the first of the new nobility to be elevated to the position of
sovereign, is the most refined example of a Renaissance tomb in Venice.
The Doge lies, with face turned towards the spectator, on a couch
supported by eagles. Behind him are pages and other attendants. The
carving and arabesques of the canopy and its supports, into which notes
symbolical of naval power are crowded, though extremely intricate, are
very pure in style. In the lunette beneath the arch kneels the Doge, who
is being recommended to Our Lady by S. Mark. Opposite to this beautiful
tomb is the Gothic memorial to Doge Michele Morosini, who died in 1382.
The background of the central portion is a good mosaic of the
Crucifixion, in front of which the aquiline features of the recumbent
Duke are very prominent. The niches on either side are filled with
figures of different saints, and the whole is surmounted by S. Michael
with the Dragon.
The exterior of the church, especially the apse, which rises without a
single buttress, is very impressive. A good Gothic portal occupies the
centre of the unfinished west façade, which is flanked by
thirteenth-century sarcophagi let into niches in the walls. Close by,
and occupying one side of the Campo in which the church stands, is the
Scuola di S. Marco. This building, now a hospital, was erected in 1485
by Martino Lombardi, and is noteworthy for the curiously conceived
façade that faces the square. This is composed of richly coloured marble
divided into panels, on which in low relief different buildings are seen
in acute perspective. They recall the same sort of decoration which
prevails in the frescoes at Pompeii, but so cleverly did Lombardi
arrange his scheme that their absolute falsity in no way detracts from
the general design of the building.
In front of the façade stands the magnificent equestrian statue to that
prince of _condottieri_ whose mausoleum at Bergamo has already been
mentioned, Bartolommeo Colleoni. A man amongst men, stern, defiant and
resourceful, his grand figure embodies all that a leader in troublous
times should be. Firmly gripping his saddle, he sits his horse with head
thrown back and a face which betokens the masterful haughtiness of the
man. The group was designed by Leonardo da Vinci's master, Andrea
Verrocchio, and finished by Alessandro Leopardi. It vies with
Donatello's equestrian group of Gattamelata at Padua in being perhaps
the best Italian Renaissance statue extant.
The Frari is a church which grew out of the accumulated funds of the
Franciscans, whose enormous monastery, now holding the municipal
archives, adjoins it. This great church was commenced in 1250 and
finished in 1338, and contains the monuments and tombs of some of the
city's rulers, as well as many of the Venetian nobility who in bygone
days made their names famous in its annals. The west façade has a simple
Gothic doorway and four round windows, one of which, larger than the
others, is above the figure of Christ that occupies the apex of the
arch. Like SS. Giovanni e Paolo the east end is architecturally the most
interesting part of the fabric. Two flights of lofty windows with
exceedingly good tracery admit light into the apse. This has been
continued south by later additions as far as the wall of the transept.
The transept being thus enlarged has four apsidal chambers that form a
pleasing sequence to the big eastern apse. The exterior of the church,
when viewed from the little Campo S. Rocco outside the east end,
composes extremely well. The four small apses lead up to the big one,
behind which and beyond the roof line one sees the great Campanile
rising over the north transept. The Frari is built of brick with a
simple decorative feature in the form of a course of Venetian Gothic at
the top.
Owing to subsidence of the foundations the interior is now undergoing
extensive repair. The nave is very lofty, with single columns of grey
stone that have floral capitals. The groining ribs of the vault are of
red brick and the arches of the bays are grey stone. Two of the nave
columns are massively constructed of brick, and form with the brick
walls of the aisles and the grey colour of the stone a very charming
scheme. The choir occupies the last two bays of the nave, and as is the
case in the cathedrals of Spain, is cut off from the body of the church
by a rood screen. The portion of this which is in the nave is debased
Renaissance, but that in the aisles is earlier and much better. The
choir stalls are very finely carved and decorated with superb _intarsia_
work. The little door by which the canons enter the choir is
particularly good in this respect, with a beauty much enhanced by the
design on the doorposts. Round these cling vines and grape clusters. The
clerestory consists of round windows with double lights, but there is no
triforium. Among the most interesting monuments are those erected to
Beato Pacifico, the Franciscan architect of the church, which is in the
south transept, and one to Titian in the south aisle. His masterpiece of
the Assumption, now in the Accademia delle Belle Arti, was painted for
the Frari.
