In the Sala della Bussola, where was the inner opening of the Lion's Mouth, into which the cowardly, secret denunciations to the Ten were dropped, are pictures of the "Surrender of Bergamo" and of Brescia to the Venetians. They are the work of Aliense (or Antonio) Vassilacchi, and like other pictures by him, in various portions of the palace, are affected, bizarre, and sometimes extravagant in their characteristics, but most interesting by reason of their subjects.
The Sala delle Quattro Porte is adorned by paintings of the "Capture of Verona," in 1439, by Giovanni Contarini, who may be described in a word as an expert imitator of Titian.
"The Arrival of Henry III. at Venice" is also of interest, although its painter, Andrea Vicentino, is an artist who merits attention and adverse criticism at the same time. This is his masterpiece. The Doge Mocenigo receives the King of France and Poland on a bridge which leads to Palladio's famous Triumphal Arch, erected in honor of this royal visitor. There are many portraits of famous men. Near the king on the right are the Cardinal San Sisto, Paolo Tiepolo, and Jacopo Foscarini, procurators of St. Mark, and other gentlemen, besides the pilot of the royal galley, Antonio Canale, whom the King of France embraced and knighted on this occasion.
"The Reception of the Persian Ambassadors by the Doge" is noteworthy, because it is the work of Carl (or Carletto) Cagliari, the son of Paul Veronese. His father, not wishing the son to be merely his own imitator, had placed him in the studio of Jacopo Bassano; and at one time the young man spent some months on his father's Trevisan estate, sketching from Nature, and introducing animals and shepherds into his landscapes.
He was but sixteen when his father died, and he lived but eight years after, having overworked, and dying from the consequent exhaustion. His pictures display a feeling for the picturesque, and some of his heads are admirable; but the inimitable grace, brilliancy, and gayety of his father are not his, while his composition is much colder.
This is impressed on us when in the next Sala, the Anticollegio, we come upon the "Rape of Europa," which Gautier calls "the marvel of this sanctuary of Art" And finally he exclaims: "What beautiful white shoulders, what round and charming arms! What a smile of eternal youth is in this marvellous canvas where Paul Veronese seems to have said his last word! The heavens, clouds, trees, flowers, the earth, the sea, the carnations, draperies, all seem to be steeped in the light of an unknown Elysium."
In the Sala del Collegio, Veronese appears in a far different manner. Above the throne where sat the Doge and the Privy Councillors when receiving foreign ambassadors, is a representation of Venice triumphant after the Victory of Lepanto in 1571. The portraits of the hero of the battle, the Doge Sebastiano Venier, and of Agostino Barbarigo, who perished there, are introduced. It is a grand picture, but confused; for besides the figures we have mentioned are those of the Saviour in glory, Faith, Saints Mark and Justine, and other subordinate personages, and these are massed in the centre of the canvas. He certainly was an astounding painter. We must not think of his curious mingling of people who would seemingly never be associated either on earth or in heaven; we must not note his improprieties of chronology, costume, and place; we must but feast on his dignified and splendid crowds,—his light, his color, and, on the whole, in its general effect, now so mellowed and harmonized by time. Who can resist his charm?
The Sala del Senate is also called dei Pregardi, because in the early times, before Wednesday and Saturday were fixed upon as the days for the meeting of the Senate, messengers were sent to pray the Senators to attend at the palace. It is principally decorated with religious subjects, and the centre of the ceiling is occupied by Tintoretto's conception of "Venice as Queen of the Sea;" but the historical pictures of the "Election of S. Lorenzo Giustiniani as Patriarch of Venice," by Marco Vecelli, and the "League of Cambray," by Palma Giovane, are attractive, although one can scarcely understand why "Venice seated on a lion and daring all Europe" should be chosen to represent the Republic just at that epoch, when she was at the mercy of other powers, and for a time quite helpless. To Art in Venice this league was almost fatal, since the patrons of artists were forced to give their attention and money to the affairs of the State, and the painters were forced to seek other cities where peace permitted them to gain a livelihood. Even Titian left his beloved Venezia, and went to Padua, where he was fully occupied.
Passing through the Ante-Chapel and the Chapel, in which there is little of interest, we reach a staircase leading to the private apartments of the Doge, at the foot of which is the only fresco known to have been painted by Titian, which remains in Venice, and is only shown by special permission of the Conservatorio. It is most carefully painted, and represents Saint Christopher, who is of a splendid Venetian type. The head of the saint is noble; while the child is like an inferior earthly baby, and appears to be in great fear of falling. Tradition teaches that this was painted in honor of the arrival of the French at San Cristoforo, near Milan, in 1523. Titian's patron, the Doge Andrea Gritti, was very fond of the French, and at his election the French ambassador at Venice made great feasts in his honor. Had a patron saint of France been represented, it would have caused comment, perhaps suspicion of the Doge; therefore Saint Christopher was chosen.
In the Sala del Consiglio dei Dieci is the "Meeting of Alexander III. and the Doge Ziani on his Return from his Victory over Barbarossa," by Leandro Bassano. This remarkable portrait-painter had here a great opportunity to show his skill, and he improved it. The figures are evidently painted from life, and well present the patricians of his time, the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century. The Doge Marino Grimani figures as Ziani in this canvas, and in the suite of the Pope Leandro has given us his own portrait. He is ordinary in type. His thick black hair rises above a receding forehead, and his commonplace head and whole bearing suggest the peasant in a borrowed garb. He carries the umbrella behind the Pope.
On the opposite wall is the "Congress at Bologna, in 1529, which concurred in the Peace between Clement VII. and Charles V.," by Marco Vecelli. It represents the whole assemblage; and while one of the secretaries of the Emperor reads the treaty, a Dominican is making an address, drums are beaten and trumpets sounded, and in the distance two cavaliers are riding a tournament, lances in hand. Charles Blanc happily suggests that it is fortunate that painting is dumb, when so many noises are represented. Curious and incoherent as this picture is, it is full of life and movement, and is interesting in its costumes of cardinals, bishops, pontifical guards, ambassadors, and pages.
