Chapter XVI: Saints and Others

In the earliest days of the Venetian Republic a church was built on the Rialto, and dedicated to Saint James; and when in 452 the decree was issued at Padua which ordered the gathering together of the straggling inhabitants who had fled from Attila and his Huns, and the formation of a town under the rule of consuls, it was to this notable warrior saint that these people looked for protection. Tradition teaches that this earliest church in Venice stood on a portion of the land now covered by the Cathedral of San Marco.

About a century later, when already the Republic of Venice was rising in importance and esteem, Narses, coming from his victory over the Ostrogoths, visited the Venetians, and built them a new chapel, which he dedicated to Saint Theodore,--a young Syrian soldier saint, much honored in the Oriental church. He was apparently a satisfactory protector, for all went well with the Venetians under his tutelage. Their numbers and wealth increased so that one island was quite insufficient for their habitations, and no one church could suffice for the growing state or city.

During these important years images of Saint Theodore, whom we have seen standing on a column in the Piazzetta, opposite the lion of his more fortunate successor, were cherished and worshipped by the people, who looked to him as their efficient patron and guardian; and with {304} reason,--for if his symbols were rightly understood, his saintship taught the Republic the wise policy of exerting its strength for protection and defence rather than for invasion and assault. But the time came when Saint Theodore was superseded, in spite of the good services he had rendered Venice during nearly three centuries,--centuries, too, when the struggle to live and grow and build up the Republic taxed the heads and hands of all, and required an able defender to watch over them.

There is a legend that during the first Crusade, in 1099, when Vitale Michieli was Doge, a flotilla of two hundred and seven vessels sailed from Venice in command of the son of the Doge, Giovanni Michieli, and Arrigo Contarini, Bishop of Castello, whose father had been Doge about twenty years before.

Their alleged object was to succor Godfrey de Bouillon; but they seem to have been far more successful as relic-hunters than as Knights of the Cross, and brought back rich treasures to the churches of Venice, among which was the body of Saint Theodore, which they found at a small town near the city of Myra. It was received with joy at Venice, and deposited in the Church of San Salvatore; but as this saint had already been superseded by the great Evangelist, he seems to have been left principally to the Confraternity of San Teodoro, whose _scuola_ is close to San Salvatore.

In 829 two Venetian merchants, Buono of Malamocco and Rustico of Torcello, with ten galleys, were trading clandestinely in the port of Alexandria, just at the time when the Caliph of Egypt was building a splendid palace, and for its decoration was contemplating denuding all the Christian temples of their treasures and ornaments. Hearing this, these merchants feared that the Church of St. Mark, where that Evangelist was honorably reposing, would be desecrated; and they determined if possible to {305} rescue the sacred body and bear it to Venice. When they proposed to the Greek priest of the temple to aid them in their designs, he naturally refused, and represented to them the sin and danger of such an act; but their promises of riches and prosperity at Venice overcame his scruples, and he yielded to their wishes. The body of Saint Mark was wrapped in the linen shroud of Saint Claudia, and laid in a deep basket. It was then covered with a thick layer of herbs, on which joints of pork were laid. The Venetian seamen who carried the basket to the ship walked leisurely, taking the precaution to cry out _Khanzir! Khanzir!_ (pork, pork), which effectually prevented any examination by Mussulmans. When safely on the vessel, the basket was hoisted into the shrouds, and was thus safely borne away.

A tradition adds that during a tempest on the voyage the saint appeared to a priest, who was one of the passengers, and commanded the sails to be furled. This being done, the ship next morning reached the port of Olivolo, while the remainder of the fleet were scattered by the furious storm.

