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Stones of Venice [introductions]

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SECTION CIII. TWENTY-FIFTH CAPITAL. We have here the employments of the
months, with which we are already tolerably acquainted. There are,
however, one or two varieties worth noticing in this series.

_First side_. March. Sitting triumphantly in a rich dress, as the
beginning of the year.

_Second side_. April and May. April with a lamb: May with a feather
fan in her hand.

_Third side_. June. Carrying cherries in a basket.

I did not give this series with the others in the previous chapter,
because this representation of June is peculiarly Venetian. It is called
"the month of cherries," mese delle ceriese, in the popular rhyme on the
conspiracy of Tiepolo, quoted above, Vol. I.

The cherries principally grown near Venice are of a deep red color, and
large, but not of high flavor, though refreshing. They are carved upon
the pillar with great care, all their stalks undercut.

_Fourth side_. July and August. The first reaping; the leaves of the
straw being given, shooting out from the tubular stalk. August, opposite,
beats (the grain?) in a basket.

_Fifth side_. September. A woman standing in a wine-tub, and holding a
branch of vine. Very beautiful.

_Sixth side_. October and November. I could not make out their
occupation; they seem to be roasting or boiling some root over a fire.

_Seventh side_. December. Killing pigs, as usual.

_Eighth side_. January warming his feet, and February frying fish.
This last employment is again as characteristic of the Venetian winter
as the cherries are of the Venetian summer.

The inscriptions are undecipherable, except a few letters here and
there, and the words MARCIUS, APRILIS, and FEBRUARIUS.

This is the last of the capitals of the early palace; the next, or
twenty-sixth capital, is the first of those executed in the fifteenth
century under Foscari; and hence to the Judgment angle the traveller has
nothing to do but to compare the base copies of the earlier work with
their originals, or to observe the total want of invention in the
Renaissance sculptor, wherever he has depended on his own resources.
This, however, always with the exception of the twenty-seventh and of
the last capital, which are both fine.

I shall merely enumerate the subjects and point out the plagiarisms of
these capitals, as they are not worth description.

SECTION CIV. TWENTY-SIXTH CAPITAL. Copied from the fifteenth, merely
changing the succession of the figures.

TWENTY-SEVENTH CAPITAL. I think it possible that this may be part of the
old work displaced in joining the new palace with the old; at all
events, it is well designed, though a little coarse. It represents eight
different kinds of fruit, each in a basket; the characters well given,
and groups well arranged, but without much care or finish. The names are
inscribed above, though somewhat unnecessarily, and with certainly as
much disrespect to the beholder's intelligence as the sculptor's art,
namely, ZEREXIS, PIRI, CHUCUMERIS, PERSICI, ZUCHE, MOLONI, FICI, HUVA.
Zerexis (cherries) and Zuche (gourds) both begin with the same letter,
whether meant for z, s, or c I am not sure. The Zuche are the common
gourds, divided into two protuberances, one larger than the other, like
a bottle compressed near the neck; and the Moloni are the long
water-melons, which, roasted, form a staple food of the Venetians to
this day.

SECTION CV. TWENTY-EIGHTH CAPITAL. Copied from the seventh.

TWENTY-NINTH CAPITAL. Copied from the ninth.

THIRTIETH CAPITAL. Copied from the tenth. The "Accidia" is noticeable as
having the inscription complete, "ACCIDIA ME STRINGIT;" and the
"Luxuria" for its utter want of expression, having a severe and calm
face, a robe up to the neck, and her hand upon her breast. The
inscription is also different: "LUXURIA SUM STERC'S (?) INFERI"(?).

THIRTY-FIRST CAPITAL. Copied from the eighth.

THIRTY-SECOND CAPITAL. Has no inscription, only fully robed figures
laying their hands, without any meaning, on their own shoulders, heads,
or chins, or on the leaves around them.

THIRTY-THIRD CAPITAL. Copied from the twelfth.

THIRTY-FOURTH CAPITAL. Copied from the eleventh.

THIRTY-FIFTH CAPITAL. Has children, with birds or fruit, pretty in
features, and utterly inexpressive, like the cherubs of the eighteenth
century.

