THE DOGES' PALACE. I: THE INTERIOR
Uningratiating splendour--Doges and Heaven--Venetian pride--The most
beautiful picture of all--A non-scriptural Tintoretto--The Sala del
Collegio--The Sala del Senato--More Doges and Heaven--The Council of
Ten--Anonymous charges--Tintoretto's "Last Judgment"--An immense
room--Tintoretto's "Paradiso"--Sebastiano Ziani and his exploits--Pope
Alexander III and Barbarossa--Old blind Dandolo--The Crusades--Zara--The
Fall of Constantinople--Marino Faliero and his fall--The first Doge in
the room--The last Doge in the room--The Sala dello Scrutinio--Palma's
"Last Judgment"--A short way with mistresses--The rest of the Doges--Two
battle pictures--The Doges' suites--The Archæological Museum--The Bridge
of Sighs--The dungeons.
I have to confess to weariness in the Ducal apartments. The rooms are
splendid, no doubt, and the pictures are monuments of energy; but it is
the windows that frame the most delectable scenes. In Venice, where the
sun usually shines, one's normal wish is to be out, except when, as in
S. Mark's there is the wonder of dimness too. For Venice is not like
other historic cities; Venice, for all her treasures of art, is first
and foremost the bride of the Adriatic, and the call of the sea is
strong. Art's opportunity is the dull days and rainy.
With the best will to do so, I cannot be much impressed by the glory and
power of the Doges. They wear a look, to me, very little removed from
Town Councillors: carried out to the highest power, no doubt, but
incorrigibly municipal none the less; and the journey through these
halls of their deliberations is tedious and unenchanting. That I am
wrong I am only too well aware. Does not Venetian history, with its
triumphs and pageantry of world-power, prove it? And would Titian and
Paul Veronese and Tintoretto have done all this for a Mayor and
Corporation? These are awkward questions. None the less, there it is,
and the Doges' Palace, within, would impart no thrill to me were it not
for Tintoretto's "Bacchus and Ariadne."
Having paid for our tickets (for only on Sundays and holidays is the
Palace free) we take the Scala d'Oro, designed by Sansovino, originally
intended only for the feet of the grandees of the Golden Book. The first
room is an ante-room where catalogues are sold; but these are not
needed, for every room, or nearly every room, has hand-charts of the
paintings, and every room has a custodian eager to impart information.
Next is the Hall of the Four Doors, with its famous and typical
Titian--Doge Grimani, fully armed and accompanied by warriors,
ecstatically acknowledging religion, as symbolized by a woman, a cross,
and countless cherubim. Behind her is S. Mark with an expression of some
sternness, and beside him his lion, roaring.
Doges, it appears,--at any rate the Doges who reigned during Titian's
long life--had no sense of humour, or they could not have permitted this
kind of self-glorification in paint. Both here and at the Accademia we
shall see picture after picture in which these purse-proud Venetian
administrators, suspecting no incongruity or absurdity, are placed, by
Titian and Tintoretto, on terms of perfect intimacy with the hierarchy
of heaven. Sometimes they merely fraternize; sometimes they masquerade
as the Three Kings or Wise Men from the East; but always it is into the
New Testament that, with the aid of the brush of genius, they force
their way.
Modesty can never have been a Venetian characteristic; nor is it now,
when Venice is only a museum and show place. All the Venetians--the men,
that is,--whom one sees in the Piazza have an air of profound
self-satisfaction. And this palace of the Doges is no training-place for
humility; for if its walls do not bear witness, glorious and chromatic,
to the greatness of a Doge, it is merely because the greatness of the
Republic requires the space. In this room, for example, we find Tiepolo
allegorizing Venice as the conqueror of the sea.
