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THE 
 
 MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS 
 
The University Press certifies that only seven hundred 
 
 and fifty copies of this book have been printed 
 
 on Windsor hand-made paper 
 
 September, 1895 
 
 This copy is No. 
 
™i'ii'''ifiii"'iii'i'ili|inHlllH|i|llllllH'ii|'l 'Hiiiaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii^^^ 
 
THE 
 
 Master Mosaic-Workers 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE SAND 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY 
 CHARLOTTE C JOHNSTON 
 
 BOSTON 
 LITTLE, BJRQWN. AND COMf AI^JX 
 
Copyright, 1895, 
 By Little, Brown, and Company. 
 
 J(3rt$ Wilson akd^Conj ^Jib^idgk, U. S. A. 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 WHILE it is true that the gifted author of • 
 "Consuelo" has not, in this charming nov- 
 elette, adhered with absolute accuracy to known 
 facts concerning the Venetian painters and mosaic- 
 workers whom she introduces to her readers, she 
 has followed them with sufficient closeness to jus- 
 tify the classification of the story as an historical 
 romance. 
 
 Byzantine workers in mosaics found employment 
 in Venice early in the history of Venetian civiliza- 
 tion ; and as the demand for work of this descrip- 
 tion increased, it was deemed advisable to form a 
 school in which apprentices should be instructed in 
 the art of setting colored stones in patterns on the 
 walls of churches and other editices to which this 
 
 <y^^ 
 
 55136 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 form of ornamentation was best adapted. About 
 1520 it seemed necessary to found a special estab- 
 lishment of professional workers in mosaics, assisted 
 by designers selected from among the more eminent 
 masters of the day, with especial reference to the 
 restoration and renovation of the Cathedral of Saint 
 Mark. 
 
 The founders of the modern school of mosaic 
 artists were Marco Rizzo and Vincenzo Bianchini, 
 who were appointed by the Senate in 1517. In 1524 
 an important addition was made to the school in 
 the person of Francesco Zuccato, who for more 
 than half a century remained the favorite and best- 
 paid master of the Venetian government. In 1542 
 Bartolommeo Bozza became a pupil and assistant of 
 Francesco. 
 
 Francesco and Valerio Zuccato were the sons of 
 Sebastiano Zuccato, who was Titian's first master 
 in the art of painting. All authors who have writ- 
 ten upon the subject agree in ascribing much of 
 the perfection attained in the mosaic art to the 
 influence and encouragement of Titian, to whom 
 the Zuccati were endeared by his early association 
 with their father. Francesco's portrait was fre- 
 quently painted by him. 
 
 The feud between the Zuccati and the Bianchini 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 eventually involved the friends and enemies of both 
 families. It is said that Vincenzo Bianchini's im- 
 prisonment for coining was upon a charge made 
 by Francesco. 
 
 The controversy which forms the main theme of 
 this sketch seems to have arisen while Francesco 
 and Valerio were employed upon the vestibule of 
 Saint Mark, and the Bianchini were designing the 
 tree of Jesse in the chapel of Sant' Isidore. The bar- 
 barism of writing Saxihus for Saxis was committed 
 by Francesco himself, instead of by the procurator, 
 and he remedied the error by the use of a piece of 
 painted paper. " Bianchini received intelligence of 
 this and other alleged irregularities from Bozza, who 
 abandoned his master and went over to Bianchini, 
 on grounds of which there is at present no explana- 
 tion, and the Procurator-Cassiere, Melchior Michelle, 
 was privately informed that irregularities had taken 
 place which ought to be prevented or punished. A 
 commission of inquiry was appointed, and the Pro- 
 curator was present when the mosaics of the vesti- 
 bule were washed, and the paper which covered 
 Saxihus was swept away. On the 22d of May, 1563, 
 after suspicion had been thus aroused, Melchior 
 Michelle went to the cathedral, accompanied by 
 Sansovino and followed by Titian, Jacopo Pistoja, 
 3- 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Andrea Schiavone, Jacopo Tintoretto, and Paolo 
 Veronese, when a diligent examination of all the 
 mosaics was made. It was found that paint had 
 been used in various places; but the judges were 
 unanimous in thinking that this was not material, 
 as the mosaics were otherwise perfect. Still Fran- 
 cesco was ordered to renew the parts that had 
 been painted, at his own expense; and Valerio was 
 deprived of his salary till such time as he should 
 prove his skill afresh." i 
 
 The following, from a contemporary source, 
 throws a still stronger light upon the author's 
 fidelity to history as the groundwork of her 
 story. 
 
 " I must not here omit to mention," says Vasari 
 in his Life of Titian, "that the art of mosaic, 
 almost abandoned in all other places, is encouraged 
 and kept in life by the Most Serene Senate of 
 Venice, and of this Titian has been the principal 
 cause; seeing that, so far as in him lies, he has 
 ever labored to promote the exercise thereof, and 
 to procure respectable remuneration for those who 
 practise the art. All that has been done in Venice 
 has been executed after the designs of Titian and 
 
 ' Crowe and Cavalcaselle, " Life and Times of Titian." 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 other excellent painters, who have made colored 
 cartoons for the same ; thus the works are brought 
 to perfection, as may be seen in the portico of San 
 Marco, where there is a 'Judgment of Solomon,' so 
 beautiful that it could scarcely be executed more 
 delicately with the pencil and colors.^ But in the 
 art of mosaic there are none who have distinguished 
 themselves more highly in our times than have 
 Valerio and Vincenzio Zuccheri, natives of Treviso,2 
 many stories by whom may be seen in San Marco. 
 Those from the Apocalypse may more particularly 
 be specified. In this work the four Evangelists, 
 under the form of various animals, are seen to 
 surround the throne of God; the Seven Candle- 
 sticks, and other things, are also represented so 
 admirably well that to him who looks at them 
 from below they appear to be paintings in oil. 
 There are besides numerous small pictures by those 
 artists, and these are filled with figures which look, 
 I do not say like paintings only, but like miniatures ; 
 and yet they are made of stones joined together. 
 There are portraits, moreover, of various person- 
 
 ^ The Judgment of Solomon is by Vincenzo Bianchini. 
 
 ^ According to Federici, these brothers, more correctly 
 called Zuccati, were not of Treviso, but Da Ponta ; and the 
 name of the one was not Vincenzio, but Francesco. 
 