Naturally the immense Sala del Maggior Consiglio is of the greatest interest. It is now the Bibliotheca di San Marco or Marciana, the books having been brought here in 1812. The decorations are unchanged since the days of the Republic, and the same magnificent works of art which surrounded the meetings of the Great Council make a fitting setting for the treasures of the Library. This hall was burned out in 1577, three years after the great banquet to Henry III. had been given here; and thus the present paintings are by the later Venetian masters. The ceiling is very important, having been painted by Tintoretto, Palma Giovane, and Paul Veronese, whose "Triumph of Venice" far surpasses the works of the other two masters. I know of no description of this picture which can be compared with that of Taine, who says:—
"This work is not merely food for the eye, but a feast. Amidst grand architectural forms of balconies and spiral columns sits Venice, the blonde, on a throne, radiant with beauty, with that fresh and rosy carnation peculiar to the daughters of humid climates, her silken skirt spread out beneath a silken mantle. Around her a circle of young women bend over with a voluptuous and yet haughty smile, possessing that Venetian charm peculiar to a goddess who has a courtesan's blood in her veins, but who rests on a cloud and attracts men to her instead of descending to them. Thrown into relief against pale violet draperies and mantles of azure and gold, their living flesh, their backs and shoulders, are impregnated with light or swim in the penumbra, the soft roundness of their nudity harmonizing with the tranquil gayety of their attitudes and features. Venice in their midst, ostentatious and yet gentle, seems like a queen whose mere rank gives the right to be happy, and whose only desire is to render those who see her happy also. On her serene head, which is thrown slightly backwards, two angels place a crown. What a miserable instrumentality is language! A tone of satiny flesh, a luminous shadow on a bare shoulder, a flickering light on floating silk, attract, recall, and retain the eye for a long time, and yet there is but a vague phrase with which to express the charm.... Beneath the ideal sky and behind a balustrade are Venetian ladies in the costume of the time, in low-neck dresses cut square and closely fitting the body. It is actual society, and is as seductive as the goddess. They are gazing, leaning over and smiling; the light which illuminates portions of their clothes and faces falls on them or diffuses itself in such exquisite contrasts that one is moved with transports of delight. At one time a brow, at another a delicate ear or a necklace or a pearl, issues from the warm shadow. One, in the flower of youth, has the archest of looks; another, about forty and amply developed, glances upward and smiles in the best possible humor. This one—a superb creature, with red sleeves striped with gold—stoops, and her swelling breasts expand the chemise of her bodice. A little blond, curly-headed girl in the arms of an old woman raises her charming little hand with the most mutinous air, and her fresh little visage is a rose. There is not one who is not happy in living, and who is not merely cheerful, but joyous. And how well these rumpled, changeable silks, these white, diaphanous pearls accord with these transparent tints, as delicate as the petals of flowers! Away below, finally, is the restless activity of the sturdy, noisy crowd; warriors, prancing horses, grand flowing togas, a trumpeter bedizened with drapery, a man's naked back near a cuirass, and in the intervals, a dense throng of vigorous and animated heads, and in one corner a young mother and her infant; all these objects being disposed with the facility of opulent genius, and all illuminated like the sea in summer, with superabundant sunshine. All this is what one should bear away with him in order to retain an idea of Venice.... I got some one to show me the way to the public garden; after such a picture one can only contemplate natural objects."
The only unbroken wall in this Great Hall is occupied by the "Paradiso" of Tintoretto, in some respects the greatest of modern pictures; while the remaining wall-spaces are filled with twelve pictures illustrating the story of Pope Alexander and Barbarossa, and nine others of scenes connected with the Fourth Crusade. These splendid paintings are among the earliest which were executed on large canvases, and for that reason are important in the History of Art, while they bear witness to the wealth and generosity of the Republic at the time when they were painted. Much blackened by age as they are, and often villanously repainted, they are still a worthy study for the art student for many reasons.
Carlo and Gabriele Cagliari represented two scenes in the earliest period of the association of the Pope and the Doge Ziani. In the first the Doge and the Senators have found the Pope in the Convent of La Carità, where Alexander took refuge from Barbarossa in 1177. This convent, now the Academy of Fine Arts, is on the Grand Canal; and not only are the Senators and a crowd of people represented as surrounding the two principal personages, but there are fishermen in their boats, with baskets full of fish, a group of people in a gondola, and other figures which add much to the life and movement of the scene. The Pope is habited like a poor priest, in order that he may the better conceal his personality.
The second is a much smaller composition, divided by columns. On one side there is light; on the other, shadow. The subject is the "Embassy from the Pope and the Republic to Frederick II. at Pavia." The groups are animated, and the costumes varied, as senators, soldiers, and priests are all represented.
Above a window Leandro Bassano has painted a picture of "the Doge receiving a lighted taper from the Pope," commemorating this act which conferred on all future Doges the privilege of having a taper borne before them.
The fourth, by Jacopo Tintoretto, presents the scene at Pavia, when Barbarossa declares that if the Pope is not surrendered to him, he will "plant his eagles above the portal of San Marco." Both the good and the bad in Tintoretto's manner are displayed in this work, but the figures of the two ambassadors are admirable. The more his pictures are studied, the better is the saying of the Venetians understood, "There are three Tintorettos,—one of bronze, a second of silver, and a third of gold."
The fifth painting, by Francesco Bassano, represents "the Pope presenting a consecrated sword to the Doge." It is a most interesting study, it being a representation of the Piazza as it appeared at the end of the sixteenth century. The scene is actually in the Piazzetta, between the landing and the column of the Lion. In perspective, on one side the Ducal Palace appears, and on the other the Campanile and the angle of the Procuratorie, while in the distance is the Clock-Tower. The Piazza is full of people. Priests in fine vestments, Senators in their robes, soldiers with nodding plumes in their hats, trumpeters and drummers, all witness the ceremony. The Doge, wearing the ducal crown, in his crimson velvet dress, beneath the mantle of the cloth of gold, is most impressive, as he slightly bends his knee when receiving the sword.