And now for the jewel of art in the Doges' Palace. It is in the room
opposite the door by which we entered--the ante-room of the Sala del
Collegio--and it faces us, on the left as we enter: the "Bacchus and
Ariadne" of Tintoretto. We have all seen the "Bacchus and Ariadne" of
Titian in our National Gallery, that superb, burning, synchronized
epitome of the whole legend. Tintoretto has chosen one incident only;
Love bringing Bacchus to the arms of Ariadne and at the same moment
placing on his head a starry coronal. Even here the eternal pride of
Venice comes in, for, made local, it has been construed as Love, or say
Destiny, completing the nuptials of the Adriatic (Bacchus) with Venice
(Ariadne), and conferring on Venice the crown of supremacy. But that
matters nothing. What matters is that the picture is at once
Tintoretto's simplest work and his most lovely. One can do nothing but
enjoy it in a kind of stupor of satisfaction, so soothing and perfect is
it. His "Crucifixion," which we shall see at the Scuola of S. Rocco,
must ever be this giant painter's most tremendous achievement; but the
picture before us must equally remain his culminating effort in serene,
absolute beauty. Three other mythological paintings, companions of the
"Bacchus," are here too, of which I like best the "Minerva" and the
"Mercury"; but they are far from having the quality of that other. I
have an idea that "The Origin of the Milky Way," in the National
Gallery, was painted as a ceiling piece to go with these four, but I
have no data for the theory, beyond its similarity in size and scheme.
The other great picture in this room is Paul Veronese's sumptuous "Rape
of Europa."
[Illustration: BACCHUS AND ARIADNE
FROM THE PAINTING BY TINTORETTO
_In the Doges' Palace_]
The Sala del Collegio itself, leading from this room, is full of Doges
in all the magnificence of paint, above the tawdriest of wainscotting.
Tintoretto gives us Doge Andrea Gritti praying to the Virgin, Doge
Francesco Donato witnessing as an honoured guest the nuptials of S.
Catherine, Doge Niccolô da Ponte surveying the Virgin in glory, and Doge
Alvise Mocenigo condescending to adore his Saviour. Paul Veronese
depicts an allegory of the battle of Lepanto in 1571, at which Venice
temporarily overcame the Turks. The kneeling white-bearded warrior
beside S. Giustina is the victor, afterwards Doge Sebastiano Venier, and
Christ looks on in approval. Tintoretto also painted for the Palace a
picture of this battle, but it perished in the fire of 1576. It is
Veronese who painted the virtues and attributes on the ceiling, one of
his most famous works being the woman with a web, who is sometimes
called "Industry" and sometimes "Dialectics," so flexible is symbolism.
"Fidelity" has a dog with a fine trustful head. To my weary eye the
finest of the groups is that of Mars and Neptune, with flying cherubs,
which is superbly drawn and coloured. Nothing but a chaise-longue on
which to lie supine, at ease, can make the study of these wonderful
ceilings anything but a distressing source of fatigue.
The next room is the Sala del Senato, and here again we find a blend of
heaven and Venice, with Doges as a common denominator. A "Descent from
the Cross" (by Tintoretto) is witnessed by Doge Pietro Lando and Doge
Marcantonio Trevisan; and the same hand gives us Pietro Loredan
imploring the aid of the Virgin. In the centre ceiling painting
Tintoretto depicts Venice as Queen of the Sea. The other artist here is
Palma the younger, whose principal picture represents Doge Leonardo
Loredan presiding over an attack by a lion on a bull, typifying the
position of the Republic when Pope Julius launched the League of Cambray
against it in 1508. The Doge does not look dismayed, but Venice never
recovered from the blow.
The room on the right of the throne leads to the chapel, which has
several small pictures. A Giovanni Bellini is over the altar, but it is
not one of his best. During his long life in Venice Bellini saw ten
Doges, and in his capacity as ducal painter painted four of them.
Returning to the Sala delle Quattro Porte (by way of the "Bacchus and
Ariadne" room, if we are wise), we make for the Sala del Consiglio dei
Dieci, the terrible Council of Ten. All Venetian histories are eloquent
upon this secret Tribunal, which, more powerful far than the Doge
himself, for five centuries, beginning early in the fourteenth, ruled
the city. On the walls are historical paintings which are admirable
examples of story-telling, and on the ceiling are Veroneses, original or
copied, the best of which depicts an old man with his head on his hand,
fine both in drawing and colour. It was in the wall of the next room
that the famous Bocca di Leone was placed, into which were dropped those
anonymous charges against Venetian citizens which the Council of Ten
investigated, and if true, or, very likely, if not true, punished with
such swiftness and thoroughness. How a state that offered such easy
temptations to anti-social baseness and treachery could expect to
prosper one cannot imagine. It suggests that the Venetian knowledge of
human nature was defective at the roots.