The domestic architecture of Venice is far more interesting than that
with which we have just dealt. Peculiar to Venetia, it is the outcome
of that period when, the city's trade being well established in
northern climes, new ideas and fashions travelled back from countries
over the great mountain chain and began to commingle with the older
traditions of the East. Not only on the Grand Canal, but in many of the
quiet byways of the Silent City, one comes across beautiful examples of
that entrancing style of façade, the Venetian Gothic.
As the gondola glides swiftly over the waters of the great highway of
Venice there comes into sight a group of palaces which occupies the only
real angle of the Grand Canal. This group is formed of the celebrated
houses built by the Foscari and Giustiniani families, and is somewhat in
the style of the Doge's Palace, the first-named being contemporary with
it. The flat brick façades are broken by rows of elegant windows, some
with, some without balconies. The deeply-recessed arcading of the
central lights of the first and second storeys gives just the right
amount of shade to an otherwise flat surface, which the windows above
and at either side only slightly relieve. A course of white marble
edging and heavy foundations of enormous blocks of the same give
solidity, and most beautifully frame the pale-red brick of which the
Venetians were so fond. Rows of _pali_, or posts, painted with the
colours of the owner, serve as a dock for waiting gondolas. The
water of the canal, never quiescent, is a puzzle for the painter who
would study reflections. The tide ebbs and flows on the great highway,
the convenient but hideous steamboat rushes by, gondolas groan and creak
against their moorings, and a kaleidoscope of ever-changing shapes and
colours well-nigh drives him to despair.
[Illustration: THE PALAZZI FOSCARI E GIUSTINIANI, VENICE]
Further up the Grand Canal is a very ornate palace, the Ca d'Oro, with
angles softened by three twisted columns instead of the more usual one
in this type of building. Its façade was designed by Giovanni and
Bartolommeo Buon, who built the Piazzetta in front of the Doge's Palace.
At one time it was entirely covered with gilt--hence the name. Down near
the Salute, where the canal opens out to the sea, are the Palazzo da
Mula and the fascinating little Palazzo Contarini-Fasan, with its lovely
traceried balconies. These are all Venetian Gothic. Of other styles the
Byzantine Palazzi, da Mosto and Loudan, the latter Byron's Venetian
home, and the Renaissance Palazzi, Rezzonico, where Browning lived,
Camerlanghi, Manzoni, with a frieze of eagles, Pesaro, and Dario, with
plaques of coloured marble on its façade, are the most celebrated. Most
of them are cracking and bulging, and more than one owes its present
existence to the iron clamps which hold it together. It is much to be
feared that the utilitarian steamboat and ever-increasing motor-boat
traffic will sooner or later be responsible for the destruction of many
a beautiful building, the foundations of which were never intended to
withstand the strain of the great extra wash it creates.
In a safer position than most is the Doge's Palace, that magnificent
construction which almost distracts attention from S. Mark's by its
side.
The first building to be constructed for the rulers of Venice stood on
the site of the Palace and was erected in 813. Fire subsequently
destroyed it and also the edifice which replaced the smoking ruins. The
present building was commenced in 1301 and save for the outer walls was
almost gutted in 1574 and 1577. Palladio, the foremost architect of the
day, contended that it would be dangerous to attempt any reconstruction
unless these walls were demolished, and it speaks volumes for the good
taste of the Senate that his scheme for pulling them down and putting up
another palace in his own hard classic style was not adopted. The
exterior as we see it is almost entirely due to the talented family of
Buon--Giovanni, the father, and his two sons, Pantaleone and
Bartolommeo. It is, however, much to be regretted that while restoring
the façades this celebrated family of _tajapieri_, or stonecutters, did
not adhere to the level and beautiful design of the two windows which
escaped the fire at the east end of the façade that looks over the Riva
degli Schiavoni out to sea. The short massive columns of the lower
colonnade give an idea of immense strength to the great flat space
above. The capitals of these stunted columns are extremely interesting.
