,illustration3 ,john ,ruskin4 ,,stones ,,of ,,venice ,,by ,,john ,,ruskin ,,the ,,stones ,,of ,,venice3 ,,introductory ,,chapters ,,and ,,local ,,indices 7,,printed ,,separately7 ,,for ,,the ,,use ,,of ,,travellers ,,while ,,staying ,,in ,,venice ,,and ,,verona4 ,,by ,,john ,,ruskin1 ,,ll4,d4 ,,preface4 ,this volume is the first of a series designed by the ,author with the purpose of placing in the hands of the public1 in more serviceable form1 those portions of his earlier works which he thinks deserving of a permanent place in the system of his general teaching4 ,they were at first intended to be accompanied by photographic reductions of the principal plates in the larger volumes2 but this design has been modified by the ,author's increasing desire to gather his past and present writings into a consistent body1 illustrated by one series of plates1 purchasable in separate parts1 and numbered consecutively4 ,of other prefatory matter1 once intended1--apologetic mostly1--the reader shall be spared the cumber3 and a clear prospectus issued by the publisher of the new series of plates1 as soon as they are in a state of forwardness4 ,the second volume of this edition will contain the most useful matter out of the third volume of the old one1 closed by its topical index1 abridged and corrected4 ,,brantwood1 #crd ,may1 #ahgi4 ,,contents4 ,,chap4 ,i4 ,the ,quarry ,,ii4 ,the ,throne ,,iii4 ,torcello ,,iv4 ,st4 ,mark's ,v4 ,the ,ducal ,palace ,,the ,,stones ,,of ,,venice ,,chapter ,i4 ,,first ,,of ,,the ,,old ,,edition4 ,,the ,,quarry4 ,,section ,i4 ,since the first dominion of men was asserted over the ocean1 three thrones1 of mark beyond all others1 have been set upon its sands3 the thrones of ,tyre1 ,venice1 and ,england4 ,of the ,first of these great powers only the memory remains2 of the ,second1 the ruin2 the ,third1 which inherits their greatness1 if it forget their example1 may be led through prouder eminence to less pitied destruction4 ,the exaltation1 the sin1 and the punishment of ,tyre have been recorded for us1 in perhaps the most touching words ever uttered by the ,prophets of ,israel against the cities of the stranger4 ,but we read them as a lovely song2 and close our ears to the sternness of their warning3 for the very depth of the ,fall of ,tyre has blinded us to its reality1 and we forget1 as we watch the bleaching of the rocks between the sunshine and the sea1 that they were once as in ,eden1 the garden of ,god4 ,her successor1 like her in perfection of beauty1 though less in endurance of dominion1 is still left for our beholding in the final period of her decline3 a ghost upon the sands of the sea1 so weak--so quiet1--so bereft of all but her loveliness1 that we might well doubt1 as we watched her faint reflection in the mirage of the lagoon1 which was the ,city1 and which the ,shadow4 ,i would endeavor to trace the lines of this image before it be for ever lost1 and to record1 as far as ,i may1 the warning which seems to me to be uttered by every one of the fast-gaining waves1 that beat1 like passing bells1 against the ,,stones ,,of ,,venice4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,it would be difficult to overrate the value of the lessons which might be derived from a faithful study of the history of this strange and mighty city3 a history which1 in spite of the labor of countless chroniclers1 remains in vague and disputable outline1--barred with brightness and shade1 like the far away edge of her own ocean1 where the surf and the sand-bank are mingled with the sky4 ,the inquiries in which we have to engage will hardly render this outline clearer1 but their results will1 in some degree1 alter its aspect2 and1 so far as they bear upon it at all1 they possess an interest of a far higher kind than that usually belonging to architectural investigations4 ,i may1 perhaps1 in the outset1 and in few words1 enable the general reader to form a clearer idea of the importance of every existing expression of ,venetian character through ,venetian art1 and of the breadth of interest which the true history of ,venice embraces1 than he is likely to have gleaned from the current fables of her mystery or magnificence4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,venice is usually conceived as an oligarchy3 ,she was so during a period less than the half of her existence1 and that including the days of her decline2 and it is one of the first questions needing severe examination1 whether that decline was owing in any wise to the change in the form of her government1 or altogether as assuredly in great part1 to changes1 in the character of the persons of whom it was composed4 ,the state of ,venice existed ,thirteen ,hundred and ,seventy-six years1 from the first establishment of a consular government on the island of the ,rialto1 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,i41 ,foundations of ,venice4 to the moment when the ,general-in-chief of the ,french army of ,italy pronounced the ,venetian republic a thing of the past4 ,of this period1 ,two ,hundred and ,seventy-six years ,footnote3 ,appendix ,,ii41 ,power of the ,doges4 were passed in a nominal subjection to the cities of old ,venetia1 especially to ,padua1 and in an agitated form of democracy1 of which the executive appears to have been entrusted to tribunes1 ,footnote3 ,sismondi1 ,hist4 des ,rp4 ,ital41 vol4 i4 ch4 v4 chosen1 one by the inhabitants of each of the principal islands4 ,for six hundred years1 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,,iii41 ,serrar del ,consiglio4 during which the power of ,venice was continually on the increase1 her government was an elective monarchy1 her ,king or doge possessing1 in early times at least1 as much independent authority as any other ,european sovereign1 but an authority gradually subjected to limitation1 and shortened almost daily of its prerogatives1 while it increased in a spectral and incapable magnificence4 ,the final government of the nobles1 under the image of a king1 lasted for five hundred years1 during which ,venice reaped the fruits of her former energies1 consumed them1--and expired4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,let the reader therefore conceive the existence of the ,venetian state as broadly divided into two periods3 the first of nine hundred1 the second of five hundred years1 the separation being marked by what was called the ,serrar del ,consiglio2 that is to say1 the final and absolute distinction of the nobles from the commonalty1 and the establishment of the government in their hands to the exclusion alike of the influence of the people on the one side1 and the authority of the doge on the other4 ,then the first period1 of nine hundred years1 presents us with the most interesting spectacle of a people struggling out of anarchy into order and power2 and then governed1 for the most part1 by the worthiest and noblest man whom they could find among them1 ,footnote3 ,ha saputo trovar modo che non uno1 non pochi1 non molti1 signoreggiano1 ma molti buoni1 pochi migliori1 e insiememente1 un ottimo solo4 7,sansovino17 ,ah1 well done1 ,venice6 ,wisdom this1 indeed4 called their ,doge or ,leader1 with an aristocracy gradually and resolutely forming itself around him1 out of which1 and at last by which1 he was chosen2 an aristocracy owing its origin to the accidental numbers1 influence1 and wealth of some among the families of the fugitives from the older ,venetia1 and gradually organizing itself1 by its unity and heroism1 into a separate body4 ,this first period includes the rise of ,venice1 her noblest achievements1 and the circumstances which determined her character and position among ,european powers2 and within its range1 as might have been anticipated1 we find the names of all her hero princes1--of ,pietro ,urseolo1 ,ordalafo ,falier1 ,domenico ,michieli1 ,sebastiano ,ziani1 and ,enrico ,dandolo4 ,,section ,v4 ,the second period opens with a hundred and twenty years1 the most eventful in the career of ,venice--the central struggle of her life--stained with her darkest crime1 the murder of ,carrara--disturbed by her most dangerous internal sedition1 the conspiracy of ,falier--oppressed by her most fatal war1 the war of ,chiozza--and distinguished by the glory of her two noblest citizens 7for in this period the heroism of her citizens replaces that of her monarchs71 ,vittor ,pisani and ,carlo ,zeno4 ,i date the commencement of the ,fall of ,venice from the death of ,carlo ,zeno1 #hth ,may1 #adah2 ,footnote3 ,daru1 liv4 xii4 ch4 xii4 the visible commencement from that of another of her noblest and wisest children1 the ,doge ,tomaso ,mocenigo1 who expired five years later4 ,the reign of ,foscari followed1 gloomy with pestilence and war2 a war in which large acquisitions of territory were made by subtle or fortunate policy in ,lombardy1 and disgrace1 significant as irreparable1 sustained in the battles on the ,po at ,cremona1 and in the marshes of ,caravaggio4 ,in #aded1 ,venice1 the first of the states of ,christendom1 humiliated herself to the ,turk in the same year was established the ,inquisition of ,state1 ,footnote3 ,daru1 liv4 xvi4 cap4 xx4 ,we owe to this historian the discovery of the statutes of the tribunal and date of its establishment4 and from this period her government takes the perfidious and mysterious form under which it is usually conceived4 ,in #adgg1 the great ,turkish invasion spread terror to the shores of the lagoons2 and in #aejh the league of ,cambrai marks the period usually assigned as the commencement of the decline of the ,venetian power2 ,footnote3 ,ominously signified by their humiliation to the ,papal power 7as before to the ,turkish7 in #aeji1 and their abandonment of their right of appointing the clergy of their territories4 the commercial prosperity of ,venice in the close of the fifteenth century blinding her historians to the previous evidence of the diminution of her internal strength4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,now there is apparently a significative coincidence between the establishment of the aristocratic and oligarchical powers1 and the diminution of the prosperity of the state4 ,but this is the very question at issue2 and it appears to me quite undetermined by any historian1 or determined by each in accordance with his own prejudices4 ,it is a triple question3 first1 whether the oligarchy established by the efforts of individual ambition was the cause1 in its subsequent operation1 of the ,fall of ,venice2 or 7secondly7 whether the establishment of the oligarchy itself be not the sign and evidence1 rather than the cause1 of national enervation2 or 7lastly7 whether1 as ,i rather think1 the history of ,venice might not be written almost without reference to the construction of her senate or the prerogatives of her ,doge4 ,it is the history of a people eminently at unity in itself1 descendants of ,roman race1 long disciplined by adversity1 and compelled by its position either to live nobly or to perish3--for a thousand years they fought for life2 for three hundred they invited death3 their battle was rewarded1 and their call was heard4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,throughout her career1 the victories of ,venice1 and1 at many periods of it1 her safety1 were purchased by individual heroism2 and the man who exalted or saved her was sometimes 7oftenest7 her king1 sometimes a noble1 sometimes a citizen4 ,to him no matter1 nor to her3 the real question is1 not so much what names they bore1 or with what powers they were entrusted1 as how they were trained2 how they were made masters of themselves1 servants of their country1 patient of distress1 impatient of dishonor2 and what was the true reason of the change from the time when she could find saviours among those whom she had cast into prison1 to that when the voices of her own children commanded her to sign covenant with ,death4 ,footnote3 ,the senate voted the abdication of their authority by a majority of #eab to #ad4 7,alison1 ch4 xxiii47 ,,section ,,viii4 ,on this collateral question ,i wish the reader's mind to be fixed throughout all our subsequent inquiries4 ,it will give double interest to every detail3 nor will the interest be profitless2 for the evidence which ,i shall be able to deduce from the arts of ,venice will be both frequent and irrefragable1 that the decline of her political prosperity was exactly coincident with that of domestic and individual religion4 ,i say domestic and individual2 for--and this is the second point which ,i wish the reader to keep in mind--the most curious phenomenon in all ,venetian history is the vitality of religion in private life1 and its deadness in public policy4 ,amidst the enthusiasm1 chivalry1 or fanaticism of the other states of ,europe1 ,venice stands1 from first to last1 like a masked statue2 her coldness impenetrable1 her exertion only aroused by the touch of a secret spring4 ,that spring was her commercial interest1--this the one motive of all her important political acts1 or enduring national animosities4 ,she could forgive insults to her honor1 but never rivalship in her commerce2 she calculated the glory of her conquests by their value1 and estimated their justice by their facility4 ,the fame of success remains2 when the motives of attempt are forgotten2 and the casual reader of her history may perhaps be surprised to be reminded1 that the expedition which was commanded by the noblest of her princes1 and whose results added most to her military glory1 was one in which while all ,europe around her was wasted by the fire of its devotion1 she first calculated the highest price she could exact from its piety for the armament she furnished1 and then1 for the advancement of her own private interests1 at once broke her faith ,footnote3 ,by directing the arms of the ,crusaders against a ,christian prince4 7,daru1 liv4 iv4 ch4 iv4 viii47 and betrayed her religion4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,and yet1 in the midst of this national criminality1 we shall be struck again and again by the evidences of the most noble individual feeling4 ,the tears of ,dandolo were not shed in hypocrisy1 though they could not blind him to the importance of the conquest of ,zara4 ,the habit of assigning to religion a direct influence over all his own actions1 and all the affairs of his own daily life1 is remarkable in every great ,venetian during the times of the prosperity of the state2 nor are instances wanting in which the private feeling of the citizens reaches the sphere of their policy1 and even becomes the guide of its course where the scales of expediency are doubtfully balanced4 ,i sincerely trust that the inquirer would be disappointed who should endeavor to trace any more immediate reasons for their adoption of the cause of ,alexander ,,iii4 against ,barbarossa1 than the piety which was excited by the character of their suppliant1 and the noble pride which was provoked by the insolence of the emperor4 ,but the heart of ,venice is shown only in her hastiest councils2 her worldly spirit recovers the ascendency whenever she has time to calculate the probabilities of advantage1 or when they are sufficiently distinct to need no calculation2 and the entire subjection of private piety to national policy is not only remarkable throughout the almost endless series of treacheries and tyrannies by which her empire was enlarged and maintained1 but symbolized by a very singular circumstance in the building of the city itself4 ,i am aware of no other city of ,europe in which its cathedral was not the principal feature4 ,but the principal church in ,venice was the chapel attached to the palace of her prince1 and called the ,chiesa ,ducale4 ,the patriarchal church1 ,footnote3 ,appendix #d1 ,san ,pietro di ,castello4 inconsiderable in size and mean in decoration1 stands on the outermost islet of the ,venetian group1 and its name1 as well as its site1 is probably unknown to the greater number of travellers passing hastily through the city4 ,nor is it less worthy of remark1 that the two most important temples of ,venice1 next to the ducal chapel1 owe their size and magnificence1 not to national effort1 but to the energy of the ,franciscan and ,dominican monks1 supported by the vast organization of those great societies on the mainland of ,italy1 and countenanced by the most pious1 and perhaps also1 in his generation1 the most wise1 of all the princes of ,venice1 ,footnote3 ,tomaso ,mocenigo1 above named1 ,section ,v4 who now rests beneath the roof of one of those very temples1 and whose life is not satirized by the images of the ,virtues which a ,tuscan sculptor has placed around his tomb4 ,,section ,x4 ,there are1 therefore1 two strange and solemn lights in which we have to regard almost every scene in the fitful history of the ,rivo ,alto4 ,we find1 on the one hand1 a deep1 and constant tone of individual religion characterizing the lives of the citizens of ,venice in her greatness2 we find this spirit influencing them in all the familiar and immediate concerns of life1 giving a peculiar dignity to the conduct even of their commercial transactions1 and confessed by them with a simplicity of faith that may well put to shame the hesitation with which a man of the world at present admits 7even if it be so in reality7 that religious feeling has any influence over the minor branches of his conduct4 ,and we find as the natural consequence of all this1 a healthy serenity of mind and energy of will expressed in all their actions1 and a habit of heroism which never fails them1 even when the immediate motive of action ceases to be praiseworthy4 ,with the fulness of this spirit the prosperity of the state is exactly correspondent1 and with its failure her decline1 and that with a closeness and precision which it will be one of the collateral objects of the following essay to demonstrate from such accidental evidence as the field of its inquiry presents4 ,and1 thus far1 all is natural and simple4 ,but the stopping short of this religious faith when it appears likely to influence national action1 correspondent as it is1 and that most strikingly1 with several characteristics of the temper of our present ,english legislature1 is a subject1 morally and politically1 of the most curious interest and complicated difficulty2 one1 however1 which the range of my present inquiry will not permit me to approach1 and for the treatment of which ,i must be content to furnish materials in the light ,i may be able to throw upon the private tendencies of the ,venetian character4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,there is1 however1 another most interesting feature in the policy of ,venice which will be often brought before us2 and which a ,romanist would gladly assign as the reason of its irreligion2 namely1 the magnificent and successful struggle which she maintained against the temporal authority of the ,church of ,rome4 ,it is true that1 in a rapid survey of her career1 the eye is at first arrested by the strange drama to which ,i have already alluded1 closed by that ever memorable scene in the portico of ,st4 ,mark's1 ,footnote3 ,in that temple porch1 7,the brass is gone1 the porphyry remains17 ,did ,,barbarossa fling his mantle off1 ,and kneeling1 on his neck receive the foot ,of the proud ,pontiff--thus at last consoled ,for flight1 disguise1 and many an aguish shake ,on his stony pillow4 ,i need hardly say whence the lines are taken3 ,rogers' ,italy has1 ,i believe1 now a place in the best beloved compartment of all libraries1 and will never be removed from it4 ,there is more true expression of the spirit of ,venice in the passages devoted to her in that poem1 than in all else that has been written of her4 the central expression in most men's thoughts of the unendurable elevation of the pontifical power2 it is true that the proudest thoughts of ,venice1 as well as the insignia of her prince1 and the form of her chief festival1 recorded the service thus rendered to the ,roman ,church4 ,but the enduring sentiment of years more than balanced the enthusiasm of a moment2 and the bull of ,clement ,v41 which excommunicated the ,venetians and their doge1 likening them to ,dathan1 ,abiram1 ,absalom1 and ,lucifer1 is a stronger evidence of the great tendencies of the ,venetian government than the umbrella of the doge or the ring of the ,adriatic4 ,the humiliation of ,francesco ,dandolo blotted out the shame of ,barbarossa1 and the total exclusion of ecclesiastics from all share in the councils of ,venice became an enduring mark of her knowledge of the spirit of the ,church of ,rome1 and of her defiance of it4 ,to this exclusion of ,papal influence from her councils1 the ,romanist will attribute their irreligion1 and the ,protestant their success4 ,footnote3 ,at least1 such success as they had4 ,vide ,appendix #e1 ,the ,papal ,power in ,venice4 ,the first may be silenced by a reference to the character of the policy of the ,vatican itself2 and the second by his own shame1 when he reflects that the ,english legislature sacrificed their principles to expose themselves to the very danger which the ,venetian senate sacrificed theirs to avoid4 ,,section ,,xii4 ,one more circumstance remains to be noted respecting the ,venetian government1 the singular unity of the families composing it1--unity far from sincere or perfect1 but still admirable when contrasted with the fiery feuds1 the almost daily revolutions1 the restless successions of families and parties in power1 which fill the annals of the other states of ,italy4 ,that rivalship should sometimes be ended by the dagger1 or enmity conducted to its ends under the mask of law1 could not but be anticipated where the fierce ,italian spirit was subjected to so severe a restraint3 it is much that jealousy appears usually unmingled with illegitimate ambition1 and that1 for every instance in which private passion sought its gratification through public danger1 there are a thousand in which it was sacrificed to the public advantage4 ,venice may well call upon us to note with reverence1 that of all the towers which are still seen rising like a branchless forest from her islands1 there is but one whose office was other than that of summoning to prayer1 and that one was a watch-tower only ,footnote3 ,thus literally was fulfilled the promise to ,st4 ,mark1--,pax e4 from first to last1 while the palaces of the other cities of ,italy were lifted into sullen fortitudes of rampart1 and fringed with forked battlements for the javelin and the bow1 the sands of ,venice never sank under the weight of a war tower1 and her roof terraces were wreathed with ,arabian imagery1 of golden globes suspended on the leaves of lilies4 ,footnote3 ,the inconsiderable fortifications of the arsenal are no exception to this statement1 as far as it regards the city itself4 ,they are little more than a semblance of precaution against the attack of a foreign enemy4 ,,section ,,xiii4 ,these1 then1 appear to me to be the points of chief general interest in the character and fate of the ,venetian people4 ,i would next endeavor to give the reader some idea of the manner in which the testimony of ,art bears upon these questions1 and of the aspect which the arts themselves assume when they are regarded in their true connection with the history of the state4 #ast4 ,receive the witness of ,painting4 ,it will be remembered that ,i put the commencement of the ,fall of ,venice as far back as #adah4 ,now1 ,john ,bellini was born in #adbc1 and ,titian in #adhj4 ,john ,bellini1 and his brother ,gentile1 two years older than he1 close the line of the sacred painters of ,venice4 ,but the most solemn spirit of religious faith animates their works to the last4 ,there is no religion in any work of ,titian's3 there is not even the smallest evidence of religious temper or sympathies either in himself1 or in those for whom he painted4 ,his larger sacred subjects are merely themes for the exhibition of pictorial rhetoric1--composition and color4 ,his minor works are generally made subordinate to purposes of portraiture4 ,the ,madonna in the church of the ,frari is a mere lay figure1 introduced to form a link of connection between the portraits of various members of the ,pesaro family who surround her4 ,now this is not merely because ,john ,bellini was a religious man and ,titian was not4 ,titian and ,bellini are each true representatives of the school of painters contemporary with them2 and the difference in their artistic feeling is a consequence not so much of difference in their own natural characters as in their early education3 ,bellini was brought up in faith2 ,titian in formalism4 ,between the years of their births the vital religion of ,venice had expired4 ,,section ,,xiv4 ,the vital religion1 observe1 not the formal4 ,outward observance was as strict as ever2 and doge and senator still were painted1 in almost every important instance1 kneeling before the ,madonna or ,st4 ,mark2 a confession of faith made universal by the pure gold of the ,venetian sequin4 ,but observe the great picture of ,titian's in the ducal palace1 of the ,doge ,antonio ,grimani kneeling before ,faith3 there is a curious lesson in it4 ,the figure of ,faith is a coarse portrait of one of ,titian's least graceful female models3 ,faith had become carnal4 ,the eye is first caught by the flash of the ,doge's armor4 ,the heart of ,venice was in her wars1 not in her worship4 ,the mind of ,tintoret1 incomparably more deep and serious than that of ,titian1 casts the solemnity of its own tone over the sacred subjects which it approaches1 and sometimes forgets itself into devotion2 but the principle of treatment is altogether the same as ,titian's3 absolute subordination of the religious subject to purposes of decoration or portraiture4 ,the evidence might be accumulated a thousandfold from the works of ,veronese1 and of every succeeding painter1--that the fifteenth century had taken away the religious heart of ,venice4 ,,section ,,xv4 ,such is the evidence of ,painting4 ,to collect that of ,architecture will be our task through many a page to come2 but ,i must here give a general idea of its heads4 ,philippe de ,commynes1 writing of his entry into ,venice in #adie1 says1-- ,chascun me feit seoir au meillieu de ces deux ambassadeurs qui est l'honneur d',italie que d'estre au meillieu2 et me menerent au long de la grant rue1 qu'ilz appellent le ,canal ,grant1 et est bien large4 ,les gallees y passent travers et y ay veu navire de quatre cens tonneaux ou plus pres des maisons3 et est la plus belle rue que je croy qui soit en tout le monde1 et la mieulx maisonnee1 et va le long de la ville4 ,les maisons sont fort grandes et haultes1 et de bonne pierre1 et les anciennes toutes painctes2 les aul tres faictes depuis cent ans3 toutes ont le devant de marbre blanc1 qui leur vient d',istrie1 cent mils de la1 et encores maincte grant piece de porphire et de sarpentine sur le devant4444 ,c'est la plus triumphante cit que j'aye jamais veue et qui plus faict d'honneur ambassadeurs et estrangiers1 et qui plus saigement se gouverne1 et o le service de ,dieu est le plus sollennellement faict3 et encores qu'il y peust bien avoir d'aultres faultes1 si croy je que ,dieu les a en ayde pour la reverence qu'ilz portent au service de l',eglise4 ,footnote3 ,mmoires de ,commynes1 liv4 vii4 ch4 xviii4 ,,section ,,xvi4 ,this passage is of peculiar interest1 for two reasons4 ,observe1 first1 the impression of ,commynes respecting the religion of ,venice3 of which1 as ,i have above said1 the forms still remained with some glimmering of life in them1 and were the evidence of what the real life had been in former times4 ,but observe1 secondly1 the impression instantly made on ,commynes' mind by the distinction between the elder palaces and those built within this last hundred years2 which all have their fronts of white marble brought from ,istria1 a hundred miles away1 and besides1 many a large piece of porphyry and serpentine upon their fronts4 ,on the opposite page ,i have given two of the ornaments of the palaces which so struck the ,french ambassador4 ,footnote3 ,appendix #f1 ,renaissance ,ornaments4 ,he was right in his notice of the distinction4 ,there had indeed come a change over ,venetian architecture in the fifteenth century2 and a change of some importance to us moderns3 we ,english owe to it our ,st4 ,paul's ,cathedral1 and ,europe in general owes to it the utter degradation or destruction of her schools of architecture1 never since revived4 ,but that the reader may understand this1 it is necessary that he should have some general idea of the connection of the architecture of ,venice with that of the rest of ,europe1 from its origin forwards4 ,,section ,,xvii4 ,all ,european architecture1 bad and good1 old and new1 is derived from ,greece through ,rome1 and colored and perfected from the ,east4 ,the history of architecture is nothing but the tracing of the various modes and directions of this derivation4 ,understand this1 once for all3 if you hold fast this great connecting clue1 you may string all the types of successive architectural invention upon it like so many beads4 ,the ,doric and the ,corinthian orders are the roots1 the one of all ,romanesque1 massy-capitaled buildings--,norman1 ,lombard1 ,byzantine1 and what else you can name of the kind2 and the ,corinthian of all ,gothic1 ,early ,english1 ,french1 ,german1 and ,tuscan4 ,now observe3 those old ,greeks gave the shaft2 ,rome gave the arch2 the ,arabs pointed and foliated the arch4 ,the shaft and arch1 the frame-work and strength of architecture1 are from the race of ,japheth3 the spirituality and sanctity of it from ,ismael1 ,abraham1 and ,shem4 ,,section ,,xviii4 ,there is high probability that the ,greek received his shaft system from ,egypt2 but ,i do not care to keep this earlier derivation in the mind of the reader4 ,it is only necessary that he should be able to refer to a fixed point of origin1 when the form of the shaft was first perfected4 ,but it may be incidently observed1 that if the ,greeks did indeed receive their ,doric from ,egypt1 then the three families of the earth have each contributed their part to its noblest architecture3 and ,ham1 the servant of the others1 furnishes the sustaining or bearing member1 the shaft2 ,japheth the arch2 ,shem the spiritualization of both4 ,,section ,,xix4 ,i have said that the two orders1 ,doric and ,corinthian1 are the roots of all ,european architecture4 ,you have1 perhaps1 heard of five orders2 but there are only two real orders1 and there never can be any more until doomsday4 ,on one of these orders the ornament is convex3 those are ,doric1 ,norman1 and what else you recollect of the kind4 ,on the other the ornament is concave3 those are ,corinthian1 ,early ,english1 ,decorated1 and what else you recollect of that kind4 ,the transitional form1 in which the ornamental line is straight1 is the centre or root of both4 ,all other orders are varieties of those1 or phantasms and grotesques altogether indefinite in number and species4 ,footnote3 ,appendix #g1 ,varieties of the ,orders4 ,,section ,,xx4 ,this ,greek architecture1 then1 with its two orders1 was clumsily copied and varied by the ,romans with no particular result1 until they begun to bring the arch into extensive practical service2 except only that the ,doric capital was spoiled in endeavors to mend it1 and the ,corinthian much varied and enriched with fanciful1 and often very beautiful imagery4 ,and in this state of things came ,christianity3 seized upon the arch as her own2 decorated it1 and delighted in it2 invented a new ,doric capital to replace the spoiled ,roman one3 and all over the ,roman empire set to work1 with such materials as were nearest at hand1 to express and adorn herself as best she could4 ,this ,roman ,christian architecture is the exact expression of the ,christianity of the time1 very fervid and beautiful--but very imperfect2 in many respects ignorant1 and yet radiant with a strong1 childlike light of imagination1 which flames up under ,constantine1 illumines all the shores of the ,bosphorus and the ,aegean and the ,adriatic ,sea1 and then gradually1 as the people give themselves up to idolatry1 becomes ,corpse-light4 ,the architecture sinks into a settled form--a strange1 gilded1 and embalmed repose3 it1 with the religion it expressed2 and so would have remained for ever1--so does remain1 where its languor has been undisturbed4 ,footnote3 ,the reader will find the weak points of ,byzantine architecture shrewdly seized1 and exquisitely sketched1 in the opening chapter of the most delightful book of travels ,i ever opened1-- ,curzon's ,monasteries of the ,levant4 ,but rough wakening was ordained4 ,section ,,xxi4 ,this ,christian art of the declining empire is divided into two great branches1 western and eastern2 one centred at ,rome1 the other at ,byzantium1 of which the one is the early ,christian ,romanesque1 properly so called1 and the other1 carried to higher imaginative perfection by ,greek workmen1 is distinguished from it as ,byzantine4 ,but ,i wish the reader1 for the present1 to class these two branches of art together in his mind1 they being1 in points of main importance1 the same2 that is to say1 both of them a true continuance and sequence of the art of old ,rome itself1 flowing uninterruptedly down from the fountain-head1 and entrusted always to the best workmen who could be found--,latins in ,italy and ,greeks in ,greece2 and thus both branches may be ranged under the general term of ,christian ,romanesque1 an architecture which had lost the refinement of ,pagan art in the degradation of the empire1 but which was elevated by ,christianity to higher aims1 and by the fancy of the ,greek workmen endowed with brighter forms4 ,and this art the reader may conceive as extending in its various branches over all the central provinces of the empire1 taking aspects more or less refined1 according to its proximity to the seats of government2 dependent for all its power on the vigor and freshness of the religion which animated it2 and as that vigor and purity departed1 losing its own vitality1 and sinking into nerveless rest1 not deprived of its beauty1 but benumbed and incapable of advance or change4 ,,section ,,xxii4 ,meantime there had been preparation for its renewal4 ,while in ,rome and ,constantinople1 and in the districts under their immediate influence1 this ,roman art of pure descent was practised in all its refinement1 an impure form of it--a patois of ,romanesque--was carried by inferior workmen into distant provinces2 and still ruder imitations of this patois were executed by the barbarous nations on the skirts of the empire4 ,but these barbarous nations were in the strength of their youth2 and while1 in the centre of ,europe1 a refined and purely descended art was sinking into graceful formalism1 on its confines a barbarous and borrowed art was organizing itself into strength and consistency4 ,the reader must therefore consider the history of the work of the period as broadly divided into two great heads3 the one embracing the elaborately languid succession of the ,christian art of ,rome2 and the other1 the imitations of it executed by nations in every conceivable phase of early organization1 on the edges of the empire1 or included in its now merely nominal extent4 ,,section ,,xxiii4 ,some of the barbaric nations were1 of course1 not susceptible of this influence2 and when they burst over the ,alps1 appear1 like the ,huns1 as scourges only1 or mix1 as the ,ostrogoths1 with the enervated ,italians1 and give physical strength to the mass with which they mingle1 without materially affecting its intellectual character4 ,but others1 both south and north of the empire1 had felt its influence1 back to the beach of the ,indian ,ocean on the one hand1 and to the ice creeks of the ,north ,sea on the other4 ,on the north and west the influence was of the ,latins2 on the south and east1 of the ,greeks4 ,two nations1 pre-eminent above all the rest1 represent to us the force of derived mind on either side4 ,as the central power is eclipsed1 the orbs of reflected light gather into their fulness2 and when sensuality and idolatry had done their work1 and the religion of the empire was laid asleep in a glittering sepulchre1 the living light rose upon both horizons1 and the fierce swords of the ,lombard and ,arab were shaken over its golden paralysis4 ,,section ,,xxiv4 ,the work of the ,lombard was to give hardihood and system to the enervated body and enfeebled mind of ,christendom2 that of the ,arab was to punish idolatry1 and to proclaim the spirituality of worship4 ,the ,lombard covered every church which he built with the sculptured representations of bodily exercises--hunting and war4 ,footnote3 ,appendix #h1 ,the ,northern ,energy4 ,the ,arab banished all imagination of creature form from his temples1 and proclaimed from their minarets1 ,there is no god but ,god4 ,opposite in their character and mission1 alike in their magnificence of energy1 they came from the ,north1 and from the ,south1 the glacier torrent and the lava stream3 they met and contended over the wreck of the ,roman empire2 and the very centre of the struggle1 the point of pause of both1 the dead water of the opposite eddies1 charged with embayed fragments of the ,roman wreck1 is ,,venice4 ,the ,ducal palace of ,venice contains the three elements in exactly equal proportions--the ,roman1 ,lombard1 and ,arab4 ,it is the central building of the world4 ,,section ,,xxv4 ,the reader will now begin to understand something of the importance of the study of the edifices of a city which includes1 within the circuit of some seven or eight miles1 the field of contest between the three pre-eminent architectures of the world3--each architecture expressing a condition of religion2 each an erroneous condition1 yet necessary to the correction of the others1 and corrected by them4 ,,section ,,xxvi4 ,it will be part of my endeavor1 in the following work1 to mark the various modes in which the northern and southern architectures were developed from the ,roman3 here ,i must pause only to name the distinguishing characteristics of the great families4 ,the ,christian ,roman and ,byzantine work is round-arched1 with single and well-proportioned shafts2 capitals imitated from classical ,roman2 mouldings more or less so2 and large surfaces of walls entirely covered with imagery1 mosaic1 and paintings1 whether of scripture history or of sacred symbols4 ,the ,arab school is at first the same in its principal features1 the ,byzantine workmen being employed by the caliphs2 but the ,arab rapidly introduces characters half ,persepolitan1 half ,egyptian1 into the shafts and capitals3 in his intense love of excitement he points the arch and writhes it into extravagant foliations2 he banishes the animal imagery1 and invents an ornamentation of his own 7called ,arabesque7 to replace it3 this not being adapted for covering large surfaces1 he concentrates it on features of interest1 and bars his surfaces with horizontal lines of color1 the expression of the level of the ,desert4 ,he retains the dome1 and adds the minaret4 ,all is done with exquisite refinement4 ,,section ,,xxvii4 ,the changes effected by the ,lombard are more curious still1 for they are in the anatomy of the building1 more than its decoration4 ,the ,lombard architecture represents1 as ,i said1 the whole of that of the northern barbaric nations4 ,and this ,i believe was1 at first1 an imitation in wood of the ,christian ,roman churches or basilicas4 ,without staying to examine the whole structure of a basilica1 the reader will easily understand thus much of it3 that it had a nave and two aisles1 the nave much higher than the aisles2 that the nave was separated from the aisles by rows of shafts1 which supported1 above1 large spaces of flat or dead wall1 rising above the aisles1 and forming the upper part of the nave1 now called the clerestory1 which had a gabled wooden roof4 ,these high dead walls were1 in ,roman work1 built of stone2 but in the wooden work of the ,north1 they must necessarily have been made of horizontal boards or timbers attached to uprights on the top of the nave pillars1 which were themselves also of wood4 ,footnote3 ,appendix #i1 ,wooden ,churches of the ,north4 ,now1 these uprights were necessarily thicker than the rest of the timbers1 and formed vertical square pilasters above the nave piers4 ,as ,christianity extended and civilization increased1 these wooden structures were changed into stone2 but they were literally petrified1 retaining the form which had been made necessary by their being of wood4 ,the upright pilaster above the nave pier remains in the stone edifice1 and is the first form of the great distinctive feature of ,northern architecture--the vaulting shaft4 ,in that form the ,lombards brought it into ,italy1 in the seventh century1 and it remains to this day in ,st4 ,ambrogio of ,milan1 and ,st4 ,michele of ,pavia4 ,,section ,,xxviii4 ,when the vaulting shaft was introduced in the clerestory walls1 additional members were added for its support to the nave piers4 ,perhaps two or three pine trunks1 used for a single pillar1 gave the first idea of the grouped shaft4 ,be that as it may1 the arrangement of the nave pier in the form of a cross accompanies the superimposition of the vaulting shaft2 together with corresponding grouping of minor shafts in doorways and apertures of windows4 ,thus1 the whole body of the ,northern architecture1 represented by that of the ,lombards1 may be described as rough but majestic work1 round-arched1 with grouped shafts1 added vaulting shafts1 and endless imagery of active life and fantastic superstitions4 ,,section ,,xxix4 ,the glacier stream of the ,lombards1 and the following one of the ,normans1 left their erratic blocks1 wherever they had flowed2 but without influencing1 ,i think1 the ,southern nations beyond the sphere of their own presence4 ,but the lava stream of the ,arab1 even after it ceased to flow1 warmed the whole of the ,northern air2 and the history of ,gothic architecture is the history of the refinement and spiritualization of ,northern work under its influence4 ,the noblest buildings of the world1 the ,pisan-,romanesque1 ,tuscan 7,giottesque7 ,gothic1 and ,veronese ,gothic1 are those of the ,lombard schools themselves1 under its close and direct influence2 the various ,gothics of the ,north are the original forms of the architecture which the ,lombards brought into ,italy1 changing under the less direct influence of the ,arab4 ,,section ,,xxx4 ,understanding thus much of the formation of the great ,european styles1 we shall have no difficulty in tracing the succession of architectures in ,venice herself4 ,from what ,i said of the central character of ,venetian art1 the reader is not1 of course1 to conclude that the ,roman1 ,northern1 and ,arabian elements met together and contended for the mastery at the same period4 ,the earliest element was the pure ,christian ,roman2 but few1 if any1 remains of this art exist at ,venice2 for the present city was in the earliest times only one of many settlements formed on the chain of marshy islands which extend from the mouths of the ,isonzo to those of the ,adige1 and it was not until the beginning of the ninth century that it became the seat of government2 while the cathedral of ,torcello1 though ,christian ,roman in general form1 was rebuilt in the eleventh century1 and shows evidence of ,byzantine workmanship in many of its details4 ,this cathedral1 however1 with the church of ,santa ,fosca at ,torcello1 ,san ,giacomo di ,rialto at ,venice1 and the crypt of ,st4 ,mark's1 forms a distinct group of buildings1 in which the ,byzantine influence is exceedingly slight2 and which is probably very sufficiently representative of the earliest architecture on the islands4 ,,section ,,xxxi4 ,the ,ducal residence was removed to ,venice in #hji1 and the body of ,st4 ,mark was brought from ,alexandria twenty years later4 ,the first church of ,st4 ,mark's was1 doubtless1 built in imitation of that destroyed at ,alexandria1 and from which the relics of the saint had been obtained4 ,during the ninth1 tenth1 and eleventh centuries1 the architecture of ,venice seems to have been formed on the same model1 and is almost identical with that of ,cairo under the caliphs1 ,footnote3 ,appendix #aj1 ,church of ,alexandria4 it being quite immaterial whether the reader chooses to call both ,byzantine or both ,arabic2 the workmen being certainly ,byzantine1 but forced to the invention of new forms by their ,arabian masters1 and bringing these forms into use in whatever other parts of the world they were employed4 ,to this first manner of ,venetian architecture1 together with such vestiges as remain of the ,christian ,roman1 ,i shall devote the first division of the following inquiry4 ,the examples remaining of it consist of three noble churches 7those of ,torcello1 ,murano1 and the greater part of ,st4 ,mark's71 and about ten or twelve fragments of palaces4 ,,section ,,xxxii4 ,to this style succeeds a transitional one1 of a character much more distinctly ,arabian3 the shafts become more slender1 and the arches consistently pointed1 instead of round2 certain other changes1 not to be enumerated in a sentence1 taking place in the capitals and mouldings4 ,this style is almost exclusively secular4 ,it was natural for the ,venetians to imitate the beautiful details of the ,arabian dwelling-house1 while they would with reluctance adopt those of the mosque for ,christian churches4 ,i have not succeeded in fixing limiting dates for this style4 ,it appears in part contemporary with the ,byzantine manner1 but outlives it4 ,its position is1 however1 fixed by the central date1 #aahj1 that of the elevation of the granite shafts of the ,piazetta1 whose capitals are the two most important pieces of detail in this transitional style in ,venice4 ,examples of its application to domestic buildings exist in almost every street of the city1 and will form the subject of the second division of the following essay4 ,,section ,,xxxiii4 ,the ,venetians were always ready to receive lessons in art from their enemies 7else had there been no ,arab work in ,venice74 ,but their especial dread and hatred of the ,lombards appears to have long prevented them from receiving the influence of the art which that people had introduced on the mainland of ,italy4 ,nevertheless1 during the practice of the two styles above distinguished1 a peculiar and very primitive condition of pointed ,gothic had arisen in ecclesiastical architecture4 ,it appears to be a feeble reflection of the ,lombard-,arab forms1 which were attaining perfection upon the continent1 and would probably1 if left to itself1 have been soon merged in the ,venetian-,arab school1 with which it had from the first so close a fellowship1 that it will be found difficult to distinguish the ,arabian ogives from those which seem to have been built under this early ,gothic influence4 ,the churches of ,san ,giacopo dell' ,orio1 ,san ,giovanni in ,bragora1 the ,carmine1 and one or two more1 furnish the only important examples of it4 ,but1 in the thirteenth century1 the ,franciscans and ,dominicans introduced from the continent their morality and their architecture1 already a distinct ,gothic1 curiously developed from ,lombardic and ,northern 7,german87 forms2 and the influence of the principles exhibited in the vast churches of ,st4 ,paul and the ,frari began rapidly to affect the ,venetian-,arab school4 ,still the two systems never became united2 the ,venetian policy repressed the power of the church1 and the ,venetian artists resisted its example2 and thenceforward the architecture of the city becomes divided into ecclesiastical and civil3 the one an ungraceful yet powerful form of the ,western ,gothic1 common to the whole peninsula1 and only showing ,venetian sympathies in the adoption of certain characteristic mouldings2 the other a rich1 luxuriant1 and entirely original ,gothic1 formed from the ,venetian-,arab by the influence of the ,dominican and ,franciscan architecture1 and especially by the engrafting upon the ,arab forms of the most novel feature of the ,franciscan work1 its traceries4 ,these various forms of ,gothic1 the distinctive architecture of ,venice1 chiefly represented by the churches of ,st4 ,john and ,paul1 the ,frari1 and ,san ,stefano1 on the ecclesiastical side1 and by the ,ducal palace1 and the other principal ,gothic palaces1 on the secular side1 will be the subject of the third division of the essay4 ,,section ,,xxxiv4 ,now observe4 ,the transitional 7or especially ,arabic7 style of the ,venetian work is centralized by the date #aahj1 and is transformed gradually into the ,gothic1 which extends in its purity from the middle of the thirteenth to the beginning of the fifteenth century2 that is to say1 over the precise period which ,i have described as the central epoch of the life of ,venice4 ,i dated her decline from the year #adah2 ,foscari became doge five years later1 and in his reign the first marked signs appear in architecture of that mighty change which ,philippe de ,commynes notices as above1 the change to which ,london owes ,st4 ,paul's1 ,rome ,st4 ,peter's1 ,venice and ,vicenza the edifices commonly supposed to be their noblest1 and ,europe in general the degradation of every art she has since practised4 ,,section ,,xxxv4 ,this change appears first in a loss of truth and vitality in existing architecture all over the world4 7,compare ,seven ,lamps1 chap4 ii47 ,all the ,gothics in existence1 southern or northern1 were corrupted at once3 the ,german and ,french lost themselves in every species of extravagance2 the ,english ,gothic was confined1 in its insanity1 by a strait-waistcoat of perpendicular lines2 the ,italian effloresced on the main land into the meaningless ornamentation of the ,certosa of ,pavia and the ,cathedral of ,como1 7a style sometimes ignorantly called ,italian ,gothic71 and at ,venice into the insipid confusion of the ,porta della ,carta and wild crockets of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,this corruption of all architecture1 especially ecclesiastical1 corresponded with1 and marked the state of religion over all ,europe1--the peculiar degradation of the ,romanist superstition1 and of public morality in consequence1 which brought about the ,reformation4 ,,section ,,xxxvi4 ,against the corrupted papacy arose two great divisions of adversaries1 ,protestants in ,germany and ,england1 ,rationalists in ,france and ,italy2 the one requiring the purification of religion1 the other its destruction4 ,the ,protestant kept the religion1 but cast aside the heresies of ,rome1 and with them her arts1 by which last rejection he injured his own character1 cramped his intellect in refusing to it one of its noblest exercises1 and materially diminished his influence4 ,it may be a serious question how far the ,pausing of the ,reformation has been a consequence of this error4 ,the ,rationalist kept the arts and cast aside the religion4 ,this rationalistic art is the art commonly called ,renaissance1 marked by a return to pagan systems1 not to adopt them and hallow them for ,christianity1 but to rank itself under them as an imitator and pupil4 ,in ,painting it is headed by ,giulio ,romano and ,nicolo ,poussin2 in ,architecture by ,sansovino and ,palladio4 ,,section ,,xxxvii4 ,instant degradation followed in every direction1--a flood of folly and hypocrisy4 ,mythologies ill understood at first1 then perverted into feeble sensualities1 take the place of the representations of ,christian subjects1 which had become blasphemous under the treatment of men like the ,caracci4 ,gods without power1 satyrs without rusticity1 nymphs without innocence1 men without humanity1 gather into idiot groups upon the polluted canvas1 and scenic affectations encumber the streets with preposterous marble4 ,lower and lower declines the level of abused intellect2 the base school of landscape ,footnote3 ,appendix ,,ii1 ,renaissance ,landscape4 gradually usurps the place of the historical painting1 which had sunk into prurient pedantry1--the ,alsatian sublimities of ,salvator1 the confectionery idealities of ,claude1 the dull manufacture of ,gaspar and ,canaletto1 south of the ,alps1 and on the north the patient devotion of besotted lives to delineation of bricks and fogs1 fat cattle and ditchwater4 ,and thus ,christianity and morality1 courage1 and intellect1 and art all crumbling together into one wreck1 we are hurried on to the fall of ,italy1 the revolution in ,france1 and the condition of art in ,england 7saved by her ,protestantism from severer penalty7 in the time of ,george ,,ii4 ,,section ,,xxxviii4 ,i have not written in vain if ,i have heretofore done anything towards diminishing the reputation of the ,renaissance landscape painting4 ,but the harm which has been done by ,claude