We have elsewhere spoken of the custom of conducting the wife of the Doge to be seated on the throne beside him soon after his own investiture with the insignia of his office; and as the luxury and pageantry of Venetian life increased, naturally the first lady of the Republic acquired more importance and greater privileges. At length, in 1595, the wife of the Doge, Marino Grimani, who was herself of the Morosini family, was conducted from her home to San Marco in a style that aroused all the jealousy of the Seigniory. She was dressed in cloth of gold, and wore a gold crown. The Bucentaur brought her to the Piazza, and strains of martial music there welcomed her, as well as salvos of artillery. In the palace she occupied a throne, and was attended by noble ladies in regal state. The festivities in which she played a prominent part were extended unusually, and the Pope sent her the golden rose, which is presented only to sovereign princes.
This was more than the jealous Senators could endure. It was also noticed that this ambitious lady wore a closed or arched crown,—a privilege denied to all but such reigning princes as acknowledged no superior. It was now thought to be high time to limit the state and assumption of these ladies; and the Senate published a decree ordering the golden rose to be taken from the Dogaressa and deposited in the treasury of St. Mark, and good care was afterwards taken that no other Dogaressa should be crowned at all.
CATERINA CORNARO, QUEEN OF CYPRUS.
This beautiful woman was born on St. Catherine's Day, in 1454, in one of the distinguished Venetian families. Her mother was the granddaughter of the Emperor of Trebizond, and her father of most noble descent.
James Lusignan, whom, as king of Cyprus, Caterina was afterwards to wed, had been driven from his home by the intrigues of the second wife of his father, Elena Paleologus, who, in order that her daughter might come to the throne, had secured James's appointment as Archbishop of Nicosia, where he lived a gay life, little suited to the office he held.
Many Venetian merchants frequented Nicosia; and there Andrea Cornaro, uncle of Caterina, became the intimate friend of the youthful archbishop. Happily for James, Queen Elena died before his father, who at once recalled his son to his side with the intention of securing the succession to him. But death claimed the old king before the proper steps had been taken; and Charlotte, the daughter of Elena, was proclaimed queen. James took the oath of allegiance, and was about to leave the island, when he was detained and confined in prison, and an attempt made to poison him.
But thanks to his friends and the Cypriotes, who preferred a king to a queen, he escaped and reached his bishopric, fully determined to dethrone his sister if possible. Genoa had favored Charlotte; and Andrea Cornaro was confident that on this account, if for no other reason, Venice would aid James to gain his rights,—such was the enmity between the two republics. Queen Charlotte was greatly alarmed by the escape of James. She knew not what to fear from his intrigues, and she was fully conscious of her unpopularity in Cyprus. She wasbetrothed to Louis, son of the Duke of Savoy, who had been selected by Queen Elena on account of the feebleness of his character, for the desire to rule absolutely was so powerful with her that she wished for no energetic son-in-law; and little as she could rely on him, Charlotte begged him to hasten to her assistance. Louis passed through Venice, and reached Cyprus before James had time to perfect a plan of action.
At Nicosia James felt himself to be in danger, and determined to fly; and as the Sultan was the titular ruler of Cyprus, James put himself under his superior at Alexandria. The beauty and charming manner of the young king of Cyprus, together with his sex,—a strong argument in his favor to the Oriental mind,—so influenced the Sultan that in the midst of his Mamelukes, in the great hall of the palace, he adopted James as his son, ordered him to be robed and crowned, and declared him King of Cyprus. It has been said, and repeated by a few chroniclers, that James signed a recantation of the Christian faith, and thus succeeded in his plans. Indeed, a document of this nature was sent to Pius II.; but it is believed by good authorities that this paper was a forgery perpetrated by the knights of Rhodes, who were greatly in favor of Queen Charlotte.
Be this as it may, James was twenty-two years old when the Sultan gave him ships and Mamelukes with which to conquer Cyprus. Very shortly he was master of the kingdom. Little resistance was made, and that was of a feeble sort. Louis returned to his father's court; and Charlotte went first to Rhodes, and then to Rome, to implore the aid of the Pontiff against her infidel brother and his allies. James now saw that his enemies—the Genoese, the Duke of Savoy, and the Pope—were far too powerful for him to struggle against them without aid, and the only bribe with which he could repay an ally washis kingdom. Marriage was his one means of salvation, and Cyprus was a dowry that could not fail to be acceptable. Several powers hinted at their readiness to form such an alliance with him; but Andrea Cornaro boldly asserted that Venice only could maintain his power, and proposed his niece, Caterina, as his wife.
It is said that by chance James had seen a miniature of Caterina, and had fallen in love with the sweet girl it represented; but the uncle skilfully pretended that the original of the picture was quite out of the reach of the king, and aroused him to a frenzy of passion. Then he told the truth,—that Caterina was his niece, and could only be won as Queen of Cyprus. At once James sent an embassy to demand her hand in marriage.
The Senate accepted in the name of Venice; and that Caterina might be the equal of her husband, they promised a dowry of a hundred thousand ducats, and to adopt her as a daughter of the Republic. The contract was signed by the Doge and by the ambassador of James, in 1468; and the Hall of the Great Council was the scene of the betrothal. The bride was conducted from the Palazzo Cornaro to the Ducal Palace by forty ladies of quality. She was received by the Doge and Senate and other officials. Mastachelli, as the representative of his master, placed a consecrated ring on her finger. The Doge gave her away to James Lusignan, and then with royal ceremony she was re-conducted to her father's house.
Thus far all was well; but, alas! some difficulties arose in the negotiations between her parent, Venice, and her husband, Cyprus. Four weary years rolled on, and still Caterina remained in Venice. She was treated as a queen, but she must many times have doubted if this pretence would become a reality.
Ferdinand of Naples was using every means in his power to persuade James to refuse Caterina and marryhis daughter. James quarrelled with Andrea Cornaro; and finally Venice sent an ambassador to Cyprus to declare plainly that a rupture of the marriage contract would be revenged by the guardian of the queen, but that its fulfilment would assure the protection of Cyprus by the Republic. In 1471 James sent his representatives to bring Caterina to him.
A most impressive ceremony now took place in San Marco, where, before the high altar, she was made a child of Venice. No longer was she a Cornaro, but Caterina Veneta Lusignan. The whole city rejoiced greatly; and one chronicler says: "It seemed to each and all that the Seigniory had won a kingdom, as by God's good grace did actually happen."
Early in 1472 the Bucentaur lay before the Palazzo Cornaro, in waiting for the Queen of Jerusalem, Cyprus, and Armenia. In cloth of gold, and all regal attire, she stood in the doorway of her father's house. The Doge himself led her into the galley, and seated himself at her side. Slowly and majestically the splendid barge moved through the Grand Canal, followed by the prayers and good wishes of thousands of her countrymen, and, it cannot be doubted, by the envy of many of her own sex. At the Lido the admiral of the Cypriote fleet waited with his ships to take his young and beautiful queen to his sovereign.
