SAINTS AND OTHERS.
In the earliest days of the Venetian Republic a church was built on
the Rialto, and dedicated to Saint James; and when in 452 the decree
was issued at Padua which ordered the gathering together of the
straggling inhabitants who had fled from Attila and his Huns, and the
formation of a town under the rule of consuls, it was to this notable
warrior saint that these people looked for protection. Tradition
teaches that this earliest church in Venice stood on a portion of the
land now covered by the Cathedral of San Marco.
About a century later, when already the Republic of Venice was rising
in importance and esteem, Narses, coming from his victory over the
Ostrogoths, visited the Venetians, and built them a new chapel, which
he dedicated to Saint Theodore,--a young Syrian soldier saint, much
honored in the Oriental church. He was apparently a satisfactory
protector, for all went well with the Venetians under his tutelage.
Their numbers and wealth increased so that one island was quite
insufficient for their habitations, and no one church could suffice
for the growing state or city.
During these important years images of Saint Theodore, whom we have
seen standing on a column in the Piazzetta, opposite the lion of his
more fortunate successor, were cherished and worshipped by the
people, who looked to him as their efficient patron and guardian; and
with {304} reason,--for if his symbols were rightly understood, his
saintship taught the Republic the wise policy of exerting its
strength for protection and defence rather than for invasion and
assault. But the time came when Saint Theodore was superseded, in
spite of the good services he had rendered Venice during nearly three
centuries,--centuries, too, when the struggle to live and grow and
build up the Republic taxed the heads and hands of all, and required
an able defender to watch over them.
There is a legend that during the first Crusade, in 1099, when Vitale
Michieli was Doge, a flotilla of two hundred and seven vessels sailed
from Venice in command of the son of the Doge, Giovanni Michieli, and
Arrigo Contarini, Bishop of Castello, whose father had been Doge
about twenty years before.
Their alleged object was to succor Godfrey de Bouillon; but they seem
to have been far more successful as relic-hunters than as Knights of
the Cross, and brought back rich treasures to the churches of Venice,
among which was the body of Saint Theodore, which they found at a
small town near the city of Myra. It was received with joy at
Venice, and deposited in the Church of San Salvatore; but as this
saint had already been superseded by the great Evangelist, he seems
to have been left principally to the Confraternity of San Teodoro,
whose _scuola_ is close to San Salvatore.
In 829 two Venetian merchants, Buono of Malamocco and Rustico of
Torcello, with ten galleys, were trading clandestinely in the port of
Alexandria, just at the time when the Caliph of Egypt was building a
splendid palace, and for its decoration was contemplating denuding
all the Christian temples of their treasures and ornaments. Hearing
this, these merchants feared that the Church of St. Mark, where that
Evangelist was honorably reposing, would be desecrated; and they
determined if possible to {305} rescue the sacred body and bear it to
Venice. When they proposed to the Greek priest of the temple to aid
them in their designs, he naturally refused, and represented to them
the sin and danger of such an act; but their promises of riches and
prosperity at Venice overcame his scruples, and he yielded to their
wishes. The body of Saint Mark was wrapped in the linen shroud of
Saint Claudia, and laid in a deep basket. It was then covered with a
thick layer of herbs, on which joints of pork were laid. The
Venetian seamen who carried the basket to the ship walked leisurely,
taking the precaution to cry out _Khanzir! Khanzir!_ (pork, pork),
which effectually prevented any examination by Mussulmans. When
safely on the vessel, the basket was hoisted into the shrouds, and
was thus safely borne away.
A tradition adds that during a tempest on the voyage the saint
appeared to a priest, who was one of the passengers, and commanded
the sails to be furled. This being done, the ship next morning
reached the port of Olivolo, while the remainder of the fleet were
scattered by the furious storm.
