"'It is true,' asserts Giovanna; 'and here we poor folks become landowners at last.'"
We stay here long enough to see the handsome church built by Moro Lombardo in 1466; to examine the statues by Bernini, which, to say truth, do not seem to strike the Venetian key-note; and to read the name of Fra Paolo Sarpi in the pavement, beneath which lies this brave defender of Venice against Pope Paul V. From the Carmelite convent of San Michele went Placido Zurla to be made a cardinal, and that Cappelari who ascended the papal throne, in our own century, as Gregory XVI. Here also lived Frate Mauro, who made in 1457 the celebrated Mappa-Mondo for Alphonso V. of Portugal. It is now in the library of St. Mark, and is a geographical encyclopædia of all that was known about our planet at that time.
It would be folly to attempt a new description of the panorama before us when we can quote a sentence from Ruskin which thus outlines the scene between Venice and Murano:—
"The pure cumuli of cloud lie crowded and leaning against one another, rank beyond rank, far over the shining water, each cut away at its foundation by a level line, trenchant and clear, till they sink to the horizon like a flight of marble steps, except where the mountains meet them, and are lost in them, barred across by the gray terraces of those cloud foundations, and reduced into one crestless bank of blue, spotted here and there with strange flakes of wan, aerial, greenish light, strewed upon them like snow. And underneath is the long dark line of the mainland, fringed with low trees; and then the wide waving surface of the burnished lagoon trembling slowly, and shaking out into forked bands of lengthening light the images of the towers of cloud above. To the north, there is first the great cemetery wall, then the long stray buildings of Murano, and the inland villages beyond, glittering in intense crystalline vermilion, like so much jewelry scattered on a mirror, their towers poised apparently in the air a little above the horizon, and their reflections, as sharp and vivid and substantial as themselves, thrown on the vacancy between them and the sea. And thus the villages seem standing on the air; and to the east there is a cluster of ships that seem sailing on the land; for the sandy line of the Lido stretches itself between us and them, and we can see the tall white sails moving beyond it, but not the sea; only there is a sense of the great sea being indeed there, and a solemn strength of gleaming light in the sky above."
Between the cemetery and Murano there is little more than a channel, and we enter a canal with narrow quays on each side, three or four feet above the canal. The houses, now inhabited by poor people, have certain really beautiful features in doorways and windows, which indicate that Murano "has seen better days." At present there is the sort of stir that belongs to a manufacturing town the world over,—street-cries from the dealers in fruits and fish; glass-makers coming and going, stopping now and then to speak with the women who are knitting in the doorways,—and altogether an air of active, practical life that is very unlike Venice itself.
Our first visit is naturally to the Cathedral of San Donato. The origin of this church is thus given in the legends: Otho the Great, who died in 973, had a vision in which the Virgin Mary showed him a triangular meadow covered with scarlet lilies, and desired him to build there a church in her honor. Nearly two centuries later, when the Doge Michiele II. brought from Cephalonia the embalmed body of Saint Donato, and gave it to this church, that saint was joined with the Virgin as its patron, and the cathedral henceforth called by his name. It is probable that the whole church was then rebuilt. At all events, the architecture is unmistakably of the twelfth century, and is very interesting, especially the semicircular apse, with its double rows of round arches and its beautifully sculptured marbles.
The remarkable balustrade around the upper gallery is also noticeable; and the chief interest of this church, which stands in the northern angle of the triangle, is in its exterior. The campanile, a few yards away, is heavy; and the modern buildings, with their ugly square windows and blank walls, make it difficult to enjoy even the little that remains from the old days. There is a ruined flag-staff foundation, with the iron hasps that held the standard still remaining, and a well with the date 1502. The interior of San Donato has been so changed in recent times that it is simply commonplace, with the exception of the pavement, which is beautifully inlaid, and dates from 1140, and a Madonna in Greek mosaic, which is a remarkable imitation of the Byzantine, though by no means beautiful. Doubtless some of the columns with delicately sculptured capitals were brought from Altinum.
The Church of the Angels must be visited for the sake of the Madonna by Gian Bellini, which was painted for the Doge Barberigo in 1488, and presented to the convent in which two of his daughters had taken the veil. The Doge, in all the pomp of his official attire, is presented to the Virgin by Saints Mark and Augustine. It is a most interesting picture, as are all those by this old painter, who loved to paint the Divine Mother and Child with their attendant saints and angels; and, as in this picture, with "beds of weeds and flowers, in which the crane, the peacock, and partridge alike elect to congregate."
But it is not for its churches, its architecture, or works of art that Murano is known to us. Neither is it of this Murano, with its few thousand inhabitants and less than a dozen manufactories, that we have been accustomed to think. It is of that Murano on which dwelt thirty thousand people, and from which ascended the smoke of three hundred furnaces, the fires of which were nearly all extinguished after the fall of the Republic. Now, however, in the new life that has come to Italy, the glass-making of Murano is reviving.
Salviati has done much to restore the art to its old-time excellence; and other countries again depend on Venice for many of these products. Again the beads of Murano are very beautiful, and an important element of commerce; and though many of the objects now made are more fantastic than useful, they are also very beautiful. Salviati imitates both the old glass and the mosaics, and varies his products in a thousand forms, which are still tinted with the old and famous colors,—girasole (opal), acqua marina, rubino, lattimo, giallo d'oro, and many others.