Francesco Bassano excelled in giving an air of reality to his paintings, and in his aptness in invention; and while this scene actually occurred in 1172, he has surrounded it with the Piazza of four centuries later, which greatly adds to its value for us,—he wrought better than he knew.
Above a window Fiammingo painted "The Doge receiving the Parting Benediction of the Pope;" and next that is the "Battle of Salboro," in which Otho, the son of Barbarossa, was taken prisoner. This is the work of Domenico Tintoretto, who showed himself at his best, and seemed a worthy son of his father, in his pictures of naval battles. When we are told that the battle of Salboro was never fought, and that the whole story is but a piece of Venetian boasting, it is impossible to feel the same interest in the work that a representation of a well attested fact would arouse; but this does not prevent the study of the details of costume, armor, and naval equipments, which are very curious.
Above a door Andrea Vicentino painted a picture of "The Doge presenting Prince Otho to the Pope;" and in the next scene Palina Giovane represented the "Release of Otho by the Pope." After Veronese and Tintoretto, and among the secondary artists who were honored by commissions in the decoration of the Ducal Palace, Palma Giovane may well claim attention. Domenico Tintoretto alone rivals him in their class. He was skilful in design, but lacked sentiment and intensity of spirit. He knew all the optical effects in painting. He used his brush dexterously. He had studied and copied from Michael Angelo until he had mastered foreshortening. He handled his colors after Titian's manner. In short, he only lacked soul, in order to have been a great painter. But through the friendship and influence of Alexander Vittoria he became the fashion, and his pictures are seen in all the churches, and other edifices of honor in Venice, as well as in many galleries of the chief cities of Italy, and other European countries. His drawings and engravings were much valued, and were sold for nearly as large sums as were paid for his pictures in oil.
"The Emperor submitting to the Pope" affords one of the most interesting scenes and best artistic opportunities in the series. It is by Federigo Zucchero, who was by no means a great artist; yet this work is very attractive.
Above another door Girolamo Gamberato painted "The Doge landing at Ancona with the Pope and the Emperor after the Reconciliation." Tradition teaches that on this occasion the people of Ancona came out to meet their visitors bringing umbrellas or canopies for the Pope and the Emperor only, and Alexander ordered a third to be brought for Ziani, who, under God, had been the means of establishing this peace.
The series ends with the scene in St. John Lateran in Rome, when "Pope Alexander III. presents consecrated banners to the Doge Ziani." It is the work of Giulio dal Moro, and so badly done that it merits no attention here nor when one stands beneath it. We need not be surprised when we remember that this "Jack at all trades" signed himself "painter, sculptor, and architect."
Of the pictures of the Fourth Crusade, the first is by Le Clerc, and represents the scene in San Marco, in 1201, when the alliance was concluded between the Venetians and the Crusaders,—a most interesting subject, which should have been treated by a greater master. The second, by Andrea Vicentino, is the "Siege of Zara;" and next, above a window, the "Surrender of Zara," by Domenico Tintoretto, which is followed by "Alexius Comnenus imploring the Help of the Venetians for his Father," by Andrea Vicentino.
Domenico Tintoretto represents the "Second Taking of Constantinople, in 1204." "The Election and Coronation of Baldwin" follow, by Andrea Vicentino and Aliense, and close the story of this Crusade, the final space being filled by Paul Veronese's representation of "The Return of Doge Contarini after the Defeat of the Genoese at Chioggia."
The frieze of this Hall of the Great Council is composed of the portraits of seventy-two Doges. The reign of the earliest dates from 809; and many of them must, of course, have been painted from fancy. A large number are from the hand of Tintoretto. The space where the portrait of Marino Faliero should have hung is covered with a black veil, and has the inscription, "Hic est locus Marini Falethri decapitati pro criminibus" (This is the place of Marino Faliero, beheaded for his crimes).
What a world of associations must rush through the mind as one traverses the halls of this magnificent palace! What scenes of splendid gayety are called up by the pictures of the luxurious and splendor-loving men and women of the Republic! And then, when reading this inscription, we recall that other scene, the tragic extreme; and between these two types of association there are hundreds of others, which fill the distance between them with every shade of sentiment from "grave to gay." But just here we can only remember that "the Council of Ten was hastily summoned. The minor conspirators were first executed. Then the Doge, stripped of his insignia of office, was beheaded in the closed palace; and one of the Council, taking the bloody sword to the space between the Columns, brandished it, saying, 'The terrible doom hath fallen on the traitor.'" We are glad that the steps on which Faliero fell no longer exist, and that no such scene has been enacted on the splendid Staircase of the Giants, over which Mars and Neptune now preside, and where, since 1485, the Doges have been crowned with the formula, "Accipe coronam ducalem ducatus Venetorum." The author of the "Story of Italy" says: "It was a serious matter to be Doge of Venice. Five of the first fifty Doges abdicated; five were banished with their eyes put out; nine were deposed; five were massacred, and two fell in battle."
We remember that in the Sala dello Scrutinio is a picture of the Triumphal Arch erected in 1694, in honor of Francesco Morosini, called Il Peloponnesiaco from his conquest of the Morea, and whose name, alas! is now oftenest recalled in connection with the destruction of the Parthenon.
One of the best works of Palma Giovane is also here,—"The Last Judgment," in one part of which he represents his mistress in heaven, and in another she is consigned to hell. "The Taking of Zara" is one of the wonderful pictures by Tintoretto. Charles Blanc says that he was possessed by the genius of battles, and in depicting such scenes seemed to be himself engaged in the assault. This work is full of fire. It is confused; but here and there a single picturesque figure stands out from the heroic disorder of this tumultuous story.
