Chapter VII: Murano and the Glass-Makers

The excursion to Murano must be made on a fine day, when the wind is favorable and the sea calm, as it is frequently very rough near that island. We leave Venice at the Fondamenta Nuove, and keep to the north. It is but a half-hour's row to Murano, and the aspect of the lagoon here is quite different from that to the south of Venice. To the east lies the desolate marsh-land formerly called the Dogado, where the Doge had preserves for fishing and shooting. From these marshes came the wild duck which the Doge presented to every noble, on December 4, Saint Barbara's Day.

We soon reach San Michele, the cemetery of Venice, to which the boats with black flags, so often seen, are always going. The sight of it reminds us of Mr. Howells and his "Venetian Life:"--

"As we go by the cemetery of San Michele, Piero the gondolier and Giovanna improve us with a little solemn pleasantry.

"'It is a small place,' says Piero, 'but there is room enough for all Venice in it.'

"'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 {122} 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; {123} 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 {124} 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 {125} 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.

The frieze of mosaic at the South Kensington Museum in London, and the ceiling of the vestibule which leads from the grand staircase to the foyer in the Paris Opera House are excellent specimens of the modern mosaic work of Murano, which is now in full revival, and takes the first place in the world, as it did centuries ago. The following description of some splendid pieces made for Mr. H. Furber, of Chicago, shows the present importance of this art in Venice. They are intended for the "Columbus Palace" near the grounds of the "Columbian Exposition":--

"Among the important works recently executed is a large mosaic panel representing Columbus being received by Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand of Spain after his return from America. This panel, measuring about two hundred square feet, shows Columbus when kneeling before the sovereigns, presenting to them the natives of the newly discovered land, and some products of the soil. The persons represented are about thirty-eight in number, many of them of the natural size, formed in three principal groups. In the most important group is Columbus, having at his side the young crown prince and the sovereigns, surrounded by the dignitaries of the court, ladies and noblemen, and pages holding the standards. In the middle group, but more to the left, are the native Indians; and near the entrance of the hall other Spanish nobles and the companions of Columbus. The gorgeous and various attires of all the figures, their warlike implements, the splendid stuffs of all sorts and {126} tints, the rich decoration of the hall, the pageantry of the court, the strange tones and costumes of the natives in full contrast with the others, and the various attitudes of all these personages form a whole in perfect harmony with the details of the scene, owing to the excellent distribution of the figures, and the perfect fusion of tints. The work is so delicately executed that no one can believe that the panel is not painted until on touching it he discovers that it is entirely composed of small enamel cubes, put together without any aid of color or cement, and worked according to the mode of the old Venetian mosaic school. This panel will form the pendant of another representing Columbus landing in America."

No glass has been so famous as that of Venice, because no other glass-makers have ever equalled the Venetians in the beauty of their products, nor in the marvellous manner in which they varied the use of their materials. Good authorities believe that this art was known to the earliest settlers of the lagoons, although they used their knowledge in the making of the necessities of life alone; but the material of the antique glass and the Muranese glass is precisely the same.

In 1292 the Grand Council, by a decree, ordered the removal of the glass-workers to Murano, and the destruction of the furnaces at Riva Alto. From the inauguration of this industry at Murano, the Government was extremely jealous in preventing the secrets of glass-making from being discovered by any strangers. From the year 1275 the export of lump glass, or of the materials used in its composition, and even of broken glass, was forbidden, and a heavy penalty attached to such acts; and from this time more stringent laws were made, and at length the manufactories were put in charge of the Council of Ten, so determined was the Republic to profit by the skill of its workers. These anxieties were not unreasonable, since it is known that men as high in position as the {127} ambassadors from France had a sort of police in their employ, who attempted to bribe the glass-workers, and to spy out the raw materials they used, and their manner of combining them.

It appears most probable that to the original knowledge of the earliest Venetians some additions must have been made from the methods of the Oriental mosaic-workers, who were employed in San Marco as early as the tenth century, although later the productions of the Venetians were sought in the East, where the making of fine glass had come to be a lost art. That this is true is proved by an order still existing for four hundred mosque lamps, bearing verses from the Koran, in colored enamels, to be made for the Grand Vizier of the Sultan. The Arabic influence which is so clearly shown in Venetian glass is supposed to have come from the specimens of glass found in the Roman Campagna, and in many other places in Italy, such as Nola, Campania, and so on, which in all probability were used as models at Murano.

