heralded by the Holy Spirit. At the first glance you thinkthat the angel has burst through the wall, but that is not so. But as itis, even without that violence, how utterly different from the demuretreatment of the Tuscans! To think of Fra Angelico and Tintorettotogether is like placing a violet beside a tiger lily. A little touch in the picture should be noticed: a carpenter at workoutside. Very characteristic of Tintoretto. Next--but here let me remind or inform the reader that the VenetianIndex at the end of the later editions of _The Stones of Venice_contains an analysis of these works, by Ruskin, which is ascharacteristic of that writer as the pictures are of their artist. Inparticular is Ruskin delighted by "The Annunciation, " by "The Murder ofthe Innocents, " and, upstairs, by the ceiling paintings and theRefectory series. Next is "The Adoration of the Magi, " with all the ingredients that onecan ask, except possibly any spiritual rapture; and then the flight intoa country less like the Egypt to which the little family were bound, orthe Palestine from which they were driven, than one can imagine, but adashing work. Then "The Slaughter of the Innocents, " a confused scene offine and daring drawing, in which, owing to gloom and grime, noinnocents can be discerned. Then a slender nocturnal pastoral which iseven more difficult to see, representing Mary Magdalen in a rockylandscape, and opposite it a similar work representing S. Mary of Egypt, which one knows to be austere and beautiful but again cannot see. Since the story of S. Mary of Egypt is little known, I may perhaps bepermitted to tell it here. This Mary, before her conversion, lived inAlexandria at the end of the fourth century and was famous for herlicentiousness. Then one day, by a caprice, joining a company ofpilgrims to Jerusalem, she embraced Christianity, and in answer to herprayers for peace of mind was bidden by a supernatural voice to passbeyond Jordan, where rest and comfort were to be found. There, in thedesert, she roamed for forty-seven years, when she was found, naked andgrey, by a holy man named Zosimus who was travelling in search of ahermit more pious than himself with whom he might have profitableconverse. Zosimus, having given her his mantle for covering, left her, but he returned in two years, bringing with him the Sacrament and somefood. When they caught sight of each other, Mary was on the other side of theJordan, but she at once walked to him calmly over the water, and afterreceiving the Sacrament returned in the same manner; while Zosimushastened to Jerusalem with the wonderful story. The next year Zosimus again went in search of her, but found only hercorpse, which, with the assistance of a lion, he buried. She wassubsequently canonized. The other two and hardly distinguishable paintings are "The Presentationof Christ in the Temple" and "The Assumption of the Virgin. " Now we ascend the staircase, on which is a beautiful "Annunciation" byTitian, strangely unlike Tintoretto's version below. Here the Virginkneels before her desk, expectant, and the angel sails quietly in with alily. The picture is less dramatic and more sympathetic; but personallyI should never go to Venice for an "Annunciation" at all. Here also isTintoretto's "Visitation, " but it is not easily seen. The upper hall is magnificent, but before we examine it let us proceedwith the Tintorettos. In "The Adoration of the Shepherds, " in the farleft-hand corner as one enters, there is an excellent example of thepainter's homeliness. It is really two pictures, the Holy Family beingon an upper floor, or rather shelf, of the manger and making theprettiest of groups, while below, among the animals, are the shepherds, real peasants, looking up in worship and rapture. This is one of themost attractive of the series, not only as a painting but as a Biblicalillustration. In the corresponding corner at the other end of this wall is another ofthe many "Last Suppers" which Tintoretto devised. It does not compare inbrilliance with that in S. Giorgio Maggiore, but it must greatly haveinterested the painter as a composition, and nothing could be moreunlike the formality of the Leonardo da Vinci convention, with thetable set square to the spectators, than this curious disorderedscramble in which several of the disciples have no chairs at all. Theattitudes are, however, convincing, Christ is a gracious figure, and thewhole scene is very memorable and real. The Tintorettos on the walls of the upper hall I find less interestingthan those on the ceiling, which, however, present the usual physicaldifficulties to the student. How Ruskin with his petulant impatiencebrought himself to analyse so minutely works the examination of whichleads to such bodily discomfort, I cannot imagine. But he did so, andhis pages should be consulted. He is particularly interesting on "ThePlague of Serpents. " My own favourite is that of Moses striking therock, from which, it is said, an early critic fled for his life for fearof the torrent. The manna scene may be compared with another and morevivid version of the same incident in S. Giorgio Maggiore. [Illustration: THE CRUCIFIXION (CENTRAL DETAIL)FROM THE PAINTING BY TINTORETTO_In the Scuola di S. Rocco_] The scenes from the Life of Christ around the walls culminate in thewonderful "Crucifixion, " in the Refectory leading from this room. Thissublime work, which was painted in 1565, when the artist wasforty-seven, he considered his masterpiece. It is the greatest singlework in Venice, and all Tintoretto is in it, except the sensuouscolourist of the "Origin of the Milky Way": all his power, all histhought, all his drama. One should make this room a constant retreat. The more one studies the picture the more real is the scene and the moreamazing the achievement. I do not say that one is ever moved as one canbe in the presence of great simplicity; one is aware in all Tintoretto'swork of a hint of the self-conscious entrepreneur; but never, one feels, was the great man so single-minded as here; never was his desire toimpress so deep and genuine. In the mass the picture is overpowering;in detail, to which one comes later, its interest is inexhaustible. Asan example of the painter's minute thought, one writer has pointed outthat the donkey in the background is eating withered palm leaves--atouch of ironical genius, if you like. Ruskin calls this work the mostexquisite instance of the "imaginative penetrative. " I reproduce adetail showing the soldiers with the ropes and the group of women at thefoot of the cross. The same room has Tintoretto's noble picture of Christ before Pilate andthe fine tragic composition "The Road to Calvary, " and on the ceiling isthe S. Rocco of which I have already spoken--the germ from which sprangthe whole wonderful series. The story of this, the most Venetian of the Venetian painters and thetruest to his native city (for all his life was spent here), may morefittingly be told in this place, near his masterpiece and his portrait(which is just by the door), than elsewhere. He was born in 1518, in theninth year of our Henry VIII's reign, the son of a dyer, or tintore, named Battista Robusti, and since the young Jacopo Robusti helped hisfather in his trade he was called the little dyer, or il tintoretto. Hisfather was well to do, and the boy had enough leisure to enable him tocopy and to frequent the arcades of S. Mark's Square, under which suchartists as were too poor to afford studios were allowed to work. The greatest name in Venetian art at that time, and indeed still, wasthat of Titian, and Tintoretto was naturally anxious to become hispupil. Titian was by many years Tintoretto's senior when, at the age ofseventeen, the little dyer obtained leave to study under him. The storyhas it that so masterly were Tintoretto's early drawings that Titian, fearing rivalry, refused to teach him any longer. Whether this be trueor not, and one dislikes to think of Titian in this way, Tintoretto leftthe studio and was thrown upon his own resources and ambition. Fortunately he did not need money: he was able even to form a collectionof casts from the antique and also from Michael Angelo, the boy's otheridol, who when Tintoretto was seventeen was sixty-one. Thus supplied, Tintoretto practised drawing and painting, day and night, his mottobeing "Titian's colour and Michael Angelo's form"; and he expressedhimself as willing to paint anything anywhere, inside a house oroutside, and if necessary for nothing, rather than be idle. Practice waswhat he believed in: practice and study; and he never tired. Allpainting worth anything, he held, must be based on sound drawing. "Youcan buy colours on the Rialto, " he would remark, "but drawing can comeonly by labour. " Some say that he was stung by a sarcasm of his Tuscanhero that the Venetians could not draw; be that as it may, he madeaccurate drawing his corner-stone; and so thorough was he in his studyof chiaroscuro that he devised little toy houses in which to manufactureeffects of light and shade. One of his first pictures to attractattention was a portrait of himself and his brother illuminated by alamp. So passed, in miscellaneous work, even to painting furniture, at leastten years, towards the close of which he painted for the Madonnadell'Orto his earliest important work, "The Last Judgment, " which thoughderived from Michael Angelo yet indicates much personal force. It was in1548, when he was thirty, that Tintoretto's real chance came, for he wasthen invited to contribute to the decoration of the Scuola of S. Marco, and for it he produced one of his greatest works, "The Miracle of S. Mark, " now in the Accademia. The novelty of its vivid force and drama, together with its power and assurance, although, as I have said, atfirst disconcerting to the unprepared critics, soon made an impression;spectators were carried off their feet; and Tintoretto's fame wasassured. See opposite page 170. I have not counted the Venetian churches with examples of Tintoretto'sgenius in them (it would be simpler to count those that have none); butthey are many and his industry was enormous. One likes to think of hisstudio being visited continually by church patrons and prelates anxiousto see how their particular commission was getting on. Tintoretto married in 1558, two years after Shakespeare's birth, hiswife being something of an heiress, and in 1562 his eldest son, Domenico, who also became an artist, was born. We have seen how in 1560Tintoretto competed for the S. Rocco decorations; in 1565 he painted"The Crucifixion"; and he was working on the walls of the Scuola until1588. In the meantime he worked also for the Doges' Palace, his firstpicture, that of the Battle of Lepanto, being destroyed with many othersin the fire of 1576, first obtaining him as a reward a sinecure post inthe Fondaco dei Tedeschi, that central office of German merchants andbrokers on the façade of which Giorgione and Titian painted their famous(now obliterated) frescoes. Small posts here with no obligations weregiven to public servants, much as we give Civil List pensions. Tintoretto's life was very methodical, and was divided strictly betweenpainting and domestic affairs, with few outside diversions. He hadsettled down in the house which now bears his name and a tablet, closeto the church of the Madonna dell'Orto. His children were eight innumber, among whom his favourite was Marietta, his eldest daughter. Heand she were in fact inseparable, Marietta even donning boy's attire inorder to be with him at his work on occasions when as a girl it wouldhave been difficult. Perhaps it is she who so often appears in hispictures as a beautiful sympathetic human girl among so much that issomewhat frigidly Biblical and detached. Among his closer friends weresome of the best Venetian intellects, and, among the artists, AndreaSchiavone, who hovers like a ghost about so many painters and theirwork, Paolo Caliari, known as Veronese, Jacopo da Ponte, or Bassano, andAlessandro Vittoria, the sculptor. He had musician friends, too; forTintoretto, like Giorgione before him, was devoted to music, and himselfplayed many instruments. He was a man of simple tastes and a quiet andsomewhat dry humour; liked home best; chaffed his wife, who was a bit ofa manager and had to check his indiscriminate generosity by limiting himto one coin a day; and, there is no doubt whatever, studied his Biblewith minuteness. His collected works make the most copious illustratededition of scripture that exists. [Illustration: THE COLLEONI STATUE AND S. S. GIOVANNI E PAOLO] Certain of Tintoretto's sayings prove his humour to have had a causticturn. Being once much harassed by a crowd of spectators, including menof civic eminence, he was asked why he painted so quickly when Belliniand Titian had been so deliberate. "They had not so many onlookers todrive them to distraction, " he replied. Of Titian, in spite of hisadmiration for his colour, he was always a little jealous and could notbear to hear him much praised; and colour without drawing eternallyvexed him. His own colour is always subservient. The saying of his whichone remembers best bears upon the difficulties that beset theconscientious artist: "The farther you go in, the deeper is the sea. " Late in life Tintoretto spent much time with the brothers of S. Rocco. In 1594, at the age of seventy-six, he died, after a short illness. AllVenice attended his funeral. He was one of the greatest of painters, and, like Michael Angelo, he didnothing little. All was on the grand scale. He had not Michael Angelo'stowering superiority, but he too was a giant. His chief lack wastenderness. There is something a little remote, a little unsympathetic, in all his work: one admires and wonders, and awaits in vain thesoftening moment. To me he is as much a dramatist of the Bible as apainter of it. One is rarely satisfied with the whole of a Tintoretto; but a part ofmost of his works is superb. Of all his pictures in Venice my favouritesecular one is the "Bacchus and Ariadne" in the Doges' Palace, which hasin it a loveliness not excelled in any painting that I know. Excluding"The Crucifixion" I should name "The Marriage in Cana" at the Salute ashis most ingratiating Biblical scene. See opposite pages 48 and 96. The official programme of the Scuola pictures, printed on screens invarious languages, badly needs an English revisor. Here are two titles:"Moise who makes the water spring"; "The three children in the oven ofBabylony. " It also states "worthy of attention are as well thewoodcarvings round the wall sides by an anonymous. " To these we comelater. Let me say first that everything about the upper hall, which youwill note has no pillars, is splendid and thorough--proportions, ceiling, walls, carvings, floor. The carvings on each side of the high altar (not those "by an anonymous"but others) tell very admirably the life of the patron saint of theschool whose "S. R. , " nobly devised in brass, will be found so often bothhere and in the church across the way. S. Rocco, or Saint Rocke, asCaxton calls him, was born at Montpelier in France of noble parentage. His father was lord of Montpelier. The child, who came in answer toprayer, bore at birth on his left shoulder a cross and was even as ababe so holy that when his mother fasted he fasted too, on two days inthe week deriving nourishment from her once only, and being all thegladder, sweeter, and merrier for this denial. The lord of Montpelierwhen dying impressed upon his exemplary son four duties: namely, tocontinue to be vigilant in doing good, to be kind to the poor, todistribute all the family wealth in alms, and to haunt and frequent thehospitals. Both his parents being dead, Rocco travelled to Italy. At Acquapendentehe healed many persons of the pestilence, and also at Cesena and atRome, including a cardinal, whom he rendered immune to plague for evermore by drawing a cross on his forehead. The cardinal took him to seethe pope, in whose presence Rocco's own forehead shone with asupernatural light which greatly impressed the pontiff. After muchfurther wandering and healing, Rocco himself took the disease under bothhis arms and was so racked with pain that he kept the other patients inthe hospital awake. This distressing him, he crept away where his groanswere out of hearing, and there he lay till the populace, finding him, and fearing infection, drove him from the city. At Piacenza, where hetook refuge, a spring of fair water, which is there to this day, gushedout of the earth for his liquid refreshment and as mark of heaven'sapproval; while the hound of a neighbouring sportsman brought him breadfrom the lord Golard's table: hence the presence of a dog in allrepresentations of the saint. In the church of S. Rocco across the wayTintoretto has a picture of this scene in which we discern the dog tohave been a liver-and-white spaniel. Golard, discovering the dog's fidelity to Rocco, himself passed into thesaint's service and was so thoroughly converted by him that he became ahumble mendicant in the Piacenza streets. Rocco meanwhile continued toheal, although he could not heal himself, and he even cured the wildanimals of their complaints, as Tintoretto also shows us. Being at lasthealed by heaven, he travelled to Lombardy, where he was taken as a spyand imprisoned for five years, and in prison he died, after beingrevealed as a saint to his gaoler. His dying prayer was that allChristians who prayed to him in the name of Jesus might be deliveredfrom pestilence. Shortly after Rocco's death an angel descended to earthwith a table written in letters of gold stating that this wish had beengranted. In the carvings in the chancel, the bronzes on the gate and inTintoretto's pictures in the neighbouring church, much of this story maybe traced. The most noteworthy carvings round the room represent types andattributes. Here is the musician, the conspirator (a very Guy Fawkes, with dark lantern and all), the scholar, and so forth, all done withhumorous detail by one Pianta. When he came to the artist he had alittle quiet fun with the master himself, this figure being a caricatureof no less a performer than the great Tintoretto. The little room leading from the upper hall is that rare thing inVenice, a council chamber which presents a tight fit for the council. Just inside is a wax model of the head of one of the four Doges namedAlvise Mocenigo, I know not which. Upstairs is a Treasury filled withvaluable ecclesiastical vessels, missals and vestments, and two finereligious pictures from the masterly worldly hand of Tiepolo. Among thesacred objects enshrined in gold and silver reliquaries are a piece ofthe jawbone of S. Barbara, a piece of the cranium of S. Martin, a tinyportion of the veil of the Madonna, and a tooth of S. Apollonius held intriumph in a pair of forceps by a little golden cherub. And now, descending again, let us look once more at the great picture of Himwhose Life and Crucifixion put into motion all this curiousecclesiastical machinery--so strangely far from the original idea. The church of S. Rocco is opposite, and one must enter it forTintoretto's scenes in the life of the saint, and for a possibleGiorgione over the altar to the right of the choir in a beautiful oldframe. The subject is Christ carrying the cross, with a few urging Himon. The theory that Giorgione painted this picture is gaining ground, and we know that only about a century after Giorgione's death Van Dyck, when sketching in Venice, made some notes of the work under theimpression that it was the divine Castel Francan's. The light is poorand the picture is in a bad state, but one is conscious of being in thepresence of a work of very delicate beauty and a profound soft richness. The picture, Vasari says, once worked miracles, and years ago it broughtin, in votive money, great sums. One grateful admirer has set up aversion of it in marble, on the left wall of the choir. Standing beforethis Giorgione, as before the Tintorettos here and over the way, oneagain wishes, as so often in Venice, that some American millionaire, inlove with this lovely city and in doubt as to how to apply hissuperfluity of cash, would offer to clean the pictures in the churches. What glorious