SECTION CVI. THIRTY-SIXTH CAPITAL. This is the last of the Piazzetta
façade, the elaborate one under the Judgment angle. Its foliage is
copied from the eighteenth at the opposite side, with an endeavor on the
part of the Renaissance sculptor to refine upon it, by which he has
merely lost some of its truth and force. This capital will, however, be
always thought, at first, the most beautiful of the whole series: and
indeed it is very noble; its groups of figures most carefully studied,
very graceful, and much more pleasing than those of the earlier work,
though with less real power in them; and its foliage is only inferior to
that of the magnificent Fig-tree angle. It represents, on its front or
first side, Justice enthroned, seated on two lions; and on the seven
other sides examples of acts of justice or good government, or figures
of lawgivers, in the following order:

_Second side_. Aristotle, with two pupils, giving laws. Inscribed:

"ARISTOT * * CHE DIE LEGE."
Aristotle who declares laws.

_Third side_. I have mislaid my note of this side: Selvatico and Lazari
call it "Isidore" (?). [Footnote: Can they have mistaken the ISIPIONE of
the fifth side for the word Isidore?]

_Fourth side_. Solon with his pupils. Inscribed:

"SAL'O UNO DEI SETE SAVI DI GRECIA CHE DIE LEGE."
Solon, one of the seven sages of Greece, who declares
laws.

Note, by the by, the pure Venetian dialect used in this capital, instead
of the Latin in the more ancient ones. One of the seated pupils in this
sculpture is remarkably beautiful in the sweep of his flowing drapery.

_Fifth side_. The chastity of Scipio. Inscribed:

"ISIPIONE A CHASTITA CH * * * E LA FIA (e la figlia?) * * ARE."

A soldier in a plumed bonnet presents a kneeling maiden to the seated
Scipio, who turns thoughtfully away.

_Sixth side_. Numa Pompilius building churches.

"NUMA POMPILIO IMPERADOR EDIFICHADOR DI TEMPI E CHIESE."

Numa, in a kind of hat with a crown above it, directing a soldier in
Roman armor (note this, as contrasted with the mail of the earlier
capitals). They point to a tower of three stories filled with tracery.

_Seventh side_. Moses receiving the law. Inscribed:

"QUANDO MOSE RECEVE LA LECE I SUL MONTE."

Moses kneels on a rock, whence springs a beautifully fancied tree, with
clusters of three berries in the centre of the three leaves, sharp and
quaint, like fine Northern Gothic. The half figure of the Deity comes
out of the abacus, the arm meeting that of Moses, both at full stretch,
with the stone tablets between.

_Eighth side_. Trajan doing justice to the Widow.

"TRAJANO IMPERADOR CHE FA JUSTITIA A LA VEDOVA."

He is riding spiritedly, his mantle blown out behind; the widow kneeling
before his horse.

SECTION CVII. 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 Venice. It is the assertion by that
government of its belief that Justice only could be the foundation of
its stability; as these stones of Justice and Judgment are the
foundation of its halls of council. And this profession of their faith
may be interpreted in two ways. Most modern historians would call it, in
common with the continual reference to the principles of justice in the
political and judicial language of the period, [Footnote: Compare the
speech of the Doge Mocenigo, above,--"first justice, and _then_ the
interests of the state:" and see Vol. III. Chap. II Section LIX.]
nothing more than a cloak for consummate violence and guilt; and it may
easily be proved to have been so in myriads of instances. But in the
main, I believe the expression of feeling to be genuine. I do not
believe, of the majority of the leading Venetians of this period whose
portraits have come down to us, that they were deliberately and
everlastingly hypocrites. I see no hypocrisy in their countenances. Much
capacity of it, much subtlety, much natural and acquired reserve; but no
meanness. On the contrary, infinite grandeur, repose, courage, and the
peculiar unity and tranquillity of expression which come of sincerity or
_wholeness_ of heart, and which it would take much demonstration to
make me believe could by any possibility be seen on the countenance of
an insincere man. I trust, therefore, that these Venetian nobles of the
fifteenth century did, in the main, desire to do judgment and justice to
all men; but, as the whole system of morality had been by this time
undermined by the teaching of the Romish Church, the idea of justice had
become separated from that of truth, so that dissimulation in the
interest of the state assumed the aspect of duty. We had, perhaps,
better consider, with some carefulness, the mode in which our own
government is carried on, and the occasional difference between
parliamentary and private morality, before we judge mercilessly of the
Venetians in this respect. The secrecy with which their political and
criminal trials were conducted, appears to modern eyes like a confession
of sinister intentions; but may it not also be considered, and with more
probability, as the result of an endeavor to do justice in an age of
violence?--the only means by which Law could establish its footing in
the midst of feudalism. 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 Ten? Finally, if we examine,
with critical accuracy, the evidence on which our present impressions of
Venetian government are founded, we shall discover, in the first place,
that two-thirds of the traditions of its cruelties are romantic fables:
in the second, that the crimes of which it can be proved to have been
guilty, differ only from those committed by the other Italian powers in
being done less wantonly, and under profounder conviction of their
political expediency: and lastly, that the final degradation of the
Venetian power appears owing not so much to the principles of its
government, as to their being forgotten in the pursuit of pleasure.

