Chapter XVIII: Appendix: 1. Architect of the Ducal Palace (7)

18. _The Ascension._ I have always admired this picture, though it is
very slight and thin in execution, and cold in color; but it is
remarkable for its thorough effect of open air, and for the sense of
motion and clashing in the wings of the Angels which sustain the
Christ: they owe this effect a good deal to the manner in which they
are set, edge on; all seem like sword-blades cutting the air. It is
the most curious in conception of all the pictures in the Scuola, for
it represents, beneath the Ascension, a kind of epitome of what took
place before the Ascension. In the distance are two Apostles walking,
meant, I suppose, for the two going to Emmaus; nearer are a group
round a table, to remind us of Christ appearing to them as they sat at
meat; and in the foreground is a single reclining figure of, I
suppose, St. Peter, because we are told that "he was seen of Cephas,
then of the twelve:" but this interpretation is doubtful; for why
should not the vision by the Lake of Tiberias be expressed also? And
the strange thing of all is the scene, for Christ ascended from the
Mount of Olives; but the Disciples are walking, and the table is set,
in a little marshy and grassy valley, like some of the bits near
Maison Neuve on the Jura, with a brook running through it, so
capitally expressed, that I believe it is this which makes me so fond
of the picture. The reflections are as scientific in the diminution,
in the image, of large masses of bank above, as any of Turner's, and
the marshy and reedy ground looks as if one would sink into it; but
what all this has to do with the Ascension I cannot see. The figure of
Christ is not undignified, but by no means either interesting or
sublime.

19. _Pool of Bethesda._ I have no doubt the principal figures have
been repainted; but as the colors are faded, and the subject
disgusting, I have not paid this picture sufficient attention to say
how far the injury extends; nor need any one spend time upon it,
unless after having first examined all the other Tintorets in Venice.
All the great Italian painters appear insensible to the feeling of
disgust at disease; but this study of the population of an hospital is
without any points of contrast, and I wish Tintoret had not
condescended to paint it. This and the six preceding paintings have
all been uninteresting,--I believe chiefly owing to the observance in
them of Sir Joshua's rule for the heroic, "that drapery is to be mere
drapery, and not silk, nor satin, nor brocade." However wise such a
rule may be when applied to works of the purest religious art, it is
anything but wise as respects works of color. Tintoret is never quite
himself unless he has fur or velvet, or rich stuff of one sort or the
other, or jewels, or armor, or something that he can put play of color
into, among his figures, and not dead folds of linsey-woolsey; and I
believe that even the best pictures of Raffaelle and Angelico are not
a little helped by their hems of robes, jewelled crowns, priests'
copes, and so on; and the pictures that have nothing of this kind in
them, as for instance the "Transfiguration," are to my mind not a
little dull.

20. _Temptation._ This picture singularly illustrates what has just
been observed; it owes great part of its effect to the lustre of the
jewels in the armlet of the evil angel, and to the beautiful colors of
his wings. These are slight accessaries apparently, but they enhance
the value of all the rest, and they have evidently been enjoyed by the
painter. The armlet is seen by reflected light, its stones shining by
inward lustre; this occult fire being the only hint given of the real
character of the Tempter, who is otherways represented in the form of
a beautiful angel, though the face is sensual: we can hardly tell how
far it was intended to be therefore expressive of evil; for Tintoret's
good angels have not always the purest features; but there is a
peculiar subtlety in this telling of the story by so slight a
circumstance as the glare of the jewels in the darkness. It is curious
to compare this imagination with that of the mosaics in St. Mark's, in
which Satan is a black monster, with horns, and head, and tail,
complete. The whole of the picture is powerfully and carefully
painted, though very broadly; it is a strong effect of light, and
therefore, as usual, subdued in color. The painting of the stones in
the foreground I have always thought, and still think, the best piece
of rock drawing before Turner, and the most amazing instance of
Tintoret's perceptiveness afforded by any of his pictures.

21. _St. Rocco._ Three figures occupy the spandrils of the window
above this and the following picture, painted merely in light and
shade, two larger than life, one rather smaller. I believe these to be
by Tintoret; but as they are quite in the dark, so that the execution
cannot be seen, and very good designs of the kind have been furnished
by other masters, I cannot answer for them. The figure of St. Rocco,
as well as its companion, St. Sebastian, is colored; they occupy the
narrow intervals between the windows, and are of course invisible
under ordinary circumstances. By a great deal of straining of the
eyes, and sheltering them with the hand from the light, some little
idea of the design may be obtained. The "St. Rocco" is a fine figure,
though rather coarse, but, at all events, worth as much light as would
enable us to see it.