hues would then come to light! CHAPTER XXIII THE FRARI AND TITIAN A noble church--The tomb of Titian--A painter-prince--A lostgarden--Pomp and colour--A ceaseless learner--Canova--Bellini'saltar-piece--The Pesaro Madonna--The Frari cat--Tombs vulgar andotherwise--Francesco Foscari--Niccolò Tron's beard. From S. Rocco to the Frari is but a step, and plenty of assistance intaking that step will be offered you by small boys. Outside, the Frari--whose full title is Santa Maria Gloriosa deiFrari--is worth more attention than it wins. At the first glance it is abarn built of millions of bricks; but if you give it time it grows intoa most beautiful Gothic church with lovely details, such as thecorbelling under the eaves, the borders of the circular windows, andstill more delightful borders of the long windows, and so forth; whileits campanile is magnificent. In size alone the Frari is worthy of allrespect, and its age is above five centuries. It shares with SS. Giovanni e Paolo the duty of providing Venice with a Westminster Abbey, for between them they preserve most of the illustrious dead. Within, it is a gay light church with fine sombre choir stalls. Next toS. Stefano, it is the most cheerful church in Venice, and one shouldoften be there. Nothing is easier than to frequent it, for it is closeto the S. Toma steamboat station, and every visit will discover a newcharm. The most cherished possession of the Frari is, I suppose, the tomb ofTitian. It is not a very fine monument, dating from as late as 1852, butit marks reverently the resting-place of the great man. He sits there, the old painter, with a laurel crown. Behind him is a relief of his"Assumption", now in the Accademia; above is the lion of Venice. Titian's work is to be seen throughout Venice, either in fact or ininfluence, and all the great cities of the world have some superbcreation from his hand, London being peculiarly fortunate in thepossession of his "Bacchus and Ariadne". Standing before the grave ofthis tireless maker of beauty, let us recall the story of his life. Titian, as we call him--Tiziano Vecellio, or Vecelli, or Tiziano daCadore, as he was called by his contemporaries--was born in Cadore, aVenetian province. The year of his birth varies according to thebiographer. Some say 1477, some 1480, some 1487 or even 1489 and 1490. Be that as it may, he was born in Cadore, the son of a soldier andcouncillor, Gregorio Vecelli. As a child he was sent to Venice andplaced under art teachers, one of whom was Gentile Bellini, and oneGiovanni Bellini, in whose studio he found Giorgione. And it is herethat his age becomes important, because if he was born in 1477 he wasGiorgione's contemporary as a scholar; if ten years later he was muchhis junior. In either case there is no doubt that Giorgione's influencewas very powerful. On Titian's death in 1576 he was thought to beninety-nine. [Illustration: THE MADONNA OF THE PESARO FAMILYFROM THE PAINTING BY TITIAN_In the Church of the Frari_] One of Titian's earliest known works is the visitation of S. Mary and S. Elizabeth, in the Accademia. In 1507 he helped Giorgione with theFondaco dei Tedeschi frescoes. In 1511 he went to Padua. In 1512 heobtained a sinecure in the Fondaco dei Tedeschi and was appointed aState artist, his first task being the completion of certain picturesleft unfinished by his predecessor Giovanni Bellini, and in 1516 he wasput in possession of a patent granting him a painting monopoly, with asalary of 120 crowns and 80 crowns in addition for the portrait of eachsuccessive Doge. Thereafter his career was one long triumph and hisbrush was sought by foreign kings and princes as well as the aristocracyof Venice. Honours were showered upon him at home and abroad, andCharles V made him a Count and ennobled his progeny. He married and hadmany children, his favourite being, as with Tintoretto, a daughter, whose early death left him, again as with Tintoretto, inconsolable. Hemade large sums and spent large sums, and his house was the scene ofsplendid entertainments. It still stands, not far from the Jesuits'church, but it is now the centre of a slum, and his large garden, whichextended to the lagoon where the Fondamenta Nuovo now is, has been builtover. Titian's place in art is high and unassailable. What it would have beenin colour without Giorgione we cannot say; but Giorgione could notaffect his draughtsmanship. As it is, the word Titianesque meanseverything that is rich and glorious in paint. The Venetians, with theirostentation, love of pageantry, and intense pride in their city andthemselves, could not have had a painter more to their taste. HadGiorgione lived he would have disappointed them by his preoccupationwith romantic dreams; Bellini no doubt did disappoint them by a certainsimplicity and divinity; Tintoretto was stern and sparing of gorgeoushues. But Titian was all for sumptuousness. Not much is known of his inner life. He seems to have been over-quick tosuspect a successful rival, and his treatment of the young Tintoretto, if the story is true, is not admirable. He was more friendly withAretino than one would expect an adorner of altars to be. His love ofmoney grew steadily stronger. As an artist he was a pattern, for he wasnever satisfied with his work but continually experimented and soughtfor new secrets, and although quite old when he met Michael Angelo inRome he returned with renewed ambitions. Among his last words, on hisdeath-bed, were that he was at last almost ready to begin. As it happens, it is the pyramidal tomb opposite Titian's that wasdesigned to hold his remains. It is now the tomb of Canova. Why it wasnot put to its maker's purpose, I do not know, but to my mind it is afar finer thing than the Titian monument and worthier of Titian than ofCanova, as indeed Canova would have been the first to admit. But therewas some hitch, and the design was laid in a drawer and not taken outagain until Canova died and certain of his pupils completed it forhimself. Canova was not a Venetian by birth. He was born at Passagno, near Asolo, in 1757, and was taught the elements of art by hisgrandfather and afterwards by a sculptor named Torretto, who recommendedhim to the Falier family as a "phenomenon". The Faliers made him theirprotégé, continued his education in Venice, and when the time was ripesent him to Rome, the sculptors' Mecca. In Rome he remained practicallyto the end of his life, returning to Venice to die in 1822. It ispossible not too highly to esteem Canova's works, but the man's careerwas marked by splendid qualities of industry and purpose and he wonevery worldly honour. In private life he practised unremittingly thatbenevolence and philanthropy which many Italians have brought to a fineart. It is these two tombs which draw most visitors to the Frari; but thereare two pictures here that are a more precious artistic possession. Ofthese let us look first at Bellini's altar-piece in the Sacristy. Thiswork represents the Madonna enthroned, about her being saints and thelittle angelic musicians of whom Bellini was so fond. In this work thesemusicians are younger than usual; one pipes while the other has amandolin. Above them is the Madonna, grave and sweet, with a resolutelittle Son standing on her knee. The venerable holy men on either sidehave all Bellini's suave benignancy and incapacity for sin: celestialgrandfathers. The whole is set in a very splendid frame. I give areproduction opposite page 252, but the colour cannot be suggested. The other great Frari picture--stronger than this but not moreattractive--is the famous Titian altar-piece, the "Pesaro Madonna". Thisis an altar-piece indeed, and in it unite with peculiar success theworld and the spirit. The picture was painted for Jacopo Pesaro, amember of a family closely associated with this church, as the tombswill show us. Jacopo, known as "Baffo, " is the kneeling figure, and, ashis tonsure indicates, a man of God. He was in fact Bishop of Paphos inCyprus, and being of the church militant he had in 1501 commanded thePapal fleet against the Turks. The expedition was triumphant enough tolead the Bishop to commission Titian to paint two pictures commemoratingit. In the first the Pope, Alexander Borgia, in full canonicals, standing, introduces Baffo, kneeling, to S. Peter, on the eve ofstarting with the ships to chastise the Infidel. S. Peter blesses himand the Papal standard which he grasps. In the second, the picture atwhich we are now looking (see the reproduction opposite page 246), Baffoagain kneels to S. Peter, while behind him a soldier in armour (whomight be S. George and might merely be a Venetian warrior and aportrait) exhibits a captured Turk. Above S. Peter is the Madonna, withone of Titian's most adorable and vigorous Babes. Beside her are S. Francis and S. Anthony of Padua, S. Francis being the speaking brotherwho seems to be saying much good of the intrepid but by no meansover-modest Baffo. The other kneeling figures are various Pesari. Everything about the picture is masterly and aristocratic, and S. Peteryields to no other old man in Venetian art, which so valued andrespected age, in dignity and grandeur. In the clouds above all are twooutrageously plump cherubs--fat as butter, as we say--sporting (it isthe only word) with the cross. As I sat one day looking at this picture, a small grey and white catsprang on my knee from nowhere and immediately sank into a profoundslumber from which I hesitated to wake it. Such ingratiating acts arenot common in Venice, where animals are scarce and all dogs must bemuzzled. Whether or not the spirit of Titian had instructed the littlecreature to keep me there, I cannot say, but the result was that I satfor a quarter of an hour before the altar without a movement, so thatevery particular of the painting is photographed on my retina. Sixmonths later the same cat led me to a courtyard opposite the Sacristydoor and proudly exhibited three kittens. Jacopo Pesaro's tomb is near the Baptistery. The enormous and repellenttomb on the same wall as the Titian altar-piece is that of a laterPesaro, Giovanni, an unimportant Doge of Venice for less than a year, 1658-1659. It has grotesque details, including a camel, giant negroesand skeletons, and it was designed by the architect of S. Maria dellaSalute, who ought to have known better. The Doge himself is not unlikethe author of a secretly published English novel entitled _The WomanThou Gavest Me_. As a gentle contrast look at the wall tomb of a bishop on the right ofthe Pesaro picture. The old priest lies on his bier resting his head onhis hand and gazing for ever at the choir screen and stalls. It is oneof the simplest and most satisfactory tombs in this church. But it is in the right transept, about the Sacristy door, that the besttombs cluster, and here also, in the end chapel, is another picture, byan early Muranese painter of whom we have seen far too little, Bartolommeo Vivarini, who is credited with having produced the first oilpicture ever seen in Venice. His Frari altar-piece undoubtedly hadinfluence on the Bellini in the Sacristy, but it is less beautiful, although possibly a deeper sincerity informs it. Other musicianly angelsare here, and this time they make their melody to S. Mark. In the nextchapel are some pretty and cool grey and blue tombs. Chief of the tombs in this corner is the fine monument to JacopoMarcello, the admiral. This lovely thing is one of the most Florentinesculptures in Venice; above is a delicate fresco record of the hero'striumphs. Near by is the monument of Pacifico Bon, the architect of theFrari, with a Florentine relief of the Baptism of Christ in terra-cotta, a little too high to be seen well. The wooden equestrian figure of PaoloSavello, an early work, is very attractive. In his red cap he rides witha fine assurance and is the best horseman in Venice after the greatColleoni. In the choir, where Titian's "Assumption" once was placed, are two moredead Doges. On the right is Francesco Foscari, who reigned from1423-1457, and is one of the two Foscari (his son being the other) ofByron's drama. Francesco Foscari, whom we know so well by reason of hisposition in the relief on the Piazzetta façade of the Doges' Palace, and again on the Porta della Carta, was unique among the Doges both inthe beginning and end of his reign. He was the first to be introduced tothe populace in the new phrase "This is your Doge, " instead of "This isyour Doge, an it please you, " and the first to quit the ducal throne notby death but deposition. But in many of the intervening thirty-fouryears he reigned with brilliance and liberality and encouraged the arts. His fall was due to the political folly of his son Jacopo and theunpopularity of a struggle with Milan. He died in the famous Foscaripalace on the Grand Canal and, in spite of his recent degradation, wasgiven a Doge's funeral. The other Doge here, who has the more ambitious tomb, is Niccolò Tron(1471-1473) who was before all a successful merchant. Foscari, it willbe noticed, is clean shaven; Tron bearded; and to this beard belongs astory, for on losing a dearly loved son he refused ever after to have itcut and carried it to the grave as a sign of his grief. The Sacristy is, of course, chiefly the casket that contains the Bellinijewel, but it has other possessions, including the "Stations of theCross" by Tiepolo, which the sacristan is far more eager to display: abrilliant but fatiguing series. Here, too, are a "Crucifixion" and"Deposition" by Canova. A nice ciborium by the door and a quaint woodenblock remain in my memory. [Illustration: THE MADONNA TRIPTYCHBY GIOVANNI BELLINI_In the Church of the Frari_] For the rest, I recall a gaunt Baptist in wood, said to be by Donatello, on one of the altars to the left of the choir; and the bronze Baptist inthe Baptistery, less realistic, by Sansovino; the pretty figures ofInnocence and S. Anthony of Padua on the holy water basins just insidethe main door; and the corners of delectable medieval cities inintarsia work on the stalls. And, after the details and before them, there is always the greatpleasant church, with its coloured beams and noble spaces. CHAPTER XXIV SS. GIOVANNI E PAOLO A noble statue--Bartolommeo Colleoni--Verrocchio--A Dominicanchurch--Mocenigo Doges--The tortured Bragadino--The Valiermonument--Leonardo Loredano--Sebastian Venier--The Chapel of theRosary--Sansovino--An American eulogy--Michele Steno--TommasoMocenigo--A brave re-builder--The Scuola di S. Marco. It is important to reach SS. Giovanni e Paolo by gondola, because thecanals are particularly fascinating between this point and, say, theMolo. If one embarks at the Molo (which is the habit of most visitors), the gondolier takes you up the Rio Palazzo, under the Ponte di Pagliaand the Bridge of Sighs, past the superb side walls of the Ducal Palace;then to the right, with relics of fine architecture on either side, upthe winding Rio di S. Maria Formosa, and then to the right again intothe Rio di S. Marina and the Rio dei Mendicanti (where a dyer makes thewater all kinds of colours). A few yards up this canal you pass theFondamenta Dandolo on the right, at the corner of which the mostcommanding equestrian statue in the world breaks on your vision, behindit rising the vast bulk of the church. All these little canals havepalaces of their own, not less beautiful than those of the Grand Canalbut more difficult to see. Before entering the church--and again after coming from it--let us lookat the Colleoni. It is generally agreed that this is the finest horseand horseman ever cast in bronze; and it is a surprise to me that SouthKensington has no reproduction of it, as the Trocadero in Paris has. Warrior and steed equally are splendid; they are magnificent and theyare war. The only really competitive statue is that of Gattamalata (whowas Colleoni's commander) by Donatello at Padua; but personally I thinkthis the finer. Bartolommeo Colleoni was born in 1400, at Bergamo, of fighting stock, and his early years were stained with blood. The boy was still veryyoung when he saw his father's castle besieged by Filippo MariaVisconti, Duke of Milan, and his father killed. On becoming himself acondottiere, he joined the Venetians, who were then busy in the field, and against the Milanese naturally fought with peculiar ardour. But onthe declaration of peace in 1441 he forgot his ancient hostility, and inthe desire for more battle assisted the Milanese in their campaigns. Fighting was meat and drink to him. Seven years later he returned to theVenetians, expecting to be appointed Captain-General of the Republic'sforces, but failing in this wish he put his arm again at the service ofthe Milanese. A little later, however, Venice afforded him the covetedhonour, and for the rest of his life he was true to her, although whenshe was miserably at peace he did not refrain from a little strife onhis own account, to keep his hand in. Venice gave him not only honoursand money but much land, and he divided his old age between agricultureand--thus becoming still more the darling of the populace--almsgiving. Colleoni died in 1475 and left a large part of his fortune to theRepublic to be spent in the war with the Turks, and a little for astatue in the Piazza of S. Mark. But the rules against statues beingerected there being adamant, the site was changed to the campo of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, and Andrea Verrocchio was brought from Florence toprepare the group. He began it in 1479 and died while still working onit, leaving word that his pupil, Lorenzo di Credi, should complete it. Di Credi, however, was discouraged by the authorities, and the task wasgiven to Alessandro Leopardi (who made the sockets for the threeflagstaffs opposite S. Mark's), and it is his name which is inscribed onthe statue. But to Verrocchio the real honour. Among the Colleoni statue's great admirers was Robert Browning, whonever tired of telling the story of the hero to those unacquainted withit. The vast church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo does for the Dominicans what theFrari does for the Franciscans; the two churches being the Venetianequivalents of Florence's S. Maria Novella and Santa Croce. Like toomany of the church façades of Venice, this one is unfinished andprobably ever will be. Unlike the Frari, to which it has a generalresemblance, the church of John and Paul is domed; or rather itpossesses a dome, with golden balls upon its cupola like those of S. Mark. Within, it is light and immense but far inferior in charm to itsgreat red rival. It may contain no Titian's ashes, but both Giovanni andGentile Bellini lie here; and its forty-six Doges give it a cachet. Wecome at once to two of them, for on the outside wall are the tombs ofDoge Jacopo Tiepolo, who gave the land for the church, and of his son, Doge Lorenzo Tiepolo. [Illustration: BARTOLOMMEO COLLEONI FROM THE STATUE BY ANDREAVERROCCHIO] Just within we find Alvise Mocenigo (1570-1577) who was on the thronewhen Venice was swept by the plague in which Titian died, and whooffered the church of the Redentore on the Guidecca as a bribe toHeaven to stop the pestilence. Close by lie his predecessors andancestors, Pietro Mocenigo, the admiral, and Giovanni Mocenigo, hisbrother, whose reign (1478-1485) was peculiarly belligerent andwitnessed the great fire which destroyed so many treasures in the DucalPalace. What he was like you may see in the picture numbered 750 in ourNational Gallery, once given to Carpaccio, then to Lorenzo Bastiani, andnow to the school of Gentile Bellini. In this work the Doge kneels tothe Virgin and implores intercession for the plague-stricken city. Pietro's monument is the most splendid, with a number of statues byPietro Lombardi, architect of the Ducal Palace after the same fire. S. Christopher is among these figures, with a nice little Christ holding onto his ear. In the right aisle we find the monument of Bragadino, a Venetiancommander who, on the fall of Cyprus, which he had been defendingagainst the Turks, was flayed alive. But this was not all the punishmentput upon him by the Turks for daring to hold out so long. First his noseand ears were cut off; then for some days he was made to work like thelowest