SECTION CVIII. We have now examined the portions of the palace which
contain the principal evidence of the feeling of its builders. The
capitals of the, upper arcade are exceedingly various in their
character; their design is formed, as in the lower series, of eight
leaves, thrown into volutes at the angles, and sustaining figures at the
flanks; but these figures have no inscriptions, and though evidently not
without meaning, cannot be interpreted without more knowledge than I
possess of ancient symbolism. Many of the capitals toward the Sea appear
to have been restored, and to be rude copies of the ancient ones;
others, though apparently original, have been somewhat carelessly
wrought; but those of them, which are both genuine and carefully
treated, are even finer in composition than any, except the eighteenth,
in the lower arcade. The traveller in Venice ought to ascend into the
corridor, 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 Consiglio. As examples
of graceful composition in massy capitals meant for hard service and
distant effect, these are among the finest things I know in Gothic art;
and that above the fig-tree is remarkable for its sculpture of the four
winds; each on the side turned towards the wind represented. Levante,
the east wind; a figure with rays round its head, to show that it is
always clear weather when that wind blows, raising the sun out of the
sea: Hotro, the south wind; crowned, holding the sun in its right hand:
Ponente, the west wind; plunging the sun into the sea: and Tramontana,
the north wind; looking up at the north star. This capital should be
carefully examined, if for no other reason than to attach greater
distinctness of idea to the magnificent verbiage of Milton:

"Thwart of these, as fierce,
Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds,
Eurus, and Zephyr; with their lateral noise,
Sirocco and Libecchio."

I may also especially point out the bird feeding its three young ones on
the seventh pillar on the Piazzetta side; but there is no end to the
fantasy of these sculptures; and the traveller ought to observe them all
carefully, until he comes to the great Pilaster or complicated pier
which sustains the party wall of the Sala del Consiglio; that is to say,
the forty-seventh capital of the whole series, counting from the
pilaster of the Vine angle inclusive, as in the series of the lower
arcade. The forty-eighth, forty-ninth, and fiftieth are bad work, but
they are old; the fifty-first is the first Renaissance capital of the
upper arcade: the first new lion's head with smooth ears, cut in the
time of Foscari, is over the fiftieth capital; and that capital, with
its shaft, stands on the apex of the eighth arch from the Sea, on the
Piazzetta side, of which one spandril is masonry of the fourteenth and
the other of the fifteenth century.

SECTION CIX. 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 ascertainable; but a glance at the lowest range of leaves in
the opposite Plate (XX.) will enable him to judge of the grounds on
which the above statement is made. Fig. 12 is a cluster of leaves from
the capital of the Four Winds; early work of the finest time. Fig. 13 is
a leaf from the great Renaissance capital at the Judgment angle, worked
in imitation of the older leafage. Fig. 14 is a leaf from one of the
Renaissance capitals of the upper arcade, which are all worked in the
natural manner of the period. It will be seen that it requires no great
ingenuity to distinguish between such design as that of fig. 12 and that
of fig. 14.