In the next room the Three Heads of the Council of Ten debated, and here
the attendant goes into spasms of delight over a dazzling inlaid floor.
This is all that is shown upstairs, for the piombi, or prison cells in
the leaden roof, are now closed.
Downstairs we come to the two Great Halls--first the gigantic Sala del
Maggior Consiglio, with Tintoretto's "Paradiso" at one end; historical
pictures all around; the portraits of the Doges above; a gorgeous
ceiling which, I fear, demands attention; and, mercifully, the little
balcony over the lagoon for escape and recovery. But first let us peep
into the room on the left, where the remains of Guariento's fresco of
Paradise, which Tintoretto was to supersede, have been set up: a
necessarily somewhat meaningless assemblage of delicate tints and pure
drawing. Then the photograph stall, which is in that ancient room of the
palace that has the two beautiful windows on a lower level than the
rest.
It is melancholy to look round this gigantic sala of the great Council
and think of the pictures which were destroyed by the great fire in
1576, when Sebastiano Venier was Doge, among them that rendering of the
battle of Lepanto, the Doge's own victory, which Tintoretto painted with
such enthusiasm. A list of only a few of the works of art which from
time to time have fallen to the flames would be tragic reading. Among
the artists whose paintings were lost in the 1576 fire were, in addition
to Tintoretto, Titian, Giovanni and Gentile Bellini, Gentile da
Fabriano and Carpaccio. Sad, too, to think that the Senators who once
thronged here--those grave, astute gentlemen in furred cloaks whom
Tintoretto and Titian and Moroni and Moretto painted for us--assemble
here no more. Sightseers now claim the palace, and the administrators of
Venetian affairs meet in the Municipio, or Town Hall, on the Grand
Canal.
The best thing about the room is the room itself: the courage of it in a
little place like Venice! Next, I suppose, all eyes turn to the
"Paradiso," and they can do nothing else if the custodian has made
himself one of the party, as he is apt to do. The custodians of Venice
are in the main silent, pessimistic men. They themselves neither take
interest in art nor understand why you should. Their attitude to you is
if not contempt only one remove from it. But one of the officials in the
Doges' Palace who is sometimes to be found in this Great Hall is both
enthusiastic and vocal. He has English too, a little. His weakness for
the "Paradiso" is chiefly due to the circumstance that it is the
"largest oil painting in the world." I dare say this is true; but the
same claim, I recall, was once made for an original poster in the
Strand. The "Paradiso" was one of Tintoretto's last works, the
commission coming to him only by the accident of Veronese's death.
Veronese was the artist first chosen, with a Bassano to assist, but when
he died, Tintoretto, who had been passed over as too old, was permitted
to try. The great man, painting on canvas, at the Misericordia, which
had been turned into a studio for him, and being assisted by his son
Domenico, finished it in 1590; and it was the delight of Venice. At
first he refused payment for it, and then consented to take a present,
but a smaller one than the Senate wished to offer.
The scheme of the work is logical and again illustrates his thoughtful
thoroughness. At the head of all is Christ with His Mother, about and
around them the angelic host led by the archangels--Michael with the
scales, Gabriel with lilies, and Raphael, in prayer, each of whom
presides, as we have seen, over one corner of the Palace. The next
circle contains the greatest Biblical figures, Moses, David, Abraham,
Solomon, Noah, the Evangelists (S. Mark prominent with his lion), and
the Early Fathers. The rest of the picture is given to saints and
martyrs. Not the least interesting figure is the S. Christopher, on the
right, low down by the door. At his feet is the painter's daughter, for
years his constant companion, who died while he was at work upon this
masterpiece.
The ceiling should be examined, if one has the strength, for Veronese's
sumptuous allegory of the Apotheosis of Venice. In this work the
painter's wife sat for Venice, as she sat also for Europa in the picture
which we have just seen in the Ante-Collegio.