and the ,poussins is as nothing when compared to the mischief effected by ,palladio1 ,scamozzi1 and ,sansovino4 ,claude and the ,poussins were weak men1 and have had no serious influence on the general mind4 ,there is little harm in their works being purchased at high prices3 their real influence is very slight1 and they may be left without grave indignation to their poor mission of furnishing drawing-rooms and assisting stranded conversation4 ,not so the ,renaissance architecture4 ,raised at once into all the magnificence of which it was capable by ,michael ,angelo1 then taken up by men of real intellect and imagination1 such as ,scamozzi1 ,sansovino1 ,inigo ,jones1 and ,wren1 it is impossible to estimate the extent of its influence on the ,european mind2 and that the more1 because few persons are concerned with painting1 and1 of those few1 the larger number regard it with slight attention2 but all men are concerned with architecture1 and have at some time of their lives serious business with it4 ,it does not much matter that an individual loses two or three hundred pounds in buying a bad picture1 but it is to be regretted that a nation should lose two or three hundred thousand in raising a ridiculous building4 ,nor is it merely wasted wealth or distempered conception which we have to regret in this ,renaissance architecture3 but we shall find in it partly the root1 partly the expression1 of certain dominant evils of modern times--over-sophistication and ignorant classicalism2 the one destroying the healthfulness of general society1 the other rendering our schools and universities useless to a large number of the men who pass through them4 ,now ,venice1 as she was once the most religious1 was in her fall the most corrupt1 of ,european states2 and as she was in her strength the centre of the pure currents of ,christian architecture1 so she is in her decline the source of the ,renaissance4 ,it was the originality and splendor of the palaces of ,vicenza and ,venice which gave this school its eminence in the eyes of ,europe2 and the dying city1 magnificent in her dissipation1 and graceful in her follies1 obtained wider worship in her decrepitude than in her youth1 and sank from the midst of her admirers into the grave4 ,,section ,,xxxix4 ,it is in ,venice1 therefore1 and in ,venice only that effectual blows can be struck at this pestilent art of the ,renaissance4 ,destroy its claims to admiration there1 and it can assert them nowhere else4 ,this1 therefore1 will be the final purpose of the following essay4 ,i shall not devote a fourth section to ,palladio1 nor weary the reader with successive chapters of vituperation2 but ,i shall1 in my account of the earlier architecture1 compare the forms of all its leading features with those into which they were corrupted by the ,classicalists2 and pause1 in the close1 on the edge of the precipice of decline1 so soon as ,i have made its depths discernible4 ,in doing this ,i shall depend upon two distinct kinds of evidence3--the first1 the testimony borne by particular incidents and facts to a want of thought or of feeling in the builders2 from which we may conclude that their architecture must be bad3--the second1 the sense1 which ,i doubt not ,i shall be able to excite in the reader1 of a systematic ugliness in the architecture itself4 ,of the first kind of testimony ,i shall here give two instances1 which may be immediately useful in fixing in the reader's mind the epoch above indicated for the commencement of decline4 ,,section ,,xl4 ,i must again refer to the importance which ,i have above attached to the death of ,carlo ,zeno and the doge ,tomaso ,mocenigo4 ,the tomb of that doge is1 as ,i said1 wrought by a ,florentine2 but it is of the same general type and feeling as all the ,venetian tombs of the period1 and it is one of the last which retains it4 ,the classical element enters largely into its details1 but the feeling of the whole is as yet unaffected4 ,like all the lovely tombs of ,venice and ,verona1 it is a sarcophagus with a recumbent figure above1 and this figure is a faithful but tender portrait1 wrought as far as it can be without painfulness1 of the doge as he lay in death4 ,he wears his ducal robe and bonnet--his head is laid slightly aside upon his pillow--his hands are simply crossed as they fall4 ,the face is emaciated1 the features large1 but so pure and lordly in their natural chiselling1 that they must have looked like marble even in their animation4 ,they are deeply worn away by thought and death2 the veins on the temples branched and starting2 the skin gathered in sharp folds2 the brow high-arched and shaggy2 the eye-ball magnificently large2 the curve of the lips just veiled by the light mustache at the side2 the beard short1 double1 and sharp-pointed3 all noble and quiet2 the white sepulchral dust marking like light the stern angles of the cheek and brow4 ,this tomb was sculptured in #adbd1 and is thus described by one of the most intelligent of the recent writers who represent the popular feeling respecting ,venetian art4 ,of the ,italian school is also the rich but ugly 7ricco ma non bel7 sarcophagus in which repose the ashes of ,tomaso ,mocenigo4 ,it may be called one of the last links which connect the declining art of the ,middle ,ages with that of the ,renaissance1 which was in its rise4 ,we will not stay to particularize the defects of each of the seven figures of the front and sides1 which represent the cardinal and theological virtues2 nor will we make any remarks upon those which stand in the niches above the pavilion1 because we consider them unworthy both of the age and reputation of the ,florentine school1 which was then with reason considered the most notable in ,italy4 ,footnote3 ,selvatico1 ,architettura di ,venezia1 p4 #adg4 ,it is well1 indeed1 not to pause over these defects2 but it might have been better to have paused a moment beside that noble image of a king's mortality4 ,,section ,,xli4 ,in the choir of the same church1 ,st4 ,giov4 and ,paolo1 is another tomb1 that of the ,doge ,andrea ,vendramin4 ,this doge died in #adgh1 after a short reign of two years1 the most disastrous in the annals of ,venice4 ,he died of a pestilence which followed the ravage of the ,turks1 carried to the shores of the lagoons4 ,he died1 leaving ,venice disgraced by sea and land1 with the smoke of hostile devastation rising in the blue distances of ,friuli2 and there was raised to him the most costly tomb ever bestowed on her monarchs4 ,,section ,,xlii4 ,if the writer above quoted was cold beside the statue of one of the fathers of his country1 he atones for it by his eloquence beside the tomb of the ,vendramin4 ,i must not spoil the force of ,italian superlative by translation4 ,quando si guarda a quella corretta eleganza di profili e di proporzioni1 a quella squisitezza d'ornamenti1 a quel certo sapore antico che senza ombra d' imitazione traspareda tutta l' opera--c4 ,sopra ornatissimo zoccolo fornito di squisiti intagli s' alza uno stylobate--c4 ,sotto le colonne1 il predetto stilobate si muta leggiadramente in piedistallo1 poi con bella novita di pensiero e di effetto va coronato da un fregio il piu gentile che veder si possa--c4 ,non puossi lasciar senza un cenno l' arca dove sta chiuso il doge2 capo lavoro di pensiero e di esecuzione1 etc4 ,there are two pages and a half of closely printed praise1 of which the above specimens may suffice2 but there is not a word of the statue of the dead from beginning to end4 ,i am myself in the habit of considering this rather an important part of a tomb1 and ,i was especially interested in it here1 because ,selvatico only echoes the praise of thousands4 ,it is unanimously declared the chef d'oeuvre of ,renaissance sepulchral work1 and pronounced by ,cicognara 7also quoted by ,selvatico74 ,il vertice a cui l'arti ,veneziane si spinsero col ministero del scalpello1--,the very culminating point to which the ,venetian arts attained by ministry of the chisel4 ,to this culminating point1 therefore1 covered with dust and cobwebs1 ,i attained1 as ,i did to every tomb of importance in ,venice1 by the ministry of such ancient ladders as were to be found in the sacristan's keeping4 ,i was struck at first by the excessive awkwardness and want of feeling in the fall of the hand towards the spectator1 for it is thrown off the middle of the body in order to show its fine cutting4 ,now the ,mocenigo hand1 severe and even stiff in its articulations1 has its veins finely drawn1 its sculptor having justly felt that the delicacy of the veining expresses alike dignity and age and birth4 ,the ,vendramin hand is far more laboriously cut1 but its blunt and clumsy contour at once makes us feel that all the care has been thrown away1 and well it may be1 for it has been entirely bestowed in cutting gouty wrinkles about the joints4 ,such as the hand is1 ,i looked for its fellow4 ,at first ,i thought it had been broken off1 but1 on clearing away the dust1 ,i saw the wretched effigy had only one hand1 and was a mere block on the inner side4 ,the face1 heavy and disagreeable in its features1 is made monstrous by its semi-sculpture4 ,one side of the forehead is wrinkled elaborately1 the other left smooth2 one side only of the doge's cap is chased2 one cheek only is finished1 and the other blocked out and distorted besides2 finally1 the ermine robe1 which is elaborately imitated to its utmost lock of hair and of ground hair on the one side1 is blocked out only on the other3 it having been supposed throughout the work that the effigy was only to be seen from below1 and from one side4 ,,section ,,xliii4 ,it was indeed to be seen by nearly every one2 and ,i do not blame--,i should1 on the contrary1 have praised--the sculptor for regulating his treatment of it by its position2 if that treatment had not involved1 first1 dishonesty1 in giving only half a face1 a monstrous mask1 when we demanded true portraiture of the dead2 and1 secondly1 such utter coldness of feeling1 as could only consist with an extreme of intellectual and moral degradation3 ,who1 with a heart in his breast1 could have stayed his hand as he drew the dim lines of the old man's countenance--unmajestic once1 indeed1 but at least sanctified by the solemnities of death--could have stayed his hand1 as he reached the bend of the grey forehead1 and measured out the last veins of it at so much the zecchin4 ,i do not think the reader1 if he has feeling1 will expect that much talent should be shown in the rest of his work1 by the sculptor of this base and senseless lie4 ,the whole monument is one wearisome aggregation of that species of ornamental flourish1 which1 when it is done with a pen1 is called penmanship1 and when done with a chisel1 should be called chiselmanship2 the subject of it being chiefly fat-limbed boys sprawling on dolphins1 dolphins incapable of swimming1 and dragged along the sea by expanded pocket-handkerchiefs4 ,but now1 reader1 comes the very gist and point of the whole matter4 ,this lying monument to a dishonored doge1 this culminating pride of the ,renaissance art of ,venice1 is at least veracious1 if in nothing else1 in its testimony to the character of its sculptor4 ,he was banished from ,venice for forgery in #adhg4 ,footnote3 ,selvatico1 p4 #bba4 ,,section ,,xliv4 ,i have more to say about this convict's work hereafter2 but ,i pass at present1 to the second1 slighter1 but yet more interesting piece of evidence1 which ,i promised4 ,the ducal palace has two principal faades2 one towards the sea1 the other towards the ,piazzetta4 ,the seaward side1 and1 as far as the seventh main arch inclusive1 the ,piazzetta side1 is work of the early part of the fourteenth century1 some of it perhaps even earlier2 while the rest of the ,piazzetta side is of the fifteenth4 ,the difference in age has been gravely disputed by the ,venetian antiquaries1 who have examined many documents on the subject1 and quoted some which they never examined4 ,i have myself collated most of the written documents1 and one document more1 to which the ,venetian antiquaries never thought of referring1--the masonry of the palace itself4 ,,section ,,xlv4 ,that masonry changes at the centre of the eighth arch from the sea angle on the ,piazzetta side4 ,it has been of comparatively small stones up to that point2 the fifteenth century work instantly begins with larger stones1 brought from ,istria1 a hundred miles away4 ,footnote3 ,the older work is of ,istrian stone also1 but of different quality4 ,the ninth shaft from the sea in the lower arcade1 and the seventeenth1 which is above it1 in the upper arcade1 commence the series of fifteenth century shafts4 ,these two are somewhat thicker than the others1 and carry the party-wall of the ,sala del ,scrutinio4 ,now observe1 reader4 ,the face of the palace1 from this point to the ,porta della ,carta1 was built at the instance of that noble ,doge ,mocenigo beside whose tomb you have been standing2 at his instance1 and in the beginning of the reign of his successor1 ,foscari2 that is to say1 circa #adbd4 ,this is not disputed2 it is only disputed that the sea faade is earlier2 of which1 however1 the proofs are as simple as they are incontrovertible3 for not only the masonry1 but the sculpture1 changes at the ninth lower shaft1 and that in the capitals of the shafts both of the upper and lower arcade3 the costumes of the figures introduced in the sea faade being purely ,giottesque1 correspondent with ,giotto's work in the ,arena ,chapel at ,padua1 while the costume on the other capitals is ,renaissance-,classic3 and the lions' heads between the arches change at the same point4 ,and there are a multitude of other evidences in the statues of the angels1 with which ,i shall not at present trouble the reader4 ,,section ,,xlvi4 ,now1 the architect who built under ,foscari1 in #adbd 7remember my date for the decline of ,venice1 #adah71 was obliged to follow the principal forms of the older palace4 ,but he had not the wit to invent new capitals in the same style2 he therefore clumsily copied the old ones4 ,the palace has seventeen main arches on the sea faade1 eighteen on the ,piazzetta side1 which in all are of course carried by thirty-six pillars2 and these pillars ,i shall always number from right to left1 from the angle of the palace at the ,ponte della ,paglia to that next the ,porta della ,carta4 ,i number them in this succession1 because ,i thus have the earliest shafts first numbered4 ,so counted1 the #ast1 the #ahth1 and the #cfth1 are the great supports of the angles of the palace2 and the first of the fifteenth century series1 being1 as above stated1 the #ith from the sea on the ,piazzetta side1 is the #bfth of the entire series1 and will always in future be so numbered1 so that all numbers above twenty-six indicate fifteenth century work1 and all below it1 fourteenth century1 with some exceptional cases of restoration4 ,then the copied capitals are3 the #bhth1 copied from the #gth2 the #bith1 from the #ith2 the #cjth1 from the #ajth2 the #cast1 from the #hth2 the #cc;d1 from the #abth2 and the #cdth1 from the #aath2 the others being dull inventions of the #aeth century1 except the #cfth2 which is very nobly designed4 ,,section ,,xlvii4 ,the capitals thus selected from the earlier portion of the palace for imitation1 together with the rest1 will be accurately described hereafter2 the point ,i have here to notice is in the copy of the ninth capital1 which was decorated 7being1 like the rest1 octagonal7 with figures of the eight ,virtues3--,faith1 ,hope1 ,charity1 ,justice1 ,temperance1 ,prudence1 ,humility 7the ,venetian antiquaries call it ,humanity671 and ,fortitude4 ,the ,virtues of the fourteenth century are somewhat hard-featured2 with vivid and living expression1 and plain every-day clothes of the time4 ,charity has her lap full of apples 7perhaps loaves71 and is giving one to a little child1 who stretches his arm for it across a gap in the leafage of the capital4 ,fortitude tears open a lion's jaws2 ,faith lays her hand on her breast1 as she beholds the ,cross2 and ,hope is praying1 while above her a hand is seen emerging from sunbeams--the hand of ,god 7according to that of ,revelations1 ,the ,lord ,god giveth them light72 and the inscription above is1 ,spes optima in ,deo4 ,,section ,,xlviii4 ,this design1 then1 is1 rudely and with imperfect chiselling1 imitated by the fifteenth century workmen3 the ,virtues have lost their hard features and living expression2 they have now all got ,roman noses1 and have had their hair curled4 ,their actions and emblems are1 however1 preserved until we come to ,hope3 she is still praying1 but she is praying to the sun only3 ,the hand of ,god is gone4 ,is not this a curious and striking type of the spirit which had then become dominant in the world1 forgetting to see ,god's hand in the light ,he gave2 so that in the issue1 when the light opened into the ,reformation on the one side1 and into full knowledge of ancient literature on the other1 the one was arrested and the other perverted8 ,,section ,,xlix4 ,such is the nature of the accidental evidence on which ,i shall depend for the proof of the inferiority of character in the ,renaissance workmen4 ,but the proof of the inferiority of the work itself is not so easy1 for in this ,i have to appeal to judgments which the ,renaissance work has itself distorted4 ,i felt this difficulty very forcibly as ,i read a slight review of my former work1 ,the ,seven ,lamps1 in ,the ,architect3 the writer noticed my constant praise of ,st4 ,mark's3 ,mr4 ,ruskin thinks it a very beautiful building6 ,we1 said the ,architect1 think it a very ugly building4 ,i was not surprised at the difference of opinion1 but at the thing being considered so completely a subject of opinion4 ,my opponents in matters of painting always assume that there is such a thing as a law of right1 and that ,i do not understand it3 but my architectural adversaries appeal to no law1 they simply set their opinion against mine2 and indeed there is no law at present to which either they or ,i can appeal4 ,no man can speak with rational decision of the merits or demerits of buildings3 he may with obstinacy2 he may with resolved adherence to previous prejudices2 but never as if the matter could be otherwise decided than by a majority of votes1 or pertinacity of partisanship4 ,i had always1 however1 a clear conviction that there was a law in this matter3 that good architecture might be indisputably discerned and divided from the bad2 that the opposition in their very nature and essence was clearly visible2 and that we were all of us just as unwise in disputing about the matter without reference to principle1 as we should be for debating about the genuineness of a coin1 without ringing it4 ,i felt also assured that this law must be universal if it were conclusive2 that it must enable us to reject all foolish and base work1 and to accept all noble and wise work1 without reference to style or national feeling2 that it must sanction the design of all truly great nations and times1 ,gothic or ,greek or ,arab2 that it must cast off and reprobate the design of all foolish nations and times1 ,chinese or ,mexican1 or modern ,european3 and that it must be easily applicable to all possible architectural inventions of human mind4 ,i set myself1 therefore1 to establish such a law1 in full belief that men are intended1 without excessive difficulty1 and by use of their general common sense1 to know good things from bad2 and that it is only because they will not be at the pains required for the discernment1 that the world is so widely encumbered with forgeries and basenesses4 ,i found the work simpler than ,i had hoped2 the reasonable things ranged themselves in the order ,i required1 and the foolish things fell aside1 and took themselves away so soon as they were looked in the face4 ,i had then1 with respect to ,venetian architecture1 the choice1 either to establish each division of law in a separate form1 as ,i came to the features with which it was concerned1 or else to ask the reader's patience1 while ,i followed out the general inquiry first1 and determined with him a code of right and wrong1 to which we might together make retrospective appeal4 ,i thought this the best1 though perhaps the dullest way2 and in these first following pages ,i have therefore endeavored to arrange those foundations of criticism1 on which ,i shall rest in my account of ,venetian architecture1 in a form clear and simple enough to be intelligible even to those who never thought of architecture before4 ,to those who have1 much of what is stated in them will be well known or self-evident2 but they must not be indignant at a simplicity on which the whole argument depends for its usefulness4 ,from that which appears a mere truism when first stated1 they will find very singular consequences sometimes following1--consequences altogether unexpected1 and of considerable importance2 ,i will not pause here to dwell on their importance1 nor on that of the thing itself to be done2 for ,i believe most readers will at once admit the value of a criterion of right and wrong in so practical and costly an art as architecture1 and will be apt rather to doubt the possibility of its attainment than dispute its usefulness if attained4 ,i invite them1 therefore1 to a fair trial1 being certain that even if ,i should fail in my main purpose1 and be unable to induce in my reader the confidence of judgment ,i desire1 ,i shall at least receive his thanks for the suggestion of consistent reasons1 which may determine hesitating choice1 or justify involuntary preference4 ,and if ,i should succeed1 as ,i hope1 in making the ,stones of ,venice touchstones1 and detecting1 by the mouldering of her marble1 poison more subtle than ever was betrayed by the rending of her crystal2 and if thus ,i am enabled to show the baseness of the schools of architecture and nearly every other art1 which have for three centuries been predominant in ,europe1 ,i believe the result of the inquiry may be serviceable for proof of a more vital truth than any at which ,i have hitherto hinted4 ,for observe3 ,i said the ,protestant had despised the arts1 and the ,rationalist corrupted them4 ,but what has the ,romanist done meanwhile8 ,he boasts that it was the papacy which raised the arts2 why could it not support them when it was left to its own strength8 ,how came it to yield to ,classicalism which was based on infidelity1 and to oppose no barrier to innovations1 which have reduced the once faithfully conceived imagery of its worship to stage decoration8 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,,xii41 ,romanist ,modern ,art4 ,shall we not rather find that ,romanism1 instead of being a promoter of the arts1 has never shown itself capable of a single great conception since the separation of ,protestantism from its side8 ,footnote3 ,perfectly true3 but the whole vital value of the truth was lost by my sectarian ignorance4 ,protestantism 7so far as it was still ,christianity1 and did not consist merely in maintaining one's own opinion for gospel7 could not separate itself from the ,catholic ,church4 ,the so-called ,catholics became themselves sectarians and heretics in casting them out2 and ,europe was turned into a mere cockpit1 of the theft and fury of unchristian men of both parties2 while innocent and silent on the hills and fields1 ,god's people in neglected peace1 everywhere and for ever ,catholics1 lived and died4 ,so long as1 corrupt though it might be1 no clear witness had been borne against it1 so that it still included in its ranks a vast number of faithful ,christians1 so long its arts were noble4 ,but the witness was borne--the error made apparent2 and ,rome1 refusing to hear the testimony or forsake the falsehood1 has been struck from that instant with an intellectual palsy1 which has not only incapacitated her from any further use of the arts which once were her ministers1 but has made her worship the shame of its own shrines1 and her worshippers their destroyers4 ,come1 then1 if truths such as these are worth our thoughts2 come1 and let us know1 before we enter the streets of the ,sea city1 whether we are indeed to submit ourselves to their undistinguished enchantment1 and to look upon the last changes which were wrought on the lifted forms of her palaces1 as we should on the capricious towering of summer clouds in the sunset1 ere they sank into the deep of night2 or1 whether1 rather1 we shall not behold in the brightness of their accumulated marble1 pages on which the sentence of her luxury was to be written until the waves should efface it1 as they fulfilled--,god has numbered thy kingdom1 and finished it4 ,,chapter ,,ii4 ,,first ,,of ,,second ,,volume ,,in ,,old ,,edition4 ,,the ,,throne4 ,,section ,i4 ,in the olden days of travelling1 now to return no more1 in which distance could not be vanquished without toil1 but in which that toil was rewarded1 partly by the power of deliberate survey of the countries through which the journey lay1 and partly by the happiness of the evening hours1 when1 from the top of the last hill he had surmounted1 the traveller beheld the quiet village where he was to rest1 scattered among the meadows beside its valley stream2 or1 from the long-hoped-for turn in the dusty perspective of the causeway1 saw1 for the first time1 the towers of some famed city1 faint in the rays of sunset--hours of peaceful and thoughtful pleasure1 for which the rush of the arrival in the railway station is perhaps not always1 or to all men1 an equivalent1--in those days1 ,i say1 when there was something more to be anticipated and remembered in the first aspect of each successive halting-place1 than a new arrangement of glass roofing and iron girder1 there were few moments of which the recollection was more fondly cherished by the traveller than that which1 as ,i endeavored to describe in the close of the last chapter1 brought him within sight of ,venice1 as his gondola shot into the open lagoon from the canal of ,mestre4 ,not but that the aspect of the city itself was generally the source of some slight disappointment1 for1 seen in this direction1 its buildings are far less characteristic than those of the other great towns of ,italy2 but this inferiority was partly disguised by distance1 and more than atoned for by the strange rising of its walls and towers out of the midst1 as it seemed1 of the deep sea1 for it was impossible that the mind or the eye could at once comprehend the shallowness of the vast sheet of water which stretched away in leagues of rippling lustre to the north and south1 or trace the narrow line of islets bounding it to the east4 ,the salt breeze1 the white moaning sea-birds1 the masses of black weed separating and disappearing gradually1 in knots of heaving shoal1 under the advance of the steady tide1 all proclaimed it to be indeed the ocean on whose bosom the great city rested so calmly2 not such blue1 soft1 lake-like ocean as bathes the ,neapolitan promontories1 or sleeps beneath the marble rocks of ,genoa1 but a sea with the bleak power of our own northern waves1 yet subdued into a strange spacious rest1 and changed from its angry pallor into a field of burnished gold1 as the sun declined behind the belfry tower of the lonely island church1 fitly named ,st4 ,george of the ,seaweed4 ,as the boat drew nearer to the city1 the coast which the traveller had just left sank behind him into one long1 low1 sad-colored line1 tufted irregularly with brushwood and willows3 but1 at what seemed its northern extremity1 the hills of ,arqua rose in a dark cluster of purple pyramids1 balanced on the bright mirage of the lagoon2 two or three smooth surges of inferior hill extended themselves about their roots1 and beyond these1 beginning with the craggy peaks above ,vicenza1 the chain of the ,alps girded the whole horizon to the north--a wall of jagged blue1 here and there showing through its clefts a wilderness of misty precipices1 fading far back into the recesses of ,cadore1 and itself rising and breaking away eastward1 where the sun struck opposite upon its snow1 into mighty fragments of peaked light1 standing up behind the barred clouds of evening1 one after another1 countless1 the crown of the ,adrian ,sea1 until the eye turned back from pursuing them1 to rest upon the nearer burning of the campaniles of ,murano1 and on the great city1 where it magnified itself along the waves1 as the quick silent pacing of the gondola drew nearer and nearer4 ,and at last1 when its walls were reached1 and the outmost of its untrodden streets was entered1 not through towered gate or guarded rampart1 but as a deep inlet between two rocks of coral in the ,indian sea2 when first upon the traveller's sight opened the long ranges of columned palaces1--each with its black boat moored at the portal1--each with its image cast down1 beneath its feet1 upon that green pavement which every breeze broke into new fantasies of rich tessellation2 when first1 at the extremity of the bright vista1 the shadowy ,rialto threw its colossal curve slowly forth from behind the palace of the ,camerlenghi2 that strange curve1 so delicate1 so adamantine1 strong as a mountain cavern1 graceful as a bow just bent2 when first1 before its moonlike circumference was all risen1 the gondolier's cry1 ,ah6 ,stali1 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,i1 ,the ,gondolier's ,cry4 struck sharp upon the ear1 and the prow turned aside under the mighty cornices that half met over the narrow canal1 where the plash of the water followed close and loud1 ringing along the marble by the boat's side1 and when at last that boat darted forth upon the breadth of silver sea1 across which the front of the ,ducal palace1 flushed with its sanguine veins1 looks to the snowy dome of ,our ,lady of ,salvation1 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,,ii1 ,our ,lady of ,salvation4 it was no marvel that the mind should be so deeply entranced by the visionary charm of a scene so beautiful and so strange1 as to forget the darker truths of its history and its being4 ,well might it seem that such a city had owed her existence rather to the rod of the enchanter1 than the fear of the fugitive2 that the waters which encircled her had been chosen for the mirror of her state1 rather than the shelter of her nakedness2 and that all which in nature was wild or merciless1--,time and ,decay1 as well as the waves and tempests1--had been won to adorn her instead of to destroy1 and might still spare1 for ages to come1 that beauty which seemed to have fixed for its throne the sands of the hour-glass as well as of the sea4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,and although the last few eventful years1 fraught with change to the face of the whole earth1 have been more fatal in their influence on ,venice than the five hundred that preceded them2 though the noble landscape of approach to her can now be seen no more1 or seen only by a glance1 as the engine slackens its rushing on the iron line2 and though many of her palaces are for ever defaced1 and many in desecrated ruins1 there is still so much of magic in her aspect1 that the hurried traveller1 who must leave her before the wonder of that first aspect has been worn away1 may still be led to forget the humility of her origin1 and to shut his eyes to the depth of her desolation4 ,they1 at least1 are little to be envied1 in whose hearts the great charities of the imagination lie dead1 and for whom the fancy has no power to repress the importunity of painful impressions1 or to raise what is ignoble1 and disguise what is discordant1 in a scene so rich in its remembrances1 so surpassing in its beauty4 ,but for this work of the imagination there must be no permission during the task which is before us4 ,the impotent feeling of romance1 so singularly characteristic of this century1 may indeed gild1 but never save the remains of those mightier ages to which they are attached like climbing flowers2 and they must be torn away from the magnificent fragments1 if we would see them as they stood in their own strength4 ,those feelings1 always as fruitless as they are fond1 are in ,venice not only incapable of protecting1 but even of discerning1 the objects of which they ought to have been attached4 ,the ,venice of modern fiction and drama is a thing of yesterday1 a mere efflorescence of decay1 a stage dream which the first ray of daylight must dissipate into dust4 ,no prisoner1 whose name is worth remembering1 or whose sorrow deserved sympathy1 ever crossed that ,bridge of ,sighs1 which is the centre of the ,byronic ideal of ,venice2 no great merchant of ,venice ever saw that ,rialto under which the traveller now passes with breathless interest3 the statue which ,byron makes ,faliero address as of one of his great ancestors was erected to a soldier of fortune a hundred and fifty years after ,faliero's death2 and the most conspicuous parts of the city have been so entirely altered in the course of the last three centuries1 that if ,henry ,dandolo or ,francis ,foscari could be summoned from their tombs1 and stood each on the deck of his galley at the entrance of the ,grand ,canal1 that renowned entrance1 the painter's favorite subject1 the novelist's favorite scene1 where the water first narrows by the steps of the ,church of ,la ,salute1--the mighty ,doges would not know in what spot of the world they stood1 would literally not recognize one stone of the great city1 for whose sake1 and by whose ingratitude1 their gray hairs had been brought down with bitterness to the grave4 ,the remains of their ,venice lie hidden behind the cumbrous masses which were the delight of the nation in its dotage2 hidden in many a grass-grown court1 and silent pathway1 and lightless canal1 where the slow waves have sapped their foundations for five hundred years1 and must soon prevail over them for ever4 ,it must be our task to glean and gather them forth1 and restore out of them some faint image of the lost city1 more gorgeous a thousand-fold than that which now exists1 yet not created in the day-dream of the prince1 nor by the ostentation of the noble1 but built by iron hands and patient hearts1 contending against the adversity of nature and the fury of man1 so that its wonderfulness cannot be grasped by the indolence of imagination1 but only after frank inquiry into the true nature of that wild and solitary scene1 whose restless tides and trembling sands did indeed shelter the birth of the city1 but long denied her dominion4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,when the eye falls casually on a map of ,europe1 there is no feature by which it is more likely to be arrested than the strange sweeping loop formed by the junction of the ,alps and the ,apennines1 and enclosing the great basin of ,lombardy4 ,this return of the mountain chain upon itself causes a vast difference in the character of the distribution of its dbris on its opposite sides4 ,the rock fragments and sediment which the torrents on the north side of the ,alps bear into the plains are distributed over a vast extent of country1 and1 though here and there lodged in beds of enormous thickness1 soon permit the firm substrata to appear from underneath them2 but all the torrents which descend from the southern side of the ,high ,alps1 and from the northern slope of the ,apennines1 meet concentrically in the recess or mountain bay which the two ridges enclose2 every fragment which thunder breaks out of their battlements1 and every grain of dust which the summer rain washes from their pastures1 is at last laid at rest in the blue sweep of the ,lombardic plain2 and that plain must have risen within its rocky barriers as a cup fills with wine1 but for two contrary influences which continually depress1 or disperse from its surface1 the accumulation of the ruins of ages4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,i will not tax the reader's faith in modern science by insisting on the singular depression of the surface of ,lombardy1 which appears for many centuries to have taken place steadily and continually2 the main fact with which we have to do is the gradual transport1 by the ,po and its great collateral rivers1 of vast masses of the finer sediment to the sea4 ,the character of the ,lombardic plains is most strikingly expressed by the ancient walls of its cities1 composed for the most part of large rounded ,alpine pebbles alternating with narrow courses of brick2 and was curiously illustrated in #ahdh1 by the ramparts of these same pebbles thrown up four or five feet high round every field1 to check the ,austrian cavalry in the battle under the walls of ,verona4 ,the finer dust among which these pebbles are dispersed is taken up by the rivers1 fed into continual strength by the ,alpine snow1 so that1 however pure their waters may be when they issue from the lakes at the foot of the great chain1 they become of the color and opacity of clay before they reach the ,adriatic2 the sediment which they bear is at once thrown down as they enter the sea1 forming a vast belt of low land along the eastern coast of ,italy4 ,the powerful stream of the ,po of course builds forward the fastest2 on each side of it1 north and south1 there is a tract of marsh1 fed by more feeble streams1 and less liable to rapid change than the delta of the central river4 ,in one of these tracts is built ,,ravenna1 and in the other ,,venice4 ,,section ,v4 ,what circumstances directed the peculiar arrangement of this great belt of sediment in the earliest times1 it is not here the place to inquire4 ,it is enough for us to know that from the mouths of the ,adige to those of the ,piave there stretches1 at a variable distance of from three to five miles from the actual shore1 a bank of sand1 divided into long islands by narrow channels of sea4 ,the space between this bank and the true shore consists of the sedimentary deposits from these and other rivers1 a great plain of calcareous mud1 covered1 in the neighborhood of ,venice1 by the sea at high water1 to the depth in most places of a foot or a foot and a half1 and nearly everywhere exposed at low tide1 but divided by an intricate network of narrow and winding channels1 from which the sea never retires4 ,in some places1 according to the run of the currents1 the land has risen into marshy islets1 consolidated1 some by art1 and some by time1 into ground firm enough to be built upon1 or fruitful enough to be cultivated3 in others1 on the contrary1 it has not reached the sea-level2 so that1 at the average low water1 shallow lakelets glitter among its irregularly exposed fields of seaweed4 ,in the midst of the largest of these1 increased in importance by the confluence of several large river channels towards one of the openings in the sea bank1 the city of ,venice itself is built1 on a clouded cluster of islands2 the various plots of higher ground which appear to the north and south of this central cluster1 have at different periods been also thickly inhabited1 and now bear1 according to their size1 the remains of cities1 villages1 or isolated convents and churches1 scattered among spaces of open ground1 partly waste and encumbered by ruins1 partly under cultivation for the supply of the metropolis4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,the average rise and fall of the tide is about three feet 7varying considerably with the seasons2 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,,iii1 ,tides of ,venice47 but this fall1 on so flat a shore1 is enough to cause continual movement in the waters1 and in the main canals to produce a reflux which frequently runs like a mill stream4 ,at high water no land is visible for many miles to the north or south of ,venice1 except in the form of small islands crowned with towers or gleaming with villages3 there is a channel1 some three miles wide1 between the city and the mainland1 and some mile and a half wide between it and the sandy breakwater called the ,lido1 which divides the lagoon from the ,adriatic1 but which is so low as hardly to disturb the impression of the city's having been built in the midst of the ocean1 although the secret of its true position is partly1 yet not painfully1 betrayed by the clusters of piles set to mark the deep-water channels1 which undulate far away in spotty chains like the studded backs of huge sea-snakes1 and by the quick glittering of the crisped and crowded waves that flicker and dance before the strong winds upon the unlifted level of the shallow sea4 ,but the scene is widely different at low tide4 ,a fall of eighteen or twenty inches is enough to show ground over the greater part of the lagoon2 and at the complete ebb the city is seen standing in the midst of a dark plain of seaweed1 of gloomy green1 except only where the larger branches of the ,brenta and its associated streams converge towards the port of the ,lido4 ,through this salt and sombre plain the gondola and the fishing-boat advance by tortuous channels1 seldom more than four or five feet deep1 and often so choked with slime that the heavier keels furrow the bottom till their crossing tracks are seen through the clear sea water like the ruts upon a4 wintry road1 and the oar leaves blue gashes upon the ground at every stroke1 or is entangled among the thick weed that fringes the banks with the weight of its sullen waves1 leaning to and fro upon the uncertain sway of the exhausted tide4 ,the scene is often profoundly oppressive1 even at this day1 when every plot of higher ground bears some fragment of fair building3 but1 in order to know what it was once1 let the traveller follow in his boat at evening the windings of some unfrequented channel far into the midst of the melancholy plain2 let him remove1 in his imagination1 the brightness of the great city that still extends itself in the distance1 and the walls and towers from the islands that are near2 and so wait1 until the bright investiture and1 sweet warmth of the sunset are withdrawn from the waters1 and the black desert of their shore lies in its nakedness beneath the night1 pathless1 comfortless1 infirm1 lost in dark languor and fearful silence1 except where the salt runlets plash into the tideless pools1 or the seabirds flit from their margins with a questioning cry2 and he will be enabled to enter in some sort into the horror of heart with which this solitude was anciently chosen by man for his habitation4 ,they little thought1 who first drove the stakes into the sand1 and strewed the ocean reeds for their rest1 that their children were to be the princes of that ocean1 and their palaces its pride2 and yet1 in the great natural laws that rule that sorrowful wilderness1 let it be remembered what strange preparation had been made for the things which no human imagination could have foretold1 and how the whole existence and fortune of the ,venetian nation were anticipated or compelled1 by the setting of those bars and doors to the rivers and the sea4 ,had deeper currents divided their islands1 hostile navies would again and again have reduced the rising city into servitude2 had stronger surges beaten their shores1 all the richness and refinement of the ,venetian architecture must have been exchanged for the walls and bulwarks of an ordinary sea-port4 ,had there been no tide1 as in other parts of the ,mediterranean1 the narrow canals of the city would have become noisome1 and the marsh in which it was built pestiferous4 ,had the tide been only a foot or eighteen inches higher in its rise1 the water-access to the doors of the palaces would have been impossible3 even as it is1 there is sometimes a little difficulty1 at the ebb1 in landing without setting foot upon the lower and slippery steps3 and the highest tides sometimes enter the courtyards1 and overflow the entrance halls4 ,eighteen inches more of difference between the level of the flood and ebb would have rendered the doorsteps of every palace1 at low water1 a treacherous mass of weeds and limpets1 and the entire system of water-carriage for the higher classes1 in their easy and daily intercourse1 must have been done away with4 ,the streets of the city would have been widened1 its network of canals filled up1 and all the peculiar character of the place and the people destroyed4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,the reader may perhaps have felt some pain in the contrast between this faithful view of the site of the ,venetian ,throne1 and the romantic conception of it which we ordinarily form2 but this pain1 if he have felt it1 ought to be more than counterbalanced by the value of the instance thus afforded to us at once of the inscrutableness and the wisdom of the ways of ,god4 ,if1 two thousand years ago1 we had been permitted to watch the slow settling of the slime of those turbid rivers into the polluted sea1 and the gaining upon its deep and fresh waters of the lifeless1 impassable1 unvoyageable plain1 how little could we have understood the purpose with which those islands were shaped out of the void1 and the torpid waters enclosed with their desolate walls of sand6 ,how little could we have known1 any more than of what now seems to us most distressful1 dark1 and objectless1 the glorious aim which was then in the mind of ,him in whose hand are all the corners of the earth6 how little imagined that in the laws which were stretching forth the gloomy margins of those fruitless banks1 and feeding the bitter grass among their shallows1 there was indeed a preparation1 and the only preparation possible1 for the founding of a city which was to be set like a golden clasp on the girdle of the earth1 to write her history on the white scrolls of the sea-surges1 and to word it in their thunder1 and to gather and give forth1 in world-wide pulsation1 the glory of the ,west and of the ,east1 from the burning heart of her ,fortitude and ,splendor4 ,,chapter ,,iii4 ,,second ,,of ,,second ,,volume ,,in ,,old ,,edition4 ,,torcello4 ,,section ,i4 ,seven miles to the north of ,venice1 the banks of sand1 which near the city rise little above low-water mark1 attain by degrees a higher level1 and knit themselves at last into fields of salt morass1 raised here and there into shapeless mounds1 and intercepted by narrow creeks of sea4 ,one of the feeblest of these inlets1 after winding for some time among buried fragments of masonry1 and knots of sunburnt weeds whitened with webs of fucus1 stays itself in an utterly stagnant pool beside a plot of greener grass covered with ground ivy and violets4 ,on this mound is built a rude brick campanile1 of the commonest ,lombardic type1 which if we ascend towards evening 7and there are none to hinder us1 the door of its ruinous staircase swinging idly on its hinges71 we may command from it one of the most notable scenes in this wide world of ours4 ,far as the eye can reach1 a waste of wild sea moor1 of a lurid ashen gray2 not like our northern moors with their jet-black pools and purple heath1 but lifeless1 the color of sackcloth1 with the corrupted sea-water soaking through the roots of its acrid weeds1 and gleaming hither and thither through its snaky channels4 ,no gathering of fantastic mists1 nor coursing of clouds across it2 but melancholy clearness of space in the warm sunset1 oppressive1 reaching to the horizon of its level gloom4 ,to the very horizon1 on the north-east2 but1 to the north and west1 there is a blue line of higher land along the border of it1 and above this1 but farther back1 a misty band of mountains1 touched with snow4 ,to the east1 the paleness and roar of the ,adriatic1 louder at momentary intervals as the surf breaks on the bars of sand2 to the south1 the widening branches of the calm lagoon1 alternately purple and pale green1 as they reflect the evening clouds or twilight sky2 and almost beneath our feet1 on the same field which sustains the tower we gaze from1 a group of four buildings1 two of them little larger than cottages 7though built of stone1 and one adorned by a quaint belfry71 the third an octagonal chapel1 of which we can see but little more than the flat red roof with its rayed tiling1 the fourth1 a considerable church with nave and aisles1 but of which1 in like manner1 we can see little but the long central ridge and lateral slopes of roof1 which the sunlight separates in one glowing mass from the green field beneath and gray moor beyond4 ,there are no living creatures near the buildings1 nor any vestige of village or city round about them4 ,they lie like a little company of ships becalmed on a far-away sea4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,then look farther to the south4 ,beyond the widening branches of the lagoon1 and rising out of the bright lake into which they gather1 there are a multitude of towers1 dark1 and scattered among square-set shapes of clustered palaces1 a long and irregular line fretting the southern sky4 ,mother and daughter1 you behold them both in their widowhood1--,,torcello and ,,venice4 ,thirteen hundred years ago1 the gray moorland looked as it does this day1 and the purple mountains stood as radiantly in the deep distances of evening2 but on the line of the horizon1 there were strange fires mixed with the light of sunset1 and the lament of many human voices mixed with the fretting of the waves on their ridges of sand4 ,the flames rose from the ruins of ,altinum2 the lament from the multitude of its people1 seeking1 like ,israel of old1 a refuge from the sword in the paths of the sea4 ,the cattle are feeding and resting upon the site of the city that they left2 the mower's scythe swept this day at dawn over the chief street of the city that they built1 and the swathes of soft grass are now sending up their scent into the night air1 the only incense that fills the temple of their ancient worship4 ,let us go down into that little space of meadow land4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,the inlet which runs nearest to the base of the campanile is not that by which ,torcello is commonly approached4 ,another1 somewhat broader1 and overhung by alder copse1 winds out of the main channel of the lagoon up to the very edge of the little meadow which was once the ,piazza of the city1 and there1 stayed by a few grey stones which present some semblance of a quay1 forms its boundary at one extremity4 ,hardly larger than an ordinary ,english farmyard1 and roughly enclosed on each side by broken palings and hedges of honeysuckle and briar1 the narrow field retires from the water's edge1 traversed by a scarcely traceable footpath1 for some forty or fifty paces1 and then expanding into the form of a small square1 with buildings on three sides of it1 the fourth being that which opens to the water4 ,two of these1 that on our left and that in front of us as we approach from the canal1 are so small that they might well be taken for the out-houses of the farm1 though the first is a conventual building1 and the other aspires to the title of the ,palazzo publico1 both dating as far back as the beginning of the fourteenth century2 the third1 the octagonal church of ,santa ,fosca1 is far more ancient than either1 yet hardly on a larger scale4 ,though the pillars of the portico which surrounds it are of pure ,greek marble1 and their capitals are enriched with delicate sculpture1 they1 and the arches they sustain1 together only raise the roof to the height of a cattle-shed2 and the first strong impression which the spectator receives from the whole scene is1 that whatever sin it may have been which has on this spot been visited with so utter a desolation1 it could not at least have been ambition4 ,nor will this impression be diminished as we approach1 or enter1 the larger church to which the whole group of building is subordinate4 ,it has evidently been built by men in flight and distress1 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,,iv1 ,date of the ,duomo of ,torcello4 who sought in the hurried erection of their ,island church such a shelter for their earnest and sorrowful worship as1 on the one hand1 could not attract the eyes of their enemies by its splendor1 and yet1 on the other1 might not awaken too bitter feelings by its contrast with the churches which they had seen destroyed4 ,there is visible everywhere a simple and tender effort to recover some of the form of the temples which they had loved1 and to do honor to ,god by that which they were erecting1 while distress and humiliation prevented the desire1 and prudence precluded the admission1 either of luxury of ornament or magnificence of plan4 ,the exterior is absolutely devoid of decoration1 with the exception only of the western entrance and the lateral door1 of which the former has carved sideposts and architrave1 and the latter1 crosses of rich sculpture2 while the massy stone shutters of the windows1 turning on huge rings of stone1 which answer the double purpose of stanchions and brackets1 cause the whole building rather