22. _St. Sebastian._ This, the companion figure, is one of the finest
things in the whole room, and assuredly the most majestic Saint
Sebastian in existence; as far as mere humanity can be majestic, for
there is no effort at any expression of angelic or saintly
resignation; the effort is simply to realize the fact of the
martyrdom, and it seems to me that this is done to an extent not even
attempted by any other painter. I never saw a man die a violent death,
and therefore cannot say whether this figure be true or not, but it
gives the grandest and most intense impression of truth. The figure is
dead, and well it may be, for there is one arrow through the forehead
and another through the heart; but the eyes are open, though glazed,
and the body is rigid in the position in which it last stood, the left
arm raised and the left limb advanced, something in the attitude of a
soldier sustaining an attack under his shield, while the dead eyes are
still turned in the direction from which the arrows came: but the most
characteristic feature is the way these arrows are fixed. In the
common martyrdoms of St. Sebastian they are stuck into him here and
there like pins, as if they had been shot from a great distance and
had come faltering down, entering the flesh but a little way, and
rather bleeding the saint to death than mortally wounding him; but
Tintoret had no such ideas about archery. He must have seen bows drawn
in battle, like that of Jehu when he smote Jehoram between the
harness: all the arrows in the saint's body lie straight in the same
direction, broad-feathered and strong-shafted, and sent apparently
with the force of thunderbolts; every one of them has gone through him
like a lance, two through the limbs, one through the arm, one through
the heart, and the last has crashed through the forehead, nailing the
head to the tree behind as if it had been dashed in by a
sledge-hammer. The face, in spite of its ghastliness, is beautiful,
and has been serene; and the light which enters first and glistens on
the plumes of the arrows, dies softly away upon the curling hair, and
mixes with the glory upon the forehead. There is not a more remarkable
picture in Venice, and yet I do not suppose that one in a thousand of
the travellers who pass through the Scuola so much as perceives there
is a picture in the place which it occupies.

23. Moses striking the Rock. 29. Elijah.
24. Plague of Serpents. 30. Jonah.
25. Fall of Manna. 31. Joshua.
26. Jacob's Dream. 32. Sacrifice of Isaac.
27. Ezekiel's Vision. 33. Elijah at the Brook.
28. Fall of Man. 34. Paschal Feast.
35. Elisha feeding the People.]

23. _Moses striking the Rock._ We now come to the series of pictures
upon which the painter concentrated the strength he had reserved for
the upper room; and in some sort wisely, for, though it is not
pleasant to examine pictures on a ceiling, they are at least
distinctly visible without straining the eyes against the light. They
are carefully conceived and thoroughly well painted in proportion to
their distance from the eye. This carefulness of thought is apparent
at a glance: the "Moses striking the Rock" embraces the whole of the
seventeenth chapter of Exodus, and even something more, for it is not
from that chapter, but from parallel passages that we gather the facts
of the impatience of Moses and the wrath of God at the waters of
Meribah; both which facts are shown by the leaping of the stream out
of the rock half-a-dozen ways at once, forming a great arch over the
head of Moses, and by the partial veiling of the countenance of the
Supreme Being. This latter is the most painful part of the whole
picture, at least as it is seen from below; and I believe that in some
repairs of the roof this head must have been destroyed and repainted.
It is one of Tintoret's usual fine thoughts that the lower part of the
figure is veiled, not merely by clouds, but in a kind of watery
sphere, showing the Deity coming to the Israelites at that particular
moment as the Lord of the Rivers and of the Fountain of the Waters.
The whole figure, as well as that of Moses and the greater number of
those in the foreground, is at once dark and warm, black and red being
the prevailing colors, while the distance is bright gold touched with
blue, and seems to open into the picture like a break of blue sky
after rain. How exquisite is this expression, by mere color, of the
main force of the fact represented! that is to say, joy and
refreshment after sorrow and scorching heat. But, when we examine of
what this distance consists, we shall find still more cause for
admiration. The blue in it is not the blue of sky, it is obtained by
blue stripes upon white tents glowing in the sunshine; and in front of
these tents is seen that great battle with Amalek of which the account
is given in the remainder of the chapter, and for which the Israelites
received strength in the streams which ran out of the rock in Horeb.
Considered merely as a picture, the opposition of cool light to warm
shadow is one of the most remarkable pieces of color in the Scuola,
and the great mass of foliage which waves over the rocks on the left
appears to have been elaborated with his highest power and his most
sublime invention. But this noble passage is much injured, and now
hardly visible.