On the walls are one-and-twenty representations of scenes in Venetian
history devoted to the exploits of the two Doges, Sebastiano Ziani
(1172-1178) and Enrico Dandolo (1192-1205). The greatest moment in the
career of Ziani was the meeting of Barbarossa and the Pope, Alexander
III, at S. Mark's, which has already been described; but his reign was
eventful throughout. His first act as Doge was to punish the
assassination of his predecessor, Vitale Michiel, who, for what was held
to be the bad management of an Eastern campaign which utterly and
disastrously failed, and for other reasons, was killed by the mob
outside S. Zaccaria. To him succeeded Ziani and the close of the long
feud between the Pope and the Emperor. It was the Pope's sojourn in
Venice and his pleasure in the Venetians' hospitality which led to the
elaboration of the ceremony of espousing the Adriatic. The Pope gave
Ziani a consecrated ring with which to wed his bride, and much splendour
was added to the pageant; while Ziani, on his return from a visit to the
Pope at the Vatican, where the reconciliation with Barbarossa made it
possible for the Pontiff to be at ease again, brought with him various
pompous insignia that enormously increased his prestige among simple
folk. It was also Ziani who had the columns of S. Theodore and the Lion
erected on the Molo, while it was in his reign that the first Rialto
bridge was begun. Having been Doge for six years, he retired to the
monastery of S. Giorgio and there died some years later, leaving a large
fortune to the poor of Venice and the church of S. Mark.
The paintings represent the Pope Alexander III recognized by the Doge
when hiding in Venice; the departure of the Papal and Venetian
Ambassadors for Pavia to interview the Emperor; the Pope presenting the
Doge with a blessed candle; the Ambassadors before the Emperor (by
Tintoretto); the Pope presenting the Doge with a sword, on the Molo; the
Pope blessing the Doge; the naval battle of Salvatore, in which the
Emperor Otto was captured; the Doge presenting Otto to the Pope; the
Pope giving Otto his liberty; the Emperor at the Pope's feet in the
vestibule of S. Mark's; the arrival of the Pope elsewhere; the Emperor
and the Doge at Ancona; the Pope presenting the Doge with gifts in Rome.
[Illustration: THE CORNER OF THE OLD LIBRARY AND THE DOGES' PALACE]
Ziani seems to have been a man of address, but the great Enrico Dandolo
was something more. He was a superb adventurer. He became Doge in 1193,
at the trifling age of eighty-four, with eyes that had long been dimmed,
and at once plunged into enterprises which, if not greatly to the good
of Venice, proved his own indomitable spirit and resource. It was the
time of the Fourth Crusade and the Venetians were asked to supply
transports for the French warriors of the Cross to the theatre of war.
After much discussion Dandolo replied that they would do so, the terms
being that the Venetian vessels should carry 4500 horses, 9000 esquires,
and 20,000 foot soldiers, with provisions for nine months, and for this
they should be paid 85,000 silver marks. Venice also would participate
in the actual fighting to the extent of providing fifty galleys, on
condition that half of every conquest, whether by sea or by land, should
be hers. Such was the arrangement, and the shipbuilding began at once.
But disaster after disaster occurred. The Christian commander sickened
and died; a number of Crusaders backed out; others went direct to
Palestine. This meant that the Venetians, who had prepared for a mighty
host, incurred immense expenses which could not be met. As some
reparation it was suggested to the small army of Crusaders who did
arrive in the city for deportation that on their way to the Holy Land
they should stop at Zara, on the Dalmatian coast, an unruly dependence
of the Republic, and assist in chastising it. The objections to this
course were grave. One was that the King of Hungary, in whose dominions
was Zara, was a Christian and a Crusader himself; another that the Pope
(Innocent III) forbade the project. Old blind Dandolo, however, was
adamant. Not only must the Crusaders help the Venetians whom they had so
much embarrassed by their broken bond, but he would go too. Calling the
people together in S. Mark's, this ancient sightless bravo asked if it
was not right that he should depart on this high mission, and they
answered yes. Descending from the pulpit, he knelt at the altar and on
his bonnet the Cross was fastened.
Before the expedition left, a messenger came from Alexius, nephew of the
usurping King of Constantinople and son of the rightful king, praying
the Venetians to sail first for Constantinople and support his father's
case, and to deal faithfully with Zara later; but Dandolo said that the
rebellious Zara had prior claims, and in spite of Papal threats and even
excommunication, he sailed for that place on November 10, 1202. It did
not take long to subdue the garrison, but winter setting in, Dandolo
decided to encamp there until the spring. The delay was not profitable
to the Holy Cause. The French and the Venetians grew quarrelsome, and
letters from the Pope warned the French (who held him in a dread not
shared by their allies) that they must leave Zara and proceed with the
Crusade instantly, or expect to suffer his wrath.