Blanc relates that an abbé who acted as his guide in the Ducal Palace called his attention to the fact that the portrait of Marino Faliero did not appear in "The Taking of Zara," which should have made his name immortal as much as his tragic death has done; but the Senate forbade Tintoretto to place him on his canvas, since his head had fallen by the hand of the executioner. Blanc asks: "If the Doge had betrayed the Republic, was that a reason why the Republic in its turn should betray the truth?"
The frieze of the portraits of the Doges is concluded in this hall, where the forty-one nobles were chosen who afterwards elected these rulers. It is now the repository of the manuscripts, the early printed books, and the Aldine editions of the Library.
The Sala dello Scudo is rich in a very different sort of decoration from that of the halls we have described. It is hung with maps, many of which represent the discoveries made by Venetian navigators. Here is the famous Mappamondo of Fra Mauro, dating from 1457 to 1459, which is of great value in connection with mediæval history, showing as it does the geographical knowledge or ignorance of that era.
There is a class of pictures in the Ducal Palace so numerous that we have not space to speak justly of them. They are those of which Rio says:—
"It was no doubt the passage of the Psalmist—Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam—which was so often repeated by the Venetians in the Crusades, which suggested to the Doges and naval commanders the idea of being represented in a kneeling attitude before the infant Christ or the Holy Virgin, in the pictures destined to transmit their names or the recollection of their exploits to future generations. This mode of pious commemoration, which offers the touching contrast of an humble attitude with great dignity or glory, continued in use during the whole of the sixteenth century, in spite of the paganism so universally triumphant elsewhere. After Giovanni Bellini and Catena, came the celebrated artists who adorned the second period of the Venetian school, and who also paid the tribute of their pencils to this interesting subject. It is on this account that pictures representing the Madonna seated, with a doge or a general kneeling before her, are so frequently to be met with in private collections, in the churches, and above all in the Ducal Palace, in which these allegorical compositions, intended to express the close alliance between Religion and the State, seem to have been purposely multiplied."
In no other place in all Venice does the atmosphere of the Middle Ages linger as it does in the Palazzo Ducale. The atmosphere of the days when the scroll in the hand of Venice enthroned bore this inscription, "Fortis, justa, trono furias, mare sub pede, pono" (Strong and just, I put the furies beneath my throne, and the sea beneath my foot). Emerging from this palace, with one's brain full of more thoughts than it can hold, it is restful to find a part of them so happily expressed as in these words of Taine:—
"We see here with surprise and delight oriental fancy grafting the full on the empty instead of the empty on the full. A colonnade of robust shafts bears a second and a lighter one decorated with ogives and with trefoils; while above this support, so frail, expands a massive wall of red and white marble, whose courses interlace each other in designs and reflect the light. Above, a cornice of open pyramids, pinnacles, spiracles, and festoons intersect the sky with its border, forming a marble vegetation bristling and blooming above the vermilion and pearly tones of the façade, reminding one of the luxuriant Asiatic or African cactus which on its native soil mingles its leafy poniards and purple petals.
"You enter, and immediately the eyes are filled with forms. Around two cisterns covered with sculptured bronze, four façades develop their statues and architectural details glowing with the freshness of the early Renaissance. There is nothing bare or cold; everything is decked with reliefs and figures, the pedantry of erudites and critics not having intervened, under the pretext of purity and correctness, to restrain a lively imagination and the craving for that which pleases the eye. People are not austere in Venice; they do not restrict themselves to the prescriptions of books; they do not make up their minds to go and yawn admiringly at a façade sanctioned by Vitruvius; they want an architectural work to absorb and delight the whole sentient being; they deck it with ornaments, columns, and statues; they render it luxurious and joyous. They place colossal pagans like Mars and Neptune on it, and biblical figures like Adam and Eve; the sculptors of the fifteenth century enliven it with their somewhat realistic and lank bodies, and those of the sixteenth with their animated and muscular forms. Rizzo and Sansovino here rear the precious marbles of their stairways, the delicate stuccoes and elegant caprices of their arabesques: armor and boughs, griffins and fawns; fantastic flowers and capering goats, a profusion of poetic plants and joyous, bounding animals. You mount these princely steps with a sort of timidity and respect, ashamed of the dull black coat you wear, reminding one by contrast of the embroidered silk gowns, the sweeping, pompous dalmatics, the Byzantine tiaras and brodekins, all that seigneurial magnificence for which these marble staircases were designed; and, at the top, to greet you, are two superb women, Power and Justice, and a doge receiving from them the sword of command and of battle.
Court of the Ducal Palace; Giants' Staircase.
"At the top of the staircase open the two halls, the government and state saloons, and both are lined with paintings; here Tintoretto, Veronese, Pordenone, Palma the younger, Titian, Bonifazio, and twenty others have covered with masterpieces the walls of which Palladia, Aspetti, Scamozzi, and Sansovino made the designs and ornaments. All the genius of the city at its brightest period assembled here to glorify the Republic in the erection of a memorial of its victories and an apotheosis of its grandeur. There is no similar trophy in the world: naval combats, ships with curved prows like swan's necks, galleys with crowded banks of oars, battlements discharging showers of arrows, floating standards amidst masts, a tumultuous strife of struggling and engulfed combatants, crowds of Illyrians, Saracens, and Greeks, naked bodies bronzed by the sun and deformed by contests, stuffs of gold, damascene armor, silks starred with pearls, all the strange medley of that heroic, luxurious display which transpires in Venetian history from Zara to Damietta, and from Padua to the Dardanelles; here and there, grand nudities of allegorical goddesses; in the triangles the 'Virtues' of Pordenone, a species of colossal virago with herculean, sanguine, and choleric body; throughout, a display of virile strength, active energy, sensual gayety, and, preparing the way for this bewildering procession, the grandest of modern paintings, a 'Paradise' by Tintoretto, eighty feet long by twenty wide, with six hundred figures whirling about in a ruddy illumination, as if from the glowing flames of a vast conflagration."