labourer. Then came the flaying, after which his skin was stuffedwith straw and fastened as a figure-head to the Turkish admiral's prowon his triumphant return to Constantinople. For years the trophy waskept in the arsenal of that city, but it was removed by some means orother, purchase or theft, and now reposes in the tomb at which we arelooking. This monument greatly affected old Coryat. "Truly, " he says, "Icould not read it with dry eyes. " Farther on is the pretentious Valier monument, a triumph of bad taste. Here we see Doge Bertucci Valier (1656-1658) with his courtly abundantdame, and Doge Silvestro Valier (1694-1700), all proud and foolish indeath, as I feel sure they must have been in life to have commissionedsuch a memorial. In the choir are more Doges, some of sterner stuff:Michele Morosini (1382), who after only a few months was killed by avisitation of the plague, which carried off also twenty thousand moreordinary Venetians, but who has a tomb of great distinction worthy ofcommemorating a full and sagacious reign; Leonardo Loredan (1501-1521)whose features we know so well by reason of Bellini's portrait in theNational Gallery, the Doge on the throne when the League of Cambray wasformed by the Powers to crush the Republic; and Andrea Vendramini(1476-1478) who has the most beautiful monument of all, the work ofTullio and Antonio Lombardi. Vendramini, who came between Pietro andGiovanni Mocenigo, had a brief and bellicose reign. Lastly here liesDoge Marco Corner (1365-1368), who made little history, but was a finecharacter. In the left transept we find warlike metal, for here is the modernstatue of the great Sebastian Venier whom we have already seen in theDucal Palace as the hero of the battle of Lepanto in 1571, and it ispeculiarly fitting that he should be honoured in the same church as theluckless Bragadino, for it was at Lepanto that the Turks who hadtriumphed at Cyprus and behaved so vilely were for the moment utterlydefeated. On the death of Alvise Mocenigo, Venier was made Doge, at theage of eighty, but he occupied the throne only for a year and his endwas hastened by grief at another of those disastrous fires, in 1576, which destroyed some of the finest pictures that the world thencontained. This statue is vigorous, and one feels that it is true tolife, but for the old admiral at his finest and most vivid you must goto Vienna, where Tintoretto's superb and magnificent portrait of him ispreserved. There he stands, the old sea dog, in his armour, butbare-headed, and through a window you see the Venetian fleet riding on ablue sea. It is one of the greatest portraits in the world and it oughtto be in Venice. The chapel of the Rosary, which is entered just by the statue of Venier, was built in honour of his Lepanto victory. It was largely destroyed byfire in 1867, and is shown by an abrupt white-moustached domineeringguide who claims to remember it before that time. Such wood carving aswas saved ("Saved! Saved!" he raps out in tones like a pistol shot) isin the church proper, in the left aisle. Not to be rescued were Titian'sgreat "Death of S. Peter, Martyr" a copy of which, presented by KingVictor Emmanuel, is in the church, and a priceless altar-piece byGiovanni Bellini. The beautiful stone reliefs by Sansovino are in theiroriginal places, and remain to-day as they were mutilated by the flames. Their unharmed portions prove their exquisite workmanship, andfortunately photography has preserved for us their unimpaired form. AnAmerican gentleman who followed me into the church, after havingconsidered for some time as to whether or not he (who had "seen tenthousand churches") would risk the necessary fifty centimes, expressedhimself, before these Sansovino masterpieces, as glad he came. "Thesereliefs, " he said to me, "seem to be of a high order of merit. " Therestoration of the chapel is being carried out thoroughly but slowly. Modern Sansovinos, in caps made from the daily paper, are stone-cuttingall day long, and will be for many years to come. Returning to the church proper, we find more Doges. An earlier VenierDoge, Antonio (1382-1400), is here. In the left aisle is another fineDucal monument, that of Pasquale Malipiero (1457-1462), who succeededFoscari on his deposal and was the first Doge to be present at thefuneral of another, for Foscari died only ten days after his fall. Herealso lie Doge Michele Steno (1400-1413), who succeeded Antonio Venier, and who as a young man is credited with the insult which may be said tohave led to all Marino Faliero's troubles. For Steno having annoyed theDoge by falling in love with a maid of honour, Faliero forbade him thepalace, and in retaliation Steno scribbled on the throne itself ascurrilous commentary on the Doge's wife. Faliero's inability to inducethe judges to punish Steno sufficiently was the beginning of that rageagainst the State which led to his ruin. It was during Steno's reignthat Carlo Zeno was so foolishly arrested and imprisoned, to the loss ofthe Republic of one of its finest patriots. [Illustration: MADONNA WITH THE MAGDALEN AND S. CATHERINEFROM THE PAINTING BY GIOVANNI BELLINI_In the Accademia_] The next Ducal tomb is the imposing one of the illustrious TommasoMocenigo (1413-1423) who succeeded Steno and brought really greatqualities to his office. Had his counsels been followed the wholehistory of Venice might have changed, for he was firm against theRepublic's land campaigns, holding that she had territory enough andshould concentrate on sea power: a sound and sagacious policy whichfound its principal opponent in Francesco Foscari, Mocenigo's successor, and its justification years later in the calamitous League of Cambray, to which I have referred elsewhere. Mocenigo was not only wise forVenice abroad, but at home too. A fine of a thousand ducats had beenfixed as the punishment of anyone who, in those days of expensesconnected with so many campaigns, chiefly against the Genoese, dared tomention the rebuilding or beautifying of the Ducal Palace. But Mocenigowas not to be deterred, and rising in his place with his thousand ducatpenalty in his hand, he urged with such force upon the Council thenecessity of rebuilding that he carried his point, and the lovelybuilding much as we now know it was begun. That was in 1422. In 1423Mocenigo died, his last words being a warning against the election ofFoscari as his successor. But Foscari was elected, and the downfall ofVenice dates from that moment. The last Ducal monument is that of Niccolò Marcello (1473-1474) in whosereign the great Colleoni died. Pietro Mocenigo was his successor. In pictures this great church is not very rich, but there is a Cima inthe right transept, a "Coronation of the Virgin, " which is sweet andmellow. The end wall of this transept is pierced by one of the gayestand pleasantest windows in the city, from a design of BartolommeoVivarini. It has passages of the intensest blue, thus making it aperfect thing for a poor congregation to delight in as well as a joy tothe more instructed eye. In the sacristy is an Alvise Vivarini--"Christbearing the Cross"--which has good colour, but carrying such a crosswould be an impossibility. Finally let me mention the bronze reliefs ofthe life of S. Dominic in the Cappella of that saint in the right aisle. The one representing his death, though perhaps a little on the floridside, has some pretty and distinguished touches. The building which adjoins the great church at right angles is theScuola di S. Marco, for which Tintoretto painted his "Miracle of S. Mark, " now in the Accademia, and thus made his reputation. It is to-daya hospital. The two jolly lions on the façade are by Tullio Lombardi, the reliefs being famous for the perspective of the steps, and here, too, are reliefs of S. Mark's miracles. S. Mark is above the door, withthe brotherhood around him. And now let us look again and again at the Colleoni, from every angle. But he is noblest from the extreme corner on the Fondamenta Dandolo. CHAPTER XXV S. ELENA AND THE LIDO The Arsenal--The public gardens--Garibaldi's monument--The artexhibition--A water pageant--The prince and his escort--Venice _versus_Genoa--The story of Helena--S. Pietro in Castello--The theft of thebrides--The Lido--A German paradise. I do not know that there is any need to visit the Arsenal museum exceptperhaps for the pleasure of being in a Venetian show place where no oneexpects a tip. It has not much of interest to a foreigner, nor could Idiscover a catalogue of what it does possess. Written labels are fixedhere and there, but they are not legible. The most popular exhibit isthe model of the Bucintoro, the State galley in which the Doge was rowedto the Porto di Lido, past S. Nicholas of the Lido, to marry theAdriatic; but the actual armour worn by Henri IV was to me morethrilling. Returning from the Arsenal to the Riva, we come soon, on the left, tothe Ponte della Veneta Marina, a dazzlingly white bridge with dolphinscarved upon it, and usually a loafer asleep on its broad balustrade; andhere the path strikes inland up the wide and crowded Via Garibaldi. The shore of the lagoon between the bridge and the public gardens, whither we are now bound, has some very picturesque buildings andshipyards, particularly a great block more in the manner of Genoa thanVenice, with dormer windows and two great arches, in which myriadfamilies seem to live. Here clothes are always drying and mudlarks atplay. Mr. Howells speaks in his _Venetian Life_ of the Giardini Pubblici asbeing an inevitable resort in the sixties; but they must, I think, havelost their vogue. The Venetians who want to walk now do so with morecomfort and entertainment in S. Mark's Square. At the Via Garibaldi entrance is a monument to the fine old Liberator, who stands, wearing the famous cap and cloak, sword in hand, on thesummit of a rock. Below him on one side is a lion, but a lion withoutwings, and on the other one of his watchful Italian soldiers. There is arugged simplicity about it that is very pleasing. Among other statues inthe gardens is one to perpetuate the memory of Querini, the Arcticexplorer, with Esquimaux dogs at his side; Wagner also is here. In the public gardens are the buildings in which international artexhibitions are held every other year. These exhibitions are not veryremarkable, but it is extremely entertaining to be in Venice on theopening day, for all the State barges and private gondolas turn out intheir richest colours, some with as many as eighteen rowers all bendingto the oar at the same moment, and in a splendid procession they conveyimportant gentlemen in tall hats to the scene of the ceremony, whileoverhead two great dirigible airships solemnly swim like distendedwhales. In the afternoon of the 1914 ceremony the Principe Tommaso left theArsenal in a motor-boat for some distant vessel. I chanced to beproceeding at the time at a leisurely pace from S. Niccolò di Lido to S. Pietro in Castello. Suddenly into the quietude of the lagoon broke thethunder of an advancing motor-boat proceeding at the maximum speedattainable by those terrific vessels. It passed us like a sea monster, and we had, as we clung to the sides of the rocking gondola, a momentaryglimpse of the Principe behind an immense cigar. And then a moredisturbing noise still, for out of the Arsenal, scattering foam, camefour hydroplanes to act as a convoy and guard of honour, all soaringfrom their spray just before our eyes, and like enraged giantdragon-flies wheeling and swooping above the prince until we lost sightand sound of them. But long before we were at S. Pietro's they werefuriously back again. Beyond the gardens, and connected with them by a bridge, is the islandof S. Elena, where the foundry was built in which were recast thecampanile bells after the fall of 1902. This is a waste space of grassand a few trees, and here the children play, and here, recently, afootball ground--or campo di giuoco--has been laid out, with agalvanized iron and pitch-pine shed called splendidly the Tribuna. Oneafternoon I watched a match there between those ancient enemies Veniceand Genoa: ancient, that is, on the sea, as Chioggia can tell. Owing tothe heat the match was not to begin until half-past four; but even thenthe sun blazed. No sooner was I on the ground than I found that some ofthe Genoese team were old friends, for in the morning I had seen them inthe water and on the sand at the Lido, and wondered who so solid a bandof brothers could be. Then they played a thousand pranks on each other, the prime butt being the dark young Hercules with a little gold charm onhis mighty chest, which he wore then and was wearing now, who guardedthe Genoese goal and whose name was Frederici. It was soon apparent that Venice was outplayed in every department, butthey tried gallantly. The Genoese, I imagine, had adopted the game muchearlier; but an even more cogent reason for their superiority wasapparent when I read through the names of both teams, for whereas theVenetians were strictly Italian, I found in the Genoese eleven aMacpherson, a Walsingham, and a Grant, who was captain. Whether footballis destined to take a firm hold of the Venetians, I cannot say; but theplayers on that lovely afternoon enjoyed it, and the spectators enjoyedit, and if we were bored we could pick blue salvia. This island of S. Elena has more interest to the English than meets theeye. It is not merely that it is green and grassy, but the daughter ofone of our national heroes is thought to have been buried there: theEmpress Helena, daughter of Old King Cole, who fortified Colchester, where she was born. To be born in Colchester and be buried on an islandnear Venice is not too common an experience; to discover the true crossand be canonized for it is rarer still. But this remarkable woman dideven more, for she became the mother of Constantine the Great, whofounded the city which old Dandolo so successfully looted for Venice andwhich ever stood before early Venice as an exemplar. [Illustration: MADONNA AND SAINTSFROM THE PAINTING BY BOCCACCINO_In the Accademia_] Helena, according to the hagiologists, was advanced in years before sheknew Christ, but her zeal made up for the delay. She built churches nearand far, assisted in services, showered wealth on good works, andcrowned all by an expedition to the Holy Land in search of the truecross. Three crosses were found. In order to ascertain the veritableone, a sick lady of quality was touched by all; two were withoutefficacy, but the third instantly healed her. It is fortunate that thetwo spurious ones were tried first. Part of the true cross Helena leftin the Holy Land for periodical veneration; another part she gave toher son the Emperor Constantine for Constantinople for a similarpurpose. One of the nails she had mounted in Constantine's diadem andanother she threw into the Adriatic to save the souls of mariners. Helena died in Rome in 326 or 328, and most of the records agree thatshe was buried there and translated to Rheims in 849; but the Venetiansdecline to have anything to do with so foolish a story. It is theirbelief that the saint, whom Paul Veronese painted so beautifully, seeingthe cross in a vision, as visitors to our National Gallery know, wasburied on their green island. This has not, however, led them to carefor the church there with any solicitude, and it is now closed anddeserted. The adjoining island to S. Elena is that of Castello, on which stand thechurch of S. Pietro and its tottering campanile. This church was forcenturies the cathedral of Venice, but it is now forlorn and dejectedand few visitors seek it. Flowers sprout from the campanile, a beautifulwhite structure at a desperate angle. The church was once famous for itsmarriages, and every January, on the last day, the betrothed maidens, with their dowries in their hands and their hair down, assembled on theisland with their lovers to celebrate the ceremony. On one occasion inthe tenth century a band of pirates concealed themselves here, anddescending on the happy couples, seized maidens, dowries, bridegrooms, clergy and all, and sailed away with them. Pursuit, however, was givenand all were recaptured, and a festival was established which continuedfor two or three hundred years. It has now lapsed. Venice is fortunate indeed in the possession of the Lido; for it servesa triple purpose. It saves her from the assaults of her husband theAdriatic when in savage moods; it provides her with a stretch of landon which to walk or ride and watch the seasons behave; and as a bathingstation it has no rival. The Lido is not beautiful; but Venice seen fromit is beautiful, and it has trees and picnic grounds, and its usefulnessis not to be exaggerated. The steamers, which ply continually in summerand very often in winter, take only a quarter of an hour to make thevoyage. In the height of the bathing season the Lido becomes German territory, and the chromatic pages of _Lustige Blätter_ are justified. German isthe only language on the sea or on the sands, at any rate at the morecostly establishments. The long stretch of sand between theseestablishments, with its myriad tents and boxes, belong permanently tothe Italians and is not to be invaded; but the public parts areTeutonic. Here from morning till evening paunchy men with shaven headslie naked or almost naked in the sun, acquiring first a shrivelling ofthe cuticle which amounts to flaying, and then the tanning which is sotriumphantly borne back to the Fatherland. The water concerns them butlittle: it is the sunburn on the sands that they value. With them aremerry, plump German women, who wear slightly more clothes than the men, and like water better, and every time they enter it send up the horizon. The unaccompanied men comfort themselves with cameras, with which, allunashamed and with a selective system of the most rigid partiality, theysecure reminders of the women they think attractive, a Kodak and a hatbeing practically their only wear. Professional photographers are there too, and on a little platform acombined chiropodist and barber plies his antithetical trades in thefull view of the company. The Lido waters are admirably adapted for those who prefer to frolicrather than to swim. Ropes indicate the shallow area. There is then astretch of sea, which is perhaps eight feet deep at the deepest, forabout twenty yards, and then a sandy shoal arises where the depth is notmore than three to four feet. Since only the swimmers can reach thisvantage ground, one soon learns which they are. But, as I say, the seatakes a secondary place and is used chiefly as a corrective to the sun'srays when they have become too hot. "Come unto those yellow sands!" isthe real cry of the Lido as heard in Berlin. CHAPTER XXVI ON FOOT. IV: FROM THE DOGANA TO S. SEBASTIANO The Dogana--A scene of shipping--The Giudecca Canal--On the Zattere--Thedebt of Venice to Ruskin--An artists' bridge--The painters ofVenice--Turner and Whistler--A removal--S. Trovaso--Browning on theZattere--S. Sebastiano--The life of Paul Veronese--S. Maria deCarmine--A Tuscan relief--A crowded calle--The grief of the bereaved. For a cool day, after too much idling in gondolas, there is a good walk, tempered by an occasional picture, from the Custom House to S. Sebastiano and back to S. Mark's. The first thing is to cross the GrandCanal, either by ferry or a steamer to the Salute, and then all is easy. The Dogana, as seen from Venice and from the water, is as familiar asight almost as S. Mark's or the Doges' Palace, with its white stonecolumns, and the two giants supporting the globe, and the beautifulthistledown figure holding out his cloak to catch the wind. Everyone whohas been to Venice can recall this scene and the decisive way in whichthe Dogana thrusts into the lagoon like the prow of a ship of which theSalute's domes form the canvas. But to see Venice from the Dogana is ararer experience. No sooner does one round the point--the Punta della Salute--and come tothe Giudecca canal than everything changes. Palaces disappear andshipping asserts itself. One has promise of the ocean. Here there isalways a huddle of masts, both of barges moored close together, mostlycalled after either saints or Garibaldi, with crude pictures of theirnamesakes