She was now eighteen years old; and Titian's portrait of her shows a slight, graceful, beautiful girl with a happy face. Her robe is of purple velvet. She wears a crown and veil, and holds a flower in her hand. Why should she not have been happy? Fortunately she had no prophetic vision. She was protected as few young queens had ever been, being the daughter of Venice. The splendor and pomp which had replaced the dead level of monotony in her home must have been intoxicating toher. She had listened with joy and pride to the accounts of her husband's bravery and beauty. She knew that he had preferred her before others, and she did not pay herself so poor a compliment as to doubt her ability to retain and strengthen his love. How beautiful her dreams as she sailed to Cyprus! and we have reason to believe that they were realized for one brief year. And then James died, leaving Caterina about to be a mother, with enemies on every hand.
By his will James bequeathed the kingdom to her and to her child. Her advisers were named by him, and her uncle was of the number; but there were six others, little likely to favor her, since that meant to favor Venice, of which the Cypriotes were jealous. Again Ferdinand of Naples aspired to the throne, and Caterina was by no means ignorant that her parent, the Republic, would not hesitate to take her kingdom from her; but just at that time the Turk was demanding the attention of the Seigniory, and while Venice was not ready to occupy Cyprus, no other power would be permitted to molest the young queen. Meantime Charlotte was enforcing her claim to the throne, but had no support powerful enough to contend with the Venetians.
Things were in this condition when Caterina gave birth to a son, in August, 1473. The Admiral, Mocenigo, and twoprovveditoriof the fleet stood sponsors at the baptism of this grandson of Venice; and by the will of his father his birth should have settled the succession, and brought peace to Cyprus. But Ferdinand had laid deep plots, and had induced the Archbishop of Nicosia to act as his tool; and no sooner had the Venetian fleet left Cyprus than a revolt occurred, and the city of Famagosta, where Caterina was lying ill, was seized by the archbishop, and three of the commissioners, who had been named by James in his will as the protectors of his wife.
There was a terrible scene in the chamber of the queen, whither her physician had fled for safety. He was pursued, and absolutely slain in Caterina's arms. Her uncle, who had done so much for her, and her cousin, Marco Bembo, were killed, and their bodies thrown into the castle moat, within sight of the windows of Caterina's chamber; and so terrified was she that she dared not have them removed until they had been half devoured by dogs. The baby James was taken away, and Caterina was held a close prisoner. Alfonso of Naples had been married to Zaila, an illegitimate daughter of James Lusignan, and had been proclaimed King of Cyprus. A letter was sent to the Venetian Senate attributing the murder of Cornaro and Bembo to a private quarrel with soldiers whom they had not paid; but the Venetian consul sent a true statement of all that had been done to the Seigniory, and Mocenigo was at once despatched to Cyprus with orders to secure the safety of Caterina and her child at any cost.
Mocenigo had already been alarmed, and before receiving these orders had sent hisprovveditor, Soranzo, to do what he could, promising to follow speedily. Soranzo found the conspirators quarrelling with each other, while the Cypriotes of Nicosia and Famagosta were in revolt, and demanding the liberation of the queen. When Mocenigo arrived, the chief conspirators fled. He took possession of the forts in the name of Venice, and left them in the keeping of men devoted to the Republic. Many of the revolutionists were executed, and everything possible was done to impress upon the inhabitants the fact that Caterina and her kingdom would be protected by the strong arm of Venice, against which Cyprus was powerless in its present unsettled condition.
Caterina presented to Mocenigo a golden shield emblazoned with the arms of Lusignan. Apparent quiet reigned, and the admiral sailed away. Venice had nowobtained a right to a share in the government of Cyprus, which she carefully followed up by appointing aprovveditorand two councillors to reside permanently at Cyprus to aid the queen in her government.
A few months of comparative peace came at last to the young mother, and we can picture her joy at the restoration of her baby and her delight in watching his budding affection for her. But it would seem that evil fortune had selected Caterina for its victim, and that she was fated to drain the cup of sorrow and bitterness. When a year old, the little James died. The queen wrote to the Senate of her sorrow; and her father, Marco Cornaro, was sent out to comfort his daughter, and bear to her the sympathy and condolences of the Republic. He was also empowered to act with Soranzo, as the agent of Venice, should any fresh revolution occur.
Charlotte Lusignan was a determined woman, full of resources, brave to a fault, and as ambitious as brave. When the infant king died, Charlotte was at the court of the Sultan. Many nobles of Cyprus declared themselves in her favor, she being the last true Lusignan. Caterina had allowed the annual tribute to the Sultan to fall into arrears. This Charlotte promised to pay if the Sultan would help to establish her as Queen of Cyprus. But by the advice and aid of Venice Caterina paid the full tribute, and explained that her tardiness had been due to the ravages of the locusts. By reason of this and other diplomatic acts, all arranged at Venice, the Sultan preferred Caterina to Charlotte, and the latter was dismissed from his court. She then turned to Milan, Genoa, Savoy, and Rome for assistance; and a plan for a descent on Cyprus was far advanced when a letter of Charlotte's was intercepted and sent to Venice.
The Republic immediately ordered their admiral, Antonio Loredano, to garrison Cyprus completely; toarrest Maria Patras, the mother of the late king, and three illegitimate children of the same sovereign, and send them to Venice. One of these was that Zarla whose marriage with Alfonso had not been completed. By this means Venice held in her hand all possible claimants to the throne of Cyprus, save Charlotte. But Alfonso would not abandon his betrothed wife, and with his father's assistance he very nearly succeeded in carrying her away from Venice, whereupon she was sent to Padua, where she soon after died from the plague, as it was said. Ferdinand was still determined to acquire Cyprus, and in spite of all discouragements sent Alfonso to the court of the Sultan to claim the crown of the much disputed island. Again Caterina paid her tribute, but demanded in return a formal deed of investiture. This was sent her, and Alfonso relinquished his pursuit of a kingdom, and was more than content with the pleasures of life in Alexandria.
Caterina seemed now to be free from all her rivals; but she owed everything to Venice, and her adopted parent did not forget to watch over her constantly. Her income was limited, and so carefully was she guarded that the Doge himself wrote that she ought to move about more freely, and ordered that her table should be generously provided. But this sort of care was necessary to keep her alive until the Republic was ready to assume full possession of Cyprus, and even now she had but a semblance of peace. Speaking of this time in her life, Brown says:—
"The citizens, the people of Cerines, Famagosta, Nicosia, were faithful to her; they loved their queen. But all through the island the great nobles were her enemies, and drew with them their peasants. They were profoundly jealous of Venetian rule; they saw the weakness of the queen; some of them coveted the throne for themselves. Caterina was compelled to live inconstant dread of revolution, murder, or dethronement, shut within the walls of one or other of her faithful towns. Conspiracy after conspiracy was discovered,—some directed against her life, others against her liberty. At each new outbreak she could see the frown gathering upon her parent's brow. The dread of Venice was always before her eyes. Yet she was absolutely helpless; never was queen more so, caught between rebellious subjects whom she could not rule, and a cold, uncompromising guardian who desired her kingdom."
For ten years this life went on; Venice constantly sending officials, whom the Cypriotes hated and regarded as spies. Caterina's personal dangers were increased with each new move on the part of Venice, and in no account that I can find is there mention of any friendly woman who was beside her to lighten her burdens or cheer these sad, disastrous years. At length the time arrived when Venice, having freed itself from more pressing engagements, only awaited a pretext to assume full authority over Cyprus; and this pretext was given by the last man in the world who would willingly have aided the Republic,—Alfonso of Naples.