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ACCADEMIA; CHURCHES AND SCUOLE.
The Accademia delle Belle Arti, although on the Grand Canal, may be reached by a short walk from the Piazza, passing San Moisè and Santa Maria Zobenigo, and through the Campo San Stefano to the ugly bridge which leads directly to the Campo della Carità. The Convent of Charity was one of the edifices upon which Palladio lavished the greatest care and study. Much, of it was burned in 1630, and the pride of the old architect no longer remains. After the suppression of the convent it was used as a barrack; but in 1807 Napoleon decreed the establishment of an Academy of Art, and the spacious buildings of La Carità were devoted to its use.
Here are pictures from the very earliest days in which even the glimmerings of a Venetian Art could be discerned; and this was as late as the middle of the fifteenth century, when the Vivarini of Murano painted their dry, meagre Virgins and other figures in colors so rich as even then to foreshadow the glorious blooming time which followed.
As we are not writing of Art with any special method, we will speak only of a few works of interest to all,—to the picture-lover as well as to the connoisseur and student,—merely saying, en passant, that one who has time will do well to spend a good share of it here.
It is to be expected that, as in other portions of Italy, the early pictures should almost without exception be devoted to religious subjects; and none could be more sweet and attractive in sentiment than are those of Giovanni Bellini, whose Madonnas are good and simple, self-effacing mothers, anxious only to show the sacred Child to all beholders, and offer him for the world to worship. How many of these pure, grave, reverential mothers the good Zuan painted! and we can never see them too often. We are sure that he who represented this Divine Mother, with the "splendid column of her throat, holding her head high in a noble and simple abstraction," and the Infant King, with his lovely angelic children in attendance, tenderly respected women, and idolized children. We are almost sure that he reproduced on his canvas the inmates of his own home. One of these Madonnas, in the Contarini collection of the Academy, is an exquisite example of this younger and most excellent Bellini.
Two unusually interesting works by Gentile Bellini are "Miracles of the Holy Cross," and were painted in 1466 and 1500 for the School of St. John the Evangelist. The first represents a scene in the Piazza when a miraculous cure is made by a fragment of the True Cross there displayed. This Bellini could not confine himself to an endless repetition of Madonnas and Saints; his interest in the humanity about him was far too strong for him to turn from it to paint the ideal, and we rejoice in his realistic picturing of the Venice of his day. He shows us San Marco with but a single mosaic that still remains; the bell-turrets of the façade; the Corinthian (?) horses; the statues, less numerous than now; and the foliage-like decorations, all brilliant with gold and color. The loggietta was not yet built; but the Campanile was there, not, however, unattached as now. The Clock-Tower was not in existence, and the Procuratie were so different from those of to-day as to be scarcely recognizable.
The procession has entered the Piazza through a gateway between San Marco and the Ducal Palace. Groups of idlers here and there are watching the ceremony, and are composed of Oriental merchants, Venetian gallants, and an occasional magistrate in his toga, or perhaps some women and children. Mrs. Oliphant says:—
"The picture is like a book, more absolutely true than any chronicle, representing not only the looks and customs of the occasion, but the very scene. How eagerly the people must have traced it out when it first was made public, finding out in every group some known faces, some image all the more interesting because it was met in the flesh every day! Is that perhaps Zuan Bellini himself, with his hair standing out round his face, talking to his companions about the passing procession, pointing out the curious effects of light and shade upon the crimson capes and berettas, and watching while the line defiles with its glimmer of candles and sound of psalms against the majestic shadow of the houses?"
The fragment of the True Cross which performs, in this first painting, the miracle of a great cure, was presented to the Brotherhood of the Scuola di San Giovanni Evangelista by the Grand Chancellor of Cyprus, who had in turn received it from the Patriarch of Constantinople. This relic had performed so many wonders that the Confraternity felt the importance of recording them, so to speak, on these enormous canvases, that all the world might see and believe.
A second picture commemorates an occasion when the sacred relic was carried in procession to the Church of San Lorenzo, and when on the bridge near the church it was dropped into the canal. Many persons among the profane crowd which followed the procession leaped into the water, and are seen in the picture swimming about in search of the relic. Some boats also have come near for the same purpose; but not until Andrea Vendramini, the chief warden of the Scuola, descended into the canal in his full habit, could the precious object be found. For him it floated upright, because, as the tradition teaches, of his being granted this great privilege by miraculous favor.
This scene is even more characteristic of Venetian life than the first. The houses near the bridge are ornamented with draperies; and heads of women in coifs and hoods are seen in the windows. The bridge is crowded densely by the procession arrested to watch the search for the relic, and the light is thrown on the faces of the priests and monks who chiefly compose it. All along the Fondamenta is a concourse of richly dressed ladies in magnificent costumes and gorgeous jewels, whose shoulders and faces are increased in beauty by the thin veils that soften but do not conceal their features or their rich necklaces and coronets. They kneel closely together, and no doubt will follow the procession when it moves. They are not young, but in the height of womanly dignity and grace; and it is said that she who wears a crown is Caterina Cornaro, who has come from Asolo to see this ceremony at San Lorenzo. In one of the boats stands the priest of San Lorenzo, his hands clasped in prayer; and Ridolli declares that Gentile introduced his own portrait in the crowd at the side of the canal. Charles Blanc places great value on this picture on account of its accurate representation of the costumes and manners of the time, the ceremonials, buildings, bridges, and quays of Venice; but as a work of art he finds it inferior to the "Procession in the Piazza of St. Mark."