painted on the gunwale, and of bigger vessels and perhaps afew pleasure yachts; and as likely as not a big steamer is entering orleaving the harbour proper, which is at the far end of this Giudeccacanal. And ever the water dances and there are hints of the great sea, of which the Grand Canal, on the other side of the Dogana, is ignorant. The pavement of the Zaterre, though not so broad as the Riva, is stillwide, and, like the Riva, is broken by the only hills which the Venetianwalker knows--the bridges. The first building of interest to which wecome is the house, now a hotel, opposite a little alfresco restaurantabove the water, which bears a tablet stating that it was Ruskin'sVenetian home. That was in his later days, when he was writing _ForsClavigera_; earlier, while at work on _The Stones of Venice_, he hadlived, as we have seen, near S. Zobenigo. Ruskin could be very rude tothe Venetians: somewhere in _Fors_ he refers to the "dirty population ofVenice which is now neither fish nor flesh, neither noble norfisherman, " and he was furious alike with its tobacco and itssteamboats; yet for all that, if ever a distinguished man deservedhonour at the hands of a city Ruskin deserves it from Venice. _TheStones of Venice_ is such a book of praise as no other city ever had. Init we see a man of genius with a passion for the best and most sincerework devoting every gift of appraisement, exposition, and eulogy, fortified by the most loving thoroughness and patience, to the glory ofthe city's architecture, character, and art. The first church is that of the Gesuati, but it is uninteresting. Passing on, we come shortly to a very attractive house with anoverhanging first floor, most delectable windows and a wistaria, besidea bridge; and looking up the canal, the Rio di S. Trovaso, we see one ofthe favourite subjects of artists in Venice--the huddled wooden sheds ofa squero, or a boat-building yard; and as likely as not some workmenwill be firing the bottom of an old gondola preliminary to painting herafresh. Venice can show you artists at work by the score, on every fineday, but there is no spot more certain in which to find one than thisbridge. It was here that I once overheard two of these searchers forbeauty comparing notes on the day's fortune. "The bore is, " said one, "that everything is so good that one can never begin. " Of the myriad artists who have painted Venice, Turner is the mostwonderful. Her influence on him cannot be stated in words: after hisfirst residence in Venice, in the early eighteen-thirties, when he wasnearing sixty, his whole genius became etherealized and a golden mistseems to have swum for ever before his eyes. For many years after that, whenever he took up his brush, his first thought was to record yetanother Venetian memory. In the Tate Gallery and the National Galleryare many of the canvases to which this worshipper of light endeavouredwith such persistence and zeal to transfer some of the actual glory ofthe universe: each one the arena of the unequal struggle between pigmentand atmosphere. But if Turner failed, as every artist must fail, torecapture all, his failures are always magnificent. There are, of course, also numbers of his Venetian water-colours. Where Turner lived when in Venice, I have not been able to discover; butI feel sure it was not at Danieli's, where Bonington was lodging on hismemorable sojourn there about 1825. Turner was too frugal for that. TheTate has a brilliant oil rendering of the Doges' Palace by Bonington. The many Venetian water-colours which he made with such rapidity andpower are scattered. One at any rate is in the Louvre, a masterlydrawing of the Colleoni statue. To enumerate the great artists who have painted in Venice would fill abook. Not all have been too successful; while some have borne falsewitness. The dashing Ziem, for example, deprived Venice of hertranslucency; our own Henry Woods and Luke Fildes endow her daughters, who have always a touch of wistfulness, with too bold a beauty. InWhistler's lagoon etchings one finds the authentic note and in ClaraMontalba's warm evanescent aquamarines; while for the colour of Venice Icannot remember anything finer, always after Turner, than, among thedead, certain J. D. Hardings I have seen, and, among the living, Mr. Sargent's amazing transcripts, which, I am told, are not to be obtainedfor love or money, but fall to the lot of such of his friends as wiselymarry for them as wedding presents, or tumble out of his gondola andneed consolation. Bonington and Harding painted Venice as it is; Turner used Venice toserve his own wonderful and glorious ends. If you look at his "Sun ofVenice" in the National Gallery, you will not recognize the fairybackground of spires and domes--more like a city of the Arabian Nightsthan the Venice of fact even in the eighteen-thirties. You will noticetoo that the great wizard, to whom, in certain rapt moods, accuracy wasnothing, could not even write the word Venezia correctly on the sail ofa ship. Whistler too, in accordance with his dictum that to say to theartist that he must take nature as she is, is to say to the musicianthat he must sit on the piano, used Venice after his own caprice, as thestudy of his etchings will show. And yet the result of both theseartists' endeavours--one all for colour and the other all for form--isby the synthesis of genius a Venice more Venetian than herself: Veniceessentialized and spiritualized. It was from this bridge that one Sunday morning I watched the verycomplete removal of a family from the Giudecca to another domicile inthe city proper. The household effects were all piled up in the oneboat, which father and elder son, a boy of about twelve, propelled. Mother and baby sat on a mattress, high up, while two ragged girls andanother boy hopped about where they could and shouted with excitement. As soon as the Rio di S. Trovaso was entered the oarsmen gave up rowingand clawed their way along the wall. Moving has ever been a delight toEnglish children, the idea of a change of house being eternallyalluring, but what would they not give to make the exchange of homeslike this? We should walk beside this pleasant Rio, for a little way down on theleft is the church of S. Trovaso, with a campo that still retains someof the grass which gave these open spaces their name, and a few gracefulacacia trees. In this church is a curiously realistic "Adoration of theMagi" by Tintoretto: a moving scene of life in which a Spanish-lookingpeasant seems strangely out of place. An altar in a little chapel has abeautiful shallow relief which should not be overlooked. The high-altarpicture--a "Temptation of S. Anthony" by Tintoretto--is now hidden by agolden shrine, while another of the show pieces, a saint on horseback, possibly by Jacobello del Fiore, in the chapel to the left of the choir, is sadly in need of cleaning, but obviously deserving of every care. We now return to the Zattere, in a house on which, just beyond the Riodi S. Trovaso. Browning often stayed. In one of his letters he thusdescribes the view from his room: "Every morning at six, I see the sunrise; far more wonderfully, to my mind, than his famous setting, whicheverybody glorifies. My bedroom window commands a perfect view--thestill grey lagune, the few seagulls flying, the islet of S. Giorgio indeep shadow, and the clouds in a long purple rack, behind which a sortof spirit of rose burns up till presently all the ruins are on fire withgold, and last of all the orb sends before it a long column of its ownessence apparently: so my day begins. " Still keeping beside the shipping, we proceed to the little Albergo ofthe Winds where the fondamenta ends. Here we turn to the right, cross acampo with a school beside it, and a hundred boys either playing on thestones or audible at their lessons within walls, and before us, on theother side of the canal, is the church of S. Sebastiano, where thesuperb Veronese painted and all that was mortal of him was laid to restin 1588. Let us enter. For Paolo Veronese at his best, in Venice, you must go to the Doges'Palace and the Accademia. Nearer home he is to be found in the SalonCarré in the Louvre, where his great banqueting scene hangs, and in ourown National Gallery, notably in the beautiful S. Helena, morebeautiful, to my mind, than anything of his in Venice, and not only morebeautiful but more simple and sincere, and also in the magnificent"House of Darius". Not much is known of the life of Paolo Caliari of Verona. The son of astone-cutter, he was born in 1528, and thus was younger than Titian andTintoretto, with whom he was eternally to rank, who were bornrespectively in 1477 or 1487 and 1518. At the age of twenty-seven, Veronese went to Venice, and there he remained, with brief absences, forthe rest of his life, full of work and honour. His first success camewhen he competed for the decoration of the ceiling of S. Mark's libraryand won. In 1560 he visited Rome in the Ambassador's service; in 1565 hemarried a Veronese woman. He died in 1588, leaving two painter sons. Vasari, who preferred Tuscans, merely mentions him. More than any other painter, except possibly Velasquez, Veronese strikesthe observer as an aristocrat. Everything that he did had a certainaloofness and distinction. In drawing, no Venetian was his superior, noteven Tintoretto; and his colour, peculiarly his own, is characterized bya certain aureous splendour, as though he mixed gold with all hispaints. Tintoretto and he, though latterly, in Titian's very old age, rivals, were close friends. Veronese is the glory of this church, for it possesses not only hisashes but some fine works. It is a pity that the light is not good. Thechoir altar-piece is his and his also are the pictures of the martyrdomof S. Sebastian, S. Mark, and S. Marcellinus. They are vigorous andtypical, but tell their stories none too well. Veronese painted also theceiling, the organ, and other altar-pieces, and a bust of him is here toshow what manner of man he was. Close to the door, on the left as you leave, is a little Titian whichmight be very fine after cleaning. There are two ways of returning from S. Sebastiano to, say, the ironbridge of the Accademia. One is direct, the other indirect. Let us takethe indirect one first. [Illustration: THE PALAZZO PESARO (ORFEI), CAMPO S. BENEDETTO] Leaving the church, you cross the bridge opposite its door and turn tothe left beside the canal. At the far corner you turn into thefondamenta of the Rio di S. Margherita, which is a beautiful canal witha solitary cypress that few artists who come to Venice can resist. Keeping on the right side of the Rio di S. Margherita we come quicklyto the campo of the Carmine, where another church awaits us. S. Maria del Carmine is not beautiful, and such pictures as it possessesare only dimly visible--a "Circumcision" by Tintoretto, a Cima whichlooks as though it might be rather good, and four Giorgionesque scenesby Schiavone. But it has, what is rare in Venice, a bronze bas-relieffrom Tuscany, probably by Verrocchio and possibly by Leonardo himself. It is just inside the side door, on the right as you enter, and mighteasily be overlooked. Over the dead Christ bend women in grief; ayounger woman stands by the cross, in agony; and in a corner arekneeling, very smug, the two donors, Federigo da Montefeltro andBattista Sforza. Across the road is a Scuola with ceilings by the dashing Tiepolo--veryfree and luminous, with a glow that brought to my mind certain littlepastorals by Karel du Jardin, of all people! It is now necessary to get to the Campo di S. Barnaba, where under anarch a constant stream of people will be seen, making for the ironbridge of the Accademia, and into this stream you will naturally beabsorbed; and to find this campo you turn at once into the great campoof S. Margherita, leaving on your left an ancient building that is now acinema and bearing to the right until you reach a canal. Cross thecanal, turn to the left, and the Campo di S. Barnaba, with its archwayunder the houses, is before you. The direct way from S. Sebastiano to this same point and the iron bridgeis by the long Calle Avogadro and Calle Lunga running straight from thebridge before the church. There is no turning. The Calle Lunga is the chief shopping centre of this neighbourhood--itsMerceria--and all the needs of poorer Venetian life are supplied there. But what most interested me was the death-notices in the shop windows. Every day there was a new one; sometimes two. These intimations ofmortality are printed in a copper-plate type on large sheets of paper, usually with black edges and often with a portrait. They begin withrecords as to death, disease, and age, and pass on to eulogise thedeparted. It is the encomiastic mood that makes them so charming. Ifthey mourn a man, he was the most generous, most punctilious, and mostrespected of Venetian citizens. His word was inviolable; as a husbandand father he was something a little more than perfection, and hissorrowing and desolate widow and his eight children, two of them themerest bambini, will have the greatest difficulty in dragging throughthe tedious hours that must intervene before they are reunited to him inthe paradise which his presence is now adorning. If they mourn a woman, she was a miracle of fortitude and piety, and nothing can ever effaceher memory and no one take her place. "Ohè!" if only she had beenspared, but death comes to all. The composition is florid and emotional, with frequent exclamations ofgrief, and the intimations of mortality are so thorough and convincingthat one has a feeling that many a death-bed would be alleviated if thedying man could hear what was to be printed about him. After reading several one comes to the conclusion that a single authoris responsible for many; and it may be a Venetian profession to writethem. A good profession too, for they carry much comfort on their wings. Every one stops to read them, and I saw no cynical smile on any face. CHAPTER XXVII CHURCHES HERE AND THERE S. Maria dei Miracoli--An exquisite casket--S. Maria Formosa--Picturesof old Venice--The Misericordia--Tintoretto's house--The Madonnadell'Orto--Tintoretto's "Presentation"--"The Last Judgment"--ABellini--Titian's "Tobias"--S. Giobbe--Il Moro--Venetian by-ways--A fewminor beauties. Among the smaller beauties of Venice--its cabinet architectural gems, soto speak--S. Maria dei Miracoli comes first. This little church, sosmall as to be almost a casket, is tucked away among old houses on acanal off the Rio di S. Marina, and it might be visited after SS. Giovanni e Paolo as a contrast to the vastness of that "Pathéon deVenise, " as the sacristan likes to call it. S. Maria dei Miracoli, sonamed from a picture of the Madonna over the altar which has performedmany miracles, is a monument to the genius of the Lombardo family:Pietro and his sons having made it, in the fifteenth century, for theAmadi. To call the little church perfect is a natural impulse, althoughno doubt fault could be found with it: Ruskin, for example, finds some, but try as he will to be cross he cannot avoid conveying an impressionof pleasure in it. For you and me, however, it is a joy unalloyed: ajewel of Byzantine Renaissance architecture, made more beautiful by gayand thoughtful detail. It is all of marble, white and coloured, with amassive wooden ceiling enriched and lightened by paint. Venice hasnothing else at all like it. Fancy, in this city of aisles and columnsand side chapels and wall tombs, a church with no interruptions orimpediments whatever. The floor has its chairs (such poor cane-bottomedthings too, just waiting for a rich patron to put in something good ofrare wood, well carved and possibly a little gilded), and nothing else. The walls are unvexed. At the end is a flight of steps leading to thealtar, and that is all, except that there is not an inch of the churchwhich does not bear traces of a loving care. Every piece of the marblecarving is worth study--the flowers and foliations, the birds and cupidsand dolphins, and not least the saint with a book on the left ambone. S. Maria Formosa, one of the churches mentioned in the beautiful legendof Bishop Magnus--to be built, you remember, where he saw a white cloudrest--which still has a blue door-curtain, is chiefly famous for apicture by a great Venetian painter who is too little represented in thecity--Palma the elder. Palma loved beautiful, opulent women and richcolours, and even when he painted a saint, as he does here--S. Barbara(whose jawbone we saw in the S. Rocco treasury)--he could not muchreduce his fine free fancy and therefore he made her more of acommanding queen than a Christian martyr. This church used to be visitedevery year by the Doge for a service in commemoration of the capture ofthe brides, of which we heard at S. Pietro in Castello. The campo, oncea favourite centre for bull-fights and alfresco plays, has some finepalaces, notably those at No. 5250, the Malipiero, and No. 6125, the redDonà. At the south of the campo is the Campiello Querini where we find thePalazzo Querini Stampalia, a seventeenth-century mansion, now theproperty of the city, which contains a library and a picture gallery. Among the older pictures which I recall are a Holy Family by Lorenzo diCredi in Room III and a Martyrdom of San Sebastian by Annibale Caracciin Room IV. A Judith boldly labelled Giorgione is not good. But althoughno very wonderful work of art is here, the house should be visited forits scenes of Venetian life, which bring the Venice of the past veryvividly before one. Here you may see the famous struggles between thetwo factions of gondoliers, the Castellani and the Nicolotti, actuallyin progress on one of the bridges; the departure of the Bucintoro withthe Doge on board to wed the Adriatic; the wedding ceremony off S. Niccolò; the marriage of a noble lady at the Salute; a bull-fight on thesteps of the Rialto bridge; another in the courtyard of the DucalPalace; a third in the Piazza of S. Mark in 1741; the game of pallone(now played in Venice no more) in the open space before the Gesuiti;fairs in the Piazzetta; church festivals and regattas. The paintingsbeing contemporary, these records are of great value in ascertainingcostumes, architecture, and so forth. I speak elsewhere of the Palazzo Giovanelli as being an excellentdestination to give one's gondolier when in doubt. After leaving it, with Giorgione's landscape still glowing in the memory, there are worsecourses to take than to tell the poppé to row on up the Rio di Noale tothe Misericordia, in which Tintoretto painted his "Paradiso". This greatchurch, once the chief funeral church of Venice, is now a warehouse, lumber rooms, workshops. Beside it is the head-quarters of the _pompesfunèbres_, wherein a jovial fellow in blue linen was singing as Ipassed. At the back of the Misericordia is an ancient abbey, now alsosecularized, with a very charming doorway surmounted by a pretty reliefof cherubs. Farther north is the Sacco of the Misericordia opening intothe lagoon. Here are stored the great rafts of timber that come down therivers from the distant hill-country, and now and then you may see oneof the huts in which the lumber-men live on the voyage. From the Misericordia it is a short distance to the Fondamenta dei Mori, at No. 3399 of which is the Casa di Tintoretto, with a relief of thegreat painter's head upon it. Here he lived and died. The curious carvedfigures on this and the neighbouring house are thought to representMorean merchants who once congregated here. Turning up the Campo deiMori we come to the great church of the Madonna dell'Orto, whereTintoretto was buried. It should be visited in the late afternoon, because the principal reason for seeing it is Tintoretto's"Presentation, " and this lovely picture hangs in a dark chapel whichobtains no light until the sinking sun penetrates its window and fallson the canvas. To my mind it is one of the most beautiful pictures thatTintoretto painted--a picture in which all his strength has turned tosweetness. We have studied Titian's version in the Accademia, where ithas a room practically to itself (see opposite page 36); Tintoretto's ishung badly and has suffered seriously from age and