Venice gained immense sums by her trade in glass beads alone. Their place in commerce is almost incredible, especially when they began to be covered with enamels, gold, and opaline colors. The Orientals exchanged for them silks, spices, precious metals, and all sorts of exquisite tissues. They found their way all over the world, and in modern days have been seen in central Africa, where they were used for money. The shrewd Venetians valued their exquisite pieces of glass, their vases, goblets, mirror frames, and ewers; but they were most jealous in the protection of their bead trade and manufacture.

From the eleventh to the fourteenth century the preparation of enamel for mosaic work was the most important department of the glass-works at Murano, and the mosaic glass there made has never been equalled in beauty or durability elsewhere. Even pavements in San Marco, {128} made from this glass, and now five or six centuries old, are still perfect in color, joints, and setting.

Salviati gives the name of glass to the Venetian manufacture alone, and applies "crystal or crystallified glass" to all other varieties, and Yriarte says:--

"These makers have but one object, to imitate the quality of crystal. Thus, when they have perfected the properties of clearness and brilliancy, they set about increasing the attractiveness of their productions by cutting them after they have been first run in moulds; that is to say, by employing mechanical means to obtain something like the richness, the variety of form, and vigor of line which alone can insure it success in the market. But to do this is to demand from glass qualities which it ought not to yield, and to change its nature, depriving it of its two essential qualities,--lightness and ductility.

"The glory of Murano is to have preserved the special properties of the material, and to have made it yield all the beauties of which it was capable."

These workers at Murano had two great advantages,--the material they used was ductile, light, especially brilliant, and possessed of vitreous appearance quite unique; and, added to these important conditions, the workmen had natural good taste, and the immense aid of historical traditions,--and by wisely employing its own resources Murano attained its great reputation; its forms and colors have not been equalled, and that they could be excelled is past imagining.

We know the name of the man who made mosaics for San Marco in 1100. It was Pietro, and he worked for the Doge Vitale Michiele I. In 1268 the glass-workers had formed a corporation. In 1292 they settled permanently on Murano. In 1329 they were employed to furnish glass for churches in other cities; and in 1376 the Senate declared that a master glass-maker might marry the daughter of a noble, and their children be held as of noble {129} rank. It was at this time that the Venetian glass-workers decorated the fine edifices all over Italy, and made the windows for the Cathedral of Milan.

So vast had the industry now become that it was divided into specialties,--the _verixelli_ made small objects and beads; the _phioleri_ made bottles. In the beginning of the fifteenth century Angelo Beroviero had the most famous furnace at Murano, at the sign of the Angel. He made both vessels and windows, and being a learned chemist knew how to give the most varied and beautiful colors to his glass. Beroviero also made the discovery of a process by which to apply enamel to glass in different colors. He made exquisite goblets; and special designs were executed for marriage and birth cups, or for any important occasion. Beroviero reached perfection in his art, and his brothers and sons were never surpassed in enamelled glass. To his son Marino may be ascribed the splendid glass in San Giovanni e Paolo, made after the designs of Girolamo Mocetto in 1473.

In truth, it is to the Berovieri that the progress in glass-making is due. They invented in 1463 that transparent glass called crystal; and giving up the old simplicity of form and decoration, they became bold and even audacious in their work. They used gold and enamel, and made those occasional pieces, now so precious, on which the designs and inscriptions furnish historical scenes from the fifteenth century.

In the beginning of the sixteenth century Andrea Vidaore invented the process of making artificial pearls with the enameller's blow-pipe, and later he invented glass jet, both of which discoveries became very remunerative. In 1507 two Muranese petitioned the Council of Ten for a grant of the monopoly of mirror glass all over the Republic for twenty-five years, and for permission to keep their fires lighted during the two months and a half {130} when all the fires were bound to be extinguished. Prior to this time the method of preparing mirror glass had been known and was used elsewhere; but at Venice the metal plates had been retained. Now, however, began the growth of that enormous industry in mirror plates which has retained its importance even in recent times, and which other nations have tried to appropriate.

The art of cutting glass in facets, and imitating precious stones, as well as of coloring "crystal" glass, was discovered in 1605; and all these inventions brought great wealth to the glass-workers, some of whom purchased nobility for themselves and their descendants.