In 1488 Alfonso encountered an old conspirator, Marin Rizzo, who persuaded Alfonso to sue for the hand of Caterina, and obtaining that to rely on his father to seat him on the throne. Rizzo sailed for Cyprus in a French boat, taking with him Tristan Giblet, whose sister was a maid of Caterina. These two landed at Fountain Amorous, and ordered the captain of their boat to cruise off the coast until he should see a fire-signal on the head-land at night. But when Rizzo thought to outwit the Venetians, he made a grave mistake. His whole plan was known to the admiral, Priuli, who seized the French captain, manned the galley with his own men, answered the signal, took Rizzo and Giblet on board, and sent them to Venice. Giblet poisoned himself, and Rizzo was kept aprisoner for a time because he claimed to be an agent of the Sultan; but at last he was strangled by order of the Ten.
Venice now instructed Priuli to bring Caterina to her old home,—willingly, if possible, but unwillingly if he must. "We fully authorize you to bow her to our will, with or without her consent." So ran his order, but he was also recommended to be gentle as well as firm. The queen's brother, Giorgio Cornaro, was sent with Priuli to assist in persuading Caterina to resign; and however her resignation might be obtained, Priuli was instructed to declare everywhere that she left Cyprus of her own choice. Theirs was no easy task. Caterina clung to her make-believe royalty, and answered every argument with the question, "Is it not enough that Venice shall inherit when I am gone?" But no entreaties, arguments, or tears availed; and at last, worn out by contention, she yielded. She was promised a queenly reception at Venice, a large income, and the state of a royal personage during her life. Again we quote from Brown:—
"In the piazza of Famagosta and of Nicosia solemnTe Deumswere sung, and the banner of St. Mark was blessed and unfurled, while the queen looked on from a baldachino. She saw her cities taken from her one by one, the cities that had always been her own. No point in all the long ceremony of unrobing was spared her; in every town and village the same cruel pageant was performed. She entered each one as a queen and left it discrowned. Venice was determined that all the world should see how willing had been her abdication. But the people flocked about her on her mournful progress with tears and blessings,—tears for their liberty lost with their queen. At last, early In 1489, it was finished. Caterina and her brother sailed for Venice, and Cyprus became a part of the Venetian kingdom."
It was on a lovely day in early June when Caterina reached the Lido, and landed under a gold and crimsonawning, whence she was conducted to San Niccolo to await the ceremonies of the next day. The Doge, with a train of noble ladies, came to conduct her in state to the then Palazzo Ferrara (later Fondaco dei Turchi, and now Municipal Museum), a residence which the city had prepared for its daughter. As the Bucentaur, bearing his Serenity and the ladies, neared the Lido, a great wind became so alarming that the queen's embarking was delayed. At length, the sea having subsided, Caterina was brought on board in the costume which Bellini painted in "The Miracle of the Cross," where she kneels, dressed in black velvet, with a veil and jewels in the fashion of Cyprus. The Bucentaur, with a procession of boats following, moved up the Grand Canal. When opposite the Cornaro Palace, the Doge knighted Giorgio Cornaro, in recognition of his services in persuading Caterina to resign her crown.
The three days following were devoted to banquets and ceremonials in the Palazzo Ferrara, when all possible honor was showered on Caterina, and her pride and vanity satisfied to the full. But one more sacrifice was needed to content her tender parent, Venice. In San Marco, before the same altar where nineteen years earlier she had been made the child of the Republic, she was obliged to go through a long and solemn office of abdication. She was then given the castle of Asolo for life; and until it could be made ready to receive her she was lodged in the palace on the Grand Canal, which was afterwards called the Palazzo Corner del la Regina, in her honor. It is now the Montè di Pietà.
It was at the most favored season when Caterina made the journey to Asolo. She was met by olive-crowned peasants, who came to welcome their lady, bearing garlands and flowers in their hands. They held a gorgeous canopy above her, as they led her to the Piazza, where an orator showered compliments, apostrophies, and hyperbole upon her in this fashion:—
"Oh, happy land of Asolo! and oh, most happy flock that now hast found so just and sweet a shepherdess! Oh, ship thrice fortunate, whose tiller lies in such a skilful hand! Ye then, ye laurel boughs, the victor's meed, endure the sharp tooth of our knife that carves on you the name of Caterina. Sing, birds, unwonted strains to grace the name, the glorious name, Cornelia!"
One can scarcely imagine a more charming spot than the site of the castle of Asolo. Encircled by the Alps, the plains of the Brenta and the Piave spread out before it. The group of Euganean Hills rises proudly in the distance. Under a clear moon the silver threads of the rivers may be followed to the sea; and in the rich, distant, level country Vicenza and Padua lift their towers, while far away to the sun-rising lies Venice, its many spires clear cut against the blue sky and the blue Adriatic; and to the north the snow-capped Rhœtian Alps stand forth as if to guard all the land they overlook.
In contrast to all this expanse and grandeur is the little town of Asolo, just beneath the castle at the foot of the hill on which it stands. It is a walled town, with genuine mediæval turrets and some quaint house-façades, and in Caterina's day was inhabited by a people glad to be protected with gentleness and ruled by one who cared for their gratitude and love. To them Caterina gave good laws. She brought grain from Cyprus, and gave it to them. She appointed a judge to hear their causes, and established a pawnbroker's bank for those who needed it. Her little court included but twelve maids of honor. She had eighty serving-men besides her dwarf jester, and a favorite negress who cared for her parrots. She had her hounds, apes, and peacocks, and, we are glad to know, she had a generous income.
Here she lived during twenty years, and we doubt not that her title of Lady of Asolo came to be very sweet toher. Certainly she bore it with more peace than ever she had known as a queen. Here the outside pleasures were rambles in gardens and woods, the harvestfesta, and the May Day gayety with her people; and within her castle she had the lutes and songs at eventide, and at all hours the never-ending speculations on platonic love and other sleep-begetting subjects.
Pietro Bembo, when twenty-eight years old, as full of life and keen of intellect as handsome in person, came one fine September day to Asolo. He had been at the court of Lucrezia Borgia, at Ferrara. Imagine the contrast between these two beautiful women, and their lives. It was the wedding of Floriano di Floriano da Montagnana with one of Caterina's ladies that drew Bembo away from the golden-haired Lucrezia, and many other guests had come from Venice, and from all the neighboring land, glad to escape from the plains to the heights of Asolo.
Bembo describes a day, beginning with the breakfast at noon, in a large hall with aloggiaon either side, breezy and cool in spite of the heat without. Between the pillars of the loggia the spires of the cypress come up from the gardens below, and by their deep, dark green remind one of coolness and shadow as contrasted with the sunny lawns outside. The meal is done; but Caterina gives no signal for rising, and two of her maids move down the hall, and courtesy low before her. One of them strikes her lute and sings a song decrying love; the second answers in the opposite strain; and a third, the favorite of Caterina, to the accompaniment of her viol, sums up the argument on both sides.