 5 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ages, ... all executed so carefully, and with so 
 much harmony, so admirable a distribution of light 
 and shadow, and such exquisite tints of the carna- 
 tions (to say nothing of other qualities), that no- 
 better or more perfect works of the kind could 
 possibly be conceived. Bartolommeo Bozza has 
 also worked on the Church of San Marco; he is 
 the rival of the Zuccheri, and has acquitted himself 
 in a sufficiently praiseworthy manner. But that 
 which has most effectually contributed to the suc- 
 cess of all these artists has without doubt been the 
 superintendence of Titian, with the designs prepared 
 for these mosaics by his hand." 
 
 There seems to be no historical foundation for 
 the competition described in the later chapters, in 
 which each competitor was required to produce a 
 Saint Jerome in mosaic work, and which resulted 
 in the rehabilitation of the Zuccati; but a Saint 
 Jerome (or Girolamo) in mosaic by Francesco is 
 known to have been presented to the Court of 
 SaVoy. 
 
 Upon the facts here sketched, the author has con- 
 structed a romance in no way unworthy of her 
 enduring reputation. Not only by the lifelike 
 glimpses it affords us of the great masters, at whose 
 feet have sat so many generations of artists, nor 
 6 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 by its vivid pictures of outdoor life in Venice — 
 notably the celebration of the Feast of Saint Mark 
 — in the palmy days of the Serene Republic, does 
 the " Master Mosaic- Workers " attract and hold our 
 interest. The author is no less successful in dealing 
 with the historical personages who figure in her 
 pages ; in portraying the strange mixture of incor- 
 ruptible honesty, jealous suspicion, and unsatisfied 
 ambition in the character of Bozza, and thereby 
 suggesting the undiscovered " explanation " of his 
 actions; in depicting the constant struggle in the 
 heart of old Sebastiano Zuccato between his affection * 
 for his sons and his pride in their talent, and his 
 contempt for what was in his eyes a degrading pro- 
 fession; and if she has painted the Bianchini in 
 somewhat darker colors than history seems to war- 
 rant, we can easily make excuses for her, because 
 their treacherous machinations serve to bring out 
 in bolder relief the sentiment which appeals most 
 strongly to our emotions. The author tells us that 
 she promised the poor child who had read nothing 
 but "Paul and Virginia," that she would write a 
 story for him in which there should be no love, and 
 in which everything should end happily. She was 
 true to her promise, if the word "love" is taken 
 in its ordinary acceptation as applied to the art of 
 7 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 novel-writing; but it would be hard to conceive a 
 truer, holier affection between man and woman 
 than that which united the brothers Zuccato, — 
 which led Valerio to share his brother's imprison- 
 ment, and Francesco to exclaim, when his brother's 
 work was adjudged more meritorious than his own, 
 ** I drink to my master, Valerio Zuccato I " 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 T WROTE the "Master Mosaic- Workers " in 1837 
 for my son, who had as yet read but one romance, 
 " Paul and Virginia." That story was too trying 
 for the nerves of a poor little child. He cried so 
 much that I promised to write him a romance in 
 which there should be no love, and where every- 
 thing should turn out for the best. To add a little 
 instruction to his pastime, I took a real fact in the 
 history of art. The adventures of the mosaic- 
 workers of St. Mark's are in the main true. I 
 have woven in but a few embellishments, and have 
 developed some characters which history only 
 touches on. 
 
 I do not know v/hy, but I have written few books 
 with so much pleasure as this. It was in the country, 
 during a summer as warm as the climate of Italy, 
 9 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 which I had just left. I had never seen so many 
 flowers and birds in my garden. Liszt was playing 
 on the ground floor, and the nightingales, intoxi- 
 cated with music and sun, sang themselves hoarse 
 in the surrounding lilacs. 
 
 George Sand. 
 
 NOHANT, May, 1852. 
 
TO MAURICE D. 
 
 YOU find fault with me, my child, for always 
 teliing you stories which end unhappily and 
 make you sad, or with narratives so long, so long, 
 that you fall sound asleep in the midst of them. Do 
 you think, then, little one, that your old father can 
 have cheerful thoughts after such a severe winter, 
 after a spring so bleak, so cold, so productive of 
 rheumatism ? When the dreary north wind moans 
 in our old fir trees, when the crane utters its mourn- 
 ful cry at the sound of the Angelus saluting the dim 
 and chilly dawn, I can dream only of blood and 
 misery. Great green spectres dance about my 
 flickering lamp, and I arise uneasily to drive them 
 from your bed. But the time is past when children 
 believed in ghosts. You smile when we tell you of 
 the superstition and terror which surrounded our 
 childhood. Ghost stories which used to keep us 
 wide awake and trembling in our beds until the dull 
 break of day make you smile, and you sleep on. So 
 II 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 you want a simple and natural story, hey, young 
 man ? I will try to recall one of those which the 
 Abbe' Panorio related at Beppa, when I was in Venice. 
 The Abbe Panorio was of your opinion regarding 
 stories. He was sated with the fantastic. The con- 
 fessions of old fanatical women had made him look 
 upon witches and apparitions with horror. Neither 
 was he much in favor of sentimentality. Love 
 stories seemed to him very fooHsh ; but, like you, 
 he enjoyed the reveries of the lovers of nature, the 
 labors and trials of artists. His stories were always 
 founded on historic fact; and if they sometimes 
 made us sad, they ended always with a consoling 
 truth or a useful lesson. 
 
 It was during the beautiful summer nights, by 
 the light of the soft full moon of the eastern sea, 
 that, seated under an arbor all abloom, intoxicated 
 with the perfume of grape and jasmine, we were 
 enjoying our supper from midnight until two 
 o'clock in the gardens of Santa-Margarita. Our 
 companions were Assem Zuzuf, an honest merchant 
 of Corcyra, Seigneur Lelio, the leading singer in 
 the Fenice Theatre, Dr. Acroceronius, the charming 
 Beppa, and the excellent Abbe' Panorio. A nightin- 
 gale sang in its green cage suspended from the arbor 
 which sheltered our table. At the sherbet, Beppa 
 
 12 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 tuned a lute, and sang with a voice even more melo- 
 dious than that of the nightingale. The jealous bird 
 often interrupted him with precipitate runs, wild 
 outbursts of melody, or lyric declamation. Then 
 we extinguished the candles, and the nightingale was 
 silent. The moon tinted with delicate sapphires and 
 bluish diamonds the crystals and silver flagons 
 spread before us. Afar we heard the voluptuous 
 swell of the sea, breaking against the flowery beach, 
 and now and then the breeze wafted to us the 
 sound of the slow, monotonous recitative of the 
 gondoliers : — 
 
 " Intanto la bella Erminia fugge," etc.i 
 
 Then the abbe told us of the happy days of the 
 Republic and its lordly customs, when his fatherland 
 was at the zenith of its glory and power. At other 
 times, also, he had taken pleasure in recalling its 
 gayety and pomp. Although young, the abb^ knew 
 the history of Venice better than her oldest inhabit- 
 ants. He had lovingly studied it in her monuments 
 and public documents. He had also enjoyed search- 
 ing her popular traditions for the details regarding 
 the lives of some of her greatest artists. One day 
 he told us a little anecdote relating to Tintoretto and 
 
 1 " In the mean time, the beautiful Erminie nms (away)." 
 13 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 Titian, which I shall try to recall, if this warm breeze 
 swaying our linden trees, and the lark continuing his 
 ecstatic song among the clouds, are not interrupted 
 by a gale, and if the breath of spring opening our 
 lazy roses and expanding my heart deigns to blow 
 over us until to-morrow morning. 
 