Then arrived the Prince Alexius once more, with definite promises of
money and men for the Crusades if the allies would come at once and win
back for him the Constantinople throne. Dandolo, who saw immense
Venetian advantage here, agreed, and carrying with it most of the
French, the fleet sailed for the Golden Horn. Dandolo, I might remark,
was now ninety-four, and it should not be forgotten that it was when he
was an emissary of the Republic at Constantinople years before that he
had been deprived forcibly of his sight. He was a soldier, a statesman,
and (as all good Doges were) a merchant, but he was humanly mindful of
past injustices too. Hence perhaps much of his eagerness to turn aside
for Byzantium.
The plan was for the French to attack on the land; the Venetians on the
sea. Blind though he had become, Dandolo's memory of the harbour and
fortifications enabled him to arrange the naval attack with the
greatest skill, and he carried all before him, himself standing on the
prow of a vessel waving the banner of S. Mark. The French on land had a
less rapid victory, but they won, none the less, and the ex-king Isaac
was liberated and crowned once more, with his son. Both, however,
instantly took to tyranny and luxurious excess, and when the time came
for the promises of reward to be fulfilled nothing was done. This led to
the mortification and anger of the allies, who declared that unless they
were paid they would take Constantinople for themselves. War was
inevitable. Meanwhile the Greeks, hating alike Venetians, French, and
the Pope, proclaimed a new king, who at once killed Alexius; and the
allies prepared for battle by signing a treaty, drawn up by the wily
nonagenarian, in which in the event of victory Venice took literally the
lion's share of the spoils.
The fighting then began. At first the Greeks were too strong, and a
feeling grew among the allies that withdrawal was best; but Dandolo
refused; they fought on, and Constantinople was theirs. Unhappily the
victors then lost all control, and every kind of horror followed,
including the wanton destruction of works of art beautiful beyond
dreams. Such visible trophies of the conquest as were saved and brought
back to Venice are now to be seen in S. Mark's. The four bronze horses
were Dandolo's spoils, the Pala d'oro, probably the four carved columns
of the high altar, and countless stone pillars and ornaments that have
been worked into the structure.
The terms of the treaty were carried out faithfully, and the French paid
the Venetians their original debt. Baldwin, Count of Flanders, the head
of the Crusade, was named Emperor and crowned; Venice acquired large
tracts of land, including the Ionian Islands; and Dandolo became "Doge
of Venice, Dalmatia, and Croatia, and Lord of one-fourth and one-eighth
of the Roman Empire."
The painters have chosen from Dandolo's career the following scenes:
Dandolo and the Crusaders pledging themselves in S. Mark's; the capture
of Zara; the request of Alexius for help; the first capture of
Constantinople by Dandolo, who set the banner on the wall; the second
capture of Constantinople; the election of Baldwin as Emperor; the
crowning of Baldwin by Dandolo.
I said at the beginning of this prêcis of a gigantic campaign that it
was not of great profit to Venice; nor was it. All her life she had
better have listened to the Little Venice party, but particularly then,
for only misfortune resulted. Dandolo, however, remains a terrific
figure. He died in Constantinople in 1205 and was buried in S. Sofia.
Doge Andrea Dandolo, whose tomb we saw in the Baptistery, was a
descendant who came to the throne some hundred and forty years later.
Mention of Andrea Dandolo brings us to the portraits of Doges around the
walls of this great hall, where the other Dandolo will also be found;
for in the place adjoining Andrea's head is a black square. Once the
portrait of the Doge who succeeded Andrea was here too, but it was
blacked out. Marino Faliero, for he it was, became Doge in 1354 when his
age was seventy-six, having been both a soldier and a diplomatist. He
found himself at once involved in the war with Genoa, and almost
immediately came the battle of Sapienza, when the Genoese took five
thousand prisoners, including the admiral, Niccolô Pisani. This blow was
a very serious one for the Venetians, involving as it did great loss of
life, and there was a growing feeling that they were badly governed.