The saint was welcomed with immense satisfaction, and his arrival was
of great importance to the State. It increased the courage and the
commerce of the Republic. Pilgrims of all ranks, from crowned heads
to the poorest sailors, came to worship at his shrine. A commercial
fair was instituted in his honor; and although Saint Theodore was not
discarded, Saint Mark was by common consent placed above him, his
image and name being stamped on the coins of Venice, and woven in her
banners, while the battle-cry from this time was _viva San Marco!_
Very soon the Doge Badoer II. died, and in his will provided for the
erection of a mausoleum for the sacred bones of the new patron saint,
which was the beginning of the Basilica of San Marco. Meantime the
relics {306} of Saint Mark were deposited in the Chapel of St.
Theodore, and there worshipped; and as if that were not sufficiently
humiliating to the superseded warrior, the chapel itself was
demolished to make room for the more imposing edifice of the newly
arrived saint. More fortunate than his predecessors, Saint Mark has
retained his honored place in the hearts of the Venetians, through
all the days of their glory, and alas! through those of their decline.
The people treasure many legends of their saint, and their love and
reverence for him survive their knowledge of their former state. San
Marco the Saint, San Marco the Cathedral, and San Marco the Piazza
remain to them,--facts of which they may well be proud,--but the
Doges, the Bucentaur, the coronations, the tournaments, the pomp,
luxury, and wealth,--where are they?
If one doubted the miraculous benefits which Saint Mark has conferred
on Venice, he need but to listen to some pious Venetian while he
recounts in his soft and fascinating dialect the saving of the city
in 1340.
He would hear that on the 25th of February in that year a terrific
storm prevailed. The sounds that came from the sea were as if some
frightful enemy were approaching with shrieks and curses, which rent
the air as no storm was ever known to do. For three days the floods
had been swelling, and the water was three cubits higher than ever it
had been, and threatened the destruction of the city.
Affrighted and helpless before an enemy whom they could neither
attack nor repulse, the people sought the Basilica, and prayed to San
Marco for succor. Masses were constantly repeated, and the vast
throngs prayed and watched by turns for an answer to their prayers.
An old fisherman made his way from one of the islands with great
difficulty, having vowed to San Marco that if {307} he would but
guide him home in safety, his earnings for the rest of his days
should be devoted to the saint. More dead than alive, he reached the
Riva di San Marco; for, more than the storm, and more than all his
exertion in rowing, the unearthly shrieks and yells he had heard had
unfitted him for further exertion,--he was paralyzed with fear.
But scarcely had he reached the Riva when a man suddenly stood beside
him, and asked to be taken to San Giorgio Maggiore. He would listen
to no refusals, and so entreated the fisherman that he believed it
must be the will of God that he should go. Strangely enough, though
going against the waves, a path seemed to open before them, and the
rowing was far lighter than it had been when he was alone in the
boat. At San Giorgio the stranger landed, and bade the boatman await
his return.
When he came he brought with him a much younger man, and now bade the
fisherman row to San Niccolo del Lido. Aghast at such a distance in
such a sea, the poor man begged for mercy and release; but he was
encouraged to row boldly, and promised strength for all his task.
And so it was: the boat seemed to leap over the waves; and when they
reached San Niccolo, the two men landed, and soon returned with a
third, and bade the boatman row out beyond the two castles.
When they came to the sea, they saw a bark full of demons coming to
overwhelm the city with water. The three men in the boat made the
sign of the cross, and bade the demons depart. Instantly the bark
vanished, the sea was calm, and the waters began to subside. Then
the men commanded the boatman to land them at the places from which
he had brought them; this he did, and of the third demanded payment
for what he had done.
"Thou art right," replied the man; "go now to the {308} Doge and to
the Procuratori of St. Mark. Tell them what thou hast seen, for
Venice had been overwhelmed but for us three. I am Saint Mark the
Evangelist, the protector of Venice. The other is the brave knight
Saint George, and he whom thou didst take up at the Lido is the holy
bishop St. Nicholas. Say that you are to be paid, and tell them
likewise that this tempest arose because a certain schoolmaster of
San Felice did sell his soul to the Devil and then hanged himself."