The Virtues and Vices find places amidst their foliage, as do the most
famous of Rome's Emperors and Philosophers, the signs of the Zodiac and
many other symbols. Twisted shafts, one of the types of Venetian Gothic,
terminate the three angles of the upper part of the two façades. Their
bases are composed of sculptured groups. The angle nearest to S. Mark's
has the Archangel Michael with the Judgment of Solomon below him. The
next, at the south-west corner, is a group of Adam and Eve with Gabriel
above. In the last, Noah, drunk with wine, is being covered by two of
his sons, and above them is S. Raphael with Tobias, who holds a fish.
A noble window and pierced balcony of early fifteenth-century work
occupies the centre of the upper arcade which faces the sea. This
beautiful window and marble balcony open out from the great Sala
Maggiore Consiglio. Above the moulding of the window is a figure of
Justice, and below in flanking niches are SS. Peter, Paul and Mark;
Faith, Hope and Charity; and the four Cardinal Virtues. A fine loggia,
with cusped arches and quatrefoils above, runs round both the exposed
sides of the Palace. The plan of the building is an irregular square
with a great courtyard inside. The courtyard is Renaissance, the east
side being a particularly good example of a period when the wealth of
Venice was lavished on her buildings.
In the north-east corner of this court and opposite to the Porta della
Carta, is the famous Scala dei Giganti, erected by Rizzio in 1483. At
the head of this magnificent Staircase of the Giants, the Doges were
crowned with the Cap of Authority. From it an open corridor runs right
and left. On the right the Scala d'Oro ascends to the second floor. Only
those whose names were inscribed in the Libro d'Oro were permitted to
use this stairway, which led to that portion of the Palace occupied by
the Doges and their attendant nobles. The continuous suite of
magnificent apartments through which the visitor wanders seem full of
emptiness and sadly want the stately figures and quaint dress, the
sonorous voices and courtly manners of the bygone age that once peopled
them and made them live. The gorgeously gilded and coloured ceilings
become not only oppressive from their magnificence, but wearisome by
their repetition; and despite the great traditions that cling to the
Palace and the remembrance of the history made within these chambers, it
is with a sigh of relief that one steps out on to the balcony where
Justice holds the Scales above our head, and drinks in the balmy air
that floats in over the lagoons keeping Venice pure and sweet.
[Illustration: THE LION OF S. MARK'S, VENICE]
Outside on the Riva at the end of the Piazzetta are two columns of
granite that were brought to Venice in 1180 by Doge Michiel. One came
from Syria, the other from Constantinople. On the capital of one is the
Winged Lion of S. Mark, the emblem of Venice's patron saint; an emblem
which is to be found in every city in the country that owned allegiance
to the Doge's rule. On the other is a figure of S. Theodore, who stands
over a crocodile. S. Theodore, it will be remembered, was the tutelary
saint of Venice before his deposition on the arrival of S. Mark's body;
but this statue was not put up on the monolith until the year 1329.
These two great columns look across the water to the isle of S. Giorgio
Maggiore, where Palladio's great church stands in its chilly splendour.
Beyond are the lagoons and the open sea. The marble-paved landing-stage
on which they stand is from one point of view the most interesting part
of Venice. On it her great traders and merchants gathered when the
long-expected ships from the East came into sight; and as they swept
proudly up the channels and dropped anchor opposite, one can well
imagine the excitement of the thankful owners who would in a few minutes
go on board and learn of the success or failure of the long voyage just
ended.
The oldest part of Venice lies across the Rialto bridge, on the island
of Rivo Alto, where the fish and vegetable markets now are. As this
little town grew more prosperous a wooden bridge, replaced in 1588 by
the present one, was built to connect Rivo Alto with the island
opposite; and by degrees the seventy-two islands on which the city is
built became absorbed within her borders. It must never be forgotten
that Venice, until connected with the mainland by a railway bridge,
always faced the sea, which, as Grant Allen writes, was the front door.
Long before the Venice of Rivo Alto came into being, there was a
flourishing little city not many miles away on the island of Torcello.