to resemble a refuge from ,alpine storm than the cathedral of a populous city2 and1 internally1 the two solemn mosaics of the eastern and western extremities1--one representing the ,last ,judgment1 the other the ,madonna1 her tears falling as her hands are raised to bless1--and the noble range of pillars which enclose the space between1 terminated by the high throne for the pastor and the semicircular raised seats for the superior clergy1 are expressive at once of the deep sorrow and the sacred courage of men who had no home left them upon earth1 but who looked for one to come1 of men persecuted but not forsaken1 cast down but not destroyed4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,for observe this choice of subjects4 ,it is indeed possible that the walls of the nave and aisles1 which are now whitewashed1 may have been covered with fresco or mosaic1 and thus have supplied a series of subjects1 on the choice of which we cannot speculate4 ,i do not1 however1 find record of the destruction of any such works2 and ,i am rather inclined to believe that at any rate the central division of the building was originally1 decorated1 as it is now1 simply by mosaics representing ,christ1 the ,virgin1 and the apostles1 at one extremity1 and ,christ coming to judgment at the other4 ,and if so1 ,i repeat1 observe the significance of this choice4 ,most other early churches are covered with imagery sufficiently suggestive of the vivid interest of the builders in the history and occupations of the world4 ,symbols or representations of political events1 portraits of living persons1 and sculptures of satirical1 grotesque1 or trivial subjects are of constant occurrence1 mingled with the more strictly appointed representations of scriptural or ecclesiastical history2 but at ,torcello even these usual1 and one should have thought almost necessary1 successions of ,bible events do not appear4 ,the mind of the worshipper was fixed entirely upon two great facts1 to him the most precious of all facts1--the present mercy of ,christ to ,his ,church1 and ,his future coming to judge the world4 ,that ,christ's mercy was1 at this period1 supposed chiefly to be attainable through the pleading of the ,virgin1 and that therefore beneath the figure of the ,redeemer is seen that of the weeping ,madonna in the act of intercession1 may indeed be matter of sorrow to the ,protestant beholder1 but ought not to blind him to the earnestness and singleness of the faith with which these men sought their sea-solitudes2 not in hope of founding new dynasties1 or entering upon new epochs of prosperity1 but only to humble themselves before ,god1 and to pray that in ,his infinite mercy ,he would hasten the time when the sea should give up the dead which were in it1 and ,death and ,hell give up the dead which were in them1 and when they might enter into the better kingdom1 where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest4 ,,section ,v4 ,nor were the strength and elasticity of their minds1 even in the least matters1 diminished by thus looking forward to the close of all things4 ,on the contrary1 nothing is more remarkable than the finish and beauty of all the portions of the building1 which seem to have been actually executed for the place they occupy in the present structure4 ,the rudest are those which they brought with them from the mainland2 the best and most beautiful1 those which appear to have been carved for their island church3 of these1 the new capitals already noticed1 and the exquisite panel ornaments of the chancel screen1 are the most conspicuous2 the latter form a low wall across the church between the six small shafts whose places are seen in the plan1 and serve to enclose a space raised two steps above the level of the nave1 destined for the singers1 and indicated also in the plan by an open line a b c d4 ,the bas-reliefs on this low screen are groups of peacocks and lions1 two face to face on each panel1 rich and fantastic beyond description1 though not expressive of very accurate knowledge either of leonine or pavonine forms4 ,and it is not until we pass to the back of the stair of the pulpit1 which is connected with the northern extremity of this screen1 that we find evidence of the haste with which the church was constructed4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,the pulpit1 however1 is not among the least noticeable of its features4 ,it is sustained on the four small detached shafts marked at p in the plan1 between the two pillars at the north side of the screen2 both pillars and pulpit studiously plain1 while the staircase which ascends to it is a compact mass of masonry 7shaded in the plan71 faced by carved slabs of marble2 the parapet of the staircase being also formed of solid blocks like paving-stones1 lightened by rich1 but not deep1 exterior carving4 ,now these blocks1 or at least those which adorn the staircase towards the aisle1 have been brought from the mainland2 and1 being of size and shape not easily to be adjusted to the proportions of the stair1 the architect has cut out of them pieces of the size he needed1 utterly regardless of the subject or symmetry of the original design4 ,the pulpit is not the only place where this rough procedure has been permitted3 at the lateral door of the church are two crosses1 cut out of slabs of marble1 formerly covered with rich sculpture over their whole surfaces1 of which portions are left on the surface of the crosses2 the lines of the original design being1 of course1 just as arbitrarily cut by the incisions between the arms1 as the patterns upon a piece of silk which has been shaped anew4 ,the fact is1 that in all early ,romanesque work1 large surfaces are covered with sculpture for the sake of enrichment only2 sculpture which indeed had always meaning1 because it was easier for the sculptor to work with some chain of thought to guide his chisel1 than without any2 but it was not always intended1 or at least not always hoped1 that this chain of thought might be traced by the spectator4 ,all that was proposed appears to have been the enrichment of surface1 so as to make it delightful to the eye2 and this being once understood1 a decorated piece of marble became to the architect just what a piece of lace or embroidery is to a dressmaker1 who takes of it such portions as she may require1 with little regard to the places where the patterns are divided4 ,and though it may appear1 at first sight1 that the procedure is indicative of bluntness and rudeness of feeling1--we may perceive1 upon reflection1 that it may also indicate the redundance of power which sets little price upon its own exertion4 ,when a barbarous nation builds its fortress-walls out of fragments of the refined architecture it has overthrown1 we can read nothing but its savageness in the vestiges of art which may thus chance to have been preserved2 but when the new work is equal1 if not superior1 in execution1 to the pieces of the older art which are associated with it1 we may justly conclude that the rough treatment to which the latter have been subjected is rather a sign of the hope of doing better things1 than of want of feeling for those already accomplished4 ,and1 in general1 this careless fitting of ornament is1 in very truth1 an evidence of life in the school of builders1 and of their making a due distinction between work which is to be used for architectural effect1 and work which is to possess an abstract perfection2 and it commonly shows also that the exertion of design is so easy to them1 and their fertility so inexhaustible1 that they feel no remorse in using somewhat injuriously what they can replace with so slight an effort4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,it appears however questionable in the present instance1 whether1 if the marbles had not been carved to his hand1 the architect would have taken the trouble to enrich them4 ,for the execution of the rest of the pulpit is studiously simple1 and it is in this respect that its design possesses1 it seems to me1 an interest to the religious spectator greater than he will take in any other portion of the building4 ,it is supported1 as ,i said1 on a group of four slender shafts2 itself of a slightly oval form1 extending nearly from one pillar of the nave to the next1 so as to give the preacher free room for the action of the entire person1 which always gives an unaffected impressiveness to the eloquence of the southern nations4 ,in the centre of its curved front1 a small bracket and detached shaft sustain the projection of a narrow marble desk 7occupying the place of a cushion in a modern pulpit71 which is hollowed out into a shallow curve on the upper surface1 leaving a ledge at the bottom of the slab1 so that a book laid upon it1 or rather into it1 settles itself there1 opening as if by instinct1 but without the least chance of slipping to the side1 or in any way moving beneath the preacher's hands4 ,six balls1 or rather almonds1 of purple marble veined with white are set round the edge of the pulpit1 and form its only decoration4 ,perfectly graceful1 but severe and almost cold in its simplicity1 built for permanence and service1 so that no single member1 no stone of it1 could be spared1 and yet all are firm and uninjured as when they were first set together1 it stands in venerable contrast both with the fantastic pulpits of mediaeval cathedrals and with the rich furniture of those of our modern churches4 ,it is worth while pausing for a moment to consider how far the manner of decorating a pulpit may have influence on the efficiency of its service1 and whether our modern treatment of this1 to us all-important1 feature of a church be the best possible4 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,v41 ,modern ,pulpits4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,when the sermon is good we need not much concern ourselves about the form of the pulpit4 ,but sermons cannot always be good2 and ,i believe that the temper in which the congregation set themselves to listen may be in some degree modified by their perception of fitness or unfitness1 impressiveness or vulgarity1 in the disposition of the place appointed for the speaker1--not to the same degree1 but somewhat in the same way1 that they may be influenced by his own gestures or expression1 irrespective of the sense of what he says4 ,i believe1 therefore1 in the first place1 that pulpits ought never to be highly decorated2 the speaker is apt to look mean or diminutive if the pulpit is either on a very large scale or covered with splendid ornament1 and if the interest of the sermon should flag the mind is instantly tempted to wander4 ,i have observed that in almost all cathedrals1 when the pulpits are peculiarly magnificent1 sermons are not often preached from them2 but rather1 and especially if for any important purpose1 from some temporary erection in other parts of the building3--and though this may often be done because the architect has consulted the effect upon the eye more than the convenience of the ear in the placing of his larger pulpit1 ,i think it also proceeds in some measure from a natural dislike in the preacher to match himself with the magnificence of the rostrum1 lest the sermon should not be thought worthy of the place4 ,yet this will rather hold of the colossal sculptures1 and pyramids of fantastic tracery which encumber the pulpits of ,flemish and ,german churches1 than of the delicate mosaics and ivory-like carving of the ,romanesque basilicas1 for when the form is kept simple1 much loveliness of color and costliness of work may be introduced1 and yet the speaker not be thrown into the shade by them4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,but1 in the second place1 whatever ornaments we admit ought clearly to be of a chaste1 grave1 and noble kind2 and what furniture we employ1 evidently more for the honoring of ,god's word than for the ease of the preacher4 ,for there are two ways of regarding a sermon1 either as a human composition1 or a ,divine message4 ,if we look upon it entirely as the first1 and require our clergymen to finish it with their utmost care and learning1 for our better delight whether of ear or intellect1 we shall necessarily be led to expect much formality and stateliness in its delivery1 and to think that all is not well if the pulpit have not a golden fringe round it1 and a goodly cushion in front of it1 and if the sermon be not fairly written in a black book1 to be smoothed upon the cushion in a majestic manner before beginning2 all this we shall duly come to expect3 but we shall at the same time consider the treatise thus prepared as something to which it is our duty to listen without restlessness for half an hour or three quarters1 but which1 when that duty has been decorously performed1 we may dismiss from our minds in happy confidence of being provided with another when next it shall be necessary4 ,but if once we begin to regard the preacher1 whatever his faults1 as a man sent with a message to us1 which it is a matter of life or death whether we hear or refuse2 if we look upon him as set in charge over many spirits in danger of ruin1 and having allowed to him but an hour or two in the seven days to speak to them2 if we make some endeavor to conceive how precious these hours ought to be to him1 a small vantage on the side of ,god after his flock have been exposed for six days together to the full weight of the world's temptation1 and he has been forced to watch the thorn and the thistle springing in their hearts1 and to see what wheat had been scattered there snatched from the wayside by this wild bird and the other1 and at last1 when breathless and weary with the week's labor they give him this interval of imperfect and languid hearing1 he has but thirty minutes to get at the separate hearts of a thousand men1 to convince them of all their weaknesses1 to shame them for all their sins1 to warn them of all their dangers1 to try by this way and that to stir the hard fastenings of those doors where the ,master himself has stood and knocked yet none opened1 and to call at the openings of those dark streets where ,wisdom herself hath stretched forth her hands and no man regarded1--thirty minutes to raise the dead in1--let us but once understand and feel this1 and we shall look with changed eyes upon that frippery of gay furniture about the place from which the message of judgment must be delivered1 which either breathes upon the dry bones that they may live1 or1 if ineffectual1 remains recorded in condemnation1 perhaps against the utterer and listener alike1 but assuredly against one of them4 ,we shall not so easily bear with the silk and gold upon the seat of judgment1 nor with ornament of oratory in the mouth of the messenger3 we shall wish that his words may be simple1 even when they are sweetest1 and the place from which he speaks like a marble rock in the desert1 about which the people have gathered in their thirst4 ,,section ,x4 ,but the severity which is so marked in the pulpit at ,torcello is still more striking in the raised seats and episcopal throne which occupy the curve of the apse4 ,the arrangement at first somewhat recalls to the mind that of the ,roman amphitheatres2 the flight of steps which lead up to the central throne divides the curve of the continuous steps or seats 7it appears in the first three ranges questionable which were intended1 for they seem too high for the one1 and too low and close for the other71 exactly as in an amphitheatre the stairs for access intersect the sweeping ranges of seats4 ,but in the very rudeness of this arrangement1 and especially in the want of all appliances of comfort 7for the whole is of marble1 and the arms of the central throne are not for convenience1 but for distinction1 and to separate it more conspicuously from the undivided seats71 there is a dignity which no furniture of stalls nor carving of canopies ever could attain1 and well worth the contemplation of the ,protestant1 both as sternly significative of an episcopal authority which in the early days of the ,church was never disputed1 and as dependent for all its impressiveness on the utter absence of any expression either of pride or self-indulgence4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,but there is one more circumstance which we ought to remember as giving peculiar significance to the position which the episcopal throne occupies in this island church1 namely1 that in the minds of all early ,christians the ,church itself was most frequently symbolized under the image of a ship1 of which the bishop was the pilot4 ,consider the force which this symbol would assume in the imaginations of men to whom the spiritual ,church had become an ark of refuge in the midst of a destruction hardly less terrible than that from which the eight souls were saved of old1 a destruction in which the wrath of man had become as broad as the earth and as merciless as the sea1 and who saw the actual and literal edifice of the ,church raked up1 itself like an ark in the midst of the waters4 ,no marvel if with the surf of the ,adriatic rolling between them and the shores of their birth1 from which they were separated for ever1 they should have looked upon each other as the disciples did when the storm came down on the ,tiberias ,lake1 and have yielded ready and loving obedience to those who ruled them in ,his name1 who had there rebuked the winds and commanded stillness to the sea4 ,and if the stranger would yet learn in what spirit it was that the dominion of ,venice was begun1 and in what strength she went forth conquering and to conquer1 let him not seek to estimate the wealth of her arsenals or number of her armies1 nor look upon the pageantry of her palaces1 nor enter into the secrets of her councils2 but let him ascend the highest tier of the stern ledges that sweep round the altar of ,torcello1 and then1 looking as the pilot did of old along the marble ribs of the goodly temple-ship1 let him repeople its veined deck with the shadows of its dead mariners1 and strive to feel in himself the strength of heart that was kindled within them1 when first1 after the pillars of it had settled in the sand1 and the roof of it had been closed against the angry sky that was still reddened by the fires of their homesteads1--first1 within the shelter of its knitted walls1 amidst the murmur of the waste of waves and the beating of the wings of the sea-birds round the rock that was strange to them1--rose that ancient hymn1 in the power of their gathered voices3 ,,the ,,sea ,,is ,,his1 ,,and ,,he ,,made ,,it1 ,,and ,,his ,,hands ,,prepared ,,the ,,dry ,,land4 ,,chapter ,,iv4 ,,st4 ,,mark',s4 ,,section ,i4 ,and so ,barnabas took ,mark1 and sailed unto ,cyprus4 ,if as the shores of ,asia lessened upon his sight1 the spirit of prophecy had entered into the heart of the weak disciple who had turned back when his hand was on the plough1 and who had been judged1 by the chiefest of ,christ's captains1 unworthy thenceforward to go forth with him to the work1 ,footnote3 ,acts1 xiii4 #ac2 xv4 #ch1 #ci4 how wonderful would he have thought it1 that by the lion symbol in future ages he was to be represented among men6 how woful1 that the war-cry of his name should so often reanimate the rage of the soldier1 on those very plains where he himself had failed in the courage of the ,christian1 and so often dye with fruitless blood that very ,cypriot ,sea1 over whose waves1 in repentance and shame1 he was following the ,son of ,consolation6 ,,section ,,ii4 ,that the ,venetians possessed themselves of his body in the ninth century1 there appears no sufficient reason to doubt1 nor that it was principally in consequence of their having done so1 that they chose him for their patron saint4 ,there exists1 however1 a tradition that before he went into ,egypt he had founded the ,church at ,aquileia1 and was thus1 in some sort1 the first bishop of the ,venetian isles and people4 ,i believe that this tradition stands on nearly as good grounds as that of ,st4 ,peter having been the first bishop of ,rome2 ,footnote3 ,the reader who desires to investigate it may consult ,galliciolli1 ,delle ,memorie ,venete 7,venice1 #agie71 tom4 ii4 p4 #ccb1 and the authorities quoted by him4 but1 as usual1 it is enriched by various later additions and embellishments1 much resembling the stories told respecting the church of ,murano4 ,thus we find it recorded by the ,santo ,padre who compiled the ,vite de' ,santi spettanti alle ,chiese di ,venezia1 ,footnote3 ,venice1 #agfa1 tom4 i4 p4 #abf4 that ,st4 ,mark having seen the people of ,aquileia well grounded in religion1 and being called to ,rome by ,st4 ,peter1 before setting off took with him the holy bishop ,hermagoras1 and went in a small boat to the marshes of ,venice4 ,there were at that period some houses built upon a certain high bank called ,rialto1 and the boat being driven by the wind was anchored in a marshy place1 when ,st4 ,mark1 snatched into ecstasy1 heard the voice of an angel saying to him3 ',peace be to thee1 ,mark2 here shall thy body rest4' ,the angel goes on to foretell the building of una stupenda1 ne pi veduta ,citt2 but the fable is hardly ingenious enough to deserve farther relation4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,but whether ,st4 ,mark was first bishop of ,aquileia or not1 ,st4 ,theodore was the first patron of the city2 nor can he yet be considered as having entirely abdicated his early right1 as his statue1 standing on a crocodile1 still companions the winged lion on the opposing pillar of the piazzetta4 ,a church erected to this ,saint is said to have occupied1 before the ninth century1 the site of ,st4 ,mark's2 and the traveller1 dazzled by the brilliancy of the great square1 ought not to leave it without endeavoring to imagine its aspect in that early time1 when it was a green field cloister-like and quiet1 ,footnote3 ,st4 ,mark's ,place1 partly covered by turf1 and planted with a few trees2 and on account of its pleasant aspect called ,brollo or ,broglio1 that is to say1 ,garden4 ,the canal passed through it1 over which is built the bridge of the ,malpassi4 ,galliciolli1 lib4 ,i1 cap4 viii4 divided by a small canal1 with a line of trees on each side2 and extending between the two churches of ,st4 ,theodore and ,st4 ,geminian1 as the little piazza1 of ,torcello lies between its palazzo and cathedral4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,but in the year #hac1 when the seat of government was finally removed to the ,rialto1 a ,ducal ,palace1 built on the spot where the present one stands1 with a ,ducal ,chapel beside it1 ,footnote3 ,my authorities for this statement are given below1 in the chapter on the ,ducal ,palace4 gave a very different character to the ,square of ,st4 ,mark2 and fifteen years later1 the acquisition of the body of the ,saint1 and its deposition in the ,ducal ,chapel1 perhaps not yet completed1 occasioned the investiture of that chapel with all possible splendor4 ,st4 ,theodore was deposed from his patronship1 and his church destroyed1 to make room for the aggrandizement of the one attached to the ,ducal ,palace1 and thenceforward known as ,st4 ,mark's4 ,footnote3 ,in the ,chronicles1 ,sancti ,marci ,ducalis ,cappella4 ,,section ,v4 ,this first church was however destroyed by fire1 when the ,ducal ,palace was burned in the revolt against ,candiano1 in #igf4 ,it was partly rebuilt by his successor1 ,pietro ,orseolo1 on a larger scale2 and with the assistance of ,byzantine architects1 the fabric was carried on under successive ,doges for nearly a hundred years2 the main building being completed in #ajga1 but its incrustation with marble not till considerably later4 ,it was consecrated on the #hth of ,october1 #ajhe1 ,footnote3 ,to ,god the ,lord1 the glorious ,virgin ,annunciate1 and the ,protector ,st4 ,mark4--,corner1 p4 #ad4 ,it is needless to trouble the reader with the various authorities for the above statements3 ,i have consulted the best4 ,the previous inscription once existing on the church itself3 ,anno milleno transacto bisque trigeno ,desuper undecimo fuit facta primo1 is no longer to be seen1 and is conjectured by ,corner1 with much probability1 to have perished in qualche ristauro4 according to ,sansovino and the author of the ,chiesa ,ducale di ,s4 ,marco1 in #ajid according to ,lazari1 but certainly between #ajhd and #ajif1 those years being the limits of the reign of ,vital ,falier2 ,i incline to the supposition that it was soon after his accession to the throne in #ajhe1 though ,sansovino writes1 by mistake1 ,ordelafo instead of ,vital ,falier4 ,but1 at all events1 before the close of the eleventh century the great consecration of the church took place4 ,it was again injured by fire in #aajf1 but repaired2 and from that time to the fall of ,venice there was probably no ,doge who did not in some slight degree embellish or alter the fabric1 so that few parts of it can be pronounced boldly to be of any given date4 ,two periods of interference are1 however1 notable above the rest3 the first1 that in which the ,gothic school had superseded the ,byzantine towards the close of the fourteenth century1 when the pinnacles1 upper archivolts1 and window traceries were added to the exterior1 and the great screen1 with various chapels and tabernacle-work1 to the interior2 the second1 when the ,renaissance school superseded the ,gothic1 and the pupils of ,titian and ,tintoret substituted1 over one half of the church1 their own compositions for the ,greek mosaics with which it was originally decorated2 ,footnote3 ,signed ,bartolomeus ,bozza1 #afcd1 #afdg1 #afef1 etc4 happily1 though with no good will1 having left enough to enable us to imagine and lament what they destroyed4 ,of this irreparable loss we shall have more to say hereafter2 meantime1 ,i wish only to fix in the reader's mind the succession of periods of alteration as firmly and simply as possible4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,we have seen that the main body of the church may be broadly stated to be of the eleventh century1 the ,gothic additions of the fourteenth1 and the restored mosaics of the seventeenth4 ,there is no difficulty in distinguishing at a glance the ,gothic portions from the ,byzantine2 but there is considerable difficulty in ascertaining how long1 during the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries1 additions were made to the ,byzantine church1 which cannot be easily distinguished from the work of the eleventh century1 being purposely executed in the same manner4 ,two of the most important pieces of evidence on this point are1 a mosaic in the south transept1 and another over the northern door of the faade2 the first representing the interior1 the second the exterior1 of the ancient church4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,it has just been stated that the existing building was consecrated by the ,doge ,vital ,falier4 ,a peculiar solemnity was given to that of consecration1 in the minds of the ,venetian people1 by what appears to have been one of the best arranged and most successful impostures ever attempted by the clergy of the ,romish church4 ,the body of ,st4 ,mark had1 without doubt1 perished in the conflagration of #igf2 but the revenues of the church depended too much upon the devotion excited by these relics to permit the confession of their loss4 ,the following is the account given by ,corner1 and believed to this day by the ,venetians1 of the pretended miracle by which it was concealed4 ,after the repairs undertaken by the ,doge ,orseolo1 the place in which the body of the holy ,evangelist rested had been altogether forgotten1 so that the ,doge ,vital ,falier was entirely ignorant of the place of the venerable deposit4 ,this was no light affliction1 not only to the pious ,doge1 but to all the citizens and people2 so that at last1 moved by confidence in the ,divine mercy1 they determined to implore1 with prayer and fasting1 the manifestation of so great a treasure1 which did not now depend upon any human effort4 ,a general fast being therefore proclaimed1 and a solemn procession appointed for the #beth day of ,june1 while the people assembled in the church interceded with ,god in fervent prayers for the desired boon1 they beheld1 with as much amazement as joy1 a slight shaking in the marbles of a pillar 7near the place where the altar of the ,cross is now71 which1 presently falling to the earth1 exposed to the view of the rejoicing people the chest of bronze in which the body of the ,evangelist was laid4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,of the main facts of this tale there is no doubt4 ,they were embellished afterwards1 as usual1 by many fanciful traditions2 as1 for instance1 that1 when the sarcophagus was discovered1 ,st4 ,mark extended his hand out of it1 with a gold ring on one of the fingers1 which he permitted a noble of the ,dolfin family to remove2 and a quaint and delightful story was further invented of this ring1 which ,i shall not repeat here1 as it is now as well known as any tale of the ,arabian ,nights4 ,but the fast and the discovery of the coffin1 by whatever means effected1 are facts2 and they are recorded in one of the best-preserved mosaics of the north transept1 executed very certainly not long after the event had taken place1 closely resembling in its treatment that of the ,bayeux tapestry1 and showing1 in a conventional manner1 the interior of the church1 as it then was1 filled by the people1 first in prayer1 then in thanksgiving1 the pillar standing open before them1 and the ,doge1 in the midst of them1 distinguished by his crimson bonnet embroidered with gold1 but more unmistakably by the inscription ,dux over his head1 as uniformly is the case in the ,bayeux tapestry1 and most other pictorial works of the period4 ,the church is1 of course1 rudely represented1 and the two upper stories of it reduced to a small scale in order to form a background to the figures2 one of those bold pieces of picture history which we in our pride of perspective1 and a thousand things besides1 never dare attempt4 ,we should have put in a column or two of the real or perspective size1 and subdued it into a vague background3 the old workman crushed the church together that he might get it all in1 up to the cupolas2 and has1 therefore1 left us some useful notes of its ancient form1 though any one who is familiar with the method of drawing employed at the period will not push the evidence too far4 ,the two pulpits are there1 however1 as they are at this day1 and the fringe of mosaic flowerwork which then encompassed the whole church1 but which modern restorers have destroyed1 all but one fragment still left in the south aisle4 ,there is no attempt to represent the other mosaics on the roof1 the scale being too small to admit of their being represented with any success2 but some at least of those mosaics had been executed at that period1 and their absence in the representation of the entire church is especially to be observed1 in order to show that we must not trust to any negative evidence in such works4 ,m4 ,lazari has rashly concluded that the central archivolt of ,st4 ,mark's must be posterior to the year #abje1 because it does not appear in the representation of the exterior of the church over the northern door2 ,footnote3 ,guida di ,venezia1 p4 #f4 7,he is right1 however47 but he justly observes that this mosaic 7which is the other piece of evidence we possess respecting the ancient form of the building7 cannot itself be earlier than #abje1 since it represents the bronze horses which were brought from ,constantinople in that year4 ,and this one fact renders it very difficult to speak with confidence respecting the date of any part of the exterior of ,st4 ,mark's2 for we have above seen that it was consecrated in the eleventh century1 and yet here is one of the most important exterior decorations assuredly retouched1 if not entirely added1 in the thirteenth1 although its style would have led us to suppose it had been an original part of the fabric4 ,however1 for all our purposes1 it will be enough for the reader to remember that the earliest parts of the building belong to the eleventh1 twelfth1 and first part of the thirteenth century2 the ,gothic portions to the fourteenth2 some of the altars and embellishments to the fifteenth and sixteenth2 and the modern portion of the mosaics to the seventeenth4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,this1 however1 ,i only wish him to recollect in order that ,i may speak generally of the ,byzantine architecture of ,st4 ,mark's1 without leading him to suppose the whole church to have been built and decorated by ,greek artists4 ,its later portions1 with the single exception of the seventeenth century mosaics1 have been so dexterously accommodated to the original fabric that the general effect is still that of a ,byzantine building2 and ,i shall not1 except when it is absolutely necessary1 direct attention to the discordant points1 or weary the reader with anatomical criticism4 ,whatever in ,st4 ,mark's arrests the eye1 or affects the feelings1 is either ,byzantine1 or has been modified by ,byzantine influence2 and our inquiry into its architectural merits need not therefore be disturbed by the anxieties of antiquarianism1 or arrested by the obscurities of chronology4 ,,section ,x4 ,and now ,i wish that the reader1 before ,i bring him into ,st4 ,mark's ,place1 would imagine himself for a little time in a quiet ,english cathedral town1 and walk with me to the west front of its cathedral4 ,let us go together up the more retired street1 at the end of which we can see the pinnacles of one of the towers1 and then through the low gray gateway1 with its battlemented top and small latticed window in the centre1 into the inner private-looking road or close1 where nothing goes in but the carts of the tradesmen who supply the bishop and the chapter1 and where there are little shaven grass-plots1 fenced in by neat rails1 before old-fashioned groups of somewhat diminutive and excessively trim houses1 with little oriel and bay windows jutting out here and there1 and deep wooden cornices and eaves painted cream color and white1 and small porches to their doors in the shape of cockle-shells1 or little1 crooked1 thick1 indescribable wooden gables warped a little on one side2 and so forward till we come to larger houses1 also old-fashioned1 but of red brick1 and with gardens behind them1 and fruit walls1 which show here and there1 among the nectarines1 the vestiges of an old cloister arch or shaft1 and looking in front on the cathedral square itself1 laid out in rigid divisions of smooth grass and gravel walk1 yet not uncheerful1 especially on the sunny side where the canons' children are walking with their nurserymaids4 ,and so1 taking care not to tread on the grass1 we will go along the straight walk to the west front1 and there stand for a time1 looking up at its deep-pointed porches and the dark places between their pillars where there were statues once1 and where the fragments1 here and there1 of a stately figure are still left1 which has in it the likeness of a king1 perhaps indeed a king on earth1 perhaps a saintly king long ago in heaven2 and so higher and higher up to the great mouldering wall of rugged sculpture and confused arcades1 shattered1 and gray1 and grisly with heads of dragons and mocking fiends1 worn by the rain and swirling winds into yet unseemlier shape1 and colored on their stony scales by the deep russet-orange lichen1 melancholy gold2 and so1 higher still1 to the bleak towers1 so far above that the eye loses itself among the bosses of their traceries1 though they are rude and strong1 and only sees like a drift of eddying black points1 now closing1 now scattering1 and now settling suddenly into invisible places among the bosses and flowers1 the crowd of restless birds that fill the whole square with that strange clangor of theirs1 so harsh and yet so soothing1 like the cries of birds on a solitary coast between the cliffs and sea4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,think for a little while of that scene1 and the meaning of all its small formalisms1 mixed with its serene sublimity4 ,estimate its secluded1 continuous1 drowsy felicities1 and its evidence of the sense and steady performance of such kind of duties as can be regulated by the cathedral clock2 and weigh the influence of those dark towers on all who have passed through the lonely square at their feet for centuries1 and on all who have seen them rising far away over the wooded plain1 or catching on their square masses the last rays of the sunset1 when the city at their feet was indicated only by the mist at the bend of the river4 ,and then let us quickly recollect that we are in ,venice1 and land at the extremity of the ,calle ,lunga ,san ,mois1 which may be considered as there answering to the secluded street that led us to our ,english cathedral gateway4 ,,section ,,xii4 ,we find ourselves in a paved alley1 some seven feet wide where it is widest1 full of people1 and resonant with cries of itinerant salesmen1--a shriek in their beginning1 and dying away into a kind of brazen ringing1 all the worse for its confinement between the high houses of the passage along which we have to make our way4 ,over head an inextricable confusion of rugged shutters1 and iron balconies and chimney flues pushed out on brackets to save room1 and arched windows with projecting sills of ,istrian stone1 and gleams of green leaves here and there where a fig-tree branch escapes over a lower wall from some inner cortile1 leading the eye up to the narrow stream of blue sky high over all4 ,on each side1 a row of shops1 as densely set as may be1 occupying1 in fact1 intervals between the square stone shafts1 about eight feet high1 which carry the first floors3 intervals of which one is narrow and serves as a door2 the other is1 in the more respectable shops1 wainscoted to the height of the counter and glazed above1 but in those of the poorer tradesmen left open to the ground1 and the wares laid on benches and tables in the open air1 the light in all cases entering at the front only1--and fading away in a few feet from the threshold into a gloom which the eye from without cannot penetrate1 but which is generally broken by a ray or two from a feeble lamp at the back of the shop1 suspended before a print of the ,virgin4 ,the less pious shop-keeper sometimes leaves his lamp unlighted1 and is contented with a penny print2 the more religious one has his print colored and set in a little shrine with a gilded or figured fringe1 with perhaps a faded flower or two on each side1 and his lamp burning brilliantly4 ,here at the fruiterer's1 where the dark-green watermelons are heaped upon the counter like cannon balls1 the ,madonna has a tabernacle of fresh laurel leaves2 but the pewterer next door has let his lamp out1 and there is nothing to be seen in his shop but the dull gleam of the studded patterns on the copper pans1 hanging from his roof in the darkness4 ,next comes a ,vendita ,frittole e ,liquori1 where the ,virgin1 enthroned in a very humble manner beside a tallow candle on a back shelf1 presides over certain ambrosial morsels of a nature too ambiguous to be denned or enumerated4 ,but a few steps farther on1 at the regular wineshop of the calle1 where we are offered ,vino ,nostrani a ,soldi #bh'cb1 the ,madonna is in great glory1 enthroned above ten or a dozen large red casks of three-year-old vintage1 and flanked by goodly ranks of bottles of ,maraschino1 and two crimson lamps2 and for the evening1 when the gondoliers will come to drink out1 under her auspices1 the money they have gained during the day1 she will have a whole chandelier4 ,,section ,,xiii4 ,a yard or two farther1 we pass the hostelry of the ,black ,eagle1 and1 glancing as we pass through the square door of marble1 deeply moulded1 in the outer wall1 we see the shadows of its pergola of vines resting on an ancient well1 with a pointed shield carved on its side2 and so presently emerge on the bridge and ,campo ,san ,mois1 whence to the entrance into ,st4 ,mark's ,place1 called the ,bocca di ,piazza1 7mouth of the square71 the ,venetian character is nearly destroyed1 first by the frightful faade of ,san ,mois1 which we will pause at another time to examine1 and then by the modernizing of the shops as they near the piazza1 and the mingling with the lower ,venetian populace of lounging groups of ,english and ,austrians4 ,we will push fast through them into the shadow of the pillars at the end of the ,bocca di ,piazza1 and then we forget them all2 for between those pillars there opens a great light1 and1 in the midst of it1 as we advance slowly1 the vast tower of ,st4 ,mark seems to lift itself visibly forth from the level field of chequered stones2 and1 on each side1 the countless arches prolong themselves into ranged symmetry1 as if the rugged and irregular houses that pressed together above us in the dark alley had been struck back into sudden obedience and lovely order1 and all their rude casements and broken walls had been transformed into arches charged with goodly sculpture1 and fluted shafts of delicate stone4 ,,section ,,xiv4 ,and well may they fall back1 for beyond those troops of ordered arches there rises a vision out of the earth1 and all the great square seems to have opened from it in a kind of awe1 that we may see it far away2--a multitude of pillars and white domes1 clustered into a long low pyramid of colored light2 a treasure-heap1 it seems1 partly of gold1 and partly of opal and mother-of-pearl1 hollowed beneath into five great vaulted porches1 ceiled with fair mosaic1 and beset with sculpture of alabaster1 clear as amber and delicate as ivory1--sculpture fantastic and involved1 of palm leaves and lilies1 and grapes and pomegranates1 and birds clinging and fluttering among the branches1 all twined together into an endless network of buds and plumes2 and1 in the midst of it1 the solemn forms of angels1 sceptred1 and robed to the feet1 and leaning to each other across the gates1 their figures indistinct among the gleaming of the golden ground through the leaves beside them1 interrupted and dim1 like the morning light as it faded back among the branches of ,eden1 when first its gates were angel-guarded long ago4 ,and round the walls of the porches there are set pillars of variegated stones1 jasper and porphyry1 and deep-green serpentine spotted with flakes of snow1 and marbles1 that half refuse and half yield to the sunshine1 ,cleopatra-like1 their bluest veins to kiss--the shadow1 as it steals back from them1 revealing line after line of azure undulation1 as a receding tide leaves the waved sand2 their capitals rich with interwoven tracery1 rooted knots of herbage1 and drifting leaves of acanthus and vine1 and mystical signs1 all beginning and ending in the ,cross2 and above them1 in the broad archivolts1 a continuous chain of language and of life--angels1 and the signs of heaven1 and the labors of men1 each in its appointed season upon the earth2 and above these1 another range of glittering pinnacles1 mixed with white arches edged with scarlet flowers1--a confusion of delight1 amidst which the breasts of the ,greek horses are seen blazing in their breadth of golden strength1 and the ,st4 ,mark's ,lion1 lifted on a blue field covered with stars1 until at last1 as if in ecstasy1 the crests of the arches break into a marble foam1 and toss themselves far into the blue sky in flashes and wreaths of sculptured spray1 as if the breakers on the ,lido shore had been frost-bound before they fell1 and the sea-nymphs had inlaid them with coral and amethyst4 ,between that grim cathedral of ,england and this1 what an interval6 ,there is a type of it in the very birds that haunt them2 for1 instead of the restless crowd1 hoarse-voiced and sable-winged1 drifting on the bleak upper air1 the ,st4 ,mark's porches are full of doves1 that nestle among the marble foliage1 and mingle the soft iridescence of their living plumes1 changing at every motion1 with the tints1 hardly less lovely1 that have stood unchanged for seven hundred years4 ,,section ,,xv4 ,and what effect has this splendor on those who pass beneath it8 ,you may walk from sunrise to sunset1 to and fro1 before the gateway of ,st4 ,mark's1 and you will not see an eye lifted to it1 nor a countenance brightened by it4 ,priest and layman1 soldier and civilian1 rich and poor1 pass by it alike regardlessly4 ,up to the very recesses of the porches1 the meanest tradesmen of the city push their counters2 nay1 the foundations of its pillars are themselves the seats--not of them that sell doves for sacrifice1 but of the vendors of toys and caricatures4 ,round the whole square in front of the church there is almost a continuous line of cafes1 where the idle ,venetians of the middle classes lounge1 and read empty journals2 in its centre the ,austrian bands play during the time of vespers1 their martial music jarring with the organ notes1--the march drowning the miserere1 and the sullen crowd thickening round them1--a crowd1 which1 if it had its will1 would stiletto every soldier that pipes to it4 ,and in the recesses of the porches1 all day long1 knots of men of the lowest classes1 unemployed and listless1 lie basking in the sun like lizards2 and unregarded children1--every heavy glance of their young eyes full of desperation and stony depravity1 and their throats hoarse with cursing1--gamble1 and fight1 and snarl1 and sleep1 hour after hour1 clashing their bruised centesimi upon the marble ledges of the church porch4 ,and the images of ,christ and ,his angels look down upon it continually4 ,that we may not enter the church out of the midst of the horror of this1 let us turn aside under the portico which looks towards the sea1 and passing round within the two massive pillars brought from ,st4 ,jean d',acre1 we shall find the gate of the ,baptistery2 let us enter there4 ,the heavy door closes behind us instantly1 and the light1 and the turbulence of the ,piazzetta1 are together shut out by it4 ,,section ,,xvi4 ,we are in a low vaulted room2 vaulted1 not with arches1 but with small cupolas starred with gold1 and chequered with gloomy figures3 in the centre is a bronze font charged with rich bas-reliefs1 a small figure of the ,baptist standing above it in a single ray of light that glances across the narrow room1 dying as it falls from a window high in the wall1 and the first thing that it strikes1 and the only thing that it strikes brightly1 is a tomb4 ,we hardly know if it be a tomb indeed2 for it is like a narrow couch set beside the window1 low-roofed and curtained1 so that it might seem1 but that it has some height above the pavement1 to have been drawn towards the window1 that the sleeper might be wakened early2--only there are two angels who have drawn the curtain back1 and are looking down upon him4 ,let us look also and thank that gentle light that rests upon his forehead for ever1 and dies away upon his breast4 ,the face is of a man in middle life1 but there are two deep furrows right across the forehead1 dividing it like the foundations of a tower3 the height of it above is bound by the fillet of the ducal cap4 ,the rest of the features are singularly small and delicate1 the lips sharp1 perhaps the sharpness of death being added to that of the natural lines2 but there is a sweet smile upon them1 and a deep serenity upon the whole countenance4 ,the roof of the canopy above has been blue1 filled with stars2 beneath1 in the centre of the tomb on which the figure rests1 is a seated figure of the ,virgin1 and the border of it all around is of flowers and soft leaves1 growing rich and deep1 as if in a field in summer4 ,it is the ,doge ,andrea ,dandolo1 a man early great among the great of ,venice2 and early lost4 ,she chose him for her king in his #cfth year2 he died ten years later1 leaving behind him that history to which we owe half of what we know of her former fortunes4 ,,section ,,xvii4 ,look round at the room in which he lies4 ,the floor of it is of rich mosaic1 encompassed by a low seat of red marble1 and its walls are of alabaster1 but worn and shattered1 and darkly stained with age1 almost a ruin1--in places the slabs of marble have fallen away altogether1 and the rugged brickwork is seen through the rents1 but all beautiful2 the ravaging fissures fretting their way among the islands and channelled zones of the alabaster1 and the time-stains on its translucent masses darkened into fields of rich golden brown1 like the color of seaweed when the sun strikes on it through deep sea4 ,the light fades away into the recess of the chamber towards the altar1 and the eye can hardly trace the lines of the bas-relief behind it of the baptism of ,christ3 but on the vaulting of the roof the figures are distinct1 and there are seen upon it two great circles1 one surrounded by the ,principalities and powers in heavenly places1 of which ,milton has expressed the ancient division in the single massy line1 ,thrones1 ,dominations1 ,princedoms1 ,virtues1 ,powers1 and around the other1 the ,apostles2 ,christ the centre of both2 and upon the walls1 again and again repeated1 the gaunt figure of the ,baptist1 in every circumstance of his life and death2 and the streams of the ,jordan running down between their cloven rocks2 the axe laid to the root of a fruitless tree that springs upon their shore4 ,every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit shall be hewn down1 and cast into the fire4 ,yes1 verily3 to be baptized with fire1 or to be cast therein2 it is the choice set before all men4 ,the march-notes still murmur through the grated window1 and mingle with the sounding in our ears of the sentence of judgment1 which the old ,greek has written on that ,baptistery wall4 ,venice has made her choice4 ,,section ,,xviii4 ,he who lies under that stony canopy would have taught her another choice1 in his day1 if she would have listened to him2 but he and his counsels have long been forgotten by her1 the dust lies upon his lips4 ,through the heavy door whose bronze network closes the place of his rest1 let us enter the church itself4 ,it is lost in still deeper twilight1 to which the eye must be accustomed for some moments before the form of the building can be traced2 and then there opens before us a vast cave1 hewn out into the form of a ,cross1 and divided into shadowy aisles by many pillars4 ,round the domes of its roof the light enters only through narrow apertures like large stars2 and here and there a ray or two from some far away casement wanders into the darkness1 and casts a narrow phosphoric stream upon the waves of marble that heave and fall in a thousand colors along the floor4 ,what else there is of light is from torches1 or silver lamps1 burning ceaselessly in the recesses of the chapels2 the roof sheeted with gold1 and the polished walls covered with alabaster1 give back at every curve and angle some feeble gleaming to the flames2 and the glories round the heads of the sculptured saints flash out upon us as we pass them1 and sink again into the gloom4 ,under foot and over head1 a continual succession of crowded imagery1 one picture passing into another1 as in a dream2 forms beautiful and terrible mixed together2 dragons and serpents1 and ravening beasts of prey1 and graceful birds that in the midst of them drink from running fountains and feed from vases of crystal2 the passions and the pleasures of human life symbolized together1 and the mystery of its redemption2 for the mazes of interwoven lines and changeful pictures lead always at last to the ,cross1 lifted and carved in every place and upon every stonel sometimes with the serpent of eternity wrapt round it1 sometimes with doves beneath its arms1 and sweet herbage growing forth from its feet2 but conspicuous most of all on the great rood that crosses the church before the altar1 raised in bright blazonry against the shadow of the apse4 ,and although in the recesses of the aisles and chapels1 when the mist of the incense hangs heavily1 we may see continually a figure traced in faint lines upon their marble1 a woman standing with her eyes raised to heaven1 and the inscription above her1 ,mother of ,god1 she is not here the presiding deity4 ,it is the ,cross that is first seen1 and always1 burning in the centre of the temple2 and every dome and hollow of its roof has the figure of ,christ in the utmost height of it1 raised in power1 or returning in judgment4 ,,section ,,xix4 ,nor is this interior without effect on the minds of the people4 ,at every hour of the day there are groups collected before the various shrines1 and solitary worshippers scattered through the dark places of the church1 evidently in prayer both deep and reverent1 and1 for the most part1 profoundly sorrowful4 ,the devotees at the greater number of the renowned shrines