The fisherman replied that his story would not be believed. Then
Saint Mark gave him a ring from his finger, saying, "Show them this,
and say that when they look in the sanctuary they will not find it;"
and as he spoke he disappeared. The next morning, when the boatman
went to the Doge and the Procuratori, it all happened as had been
said. The man was paid, and a solemn procession was ordained to give
thanks to the three saints. The boatman received a pension, and the
ring was replaced in the sanctuary. If any one doubts this, let him
go to the Accademia, and look at the pictures which commemorate this
story. Would Giorgione have taken all the trouble to represent the
scene if it had never occurred; or would Paris Bordone have repeated
it, as may be seen in the same gallery?
Another legend of the benefits which Saint Mark loved to confer on
his people is perpetuated by a wonderful picture of Jacopo
Tintoretto's in the same collection. A poor slave who persisted in
worshipping at the shrine of Saint Mark had for this reason been
condemned to torture by his cruel master. Just when the brutal
executioners were about to begin their fiendish cruelties, the saint
descends like a whirlwind; the executioners are confounded, their
instruments are broken, and the slave is free!
Another miracle of Saint Mark's is connected with the {309}
preservation of his own relics. In 976 a fire destroyed a large
portion of San Marco; and when the repairs were completed, the place
in which the body of the saint had rested was forgotten. This was a
true sorrow to the Doge and the people, and at last they determined
to keep a fast and pray God to show them what no man could tell. The
25th of June was appointed for this fast, and a solemn procession was
made; and while in the cathedral all were fervently imploring the
manifestation of their treasure, with great joy they beheld a pillar
shake, and then fall to the ground, disclosing the bronze chest in
which the body of the Evangelist was preserved. These sacred relics
are now beneath the high altar in San Marco, as is recorded on a
marble slab at the back of the altar.
Sanudo gives a curious account of the acquisition of another saint.
He says that in 992 Pietro Barbolano, together with Pietro
Giustiniani, was sent to Constantinople on a diplomatic mission.
There the future Doge saw the remains of Saint Saba, and was seized
with the desire to obtain them for his beloved Venice. At length
Barbolano, by one argument and another, prevailed on the guardians of
the saint to sell her to him; but when the night came on which he was
leaving the Golden Horn, these men showed signs of breaking their
bargain. The rain was falling in torrents, and the Greeks construed
this as an omen that they ought not to permit the saint to undertake
the voyage.
But Barbolano had with him his two sons and several servants, and he
quickly ended the matter by ordering the chest which contained the
sacred relics to be taken to his ship, which was soon under way, and
made a prosperous voyage to Venice, where Barbolano ordered the chest
to be put in a gondola and taken to his house, next the Church of San
Antonino at Castello. But when this was attempted, the chest had
become so heavy that it could {310} not be lifted; and at the same
moment the bell of the Campanile began to toll, with no visible
agency, and with such violence as threatened destruction to the tower
itself.
This caused many people to gather in the Piazza; and in their midst
Barbolano threw himself on his knees and exclaimed, "We will carry it
to the church, for the Saviour of Men has declared his will that this
body shall be placed in the shrine dedicated to Saint Antonino." It
is not easy to understand how the devout Barbolano knew all this; but
apparently he was right, for the chest was now as light as before,
and was placed in a gondola, taken to the church, and deposited on
the altar. Then the bell ceased ringing, and a dove with
miraculously white plumage hovered over the relics while a _Te Deum_
and other services were celebrated, and then vanished.
A new altar was erected for Saint Saba, near that of San Antonino,
and the bones were placed in the reliquary of the church; and on the
evening of that day, as the curé of San Antonino walked in his
garden, he "marvelled not a little to observe among the flowers a
rose of surpassing beauty; and the good man hesitated not to
associate the fair vision with the miracle of which he had just been
a witness, looking upon it as a symbol of that yet fairer flower
which had been so recently transplanted from the soil of
Constantinople to that of Venice."
It would seem strange that such a wonder-working saint should not
frequently have proved her power in the midst of the great events of
the Republic, and at times when miracles in behalf of the Venetians
were sorely needed; but doubtless she soon felt that those of her sex
did not assume power publicly in this City of the Sea, and whatever
she did was done _sub rosa_.