conditions. Titian'swas painted in 1540; this afterwards, and the painter cheerfullyaccepted the standard set by the earlier work. Were I in the position ofthat imaginary millionaire whom I have seen in the mind's eye busy inthe loving task of tenderly restoring Venice's most neglectedmasterpieces, it is this "Presentation" with which I should begin. [Illustration: THE PRESENTATIONFROM THE PAINTING BY TINTORETTO_In the Church of the Madonna dell'Orto_] The Madonna dell'Orto is not a church much resorted to by visitors, asit lies far from the beaten track, but one can always find some one toopen it, and as likely as not the sacristan will be seated by therampino at the landing steps, awaiting custom. The church was built in the fourteenth century as a shrine for a figureof the Madonna, which was dug up in a garden that spread hereabout andat once performed a number of miracles. On the façade is a noble slab ofporphyry, and here is S. Christopher with his precious burden. Thecampanile has a round top and flowers sprout from the masonry. Within, the chief glory is Tintoretto. His tomb is in the chapel to the right ofthe chancel, where hang, on the left, his scene of "The Worship of theGolden Calf, " and opposite it his "Last Judgment". The "Last Judgment" is one of his Michael-Angelesque works and also oneof his earliest, before he was strong enough or successful enough (oftensynonymous states) to be wholly himself. But it was a great effort, andthe rushing cataract is a fine and terrifying idea. "The Worship of theGolden Calf" is a work interesting not only as a dramatic scripturalscene full of thoughtful detail, but as containing a portrait of thepainter and his wife. Tintoretto is the most prominent of the calf'sbearers; his Faustina is the woman in blue. Two very different painters--the placid Cima and the serene Bellini--areto be seen here too, each happily represented. Cima has a sweet andgentle altar-piece depicting the Baptist and two saints, and Bellini's"Madonna and Child" is rich and warm and human. Even the aged and veryrickety sacristan--too tottering perhaps for any reader of the book tohave the chance of seeing--was moved by Bellini. "Bellissima!" he saidagain and again, taking snuff the while. The neighbouring church of S. Marziale is a gay little place famous fora "Tobias and the Angel" by Titian. This is a cheerful work. Tobias is atypical and very real Venetian boy, and his dog, a white and brownmongrel, also peculiarly credible. The chancel interrupts an"Annunciation, " by Tintoretto's son, the angel being on one side and theVirgin on the other. And now for the most north-westerly point of the city that I havereached--the church of S. Giobbe, off the squalid Cannaregio which leadsto Mestre and Treviso. This church, which has, I suppose, the poorestcongregation of all, is dedicated to one of whom I had never beforethought as a saint, although his merits are unmistakable--Job. Itsspecial distinction is the beautiful chapel of the high altar designedby the Lombardi (who made S. Maria dei Miracoli) for Doge CristoforoMoro to the glory of S. Bernardino of Siena. S. Bernardino is here andalso S. Anthony of Padua and S. Lawrence. At each corner is an exquisitelittle figure holding a relief. On the floor is the noble tombstone of the Doge himself (1462-1471) byPietro Lombardi. Moro had a distinguished reign, which saw triumphsabroad and the introduction of printing into the city; but to theEnglish he has yet another claim to distinction, and that is that mostprobably he was the Moro of Venice whom Shakespeare when writing_Othello_ assumed to be a Moor. The church also has a chapel with a Delia Robbia ceiling and sculptureby Antonio Rossellino. The best picture is by Paris Bordone, a mellowand rich group of saints. This book has been so much occupied with the high-ways of Venice--andfar too superficially, I fear--that the by-ways have escaped attention;and yet the by-ways are the best. The by-ways, however, are for each ofus separately, whereas the high-ways are common property: let that--andconditions of space--be my excuse. The by-ways must be soughtindividually, either straying where one's feet will or on some suchthorough plan as that laid down in Col. Douglas's most admirable book, _Venice on Foot_. Some of my own unaided discoveries I may mention justas examples, but there is no real need: as good a harvest is for everyquiet eye. There is the tiniest medieval cobbler's shop you ever saw under astaircase in a courtyard reached by the Sotto-portico Secondo Lucatello, not far from S. Zulian, with a medieval cobbler cobbling in it day andnight. There is a relief of graceful boys on the Rio del Palazzo side ofthe Doges' Palace; there is a S. George and Dragon on a building on theRio S. Salvatore just behind the Bank of Italy; there is a doorway at3462 Rio di S. Margherita; there is the Campo S. Maria Mater Domini witha house on the north side into whose courtyard much ancient sculpturehas been built. There is a yellow palace on the Rio di S. Marina whosereflection in the water is most beautiful. There is the overhangingstreet leading to the Ponte del Paradiso. There is the Campo of S. Giacomo dell'Orio, which is gained purely by accident, with its churchin the midst and a vast trattoria close by, and beautiful vistas beneaththis sottoportico and that. There are the two ancient chimneys seen fromthe lagoon on a house behind Danieli's. There is the lovely Gothicpalace with a doorway and garden seen from the Ponte dell'Erbe--thePalazzo Van Axel. There is the red palace seen from the Fondamentadell'Osmarin next the Ponte del Diavolo. There is in the little calleleading from the Campo Daniele Manin to the lovely piece of architectureknown as the staircase dal Bovolo--a bovolo being a snail--from itsconvolutions. This staircase, which is a remnant of the Contarini palaceand might be a distant relative of the tower of Pisa, is a shiningreproach to the adjacent architecture, some of which is quite new. It isa miracle of delicacy and charm, and should certainly be sought for. Andabove all there is the dancing reflection of the rippling water in thesun on the under sides of bridges seen from the gondola; and of all thebridges that give one this effect of gentle restless radiancy none isbetter than the Ponte S. Polo. CHAPTER XXVIII GIORGIONE The Palazzo Giovanelli--A lovely picture--A superb innovator--Picturesfor houses--_The Tempest_--Byron's criticism--Giorgione and theexperts--Vasari's estimate--Leonardo da Vinci--The Giorgionesque fire--Avisit to Castel Franco--The besieging children--The Sacristan--Abeautiful altar-piece--Pictures at Padua--Giorgiones still to bediscovered. It will happen now and then that you will be in your gondola, with theafternoon before you, and will not have made up your mind where to go. It is then that I would have you remember the Palazzo Giovanelli. "ThePalazzo Giovanelli, Rio di Noale, " say to your gondolier; because thispalace is not only open to the public but it contains the mostsensuously beautiful picture in Venice--Giorgione's "Tempest". Giorgione, as I have said, is the one transcendentally great Venetianpainter whom it is impossible, for certain, to find in any publicgallery or church in the city of his adoption. There is a romantic sceneat the Seminario next the Salute, an altar-piece in S. Rocco, anotheraltar-piece in S. Giovanni Crisostomo, in each of which he may have hada hand. But none of these is Giorgione essential. For the one true workof this wistful beauty-adoring master we must seek the PalazzoGiovanelli. You can enter the palace either from the water, or on foot at theSalizzada Santa Fosca, No. 2292. A massive custodian greets you andpoints to a winding stair. This you ascend and are met by a typicalVenetian man-servant. Of the palace itself, which has been recentlymodernized, I have nothing to say. There are both magnificent and prettyrooms in it, and a little boudoir has a quite charming floor, andfurniture covered in ivory silk. But everything is in my mindsubordinated to the Giorgione: so much so that I have difficulty inwriting that word Giovanelli at all. The pen will trace only the lettersof the painter's name: it is to me the Palazzo Giorgione. The picture, which I reproduce on the opposite page, is on an easel justinside a door and you come upon it suddenly. Not that any one could everbe completely ready for it; but you pass from one room to the next, andthere it is--all green and blue and glory. Remember that Giorgione wasnot only a Venetian painter but in some ways the most remarkable andpowerful of them all; remember that his fellow-pupil Titian himselfworshipped his genius and profited by it, and that he even influencedhis master Bellini; and then remember that all the time you have been inVenice you have seen nothing that was unquestionably authentic and atthe most only three pictures that might be his. It is as though Florencehad but one Botticelli, or London but one Turner, or Madrid but oneVelasquez. And then you turn the corner and find this! [Illustration: THE TEMPESTFROM THE PAINTING BY GIORGIONE_In the Giovanelli Palace_] The Venetian art that we have hitherto seen has been almost exclusivelythe handmaid of religion or the State. At the Ducal Palace we found thegreat painters exalting the Doges and the Republic; even the otherpicture in Venice which I associate with this for its purebeauty--Tintoretto's "Bacchus and Ariadne"--was probably an allegory ofVenetian success. In the churches and at the Accademia we have seen themasters illustrating the Testaments Old and New. All their work hasbeen for altars or church walls or large public places. We have seennothing for a domestic wall but little mannered Longhis, without anyimagination, or topographical Canalettos and Guardis. And then we turn acorner and are confronted by this!--not only a beautiful picture and anon-religious picture but a picture painted to hang on a wall. That was one of Giorgione's innovations: to paint pictures for privategentlemen. Another, was to paint pictures of sheer loveliness with noconcern either with Scripture or history; and this is one of hisloveliest. It has all kinds of faults--and it is perfect. The drawing isnot too good; the painting is not too good; that broken pillar is bothcommonplace and foolish; and yet the work is perfect because a perfectartist made it. It is beautiful and mysterious and a little sad, all atonce, just as an evening landscape can be, and it is unmistakably thework of one who felt beauty so deeply that his joyousness left him andthe melancholy that comes of the knowledge of transitoriness took itsplace. Hence there is only one word that can adequately describe it andthat is Giorgionesque. The picture is known variously as "The Tempest, " for a thunderstorm isworking up; as "The Soldier and the Gipsy, " as "Adrastus and Hypsipyle, "and as "Giorgione's Family". In the last case the soldier watching thewoman would be the painter himself (who never married) and the woman themother of his child. Whatever we call it, the picture remains the same:profoundly beautiful, profoundly melancholy. A sense of impendingcalamity informs it. A lady observing it remarked to me, "Each isthinking thoughts unknown to the other"; and they are thoughts ofunhappy morrows. This, the Giovanelli Giorgione, which in 1817 was in the Manfrini palaceand was known as the "Famiglia di Giorgione, " was the picture in allVenice--indeed the picture in all the world--which most delighted Byron. "To me, " he wrote, "there are none like the Venetian--above all, Giorgione. " _Beppo_ has some stanzas on it. Thus:-- They've pretty faces yet, those same Venetians, Black eyes, arched brows, and sweet expressions still Such as of old were copied from the Grecians, In ancient arts by moderns mimicked ill; And like so many Venuses of Titian's (The best's at Florence--see it, if ye will), They look when leaning over the balcony, Or stepped from out a picture by Giorgione, Whose tints are Truth and Beauty at their best; And when you to Manfrini's palace go, That picture (howsoever fine the rest) Is loveliest to my mind of all the show; It may perhaps be also to _your_ zest And that's the cause I rhyme upon it so, 'Tis but a portrait of his Son and Wife, And self, but _such_ a Woman! Love in life; Love in full life and length, not love ideal, No, nor ideal beauty, that fine name, But something better still, so very real, That the sweet Model must have been the same; A thing that you would purchase, beg, or steal, Wer't not impossible, besides a shame; The face recalls some face, as 'twere with pain. You once have seen, but ne'er will see again; One of those forms which flit by us, when we Are young, and fix our eyes on every face: And, oh! the Loveliness at times we see In momentary gliding, the soft grace, The Youth, the Bloom, the Beauty which agree, In many a nameless being we retrace Whose course and home we knew not nor shall know. Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below. The Giovanelli picture is one of the paintings which all the criticsagree to give to Giorgione, from Sir Sidney Colvin in the _EncyclopædiaBritannica_ to the very latest monographer, Signor Lionello Venturi, whose work, _Giorgione Giorgionismo_, is a monument to the diversity ofexpert opinion. Giorgione, short as was his life, lived at any rate forthirty years and was known near and far as a great painter, and it is tobe presumed that the work that he produced is still somewhere. ButSignor Lionello Venturi reduces his output to the most meagredimensions; the conclusion being that wherever his work may be, it isanywhere but in the pictures that bear his name. The result of thiscritic's heavy labours is to reduce the certain Giorgiones to thirteen, among which is the S. Rocco altar-piece. With great daring he goes on tosay who painted all the others: Sebastian del Piombo this, AndreaSchiavone that, Romanino another, Titian another, and so forth. It maybe so, but if one reads also the other experts--Sir Sidney Colvin, Morelli, Justi, the older Venturi, Mr. Berenson, Mr. Charles Ricketts, Mr. Herbert Cook--one is simply in a whirl. For all differ. Mr. Cook, for example, is lyrically rapturous about the two Padua panels, of whichmore anon, and their authenticity; Mr. Ricketts gives the Pitti"Concert" and the Caterina Cornaro to Titian without a tremor. Our ownNational Gallery "S. Liberate" is not mentioned by some at all; theParis "Concert Champêtre, " in which most of the judges believe soabsolutely, Signor Lionello Venturi gives to Piombo. The Giovanellipicture and the Castel Franco altar-piece alone remain above suspicionin every book. Having visited the Giovanelli Palace, I found myself restless for thisrare spirit, and therefore arranged a little diversion to Castel Franco, where he was born and where his great altar-piece is preserved. But first let us look at Giorgione's career. Giorgio Barbarelli was bornat Castel Franco in 1477 or 1478. The name by which we know himsignifies the great Giorgio and was the reward of his personal charm andunusual genius. Very little is known of his life, Vasari being none toocopious when it comes to the Venetians. What we do know, however, isthat he was very popular, not only with other artists but with the fair, and in addition to being a great painter was an accomplished musician. His master was Giovanni Bellini, who in 1494, when we may assume thatGiorgione, being sixteen, was beginning to paint, was approachingseventy. Giorgione, says Vasari in an exultant passage, was "so enamoured ofbeauty in nature that he cared only to draw from life and to representall that was fairest in the world around him". He had seen, says thesame authority, "certain works from the hand of Leonardo which werepainted with extraordinary softness, and thrown into powerful relief, asis said, by extreme darkness of the shadows, a manner which pleased himso much that he ever after continued to imitate it, and in oil paintingapproached very closely to the excellence of his model. A zealousadmirer of the good in art, Giorgione always selected for representationthe most beautiful objects that he could find, and these he treated inthe most varied manner: he was endowed by nature with highly felicitousqualities, and gave to all that he painted, whether in oil or fresco, adegree of life, softness, and harmony (being more particularlysuccessful in the shadows) which caused all the more eminent artists toconfess that he was born to infuse spirit into the forms of painting, and they admitted that he copied the freshness of the living form moreexactly than any other painter, not of Venice only, but of all otherplaces. " Leonardo, who was born in 1452, was Giorgione's senior by a quarter of acentury and one of the greatest names--if not quite the greatestname--in art when Giorgione was beginning to paint. A story says thatthey met when Leonardo was in Venice in 1500. One cannot exactly deriveany of Giorgione's genius from Leonardo, but the fame of the greatLombardy painter was in the air, and we must remember that his masterVerrocchio, after working in Venice on the Colleoni statue, had diedthere in 1488, and that Andrea da Solario, Leonardo's pupil andimitator, was long in Venice too. Leonardo and Giorgione share aprofound interest in the dangerous and subtly alluring; but thedifference is this, that we feel Leonardo to have been the master of hisromantic emotions, while Giorgione suggests that for himself they couldbe too much. It is not, however, influence upon Giorgione that is most interesting, but Giorgione's influence upon others. One of his great achievements wasthe invention of the _genre_ picture. He was the first lyrical painter:the first to make a canvas represent a single mood, much as a sonnetdoes. He was the first to combine colour and pattern to no other end butsheer beauty. The picture had a subject, of course, but the subject nolonger mattered. Il fuoco Giorgionesco--the Giorgionesque fire--was thephrase invented to describe the new wonder he brought into painting. Acomparison of Venetian art before Giorgione and after shows instantlyhow this flame kindled. Not only did Giorgione give artists a libertythey had never enjoyed before, but he enriched their palettes. Hiscolours burned and glowed. Much of the gorgeousness which we callTitianesque was born in the brain of Giorgione, Titian's fellow-worker, and (for Titian's birth date is uncertain: either 1477 or 1487) probablyhis senior. You may see the influence at work in our National Gallery:Nos. 41, 270, 35, and 635 by Titian would probably have been fardifferent but for Giorgione. So stimulating was Giorgione's genius toTitian, who was his companion in Bellini's studio, that there arecertain pictures which the critics divide impartially between the two, chief among them the "Concert" at the Pitti; while together theydecorated the Fondaco dei Tedeschi on the Grand Canal. It is assumedthat Titian finished certain of Giorgione's works when he died in 1510. The plague which killed Giorgione killed also 20, 000 other Venetians, and sixty-six years later, in another visitation of the scourge, Titianalso died of it. Castel Franco is five-and-twenty miles from Venice, but there are so fewtrains that it is practically a day's excursion there and back. I sat inthe train with four commercial travellers and watched the water give wayto maize, until chancing to look up for a wider view there were the bluemountains ahead of us, with clouds over them and here and there a patchof snow. Castel Franco is one of the last cities of the plain;Browning's Asolo is on the slope above it, only four or five miles away. The station being reached at last--for even in Italy journeys end--Irejected the offers of two cabmen, one cabwoman, and one bus driver, andwalked. There was no doubt as to the direction, with the campanile ofthe duomo as a beacon. For a quarter of a mile the road is straight andnarrow; then it broadens into an open space and Castel Franco appears. It is a castle indeed. All the old town is within vast crumbling redwalls built on a mound with a moat around them. Civic zeal has trimmedthe mound into public "grounds, " and the moat is lively with ornamentalducks; while