We have not space to speak with any justice of that marvellous series of nine pictures by Carpaccio, which tell the story of Saint Ursula with such power as to strike all beholders with astonishment. We can mention but one work by this master,—a work in the same vein as the two by Gentile Bellini of which we have spoken. It is called the "Patriarch of Grado;" and the bridge of the Rialto, then built of wood, is seen, as well as the gondolas, which were open, decked with garlands, and painted in colors, as if ready for a fête.
I can scarcely equal Mr. Ruskin in enthusiasm for Carpaccio; but it is certain that this man, whose origin is unknown and the date of whose death cannot be given, whose whole history, in fact, is enveloped in impenetrable shadows, was a great poetic artist; and Blanc well says: "His works are not precious to Venetians only; they have an infinite charm for all the world, because they reveal the imagination of an artist. In them one admires the ingenuousness of a precursor, and feels the soul of a poet; and nothing is more true than the saying of Zanetti, 'Carpaccio bears the truth in his heart.'"
The "Assumption" and "The Presentation of the Virgin" by Titian are among the invaluable treasures of the Accademia. As we gaze on the magnificent Assumption, we can but wonder, and even feel indignant, at the dense stupidity of those monks of the Frari for whom it was painted. They were like buzzing, stinging gnats about him while the work was going on, and only accepted it at last because a minister of Charles V. offered a goodly sum for it, and wished to take it away from Venice. Its only worth in their eyes depended on the fact that others wished to have it.
It is really in three parts. At the top is the Eternal Father, in resplendent glory, with arms open to receive the Holy Virgin, who ascends to him surrounded by an aureole of cherubim. Below the grand, colossal figures of the Apostles are grouped. The Virgin is modest, and yet triumphant. She has no mystic expression, but is of the same healthy, vigorous race which Titian saw all about him. She might be a sister or daughter of one of the bronzed apostles below. Her double mantle of red and blue, in its many folds, does not disguise the athletic grace of her superb form, in which there is neither languor nor effeminacy.
In this picture, in which the climax of Venetian painting was reached,—which is by its position and arrangement in the Academy the acknowledged Queen of Pictures,—a wonderful power of invention is displayed, and a boldness of execution is shown which Titian had not before employed, and which was much criticised at the time of its completion; but it has endured the chances and changes of almost four centuries only to be placed in the first rank of existing paintings.
In the "Presentation of the Virgin" we have a truly Venetian treatment of a subject which has been made of small effect in the hands of other masters. The nice little girl, with her plump face and blue gown, can have no possible conception of the meaning of her pale aureole. She is childishly innocent of what is to be done, and, in fact, has simply been used by Titian as an excuse for bringing together fifty people, an obelisk, a portico, the façade of a temple, a long flight of gray stone steps; and not content with these, he has added hillsides, mountains, and trees, with banks of clouds above all.
The Pontiff and a group of priests are above the child at the top of the steps. She raises her hand towards them. Below are her father and mother, and near the steps the famous old countrywoman, with her basket of eggs. There are also men and women of quite another class, dressed in long garments, who make a sort of passing procession. It is as if one were in the midst of a city where people of various classes are occupied with their personal affairs,—a city in the midst of a noble landscape, which is glowing with sunlight,—a city, too, on which its people have bestowed the riches of art, and everything that money can produce to make life luxurious and attractive. It is no wonder that Titian lived without a rival; that his works were sought by emperors and kings, and that in his power of portraiture he has not been surpassed.
"The Supper in the House of Levi" was painted by Paul Veronese for the Refectory of SS. Giovanni and Paolo, in 1572; and a year later the artist was summoned before the Sacred Tribunal to answer to the charge of irreverence, based upon his having painted "dwarfs, buffoons, drunkards, Germans, and similar indecencies" at supper with Our Lord. Veronese defended himself on the ground that Michael Angelo, "in the Papal Chapel at Rome, painted Our Lord Jesus Christ, His Mother, Saint John, and Saint Peter, and all the court of heaven, from the Virgin Mary downwards, naked, and in various attitudes, with little reverence." Veronese was dismissed with a command to correct his picture within three months; but more than three hundred years have passed, and it remains untouched.
The suppers of Christ and his disciples and friends were so often painted by Veronese, that he could scarcely vary them very much. That in the house of Levi is subject to criticism on account of the prominence given to the architecture, which is of too florid a type to please a severe taste, although it may correspond with the disorder and movement of the peculiar figures of the composition to which the Sacred Tribunal objected.
Rich in masterpieces as the Ducal Palace and the Academy are, one must still go elsewhere for some of the grandest works of the Venetian school. For example, the Santa Barbara of Palma Vecchio is in the Church of S. Maria Formosa, which I always remember was built in 1492, that important year in which our part of the world may be said to have been born. This church is very near the Piazza; and the walk from the Academy, where one so often is, after crossing the bridge, leads through a maze of calli in the very heart of the city.
Santa Barbara was the patroness of soldiers, and this picture was painted for the Bombardieri. She makes the centre of an altarpiece, having two male saints on each side, and a Pietà above. The whole work is excellent, and were the central figure not seen, the Virgin above would attract much attention; but the Saint Barbara fills the place.
She stands there in full majesty, a beautiful young girl, proud in her bearing, but full of human attraction. She is not saint-like, and wears her crown with no humility, and holds her palm as it might be a sceptre. Her rich brown robe, carelessly held about her waist by a knotted ribbon, is in exquisite contrast with her crimson mantle. A white veil is twisted in her golden crown, falls on one side, and crosses her breast; while her magnificent hair falls in wavy tresses on each side her throat, and rests on her bosom. Cannon are at her feet, and her tower is seen behind her. It is a splendid, lovable woman who is here portrayed in a marvellous manner.
Charles Blanc tells us that when he first entered this church with his friend, Mass was being said before the altar of Santa Barbara; but in spite of the ceremony and the place they were both surprised into cries of admiration as they saw the picture. Naturally the priests and worshippers were scandalized, and our author was publicly reproved.
