This is impressed on us when in the next Sala, the Anticollegio, we come upon the "Rape of Europa," which Gautier calls "the marvel of this sanctuary of Art" And finally he exclaims: "What beautiful white shoulders, what round and charming arms! What a smile of eternal youth is in this marvellous canvas where Paul Veronese seems to have said his last word! The heavens, clouds, trees, flowers, the earth, the sea, the carnations, draperies, all seem to be steeped in the light of an unknown Elysium."
In the Sala del Collegio, Veronese appears in a far different manner. Above the throne where sat the Doge and the Privy Councillors when receiving foreign ambassadors, is a representation of Venice triumphant after the Victory of Lepanto in 1571. The portraits of the hero of the battle, the Doge Sebastiano Venier, and of Agostino Barbarigo, who perished there, are introduced. It is a grand picture, but confused; for besides the figures we have mentioned are those of the Saviour in glory, Faith, Saints Mark and Justine, and other subordinate personages, and these are massed in the centre of the canvas. He certainly was an astounding painter. We must not think of his curious mingling of people who would seemingly never be associated either on earth or in heaven; we must not note his improprieties of chronology, costume, and place; we must but feast on his dignified and splendid crowds,—his light, his color, and, on the whole, in its general effect, now so mellowed and harmonized by time. Who can resist his charm?
The Sala del Senate is also called dei Pregardi, because in the early times, before Wednesday and Saturday were fixed upon as the days for the meeting of the Senate, messengers were sent to pray the Senators to attend at the palace. It is principally decorated with religious subjects, and the centre of the ceiling is occupied by Tintoretto's conception of "Venice as Queen of the Sea;" but the historical pictures of the "Election of S. Lorenzo Giustiniani as Patriarch of Venice," by Marco Vecelli, and the "League of Cambray," by Palma Giovane, are attractive, although one can scarcely understand why "Venice seated on a lion and daring all Europe" should be chosen to represent the Republic just at that epoch, when she was at the mercy of other powers, and for a time quite helpless. To Art in Venice this league was almost fatal, since the patrons of artists were forced to give their attention and money to the affairs of the State, and the painters were forced to seek other cities where peace permitted them to gain a livelihood. Even Titian left his beloved Venezia, and went to Padua, where he was fully occupied.
Passing through the Ante-Chapel and the Chapel, in which there is little of interest, we reach a staircase leading to the private apartments of the Doge, at the foot of which is the only fresco known to have been painted by Titian, which remains in Venice, and is only shown by special permission of the Conservatorio. It is most carefully painted, and represents Saint Christopher, who is of a splendid Venetian type. The head of the saint is noble; while the child is like an inferior earthly baby, and appears to be in great fear of falling. Tradition teaches that this was painted in honor of the arrival of the French at San Cristoforo, near Milan, in 1523. Titian's patron, the Doge Andrea Gritti, was very fond of the French, and at his election the French ambassador at Venice made great feasts in his honor. Had a patron saint of France been represented, it would have caused comment, perhaps suspicion of the Doge; therefore Saint Christopher was chosen.
In the Sala del Consiglio dei Dieci is the "Meeting of Alexander III. and the Doge Ziani on his Return from his Victory over Barbarossa," by Leandro Bassano. This remarkable portrait-painter had here a great opportunity to show his skill, and he improved it. The figures are evidently painted from life, and well present the patricians of his time, the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century. The Doge Marino Grimani figures as Ziani in this canvas, and in the suite of the Pope Leandro has given us his own portrait. He is ordinary in type. His thick black hair rises above a receding forehead, and his commonplace head and whole bearing suggest the peasant in a borrowed garb. He carries the umbrella behind the Pope.
On the opposite wall is the "Congress at Bologna, in 1529, which concurred in the Peace between Clement VII. and Charles V.," by Marco Vecelli. It represents the whole assemblage; and while one of the secretaries of the Emperor reads the treaty, a Dominican is making an address, drums are beaten and trumpets sounded, and in the distance two cavaliers are riding a tournament, lances in hand. Charles Blanc happily suggests that it is fortunate that painting is dumb, when so many noises are represented. Curious and incoherent as this picture is, it is full of life and movement, and is interesting in its costumes of cardinals, bishops, pontifical guards, ambassadors, and pages.
