ashen-gray; not like our northern moors with their jet-black pools and
purple heath, but lifeless, the color of sackcloth, with the corrupted
sea-water soaking through the roots of its acrid weeds, and gleaming
hither and thither through its snaky channels. No gathering of fantastic
mists, nor coursing of clouds across it; but melancholy clearness of
space in the warm sunset, oppressive, reaching to the horizon of its
level gloom. To the very horizon, on the northeast; but to the north and
west, there is a blue line of higher land along the border of it, and
above this, but farther back, a misty band of mountains, touched with
snow.
To the east, the paleness and roar of the Adriatic, louder at momentary
intervals as the surf breaks on the bar of sand; to the south, the
widening branches of the calm lagoon, alternately purple and pale green,
as they reflect the evening clouds or twilight sky; and almost beneath
our feet, on the same field which sustains the tower we gaze from, a
group of four buildings, two of them little larger than cottages (tho
built of stone, and one adorned by a quaint belfry), the third an
octagonal chapel, of which we can see but little more than the flat red
roof with its rayed tiling, the fourth, a considerable church with nave
and aisles, but of which, in like manner, we can see little but the long
central ridge and lateral slopes of roof, which the sunlight separates
in one glowing mass from the green field beneath and gray moor beyond.
There are no living creatures near the buildings, nor any vestige of
village or city round about them. They lie like a little company of
ships becalmed on a faraway sea.
Then look farther to the south. Beyond the widening branches of the
lagoon, and rising out of the bright lake into which they gather, there
are a multitude of towers, dark, and scattered among square-set shapes
of clustered palaces, a long irregular line fretting the southern sky.
Mother and daughter, you behold them both in their widowhood--Torcello
and Venice. Thirteen hundred years ago, the gray moorland looked as it
does this day, and the purple mountains stood as radiantly in the deep
distances of evening; but on the line of the horizon, there were strange
fires mixed with the light of sunset, and the lament of many human
voices mixed with the fretting of the waves on their ridges of sand. The
flames rose from the ruins of Altinum; the lament from the multitude of
its people, seeking, like Israel of old, a refuge from the sword in the
paths of the sea.
The cattle are feeding and resting upon the site of the city that they
left; the mower's scythe swept this day at dawn over the chief street of
the city that they built, and the swathes of soft grass are now sending
up their scent into the night air, the only incense that fills the
temple of their ancient worship.
CADORE, TITIAN'S BIRTHPLACE[57]
BY AMELIA B. EDWARDS
We reached Pieve di Cadore about half-past eleven A.M., delays
included. The quaint old piazza with its gloomy arcades, its antique
houses with Venetian windows, its cafés, its fountain, and its loungers,
is just like the piazzas of Serravalle, Longarone, and other provincial
towns of the same epoch. With its picturesque Prefettura and
belfry-tower one is already familiar in the pages of Gilbert's "Cadore."
There, too, is the fine old double flight of steps leading up to the
principal entrance on the first floor, as in the town-hall at
Heilbronn--a feature by no means Italian; and there, about midway up the
shaft of the campanile, is the great, gaudy, well-remembered fresco,
better meant than painted, wherein Titian, some twelve feet in height,
robed and bearded, stands out against an ultramarine background, looking
very like the portrait of a caravan giant at a fair....
Turning aside from the glowing piazza and following the downward slope
of a hill to the left of the Prefettura, we come, at the distance of
only a few yards, upon another open space, grassy and solitary,
surrounded on three sides by rambling, dilapidated-looking houses, and
opening on the fourth to a vista of woods and mountains. In this little
piazza stands a massive stone fountain, time-worn and water-worn,
surmounted by a statue of Saint Tiziano in the robes and square cap of
an ecclesiastic. The water trickling through two metal pipes in the
pedestal beneath Saint Tiziano's feet, makes a pleasant murmuring in the
old stone basin; while, half hidden behind this fountain, and leaning up
as if for shelter against a larger house adjoining, stands-a small
whitewashed cottage upon the side-wall of which an incised tablet bears
the following record:
"Nel MCCCCLXXVII Fra Queste Vmili Mura Tiziano Vecellio Vene a
celebre Vita Donde vsciva gia presso a cento Anni In Venezia Addi
XXVII Agosto MDLXXVI."
A poor, mean-looking, low-roofed dwelling, disfigured by external
chimney-shafts and a built-out oven; lit with tiny, blinking, medieval
windows; altogether unlovely; altogether unnoticeable; but--the
birthplace of Titian!
It looked different, no doubt, when he was a boy and played outside here
on the grass. It had probably a high, steep roof, like the homesteads in
his own landscape drawings; but the present old brown tiles have been
over it long enough to get mottled with yellow lichens. One would like
to know if the fountain and the statue were there in his time; and if
the water trickled ever to the same low tune; and if the women came
there to wash their linen and fill their brazen water jars, as they do
now. This lovely green hill, at all events, sheltered the home from the
east winds; and Monte Duranno lifted his strange crest yonder against
the southern horizon; and the woods dipt down to the valley, then as
now, where the bridle-path slopes away to join the road to Venice.