Tradition teaches us that this Barbara was a portrait of Palma's daughter, Violante, who was passionately loved by Titian. So good an authority as Blanc tells us that "it is certain" that Palma's daughter was the mistress of Titian late in his life. Both these masters made several portraits of her, introducing her into a variety of scenes. One knows her by her limpid, wide-open eyes, her voluptuous mouth and peculiar nose. She is often represented in dishabille, with her large shoulders and beautiful bosom half bare. When attired, she is much decorated, with puffs and slashes in her gowns, with bows of ribbon, and numerous chains and other ornaments.
Just at the left of the western front of Santa Maria Formosa is the entrance to the Ponte del Paradiso, with its exquisite Gothic archway.—one of the most charming bits of old architecture in Venice.
A very short walk takes one to the Campo of SS. Giovanni and Paola, on which are situated the grand Dominican church of the same name; the Scuola of San Marco, now a hospital; and the chapel of Santa Maria della Pace, in which the Falieri were buried, and where, in 1815, the skeleton of the unhappy Doge was found with the head between the knees.
Here too is the splendid statue of Verrochio's, of which Ruskin says, "I do not believe that there is a more glorious work of sculpture existing in the world than the equestrian statue of Bartolommeo Colleoni,"—which to me seems rather extreme praise.
The church, best known as San Zanipolo, is in the cheerful Italian Gothic, and with its broad arches and white windows does not at all suggest its grand sepulchral character. But it is crowded with monuments and tombs. Here many Doges were laid in state, and here their funeral services were held. While living they also came here on the 7th of October, in all their bravery and dignity, to celebrate the anniversary of the victory over the Turks in the Dardanelles. But now, these pageants being over, it is essentially a great tomb; and taken together with Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari, we have the double Mausoleum of Venice.
San Zanipolo was founded because of a dream which the Doge Giacomo Tiepolo dreamed in 1226. Were dreams of more consequence in those days, or are we less attentive to them? The Doge saw in his sleep the little chapel of the Dominicans surrounded with the most lovely red roses, so fragrant that all the air was sweet with their perfume; and in the midst of the roses white doves with gold crosses on their heads were flying all about. Then angels descended, bearing smoking golden censers, and they passed through the chapel, and out among the flowers, and the incense was like clouds, and a voice said, "This is the place I have chosen for my preachers."
Instantly the Doge awoke and went to the Senate to tell his dream; and at once a large plot of ground was added to the domain of the Dominicans, and after eight years the foundation of the church was laid under the supervision of the Doge and the Senators.
The two great pictures of this church—the "Death of Saint Peter Martyr" by Titian, and a beautiful work by Giovanni Bellini—were burned, and the remaining paintings are scarcely as interesting as are the monuments, some of which are very curious, and many of which perpetuate the names and deeds of the greatest men of the Republic. The most absurd, perhaps, is the monument to the two Doges Valier, and to the Dogaressa, the wife of the younger. The effect of the enormous curtain, perhaps seventy feet high, with ropes, fringes, and tassels galore, and sustained by cherubs, thus making a background for the effigies of the three figures, is something indescribable. Victory, Fame, the Virtues, Genii, a lion, and a dragon have all been made to contribute to the glory of this family; and the inscription tells us that this ugly Dogaressa, with her jewels, laces, furs, ruffs, and embroidery, was "Distinguished by Roman virtue, Venetian piety, and the Ducal Crown." One wonders what she could have asked for in her prayers. Having all this, what could be added unto her? Would beauty have been worth while?
The two Bellini and Palma Giovane are entombed at San Zanipolo, while the tombs of Titian and Canova are at the Frari, all of them being in most masterful company; but in the last-named church there exists a beautiful Madonna and Saints by Giovanni Bellini, and the splendid altarpiece by Titian called "La Pala dei Pesari." It is a Madonna with Saints and some of the Pesari family. It is the finest ex-voto picture in the world. It was ordered in 1519, and Titian was paid ninety-six ducats for it.
We have barely mentioned Tintoretto, his "Paradiso" and his "Miracle of Saint Mark." He is to many the most unusual man among the Venetian painters of his time, and to others an artist who was not surpassed. He seized and still holds his own domain in the Church of Santa Maria dell' Orto and the Scuola di San Rocco. "Boiling with thoughts," having means to live without earning, he but desired space and opportunity to paint; and these he secured when he offered to work without price for the fathers of the Orto.
The two enormous pictures of the "Last Judgment" and "The Israelites worshipping the Golden Calf" still remain to prove that he was no vain boaster when he proposed to satisfy himself and win a glorious fame; and these two great pictures finished, he proceeded, so to speak, to decorate the whole church.
It was not alone in the palaces and churches of Venice that the artists found opportunities for the indulgence of their imagination in depicting historical and ideal religious subjects. The Scuole, of which there were five, were associations of private individuals for benevolent purposes. They are remarkable monuments to the people, not to the government, and are all the more interesting because in this regard they are unique. They were largely endowed; and their edifices, built by voluntary gifts, are among the chief ornaments of Mediæval Venice. Among their objects were the provision of occupation for boys, and the gift of dowries to maidens, fifteen hundred of these being annually married by the aid of these confraternities.
Perhaps the Scuola di San Marco on the Campo of the same name, was as remarkable as any one of these institutions. For this brotherhood Tintoretto painted the "Miracle of Saint Mark," now in the Academy. No words can describe this picture, of which Taine says: "No painting, in my judgment, surpasses or perhaps equals his Saint Mark in the Academy; at all events, no painting has made an equal impression on my mind." And Blanc says: "Tintoretto has here employed all his knowledge, all his love. It is the work of a colorist, who could be made to pale by no other, even in Venice.... By this resplendent painting Tintoretto attained to the highest rank, and he could no longer be ignored in the decoration of the Ducal Palace."