of ,romanism may be seen murmuring their appointed prayers with wandering eyes and unengaged gestures2 but the step of the stranger does not disturb those who kneel on the pavement of ,st4 ,mark's2 and hardly a moment passes1 from early morning to sunset1 in which we may not see some half-veiled figure enter beneath the ,arabian porch1 cast itself into long abasement on the floor of the temple1 and then rising slowly with more confirmed step1 and with a passionate kiss and clasp of the arms given to the feet of the crucifix1 by which the lamps burn always in the northern aisle1 leave the church1 as if comforted4 ,,section ,,xx4 ,but we must not hastily conclude from this that the nobler characters of the building have at present any influence in fostering a devotional spirit4 ,there is distress enough in ,venice to bring many to their knees1 without excitement from external imagery2 and whatever there may be in the temper of the worship offered in ,st4 ,mark's more than can be accounted for by reference to the unhappy circumstances of the city1 is assuredly not owing either to the beauty of its architecture or to the impressiveness of the ,scripture histories embodied in its mosaics4 ,that it has a peculiar effect1 however slight1 on the popular mind1 may perhaps be safely conjectured from the number of worshippers which it attracts1 while the churches of ,st4 ,paul and the ,frari1 larger in size and more central in position1 are left comparatively empty4 ,footnote3 ,the mere warmth of ,st4 ,mark's in winter1 which is much greater than that of the other two churches above named1 must1 however1 be taken into consideration1 as one of the most efficient causes of its being then more frequented4 ,but this effect is altogether to be ascribed to its richer assemblage of those sources of influence which address themselves to the commonest instincts of the human mind1 and which1 in all ages and countries1 have been more or less employed in the support of superstition4 ,darkness and mystery2 confused recesses of building2 artificial light employed in small quantity1 but maintained with a constancy which seems to give it a kind of sacredness2 preciousness of material easily comprehended by the vulgar eye2 close air loaded with a sweet and peculiar odor associated only with religious services1 solemn music1 and tangible idols or images having popular legends attached to them1--these1 the stage properties of superstition1 which have been from the beginning of the world1 and must be to the end of it1 employed by all nations1 whether openly savage or nominally civilized1 to produce a false awe in minds incapable of apprehending the true nature of the ,deity1 are assembled in ,st4 ,mark's to a degree1 as far as ,i know1 unexampled in any other ,european church4 ,the arts of the ,magus and the ,brahmin are exhausted in the animation of a paralyzed ,christianity2 and the popular sentiment which these arts excite is to be regarded by us with no more respect than we should have considered ourselves justified in rendering to the devotion of the worshippers at ,eleusis1 ,ellora1 or ,edfou4 ,footnote3 ,i said above that the larger number of the devotees entered by the ,arabian porch2 the porch1 that is to say1 on the north side of the church1 remarkable for its rich ,arabian archivolt1 and through which access is gained immediately to the northern transept4 ,the reason is1 that in that transept is the chapel of the ,madonna1 which has a greater attraction for the ,venetians than all the rest of the church besides4 ,the old builders kept their images of the ,virgin subordinate to those of ,christ2 but modern ,romanism has retrograded from theirs1 and the most glittering portions of the whole church are the two recesses behind this lateral altar1 covered with silver hearts dedicated to the ,virgin4 ,,section ,,xxi4 ,indeed1 these inferior means of exciting religious emotion were employed in the ancient ,church as they are at this day1 but not employed alone4 ,torchlight there was1 as there is now2 but the torchlight illumined ,scripture histories on the walls1 which every eye traced and every heart comprehended1 but which1 during my whole residence in ,venice1 ,i never saw one ,venetian regard for an instant4 ,i never heard from any one the most languid expression of interest in any feature of the church1 or perceived the slightest evidence of their understanding the meaning of its architecture2 and while1 therefore1 the ,english cathedral1 though no longer dedicated to the kind of services for which it was intended by its builders1 and much at variance in many of its characters with the temper of the people by whom it is now surrounded1 retains yet so much of its religious influence that no prominent feature of its architecture can be said to exist altogether in vain1 we have in ,st4 ,mark's a building apparently still employed in the ceremonies for which it was designed1 and yet of which the impressive attributes have altogether ceased to be comprehended by its votaries4 ,the beauty which it possesses is unfelt1 the language it uses is forgotten2 and in the midst of the city to whose service it has so long been consecrated1 and still filled by crowds of the descendants of those to whom it owes its magnificence2 it stands1 in reality1 more desolate than the ruins through which the sheep-walk passes unbroken in our ,english valleys2 and the writing on its marble walls is less regarded and less powerful for the teaching of men1 than the letters which the shepherd follows with his finger1 where the moss is lightest on the tombs in the desecrated cloister4 ,,section ,,xxii4 ,it must therefore be altogether without reference to its present usefulness1 that we pursue our inquiry into the merits and meaning of the architecture of this marvellous building2 and it can only be after we have terminated that inquiry1 conducting it carefully on abstract grounds1 that we can pronounce with any certainty how far the present neglect of ,st4 ,mark's is significative of the decline of the ,venetian character1 or how far this church is to be considered as the relic of a barbarous age1 incapable of attracting the admiration1 or influencing the feelings of a civilized community4 ,the inquiry before us is twofold4 ,throughout the first volume1 ,i carefully kept the study of expression distinct from that of abstract architectural perfection2 telling the reader that in every building we should afterwards examine1 he would have first to form a judgment of its construction and decorative merit1 considering it merely as a work of art2 and then to examine farther1 in what degree it fulfilled its expressional purposes4 ,accordingly1 we have first to judge of ,st4 ,mark's merely as a piece of architecture1 not as a church2 secondly1 to estimate its fitness for its special duty as a place of worship1 and the relation in which it stands1 as such1 to those northern cathedrals that still retain so much of the power over the human heart1 which the ,byzantine domes appear to have lost for ever4 ,,section ,,xxiii4 ,in the two succeeding sections of this work1 devoted respectively to the examination of the ,gothic and ,renaissance buildings in ,venice1 ,i have endeavored to analyze and state1 as briefly as possible1 the true nature of each school1--first in ,spirit1 then in ,form4 ,i wished to have given a similar analysis1 in this section1 of the nature of ,byzantine architecture2 but could not make my statements general1 because ,i have never seen this kind of building on its native soil4 ,nevertheless1 in the following sketch of the principles exemplified in ,st4 ,mark's1 ,i believe that most of the leading features and motives of the style will be found clearly enough distinguished to enable the reader to judge of it with tolerable fairness1 as compared with the better known systems of ,european architecture in the middle ages4 ,,section ,,xxiv4 ,now the first broad characteristic of the building1 and the root nearly of every other important peculiarity in it1 is its confessed incrustation4 ,it is the purest example in ,italy of the great school of architecture in which the ruling principle is the incrustation of brick with more precious materials2 and it is necessary before we proceed to criticise any one of its arrangements1 that the reader should carefully consider the principles which are likely to have influenced1 or might legitimately influence1 the architects of such a school1 as distinguished from those whose designs are to be executed in massive materials4 ,it is true1 that among different nations1 and at different times1 we may find examples of every sort and degree of incrustation1 from the mere setting of the larger and more compact stones by preference at the outside of the wall1 to the miserable construction of that modern brick cornice1 with its coating of cement1 which1 but the other day1 in ,london1 killed its unhappy workmen in its fall4 ,footnote3 ,vide ,builder1 for ,october1 #ahea4 ,but just as it is perfectly possible to have a clear idea of the opposing characteristics of two different species of plants or animals1 though between the two there are varieties which it is difficult to assign either to the one or the other1 so the reader may fix decisively in his mind the legitimate characteristics of the incrusted and the massive styles1 though between the two there are varieties which confessedly unite the attributes of both4 ,for instance1 in many ,roman remains1 built of blocks of tufa and incrusted with marble1 we have a style1 which1 though truly solid1 possesses some of the attributes of incrustation2 and in the ,cathedral of ,florence1 built of brick and coated with marble1 the marble facing is so firmly and exquisitely set1 that the building1 though in reality incrusted1 assumes the attributes of solidity4 ,but these intermediate examples need not in the least confuse our generally distinct ideas of the two families of buildings3 the one in which the substance is alike throughout1 and the forms and conditions of the ornament assume or prove that it is so1 as in the best ,greek buildings1 and for the most part in our early ,norman and ,gothic2 and the other1 in which the substance is of two kinds1 one internal1 the other external1 and the system of decoration is founded on this duplicity1 as pre-eminently in ,st4 ,mark's4 ,,section ,,xxv4 ,i have used the word duplicity in no depreciatory sense4 ,in chapter ii4 of the ,seven ,lamps1 ,section #ah1 ,i especially guarded this incrusted school from the imputation of insincerity1 and ,i must do so now at greater length4 ,it appears insincere at first to a ,northern builder1 because1 accustomed to build with solid blocks of freestone1 he is in the habit of supposing the external superficies of a piece of masonry to be some criterion of its thickness4 ,but1 as soon as he gets acquainted with the incrusted style1 he will find that the ,southern builders had no intention to deceive him4 ,he will see that every slab of facial marble is fastened to the next by a confessed rivet1 and that the joints of the armor are so visibly and openly accommodated to the contours of the substance within1 that he has no more right to complain of treachery than a savage would have1 who1 for the first time in his life seeing a man in armor1 had supposed him to be made of solid steel4 ,acquaint him with the customs of chivalry1 and with the uses of the coat of mail1 and he ceases to accuse of dishonesty either the panoply or the knight4 ,these laws and customs of the ,st4 ,mark's architectural chivalry it must be our business to develop4 ,,section ,,xxvi4 ,first1 consider the natural circumstances which give rise to such a style4 ,suppose a nation of builders1 placed far from any quarries of available stone1 and having precarious access to the mainland where they exist2 compelled therefore either to build entirely with brick1 or to import whatever stone they use from great distances1 in ships of small tonnage1 and for the most part dependent for speed on the oar rather than the sail4 ,the labor and cost of carriage are just as great1 whether they import common or precious stone1 and therefore the natural tendency would always be to make each shipload as valuable as possible4 ,but in proportion to the preciousness of the stone1 is the limitation of its possible supply2 limitation not determined merely by cost1 but by the physical conditions of the material1 for of many marbles1 pieces above a certain size are not to be had for money4 ,there would also be a tendency in such circumstances to import as much stone as possible ready sculptured1 in order to save weight2 and therefore1 if the traffic of their merchants led them to places where there were ruins of ancient edifices1 to ship the available fragments of them home4 ,out of this supply of marble1 partly composed of pieces of so precious a quality that only a few tons of them could be on any terms obtained1 and partly of shafts1 capitals1 and other portions of foreign buildings1 the island architect has to fashion1 as best he may1 the anatomy of his edifice4 ,it is at his choice either to lodge his few blocks of precious marble here and there among his masses of brick1 and to cut out of the sculptured fragments such new forms as may be necessary for the observance of fixed proportions in the new building2 or else to cut the colored stones into thin pieces1 of extent sufficient to face the whole surface of the walls1 and to adopt a method of construction irregular enough to admit the insertion of fragmentary sculptures2 rather with a view of displaying their intrinsic beauty1 than of setting them to any regular service in the support of the building4 ,an architect who cared only to display his own skill1 and had no respect for the works of others1 would assuredly have chosen the former alternative1 and would have sawn the old marbles into fragments in order to prevent all interference with his own designs4 ,but an architect who cared for the preservation of noble work1 whether his own or others'1 and more regarded the beauty of his building than his own fame1 would have done what those old builders of ,st4 ,mark's did for us1 and saved every relic with which he was entrusted4 ,,section ,,xxvii4 ,but these were not the only motives which influenced the ,venetians in the adoption of their method of architecture4 ,it might1 under all the circumstances above stated1 have been a question with other builders1 whether to import one shipload of costly jaspers1 or twenty of chalk flints2 and whether to build a small church faced with porphyry and paved with agate1 or to raise a vast cathedral in freestone4 ,but with the ,venetians it could not be a question for an instant2 they were exiles from ancient and beautiful cities1 and had been accustomed to build with their ruins1 not less in affection than in admiration3 they had thus not only grown familiar with the practice of inserting older fragments in modern buildings1 but they owed to that practice a great part of the splendor of their city1 and whatever charm of association might aid its change from a ,refuge into a ,home4 ,the practice which began in the affections of a fugitive nation1 was prolonged in the pride of a conquering one2 and beside the memorials of departed happiness1 were elevated the trophies of returning victory4 ,the ship of war brought home more marble in triumph than 'the merchant vessel in speculation2 and the front of ,st4 ,mark's became rather a shrine at which to dedicate the splendor of miscellaneous spoil1 than the organized expression of any fixed architectural law1 or religious emotion4 ,,section ,,xxviii4 ,thus far1 however1 the justification of the style of this church depends on circumstances peculiar to the time of its erection1 and to the spot where it arose4 ,the merit of its method1 considered in the abstract1 rests on far broader grounds4 ,in the fifth chapter of the ,seven ,lamps1 ,section #ad1 the reader will find the opinion of a modern architect of some reputation1 ,mr4 ,wood1 that the chief thing remarkable in this church is its extreme ugliness2 and he will find this opinion associated with another1 namely1 that the works of the ,caracci are far preferable to those of the ,venetian painters4 ,this second statement of feeling reveals to us one of the principal causes of the first2 namely1 that ,mr4 ,wood had not any perception of color1 or delight in it4 ,the perception of color is a gift just as definitely granted to one person1 and denied to another1 as an ear for music2 and the very first requisite for true judgment of ,st4 ,mark's1 is the perfection of that color-faculty which few people ever set themselves seriously to find out whether they possess or not4 ,for it is on its value as a piece of perfect and unchangeable coloring1 that the claims of this edifice to our respect are finally rested2 and a deaf man might as well pretend to pronounce judgment on the merits of a full orchestra1 as an architect trained in the composition of form only1 to discern the beauty of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,it possesses the charm of color in common with the greater part of the architecture1 as well as of the manufactures1 of the ,east2 but the ,venetians deserve especial note as the only ,european people who appear to have sympathized to the full with the great instinct of the ,eastern races4 ,they indeed were compelled to bring artists from ,constantinople to design the mosaics of the vaults of ,st4 ,mark's1 and to group the colors of its porches2 but they rapidly took up and developed1 under more masculine conditions1 the system of which the ,greeks had shown them the example3 while the burghers and barons of the ,north were building their dark streets and grisly castles of oak and sandstone1 the merchants of ,venice were covering their palaces with porphyry and gold2 and at last1 when her mighty painters had created for her a color more priceless than gold or porphyry1 even this1 the richest of her treasures1 she lavished upon walls whose foundations were beaten by the sea2 and the strong tide1 as it runs beneath the ,rialto1 is reddened to this day by the reflection of the frescoes of ,giorgione4 ,,section ,,xxix4 ,if1 therefore1 the reader does not care for color1 ,i must protest against his endeavor to form any judgment whatever of this church of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,but1 if he both cares for and loves it1 let him remember that the school of incrusted architecture is the only one in which perfect and permanent chromatic decoration is possible2 and let him look upon every piece of jasper and alabaster given to the architect as a cake of very hard color1 of which a certain portion is to be ground down or cut off1 to paint the walls with4 ,once understand this thoroughly1 and accept the condition that the body and availing strength of the edifice are to be in brick1 and that this under muscular power of brickwork is to be clothed with the defence and the brightness of the marble1 as the body of an animal is protected and adorned by its scales or its skin1 and all the consequent fitnesses and laws of the structure will be easily discernible4 ,these ,i shall state in their natural order4 ,,section ,,xxx4 ,,law ,i4 ,that the plinths and cornices used for binding the armor are to be light and delicate4 ,a certain thickness1 at least two or three inches1 must be required in the covering pieces 7even when composed of the strongest stone1 and set on the least exposed parts71 in order to prevent the chance of fracture1 and to allow for the wear of time4 ,and the weight of this armor must not be trusted to cement2 the pieces must not be merely glued to the rough brick surface1 but connected with the mass which they protect by binding cornices and string courses2 and with each other1 so as to secure mutual support1 aided by the rivetings1 but by no means dependent upon them4 ,and1 for the full honesty and straightforwardness of the work1 it is necessary that these string courses and binding plinths should not be of such proportions as would fit them for taking any important part in the hard work of the inner structure1 or render them liable to be mistaken for the great cornices and plinths already explained as essential parts of the best solid building4 ,they must be delicate1 slight1 and visibly incapable of severer work than that assigned to them4 ,,section ,,xxxi4 ,,law ,,ii4 ,science of inner structure is to be abandoned4 ,as the body of the structure is confessedly of inferior1 and comparatively incoherent materials1 it would be absurd to attempt in it any expression of the higher refinements of construction4 ,it will be enough that by its mass we are assured of its sufficiency and strength2 and there is the less reason for endeavoring to diminish the extent of its surface by delicacy of adjustment1 because on the breadth of that surface we are to depend for the better display of the color1 which is to be the chief source of our pleasure in the building4 ,the main body of the work1 therefore1 will be composed of solid walls and massive piers2 and whatever expression of finer structural science we may require1 will be thrown either into subordinate portions of it1 or entirely directed to the support of the external mail1 where in arches or vaults it might otherwise appear dangerously independent of the material within4 ,,section ,,xxxii4 ,,law ,,iii4 ,all shafts are to be solid4 ,wherever1 by the smallness of the parts1 we may be driven to abandon the incrusted structure at all1 it must be abandoned altogether4 ,the eye must never be left in the least doubt as to what is solid and what is coated4 ,whatever appears probably solid1 must be assuredly so1 and therefore it becomes an inviolable law that no shaft shall ever be incrusted4 ,not only does the whole virtue of a shaft depend on its consolidation1 but the labor of cutting and adjusting an incrusted coat to it would be greater than the saving of material is worth4 ,therefore the shaft1 of whatever size1 is always to be solid2 and because the incrusted character of the rest of the building renders it more difficult for the shafts to clear themselves from suspicion1 they must not1 in this incrusted style1 be in any place jointed4 ,no shaft must ever be used but of one block2 and this the more1 because the permission given to the builder to have his walls and piers as ponderous as he likes1 renders it quite unnecessary for him to use shafts of any fixed size4 ,in our ,norman and ,gothic1 where definite support is required at a definite point1 it becomes lawful to build up a tower of small stones in the shape of a shaft4 ,but the ,byzantine is allowed to have as much support as he wants from the walls in every direction1 and he has no right to ask for further license in the structure of his shafts4 ,let him1 by generosity in the substance of his pillars1 repay us for the permission we have given him to be superficial in his walls4 ,the builder in the chalk valleys of ,france and ,england may be blameless in kneading his clumsy pier out of broken flint and calcined lime2 but the ,venetian1 who has access to the riches of ,asia and the quarries of ,egypt1 must frame at least his shafts out of flawless stone4 ,,section ,,xxxiii4 ,and this for another reason yet4 ,although1 as we have said1 it is impossible to cover the walls of a large building with color1 except on the condition of dividing the stone into plates1 there is always a certain appearance of meanness and niggardliness in the procedure4 ,it is necessary that the builder should justify himself from this suspicion2 and prove that it is not in mere economy or poverty1 but in the real impossibility of doing otherwise1 that he has sheeted his walls so thinly with the precious film4 ,now the shaft is exactly the portion of the edifice in which it is fittest to recover his honor in this respect4 ,for if blocks of jasper or porphyry be inserted in the walls1 the spectator cannot tell their thickness1 and cannot judge of the costliness of the sacrifice4 ,but the shaft he can measure with his eye in an instant1 and estimate the quantity of treasure both in the mass of its existing substance1 and in that which has been hewn away to bring it into its perfect and symmetrical form4 ,and thus the shafts of all buildings of this kind are justly regarded as an expression of their wealth1 and a form of treasure1 just as much as the jewels or gold in the sacred vessels2 they are1 in fact1 nothing else than large jewels1 ,footnote3 ,quivi presso si vedi una colonna di tanta bellezza e finezza che e riputato piutosto gioia che pietra1--,sansovino1 of the verd-antique pillar in ,san ,jacomo dell' ,orio4 ,a remarkable piece of natural history and moral philosophy1 connected with this subject1 will be found in the second chapter of our third volume1 quoted from the work of a ,florentine architect of the fifteenth century4 the block of precious serpentine or jasper being valued according to its size and brilliancy of color1 like a large emerald or ruby2 only the bulk required to bestow value on the one is to be measured in feet and tons1 and on the other in lines and carats4 ,the shafts must therefore be1 without exception1 of one block in all buildings of this kind2 for the attempt in any place to incrust or joint them would be a deception like that of introducing a false stone among jewellery 7for a number of joints of any precious stone are of course not equal in value to a single piece of equal weight71 and would put an end at once to the spectator's confidence in the expression of wealth in any portion of the structure1 or of the spirit of sacrifice in those who raised it4 ,,section ,,xxxiv4 ,,law ,,iv4 ,the shafts may sometimes be independent of the construction4 ,exactly in proportion to the importance which the shaft assumes as a large jewel1 is the diminution of its importance as a sustaining member2 for the delight which we receive in its abstract bulk1 and beauty of color1 is altogether independent of any perception of its adaptation to mechanical necessities4 ,like other beautiful things in this world1 its end is to be beautiful2 and1 in proportion to its beauty1 it receives permission to be otherwise useless4 ,we do not blame emeralds and rubies because we cannot make them into heads of hammers4 ,nay1 so far from our admiration of the jewel shaft being dependent on its doing work for us1 it is very possible that a chief part of its preciousness may consist in a delicacy1 fragility1 and tenderness of material1 which must render it utterly unfit for hard work2 and therefore that we shall admire it the more1 because we perceive that if we were to put much weight upon it1 it would be crushed4 ,but1 at all events1 it is very clear that the primal object in the placing of such shafts must be the display of their beauty to the best advantage1 and that therefore all imbedding of them in walls1 or crowding of them into groups1 in any position in which either their real size or any portion of their surface would be concealed1 is either inadmissible together1 or objectionable in proportion to their value2 that no symmetrical or scientific arrangements of pillars are therefore ever to be expected in buildings of this kind1 and that all such are even to be looked upon as positive errors and misapplications of materials3 but that1 on the contrary1 we must be constantly prepared to see1 and to see with admiration1 shafts of great size and importance set in places where their real service is little more than nominal1 and where the chief end of their existence is to catch the sunshine upon their polished sides1 and lead the eye into delighted wandering among the mazes of their azure veins4 ,,section ,,xxxv4 ,,law ,v4 ,the shafts may be of variable size4 ,since the value of each shaft depends upon its bulk1 and diminishes with the diminution of its mass1 in a greater ratio than the size itself diminishes1 as in the case of all other jewellery1 it is evident that we must not in general expect perfect symmetry and equality among the series of shafts1 any more than definiteness of application2 but that1 on the contrary1 an accurately observed symmetry ought to give us a kind of pain1 as proving that considerable and useless loss has been sustained by some of the shafts1 in being cut down to match with the rest4 ,it is true that symmetry is generally sought for in works of smaller jewellery2 but1 even there1 not a perfect symmetry1 and obtained under circumstances quite different from those which affect the placing of shafts in architecture4 ,first3 the symmetry is usually imperfect4 ,the stones that seem to match each other in a ring or necklace1 appear to do so only because they are so small that their differences are not easily measured by the eye2 but there is almost always such difference between them as would be strikingly apparent if it existed in the same proportion between two shafts nine or ten feet in height4 ,secondly3 the quantity of stones which pass through a jeweller's hands1 and the facility of exchange of such small objects1 enable the tradesman to select any number of stones of approximate size2 a selection1 however1 often requiring so much time1 that perfect symmetry in a group of very fine stones adds enormously to their value4 ,but the architect has neither the time nor the facilities of exchange4 ,he cannot lay aside one column in a corner of his church till1 in the course of traffic1 he obtain another that will match it2 he has not hundreds of shafts fastened up in bundles1 out of which he can match sizes at his ease2 he cannot send to a brother-tradesman and exchange the useless stones for available ones1 to the convenience of both4 ,his blocks of stone1 or his ready hewn shafts1 have been brought to him in limited number1 from immense distances2 no others are to be had2 and for those which he does not bring into use1 there is no demand elsewhere4 ,his only means of obtaining symmetry will therefore be1 in cutting down the finer masses to equality with the inferior ones2 and this we ought not to desire him often to do4 ,and therefore1 while sometimes in a ,baldacchino1 or an important chapel or shrine1 this costly symmetry may be necessary1 and admirable in proportion to its probable cost1 in the general fabric we must expect to see shafts introduced of size and proportion continually varying1 and such symmetry as may be obtained among them never altogether perfect1 and dependent for its charm frequently on strange complexities and unexpected rising and falling of weight and accent in its marble syllables2 bearing the same relation to a rigidly chiselled and proportioned architecture that the wild lyric rhythm of ,aeschylus or ,pindar bears to the finished measures of ,pope4 ,,section ,,xxxvi4 ,the application of the principles of jewellery to the smaller as well as the larger blocks1 will suggest to us another reason for the method of incrustation adopted in the walls4 ,it often happens that the beauty of the veining in some varieties of alabaster is so great1 that it becomes desirable to exhibit it by dividing the stone1 not merely to economize its substance1 but to display the changes in the disposition of its fantastic lines4 ,by reversing one of two thin plates successively taken from the stone1 and placing their corresponding edges in contact1 a perfectly symmetrical figure may be obtained1 which will enable the eye to comprehend more thoroughly the position of the veins4 ,and this is actually the method in which1 for the most part1 the alabasters of ,st4 ,mark are employed2 thus accomplishing a double good1--directing the spectator1 in the first place1 to close observation of the nature of the stone employed1 and in the second1 giving him a farther proof of the honesty of intention in the builder3 for wherever similar veining is discovered in two pieces1 the fact is declared that they have been cut from the same stone4 ,it would have been easy to disguise the similarity by using them in different parts of the building2 but on the contrary they are set edge to edge1 so that the whole system of the architecture may be discovered at a glance by any one acquainted with the nature of the stones employed4 ,nay1 but1 it is perhaps answered me1 not by an ordinary observer2 a person ignorant of the nature of alabaster might perhaps fancy all these symmetrical patterns to have been found in the stone itself1 and thus be doubly deceived1 supposing blocks to be solid and symmetrical which were in reality subdivided and irregular4 ,i grant it2 but be it remembered1 that in all things1 ignorance is liable to be deceived1 and has no right to accuse anything but itself as the source of the deception4 ,the style and the words are dishonest1 not which are liable to be misunderstood if subjected to no inquiry1 but which are deliberately calculated to lead inquiry astray4 ,there are perhaps no great or noble truths1 from those of religion downwards1 which present no mistakable aspect to casual or ignorant contemplation4 ,both the truth and the lie agree in hiding themselves at first1 but the lie continues to hide itself with effort1 as we approach to examine it2 and leads us1 if undiscovered1 into deeper lies2 the truth reveals itself in proportion to our patience and knowledge1 discovers itself kindly to our pleading1 and leads us1 as it is discovered1 into deeper truths4 ,,section ,,xxxvii4 ,,law ,,vi4 ,the decoration must be shallow in cutting4 ,the method of construction being thus systematized1 it is evident that a certain style of decoration must arise out of it1 based on the primal condition that over the greater part of the edifice there can be no deep cutting4 ,the thin sheets of covering stones do not admit of it2 we must not cut them through to the bricks2 and whatever ornaments we engrave upon them cannot1 therefore1 be more than an inch deep at the utmost4 ,consider for an instant the enormous differences which this single condition compels between the sculptural decoration of the incrusted style1 and that of the solid stones of the ,north1 which may be hacked and hewn into whatever cavernous hollows and black recesses we choose2 struck into grim darknesses and grotesque projections1 and rugged ploughings up of sinuous furrows1 in which any form or thought may be wrought out on any scale1--mighty statues with robes of rock and crowned foreheads burning in the sun1 or venomous goblins and stealthy dragons shrunk into lurking-places of untraceable shade3 think of this1 and of the play and freedom given to the sculptor's hand and temper1 to smite out and in1 hither and thither1 as he will2 and then consider what must be the different spirit of the design which is to be wrought on the smooth surface of a film of marble1 where every line and shadow must be drawn with the most tender pencilling and cautious reserve of resource1--where even the chisel must not strike hard1 lest it break through the delicate stone1 nor the mind be permitted in any impetuosity of conception inconsistent with the fine discipline of the hand4 ,consider that whatever animal or human form is to be suggested1 must be projected on a flat surface2 that all the features of the countenance1 the folds of the drapery1 the involutions of the limbs1 must be so reduced and subdued that the whole work becomes rather a piece of fine drawing than of sculpture2 and then follow out1 until you begin to perceive their endlessness1 the resulting differences of character which will be necessitated in every part of the ornamental designs of these incrusted churches1 as compared with that of the ,northern schools4 ,i shall endeavor to trace a few of them only4 ,,section ,,xxxviii4 ,the first would of course be a diminution of the builder's dependence upon human form as a source of ornament3 since exactly in proportion to the dignity of the form itself is the loss which it must sustain in being reduced to a shallow and linear bas-relief1 as well as the difficulty of expressing it at all under such conditions4 ,wherever sculpture can be solid1 the nobler characters of the human form at once lead the artist to aim at its representation1 rather than at that of inferior organisms2 but when all is to be reduced to outline1 the forms of flowers and lower animals are always more intelligible1 and are felt to approach much more to a satisfactory rendering of the objects intended1 than the outlines of the human body4 ,this inducement to seek for resources of ornament in the lower fields of creation was powerless in the minds of the great ,pagan nations1 ,ninevite1 ,greek1 or ,egyptian3 first1 because their thoughts were so concentrated on their own capacities and fates1 that they preferred the rudest suggestion of human form to the best of an inferior organism2 secondly1 because their constant practice in solid sculpture1 often colossal1 enabled them to bring a vast amount of science into the treatment of the lines1 whether of the low relief1 the monochrome vase1 or shallow hieroglyphic4 ,,section ,,xxxix4 ,but when various ideas adverse to the representation of animal1 and especially of human1 form1 originating with the ,arabs and iconoclast ,greeks1 had begun at any rate to direct the builders' minds to seek for decorative materials in inferior types1 and when diminished practice in solid sculpture had rendered it more difficult to find artists capable of satisfactorily reducing the high organisms to their elementary outlines1 the choice of subject for surface sculpture would be more and more uninterruptedly directed to floral organisms1 and human and animal form would become diminished in size1 frequency1 and general importance4 ,so that1 while in the ,northern solid architecture we constantly find the effect of its noblest features dependent on ranges of statues1 often colossal1 and full of abstract interest1 independent of their architectural service1 in the ,southern incrusted style we must expect to find the human form for the most part subordinate and diminutive1 and involved among designs of foliage and flowers1 in the manner of which endless examples had been furnished by the fantastic ornamentation of the ,romans1 from which the incrusted style had been directly derived4 ,,section ,,xl4 ,farther4 ,in proportion to the degree in which his subject must be reduced to abstract outline will be the tendency in the sculptor to abandon naturalism of representation1 and subordinate every form to architectural service4 ,where the flower or animal can be hewn into bold relief1 there will always be a temptation to render the representation of it more complete than is necessary1 or even to introduce details and intricacies inconsistent with simplicity of distant effect4 ,very often a worse fault than this is committed2 and in the endeavor to give vitality to the stone1 the original ornamental purpose of the design is sacrificed or forgotten4 ,but when nothing of this kind can be attempted1 and a slight outline is all that the sculptor can command1 we may anticipate that this outline will be composed with exquisite grace2 and that the richness of its ornamental arrangement will atone for the feebleness of its power of portraiture4 ,on the porch of a ,northern cathedral we may seek for the images of the flowers that grow in the neighboring fields1 and as we watch with wonder the gray stones that fret themselves into thorns1 and soften into blossoms1 we may care little that these knots of ornament1 as we retire from them to contemplate the whole building1 appear unconsidered or confused4 ,on the incrusted building we must expect no such deception of the eye or thoughts4 ,it may sometimes be difficult to determine1 from the involutions of its linear sculpture1 what were the natural forms which originally suggested them3 but we may confidently expect that the grace of their arrangement will always be complete2 that there will not be a line in them which could be taken away without injury1 nor one wanting which could be added with advantage4 ,,section ,,xli4 ,farther4 ,while the sculptures of the incrusted school will thus be generally distinguished by care and purity rather than force1 and will be1 for the most part1 utterly wanting in depth of shadow1 there will be one means of obtaining darkness peculiarly simple and obvious1 and often in the sculptor's power4 ,wherever he can1 without danger1 leave a hollow behind his covering slabs1 or use them1 like glass1 to fill an aperture in the wall1 he can1 by piercing them with holes1 obtain points or spaces of intense blackness to contrast with the light tracing of the rest of his design4 ,and we may expect to find this artifice used the more extensively1 because1 while it will be an effective means of ornamentation on the exterior of the building1 it will be also the safest way of admitting light to the interior1 still totally excluding both rain and wind4 ,and it will naturally follow that the architect1 thus familiarized with the effect of black and sudden points of shadow1 will often seek to carry the same principle into other portions of his ornamentation1 and by deep drill-holes1 or perhaps inlaid portions of black color1 to refresh the eye where it may be wearied by the lightness of the general handling4 ,,section ,,xlii4 ,farther4 ,exactly in proportion to the degree in which the force of sculpture is subdued1 will be the importance attached to color as a means of effect or constituent of beauty4 ,i have above stated that the incrusted style was the only one in which perfect or permanent color decoration was possible4 ,it is also the only one in which a true system of color decoration was ever likely to be invented4 ,in order to understand this1 the reader must permit me to review with some care the nature of the principles of coloring adopted by the ,northern and ,southern nations4 ,,section ,,xliii4 ,i believe that from the beginning of the world there has never been a true or fine school of art in which color was despised4 ,it has often been imperfectly attained and injudiciously applied1 but ,i believe it to be one of the essential signs of life in a school of art1 that it loves color2 and ,i know it to be one of the first signs of death in the ,renaissance schools1 that they despised color4 ,observe1 it is not now the question whether our ,northern cathedrals are better with color or without4 ,perhaps the great monotone gray of ,nature and of ,time is a better color than any that the human hand can give2 but that is nothing to our present business4 ,the simple fact is1 that the builders of those cathedrals laid upon them the brightest colors they could obtain1 and that there is not1 as far as ,i am aware1 in ,europe1 any monument of a truly noble school which has not been either painted all over1 or vigorously touched with paint1 mosaic1 and gilding in its prominent parts4 ,thus far ,egyptians1 ,greeks1 ,goths1 ,arabs1 and mediaeval ,christians all agree3 none of them1 when in their right senses1 ever think of doing without paint2 and1 therefore1 when ,i said above that the ,venetians were the only people who had thoroughly sympathized with the ,arabs in this respect1 ,i referred1 first1 to their intense love of color1 which led them to lavish the most expensive decorations on ordinary dwelling-houses2 and1 secondly1 to that perfection of the color-instinct in them1 which enabled them to render whatever they did1 in this kind1 as just in principle as it was gorgeous in appliance4 ,it is this principle of theirs1 as distinguished from that of the ,northern builders1 which we have finally to examine4 ,,section ,,xliv4 ,in the second chapter of the first volume1 it was noticed that the architect of ,bourges ,cathedral liked hawthorn1 and that the porch of his cathedral was therefore decorated with a rich wreath of it2 but another of the predilections of that architect was there unnoticed1 namely1 that he did not at all like gray hawthorn1 but preferred it green1 and he painted it green accordingly1 as bright as he could4 ,the color is still left in every sheltered interstice of the foliage4 ,he had1 in fact1 hardly the choice of any other color2 he might have gilded the thorns1 by way of allegorizing human life1 but if they were to be painted at all1 they could hardly be painted anything but green1 and green all over4 ,people would have been apt to object to any pursuit of abstract harmonies of color1 which might have induced him to paint his hawthorn blue4 ,,section ,,xlv4 ,in the same way1 whenever the subject of the sculpture was definite1 its color was of necessity definite also2 and1 in the hands of the ,northern builders1 it often became1 in consequence1 rather the means of explaining and animating the stories of their stone-work1 than a matter of abstract decorative science4 ,flowers were painted red1 trees green1 and faces flesh-color2 the result of the whole being often far more entertaining than beautiful4 ,and also1 though in the lines of the mouldings and the decorations of shafts or vaults1 a richer and more abstract method of coloring was adopted 7aided by the rapid development of the best principles of color in early glass-painting71 the vigorous depths of shadow in the ,northern sculpture confused the architect's eye1 compelling him to use violent colors in the recesses1 if these were to be seen as color at all1 and thus injured his perception of more delicate color harmonies2 so that in innumerable instances it becomes very disputable whether monuments even of the best times were improved by the color bestowed upon them1 or the contrary4 ,but1 in the ,south1 the flatness and comparatively vague forms of the sculpture1 while they appeared to call for color in order to enhance their interest1 presented exactly the conditions which would set it off to the greatest advantage2 breadth or surface displaying even the most delicate tints in the lights1 and faintness of shadow joining with the most delicate and pearly grays of color harmony2 while the subject of the design being in nearly all cases reduced to mere intricacy of ornamental line1 might be colored in any way the architect chose without any loss of rationality4 ,where oak-leaves and roses were carved into fresh relief and perfect bloom1 it was necessary to paint the one green and the other red2 but in portions of ornamentation where there was nothing which could be definitely construed into either an oak-leaf or a rose1 but a mere labyrinth of beautiful lines1 becoming here something like a leaf1 and there something like a flower1 the whole tracery of the sculpture might be left white1 and grounded with gold or blue1 or treated in any other manner best harmonizing with the colors around it4 ,and as the necessarily feeble character of the sculpture called for and was ready to display the best arrangements of color1 so the precious marbles in the architect's hands give him at once the best examples and the best means of color4 ,the best examples1 for the tints of all natural stones are as exquisite in quality as endless in change2 and the best means1 for they are all permanent4 ,,section ,,xlvi4 ,every motive thus concurred in urging him to the study of chromatic decoration1 and every advantage was given him in the pursuit of it2 and this at the very moment when1 as presently to be noticed1 the navet of barbaric ,christianity could only be forcibly appealed to by the help of colored pictures3 so that1 both externally and internally1 the architectural construction became partly merged in pictorial effect2 and the whole edifice is to be regarded less as a temple wherein to pray1 than as itself a ,book of ,common ,prayer1 a vast illuminated missal1 bound with alabaster instead of parchment1 studded with porphyry pillars instead of jewels1 and written within and without in letters of enamel and gold4 ,,section ,,xlvii4 ,,law ,,vii4 ,that the impression of the architecture is not to be dependent on size4 ,and now there is but one final consequence to be deduced4 ,the reader understands1 ,i trust1 by this time1 that the claims of these several parts of the building upon his attention will depend upon their delicacy of design1 their perfection of color1 their preciousness of material1 and their legendary interest4 ,all these qualities are independent of size1 and partly even inconsistent with it4 ,neither delicacy of surface sculpture1 nor subtle gradations of color1 can be appreciated by the eye at a distance2 and since we have seen that our sculpture is generally to be only an inch or two in depth1 and that our coloring is in great part to be produced with the soft tints and veins of natural stones1 it will follow necessarily that none of the parts of the building can be removed far from the eye1 and therefore that the whole mass of it cannot be large4 ,it is not even desirable that it should be so2 for the temper in which the mind addresses itself to contemplate minute and beautiful details is altogether different from that in which it submits itself to vague impressions of space and size4 ,and therefore we must not be disappointed1 but grateful1 when we find all the best work of the building concentrated within a space comparatively small2 and that1 for the great cliff-like buttresses and mighty piers of the ,north1 shooting up into indiscernible height1 we have here low walls spread before us like the pages of a book1 and shafts whose capitals we may touch with our hand4 ,,section ,,xlviii4 ,the due consideration of the principles above stated will enable the traveller to judge with more candor and justice of the architecture of ,st4 ,mark's than usually it would have been possible for him to do while under the influence of the prejudices necessitated by familiarity with the very different schools of ,northern art4 ,i wish it were in my power to lay also before the general reader some exemplification of the manner in which these strange principles are developed in the lovely building4 ,but exactly in proportion to the nobility of any work1 is the difficulty of conveying a just impression of it3 and wherever ,i have occasion to bestow high praise1 there it is exactly most dangerous for me to endeavor to illustrate my meaning1 except by reference to the work itself4 ,and1 in fact1 the principal reason why architectural criticism is at this day so far behind all other1 is the impossibility of illustrating the best architecture faithfully4 ,of the various schools of painting1 examples are accessible to every one1 and reference to the works themselves is found sufficient for all purposes of criticism2 but there is nothing like ,st4 ,mark's or the ,ducal ,palace to be referred to in the ,national ,gallery1 and no faithful illustration of them is possible on the scale of such a volume as this4 ,and it is exceedingly difficult on any scale4 ,nothing is so rare in art1 as far as my own experience goes1 as a fair illustration of architecture2 perfect illustration of it does not exist4 ,for all good architecture depends upon the adaptation of its chiselling to the effect at a certain distance from the eye2 and to render the peculiar confusion in the midst of order1 and uncertainty in the midst of decision1 and mystery in the midst of trenchant lines1 which are the result of distance1 together with perfect expression of the peculiarities of the design1 requires the skill of the most admirable artist1 devoted to the work with the most severe conscientiousness1 neither the skill nor the determination having as yet been given to the subject4 ,and in the illustration of details1 every building of any pretensions to high architectural rank would require a volume of plates1 and those finished with extraordinary care4 ,with respect to the two buildings which are the principal subjects of the present volume1 ,st4 ,mark's and the ,ducal ,palace1 ,i have found it quite impossible to do them the slightest justice by any kind of portraiture2 and ,i abandoned the endeavor in the case of the latter with less regret1 because in the new ,crystal ,palace 7as the poetical public insist upon calling it1 though it is neither a palace1 nor of crystal7 there will be placed1 ,i believe1 a noble cast of one of its angles4 ,as for ,st4 ,mark's1 the effort was hopeless from the beginning4 ,for its effect depends not only upon the most delicate sculpture in every part1 out1 as we have just stated1 eminently on its color also1 and that the most subtle1 variable1 inexpressible color in the world1--the color of glass1 of transparent alabaster1 of polished marble1 and lustrous gold4 ,it would be easier to illustrate a crest of ,scottish mountain1 with its purple heather and pale harebells at their fullest and fairest1 or a glade of ,jura forest1 with its floor of anemone and moss1 than a single portico of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,the fragment of one of its archivolts1 given at the bottom of the opposite ,plate1 is not to illustrate the thing itself1 but