THE GRAND CANAL. IV: FROM THE STATION TO THE MOCENIGO PALACE, LOOKING TO
THE LEFT
The Scalzi--The Labia Palace--The missing cicerone--Tiepolo and
Cleopatra--S. Marcuola and Titian--A maker of oars--The death of
Wagner--Frescoes on palaces--The Ca' d'Oro--Baron Franchetti--S.
Sebastian--The Palazzo Michiel dalle Colonne--A merry tapestry--A
cardinal's nursery--The Palazzo Lion--The Fondaco dei Tedeschi--Canova,
Titian, and Byron.
Beginning at the Railway Station and going towards the Ducal Palace, the
first building is the church of the Scalzi, by the iron bridge. The
church is a very ornate structure famous for its marbles and reliefs,
which counterfeit drapery and take the place of altar pictures; but
these are an acquired taste. On the ceiling the brave Tiepolo has
sprawled a vigorous illustration of the spiriting away of the house of
the Virgin to Loreto, near Ancona.
Next come a row of shops, and, at the corner, the Lido hotels'
motor-launch office, and then several negligible decayed palaces. The
first of any importance is the tall seventeenth-century incomplete
Flangini with Michael Angelesque figures over the door. Then the Scuola
dei Morti with its _memento mori_ on the wall, and then S. Geremia:
outside, a fine mass of yellow brick with a commanding campanile;
inside, all Palladian coolness. Against the church a little house has
been built, and at the corner of the Grand Canal and the Cannaregio is
the figure of the Virgin. The great palace a little way down the canal
which branches off here--the Cannaregio--is the Labia, interesting
chiefly as containing the masterpiece of Tiepolo, unless one agrees with
Symonds that his picture of S. Agnes in SS. Apostoli is his greatest
effort. So far as I am concerned, Tiepolo painted largely in vain. I can
admire the firm decision of his drawing and his skill in composition,
but I can never lose the feeling that his right place is the wall of a
restaurant or a theater curtain. Still, since at the Palazzo Labia we
find him decorating a banqueting hall with a secular subject, all is
well.
But first to get in, for the Labia, once so sumptuous, is now the home
of a hundred poor families, and the daughter of the concierge whose duty
it is to display the frescoes prefers play to work. For twenty minutes I
waited in the gloomy, deserted hall while her father shuffles off in one
direction and her mother in another, both calling "Emma!" "Emma!" with
increasing degrees of fury. Small boys and girls joined in the hunt
until the neighbourhood had no other sound. At last the little slovenly
Emma was discovered, and having been well rated she fetched the key and
led me up the grand staircase. Tiepolo chose two scenes from the life of
Cleopatra, and there is no doubt that he could draw. In one the
voluptuous queen is dissolving a pearl in a goblet of wine; in the other
she and her infatuated Roman are about to embark in a splendid galley.
The model for the wanton queen is said to have been a gondolier's
daughter named Cristina in whom the painter found all the graces that
his brush required.
[Illustration: THE DREAM OF S. URSULA
FROM THE PAINTING BY CARPACCIO
_In the Accademia_]
The frescoes, still in fair preservation, are masterly and
aristocratic; but they have left on my mind no impressions that it is a
pleasure to revive. Brilliant execution is not enough.
Crossing the mouth of the Cannaregio we come to the Querini Palace, now
yellow, plain, and ugly. A little campiello, a tiny ugly house and a
calle, and we are opposite the Palazzo Contarini, or Lobbia, with brown
poles on which a silver heart glistens. It is a huge place, now in part
empty, with a pretty cable design at the corner. Next, a shady green
garden and an attractive little house with a tiny roof loggia and
terrace; then a yellow stucco house with a little portico under it, and
then the Palazzo Gritti, now decayed and commonplace. A little house
with a dog in relief on it and a pretty colonnade and fondamenta, and
then the Palazzo Martinengo, or Mandelli, with that very rare thing in
Venice, a public clock on the roof, and a garden.