 H 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 I. 
 
 ^'OELIEVE me, Messer Jacopo, I am a most un- 
 ■L-^ happy father. I shall never be consoled for 
 this disgrace. We live in an age of decadency. 
 Hereditary prestige no longer prevails. In my time 
 every one tried to equal, if not to surpass, his par- 
 ents. To-day, provided one makes a fortune, no 
 one considers the means, no one fears to degrade 
 the established standard. The nobleman turns 
 shopkeeper; the master, workman; the architect, 
 mason; the mason, hod-carrier. Where will it all 
 end, holy Mother of God ? " 
 
 Thus spoke Messire Sebastian Zuccato, a painter 
 forgotten to-day, but noted in his time as the 
 teacher of the illustrious master, Jacopo Robusti, 
 better known to us by the name of Tintoretto. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! '* replied the master, who, through 
 habitual preoccupation, was often extremely out- 
 15 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 spoken, " it is better to be a good workman than a 
 commonplace master, a great mechanic than a poor 
 artist, a—" 
 
 "Ah! ah! my dear master," exclaimed old Zuc- 
 cato, a little piqued, " do you mean by poor artists, 
 commonplace painters, the syndic of painters, the 
 master of so many masters who are the glory of 
 Venice, and form a grand constellation where you 
 are set like a star among its dazzling rays, but where 
 my pupil Titian shines with no less lustre?" 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! Master Sebastian," replied Tintoretto, 
 calmly, " if such stars and such constellations shed 
 their lustre on the Republic, if from your studio 
 come forth so many great masters, beginning with 
 the illustrious Titian, before whom I bow without 
 jealousy or resentment, we do not live in an age 
 of decadency, as you said just now." 
 
 "Ah, well! of course," said the dolorous old 
 man, impatiently, " it is a good age, a fine age for 
 the arts. But I cannot console myself with having 
 contributed to its glory and being the last to enjoy 
 it. What is it to me to have produced a Titian if 
 no one remembers it, and no one cares ? Who will 
 know it a hundred years hence.? Even to-day no 
 one would know it but for the gratitude of this 
 great man, who goes about everywhere singing my 
 i6 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 praises and calling me his dear compeer. But what 
 does it all amount to? Ah! why did not Heaven 
 allow me to be the father of Titian, that he might 
 be called Zuccato, or I be called Vecelli ? At least, my 
 name would live from age to age, and a thou'sand 
 years hence they would say, ' The head of that line 
 was a good master.' But I have two sons false to 
 my honor, faithless to the noble Muses, — two sons 
 full of brilliant talent, who should have made my 
 glory, who perhaps would have ecHpsed Giorgione, 
 Schiavone, the Bellini, Veronese, Titian, and even 
 Tintoretto himself. Yes, I venture to say that, 
 with their natural talents, and the advice which, 
 in spite of my age, I still think I could give them, 
 they might efface their ignominy, quit the ladder 
 of the workman, and mount the scaflfold of the 
 painter. It is for you then, my dear master, to 
 give me a new proof of the friendship with which 
 you honor me, by joining Messer Tiziano in a last 
 effort to curb the erring minds of these unfortunate 
 boys. If you can reclaim Francesco, he will take it 
 upon himself to bring back his brother ; for Valerio 
 is a young man without brains, I should say almost 
 without capacity, if he were not my son, and if 
 he had not occasionally given proof of intelligence 
 by the fresco friezes he has drawn on the walls of 
 17 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 his studio. My Checo is a very different man. He 
 can handle the brush like a master, and knows how 
 to impart to other artists those grand conceptions 
 which they, and even you, as you have often told 
 me, Messer Jacopo, do but execute. In addition to 
 this, he is refined, energetic, persevering, restless, 
 and ambitious. He has all the qualifications of 
 a great artist. Alas! I shall never understand 
 how he has allowed himself to follow such an evil 
 course." 
 
 ''I will do what you wish," replied Tintoretto; 
 " but, first, I will tell you in all conscience what I 
 think of your bitter opposition to the profession 
 your sons have embraced. The mosaic art is not, 
 as you call it, a low vocation; it is a true art, 
 brought from Greece by able masters, of whom we 
 should speak only with deep respect; for this art 
 alone has preserved to us, still more than that of 
 painting on metal, the lost traditions of Byzantine 
 art. If it has transmitted them to us altered and 
 hardly recognizable, it is none the less true that 
 without it they would have been lost entirely. 
 Canvas does not outlast the ravages of time. 
 Apelles and Zeuxis have left only names. What 
 gratitude should we not feel to-day towards those 
 courageous artists, had they but immortalized their 
 i8 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 works by the aid of crystal and marble ! More- 
 over, the mosaic-work has preserved to us intact 
 the traditions of color; and herein, so far from 
 being inferior to painting, it has this advantage 
 which cannot be dented: it resists the wear and 
 tear of time, as well as the ravages of the atmos- 
 phere — " 
 
 " Since it resists so wel\" interrupted old Zuccato 
 testily, " how comes it that the Seigniory is repair- 
 ing all the domes of St. Mark's, which to-day are 
 as bare as my skull?" 
 
 " Because, at the time when they were decorated 
 with mosaics, Greek artists were scarce in Venice. 
 They came from a distance, and remained but a 
 short time. Their apprentices were hastily trained, 
 and executed the works intrusted to them without 
 knowing their business, and without being able to 
 give to them the necessary solidity. Now that this 
 art has been cultivated in Venice century after cen- 
 tury, we have become as skilful as the Greeks ever 
 were. The works of your son Francesco will be 
 handed down to posterity, and he will be blessed for 
 having placed upon the walls of our basilica imper- 
 ishable frescos. The canvas upon which Titian or 
 Veronese have flung their masterpieces will crumble 
 to dust, and a day will come when our great mas- 
 19 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ters will be known only by the mosaics of the 
 Zuccati." 
 