a hundred yards farther rises the white statue of CastelFranco's greatest son, no other than Giorgione himself, a dashingcavalier-like gentleman with a brush instead of a rapier. If he werelike this, one can believe the story of his early death--little morethan thirty--which came about through excessive love of a lady, shehaving taken the plague and he continuing to visit her. Having examined the statue I penetrated the ramparts to the little town, in the midst of which is the church. It was however locked, as a band ofchildren hastened to tell me: intimating also that if anyone on earthknew how to effect an entrance they were the little devils in question. So I was led to a side door, the residence of a fireman, and we pulled abell, and in an instant out came the fireman to extinguish whatever wasburning; but on learning my business he instantly became transformedinto the gentlest of sacristans, returned for his key, and led me, followed by the whole pack of children, by this time greatly augmented, to a door up some steps on the farther side of the church. The pack wasfor coming in too, but a few brief yet sufficient threats from thesacristan acted so thoroughly that not only did they melt away then butwere not there when I came out--this being in Italy unique as a mercifuldisappearance. More than merciful, miraculous, leading one to believethat Giorgione's picture really has supernatural powers. The picture is on a wall behind the high altar, curtained. Thefireman-sacristan pulled away the curtain, handed me a pair of operaglasses and sat down to watch me, a task in which he was joined byanother man and a boy who had been cleaning the church. There they sat, the three of them, all huddled together, saying nothing, but staringhard at me (as I could feel) with gimlet eyes; while a few feet distantI sat too, peering through the glasses at Giorgione's masterpiece, ofwhich I give a reproduction on the opposite page. It is very beautiful; it grows more beautiful; but it does not give mesuch pleasure as the Giovanelli pastoral. I doubt if Giorgione had thealtar-piece temperament. He was not for churches; and indeed there wereso many brushes for churches, that his need never have been called upon. He was wholly individual, wistful, pleasure-seeking andpleasure-missing, conscious of the brevity of life and the elusivenessof joy; of the earth earthy; a kind of Keats in colour, with, as onecritic--I think Mr. Ricketts--has pointed out, something of Rossettitoo. Left to himself he would have painted only such idylls as theGiovanelli picture. [Illustration: ALTAR-PIECEBY GIORGIONE_At Castel Franco_] Yet this altar-piece is very beautiful, and, as I say, it grows morebeautiful as you look at it, even under such conditions as I endured, and even after much restoration. The lines and pattern are Giorgione's, howsoever the re-painter may have toiled. The two saints are so kind andreasonable (and never let it be forgotten that we may have, in ourNational Gallery, one of the studies for S. Liberale), and so simple andnatural in their movements and position; the Madonna is at once so sweetand so little of a mother; the landscape on the right is so veryGiorgionesque, with all the right ingredients--the sea, the glade, thelovers, and the glow. If anything disappoints it is the general colourscheme, and in a Giorgione for that to disappoint is amazing. Let usthen blame the re-painter. The influence of Giovanni Bellini in thearrangement is undoubtable; but the painting was Giorgione's own and histhe extra touch of humanity. Another day I went as far afield as Padua, also with Giorgione in mind, for Baedeker, I noticed, gives one of his pictures there a star. OfPadua I want to write much, but here, at this moment, Giotto beingforgotten, it is merely as a casket containing two (or more) Giorgionesthat the city exists. From Venice it is distant half an hour by fasttrains, or by way of Fusina, two hours. I went on the occasion of thisGiorgione pilgrimage by fast train, and returned in the little tram toFusina and so, across the lagoon, into Venice, with the sun behind me, and the red bricks of Venice flinging it back. The picture gallery at Padua is crowded with pictures of saints and theMadonna, few of them very good. But that is of no moment, since it hasalso three isolated screens, upon each of which is inscribed the magicname. The three screens carry four pictures--two long and narrow, evidently panels from a cassone; the others quite small. The best is No. 50, one of the two long narrow panels which together purport torepresent the story of Adonis and Erys but do not take the duty ofhistorian very seriously. Both are lovely, with a mellow sunset lightingthe scene. Here and there in the glorious landscape occurs a nymph, thenaked flesh of whom burns with the reflected fire; here and there arelovers, and among the darkling trees beholders of the old romance. Thepicture remains in the vision much as rich autumnal prospects can. The other screen is more popular because the lower picture on it yetagain shows us Leda and her uncomfortable paramour--that favouritemythological legend. The little pictures are not equal to the largerones, and No. 50 is by far the best, but all are beautiful, and all areexotics here. Do you suppose, however, that Signor Lionello Venturi willallow Giorgione to have painted a stroke to them? Not a bit of it. Theycome under the head of Giorgionismo. The little ones, according to him, are the work of Anonimo; the larger ones were painted by Romanino. Butwhether or not Giorgione painted any or all, the irrefutable factremains that but for his genius and influence they would never haveexisted. He showed the way. The eyes of that beautiful sad pagan shinewistfully through. According to Vasari, Giorgione, like his master Bellini, painted theDoge Leonardo Loredan, but the picture, where is it? And where areothers mentioned by Vasari and Ridolfi? So fervid a lover of nature andhis art must have painted much; yet there is but little left now. Canthere be discoveries of Giorgiones still to be made? One wonders that itis possible for any of the glowing things from that hand to lie hidden:their colours should burn through any accumulation of rubbish, and nowand then their pulses be heard. CHAPTER XXIX AND LAST ISLAND AFTERNOONS' ENTERTAINMENTS. II: S. LAZZARO AND CHIOGGIA An Armenian monastery--The black beards--An attractive cicerone--Therefectory--Byron's Armenian studies--A little museum--A pleasantlibrary--Tireless enthusiasm--The garden--Old age--The twocampanili--Armenian proverbs--Chioggia--An amphibious town--Therepulsiveness of roads--The return voyage--Porto Secco--Malamocco--Anevening scene--The end. As one approaches the Lido from Venice one passes on the right twoislands. The first is a grim enough colony, for thither are the malelunatics of Venice deported; but the second, with a graceful easterncampanile or minaret, a cool garden and warm red buildings, is alluringand serene, being no other than the island of S. Lazzaro, on which issituated the monastery of the Armenian Mechitarists, a little company ofscholarly monks who collect old MSS, translate, edit and print theirlearned lucubrations, and instruct the young in religion and theology. Furthermore, the island is famous in our literature for having affordedLord Byron a refuge, when, after too deep a draught of worldlybeguilements, he decided to become a serious recluse, and for a briefwhile buried himself here, studied Armenian, and made a fewtranslations: enough at any rate to provide himself with a cloistralinterlude on which he might ever after reflect with pride and thewistful backward look of a born scholiast to whom the fates had beenunkind. According to a little history of the island which one of the brothershas written, S. Lazzaro was once a leper settlement. Then it fell intodisuse, and in 1717 an Armenian monk of substance, one Mekhitar ofSebaste, was permitted to purchase it and here surround himself withcompanions. Since then the life of the little community has been easyand tranquil. The extremely welcome visitor is received at the island stairs by aporter in uniform and led by him along the sunny cloisters and theirvery green garden to a waiting-room hung thickly with modern paintings:indifferent Madonnas and views of the city and the lagoon. By and by incomes a black-bearded father, in a cassock. All the Mechitarists, itseems, have black beards and cassocks and wide-brimmed beavers; and theyoung seminarists, whom one meets now and then in little bunches inVenice, are broad-brimmed, black-coated, and give promise of being hairytoo. The father, who is genial and smiling, asks if we understandFrench, and deploring the difficulty of the English language, which hasso many ways of pronouncing a single termination, whereas the Armeniannever exceeds one, leads the way. The first thing to admire is the garden once more, with its verdantcedars of Lebanon and a Judas-tree bent beneath its blood. On a seat inthe midst another bearded father beneath a wide hat is reading a proof. And through the leaves the sunlight is splashing on the cloisters, pillars, and white walls. [Illustration: THE ARMENIAN MONASTERY AND THE LAGOON] The refectory is a long and rather sombre room. Here, says the littleguide-book to the island, prepared by one of the fathers who hadovercome most of the difficulties of our tongue, "before sitting down todine grace is said in common; the president recites some prayer, two ofthe scholars recite a psalm, the Lord's prayer is repeated and the mealis despatched in silence. In the meantime one of the novices appears inthe pulpit and reads first a lesson from the Bible, and then anotherfrom some other book. The meal finished, the president rings a bell, thereader retires to dine, the Community rises, they give thanks and retireto the garden. " Next upstairs. We are taken first to the room which was Byron's, wherethe visitors' book is kept. I looked from the window to see upon whatprospect those sated eyes could fall, and found that immediatelyopposite is now the huge Excelsior Hotel of the Lido. In Byron's day theLido was a waste, for bathing had hardly been invented. The reverence inwhich the name and memory of his lordship are still held suggests thathe took in the simple brothers very thoroughly. Not only have they hisportrait and the very table at which he sat, but his pens, inkstand, andknife. His own letters on his refuge are interesting. Writing to Moorein 1816 he says: "By way of divertisement, I am studying daily, at anArmenian monastery, the Armenian language. I found that my mind wantedsomething craggy to break upon; and this--as the most difficult thing Icould discover here for an amusement--I have chosen, to torture me intoattention. It is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any onethe trouble of learning it. I try, and shall go on; but I answer fornothing, least of all for my intentions or my success. " He made a fewmetrical translations into Armenian, but his principal task was to helpwith an English and Armenian grammar, for which, when it was ready, hewrote a preface. Byron usually came to the monastery only for the day, but there was a bedroom for him which he occasionally occupied. Thesuperior, he says, had a "beard like a meteor. " A brother who was thereat the time and survived till the seventies told a visitor that his"Lordship was as handsome as a saint. " In the lobby adjoining Byron's room are cases of autographs andphotographs of distinguished visitors, such as Mr. Howells, Longfellow, Ruskin, Gladstone, King Edward VII when Prince of Wales, and so forth. Also a holograph sonnet on the monastery by Bryant. Elsewhere arevarious curiosities--dolls dressed in national costumes, medals, Egyptian relics, and so forth. In one case is some manna which actuallyfell from the skies in Armenia during a famine in 1833. The chief room of the library contains not only its priceless MSS. , buta famous mummy which the experts put at anything from 2200 to 3500 yearsold. Another precious possession is a Buddhist ritual on papyrus, whichan Armenian wandering in Madras discovered and secured. The earliestmanuscript dates from the twelfth century. In a central case areilluminated books and some beautiful bindings; and I must put on recordthat if ever there was a cicerone who displayed no weariness anddisdained merely mechanical interest in exhibiting for the thousandthtime his treasures, it is Father Vardan Hatzouni. But the room is sopleasant that, were it not that one enjoys such enthusiasm and likes tostimulate it by questions, it would be good merely to be in it withouttoo curiously examining its possessions. Downstairs is a rather frigid little church, where an embroidered clothis shown, presented by Queen Margherita. The S. Lazzaro Armenians, I maysay, seem always to have attracted gifts, one of their great benefactorsbeing Napoleon III. They are so simple and earnest and unobtrusive--and, I am sure, grateful--that perhaps it is natural to feel generoustowards them. Finally we were shown to the printing-room, on our way to which, alongthe cloisters from the church, we passed through a group of elderlymonks, cheerfully smoking and gossiping, who rose and made the mostcourtly salutation. Here we saw the printing-presses, some of Englishmake, and then the books that these presses turn out. Two of these Ibought--the little pamphlet from which I have already quoted and acollection of Armenian proverbs translated into English. The garden is spreading and very inviting, and no sooner were we outsidethe door than Father Hatzouni returned to some horticultural pursuit. The walks are long and shady and the lagoon is lovely from every point;and Venice is at once within a few minutes and as remote as a star. In the garden is an enclosure for cows and poultry, and the littleburial-ground where the good Mechitarists are laid to rest when theirplacid life is done. Among them is the famous poet of the community, theReverend Father Gonidas Pakraduni, who translated into Armenian both the_Iliad_ and _Paradise Lost_, as well as writing epics of his own. The_Paradise Lost_ is dedicated to Queen Victoria. Some of the brothershave lived to a very great age, and Mr. Howells in his delightfulaccount of a visit to this island tells of one, George Karabagiak, whosurvived until he was 108 and died in September, 1863. Life, it seems, can be too long; for having an illness in the preceding August, fromwhich he recovered, the centenarian remarked sadly to one of hisfriends, "I fear that God has abandoned me and I shall live. " Beingasked how he was, when his end was really imminent, he replied "Well, "and died. As we came away we saw over the wall of the playground the heads of afew black-haired boys, embryo priests; but they wore an air of gravitybeyond their years. The future perhaps bears on them not lightly. Theywere not romping or shouting, nor were any in the water; and just below, at the edge of the sea, well within view and stone range, I noticed anempty bottle on its end, glistening in the sun. Think of so alluring atarget disregarded and unbroken by an English school! The returning gondola passes under the walls of the male madhouse. Justbefore reaching this melancholy island there is a spot at which it ispossible still to realize what Venice was like when S. Mark's campanilefell, for one has the S. Giorgio campanile and this other so completelyin line that S. Georgio's alone is visible. Some of the Armenian proverbs are very shrewd and all have a flavour oftheir own. Here are a few:-- "What can the rose do in the sea, and the violet before the fire?" "The mother who has a daughter always has a hand in her purse. " "Every one places wood under his own pot. " "The day can dawn without the cock's crowing. " "If you cannot become rich, become the neighbour of a rich man. " "Our dog is so good that the fox has pupped in our poultry house. " "One day the ass began to bray. They said to him: 'What a beautifulvoice!' Since then he always brays. " "Whether I eat or not I shall have the fever, so better eat and have thefever. " "The sermon of a poor priest is not heard. " "When he rides a horse, he forgets God; when he comes down from thehorse, he forgets the horse. " "Dine with thy friend, but do no business with him. " "To a bald head a golden comb. " "Choose your consort with the eyes of an old man, and choose your horsewith the eyes of a young man. " "A good girl is worth more than seven boys. " "When you are in town, if you observe that people wear the hat on oneside, wear yours likewise. " "The fox's last hole is the furrier's shop. " "The Kurd asked the barber: 'Is my hair white or black?' The otheranswered him: 'I will put it before you, and you will see'. " "He who mounts an ass, has one shame; he who falls from it, has two. " "Be learned, but be taken for a fool. " Of a grumbler: "Every one's grain grows straight; mine grows crooked. " Of an impatient man: "He feeds the hen with one hand and with the otherhe looks for her eggs. " I have not printed these exactly as they appear in the little pamphlet, because one has only to turn one page to realize that what the S. Lazzaro press most needs is a proof-reader. I said at the beginning of this book that the perfect way to approachVenice for the first time is from Chioggia. But that is not too easy. What, however, is quite easy is to visit Chioggia from Venice and then, returning, catch some of the beauty--without, however, all the surpriseand wonder--of that approach. Steamers leave the Riva, opposite Danieli's, every two hours. They taketheir easy way up the lagoon towards the Lido for a little while, andthen turn off to the right, always keeping in the enclosed channel, foreighteen miles. I took the two o'clock boat on a hot day and am notashamed to confess that upon the outward voyage I converted it (asindeed did almost everybody else) into a dormitory. But Chioggiaawakened me, and upon the voyage back I missed, I think, nothing. Choggia is amphibious. Parallel with its broad main street, with anarcade and cafés under awnings on one side, and in the roadway suchweird and unfamiliar objects as vehicles drawn by horses, and evenmotor-cars noisy and fussy, is a long canal packed with orange-sailedfishing boats and crossed by many little bridges and one superb broadwhite one. All the men fish; all the women and children sit in thelittle side streets, making lace, knitting, and stringing beads. Besidethis canal the dirt is abnormal, but it carries with it the usualalleviation of extreme picturesqueness, so that Chioggia is alwaysartist-ridden. The steamer gives you an hour in which to drift about in the sunshineand meditate upon the inferiority of any material other than water forthe macadamizing of roads. There are sights too: Carpaccio's very lastpicture, painted in 1520, in S. Domenico; a Corso Vittorio Emmanuele; acathedral; a Giardino Pubblico; and an attractive stone parapet with afamous Madonna on it revered by fishermen and sailors. The town ishistorically important, for was not the decisive battle of Chioggiafought here in 1379 between the Venetians and their ancient enemies theGenoese? But I cannot pretend that Chioggia is to my taste. To come to it on thejourney to Venice, knowing what is in store, might put one in a mood toforgive its earthy situation and earthy ways; but when, all in love withwater, one visits it from Venice, one resents the sound and sight oftraffic, the absence of gondolas, and the presence of heat unalleviated. At five o'clock, punctually to the minute, the steamer leaves the quayand breaks the stillness of the placid lagoon. A few fishing boats aredotted about, one of them with sails of yellow and blue, as lovely as aChinese rug; others the deep red that Clara Montalba has reproduced socharmingly; and a few with crosses or other religious symbols. The boatquickly passes the mouth of the Chioggia harbour, the third spot atwhich the long thread of land which divides the lagoon from the Adriaticis pierced, and then makes for Palestrina, surely the narrowest town onearth, with a narrower walled cemetery just outside, old boats decayingon the shore, and the skin of naked