SECTION CX. It is very possible that the reader may at first like fig.
14 best. I shall endeavor, in the next chapter, to show why he should
not; but it must also be noted, that fig. 12 has lost, and fig. 14
gained, both largely, under the hands of the engraver. All the bluntness
and coarseness of feeling in the workmanship of fig. 14 have disappeared
on this small scale, and all the subtle refinements in the broad masses
of fig. 12 have vanished. They could not, indeed, be rendered in line
engraving, unless by the hand of Albert Durer; and I have, therefore,
abandoned, for the present, all endeavor to represent any more important
mass of the early sculpture of the Ducal Palace: but I trust that, in a
few months, casts of many portions will be within the reach of the
inhabitants of London, and that they will be able to judge for
themselves of their perfect, pure, unlabored naturalism; the freshness,
elasticity, and softness of their leafage, united with the most noble
symmetry and severe reserve,--no running to waste, no loose or
experimental lines, no extravagance, and no weakness. Their design is
always sternly architectural; there is none of the wildness or
redundance of natural vegetation, but there is all the strength,
freedom, and tossing flow of the breathing leaves, and all the
undulation of their surfaces, rippled, as they grew, by the summer
winds, as the sands are by the sea.

SECTION CXI. This early sculpture of the Ducal Palace, then, represents
the state of Gothic work in Venice at its central and proudest period,
i. e. circa 1350. After this time, all is decline,--of what nature and
by what steps, we shall inquire in the ensuing chapter; for as this
investigation, though still referring to Gothic architecture, introduces
us to the first symptoms of the Renaissance influence, I have considered
it as properly belonging to the third division of our subject.

SECTION CXII. And as, under the shadow of these nodding leaves, we bid
farewell to the great Gothic spirit, here also we may cease our
examination of the details of the Ducal Palace; for above its upper
arcade there are only the four traceried windows, and one or two of the
third order on the Rio Façade, which can be depended upon as exhibiting
the original workmanship of the older palace. [Footnote: Some further
details respecting these portions, as well as some necessary
confirmations of my statements of dates, are, however, given in Appendix
I., Vol. III. I feared wearying the general reader by introducing them
into the text.] I examined the capitals of the four other windows on the
façade, and of those on the Piazzetta, one by one, with great care, and
I found them all to be of far inferior workmanship to those which retain
their traceries: I believe the stone framework of these windows must
have been so cracked and injured by the flames of the great fire, as to
render it necessary to replace it by new traceries; and that the present
mouldings and capitals are base imitations of the original ones. The
traceries were at first, however, restored in their complete form, as
the holes for the bolts which fastened the bases of their shafts are
still to be seen in the window-sills, as well as the marks of the inner
mouldings on the soffits. How much the stone facing of the façade, the
parapets, and the shafts and niches of the angles, retain of their
original masonry, it is also impossible to determine; but there is
nothing in the workmanship of any of them demanding especial notice;
still less in the large central windows on each façade which are
entirely of Renaissance execution. All that is admirable in these
portions of the building is the disposition of their various parts and
masses, which is without doubt the same as in the original fabric, and
calculated, when seen from a distance, to produce the same impression.

SECTION CXIII. Not so in the interior. All vestige of the earlier modes
of decoration was here, of course, destroyed by the fires; and the
severe and religious work of Guariento and Bellini has been replaced by
the wildness of Tintoret and the luxury of Veronese. But in this case,
though widely different in temper, the art of the renewal was at least
intellectually as great as that which had perished: and though the halls
of the Ducal Palace are no more representative of the character of the
men by whom it was built, each of them is still a colossal casket of
priceless treasure; a treasure whose safety has till now depended on its
being despised, and which at this moment, and as I write, is piece by
piece being destroyed for ever.

SECTION CXIV. The reader will forgive my quitting our more immediate
subject, in order briefly to explain the causes and the nature of this
destruction; for the matter is simply the most important of all that can
be brought under our present consideration respecting the state of art
in Europe.

The fact is, that the greater number of persons or societies throughout
Europe, whom wealth, or chance, or inheritance has put in possession of
valuable pictures, do not know a good picture from a bad one, and have
no idea in what the value of a picture really consists. [Footnote: Many
persons, capable of quickly sympathizing with any excellence, when once
pointed out to them, easily deceive themselves into the supposition that
they are judges of art. There is only one real test of such power of
judgment. Can they, at a glance, discover a good picture obscured by the
filth, and confused among the rubbish, of the pawnbroker's or dealer's
garret?] The reputation of certain work is raised partly by accident,
partly by the just testimony of artists, partly by the various and
generally bad taste of the public (no picture, that I know of, has ever,
in modern times, attained popularity, in the full sense of the term,
without having some exceedingly bad qualities mingled with its good
ones), and when this reputation has once been completely established, it
little matters to what state the picture may be reduced: few minds are
so completely devoid of imagination as to be unable to invest it with
the beauties which they have heard attributed to it.