24. _Plague of Serpents._ The figures in the distance are remarkably
important in this picture, Moses himself being among them; in fact,
the whole scene is filled chiefly with middle-sized figures, in order
to increase the impression of space. It is interesting to observe the
difference in the treatment of this subject by the three great
painters, Michael Angelo, Rubens, and Tintoret. The first two, equal
to the latter in energy, had less love of liberty: they were fond of
binding their compositions into knots, Tintoret of scattering his far
and wide: they all alike preserve the unity of composition, but the
unity in the first two is obtained by binding, and that of the last by
springing from one source; and, together with this feeling, comes his
love of space, which makes him less regard the rounding and form of
objects themselves, than their relations of light and shade and
distance. Therefore Rubens and Michael Angelo made the fiery serpents
huge boa constrictors, and knotted the sufferers together with them.
Tintoret does not like to be so bound; so he makes the serpents little
flying and fluttering monsters like lampreys with wings; and the
children of Israel, instead of being thrown into convulsed and
writhing groups, are scattered, fainting in the fields, far away in
the distance. As usual, Tintoret's conception, while thoroughly
characteristic of himself, is also truer to the words of Scripture. We
are told that "the Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and they
_bit_ the people;" we are not told that they crushed the people to
death. And while thus the truest, it is also the most terrific
conception. M. Angelo's would be terrific if one could believe in it:
but our instinct tells us that boa constrictors do not come in armies;
and we look upon the picture with as little emotion as upon the handle
of a vase, or any other form worked out of serpents, where there is no
probability of serpents actually occurring. But there is a probability
in Tintoret's conception. We feel that it is not impossible that there
should come up a swarm of these small winged reptiles: and their
horror is not diminished by their smallness: not that they have any of
the grotesque terribleness of German invention; they might have been
made infinitely uglier with small pains, but it is their
_veritableness_ which makes them awful. They have triangular heads
with sharp beaks or muzzle; and short, rather thick bodies, with bony
processes down the back like those of sturgeons; and small wings
spotted with orange and black; and round glaring eyes, not very large,
but very ghastly, with an intense delight in biting expressed in them.
(It is observable, that the Venetian painter has got his main idea of
them from the sea-horses and small reptiles of the Lagoons.) These
monsters are fluttering and writhing about everywhere, fixing on
whatever they come near with their sharp venomous heads; and they are
coiling about on the ground, and all the shadows and thickets are full
of them, so that there is no escape anywhere: and, in order to give
the idea of greater extent to the plague, Tintoret has not been
content with one horizon; I have before mentioned the excessive
strangeness of this composition, in having a cavern open in the right
of the foreground, through which is seen another sky and another
horizon. At the top of the picture, the Divine Being is seen borne by
angels, apparently passing over the congregation in wrath, involved in
masses of dark clouds; while, behind, an Angel of mercy is descending
toward Moses, surrounded by a globe of white light. This globe is
hardly seen from below; it is not a common glory, but a transparent
sphere, like a bubble, which not only envelopes the angel, but crosses
the figure of Moses, throwing the upper part of it into a subdued pale
color, as if it were crossed by a sunbeam. Tintoret is the only
painter who plays these tricks with transparent light, the only man
who seems to have perceived the effects of sunbeams, mists, and
clouds, in the far away atmosphere; and to have used what he saw on
towers, clouds, or mountains, to enhance the sublimity of his figures.
The whole upper part of this picture is magnificent, less with respect
to individual figures, than for the drift of its clouds, and
originality and complication of its light and shade; it is something
like Raffaelle's "Vision of Ezekiel," but far finer. It is difficult
to understand how any painter, who could represent floating clouds so
nobly as he has done here, could ever paint the odd, round, pillowy
masses which so often occur in his more carelessly designed sacred
subjects. The lower figures are not so interesting, and the whole is
painted with a view to effect from below, and gains little by close
examination.

25. _Fall of Manna._ In none of these three large compositions has the
painter made the slightest effort at expression in the human
countenance; everything is done by gesture, and the faces of the
people who are drinking from the rock, dying from the serpent-bites,
and eating the manna, are all alike as calm as if nothing was
happening; in addition to this, as they are painted for distant
effect, the heads are unsatisfactory and coarse when seen near, and
perhaps in this last picture the more so, and yet the story is
exquisitely told. We have seen in the Church of San Giorgio Maggiore
another example of his treatment of it, where, however, the gathering
of manna is a subordinate employment, but here it is principal. Now,
observe, we are told of the manna, that it was found in the morning;
that then there lay round about the camp a small round thing like the
hoar-frost, and that "when the sun waxed hot it melted." Tintoret has
endeavored, therefore, first of all, to give the idea of coolness; the
congregation are reposing in a soft green meadow, surrounded by blue
hills, and there are rich trees above them, to the branches of one of
which is attached a great grey drapery to catch the manna as it comes
down. In any other picture such a mass of drapery would assuredly have
had some vivid color, but here it is grey; the fields are cool frosty
green, the mountains cold blue, and, to complete the expression and
meaning of all this, there is a most important point to be noted in
the form of the Deity, seen above, through an opening in the clouds.
There are at least ten or twelve other pictures in which the form of
the Supreme Being occurs, to be found in the Scuola di San Rocco
alone; and in every one of these instances it is richly colored, the
garments being generally red and blue, but in this picture of the
manna the figure is _snow white_. Thus the painter endeavors to show
the Deity as the giver of bread, just as in the "Striking of the Rock"
we saw that he represented Him as the Lord of the rivers, the
fountains, and the waters. There is one other very sweet incident at
the bottom of the picture; four or five sheep, instead of pasturing,
turn their heads aside to catch the manna as it comes down, or seem to
be licking it off each other's fleeces. The tree above, to which the
drapery is tied, is the most delicate and delightful piece of leafage
in all the Scuola; it has a large sharp leaf, something like that of a
willow, but five times the size.

26. _Jacob's Dream._ A picture which has good effect from below, but
gains little when seen near. It is an embarrassing one for any
painter, because angels always look awkward going up and down stairs;
one does not see the use of their wings. Tintoret has thrown them into
buoyant and various attitudes, but has evidently not treated the
subject with delight; and it is seen to all the more disadvantage
because just above the painting of the "Ascension," in which the full
fresh power of the painter is developed. One would think this latter
picture had been done just after a walk among hills, for it is full of
the most delicate effects of transparent cloud, more or less veiling
the faces and forms of the angels, and covering with white light the
silvery sprays of the palms, while the clouds in the "Jacob's Dream"
are the ordinary rotundities of the studio.