The same Michieli and Contarini who had brought to Venice the relics
of Saint Theodore were extremely {311} fortunate in their
relic-hunting; for they also brought home the _due corpi di San
Niccolo_, the greater and the less, and deposited them in the Church
of San Niccolo del Lido. Saint Nicholas of Myra is a protector
against robbers and violence, and is a favorite saint with sailors,
travellers, and merchants. He is also a patron of poor maidens, of
children, and especially of school-boys, and the legends of his
goodness and kindly acts are innumerable; in fact, he is so
celebrated and so important a saint that it is all the more grievous
to recount that the majority of the people who have lived since the
ninth century who have understood these matters and known all about
saints do not allow that the relics of this sainted Lycian are, or
ever were, in Venice, and Bari is the happy place wherein he is said
to repose. Thus it happens that he is often called San Niccolo di
Bari; but I should not like to speak of him thus to any of my devout
Venetian friends, least of all to my good gondolier.
Another Venetian fleet which had been to the aid of Baldwin in the
Holy Land, when returning, about 1125, obtained the body of Saint
Isidore at Chios, and that of Saint Donato at Cephalonia. These were
brought to Venice at the same time with the "great stone which had
stood near one of the gates of Tyre since the time when Our Lord,
weary after a journey, sat down to rest upon it," as well as vast
treasures of jewels, gold and silver, embroideries and carpets, and
all the splendid fabrics of the Orient. But to the reverent
Christian all else paled before the bodies of the saints. Saint
Isidore is believed now to rest in his own chapel in San Marco. San
Donato, the once saintly Bishop of Evorea, was given by Domenico
Michieli to Murano, and the Church of Santa Maria soon assumed his
name. To Torcello was brought Saint Fosca, a noble virgin who had
been martyred under the persecution of Decius at Ravenna; and her
church was second {312} only to the Cathedral of Torcello. When to
this list of saints we add the bodies of San Pancrazio and Santa
Sabina, which were given to the Abbess of San Zaccaria by Pope
Benedict III., and Saint Christina, the patron of the Venetian
States, and likewise Saint Justina of Padua,--another patron of
Venice who is represented in Venetian costume, with the city or the
cathedral of San Marco in the distance,--we may call Venice the City
of Saints as justly as the City of the Sea.
SAN LAZZARO.
One saint still remains to whom we must pay our respects; and since
his island lies some miles away to the southeast, we must devote to
him at least half of a precious Venetian day. The gondola glides
like a spirit through the narrow canals, out on the sea, where the
motion is but enough to rock one into forgetfulness of all care, even
that of self; and the mood which follows is just that in which one
should come to the old Armenian convent, with its garden of figs and
orange-trees, pomegranates and flowering shrubs.
The welcome from the monks adds still another element of peace; and
one roams quietly through the restful old place, with its church and
convent, and wonders if a less gifted mortal than he who here dwelt
and wrote,--
"Around me are the stars and waters,--
Worlds mirrored in the ocean, goodlier sight
Than torches glared back by a gaudy glass,"
could tarry here and grow forgetful of the ought and must of life.
At each window a pause is made; and the fascination of the views
leads to a feeling of sympathy with that good Mechitar, who founded
his convent here one hundred and seventy-six years ago. From the
courteous monk who {313} is our guide, we learn that this same
Mechitar, who at nine years of age desired to be a priest, and
entered a convent at fifteen, was a wonderful scholar, a writer and
poet. Some of his hymns are used in the churches of Armenia.
Mechitar, having exhausted the learning at his command in the
institutions to which he could obtain admittance, and having learned
from missionaries whom he met of the far greater advantages in
Europe, conceived the idea of establishing a literary institution for
the Armenian nation, and after many struggles founded a
Mechitaristican Society at Constantinople in 1700. Here he began to
print books in the Armenian language, and sent out some preachers to
various cities of Armenia; but soon he became the object of such
persecution that he barely escaped the galleys by putting himself
under the protection of the French ambassador.