Vasari and Ridolfi concur in the account of the bold manner in which Tintoretto bore off the prize in a contest at the Scuola di San Rocco. This was the most interesting and the richest of the Scuole; and the Brotherhood, having obtained the relics of the saint, albeit in a manner not to be commended, had built their fine church and Scuola in his honor. From Antonio Grimani to the fall of the Republic, the Doges were enrolled in this order, and the Confraternity of San Rocco was a liberal patron of art. Mrs. Jameson gives this account of the acquisition of the relics:—
"In the year 1485 the Venetians, who from their commerce with the Levant were continually exposed to the visitation of the plague, determined to possess themselves of the relics of S. Roch. The conspirators sailed to Montpellier, under pretence of performing a holy pilgrimage, and carried off the body of the saint, with which they returned to Venice, and were received by the Doge, the Senate, the clergy, and all the people with inexpressible joy."
When on one occasion the Brotherhood of San Rocco demanded cartoons for a picture they wished to have painted from five celebrated artists, Tintoretto secretly measured the space, and painted the scene in a few days. When the day of competition arrived, he managed to fasten his canvas in the place for the intended decoration and covered it; and when the other designs had been displayed, he snatched the covering from his picture, and electrified all present. The judges were as angry as the competitors, and told the painter that they had met to judge of cartoons, and not to have a picture forced on them. Tintoretto replied that this was his only method of design; that designs and models should always be so executed that the full effect of the completed work could be seen; and, finally, he said that he set no price on his picture, which he wished to present to them. As they were not permitted to refuse a gift to their saint, they were forced to keep it.
At length, the excitement having passed, the larger number of votes was cast in favor of Tintoretto, and he was formally appointed to do all that was necessary for the decoration of the Scuola, receiving a hundred ducats a year during his life, and promising to paint for it one picture annually. The picture which he nailed to the roof while his rivals made their drawings may still be seen there. It was executed in 1560, and represents "The Apotheosis of Saint Roch."
Thus it happened that the Lower and Upper Halls, the Staircase and the Albergo of the Scuola became galleries of the works of Tintoretto, while still others are in the Church of San Rocco. When the Scuola was finished, it became, in a sense, a school of painting. Ridolfi says it was—
"the resort of the studious in painting, and in particular of all the foreigners from the other side of the Alps who came to Venice at that time: Tintoretto's works serving as examples of composition, of grace, and harmony of design, of the management of light and shade, and force and freedom of color; and, in short, of all that can be called most accurate, and can best exhibit the gifts of the ingenious painter."
All over Venice his works exist,—in the humblest chapels and sacristies, as well as in the Hall of the Great Council; and yet many have been burned, have perished by neglect, or have become indistinguishable with time.
It is a curious fact that of all the Venetian school of painters there were but two born in Venice,—Giovanni Bellini and Tintoretto; and yet, so perfectly have the others suited themselves to her atmosphere that we feel their art to be hers individually, in perfect accord with her spirit and her needs.
So, in architecture, Scamozzi, Palladio, Sansovino, and San Micheli were all born on the mainland; not one of them first saw the light in Venice. But who that stands in the Piazza, or passes up and down the Grand Canal, feels for a moment that any other architecture would have suited Venice, or that this would please us were it reproduced elsewhere? Assuredly Mediæval Venice possessed a charm which worked its spell on all who dwelt within her borders, which enabled her to impress them with her own signet, and draw out in her service the best that was in them. Venice was of old an enchantress; and in spite of years and the many maladies from which she has suffered, she has not yet lost her spell. The charm is still there. It is over you while within her borders, and fills you with delight. It surges around you from time to time when you are far, far away, and you long to be with her again as you long for the beloved faces into which you cannot look, and which distance and time make no less dear.
You shut your eyes on what is near you, and you think of the shimmer of her lagoons, the pearly tints of the cool hours of day, and the rosy, golden atmosphere of the warmer time. Her domes and palaces rise before you. You almost feel the motion of the gondola as you sweep around a curve, and a new and fascinating vista reveals itself. You hear a soft, musical language, or listen to the well-known cries of the gondoliers and the distant song or serenade, and you echo the words of Saint Victor: "Other cities have admirers; Venice alone has lovers."
INDEX.
A.
Abano, Baths of, 192, 194, 195.
Abbiati, 187.
Abydos, 47.
Academy of Fine Arts, 347, 363, 367.
Accademia delle Belle Arti, 356, 360.
Adams, Charles Kendall, 254.
Adda, The river, 192, 194, 275, 281.
Adrian IV, Pope, 3.
Adriatic, The, 48, 70, 167, 237, 266.
Alberti, Pietro, 61.
Aldus the Printer, 255, 326-332.
Alexander III., Pope, 3-9, 11, 13, 31, 90, 347, 350.
Alexandria, 227, 233, 263, 278, 304.
Alexius, 44-47, 49, 50, 52-58.
Alexius III., 68.
Alexius Ducas, 56.
Alfonso of Naples, 231, 233, 234.
Altina, 167.
Amadeo, Duke of Savoy, 188.
Anafesto, Luca, 25.
Andata alli due Castelli, 9.
Angels, Church of the, 134.
Anna of Padua, 325.
Antelao, 168.
Archipelago, The, 48.
Armenia, Queen of, 229.
Arsenal, The, 30, 161, 202, 213-216, 251, 325.
Arsenalotti, The, 215.
Arundel, Lady, 290.
Asolo, Lady of, 237.
Athens, 285.
Aucher, Dr., 315.
Austria, 149.
Austria, Emperor of, 293, 294, 301.
Avignon, 140.
B.
Badoer II., 305.
Badoer III., 210.
Badoeri, The, 208.
Bagnolo, Peace of, 276.
Bajumonte, 108-113.
Baldwin, Emperor, 65-68.
Ballerini, Giorgio, 138.
Bandello, 212.
Bank of Venice, 31.
Barbara's Day, St., 121.
Barbaria, Giorgio, 130.
Barbaro, Daniel, 95.