Then Caterina and most of her guests retire, to be seen no more until evening, when supper will call them together, and be followed by music and dancing until dawn. But three Venetian couples go to the gardens, the pride of Asolo, the young men in short black cloaksand close-fitting hose of many-colored silks, the ladies in velvet and brocades, with masses of golden hair rolled tightly around cushions. How sorry we are that on this warm day they had no more comfortable apparel! Bembo gives a minute description of the walks, the stream from the living rock that flowed into a basin of stone, and similar objects, and ends by saying that they talked of platonic love through all the afternoon.
The wedding proves that all love was not platonic here, and every fortnight there came the lord of Rimini, Pandolfo Malatesta, a man not well inclined to platonism. Whether he paid his suit to Caterina or to her maid Fiammeta, we know not, but in either case it gave a spice of something human and real to both their lives. Then Caterina's family were always coming and going. They thought to shine by the reflected light of her position, and she was called upon to arrange a marriage for her niece with a prince of Naples. All this was displeasing to Venice. The Cornari had a knight and a cardinal in their family, which seemed quite sufficient to the Senate, and Caterina was warned to make no attempts to confer greater benefits. It was also surmised that she did not forget Cyprus, and she was curtly advised to be content with Asolo, and send not her thoughts over sea.
These suspicions were unjust. Caterina loved her home; her castle, her gardens, her court, and her subjects were all dear to her, and she left them but three times during her life there. Once, when the severity of the winter made it possible for men to walk on the ice from Mestre to Venice, she fled to her palace on the Grand Canal. A second time she visited her brother Giorgio at Brescia, where he was podestà. Here she was received as a queen, and entered the city in a chariot drawn by four white horses, escorted by a splendid procession. Pageants of one sort and another were kept up for twelve days. Itwas her last royal reception. Venice was jealous; and for this honor to his sister, Giorgio was recalled and deprived of his position.
The wars of the League of Cambray drove Caterina to Venice to return no more. She died on July 10, 1510, when fifty-six years old. Venice was very poor, but her funeral was as splendid as could be afforded. The Patriarch, the Senate, the Doge, the Archbishop of Spalato, and an immense procession of citizens followed her coffin to the Cornaro chapel in the Church of the Sant' Apostoli on a stormy night when the wind howled and the rain fell in torrents. The queen was dressed in the habit of Saint Francis, with cord and cowl, but on her coffin lay the crown of Cyprus.
The next day a full funeral service was celebrated, and an oration pronounced by Andrea Navagero, a poet and scholar, who had known all her life, and whose writings make one of our authorities concerning this unhappy and gentle queen. Doubtless now that she was dead, and no longer to be feared by those suspicious Senators, he was allowed to speak of all the beauty of person and character of Caterina Cornaro, and to give full expression to the love which she had inspired in Venetians, Cypriotes, and Asolini. In 1660 her coffin was removed to San Salvadore, and placed in a tomb in the right transept of this church.
Few episodes in the history of Venice more clearly show her astuteness, her prescience, and her patient determination than does the story of Caterina Cornaro, by which we see that from the beginning the object of the Senate was to obtain possession of Cyprus. For this cause the little maid of fourteen was made the child of the Republic. Venice had not the faintest claim to Cyprus. If James justly bore the title and authority which Venice recognized as his, his will should have been regarded. The simple truth is that Venice coveted Cyprus, andCaterina was the cat's paw with which she could work her will. Ninety-two years later the Turks robbed her of it, and during this short rule there were endless costs and constant difficulties to be overcome. Historians believe Cyprus to have been an incalculable injury to the Republic. The unbridled luxury and license in the life of the island had its evil effect on Venice, and the early part of the sixteenth century developed there such expensive living as threatened financial ruin,—such license, even in the religious houses, as brought her world-wide disgrace, and such growth in vice, decay of health, and increase of infectious diseases as threatened the extermination of the noble and wealthy classes.
ROSALBA CARRIERA.
Born in 1675, this artist belongs to modern Venice. Her father, Andrea Carriera de Costantino, was chancellor of the little village of Gambarare, on the Brenta; and as his salary was insufficient for the support of his wife and three daughters, Rosalba, the eldest, worked with her mother at making Point de Venise lace. Fortunately for Rosalba's fame, this lace went out of fashion, and she then attempted the painting of miniatures on tobacco boxes, in which art she was instructed by a French painter, Jean Stève, having before had lessons in drawing from a Hungarian, Bencowich. The boxes she painted are now much prized.
Later she studied under Antonio Lazzari, Diamantini, Balestra, and others. She practised painting in oils, but preferred miniature and crayons. Her taste for crayons was cultivated by an English artist, Cole, who excelled in that art. When twenty-four years old, Rosalba had become famous for her miniatures and portraits in crayon. Carlo Maratti and Crespi compared herto Guido Reni, and she was made an Academician at St. Luke in Rome and at the Clementina at Bologna.
We know how, in her time, the royal personages of the whole world loved to visit Venice; and it came to be a part of their pleasure there to have miniatures from Rosalba's hand. In 1709 the King of Denmark sat for his own portrait, and gave her an order for twelve miniatures, to be portraits of some of the loveliest young girls in the city. The Elector Palatine soon after sat for a portrait, and sent her afterwards a golden medallion on a chain, weighing two hundred ounces; and the enamel box containing it was of great value. Augustus III., Elector of Saxony, after he became King of Poland, was one of her benefactors; and her portrait of him in a scarlet dress, with a cross on the breast and a peruke on his head, was much prized by him. The list of her friends and admirers at this period includes many well-known names. John Law, the Scotch financier, Vleughels, who became the director of the French Academy at Rome, and the distinguished author Zanetti were among them; and Pierre Crozat urged her going to Paris, offering her the use of his own hotel.
She was so celebrated at home and abroad that she could not fill her orders, and was aided in her crayon pictures by her sisters, who also painted somewhat. In all the courts of Europe the miniatures of Rosalba were preferred before those of the Florentine Giovanna Fratellini, and she was most happy in her life and in her art, when the death of her father prostrated her with grief. Her sister Angela had married Antonio Pellegrini, and by his persuasion Rosalba consented to go to Paris. Her mother and sister Giovanna were with her; and the three were received into the Hôtel Crozat, on the Rue de Richelieu, where all possible comforts and a carriage were at their disposal. Pellegrini and Angela lodged near by,and for a year Rosalba was in constant association with the best society in Paris. Crozat admired her to enthusiasm. He thought her as fine a musician as painter. He gave concerts, at which she played the violin accompanied by other instruments played by well-known musicians. The guests at these musicales were celebrated artists, authors, and prominent persons, among whom the Regent himself was glad to be numbered. Watteau painted a picture of the principal virtuosos at these concerts. Mariette wrote their names on it in Latin, and with his collection it went to the Louvre. Rosalba's journal, kept while in Paris, is very interesting, and has been published both in Italian and French.
During her stay in Paris, Rosalba painted numerous small pictures, made many drawings, and executed two pictures of Venus for M. Crozat, and an Apollo and Daphne for Claude Audran, besides nearly fifty portraits. Among her subjects were men and women of the highest character and position. Her artistic skill was recognized by the greatest compliment that could be paid her in France. She was elected a member of the Academy of Painting, "no one wishing to cast a black ball," as she wrote in her journal. She was invited there, and presented a portrait of Louis XV. in pastel, which was praised by the director, Antoine Coypel. Her "picture of reception," which was sent from Venice later, is now at the Louvre.
