ARCHITECTURE AND ART
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Venice is the finest city in the world. What could we wish for better than its Moorish architecture in white marble in the midst of the limpid waters, and under a sky truly magnificent; its people so gay, so heedless, so witty, and fond of its music; its gondolas, churches, and picture galleries; those good-looking and elegant women; the murmurs of the sea breaking upon the ear; the moonlights nowhere else to be seen; choruses of gondoliers, sometimes very correct, serenading under every window; cafés full of Turks and Armenians; fine and spacious theatres where you can hear Pasta and Donzelli; gorgeous palaces; a Punch and Judy show far above that of Gustave Malus; delicious oysters, which you can gather on the steps of every house; Cyprian wine at twenty-five sous a bottle; flowers in the heart of winter, and, in the month of February, a heat as great as that of our month of May?
GEORGE SAND.
Tintoretto, to be rightly understood, must be sought all over Venice—in the church as well as the Scuola di San Rocco; in the ‘Temptation of St. Anthony’ at St. Trovaso no less than in the Temptations of Eve and Christ; in the decorative pomp of the Scala del Senato, and in the Paradisal vision of the Scala del Gran Consiglio. Yet, after all, there is one of his most characteristic moods, to appreciate which fully we return to the Madonna dell’ Orto. I have called him ‘the painter of impossibilities.’ At rare moments he rendered them possible by sheer imaginative force.
JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS.
THE BIRTH OF VENETIAN ART
Venice ... rose from a lowly and troublous origin to heights of dazzling grandeur. When the barbarians of the North began their incursions and devastations into Italy in the fifth century, the inhabitants of that part of the Peninsula which was called Venetia fled from the peril to the islands rising in the lagoons of the Adriatic, where they found peace, safety, and liberty.... The inhospitable nature of their new home provided the refugees with but two elements only—and those the most indeterminate and universal—sky and sea. All the rest, all that we see to-day, has been artificially formed by the hand of man, who excluded vegetation, animals, every semblance of living things, and created for himself a world of stone, a landscape of architecture, and perspective. He has willed that this shall of itself be beautiful, not from any assistance from Nature, but by force of art and riches; not a collection of monuments, but one single monument in itself, and that so sublime and lasting as to admit of no comparison. The marvel which here strikes the spectator has no other example, for Venice is altogether the work of human art. An art, too, which is both poetry and history, and when we think of the history of those Venetians who became lords of a mighty commerce and conquerors of provinces, we see, as by an invincible law spreading out before our imagination, the marble mansions around the Piazza and along the Grand Canal; we see through the streets of the city a people proud of the wisdom of their statesmen and of the creations of their painters; we think of the golden Basilica, of the Palace of the Doges; we evoke the shapes of Titian, of Paolo Veronese, of Tintoretto.... The art of painting arose in Italy in the Trecento. This art, of slower growth than either architecture or sculpture in Venice, only flourished there well on in the fifteenth century. It must not, however, be concluded from this that painting was unknown in the early days of Venetian life, for leaving aside the question as to whether the first mosaicists were Byzantines or Venetians, it is certain that the art of colours was displayed with admirable feeling in the mosaics of St. Mark’s. In the Basilica, which lifts itself to heaven like a sublime hymn and blends in divine fulness Greek harmony with Eastern splendour, may be found the school of Venetian painters, the source of their inspiration, the golden book wherein is entered the pedigree of Venetian art. The colours sparkle, flash, and throw lightning gleams on to that building bright with matchless beauty. Mind and eye are alike filled with amazement and admiration at the sight of the many-hued marbles, the mosaics, and the gold flung round in regal profusion. Thus, in this atmosphere of light, like a serene flower, Venetian painting arose, warm and vivid in colour even when cold and lifeless in expression.
POMPEO MOLMENTI.
Translated by Alethea Wiel.
A VENETIAN PASTORAL
BY GIORGIONE[4]
Water, for anguish of the solstice,—yea, Over the vessel’s mouth still widening, Listlessly dipt to let the water in With slow, vague gurgle. Blue, and deep away, The heat lies silent at the brink of day. Now the hand trails upon the viol-string That sobs; and the brown faces cease to sing, Mournful with complete pleasure. Her eyes stray In distance; through her lips the pipe doth creep And leaves them pouting; the green shadowed grass Is cool against her naked flesh. Let be: Do not now speak unto her lest she weep, Nor name this ever. Be it as it was: Silence of heat, and solemn poetry. DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.