to illustrate the impossibility of illustration4 ,,section ,,xlix4 ,it is left a fragment1 in order to get it on a larger scale2 and yet even on this scale it is too small to show the sharp folds and points of the marble vine-leaves with sufficient clearness4 ,the ground of it is gold1 the sculpture in the spandrils is not more than an inch and a half deep1 rarely so much4 ,it is in fact nothing more than an exquisite sketching of outlines in marble1 to about the same depth as in the ,elgin frieze2 the draperies1 however1 being filled with close folds1 in the manner of the ,byzantine pictures1 folds especially necessary here1 as large masses could not be expressed in the shallow sculpture without becoming insipid2 but the disposition of these folds is always most beautiful1 and often opposed by broad and simple spaces1 like that obtained by the scroll in the hand of the prophet seen in the ,plate4 ,the balls in the archivolt project considerably1 and the interstices between their interwoven bands of marble are filled with colors like the illuminations of a manuscript2 violet1 crimson1 blue1 gold1 and green alternately3 but no green is ever used without an intermixture of blue pieces in the mosaic1 nor any blue without a little centre of pale green2 sometimes only a single piece of glass a quarter of an inch square1 so subtle was the feeling for color which was thus to be satisfied4 ,footnote3 ,the fact is1 that no two tesserae of the glass are exactly of the same tint1 the greens being all varied with blues1 the blues of different depths1 the reds of different clearness1 so that the effect of each mass of color is full of variety1 like the stippled color of a fruit piece4 ,the intermediate circles have golden stars set on an azure ground1 varied in the same manner2 and the small crosses seen in the intervals are alternately blue and subdued scarlet1 with two small circles of white set in the golden ground above and beneath them1 each only about half an inch across 7this work1 remember1 being on the outside of the building1 and twenty feet above the eye71 while the blue crosses have each a pale green centre4 ,of all this exquisitely mingled hue1 no plate1 however large or expensive1 could give any adequate conception2 but1 if the reader will supply in imagination to the engraving what he supplies to a common woodcut of a group of flowers1 the decision of the respective merits of modern and of ,byzantine architecture may be allowed to rest on this fragment of ,st4 ,mark's alone4 ,from the vine-leaves of that archivolt1 though there is no direct imitation of nature in them1 but on the contrary a studious subjection to architectural purpose more particularly to be noticed hereafter1 we may yet receive the same kind of pleasure which we have in seeing true vine-leaves and wreathed branches traced upon golden light2 its stars upon their azure ground ought to make us remember1 as its builder remembered1 the stars that ascend and fall in the great arch of the sky3 and ,i believe that stars1 and boughs1 and leaves1 and bright colors are everlastingly lovely1 and to be by all men beloved2 and1 moreover1 that church walls grimly seared with squared lines1 are not better nor nobler things than these4 ,i believe the man who designed and the men who delighted in that archivolt to have been wise1 happy1 and holy4 ,let the reader look back to the archivolt ,i have already given out of the streets of ,london 7,plate ,,xiii4 ,vol4 ,i41 ,stones of ,venice71 and see what there is in it to make us any of the three4 ,let him remember that the men who design such work as that call ,st4 ,mark's a barbaric monstrosity1 and let him judge between us4 ,,section ,l4 ,some farther details of the ,st4 ,mark's architecture1 and especially a general account of ,byzantine capitals1 and of the principal ones at the angles of the church1 will be found in the following chapter4 ,footnote3 ,some illustration1 also1 of what was said in ,,section ,,xxxiii above1 respecting the value of the shafts of ,st4 ,mark's as large jewels1 will be found in ,appendix #i1 ,shafts of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,here ,i must pass on to the second part of our immediate subject1 namely1 the inquiry how far the exquisite and varied ornament of ,st4 ,mark's fits it1 as a ,temple1 for its sacred purpose1 and would be applicable in the churches of modern times4 ,we have here evidently two questions3 the first1 that wide and continually agitated one1 whether richness of ornament be right in churches at all2 the second1 whether the ornament of ,st4 ,mark's be of a truly ecclesiastical and ,christian character4 ,,section ,,li4 ,in the first chapter of the ,seven ,lamps of ,architecture ,i endeavored to lay before the reader some reasons why churches ought to be richly adorned1 as being the only places in which the desire of offering a portion of all precious things to ,god could be legitimately expressed4 ,but ,i left wholly untouched the question3 whether the church1 as such1 stood in need of adornment1 or would be better fitted for its purposes by possessing it4 ,this question ,i would now ask the reader to deal with briefly and candidly4 ,the chief difficulty in deciding it has arisen from its being always presented to us in an unfair form4 ,it is asked of us1 or we ask of ourselves1 whether the sensation which we now feel in passing from our own modern dwelling-house1 through a newly built street1 into a cathedral of the thirteenth century1 be safe or desirable as a preparation for public worship4 ,but we never ask whether that sensation was at all calculated upon by the builders of the cathedral4 ,,section ,,lii4 ,now ,i do not say that the contrast of the ancient with the modern building1 and the strangeness with which the earlier architectural forms fall upon the eye1 are at this day disadvantageous4 ,but ,i do say1 that their effect1 whatever it may be1 was entirely uncalculated upon by the old builder4 ,he endeavored to make his work beautiful1 but never expected it to be strange4 ,and we incapacitate ourselves altogether from fair judgment of its intention1 if we forget that1 when it was built1 it rose in the midst of other work fanciful and beautiful as itself2 that every dwelling-house in the middle ages was rich with the same ornaments and quaint with the same grotesques which fretted the porches or animated the gargoyles of the cathedral2 that what we now regard with doubt and wonder1 as well as with delight1 was then the natural continuation1 into the principal edifice of the city1 of a style which was familiar to every eye throughout all its lanes and streets2 and that the architect had often no more idea of producing a peculiarly devotional impression by the richest color and the most elaborate carving1 than the builder of a modern meetinghouse has by his white-washed walls and square-cut casements4 ,footnote3 ,see the farther notice of this subject in ,vol4 ,,iii41 ,chap4 ,,iv4 ,stones of ,venice4 ,,section ,,liii4 ,let the reader fix this great fact well in his mind1 and then follow out its important corollaries4 ,we attach1 in modern days1 a kind of sacredness to the pointed arch and the groined roof1 because1 while we look habitually out of square windows and live under flat ceilings1 we meet with the more beautiful forms in the ruins of our abbeys4 ,but when those abbeys were built1 the pointed arch was used for every shop door1 as well as for that of the cloister1 and the feudal baron and freebooter feasted1 as the monk sang1 under vaulted roofs2 not because the vaulting was thought especially appropriate to either the revel or psalm1 but because it was then the form in which a strong roof was easiest built4 ,we have destroyed the goodly architecture of our cities2 we have substituted one wholly devoid of beauty or meaning2 and then we reason respecting the strange effect upon our minds of the fragments which1 fortunately1 we have left in our churches1 as if those churches had always been designed to stand out in strong relief from all the buildings around them1 and ,gothic architecture had always been1 what it is now1 a religious language1 like ,monkish ,latin4 ,most readers know1 if they would arouse their knowledge1 that this was not so2 but they take no pains to reason the matter out3 they abandon themselves drowsily to the impression that ,gothic is a peculiarly ecclesiastical style2 and sometimes1 even1 that richness in church ornament is a condition or furtherance of the ,romish religion4 ,undoubtedly it has become so in modern times3 for there being no beauty in our recent architecture1 and much in the remains of the past1 and these remains being almost exclusively ecclesiastical1 the ,high ,church and ,romanist parties have not been slow in availing themselves of the natural instincts which were deprived of all food except from this source2 and have willingly promulgated the theory1 that because all the good architecture that is now left is expressive of ,high ,church or ,romanist doctrines1 all good architecture ever has been and must be so1--a piece of absurdity from which1 though here and there a country clergyman may innocently believe it1 ,i hope the common sense of the nation will soon manfully quit itself4 ,it needs but little inquiry into the spirit of the past1 to ascertain what1 once for all1 ,i would desire here clearly and forcibly to assert1 that wherever ,christian church architecture has been good and lovely1 it has been merely the perfect development of the common dwelling-house architecture of the period2 that when the pointed arch was used in the street1 it was used in the church2 when the round arch was used in the street1 it was used in the church2 when the pinnacle was set over the garret window1 it was set over the belfry tower2 when the flat roof was used for the drawing-room1 it was used for the nave4 ,there is no sacredness in round arches1 nor in pointed2 none in pinnacles1 nor in buttresses2 none in pillars1 nor traceries4 ,churches were larger than in most other buildings1 because they had to hold more people2 they were more adorned than most other buildings1 because they were safer from violence1 and were the fitting subjects of devotional offering3 but they were never built in any separate1 mystical1 and religious style2 they were built in the manner that was common and familiar to everybody at the time4 ,the flamboyant traceries that adorn the faade of ,rouen ,cathedral had once their fellows in every window of every house in the market place2 the sculptures that adorn the porches of ,st4 ,mark's had once their match on the walls1 of every palace on the ,grand ,canal2 and the only difference between the church and the dwelling-house was1 that there existed a symbolical meaning in the distribution of the parts of all buildings meant for worship1 and that the painting or sculpture was1 in the one case1 less frequently of profane subject than in the other4 ,a more severe distinction cannot be drawn3 for secular history was constantly introduced into church architecture2 and sacred history or allusion generally formed at least one half of the ornament of the dwelling-house4 ,,section ,,liv4 ,this fact is so important1 and so little considered1 that ,i must be pardoned for dwelling upon it at some length1 and accurately marking the limits of the assertion ,i have made4 ,i do not mean that every dwelling-house of mediaeval cities was as richly adorned and as exquisite in composition as the fronts of their cathedrals1 but that they presented features of the same kind1 often in parts quite as beautiful2 and that the churches were not separated by any change of style from the buildings round them1 as they are now1 but were merely more finished and full examples of a universal style1 rising out of the confused streets of the city as an oak tree does out of an oak copse1 not differing in leafage1 but in size and symmetry4 ,of course the quainter and smaller forms of turret and window necessary for domestic service1 the inferior materials1 often wood instead of stone1 and the fancy of the inhabitants1 which had free play in the design1 introduced oddnesses1 vulgarities1 and variations into house architecture1 which were prevented by the traditions1 the wealth1 and the skill of the monks and freemasons2 while1 on the other hand1 conditions of vaulting1 buttressing1 and arch and tower building1 were necessitated by the mere size of the cathedral1 of which it would be difficult to find examples elsewhere4 ,but there was nothing more in these features than the adaptation of mechanical skill to vaster requirements2 there was nothing intended to be1 or felt to be1 especially ecclesiastical in any of the forms so developed2 and the inhabitants of every village and city1 when they furnished funds for the decoration of their church1 desired merely to adorn the house of ,god as they adorned their own1 only a little more richly1 and with a somewhat graver temper in the subjects of the carving4 ,even this last difference is not always clearly discernible3 all manner of ribaldry occurs in the details of the ecclesiastical buildings of the ,north1 and at the time when the best of them were built1 every man's house was a kind of temple2 a figure of the ,madonna1 or of ,christ1 almost always occupied a niche over the principal door1 and the ,old ,testament histories were curiously interpolated amidst the grotesques of the brackets and the gables4 ,,section ,,lv4 ,and the reader will now perceive that the question respecting fitness of church decoration rests in reality on totally different grounds from those commonly made foundations of argument4 ,so long as our streets are walled with barren brick1 and our eyes rest continually1 in our daily life1 on objects utterly ugly1 or of inconsistent and meaningless design1 it may be a doubtful question whether the faculties of eye and mind which are capable of perceiving beauty1 having been left without food during the whole of our active life1 should be suddenly feasted upon entering a place of worship2 and color1 and music1 and sculpture should delight the senses1 and stir the curiosity of men unaccustomed to such appeal1 at the moment when they are required to compose themselves for acts of devotion2--this1 ,i say1 may be a doubtful question3 but it cannot be a question at all1 that if once familiarized with beautiful form and color1 and accustomed to see in whatever human hands have executed for us1 even for the lowest services1 evidence of noble thought and admirable skill1 we shall desire to see this evidence also in whatever is built or labored for the house of prayer2 that the absence of the accustomed loveliness would disturb instead of assisting devotion2 and that we should feel it as vain to ask whether1 with our own house full of goodly craftsmanship1 we should worship ,god in a house destitute of it1 as to ask whether a pilgrim whose day's journey had led him through fair woods and by sweet waters1 must at evening turn aside into some barren place to pray4 ,,section ,,lvi4 ,then the second question submitted to us1 whether the ornament of ,st4 ,mark's be truly ecclesiastical and ,christian1 is evidently determined together with the first2 for1 if not only the permission of ornament at all1 but the beautiful execution of it1 be dependent on our being familiar with it in daily life1 it will follow that no style of noble architecture can be exclusively ecclesiastical4 ,it must be practised in the dwelling before it be perfected in the church1 and it is the test of a noble style that it shall be applicable to both2 for if essentially false and ignoble1 it may be made to fit the dwelling-house1 but never can be made to fit the church3 and just as there are many principles which will bear the light of the world's opinion1 yet will not bear the light of ,god's word1 while all principles which will bear the test of ,scripture will also bear that of practice1 so in architecture there are many forms which expediency and convenience may apparently justify1 or at least render endurable1 in daily use1 which will yet be found offensive the moment they are used for church service2 but there are none good for church service1 which cannot bear daily use4 ,thus the ,renaissance manner of building is a convenient style for dwelling-houses1 but the natural sense of all religious men causes them to turn from it with pain when it has been used in churches2 and this has given rise to the popular idea that the ,roman style is good for houses and the ,gothic for churches4 ,this is not so2 the ,roman style is essentially base1 and we can bear with it only so long as it gives us convenient windows and spacious rooms2 the moment the question of convenience is set aside1 and the expression or beauty of the style it tried by its being used in a church1 we find it fails4 ,but because the ,gothic and ,byzantine styles are fit for churches they are not therefore less fit for dwellings4 ,they are in the highest sense fit and good for both1 nor were they ever brought to perfection except where they were used for both4 ,,section ,,lvii4 ,but there is one character of ,byzantine work which1 according to the time at which it was employed1 may be considered as either fitting or unfitting it for distinctly ecclesiastical purposes2 ,i mean the essentially pictorial character of its decoration4 ,we have already seen what large surfaces it leaves void of bold architectural features1 to be rendered interesting merely by surface ornament or sculpture4 ,in this respect ,byzantine work differs essentially from pure ,gothic styles1 which are capable of filling every vacant space by features purely architectural1 and may be rendered1 if we please1 altogether independent of pictorial aid4 ,a ,gothic church may be rendered impressive by mere successions of arches1 accumulations of niches1 and entanglements of tracery4 ,but a ,byzantine church requires expression and interesting decoration over vast plane surfaces1--decoration which becomes noble only by becoming pictorial2 that is to say1 by representing natural objects1--men1 animals1 or flowers4 ,and1 therefore1 the question whether the ,byzantine style be fit for church service in modern days1 becomes involved in the inquiry1 what effect upon religion has been or may yet be produced by pictorial art1 and especially by the art of the mosaicist8 ,,section ,,lviii4 ,the more ,i have examined the subject the more dangerous ,i have found it to dogmatize respecting the character of the art which is likely1 at a given period1 to be most useful to the cause of religion4 ,one great fact first meets me4 ,i cannot answer for the experience of others1 but ,i never yet met with a ,christian whose heart was thoroughly set upon the world to come1 and1 so far as human judgment could pronounce1 perfect and right before ,god1 who cared about art at all4 ,i have known several very noble ,christian men who loved it intensely1 but in them there was always traceable some entanglement of the thoughts with the matters of this world1 causing them to fall into strange distresses and doubts1 and often leading them into what they themselves would confess to be errors in understanding1 or even failures in duty4 ,i do not say that these men may not1 many of them1 be in very deed nobler than those whose conduct is more consistent2 they may be more tender in the tone of all their feelings1 and farther-sighted in soul1 and for that very reason exposed to greater trials and fears1 than those whose hardier frame and naturally narrower vision enable them with less effort to give their hands to ,god and walk with ,him4 ,but still1 the general fact is indeed so1 that ,i have never known a man who seemed altogether right and calm in faith1 who seriously cared about art2 and when casually moved by it1 it is quite impossible to say beforehand by what class of art this impression will on such men be made4 ,very often it is by a theatrical commonplace1 more frequently still by false sentiment4 ,i believe that the four painters who have had1 and still have1 the most influence1 such as it is1 on the ordinary ,protestant ,christian mind1 are ,carlo ,dolci1 ,guercino1 ,benjamin ,west1 and ,john ,martin4 ,raphael1 much as he is talked about1 is1 ,i believe in very fact1 rarely looked at by religious people2 much less his master1 or any of the truly great religious men of old4 ,but a smooth ,magdalen of ,carlo ,dolci with a tear on each cheek1 or a ,guercino ,christ or ,st4 ,john1 or a ,scripture illustration of ,west's1 or a black cloud with a flash of lightning in it of ,martin's1 rarely rails of being verily1 often deeply1 felt for the time4 ,,section ,,lix4 ,there are indeed many very evident reasons for this2 the chief one being that1 as all truly great religious painters have been hearty ,romanists1 there are none of their works which do not embody1 in some portions of them1 definitely ,romanist doctrines4 ,the ,protestant mind is instantly struck by these1 and offended by them1 so as to be incapable of entering1 or at least rendered indisposed to enter1 farther into the heart of the work1 or to the discovering those deeper characters of it1 which are not ,romanist1 but ,christian1 in the everlasting sense and power of ,christianity4 ,thus most ,protestants1 entering for the first time a ,paradise of ,angelico1 would be irrevocably offended by finding that the first person the painter wished them to speak to was ,st4 ,dominic2 and would retire from such a heaven as speedily as possible1--not giving themselves time to discover1 that whether dressed in black1 or white1 or gray1 and by whatever name in the calendar they might be called1 the figures that filled that ,angelico heaven were indeed more1 saintly1 and pure1 and full of love in every feature1 than any that the human hand ever traced before or since4 ,and thus ,protestantism1 having foolishly sought for the little help it requires at the hand of painting from the men who embodied no ,catholic doctrine1 has been reduced to receive it from those who believed neither ,catholicism nor ,protestantism1 but who read the ,bible in search of the picturesque4 ,we thus refuse to regard the painters who passed their lives in prayer1 but are perfectly ready to be taught by those who spent them in debauchery4 ,there is perhaps no more popular ,protestant picture than ,salvator's ,witch of ,endor1 of which the subject was chosen by the painter simply because1 under the names of ,saul and the ,sorceress1 he could paint a captain of banditti1 and a ,neapolitan hag4 ,,section ,,lx4 ,the fact seems to be that strength of religious feeling is capable of supplying for itself whatever is wanting in the rudest suggestions of art1 and will either1 on the one hand1 purify what is coarse into inoffensiveness1 or1 on the other1 raise what is feeble into impressiveness4 ,probably all art1 as such1 is unsatisfactory to it2 and the effort which it makes to supply the void will be induced rather by association and accident than by the real merit of the work submitted to it4 ,the likeness to a beloved friend1 the correspondence with a habitual conception1 the freedom from any strange or offensive particularity1 and1 above all1 an interesting choice of incident1 will win admiration for a picture when the noblest efforts of religious imagination would otherwise fail of power4 ,how much more1 when to the quick capacity of emotion is joined a childish trust that the picture does indeed represent a fact6 ,it matters little whether the fact be well or ill told2 the moment we believe the picture to be true1 we complain little of its being ill-painted4 ,let it be considered for a moment1 whether the child1 with its colored print1 inquiring eagerly and gravely which is ,joseph1 and which is ,benjamin1 is not more capable of receiving a strong1 even a sublime1 impression from the rude symbol which it invests with reality by its own effort1 than the connoisseur who admires the grouping of the three figures in ,raphael's ,telling of the ,dreams2 and whether also1 when the human mind is in right religious tone1 it has not always this childish power--,i speak advisedly1 this power--a noble one1 and possessed more in youth than at any period of after life1 but always1 ,i think1 restored in a measure by religion--of raising into sublimity and reality the rudest symbol which is given to it of accredited truth4 ,,section ,,lxi4 ,ever since the period of the ,renaissance1 however1 the truth has not been accredited2 the painter of religious subject is no longer regarded as the narrator of a fact1 but as the inventor of an idea4 ,footnote3 ,i do not mean that modern ,christians believe less in the facts than ancient ,christians1 but they do not believe in the representation of the facts as true4 ,we look upon the picture as this or that painter's conception2 the elder ,christians looked upon it as this or that1 painter's description of what had actually taken place4 ,and in the ,greek ,church all painting is1 to this day1 strictly a branch of tradition4 ,see ,m4 ,dideron's admirably written introduction to his ,iconographie ,chrtienne1 p4 #g3--,un de mes compagnons s'tonnait de re trouver la ,panagia de ,st4 ,luc1 le saint ,jean ,chrysostome qu'il avait dessin dans le baptistre de ,st4 ,marc1 ,venise4 ,le costume des personnages est partout et en tout temps le mme1 non-seulement pour la forme1 mais pour la couleur1 mais pour le dessin1 mais jusque pour le nombre et l'paisseur des plis4 ,we do not severely criticise the manner in which a true history is told1 but we become harsh investigators of the faults of an invention2 so that in the modern religious mind1 the capacity of emotion1 which renders judgment uncertain1 is joined with an incredulity which renders it severe2 and this ignorant emotion1 joined with ignorant observance of faults1 is the worst possible temper in which any art can be regarded1 but more especially sacred art4 ,for as religious faith renders emotion facile1 so also it generally renders expression simple2 that is to say a truly religious painter will very often be ruder1 quainter1 simpler1 and more faulty in his manner of working1 than a great irreligious one4 ,and it was in this artless utterance1 and simple acceptance1 on the part of both the workman and the beholder1 that all noble schools of art have been cradled2 it is in them that they must be cradled to the end of time4 ,it is impossible to calculate the enormous loss of power in modern days1 owing to the imperative requirement that art shall be methodical and learned3 for as long as the constitution of this world remains unaltered1 there will be more intellect in it than there can be education2 there will be many men capable of just sensation and vivid invention1 who never will have time to cultivate or polish their natural powers4 ,and all unpolished power is in the present state of society lost2 in other things as well as in the arts1 but in the arts especially3 nay1 in nine cases out of ten1 people mistake the polish for the power4 ,until a man has passed through a course of academy studentship1 and can draw in an approved manner with ,french chalk1 and knows foreshortening1 and perspective1 and something of anatomy1 we do not think he can possibly be an artist2 what is worse1 we are very apt to think that we can make him an artist by teaching him anatomy1 and how to draw with ,french chalk2 whereas the real gift in him is utterly independent of all such accomplishments3 and ,i believe there are many peasants on every estate1 and laborers in every town of ,europe1 who have imaginative powers of a high order1 which nevertheless cannot be used for our good1 because we do not choose to look at anything but what is expressed in a legal and scientific way4 ,i believe there is many a village mason who1 set to carve a series of ,scripture or any other histories1 would find many a strange and noble fancy in his head1 and set it down1 roughly enough indeed1 but in a way well worth our having4 ,but we are too grand to let him do this1 or to set up his clumsy work when it is done2 and accordingly the poor stone-mason is kept hewing stones smooth at the corners1 and we build our church of the smooth square stones1 and consider ourselves wise4 ,,section ,,lxii4 ,i shall pursue this subject farther in another place2 but ,i allude to it here in order to meet the objections of those persons who suppose the mosaics of ,st4 ,mark's1 and others of the period1 to be utterly barbarous as representations of religious history4 ,let it be granted that they are so2 we are not for that reason to suppose they were ineffective in religious teaching4 ,i have above spoken of the whole church as a great ,book of ,common ,prayer2 the mosaics were its illuminations1 and the common people of the time were taught their ,scripture history by means of them1 more impressively perhaps1 though far less fully1 than ours are now by ,scripture reading4 ,they had no other ,bible1 and--,protestants do not often enough consider this--could have no other4 ,we find it somewhat difficult to furnish our poor with printed ,bibles2 consider what the difficulty must have been when they could be given only in manuscript4 ,the walls of the church necessarily became the poor man's ,bible1 and a picture was more easily read upon the walls than a chapter4 ,under this view1 and considering them merely as the ,bible pictures of a great nation in its youth1 ,i shall finally invite the reader to examine the connection and subjects of these mosaics2 but in the meantime ,i have to deprecate the idea of their execution being in any sense barbarous4 ,i have conceded too much to modern prejudice1 in permitting them to be rated as mere childish efforts at colored portraiture3 they have characters in them of a very noble kind2 nor are they by any means devoid of the remains of the science of the later ,roman empire4 ,the character of the features is almost always fine1 the expression stern and quiet1 and very solemn1 the attitudes and draperies always majestic in the single figures1 and in those of the groups which are not in violent action2 ,footnote3 ,all the effects of ,byzantine art to represent violent action are inadequate1 most of them ludicrously so1 even when the sculptural art is in other respects far advanced4 ,the early ,gothic sculptors1 on the other hand1 fail in all points of refinement1 but hardly ever in expression of action4 ,this distinction is of course one of the necessary consequences of the difference in all respects between the repose of the ,eastern1 and activity of the ,western mind1 which we shall have to trace out completely in the inquiry into the nature of ,gothic4 while the bright coloring and disregard of chiaroscuro cannot be regarded as imperfections1 since they are the only means by which the figures could be rendered clearly intelligible in the distance and darkness of the vaulting4 ,so far am ,i from considering them barbarous1 that ,i believe of all works of religious art whatsoever1 these1 and such as these1 have been the most effective4 ,they stand exactly midway between the debased manufacture of wooden and waxen images which is the support of ,romanist idolatry all over the world1 and the great art which leads the mind away from the religious subject to the art itself4 ,respecting neither of these branches of human skill is there1 nor can there be1 any question4 ,the manufacture of puppets1 however influential on the ,romanist mind of ,europe1 is certainly not deserving of consideration as one of the fine arts4 ,it matters literally nothing to a ,romanist what the image he worships is like4 ,take the vilest doll that is screwed together in a cheap toy-shop1 trust it to the keeping of a large family of children1 let it be beaten about the house by them till it is reduced to a shapeless block1 then dress it in a satin frock and declare it to have fallen from heaven1 and it will satisfactorily answer all ,romanist purposes4 ,idolatry1 ,footnote3 ,appendix ,x1 ,proper ,sense of the word ,idolatry4 it cannot be too often repeated1 is no encourager of the fine arts4 ,but1 on the other hand1 the highest branches of the fine arts are no encouragers either of idolatry or of religion4 ,no picture of ,leonardo's or ,raphael's1 no statue of ,michael ,angelo's1 has ever been worshipped1 except by accident4 ,carelessly regarded1 and by ignorant persons1 there is less to attract in them than in commoner works4 ,carefully regarded1 and by intelligent persons1 they instantly divert the mind from their subject to their art1 so that admiration takes the place of devotion4 ,i do not say that the ,madonna di ,s4 ,sisto1 the ,madonna del ,cardellino1 and such others1 have not had considerable religious influence on certain minds1 but ,i say that on the mass of the people of ,europe they have had none whatever1 while by far the greater number of the most celebrated statues and pictures are never regarded with any other feelings than those of admiration of human beauty1 or reverence for human skill4 ,effective religious art1 therefore1 has always lain1 and ,i believe must always lie1 between the two extremes--of barbarous idol-fashioning on one side1 and magnificent craftsmanship on the other4 ,it consists partly in missal-painting1 and such book-illustrations as1 since the invention of printing1 have taken its place2 partly in glass-painting2 partly in rude sculpture on the outsides of buildings2 partly in mosaics2 and partly in the frescoes and tempera pictures which1 in the fourteenth century1 formed the link between this powerful1 because imperfect1 religious art1 and the impotent perfection which succeeded it4 ,,section ,,lxiii4 ,but of all these branches the most important are the inlaying and mosaic of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries1 represented in a central manner by these mosaics of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,missal-painting could not1 from its minuteness1 produce the same sublime impressions1 and frequently merged itself in mere ornamentation of the page4 ,modern book-illustration has been so little skillful as hardly to be worth naming4 ,sculpture1 though in some positions it becomes of great importance1 has always a tendency to lose itself in architectural effect2 and was probably seldom deciphered1 in all its parts1 by the common people1 still less the traditions annealed in the purple burning of the painted window4 ,finally1 tempera pictures and frescoes were often of limited size or of feeble color4 ,but the great mosaics of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries covered the walls and roofs of the churches with inevitable lustre2 they could not be ignored or escaped from2 their size rendered them majestic1 their distance mysterious1 their color attractive4 ,they did not pass into confused or inferior decorations2 neither were they adorned with any evidences of skill or science1 such as might withdraw the attention from their subjects4 ,they were before the eyes of the devotee at every interval of his worship2 vast shadowings forth of scenes to whose realization he looked forward1 or of spirits whose presence he invoked4 ,and the man must be little capable of receiving a religious impression of any kind1 who1 to this day1 does not acknowledge some feeling of awe1 as he looks up at the pale countenances and ghastly forms which haunt the dark roofs of the ,baptisteries of ,parma and ,florence1 or remains altogether untouched by the majesty of the colossal images of apostles1 and of ,him who sent apostles1 that look down from the darkening gold of the domes of ,venice and ,pisa4 ,,section ,,lxiv4 ,i shall1 in a future portion of this work1 endeavor to discover what probabilities there are of our being able to use this kind of art in modern churches2 but at present it remains for us to follow out the connection of the subjects represented in ,st4 ,mark's so as to fulfil our immediate object1 and form an adequate conception of the feelings of its builders1 and of its uses to those for whom it was built4 ,now1 there is one circumstance to which ,i must1 in the outset1 direct the reader's special attention1 as forming a notable distinction between ancient and modern days4 ,our eyes are now familiar and weaned with writing2 and if an inscription is put upon a building1 unless it be large and clear1 it is ten to one whether we ever trouble ourselves to decipher it4 ,but the old architect was sure of readers4 ,he knew that every one would be glad to decipher all that he wrote2 that they would rejoice in possessing the vaulted leaves of his stone manuscript2 and that the more he gave them1 the more grateful would the people be4 ,we must take some pains1 therefore1 when we enter ,st4 ,mark's1 to read all that is inscribed1 or we shall not penetrate into the feeling either of the builder or of his times4 ,,section ,,lxv4 ,a large atrium or portico is attached to two sides of the church1 a space which was especially reserved for unbaptized persons and new converts4 ,it was thought right that1 before their baptism1 these persons should be led to contemplate the great facts of the ,old ,testament history2 the history of the ,fall of ,man1 and of the lives of ,patriarchs up to the period of the ,covenant by ,moses3 the order of the subjects in this series being very nearly the same as in many ,northern churches1 but significantly closing with the ,fall of the ,manna1 in order to mark to the catechumen the insufficiency of the ,mosaic covenant for salvation1--,our fathers did eat manna in the wilderness1 and are dead1--and to turn his thoughts to the true ,bread of which the manna was the type4 ,,section ,,lxvi4 ,then1 when after his baptism he was permitted to enter the church1 over its main entrance he saw1 on looking back1 a mosaic of ,christ enthroned1 with the ,virgin on one side and ,st4 ,mark on the other1 in attitudes of adoration4 ,christ is represented as holding a book open upon his knee1 on which is written3 ,i ,,am ,,the ,,door2 ,,by ,,me ,,if ,,any ,,man ,,enter ,,in1 ,,he ,,shall ,,be ,,saved4 ,on the red marble moulding which surrounds the mosaic is written3 ,i ,,am ,,the ,,gate ,,of ,,life2 ,,let ,,those ,,who ,,are ,,mine1 ,,enter ,,by ,,me4 ,above1 on the red marble fillet which forms the cornice of the west end of the church1 is written1 with reference to the figure of ,christ below3 ,,who ,,he ,,was1 ,,and ,,from ,,whom ,,he ,,came1 ,,and ,,at ,,what ,,price ,,he ,,redeemed ,,thee1 ,,and ,,why ,,he ,,made ,,thee1 ,,and ,,gave ,,thee ,,all ,,things1 ,,do ,,thou ,,consider4 ,now observe1 this was not to be seen and read only by the catechumen when he first entered the church2 every one who at any time entered1 was supposed to look back and to read this writing2 their daily entrance into the church was thus made a daily memorial of their first entrance into the spiritual ,church2 and we shall find that the rest of the book which was opened for them upon its walls continually led them in the same manner to regard the visible temple as in every part a type of the invisible ,church of ,god4 ,,section ,,lxvii4 ,therefore the mosaic of the first dome1 which is over the head of the spectator as soon as he has entered by the great door 7that door being the type of baptism71 represents the effusion of the ,holy ,spirit1 as the first consequence and seal of the entrance into the ,church of ,god4 ,in the centre of the cupola is the ,dove1 enthroned in the ,greek manner1 as the ,lamb is enthroned1 when the ,divinity of the ,second and ,third ,persons is to be insisted upon together with their peculiar offices4 ,from the central symbol of the ,holy ,spirit twelve streams of fire descend upon the heads of the twelve apostles1 who are represented standing around the dome2 and below them1 between the windows which are pierced in its walls1 are represented1 by groups of two figures for each separate people1 the various nations who heard the apostles speak1 at ,pentecost1 every man in his own tongue4 ,finally1 on the vaults1 at the four angles which support the cupola1 are pictured four angels1 each bearing a tablet upon the end of a rod in his hand3 on each of the tablets of the three first angels is inscribed the word ,holy2 on that of the fourth is written ,lord2 and the beginning of the hymn being thus put into the mouths of the four angels1 the words of it are continued around the border of the dome1 uniting praise to ,god for the gift of the ,spirit1 with welcome to the redeemed soul received into ,his ,church3 ,,holy1 ,,holy1 ,,holy1 ,,lord ,,god ,,of ,,sabaoth3 ,,heaven ,,and ,,earth ,,are ,,full ,,of ,,thy ,,glory4 ,,hosanna ,,in ,,the ,,highest3 ,,blessed ,,is ,,he ,,that ,,cometh ,,in ,,the ,,name ,,of ,,the ,,lord4 ,and observe in this writing that the convert is required to regard the outpouring of the ,holy ,spirit especially as a work of sanctification4 ,it is the holiness of ,god manifested in the giving of ,his ,spirit to sanctify those who had become ,his children1 which the four angels celebrate in their ceaseless praise2 and it is on account of this holiness that the heaven and earth are said to be full of ,his glory4 ,,section ,,lxviii4 ,after thus hearing praise rendered to ,god by the angels for the salvation of the newly-entered soul1 it was thought fittest that the worshipper should be led to contemplate1 in the most comprehensive forms possible1 the past evidence and the future hopes of ,christianity1 as summed up in three facts without assurance of which all faith is vain2 namely that ,christ died1 that ,he rose again1 and that ,he ascended into heaven1 there to prepare a place for ,his elect4 ,on the vault between the first and second cupolas are represented the crucifixion and resurrection of ,christ1 with the usual series of intermediate scenes1--the treason of ,judas1 the judgment of ,pilate1 the crowning with thorns1 the descent into ,hades1 the visit of the women to the sepulchre1 and the apparition to ,mary ,magdalene4 ,the second cupola itself1 which is the central and principal one of the church1 is entirely occupied by the subject of the ,ascension4 ,at the highest point of it ,christ is represented as rising into the blue heaven1 borne up by four angels1 and throned upon a rainbow1 the type of reconciliation4 ,beneath him1 the twelve apostles are seen upon the ,mount of ,olives1 with the ,madonna1 and1 in the midst of them1 the two men in white apparel who appeared at the moment of the ,ascension1 above whom1 as uttered by them1 are inscribed the words1 ,ye men of ,galilee1 why stand ye gazing up into heaven8 ,this ,christ1 the ,son of ,god1 as ,he is taken from you1 shall so come1 the arbiter of the earth1 trusted to do judgment and justice4 ,,section ,,lxix4 ,beneath the circle of the apostles1 between the windows of the cupola1 are represented the ,christian virtues1 as sequent upon the crucifixion of the flesh1 and the spiritual ascension together with ,christ4 ,beneath them1 on the vaults which support the angles of the cupola1 are placed the four ,evangelists1 because on their evidence our assurance of the fact of the ascension rests2 and1 finally1 beneath their feet1 as symbols of the sweetness and fulness of the ,gospel which they declared1 are represented the four rivers of ,paradise1 ,pison1 ,gihon1 ,tigris1 and ,euphrates4 ,,section ,,lxx4 ,the third cupola1 that over the altar1 represents the witness of the ,old ,testament to ,christ2 showing him enthroned in its centre1 and surrounded by the patriarchs and prophets4 ,but this dome was little seen by the people2 ,footnote3 ,it is also of inferior workmanship1 and perhaps later than the rest4 ,vide ,lord ,lindsay1 vol4 i1 p4 #abd1 note4 their contemplation was intended to be chiefly drawn to that of the centre of the church1 and thus the mind of the worshipper was at once fixed on the main groundwork and hope of ,christianity1--,christ is risen1 and ,christ shall come4 ,if he had time to explore the minor lateral chapels and cupolas1 he could find in them the whole series of ,new ,testament history1 the events of the ,life of ,christ1 and the ,apostolic miracles in their order1 and finally the scenery of the ,book of ,revelation2 ,footnote3 ,the old mosaics from the ,revelation have perished1 and have been replaced by miserable work of the seventeenth century4 but if he only entered1 as often the common people do to this hour1 snatching a few moments before beginning the labor of the day to offer up an ejaculatory prayer1 and advanced but from the main entrance as far as the altar screen1 all the splendor of the glittering nave and variegated dome1 if they smote upon his heart1 as they might often1 in strange contrast with his reed cabin among the shallows of the lagoon1 smote upon it only that they might proclaim the two great messages--,christ is risen1 and ,christ shall come4 ,daily1 as the white cupolas rose like wreaths of sea-foam in the dawn1 while the shadowy campanile and frowning palace were still withdrawn into the night1 they rose with the ,easter ,voice of ,triumph1--,christ is risen2 and daily1 as they looked down upon the tumult of the people1 deepening and eddying in the wide square that opened from their feet to the sea1 they uttered above them the sentence of warning1--,christ shall come4 ,,section ,,lxxi4 ,and this thought may surely dispose the reader to look with some change of temper upon the gorgeous building and wild blazonry of that shrine of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,he now perceives that it was in the hearts of the old ,venetian people far more than a place of worship4 ,it was at once a type of the ,redeemed ,church of ,god1 and a scroll for the written word of ,god4 ,it was to be to them1 both an image of the ,bride1 all glorious within1 her clothing of wrought gold2 and the actual ,table of the ,law and the ,testimony1 written within and without4 ,and whether honored as the ,church or as the ,bible1 was it not fitting that neither the gold nor the crystal should be spared in the adornment of it2 that1 as the symbol of the ,bride1 the building of the wall thereof should be of jasper1 ,footnote3 ,rev4 xxi4 #ah4 and the foundations of it garnished with all manner of precious stones2 and that1 as the channel of the ,world1 that triumphant utterance of the ,psalmist should be true of it1--,i have rejoiced in the way of thy testimonies1 as much as in all riches8 ,and shall we not look with changed temper down the long perspective of ,st4 ,mark's ,place towards the sevenfold gates and glowing domes of its temple1 when we know with what solemn purpose the shafts of it were lifted above the pavement of the populous square8 ,men met there from all countries of the earth1 for traffic or for pleasure2 but1 above the crowd swaying for ever to and fro in the restlessness of avarice or thirst of delight1 was seen perpetually the glory of the temple1 attesting to them1 whether they would hear or whether they would forbear1 that there was one treasure which the merchantmen might buy without a price1 and one delight better than all others1 in the word and the statutes of ,god4 ,not in the wantonness of wealth1 not in vain ministry to the desire of the eyes or the pride of life1 were those marbles hewn into transparent strength1 and those arches arrayed in the colors of the iris4 ,there is a message written in the dyes of them1 that once was written in blood2 and a sound in the echoes of their vaults1 that one day shall fill the vault of heaven1--,he shall return1 to do judgment and justice4 ,the strength of ,venice was given her1 so long as she remembered this3 her destruction found her when she had forgotten this2 and it found her irrevocably1 because she forgot it without excuse4 ,never had city a more glorious ,bible4 ,among the nations of the ,north1 a rude and shadowy sculpture filled their temples with confused and hardly legible imagery2 but1 for her1 the skill and the treasures of the ,east had gilded every letter1 and illumined every page1 till the ,book-,temple shone from afar off like the star of the ,magi4 ,in other cities1 the meetings of the people were often in places withdrawn from religious association1 subject to violence and to change2 and on the grass of the dangerous rampart1 and in the dust of the troubled street1 there were deeds done and counsels taken1 which1 if we cannot justify1 we may sometimes forgive4 ,but the sins of ,venice1 whether in her palace or in her piazza1 were done with the ,bible at her right hand4 ,the walls on which its testimony was written were separated but by a few inches of marble from those which guarded the secrets of her councils1 or confined the victims of her policy4 ,and when in her last hours she threw off all shame and all restraint1 and the great square of the city became filled with the madness of the whole earth1 be it remembered how much her sin was greater1 because it was done in the face of the ,house of ,god1 burning with the letters of ,his ,law4 ,mountebank and masker laughed their laugh1 and went their way2 and a silence has followed them1 not unforetold2 for amidst them all1 through century after century of gathering vanity and festering guilt1 that white dome of ,st4 ,mark's had uttered in the dead ear of ,venice1 ,know thou1 that for all these things ,god will bring thee into judgment4 ,,chapter ,v4 ,,the ,,ducal ,,palace4 ,,section ,i4 ,it was stated in the commencement of the preceding chapter that the ,gothic art of ,venice was separated by the building of the ,ducal ,palace into two distinct periods2 and that in all the domestic edifices which were raised for half a century after its completion1 their characteristic and chiefly effective portions were more or less directly copied from it4 ,the fact is1 that the ,ducal ,palace was the great work of ,venice at this period1 itself the principal effort of her imagination1 employing her best architects in its masonry1 and her best painters in its decoration1 for a long series of years2 and we must receive it as a remarkable testimony to the influence which it possessed over the minds of those who saw it in its progress1 that1 while in the other cities of ,italy every palace and church was rising in some original and daily more daring form1 the majesty of this single building was able to give pause to the ,gothic imagination in its full career2 stayed the restlessness of innovation in an instant1 and forbade the powers which had created it thenceforth to exert themselves in new directions1 or endeavor to summon an image more attractive4 ,,section ,,ii4 ,the reader will hardly believe that while the architectural invention of the ,venetians was thus lost1 ,narcissus-like1 in self-contemplation1 the various accounts of the progress of the building thus admired and beloved are so confused as frequently to leave it doubtful to what portion of the palace they refer2 and that there is actually1 at the time being1 a dispute between the best ,venetian antiquaries1 whether the main faade of the palace be of the fourteenth or fifteenth century4 ,the determination of this question is of course necessary before we proceed to draw any conclusions from the style of the work2 and it cannot be determined without a careful review of the entire history of the palace1 and of all the documents relating to it4 ,i trust that this review may not be found tedious1--assuredly it will not be fruitless1--bringing many facts before us1 singularly illustrative of the ,venetian character4 ,,section ,,iii4 ,before1 however1 the reader can enter upon any inquiry into the history of this building1 it is necessary that he should be thoroughly familiar with the arrangement and names of its principal parts1 as it at present stands2 otherwise he cannot comprehend so much as a single sentence of any of the documents referring to it4 ,i must do what ,i can1 by the help of a rough plan and bird's-eye view1 to give him the necessary topographical knowledge3 ,opposite is a rude ground plan of the buildings round ,st4 ,mark's ,place2 and the following references will clearly explain their relative positions3 ,a4 ,st4 ,mark's ,place4 ,b4 ,piazzetta4 ,p4 ,v4 ,procuratie ,vecchie4 ,p4 ,n4 7opposite7 ,procuratie ,nuove4 ,p4 ,l4 ,libreria ,vecchia4 ,i4 ,piazzetta de' ,leoni4 ,t4 ,tower of ,st4 ,mark4 ,f ,f4 ,great ,faade of ,st4 ,mark's ,church4 ,m4 ,st4 ,mark's4 7,it is so united with the ,ducal ,palace1 that the separation cannot be indicated in the plan1 unless all the walls had been marked1 which would have confused the whole47 ,d ,d ,d4 ,ducal ,palace4 g s4 ,giant's stair4 ,c4 ,court of ,ducal ,palace4 ,j4 ,judgement angle4 c4 ,porta della ,carta4 a4 ,fig-tree angle4 p p4 ,ponte della ,paglia 7,bridge of ,straw74 ,s4 ,ponte de' ,sospiri 7,bridge of ,sighs74 ,r ,r4 ,riva de' ,schiavoni4 ,illustration3 ,,fig4 ,i4 ,the ,ducal ,palace--,ground ,plan4 ,illustration3 ,,fig4 ,,ii4 ,the ,ducal ,palace--,bird's eye ,view4 ,the reader will observe