Again, in spite of immense hindrances, he gathered his disciples at
Modon, in the Morea, and anew began the erection of a convent and
church. For twelve years he labored, when war broke out between the
Turks and the Venetians, and his property fell into the hands of the
former. Meantime Mechitar had commended himself greatly to the
Governor Emo, and to the General of the Marine, Sebastiano Mocenigo,
both of whom had given him money for his building, and the aid of
their friendship; and now he naturally turned to Venice, where he
landed in 1715. After much consultation and at the recommendation of
Emo and Mocenigo, in 1717 the Senate decreed to him the island of San
Lazzaro, which had been used as a hospital for lepers until it was no
longer needed.
Mechitar found little to help him in the old church, deserted
dormitory, two wells, and a garden, which were the only remnants of
the former buildings which existed. {314} He obtained from Rome,
where he presented his cause in person, permission to send
missionaries to the East. Rich Armenians, of whom there are many,
came to his aid; and in the remaining thirty-two years of his life he
established his convent on such a basis, and made it of such manifest
benefit to the world, that in 1810, when the monasteries of Venice
were suppressed, the Mechitaristican Society was granted its
independence.
Mechitar received only Armenians into his schools. The advance of
his own nation was the object for which he lived, labored, and
prayed. His courses of study were comprehensive, his discipline not
severe, and his whole attitude towards pupils and monks that of a
father. Seven hours a day for study, and seven for repose; in summer
one hour in the day for sleep; after dinner two hours for
conversation, and one hour at evening for walking in the garden and
for games; forty days in the summer at the country residence on the
Brenta; fifteen days in the Carnival devoted to instructive dramatic
representations; attendance on the public festivals in Venice, with
occasional outings on adjacent islands and in the neighborhood on the
mainland,--such is the outline of the rule of Mechitar. On the other
hand, his novitiate was long and exacting, and no members were
admitted unless proved to be virtuous, talented, of strong health,
and desirous, of their own choice, of joining the Society. If found
to be of indifferent abilities, they were sent back to Armenia. He
had prayers three times a day, according to Armenian custom, but
excused the younger pupils from morning prayer in church. He made no
rules of abstinence, and provided plenty of food. He allowed no monk
to leave the island without permission, and gave as few rules of
conduct as possible, his object being to strengthen them in virtue
for virtue's sake.
It is difficult to leave the windows and fix one's {315} attention
within, even to see the treasures of the library, with its Oriental
manuscripts, illuminated missals, rare books, and goodly collection
of prints. One can readily admit its claim to be the centre of
Armenian literature in all the world, but why not a great Polyglot
centre, since books are printed here in thirty-two different
languages? Hare says that this convent "obtained a fictitious
celebrity through Byron, who studied here for six months." However
one may view this, it is most interesting to read Byron's letter to
Moore (December, 1816), in which, among other things, he says:--
"By way of divertissement, I am studying daily at an Armenian
monastery the Armenian language. I found that my mind wanted
something craggy to break upon; and this--as the most difficult thing
I could discover here for an amusement--I have chosen, to torture me
into attention. It is a rich language, however, and would amply
repay any one the trouble of learning it. I try, and shall go on;
but I answer for nothing, least of all for my intentions or my
success.... Four years ago the French instituted an Armenian
professorship. Twenty pupils presented themselves on Monday morning,
full of noble ardor, ingenuous youth, and impregnable industry. They
persevered, with a courage worthy of the nation and of universal
conquest, till Thursday, when fifteen of the twenty succumbed to the
six-and-twentieth letter of the alphabet. It is, to be sure, a
Waterloo of an alphabet,--that must be said for them."
After Byron's death, a Preface to the Armenian Grammar was found
among his papers. It was probably intended for the Armenian and
English Grammar which Byron helped Dr. Aucher to prepare. The
following is an extract from this "Preface":--
"The society of the convent of S. Lazarus appears to unite all the
advantages of the monastic institution, without any of its vices.
The neatness, the comfort, the gentleness, the unaffected devotion,
the accomplishments, and the virtues of the {316} brethren of the
order, are well fitted to strike a man of the world with the
conviction that 'there is another and a better, even in this life.'