The saint was welcomed with immense satisfaction, and his arrival was of great importance to the State. It increased the courage and the commerce of the Republic. Pilgrims of all ranks, from crowned heads to the poorest sailors, came to worship at his shrine. A commercial fair was instituted in his honor; and although Saint Theodore was not discarded, Saint Mark was by common consent placed above him, his image and name being stamped on the coins of Venice, and woven in her banners, while the battle-cry from this time was _viva San Marco!_

Very soon the Doge Badoer II. died, and in his will provided for the erection of a mausoleum for the sacred bones of the new patron saint, which was the beginning of the Basilica of San Marco. Meantime the relics {306} of Saint Mark were deposited in the Chapel of St. Theodore, and there worshipped; and as if that were not sufficiently humiliating to the superseded warrior, the chapel itself was demolished to make room for the more imposing edifice of the newly arrived saint. More fortunate than his predecessors, Saint Mark has retained his honored place in the hearts of the Venetians, through all the days of their glory, and alas! through those of their decline.

The people treasure many legends of their saint, and their love and reverence for him survive their knowledge of their former state. San Marco the Saint, San Marco the Cathedral, and San Marco the Piazza remain to them,--facts of which they may well be proud,--but the Doges, the Bucentaur, the coronations, the tournaments, the pomp, luxury, and wealth,--where are they?

If one doubted the miraculous benefits which Saint Mark has conferred on Venice, he need but to listen to some pious Venetian while he recounts in his soft and fascinating dialect the saving of the city in 1340.

He would hear that on the 25th of February in that year a terrific storm prevailed. The sounds that came from the sea were as if some frightful enemy were approaching with shrieks and curses, which rent the air as no storm was ever known to do. For three days the floods had been swelling, and the water was three cubits higher than ever it had been, and threatened the destruction of the city.

Affrighted and helpless before an enemy whom they could neither attack nor repulse, the people sought the Basilica, and prayed to San Marco for succor. Masses were constantly repeated, and the vast throngs prayed and watched by turns for an answer to their prayers.

An old fisherman made his way from one of the islands with great difficulty, having vowed to San Marco that if {307} he would but guide him home in safety, his earnings for the rest of his days should be devoted to the saint. More dead than alive, he reached the Riva di San Marco; for, more than the storm, and more than all his exertion in rowing, the unearthly shrieks and yells he had heard had unfitted him for further exertion,--he was paralyzed with fear.

But scarcely had he reached the Riva when a man suddenly stood beside him, and asked to be taken to San Giorgio Maggiore. He would listen to no refusals, and so entreated the fisherman that he believed it must be the will of God that he should go. Strangely enough, though going against the waves, a path seemed to open before them, and the rowing was far lighter than it had been when he was alone in the boat. At San Giorgio the stranger landed, and bade the boatman await his return.

When he came he brought with him a much younger man, and now bade the fisherman row to San Niccolo del Lido. Aghast at such a distance in such a sea, the poor man begged for mercy and release; but he was encouraged to row boldly, and promised strength for all his task. And so it was: the boat seemed to leap over the waves; and when they reached San Niccolo, the two men landed, and soon returned with a third, and bade the boatman row out beyond the two castles.

When they came to the sea, they saw a bark full of demons coming to overwhelm the city with water. The three men in the boat made the sign of the cross, and bade the demons depart. Instantly the bark vanished, the sea was calm, and the waters began to subside. Then the men commanded the boatman to land them at the places from which he had brought them; this he did, and of the third demanded payment for what he had done.

"Thou art right," replied the man; "go now to the {308} Doge and to the Procuratori of St. Mark. Tell them what thou hast seen, for Venice had been overwhelmed but for us three. I am Saint Mark the Evangelist, the protector of Venice. The other is the brave knight Saint George, and he whom thou didst take up at the Lido is the holy bishop St. Nicholas. Say that you are to be paid, and tell them likewise that this tempest arose because a certain schoolmaster of San Felice did sell his soul to the Devil and then hanged himself."