boys who frolic at the water's edgeglowing in the declining sun. Never were such sun-traps as these stripsof towns along this island bank, only a few inches above sea level andswept by every wind that blows. Hugging the coast, which is fringed with tamarisk and an occasionalshumac, we come next to Porto Secco, another tiny settlement amongvegetable gardens. Its gay church, yellow washed, with a green door andthree saints on the roof, we can see inverted in the water, so still isit, until our gentle wash blurs all. Porto Secco's front is all pinksand yellows, reds, ochres, and white; and the sun is now so low that thesteamer's shadow creeps along these façades, keeping step with the boat. More market gardens, and then the next mouth of the harbour, (known asMalamocco, although Malamocco town is still distant), with a coastguardstation, a fort, acres of coal and other signs of militancy on thefarther side. It is here that the Lido proper begins and the islandbroadens out into meadows. At the fort pier we are kept waiting for ten minutes while a live ducksubmits to be weighed for fiscal purposes, and the delay gives an oldman with razor-fish a chance to sell several pennyworths. By this timethe sun is very near the horizon, setting in a roseate sky over a lagoonof jade. There is not a ripple. The tide is very low. Sea birds fleckwith white the vast fields of mud. The peacefulness of it all under suchunearthly beauty is almost disquieting. Next comes Malamocco itself, of which not much is seen but a littlecampo--almost an English village green--by the pier, and childrenplaying on it. Yet three thousand people live here, chiefly growers ofmelons, tomatoes, and all the picturesque vegetables which are heaped upon the bank of the Grand Canal in the Rialto market and are carried toVenice in boats day after day for ever. Malamocco was a seat of ducal government when Venice was only a village, and not until the seventh century did the honours pass to Venice: hencea certain alleged sense of superiority on the part of the Malamoccans, although not only has the original Malamocco but the island on which itwas built disappeared beneath the tide. Popilia too, a city once also ofsome importance, is now the almost deserted island of Poveglia which wepass just after leaving Malamocco, as we steam along that splendid widehigh-way direct to Venice--between the mud-flats and the sea-mews andthose countless groups of piles marking the channel, which alwaysresemble bunches of giant asparagus and sometimes seem to be littlecompanies of drowning people who have sworn to die together. [Illustration: FROM THE DOGANA AT NIGHT] Here we overtake boats on the way to the Rialto market, some hasteningwith oars, others allowing their yellow sails to do the work, heapedhigh with vegetables and fruit. Just off the mud the sardine catchersare at work, waist high in the water. The sun has now gone, the sky is burning brighter and brighter, andVenice is to be seen: either between her islands or peeping over them. S. Spirito, now a powder magazine, we pass, and S. Clemente, with itsbarrack-like red buildings, once a convent and now a refuge for poor madwomen, and then La Grazia, where the consumptives are sent, and so weenter the narrow way between the Giudecca and S. Giorgio Maggiore, onthe other side of which Venice awaits us in all her twilight loveliness. And disembarking we are glad to be at home again. For even anafternoon's absence is like an act of treachery. And here, re-entering Venice in the way in which, in the first chapter, I advised all travellers to get their first sight of her, I come to anend, only too conscious of how ridiculous is the attempt to write asingle book on this city. Where many books could not exhaust the theme, what chance has only one? At most it can say and say again (like "all ofthe singing") how it was good! Venice needs a whole library to describe her: a book on her churches anda book on her palaces; a book on her painters and a book on hersculptors; a book on her old families and a book on her new; a book onher builders and a book on her bridges; a book--but why go on? The factis self-evident. Yet there is something that a single book can do: it can testify todelight received and endeavour to kindle an enthusiasm in others; andthat I may perhaps have done. INDEX Accademia, the, 98, 168. Adriatic espousals, 27, 54, 161, 263. Alberghetti, 75. Albrizzi, Countess, and Byron, 132. Alexander III. , Pope, 18, 53, 54. Americans, 65, 259. _Amleto_, performance of, 163. Animals, 250. Architects, Venetian, 93. Armenian monastery, 299. Armenian proverbs, 304. Arsenal, the, 166, 263. Artists, modern, 14, 272, 276, 306. Austrian rule in Venice, 12, 13, 106-107, 162. Austrian tourists, 13, 32. Barbarigo, Cardinal Gregorio, 125, 147. Barbarigo, Pietro, Patriarch of Venice, 97. Barbaro, Marc Antonio, 147. Basaiti, pictures by, 96, 154, 169, 172, 190. Bathing, 268. Bead-workers, 202. Beauharnais, Eugène, Prince of Venice, 12. Beerbohm, Max, 104. Bellini, Gentile, pictures by, 10, 51, 257. His "Holy Cross" pictures, 179-180. His S. Lorenzo Giustinian, 180. His tomb, 256. Bellini, Giovanni, pictures by, 50, 51, 63, 118, 125, 154, 169, 172, 192, 193, 203, 208, 215, 219, 224, 249, 259, 283. His "Agony, " 169. His "Loredano, " 169. His "Peter Martyr, " 169. His career, 190. And the Venetian School, 193. His last picture, 224. His tomb, 256. Bellotto, Bernardo, _see_ Canaletto. Benedict, S. , his life in panels, 200. Benzoni, Countess, and Byron, 138, 139. _Beppo_, Byron's, 134, 290. Berri, Duchesse de, in Venice, 122. Bissolo, picture by, 173. Boccaccini, Boccaccio, picture by, 190. Bon, Bartolommeo, 73, 232. Bon, Giovanni, 73. Bon, Pacifico, his tomb, 251. Bonconsiglio, picture by, 170. Boni, Giacomo, 86. Bonington in Venice, 272. Picture by, 273. Book-shops, 229. Bordone, Paris, his "Fisherman and Doge, " 177. Picture by, 284. Bovolo staircase, 285. Bowls, 226. Bragadino, his career, 257. His tomb, 257. Brangwyn, Frank, picture by, 114. Bridge of Boats, the, 203. Bridge of Sighs, _see_ Doges' Palace. Bronson, Mrs. Arthur, on Browning, 107, 140. Browning, Robert, in Venice, 98, 99, 100. His funeral service, 102. His love of Venice, 103. And the Lido, 140. And the Colleoni statue, 256. On Venice, 275. Browning, and the Zattere, 274. Browning, Mrs. , on Venice, 100. Brule, Albert de, his carvings, 200, 201. Bruno, Giordano, in Venice, 143. Bucintoro, the, 263. Yacht club, 149. Buono of Malamocco, 8. Burano, the journey to, 157. Its charm and dirt, 158. The Scuola Merletti, 158. On Venice, 63. Byron, in Venice, 112, 128, 129. His _Beppo_, 134. On gondolas, 134. His Venetian life, 137. And the Lido, 137. His _Marino Faliero_, 138. His _Two Foscari_, 138. Shelley visits, 139. His _Julian and Maddalo_, 139. On Giorgione's "Tempest, " 290. And S. Lazzaro, 299. Byways of Venice, the, 284. Cabots, the, 77. Cafés, 34, 38. Calendario, 59. Calli, narrow, 101. Campanile of S. Mark, the, 43. Lift, 43. Golden angel, 43. Bells, 44, 265. View from, 44. Campaniles, 42, 43, 98, 165, 189, 197, 283. Campo Daniele Manin, 285. Campo Morosoni, 165. Campo S. Bartolommeo, 221. Campo S. Giacomo dell'Orio, 285. Campo S. Margharita, 196. Campo S. Maria Formosa, 280. Campo S. Maria Mater Domini, 285. Campo Santo, 152. Campos, their characteristics, 221. Canal, the Grand, 91-150. Canal, di S. Marco, 195. Canals, filled in, 226. Canaletto, his career, 188. Pictures by, 5, 68, 118, 187, 207. Canova, 77. His "St. George, " 68. Works by, 118, 252. His early studies, 127. His career, 248. His tomb, 248. Caracci, picture by, 281. Caravaggio, picture by, 190. Carlo, A. , his guide to Venice, 4, 134. Carmagnola, 64. Carpaccio, pictures by, 62, 73, 113, 117, 146, 172. His "Santo Croce" picture, 180. His S. Ursula pictures, 182. His career, 184. Ruskin on, 184. His pictures, at S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni, 210. His last picture, 306. Casanova, Jacques, in Venice, 75, 162. Castel Franco, 294. Castello, island of, 267. Cat, the Frari, 250. Catena, pictures by, 169, 190. _Childe Harold_, Venice in, 136. Children, Venetian, 26, 39, 120, 227, 245, 295. Chimneys, old, 96, 97, 285. Chioggia, 306. Churches, origin of some, 28. Venice approached from, 1, 307. The most comfortable, 165, 245. Churches: SS. Apostoli, 225. S. Bartolommeo, 221. S. Donato (Murano), 155. S. Eustachio, 115. S. Fosca (Torcello), 160. S. Francesco della Vigna, 214. Its campanile, 42. S. Geremia, 119. Gesuati, 271. S. Giacomo di Rialto, 227. S. Giobbe, 284. S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni, 180, 210. S. Giorgio Maggiore, its campanile, 42, 189. Its pictures, 168. Its panels, 200. S. Giovanni Crisostomo, 224. S. Giovanni Elemosinario, 229. S. Giovanni in Bragora, 209. S. Giovanni e Paolo, 254. S. Giuliano, 219. S. Gregorio, abbey of, 96. Madonna dell'Orto, 282. S. Marcuola, 121. S. Margiala, 284. S. Maria della Carità, 98. S. Maria del Carmine, 277. S. Maria Formosa, 280. S. Maria del Giglio, 147, 164. S. Maria dei Miracoli, 279. S. Maria della Salute, 95. Misericordia, 281. S. Moise, 162. S. Pietro in Castello, campanile, 43. S. Pietro Martire (Murano), 154. Redentore, 203. S. Rocco, 231, 244. S. Salvatore, 49. Scalzi, 119. S. Sebastiano, 275. S. Stefano, 165. S. Theodore, 9. S. Trovaso, 274. S. Vio, 97. S. Vitale, 146. S. Zaccaria, 207. S. Zobenigo, 164. S. Zulian, 285. Cigharillo, Gianbettino, his "Death of Rachel, " 187. Cima, pictures by, 125, 172, 190, 209, 261, 277, 283. Clement XIII, Pope, 103. His birthplace, 123. Clemente, S. , island of, 309. Shelley at, 141. Cloisters, 165. Cobbler's shop, a, 285. Colleoni, Bartolommeo, his career, 255. His statue, 21, 151, 255, 262, 273. Concert barges, the, 195. Constantinople, the expedition to, 56. Contarini, Pietro, 124. Conti, Niccolò, 75. Cooper, Fenimore, in Venice, 127. Corner, Catherine, Queen of Cyprus, 76, 114, 147, 180, 220. Correr, Teodoro, 118. Coryat, Thomas, on the Pietra del Bando, 15. On the Acre columns, 16. On absence of horses, 21. On bronze wells, 75. On Loggetta, 86. On palace balconies, 148. On prison, 207. On Merceria giants, 219. On Bragadino monument, 257. Council of Ten, the, 50. Credi, di, picture by, 281. Custodians, 52, 60, 85. Cyprus, the acquirement of, 147. Cyprus, Queen of, _see_ Corner, Catherine. Danieli's Hotel, 104, 207, 272. D'Annunzio, his _Il Fuoco_, 122. Dante, 77. Desdemona, the house of, 148. Dickens, Charles, on Venice, 5. Dogana, the, 94, 270. Doge and Fisherman, the story of, 177. Doges, the, 46. Incorrigibly municipal, 46. Doges: Barbarigo, Agostino, 96, 147. Barbarigo, Marco, 147. Contarini, Alvise, his tomb, 216. Contarini, Francesco, his tomb, 216. Corner, Marco, his tomb, 258. Dandolo, Andrea, 28, 58, 77, 80. Dandolo, Enrico, 21, 36, 53, 54, 166. Donato, Francesco, 49. Faliero, Marino, 58, 225. Foscari, Francesco, 73. His tomb, 251. His career, 252. Grimani, 47. Gritti, Andrea, 49, 62, 81 his tomb, 216. Giustinian, Marcantonio, 166. Giustinian, Partecipazio, 60. Lando, Pietro, 50. Loredano, Leonardo, 50. Painted by Bellini, 169. His tomb, 258. Painted by Giorgione, 298. Loredano, Pietro, 50, 61. Malipiero, Pasquale, his tomb, 260. Manin, Lodovico, 11, 61. Marcello, Niccolò, his tomb, 261. Michiel, Domenico, 156. Michiel, Vitale, 53, 104. Mocenigo, Alvise, 49, 243. His tomb, 256. Mocenigo, Giovanni, his tomb, 257. Mocenigo, Pietro, his tomb, 257. Mocenigo, Tommaso, 67. His career, 260. His tomb, 260. Moro, Cristoforo, the original of Othello, 284. His tomb, 284. Morosini, Francesco, his career, 165. His death, 166. His tomb, 165. Morosini, Michele, his tomb, 258. Oberelio, Antenorio, 59. Oberelio, Beato, 59. Partecipazio, Angelo, 59. Partecipazio, Giovanni, 60. Partecipazio, Giustiniano, 7. Pesaro, Giovanni, his tomb, 250. Ponte, Niccolò da, 49. Priuli, Girolamo, 60. His tomb, 220. Priuli, Lorenzo, his tomb, 220. Steno, Michele, his tomb, 260. Tiepolo, Jacopo, his tomb, 256. Tiepolo, Lorenzo, his tomb, 256. Trevisan, Marc Antonio, 50. His tomb, 216. Tron, Niccolò, his career, 252. His tomb, 252. Valier, Bertucci, his tomb, 257. Valier, Silvestro, his tomb, 258. Vendramin, Andrea, his tomb, 258. Venier, Antonio, his tomb, 259. Venier, Francesco, 75. His tomb, 220. Venier, Sebastiano, 49, 51. His career, 158. His tomb, 258. Ziani, Sebastiano, 53. Doges' Palace, the, 15, 16, 46. Scala d'Oro, 47. Sala delle Quattro Porte, 47, 50. Sala del Collegio, 49. Bocca di Leone, 50. Sala del Consiglio dei Dieci, 50. Sala del Senato, 50, 67. Sala del Maggior Consiglio, 51, 60, 67, 68. Sala dello Scrutinio, 61. Archæological museum, 62. Bridge of Sighs, 63, 136, 137. The cells, 63. Shelley on, 142. Its history, 66. Its building, 66, 67. Giants' Stairs, 67, 74. The carved capitals, 68. Porta della Carta, 73, 74, 76. Courtyard, 74. Its restoration, 198. D'Oggiano, Marco, picture by, 94. Dona dalle Rose, Count Antonio, 125. Donato, S. , his body brought to Murano, 156. Douglas, Col. , his _Venice on Foot_, 218, 285. Dürer on Bellini, 181 Duse, Eleanora, 97. English travellers, Byron and, 138. Erberia, the, 228. Faliero Conspiracy, the, 49. Fantin-Latour, picture by, 114. Favretto, 114. Fenice Theatre, the, 132, 162. Ferdinando, gondolier, 87. Fildes, Luke, his Venetian pictures, 273. Fiore, Jacobello del, pictures by, 62, 160. Fireworks, Venetian, 197. Fish, 40, 229. Fish-market, 113, 229. Flagstaffs, the Piazza, 256. Flanhault, Mme. De, and Byron, 130. Florian's, 31, 32, 38. Football match, a, 265. Foscari, Jacopo, 64. Foscarini, Antonio, 64. Foscolo, Ugo, 76. France, Anatole, 8. Francesca, Pietro della, picture by, 190. Francesco, S. , in Deserto, island, 158. Franchetti, Baron, 124. Franchetti family, 146. Frari church, the exterior, 245. The campanile, 42, 43. Titian's tomb, 246. Canova's tomb, 248. Frederick Barbarossa, Emperor, 18, 53, 54. French occupation, 137. Frezzeria, Byron in the, 130, 162. Fruit in Venice, 40. Fruit-market, _see_ Erberia. Funeral, a, 208. Fusina, Venice approached from, 2, 297. Galileo, autograph of, 77, 84. Gardens, 97, 143, 202, 215. Garibaldi statue, 264. Genoa, the war with, 58. George, S. , the story of, 211. Germans in Venice, 268. Giambono, pictures by, 170. Giardinetto Infantile, 123. Giardini Pubblici, 12, 105, 264. Giordano, Luca, picture by, 96. Giorgio Maggiore, S. , 197. Giorgione, pictures by, 94, 123, 127, 224, 244, 281, 287. And Titian, 247, 294. His "Tempest, " 287. His innovations, 289, 298. And the attributors, 291. His career, 292. His statue, 295. His masterpiece, 296. Giudecca, the, 202. Giustiniani, Marco, 61. Giustiniani, Niccolò, 104. Giustiniani, family, 104, 215. Glass-making at Murano, 152. Gobbo, the, 228. Goethe, in Venice, 106. Goldoni, 77. Autograph of, 84. His statue, 101, 220. Browning on, 101. His plays, 220. His _Autobiography_ 221. Room at the Museo Civico, the, 117. Theatre, _Hamlet_ at the, 163. Gondolas, Byron on, 134. Shelley on, 141. Gondoliers, 33, 87. Wagner on, 108. Their folk-song, 108. Howells on, 144. Battles between, 281. Gosse, Mr. Edmund, 104. Gramophone, a, 196. Grossi, Alessandro, gondolier, 87. Grimani, Cardinal, 63. Grimani, Count, 41. Grimani, Breviary, 84. Guardi, Francesco, his career, 189. His "Dogana, " 187. Guardi, Francesco, pictures of, 38, 68, 96, 116, 149, 189. Guariento, fresco by, 51. Guides, 17, 259. "Hamlet" in Venice, 163. Harding, J. D. , his Venetian pictures, 273. Hatzouni, Fr. Vardan, 302. Helena, S. , her life, 266. Henri III of France in Venice, 109. Henri IV, his armour, 263. Hohenlohe, Prince, his palace, 147. Honeymooners, 32, 195. Hoppner on Byron in Venice, 137. Horses, absence of, 21. The golden, 10, 21, 57. House moving, a, 274. Houses, desirable, 96, 204, 205. Howells, W. D. , in Venice, 104, 144, 221. His _Venetian Life_, 144. On gondoliers, 144. On Venice, 204, 264. On campos, 221. On S. Lazzaro, 303. Ibsen and Browning, 103. James, G. P. R. , buried in Venice, 152. Jerome, S. , and the lion, 213, 215. Jews in Venice, 227. Joseph II, Emperor, 103, 115. Lace making at Burano, 158. Lavery, John, picture by, 114. Layard, Sir Henry, in Venice, 111. Lazzaro, S. , 299. Byron at, 130, 299, 301. Its history, 300. Visitors to, 302. The printing-room, 303. "Leda and the Swan, " 63, 298. La Grazia, Island of, 309. Leopardi, autograph of, 84. Lewis, "Monk, " visits Byron in Venice, 136. Liberi, Pietro, picture by, 61. Library, the Old, 80, 149. Library, S. Mark's, 84. Lido, the, bathing at, 14, 15, 267. Browning at, 101, 102, 140. Byron at, 137, 139. Shelley at, 139. Clara Shelley's, grave, 141. The aquarium, 229. Lion column, the, 54, 79. Lions, 25, 73, 166, 261. A census of, 73. Lippi, Filippino, picture by, 94. Loafers, 30. Loggetta, the, 42, 80, 85. Lombardi, the, 122, 225, 257, 261, 279, 284. Longhena, Baldassarre, his works, 95, 96, 103, 114, 115, 116, 149. Longhi, Pietro, his career, 187. Pictures by, 75, 116, 125, 187. Lotto, picture by, 194. Malamocco, 59, 307, 308. Malibran Theatre, 106. Manin, Daniele, his tomb, 11. His career, 12, 103. His statue, 13, 73. His portrait, 77. Mansueti, his "Santa Croce" picture, 180. Mantegna, his "S. Sebastian, " 124. His "S. George, " 190. Marcello, Jacopo, his tomb, 251. Mark, S. , his body brought to Venice, 8, 60. Miracles of, 171, 172. Legend of, 177. Mark's, S. , history, 6, 7. The façade, 6, 7, 10. The mosaics, 8, 9, 17-21, 24-26, 29. External carvings, 9. North façade and piazzetta, 10, 11, 14. The golden horses, 10, 21, 57. The atrium, 17. The interior, 22. A procession, 23. Chapel of S. Isidoro, 25. Cappella dei Mascoli, 25. The Pala d'Oro, 26. The High Altar, 26. The Treasuries, 27. The Baptistery, 28. Dandolo's tomb, 28. Zeno chapel, 29. Markets, 228. Mary, S. , of Egypt, the story of, 234. Matteo Lambertini, Michele di, picture by, 170. Merceria, the, 218. Merceria, clock, 218. Giants, 218, 219. Michele, S. , island of, 103. Mocenigo, Lazzaro, 77. Molo, the, 87. Montalba, Clara, her Venetian pictures, 273, 307. Moore, Thomas, and Byron, 130. Moore, Thomas, in Venice, 128. Mor, picture by, 173. Moretti, Sig. , 86. Moretto, picture by, 125. Motor boats, 92. Munaretti, Cav. , 86. Murano, the way to, 151, 157. Glass-making at, 152. The early art of, 152. Its churches, 154. Museo, Civico, 46, 59, 115, 116. Music, in Venice, 31, 35, 106, 196. Musset, Alfred de, in Venice, 207. Napoleon in Venice, 11, 12, 21, 110. Nicholson, W. , picture by, 114. Orefice, Pellegrino, 122. _Othello_, 284. Padua, 2, 297. Painters, foreign, pictures of Venice by, 273. Painting, its coming to Venice, 191. Pala d'Oro, 57. Palaces, present condition of, 33. Coloured posts of, 94. On visiting, 111. Palaces: Albrizzi, 112, 132, 139. Angaran, 110. Avogadro, 112. Balbi, 110. Balbi-Valier, 98. Barbarigo, 97, 123, 147. Barbarigo della Terrazza, 111. Barbaro, 123, 146, 147. Sargent's interior of, 146. Barozzi Wedmann, 149. Battagia, 115. Bembo, 127. Benzon, 128, 132. Byron at, 132, 139. Bernardo, 111. Boldù, 123. Bonhomo, 123. Brandolin, 114. Brandolin-Rota, 98, 101. Businello, 112. Cà d'Oro, 124. Camerlenghi, 73, 227. Capello, 111. Cà Ruzzini, 126. Casa Falier, 104. Casa Petrarca, 112. Cavalli, 146. Civran, 110, 126. Coccina-Tiepolo, 111. Coletti, 123. Contarini, 99, 115, 121, 128, 286. Contarini Fasan, 148. Contarini degli Scrigni, 99. Contarini del Zaffo, 98. Corner, 129. Corner della Cà Grande, 147. Corner della Regina, 114. Curti, 128. Dandolo, 110. Dario, 97. Dolfin, 99. Dona, 111, 113, 280. Emo, 123. Erizzo, 123. Falier, 144. W. D. Howells at, 144. Farsetti, 127. Fini, 148. Flangini, 119. Fontana, 123. Foscari, 104, 109, 125. Foscarini, 115. Gazzoni, 128. Giovanelli, 118, 123, 281, 287. Giustinian Lolin, 146. Giustiniani, 100, 104, 110, 149. Grassi, 143. Grimani, 110, 123, 128. Gritti, 121, 148. Gussoni, 123. Labia, 120. Lezze, 123. Lion, 126. Lobbia, 121. Loredan, 98, 99, 127. Malipiero, 143, 280. Mandelli 121. Manfrini, 290. Mangilli Valmarana, 126. Manin, 127. Manolesso-Ferro, 148. Manzoni, 101. Marcello, 122. Martinengo, 96, 121, 122, 128. Mengaldo, 112. Miani, 123. Michiel, 149. Michiel, da Brusâ, 126. Michiel, dalle Colonne, 125. Mocenigo, 126, 129, 143. Byron at, 134, 139. Mocenigo Gambara, 99. Molin, 123. Moro-Lin, 143. Morosini, 114, 167. Mosto, da, 126. Mula, 97. Nani, 7, 104. Papadopoli, 111. Paradiso, 98. Perducci, 126. Pesaro, 114, 115, 125. Piovene, 123. Pisani, 