She returned to her little house in Venice a widely celebrated woman, whose praises were sounded in prose and verse. She dwelt in the Quarter Dorsoduro, near the Church of San Vito. Here she received many distinguished visitors. She was invited to various courts of Europe; and until she reached the age of seventy her life was fruitful in work and in triumphs such as could not have failed to make her native city proud of her. Elevenyears before her death she became blind, and from that time she received no strangers, though many desired to see her. To her sister Angela she sent letters, written from her dictation, which spoke all too plainly of the loneliness she would fain have concealed from those who loved her.
By her will she remembered all her relatives, her servants and attendants, and some of her pupils. She gave the bulk of her property to her sister Angela, who was but two years younger than herself. She died when eighty-two years old, and was buried in the little church of her parish beside her sister Giovannina, whose death she had mourned for twenty years.
Pictures by Rosalba Carriera are seen in the Louvre, and in the Academy of Venice and the Church of San Gervasio e Protasio, but the largest collection is at Dresden; and to be perfectly candid, it does seem that the eighteenth-century critics have been more than kind in their praises of her works. If we were writing strictly of art, we could not give her a very exalted rank; but as a Venetian woman who made herself of note in the world in her day and generation, she is most important, and stands quite alone.
Probably no other collection of state papers exists that can compare in interest with the archives of Venice, now preserved in the Convent of the Frari, and most courteously at the disposal of all who seriously wish to study them. It is said that the two hundred and ninety-five rooms in which these archives are disposed contain more than fourteen million documents, the earliest dating from 883. Even so, many Venetian records were doubtless lost in the conflagrations between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, of which we have accounts, for there are some important periods quite blank; and as late as 1797 a mob invaded the Hall of the Council of Ten, and dispersed the papers found there, which would no doubt have been of great value. The knowledge that has been gained from these records and given to the world within a half-century is most important and entertaining, and we are greatly indebted to the numerous scholarly writers who have given us the results of their researches; but there remains much more to be done before the stores of information and entertainment in the archives of the Frari will be exhausted.
It is from them that the true stories of Faliero, Pisani, Carmagnola, Caterina Cornaro, and others have been taken. They tell of all the great ceremonials, even to the minutest details. The letters of royal personages are there preserved. Civil and criminal trials, reports,despatches, and, in short, every imaginable thing that could have happened, been suspected, or whispered in all Venice, seems to be there writ down. To the casual observer, perhaps the most striking feature of these papers is the attention given to matters of minor importance by the government of the Republic. We know that each department was concerned with its special subject, but concerned in such a way that we can almost learn what was eaten in a particular palace on a certain day centuries ago; and the manner in which matters that are regulated by custom or individual fancy in other countries were the subjects of special decrees in Venice, is most surprising.
The papers of the secret chancellery, established in 1402, exceed all others in general interest. The direction of this department pertained to the Council of Ten; and here the story of the growth, splendor, and decline of the Republic can be read with all its complications. In the study of these papers, as they have been given us by patient writers, we are impressed anew with the utter disregard of individual interests and schemes, and the persistent devotion to the good of the Republic, first, last, and always. Venetians formed no syndicates, and profited by no monopolies. Venice was the syndicate, and the monopoly was hers.
Museo Civico; Formerly Palazzo Ferrara, later Fondaco dei Turchi.Museo Civico; Formerly Palazzo Ferrara,later Fondaco dei Turchi.
Private owners of vessels were not allowed to send cargoes to ports to which Venice sent fleets. Vessels were built and fitted out by the State, and put up at auction to be bidden for by the merchants, the voyages all being made according to regulations, and a good share of the profits paid to the State. Private owners were licensed before freighting a ship, and no ship not commanded by a Venetian was permitted to sail from the lagoons. Ships of war guarded the mouths of the rivers, and all foreign vessels were liable to inspection. All kinds of goodscarried in Venetian ships were obliged to be taken to Venice before they could be sent to any other port. Thus it became a great mart for the merchandise of all countries, and we can scarcely imagine the enormous supplies of costly and magnificent Oriental products which filled her storehouses, and were thence distributed all over the western and northern world in exchange for other goods as well as for gold. Her commerce with Nuremberg was important, and there was a weekly post between the two cities in 1505, when Albert Dürer made the journey to Venice.
Her unique position made Venice the chief market for all the East, and her supremacy in the Levant forbade all rivals to attempt competing with her; but if she thus deprived other nations of the privileges of commerce, she protected them from the Turk. She was a bulwark that could neither be ignored nor overthrown. Every branch of commerce was made tributary to her, and her coffers were always full. She expended her wealth at home, encouraging her workers in metals, glass, and mosaics, and the manufactures of silk and wool, as well as in cherishing the fine arts and improving the city.
From the beginning of the thirteenth century so great a number of merchants periodically visited Venice that no sufficient provision could be made for them in the public houses, and the question as to how and where they could live was solved by the establishment of the Fondachi, where they were lodged, free of cost, after reporting to the proper magistrate, and showing their purpose in coming to Venice. Warehouses were attached to the Fondachi, supplied with weighers and keepers to attend to the storing and care of merchandise.
The Germans, Armenians, Moors, and Turks, all had these Fondachi, as well as the Tuscans and other Italians. A superb palace on the Grand Canal, which has beenrestored, and is now the Museo Civico, was given to the Turks. It is nearly as old as the Ducal Palace, and very remarkable. But as the Turks were infidels, the windows were walled up, the rooms thus being lighted only from the court. A Catholic warder closed the doors at sunset. No women or children were allowed to enter, and no Ottoman was permitted to lodge elsewhere. Greeks and Syrians were allowed the utmost freedom in all parts of the city.
The Jews were not liked, and many regulations were made for them. At times they were excluded from Venice, but their aptitude in all matters of trade made them almost a necessity. Indeed, they had the monopoly of money changing, and the Senate found that they must be at hand. Many regulations were made as to where they should live, concerning certain badges they must wear, forbidding them to own houses or lands, to enter any profession save that of medicine, to open their doors between sunset and sunrise, or to go out at all on holidays. They were not permitted to have a synagogue, and a burial-place was given them grudgingly.
So fully did the rulers of Venice appreciate the importance and dignity of her commerce that they permitted the Fondachi to be splendidly decorated, and by the best artists. Nothing can give a better idea of the wealth and luxury of the Venetian merchants than the following extract from Mutinelli:—
"When the news of the victory of Lepanto reached Venice, the Germans were the first who wished to celebrate it by a splendid illumination in their Fondaco on the Rialto. All the other merchants followed this example; and those who most distinguished themselves were the jewellers, the Tuscans, and the mercers. The well-known portico of the Rialto, where the drapers' shops are, was hung with turquoise-blue fabrics, spangled with gold and lined with scarlet. Each shop had itsdecoration; there were panoplies of Oriental arms taken from the Turks, and in the midst of these trophies were to be seen pictures by Giovanni Bellini, Giorgione, Sebastian del Piombo, Titian, and Pordenone. At the entrance of the bridge an arch was raised on which the arms of the allied powers were represented quartered on the same scutcheon. Banners and festoons hung from every arch and every window; torches and silver candelabra placed on every projection illuminated the streets, and turned the night into a bright and splendid day."