27. _Ezekiel's Vision._ I suspect this has been repainted, it is so
heavy and dead in color; a fault, however, observable in many of the
small pictures on the ceiling, and perhaps the natural result of the
fatigue of such a mind as Tintoret's. A painter who threw such intense
energy into some of his works can hardly but have been languid in
others in a degree never experienced by the more tranquil minds of
less powerful workmen; and when this languor overtook him whilst he
was at work on pictures where a certain space had to be covered by
mere force of arm, this heaviness of color could hardly but have been
the consequence: it shows itself chiefly in reds and other hot hues,
many of the pictures in the Ducal Palace also displaying it in a
painful degree. This "Ezekiel's Vision" is, however, in some measure
worthy of the master, in the wild and horrible energy with which the
skeletons are leaping up about the prophet; but it might have been
less horrible and more sublime, no attempt being made to represent the
space of the Valley of Dry Bones, and the whole canvas being occupied
only by eight figures, of which five are half skeletons. It it is
strange that, in such a subject, the prevailing hues should be red and
brown.

28. _Fall of Man._ The two canvases last named are the most
considerable in size upon the roof, after the centre pieces. We now
come to the smaller subjects which surround the "Striking the Rock;"
of these this "Fall of Man" is the best, and I should think it very
fine anywhere but in the Scuola di San Rocco; there is a grand light
on the body of Eve, and the vegetation is remarkably rich, but the
faces are coarse, and the composition uninteresting. I could not get
near enough to see what the grey object is upon which Eve appears to
be sitting, nor could I see any serpent. It is made prominent in the
picture of the Academy of this same subject, so that I suppose it is
hidden in the darkness, together with much detail which it would be
necessary to discover in order to judge the work justly.

29. _Elijah (?)._ A prophet holding down his face, which is covered
with his hand. God is talking with him, apparently in rebuke. The
clothes on his breast are rent, and the action of the figures might
suggest the idea of the scene between the Deity and Elijah at Horeb:
but there is no suggestion of the past magnificent scenery,--of the
wind, the earthquake, or the fire; so that the conjecture is good for
very little. The painting is of small interest; the faces are vulgar,
and the draperies have too much vapid historical dignity to be
delightful.

30. _Jonah._ The whale here occupies fully one-half of the canvas;
being correspondent in value with a landscape background. His mouth is
as large as a cavern, and yet, unless the mass of red color in the
foreground be a piece of drapery, his tongue is too large for it. He
seems to have lifted Jonah out upon it, and not yet drawn it back, so
that it forms a kind of crimson cushion for him to kneel upon in his
submission to the Deity. The head to which this vast tongue belongs is
sketched in somewhat loosely, and there is little remarkable about it
except its size, nor much in the figures, though the submissiveness of
Jonah is well given. The great thought of Michael Angelo renders one
little charitable to any less imaginative treatment of this subject.

31. _Joshua (?)._ This is a most interesting picture, and it is a
shame that its subject is not made out, for it is not a common one.
The figure has a sword in its hand, and looks up to a sky full of
fire, out of which the form of the Deity is stooping, represented as
white and colorless. On the other side of the picture there is seen
among the clouds a pillar apparently falling, and there is a crowd at
the feet of the principal figure, carrying spears. Unless this be
Joshua at the fall of Jericho, I cannot tell what it means; it is
painted with great vigor, and worthy of a better place.

32. _Sacrifice of Isaac._ In conception, it is one of the least worthy
of the master in the whole room, the three figures being thrown into
violent attitudes, as inexpressive as they are strained and
artificial. It appears to have been vigorously painted, but vulgarly;
that is to say, the light is concentrated upon the white beard and
upturned countenance of Abraham, as it would have been in one of the
dramatic effects of the French school, the result being that the head
is very bright and very conspicuous, and perhaps, in some of the late
operations upon the roof, recently washed and touched. In consequence,
every one who comes into the room, is first invited to observe the
"bella testa di Abramo." The only thing characteristic of Tintoret is
the way in which the pieces of ragged wood are tossed hither and
thither in the pile upon which Isaac is bound, although this
scattering of the wood is inconsistent with the Scriptural account of
Abraham's deliberate procedure, for we are told of him that "he set
the wood in order." But Tintoret had probably not noticed this, and
thought the tossing of the timber into the disordered heap more like
the act of the father in his agony.