We went up to the house, and knocked. The door was opened by a sickly,
hunchbacked lad who begged us to walk in, and who seemed to be quite
alone there. The house was very dark, and looked much older inside than
from without. A long, low, gloomy upstairs chamber with a huge penthouse
fire-place jutting into the room, was evidently as old as the days of
Titian's grandfather, to whom the house originally belonged; while a
very small and very dark adjoining closet, with a porthole of window
sunk in a slope of massive wall, was pointed out as the room in which
the great painter was born.
"But how do you know that he was born here?" I asked. The hunchback
lifted his wasted hand with a deprecating gesture. "They have always
said so, Signora," he replied. "They have said so for more than four
hundred years."
"They?" I repeated, doubtfully. "The Vecelli, Signora." "I had
understood that the Vecellio family was extinct." "Scusate, Signora,"
said the hunchback. "The last direct descendant of 'Il Tiziano' died not
long ago--a few years before I was born; and the collateral Vecelli are
citizens of Cadore to this day. If the Signora will be pleased to look
for it, she will see the name of Vecellio over a shop on the right-hand
side, as she returns to the Piazza."
I did look for it; and there, sure enough, over a small shop-window I
found it. It gave one an odd sort of shock, as if time were for the
moment annihilated; and I remember how, with something of the same
feeling, I once saw the name of Rubens over a shop-front in the
market-place at Cologne.
I left the house less incredulous than I entered it. Of the identity of
the building there has never been any kind of doubt; and I am inclined
to accept with the house the identity of the room. Titian, it should be
remembered, lived long enough to become, long before he died, the glory
of his family. He became rich; he became noble; his fame filled Italy.
Hence the room in which he was born may well have acquired, half a
century before his death--perhaps even during the lifetime of his
mother--that sort of sacredness which is generally of post-mortem
growth. The legend, handed down from Vecellio to Vecellio in
uninterrupted succession, lays claim, therefore, to a more reliable
pedigree than most traditions of a similar character.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] From "Travels in Italy." Translated by A. J. W. Morrison and Charles
Nisbet. Goethe's visit to Italy was made in 1786. He was then only
thirty-seven years of age. The visit had important influence on his
subsequent career. The greatest of his works were still to be written.
It was not until after 1794 that Goethe devoted himself entirely to
literature.
[2] Goethe at this time had published several short plays besides "The
Sorrows of Werthé," "Wilhelm Meister," and a few other works less
important.
[3] By that name Italians know the Pantheon.
[4] From "Remarks on Several Parts of Italy in the years 1701, 1702,
1703." At the time of his departure for Italy, Addison was twenty-nine
years old. None of his important works had then been written.
[5] Addison's belief has been amply justified by the extensive
excavations made since his time.
[6] From "Ancient Rome, In the Light of Recent Discoveries." By special
arrangement with, and by permission of, the publishers, Houghton,
Mifflin Co. Copyright, 1888.
[7] Lanciani here has referred to the Catholic Church, in which
historians have seen, in the spiritual sense, a survival of imperial
Rome.
[8] From "Six Months in Italy." Published by Houghton, Mifflin CO.
[9] From "Six Months in Italy." Published by Houghton, Mifflin Co.
[10] Mr. Hillard was writing in 1853.
[11] From "The Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome." By special
arrangement with, and by permission of, the publishers, Houghton,
Mifflin Co. Copyright, 1897.
[12] This mausoleum, built by Augustus on the bank of the Tiber for
himself and his family, had long been used as the imperial sepulcher.
[13] From "Rome." By arrangement with, and by permission of, the
publishers, John C. Winston Co. Copyright, 1897.
[14] From "Italy: Rome and Naples." By special arrangement with, and by
permission of, the publishers, Henry Holt & Co. Copyright, 1868.
Translated by John Durand.
[15] From "The Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome." By special
arrangement with, and by permission of, the publishers, Houghton,
Mifflin Co. Copyright, 1897.
[16] From "The Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome." By special
arrangement with, and by permission of, the publishers, Houghton,
Mifflin Co. Copyright, 1897.
[17] From "Haps and Mishaps of a Tour in Europe." Mrs. Lippincott's
visit was made in 1852.
[18] From "Recollections of the Last Four Popes, and of Rome in their
Times." Nicholas Patrick Stephen Wiseman (1802-1865), an English
cardinal, was famous during his lifetime for intellectual vigor and
scholarly attainments. In presenting an intimate view of a papal
election it was his unusual privilege to describe not only "the things
he saw," but also, as his later destiny revealed, to tell of the things
of which he formed a part. The election pictured is that of Leo XII.