And in a manuscript in the library of St. Mark is written:—
"Thursday was the festival of the Doge, Thomas Mocenigo; great stands were raised in tiers on St. Mark's Place for the women. The goldsmiths placed two silver helmets in the midst, with their enamelled plumes, which cost a hundred ducats apiece. Then came a procession of three hundred and fifty goldsmiths, dressed in scarlet and mounted on richly caparisoned horses (each harness costing three ducats) preceded by trumpeters and musicians, who marched round the Piazza in regular order. Then followed the companies of the Marquis of Ferrara and of the Lord of Mantua, the first composed of two hundred and sixty horsemen; it was a great consolation to behold so many coursers, so many devices and ornaments and flags and streamers. The tournament lasted from seventeen o'clock [four] till twenty-two o'clock [nine], and it was a marvel to see so many gentle deeds. One of the silver caskets was presented by the goldsmiths to a knight of the Marquis of Ferrara, and the other to the Lord of Mantua; and it was a great triumph to behold. On the Sunday following, the 28th of March, 1415, there was a joust,—a noble sight to see, with all these lords and their companions and devices."
Gradually the trading-galleys of the Venetians, which sailed in small fleets, left Venice at fixed seasons, and made regular voyages all over the known seas; and at the mouths of the rivers of Europe they met boats bringinginland cargoes to be sold to the Venetian captains, or exchanged for their goods. Venetian manufacturers were thus supplied with raw materials, as well as with specimens of the products of all other countries, to be imitated or excelled in Venice. As a rule, Venetian manufactures were in demand. The armor and weapons of Venice were equal to any that could be found at the same period. Her cloths of gold and silver, velvets, jewelry, and splendid adornments were unequalled, while many of the commoner articles of trade were made there in the best manner. Their immense commerce in beads and glass has already been described. In order to increase their business in the different ports which the galleys visited, Venice purchased warehouses called "factories," and put them in charge of such agents as would wisely conduct them.
When we read how slowly the unwieldy trading-galleys moved,—not more than twenty miles a day, and were a year in reaching England,—we can but admire, almost with reverence, the men who could "make haste slowly" with such perseverance as did these Venetians. In 1488 the Senate offered a reward of £650 to any ship-builder who could build a galley of one thousand tons burden.
Each galley required one hundred and sixty rowers, and altogether carried about three hundred men. They suffered great inconvenience, and encountered many dangers. The Senate made the most exact rules concerning their wages, food, the parts of the vessel to which they should have access, when and where they should go on shore, and many other details. The ship of the chief captain carried a master, a nautical adviser, eight pilots, a mate, two scribes, two doctors, a priest, a lawyer, an oarmaker, carpenter, calker and weigher, a cook, a cellarman, three servants, two fifers, and two trumpeters, besides thirty bowmen in charge of four young noblemen. The duties and salaries of each and all these men were fixedby the Senate, as well as the method of loading and unloading the ships. As we think of all this tediousness for everybody concerned in Venetian commerce in the Middle Ages, from the Doge down to the humblest servitor of them all, the commerce of the present day, with our labor-saving machinery, our swift sailing-vessels, and space-annihilating steam-engines, seems insignificant in a way.
John B. Marsh, in his "Stories of Venice and the Venetians," gives an account of the experiences of a merchant fleet, which has a special interest, as Christopher Columbus acted a prominent part in the story, which Mr. Marsh claims is authenticated in the state papers. It is essentially as follows:—
On April 12, 1485, Bartolommeo Minio was appointed captain of four galleys to make the Flanders voyage. They had been bidden in by some merchants who had goods suited to the northern markets at £220 per galley. The great galleys were loaded. The prows were fenced to afford footing to the crossbowmen. All the different officers and men were selected and bound to complete the voyage. The cargo of glass, jewels, gold, silver, furs, silks, and damasks, bales of spices, dried fruits, and Malmsey wine was all on board, and an official from the Arsenal approved of all the preparations.
Then Minio, the commander, in presence of the whole Senate and the captains who were to sail with him, took an oath upon the Bible that he would obey the regulations of the Senate regarding the galleys and the people on board, and would care for them all in good faith. The preparations being thus completed, to the sound of trumpets the rowers began their labor, and the galleys moved from the canal into the Gulf of Venice.
Between Pola and Zara it was Minio's duty to pipe all hands for action. The decks were cleared, hatchesfastened down, and the four brass cannon on each galley were made ready to meet an enemy. The bowmen took advantageous positions, and went through evolutions as if in battle. This being done, the fleet was anchored for the night. Supper was served to Minio and his chief officers in the principal cabin. The bowmen and archers were in another cabin, but the rowers ate as they sat at work. Each man received eighteen ounces of biscuit, and an allowance of common wine daily, and in front of each bench of rowers was a locker for food. Having passed the Adriatic, the galleys were allowed to remain a few hours at Otranto, and reaching Messina they anchored for four days. The merchants went on shore, and exchanged some goods for oil and wine, while the oarsmen enjoyed a much needed rest. At Palermo the same stay was made, and thence they crossed to the coast of Tunis and Algiers, and passing through the Straits of Gibraltar reached Cadiz. Here a stay of six days was made, and then, having taken two pilots for each galley, they prepared to pass along the coast of Portugal and cross the Bay of Biscay. Ten hides were purchased for each galley and stretched across the holds to protect the cargo; and all having thus far been prosperous, they started upon the most dangerous part of their voyage.
Near Cape St. Vincent, on an August afternoon, Minio saw a fleet of seven armed ships bearing the French flag. They were corsairs under the command of Niccolo Griego, and one of his chief captains was Christopher Columbus. The two fleets anchored within sight of each other, and during the night the Venetians made the best preparation possible for a contest with the pirates; and at daybreak the attack was made. The Venetians fought so bravely that the battle was prolonged during the entire day, and only at sunset were they finally conquered, and that at a large loss in killed and wounded to the corsairs, andserious injury to their vessels, which they were compelled to run into the nearest port, in order to save them from shipwreck. This port was Lisbon; and as the King of Portugal was friendly to Venice, the pirates hastened to mend their ships, transfer the cargoes from the three Venetian galleys, which were worthless, to their own, and with the one that was seaworthy to sail for Honfleur.
When the news reached the King of Portugal, he hastened to assist the surviving Venetians, and sent them home as soon as possible. Two captains and many noble youths had been slain. The pirates had thrown one hundred and thirty dead men into the sea, and three hundred others were seriously wounded, many of whom soon died.
When the Senate heard what had happened, they sent a swift fleet to seize a French galeas then at Alexandria. They sent ambassadors to the courts of France, England, and Burgundy, soliciting aid in recovering their vessels and cargoes. In the following spring two galleys, freighted with the cargoes saved from the four vessels captured by Columbus, were sent to Southampton, and there were sold by the Venetian Consul. The Venetians owed thanks for this to the French, who would not permit Columbus to leave Honfleur until he had given up his plunder. When the sum received at Southampton, and the value of the damaged ships which were brought back to Venice was deducted from the whole, the Senate announced the total loss which the Republic had sustained to be £32,200. When we remember that such disasters were not uncommon, we do not wonder at the Venetian proverb, "If you want to learn to pray, go to sea."