that the ,ducal ,palace is arranged somewhat in the form of a hollow square1 of which one side faces the ,piazzetta1 ,b1 and another the quay called the ,riva de' ,schiavoni1 ,r ,r2 the third is on the dark canal called the ,rio del ,palazzo1 and the fourth joins the ,church of ,st4 ,mark4 ,of this fourth side1 therefore1 nothing can be seen4 ,of the other three sides we shall have to speak constantly2 and they will be respectively called1 that towards the ,piazzetta1 the ,piazzetta ,faade2 that towards the ,riva de' ,schiavoni1 the ,sea ,faade2 and that towards the ,rio del ,palazzo1 the ,rio ,faade4 ,this ,rio1 or canal1 is usually looked upon by the traveller with great respect1 or even horror1 because it passes under the ,bridge of ,sighs4 ,it is1 however1 one of the principal thoroughfares of the city2 and the bridge and its canal together occupy1 in the mind of a ,venetian1 very much the position of ,fleet ,street and ,temple ,bar in that of a ,londoner1--at least1 at the time when ,temple ,bar was occasionally decorated with human heads4 ,the two buildings closely resemble each other in form4 ,,section ,,iv4 ,we must now proceed to obtain some rough idea of the appearance and distribution of the palace itself2 but its arrangement will be better understood by supposing ourselves raised some hundred and fifty feet above the point in the lagoon in front of it1 so as to get a general view of the ,sea ,faade and ,rio ,faade 7the latter in very steep perspective71 and to look down into its interior court4 ,fig4 ,,ii4 roughly represents such a view1 omitting all details on the roofs1 in order to avoid confusion4 ,in this drawing we have merely to notice that1 of the two bridges seen on the right1 the uppermost1 above the black canal1 is the ,bridge of ,sighs2 the lower one is the ,ponte della ,paglia1 the regular thoroughfare from quay to quay1 and1 ,i believe1 called the ,bridge of ,straw1 because the boats which brought straw from the mainland used to sell it at this place4 ,the corner of the palace1 rising above this bridge1 and formed by the meeting of the ,sea ,faade and ,rio ,faade1 will always be called the ,vine angle1 because it is decorated by a sculpture of the drunkenness of ,noah4 ,the angle opposite will be called the ,fig-tree angle1 because it is decorated by a sculpture of the ,fall of ,man4 ,the long and narrow range of building1 of which the roof is seen in perspective behind this angle1 is the part of the palace fronting the ,piazzetta2 and the angle under the pinnacle most to the left of the two which terminate it will be called1 for a reason presently to be stated1 the ,judgment angle4 ,within the square formed by the building is seen its interior court 7with one of its wells71 terminated by small and fantastic buildings of the ,renaissance period1 which face the ,giant's ,stair1 of which the extremity is seen sloping down on the left4 ,,section ,v4 ,the great faade which fronts the spectator looks southward4 ,hence the two traceried windows lower than the rest1 and to the right of the spectator1 may be conveniently distinguished as the ,eastern ,windows4 ,there are two others like them1 filled with tracery1 and at the same level1 which look upon the narrow canal between the ,ponte della ,paglia and the ,bridge of ,sighs3 these we may conveniently call the ,canal ,windows4 ,the reader will observe a vertical line in this dark side of the palace1 separating its nearer and plainer wall from a long four-storied range of rich architecture4 ,this more distant range is entirely ,renaissance3 its extremity is not indicated1 because ,i have no accurate sketch of the small buildings and bridges beyond it1 and we shall have nothing whatever to do with this part of the palace in our present inquiry4 ,the nearer and undecorated wall is part of the older palace1 though much defaced by modern opening of common windows1 refittings of the brickwork1 etc4 ,,section ,,vi4 ,it will be observed that the faade is composed of a smooth mass of wall1 sustained on two tiers of pillars1 one above the other4 ,the manner in which these support the whole fabric will be understood at once by the rough section1 ,fig4 ,,iii41 which is supposed to be taken right through the palace to the interior court1 from near the middle of the ,sea ,faade4 ,here a and d are the rows of shafts1 both in the inner court and on the ,faade1 which carry the main walls2 b1 c are solid walls variously strengthened with pilasters4 ,a1 ,b1 ,c are the three stories of the interior of the palace4 ,illustration3 ,,fig4 ,,iii4 ,the reader sees that it is impossible for any plan to be more simple1 and that if the inner floors and walls of the stories ,a1 ,b were removed1 there would be left merely the form of a basilica1--two high walls1 carried on ranges of shafts1 and roofed by a low gable4 ,the stories ,a1 ,b are entirely modernized1 and divided into confused ranges of small apartments1 among which what vestiges remain of ancient masonry are entirely undecipherable1 except by investigations such as ,i have had neither the time nor1 as in most cases they would involve the removal of modern plastering1 the opportunity1 to make4 ,with the subdivisions of this story1 therefore1 ,i shall not trouble the reader2 but those of the great upper story1 ,c1 are highly important4 ,,section ,,vii4 ,in the bird's-eye view above1 ,fig4 ,,ii41 it will be noticed that the two windows on the right are lower than the other four of the faade4 ,in this arrangement there is one of the most remarkable instances ,i know of the daring sacrifice of symmetry to convenience1 which was noticed in ,chap4 ,,vii4 as one of the chief noblenesses of the ,gothic schools4 ,the part of the palace in which the two lower windows occur1 we shall find1 was first built1 and arranged in four stories in order to obtain the necessary number of apartments4 ,owing to circumstances1 of which we shall presently give an account1 it became necessary1 in the beginning of the fourteenth century1 to provide another large and magnificent chamber for the meeting of the senate4 ,that chamber was added at the side of the older building2 but1 as only one room was wanted1 there was no need to divide the added portion into two stories4 ,the entire height was given to the single chamber1 being indeed not too great for just harmony with its enormous length and breadth4 ,and then came the question how to place the windows1 whether on a line with the two others1 or above them4 ,the ceiling of the new room was to be adorned by the paintings of the best masters in ,venice1 and it became of great importance to raise the light near that gorgeous roof1 as well as to keep the tone of illumination in the ,council ,chamber serene2 and therefore to introduce light rather in simple masses than in many broken streams4 ,a modern architect1 terrified at the idea of violating external symmetry1 would have sacrificed both the pictures and the peace of the council4 ,he would have placed the larger windows at the same level with the other two1 and have introduced above them smaller windows1 like those of the upper story in the older building1 as if that upper story had been continued along the faade4 ,but the old ,venetian thought of the honor of the paintings1 and the comfort of the senate1 before his own reputation4 ,he unhesitatingly raised the large windows to their proper position with reference to the interior of the chamber1 and suffered the external appearance to take care of itself4 ,and ,i believe the whole pile rather gains than loses in effect by the variation thus obtained in the spaces of wall above and below the windows4 ,,section ,,viii4 ,on the party wall1 between the second and third windows1 which faces the eastern extremity of the ,great ,council ,chamber1 is painted the ,paradise of ,tintoret2 and this wall will therefore be hereafter called the ,wall of the ,paradise4 ,in nearly the centre of the ,sea ,faade1 and between the first and second windows of the ,great ,council ,chamber1 is a large window to the ground1 opening on a balcony1 which is one of the chief ornaments of the palace1 and will be called in future the ,sea ,balcony4 ,the faade which looks on the ,piazzetta is very nearly like this to the ,sea1 but the greater part of it was built in the fifteenth century1 when people had become studious of their symmetries4 ,its side windows are all on the same level4 ,two light the west end of the ,great ,council ,chamber1 one lights a small room anciently called the ,quarantia ,civil ,nuova2 the other three1 and the central one1 with a balcony like that to the ,sea1 light another large chamber1 called ,sala del ,scrutinio1 or ,hall of ,enquiry1 which extends to the extremity of the palace above the ,porta della ,carta4 ,,section ,,ix4 ,the reader is now well enough acquainted with the topography of the existing building1 to be able to follow the accounts of its history4 ,we have seen above1 that there were three principal styles of ,venetian architecture2 ,byzantine1 ,gothic1 and ,renaissance4 ,the ,ducal ,palace1 which was the great work of ,venice1 was built successively in the three styles4 ,there was a ,byzantine ,ducal ,palace1 a ,gothic ,ducal ,palace1 and a ,renaissance ,ducal ,palace4 ,the second superseded the first totally2 a few stones of it 7if indeed so much7 are all that is left4 ,but the third superseded the second in part only1 and the existing building is formed by the union of the two4 ,we shall review the history of each in succession4 ,footnote3 ,the reader will find it convenient to note the following editions of the printed books which have been principally consulted in the following inquiry4 ,the numbers of the manuscripts referred to in the ,marcian ,library are given with the quotations4 ,sansovino4 ,venetia ,descritta4 #daj1 ,venice1 #affc4 ,sansovino4 ,lettera intorno al ,palazzo ,ducale1 #hvo1 ,venice1 #ahbi4 ,temanza4 ,antica ,pianta di ,venezia1 with text4 ,venice1 #aghj4 ,cadorin4 ,pareri di ,,xv4 ,architetti4 ,svo1 ,venice1#ahch4 ,filiasi4 ,memorie storiche4 #hvo1 ,padua1 #ahaa4 ,bettio4 ,lettera discorsiva del ,palazzo ,ducale1 #hvo1 ,venice1 #ahcg4 ,selvatico4 ,architettura di ,venezia4 #hvo1 ,venice1 #ahdg4 #ast4 ,the ,,byzantine ,,palace4 ,in the year of the death of ,charlemagne1 #hac1 the ,venetians determined to make the island of ,rialto the seat of the government and capital of their state4 ,footnote3 ,the year commonly given is #haj1 as in the ,savina ,chronicle 7,cod4 ,marcianus71 p4 #ac4 ,del #haj fece principiar el pallazzo ,ducal nel luogo ditto ,brucio in confin di ,s4 ,moise1 et fece riedificar la isola di ,eraclia4 ,the ,sagornin ,chronicle gives #hjd2 and ,filiasi1 vol4 vi4 chap4 ,i1 corrects this date to #hac4 ,their ,doge1 ,angelo or ,agnello ,participazio1 instantly took vigorous means for the enlargement of the small group of buildings which were to be the nucleus of the future ,venice4 ,he appointed persons to superintend the raising of the banks of sand1 so as to form more secure foundations1 and to build wooden bridges over the canals4 ,for the offices of religion1 he built the ,church of ,st4 ,mark2 and on1 or near1 the spot where the ,ducal ,palace now stands1 he built a palace for the administration of the government4 ,footnote3 ,ampli la citt1 fornilla di casamenti1 e per il culto d' ,iddio e l' amministrazione della giustizia eresse la capella di ,s4 ,marco1 e il palazzo di sua residenza4--,pareri1 p4 #abj4 ,observe1 that piety towards ,god1 and justice towards man1 have been at least the nominal purposes of every act and institution of ancient ,venice4 ,compare also ,temanza1 p4 #bd4 ,quello che abbiamo di certo si che il suddetto ,agnello lo incomminci da fondamenti1 e cosi pure la capella ducale di ,s4 ,marco4 ,the history of the ,ducal ,palace therefore begins with the birth of ,venice1 and to what remains of it1 at this day1 is entrusted the last representation of her power4 ,,section ,x4 ,of the exact position and form of this palace of ,participazio little is ascertained4 ,sansovino says that it was built near the ,ponte della ,paglia1 and answeringly on the ,grand ,canal1 towards ,san ,giorgio2 that is to say1 in the place now occupied by the ,sea ,faade2 but this was merely the popular report of his day4 ,footnote3 ,what ,i call the ,sea1 was called the ,grand ,canal by the ,venetians1 as well as the great water street of the city2 but ,i prefer calling it the ,sea1 in order to distinguish between that street and the broad water in front of the ,ducal ,palace1 which1 interrupted only by the island of ,san ,giorgio1 stretches for many miles to the south1 and for more than two to the boundary of the ,lido4 ,it was the deeper channel1 just in front of the ,ducal ,palace1 continuing the line of the great water street itself which the ,venetians spoke of as the ,grand ,canal4 ,the words of ,sansovino are3 ,fu cominciato dove si vede1 vicino al ponte della paglia1 et rispondente sul canal grande4 ,filiasi says simply3 ,the palace was built where it now is4 ,il palazio fu fatto dove ora pure esiste4--,vol4 iii4 chap4 #bg4 ,the ,savina ,chronicle1 already quoted1 says3 in the place called the ,bruolo 7or ,broglio71 that is to say on the ,piazzetta4 ,we know1 however1 positively1 that it was somewhere upon the site of the existing palace2 and that it had an important front towards the ,piazzetta1 with which1 as we shall see hereafter1 the present palace at one period was incorporated4 ,we know1 also1 that it was a pile of some magnificence1 from the account given by ,sagornino of the visit paid by the ,emperor ,otho the ,great1 to the ,doge ,pietro ,orseolo ,,ii4 ,the chronicler says that the ,emperor beheld carefully all the beauty of the palace2 ,footnote3 ,omni decoritate illius perlustrata4--,sagornino1 quoted by ,cadorin and ,temanza4 and the ,venetian historians express pride in the buildings being worthy of an emperor's examination4 ,this was after the palace had been much injured by fire in the revolt against ,candiano ,,iv41 ,footnote3 ,there is an interesting account of this revolt in ,monaci1 p4 #fh4 ,some historians speak of the palace as having been destroyed entirely2 but1 that it did not even need important restorations1 appears from ,sagornino's expression1 quoted by ,cadorin and ,temanza4 ,speaking of the ,doge ,participazio1 he says3 ,qui ,palatii hucusque manentis fuerit fabricator4 ,the reparations of the palace are usually attributed to the successor of ,candiano1 ,pietro ,orseolo ,i42 but the legend1 under the picture of that ,doge in the ,council ,chamber1 speaks only of his rebuilding ,st4 ,mark's1 and performing many miracles4 ,his whole mind seems to have been occupied with ecclesiastical affairs2 and his piety was finally manifested in a way somewhat startling to the state1 by absconding with a ,french priest to ,st4 ,michael's in ,gascony1 and there becoming a monk4 ,what repairs1 therefore1 were necessary to the ,ducal ,palace1 were left to be undertaken by his son1 ,orseolo ,,ii41 above named4 and just repaired1 and richly adorned by ,orseolo himself1 who is spoken of by ,sagornino as having also adorned the chapel of the ,ducal ,palace 7,st4 ,mark's7 with ornaments of marble and gold4 ,footnote3 ,quam non modo marmoreo1 verum aureo compsit ornamento4--,temanza ,there can be no doubt whatever that the palace at this period resembled and impressed the other ,byzantine edifices of the city1 such as the ,fondaco de ,turchi1 c41 whose remains have been already described2 and that1 like them1 it was covered with sculpture1 and richly adorned with gold and color4 ,,section ,,xi4 ,in the year #aajf1 it was for the second time injured by fire1 ,footnote3 ,l'anno #aajf1 uscito fuoco d'una casa privata1 arse parte del palazzo4--,sansovino4 ,of the beneficial effect of these fires1 vide ,cadorin4 but repaired before #aaaf1 when it received another emperor1 ,henry ,v4 7of ,germany71 and was again honored by imperial praise4 ,footnote3 ,urbis situm1 aedificiorum decorem1 et regiminis sequitatem multipliciter commendavit4--,cronaca ,dandolo1 quoted by ,cadorin4 ,between #aagc and the close of the century1 it seems to have been again repaired and much enlarged by the ,doge ,sebastian ,ziani4 ,sansovino says that this ,doge not only repaired it1 but enlarged it in every direction2 ,footnote3 ,non solamente rinovo il palazzo1 ma lo aggrandi per ogni verso4--,sansovino4 ,zanotto quotes the ,altinat ,chronicle for account of these repairs4 and1 after this enlargement1 the palace seems to have remained untouched for a hundred years1 until1 in the commencement of the fourteenth century1 the works of the ,gothic ,palace were begun4 ,as1 therefore1 the old ,byzantine building was1 at the time when those works first interfered with it1 in the form given to it by ,ziani1 ,i shall hereafter always speak of it as the ,ziani ,palace2 and this the rather1 because the only chronicler whose words are perfectly clear respecting the existence of part of this palace so late as the year #adbb1 speaks of it as built by ,ziani4 ,the old palace of which half remains to this day1 was built1 as we now see it1 by ,sebastian ,ziani4 ,footnote3 ,el palazzo che anco di mezzo se vede vecchio1 per ,m4 ,sebastian ,ziani fu fatto compir1 come el se vede4--,chronicle of ,pietro ,dolfino1 ,cod4 ,ven4 p4 #dg4 ,this ,chronicle is spoken of by ,sansovino as molto particolare1 e distinta4--,sansovino1 ,venezia descritta1 p4 #eic4--;,it terminates in the year #adbb4 ,so far1 then1 of the ,byzantine ,palace4 ,,section ,,xii4 #bnd4 ,the ,,gothic ,,palace4 ,the reader1 doubtless1 recollects that the important change in the ,venetian government which gave stability to the aristocratic power took place about the year #abig1 ,footnote3 ,see ,vol4 ,i4 ,appendix #c1 ,stones of ,venice4 under the ,doge ,pietro ,gradenigo1 a man thus characterized by ,sansovino3--,a prompt and prudent man1 of unconquerable determination and great eloquence1 who laid1 so to speak1 the foundations of the eternity of this republic1 by the admirable regulations which he introduced into the government4 ,we may now1 with some reason1 doubt of their admirableness2 but their importance1 and the vigorous will and intellect of the ,doge1 are not to be disputed4 ,venice was in the zenith of her strength1 and the heroism of her citizens was displaying itself in every quarter of the world4 ,footnote3 ,vide ,sansovino's enumeration of those who flourished in the reign of ,gradenigo1 p4 #efd4 ,the acquiescence in the secure establishment of the aristocratic power was an expression1 by the people1 of respect for the families which had been chiefly instrumental in raising the commonwealth to such a height of prosperity4 ,the ,serrar del ,consiglio fixed the numbers of the ,senate within certain limits1 and it conferred upon them a dignity greater than they had ever before possessed4 ,it was natural that the alteration in the character of the assembly should be attended by some change in the size1 arrangement1 or decoration of the chamber in which they sat4 ,we accordingly find it recorded by ,sansovino1 that in #acja another saloon was begun on the ,rio del ,palazzo1 under the ,doge ,gradenigo1 and finished in #acji1 in which year the ,grand ,council first sat in it4 ,footnote3 ,sansovino1 #cbd1 ,i4 ,in the first year1 therefore1 of the fourteenth century1 the ,gothic ,ducal ,palace of ,venice was begun2 and as the ,byzantine ,palace was1 in its foundation1 coeval with that of the state1 so the ,gothic ,palace was1 in its foundation1 coeval with that of the aristocratic power4 ,considered as the principal representation of the ,venetian school of architecture1 the ,ducal ,palace is the ,parthenon of ,venice1 and ,gradenigo its ,pericles4 ,,section ,,xiii4 ,sansovino1 with a caution very frequent among ,venetian historians1 when alluding to events connected with the ,serrar del ,consiglio1 does not specially mention the cause for the requirement of the new chamber2 but the ,sivos ,chronicle is a little more distinct in expression4 ,in #acja1 it was determined to build a great saloon for the assembling of the ,great ,council1 and the room was built which is now called the ,sala del ,scrutinio4 ,footnote3 #acja fu presa parte di fare una sala grande per la riduzione del gran consiglio1 e fu fatta quella che ora si chiama dello ,scrutinio4--,cronaca ,sivos1 quoted by ,cadorin4 ,there is another most interesting entry in the ,chronicle of ,magno1 relating to this event2 but the passage is so ill written1 that ,i am not sure if ,i have deciphered it correctly3--,del #acja fu preso de fabrichar la sala fo ruina e fu fata 7fatta7 quella se adoperava a far e pregadi e fu adopera per far el ,gran ,consegio fin #adbc1 che fu anni #abb4 ,this last sentence1 which is of great importance1 is luckily unmistakable3--,the room was used for the meetings of the ,great ,council until #adbc1 that is to say1 for #abb years4--,cod4 ,ven4 tom4 i4 p4 #abf4 ,the ,chronicle extends from #abec to #aded4 ,abstract #acja to #acji2 ,gradenigo's room--#acdj-db1 page #bie-adai4 ,new proposals1 p4 #bih4 ,now1 that is to say1 at the time when the ,sivos ,chronicle was written2 the room has long ago been destroyed1 and its name given to another chamber on the opposite side of the palace3 but ,i wish the reader to remember the date #acja1 as marking the commencement of a great architectural epoch1 in which took place the first appliance of the energy of the aristocratic power1 and of the ,gothic style1 to the works of the ,ducal ,palace4 ,the operations then begun were continued1 with hardly an interruption1 during the whole period of the prosperity of ,venice4 ,we shall see the new buildings consume1 and take the place of1 the ,ziani ,palace1 piece by piece3 and when the ,ziani ,palace was destroyed1 they fed upon themselves2 being continued round the square1 until1 in the sixteenth century1 they reached the point where they had been begun in the fourteenth1 and pursued the track they had then followed some distance beyond the junction2 destroying or hiding their own commencement1 as the serpent1 which is the type of eternity1 conceals its tail in its jaws4 ,,section ,,xiv4 ,we cannot1 therefore1 see the extremity1 wherein lay the sting and force of the whole creature1--the chamber1 namely1 built by the ,doge ,gradenigo2 but the reader must keep that commencement and the date of it carefully in his mind4 ,the body of the ,palace ,serpent will soon become visible to us4 ,the ,gradenigo ,chamber was somewhere on the ,rio ,faade1 behind the present position of the ,bridge of ,sighs2 i4e4 about the point marked on the roof by the dotted lines in the woodcut2 it is not known whether low or high1 but probably on a first story4 ,the great faade of the ,ziani ,palace being1 as above mentioned1 on the ,piazzetta1 this chamber was as far back and out of the way as possible2 secrecy and security being obviously the points first considered4 ,,section ,,xv4 ,but the newly constituted ,senate had need of other additions to the ancient palace besides the ,council ,chamber4 ,a short1 but most significant1 sentence is added to ,sansovino's account of the construction of that room4 ,there were1 near it1 he says1 the ,cancellaria1 and the ,gheba or ,gabbia1 afterwards called the ,little ,tower4 ,footnote3 ,vi era appresso la ,cancellarla1 e la ,gheba o ,gabbia1 iniamata poi ,torresella1---,p4 #cbd4 ,a small square tower is seen above the ,vine angle in the view of ,venice dated #aejj1 and attributed to ,albert ,durer4 ,it appears about #be feet square1 and is very probably the ,torresella in question4 ,gabbia means a cage2 and there can be no question that certain apartments were at this time added at the top of the palace and on the ,rio ,faade1 which were to be used as prisons4 ,whether any portion of the old ,torresella still remains is a doubtful question2 but the apartments at the top of the palace1 in its fourth story1 were still used for prisons as late as the beginning of the seventeenth century4 ,footnote3 ,vide ,bettio1 ,lettera1 p4 #bc4 ,i wish the reader especially to notice that a separate tower or range of apartments was built for this purpose1 in order to clear the government of the accusations so constantly made against them1 by ignorant or partial historians1 of wanton cruelty to prisoners4 ,the stories commonly told respecting the piombi of the ,ducal ,palace are utterly false4 ,instead of being1 as usually reported1 small furnaces under the leads of the palace1 they were comfortable rooms1 with good flat roofs of larch1 and carefully ventilated4 ,footnote3 ,bettio1 ,lettera1 p4 #bj4 ,those who wrote without having seen them described them as covered with lead2 and those who have seen them know that1 between their flat timber roofs and the sloping leaden roof of the palace the interval is five metres where it is least1 and nine where it is greatest4 ,the new chamber1 then1 and the prisons1 being built1 the ,great ,council first sat in their retired chamber on the ,rio in the year #acji4 ,,section ,,xvi4 ,now1 observe the significant progress of events4 ,they had no sooner thus established themselves in power than they were disturbed by the conspiracy of the ,tiepolos1 in the year #acaj4 ,in consequence of that conspiracy the ,council of ,ten was created1 still under the ,doge ,gradenigo2 who1 having finished his work and left the aristocracy of ,venice armed with this terrible power1 died in the year #acab1 some say by poison4 ,he was succeeded by the ,doge ,marino ,giorgio1 who reigned only one year2 and then followed the prosperous government of ,john ,soranzo4 ,there is no mention of any additions to the ,ducal ,palace during his reign1 but he was succeeded by that ,francesco ,dandolo1 the sculptures on whose tomb1 still existing in the cloisters of the ,salute1 may be compared by any traveller with those of the ,ducal ,palace4 ,of him it is recorded in the ,savina ,chronicle3 ,this ,doge also had the great gate built which is at the entry of the palace1 above which is his statue kneeling1 with the gonfalon in hand1 before the feet of the ,lion of ,st4 ,mark's4 ,footnote3 ,questo ,dose anche fese far la porta granda che se al intrar del ,pallazzo1 in su la qual vi e la sua statua che sta in zenocchioni con lo confalon in man1 davanti li pie de lo ,lion ,s4 ,marco4--,savin ,chronicle1 ,cod4 ,ven4 p4 #abj4 ,,section ,,xvii4 ,it appears1 then1 that after the ,senate had completed their ,council ,chamber and the prisons1 they required a nobler door than that of the old ,ziani ,palace for their ,magnificences to enter by4 ,this door is twice spoken of in the government accounts of expenses1 which are fortunately preserved1 ,footnote3 ,these documents ,i have not examined myself1 being satisfied of the accuracy of ,cadorin1 from whom ,i take the passages quoted4 in the following terms3-- #acce1 ,june #a4 ,we1 ,andrew ,dandolo and ,mark ,loredano1 procurators of ,st4 ,mark's1 have paid to ,martin the stone-cutter and his associates4444 ,footnote3 ,libras tres1 soldeos #ae grossorum4--,cadorin1 #ahi1 ,i4 for a stone of which the lion is made which is put over the gate of the palace4 #acdd1 ,november #d4 ,we have paid thirty-five golden ducats for making gold leaf1 to gild the lion which is over the door of the palace stairs4 ,the position of this door is disputed1 and is of no consequence to the reader1 the door itself having long ago disappeared1 and been replaced by the ,porta della ,carta4 ,,section ,,xviii4 ,but before it was finished1 occasion had been discovered for farther improvements4 ,the ,senate found their new ,council ,chamber inconveniently small1 and1 about thirty years after its completion1 began to consider where a larger and more magnificent one might be built4 ,the government was now thoroughly established1 and it was probably felt that there was some meanness in the retired position1 as well as insufficiency in the size1 of the ,council ,chamber on the ,rio4 ,the first definite account which ,i find of their proceedings1 under these circumstances1 is in the ,caroldo ,chronicle3 ,footnote3 ,cod4 ,ven41 ,no4 ,,cxli4 p4 #cfe4 #acdj4 ,on the #bhth of ,december1 in the preceding year1 ,master ,marco ,erizzo1 ,nicolo ,soranzo1 and ,thomas ,gradenigo1 were chosen to examine where a new saloon might be built in order to assemble therein the ,greater ,council4444 ,on the #crd of ,june1 #acda1 the ,great ,council elected two procurators of the work of this saloon1 with a salary of eighty ducats a year4 ,it appears from the entry still preserved in the ,archivio1 and quoted by ,cadorin1 that it was on the #bhth of ,december1 #acdj1 that the commissioners appointed to decide on this important matter gave in their report to the ,grand ,council1 and that the decree passed thereupon for the commencement of a new ,council ,chamber on the ,grand ,canal4 ,footnote3 ,sansovino is more explicit than usual in his reference to this decree3 ,for it having appeared that the place 7the first ,council ,chamber7 is not capacious enough1 the saloon on the ,grand ,canal was ordered4 ,per cio parendo che il luogo non fosse capace1 fu ordinata la ,sala sul ,canal ,grande4--,p4 #cbd4 ,the room then begun is the one now in existence1 and its building involved the building of all that is best and most beautiful in the present ,ducal ,palace1 the rich arcades of the lower stories being all prepared for sustaining this ,sala del ,gran ,consiglio4 ,,section ,,xix4 ,in saying that it is the same now in existence1 ,i do not mean that it has undergone no alterations2 as we shall see hereafter1 it has been refitted again and again1 and some portions of its walls rebuilt2 but in the place and form in which it first stood1 it still stands2 and by a glance at the position which its windows occupy1 as shown in ,figure ,,ii4 above1 the reader will see at once that whatever can be known respecting the design of the ,sea ,faade1 must be gleaned out of the entries which refer to the building of this ,great ,council ,chamber4 ,cadorin quotes two of great importance1 to which we shall return in due time1 made during the progress of the work in #acdb and #acdd2 then one of #acdi1 resolving that the works at the ,ducal ,palace1 which had been discontinued during the plague1 should be resumed2 and finally one in #acfb1 which speaks of the ,great ,council ,chamber as having been neglected and suffered to fall into great desolation1 and resolves that it shall be forthwith completed4 ,footnote3 ,cadorin1 #ahe1 #b4 ,the decree of #acdb is falsely given as of #acde by the ,sivos ,chronicle1 and by ,magno2 while ,sanuto gives the decree to its right year1 #acdb1 but speaks of the ,council ,chamber as only begun in #acde4 ,the interruption had not been caused by the plague only1 but by the conspiracy of ,faliero1 and the violent death of the master builder4 ,footnote3 ,calendario4 ,see ,appendix ,i41 ,vol4 ,,iii4 ,the work was resumed in #acfb1 and completed within the next three years1 at least so far as that ,guariento was enabled to paint his ,paradise on the walls2 ,footnote3 ,,ii primo che vi colorisse fu ,guariento il quale l'anno #acfe vi fece il ,paradiso in testa della sala4--,sansovino4 so that the building must1 at any rate1 have been roofed by this time4 ,its decorations and fittings1 however1 were long in completion2 the paintings on the roof being only executed in #adjj4 ,footnote3 ,l'an poi #adjj vi fece il ciclo compartita a quadretti d'oro1 ripieni di stelle1 ch'era la insegna del ,doge ,steno4--,sansovino1 lib4 viii4 ,they represented the heavens covered with stars1 ,footnote3 ,in questi tempi si messe in oro il ciclo della sala del ,gran ,consiglio et si fece il pergole del finestra grande chi guarda sul canale1 adornato l'uno e l'altro di stelle1 eh' erano la insegne del ,doge4--,sansovino1 lib4 xiii4 ,compare also ,pareri1 p4 #abi4 this being1 says ,sansovino1 the bearings of the ,doge ,steno4 ,almost all ceilings and vaults were at this time in ,venice covered with stars1 without any reference to armorial bearings2 but ,steno claims1 under his noble title of ,stellifer1 an important share in completing the chamber1 in an inscription upon two square tablets1 now inlaid in the walls on each side of the great window towards the sea3 ,,mille ,,quadringenti ,,currebant ,,quatuor ,,anni ,,hoc ,,opus ,,illustris ,,michael ,,dux ,,stellifer ,,auxit4 ,and in fact it is to this ,doge that we owe the beautiful balcony of that window1 though the work above it is partly of more recent date2 and ,i think the tablets bearing this important inscription have been taken out and reinserted in the newer masonry4 ,the labor of these final decorations occupied a total period of sixty years4 ,the ,grand ,council sat in the finished chamber for the first time in #adbc4 ,in that year the ,gothic ,ducal ,palace of ,venice was completed4 ,it had taken1 to build it1 the energies of the entire period which ,i have above described as the central one of her life4 ,,section ,,xx4 #crd4 ,the ,,renaissance ,,palace4 ,i must go back a step or two1 in order to be certain that the reader understands clearly the state of the palace in #adbc4 ,the works of addition or renovation had now been proceeding1 at intervals1 during a space of a hundred and twenty-three years4 ,three generations at least had been accustomed to witness the gradual advancement of the form of the ,ducal ,palace into more stately symmetry1 and to contrast the ,works of sculpture and painting with which it was decorated1--full of the life1 knowledge1 and hope of the fourteenth century1--with the rude ,byzantine chiselling of the palace of the ,doge ,ziani4 ,the magnificent fabric just completed1 of which the new ,council ,chamber was the nucleus1 was now habitually known in ,venice as the ,palazzo ,nuovo2 and the old ,byzantine edifice1 now ruinous1 and more manifest in its decay by its contrast with the goodly stones of the building which had been raised at its side1 was of course known as the ,palazzo ,vecchio4 ,footnote3 ,baseggio 7,pareri1 p4 #abg7 is called the ,proto of the ,new ,palace4 ,farther notes will be found in ,appendix ,i41 ,vol4 ,,iii4 ,that fabric1 however1 still occupied the principal position in ,venice4 ,the new ,council ,chamber had been erected by the side of it towards the ,sea2 but there was not then the wide quay in front1 the ,riva dei ,schiavoni1 which now renders the ,sea ,faade as important as that to the ,piazzetta4 ,there was only a narrow walk between the pillars and the water2 and the old palace of ,ziani still faced the ,piazzetta1 and interrupted1 by its decrepitude1 the magnificence of the square where the nobles daily met4 ,every increase of the beauty of the new palace rendered the discrepancy between it and the companion building more painful2 and then began to arise in the minds of all men a vague idea of the necessity of destroying the old palace1 and completing the front of the ,piazzetta with the same splendor as the ,sea ,faade4 ,but no such sweeping measure of renovation had been ,contemplated by the ,senate when they first formed the plan of their new ,council ,chamber4 ,first a single additional room1 then a gateway1 then a larger room2 but all considered merely as necessary additions to the palace1 not as involving the entire reconstruction of the ancient edifice4 ,the exhaustion of the treasury1 and the shadows upon the political horizon1 rendered it more than imprudent to incur the vast additional expense which such a project involved2 and the ,senate1 fearful of itself1 and desirous to guard against the weakness of its own enthusiasm1 passed a decree1 like the effort of a man fearful of some strong temptation to keep his thoughts averted from the point of danger4 ,it was a decree1 not merely that the old palace should not be rebuilt1 but that no one should propose rebuilding it4 ,the feeling of the desirableness of doing so was1 too strong to permit fair discussion1 and the ,senate knew that to bring forward such a motion was to carry it4 ,,section ,,xxi4 ,the decree1 thus passed in order to guard against their own weakness1 forbade any one to speak of rebuilding the old palace under the penalty of a thousand ducats4 ,but they had rated their own enthusiasm too low3 there was a man among them whom the loss of a thousand ducats could not deter from proposing what he believed to be for the good of the state4 ,some excuse was given him for bringing forward the motion1 by a fire which occurred in #adai1 and which injured both the church of ,st4 ,mark's1 and part of the old palace fronting the ,piazzetta4 ,what followed1 ,i shall relate in the words of ,sanuto4 ,footnote3 ,cronaca ,sanudo1 ,no4 cxxv4 in the ,marcian ,library1 p4 #efh4 ,,section ,,xxii4 ,therefore they set themselves with all diligence and care to repair and adorn sumptuously1 first ,god's house2 but in the ,prince's house things went on more slowly1 for it did not please the ,doge ,footnote3 ,tomaso ,mocenigo4 to restore it in the form in which it was before2 and they could not rebuild it altogether in a better manner1 so great was the parsimony of these old fathers2 because it was forbidden by laws1 which condemned in a penalty of a thousand ducats any one who should propose to throw down the old palace1 and to rebuild it more richly and with greater expense4 ,but the ,doge1 who was magnanimous1 and who desired above all things what was honorable to the city1 had the thousand ducats carried into the ,senate ,chamber1 and then proposed that the palace should be rebuilt2 saying3 that1 'since the late fire had ruined in great part the ,ducal habitation 7not only his own private palace1 but all the places used for public business7 this occasion was to be taken for an admonishment sent from ,god1 that they ought to rebuild the palace more nobly1 and in a way more befitting the greatness to which1 by ,god's grace1 their dominions had reached2 and that his motive in proposing this was neither ambition1 nor selfish interest3 that1 as for ambition1 they might have seen in the whole course of his life1 through so many years1 that he had never done anything for ambition1 either in the city1 or in foreign business2 but in all his actions had kept justice first in his thoughts1 and then the advantage of the state1 and the honor of the ,venetian name3 and that1 as far as regarded his private interest1 if it had not been for this accident of the fire1 he would never have thought of changing anything in the palace into either a more sumptuous or a more honorable form2 and that during the many years in which he had lived in it1 he had never endeavored to make any change1 but had always been content with it1 as his predecessors had left it2 and that he knew well that1 if they took in hand to build it as he exhorted and besought them1 being now very old1 and broken down with many toils1 ,god would call him to another life before the walls were raised a pace from the ground4 ,and that therefore they might perceive that he did not advise them to raise this building for his own convenience1 but only for the honor of the city and its ,dukedom2 and that the good of it would never be felt by him1 but by his successors4' ,then he said1 that 'in order1 as he had always done1 to observe the laws1444 he had brought with him the thousand ducats which had been appointed as the penalty for proposing such a measure1 so that he might prove openly to all men that it was not his own advantage that he sought1 but the dignity of the state4' ,there was no one 7,sanuto goes on to tell us7 who ventured1 or desired1 to oppose the wishes of the ,doge2 and the thousand ducats were unanimously devoted to the expenses of the work4 ,and they set themselves with much diligence to the work2 and the palace was begun in the form and manner in which it is at present seen2 but1 as ,mocenigo had prophesied1 not long after1 he ended his life1 and not only did not see the work brought to a close1 but hardly even begun4 ,,section ,,xxiii4 ,there are one or two expressions in the above extracts which if they stood alone1 might lead the reader to suppose that the whole palace had been thrown down and rebuilt4 ,we must however remember1 that1 at this time1 the new ,council ,chamber1 which had been one hundred years in building1 was actually unfinished1 the council had not yet sat in it2 and it was just as likely that the ,doge should then propose to destroy and rebuild it1 as in this year1 #ahec1 it is that any one should propose in our ,house of ,commons to throw down the new ,houses of ,parliament1 under the title of the old palace1 and rebuild them4 ,,section ,,xxiv4 ,the manner in which ,sanuto expresses himself will at once be seen to be perfectly natural1 when it is remembered that although we now speak of the whole building as the ,ducal ,palace1 it consisted1 in the minds of the old ,venetians1 of four distinct buildings4 ,there were in it the palace1 the state prisons1 the senate-house1 and the offices of public business2 in other words1 it was ,buckingham ,palace1 the ,tower of olden days1 the ,houses of ,parliament1 and ,downing ,street1 all in one2 and any of these four portions might be spoken of1 without involving an allusion to any other4 ,il ,palazzo was the ,ducal residence1 which1 with most of the public offices1 ,mocenigo did propose to pull down and rebuild1 and which was actually pulled down and rebuilt4 ,but the new ,council ,chamber1 of which the whole faade to the ,sea consisted1 never entered into either his or ,sanuto's mind for an instant1 as necessarily connected with the ,ducal residence4 ,i said that the new ,council ,chamber1 at the time when ,mocenigo brought forward his measure1 had never yet been used4 ,it was in the year #adbb ,footnote3 ,vide notes in ,appendix4 that the decree passed to rebuild the palace3 ,mocenigo died in the following year1 and ,francesco ,foscari was elected in his room4 ,footnote3 ,on the #dth of ,april1 #adbc1 according to the copy of the ,zancarol ,chronicle in the ,marcian ,library1 but previously1 according to the ,caroldo ,chronicle1 which makes ,foscari enter the ,senate as ,doge on the #crd of ,april4 ,the ,great ,council ,chamber was used for the first time on the day when ,foscari entered the ,senate as ,doge1--the #crd of ,april1 #adbc1 according to the ,caroldo ,chronicle2 ,footnote3 ,nella quale 7the ,sala del ,gran ,consiglio7 non si fece ,gran ,consiglio salvo nell' anno #adbc1 alli #c1 ,april1 et fu il primo giorno che il ,duce ,foscari venisse in ,gran ,consiglio dopo la sua creatione4--,copy in ,marcian ,library1 p4 #cfe4 the #bcrd1 which is probably correct1 by an anonymous ,,ms41 ,no4 #fj1 in the ,correr ,museum2 ,footnote3 ,e a di #bc ,april 7#adbc1 by the context7 sequente fo fatto ,gran ,conscio in la salla nuovo dovi avanti non esta piu fatto ,gran ,conscio si che el primo ,gran ,conscio dopo la sua 7,foscari's7 creation fo fatto in la sala nuova1 nel qual conscio fu el ,marchese di ,mantoa1 c41 p4 #dbf4--;and1 the following year1 on the #bgth of ,march1 the first hammer was lifted up against the old palace of ,ziani4 ,footnote3 ,compare ,appendix ,i4 ,vol4 ,,iii4 ,,section ,,xxv4 ,that hammer stroke was the first act of the period properly called the ,renaissance ,it was the knell of the architecture of ,venice1--and of ,venice herself4 ,the central epoch of her life was past2 the decay had already begun3 ,i dated its commencement above 7,ch4 ,i41 ,vol4 ,i47 from the death of ,mocenigo4 ,a year had not yet elapsed since that great ,doge had been called to his account3 his patriotism1 always sincere1 had been in this instance mistaken2 in his zeal for the honor of future ,venice1 he had forgotten what was due to the ,venice of long ago4 ,a thousand palaces might be built upon her burdened islands1 but none of them could take the place1 or recall the memory1 of that which was first built upon her unfrequented shore4 ,it fell2 and1 as if it had been the talisman of her fortunes1 the city never flourished again4 ,,section ,,xxvi4 ,i have no intention of following out1 in their intricate details1 the operations which were begun under ,foscari and continued under succeeding ,doges till the palace assumed its present form1 for ,i am not in this work concerned1 except by occasional reference1 with the architecture of the fifteenth century3 but the main facts are the following4 ,the palace of ,ziani was destroyed2 the existing faade to the ,piazzetta built1 so as both to continue and to resemble1 in most particulars1 the work of the ,great ,council ,chamber4 ,it was carried back from the ,sea as far as the ,judgment angle2 beyond which is the ,porta della ,carta1 begun in #adci1 and finished in two years1 under the ,doge ,foscari2 ,footnote3 ,tutte queste fatture si compirono sotto il dogade del ,foscari1 nel #adda4--,pareri1 p4 #aca4 the interior buildings connected with it were added by the ,doge ,christopher ,moro1 7the ,othello of ,shakspeare7 ,footnote3 ,this identification has been accomplished1 and ,i think conclusively1 by my friend ,mr4 ,rawdon ,brown1 who has devoted all the leisure which1 during the last twenty years his manifold office of kindness to almost every ,english visitant of ,venice have left him1 in discovering and translating the passages of the ,venetian records which bear upon ,english history and literature4 ,i shall have occasion to take advantage hereafter of a portion of his labors1 which ,i trust will shortly be made public4 in #adfb4 ,,section ,,xxvii4 ,by reference to the figure the reader will see that we have now gone the round of the palace1 and that the new work of #adfb was close upon the first piece of the ,gothic palace1 the new ,council ,chamber of #acja4 ,some remnants of the ,ziani ,palace were perhaps still left between the two extremities of the ,gothic ,palace2 or as is more probable1 the last stones of it may have been swept away after the fire of #adai1 and replaced by new apartments for the ,doge4 ,but whatever buildings1 old or new1 stood on this spot at the time of the completion of the ,porta della ,carta were destroyed by another great fire in #adgi1 together with so much of the palace on the ,rio that1 though the saloon of ,gradenigo1 then known as the ,sala de' ,pregadi1 was not destroyed1 it became necessary to reconstruct the entire faades of the portion of the palace behind the ,bridge of ,sighs1 both towards the court and canal4 ,this work was entrusted to the best ,renaissance architects of the close of the fifteenth and opening of the sixteenth centuries2 ,antonio ,ricci executing the ,giant's staircase1 and on his absconding with a large sum of the public money1 ,pietro ,lombardo taking his place4 ,the whole work must have been completed towards the middle of the sixteenth century4 ,the architects of the palace1 advancing round the square and led by fire1 had more than reached the point from which they had set out2 and the work of #aefj was joined to the work of #acja-acdj1 at the point marked by the conspicuous vertical line in ,figure ,,ii on the ,rio ,faade4 ,,section ,,xviii4 ,but the palace was not long permitted to remain in this finished form4 ,another terrific fire1 commonly called the great fire1 burst out in #aegd1 and destroyed the inner fittings and all the precious pictures of the ,great ,council ,chamber1 and of all the upper rooms on the ,sea ,faade1 and most of those on the ,rio ,faade1 leaving the building a mere shell1 shaken and blasted by the flames4 ,it was debated in the ,great ,council whether the ruin should not be thrown down1 and an entirely new palace built in its stead4 ,the opinions of all the leading architects of ,venice were taken1 respecting the safety of the walls1 or the possibility of repairing them as they stood4 ,these opinions1 given in writing1 have been preserved1 and published by the ,abb ,cadorin1 in the work already so often referred to2 and they form one of the most important series of documents connected with the ,ducal ,palace4 ,i cannot help feeling some childish pleasure in the accidental resemblance to my own name in that of the architect whose opinion was first given in favor of the ancient fabric1 ,giovanni ,rusconi4 ,others1 especially ,palladio1 wanted to pull down the old palace1 and execute designs of their own2 but the best architects in ,venice1 and to his immortal honor1 chiefly ,francesco ,sansovino1 energetically pleaded for the ,gothic pile1 and prevailed4 ,it was successfully repaired1 and ,tintoret painted his noblest picture on the wall from which the ,paradise of ,guariento had withered before the flames4 ,,section ,,xxix4 ,the repairs necessarily undertaken at this time were however extensive1 and interfered in many directions with the earlier work of the palace3 still the only serious alteration in its form was the transposition of the prisons1 formerly at the top of the palace to the other side of the ,rio del ,palazzo2 and the building of the ,bridge of ,sighs1 to connect them with the palace1 by ,antonio da ,ponte4 ,the completion of this work brought the whole edifice into its present form2 with the exception of alterations indoors1 partitions1 and staircases among the inner apartments1 not worth noticing1 and such barbarisms and defacements as have been suffered within the last fifty years1 by1 ,i suppose nearly every building of importance in ,italy4 ,,section ,,xxx4 ,now1 therefore1 we are at liberty to examine some of the details of the ,ducal ,palace1 without any doubt about their dates4 ,i shall not however1 give any elaborate illustrations of them here1 because ,i could not do them justice on the scale of the page of this volume1 or by means of line engraving4 ,i believe a new era is opening to us in the art of illustration1 ,footnote3 ,see the last chapter of the third volume1 ,stones of ,venice4 and that ,i shall be able to give large figures of the details of the ,ducal ,palace at a price which will enable every person who is interested in the subject to possess them2 so that the cost and labor of multiplying illustrations here would be altogether wasted4 ,i shall therefore direct the reader's attention only to such points of interest as can be explained in the text4 ,,section ,,xxxi4 ,first1 then1 looking back to the woodcut at the beginning of this chapter1 the reader will observe that1 as the building was very nearly square on the ground plan1 a peculiar prominence and importance were given to its angles1 which rendered it necessary that they should be enriched and softened by sculpture4 ,i do not suppose that the fitness of this arrangement will be questioned2 but if the reader will take the pains to glance over any series of engravings of church towers or other four-square buildings in which great refinement of form has been attained1 he will at once observe how their effect depends on some modification of the sharpness of the angle1 either by groups of buttresses1 or by turrets and niches rich in sculpture4 ,it is to be noted also that this principle of breaking the angle is peculiarly ,gothic1 arising partly out of the necessity of strengthening the flanks of enormous buildings1 where composed of imperfect materials1 by buttresses or pinnacles2 partly out of the conditions of ,gothic warfare1 which generally required a tower at the angle2 partly out of the natural dislike of the meagreness of effect in buildings which admitted large surfaces of wall1 if the angle were entirely unrelieved4 ,the ,ducal ,palace1 in its acknowledgment of this principle1 makes a more definite concession to the ,gothic spirit than any of the previous architecture of ,venice4 ,no angle1 up to the time of its erection1 had been otherwise decorated than by a narrow fluted pilaster of red marble1 and the sculpture was reserved always1 as in ,greek and ,roman work1 for the plane surfaces of the building1 with1 as far as ,i recollect1 two exceptions only1 both in ,st4 ,mark's2 namely1 the bold and grotesque gargoyle on its north-west angle1 and the angels which project from the four inner angles under the main cupola2 both of these arrangements being plainly made under ,lombardic influence4 ,and if any other instances occur1 which ,i may have at present forgotten1 ,i am very sure the ,northern influence will always be distinctly traceable in them4 ,,section ,,xxxii4 ,the ,ducal ,palace1 however1 accepts the principle in its completeness1 and throws the main decoration upon its angles4 ,the central window1 which looks rich and important in the woodcut1 was entirely restored in the ,renaissance time1 as we have seen1 under the ,doge ,steno2 so that we have no traces of its early treatment2 and the principal interest of the older palace is concentrated in the angle sculpture1 which is arranged in the following manner4 ,the pillars of the two bearing arcades are much enlarged in thickness at the angles1 and their capitals increased in depth1 breadth1 and fulness of subject2 above each capital1 on the angle of the wall1 a sculptural subject is