And so we reach the shabby S. Marcuola, her campo, traghetto, and
steamer station. S. Marcuola, whose façade, having never been finished,
is most ragged and miserable, is a poor man's church, visited by
strangers for its early Titian and a "Last Supper" by Tintoretto. The
Titian, which is dark and grimy, is quite pleasing, the infant Christ,
who stands between S. Andrew and S. Catherine on a little pedestal,
being very real and Venetian. There are, however, who deny Titian's
authorship; Mr. Ricketts, for example, gives the picture to Francesco
Vecellio, the painter's son. Tintoretto's "Last Supper," on the left of
the high altar, is more convivial than is usual: there is plenty of
food; a woman and children are coming in; a dog begs; Judas is
noticeable. Opposite this picture is a rather interesting dark canvas
blending seraphim and Italian architecture. Beside the church is the
shop of a maker of oars, who may be seen very conscientiously running
his eye along a new one.
A neat and smiling little house comes next, with blue and white posts
and an inscription stating that it was once the home of the architect
Pellegrino Orefice; then a little house with pretty windows, now an
"antichita"; then the Rio di S. Marcuola; and after a small and ugly
little house with a courtyard that might be made very attractive, we
come to the rich crumbling red wall of the garden of the Palazzo
Vendramin Calergi, which is notable as architecture, being one of the
works of Pietro Lombardi, in 1481, and also as having once housed the
noble Loredan family who produced more than one Doge. Many years later
the Duchesse de Berry lived here; and, more interesting still, here died
Richard Wagner.
We have seen Wagner's earlier residence in Venice, in 1858-59; to this
palace he came in the autumn of 1882, an old and feeble man. He was well
enough to conduct a private performance of his Symphony in C at the
Liceo Martello on Christmas Eve. He died quietly on the February 13th
following, and was buried at Bayreuth. In D'Annunzio's Venetian novel
_Il Fuoco_, called, in its English translation, _The Flame of Life_, is
most curiously woven the personality of Wagner, his ideals and theories,
and his life and death in this city. It was D'Annunzio who composed the
tablet on the wall.
The palace has an imposing but forbidding façade, and a new kind of lion
peers over the balcony. On the façade is the motto "Non nobis, Domine."
Another garden spreads before the new wing on the right, and a fine
acacia-tree is over the gateway. Next is the Palazzo Marcello, and here
too the Duchesse de Berry lived for a while. The next, with the little
prophet's chamber on the façade and a fine Gothic window and balcony,
is the fifteenth-century Erizzo. Then the Piovene, with fluted window
pillars and marble decorations; then the Emo, another antiquity shop,
with a fine view down the canal from its balcony. A traghetto is here,
and then the Palazzo Molin, now a business house, and the Rio della
Maddalena. The palace adjoining the Rio is the Barbaro, with an ancient
relief on it representing little people being blessed by the Madonna;
and then the Barbarigo, with remains of frescoes still to be seen, of
which one of a goat and infant is pretty. It was the custom once to
decorate all façades in this way, but these are now almost the only ones
that remain.
Now comes a very poor series of houses to the next rio, the Rio di
Noale, the last being the Gussoni, or Grimani, with a nice courtyard
seen through the door. It was once decorated with frescoes by
Tintoretto. Looking along the Rio di Noale we see the Misericordia, and
only a few yards up on the left is the Palazzo Giovanelli where
Giorgione's "Tempest" may be seen. At the other corner is the pretty
little Palazzo Lezze with a terrace and much greenery, and then the
massive but commonplace Boldù palace, adjoining a decayed building on
whose fondamenta are piled gondola coverings belonging to the traghetto.
A fine carved column is at the corner of the calle, and next it the
Palazzo Bonhomo, with two arches of a colonnade, a shrine and
fondamenta. Then a nice house with a tumbled garden, and in spring
purple wistaria and red Judas-trees, and then the Rio S. Felice and the
immense but unimpressive Palazzo Fontana, built possibly by no less an
architect than the great Sansovino. A massive head is over the door, and
Pope Clement XIII was born here. A little green garden adjoins--the
Giardinetto Infantile--and next is a boarded-up dolls' house, and next
the Miani or Palazzo Coletti, with two busts on it, and then the lovely
Ca' d'Oro, that exquisite riot of Gothic richness.