The fisherman replied that his story would not be believed. Then Saint Mark gave him a ring from his finger, saying, "Show them this, and say that when they look in the sanctuary they will not find it;" and as he spoke he disappeared. The next morning, when the boatman went to the Doge and the Procuratori, it all happened as had been said. The man was paid, and a solemn procession was ordained to give thanks to the three saints. The boatman received a pension, and the ring was replaced in the sanctuary. If any one doubts this, let him go to the Accademia, and look at the pictures which commemorate this story. Would Giorgione have taken all the trouble to represent the scene if it had never occurred; or would Paris Bordone have repeated it, as may be seen in the same gallery?

Another legend of the benefits which Saint Mark loved to confer on his people is perpetuated by a wonderful picture of Jacopo Tintoretto's in the same collection. A poor slave who persisted in worshipping at the shrine of Saint Mark had for this reason been condemned to torture by his cruel master. Just when the brutal executioners were about to begin their fiendish cruelties, the saint descends like a whirlwind; the executioners are confounded, their instruments are broken, and the slave is free!

Another miracle of Saint Mark's is connected with the {309} preservation of his own relics. In 976 a fire destroyed a large portion of San Marco; and when the repairs were completed, the place in which the body of the saint had rested was forgotten. This was a true sorrow to the Doge and the people, and at last they determined to keep a fast and pray God to show them what no man could tell. The 25th of June was appointed for this fast, and a solemn procession was made; and while in the cathedral all were fervently imploring the manifestation of their treasure, with great joy they beheld a pillar shake, and then fall to the ground, disclosing the bronze chest in which the body of the Evangelist was preserved. These sacred relics are now beneath the high altar in San Marco, as is recorded on a marble slab at the back of the altar.

Sanudo gives a curious account of the acquisition of another saint. He says that in 992 Pietro Barbolano, together with Pietro Giustiniani, was sent to Constantinople on a diplomatic mission. There the future Doge saw the remains of Saint Saba, and was seized with the desire to obtain them for his beloved Venice. At length Barbolano, by one argument and another, prevailed on the guardians of the saint to sell her to him; but when the night came on which he was leaving the Golden Horn, these men showed signs of breaking their bargain. The rain was falling in torrents, and the Greeks construed this as an omen that they ought not to permit the saint to undertake the voyage.

But Barbolano had with him his two sons and several servants, and he quickly ended the matter by ordering the chest which contained the sacred relics to be taken to his ship, which was soon under way, and made a prosperous voyage to Venice, where Barbolano ordered the chest to be put in a gondola and taken to his house, next the Church of San Antonino at Castello. But when this was attempted, the chest had become so heavy that it could {310} not be lifted; and at the same moment the bell of the Campanile began to toll, with no visible agency, and with such violence as threatened destruction to the tower itself.

This caused many people to gather in the Piazza; and in their midst Barbolano threw himself on his knees and exclaimed, "We will carry it to the church, for the Saviour of Men has declared his will that this body shall be placed in the shrine dedicated to Saint Antonino." It is not easy to understand how the devout Barbolano knew all this; but apparently he was right, for the chest was now as light as before, and was placed in a gondola, taken to the church, and deposited on the altar. Then the bell ceased ringing, and a dove with miraculously white plumage hovered over the relics while a _Te Deum_ and other services were celebrated, and then vanished.

A new altar was erected for Saint Saba, near that of San Antonino, and the bones were placed in the reliquary of the church; and on the evening of that day, as the curé of San Antonino walked in his garden, he "marvelled not a little to observe among the flowers a rose of surpassing beauty; and the good man hesitated not to associate the fair vision with the miracle of which he had just been a witness, looking upon it as a symbol of that yet fairer flower which had been so recently transplanted from the soil of Constantinople to that of Venice."

It would seem strange that such a wonder-working saint should not frequently have proved her power in the midst of the great events of the Republic, and at times when miracles in behalf of the Venetians were sorely needed; but doubtless she soon felt that those of her sex did not assume power publicly in this City of the Sea, and whatever she did was done _sub rosa_.