introduced1 consisting1 in the great lower arcade1 of two or more figures of the size of life2 in the upper arcade1 of a single angel holding a scroll3 above these angels rise the twisted pillars with their crowning niches1 already noticed in the account of parapets in the seventh chapter2 thus forming an unbroken line of decoration from the ground to the top of the angle4 ,,section ,,xxxiii4 ,it was before noticed that one of the corners of the palace joins the irregular outer buildings connected with ,st4 ,mark's1 and is not generally seen4 ,there remain1 therefore1 to be decorated1 only the three angles1 above distinguished as the ,vine angle1 the ,fig-tree angle1 and the ,judgment angle2 and at these we have1 according to the arrangement just explained1-- ,first1 ,three great bearing capitals 7lower arcade74 ,secondly1 ,three figure subjects of sculpture above them 7lower arcade74 ,thirdly1 ,three smaller bearing capitals 7upper arcade74 ,fourthly1 ,three angels above them 7upper arcade74 ,fifthly1 ,three spiral1 shafts with niches4 ,,section ,,xxxiv4 ,i shall describe the bearing capitals hereafter1 in their order1 with the others of the arcade2 for the first point to which the reader's attention ought to be directed is the choice of subject in the great figure sculptures above them4 ,these1 observe1 are the very corner stones of the edifice1 and in them we may expect to find the most important evidences of the feeling1 as well as the skill1 of the builder4 ,if he has anything to say to us of the purpose with which he built the palace1 it is sure to be said here2 if there was any lesson which he wished principally to teach to those for whom he built1 here it is sure to be inculcated2 if there was any sentiment which they themselves desired to have expressed in the principal edifice of their city1 this is the place in which we may be secure of finding it legibly inscribed4 ,,section ,,xxxv4 ,now the first two angles1 of the ,vine and ,fig-tree1 belong to the old1 or true ,gothic1 ,palace2 the third angle belongs to the ,renaissance imitation of it3 therefore1 at the first two angles1 it is the ,gothic spirit which is going to speak to us2 and1 at the third1 the ,renaissance spirit4 ,the reader remembers1 ,i trust1 that the most characteristic sentiment of all that we traced in the working of the ,gothic heart1 was the frank confession of its own weakness2 and ,i must anticipate1 for a moment1 the results of our inquiry in subsequent chapters1 so far as to state that the principal element in the ,renaissance spirit1 is its firm confidence in its own wisdom4 ,hear1 then1 the two spirits speak for themselves4 ,the first main sculpture of the ,gothic ,palace is on what ,i have called the angle of the ,fig-tree3 ,its subject is the ,,fall ,,of ,,man4 ,the second sculpture is on the angle of the ,vine3 ,its subject is the ,,drunkenness ,,of ,,noah4 ,the ,renaissance sculpture is on the ,judgment angle3 ,its subject is the ,,judgment ,,of ,,solomon4 ,it is impossible to overstate1 or to regard with too much admiration1 the significance of this single fact4 ,it is as if the palace had been built at various epochs1 and preserved uninjured to this day1 for the sole purpose of teaching us the difference in the temper of the two schools4 ,,section ,,xxxvi4 ,i have called the sculpture on the ,fig-tree angle the principal one2 because it is at the central bend of the palace1 where it turns to the ,piazetta 7the faade upon the ,piazetta being1 as we saw above1 the more important one in ancient times74 ,the great capital1 which sustains this ,fig-tree angle1 is also by far more elaborate than the head of the pilaster under the ,vine angle1 marking the preminence of the former in the architect's mind4 ,it is impossible to say which was first executed1 but that of the ,fig-tree angle is somewhat rougher in execution1 and more stiff in the design of the figures1 so that ,i rather suppose it to have been the earliest completed4 ,,section ,,xxxvii4 ,in both the subjects1 of the ,fall and the ,drunkenness1 the tree1 which forms the chiefly decorative portion of the sculpture1--fig in the one case1 vine in the other1--was a necessary adjunct4 ,its trunk1 in both sculptures1 forms the true outer angle of the palace2 boldly cut separate from the stonework behind1 and branching out above the figures so as to enwrap each side of the angle1 for several feet1 with its deep foliage4 ,nothing can be more masterly or superb than the sweep of this foliage on the ,fig-tree angle2 the broad leaves lapping round the budding fruit1 and sheltering from sight1 beneath their shadows1 birds of the most graceful form and delicate plumage4 ,the branches are1 however1 so strong1 and the masses of stone hewn into leafage so large1 that1 notwithstanding the depth of the undercutting1 the work remains nearly uninjured2 not so at the ,vine angle1 where the natural delicacy of the vine-leaf and tendril having tempted the sculptor to greater effort1 he has passed the proper limits of his art1 and cut the upper stems so delicately that half of them have been broken away by the casualties to which the situation of the sculpture necessarily exposes it4 ,what remains is1 however1 so interesting in its extreme refinement1 that ,i have chosen it for the subject of the first illustration ,footnote3 ,see note at end of this chapter4 rather than the nobler masses of the fig-tree1 which ought to be rendered on a larger scale4 ,although half of the beauty of the composition is destroyed by the breaking away of its central masses1 there is still enough in the distribution of the variously bending leaves1 and in the placing of the birds on the lighter branches1 to prove to us the power of the designer4 ,i have already referred to this ,plate as a remarkable instance of the ,gothic ,naturalism2 and1 indeed1 it is almost impossible for the copying of nature to be carried farther than in the fibres of the marble branches1 and the careful finishing of the tendrils3 note especially the peculiar expression of the knotty joints of the vine in the light branch which rises highest4 ,yet only half the finish of the work can be seen in the ,plate3 for1 in several cases1 the sculptor has shown the under sides of the leaves turned boldly to the light1 and has literally carved every rib and vein upon them1 in relief2 not merely the main ribs which sustain the lobes of the leaf1 and actually project in nature1 but the irregular and sinuous veins which chequer the membranous tissues between them1 and which the sculptor has represented conventionally as relieved like the others1 in order to give the vine leaf its peculiar tessellated effect upon the eye4 ,,section ,,xxxviii4 ,as must always be the case in early sculpture1 the figures are much inferior to the leafage2 yet so skilful in many respects1 that it was a long time before ,i could persuade myself that they had indeed been wrought in the first half of the fourteenth century4 ,fortunately1 the date is inscribed upon a monument in the ,church of ,san ,simeon ,grande1 bearing a recumbent statue of the saint1 of far finer workmanship1 in every respect1 than those figures of the ,ducal ,palace1 yet so like them1 that ,i think there can be no question that the head of ,noah was wrought by the sculptor of the palace in emulation of that of the statue of ,st4 ,simeon4 ,in this latter sculpture1 the face is represented in death2 the mouth partly open1 the lips thin and sharp1 the teeth carefully sculptured beneath2 the face full of quietness and majesty1 though very ghastly2 the hair and beard flowing in luxuriant wreaths1 disposed with the most masterly freedom1 yet severity1 of design1 far down upon the shoulders2 the hands crossed upon the body1 carefully studied1 and the veins and sinews perfectly and easily expressed1 yet without any attempt at extreme finish or display of technical skill4 ,this monument bears date #acag1 ,footnote3 ,,in ,,xri--,,noie ,,amen ,,annincarnationis ,,mcccxvii4 ,,inesetbr4 ,in the name of ,christ1 ,amen1 in the year of the incarnation1 #acag1 in the month of ,september1 c4 and its sculptor was justly proud of it2 thus recording his name3 ,,celavit ,,marcus ,,opus ,,hoc ,,insigne ,,romanis1 ,,laudibus ,,non ,,parcus ,,est ,,sua ,,digna ,,manus4 ,,section ,,xxxix4 ,the head of the ,noah on the ,ducal ,palace1 evidently worked in emulation of this statue1 has the same profusion of flowing hair and beard1 but wrought in smaller and harder curls2 and the veins on the arms and breast are more sharply drawn1 the sculptor being evidently more practised in keen and fine lines of vegetation than in those of the figure2 so that1 which is most remarkable in a workman of this early period1 he has failed in telling his story plainly1 regret and wonder being so equally marked on the features of all the three brothers that it is impossible to say which is intended for ,ham4 ,two of the heads of the brothers are seen in the ,plate2 the third figure is not with the rest of the group1 but set at a distance of about twelve feet1 on the other side of the arch which springs from the angle capital4 ,,section ,,xl4 ,it may be observed1 as a farther evidence of the date of the group1 that1 in the figures of all the three youths1 the feet are protected simply by a bandage arranged in crossed folds round the ankle and lower part of the limb2 a feature of dress which will be found in nearly every piece of figure sculpture in ,venice1 from the year #acjj to #achj1 and of which the traveller may see an example within three hundred yards of this very group1 in the bas-reliefs on the tomb of the ,doge ,andrea ,dandolo 7in ,st4 ,mark's71 who died in #aced4 ,,section ,,xli4 ,the figures of ,adam and ,eve1 sculptured on each side of the ,fig-tree angle1 are more stiff than those of ,noah and his sons1 but are better fitted for their architectural service2 and the trunk of the tree1 with the angular body of the serpent writhed around it1 is more nobly treated as a terminal group of lines than that of the vine4 ,the ,renaissance sculptor of the figures of the ,judgment of ,solomon has very nearly copied the fig-tree from this angle1 placing its trunk between the executioner and the mother1 who leans forward to stay his hand4 ,but1 though the whole group is much more free in design than those of the earlier palace1 and in many ways excellent in itself1 so that it always strikes the eye of a careless observer more than the others1 it is of immeasurably inferior spirit in the workmanship2 the leaves of the tree1 though far more studiously varied in flow than those of the fig-tree from which they are partially copied1 have none of its truth to nature2 they are ill set on the steins1 bluntly defined on the edges1 and their curves are not those of growing leaves1 but of wrinkled drapery4 ,,section ,,xlii4 ,above these three sculptures are set1 in the upper arcade1 the statues of the archangels ,raphael1 ,michael1 and ,gabriel3 their positions will be understood by reference to the lowest figure in ,plate ,,xvii41 where that of ,raphael above the ,vine angle is seen on the right4 ,a diminutive figure of ,tobit follows at his feet1 and he bears in his hand a scroll with this inscription3 ,,efice ,q ,,sofre ,,tur ,,afa ,,el ,,reve ,,rende ,,quietu i4e4 ,effice 7quseso87 fretum1 ,raphael reverende1 quietum4 ,footnote3 ,oh1 venerable ,raphael1 make thou the gulf calm1 we beseech thee4 ,the peculiar office of the angel ,raphael is1 in general1 according to tradition1 the restraining the harmful influences of evil spirits4 ,sir ,charles ,eastlake told me1 that sometimes in this office he is represented bearing the gall of the fish caught by ,tobit2 and reminded me of the peculiar superstitions of the ,venetians respecting the raising of storms by fiends1 as embodied in the well known tale of the ,fisherman and ,st4 ,mark's ring4 ,i could not decipher the inscription on the scroll borne by the angel ,michael2 and the figure of ,gabriel1 which is by much the most beautiful feature of the ,renaissance portion of the palace1 has only in its hand the ,annunciation lily4 ,,section ,,xliii4 ,such are the subjects of the main sculptures decorating the angles of the palace2 notable1 observe1 for their simple expression of two feelings1 the consciousness of human frailty1 and the dependence upon ,divine guidance and protection3 this being1 of course1 the general purpose of the introduction of the figures of the angels2 and1 ,i imagine1 intended to be more particularly conveyed by the manner in which the small figure of ,tobit follows the steps of ,raphael1 just touching the hem of his garment4 ,we have next to examine the course of divinity and of natural history embodied by the old sculpture in the great series of capitals which support the lower arcade of the palace2 and which1 being at a height of little more than eight feet above the eye1 might be read1 like the pages of a book1 by those 7the noblest men in ,venice7 who habitually walked beneath the shadow of this great arcade at the time of their first meeting each other for morning converse4 ,,section ,,xliv4 ,we will now take the pillars of the ,ducal ,palace in their order4 ,it has already been mentioned 7,vol4 ,i4 ,chap4 ,i4 ,section ,,xlvi47 that there are1 in all1 thirty-six great pillars supporting the lower story2 and that these are to be counted from right to left1 because then the more ancient of them come first3 and that1 thus arranged1 the first1 which is not a shaft1 but a pilaster1 will be the support of the ,vine angle2 the eighteenth will be the great shaft of the ,fig-tree angle2 and the thirty-sixth1 that of the ,judgment angle4 ,,section ,,xlv4 ,all their capitals1 except that of the first1 are octagonal1 and are decorated by sixteen leaves1 differently enriched in every capital1 but arranged in the same way2 eight of them rising to the angles1 and there forming volutes2 the eight others set between them1 on the sides1 rising half-way up the bell of the capital2 there nodding forward1 and showing above them1 rising out of their luxuriance1 the groups or single figures which we have to examine4 ,footnote3 ,i have given one of these capitals carefully already in my folio work1 and hope to give most of the others in due time4 ,it was of no use to draw them here1 as the scale would have been too small to allow me to show the expression of the figures4 ,in some instances1 the intermediate or lower leaves are reduced to eight sprays of foliage2 and the capital is left dependent for its effect on the bold position of the figures4 ,in referring to the figures on the octagonal capitals1 ,i shall call the outer side1 fronting either the ,sea or the ,piazzetta1 the first side2 and so count round from left to right2 the fourth side being thus1 of course1 the innermost4 ,as1 however1 the first five arches were walled up after the great fire1 only three sides of their capitals are left visible1 which we may describe as the front and the eastern and western sides of each4 ,,section ,,xlvi4 ,,first ,,capital3 i4e4 of the pilaster at the ,vine angle4 ,in front1 towards the ,sea4 ,a child holding a bird before him1 with its wings expanded1 covering his breast4 ,on its eastern side4 ,children's heads among leaves4 ,on its western side4 ,a child carrying in one hand a comb2 in the other1 a pair of scissors4 ,it appears curious1 that this1 the principal pilaster of the faade1 should have been decorated only by these graceful grotesques1 for ,i can hardly suppose them anything more4 ,there may be meaning in them1 but ,i will not venture to conjecture any1 except the very plain and practical meaning conveyed by the last figure to all ,venetian children1 which it would be well if they would act upon4 ,for the rest1 ,i have seen the comb introduced in grotesque work as early as the thirteenth century1 but generally for the purpose of ridiculing too great care in dressing the hair1 which assuredly is not its purpose here4 ,the children's heads are very sweet and full of life1 but the eyes sharp and small4 ,,section ,,xlvii4 ,,second ,,capital4 ,only three sides of the original work are left unburied by the mass of added wall4 ,each side has a bird1 one web-footed1 with a fish1 one clawed1 with a serpent1 which opens its jaws1 and darts its tongue at the bird's breast2 the third pluming itself1 with a feather between the mandibles of its bill4 ,it is by far the most beautiful of the three capitals decorated with birds4 ,,third ,,capital4 ,also has three sides only left4 ,they have three heads1 large1 and very ill cut2 one female1 and crowned4 ,,fourth ,,capital4 ,has three children4 ,the eastern one is defaced3 the one in front holds a small bird1 whose plumage is beautifully indicated1 in its right hand2 and with its left holds up half a walnut1 showing the nut inside3 the third holds a fresh fig1 cut through1 showing the seeds4 ,the hair of all the three children is differently worked3 the first has luxuriant flowing hair1 and a double chin2 the second1 light flowing hair falling in pointed locks on the forehead2 the third1 crisp curling hair1 deep cut with drill holes4 ,this capital has been copied on the ,renaissance side of the palace1 only with such changes in the ideal of the children as the workman thought expedient and natural4 ,it is highly interesting to compare the child of the fourteenth with the child of the fifteenth century4 ,the early heads are full of youthful life1 playful1 humane1 affectionate1 beaming with sensation and vivacity1 but with much manliness and firmness1 also1 not a little cunning1 and some cruelty perhaps1 beneath all2 the features small and hard1 and the eyes keen4 ,there is the making of rough and great men in them4 ,but the children of the fifteenth century are dull smooth-faced dunces1 without a single meaning line in the fatness of their stolid cheeks2 and1 although1 in the vulgar sense1 as handsome as the other children are ugly1 capable of becoming nothing but perfumed coxcombs4 ,,fifth ,,capital4 ,still three sides only left1 bearing three half-length statues of kings2 this is the first capital which bears any inscription4 ,in front1 a king with a sword in his right hand points to a handkerchief embroidered and fringed1 with a head on it1 carved on the cavetto of the abacus4 ,his name is written above1 ,,titus ,,vespasian ,,imperator 7contracted ,,ipat474 ,on eastern side1 ,,trajanus ,,imperator4 ,crowned1 a sword in right hand1 and sceptre in left4 ,on western1 7,,oct7,,avianus ,,augustus ,,imperator4 ,the ,,oct is broken away4 ,he bears a globe in his right hand1 with ,,mundus ,,pacis upon it2 a sceptre in his left1 which ,i think has terminated in a human figure4 ,he has a flowing beard1 and a singularly high crown2 the face is much injured1 but has once been very noble in expression4 ,,sixth ,,capital4 ,has large male and female heads1 very coarsely cut1 hard1 and bad4 ,,section ,,xlviii4 ,,seventh ,,capital4 ,this is the first of the series which is complete2 the first open arch of the lower arcade being between it and the sixth4 ,it begins the representation of the ,virtues4 ,first side4 ,largitas1 or ,liberality3 always distinguished from the higher ,charity4 ,a male figure1 with his lap full of money1 which he pours out of his hand4 ,the coins are plain1 circular1 and smooth2 there is no attempt to mark device upon them4 ,the inscription above is1 ,,largitas ,,me ,,onorat4 ,in the copy of this design on the twenty-fifth capital1 instead of showering out the gold from his open hand1 the figure holds it in a plate or salver1 introduced for the sake of disguising the direct imitation4 ,the changes thus made in the ,renaissance pillars are always injuries4 ,this virtue is the proper opponent of ,avarice2 though it does not occur in the systems of ,orcagna or ,giotto1 being included in ,charity4 ,it was a leading virtue with ,aristotle and the other ancients4 ,,section ,,xlix4 ,second side4 ,constancy2 not very characteristic4 ,an armed man with a sword in his hand1 inscribed1 ,,constantia ,,sum1 ,,nil ,,timens4 ,this virtue is one of the forms of fortitude1 and ,giotto therefore sets as the vice opponent to ,fortitude1 ,inconstantia1 represented as a woman in loose drapery1 falling from a rolling globe4 ,the vision seen in the interpreter's house in the ,pilgrim's ,progress1 of the man with a very bold countenance1 who says to him who has the writer's ink-horn by his side1 ,set down my name1 is the best personification of the ,venetian ,constantia of which ,i am aware in literature4 ,it would be well for us all to consider whether we have yet given the order to the man with the ink-horn1 ,set down my name4 ,,section ,l4 ,third side4 ,discord2 holding up her finger1 but needing the inscription above to assure us of her meaning1 ,,discordia ,,sum1 ,,discordians4 ,in the ,renaissance copy she is a meek and nun-like person with a veil4 ,she is the ,at of ,spencer2 mother of debate1 thus described in the fourth book3 ,her face most fowle and filthy was to see1 ,with squinted eyes contrarie wayes intended2 ,and loathly mouth1 unmeete a mouth to bee1 ,that nought but gall and venim comprehended1 ,and wicked wordes that ,god and man offended3 ,her lying tongue was in two parts divided1 ,and both the parts did speake1 and both contended2 ,and as her tongue1 so was her hart discided1 ,that never thoght one thing1 but doubly stil was guided4 ,note the fine old meaning of discided1 cut in two2 it is a great pity we have lost this powerful expression4 ,we might keep determined for the other sense of the word4 ,,section ,,li4 ,fourth side4 ,patience4 ,a female figure1 very expressive and lovely1 in a hood1 with her right hand on her breast1 the left extended1 inscribed ,,patientia ,,manet ,,mecum4 ,she is one of the principal virtues in all the ,christian systems3 a masculine virtue in ,spenser1 and beautifully placed as the ,,physician in the ,house of ,holinesse4 ,the opponent vice1 ,impatience1 is one of the hags who attend the ,captain of the ,lusts of the ,flesh2 the other being ,impotence4 ,in like manner1 in the ,pilgrim's ,progress1 the opposite of ,patience is ,passion2 but ,spenser's thought is farther carried4 ,his two hags1 ,impatience and ,impotence1 as attendant upon the evil spirit of ,passion1 embrace all the phenomena of human conduct1 down even to the smallest matters1 according to the adage1 ,more haste1 worse speed4 ,,section ,,lii4 ,fifth side4 ,despair4 ,a female figure thrusting a dagger into her throat1 and tearing her long hair1 which flows down among the leaves of the capital below her knees4 ,one of the finest figures of the series2 inscribed ,,desperacio ,m,s 7mortis87 ,,crudelis4 ,in the ,renaissance copy she is totally devoid of expression1 and appears1 instead of tearing her hair1 to be dividing it into long curls on each side4 ,this vice is the proper opposite of ,hope4 ,by ,giotto she is represented as a woman hanging herself1 a fiend coming for her soul4 ,spenser's vision of ,despair is well known1 it being indeed currently reported that this part of the ,faerie ,queen was the first which drew to it the attention of ,sir ,philip ,sidney4 ,,section ,,liii4 ,sixth side4 ,obedience3 with her arms folded2 meek1 but rude and commonplace1 looking at a little dog standing on its hind legs and begging1 with a collar round its neck4 ,inscribed ,,obedienti 99 992 the rest of the sentence is much defaced1 but looks like ,a',,onoexibeo4 ,i suppose the note of contraction above the final ,a has disappeared and that the inscription was ,obedientiam domino exhibeo4 ,this virtue is1 of course1 a principal one in the monkish systems2 represented by ,giotto at ,assisi as an angel robed in black1 placing the finger of his left hand on his mouth1 and passing the yoke over the head of a ,franciscan monk kneeling at his feet4 ,footnote3 ,lord ,lindsay1 vol4 ii4 p4 #bbf4 ,obedience holds a less principal place in ,spenser4 ,we have seen her above associated with the other peculiar virtues of womanhood4 ,,section ,,liv4 ,seventh side4 ,infidelity4 ,a man in a turban1 with a small image in his hand1 or the image of a child4 ,of the inscription nothing but ,,infidelitate 99 99 99 and some fragmentary letters1 ,,ili1 ,,cero1 remain4 ,by ,giotto ,infidelity is most nobly symbolized as a woman helmeted1 the helmet having a broad rim which keeps the light from her eyes4 ,she is covered with heavy drapery1 stands infirmly as if about to fall1 is bound by a cord round her neck to an image which she carries in her hand1 and has flames bursting forth at her feet4 ,in ,spenser1 ,infidelity is the ,saracen knight ,sans ,foy1-- ,full large of limbe and every joint ,he was1 and cared not for ,god or man a point4 ,for the part which he sustains in the contest with ,godly ,fear1 or the ,red-cross knight1 see ,appendix #b1 ,vol4 ,,iii4 ,,section ,,lv4 ,eighth side4 ,modesty2 bearing a pitcher4 7,in the ,renaissance copy1 a vase like a coffeepot47 ,inscribed ,,modestia ,,robuobtineo4 ,i do not find this virtue in any of the ,italian series1 except that of ,venice4 ,in ,spenser she is of course one of those attendant on ,womanhood1 but occurs as one of the tenants of the ,heart of ,man1 thus portrayed in the second book3 ,straunge was her tyre1 and all her garment blew1 ,close rownd about her tuckt with many a plight3 ,upon her fist the bird which shonneth vew4 99 99 99 99 99 ,and ever and anone with rosy red ,the bashfull blood her snowy cheekes did dye1 ,that her became1 as polisht yvory ,which cunning craftesman hand hath overlayd ,with fayre vermilion or pure castory4 ,,section ,,lvi4 ,,eighth ,,capital4 ,it has no inscriptions1 and its subjects are not1 by themselves1 intelligible2 but they appear to be typical of the degradation of human instincts4 ,first side4 ,a caricature of ,arion on his dolphin2 he wears a cap ending in a long proboscis-like horn1 and plays a violin with a curious twitch of the bow and wag of the head1 very graphically expressed1 but still without anything approaching to the power of ,northern grotesque4 ,his dolphin has a goodly row of teeth1 and the waves beat over his back4 ,second side4 ,a human figure1 with curly hair and the legs of a bear2 the paws laid1 with great sculptural skill1 upon the foliage4 ,it plays a violin1 shaped like a guitar1 with a bent double-stringed bow4 ,third side4 ,a figure with a serpent's tail and a monstrous head1 founded on a ,negro type1 hollow-cheeked1 large-lipped1 and wearing a cap made of a serpent's skin1 holding a fir-cone in its hand4 ,fourth side4 ,a monstrous figure1 terminating below in a tortoise4 ,it is devouring a gourd1 which it grasps greedily with both hands2 it wears a cap ending in a hoofed leg4 ,fifth side4 ,a centaur wearing a crested helmet1 and holding a curved sword4 ,sixth side4 ,a knight1 riding a headless horse1 and wearing a chain armor1 with a triangular shield flung behind his back1 and a two-edged sword4 ,seventh side4 ,a figure like that on the fifth1 wearing a round helmet1 and with the legs and tail of a horse4 ,he bears a long mace with a top like a fir-cone4 ,eighth side4 ,a figure with curly hair1 and an acorn in its hand1 ending below in a fish4 ,,section ,,lvii4 ,,ninth ,,capital4 ,first side4 ,faith4 ,she has her left hand on her breast1 and the cross on her right4 ,inscribed ,,fides ,,optima ,,in ,,deo4 ,the ,faith of ,giotto holds the cross in her right hand2 in her left1 a scroll with the ,apostles' ,creed4 ,she treads upon cabalistic books1 and has a key suspended to her waist4 ,spenser's ,faith 7,fidelia7 is still more spiritual and noble3 ,she was araied all in lilly white1 ,and in her right hand bore a cup of gold1 ,with wine and water fild up to the hight1 ,in which a serpent did himselfe enfold1 ,that horrour made to all that did behold2 ,but she no whitt did chaunge her constant mood3 ,and in her other hand she fast did hold ,a booke1 that was both signd and seald with blood2 ,wherein darke things were writt1 hard to be understood4 ,,section ,,lviii4 ,second side4 ,fortitude4 ,a long-bearded man ,samson8 tearing open a lion's jaw4 ,the inscription is illegible1 and the somewhat vulgar personification appears to belong rather to ,courage than ,fortitude4 ,on the ,renaissance copy it is inscribed ,,fortitudo ,,sum ,,virilis4 ,the ,latin word has1 perhaps1 been received by the sculptor as merely signifying ,strength1 the rest of the perfect idea of this virtue having been given in ,constantia previously4 ,but both these ,venetian symbols together do not at all approach the idea of ,fortitude as given generally by ,giotto and the ,pisan sculptors2 clothed with a lion's skin1 knotted about her neck1 and falling to her feet in deep folds2 drawing back her right hand1 with the sword pointed towards her enemy2 and slightly retired behind her immovable shield1 which1 with ,giotto1 is square1 and rested on the ground like a tower1 covering her up to above her shoulders2 bearing on it a lion1 and with broken heads of javelins deeply infixed4 ,among the ,greeks1 this is1 of course1 one of the principal virtues2 apt1 however1 in their ordinary conception of it to degenerate into mere manliness or courage4 ,,section ,,lix4 ,third side4 ,temperance2 bearing a pitcher of water and a cup4 ,inscription1 illegible here1 and on the ,renaissance copy nearly so1 ,,temperantia ,,sum 7,,inom' ,l',s78 ,only left4 ,in this somewhat vulgar and most frequent conception of this virtue 7afterwards continually repeated1 as by ,sir ,joshua in his window at ,new-,college7 temperance is confused with mere abstinence1 the opposite of ,gula1 or gluttony2 whereas the ,greek ,temperance1 a truly cardinal virtue1 is the moderator of all the passions1 and so represented by ,giotto1 who has placed a bridle upon her lips1 and a sword in her hand1 the hilt of which she is binding to the scabbard4 ,in his system1 she is opposed among the vices1 not by ,gula or ,gluttony1 but by ,ira1 ,anger4 ,so also the ,temperance of ,spenser1 or ,sir ,guyon1 but with mingling of much sternness3 ,a goodly knight1 all armd in harnesse meete1 ,that from his head no place appeared to his feete1 ,his carriage was full comely and upright2 ,his countenance demure and temperate2 ,but yett so sterne and terrible in sight1 ,that cheard his friendes1 and did his foes amate4 ,the ,temperance of the ,greeks1 ,greek3 sophrosunae involves the idea of ,prudence1 and is a most noble virtue1 yet properly marked by ,plato as inferior to sacred enthusiasm1 though necessary for its government4 ,he opposes it1 under the name ,mortal ,temperance or the ,temperance which is of men1 to divine madness1 ,greek3 mania1 or inspiration2 but he most justly and nobly expresses the general idea of it under the term ,greek3 ubris1 which1 in the ,phaedrus1 is divided into various intemperances with respect to various objects1 and set forth under the image of a black1 vicious1 diseased and furious horse1 yoked by the side of ,prudence or ,wisdom 7set forth under the figure of a white horse with a crested and noble head1 like that which we have among the ,elgin ,marbles7 to the chariot of the ,soul4 ,the system of ,aristotle1 as above stated1 is throughout a mere complicated blunder1 supported by sophistry1 the laboriously developed mistake of ,temperance for the essence of the virtues which it guides4 ,temperance in the mediaeval systems is generally opposed by ,anger1 or by ,folly1 or ,gluttony3 but her proper opposite is ,spenser's ,acrasia1 the principal enemy of ,sir ,guyon1 at whose gates we find the subordinate vice ,excesse1 as the introduction to ,intemperance2 a graceful and feminine image1 necessary to illustrate the more dangerous forms of subtle intemperance1 as opposed to the brutal ,gluttony in the first book4 ,she presses grapes into a cup1 because of the words of ,st4 ,paul1 ,be not drunk with wine1 wherein is excess2 but always delicately1 ,into her cup she scruzd with daintie breach ,of her fine fingers1 without fowle empeach1 ,that so faire winepresse made the wine more sweet4 ,the reader will1 ,i trust1 pardon these frequent extracts from ,spenser1 for it is nearly as necessary to point out the profound divinity and philosophy of our great ,english poet1 as the beauty of the ,ducal ,palace4 ,,section ,,lx4 ,fourth side4 ,humility2 with a veil upon her head1 carrying a lamp in her lap4 ,inscribed in the copy1 ,,humilitas ,,habitat ,,in ,,me4 ,this virtue is of course a peculiarly ,christian one1 hardly recognized in the ,pagan systems1 though carefully impressed upon the ,greeks in early life in a manner which at this day it would be well if we were to imitate1 and1 together with an almost feminine modesty1 giving an exquisite grace to the conduct and bearing of the well-educated ,greek youth4 ,it is1 of course1 one of the leading virtues in all the monkish systems1 but ,i have not any notes of the manner of its representation4 ,,section ,,lxi4 ,fifth side4 ,charity4 ,a woman with her lap full of loaves 7871 giving one to a child1 who stretches his arm out for it across a broad gap in the leafage of the capital4 ,again very far inferior to the ,giottesque rendering of this virtue4 ,in the ,arena ,chapel she is distinguished from all the other virtues by having a circular glory round her head1 and a cross of fire2 she is crowned with flowers1 presents with her right hand a vase of corn and fruit1 and with her left receives treasure from ,christ1 who appears above her1 to provide her with the means of continual offices of beneficence1 while she tramples under foot the treasures of the earth4 ,the peculiar beauty of most of the ,italian conceptions of ,charity1 is in the subjection of mere munificence to the glowing of her love1 always represented by flames2 here in the form of a cross round her head2 in ,orcagna's shrine at ,florence1 issuing from a censer in her hand2 and1 with ,dante1 inflaming her whole form1 so that1 in a furnace of clear fire1 she could not have been discerned4 ,spenser represents her as a mother surrounded by happy children1 an idea afterwards grievously hackneyed and vulgarized by ,english painters and sculptors4 ,,section ,,lxii4 ,sixth side4 ,justice4 ,crowned1 and with sword4 ,inscribed in the copy1 ,,rex ,,sum ,,justicie4 ,this idea was afterwards much amplified and adorned in the only good capital of the ,renaissance series1 under the ,judgment angle4 ,giotto has also given his whole strength to the painting of this virtue1 representing her as enthroned under a noble ,gothic canopy1 holding scales1 not by the beam1 but one in each hand2 a beautiful idea1 showing that the equality of the scales of ,justice is not owing to natural laws1 but to her own immediate weighing the opposed causes in her own hands4 ,in one scale is an executioner beheading a criminal2 in the other an angel crowning a man who seems 7in ,selvatico's plate7 to have been working at a desk or table4 ,beneath her feet is a small predella1 representing various persons riding securely in the woods1 and others dancing to the sound of music4 ,spenser's ,justice1 ,sir ,artegall1 is the hero of an entire book1 and the betrothed knight of ,britomart1 or chastity4 ,,section ,,lxiii4 ,seventh side4 ,prudence4 ,a man with a book and a pair of compasses1 wearing the noble cap1 hanging down towards the shoulder1 and bound in a fillet round the brow1 which occurs so frequently during the fourteenth century in ,italy in the portraits of men occupied in any civil capacity4 ,this virtue is1 as we have seen1 conceived under very different degrees of dignity1 from mere worldly prudence up to heavenly wisdom1 being opposed sometimes by ,stultitia1 sometimes by ,ignorantia4 ,i do not find1 in any of the representations of her1 that her truly distinctive character1 namely1 forethought1 is enough insisted upon3 ,giotto expresses her vigilance and just measurement or estimate of all things by painting her as ,janus-headed1 and gazing into a convex mirror1 with compasses in her right hand2 the convex mirror showing her power of looking at many things in small compass4 ,but forethought or anticipation1 by which1 independently of greater or less natural capacities1 one man becomes more prudent than another1 is never enough considered or symbolized4 ,the idea of this virtue oscillates1 in the ,greek systems1 between ,temperance and ,heavenly ,wisdom4 ,,section ,,lxiv4 ,eighth side4 ,hope4 ,a figure full of devotional expression1 holding up its hands as in prayer1 and looking to a hand which is extended towards it out of sunbeams4 ,in the ,renaissance copy this hand does not appear4 ,of all the virtues1 this is the most distinctively ,christian 7it could not1 of course1 enter definitely into any ,pagan scheme72 and above all others1 it seems to me the testing virtue1--that by the possession of which we may most certainly determine whether we are ,christians or not2 for many men have charity1 that is to say1 general kindness of heart1 or even a kind of faith1 who have not any habitual hope of1 or longing for1 heaven4 ,the ,hope of ,giotto is represented as winged1 rising in the air1 while an angel holds a crown before her4 ,i do not know if ,spenser was the first to introduce our marine virtue1 leaning on an anchor1 a symbol as inaccurate as it is vulgar3 for1 in the first place1 anchors are not for men1 but for ships2 and in the second1 anchorage is the characteristic not of ,hope1 but of ,faith4 ,faith is dependent1 but ,hope is aspirant4 ,spenser1 however1 introduces ,hope twice1--the first time as the ,virtue with the anchor2 but afterwards fallacious ,hope1 far more beautifully1 in the ,masque of ,cupid3 ,she always smyld1 and in her hand did hold ,an holy-water sprinckle1 dipt in deowe4 ,,section ,,lxv4 ,,tenth ,,capital4 ,first side4 ,luxury 7the opposite of chastity1 as above explained74 ,a woman with a jewelled chain across her forehead1 smiling as she looks into a mirror1 exposing her breast by drawing down her dress with one hand4 ,inscribed ,,luxuria ,,sum ,,imensa4 ,these subordinate forms of vice are not met with so frequently in art as those of the opposite virtues1 but in ,spenser we find them all4 ,his ,luxury rides upon a goat3 ,in a greene gowne he clothed was full faire1 ,which underneath did hide his filthinesse1 ,and in his hand a burning heart he bare4 ,but1 in fact1 the proper and comprehensive expression of this vice is the ,cupid of the ancients2 and there is not any minor circumstance more indicative of the intense difference between the mediaeval and the ,renaissance spirit1 than the mode in which this god is represented4 ,i have above said1 that all great ,european art is rooted in the thirteenth century2 and it seems to me that there is a kind of central year about which we may consider the energy of the middle ages to be gathered2 a kind of focus of time which1 by what is to my mind a most touching and impressive ,divine appointment1 has been marked for us by the greatest writer of the middle ages1 in the first words he utters2 namely1 the year #acjj1 the mezzo del cammin of the life of ,dante4 ,now1 therefore1 to ,giotto1 the contemporary of ,dante1 and who drew ,dante's still existing portrait in this very year1 #acjj1 we may always look for the central mediaeval idea in any subject3 and observe how he represents ,cupid2 as one of three1 a terrible trinity1 his companions being ,satan and ,death2 and he himself a lean scarecrow1 with bow1 quiver1 and fillet1 and feet ending in claws1 ,footnote3 ,lord ,lindsay1 vol4 ii4 letter iv4 thrust down into ,hell by ,penance1 from the presence of ,purity and ,fortitude4 ,spenser1 who has been so often noticed as furnishing the exactly intermediate type of conception between the mediaeval and the ,renaissance1 indeed represents ,cupid under the form of a beautiful winged god1 and riding on a lion1 but still no plaything of the ,graces1 but full of terror3 ,with that the darts which his right hand did straine ,full dreadfully he shooke1 that all did quake1 ,and clapt on hye his coloured winges twaine1 ,that all his many it afraide did make4 ,his many1 that is to say1 his company2 and observe what a company it is4 ,before him go ,fancy1 ,desire1 ,doubt1 ,danger1 ,fear1 ,fallacious ,hope1 ,dissemblance1 ,suspicion1 ,grief1 ,fury1 ,displeasure1 ,despite1 and ,cruelty4 ,after him1 ,reproach1 ,repentance1 ,shame1 ,unquiet ,care1 and fond ,unthriftyhead1 ,lewd ,losse of ,time1 and ,sorrow seeming dead1 ,inconstant ,chaunge1 and false ,disloyalty1 ,consuming ,riotise1 and guilty ,dread ,of heavenly vengeaunce2 faint ,infirmity1 ,vile ,poverty1 and lastly ,death with infamy4 ,compare these two pictures of ,cupid with the ,love-god of the ,renaissance1 as he is represented to this day1 confused with angels1 in every faded form of ornament and allegory1 in our furniture1 our literature1 and our minds4 ,,section ,,lxvi4 ,second side4 ,gluttony4 ,a woman in a turban1 with a jewelled cup in her right hand4 ,in her left1 the clawed limb of a bird1 which she is gnawing4 ,inscribed ,,gula ,,sine ,,ordine ,,sum4 ,spenser's ,gluttony is more than usually fine3 ,his belly was upblownt with luxury1 ,and eke with fatnesse swollen were his eyne1 ,and like a crane his necke was long and fyne1 ,wherewith he swallowed up excessive feast1 ,for want whereof poore people oft did pyne4 ,he rides upon a swine1 and is clad in vine-leaves1 with a garland of ivy4 ,compare the account of ,excesse1 above1 as opposed to ,temperance4 ,,section ,,lxvii4 ,third side4 ,pride4 ,a knight1 with a heavy and stupid face1 holding a sword with three edges3 his armor covered with ornaments in the form of roses1 and with two ears attached to his helmet4 ,the inscription indecipherable1 all but ,,superbia4 ,spenser has analyzed this vice with great care4 ,he first represents it as the ,pride of life2 that is to say1 the pride which runs in a deep under-current through all the thoughts and acts of men4 ,as such1 it is a feminine vice1 directly opposed to ,holiness1 and mistress of a castle called the ,house of ,pryde1 and her chariot is driven by ,satan1 with a team of beasts1 ridden by the mortal sins4 ,in the throne chamber of her palace she is thus described3 ,so proud she shyned in her princely state1 ,looking to ,heaven1 for ,earth she did disdayne2 ,and sitting high1 for lowly she did hate3 ,lo1 underneath her scornefull feete was layne ,a dreadfull dragon with an hideous trayne2 ,and in her hand she held a mirrhour bright1 ,wherein her face she often vewed fayne4 ,the giant ,orgoglio is a baser species of pride1 born of the ,earth and ,eolus2 that is to say1 of sensual and vain conceits4 ,his foster-father and the keeper of his castle is ,ignorance4 7,book ,i4 canto viii47 ,finally1 ,disdain is introduced1 in other places1 as the form of pride which vents itself in insult to others4 ,,section ,,lxviii4 ,fourth side4 ,anger4 ,a woman tearing her dress open at her breast4 ,inscription here undecipherable2 but in the ,renaissance ,copy it ,,is ,,ira ,,crudelis ,,est ,,in ,,me4 ,giotto represents this vice under the same symbol2 but it is the weakest of all the figures in the ,arena ,chapel4 ,the ,wrath of ,spenser rides upon a lion1 brandishing a firebrand1 his garments stained with blood4 ,rage1 or ,furor1 occurs subordinately in other places4 ,it appears to me very strange that neither ,giotto nor ,spenser should have given any representation of the restrained ,anger1 which is infinitely the most terrible2 both of them make him violent4 ,,section ,,lxix4 ,fifth side4 ,avarice4 ,an old woman with a veil over her forehead1 and a bag of money in each hand4 ,a figure very marvellous for power of expression4 ,the throat is all made up of sinews with skinny channels deep between them1 strained as by anxiety1 and wasted by famine2 the features hunger-bitten1 the eyes hollow1 the look glaring and intense1 yet without the slightest caricature4 ,inscribed in the ,renaissance copy1 ,,avaritia ,,impletor4 ,spenser's ,avarice 7the vice7 is much feebler than this2 but the god ,mammon and his kingdom have been described by him with his usual power4 ,note the position of the house of ,richesse3 ,betwixt them both was but a little stride1 ,that did the ,house of ,richesse from ,hell-mouth divide4 ,it is curious that most moralists confuse avarice with covetousness1 although they are vices totally different in their operation on the human heart1 and on the frame of society4 ,the love of money1 the sin of ,judas and ,ananias1 is indeed the root of all evil in the hardening of the heart2 but covetousness1 which is idolatry1 the sin of ,ahab1 that is1 the inordinate desire of some seen or recognized good1--thus destroying peace of mind1--is probably productive of much more misery in heart1 and error in conduct1 than avarice itself1 only covetousness is not so inconsistent with ,christianity3 for covetousness may partly proceed from vividness of the affections and hopes1 as in ,david1 and be consistent with much charity2 not so avarice4 ,,section ,,lxx4 ,sixth side4 ,idleness4 ,accidia4 ,a figure much broken away1 having had its arms round two branches of trees4 ,i do not know why ,idleness should be represented as among trees1 unless1 in the ,italy of the fourteenth century1 forest country was considered as desert1 and therefore the domain of ,idleness4 ,spenser fastens this vice especially upon the clergy1-- ,upon a slouthfull asse he chose to ryde1 ,arayd in habit blacke1 and amis thin1 ,like to an holy monck1 the service to begin4 ,and in his hand his portesse still he bare1 ,that much was worne1 but therein little redd4 ,and he properly makes him the leader of the train of the vices3 ,may seem the wayne was very evil ledd1 ,when such an one had guiding of the way4 ,observe that subtle touch of truth in the wearing of the portesse1 indicating the abuse of books by idle readers1 so thoroughly characteristic of unwilling studentship from the schoolboy upwards4 ,,section ,,lxxi4 ,seventh side4 ,vanity4 ,she is smiling complacently as she looks into a mirror in her lap4 ,her robe is embroidered with roses1 and roses form her crown4 ,undecipherable4 ,there is some confusion in the expression of this vice1 between pride in the personal appearance and lightness of purpose4 ,the word ,vanitas generally1 ,i think1 bears1 in the mediaeval period1 the sense given it in ,scripture4 ,let not him that is deceived trust in ,vanity1 for ,vanity shall be his recompense4 ,vanity of ,vanities4 ,the ,lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise1 that they are vain4 ,it is difficult to find this sin1--which1 after ,pride1 is the most universal1 perhaps the most fatal1 of all1 fretting the whole depth of our humanity into storm to waft a feather or to drown a fly1--definitely expressed in art4 ,even ,spenser1 ,i think1 has only partially expressed it under the figure of ,phaedria1 more properly ,idle ,mirth1 in the second book4 ,the idea is1 however1 entirely worked out in the ,vanity ,fair of the ,pilgrim's ,progress4 ,,section ,,lxxii4 ,eighth side4 ,envy4 ,one of the noblest pieces of expression in the series4 ,she is pointing malignantly with her finger2 a serpent is wreathed about her head like a cap1 another forms the girdle of her waist1 and a dragon rests in her lap4 ,giotto has1 however1 represented her1 with still greater subtlety1 as having her fingers terminating in claws1 and raising her right hand with an expression partly of impotent regret1 partly of involuntary grasping2 a serpent1 issuing from her mouth1 is about to bite her between the eyes2 she has long membranous ears1 horns on her head1 and flames consuming her body4 ,the ,envy of ,spenser is only inferior to that of ,giotto1 because the idea of folly and quickness of hearing is not suggested by the size of the ear3 in other respects it is even finer1 joining the idea of fury1 in the wolf on which he rides1 with that of corruption on his lips1 and of discoloration or distortion in the whole mind3 ,malicious ,envy rode ,upon a ravenous wolfe1 and still did chaw ,between his cankred teeth avenemous tode ,that all the poison ran about his jaw4 ,and in a kirtle of discolourd say ,he clothed was1 ypaynted full of eies1 ,and in his bosome secretly there lay ,an hatefull snake1 the which his taile uptyes ,in many folds1 and mortali sting implyes4 ,he has developed the idea in more detail1 and still more loathsomely1 in the twelfth canto of the fifth book4 ,,section ,,lxxiii4 ,,eleventh ,,capital4 ,its decoration is composed of eight birds1 arranged as shown in ,plate ,v4 of the ,seven ,lamps1 which1 however1 was sketched from the ,renaissance copy4 ,these birds are all varied in form and action1 but not so as to require special description4 ,,section ,,lxxiv4 ,,twelfth ,,capital4 ,this has been very interesting1 but is grievously defaced1 four of its figures being entirely broken away1 and the character of two others quite undecipherable4 ,it is fortunate that it has been copied in the thirty-third capital of the ,renaissance series1 from which we are able to identify the lost figures4 ,first side4 ,misery4 ,a man with a wan face1 seemingly pleading with a child who has its hands crossed on its breast4 ,there is a buckle at his own breast in the shape of a cloven heart4 ,inscribed ,,miseria4 ,the intention of this figure is not altogether apparent1 as it is by no means treated as a vice2 the distress seeming real1 and like that of a parent in poverty mourning over his child4 ,yet it seems placed here as in direct opposition to the virtue of ,cheerfulness1 which follows next in order2 rather1 however1 ,i believe1 with the intention of illustrating human life1 than the character of the vice which1 as we have seen1 ,dante placed in the circle of hell4 ,the word in that case would1 ,i think1 have been ,tristitia1 the unholy ,griefe of ,spenser-- ,all in sable sorrowfully clad1 ,downe hanging his dull head with heavy chere3 99 99 99 99 99 ,a pair of pincers in his hand he had1 ,with which he pinched people to the heart4 ,he has farther amplified the idea under another figure in the fifth canto of the fourth book3 ,his name was ,care2 a blacksmith by his trade1 ,that neither day nor night from working spared2 ,but to small purpose yron wedges made3 ,those be unquiet thoughts that carefull minds invade4 ,rude was his garment1 and to rags all rent1 ,ne better had he1 ne for better cared2 ,with blistered hands among the cinders brent4 ,it is to be noticed1 however1 that in the ,renaissance copy this figure is stated to be1 not ,miseria1 but ,misericordia4 ,the contraction is a very moderate one1 ,misericordia being in old ,,ms4 written always as ,mia4 ,if this reading be right1 the figure is placed here rather as the companion1 than the opposite1 of ,cheerfulness2 unless1 indeed1 it is intended to unite the idea of ,mercy and ,compassion with that of ,sacred ,sorrow4 ,,section ,,lxxv4 ,second side4 ,cheerfulness4 ,a woman with long flowing hair1 crowned with roses1 playing on a tambourine1 and with open lips1 as singing4 ,inscribed ,,alacritas4 ,we have already met with this virtue among those especially set by ,spenser to attend on ,womanhood4 ,it is inscribed in the ,renaissance ,copy1 ,,alachritas ,,chanit ,,mecum4 ,note the gutturals of the rich and fully developed ,venetian dialect now affecting the ,latin1 which is free from them in the earlier capitals4 ,,section ,,lxxvi4 ,third side4 ,destroyed2 but1 from the copy1 we find it has been ,stultitia1 ,folly2 and it is there represented simply as a man riding1 a sculpture worth the consideration of the ,english residents who bring their horses to ,venice4 ,giotto gives ,stultitia a feather1 cap1 and club4 ,in early manuscripts he is always eating with one hand1 and striking with the other2 in later ones he has a cap and bells1 or cap crested with a cock's head1 whence the word coxcomb4 ,,section ,,lxxvii4 ,fourth side4 ,destroyed1 all but a book1 which identifies it with the ,celestial ,chastity of the ,renaissance copy2 there represented as a woman pointing to a book 7connecting the convent life with the pursuit of literature874 ,spenser's ,chastity1 ,britomart1 is the most exquisitely wrought of all his characters2 but1 as before noticed1 she is not the ,chastity of the convent1 but of wedded life4 ,,section ,,lxxviii4 ,fifth side4 ,only a scroll is left2 but1 from the copy1 we find it has been ,honesty or ,truth4 ,inscribed ,,honestatem ,,diligo4 ,it is very curious1 that among all the ,christian systems of the virtues which we have examined1 we should find this one in ,venice only4 ,the ,truth of ,spenser1 ,una1 is1 after ,chastity1 the most exquisite character in the ,faerie ,queen4 ,,section ,,lxxix4 ,sixth side4 ,falsehood4 ,an old woman leaning on a crutch2 and inscribed in the copy1 ,,falsitas ,,in ,,me ,,semper ,,est4 ,the ,fidessa of ,spenser1 the great enemy of ,una1 or ,truth1 is far more subtly conceived1 probably not without special reference to the ,papal deceits4 ,in her true form she is a loathsome hag1 but in her