 " Indeed, then/' said the obstinate old man, "you 
 might as well say that Scarpone, my shoemaker, is 
 a greater master than the Almighty ; for my foot, 
 which is the work of the Divinity, will crumble to 
 ashes, while my shoe will retain for ages the form 
 and impress of my foot." 
 
 " But the color, Messer Sebastian, the color I 
 Your comparison is worthless. What material man- 
 ufactured by the hand of man could preserve the 
 exact color of your flesh for an unlimited time, — 
 while stone and metal, primitive and unchangeable 
 substances, retain to the last grain of powder the 
 Venetian color, the most beautiful in all the world, 
 before which Buonarotti and all his Florentine school 
 are forced to lower the flag ? No, no, you are in 
 the wrong. Master Sebastian, you are unjust, if you 
 do not say, ' Honor to the engraver, the depositary 
 and propagator of correct drawing ! Honor to 
 the mosaic-worker, the guardian and preserver of 
 color ! ' " 
 
 " I am your humble servant," replied the old man. 
 "Thanks for your good advice, Messer. It only 
 remains for me to beseech you to see that my name 
 is engraved upon my tomb with the title Pictoi; so 
 
 20 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 that it may be known, a year after, that there was in 
 Venice a man of my name wiio handled the brush 
 and not the trowel." 
 
 "Tell me, Messer Sebastian," replied the kindly 
 master, interrupting him, " have you not seen the 
 last works executed by your sons in the interior of 
 the basilica?" 
 
 "God preserve me from ever seeing Francesco 
 and Valerio Zuccato hoisted up by a rope Uke 
 slaters, cutting enamel and handling mastic ! " 
 
 "But you know, my dear Sebastian, that these 
 works have obtained the greatest praise from the 
 Senate, and the highest compensation from the 
 Republic?" 
 
 **I know, Messer," answered Zuccato haughtily, 
 " that there is on the ladders of the basilica of St. 
 Mark a young man who is my oldest son, who for 
 a hundred ducats a year abandons the noble profes- 
 sion of his fathers, in spite of the reproaches of his 
 conscience and the humiliation of his pride. I know 
 that there walks the streets of Venice a young man 
 who is my second son, who, in order to pay for his 
 idle pleasures and foolish extravagance, consents 
 to sacrifice all his pride, hire himself out to his 
 brother, throw aside the much too elegant apparel 
 of the debauchee for the much too humble garb of 
 
 21 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the workman, set himself up for a nobleman in the 
 gondolas in the evening, and play the part of a 
 mason all day, and all to pay for the supper and 
 serenade of the evening before. This I know, 
 Messer, and I know nothing more." 
 
 "And I tell you. Master Sebastian," replied Tin- 
 toretto, "that you have two good and noble sons, 
 two excellent artists, one of whom is industrious, 
 patient, original, painstaking, in fact, an acknowl- 
 edged master in his art ; while the other, lovable, 
 upright, genial, full of talent and enthusiasm, less 
 steady at his work perhaps, but more ready with 
 large ideas and lofty conceptions — " 
 
 "Yes, yes," retorted the old man, "ready with 
 ideas, and with words even more so. Oh, yes, I 
 know very well these theoretical people who feel 
 art, as they say, who explain it, define it, exalt it, 
 and do it no good. These are the lepers of the 
 studio. They make the noise, others do the work. 
 They come of too noble a race to work, or else they 
 have so much talent they do not know what to do 
 with it. Inspiration is the death of them. So, lest 
 they should be too much inspired, they prattle and 
 walk the streets from morning till night. Appar- 
 ently it is for fear the emotion of art and manual 
 labor will injure his health, that my son Valerio does 
 
 22 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 nothing with his ten fingers, and lets his brains run 
 away through his lips. This boy always makes me 
 think of a piece of canvas on which some one has 
 drawn, day after day, the first lines of a sketch 
 without taking the pains to erase the preceding ones, 
 presenting, after a little while, the odd spectacle of 
 a multitude of incoherent Unes, each one of which 
 might have had an intention and an end, but not 
 one of which would the artist, plunged in chaos, be 
 able either to seize again or carry on." 
 
 " I admit that Valerio is a little dissipated and 
 somewhat lazy," replied the master. "I shall take 
 it upon myself to reproach him with this once 
 more, taking advantage of the paternal right which 
 he himself has given me by engaging himself 
 voluntarily to my little Marie." 
 
 "And you permit this levity?" said the old 
 painter, illy disguising the secret pleasure this cir- 
 cumstance caused him, confirmed by the mouth of 
 Robusti himself. "You allow an artisan — not 
 even an artisan, an apprentice — to dare to aspire, 
 even in jest, to the hand of your daughter ? Messer 
 Jacopo, I tell you that, if I had a daughter, and if 
 Valerio Zuccato instead of being my son were my 
 nephew, I should not permit him to place himself in 
 the ranks of her wooers." 
 23 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " Oh, that concerns my wife," answered Robusti. 
 ** It will concern my daughter, when she shall be old 
 enough to marry. Marie will have talent, consider- 
 able talent. I trust she will soon make portraits 
 that I shall dare to sign, and which posterity will 
 not hesitate to attribute to me. I hope she will 
 make an illustrious name, and thereby win an 
 honored position. The heritage of an independent 
 fortune is assured to her through my work. So, 
 whether she marries Valerio the apprentice, or Bar- 
 tolommeo Bozza the apprentice of the apprentice, if 
 it seems good to her, she will always be Marie 
 Robusti, the daughter, pupil, and continuator of 
 Tintoretto. There are girls who can marry to their 
 liking, and not for their advantage. Young patri- 
 cian girls care more for their pages than for the 
 illustrious alliances offered them. Marie is patrician 
 in her way. Let her act so. You know the child 
 has a fancy for Valerio." 
 
 Old Zuccato shook his head, and did not answer, 
 not wishing to manifest his joy and gratitude. 
 However, the master perceived a great softening in 
 his manner ; and, after a sufficiently long discussion, 
 in which Sebastian defended himself step by step, 
 but with less asperity than in the beginning, he 
 ended by letting himself be taken to the basilica of 
 24 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 St. Mark, where the brothers Zuccati were at that 
 time completing the great mosaic of the dome over 
 the inner door of the main entrance. The figures, 
 taken from the visions of the Apocalypse, were 
 executed after the very cartoons of Titian and 
 Tintoretto. 
 