GIORGIONE’S HOME
Born half-way between the mountains and the sea—that young George of Castelfranco—of the Brave Castle: Stout George they called him, George of Georges, so goodly a boy he was—Giorgione.
Have you ever thought what a world his eyes opened on—fair, searching eyes of youth? What a world of mighty life, from those mountain roots to the shore—of loveliest life, when he went down, yet so young, to the marble city—and became himself as a fiery heart to it?
A city of marble, did I say? Nay, rather a golden city, paved with 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
So we entred St. Marc’s Church, before which stand two brasse pedestals exquisitely cut and figur’d, which beare as many tall masts painted red, on which upon greate festivals they hang flags and streamers. This church is also Gotic; yet for the preciousnese of the materials being of severall rich marbles, aboundance of porphyrie, serpentine, &c. far exceeding any in Rome, St. Peter’s hardly excepted. I much admired the splendid historie of our Saviour, compos’d all of Mosaic over the faciata, below which and over the chiefe gate are four horses cast in coper as big as the life, the same that formerly were transported from Rome by Constantine to Byzantium, and thence by the Venetians hither. They are supported by eight porphyrie columns of very great size and value. Being come into the Church, you see nothing, and tread on nothing, but what is precious. The floore is all inlayed with achats, lazuli’s, calcedons, jaspers, porphyries and other rich marbles, admirable also for the work; the walls sumptuously incrusted and presenting to the imagination the shapes of men, birds, houses, flowers, and a thousand varieties. The roofe is of most excellent Mosaic; but what most persons admire is the new work of the emblematic tree at the other passage out of the Church. In the midst of this rich volto rise five cupolas, the middle very large and susteyn’d by thirty-six marble columns, eight of which are of precious marbles: under these cupolas is the high altar, on which is a reliquarie of severall sorts of jewells, engraven with figures after the Greeke manner, and set together with plates of pure gold. The altar is cover’d with a canopy of ophit, on which is sculptur’d the storie of the Bible and so on the pillars, which are of Parian marble that support it. Behind these are four other columns of transparent and true Oriental alabaster, brought hither out of the mines of Solomon’s Temple as they report. There are many chapells and notable monuments of illustrious persons, Dukes, Cardinals, &c. as Zeno, Jo. Soranzi, and others: there is likewise a vast baptisterie of coper.... In one of the corners lies the body of St. Isidore, brought hither five hundred years since from the island of Chios.... Going out of the Church they shew’d us the stone where Alexander III. trod on the neck of the Emperor Fred. Barbarossa, pronouncing the verse of the psalm, ‘Super basiliscum,’ &c. The dores of the Church are of massie coper. There are neare five hundred pillars in this building, most of them porphyrie and serpentine, and brought chiefly from Athens and other parts of Greece formerly in their power. At the corner of the Church are inserted into the maine wall foure figures as big as life cut in porphyrie, which they say are the images of four brothers who poysoned one another, by which means there escheated to the Republiq that vast treasury of relicques now belonging to the Church. At the other entrance that looks towards the sea, stands in a small chapell that statue of our Lady, made (as they affirme) of the same stone or rock out of which Moses brought water to the murmuring Israelites at Meriba.... The next day, by favour of the French Ambassador, I had admittance with him to see the Reliquary call’d here Tresoro di San Marco, which very few even of travellers are admitted to see. It is a large chamber full of presses. There are twelve breast-plates, or pieces of pure golden armour studded with precious stones, and as many crownes dedicated to St. Mark by so many noble Venetians who had recovered their wives taken at sea by the Saracens; many curious vases of achats; the cap or cornet of the Dukes of Venice, one of which had a rubie set on it esteemed worth 200,000 crowns; two unicorn hornes; numerous vases and dishes of achat set thick with precious stones and vast pearles, [and] divers heads of Saints inchas’d in gold.
JOHN EVELYN.
