emerald. For truly, every pinnacle and turret glanced or glowed,
overlaid with gold, or bossed with jasper. Beneath, the unsullied
sea drew in deep breathing, to and fro, its eddies of green wave.
Deep-hearted, majestic, terrible as the sea,--the men of Venice moved
in sway of power and war; pure as her pillars of alabaster, stood her
mothers and maidens; from foot to brow, all noble, walked her knights;
the low bronzed gleaming of sea-rusted armour shot angrily under their
blood-red mantle folds. Fearless, faithful, patient, impenetrable,
implacable--every word a fate--sat her senate. In hope and honour,
lulled by flowing of wave around their isles of sacred sand, each
with his name written and the cross graved at his side, lay her dead.
A wonderful piece of world. Rather, itself a world. It lay along the
face of the waters, no larger, as its captains saw it from their masts
at evening, than a bar of sunset that could not pass away; but for
its power, it must have seemed to them as if they were sailing in the
expanse of heaven, and this a great planet, whose orient edge widened
through ether. A world from which all ignoble care and petty thoughts
were banished, with all the common and poor elements of life. No
foulness, nor tumult, in those tremulous streets, that filled, or fell,
beneath the moon; but rippled music of majestic change, or thrilling
silence. No weak walls could rise above them; no low-roofed cottage,
nor straw-built shed. Only the strength as of rock, and the finished
setting of stones most precious. And around them, far as the eye could
reach, still the soft moving of stainless waters, proudly pure; as
not the flower, so neither the thorn nor the thistle could grow in
the glancing fields. Ethereal strength of Alps, dream-like, vanishing
in high procession beyond the Torcellan shore; blue islands of Paduan
hills, poised in the golden west. Above, free winds and fiery clouds
ranging at their will--brightness out of the north, and balm from the
south, and the stars of the evening and morning clear in the limitless
light of arched heaven and circling sea....
I do not find in Giorgione’s work any of the early Venetian monachist
element. He seems to me to have belonged more to an abstract
contemplative school. I may be wrong in this; it is no matter; suppose
it were so, and that he came down to Venice somewhat recusant, or
insentient, concerning the usual priestly doctrines of his day, how
would the Venetian religion, from an outer intellectual standing-point,
have _looked_ to him?
He would have seen it to be a religion indisputably powerful in human
affairs; often very harmfully so; sometimes devouring widows’ houses,
and consuming the strongest and fairest from among the young; freezing
into merciless bigotry the pokey of the old: also, on the other hand,
animating national courage, and raising souls, otherwise sordid, into
heroism: on the whole, always a real and great power; served with
daily sacrifice of gold, time, and thought; putting forth its claims,
if hypocritically, at least in bold hypocrisy, not waiving any atom
of them in doubt or fear; and, assuredly, in large measure, sincere,
believing in itself, and believed: a goodly system, moreover, in
aspect; gorgeous, harmonious, mysterious--a thing which had either to
be obeyed or combated, but could not be scorned. A religion towering
over all the city--many buttressed--luminous in marble stateliness, as
the dome of our Lady of Safety shines over the sea; many-voiced also,
giving, over all the eastern seas, to the sentinel his watchword, to
the soldier his war-cry; and, on the lips of all who died for Venice,
shaping the whisper of death.
JOHN RUSKIN.
TO AN OLD VENETIAN PAINTING
Who _was_ she--this rare Beauty of appealing face?...
The eyes are laden with the weight of Love’s fond burden,
The heart, with tremulous hope of Love’s alluring guerdon.
Had she some wound,--some grief which nothing could erase,--
She whose impassioned look is raised in suppliant grace?
Perhaps some erring penitent in saintly adoration,
Or Doge’s wilful daughter offering supplication
In all the sumptuous beauty of her languorous race?
The plaintive mouth is saddened now from farewell-taking,
The sob still lingers in her smile,--the eyes brim o’er,
As if sweet love, with her, had broken faith and trust.
How _could_ such beauty be unless her heart were breaking?...