The history of the Ca' d'Oro--or golden house, so called from the
prevalence of gold in its ornamentation--is melancholy. It was built by
the two Bons, or Buons, of the Doges' Palace for Pietro Contarini in
1425. It passed through various hands, always, one imagines, declining
in condition, until at the end of the eighteenth century it was a
dramatic academy, and in the middle of the last century the dancer
Taglioni lived in it and not only made it squalid but sold certain of
its treasures. Of its famous internal marble staircase, for example, no
trace remains. Then, after probably more careless tenants, came Baron
Franchetti with his wealth and zeal to restore such of its glories as he
might, and although no haste is being employed, the good work continues.
The palace is not open, but an obliging custodian is pleased to grow
enthusiastic to visitors. Slowly but painstakingly the reconstruction
proceeds. Painted ceilings are being put back, mosaic floors are being
pieced together, cornices are taking the place of terrible papering and
boarding: enough of all of the old having remained for the scheme to be
faithfully completed. Stepping warily over the crazy floors of these
vast rooms, one does not envy Taglioni when the Tramontana blew. She
would have to dance then, if ever, or be cold indeed.
The façade of the Ca' d'Oro is of course its greatest possession. Venice
has nothing more satisfyingly ornate: richness without floridity. But
let no one think to know all its beauty until he has penetrated to the
little chapel and stood before Mantegna's S. Sebastian, that great
simple work of art by an intellectual master. This noble painting,
possibly the last from his brush, was found in Mantegna's studio after
his death. Notice the smoking candle-wick at the foot, and the motto
which says that everything that is not of God is as smoke evanescent.
A steamboat station for passengers going towards the Rialto is opposite
the Ca' d'Oro calle. Then comes the garden of the Palazzo Pesaro, now
the Paraguay consulate; then the Sagredo, an extremely ancient Gothic
building with a beautiful window and balcony, now badly served by paint
and stucco and shutters; and then another traghetto at the Campo S.
Sofia, with a vine ramping over its shelter. Stucco again injures the
Palazzo Foscari, which has a pretty relief of the Madonna and Child;
then we come to a calle and the Ca' d'Oro steamboat station for
passengers going towards the railway.
An ugly yellow building comes next, and then the fine dingy Palazzo
Michiel dalle Colonne with brown posts and ten columns, now the property
of Count Antonio Donà dalle Rose, who permits visitors to see it in his
absence. It is the first palace since we left the Scalzi that looks as
if it were in rightful hands. The principal attraction is its tapestry,
some of which is most charming, particularly a pattern of plump and
impish cherubs among vines and grapes, which the cicerone boldly
attributes to Rubens, but Baedeker to one of his pupils. Whoever the
designer, he had an agreeable and robust fancy and a sure hand. The
palace seems to have more rooms than its walls can contain, all
possessing costly accessories and no real beauty. The bedroom of
Cardinal Gregorio Barbarigo is shown: his elaborate cradle with a stork
presiding over it, surely a case of _trop de zèle_; pretty yellow
painted furniture; and a few pictures, including a fine horseback
portrait by Moretto, a Cima, a Giovanni Bellini, and the usual Longhis.
But it is the riotous little spirits of the vintage that remain in the
mind.
After the Michiel dalle Colonne is a little newish house and the Gothic
Palazzo Michiel da Brusà with blue posts with yellow stripes, rather
overweighted with balconies but having nice ironwork; and then the
comfortable-looking Mangilli Valmarana with blue posts with red and
white tops, and the Rio dei SS. Apostoli with a view of the campanile
along it. Next a dull white building with flush windows, and next that
the fine and ancient Palazzo da Mosto. This house has many old
sculptured slabs worked into the façade, and it seems a great pity that
it should so have fallen from its proper state. An ugly modern iron
balcony has been set beneath its Gothic windows. Adjoining is a house
which also has pretty Gothic windows, and then the dull and neglected
Palazzo Mocenigo, with brown posts. Then comes the Rio S. Gio.
Crisostomo, and next it a house newly faced, and then the fascinating
remains of the twelfth-century Palazzo Lion, consisting of an exposed
staircase and a very attractive courtyard with round and pointed arches.
It is now a rookery. Washing is hung in the loggia at the top, and
ragged children lean from the windows.
[Illustration: THE RIALTO BRIDGE FROM THE PALAZZO DEI DIECI SAVII]
Next, a pretty little house which might be made very liveable in, facing
the fruit market, and then the hideous modern Sernagiotto, dating from
1847 and therefore more than negligible. A green little house with a
sottoportico under it, and then a little red brick prison and the ugly
Civran palace is reached. Next, the Perducci, now a busy statuary store,
and next it the Cà Ruzzini, all spick and span, and the Rio dell'Olio o
del Fontego, through which come the fruit barges from Malamocco. And now
we touch very interesting history again, for the next great building,
with the motor-boats before it, now the central Post Office, is the very
Fondaco dei Tedeschi, the head-quarters of German merchants in Venice,
on whose walls Giorgione and Titian painted the famous frescoes and in
which Tintoretto held a sinecure post. Giorgion's frescoes faced the
Canal; Titian's the Rialto.
And so we reach the Rialto bridge, on this side of which are no shrines,
but a lion is on the keystone, and on each side is a holy man. After the
Rialto bridge there is nothing of any moment for many yards, save a
house with a high narrow archway which may be seen in Mr. Morley's
picture, until we reach Sansovino's Palazzo Manin, now the Bank of
Italy, a fine building and the home of the last Doge. The three
steamboat stations hereabouts are for passengers for the Riva and Lido,
for Mestre, and for the railway station, respectively. The palace next
the Ponte Manin, over the Rio San Salvatore, is the Bembo, with very
fine windows. Then the Calle Bembo, and then various offices on the
fondamenta, under chiefly red façades. At the next calle is a traghetto
and then the Palazzo Loredan, a Byzantine building of the eleventh or
twelfth century, since restored. It has lovely arches. This and the next
palace, the Farsetti, now form the Town Hall of Venice: hence the
splendid blue posts and golden lions. In the vestibule are posted up the
notices of engagements, with full particulars of the contracting
parties--the celibi and the nubili. It was in the Farsetti that Canova
acquired his earliest knowledge of sculpture, for he was allowed as a
boy to copy the casts collected there.
Another calle, the Cavalli, and then a comfortable-looking house with a
roof garden and green and yellow posts, opposite which the fondamenta
comes to an end. Fenimore Cooper, the novelist of the Red Man, made
this palace his home for a while. The pretty little Palazzo Valmarana
comes next, and then the gigantic, sombre Grimani with its stone as dark
as a Bath or Bloomsbury mansion, which now is Venice's Court of
Appeal. The architect was the famous Michele Sammicheli who also
designed the Lido's forts. Then the Rio di S. Luca and the Palazzo
Contarini, with rich blue posts with white rings, very striking, and two
reliefs of horses on the façade. Next a very tiny pretty little Tron
Palace; then a second Tron, and then the dreary Martinengo, now the Bank
of Naples. In its heyday Titian was a frequent visitor here, its owner,
Martino d'Anna, a Flemish merchant, being an intimate friend, and
Pordenone painted its walls.
Another calle and traghetto and we come to a very commonplace house, and
then, after a cinematograph office and another calle, to the Palazzo
Benzon, famous a hundred years ago for its literary and artistic
receptions, and now spruce and modern with more of the striking blue
posts, the most vivid on the canal. In this house Byron has often been;
hither he brought Moore. It is spacious but tawdry, and its plate-glass
gives one a shock. Then the Rio Michiel and then the Tornielli, very
dull, the Curti, decayed, and the Rio dell'Albero. After the rio, the
fine blackened Corner Spinelli with porphyry insets. At the steamboat
station of S. Angelo are new buildings--one a very pretty red brick and
stone, one with a loggia--standing on the site of the Teatro S. Angelo.
After the Rio S. Angelo we come to a palace which I always admire: red
brick and massive, with good Gothic windows and a bold relief of cupids
at the top. It is the Garzoni Palace and now an antiquity dealer's.
A calle and traghetto next, a shed with a shrine on its wall, a little
neat modern house and the Palazzo Corner with its common new glass, and
we are abreast the first of the three Mocenigo palaces, with the blue
and white striped posts and gold tops, in the middle one of which Byron
settled in 1818 and wrote _Beppo_ and began _Don Juan_ and did not a
little mischief.