Naturally the immense Sala del Maggior Consiglio is of the greatest interest. It is now the Bibliotheca di San Marco or Marciana, the books having been brought here in 1812. The decorations are unchanged since the days of the Republic, and the same magnificent works of art which surrounded the meetings of the Great Council make a fitting setting for the treasures of the Library. This hall was burned out in 1577, three years after the great banquet to Henry III. had been given here; and thus the present paintings are by the later Venetian masters. The ceiling is very important, having been painted by Tintoretto, Palma Giovane, and Paul Veronese, whose "Triumph of Venice" far surpasses the works of the other two masters. I know of no description of this picture which can be compared with that of Taine, who says:—
"This work is not merely food for the eye, but a feast. Amidst grand architectural forms of balconies and spiral columns sits Venice, the blonde, on a throne, radiant with beauty, with that fresh and rosy carnation peculiar to the daughters of humid climates, her silken skirt spread out beneath a silken mantle. Around her a circle of young women bend over with a voluptuous and yet haughty smile, possessing that Venetian charm peculiar to a goddess who has a courtesan's blood in her veins, but who rests on a cloud and attracts men to her instead of descending to them. Thrown into relief against pale violet draperies and mantles of azure and gold, their living flesh, their backs and shoulders, are impregnated with light or swim in the penumbra, the soft roundness of their nudity harmonizing with the tranquil gayety of their attitudes and features. Venice in their midst, ostentatious and yet gentle, seems like a queen whose mere rank gives the right to be happy, and whose only desire is to render those who see her happy also. On her serene head, which is thrown slightly backwards, two angels place a crown. What a miserable instrumentality is language! A tone of satiny flesh, a luminous shadow on a bare shoulder, a flickering light on floating silk, attract, recall, and retain the eye for a long time, and yet there is but a vague phrase with which to express the charm.... Beneath the ideal sky and behind a balustrade are Venetian ladies in the costume of the time, in low-neck dresses cut square and closely fitting the body. It is actual society, and is as seductive as the goddess. They are gazing, leaning over and smiling; the light which illuminates portions of their clothes and faces falls on them or diffuses itself in such exquisite contrasts that one is moved with transports of delight. At one time a brow, at another a delicate ear or a necklace or a pearl, issues from the warm shadow. One, in the flower of youth, has the archest of looks; another, about forty and amply developed, glances upward and smiles in the best possible humor. This one—a superb creature, with red sleeves striped with gold—stoops, and her swelling breasts expand the chemise of her bodice. A little blond, curly-headed girl in the arms of an old woman raises her charming little hand with the most mutinous air, and her fresh little visage is a rose. There is not one who is not happy in living, and who is not merely cheerful, but joyous. And how well these rumpled, changeable silks, these white, diaphanous pearls accord with these transparent tints, as delicate as the petals of flowers! Away below, finally, is the restless activity of the sturdy, noisy crowd; warriors, prancing horses, grand flowing togas, a trumpeter bedizened with drapery, a man's naked back near a cuirass, and in the intervals, a dense throng of vigorous and animated heads, and in one corner a young mother and her infant; all these objects being disposed with the facility of opulent genius, and all illuminated like the sea in summer, with superabundant sunshine. All this is what one should bear away with him in order to retain an idea of Venice.... I got some one to show me the way to the public garden; after such a picture one can only contemplate natural objects."
The only unbroken wall in this Great Hall is occupied by the "Paradiso" of Tintoretto, in some respects the greatest of modern pictures; while the remaining wall-spaces are filled with twelve pictures illustrating the story of Pope Alexander and Barbarossa, and nine others of scenes connected with the Fourth Crusade. These splendid paintings are among the earliest which were executed on large canvases, and for that reason are important in the History of Art, while they bear witness to the wealth and generosity of the Republic at the time when they were painted. Much blackened by age as they are, and often villanously repainted, they are still a worthy study for the art student for many reasons.
Carlo and Gabriele Cagliari represented two scenes in the earliest period of the association of the Pope and the Doge Ziani. In the first the Doge and the Senators have found the Pope in the Convent of La Carità, where Alexander took refuge from Barbarossa in 1177. This convent, now the Academy of Fine Arts, is on the Grand Canal; and not only are the Senators and a crowd of people represented as surrounding the two principal personages, but there are fishermen in their boats, with baskets full of fish, a group of people in a gondola, and other figures which add much to the life and movement of the scene. The Pope is habited like a poor priest, in order that he may the better conceal his personality.