Peace! draw the veil: seek no revealment: ask no more:
Such loveliness shall sanctify her very dust.
LLOYD MIFFLIN.
TO GIAN BELLINI
Though ne’er a catchword for the shallow throng,
His name shall shine eternally with those
That light the world. Resplendent Venice shows
Not one sublimer all her sons among.
He taught the true in art, nor knew the wrong.
His lofty purity, his sweet repose
Sprang from a faith that no misgiving knows
By this his soul was nourished and grew strong.
Gentle Venetian! I must envy thee,
Who stand alone in this cool sacristy,
Confronted with the radiance of thine art.
Shrined in these marbles amid ocean foam,
The light of thy pure spirit here has home,
Firing the good in each distempered heart.
PERCY PINKERTON.
TITIAN AT VENICE
Titian was born in the little town of Cadore, on the Piave, five miles
from the Alps. He sprang from the family of the Vecelli, one of the
most noble of those parts; and when he reached the age of ten years,
showing a fine spirit and quickness of mind, he was sent to Venice to
the house of one of his uncles, an honoured citizen. He, seeing that
the boy was much inclined to painting, put him with the famous painter
Gian Bellini, under whose discipline he studied drawing, and showed
himself in a short time to be endowed by nature with all that was
necessary for the art of painting. Gian Bellini and the other painters
of that country, having no knowledge of ancient art, were accustomed
mostly, in fact entirely, to draw from life, though in a dry, crude
manner. Titian therefore learnt in this way. But when Giorgione da
Castelfranco came, the manner of working did not altogether please
him, and he began to give his works more softness and greater relief,
following Nature indeed, and imitating her as well as he could in
colour, but not making any drawing, holding firmly that painting in
colours without studying the drawing in a cartoon was the true and best
way of working. Titian, then, seeing Giorgione’s method, left Gian
Bellini’s manner and adopted the new way, imitating it so well that his
pictures were mistaken for the works of Giorgione. And when Giorgione
was employed upon the façade of the German Exchange a part was given
to Titian. Some gentlemen, not knowing that Giorgione had ceased to
work there, and that Titian was employed upon it, meeting Giorgione
one day, began to congratulate him, saying he was doing better on this
façade than he had done on that one on the Grand Canal. And this vexed
Giorgione so much that until the work was finished, and it was known
that Titian had done that part, he would not be seen, and from that
time he would not let Titian work with him or be his friend....
Giovanni Bellini left unfinished at his death the picture, in the hall
of the Great Council, of Barbarossa kneeling before Pope Alexander
III. Titian completed it, altering many things, and introducing many
portraits of his friends and others. For this he obtained from the
Signory an office which is called the Senseria, which brings in three
hundred crowns a year. This office has usually been given to the best
painter of that city, with the duty of painting from time to time their
Prince or Doge, at the price of eight crowns only, paid them by this
prince, and this portrait is afterwards placed in his memory in the
palace of St. Mark’s.
The Duke Alfonso of Ferrara had engaged Giovanni Bellini to paint a
picture for a room in his palace, but he had been unable to complete
it on account of his age, and Titian therefore was summoned to finish
it, and for this prince he painted several things, and was liberally
rewarded by him. At this time he formed a friendship with the divine
Ludovico Ariosto, who celebrated him in his ‘Orlando Furioso.’
After his return to Venice he painted many pictures for the churches,
and among others for the church of S. Rocco he painted Christ bearing
the Cross. This, which many have supposed to be from Giorgione’s hand,
has become the chief object of devotion in Venice, and has received
in alms more crowns than Titian and Giorgione earned in their whole
life.... For the Church of S. Giovanni and S. Paolo he painted an
altarpiece representing S. Peter Martyr in a wood of high trees, struck
down by a fierce soldier, who has wounded him in the head, and as he
lies but half alive you can see in his face the horror of death, while
another friar fleeing shows signs of fear. In the sky are two angels
coming in the light of heaven, which lights up a beautiful landscape.
The work is the most finished one that Titian ever did....