The Doge, who was but a figure-head of the Council of Ten, secretly
thinking so too, plotted for the overthrow of the Council and the
establishment of himself in supreme power. The Arsenal men were to form
his chief army in the revolt; the false alarm of a Genoese attack was to
get the populace together; and then the blow was to be struck and
Faliero proclaimed prince. But the plot miscarried through one of the
conspirators warning a friend to keep indoors; the ringleaders were
caught and hanged or exiled; and the Doge, after confessing his guilt,
was beheaded in the courtyard of this palace. His coffin may be seen in
the Museo Civico, and of his unhappy story Byron made a drama.
One of Faliero's party was Calendario, an architect, employed on the
part of the Doges' Palace in which we are now standing. He was hanged or
strangled between the two red columns in the upper arches of the
Piazzetta façade.
The first Doge to be represented here is Antenorio Obelerio (804-810),
but he had had predecessors, the first in fact dating from 697. Of
Obelerio little good is known. He married a foreigner whom some believe
to have been an illegitimate daughter of Charlemagne, and her influence
was bad. His brother Beato shared his throne, and in the end probably
chased him from it. Beato was Doge when Rialto became the seat of
government, Malamocco having gone over to the Franks under Pepin. But of
Beato no account is here taken, Obelerio's successor being Angelo
Partecipazio (810-827), who was also the first occupant of the first
Ducal Palace, on the site of a portion of the present one. It was his
son Giustiniano, sharing the throne with his father, who hit upon the
brilliant idea of stealing the body of S. Mark from Alexandria and of
preserving it in Venice, thus establishing that city not only as a
religious centre but also as a place of pilgrimage and renown. As Mrs.
Richardson remarks in her admirable survey of the Doges: "Was it not
well that the government of the Doge Giustiniano and his successors
throughout the age should become the special concern of a
Saint-Evangelist in whose name all national acts might be undertaken and
accomplished; all national desires and plans--as distinct from and
dominant over purely ecclesiastical ones--be sanctified and made
righteous?" The success of the scheme of theft I have related in an
earlier chapter; and how this foresight was justified, history tells. It
is odd that Venice does not make more acclamation of Giustiniano (or
Partecipazio II). To his brother Giovanni, who early had shown
regrettable sympathy with the Franks and had been banished accordingly,
Giustiniano bequeathed the Dogeship (as was then possible), and it was
in his reign (829-836) that S. Mark's was begun.
The last Doge in this room is Girolamo Priuli (1559-1567), of whom
nothing of account is remembered save that it was he who invited
Tintoretto to work in the palace and on one of the ceilings. You may see
his portrait in one of the rooms, from Tintoretto's brush, in the
company of Venice, Justice, S. Mark and the Lion.
Of the others of the six-and-seventy Doges around the room I do not here
speak. The names of such as are important will be found elsewhere
throughout this book, as we stand beside their tombs or glide past their
palaces.
Before leaving the Hall one should, as I have said, walk to the balcony,
the door of which the custodian opens for each visitor with a mercenary
hand. It should of course be free to all; and Venice would do well to
appoint some official (if such could be found) to enforce such
liberties. Immediately below is all the movement of the Molo; then the
edge of the lagoon with its myriad gondolas; then the sparkling water,
with all its busy activities and swaying gondoliers; and away beyond it
the lovely island of S. Giorgio. A fairer prospect the earth cannot
show.
The first Doge in the Sala dello Scrutinio is Pietro Loredan (1567-1570)
and the last of all Lodovico Manin (1788-1797) who fell before the
inroads of Napoleon. "Take it away," he said to his servant, handing him
the linen cap worn beneath the ducal corno, "we shall not need it any
more." He retired into piety and left his fortune to good works.