At the time when Attila and his Huns descended on the Roman colony of
Aquileia and wrought devastation throughout that flourishing outpost of
the world's greatest city, many of the inhabitants, leaving their
desolate homes to the mercy of the invader, fled to the swamps and
islands at the estuaries of the rivers Po, Adige, and Brenta. Amidst
these dismal surroundings the greater number found refuge on the island
of Torcello. From Torcello the refugees in time pushed out to the
surrounding islands, and an important station was established on Rivo
Alto. Thus began Venice; and from this little island grew that great
Republic, the Mistress of the Seas, which down to the time of the French
Revolution had never seen a conquering host enter its waterways.
As early as 641 Torcello possessed a cathedral. This was rebuilt in 874,
and parts of the structure were later on incorporated into the building
which stands to-day just as it did when finished in the early eleventh
century by Bishop Orseolo. Its architectural interest lies in its being
an Italian church on strict Byzantine lines, and it is one of the
earliest examples of cultivated native art. Its exterior possesses the
simplicity of all early work and stands up like a great barrack, with
its _campanile_ a landmark for miles over the dreary waste of waters.
The interior is very austere and cold. The bays on either side of the
nave separate it from the aisles. The columns that support the round
arches are a light grey marble; the capitals, Corinthianized Byzantine.
The clerestory lights, which are placed just under the roof, are on the
south side only, those on the north having been blocked up at some
remote period. The south aisle is lit by narrow round-headed windows,
each of which has a great marble shutter slab on the outside still
swinging in its marble socket--a reminiscence of Ancient Rome, and one
that exists in the Roman butchers' shops of to-day. A rood-screen shuts
off the choir, the four panels of it facing the nave are particularly
fine examples of the art of the early eleventh century. The two centre
panels have each a couple of peacocks with necks outstretched feeding on
foliage; and in the two outer two lions are sculptured in perspective, a
rather unusual thing for so early a work. These panels support six
elegant columns, which in their turn hold a series of painted panels of
wood of the fourteenth century on which the Madonna and twelve Apostles
are represented. A very fine pulpit, with reading-desk below, is to the
north of the screen. It has an interesting bas-relief at the base,
reconstructed in the twelfth century.
Behind the high altar, under which rest the remains of S. Eliodorus, is
the tribune. This part of the church is unique. The apse is arranged in
eight semicircular rows of seats, occupied at one time by the lesser
clergy, in the centre of which, elevated to a position just under the
small eastern light, is the bishop's throne. The throne is approached by
a dozen steps separated from the rows of seats by a marble wall. The
seats in times gone by were white marble, but have been recently
restored and are now of brick. Despite their present warm colour, the
damp chilliness of this beautiful little church strikes a mournful note
hardly relieved by the flaring red brick, or the gorgeous tone of the
mosaics which cover the vaulting of the choir and apse.
In the semi-dome of the apse a dignified Madonna and Child gaze serenely
below, with white-robed Apostles ranged round. The mosaics, however,
which cover the west wall are of greater artistic interest, being of the
ninth century. They illustrate the narrative of early Christian
tradition and are divided into five bands carrying out its ideas. The
marvellous tessellated floor of the cathedral has withstood, in a
wonderful manner, the damp and ravages of time, but, like that of S.
Mark's, is very uneven. There is an air of decay and long oblivion about
the whole building that nothing can efface.
Outside, and joined to the cathedral by a cloistered walk, is the church
of Sta. Fosca. Originally a basilica of the ninth century, this much
dilapidated little edifice was rebuilt in 1008 in the shape of a Greek
cross. A rotunda occupies the centre, inside which runs a grey pillared
arcade built to support a dome that was never constructed. There are
three apses; the middle one has two rows of blind arcading with
ornamental brickwork above. A brick loggia, covered with whitewash, is
outside, and connects with the cloister and the cathedral. Sta. Fosca
suffered martyrdom at Ravenna her native city, and her remains were
brought here, and this now damp ruinous little church built around them.
On the green grass of the little piazza, which one can hardly realise
was once the focus of a thriving city, stands an ancient stone chair
called "The Throne of Attila." It most probably was used at the
inauguration ceremony of Torcello's chief magistrates. A column of later
date is beside it, and behind them, occupying one side of this deserted
square, is the Palazzo del Commune, a building of the thirteenth
century, now used as the museum wherein are gathered all the relics of
Torcello's ancient glory that time unearths. As the gondola carries one
back to Venice it threads deserted canals, and passes under many a
bridge the voussoirs of which are the only remaining stones of
structures that spanned the water and connected the islands over which a
populous civilisation spread itself. Save for the "quack" of an
occasional duck hidden in the reeds of the marsh and the garrulity of
the gondolier all is silence and solitude. A vast sky above but adds to
the feeling of desolation, as, level with the water's edge, we skim
along. Who can tell whether Venice herself one day may not become what
fascinating though dreary Torcello now is!