There is no lord of note or prince or great lady who has not been
painted by Titian; and, besides, at different times, he produced many
other works.
It is true that his way of working in his last pictures is very
different from that of his youth. For his first works were finished
with great diligence, and might be looked at near or far, but the last
are worked with great patches of colour, so that they cannot be seen
near, but at a distance they look perfect. This is the reason that many
think they are done without any trouble, but this is not true. And
this way of working is most judicious, for it makes the pictures seem
living.
All these works, with a great many others, which cannot be mentioned
lest I should become tedious, he has completed, having now reached
the age of seventy-six. He has been most healthy, and as fortunate
as anyone has ever been. In his house at Venice he has received all
the princes, and learned and famous men, who have come to Venice; for
besides his excellence in art, his manners have been most pleasant and
courteous. He has had some rivals, but not very dangerous ones. He has
earned much, for his works have always been well paid; but it would be
well for him, in these his last years, to work only for pastime, lest
he diminish his reputation.
When the present writer was in Venice in 1566, he went to visit Titian,
and found him, old as he was, with his brush in his hand, painting, and
he found great pleasure in seeing his works and talking with him.
Thus Titian, having adorned Venice, or rather Italy, and indeed other
parts of the world, with the finest pictures, deserves to be loved and
studied by artists, and in many things imitated, for he has done works
worthy of infinite praise, which will last as long as illustrious men
are remembered.
VASARI.
_Translated by E. L. Seeley._
THE ENCHANTED VOICE OF VENICE
Turner’s imagination dwelt always on three great cities, Carthage,
Rome, and Venice--Carthage in connection especially with the thoughts
and study which led to the painting of the Hesperides’ Garden, showing
the death which attends the vain pursuit of wealth; Rome, showing the
death which attends the vain pursuit of power; Venice, the death which
attends the vain pursuit of beauty.
How strangely significative, thus understood, those last Venetian
dreams of his become, themselves so beautiful and so frail; wrecks of
all that they were once--twilights of twilight!
Vain beauty; yet not all in vain. Unlike in birth, how like in their
labour, and their power over the future, these masters of England and
Venice--Turner and Giorgione. But ten years ago I saw the last traces
of the greatest works of Giorgione yet glowing, like a scarlet cloud,
on the Fondaco de Tedeschi. And though that scarlet cloud (sanguigna
e fiammeggiante, per cui le pitture cominciarono con dolce violenza
a rapire il cuore delle genti) may, indeed, melt away into paleness
of night, and Venice herself waste from her islands as a wreath of
wind-driven foam fades from their weedy beach; that which she won
of faithful light and truth shall never pass away. Deiphobe of the
sea--the Sun God measures her immortality to her by its sand. Flushed,
above the Avernus of the Adrian lake, her spirit is still seen holding
the golden bough; from the lips of the Sea Sibyl men shall learn for
ages yet to come what is most noble and most fair; and, far away, as
the whisper in the coils of the shell, withdrawn through the deep
hearts of nations, shall sound for ever the enchanted voice of Venice.
JOHN RUSKIN.
VENICE
Walk in St. Mark’s, the time and ample space
Lies in the freshness of the evening shade,
When, on each side, with gravely-darkened face,
The masses rise above the light arcade;
Walk down the midst with slowly-timèd pace,
But gay withal,--for there is high parade
Of fair attire and fairer forms, which pass
Like varying groups on a magician’s glass....
Walk in St. Mark’s again, some few hours after,
When a bright sleep is on each storied pile,--
When fitful music, and inconstant laughter,
Give place to Nature’s silent moonlight smile:
Now fancy wants no faery gale to waft her
To Magian haunt, or charm-engirdled isle,
All too content, in passive bliss, to see
This show divine is visible poetry.
On such a night as this impassionedly
The old Venetian sung those 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:
That strange cathedral! exquisitely strange;
That front, on whose bright varied tints the eye
Rests as on gems; those arches, whose high range
Gives its rich-broidered border to the sky;
Those ever-prancing steeds! My friend, whom change
Of restless will has led to lands that lie
Deep in the East, does not thy fancy set
Above these domes an airy minaret?
RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES.
THE SPLENDOUR OF ST. MARK’S
The beautifull Church of Saint Marke doth of its owne accord as it were
offer it selfe now to be spoken of. Which though it be but little,
yet it is exceeding rich, and so sumptuous for the stateliness of the
architecture, that I thinke very few in Christendome of the bignesse
doe surpasse it.... The pavement of this Church is so passing curious,
that I thinke no Church in Christendome can show the like. For the
pavement of the body of the Church, the Quire, and the walkes round
about before you come within the body, are made of sundry little pieces
of Thasian, Ophiticall, and Laconicall marble in checker worke, and
other most exquisite conveyances, and those, of many severall colours,
that it is very admirable and rare to behold, the rarenesse such that
it doth even amaze all strangers upon their first view thereof. The
west front towards St. Marks street is most beautifull, having five
severall partitions, unto which there belong as many brasen dores,
whereof the middle, through which they usually go into the Church,
is made of solid brasse, the other foure in the forme of latteise
windowes. This front is very stately adorned with beautiful pillars
of white marble, whereof in one part of the front, I told a hundred
and two and fifty, in the higher two and forty. In all one hundred
fourescore and fourteene. Some greater, some lesser. Some of one
colour and some of another. At the sides of the great gate are eight
rich pillars of porphyrie, foure in one side, and as many in another,
whereof each would be worth twenty pound with us in England. Over the
toppe of this middle gate is to be seene a very ancient and remarkable
monument, foure goodly brasen horses made of Corinthian mettall, and
fully as great as the life. These horses were brought to Venice in the
time of their Duke Petrus Zanus, which was about the yeare 1206. Some
say they were cast by Lysippus that singular statuary of Alexander
the Great above three hundred years before Christ; some say that the
Romans made them at what time Hiero King of Syracuse triumphed of the
Parthians, and placed them in a certain arch that they dedicated to
him. It is reported that Tyridates King of Armenia bestowed them on
the Emperour Nero, when he was entertained in Rome with such pompous
magnificence, as is mentioned by Tacitus and Suetonius. And that
Constantine the Great brought them from Rome to Constantinople, and
therehence they were lastly brought to Venice by the Venetians, when
they possessed Constantinople. At what time they brought many other
notable things from that City, for the better ornament both of their
publique and private buildings. These horses are advanced on certain
curious and beautifull pillars, to the end they may be more conspicuous
and eminent to be seene of every person.... I observed another very
memorable monument within the first great gate, which is betwixt
that gate and the opposite brasen gate at the going into the body of
the Church, which is also made of massy brasse, namely a great stone
formed and cut according to the fashion of a diamond pavier, in the
middle whereof is made a prety checker worke garnished with divers
little pieces of marble of sundry colours. On this little worke which
is in the middest of the said stone did Fredericus Barbarossa the
Emperour lay downe his necke as a foote-stoole to Pope Alexander the
third to treade upon it.... Over the gate as you passe into the body
of the Church, is to be seene the picture of St. Marke (if at the
least a man may properly call such a piece of work a picture) made
most curiously with pieces of marble (as I conceive it) exceeding
little, all gilt over in a kinde of worke very common in this Church,
called Mosaicall worke. He is made looking up to heaven with his hands
likewise elevated, and that wearing of a marvailous rich cope, under
whom [an inscription] is written in faire letters.... On the right
hand of the Church as you goe in, even at the south corner, there is
a very faire little Chappel having a sumptuous Altar that is adorned
with a very curious roofe, and two goodly pillars of Parian marble at
the sides, of wonderfull faire workmanship, wherein are finely made
clusters of grapes, and other borders exceeding well expressed. At
both the endes of the Altar are made two great lyons in porphyrie,
whereof that on the right hand leaneth a little child, the other on
the left hand on a sheepe.... The pavement of this Chappel is made of
diamond worke with marble of divers colours, and at the entrance a two
leafed brasen gate. The inner walles of the Church are beautified