33. _Elijah at the Brook Cherith (?)._ I cannot tell if I have rightly
interpreted the meaning of this picture, which merely represents a
noble figure couched upon the ground, and an angel appearing to him;
but I think that between the dark tree on the left, and the recumbent
figure, there is some appearance of a running stream, at all events
there is of a mountainous and stony place. The longer I study this
master, the more I feel the strange likeness between him and Turner,
in our never knowing what subject it is that will stir him to
exertion. We have lately had him treating Jacob's Dream, Ezekiel's
Vision, Abraham's Sacrifice, and Jonah's Prayer, (all of them subjects
on which the greatest painters have delighted to expend their
strength,) with coldness, carelessness, and evident absence of
delight; and here, on a sudden, in a subject so indistinct that one
cannot be sure of its meaning, and embracing only two figures, a man
and an angel, forth he starts in his full strength. I believe he must
somewhere or another, the day before, have seen a kingfisher; for this
picture seems entirely painted for the sake of the glorious downy
wings of the angel,--white clouded with blue, as the bird's head and
wings are with green,--the softest and most elaborate in plumage that
I have seen in any of his works: but observe also the general
sublimity obtained by the mountainous lines of the drapery of the
recumbent figure, dependent for its dignity upon these forms alone, as
the face is more than half hidden, and what is seen of it
expressionless.

34. _The Paschal Feast._ I name this picture by the title given in the
guide-books; it represents merely five persons watching the increase
of a small fire lighted on a table or altar in the midst of them. It
is only because they have all staves in their hands that one may
conjecture this fire to be that kindled to consume the Paschal
offering. The effect is of course a fire light; and, like all mere
fire lights that I have ever seen, totally devoid of interest.

35. _Elisha feeding the People._ I again guess at the subject: the
picture only represents a figure casting down a number of loaves
before a multitude; but, as Elisha has not elsewhere occurred, I
suppose that these must be the barley loaves brought from
Baalshalisha. In conception and manner of painting, this picture and
the last, together with the others above-mentioned, in comparison with
the "Elijah at Cherith," may be generally described as "dregs of
Tintoret:" they are tired, dead, dragged out upon the canvas
apparently in the heavy-hearted state which a man falls into when he
is both jaded with toil and sick of the work he is employed upon. They
are not hastily painted; on the contrary, finished with considerably
more care than several of the works upon the walls; but those, as, for
instance, the "Agony in the Garden," are hurried sketches with the
man's whole heart in them, while these pictures are exhausted
fulfilments of an appointed task. Whether they were really amongst the
last painted, or whether the painter had fallen ill at some
intermediate time, I cannot say; but we shall find him again in his
utmost strength in the room which we last enter.

On the Roof.

36 to 39. Children's Heads. 41 to 44. Children.
40. St. Rocco in Heaven. 45 to 56. Allegorical Figures.

On the Walls.

57. Figure in Niche. 60. Ecce Homo.
58. Figure in Niche. 61. Christ bearing his Cross.
59. Christ before Pilate. 62. CRUCIFIXION.]

36 to 39. _Four Children's Heads_, which it is much to be regretted
should be thus lost in filling small vacuities of the ceiling.

40. _St. Rocco in Heaven._ The central picture of the roof, in the
inner room. From the well-known anecdote respecting the production of
this picture, whether in all its details true or not, we may at least
gather that having been painted in competition with Paul Veronese and
other powerful painters of the day, it was probably Tintoret's
endeavor to make it as popular and showy as possible. It is quite
different from his common works; bright in all its tints and tones;
the faces carefully drawn, and of an agreeable type; the outlines
firm, and the shadows few; the whole resembling Correggio more than
any Venetian painter. It is, however, an example of the danger, even
to the greatest artist, of leaving his own style; for it lacks all the
great virtues of Tintoret, without obtaining the lusciousness of
Correggio. One thing, at all events, is remarkable in it,--that,
though painted while the competitors were making their sketches, it
shows no sign of haste or inattention.

41 to 44. _Figures of Children_, merely decorative.

45 to 56. _Allegorical Figures on the Roof._ If these were not in the
same room with the "Crucifixion," they would attract more public
attention than any works in the Scuola, as there are here no black
shadows, nor extravagances of invention, but very beautiful figures
richly and delicately colored, a good deal resembling some of the best
works of Andrea del Sarto. There is nothing in them, however,
requiring detailed examination. The two figures between the windows
are very slovenly, if they are his at all; and there are bits of
marbling and fruit filling the cornices, which may or may not be his:
if they are, they are tired work, and of small importance.

59. _Christ before Pilate._ A most interesting picture, but, which is
unusual, best seen on a dark day, when the white figure of Christ
alone draws the eye, looking almost like a spirit; the painting of the
rest of the picture being both somewhat thin and imperfect. There is a
certain meagreness about all the minor figures, less grandeur and
largeness in the limbs and draperies, and less solidity, it seems,
even in the color, although its arrangements are richer than in many
of the compositions above described. I hardly know whether it is owing
to this thinness of color, or on purpose, that the horizontal clouds
shine through the crimson flag in the distance; though I should think
the latter, for the effect is most beautiful. The passionate action of
the Scribe in lifting his hand to dip the pen into the ink-horn is,
however, affected and overstrained, and the Pilate is very mean;
perhaps intentionally, that no reverence might be withdrawn from the
person of Christ. In work of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries,
the figures of Pilate and Herod are always intentionally made
contemptible.

_Ecce Homo._ As usual, Tintoret's own peculiar view of the subject.
Christ is laid fainting on the ground, with a soldier standing on one
side of him; while Pilate, on the other, withdraws the robe from the
scourged and wounded body, and points it out to the Jews. Both this
and the picture last mentioned resemble Titian more than Tintoret in
the style of their treatment.