THE LEGEND OF ST. MARK
On the 25th of February, 1340, there fell out a wonderful thing in this land; for during three days the waters rose continually, and in the night there was fearful rain and tempest, such as had never been heard of. So great was the storm that the waters rose three cubits higher than had ever been known in Venice; and an old fisherman being in his little boat in the canal of St. Mark, reached with difficulty the Riva di San Marco, and there he fastened his boat, and waited the ceasing of the storm. And it is related that, at the time this storm was at its highest, there came an unknown man, and besought him that he would row him over to San Giorgio Maggiore, promising to pay him well; and the fisherman replied, ‘How is it possible to go to San Giorgio? We shall sink by the way!’ but the man only besought him the more that he should set forth. So, seeing that it was the will of God, he arose and rowed over to San Giorgio Maggiore; and the man landed there and desired the boatman to wait. In a short time he returned with a young man; and they said, ‘Now row towards San Niccolò di Lido.’ And the fisherman said, ‘How can one possibly go so far with one oar?’ and they said, ‘Row boldly, for it shall be possible with thee, and thou shalt be well paid.’ And he went; and it appeared to him as if the waters were smooth. Being arrived at San Niccolò di Lido, the two men landed, and returned with a third, and having entered into the boat, they commanded the fisherman that he should row beyond the two castles. And the tempest raged continually. Being come to the open sea, they beheld approaching, with such terrific speed that it appeared to fly over the waters, an enormous galley full of demons (as it is written in the Chronicles, and Marco Sabellino also makes mention of this miracle): the said barque approached the castles to overwhelm Venice and to destroy it utterly. Anon the sea, which had hitherto been tumultuous, became calm; and these three men, having made the sign of the cross, exorcised the demons, and commanded them to depart, and immediately the galley or the ship vanished. Then these three men commanded the fisherman to land them, the one at San Niccolò di Lido, the other at San Giorgio Maggiore, and the third at San Marco. And when he had landed the third, the fisherman, notwithstanding the miracle he had witnessed, desired that he would pay him, and he replied, ‘Thou art right; go now to the Doge and to the Procuratore of St. Mark, and tell him what thou hast seen, for Venice would have been overwhelmed had it not been for us three. I am St. Mark the Evangelist, the protector of this city; the other is the brave knight St. George, and he whom thou didst take up at the Lido is the holy Bishop St. Nicholas. Say to the Doge and to the Procuratore that they are to pay thee, and tell them likewise that this tempest rose because of a certain schoolmaster dwelling at San Felice, who did sell his soul to the devil, and afterwards hanged himself.’ And the fisherman replied, ‘If I should tell them this, they would not believe me!’ Then St. Mark took off a ring which was worth five ducats, and he said, ‘Show them this, and tell them when they look in the sanctuary they will not find it,’ and thereupon he disappeared. The next morning, the fisherman presented himself before the Doge, and related all he had seen the night before, and showed him the ring for a sign. And the Procuratore having sent for the ring, and sought it in the usual place, found it not; by reason of which miracle the fisherman was paid, and a solemn procession was ordained, giving thanks to God, and to the relics of the three holy saints who rest in our land, and who delivered us from this great danger. The ring was given to Signor Marco Lordano and to Signor Andrea Dandolo, the Procuratore, who placed it in the sanctuary; and, moreover, a perpetual provision was made for the aged fisherman.
MRS. JAMESON.
ST. GEORGE OF THE GREEKS
This Church of St. George of the Greeks is one of Venice’s most wonderful places. One has the impression of a sanctuary which is at the same time a treasure-house; gold everywhere—furniture, eikons, lamps, embroideries—not gilding, but real, heavy gold. The vestments are stiff with it. The bearded golden priest goes backwards and forwards, the gold-embroidered curtains opening and shutting for him, revealing and hiding a number of tapers and incense and shining encrusted walls; while the acolytes, in slender folded linen smocks, with gold stoles crossed over their backs, kneel before the rood-screen. There is a sense of the departed splendours of Judaism, of a Solomon’s Temple behind those half-drawn curtains; and every time that pope came forth a name rose up in my mind—Melchizedek, he who was a priest and also a king. After that service at St. George’s of the Greeks, we walked home through St. Mark’s, entering it by the sacristy. The hot air, smoke of incense and dust, the shuffle of human beings and snuffling of priests caught one by the throat after that fair empty splendour of the Greek church. Caught me at least, subduing, crushing, perhaps rumpling my imagination and feelings, but making them humaner. There is, in this magnificence, a share of shabbiness; in this venerable place the sense of the deciduous, the perishable, which, in a way, is also a sense of the eternal. There is room, in St. Mark’s solemnity, for such as that consumptive girl who made head garlands for cemeteries. And St. Mark’s is the greater for her poor presence.
VERNON LEE.