with a great multitude of pictures gilt, and contrived in Mosaical
worke, which is nothing else but a pretty kind of picturing consisting
altogether of little pieces and very small fragments of gilt marble,
which are square, and halfe as broade as the naile of a mans finger;
of which pieces there concurreth a very infinite company to the making
of these pictures. I never saw any of this kind of picturing before I
came to Venice, nor ever either read or heard of it, of which Saint
Marks Church is full in every wall and roofe. It is said that they
imitate the Grecians in these Mosaical workes.... At the west end of
the Church in the walke which is without the body, are three more of
those Mosaical round roofes full of those pictures or effigies as the
other within the Church, and another square, of a greater height than
the rest, wherein is painted the Crosse of Christ ... foure Angels
by the sides of it: And a little way farther two companies of Angels
more, one on the right hand of the Crosse, and another on the left,
with Lilies in their hands. Againe, in the north side of the Church
wherein is another of those walkes without the body, are three more of
those Mosaical vaulted roofes full of pictures, which doe make up the
full number. Most of these pictures have either names, which expresse
the same, or Latin Poesies in verse, or both made by them.... I saw
in the body of the Church a very rich stone called an Agat, about
two foote long, and as broad as the palme of a mans hand, which is
valued at tenne thousand duckats at the least. This is on the right
hand of the Church as you goe into the Quire from the West gate. The
corners whereof I saw broken; which I heard happened by this meanes.
A certaine Jew hid himselfe all night in a corner of this Church, and
when all the gates were locked, he tried to pul up the stone with
pinsers and some other instruments; but he failed in his enterprise,
because the stone was so fast soldered into the ground that he could
not with his cunning pull it up; being apprehended in the Church the
next morning before he could make an evasion, he was presently hanged
for his labour in St. Markes place....
The high Altar is very faire, but especially that inestimable rich
table heretofore brought from Constantinople, which is above the
Altar: that table is never shewed but onely upon some speciall feast
day, being most commonly covered by certaine devices that they have,
and another meaner table standeth usually upon it. This table is the
fairest that ever I saw, which indeed I saw but once onely, upon the
feast of our Ladies assumption, which was the fifth day of August: it
is marvellous richly wrought in gold, and silver, with many curious
little images, such as we call in Latin imagunculæ or icunculæ. And the
upper part of it most sumptuously adorned with abundance of pretious
stones of great value that doe exceedingly beautifie the worke. I think
it is worth at least ten thousand pounds. Over this Altar is a most
beautiful concamerated roofe of rich Ophiticall marble, and supported
with foure passing faire pillars at the corners made of Parian marble,
wherein are very artifically represented many histories of the old and
new Testament. In this Quire I saw two and twenty goodly Candlestickes,
hanged up with chains, the fairest that ever I saw. At both sides of
it are two exceeding faire payre of Organes, whose pipes are silver,
especially those on the left hand as you come in from the body of the
Church, having the brasen winged Lyon of S. Mark on the top, and the
images of two Angels at the sides.... The last notable thing that is
in the Church ... is the treasure of Saint Marke, kept in a certaine
Chappell in the south side of the Church neere to the stately porch
of the Dukes Palace. But here methinks I use the figure _hysteron
proteron_, in that I conclude my tract of St. Markes Church with that
which was worthiest to be spoken of at the beginning. For this treasure
is of that inestimable value, that it is thought no treasure whatsoever
in any one place of Christendome may compare with it.... Here they
say is kept marveilous abundance of rich stones of exceeding worth,
as Diamonds, Carbuncles, Emerauds, Chrysolites, Jacinths, and great
pearles of admirable value: also three Unicorns hornes; an exceeding
great Carbuncle which was bestowed upon the Senate by the Cardinall
Grimannus, and a certaine Pitcher adorned with great variety of
pretious stones, which Usumcassanes King of Persia bestowed upon the
Signiory, with many other things of wonderful value.
THOMAS CORYAT (1611).
THE GLORY OF ST. MARK’S