[Illustration: S. FOSCA AND CATHEDRAL, TORCELLO]
RIMINI
It is not every visitor to Rome who, passing under the Porta del Popolo
and seeing in front a straight road with a row of squalid dwellings on
one side, knows that that road, the old Via Flaminia, terminates on the
Adriatic coast at far-off Rimini. This, the great highway out of Rome
northwards, enters Rimini under the noble Arch of Augustus, a very fine
gateway built of _travertine_. Passing through the market-place named
the Piazza Giulio Cesare--for here stands a pedestal with the legend
that from it Julius Cæsar harangued his troops after the crossing of the
Rubicon--it runs on and out of the city over the bridge that crosses the
river Marrecchia. This bridge, which was commenced during the reign of
Augustus and finished by Tiberius, is one of the best preserved in
Italy. Of its five arches, that in the centre has the greatest span, and
the two which flank it are a little larger than those at either end.
Traces of pediments may still be seen on its massive buttresses. The
parapet is capped by a rounded stone course. From the two central piers
inwards and over the arch this course is raised to a higher level than
on the remainder of the bridge. In summer a shallow little river
meanders in silvery threads over the pebbles which form the almost dry
bed of the stream, and finds its way under the arches into the harbour
half a mile beyond. In winter a rushing torrent has for centuries beaten
against the piers that the workmen of Augustus' time laid so well. The
road above, no longer the Via Flaminia but now the Via Æmilia, runs out
over the plain in a north-westerly direction to Rome's ancient colonies
in the province from which it derives its name. Many fragments and
columns, let into the walls and forming part of the building material of
the houses of Rimini, are evidence of its importance in the days of the
early emperors. Those were days when it formed with Pesaro, Fano,
Sinigallia and Ancona, the group known as the five "Maritime Cities,"
and was one of the Capital's great Adriatic ports. The sea is but a mile
off and the level sands of Rimini nowadays attract hundreds of summer
visitors who take advantage of their unrivalled bathing facilities.
The first bishop was appointed to Ariminium as early as 260, and
ninety-nine years later the celebrated council of the Arians and
Athanasians met to deliberate over their differences in the city. In
the sixteenth century, when it formed part of Otho III.'s empire, a
Malatesta was appointed viceroy of Le Marche, and the long connection of
this family with Rimini then commenced. The most renowned member of the
"Wrong-heads" was undoubtedly Sigismondo, a man of great ferocity of
disposition and licentious in his habits. Like many another bellicose
noble, Sigismondo had two sides to his nature, and whatever his faults,
it is to his credit that many of his leisure hours were spent in the
company of philosophers and men of pacific tastes. It is due to his
patronage of Art that the genius of Leo Battista Alberti, another
curious and complex product of the age, found scope in the great church
of S. Francesco. We owe to these two men--one the patron, the other the
architect--the best example of transition from Gothic to Renaissance
which Italy possesses.
The cathedral, a Gothic edifice dedicated to S. Francesco, was but one
hundred years old when Sigismondo set Alberti to work on its
transformation. Malatesta undoubtedly intended it to be the mausoleum of
his race, and that is what this most unecclesiastical building, which is
called the Tempio di Malatesta, is. The façade is extremely simple. It
is spaced out into three equal divisions. The centre is occupied by the
portal which has a good pediment and a round arch borne by highly
ornate pilasters. On either side are four Corinthian columns supporting
the three flat-membered arches of the façade. Over them is a broad
frieze. The bases of these columns stand on a very beautiful course
which is continued round the two sides of the Tempio. At intervals,
amidst finely-chiselled heraldic roses and little elephants, are
alternating shields bearing the I and S of Isotta and Sigismondo--initials
that are found in every available place throughout the building--and
the coat of arms of the Malatesta.