Through Colbert, France succeeded in competing with Murano. England did the same by aid of the Duke of Buckingham; and Bohemia gave itself up to glass manufacture in such a way that the Venetian industry suffered at the end of the seventeenth century. Giuseppe Briati, a passionate lover of his art, left Murano, and took service in a manufactory at Prague, and having learned the Bohemian secrets, he returned to Venice in 1736, and obtained a license, for ten years, to manufacture and sell crystals made in the Bohemian fashion. Briati established himself in Venice in the Via del Angello Raffaelo. At this period mirrors were framed with flowers and foliage of cut glass, in relief, and lustres were decorated with flowers, grapes, and leaves in brilliant colors. _Filigrana_ (filigree), too, was much in favor; and some of Briati's vases in this style are now very precious on account of their refinement of form and taste. Briati died in 1772, but at Murano his art survived.

In 1790 a license was granted to Giorgio Barbaria to make black bottles for export to England; and soon after he manufactured jet and enamels. Barbaria was the deputy of Murano until the fall of the Republic, when the island became almost a desert, and its master workmen {131} and journeymen sought in other lands the bread they could no longer earn at Murano.

There are many interesting stories and traditions connected with the Berovieri. Angelo, who was the superior of them all, inherited a good business, and by his own discoveries became very rich. He had a large shop in Venice, besides his factory on Murano, from which he shipped immense quantities of glass to various ports in Europe and the Orient. His dwelling was in a part of Murano that was free from the smoke of the furnaces. It was of marble, and very handsome without, while within it was most luxurious and elegant. The garden stretched to the water's edge, and was laid out with much taste. Large trees afforded grateful shade at midday, and spicy odors from the flowers combined with the songs of the nightingales of the aviary in satisfying the senses. There were arbors so sheltered by vines that one could watch the gondolas on the blue waters and be quite unseen, and the lovely view was fitly crowned by the purple mountains in the distance.

Beroviero was fortunate in all the circumstances of his life. His beautiful wife was a wealthy lady of Milan. His son, Marino, was of great promise, and his two daughters were lovely girls, who had inherited their mother's beauty and their father's intellect. But one sorrow had penetrated even here. The eldest, Felicia, from a fall in childhood, had weakened her spine, and was forced to spend much of her life in a recumbent position.

When Buona, the younger, reached a marriageable age, there were many suitors for her hand among the young nobles of Venice. One day when Signor Beroviero was very busy, his wife sent him a note:--

Hasten home. I am in a great perplexity. The two young nobles, Da Canale and Mocenigo, have come separately {132} to sue for Buona. Mocenigo was first, and he is with me and Buona now; and we have put Da Canale in another room to talk to Felicia. Hasten to our rescue! Your wife.

Most impatient at the interruption, Beroviero left his counting-house.

Meanwhile the comedy was played by his wife and daughters. Signora Beroviero had heard that Buona was much admired, and her father had already received several offers for her hand, to which he had replied that his daughter should be won, not sold. Acting on this hint, these two young men had come to win her if possible. Both were members of the Great Council, and of high position. Mocenigo had been shown to the drawing-room, and received by Signora Beroviero and Buona. Before the usual compliments were exchanged, Da Canale arrived, and was taken to a charming room opening on the garden, where Felicia was busy with her embroidery. He was splendidly attired, and had evidently come on a visit of importance. He displayed some impatience, as he threw off his cloak, and saw his companion; but Felicia entertained him as best she could until her father came, and held him in conversation until Mocenigo, who had been told of the presence of his rival, could retreat,--for Signora Beroviero had set her heart on Mocenigo for her son-in-law. But Buona was of quite another opinion, and in spite of all the praises of him that she heard she refused to marry him; and when her mother appealed to the father, his only reply was, "She is free to marry as she chooses."

Just at this time Beroviero received an order from the Doge for a collection of glass to be presented to the Emperor Frederick III. on the occasion of his visit to Venice. This caused a great excitement. The father, son, and three advanced apprentices were constantly in solemn conclave. Among these last was one Giorgio, who, although the senior, had made small advance in his {133} art. When the important matter in hand was well understood, and a proper part assigned to each one, all the resources of the manufactory were devoted to making a grand display of Venetian skill in color and design.