 2S 
 
II. 
 
 \1 7HEN old Zuccato entered beneath this oriental 
 ^ » cupola, where, on a foundation of shining 
 gold, the colossal figures of the prophets and Apoca- 
 lyptic phantoms loomed like terrible apparitions 
 evoked in their dreams, he was seized, in spite of 
 himself, with a superstitious fear, and, the emotion 
 of the artist giving place for a moment to a reli- 
 gious feeling, he crossed himself, saluted the altar, 
 the golden metal of which shone dimly at the farther 
 end of the sanctuary, and, laying his cap on the 
 pavement, recited inaudibly a short prayer. 
 
 When he had finished, he arose painfully from his 
 knees, which were stiffened with age, and ventured 
 to cast his eyes on the figures of the four Evan- 
 gelists, which were the nearest to him. But, as his 
 sight was dim, he could only take in the general 
 effect, and, turning to Tintoretto, he said : — 
 
 " It cannot be denied that these great masses are 
 impressive. Pure charlatanism, after all. — Ah ! ah ! 
 Monsieur, is that you?" 
 26 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC- WORKERS. 
 
 These last words were addressed to a tall, pale 
 young man, who, hearing the cupola re-echo the 
 sharp, broken tones of his father's voice, had hastily 
 come down from his scaffolding to meet him. 
 Francesco, having struggled gently and perseveringly 
 against his father's wishes, had ended by following 
 his vocation, and abstaining from frequent inter- 
 views which could but rekindle this subject of dis- 
 cord. But he was on all occasions humble and 
 respectful towards the author of his being. In order 
 to give him a more suitable welcome, he had hastily 
 washed his face and hands, thrown aside his apron, 
 and donned his silk mantle embroidered with silver, 
 which one of his young apprentices had given him. 
 Thus attired, he was as handsome and elegant as the 
 most fashionable of noblemen. But his thoughtful 
 face and the gravity of his smile evinced the exalted 
 conscientiousness and sacred self-respect of the 
 artist. 
 
 Old Zuccato eyed him from head to foot, and, 
 struggling with his feelings, said ironically: "Ah, 
 well, Monsieur, how shall we manage in order to 
 admire your masterpieces ? If they were not glued 
 to the wall body and soul, we might ask you to 
 detach some of them. But you have better under- 
 stood what is for the interest of your glory, by 
 27 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 placing them all so high that no eye can reach 
 them." 
 
 " Father/' replied the young man, modestly, " the 
 happiest day of my life would be that on which 
 these feeble productions might obtain from you 
 a look of indulgence. But your strong will is a 
 much greater obstacle than the distance which 
 separates you from this dome. If it were in my 
 power to overcome your prejudice, I do not doubt 
 that, with my brother's assistance, I could succeed 
 in leading you to the top of these planks, where you 
 could take in at one glance all the figures which are 
 hidden from you at this moment." 
 
 " Your brother ! " said the old growler. " And 
 where is your brother? Will he not condescend 
 to come down from his sky of glass-ware, to wel- 
 come me in his turn ? " 
 
 " My brother has gone out," said Francesco ; 
 "otherwise he would have hastened, like me, to 
 change his clothes and come to kiss your hand. I 
 expect him every moment, and he will be very 
 happy to find you here." 
 
 " Doubtless he will come gay and singing as usual, 
 
 will he not, his cap on one side, his eye restless, his 
 
 gait unsteady ? A workman who absents himself 
 
 at working hours to go to the tavern will be a 
 
 28 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 very safe guide, I think, to lielp me in climbing 
 your ladders." 
 
 "Father, Valeric is not at the tavern. He has 
 gone for some material for our work. I sent him 
 to the factory to get some patterns of enamel wliich 
 had to be prepared expressly for me, the exact shade 
 of which is very hard to obtain." 
 
 "In that case you will wish him good day for 
 me. It is full two leagues from here to Murano, 
 and the tides are contrary, which may be under- 
 stood in two ways. This is why he will have drunk 
 so much wine in the company of his oarsmen ; and 
 the oar will be no better implement in his hands 
 to-day than the trowel." 
 
 " Father, some one has made false statements to 
 you in regard to Valerio," replied the young man, 
 earnestly. " He loves pleasure and Cyprus wine, I 
 admit, but he is none the less diligent in conse- 
 quence. He is an excellent workman, and when I 
 charge him with a commission, he performs it with 
 a precision and understanding that leave nothing to 
 be desired." 
 
 " Valerio I here is Messer Valerio ! " cried a 
 
 voice from the top of the scaffoldings. It was 
 
 the voice of Bartolommeo, the apprentice, who, 
 
 through one of the lights in the cupola, had seen 
 
 29 
 
. THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERSo 
 
 the disembarkation from the gondolas at the steps 
 of the Piazzetta. 
 
 A few moments after, Valerio entered the basilica, 
 followed by his workmen carrying a large basket of 
 glass-ware. He was singing in a clear and resonant 
 voice, with none too much respect for the holy 
 place, the refrain of a love song. But as soon as 
 he saw his father he lifted his cap and stopped 
 singing. Then he approached him without embar- 
 rassment, and embraced him with the confidence 
 and candor of an upright soul. 
 
 Zuccato was struck with his steadiness, and his 
 bright and guileless manner. 
 
 Valerio was the handsomest fellow in Venice. 
 He was not so tall, but better proportioned and 
 more robust than his brother. His fine face ex- 
 pressed at a first glance only good nature, courage, 
 and frankness. It required some attention to dis- 
 cover in his great blue eyes the sacred fire that 
 slumbered there, often under a shade of quiet indif- 
 ference, whose lustre, although not altered, was at 
 least veiled, by a slight expression of fatigue. 
 
 This half-pallor ennobled his beauty and tempered 
 the serene audacity of his look. He was exceed- 
 ingly particular in his dress, and set the fashion for 
 the most brilliant lords of the Republic. He was 
 30 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 sought after by them and by the ladies on account 
 of his talent for composing and designing ornaments, 
 which were afterwards executed under his direction, 
 in gold and silver embroidery on the richest mate- 
 rials. A velvet cap surrounded by a Grecian pat- 
 tern after the style of Valerio Zuccato, the fringe of 
 a dress made after his models, the border of a 
 mantle of cloth of gold in shaded silk embroidery 
 interwoven with chains or flowers or leaves after 
 the manner of his Byzantine mosaics, were, in the 
 eyes of a lady of rank or a polished nobleman, 
 objects of the first necessity. Valerio made consid- 
 erable money by this occupation, which diverted him 
 after his labors and pleasures, and which he carried 
 on in his little studio at Santi-Filippo-e-Giacomo, 
 under the shadow of a certain mystery, into which, 
 however, every one was benevolently initiated. His 
 striking appearance, his amiability, his relations with 
 the noble lords and the happy workmen that filled 
 his studio at all hours, would necessarily have drawn 
 him into a life of pleasure, had not his natural 
 activity and his fidelity in filling all professional 
 engagements preserved him from falling into ex- 
 cesses which would have ruined his genius. 
 