The same Michieli and Contarini who had brought to Venice the relics of Saint Theodore were extremely {311} fortunate in their relic-hunting; for they also brought home the _due corpi di San Niccolo_, the greater and the less, and deposited them in the Church of San Niccolo del Lido. Saint Nicholas of Myra is a protector against robbers and violence, and is a favorite saint with sailors, travellers, and merchants. He is also a patron of poor maidens, of children, and especially of school-boys, and the legends of his goodness and kindly acts are innumerable; in fact, he is so celebrated and so important a saint that it is all the more grievous to recount that the majority of the people who have lived since the ninth century who have understood these matters and known all about saints do not allow that the relics of this sainted Lycian are, or ever were, in Venice, and Bari is the happy place wherein he is said to repose. Thus it happens that he is often called San Niccolo di Bari; but I should not like to speak of him thus to any of my devout Venetian friends, least of all to my good gondolier.

Another Venetian fleet which had been to the aid of Baldwin in the Holy Land, when returning, about 1125, obtained the body of Saint Isidore at Chios, and that of Saint Donato at Cephalonia. These were brought to Venice at the same time with the "great stone which had stood near one of the gates of Tyre since the time when Our Lord, weary after a journey, sat down to rest upon it," as well as vast treasures of jewels, gold and silver, embroideries and carpets, and all the splendid fabrics of the Orient. But to the reverent Christian all else paled before the bodies of the saints. Saint Isidore is believed now to rest in his own chapel in San Marco. San Donato, the once saintly Bishop of Evorea, was given by Domenico Michieli to Murano, and the Church of Santa Maria soon assumed his name. To Torcello was brought Saint Fosca, a noble virgin who had been martyred under the persecution of Decius at Ravenna; and her church was second {312} only to the Cathedral of Torcello. When to this list of saints we add the bodies of San Pancrazio and Santa Sabina, which were given to the Abbess of San Zaccaria by Pope Benedict III., and Saint Christina, the patron of the Venetian States, and likewise Saint Justina of Padua,--another patron of Venice who is represented in Venetian costume, with the city or the cathedral of San Marco in the distance,--we may call Venice the City of Saints as justly as the City of the Sea.

SAN LAZZARO.

One saint still remains to whom we must pay our respects; and since his island lies some miles away to the southeast, we must devote to him at least half of a precious Venetian day. The gondola glides like a spirit through the narrow canals, out on the sea, where the motion is but enough to rock one into forgetfulness of all care, even that of self; and the mood which follows is just that in which one should come to the old Armenian convent, with its garden of figs and orange-trees, pomegranates and flowering shrubs.

The welcome from the monks adds still another element of peace; and one roams quietly through the restful old place, with its church and convent, and wonders if a less gifted mortal than he who here dwelt and wrote,--

"Around me are the stars and waters,--
Worlds mirrored in the ocean, goodlier sight
Than torches glared back by a gaudy glass,"

could tarry here and grow forgetful of the ought and must of life.

At each window a pause is made; and the fascination of the views leads to a feeling of sympathy with that good Mechitar, who founded his convent here one hundred and seventy-six years ago. From the courteous monk who {313} is our guide, we learn that this same Mechitar, who at nine years of age desired to be a priest, and entered a convent at fifteen, was a wonderful scholar, a writer and poet. Some of his hymns are used in the churches of Armenia.

Mechitar, having exhausted the learning at his command in the institutions to which he could obtain admittance, and having learned from missionaries whom he met of the far greater advantages in Europe, conceived the idea of establishing a literary institution for the Armenian nation, and after many struggles founded a Mechitaristican Society at Constantinople in 1700. Here he began to print books in the Armenian language, and sent out some preachers to various cities of Armenia; but soon he became the object of such persecution that he barely escaped the galleys by putting himself under the protection of the French ambassador.