[19] From "Six Novices on the Grand Tour, by One of Them." Privately
printed. (1911.) By permission of the author.
[20] From "Six Months in Italy." Published by Houghton, Mifflin Co.
[21] From "Italy: Rome and Naples." By special arrangement with, and by
permission of, the publishers, Henry Holt & Co. Copyright, 1868.
Translated by John Durand.
[22] From "Pictures from Italy."
[23] From "The Marble Faun." Published by Houghton, Mifflin Co.
[24] From "Pencillings by the Way."
[25] From "Pictures from Italy."
[26] From "French and Italian Note-Books." By special arrangement with,
and by permission of, the publishers of Hawthorne's works, Houghton,
Mifflin Co. Copyright, 1871, 1883, 1899.
[27] Hiram Powers, the American sculptor, who lived long in Florence,
and is best known for his "Greek Slave."
[28] From "Journeys in Italy." By special arrangement with, and by
permission of, the publishers, Brentano's. Copyright, 1902.
[29] From "Florence."
[30] From Taine's "Italy: Florence and Venice." By special arrangement
with, and by permission of, the publishers. Henry Holt & Co. Translated
by John Durand. Copyright, 1869.
[31] Since Taine wrote, the façade has been added.
[32] From "Italian Cities." By special arrangement with, and by
permission of, the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons. Copyright, 1900.
[33] From "The Makers of Florence." Published by the Macmillan Co.
[34] That is, the Baptistery at Florence.
[35] From "Florence." By permission of the publishers, John C. Winston
Co. Copyright, 1837.
[36] From "Florence." By permission of the publishers, John C. Winston
Co. Copyright, 1897.
[37] From "Florence." By permission of the publishers, John C. Winston
Co. Copyright, 1897.
[38] Dante was buried at Ravenna. The reader will recall Byron's lines:
"Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar,
Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore."
[39] From "Italy: Florence and Venice." By special arrangement with, and
by permission of, the publishers, Henry Holt & Co. Copyright, 1869.
Translated by John Durand.
[40] From "Letters of a Traveller." Bryant's letter is dated in May,
1834.
[41] The court of the Austrian Grand Duke Leopold III. In 1859 Leopold
was expelled, and Florence, with Tuscany, was annexed to the Sardinian
kingdom.
[42] From "Venice: Its History, Art, Industries and Modern Life."
Published by John C. Winston Co.
[43] From "Two Months Abroad." Privately printed. (1878.)
[44] From "Journeys In Italy." By arrangement with, and by permission
of, the publishers, Brentano's. Copyright, 1902.
[45] Marie Taglioni, the ballet dancer, who was born in Stockholm of
Italian parents in 1804 and married to Count Gilbert de Voisons in
1847, when she retired from the stage. She died in 1884.
[46] From "The Stones of Venice." St. Mark's is merely a church. It is
not a cathedral; that is, it is not the "cathedra" of a bishop.
Originally it was the private chapel of the Doge. Likewise, St. Peter's
at Rome is a church only--the church of the Pope. The cathedral of the
Pope (who is the Bishop of Rome), is St. John Lateran.
[47] Venice and territory adjacent to it were long in subjection to
Austria. Having put an end to the republic in 1797 (the republic had
then had an unbroken existence for about thirteen hundred years),
Napoleon, by the treaty of Campo Formio, ceded this territory to
Austria. In 1805, however, Venetia was added by Napoleon to his Kingdom
of Italy. In 1814, after the first fall of Napoleon, it was ceded back
to Austria and in 1815 became part of the Lombardo-Venetian Kingdom.
Under the leadership of Manin, in 1848, a republic was proclaimed in
Venice, but Austria laid siege to the city and captured it. It was not
until 1866, at the conclusion of the war against Austria, that Venice
was annexed to the new Italian kingdom of Victor Emmanuel.
[48] From "In and Around Venice." Published by Charles Scribner's Sons.
[49] From "In and Around Venice." Published by Charles Scribner's Sons.
After its fall, the Venetians set about raising funds for rebuilding
the Campanile. In the course of several years, the new structure was
finished and the event duly commemorated.
[50] From "The Stones of Venice."
[51] Several men of this name are famous in Venetian annals, as
soldiers, statesmen and doges. The one here referred to is Tommaso, who
defeated the Turks, added Dalmatia to the Venetian domain, greatly
encouraged commerce and founded the Venetian library.
[52] From "Life on the Lagoons." Published by the Macmillan Co.
[53] From "Italy: Florence and Venice." By special arrangement with, and
by permission of, the publishers. Henry Holt & Co. Copyright, 1869.
[54] The state ship of Venice.
[55] From "Life on the Lagoons." Published by the Macmillan Co.
[56] From "The Stones of Venice."
[57] From "Untrodden Peaks and Unfrequented Valleys: A Midsummer Ramble
in the Dolomites." Published by E. P. Dutton & Co.