 A tender and unalterable friendship united the 
 two brothers. They succeeded in conquering the 
 31 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 feigned repugnance of old Zuccato, and, having 
 erected two ladders, one on either side of that on 
 which he ventured to ascend, they supported him, 
 and took him to the very last staging of their scaf- 
 folding. Tintoretto, already old, but still sure-footed 
 and accustomed to making his studio in the vast 
 cupolas of the basilica, had followed them, in order 
 to witness the surprise of Sebastian. The feeling of 
 religious terror which the old man had experienced 
 at first, gave place to an involuntary ecstasy when, 
 having arrived on a level with the imposing figures 
 of the Prophets and Evangelists, which occupied the 
 first tier, he saw all the completed portions of this 
 wonderful composition. Here was the Translation 
 of the Virgin treated after Salviati ; farther on, the 
 Resurrection of Lazarus, a frightful scene, where 
 the corpse, clothed in the pure tone of the winding 
 sheet, seemed to float with uncertainty on the bril- 
 liant background of the wall. Titian's Saint Mark, 
 a massive figure borne by the crescent moon as if 
 in a boat, seemed raised to the resplendent heavens 
 by an ascending movement perceptible to the eye ; 
 the great festoon of the arch, supported by beau- 
 tiful winged angels, and, above all these numerous 
 chefs-d'oeuvre, the Vision of Saint John, where the 
 damned are precipitated into hell, while the elect 
 32 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 of the Lord, clothed in white and mounted on white 
 horses, vanish in the subdued splendor and mysteri- 
 ous light of the cupola, like a flock of swans in the 
 rosy mists of morning. 
 
 Zuccato tried again to wrestle with the admiration 
 which he felt, by attributing the cause of his sudden 
 emotion to the effect of the ligiit playing upon the 
 objects, to the favorable situation and the imposing 
 size of the figures. But when Tintoretto prevailed 
 upon him to approach the festoon, in order to 
 appreciate its details, he was obliged to admit that 
 he never would have believed the mosaic art capable 
 of such perfection, and that the little angels flying 
 among the garlands would rival in color and form 
 the paintings of the greatest masters. 
 
 But, always stingy of his praise, and indignant at 
 his own covert satisfaction, the old man pretended 
 that the only merit of the work lay in its correct- 
 ness, and in the great amount of patience bestowed 
 upon it. 
 
 " All the honor," said he, " belongs to the masters 
 who drew the models of these groups and designed 
 the details of these decorations." 
 
 "Father," replied Francesco, with modest pride, 
 " if you will be so kind as to allow me to show you 
 the cartoons of the masters, perhaps you will give 
 33 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 us credit, if not of having created, at least of having 
 understood our models with some intelligence." 
 
 " I wish you would," said Tintoretto. '* I wish 
 my cartoons of the Apocalypse to be the proof of 
 the talent for painting which distinguishes Francesco 
 and Valerio Zuccato from all artists of their class." 
 
 Several models were exhibited, and Sebastian 
 could convince himself of the intelligence with 
 which the Zuccati worked as masters after masters, 
 drawing the elegant and chaste designs of their sub- 
 jects themselves, and creating their marvellous color 
 after the simple suggestion of the painter. Valerio, 
 after a little urging on the part of his brother, 
 acknowledged himself to be the author of many 
 little figures, and, in his turn divulging Francesco's 
 secret, he showed his father two beautiful arch- 
 angels flying towards each other. One, enveloped in 
 green drapery, was his own work ; the other, dressed 
 in turquoise blue, was the v/ork of Francesco, com- 
 posed and carried out without the assistance of 
 any painter. 
 
 Zuccato allowed himself to be led towards these 
 figures, which were really as beautiful as any of 
 those whose models had been furnished. Francesco 
 had given to his young archangel the features of his 
 brother Valerio, and reciprocally Valerio's archangel 
 34 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 was the portrait of Francesco. They had employed 
 combinations of the utmost delicacy in executing 
 this cherished work, and had modestly placed it in 
 an obscure corner, where the gaze of the vulgar 
 could not reach it. Old Zuccato remained for a 
 long time motionless and dumb before this winged 
 pair, and, confounded at seeing the arrogant error 
 of his whole life so gloriously refuted, he flew into a 
 violent passion. He descended the ladder, snatched 
 his cloak roughly from the hands of Valerio, with- 
 out deigning to say a word of encouragement either 
 to him or to his brother, and, scarcely noticing 
 Tintoretto, with a firmer step than one would have 
 expected of him he sprang over the threshold of the 
 basilica. But he had not gone down the first step, 
 when, yielding to the imperious longing of his soul, 
 he turned, and, opening his arms to his two sons, 
 who flung themselves into them, he pressed them 
 for a long time to his heart, bathing with his tears 
 their beautiful heads. 
 
 35 
 
III. 
 
 "/"^OME on! Long life to good luck! By the 
 ^^ body of the devil, the work progresses. 
 Bring me some mastic, you little black monkey! 
 Maso ! do you hear me ? By the devil, brother Vin- 
 cent, don't monopolize all the apprentices. Send 
 down some of your daubed-up seraphim, so that I 
 may not be delayed. Ah, by the blood of Bacchus I 
 if I throw my mallet at the head of that porpoise 
 of a Maso, I fear it will be a long while before the 
 Republic sees such another ugly face ! " 
 
 Thus shouted from the top of his scaffoldings a 
 red-headed giant, who was directing the works in 
 the Chapel of St. Isidore, that part of the basilica 
 of St. Mark having been intrusted to Dominique 
 Bianchini, called the Red, and his two brothers, emu- 
 lators and rivals of the Zuccati brothers in the 
 mosaic art. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you big bawler ! Have a 
 little patience, carrot-top ! " cried, from his side, the 
 peevish Vincent Bianchini, the eldest of the three 
 36 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 brothers. "Haven't you got your apprentices? 
 Make them stir themselves, and let mine attend to 
 their business. Haven't you John Viscentin, that 
 pretty white cheese from the Alps? Where have 
 you sent Reazo, your bully with a cold in his head, 
 who sings so fine in the choir on Sundays ? I'll 
 wager that all your boys are running to the tavern 
 at the present moment to get a bottle of wine under 
 cover of your name. If that 's so, they won't come 
 back very soon." 
 