Again, in spite of immense hindrances, he gathered his disciples at Modon, in the Morea, and anew began the erection of a convent and church. For twelve years he labored, when war broke out between the Turks and the Venetians, and his property fell into the hands of the former. Meantime Mechitar had commended himself greatly to the Governor Emo, and to the General of the Marine, Sebastiano Mocenigo, both of whom had given him money for his building, and the aid of their friendship; and now he naturally turned to Venice, where he landed in 1715. After much consultation and at the recommendation of Emo and Mocenigo, in 1717 the Senate decreed to him the island of San Lazzaro, which had been used as a hospital for lepers until it was no longer needed.

Mechitar found little to help him in the old church, deserted dormitory, two wells, and a garden, which were the only remnants of the former buildings which existed. {314} He obtained from Rome, where he presented his cause in person, permission to send missionaries to the East. Rich Armenians, of whom there are many, came to his aid; and in the remaining thirty-two years of his life he established his convent on such a basis, and made it of such manifest benefit to the world, that in 1810, when the monasteries of Venice were suppressed, the Mechitaristican Society was granted its independence.

Mechitar received only Armenians into his schools. The advance of his own nation was the object for which he lived, labored, and prayed. His courses of study were comprehensive, his discipline not severe, and his whole attitude towards pupils and monks that of a father. Seven hours a day for study, and seven for repose; in summer one hour in the day for sleep; after dinner two hours for conversation, and one hour at evening for walking in the garden and for games; forty days in the summer at the country residence on the Brenta; fifteen days in the Carnival devoted to instructive dramatic representations; attendance on the public festivals in Venice, with occasional outings on adjacent islands and in the neighborhood on the mainland,--such is the outline of the rule of Mechitar. On the other hand, his novitiate was long and exacting, and no members were admitted unless proved to be virtuous, talented, of strong health, and desirous, of their own choice, of joining the Society. If found to be of indifferent abilities, they were sent back to Armenia. He had prayers three times a day, according to Armenian custom, but excused the younger pupils from morning prayer in church. He made no rules of abstinence, and provided plenty of food. He allowed no monk to leave the island without permission, and gave as few rules of conduct as possible, his object being to strengthen them in virtue for virtue's sake.

It is difficult to leave the windows and fix one's {315} attention within, even to see the treasures of the library, with its Oriental manuscripts, illuminated missals, rare books, and goodly collection of prints. One can readily admit its claim to be the centre of Armenian literature in all the world, but why not a great Polyglot centre, since books are printed here in thirty-two different languages? Hare says that this convent "obtained a fictitious celebrity through Byron, who studied here for six months." However one may view this, it is most interesting to read Byron's letter to Moore (December, 1816), in which, among other things, he says:--

"By way of divertissement, I am studying daily at an Armenian monastery the Armenian language. I found that my mind wanted something craggy to break upon; and this--as the most difficult thing I could discover here for an amusement--I have chosen, to torture me into attention. It is a rich language, however, and would amply repay any one the trouble of learning it. I try, and shall go on; but I answer for nothing, least of all for my intentions or my success.... Four years ago the French instituted an Armenian professorship. Twenty pupils presented themselves on Monday morning, full of noble ardor, ingenuous youth, and impregnable industry. They persevered, with a courage worthy of the nation and of universal conquest, till Thursday, when fifteen of the twenty succumbed to the six-and-twentieth letter of the alphabet. It is, to be sure, a Waterloo of an alphabet,--that must be said for them."

After Byron's death, a Preface to the Armenian Grammar was found among his papers. It was probably intended for the Armenian and English Grammar which Byron helped Dr. Aucher to prepare. The following is an extract from this "Preface":--

"The society of the convent of S. Lazarus appears to unite all the advantages of the monastic institution, without any of its vices. The neatness, the comfort, the gentleness, the unaffected devotion, the accomplishments, and the virtues of the {316} brethren of the order, are well fitted to strike a man of the world with the conviction that 'there is another and a better, even in this life.'