SECTION CXV. This being so, the pictures that are most valued are for
the most part those by masters of established renown, which are highly
or neatly finished, and of a size small enough to admit of their being
placed in galleries or saloons, so as to be made subjects of
ostentation, and to be easily seen by a crowd. For the support of the
fame and value of such pictures, little more is necessary than that they
should be kept bright, partly by cleaning, which is incipient
destruction, and partly by what is called "restoring," that is, painting
over, which is of course total destruction. Nearly all the gallery
pictures in modern Europe have been more or less destroyed by one or
other of these operations, generally exactly in proportion to the
estimation in which they are held; and as, originally, the smaller and
more highly finished works of any great master are usually his worst,
the contents of many of our most celebrated galleries are by this time,
in reality, of very small value indeed.

SECTION CXVI. On the other hand, the most precious works of any noble
painter are usually those which have been done quickly, and in the heat
of the first thought, on a large scale, for places where there was
little likelihood of their being well seen, or for patrons from whom
there was little prospect of rich remuneration. In general, the best
things are done in this way, or else in the enthusiasm and pride of
accomplishing some great purpose, such as painting a cathedral or a
camposanto from one end to the other, especially when the time has been
short, and circumstances disadvantageous.

SECTION CXVII. Works thus executed are of course despised, on account of
their quantity, as well as their frequent slightness, in the places
where they exist; and they are too large to be portable, and too vast
and comprehensive to be read on the spot, in the hasty temper of the
present age. They are, therefore, almost universally neglected,
whitewashed by custodes, shot at by soldiers, suffered to drop from the
walls, piecemeal in powder and rags by society in general; but, which is
an advantage more than counterbalancing all this evil, they are not
often "restored." What is left of them, however fragmentary, however
ruinous, however obscured and defiled, is almost always _the real
thing_; there are no fresh readings: and therefore the greatest
treasures of art which Europe at this moment possesses are pieces of old
plaster on ruinous brick walls, where the lizards burrow and bask, and
which few other living creatures ever approach; and torn sheets of dim
canvas, in waste corners of churches; and mildewed stains, in the shape
of human figures, on the walls of dark chambers, which now and then an
exploring traveller causes to be unlocked by their tottering custode,
looks hastily round, and retreats from in a weary satisfaction at his
accomplished duty.

SECTION CXVIII. Many of the pictures on the ceilings and walls of the
Ducal Palace, by Paul Veronese and Tintoret, have been more or less
reduced, by neglect, to this condition. Unfortunately they are not
altogether without reputation, and their state has drawn the attention
of the Venetian authorities and academicians. It constantly happens,
that public bodies who will not pay five pounds to preserve a picture,
will pay fifty to repaint it; [Footnote: This is easily explained. There
are, of course, in every place and at all periods, bad painters who
conscientiously believe that they can improve every picture they touch;
and these men are generally, in their presumption, the most influential
over the innocence, whether of monarchs or municipalities. The carpenter
and slater have little influence in recommending the repairs of the
roof; but the bad painter has great influence, as well as interest, in
recommending those of the picture.] and when I was at Venice in 1846,
there were two remedial operations carrying on, at one and the same
time, in the two buildings which contain the pictures of greatest value
in the city (as pieces of color, of greatest value in the world),
curiously illustrative of this peculiarity in human nature. Buckets were
set on the floor of the Scuola di San Rocco, in every shower, to catch
the rain which came through the pictures of Tintoret on the ceiling;
while in the Ducal Palace, those of Paul Veronese were themselves laid
on the floor to be repainted; and I was myself present at the
re-illumination of the breast of a white horse, with a brush, at the end
of a stick five feet long, luxuriously dipped in a common
house-painter's vessel of paint.

This was, of course, a large picture. The process has already been
continued in an equally destructive, though somewhat more delicate
manner, over the whole of the humbler canvases on the ceiling of the
Sala del Gran Consiglio; and I heard it threatened when I was last in
Venice (1851-2) to the "Paradise" at its extremity, which is yet in
tolerable condition,--the largest work of Tintoret, and the most
wonderful piece of pure, manly, and masterly oil-painting in the world.

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