 " Vincent," replied Dominique, " it 's well for you 
 you are my brother and partner ; for I could, with 
 one stroke of my foot, smash your scaffolding, 
 and send your illustrious person and all your fine 
 apprentices to study mosaic on the pavement." 
 
 "If you had only thought of it," said the rough 
 voice of Gian Antonio Bianchini, the youngest of 
 the three brothers, who was shaking the foot of the 
 ladder on which Dominique was working, " I could 
 prove to you that the highest perches are not always 
 the safest. Not that I care any more for Vincent's 
 hide than I do for your own, but I do not like brag- 
 ging, do you understand; and for some days past 
 I notice that you have assumed, sometimes towards 
 him and sometimes towards me, a tone that is not 
 to be endured." 
 
 37 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 The sullen Dominique looked darkly at the young 
 Antonio, and let himself be shaken for a few mo- 
 ments without saying a word. Then, as soon as 
 Antonio recommenced grinding his cement under 
 the portico, he came down, threw aside his apron 
 and cap, rolled up his sleeves, and prepared to give 
 him a sound thrashing. 
 
 The priest, Alberto Zio, who was also a distin- 
 guished mosaic-worker, and who, mounted on a 
 ladder, was at that moment repairing one of the 
 panels of the outer door, hurried down to separate 
 the combatants; and Vincent Bianchini, rushing 
 from the end of the chapel, mallet in hand, prepared 
 to take part in the fray, more from a feeling of 
 resentment against Dominique than through any 
 interest in Antonio. 
 
 The priest, after trying in vain to bring them back 
 to more Christian feelings, in order to quiet them 
 resorted at last to an argument which seldom failed 
 of its effect. 
 
 " If the Zuccati overhear you," said he, " they will 
 exult in your quarrels, and imagine that, thanks to 
 their amiability and good sense, they work better 
 than you do." 
 
 " That 's so," said Dominique the Red, putting on 
 his apron again. " We '11 settle this affair this even- 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC- WORKERS. 
 
 ing at the tavern. For the present, we must not put 
 weapons in the hands of our enemies." 
 
 The other two Bianchini acquiesced in this opin- 
 ion ; and while each of them filled his raclette with 
 newly prepared cement, Father Alberto entered into 
 conversation with them. 
 
 "You are wrong, my children," said he, "in 
 looking upon the Zuccati as your enemies. They 
 are your rivals, that is all. If they follow different 
 methods from yours, they appreciate no less the 
 merit of your work. Indeed, I have often heard 
 their first apprentice, Bartolommeo Bozza, say that . 
 your cementation is of a superior quality to theirs, 
 and that the Zuccati candidly acknowledge it." 
 
 "As to Bartolommeo Bozza," replied Vincent 
 Bianchini, " I say nothing against him : he is a good 
 workman and a stanch fellow. I am on the point 
 of making it worth his while to engage himself in 
 my service. But do not talk to me of those Zuccati. 
 There are no worse intriguers in the world, and if 
 their talent were equal to their ambition they would 
 surpass all their rivals. Fortunately idleness con- 
 sumes them. The elder wastes his time imagining 
 subjects that cannot be executed, and the younger 
 carries on a contraband work at San Filippo, and 
 eats the fruit of it with people above his station." 
 39 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 "The star of the Zuccati could be made to fall 
 from the clouds in spite of the patronage of the 
 painters," said the envious Dominique, "if any one 
 cared to take the trouble." 
 
 "How so?" exclaimed the other two. "If you 
 know a way to humiliate them, tell it, and your 
 insults to us shall be forgiven." 
 
 "I care no more for you than for them," said 
 Dominique. " Only I say that it is not impossible 
 to prove that they do not earn their salary, for they 
 are doing bad work, and are consequently stealing 
 the public funds." 
 
 " For shame, Messer Dominique ! " said the priest 
 sternly. " Do not speak so of two men who enjoy 
 the public esteem. You will lead people to think 
 that you are jealous of their advantages." 
 
 "Yes, I am jealous of them," cried Dominique^ 
 stamping his foot. " And why should n't I be jeal- 
 ous ? Is n't it an injustice on the part of the 
 procurators to give them a hundred golden ducats 
 a year while we have only thirty, — we, who have 
 worked for nearly ten years on the genealogical tree 
 of the Virgin.? I venture to say that the Zuccati 
 could not have accomplished half this enormous 
 work, even if they had devoted all their lives to it. 
 How many months does it take them to make the 
 40 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 breadth of a dress, or a child's hand ? Just watch 
 them for a while, and you will see what their fine 
 talent costs the Republic." 
 
 "They get on less quickly than you, it is true," 
 replied the priest. "But what perfection m the 
 design, what richness in the color ! '* 
 
 "If you were not a priest," replied Vincent, 
 shrugging his shoulders, " one would know how to 
 talk to you. You 'd better go back to your con- 
 fessional and your censer than be judging of things 
 of which you know nothing." 
 
 "Messer, how dare you say that?" said Alberto; 
 slightly offended. "You forget that I understood 
 the business before you had the first notion of it, 
 and that I am the best disciple under our common 
 master, the ingenious Rizzo, the worthy successor 
 of our gypsoplast masters." 
 
 " Ingenious as much as you choose, it does not 
 require much imagination to work in mosaic. It 
 requires what you lack, — you and your other 
 priests and those lazy Zuccati, — strong arms, loins 
 of iron, precision, and activity. Go say Mass, Father 
 Alberto, and let us alone." 
 
 " Hush ! no noise ! " said Antonio. " There 's 
 that sullen old Zuccato going by. See how his sons 
 escort him back, waving their caps and kissing their 
 41 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 hands ! Would n't you say it was a Doge attended 
 by his senators? That one considers himself the 
 most illustrious of men, and he does not know 
 enough to let the cup alone." 
 
 " Silence ! " said Vincent. " Here comes Messer 
 Robusti to look at our work." 
 