"These men are the priesthood of an oppressed and noble nation, which
has partaken of the proscription and bondage of the Jews and of the
Greeks, without the sullenness of the former or the servility of the
latter. This people has attained riches without usury, and all the
honors that can be awarded to slavery without intrigue. But they
have long occupied, nevertheless, a part of the 'House of Bondage,'
who has lately multiplied her many mansions. It would be difficult,
perhaps, to find the annals of a nation less stained with crimes than
those of the Armenians, whose virtues have been those of peace, and
their vices those of compulsion. But whatever may have been their
destiny,--and it has been bitter,--whatever it may be in future,
their country must ever be one of the most interesting on the globe;
and perhaps their language only requires to be more studied to become
more attractive. If the Scriptures are rightly understood, it was in
Armenia that Paradise was placed,--Armenia, which has paid as dearly
as the descendants of Adam for that fleeting participation of its
soil in the happiness of him who was created from its dust. It was
in Armenia that the flood first abated, and the dove alighted. But
with the disappearance of Paradise itself may be almost dated the
unhappiness of the country; for, though long a powerful kingdom, it
was scarcely ever an independent one, and the satraps of Persia and
the pachas of Turkey have alike desolated the region where God
created man in his own image."
The hours pass imperceptibly away. In hearing what the monk tells,
and in reading what he gives us concerning the Society,--like the
above and kindred facts,--the day declines, until the sensation of
the lessening light reminds us that there is still something to be
done, delightful as this reading and musing is. Within twilight has
come; but without, although the east is dusky, it is so by contrast
with the west. The setting sun has sunk {317} so far that it
illumines the sky alone, where golden minarets are reaching toward
mid-heaven, and low, sleeping clouds of purplish hue sink with the
sun beyond the horizon. At the last there are flashes of brilliant
flame, and then sea and sky are blended. The twilight grows less and
less. How silent the world seems! The gentle dip of the oars alone
is heard, until, as we come nearer the city, a snatch of song falls
on our ear, a gondola overtakes us, and Giacomo cheerfully greets a
comrade. As we near the Piazzetta, all light is gone from the sea.
We leave an inky darkness behind, which makes the blinking lamps on
the Molo seem brilliant by contrast.
Now comes a new pleasure,--for even in dreamy Venice mortals are
still doomed to eat,--and to-night we leave our better-loved Zattere
to meet friends at the Café Florian, with its frescos and mirrors and
cosey cabinets, from which, while being served, we catch glimpses of
the fast-filling square. The lights are multiplying; the concerts of
violins and harps, and the songs of the singers are beginning. The
flower-girls are tying their nosegays or weaving garlands, and gazing
wistfully at the windows of the brilliant little shops; and hundreds
of figures pass and repass, now in the shadow and now in the light.
But even this dinner will end. The delicious sorbet and the fragrant
coffee are, all too soon, things of the past. However, we do not
stay to regret them, since this evening affords one of the rare
opportunities to see La Fenice open in summer. It is always
entertaining to watch the coming and going of the gondolas to and
from this theatre; but at this season, when most of the wealthy
Venetians are away on the mainland, the audience is not brilliant,
the play not very good, and we are glad to be back in the Piazza for
an hour beneath the summer moon, and then to walk home through the
crooked _calli_, that seem more like the make-believe of the stage
than like {318} real life. There are corners so dark that they might
well be used for an ambush. But we have no enemies in Venice, and so
by aid of Giacomo's lanthorn may safely explore these narrow ways at
any hour we choose, and hang the pictures of them in our mental
gallery to look at and think about when thousands of miles away. For
who that loves Venice ever forgets her? and that which in her midst
seems dreamlike and unreal, with time and distance crystallizes into
the sharpest and clearest of memories.
On such a night as this impassionedly
The old Venetian sung these verses rare,
"That Venice must of needs eternal be,
For Heaven had looked through the pellucid air,
And cast its reflex in the crystal sea,
And Venice was the image pictured there."
I hear them now, and tremble, for I seem
As treading on an unsubstantial dream.
Who talks of vanished glory, of dead power,
Of things that were, and are not? Is he here?
Can he take in the glory of this hour,
And call it all the decking of a bier?
No, surely as on that Titanic tower
The Guardian Angel stands in æther clear,
With the moon's silver tempering his gold wing,
So Venice lives, as lives no other thing.
LORD HOUGHTON.
{319}