61. _Christ bearing his Cross._ Tintoret is here recognizable again in
undiminished strength. He has represented the troops and attendants
climbing Calvary by a winding path, of which two turns are seen, the
figures on the uppermost ledge, and Christ in the centre of them,
being relieved against the sky; but, instead of the usual simple
expedient of the bright horizon to relieve the dark masses, there is
here introduced, on the left, the head of a white horse, which blends
itself with the sky in one broad mass of light. The power of the
picture is chiefly in effect, the figure of Christ being too far off
to be very interesting, and only the malefactors being seen on the
nearer path; but for this very reason it seems to me more impressive,
as if one had been truly present at the scene, though not exactly in
the right place for seeing it.

62. _The Crucifixion._ I must leave this picture to work its will on
the spectator; for it is beyond all analysis, and above all praise.

S

SAGREDO, PALAZZO, on the Grand Canal, II. 256. Much defaced, but full
of interest. Its sea story is restored; its first floor has a most
interesting arcade of the early thirteenth century third order
windows; its upper windows are the finest fourth and fifth orders of
early fourteenth century; the group of fourth orders in the centre
being brought into some resemblance to the late Gothic traceries by
the subsequent introduction of the quatrefoils above them.

SALUTE, CHURCH OF STA. MARIA DELLA, on the Grand Canal, II. 378. One
of the earliest buildings of the Grotesque Renaissance, rendered
impressive by its position, size, and general proportions. These
latter are exceedingly good; the grace of the whole building being
chiefly dependent on the inequality of size in its cupolas, and pretty
grouping of the two campaniles behind them. It is to be generally
observed that the proportions of buildings have nothing whatever to
do with the style or general merits of their architecture. An
architect trained in the worst schools, and utterly devoid of all
meaning or purpose in his work, may yet have such a natural gift of
massing and grouping as will render all his structures effective when
seen from a distance: such a gift is very general with the late
Italian builders, so that many of the most contemptible edifices in
the country have good stage effect so long as we do not approach them.
The Church of the Salute is farther assisted by the beautiful flight
of steps in front of it down to the canal; and its façade is rich and
beautiful of its kind, and was chosen by Turner for the principal
object in his well-known view of the Grand Canal. The principal faults
of the building are the meagre windows in the sides of the cupola, and
the ridiculous disguise of the buttresses under the form of colossal
scrolls; the buttresses themselves being originally a hypocrisy, for
the cupola is stated by Lazari to be of timber, and therefore needs
none. The sacristy contains several precious pictures: the three on
its roof by Titian, much vaunted, are indeed as feeble as they are
monstrous; but the small Titian, "St. Mark, with Sts. Cosmo and
Damian," was, when I first saw it, to my judgment, by far the first
work of Titian's in Venice. It has since been restored by the Academy,
and it seemed to me entirely destroyed, but I had not time to examine
it carefully.

At the end of the larger sacristy is the lunette which once decorated
the tomb of the Doge Francesco Dandolo (see above, page 74); and, at
the side of it, one of the most highly finished Tintorets in Venice,
namely:

_The Marriage in Cana._ An immense picture, some twenty-five feet long
by fifteen high, and said by Lazari to be one of the few which
Tintoret signed with his name. I am not surprised at his having done
so in this case. Evidently the work has been a favorite with him, and
he has taken as much pains as it was ever necessary for his colossal
strength to take with anything. The subject is not one which admits of
much singularity or energy in composition. It was always a favorite
one with Veronese, because it gave dramatic interest to figures in gay
costumes and of cheerful countenances; but one is surprised to find
Tintoret, whose tone of mind was always grave, and who did not like to
make a picture out of brocades and diadems, throwing his whole
strength into the conception of a marriage feast; but so it is, and
there are assuredly no female heads in any of his pictures in Venice
elaborated so far as those which here form the central light. Neither
is it often that the works of this mighty master conform themselves to
any of the rules acted upon by ordinary painters; but in this instance
the popular laws have been observed, and an academy student would be
delighted to see with what severity the principal light is arranged in
a central mass, which is divided and made more brilliant by a vigorous
piece of shadow thrust into the midst of it, and which dies away in
lesser fragments and sparkling towards the extremities of the picture.
This mass of light is as interesting by its composition as by its
intensity. The cicerone who escorts the stranger round the sacristy in
the course of five minutes, and allows him some forty seconds for the
contemplation of a picture which the study of six months would not
entirely fathom, directs his attention very carefully to the "bell'
effetto di prospettivo," the whole merit of the picture being, in the
eyes of the intelligent public, that there is a long table in it, one
end of which looks farther off than the other; but there is more in
the "bell' effetto di prospettivo" than the observance of the common
laws of optics. The table is set in a spacious chamber, of which the
windows at the end let in the light from the horizon, and those in the
side wall the intense blue of an Eastern sky. The spectator looks all
along the table, at the farther end of which are seated Christ and the
Madonna, the marriage guests on each side of it,--on one side men, on
the other women; the men are set with their backs to the light, which
passing over their heads and glancing slightly on the tablecloth,
falls in full length along the line of young Venetian women, who thus
fill the whole centre of the picture with one broad sunbeam, made up
of fair faces and golden hair. Close to the spectator a woman has
risen in amazement, and stretches across the table to show the wine in
her cup to those opposite; her dark red dress intercepts and enhances
the mass of gathered light. It is rather curious, considering the
subject of the picture, that one cannot distinguish either the bride
or the bridegroom; but the fourth figure from the Madonna in the line
of women, who wears a white head-dress of lace and rich chains of
pearls in her hair, may well be accepted for the former, and I think
that between her and the woman on the Madonna's left hand the unity of
the line of women is intercepted by a male figure; be this as it may,
this fourth female face is the most beautiful, as far as I recollect,
that occurs in the works of the painter, with the exception only of
the Madonna in the "Flight into Egypt." It is an ideal which occurs
indeed elsewhere in many of his works, a face at once dark and
delicate, the Italian cast of feature moulded with the softness and
childishness of English beauty some half a century ago; but I have
never seen the ideal so completely worked out by the master. The face
may best be described as one of the purest and softest of Stothard's
conceptions, executed with all the strength of Tintoret. The other
women are all made inferior to this one, but there are beautiful
profiles and bendings of breasts and necks along the whole line. The
men are all subordinate, though there are interesting portraits among
them; perhaps the only fault of the picture being that the faces are a
little too conspicuous, seen like balls of light among the crowd of
minor figures which fill the background of the picture. The tone of
the whole is sober and majestic in the highest degree; the dresses are
all broad masses of color, and the only parts of the picture which lay
claim to the expression of wealth or splendor are the head-dresses of
the women. In this respect the conception of the scene differs widely
from that of Veronese, and approaches more nearly to the probable
truth. Still the marriage is not an unimportant one; an immense crowd,
filling the background, forming superbly rich mosaic of color against
the distant sky. Taken as a whole, the picture is perhaps the most
perfect example which human art has produced of the utmost possible
force and sharpness of shadow united with richness of local color. In
all the other works of Tintoret, and much more of other colorists,
either the light and shade or the local color is predominant; in the
one case the picture has a tendency to look as if painted by
candle-light, in the other it becomes daringly conventional, and
approaches the conditions of glass-painting. This picture unites
color as rich as Titian's with light and shade as forcible as
Rembrandt's, and far more decisive.

There are one or two other interesting pictures of the early Venetian
schools in this sacristy, and several important tombs in the adjoining
cloister; among which that of Francesco Dandolo, transported here from
the Church of the Frari, deserves especial attention. See above, p.
74.

SALVATORE, CHURCH OF ST. Base Renaissance, occupying the place of the
ancient church, under the porch of which the Pope Alexander III. is
said to have passed the night. M. Lazari states it to have been richly
decorated with mosaics; now all is gone.

In the interior of the church are some of the best examples of
Renaissance sculptural monuments in Venice. (See above, Chap. II. §
LXXX.) It is said to possess an important pala of silver, of the
thirteenth century, one of the objects in Venice which I much regret
having forgotten to examine; besides two Titians, a Bonifazio, and a
John Bellini. The latter ("The Supper at Emmaus") must, I think, have
been entirely repainted: it is not only unworthy of the master, but
unlike him; as far, at least, as I could see from below, for it is
hung high.

SANUDO PALAZZO. At the Miracoli. A noble Gothic palace of the fourteenth
century, with Byzantine fragments and cornices built into its walls,
especially round the interior court, in which the staircase is very
noble. Its door, opening on the quay, is the only one in Venice
entirely uninjured; retaining its wooden valve richly sculptured, its
wicket for examination of the stranger demanding admittance, and its
quaint knocker in the form of a fish.

SCALZI, CHURCH OF THE. It possesses a fine John Bellini, and is renowned
through Venice for its precious marbles. I omitted to notice above, in
speaking of the buildings of the Grotesque Renaissance, that many of
them are remarkable for a kind of dishonesty, even in the use of
_true_ marbles, resulting not from motives of economy, but from mere
love of juggling and falsehood for their own sake. I hardly know which
condition of mind is meanest, that which has pride in plaster made to
look like marble, or that which takes delight in marble made to look
like silk. Several of the later churches in Venice, more especially
those of the Jesuiti, of San Clemente, and this of the Scalzi, rest
their chief claims to admiration on their having curtains and cushions
cut out of rock. The most ridiculous example is in San Clemente, and
the most curious and costly are in the Scalzi; which latter church is
a perfect type of the vulgar abuse of marble in every possible way, by
men who had no eye for color, and no understanding of any merit in a
work of art but that which arises from costliness of material, and
such powers of imitation as are devoted in England to the manufacture
of peaches and eggs out of Derbyshire spar.

SEBASTIAN, CHURCH OF ST. The tomb, and of old the monument, of Paul
Veronese. It is full of his noblest pictures, or of what once were
such; but they seemed to me for the most part destroyed by repainting.
I had not time to examine them justly, but I would especially direct
the traveller's attention to the small Madonna over the second altar
on the right of the nave, still a perfect and priceless treasure.