outward aspect1 ,a goodly lady1 clad in scarlet red1 ,purfled with gold and pearle2444 ,her wanton palfrey all was overspred4 ,with tinsell trappings1 woven like a wave1 ,whose bridle rung with golden bels and bosses brave4 ,dante's ,fraud1 ,geryon1 is the finest personification of all1 but the description 7,inferno1 canto ,,xvii47 is too long to be quoted4 ,,section ,,lxxx4 ,seventh side4 ,injustice4 ,an armed figure holding a halbert2 so also in the copy4 ,the figure used by ,giotto with the particular intention of representing unjust government1 is represented at the gate of an embattled castle in a forest1 between rocks1 while various deeds of violence are committed at his feet4 ,spenser's ,adicia is a furious hag1 at last transformed into a tiger4 ,eighth side4 ,a man with a dagger looking sorrowfully at a child1 who turns its back to him4 ,i cannot understand this figure4 ,it is inscribed in the copy1 ,,astinecia 7,abstinentia87 ,,opitima8 ,,section ,,lxxxi4 ,,thirteenth ,,capital4 ,it has lions' heads all round1 coarsely cut4 ,,fourteenth ,,capital4 ,it has various animals1 each sitting on its haunches4 ,three dogs1 ,one a greyhound1 one long-haired1 one short-haired with bells about its neck2 two monkeys1 one with fan-shaped hair projecting on each side of its face2 a noble boar1 with its tusks1 hoofs1 and bristles sharply cut2 and a lion and lioness4 ,,section ,,lxxxii4 ,,fifteenth ,,capital4 ,the pillar to which it belongs is thicker than the rest1 as well as the one over it in the upper arcade4 ,the sculpture of this capital is also much coarser1 and seems to me later than that of the rest2 and it has no inscription1 which is embarrassing1 as its subjects have had much meaning2 but ,i believe ,selvatico is right in supposing it to have been intended for a general illustration of ,idleness4 ,first side4 ,a woman with a distaff2 her girdle richly decorated1 and fastened by a buckle4 ,second side4 ,a youth in a long mantle1 with a rose in his hand4 ,third side4 ,a woman in a turban stroking a puppy1 which she holds by the haunches4 ,fourth side4 ,a man with a parrot4 ,fifth side4 ,a woman in very rich costume1 with braided hair1 and dress thrown into minute folds1 holding a rosary 787 in her left hand1 her right on her breast4 ,sixth side4 ,a man with a very thoughtful face1 laying his hand upon the leaves of the capital4 ,seventh side4 ,a crowned lady1 with a rose in her hand4 ,eighth side4 ,a boy with a ball in his left hand1 and his right laid on his breast4 ,,section ,,lxxxiii4 ,,sixteenth ,,capital4 ,it is decorated with eight large heads1 partly intended to be grotesque1 ,footnote3 ,selvatico states that these are intended to be representative of eight nations1 ,latins1 ,tartars1 ,turks1 ,hungarians1 ,greeks1 ,goths1 ,egyptians1 and ,persians4 ,either the inscriptions are now defaced or ,i have carelessly omitted to note them4 and very coarse and bad1 except only that in the sixth side1 which is totally different from all the rest1 and looks like a portrait4 ,it is thin1 thoughtful1 and dignified2 thoroughly fine in every way4 ,it wears a cap surmounted by two winged lions2 and1 therefore1 ,i think ,selvatico must have inaccurately written the list given in the note1 for this head is certainly meant to express the superiority of the ,venetian character over that of other nations4 ,nothing is more remarkable in all early sculpture1 than its appreciation of the signs of dignity of character in the features1 and the way in which it can exalt the principal figure in any subject by a few touches4 ,,section ,,lxxxiv4 ,,seventeenth ,,capital4 ,this has been so destroyed by the sea wind1 which sweeps at this point of the arcade round the angle of the palace1 that its inscriptions are no longer legible1 and great part of its figures are gone4 ,selvatico states them as follows3 ,solomon1 the wise2 ,priscian1 the grammarian2 ,aristotle1 the logician2 ,tully1 the orator2 ,pythagoras1 the philosopher2 ,archimedes1 the mechanic2 ,orpheus1 the musician2 ,ptolemy1 the astronomer4 ,the fragments actually remaining are the following3 ,first side4 ,a figure with two books1 in a robe richly decorated with circles of roses4 ,inscribed ,,salomon 7,,sap7 ,,iens4 ,second side4 ,a man with one book1 poring over it3 he has had a long stick or reed in his hand4 ,of inscription only the letters ,,grammatic remain4 ,third side4 ,,aristotle3 so inscribed4 ,he has a peaked double beard and a flat cap1 from under which his long hair falls down his back4 ,fourth side4 ,destroyed4 ,fifth side4 ,destroyed1 all but a board with1 three 7counters87 on it4 ,sixth side4 ,a figure with compasses4 ,inscribed ,,geomet 99 99 ,seventh side4 ,nothing is left but a guitar with its handle wrought into a lion's head4 ,eighth side4 ,destroyed4 ,,section ,,lxxxv4 ,we have now arrived at the ,,eighteenth ,,capital1 the most interesting and beautiful of the palace4 ,it represents the planets1 and the sun and moon1 in those divisions of the zodiac known to astrologers as their houses2 and perhaps indicates1 by the position in which they are placed1 the period of the year at which this great corner-stone was laid4 ,the inscriptions above have been in quaint ,latin rhyme1 but are now decipherable only in fragments1 and that with the more difficulty because the rusty iron bar that binds the abacus has broken away1 in its expansion1 nearly all the upper portions of the stone1 and with them the signs of contraction1 which are of great importance4 ,i shall give the fragments of them that ,i could decipher2 first as the letters actually stand 7putting those of which ,i am doubtful in brackets1 with a note of interrogation71 and then as ,i would read them4 ,,section ,,lxxxvi4 ,it should be premised that1 in modern astrology1 the houses of the planets are thus arranged3 ,the house of the ,sun1 is ,leo4 ,moon1 ,cancer4 ,mars1 ,aries and ,scorpio4 ,venus1 ,taurus and ,libra4 ,mercury1 ,gemini and ,virgo4 ,jupiter1 ,sagittarius and ,pisces4 ,saturn1 ,capricorn4 ,herschel1 ,aquarius4 ,the ,herschel planet being of course unknown to the old astrologers1 we have only the other six planetary powers1 together with the sun2 and ,aquarius is assigned to ,saturn as his house4 ,i could not find ,capricorn at all2 but this sign may have been broken away1 as the whole capital is grievously defaced4 ,the eighth side of the capital1 which the ,herschel planet would now have occupied1 bears a sculpture of the ,creation of ,man3 it is the most conspicuous side1 the one set diagonally across the angle2 or the eighth in our usual mode of reading the capitals1 from which ,i shall not depart4 ,,section ,,lxxxvii4 ,the first side1 then1 or that towards the ,sea1 has ,aquarius1 as the house of ,saturn1 represented as a seated figure beautifully draped1 pouring a stream of water out of an amphora over the leaves of the capital4 ,his inscription is3 ,,et ,,saturne ,,domus 7,,eclocerunt87 ,i',s #g;,,bre4 ,,section ,,lxxxviii4 ,second side4 ,jupiter1 in his houses ,sagittarius and ,pisces1 represented throned1 with an upper dress disposed in radiating folds about his neck1 and hanging down upon his breast1 ornamented by small pendent trefoiled studs or bosses4 ,he wears the drooping bonnet and long gloves2 but the folds about the neck1 shot forth to express the rays of the star1 are the most remarkable characteristic of the figure4 ,he raises his sceptre in his left hand over ,sagittarius1 represented as the centaur ,chiron2 and holds two thunnies in his right4 ,something rough1 like a third fish1 has been broken away below them2 the more easily because this part of the group is entirely undercut1 and the two fish glitter in the light1 relieved on the deep gloom below the leaves4 ,the inscription is3 ,,inde ,,jovi' ,,dona ,,pises ,,simul ,,atq' ,,cirona4 ,footnote3 ,the comma in these inscriptions stands for a small cuneiform mark1 ,i believe of contraction1 and the small for a zigzag mark of the same kind4 ,the dots or periods are similarly marked on the stone4 ,or1 ,inde ,jovis dona ,pisces simul atque ,chirona4 ,domus is1 ,i suppose1 to be understood before ,jovis3 ,then the house of ,jupiter gives 7or governs87 the fishes and ,chiron4 ,,section ,,lxxxix4 ,third side4 ,mars1 in his houses ,aries and ,scorpio4 ,represented as a very ugly knight in chain mail1 seated sideways on the ram1 whose horns are broken away1 and having a large scorpion in his left hand1 whose tail is broken also1 to the infinite injury of the group1 for it seems to have curled across to the angle leaf1 and formed a bright line of light1 like the fish in the hand of ,jupiter4 ,the knight carries a shield1 on which fire and water are sculptured1 and bears a banner upon his lance1 with the word ,,deferosum1 which puzzled me for some time4 ,it should be read1 ,i believe1 ,de ferro sum2 which would be good ,venetian ,latin for ,i am of iron4 ,,section ,,xc4 ,fourth side4 ,the ,sun1 in his house ,leo4 ,represented under the figure of ,apollo1 sitting on the ,lion1 with rays shooting from his head1 and the world in his hand4 ,the inscription3 ,,tu ,,es ,,domu' ,,solis 7,,quo87 ,,signe ,,leoni4 ,i believe the first phrase is1 ,tune est ,domus solis2 but there is a letter gone after the quo1 and ,i have no idea what case of signum signe stands for4 ,,section ,,xci4 ,fifth side4 ,venus1 in her houses ,taurus and ,libra4 ,the most beautiful figure of the series4 ,she sits upon the bull1 who is deep in the dewlap1 and better cut than most of the animals1 holding a mirror in her right hand1 and the scales in her left4 ,her breast is very nobly and tenderly indicated under the folds of her drapery1 which is exquisitely studied in its fall4 ,what is left of the inscription1 runs3 ,,libra ,,cum ,,tauro ,,domus 99 99 99 ,,purior ,,aur994 ,,section ,,xcii4 ,sixth side4 ,mercury1 represented as wearing a pendent cap1 and holding a book3 he is supported by three children in reclining attitudes1 representing his houses ,gemini and ,virgo4 ,but ,i cannot understand the inscription1 though more than usually legible4 ,,occupat ,,erigone ,,stibons ,,geminuq' ,,lagone4 ,,section ,,xciii4 ,seventh side4 ,the ,moon1 in her house ,cancer4 ,this sculpture1 which is turned towards the ,piazzetta1 is the most picturesque of the series4 ,the moon is represented as a woman in a boat1 upon the sea1 who raises the crescent in her right hand1 and with her left draws a crab out of the waves1 up the boat's side4 ,the moon was1 ,i believe1 represented in ,egyptian sculptures as in a boat2 but ,i rather think the ,venetian was not aware of this1 and that he meant to express the peculiar sweetness of the moonlight at ,venice1 as seen across the lagoons4 ,whether this was intended by putting the planet in the boat1 may be questionable1 but assuredly the idea was meant to be conveyed by the dress of the figure4 ,for all the draperies of the other figures on this capital1 as well as on the rest of the faade1 are disposed in severe but full folds1 showing little of the forms beneath them2 but the moon's drapery ripples down to her feet1 so as exactly to suggest the trembling of the moonlight on the waves4 ,this beautiful idea is highly characteristic of the thoughtfulness of the early sculptors3 five hundred men may be now found who could have cut the drapery1 as such1 far better1 for one who would have disposed its folds with this intention4 ,the inscription is3 ,,lune ,,cancer ,,domu ,t4 ,,pbet ,,iorbe ,,signoru4 ,,section ,,xciv4 ,eighth side4 ,god creating ,man4 ,represented as a throned figure1 with a glory round the head1 laying his left hand on the head of a naked youth1 and sustaining him with his right hand4 ,the inscription puzzled me for a long time2 but except the lost r and m of formavit1 and a letter quite undefaced1 but to me unintelligble1 before the word ,eva1 in the shape of a figure of #g1 ,i have safely ascertained the rest4 ,,delimo ,,dsada ,,deco ,,stafo 99 99 ,,avit#g;,,eva4 ,or ,de limo ,dominus ,adam1 de costa fo7rm7 avit ,evam2 ,from the dust the ,lord made ,adam1 and from the rib ,eve4 ,i imagine the whole of this capital1 therefore--the principal one of the old palace1--to have been intended to signify1 first1 the formation of the planets for the service of man upon the earth2 secondly1 the entire subjection of the fates and fortune of man to the will of ,god1 as determined from the time when the earth and stars were made1 and1 in fact1 written in the volume of the stars themselves4 ,thus interpreted1 the doctrines of judicial astrology were not only consistent with1 but an aid to1 the most spiritual and humble ,christianity4 ,in the workmanship and grouping of its foliage1 this capital is1 on the whole1 the finest ,i know in ,europe4 ,the ,sculptor has put his whole strength into it4 ,i trust that it will appear among the other ,venetian casts lately taken for the ,crystal ,palace2 but if not1 ,i have myself cast all its figures1 and two of its leaves1 and ,i intend to give drawings of them on a large scale in my folio work4 ,,section ,,xcv4 ,,nineteenth ,,capital4 ,this is1 of course1 the second counting from the ,sea1 on the ,piazzetta side of the palace1 calling that of the ,fig-tree angle the first4 ,it is the most important capital1 as a piece of evidence in point of dates1 in the whole palace4 ,great pains have been taken with it1 and in some portion of the accompanying furniture or ornaments of each of its figures a small piece of colored marble has been inlaid1 with peculiar significance3 for the capital represents the arts of sculpture and architecture2 and the inlaying of the colored stones 7which are far too small to be effective at a distance1 and are found in this one capital only of the whole series7 is merely an expression of the architect's feeling of the essential importance of this art of inlaying1 and of the value of color generally in his own art4 ,,section ,,xcvi4 ,first side4 ,,st4 ,,simplicius3 so inscribed4 ,a figure working with a pointed chisel on a small oblong block of green serpentine1 about four inches long by one wide1 inlaid in the capital4 ,the chisel is1 of course1 in the left hand1 but the right is held up open1 with the palm outwards4 ,second side4 ,a crowned figure1 carving the image of a child on a small statue1 with a ground of red marble4 ,the sculptured figure is highly finished1 and is in type of head much like the ,ham or ,japheth at the ,vine angle4 ,inscription effaced4 ,third side4 ,an old man1 uncrowned1 but with curling hair1 at work on a small column1 with its capital complete1 and a little shaft of dark red marble1 spotted with paler red4 ,the capital is precisely of the form of that found in the palace of the ,tiepolos and the other thirteenth century work of ,venice4 ,this one figure would be quite enough1 without any other evidence whatever1 to determine the date of this flank of the ,ducal ,palace as not later1 at all events1 than the first half of the fourteenth century4 ,its inscription is broken away1 all but ,,disipulo4 ,fourth side4 ,a crowned figure2 but the object on which it has been working is broken away1 and all the inscription except ,,st4 ,e7,n87,,as4 ,fifth side4 ,a man with a turban1 and a sharp chisel1 at work on a kind of panel or niche1 the back of which is of red marble4 ,sixth side4 ,a crowned figure1 with hammer and chisel1 employed on a little range of windows of the fifth order1 having roses set1 instead of orbicular ornaments1 between the spandrils with a rich cornice1 and a band of marble inserted above4 ,this sculpture assures us of the date of the fifth order window1 which it shows to have been universal in the early fourteenth century4 ,there are also five arches in the block on which the sculptor is working1 marking the frequency of the number five in the window groups of the time4 ,seventh side4 ,a figure at work on a pilaster1 with ,lombardic thirteenth century capital 7for account of the series of forms in ,venetian capitals1 see the final ,appendix of the next volume71 the shaft of dark red spotted marble4 ,eighth side4 ,a figure with a rich open crown1 working on a delicate recumbent statue1 the head of which is laid on a pillow covered with a rich chequer pattern2 the whole supported on a block of dark red marble4 ,inscription broken away1 all but ,,st4 ,,sym4 7,symmachus87 ,,tv 99 99 ,,anvs4 ,there appear1 therefore1 altogether to have been five saints1 two of them popes1 if ,simplicius is the pope of that name 7three in front1 two on the fourth and sixth sides71 alternating with the three uncrowned workmen in the manual labor of sculpture4 ,i did not1 therefore1 insult our present architects in saying above that they ought to work in the mason's yard with their men4 ,it would be difficult to find a more interesting expression of the devotional spirit in which all great work was undertaken at this time4 ,,section ,,xcvii4 ,,twentieth ,,capital4 ,it is adorned with heads of animals1 and is the finest of the whole series in the broad massiveness of its effect2 so simply characteristic1 indeed1 of the grandeur of style in the entire building1 that ,i chose it for the first ,plate in my folio work4 ,in spite of the sternness of its plan1 however1 it is wrought with great care in surface detail2 and the ornamental value of the minute chasing obtained by the delicate plumage of the birds1 and the clustered bees on the honeycomb in the bear's mouth1 opposed to the strong simplicity of its general form1 cannot be too much admired4 ,there are also more grace1 life1 and variety in the sprays of foliage on each side of it1 and under the heads1 than in any other capital of the series1 though the earliness of the workmanship is marked by considerable hardness and coldness in the larger heads4 ,a ,northern ,gothic workman1 better acquainted with bears and wolves than it was possible to become in ,st4 ,mark's ,place1 would have put far more life into these heads1 but he could not have composed them more skilfully4 ,,section ,,xcviii4 ,first side4 ,a lion with a stag's haunch in his mouth4 ,those readers who have the folio plate1 should observe the peculiar way in which the ear is cut into the shape of a ring1 jagged or furrowed on the edge2 an archaic mode of treatment peculiar1 in the ,ducal ,palace1 to the lion's heads of the fourteenth century4 ,the moment we reach the ,renaissance work1 the lion's ears are smooth4 ,inscribed simply1 ,,leo4 ,second side4 ,a wolf with a dead bird in his mouth1 its body wonderfully true in expression of the passiveness of death4 ,the feathers are each wrought with a central quill and radiating filaments4 ,inscribed ,,lupus4 ,third side4 ,a fox1 not at all like one1 with a dead cock in his mouth1 its comb and pendent neck admirably designed so as to fall across the great angle leaf of the capital1 its tail hanging down on the other side1 its long straight feathers exquisitely cut4 ,inscribed 7,,vulp87,,is4 ,fourth side4 ,entirely broken away4 ,fifth side4 ,,aper4 ,well tusked1 with a head of maize in his mouth2 at least ,i suppose it to be maize1 though shaped like a pine-cone4 ,sixth side4 ,,chanis4 ,with a bone1 very ill cut2 and a bald-headed species of dog1 with ugly flap ears4 ,seventh side4 ,,muscipulus4 ,with a rat 787 in his mouth4 ,eighth side4 ,,ursus4 ,with a honeycomb1 covered with large bees4 ,,section ,,xcix4 ,,twenty-,,first ,,capital4 ,represents the principal inferior professions4 ,first side4 ,an old man1 with his brow deeply wrinkled1 and very expressive features1 beating in a kind of mortar with a hammer4 ,inscribed ,,lapicida ,,sum4 ,second side4 ,i believe1 a goldsmith2 he is striking a small flat bowl or patera1 on a pointed anvil1 with a light hammer4 ,the inscription is gone4 ,third side4 ,a shoemaker with a shoe in his hand1 and an instrument for cutting leather suspended beside him4 ,inscription undecipherable4 ,fourth side4 ,much broken4 ,a carpenter planing a beam resting on two horizontal logs4 ,inscribed ,,carpentarius ,,sum4 ,fifth side4 ,a figure shovelling fruit into a tub2 the latter very carefully carved from what appears to have been an excellent piece of cooperage4 ,two thin laths cross each other over the top of it4 ,the inscription1 now lost1 was1 according to ,selvatico1 ,,mensurator8 ,sixth side4 ,a man1 with a large hoe1 breaking the ground1 which lies in irregular furrows and clods before him4 ,now undecipherable1 but according to ,selvatico1 ,,agrichola4 ,seventh side4 ,a man1 in a pendent cap1 writing on a large scroll which falls over his knee4 ,inscribed ,,notarius ,,sum4 ,eighth side4 ,a man forging a sword1 or scythe-blade3 he wears a large skull-cap2 beats with a large hammer on a solid anvil2 and is inscribed ,,faber ,,sum4 ,,section ,c4 ,,twenty-,,second ,,capital4 ,the ,ages of ,man2 and the influence of the planets on human life4 ,first side4 ,the moon1 governing infancy for four years1 according to ,selvatico4 ,i have no note of this side1 having1 ,i suppose1 been prevented from raising the ladder against it by some fruit-stall or other impediment in the regular course of my examination2 and then forgotten to return to it4 ,second side4 ,a child with a tablet1 and an alphabet inscribed on it4 ,the legend above is ,,mecureu' ,,dnt4 ,,puericie ,,pan4 ,x4 ,or1 ,mercurius dominatur puerilite per annos ,x4 7,selvatico reads ,,vii47 ,mercury governs boyhood for ten 7or seven7 years4 ,third side4 ,an older youth1 with another tablet1 but broken4 ,inscribed ,,adoloscencie 99 99 99 ,p4 ,,an4 ,,vii4 ,selvatico misses this side altogether1 as ,i did the first1 so that the lost planet is irrecoverable1 as the inscription is now defaced4 ,note the o for e in adolescentia2 so also we constantly find u for o2 showing1 together with much other incontestable evidence of the same kind1 how full and deep the old pronunciation of ,latin always remained1 and how ridiculous our ,english mincing of the vowels would have sounded to a ,roman ear4 ,fourth side4 ,a youth with a hawk on his fist4 ,,iuventuti ,,dnt4 ,,sol4 ,p4 ,,an4 ,,xix4 ,the sue governs youth for nineteen years4 ,fifth side4 ,a man sitting1 helmed1 with a sword over his shoulder4 ,inscribed ,,senectuti ,,dnt ,,mars4 ,p4 ,,an4 ,,xv4 ,mars governs manhood for fifteen years4 ,sixth side4 ,a very graceful and serene figure1 in the pendent cap1 reading4 ,,senicie ,,dnt ,,jupiter1 ,p4 ,,ann4 ,,xii4 ,jupiter governs age for twelve years4 ,seventh side4 ,an old man in a skull-cap1 praying4 ,,decrepite ,,dnt ,,satn ,,uq' ,,admote4 7,saturnus usque ad mortem47 ,saturn governs decrepitude until death4 ,eighth side4 ,the dead body lying on a mattress4 ,,ultima ,,est ,,mors ,,pena ,,peccati4 ,last comes death1 the penalty of sin4 ,,section ,,ci4 ,shakespeare's ,seven ,ages are of course merely the expression of this early and well-known system4 ,he has deprived the dotage of its devotion2 but ,i think wisely1 as the ,italian system would imply that devotion was1 or should be1 always delayed until dotage4 ,,twenty-,,third ,,capital4 ,i agree with ,selvatico in thinking this has been restored4 ,it is decorated with large and vulgar heads4 ,,section ,,cii4 ,,twenty-,,fourth ,,capital4 ,this belongs to the large shaft which sustains the great party wall of the ,sala del ,gran ,consiglio4 ,the shaft is thicker than the rest2 but the capital1 though ancient1 is coarse and somewhat inferior in design to the others of the series4 ,it represents the history of marriage3 the lover first seeing his mistress at a window1 then addressing her1 bringing her presents2 then the bridal1 the birth and the death of a child4 ,but ,i have not been able to examine these sculptures properly1 because the pillar is encumbered by the railing which surrounds the two guns set before the ,austrian guard-house4 ,,section ,,ciii4 ,,twenty-,,fifth ,,capital4 ,we have here the employments of the months1 with which we are already tolerably acquainted4 ,there are1 however1 one or two varieties worth noticing in this series4 ,first side4 ,march4 ,sitting triumphantly in a rich dress1 as the beginning of the year4 ,second side4 ,april and ,may4 ,april with a lamb3 ,may with a feather fan in her hand4 ,third side4 ,june4 ,carrying cherries in a basket4 ,i did not give this series with the others in the previous chapter1 because this representation of ,june is peculiarly ,venetian4 ,it is called the month of cherries1 mese delle ceriese1 in the popular rhyme on the conspiracy of ,tiepolo1 quoted above1 ,vol4 ,i4 ,the cherries principally grown near ,venice are of a deep red color1 and large1 but not of high flavor1 though refreshing4 ,they are carved upon the pillar with great care1 all their stalks undercut4 ,fourth side4 ,july and ,august4 ,the first reaping2 the leaves of the straw being given1 shooting out from the tubular stalk4 ,august1 opposite1 beats 7the grain87 in a basket4 ,fifth side4 ,september4 ,a woman standing in a wine-tub1 and holding a branch of vine4 ,very beautiful4 ,sixth side4 ,october and ,november4 ,i could not make out their occupation2 they seem to be roasting or boiling some root over a fire4 ,seventh side4 ,december4 ,killing pigs1 as usual4 ,eighth side4 ,january warming his feet1 and ,february frying fish4 ,this last employment is again as characteristic of the ,venetian winter as the cherries are of the ,venetian summer4 ,the inscriptions are undecipherable1 except a few letters here and there1 and the words ,,marcius1 ,,aprilis1 and ,,februarius4 ,this is the last of the capitals of the early palace2 the next1 or twenty-sixth capital1 is the first of those executed in the fifteenth century under ,foscari2 and hence to the ,judgment angle the traveller has nothing to do but to compare the base copies of the earlier work with their originals1 or to observe the total want of invention in the ,renaissance sculptor1 wherever he has depended on his own resources4 ,this1 however1 always with the exception of the twenty-seventh and of the last capital1 which are both fine4 ,i shall merely enumerate the subjects and point out the plagiarisms of these capitals1 as they are not worth description4 ,,section ,,civ4 ,,twenty-,,sixth ,,capital4 ,copied from the fifteenth1 merely changing the succession of the figures4 ,,twenty-,,seventh ,,capital4 ,i think it possible that this may be part of the old work displaced in joining the new palace with the old2 at all events1 it is well designed1 though a little coarse4 ,it represents eight different kinds of fruit1 each in a basket2 the characters well given1 and groups well arranged1 but without much care or finish4 ,the names are inscribed above1 though somewhat unnecessarily1 and with certainly as much disrespect to the beholder's intelligence as the sculptor's art1 namely1 ,,zerexis1 ,,piri1 ,,chucumeris1 ,,persici1 ,,zuche1 ,,moloni1 ,,fici1 ,,huva4 ,zerexis 7cherries7 and ,zuche 7gourds7 both begin with the same letter1 whether meant for z1 s1 or c ,i am not sure4 ,the ,zuche are the common gourds1 divided into two protuberances1 one larger than the other1 like a bottle compressed near the neck2 and the ,moloni are the long water-melons1 which1 roasted1 form a staple food of the ,venetians to this day4 ,,section ,,cv4 ,,twenty-,,eighth ,,capital4 ,copied from the seventh4 ,,twenty-,,ninth ,,capital4 ,copied from the ninth4 ,,thirtieth ,,capital4 ,copied from the tenth4 ,the ,accidia is noticeable as having the inscription complete1 ,,accidia ,,me ,,stringit2 and the ,luxuria for its utter want of expression1 having a severe and calm face1 a robe up to the neck1 and her hand upon her breast4 ,the inscription is also different3 ,,luxuria ,,sum ,,sterc',s 787 ,,inferi7874 ,,thirty-,,first ,,capital4 ,copied from the eighth4 ,,thirty-,,second ,,capital4 ,has no inscription1 only fully robed figures laying their hands1 without any meaning1 on their own shoulders1 heads1 or chins1 or on the leaves around them4 ,,thirty-,,third ,,capital4 ,copied from the twelfth4 ,,thirty-,,fourth ,,capital4 ,copied from the eleventh4 ,,thirty-,,fifth ,,capital4 ,has children1 with birds or fruit1 pretty in features1 and utterly inexpressive1 like the cherubs of the eighteenth century4 ,,section ,,cvi4 ,,thirty-,,sixth ,,capital4 ,this is the last of the ,piazzetta faade1 the elaborate one under the ,judgment angle4 ,its foliage is copied from the eighteenth at the opposite side1 with an endeavor on the part of the ,renaissance sculptor to refine upon it1 by which he has merely lost some of its truth and force4 ,this capital will1 however1 be always thought1 at first1 the most beautiful of the whole series3 and indeed it is very noble2 its groups of figures most carefully studied1 very graceful1 and much more pleasing than those of the earlier work1 though with less real power in them2 and its foliage is only inferior to that of the magnificent ,fig-tree angle4 ,it represents1 on its front or first side1 ,justice enthroned1 seated on two lions2 and on the seven other sides examples of acts of justice or good government1 or figures of lawgivers1 in the following order3 ,second side4 ,aristotle1 with two pupils1 giving laws4 ,inscribed3 ,,aristot 99 99 ,,che ,,die ,,lege4 ,aristotle who declares laws4 ,third side4 ,i have mislaid my note of this side3 ,selvatico and ,lazari call it ,isidore 7874 ,footnote3 ,can they have mistaken the ,,isipione of the fifth side for the word ,isidore8 ,fourth side4 ,solon with his pupils4 ,inscribed3 ,,sal',o ,,uno ,,dei ,,sete ,,savi ,,di ,,grecia ,,che ,,die ,,lege4 ,solon1 one of the seven sages of ,greece1 who declares laws4 ,note1 by the by1 the pure ,venetian dialect used in this capital1 instead of the ,latin in the more ancient ones4 ,one of the seated pupils in this sculpture is remarkably beautiful in the sweep of his flowing drapery4 ,fifth side4 ,the chastity of ,scipio4 ,inscribed3 ,,isipione ,a ,,chastita ,,ch 99 99 99 ,e ,,la ,,fia 7e la figlia87 99 99 ,,are4 ,a soldier in a plumed bonnet presents a kneeling maiden to the seated ,scipio1 who turns thoughtfully away4 ,sixth side4 ,numa ,pompilius building churches4 ,,numa ,,pompilio ,,imperador ,,edifichador ,,di ,,tempi ,e ,,chiese4 ,numa1 in a kind of hat with a crown above it1 directing a soldier in ,roman armor 7note this1 as contrasted with the mail of the earlier capitals74 ,they point to a tower of three stories filled with tracery4 ,seventh side4 ,moses receiving the law4 ,inscribed3 ,,quando ,,mose ,,receve ,,la ,,lece ,i ,,sul ,,monte4 ,moses kneels on a rock1 whence springs a beautifully fancied tree1 with clusters of three berries in the centre of the three leaves1 sharp and quaint1 like fine ,northern ,gothic4 ,the half figure of the ,deity comes out of the abacus1 the arm meeting that of ,moses1 both at full stretch1 with the stone tablets between4 ,eighth side4 ,trajan doing justice to the ,widow4 ,,trajano ,,imperador ,,che ,,fa ,,justitia ,a ,,la ,,vedova4 ,he is riding spiritedly1 his mantle blown out behind2 the widow kneeling before his horse4 ,,section ,,cvii4 ,the reader will observe that this capital is of peculiar interest in its relation to the much disputed question of the character of the later government of ,venice4 ,it is the assertion by that government of its belief that ,justice only could be the foundation of its stability2 as these stones of ,justice and ,judgment are the foundation of its halls of council4 ,and this profession of their faith may be interpreted in two ways4 ,most modern historians would call it1 in common with the continual reference to the principles of justice in the political and judicial language of the period1 ,footnote3 ,compare the speech of the ,doge ,mocenigo1 above1--first justice1 and then the interests of the state3 and see ,vol4 ,,iii4 ,chap4 ,,ii ,section ,,lix4 nothing more than a cloak for consummate violence and guilt2 and it may easily be proved to have been so in myriads of instances4 ,but in the main1 ,i believe the expression of feeling to be genuine4 ,i do not believe1 of the majority of the leading ,venetians of this period whose portraits have come down to us1 that they were deliberately and everlastingly hypocrites4 ,i see no hypocrisy in their countenances4 ,much capacity of it1 much subtlety1 much natural and acquired reserve2 but no meanness4 ,on the contrary1 infinite grandeur1 repose1 courage1 and the peculiar unity and tranquillity of expression which come of sincerity or wholeness of heart1 and which it would take much demonstration to make me believe could by any possibility be seen on the countenance of an insincere man4 ,i trust1 therefore1 that these ,venetian nobles of the fifteenth century did1 in the main1 desire to do judgment and justice to all men2 but1 as the whole system of morality had been by this time undermined by the teaching of the ,romish ,church1 the idea of justice had become separated from that of truth1 so that dissimulation in the interest of the state assumed the aspect of duty4 ,we had1 perhaps1 better consider1 with some carefulness1 the mode in which our own government is carried on1 and the occasional difference between parliamentary and private morality1 before we judge mercilessly of the ,venetians in this respect4 ,the secrecy with which their political and criminal trials were conducted1 appears to modern eyes like a confession of sinister intentions2 but may it not also be considered1 and with more probability1 as the result of an endeavor to do justice in an age of violence8--the only means by which ,law could establish its footing in the midst of feudalism4 ,might not ,irish juries at this day justifiably desire to conduct their proceedings with some greater approximation to the judicial principles of the ,council of ,ten8 ,finally1 if we examine1 with critical accuracy1 the evidence on which our present impressions of ,venetian government are founded1 we shall discover1 in the first place1 that two-thirds of the traditions of its cruelties are romantic fables3 in the second1 that the crimes of which it can be proved to have been guilty1 differ only from those committed by the other ,italian powers in being done less wantonly1 and under profounder conviction of their political expediency3 and lastly1 that the final degradation of the ,venetian power appears owing not so much to the principles of its government1 as to their being forgotten in the pursuit of pleasure4 ,,section ,,cviii4 ,we have now examined the portions of the palace which contain the principal evidence of the feeling of its builders4 ,the capitals of the1 upper arcade are exceedingly various in their character2 their design is formed1 as in the lower series1 of eight leaves1 thrown into volutes at the angles1 and sustaining figures at the flanks2 but these figures have no inscriptions1 and though evidently not without meaning1 cannot be interpreted without more knowledge than ,i possess of ancient symbolism4 ,many of the capitals toward the ,sea appear to have been restored1 and to be rude copies of the ancient ones2 others1 though apparently original1 have been somewhat carelessly wrought2 but those of them1 which are both genuine and carefully treated1 are even finer in composition than any1 except the eighteenth1 in the lower arcade4 ,the traveller in ,venice ought to ascend into the corridor1 and examine with great care the series of capitals which extend on the ,piazzetta side from the ,fig-tree angle to the pilaster which carries the party wall of the ,sala del ,gran ,consiglio4 ,as examples of graceful composition in massy capitals meant for hard service and distant effect1 these are among the finest things ,i know in ,gothic art2 and that above the fig-tree is remarkable for its sculpture of the four winds2 each on the side turned towards the wind represented4 ,levante1 the east wind2 a figure with rays round its head1 to show that it is always clear weather when that wind blows1 raising the sun out of the sea3 ,hotro1 the south wind2 crowned1 holding the sun in its right hand3 ,ponente1 the west wind2 plunging the sun into the sea3 and ,tramontana1 the north wind2 looking up at the north star4 ,this capital should be carefully examined1 if for no other reason than to attach greater distinctness of idea to the magnificent verbiage of ,milton3 ,thwart of these1 as fierce1 ,forth rush the ,levant and the ,ponent winds1 ,eurus1 and ,zephyr2 with their lateral noise1 ,sirocco and ,libecchio4 ,i may also especially point out the bird feeding its three young ones on the seventh pillar on the ,piazzetta side2 but there is no end to the fantasy of these sculptures2 and the traveller ought to observe them all carefully1 until he comes to the great ,pilaster or complicated pier which sustains the party wall of the ,sala del ,consiglio2 that is to say1 the forty-seventh capital of the whole series1 counting from the pilaster of the ,vine angle inclusive1 as in the series of the lower arcade4 ,the forty-eighth1 forty-ninth1 and fiftieth are bad work1 but they are old2 the fifty-first is the first ,renaissance capital of the upper arcade3 the first new lion's head with smooth ears1 cut in the time of ,foscari1 is over the fiftieth capital2 and that capital1 with its shaft1 stands on the apex of the eighth arch from the ,sea1 on the ,piazzetta side1 of which one spandril is masonry of the fourteenth and the other of the fifteenth century4 ,,section ,,cix4 ,the reader who is not able to examine the building on the spot may be surprised at the definiteness with which the point of junction is ascertainable2 but a glance at the lowest range of leaves in the opposite ,plate 7,,xx47 will enable him to judge of the grounds on which the above statement is made4 ,fig4 #ab is a cluster of leaves from the capital of the ,four ,winds2 early work of the finest time4 ,fig4 #ac is a leaf from the great ,renaissance capital at the ,judgment angle1 worked in imitation of the older leafage4 ,fig4 #ad is a leaf from one of the ,renaissance capitals of the upper arcade1 which are all worked in the natural manner of the period4 ,it will be seen that it requires no great ingenuity to distinguish between such design as that of fig4 #ab and that of fig4 #ad4 ,,section ,,cx4 ,it is very possible that the reader may at first like fig4 #ad best4 ,i shall endeavor1 in the next chapter1 to show why he should not2 but it must also be noted1 that fig4 #ab has lost1 and fig4 #ad gained1 both largely1 under the hands of the engraver4 ,all the bluntness and coarseness of feeling in the workmanship of fig4 #ad have disappeared on this small scale1 and all the subtle refinements in the broad masses of fig4 #ab have vanished4 ,they could not1 indeed1 be rendered in line engraving1 unless by the hand of ,albert ,durer2 and ,i have1 therefore1 abandoned1 for the present1 all endeavor to represent any more important mass of the early sculpture of the ,ducal ,palace3 but ,i trust that1 in a few months1 casts of many portions will be within the reach of the inhabitants of ,london1 and that they will be able to judge for themselves of their perfect1 pure1 unlabored naturalism2 the freshness1 elasticity1 and softness of their leafage1 united with the most noble symmetry and severe reserve1--no running to waste1 no loose or experimental lines1 no extravagance1 and no weakness4 ,their design is always sternly architectural2 there is none of the wildness or redundance of natural vegetation1 but there is all the strength1 freedom1 and tossing flow of the breathing leaves1 and all the undulation of their surfaces1 rippled1 as they grew1 by the summer winds1 as the sands are by the sea4 ,,section ,,cxi4 ,this early sculpture of the ,ducal ,palace1 then1 represents the state of ,gothic work in ,venice at its central and proudest period1 i4 e4 circa #acej4 ,after this time1 all is decline1--of what nature and by what steps1 we shall inquire in the ensuing chapter2 for as this investigation1 though still referring to ,gothic architecture1 introduces us to the first symptoms of the ,renaissance influence1 ,i have considered it as properly belonging to the third division of our subject4 ,,section ,,cxii4 ,and as1 under the shadow of these nodding leaves1 we bid farewell to the great ,gothic spirit1 here also we may cease our examination of the details of the ,ducal ,palace2 for above its upper arcade there are only the four traceried windows1 and one or two of the third order on the ,rio ,faade1 which can be depended upon as exhibiting the original workmanship of the older palace4 ,footnote3 ,some further details respecting these portions1 as well as some necessary confirmations of my statements of dates1 are1 however1 given in ,appendix ,i41 ,vol4 ,,iii4 ,i feared wearying the general reader by introducing them into the text4 ,i examined the capitals of the four other windows on the faade1 and of those on the ,piazzetta1 one by one1 with great care1 and ,i found them all to be of far inferior workmanship to those which retain their traceries3 ,i believe the stone framework of these windows must have been so cracked and injured by the flames of the great fire1 as to render it necessary to replace it by new traceries2 and that the present mouldings and capitals are base imitations of the original ones4 ,the traceries were at first1 however1 restored in their complete form1 as the holes for the bolts which fastened the bases of their shafts are still to be seen in the window-sills1 as well as the marks of the inner mouldings on the soffits4 ,how much the stone facing of the faade1 the parapets1 and the shafts and niches of the angles1 retain of their original masonry1 it is also impossible to determine2 but there is nothing in the workmanship of any of them demanding especial notice2 still less in the large central windows on each faade which are entirely of ,renaissance execution4 ,all that is admirable in these portions of the building is the disposition of their various parts and masses1 which is without doubt the same as in the original fabric1 and calculated1 when seen from a distance1 to produce the same impression4 ,,section ,,cxiii4 ,not so in the interior4 ,all vestige of the earlier modes of decoration was here1 of course1 destroyed by the fires2 and the severe and religious work of ,guariento and ,bellini has been replaced by the wildness of ,tintoret and the luxury of ,veronese4 ,but in this case1 though widely different in temper1 the art of the renewal was at least intellectually as great as that which had perished3 and though the halls of the ,ducal ,palace are no more representative of the character of the men by whom it was built1 each of them is still a colossal casket of priceless treasure2 a treasure whose safety has till now depended on its being despised1 and which at this moment1 and as ,i write1 is piece by piece being destroyed for ever4 ,,section ,,cxiv4 ,the reader will forgive my quitting our more immediate subject1 in order briefly to explain the causes and the nature of this destruction2 for the matter is simply the most important of all that can be brought under our present consideration respecting the state of art in ,europe4 ,the fact is1 that the greater number of persons or societies throughout ,europe1 whom wealth1 or chance1 or inheritance has put in possession of valuable pictures1 do not know a good picture from a bad one1 and have no idea in what the value of a picture really consists4 ,footnote3 ,many persons1 capable of quickly sympathizing with any excellence1 when once pointed out to them1 easily deceive themselves into the supposition that they are judges of art4 ,there is only one real test of such power of judgment4 ,can they1 at a glance1 discover a good picture obscured by the filth1 and confused among the rubbish1 of the pawnbroker's or dealer's garret8 ,the reputation of certain work is raised partly by accident1 partly by the just testimony of artists1 partly by the various and generally bad taste of the public 7no picture1 that ,i know of1 has ever1 in modern times1 attained popularity1 in the full sense of the term1 without having some exceedingly bad qualities mingled with its good ones71 and when this reputation has once been completely established1 it little matters to what state the picture may be reduced3 few minds are so completely devoid of imagination as to be unable to invest it with the beauties which they have heard attributed to it4 ,,section ,,cxv4 ,this being so1 the pictures that are most valued are for the most part those by masters of established renown1 which are highly or neatly finished1 and of a size small enough to admit of their being placed in galleries or saloons1 so as to be made subjects of ostentation1 and to be easily seen by a crowd4 ,for the support of the fame and value of such pictures1 little more is necessary than that they should be kept bright1 partly by cleaning1 which is incipient destruction1 and partly by what is called restoring1 that is1 painting over1 which is of course total destruction4 ,nearly all the gallery pictures in modern ,europe have been more or less destroyed by one or other of these operations1 generally exactly in proportion to the estimation in which they are held2 and as1 originally1 the smaller and more highly finished works of any great master are usually his worst1 the contents of many of our most celebrated galleries are by this time1 in reality1 of very small value indeed4 ,,section ,,cxvi4 ,on the other hand1 the most precious works of any noble painter are usually those which have been done quickly1 and in the heat of the first thought1 on a large scale1 for places where there was little likelihood of their being well seen1 or for patrons from whom there was little prospect of rich remuneration4 ,in general1 the best things are done in this way1 or else in the enthusiasm and pride of accomplishing some great purpose1 such as painting a cathedral or a camposanto from one end to the other1 especially when the time has been short1 and circumstances disadvantageous4 ,,section ,,cxvii4 ,works thus executed are of course despised1 on account of their quantity1 as well as their frequent slightness1 in the places where they exist2 and they are too large to be portable1 and too vast and comprehensive to be read on the spot1 in the hasty temper of the present age4 ,they are1 therefore1 almost universally neglected1 whitewashed by custodes1 shot at by soldiers1 suffered to drop from the walls1 piecemeal in powder and rags by society in general2 but1 which is an advantage more than counterbalancing all this evil1 they are not often restored4 ,what is left of them1 however fragmentary1 however ruinous1 however obscured and defiled1 is almost always the real thing2 there are no fresh readings3 and therefore the greatest treasures of art which ,europe at this moment possesses are pieces of old plaster on ruinous brick walls1 where the lizards burrow and bask1 and which few other living creatures ever approach2 and torn sheets of dim canvas1 in waste corners of churches2 and mildewed stains1 in the shape of human figures1 on the walls of dark chambers1 which now and then an exploring traveller causes to be unlocked by their tottering custode1 looks hastily round1 and retreats from in a weary satisfaction at his accomplished duty4 ,,section ,,cxviii4 ,many of the pictures on the ceilings and walls of the ,ducal ,palace1 by ,paul ,veronese and ,tintoret1 have been more or less reduced1 by neglect1 to this condition4 ,unfortunately they are not altogether without reputation1 and their state has drawn the attention of the ,venetian authorities and academicians4 ,it constantly happens1 that public bodies who will not pay five pounds to preserve a picture1 will pay fifty to repaint it2 ,footnote3 ,this is easily explained4 ,there are1 of course1 in every place and at all periods1 bad painters who conscientiously believe that they can improve every picture they touch2 and these men are generally1 in their presumption1 the most influential over the innocence1 whether of monarchs or municipalities4 ,the carpenter and slater have little influence in recommending the repairs of the roof2 but the bad painter has great influence1 as well as interest1 in recommending those of the picture4 and when ,i was at ,venice in #ahdf1 there were two remedial operations carrying on1 at one and the same time1 in the two buildings which contain the pictures of greatest value in the city 7as pieces of color1 of greatest value in the world71 curiously illustrative of this peculiarity in human nature4 ,buckets were set on the floor of the ,scuola di ,san ,rocco1 in every shower1 to catch the rain which came through the pictures of ,tintoret on the ceiling2 while in the ,ducal ,palace1 those of ,paul ,veronese were themselves laid on the floor to be repainted2 and ,i was myself present at the re-illumination of the breast of a white horse1 with a brush1 at the end of a stick five feet long1 luxuriously dipped in a common house-painter's vessel of paint4 ,this was1 of course1 a large picture4 ,the process has already been continued in an equally destructive1 though somewhat more delicate manner1 over the whole of the humbler canvases on the ceiling of the ,sala del ,gran ,consiglio2 and ,i heard it threatened when ,i was last in ,venice 7#ahea-b7 to the ,paradise at its extremity1 which is yet in tolerable condition1--the largest work of ,tintoret1 and the most wonderful piece of pure1 manly1 and masterly oil-painting in the world4 ,,section ,,cxix4 ,i leave these facts to the consideration of the ,european patrons of art4 ,twenty years hence they will be acknowledged and regretted2 at present1 ,i am well aware1 that it is of little use to bring them forward1 except only to explain the present impossibility of stating what pictures are1 and what were1 in the interior of the ,ducal ,palace4 ,i can only say1 that in the winter of #ahea1 the ,paradise of ,tintoret was still comparatively uninjured1 and that the ,camera di ,collegio1 and its antechamber1 and the ,sala de' ,pregadi were full of pictures by ,veronese and ,tintoret1 that made their walls as precious as so many kingdoms2 so precious indeed1 and so full of majesty1 that sometimes when walking at evening on the ,lido1 whence the great chain of the ,alps1 crested with silver clouds1 might be seen rising above the front of the ,ducal ,palace1 ,i used to feel as much awe in gazing on the building as on the hills1 and could believe that ,god had done a greater work in breathing into the narrowness of dust the mighty spirits by whom its haughty walls had been raised1 and its burning legends written1 than in lifting the rocks of granite higher than the clouds of heaven1 and veiling them with their various mantle of purple flower and shadowy pine4 ,,note4 ,i have printed the chapter on the ,ducal ,palace1 quite one of the most important pieces of work done in my life1 without alteration of its references to the plates of the first edition1 because ,i hope both to republish some of those plates1 and together with them1 a few permanent photographs 7both from the sculpture of the ,palace itself1 and from my own drawings of its detail71 which may be purchased by the possessors of this smaller edition to bind with the book or not1 as they please4 ,this separate publication ,i can now soon set in hand2 and ,i believe it will cause much less confusion to leave for the present the references to the old plates untouched4 ,the wood-blocks used for the first three figures in this chapter1 are the original ones3 that of the ,ducal ,palace faade was drawn on the wood by my own hand1 and cost me more trouble than it is worth1 being merely given for division and proportion4 ,the greater part of the first volume1 omitted in this edition after the ,quarry1 will be republished in the series of my reprinted works1 with its original wood-blocks4 ,but my mind is mainly set now on getting some worthy illustration of the ,st4 ,mark's mosaics1 and of such remains of the old capitals 7now for ever removed1 in process of the ,palace restoration1 from their life in sea wind and sunlight1 and their ancient duty1 to a museum-grave7 as ,i have useful record of1 drawn in their native light4 ,the series1 both of these and of the earlier mosaics1 of which the sequence is sketched in the preceding volume1 and farther explained in the third number of ,st4 ,mark's ,rest1 become to me every hour of my life more precious both for their art and their meaning2 and if any of my readers care to help me1 in my old age1 to fulfil my life's work rightly1 let them send what pence they can spare for these objects to my publisher1 ,mr4 ,allen1 ,sunnyside1 ,orpington1 ,kent4 ,since writing the first part of this note1 ,i have received a letter from ,mr4 ,burne ,jones1 assuring me of his earnest sympathy in its object1 and giving me hope even of his superintendence of the drawings1 which ,i have already desired to be undertaken4 ,but ,i am no longer able to continue work of this kind at my own cost2 and the fulfilment of my purpose must entirely depend on the money-help given me by my readers4