"These men are the priesthood of an oppressed and noble nation, which has partaken of the proscription and bondage of the Jews and of the Greeks, without the sullenness of the former or the servility of the latter. This people has attained riches without usury, and all the honors that can be awarded to slavery without intrigue. But they have long occupied, nevertheless, a part of the 'House of Bondage,' who has lately multiplied her many mansions. It would be difficult, perhaps, to find the annals of a nation less stained with crimes than those of the Armenians, whose virtues have been those of peace, and their vices those of compulsion. But whatever may have been their destiny,--and it has been bitter,--whatever it may be in future, their country must ever be one of the most interesting on the globe; and perhaps their language only requires to be more studied to become more attractive. If the Scriptures are rightly understood, it was in Armenia that Paradise was placed,--Armenia, which has paid as dearly as the descendants of Adam for that fleeting participation of its soil in the happiness of him who was created from its dust. It was in Armenia that the flood first abated, and the dove alighted. But with the disappearance of Paradise itself may be almost dated the unhappiness of the country; for, though long a powerful kingdom, it was scarcely ever an independent one, and the satraps of Persia and the pachas of Turkey have alike desolated the region where God created man in his own image."

The hours pass imperceptibly away. In hearing what the monk tells, and in reading what he gives us concerning the Society,--like the above and kindred facts,--the day declines, until the sensation of the lessening light reminds us that there is still something to be done, delightful as this reading and musing is. Within twilight has come; but without, although the east is dusky, it is so by contrast with the west. The setting sun has sunk {317} so far that it illumines the sky alone, where golden minarets are reaching toward mid-heaven, and low, sleeping clouds of purplish hue sink with the sun beyond the horizon. At the last there are flashes of brilliant flame, and then sea and sky are blended. The twilight grows less and less. How silent the world seems! The gentle dip of the oars alone is heard, until, as we come nearer the city, a snatch of song falls on our ear, a gondola overtakes us, and Giacomo cheerfully greets a comrade. As we near the Piazzetta, all light is gone from the sea. We leave an inky darkness behind, which makes the blinking lamps on the Molo seem brilliant by contrast.

Now comes a new pleasure,--for even in dreamy Venice mortals are still doomed to eat,--and to-night we leave our better-loved Zattere to meet friends at the Café Florian, with its frescos and mirrors and cosey cabinets, from which, while being served, we catch glimpses of the fast-filling square. The lights are multiplying; the concerts of violins and harps, and the songs of the singers are beginning. The flower-girls are tying their nosegays or weaving garlands, and gazing wistfully at the windows of the brilliant little shops; and hundreds of figures pass and repass, now in the shadow and now in the light.

But even this dinner will end. The delicious sorbet and the fragrant coffee are, all too soon, things of the past. However, we do not stay to regret them, since this evening affords one of the rare opportunities to see La Fenice open in summer. It is always entertaining to watch the coming and going of the gondolas to and from this theatre; but at this season, when most of the wealthy Venetians are away on the mainland, the audience is not brilliant, the play not very good, and we are glad to be back in the Piazza for an hour beneath the summer moon, and then to walk home through the crooked _calli_, that seem more like the make-believe of the stage than like {318} real life. There are corners so dark that they might well be used for an ambush. But we have no enemies in Venice, and so by aid of Giacomo's lanthorn may safely explore these narrow ways at any hour we choose, and hang the pictures of them in our mental gallery to look at and think about when thousands of miles away. For who that loves Venice ever forgets her? and that which in her midst seems dreamlike and unreal, with time and distance crystallizes into the sharpest and clearest of memories.

On such a night as this impassionedly
The old Venetian sung these verses rare,
"That Venice must of needs eternal be,
For Heaven had looked through the pellucid air,
And cast its reflex in the crystal sea,
And Venice was the image pictured there."
I hear them now, and tremble, for I seem
As treading on an unsubstantial dream.
Who talks of vanished glory, of dead power,
Of things that were, and are not? Is he here?
Can he take in the glory of this hour,
And call it all the decking of a bier?
No, surely as on that Titanic tower
The Guardian Angel stands in æther clear,
With the moon's silver tempering his gold wing,
So Venice lives, as lives no other thing.
LORD HOUGHTON.

{319}