SERVI, CHURCH OF THE. Only two of its gates and some ruined walls are
left, in one of the foulest districts of the city. It was one of the
most interesting monuments of the early fourteenth century Gothic; and
there is much beauty in the fragments yet remaining. How long they may
stand I know not, the whole building having been offered me for sale,
ground and all, or stone by stone, as I chose, by its present
proprietor, when I was last in Venice. More real good might at present
be effected by any wealthy person who would devote his resources to
the preservation of such monuments wherever they exist, by freehold
purchase of the entire ruin, and afterwards by taking proper charge of
it, and forming a garden round it, than by any other mode of
protecting or encouraging art. There is no school, no lecturer, like a
ruin of the early ages.

SEVERO, FONDAMENTA SAN, palace at, II. 264.

SILVESTRO, CHURCH OF ST. Of no importance in itself, but it contains
two very interesting pictures: the first, a "St. Thomas of Canterbury
with the Baptist and St. Francis," by Girolamo Santa Croce, a superb
example of the Venetian religious school; the second by Tintoret,
namely:

_The Baptism of Christ._ (Over the first altar on the right of the
nave.) An upright picture, some ten feet wide by fifteen high; the top
of it is arched, representing the Father supported by angels. It
requires little knowledge of Tintoret to see that these figures are
not by his hand. By returning to the opposite side of the nave, the
join in the canvas may be plainly seen, the upper part of the picture
having been entirely added on: whether it had this upper part before
it was repainted, or whether originally square, cannot now be told,
but I believe it had an upper part which has been destroyed. I am not
sure if even the dove and the two angels which are at the top of the
older part of the picture are quite genuine. The rest of it is
magnificent, though both the figures of the Saviour and the Baptist
show some concession on the part of the painter to the imperative
requirement of his age, that nothing should be done except in an
attitude; neither are there any of his usual fantastic imaginations.
There is simply the Christ in the water and the St. John on the shore,
without attendants, disciples, or witnesses of any kind; but the power
of the light and shade, and the splendor of the landscape, which on
the whole is well preserved, render it a most interesting example. The
Jordan is represented as a mountain brook, receiving a tributary
stream in a cascade from the rocks, in which St. John stands: there is
a rounded stone in the centre of the current; and the parting of the
water at this, as well as its rippling among the roots of some dark
trees on the left, are among the most accurate remembrances of nature
to be found in any of the works of the great masters. I hardly know
whether most to wonder at the power of the man who thus broke through
the neglect of nature which was universal at his time; or at the
evidences, visible throughout the whole of the conception, that he was
still content to paint from slight memories of what he had seen in
hill countries, instead of following out to its full depth the
fountain which he had opened. There is not a stream among the hills of
Priuli which in any quarter of a mile of its course would not have
suggested to him finer forms of cascade than those which he has idly
painted at Venice.

SIMEONE, PROFETA, CHURCH OF ST. Very important, though small, possessing
the precious statue of St. Simeon, above noticed, II. 309. The rare
early Gothic capitals of the nave are only interesting to the
architect; but in the little passage by the side of the church,
leading out of the Campo, there is a curious Gothic monument built
into the wall, very beautiful in the placing of the angels in the
spandrils, and rich in the vine-leaf moulding above.

SIMEONE, PICCOLO, CHURCH OF ST. One of the ugliest churches in Venice or
elsewhere. Its black dome, like an unusual species of gasometer, is
the admiration of modern Italian architects.

SOSPIRI, PONTE DE'. The well known "Bridge of Sighs," a work of no
merit, and of a late period (see Vol. II. p. 304), owing the interest
it possesses chiefly to its pretty name, and to the ignorant
sentimentalism of Byron.

SPIRITO SANTO, CHURCH OF THE. Of no importance.

STEFANO, CHURCH OF ST. An interesting building of central Gothic, the
best ecclesiastical example of it in Venice. The west entrance is much
later than any of the rest, and is of the richest Renaissance Gothic,
a little anterior to the Porta della Carta, and first-rate of its
kind. The manner of the introduction of the figure of the angel at the
top of the arch is full of beauty. Note the extravagant crockets and
cusp finials as signs of decline.

STEFANO, CHURCH OF ST., at Murano (pugnacity of its abbot), II. 33. The
church no longer exists.

STROPE, CAMPIELLO DELLA, house in, II. 266.

T

TANA, windows at the, II. 260.

TIEPOLO, PALAZZO, on the Grand Canal. Of no importance.

TOLENTINI, CHURCH OF THE. One of the basest and coldest works of the
late Renaissance. It is said to contain two Bonifazios.

TOMA, CHURCH OF ST. Of no importance.

TOMA, PONTE SAN. There is an interesting ancient doorway opening on the
canal close to this bridge, probably of the twelfth century, and a
good early Gothic door, opening upon the bridge itself.

TORCELLO, general aspect of, II. 12; Santa Fosca at, I. 117, II. 13;
duomo, II. 14; mosaics of, II. 196; measures of, II. 378; date of, II.
380.

TREVISAN, PALAZZO, I. 369, III. 212.

TRON, PALAZZO. Of no importance.

TROVASO, CHURCH OF ST. Itself of no importance, but containing two
pictures by Tintoret, namely: