THE ACCADEMIA. II: THE SANTA CROCE MIRACLES AND CARPACCIO
The Holy Cross--Gentile Bellini's Venice--The empty windows--Carpaccio's
Venice--The story of S. Ursula--Gay pageantry--A famous
bedroom--Carpaccio's life--Ruskin's eulogy.
In Room XV are the Santa Croce miracles. The Holy Cross was brought by
Filippo da Massaro and presented to the Scuola di S. Giovanni
Evangelista. Every year it was carried in solemn procession through
Venice and something remarkable was expected of it.
The great picture by Gentile Bellini, which shows the progress of the
Holy Cross procession across the Piazza in 1496, is historically of much
interest. One sees many changes and much that is still familiar. The
only mosaic on the façade of S. Mark's which still remains is that in
the arch over the left door; and that also is the only arch which has
been left concave. The three flagstaffs are there, but they have wooden
pediments and no lions on the top, as now. The Merceria clock tower is
not yet, and the south arcade comes flush with the campanile's north
wall; but I doubt if that was so. The miracle of that year was the
healing of a youth who had been fatally injured in the head; his father
may be seen kneeling just behind the relic.
The next most noticeable picture, also Gentile Bellini's, records a
miracle of 1500. The procession was on its way to S. Lorenzo, near the
Arsenal, from the Piazza, when the sacred emblem fell into the canal.
Straightway in jumped Andrea Vendramin, the chief of the Scuola, to save
it, and was supernaturally buoyed up by his sanctified burden. The
picture has a religious basis, but heaven is not likely, I think, to be
seriously affronted if one smiles a little at these aquatic sports.
Legend has it that the little kneeling group on the right is Gentile's
own family, and the kneeling lady on the left, with a nun behind her, is
Caterina Cornaro, Queen of Cyprus.
Bellini has made the scene vivid, but it is odd that he should have put
not a soul at a window. When we turn to Carpaccio's "Miracle" of 1494,
representing the healing of a man possessed of a devil, who may be seen
in the loggia at the left, we find a slightly richer sense of history,
for three or four women look from the windows; but Mansueti, although a
far inferior artist, is the only one to be really thorough and Venetian
in this respect.
One very interesting detail of Carpaccio's "Miracle" picture is the
Rialto bridge of his time. It was of wood, on piles, and a portion in
the centre could be drawn up either to let tall masts through or to stop
the thoroughfare to pursuers. It is valuable, too, for its costumes and
architecture. In a gondola is a dog, since one of those animals finds
its way into most of his works. This time it is S. Jerome's dog from the
picture at S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni. An English translation of the
Santa Croce story might well be placed in this room.
Before leaving this room one should look again at the haunting portrait
of S. Lorenzo Giustiniani, No. 570, by Gentile Bellini, which has faded
and stained so graciously into a quiet and beautiful decoration.
It is the S. Ursula pictures in Room XVI for which, after Titian's
"Assumption," most visitors to Venice esteem the Accademia; but to my
mind the charm of Carpaccio is not displayed here so fully as in his
decorations at S. Giorgio. The Ursula pictures are, however, of deep
interest and are unforgettable.
But first for the story. As _The Golden Legend_ tells it, it runs thus.
Ursula was the daughter of a Christian king in Britain named Notus or
Maurus, and the fame of her beauty and wisdom spread afar, so that the
King of England, who was a heathen himself, heard of it and wished her
for his son's wife. His son, too, longed for the match, but the paganism
of his family was against it. Ursula therefore stipulated that before
the marriage could be solemnized the King of England should send to her
ten virgins as companions, and each of these virgins and herself, making
eleven, should have a retinue of a thousand other virgins, making eleven
thousand in all (or to be precise, eleven thousand and eleven) for
prayer and consecration; and that the prince moreover should be
baptised; and then at the end of three years she would marry him. The
conditions were agreed to, and the virgins collected, and all, after
some time spent in games and jousting, with noblemen and bishops among
the spectators, joined Ursula, who converted them. Being converted, they
set sail from Britain for Rome. There they met the pope, who, having a
prevision of their subsequent martyrdom, resigned the papacy, much
against the will of the Church and for reasons which are not too clear.
In Rome they were seen also by two fellow-princes named Maximus and
Africanus, who, disliking them for their Christianity, arranged with one
Julian, a prince of the Huns, that on their arrival at Cologne, on their
return journey, he should behead the whole company, and thus prevent
them from further mischief. Meanwhile Ursula's betrothed went to
Cologne to meet his bride. With the eleven thousand were many of the
most eminent bishops and other men of mark, and directly they arrived at
Cologne the Huns fell on them and killed every one except Ursula and
another named Cordula. Julian offered to make Ursula his wife, but on
her repudiation of the suggestion he shot her through the body with his
bow and arrow. Cordula hid in a ship, but the next day suffered death by
her own free will and earned a martyr's crown. All this happened in the
year A.D. 238.
[Illustration: THE DEPARTURE OF THE BRIDEGROOM AND HIS MEETING WITH
URSULA
FROM THE PAINTING BY CARPACCIO
_In the Accademia_]
Carpaccio, it will be quickly seen, disregards certain details of this
version. For example, he makes Ursula's father a King of the Moors,
although there is nothing Moorish about either that monarch, his
daughter, or his city. The first picture, which has the best light in
it, shows the ambassadors from England craving the hand of the princess.
At the back is one of those octagonal buildings so dear to this painter,
also in the city. His affection for dogs, always noticeable, is to be
seen here again, for he has placed three hounds on the quay. A clock
somewhat like that of the Merceria is on the little tower. The English
ship has a red flag. On the right is the King pondering with Ursula over
his reply. In the next picture, No. 573, the ambassadors receive this
reply. In the next the ambassadors depart, with the condition that a
term of three years must first pass. They return to a strangely
unfamiliar England: an England in which Carpaccio himself must have been
living for some time in the rôle of architect. This--No. 574--is a
delightful and richly mellow scene of activity, and not the least
attractive feature of it is the little fiddling boy on the left.
Carpaccio has so enjoyed the pageantry and detail, even to frescoes on
the house, crowded bridges, and so forth, that his duty as a
story-teller has suffered. In the next picture, No. 575, which is really
two, divided by the flagstaff, we have on the left the departure of the
English prince from an English seaport (of a kind which alas! has
disappeared for ever) to join in his lady-love's pilgrimage to Rome. He
bids his father farewell. Nothing could be more fascinating than the
mountain town and its battlements, and every inch of the picture is
amusing and alive. Crowds of gay people assemble and a ship has run on
the rocks. On the right, the prince meets Ursula, who also has found a
very delectable embarking place. Here are more gay crowds and sumptuous
dresses, of which the King's flowered robe is not the least. Farther
still to the right the young couple kneel before the monarch. I
reproduce this.
The apotheosis of S. Ursula, No. 576, is here interposed, very
inappropriately, for she is not yet dead or a saint, merely a pious
princess.
The story is then resumed--in No. 577--with a scene at Rome, as we know
it to be by the castle of S. Angelo, in which Ursula and her prince are
being blessed by the Pope Cyriacus, while an unending file of virgins
extends into the distance.
In the next picture, reproduced opposite page 120, Ursula, in her nice
great bed, in what is perhaps the best-known bedroom in the world,
dreams of her martyrdom and sees an angel bringing her the rewards of
fortitude. The picture has pretty thoughts but poor colour. Where the
room is meant to be, I am not sure; but it is a very charming one. Note
her little library of big books, her writing desk and hour-glass, her
pen and ink. Carpaccio of course gives her a dog. Her slippers are
beside the bed and her little feet make a tiny hillock in the
bedclothes: Carpaccio was the man to think of that! The windows are
open and she has no mosquito net. Her princess's crown is at the foot of
the bed, or is it perchance her crown of glory?
We next see the shipload of bishops and virgins arriving at Cologne.
There are fewer Carpaccio touches here, but he has characteristically
put a mischievous youth at the end of a boom. There is also a dog on the
landing-stage and a bird in the tree. A comely tower is behind with
flags bearing three crowns. The next picture shows us, on the left, the
horrid massacre of all these nice young women by a brutal German
soldiery. Ursula herself is being shot by Julian, who is not more than
six feet distant; but she meets her fate with a composure as perfect as
if instead of the impending arrow it was a benediction. On the right is
her bier, under a very pretty canopy. Wild flowers spring from the
earth.
Now should come the apotheosis.
Carpaccio was not exactly a great painter, but he was human and
ingratiating beyond any other that Venice can show, and his pictures
here and at S. Giorgio degli Schiavoni make the city a sweeter and more
lovable place, Vasari is very brief with Vittore Scarpaccia, as he calls
him, and there are few known facts. Research has placed his birth at
Capo d'Istria about 1450. His earliest picture is dated 1490: his last
1521 or 1522. Gentile Bellini was his master.
Ruskin found Carpaccio by far the most sympathetic Venetian painter.
Everything that he painted, even, as I point out later, the Museo Civico
picture of the two ladies, he exults in, here, there, and everywhere. In
his little guide to the Accademia, published in 1877, he roundly calls
Carpaccio's "Presentation of the Virgin" the "best picture" in the
gallery. In one of the letters written from Venice in _Fors
Clavigera_--and these were, I imagine, subjected to less critical
examination by their author before they saw the light than any of his
writings--is the following summary, which it may be interesting to read
here. "This, then, is the truth which Carpaccio knows, and would teach:
That the world is divided into two groups of men; the first, those whose
God is their God, and whose glory is their glory, who mind heavenly
things; and the second, men whose God is their belly, and whose glory is
in their shame, who mind earthly things. That is just as demonstrable a
scientific fact as the separation of land from water. There may be any
quantity of intermediate mind, in various conditions of bog; some,
wholesome Scotch peat,--some, Pontine marsh,--some, sulphurous slime,
like what people call water in English manufacturing towns; but the
elements of Croyance and Mescroyance are always chemically separable out
of the putrescent mess: by the faith that is in it, what life or good it
can still keep, or do, is possible; by the miscreance in it, what
mischief it can do, or annihilation it can suffer, is appointed for its
work and fate. All strong character curdles itself out of the scum into
its own place and power, or impotence: and they that sow to the Flesh,
do of the Flesh reap corruption; and they that sow to the Spirit, do of
the Spirit reap Life.
"I pause, without writing 'everlasting,' as perhaps you expected.
Neither Carpaccio nor I know anything about duration of life, or what
the word translated 'everlasting' means. Nay, the first sign of noble
trust in God and man, is to be able to act without any such hope. All
the heroic deeds, all the purely unselfish passions of our existence,
depend on our being able to live, if need be, through the Shadow of
Death: and the daily heroism of simply brave men consists in fronting
and accepting Death as such, trusting that what their Maker decrees for
them shall be well.
"But what Carpaccio knows, and what I know, also, are precisely the
things which your wiseacre apothecaries, and their apprentices, and too
often your wiseacre rectors and vicars, and _their_ apprentices, tell
you that you can't know, because 'eye hath not seen nor ear heard them,'
the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. But God has
revealed them to _us_--to Carpaccio, and Angelico, and Dante, and
Giotto, and Filippo Lippi, and Sandro Botticelli, and me, and to every
child that has been taught to know its Father in heaven,--by the Spirit:
because we have minded, or do mind, the things of the Spirit in some
measure, and in such measure, have entered into our rest."
Let me only dare to add that it is quite possible to extract enormous
pleasure from the study of Carpaccio's works without agreeing with any
of the foregoing criticism.