This particular misfortune caused much distress to the wool-workers, and the Senate removed all restrictions on the importation of wool for several months, in order to relieve the pressure in that particular trade.
This story of Columbus is in exact accord with the opinion of Charles Kendall Adams, in his most excellent life of Columbus. He says:—
"In point of character,—considering the term in the largest and broadest possible sense,—we shall probably not find much to admire. The moral atmosphere which he created about him was not much better or much worse than the general atmosphere of the age in which he lived. He entered no protest against any of the abuses of his time. On the contrary, he was ever ready to avail himself of those abuses whenever he could do so to his own advantage."
To resume our study of the mercantile policy of Venice, so quick was she to see her advantage in all directions and to take up new industries whenever it was possible, that no sooner was the question raised as to the introduction of the art of printing than it was generously encouraged. Venetian printing dates from 1469, and the honor of its introduction rests between John of Spires and Nicholas Jenson. The latter was a Frenchman, sent by Louis XI. to Mayence to learn printing. He never returned to France, and the only question as to his career in Venice is the actual date of his first book.
Venice soon became a city of printers. Between 1472 and 1500 one hundred and fifty-five printers established themselves there, some of them being the most celebrated printers of that age. In other cities of the Republic the printing of books rapidly grew into an enormous industry. We can scarcely realize what the demand for books became so soon as it could be satisfied. The slow processes of caligraphy had only created a desire it could never content. At the same time the exquisite ornamentation of the manuscripts had fostered a taste for dainty books which a plain-printed page could not satisfy; and then, too, those who could afford the silky vellum, withits lovely miniatures, decorative initial letters, and graceful borders, did not relish books so cheaply made that any one could buy them, and no distinction was attached to their ownership. Thus it resulted that the early printers made a few vellum copies of their works, and employed the miniaturists to ornament them in the style of the manuscripts. Among these books those of Jenson, made at Venice, are the most remarkable, and bring fabulous prices when sold in the present day.
After 1480 the printers employed engravers, and from that time the Venetian books were very notable. For two centuries Venice was the centre for printing, and besides her strictly literary publications she furnished school-books to all Italy; books of exquisite designs to lace-makers and embroiderers; missals, breviaries and books of hours to the devout; and to the general reader, books of romantic adventures, poems, and numberless accounts of festivals and important events. These, now literally worth their weight in gold, were made in little shops where the industrious artisans actually made the designs and executed the engravings of the books they printed. The amount of printing and bookmaking done at Venice up to the end of the seventeenth century, as compared with all the rest of Italy and Lyons, is simply amazing. Of the great printer, Aldus, I shall speak more at length elsewhere.
In 1498 the Senate granted to Ottaviano Petrucci the privilege of printing music for twenty years, for which time Venice may be said to have monopolized that very important art. Petrucci ceased to publish in 1525; and it is believed that he worked alone, as later music printers were greatly his inferiors. His books are now very rare, and proportionately valuable.
In all these important affairs the wisdom of the Venetians is most apparent, and the results of their system areits justification in many directions. But in the midst of great matters the smaller ones were by no means forgotten, and jealousy of individualism was the motive that induced the Senate gravely to make and severely to execute laws which seem to us most puerile and unworthy.
In wealthy families, on the occasion of a baptism, it was not allowable to invite patricians or high officials as witnesses, because it was feared that these families would become too powerful if too closely allied, and the position of godfather was one of very intimate relations and sacred trusts. So in marriages, in families of importance, as has already been shown, certain ceremonies must be held in the Ducal Palace, thus assuring a publicity which enabled the State to have its part in the affair, and have full knowledge of it, the religious ceremony being apparently quite a secondary matter.
With death only did jealousy cease, and at funerals the noble and wealthy Venetians were permitted to freely indulge their love of pageantry. The funeral procession of a patrician was usually at night. About two in the morning all the clergy of the quarter in which the dead had resided, with relatives and friends, attended the body to the church. Here it was placed on a bier, the nave being lighted by torch-bearers, and sentinels placed on guard until the morning hour, when the burial took place. At this ceremony a large number of clergy, and all persons named in the will of the deceased, preceded the body to its final resting-place.
If the dead had been eminent for services to the State, all the clergy of the chapter of St. Mark, the prebendaries of the Archbishop's cathedral, and the chapter of the Congregation led the procession. Two canons of St. Mark acted as precentors in singing dirges. Then came men bearing the ornamented and embroidered banners of all the guilds and societies to which the deceased hadbelonged. Next followed the brethren of the "Scuola" with which he had been associated. These frequently numbered two hundred, all in white robes, and by night bearing torches. Behind them the body, on a bier, was borne by eight men. It was most richly dressed, and covered with a trellis of golden wire. Lastly followed the relatives, friends, servants, and behind all others, the orphan children of the dead man.
Next day the friends, in funeral attire, went to the Ducal Palace, whither the bereaved family were expected to come, and there receive condolences.
The Venetian archives throw a very favorable light on the hospitality, benevolence, and wisdom in sanitary regulations shown by the rulers of Venice in the Middle Ages. From the time of Michieli II. (1117-28) the streets were lighted at night, and watchmen had been employed earlier than that,—at least a century before they were instituted in London, under Henry III.
From a very ancient date Venice was "a place of universal resort, the Goshen of Italy." Strangers were constantly arriving and departing, and as early as the beginning of the fourteenth century the new-comer, as he landed at the Piazza of St. Mark, was met by one of themessetiorsensali, who were always there, and served the stranger as the commissionaires now do wherever travellers are found, but with one great difference: in Venice these men were in the care of the messetaria,—a department of the public service,—and they dared not practise deceit or cheating, being sure of paying the penalty if they did. It was also the duty of the messetaria to see that no imposition was practised by the keepers of hostelries, or any advantage taken of unsuspicious strangers.
The ancient hotels of Venice were celebrated. In the fourteenth century the Moon, the White Lion, and the Wild Savage took the lead; and the latter was thefavorite of those who could pay well in 1368. Other hotels are mentioned in the books of the Procuratie of St. Mark; and ever after 1280, perhaps earlier, it was the duty of the police to see that clean beds, sheets, and coverlets were provided in hotels, and all necessary comforts furnished to travellers.
The government was constantly adopting measures against epidemics, and in 1423 the first lazaretto was established. A Board of Health existed very early; and during epidemics in neighboring cities no meat, fish, or wine was admitted into Venice until it had been disinfected. The greatest care was taken to supply wholesome water. All impurities were removed from the streets and canals, which last were dredged of mud periodically; and even smoking chimneys were prohibited.
The first hospital was established by the will of Orseolo the Holy, in 977; the first infant asylum, by the Doge Marino Giorgio, in 1312. A surgeon named Gualtieri established a Refuge for the Indigent, and a Home for Aged or Disabled Seamen. The Misericordia was endowed by Giacomo Moro for poor women; and a Magdalen Asylum by Bartolommeo Verde at St. Christopher-the-Martyr. In 1342 the Foundling, or Pietà, was established, and in 1349 there was an Orphan Asylum on the Giudecca. Moreover, both the State and individuals made periodical distributions of alms to the poor; while street-begging was forbidden, and the Signori di Notte conveyed all mendicants to the hospitals.
Piazza of St. Mark.Piazza of St. Mark.
We must also remember that while the Venetians took and held many prisoners of war, they made constant efforts to relieve the sufferings of these men. In short, the archives of Venice bear unquestionable testimony to much in the domestic policy of the Republic that merits the praise and is worthy the emulation of all nations in all ages.
There is a world of interest in the bronzes, mosaics, and marbles of Venice, many of which are in and about the Piazza of San Marco. Perhaps something should first be said about this spot, already so frequently mentioned, and in which the whole history of Venice seems to centre; but when I think of writing it the words of the double of the Rev. Frederic Ingham occur to me with great force: "There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I will not occupy the time."
To quote some of these "well-said" things seems far the wisest course. Mr. Howells says:—
"The Place of St. Mark is the heart of Venice, and from this beats new life in every direction, through an intricate system of streets and canals, that bring it back again to the same centre.... Of all the open spaces in the city, that before the Church of St. Mark alone bears the name of Piazza, and the rest are called merelycampi, or fields. But if the company of the noblest architecture can give honor, the Piazza S. Marco merits its distinction, not in Venice only, but in the whole world. I never, during three years, passed through it in my daily walks, without feeling as freshly as at first the greatness of its beauty.
"The church, which the mighty bell-tower and the lofty height of the palace lines make to look low, is in no wise humbled by the contrast, but is like a queen enthroned amid upright reverence. The religious sentiment is deeply appealed to, I think, in the interior of St. Mark's; but if its interior is heaven's, its exterior, like a good man's daily life, is earth's; and it is thiswinning loveliness of earth that first attracts you to it, and when you emerge from its portals, you emerge upon spaces of such sunny length and breadth, set round with such exquisite architecture, that it makes you glad to be living in this world.
"Whatever could please, the Venetian seems to have brought within and made a part of his Piazza, that it might remain forever the city's supreme grace; and so, though there are public gardens and several pleasant walks in the city, the great resort in summer and winter, by day and by night, is the Piazza S. Marco."
In his delightful "Italy," Taine, after declaring Venice to be the pearl of that country, not equalled by anything he has seen, says:—
"The admirable Piazza, bordered with porticos and palaces, extends rectangularly its forests of columns, its Corinthian capitals, its statues, its noble and varied arrangement of classic forms. At its extremity, half Gothic, half Byzantine, rises the Basilica, under bulbous domes and tapering belfries, its arcades festooned with figures, its porches laced with light columns, its arches wainscoted with mosaics, its pavements incrusted with colored marbles, and its cupolas scintillating with gold; a strange mysterious sanctuary, a sort of Christian mosque in which cascades of light vacillate in ruddy shadows like the wings of genii within the purple, metallic walls of subterranean abodes. All this teems with sparks and radiance. A few paces off, bare and erect like a ship's mast, the gigantic Campanile towers in the air, and announces to distant mariners the time-honored royalty of Venice. At its base, closely pressed to it, the delicateloggettaof Sansovino seems like a flower, so many statues, bas-reliefs, bronzes, and marbles, whatever is rich and imaginative of living and elegant art, crowd around it to adorn it...
"Like a magnificent diamond in a brilliant setting, the Ducal Palace effaces the rest.... Never has the like architecture been seen; all here is novel. You feel yourself drawn out of the conventional: you realize that outside of classic or Gothicforms, which we repeat and impose on ourselves, there is an entire world; that human invention is illimitable; that, like Nature, it may break all the rules, and produce a perfect work after a model opposed to that to which we are told to conform."
Ruskin's words rush out, and seem to tumble one over the other in their haste to express his seething thought:—
"A multitude of pillars and white domes, clustered into a long low pyramid of colored light; a treasure-heap, it seems, partly of gold and partly of opal and mother-of-pearl, hollowed beneath into fine great vaulted porches, ceiled with fair mosaic, and beset with sculpture of alabaster, clear as amber and delicate as ivory,—sculpture fantastic and involved, of palm-leaves and lilies and grapes and pomegranates, and birds clinging and fluttering among the branches, all twined together into an endless network of buds and plumes; and in the midst of it the solemn forms of angels, sceptred, and robed to the feet, and leaning to each other across the gates, their figures indistinct among the gleaming of the golden ground through the leaves beside them, interrupted and dim, like the morning light as it faded back among the branches of Eden, when first its gates were angel-guarded long ago.
"And round the walls of the porches there are set pillars of variegated stones, jasper and porphyry, and deep-green serpentine spotted with flakes of snow, and marbles that half refuse and half yield to the sunshine, Cleopatra-like, 'their bluest veins to kiss,'—the shadow, as it steals back from them, revealing line after line of azure undulation, as a receding tide leaves the waved sand; their capitals rich with interwoven tracery, rooted knots of herbage, and drifting leaves of acanthus and vine, and mystical signs, all beginning and ending in the cross; and above them, in the broad archivolts, a continuous chain of language and of life,—angels, and the signs of heaven, and the labors of men, each in its appointed season upon the earth ... until at last, as if in ecstasy, the crests of the arches break into a marble foam, and toss themselves far into the bluesky in flashes and wreaths of sculptured spray, as if the breakers on the Lido shore had been frost-bound before they fell, and the sea-nymphs had inlaid them with coral and amethyst."
In comparison with the above, how curiously commonplace was Goethe, with his very practical queries, when first he saw the Horses of St. Mark: "A glorious team of horses,—I should like to hear the opinion of a good judge of horse flesh. What seemed strange to me was that, closely viewed, they appear heavy, while from the piazza below they look light as deer." To me the mystery in which they are veiled is their chief attraction. We know that the brave old Dandolo sent them from Constantinople to be one of his most striking monuments.
In this temple porch,Old as he was, so near his hundredth year,And blind,—his eyes put out,—did DandoloStand forth, displaying on his crown the cross.There did he stand, erect, invincible,Though wan his cheeks, and wet with many tears,For in his prayers he had been weeping much;And now the pilgrim and the people weptWith admiration, saying in their hearts,"Surely those aged limbs have need of rest!"There did he stand, with his old armor on,Ere, gonfalon in hand, that streamed aloft,As conscious of its glorious destiny,So soon to float o'er mosque and minaret,He sailed away, five hundred gallant ships,Their lofty sides hung with emblazoned shields,Following his track to fame. He went to die;But of his trophies four arrived erelong,Snatched from destruction,—the four steeds divine,That strike the ground, resounding with their feet,And from their nostrils snort ethereal flameOver that very porch,SAMUEL ROGERS.
We know that one of these horses was transported on the galley of Domenico Morosini, and that by some accident a piece was broken off of one of its hind legs, whichfragment the Senate allowed the valiant admiral to keep as a souvenir of his experiences. He placed it on a console of the façade of his house at St. Augustine, where Sanuto saw it, as he tells us in his chronicles. We know of their journey to Paris in 1797, and of their return in 1815. We know that they weigh but a few pounds less than a ton each; but who made them, and where and when? We know that it is said that they were treasures of Alexandria, and were carried to Rome by Augustus after he defeated Mark Antony, 30 B.C. But who can tell what Cleopatra thought of them? We know that it is said that five Roman emperors placed them on as many triumphal arches in the Eternal City, and then Constantino took them off to the New Rome to grace his Hippodrome. But when all these sayings are said, who knows?