167. Pisani Moretta, 111. Querini, 99, 111, 121. Querini Stampalia, 280. Rampinelli, 112. Rezzonico, 98, 99, 102, 103. Sagredo, 125. Swift, 148. Tiepolo, 111, 149. Tornielli, 128. Tron, 115, 128. Valaresso, 149. Valmarana, 128. Van Axel, 285. Vendramin, 111. Vendramin Calergi, 122. Venier, 97. Volkoff, 97. Palestrina, 307. Palladio, Andrea, his career, 198. Works of, 214. Palma, pictures by, 177, 280. Palma, the younger, pictures by, 61, 178. Pennell, Joseph, pictures by, 114. Pesaro, Jacopo, 249. His tomb, 250. Petrarch on Andrea Dandolo, 28. Piazza di S. Marco, 31. The pigeons, 36, 76. Buildings in, 37. Floor pattern, 44. In 1496, 179. Piazzetta, the, 78. Picture cleaning, the need of, 210, 244, 282. Pictures, Venetian, in London, 168, 273. Pictures of Venice by foreign painters, 273. Pietra del Bando, the, 15. Pigeons, 36, 76. Piombo, Sebastian del, picture by, 221, 224. Pisani, Vittorio, 77. Polo, Marco, 77. Ponte di Paglia, 256. Ponte della Veneta Marina, 263. Ponte dell'Erbe, 285. Ponte del Diavolo, 285. Ponte Rialto, 112, 180, 226. Ponte S. Polo, 286. Popilia, 308. Pordenone, pictures by, 128, 165, 229. Porphyry, 97. Poveglia, 308. Prison, the, 206. Querini statue, 264. Rain, 23. Rampino, the, 89. Raphael, drawings by, 173. Red hair, 34, 167. Regattas, 203. Régnier, Henri de, 97. Restaurants, 39, 40. Rialto, 59. _see_ Ponte Rialto. Ribera, picture by, 173. Richardson, Mrs. , on the doges, 60. Ricketts, Charles, on Titian, 121. On Giorgione, 291, 296. Ridotto, the, 162. Rizzo, Antonio, work of, 74. Robbia, Delia, ceiling by, 284. Roberts, David, visits Ruskin, 148. Robinson, Cayley, picture by, 114. Rocco, S. , the story of, 242. Rodin, works by, 114. Romanino, his "Deposition, " 173. Rossellino, Antonio, sculpture by, 284. Royal Palace, the, 37, 149. Rubens, tapestry by, 125. Ruskin, John, on S. Mark's, 26. His _St. Mark's Rest_, 28, 117. On Venice, 69, 72. On the Ponte Rialto, 113. On a Carpaccio, 117. At the Palazzo Swift, 147. At Murano, 156. His _Stones of Venice_, 156, 233, 271. On Torcello, 160. On Carpaccio, 184-186. His _Fors Clavigera_, 185, 271. On the Giudecca, 204. On Tintoretto, 233, 237. On the Venetians, 271. His Zattere home, 271. On S. Maria dei Miracoli, 279. Rustico of Torcello, 8. Sacristans, 42, 198, 209, 210, 216, 220, 224, 225, 252, 279, 283, 295, 296. Salizzada S. Moise, 162. Sammichele, Michele, architect, 128. Sand, George, in Venice, 207. Sansovino, Jacopo, his career, 81. His tomb, 95. Sansovino, his works, 74, 80, 123, 127, 147, 219, 220, 252. Santa Croce miracles, 179-180. Sant'Elena, island of, 265. Sargent, J. S. , his interior of the Pal. Barbaro, 146. His Venetian pictures, 273. Sarpi, Paolo, 77. Sarri, G. , his guide to Venice, 4, 134. Sarto, Andrea del, 81. Savelli, Paolo, 251. Schiavone, picture by, 277. Scuola dei Morti, 119. Scuola di S. Giovanni Evangelistica, 179. Scuola di S. Marco, 238, 261. And Tintoretto's "Miracle, " 171. Scuola di S. Rocco, 231. Tintoretto's "Crucifixion, " 177. The carvings, 243. Scuola Merletti, Burano, 158. Seagulls, 101. Seminario Patriarcale, 94. Seminario della Salute, 84. Shelley, visits Byron, 139. Rides on the Lido, 139. On Venice, 140, 141. On gondolas, 141. Shelley, Mrs. , at Venice, 141. Shelley, Clara, her death, 141. Shops and shopkeepers, 38, 218, 227. Spirito, S. , island of, 309. Statues: Colleoni, 21, 151, 255, 262, 273. Garibaldi, 264. Giorgione, 295. Manin, 13. Querini, 264. Tommaseo, 166. Wagner, 264. Steamers in Venice, 92. _Stones of Venice, The_, 156, 233, 271. Symonds, J. A. , on a Tiepolo, 120, 225. Tagliapietra, Contessa, 97. Taglioni in Venice, 124, 146. Tedeschi, Fondaco dei, 126, 227, 239, 246. Tennyson, 77. Theodore, S. , column, 78, 79. The story of, 79. His ashes, 219. Tiepolo, Gianbattista, his career, 188. His portrait, 77. Pictures by, 48, 112, 116, 118, 119, 120, 187, 225, 244, 252, 277. Tintoretto, pictures by, 8, 38, 48, 49, 50, 51, 121, 123, 172, 176, 177, 193, 194, 198, 199, 203, 231, 274, 277, 281, 283. His house, 39, 282. His "Bacchus and Ariadne, " 48, 65, 241, 288. His "Paradiso, " 52, 54. His portrait, 77. His "Marriage in Cana, " 95, his "Miracle, " 170, 171, 238, 241. His "Crucifixion, " 177, 236. His S. Rocco pictures, 231-37. His realism, 233. His career, 237. His children, 240. On Titian, 240. Caricatured, 243. His "Presentation, " 282. His tomb, 283. Tintoretto, Domenico, pictures by, 52, 128, 237, 284. Titian, pictures by, 48, 51, 62, 76, 96, 111, 121, 127, 171, 193, 219, 220, 229, 235, 259, 276, 284. His portrait, 77. His autograph, 84. His "Bacchus and Ariadne, " 169. His "Assumption, " 170. His last picture, 178. His "Presentation, " 194. Tintoretto on, 240. His career, 246. His tomb, 246. His house, 247. His "Pesaro Madonna, " 249. And Giorgione, 294. Tommaseo, Niccolò, 13, 77. His statue, 166. Torcello, 155, 159. Tourists, 32. Town Hall, 127. Tura, Cosimo, picture by, 190. Turchi, Fondaco dei, 115. Turner, J. M. W. , his "San Benedetto, " 202. His Venetian pictures, 272, 273. Ursula, S. , the story of, 181. Van Dyck, in Venice, 244. Vendramin, Andrea, and the Holy Cross, 180. Venetian architects, 93. Bead-workers, 202. Ceilings, 194. Children, 26, 39, 120, 227, 245. Custodians, 52, 60, 85. Fireworks, 197. Food, 40. Funerals, 208. Gardens, 97, 143, 202, 215. Girls, 33, 34. Glass, 152. Lace, 158. Life, 281. Painting, 291. Pictures in London, 187, 188, 189, 192, 207. Red hair, 34, 167. Regattas, 203. School of painting, 191. Women, 34. Venetians and regattas, 203. Ruskin on, 271. In S. Mark's Square, 32. Their self-satisfaction, 48. Venice: the Austrian occupation of, 12, 13, 106, 162. Artists in, 14, 272, 276, 306. Being lost in, 218. Berri, Duchesse de, in, 122. Bonington in, 272. Its book-shops, 229. Browning in, 98, 99, 100, 274. On, 275. Mrs. On, 100. Byron in, 112, 128, 129. On, 63. Its by-ways, 284. Its cafés, 34, 38. Its chimneys, 96, 97, 285. A city of the poor, 33. Its concerts, 195. Fenimore Cooper in, 127. Dickens, Charles, on, 5. Duse, Eleanora, in, 97. The first sight of, 3. Its fish, 40, 229. The French occupation of, 137. Its fruit, 40. Germans in, 268. Goethe in, 106. Gramophones in, 196. Henry III of France in, 109. Honeymooners in, 32, 195. House moving in, 274. Houses, desirable, 96, 204, 205. Howells, W. D. , in, 104, 144, 221. On, 204, 264. James, G. P. R. , in, 152. Jews in, 227. Joseph II, Emperor, in, 103, 115. Layard, Sir H. , in, 111. Lewis, "Monk, " in, 136. Lions of, 25, 73, 166, 261. Moore, Thomas, in, 128. Motor-boats in, 92. Music in, 31, 35, 106, 196. Napoleon in, 11, 12, 21, 110. Pictures of, by foreign painters, 273. Pius X, Pope, in, 231. Rain in, 23. Its republicanism, 32. Its restaurants, 39, 40. Roberts, David, in, 148. Its roofs, 44. Ruskin in, 92, 93, 147, 272. On, 69, 72. The sacristans of, 42, 198, 209, 210, 216, 220, 224, 225, 252, 279, 283, 295, 296. Seagulls in, 101. Shelley in, 139. On, 140, 141. Its shops and shopkeepers, 38, 218, 227. Its steamers, 92. Tourists in, 32. Turner in, 272. Its unfailing beauty, 3. Van Dyck in, 244. Wagner in, 104, 122. Walking in, 217. The wells of, 75. Where to live in, 204. _Venice on Foot_, 218, 285. Venturi, Sig. Lionello, his _Giorgione e Giorgionismo_, 291. Veronese, Paul, his "Rape of Europa, " 49. Pictures by, 49, 50, 53, 172, 176, 194, 215, 275. His portrait, 77. His "House of Darius, " 111, 169. His "Jesus in the House of Levi, " 174. His examination, 174. His life, 275. His tomb, 275. Verrocchio, Andrea, work by, 256, 277. Via Vittorio Emmanuele, 226. Vicentino, Andrea, picture by, 61. Vinci, Leonardo da, works by, 94, 173, 277. And Giorgione, 293. Death notices, 278. Vittoria, Alessandro, his grave, 208. Vittorio Emmanuele, monument to, 14. Vivarini, the, pictures by, 116, 152, 156, 190, 203, 210, 251, 261. Wagner in Venice, 104, 122. His statue, 264. Walton, E. A. , picture by, 114. Whistler, J. M. , his Venetian pictures, 114, 202, 273. Whitman, Walt, 77. Woods, Henry, his Venetian pictures, 273. Yriarte, his _La Vie_, etc. , 147. Zattere, the, 271. Browning at, 98, 274. A house on, 205. Zecca, the, 80, 84. Zeno, Carlo, 77, 260. Zeno, Cardinal, 29. Ziem, his Venice pictures, 273. The following pages contain advertisements of Macmillan books by thesame author. NEW BOOKS BY E. V. LUCAS A "MOVING-PICTURE NOVEL" *Landmarks* BY E. V. LUCAS, Author of "Over Bemerton's, " "London Lavender, " etc. _Cloth, 12mo. $1. 35 net. _ Mr. Lucas' new story combines a number of the most significant episodesin the life of the central figure; in other words, those events of hiscareer from early childhood to the close of the book which have beenmost instrumental in building up his character and experience. Theepisodes are of every kind, serious, humorous, tender, awakening, disillusioning, and they are narrated without any padding whatever, eachone beginning as abruptly as in life; although in none of his previouswork has the author been so minute in his social observation andnarration. A descriptive title precedes each episode, as in the cinema;and it was in fact while watching a cinema that Mr. Lucas had the ideaof adapting its swift selective methods to fiction. *Lucas's Annual* _Decorated Cloth, 12mo. $. 75 net; paper, $. 35 net. _ Mr. E. V. Lucas has had the happy idea of making a collection of newmaterial by living English authors which shall represent the literatureof our time at its best. Among the contributors are Sir James Barrie, who writes in the character of an Eton boy; Mr. Arnold Bennett, with aseries of notes and impressions; Mr. Austin Dobson, with acharacteristic poem; F. Anstey, with a short story; Mr. John Galsworthy, with a fanciful sketch; Mr. Maurice Hewlett, with a light poem; Mr. HughWalpole, with a cathedral town comedy; "Saki, " with a caustic satire onthe discursive drama; Mr. Stephen Leacock, the Canadian humorist, with aburlesque novel; Mr. Lucas himself, and Mr. Ernest Bramah, the author of_The Wallet of Kai Lung_, with one of his gravely comic Chinese tales. Mr. Lucas, furthermore, has had placed at his disposal some new andextremely interesting letters of Robert Louis Stevenson, John Ruskin andRobert Browning, which are now made public for the first time. * * * * * THE MACMILLAN COMPANYPublishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York OTHER BOOKS BY MR. LUCAS *London Lavender* _Decorated Cloth, 12mo. $1. 35 net. _ Mr. Lucas has given us a particularly beautiful story in "LondonLavender. " We meet again several of the fine characters with whom Mr. Lucas has already made us acquainted in his other novels, as well asothers equally interesting and entertaining. The intimate sketches ofvarious phases of London life--visits to the Derby, Zoo, the NationalGallery--are delightfully chronicled and woven into a novel that is acharming entertainment. *The Loiterer's Harvest* _Illustrated. 12mo. $1. 25 net. _ *Harvest Home* _12mo. $1. 00 net. _ *A Little of Everything* _12mo. $1. 25 net. _ Seldom has one author to his credit so many sought-after travel books, delightful anthologies, stirring juveniles, and popular novels. In thenovel as in the essay and in that other literary form, if one may callit such, the anthology, Mr. Lucas has developed a mode and style all hisown. The above volumes of essays contain much of Mr. Lucas' charmingcharacter delineation; in their amusing discursiveness, their recurrenthumor, and their quiet undertones of pathos, the reader will catch manydelightful glimpses of Mr. Lucas' originality and distinctiveness. * * * * * PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York THE LUCAS WANDERER BOOKS *A Wanderer in Florence* Colored illustrations and reproductions of the great works of art. "All in all, a more interesting book upon Florence has seldom beenproduced, and it has the double value that, while it should serveexcellently as an aid to the traveler, it is so written as to make acharming journey even though one's ticket reads no further than thefamiliar arm-chair. "--_Springfield Republican_. _Cloth, 8vo, $1. 75 net. _ *A Wanderer in London* With sixteen illustrations in color by Mr. Nelson Dawson, and thirty-sixreproductions of great pictures. "Mr. Lucas describes London in a style that is always entertaining, surprisingly like Andrew Lang's, full of unexpected suggestions andpoints of view, so that one who knows London well will hereafter look onit with changed eyes, and one who has only a bowing acquaintance willfeel that he has suddenly become intimate. "--_The Nation_. _Cloth, 8vo, $1. 75 net. _ *A Wanderer in Holland* With twenty illustrations in color by Herbert Marshall, besides manyreproductions of the masterpieces of Dutch painters. "It is not very easy to point out the merits which make this volumeimmeasurably superior to nine-tenths of the books of travel that areoffered the public from time to time. Perhaps it is to be traced to thefact that Mr. Lucas is an intellectual loiterer, rather than a keen-eyedreporter, eager to catch a train for the next stopping-place. It is alsoto be found partially in the fact that the author is so much in lovewith the artistic life of Holland. "--_Globe Democrat_, St. Louis. _Cloth, 8vo, $2. 00 net. _ *A Wanderer in Paris* Wherever Mr. Lucas wanders he finds curious, picturesque, and unusualthings to interest others, and his mind is so well stored thateverything he sees is suggestive and stimulating. He is almost as muchat home in Paris as in London, and even those who know the city bestwill find much in the book to interest and entertain them. _Cloth, 8vo, $1. 75 net. _ * * * * * THE MACMILLAN COMPANYPublishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York VOLUMES OF ESSAYS BY E. V. LUCAS *Character and Comedy* "Of all the readers of Charles Lamb who have striven to emulate him, Mr. Lucas comes nearest to being worthy of him. Perhaps it is because it isnatural to him to look upon life and letters and all things withsomething of Lamb's gentleness, sweetness, and humor. "--_The Tribune_. _Cloth, 16mo, $1. 25 net; by mail, $1. 35 net. _ *One Day and Another* "The informality, intimacy, unaffected humor, of these unpretentiouspapers make them delightful reading. "--_The Outlook_. _Cloth, 16mo, $1. 25 net; by mail, $1. 35 net. _ BOOKS FOR CHILDREN *Anne's Terrible Good Nature* A book of stories delightfully lighted up with such a whimsical strainof humor as children enjoy. _Cloth, 12mo, colored illustrations, $1. 75 net. _ *The Slowcoach (The Macmillan Juvenile Library)* Mr. Lucas has a unique way of looking at life, of seeing the humor ofeveryday things, which exactly suits the butterfly fancy of a brightchild. _Decorated cloth, illustrated, $. 50 net. _ *Another Book of Verse for Children* Verses of the seasons, of "little fowls of the air, " and of "the countryroad"; ballads of sailormen and of battle; songs of the hearthrug, andof the joy of being alive and a child, selected by Mr. Lucas andillustrated in black and white and with colored plates by Mr. F. D. Bedford. The wording of the title is an allusion to the very successful"Book of Verse for Children" issued ten years ago. _The Athenæum_describes Mr. Lucas as "the ideal editor for such a book as this. " _Cloth, 8vo, colored illustrations, $1. 50 net. _ *Three Hundred Games and Pastimes* OR, WHAT SHALL WE DO NOW? A book of suggestions for theemployment of young hands and minds, directions for playing manychildren's games, etc. _Decorated cloth, x + 392 pages, $2. 00 net. _ * * * * * THE MACMILLAN COMPANYPublishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York *The Ladies' Pageant* BY E. V. LUCAS "An unusual collection of poetry and prose in comment upon the varyingaspects of the feminine form and nature, wherein is set forth for thedelectation of man what great writers from Chaucer to Ruskin have saidabout the eternal feminine. The result is a decidedly companionablevolume. "--_Town and Country_. "To possess this book is to fill your apartment--your lonely farm parloror little 'flat' drawing-room in which few sit--with the rustle of silksand the swish of lawns; to comfort your ear with seemly wit and musicallaughter; and to remind you how sweet an essence ascends from thewomanly heart to the high altar of the Maker of Women. "--_The ChicagoTribune_. _Cloth. $1. 25 net. _ *Some Friends of Mine* A RALLY OF MEN BY E. V. LUCAS At last the sterner sex is to have its literary dues. In this littlevolume Mr. Lucas has essayed to do for men what he did for the heroinesof life and poetry and fiction in "The Ladies Pageant. " No other editorhas so deft a hand for work of this character, and this volume is asrich a fund of amusement and instruction as all the previous ones of theauthor have been. _Cloth. $1. 25 net. _ ALSO BY E. V. LUCAS *Highways and Byways in Sussex* ILLUSTRATED BY F. L. GRIGGS Contains some of the best descriptions yet written of the beauties ofthat most lovely of the English Counties. _Decorated Cloth. 12mo. $2. 00 net. _ * * * * * PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth AvenueNew York *The Gentlest Art* *_A Choice of Letters By Entertaining Hands_* EDITED BY E. V. LUCAS _Cloth, $1. 25 net. _ An anthology of letter-writing so human, interesting, and amusing fromfirst to last, as almost to inspire one to attempt the restoration ofthe lost art. "There is hardly a letter among them all that one would have left out, and the book is of such pleasant size and appearance, that one would nothave it added to, either. "--_The New York Times_. "Letters of news and of gossip, of polite nonsense, of humor and pathos, of friendship, of quiet reflection, stately letters in the grand manner, and naïve letters by obscure and ignorant folk. " OTHER ESSAYS BY E. V. LUCAS *Old Lamps for New* _Frontispiece, 12mo. $1. 25 net. _ *The Second Post* _16mo. $1. 25 net. _ *British Pictures and Their Painters* _Illustrated. 12mo. $1. 25 net. _ * * * * * PUBLISHED BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY64-66 Fifth AvenueNew York OTHER BOOKS BY E. V. LUCAS *Over Bemerton's* _A Novel_ After seeing modern problems vividly dissected, and after the excitementof thrilling adventure stories, it will be positively restful to dropinto the cozy lodgings over Bemerton's second-hand bookstore for adrifting, delightful talk with a man of wide reading, who has travelledin unexpected places, who has an original way of looking at life, and ahappy knack of expressing what is seen. There are few books which soperfectly suggest without apparent effort a charmingly natural and realpersonality. _Decorated cloth, $1. 50 net. _ *Mr. Ingleside* (The Macmillan Fiction Library) The author almost succeeds in making the reader believe that he isactually mingling with the people of the story and attending theirpicnics and parties. Some of them are Dickensian and quaint, some ofthem splendid types of to-day, but all of them are touched off withsympathy and skill and with that gentle humor in which Mr. Lucas showsthe intimate quality, the underlying tender humanity, of his art. _Decorated cloth, 12mo, $1. 50 net. _ *Listener's Lure* _A Kensington Comedy_ A novel, original and pleasing, whose special charm lies in its happyphrasing of acute observations of life. For the delicacy with which hispersonalities reveal themselves through their own letters, "the bookmight be favorably compared, " says the Chicago _Tribune_, "with much ofJane Austen's character work"--and the critic proceeds to justify, byquotations, what he admits is high praise indeed. _Cloth, 12mo, $1. 50 net. _ * * * * * THE MACMILLAN COMPANYPublishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York OTHER WORKS BY E. V. LUCAS. A Wanderer in Florence A Wanderer in London A Wanderer in Holland A Wanderer in Paris Mr. Ingleside Listener's Lure Over Bemerton's London Lavender Loiterer's Harvest Landmarks One Day and Another Fireside and Sunshine Character and Comedy Old Lamps for New The Hambledon Men The Open Road The Friendly Town Her Infinite Variety Good Company The Gentlest Art The Second Post A Little of Everything Harvest Home The Best of Lamb A Swan and Her Friends The British School Highways and Byways in Sussex Anne's Terrible Good Nature The Slowcoach and The Pocket Edition of the Works of Charles Lamb: I. Miscellaneous Prose; II. Elia; III. Children's Books; IV. Poems and Plays; V. And VI. Letters.