Other glass-workers were filled with jealousy of Beroviero, when the truth about this order was known; and this feeling was not lessened by the magnificent display which was soon made in the window of his shop in Venice. Naturally many strangers came hither on account of the proposed visit of the Emperor, and all the tradesmen of the city were making their shops as attractive as possible; but no other drew such crowds of gazers as that of Beroviero, now that the gift from the Doge to the Emperor was on exhibition. A large vase glowed like a magnificent ruby; white flowers, as delicate and natural as if actually growing, twined around a vase of glorious blue; while cups and wineglasses of exquisite shape and ethereal thinness were in contrast to goblets heavy with gold and enamel. But the chief object was a lace-work goblet, such as was never made elsewhere. It was the most wonderful of all the Venetian glasses, and so fragile was it that its construction was a mystery. Marsh gives this account of the method:--

"In manufacturing it the workman first of all placed threads of opaque glass round the inside of a mould made of charcoal. Then he dipped his rod into a pot of molten glass, and blew a drop out within the mould until it touched the opaque threads, which at once adhered to the outer surface of the glass. The goblet so blown was as thin as the white film of an egg. Then a second goblet was blown, and the opaque threads were made to adhere on the inner surface of the glass, running in a reverse direction to those which adhered to the outer surface of the first goblet. Thus the workman obtained two goblets, the outside of one and the inner side of the other, bearing the opaque threads of glass. Having secured this object, he next proceeded to place {134} one glass inside the other. At the moment the threads of opaque glass touched one another they adhered, imprisoning in the centre of each diamond, formed by the threads crossing one another, a fine bubble of air. The body of the goblet was covered with these diamonds, the air bubble appearing in the centre of each. Notwithstanding the fact that the goblet was composed of two distinct casings, yet, when they were united, the two presented a body not half as thick as an ordinary wafer. This species of glass was the most exquisite that Venice ever produced."

Beroviero had been invited to be present when the Emperor received this gift on which so much thought and labor had been lavished; and at length the day arrived. The Emperor, with his young bride, Elenora of Portugal, with a great assemblage of the rank and beauty of Venice, and many noble visitors, were gathered in the great hall of the Ducal Palace, where the Doge and high officials received them. Beroviero, his wife, son, and Buona, with representatives from some rival glass-works, were also there.

First the Doge presented to the Empress a crown set with jewels, and many other costly articles of attire. He then offered to the Emperor the splendid service of glass; to which his Majesty gave but slight attention, even while the Doge was describing its beauty and value. The Emperor replied in a cold and haughty tone; and while he was thus expressing his thanks, his court-jester executed a pirouette, and hit the tray containing the glass, which fell to the ground, shivered into numberless pieces. The Emperor exclaimed, "Had they been of gold or silver, that calamity could not have happened!"

The faces of the Doge and of the whole assembly expressed their horror and anger; and the Emperor begged to be allowed to order another set. But the Doge replied, "Venice does not sell her gifts!"

His Majesty offered large sums, but no glass-maker {135} would undertake to replace what had been destroyed; and on the next day the Emperor departed, while the episode of the glass-breaking was the general topic of conversation in all Venice.

Beroviero was filled with surprise and rage, while his rivals ridiculed him beyond endurance. The apprentices and workmen took sides with their masters, and fierce encounters took place between those of Beroviero and those of other factories. From that day Angelo Beroviero was a different man. He neglected his business, involved himself in quarrels, and was morose and irritable at home.

And now the dull, inattentive Giorgio came to the front, and challenged the senior apprentices of the principal rival establishments of Riva, Marcelli, and Gritti to a gondola tournament. The latter declined; but two contests would take place, and a day was fixed. Beroviero heard of this with pleasure, and was grateful to Giorgio for this dignified method of showing himself the friend of his master.

On the appointed day hundreds of gondolas were off Murano, while crowds stood on the shore, and every balcony was filled with ladies and gentlemen, all anxious to see the contest. Each combatant was allowed an assistant to propel his gondola. This was usually the youngest apprentice; and with Giorgio was Hector, a boy of fourteen, and a very skilful oarsman. He stood in the stern, while Giorgio was on the prow, bearing a leather shield and a blunt-headed lance. On the prow was a figure of an angel, while the rival boats carried their symbols of an anchor and a dolphin. Felicia could witness the whole sport from her window; but Buona, with their maid Giannetta, was on the shore.

At last two gondolas shot out from the crowd of boats, and sped quickly towards a post moored at some distance {136} in the open water. As Giorgio, lightly clad, stood on the prow of the Angel, and approached the other gondola decorated with an anchor, the symbol of the house of the Riva, it was easily seen that the other apprentice, who was of heavy build, and handled his lance awkwardly, was no match for Giorgio. As they neared the post, there was much applause; and as Giorgio turned his eyes towards his master's garden, he saw a handkerchief waving in the hand of Buona, who, as she saw the contest about to begin, exclaimed, "Now God and Saint Mark be with him!" Hearing this, her maid, Giannetta, uttered a little scream, for her mistress had put her own thought in words, and blushing she said that she had stepped on a sharp stone and hurt her foot; but in that moment Buona knew that the maid loved Giorgio, and Giannetta feared that her mistress cherished a like sentiment.