This room, also a fine and spacious hall but smaller than the Sala del
Maggior Consiglio, has historical pictures, and a "Last Judgment," by
Palma the younger, which immensely interests the custodian by reason of
a little human touch which may or may not be true. On the left of the
picture, in the Infernal regions, low down, will be seen a large
semi-nude female sinner in torment; on the right, in heaven, the same
person is seen again, in bliss. According to the custodian this lady was
the painter's innamorata, and he set her in both places as a reward for
her varying moods. The other pictures represent the capture of Zara by
Marco Giustiniani in 1346. Zara, I may mention, had very badly the habit
of capture: this was the eighth time it had fallen. Tintoretto is the
painter, and it is one of his best historical works. The great sea-fight
picture on the right wall represents another battle of Lepanto, a later
engagement than Venier's; the painter is Andrea Vicentino, who has
depicted himself as the figure in the water; while in another naval
battle scene, in the Dardanelles, the painter, Pietro Liberi, is the fat
naked slave with a poniard. For the rest the guide-book should be
consulted. The balcony of the room, which juts over the Piazzetta, is
rarely accessible; but if it is open one should tarry there for the fine
view of Sansovino's Old Library.
The second set of showrooms (which require the expenditure of another
lira)--the oldest rooms in the palace--constitute the Archæological
Museum. Here one sees a few pictures, a few articles of vertû, some
sumptuous apartments, some rich ceilings, and a wilderness of ancient
sculpture. The first room shown, the Sala degli Scarlatti, is the
bedroom of the Doges, with a massive and rather fine chimney piece and
an ornate ceiling. The next room, the Sala dello Scudo, has a fine
decorative, if inaccurate, map of the world, made by a monk in the
fifteenth century. The next, the Sala Grimani, has rival lions of S.
Mark by Jacobello del Fiore, an early Venetian painter, in 1415, and
Carpaccio a century later. Jacopo's lion has a very human face;
Carpaccio's picture is finer and is also interesting for its
architectural details. The next room, the Sala Erizzo, has a very
splendid ceiling. The next is not remarkable, and then we come on the
right to the Sala dei Filosofi where the custodian displays, at the foot
of the staircase, the charming fresco of S. Christopher which Titian
made for Doge Andrea Gritti. It is a very pleasing rendering, and the
Christ Child never rode more gaily or trustfully on the friendly saint.
With true patriotism Titian has placed the incident in a shallow of the
lagoon and the Doges' Palace is seen in the distance.
Then follow three rooms in the Doges' suite in which a variety of
treasures are preserved, too numerous and heterogeneous for description.
[Illustration: S. CHRISTOPHER
FROM THE FRESCO BY TITIAN
_In the Doges' Palace_]
The antique section of the Archæological Museum is not of general
interest. It consists chiefly of Greek and Roman sculpture collected by
Cardinal Grimani or dug from time to time from the soil of Venetian
provinces. Here are a few beautiful or precious relics and much that is
indifferent. In the absence of a Hermaphrodite, the most popular
possession is (as ever) a group of Leda and the Swan. I noted among the
more attractive pieces a Roman altar with lovers (Baedeker calls them
satyrs), No. 68; a Livia in black marble, No. 102; a nice girl, Giulia
Mammea, No. 142; a boy, very like a Venetian boy of to-day, No. 145; a
giant Minerva, No. 169; a Venus, No. 174; an Apollo, No. 223. A very
beautiful Pietà by Giovanni Bellini, painted under the influence of
Dürer, should be sought and found.
The Bridge of Sighs, a little way upon which one may venture, is more
interesting in romantic fancy than in fact, and its chief merit is to
span very gracefully the gulf between the Palace and the Prison. With
the terrible cells of the Doges' Palace, to which we are about to
descend, it has no connexion. When Byron says, in the famous line
beginning the fourth canto of "Childe Harold,"
I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,
he probably meant that he stood in Venice on the Bridge of Straw (Ponte
di Paglia) and contemplated the Bridge of Sighs. Because one does not
stand on the Bridge of Sighs but in it, for it is merely dark passages
lit by gratings. But to stand on the Ponte di Paglia on the Riva and
gaze up the sombre Rio del Palazzo with the famous arch poised high over
it is one of the first duties of all visitors to Venice and a very
memorable experience.
Lastly, the horrible cells (which cost half a lira more), upon which and
the damp sinister rooms where the place of execution and oubliette were
situated, a saturnine custodian says all that is necessary. Let me,
however, quote a warning from the little Venetian guide-book: "Everybody
to whom are pointed out the prisons to which Carmagnola, Jacopo Foscari,
Antonio Foscarini, etc., were confined, will easily understand that such
indications cannot be true at all."