The two gondolas were now advancing towards each other. The lances were lowered, the boats met and then separated, and it was seen that the gondola with the anchor at the prow was empty. Both the champion and his rower were gone. Giorgio had parried the opponent's lance, and putting his own lance between the legs of his enemy, had toppled him into the water, and then, as the lightened gondola passed him, a vigorous push in the breast of the rower had sent him splashing after his companion. These achievements were warmly applauded by the crowd on shore; and a number of boats, full of his friends, quickly surrounded that of Giorgio to congratulate him on his success.

By the usual rules of combat the victor was entitled to an hour for repose before meeting his next opponent; but Giorgio signified his readiness to begin again at once, and in a few minutes the gondola, with a dolphin as its symbol, and an apprentice of the Marcelli on its prow, rowed up to the starting-post. The second champion was {137} far superior to the first; but after one or two slight thrusts from the lances, Giorgio profited by a fortunate moment, and hurled the second opponent into the water. Now was he a hero indeed, and all possible honors were shown him by his friends and even by his superiors. He had established a claim to the championship of all the gondoliers of Murano, with which the Berovieri were as well pleased as he.

This day had revealed Buona to herself, and she was horrified to find that she was a rival to her own maid in the affections of a poor apprentice. She determined to stifle this unworthy sentiment; but so difficult did she find her task that physicians soon were summoned to account for her blanched cheeks, and restore her to health. Mocenigo, with her parents' consent, strove to arouse her to an interest in life; but all was useless, and when fully convinced of her utter indifference to him, he quietly ceased to visit her, and she soon entered a convent.

She confided her secret grief to her confessor alone, and never regretted the gay life she might have led at Venice as the bride of some young noble. As years went on, and the poor sought aid at her convent in their seasons of sorrow and suffering, the name of Suora Buona was that most frequently on their lips.

From the day of the tournament Giorgio became seriously attentive to his business, and before very long he presented his master with a goblet, asking him to accept his first discovery. Beroviero examined it with curious delight. The inside was perfectly smooth, while the outside was covered with a thousand irregular cracks, and the whole looked as if it had been frosted. Beroviero was filled with surprise, and declared the goblet to be beautiful and entirely new.

Giorgio explained that his discovery was an accident, as most discoveries are. He had observed the effect on a {138} drop of hot glass when it fell into the water. It became crackled and frosted, and he at once tried the same thing on his goblet. Beroviero assured Giorgio that his discovery would prove of great value, and promised to take the young man to the palace, that he might show the goblet to the Doge. But that very evening the old glassmaker was attacked by masked thieves as he was floating in his gondola, and survived his wounds but a few hours.

Marino, who succeeded his father, claimed Giorgio's invention as the property of the firm, as Giorgio was still an apprentice, and the courts decided in his favor. Thus Marino had the sole right to make crackled glass; and Giorgio, driven to desperation by this injustice, stole the book in which Angelo Beroviero had written out all his methods and discoveries, and made an exact copy of it. This he sold to another firm, and with the proceeds set up a factory of his own. He married Giannetta, and seemed to have a promising future before him; but whatever he undertook ended unfortunately. The theft by which he thought to found a fortune was heavy on his conscience, and to it he attributed all his unhappiness. But under his son the Ballerini (Giorgio was called Ballerino in derision) became celebrated, and attained great eminence as glass-makers.

When Buona entered the convent, Felicia devoted herself to making an altar-cloth, in which she used the most costly materials that she could procure. The design was that of the Crucifixion. Three years she labored on it, and at last all was completed save the crown of thorns. She had constantly grown more and more fragile; and one evening, as the sun was setting, she called her mother, saying, "See, dear mother, the end is come. I have pointed the last thorn in His earthly crown."

As she ceased speaking, her head drooped, and she was dead. She was buried beneath the altar of the convent {139} church, and her exquisite embroidery served both as a cloth for the altar and a monument to her who had wrought it in loving faith.

Marino Beroviero maintained the reputation of his family, and made still further advances in his art. His business was extensive and prosperous, and a few years after his father's death he married the sister of Mocenigo, the former suitor of Buona.

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