 All three of them uncovered, more out of fear of 
 his reputation as an artist than through any respect 
 for his genius, which they were not capable of 
 appreciating. Father Alberto went to meet him, 
 and led him into the Chapel of St. Isidore. Tinto- 
 retto glanced at the incrusted panels, praised the 
 repairs of the ancient Greek mosaics confided to 
 the priest, and withdrew, bowing profoundly to the 
 Bianchini without speaking to them, for he liked 
 neither them nor their works. 
 
 42 
 
IV. 
 
 THE day's work being ended, and the Zuccati 
 having supped with their principal apprentices, 
 Bozza, Marini, and Ceccato, (who later on became 
 excellent artists,) in a little hoUega} where they were 
 in the habit of meeting, under the Procuraties? 
 Valerio was preparing to hasten to his business 
 or his pleasures, when his brother detained him, 
 saying : — 
 
 " For to-day, my dear Valerio, you must sacrifice 
 a part of your evening to me. I retire early, as you 
 know. You will still have plenty of time after we 
 have talked." 
 
 " I am willing," said Valerio, " but it is on condi- 
 tion that we take a skiff and have a little row; for I 
 feel exhausted after the day's work, and cannot rest 
 from one fatigue except by plunging into another." 
 
 1 Shop or lunch-room. 
 
 2 The palace of the Procurators, still in existence, near 
 the Doge's palace. 
 
 43 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " I do not know how to assist you in rowing," 
 replied Francesco : " I have not your robust health, 
 my dear Valerio, and, as I do not wish to miss my 
 work to-morrow, I must not fatigue myself this 
 evening ; but, seeing that if I refuse you this diver- 
 sion, I cannot prevail upon you to grant me two or 
 three hours, I will go and ask Bozza to be of the 
 party. He is a good fellow, and will not be in the 
 way in the conversation I wish to have with you." 
 
 Bartolommeo Bozza readily accepted this invita- 
 tion, and, hauling off one of the prettiest boats, he 
 seized one oar, while Valerio took the other. Then, 
 standing each at either extremity of the little skiff, they 
 started it on its course with a vigorous stroke, and 
 made it bound over the foaming waves. It was the 
 hour when the fashionable world sought enjoyment 
 on the Grand Canal in the cool air of the evening. 
 The narrow little boat glided swiftly and stealthily 
 among the gondolas, like a sea bird which flees from 
 the pursuer, darting like an arrow through the green 
 grasses. But in spite of the agility and the silence 
 of the oarsmen, all eyes were fixed upon them, and 
 all the ladies leaned forward on their cushions that 
 they might gaze the longer upon the handsome 
 ^Valerio, whose grace and strength excited the envy 
 of the noblemen as well as of the gondoliers, and 
 44 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 whose countenance showed a strange mingling of 
 courage and artlessness. 
 
 Bozza was also strong and well formed, but thin 
 and pale. A dull fire shone in his black eyes, a 
 thick beard covered half his face, and although his 
 features lacked regularity they attracted attention 
 by their sad and haughty expression. 
 
 Thin and pale also, but noble and not proud, mel- 
 ancholy and not gloomy, Francesco Zuccato, reclin- 
 ing on a black velvet carpet in the bottom of the 
 boat, supporting himself carelessly on his elbow, 
 wrapped in a reverie which did not allow him to. 
 give much thought to the throng, shared with 
 Valerio the admiration of the ladies, but did not 
 perceive it. 
 
 When these three young men had gone up the 
 length of the canal, they floated gently into the 
 lagoon far from frequented places ; then, allowing 
 themselves to drift, they lay down in the bottom 
 of the boat, under a beautiful sky studded with in- 
 numerable stars, and talked without constraint. 
 
 "My dear Valerio," said the elder of the Zuccati, 
 " I am going to annoy you again with my admoni- 
 tions ; but it is absolutely necessary for you to lead 
 a wiser life." 
 
 "You never could annoy me, my dearest brother," 
 45 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 replied Valerio, " and your anxiety will always find 
 me grateful. But I cannot promise you to alter 
 my ways, I am so contented in this life I lead. I am 
 as happy as a man can be. Why do you wish me 
 to deprive myself of happiness, you who love me 
 so much.?'* 
 
 "This life will kill you," answered Francesco. 
 " It is impossible to follow, in the way that you do, a 
 routine of pleasure and fatigue, dissipation and work.' ' 
 
 "On the contrary, this life invigorates me and 
 keeps me up," replied Valerio. "What is life in the 
 designs of God, if not a continual alternation of 
 pleasure and self-denial, lassitude and activity ? Let 
 me go on, and do not judge my strength by your 
 own. Nature has certainly been inconsistent in not 
 giving to the better and more estimable of us two 
 the stronger constitution and the livelier disposi- 
 tion. But so many other gifts have fallen to you, 
 my dear Francesco, that you cannot very well envy 
 me these." 
 
 "I do not envy you them," said Francesco, 
 "although they are the most precious of all, and 
 are in themselves enough to make one happy. It is 
 sweet to me to think that a brother, whom I love 
 more than myself, does not suffer in his body and 
 soul the ills and weariness that prey upon me. But 
 46 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 this is not the sole question. You certainly owe 
 your position to the friendship of illustrious 
 masters, to the protection of the Senate, and to 
 the kindness of the Procurators." 
 
 " I, my brother ? " cried the indifferent young>man. 
 "Save the friendship of our dear comrade Titian 
 and the kindness of Robusti, — two men whom I 
 venerate, — save the affection of my father and that 
 of my brother, which I prefer to everything in the 
 world, all the rest is in my eyes of little account. 
 Two bottles of Cyprus would console me any time 
 for the loss of my employment and the disgrace of - 
 the Senate." 
 
 " At least you value honor," said Francesco 
 gravely, " the honor of your father's name, of your 
 own, for which I am responsible, and to which my 
 own is pledged." 
 
 " Certainly," said Valerio, quickly raising himself 
 on his elbow. " What are you driving at ? " 
 
 " To tell you that the Bianchini are plotting 
 against us, and that they can make us lose, not 
 only the advantageous position and fine salary to 
 which you have the wisdom to prefer the wine 
 of Cyprus and pleasure parties, but also the con- 
 fidence of the Senate, and consequently the respect 
 of the citizens." 
 
 47 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 "By Bacchus!" said Valerio, "I should like to 
 see them do it. Let us go and find these Bianchini, 
 if that is the case, and challenge them. They are 
 three; our friend Bozza will be our third. The 
 right is on our side. We will make a vow to the 
 Madonna, and be delivered from these traitors." 
 
 "That would be all foolishness," said Francesco. 
 " The Divine Power has not declared itself in favor 
 of those who give provocation, and we should be 
 doing so if we were to call to combat men against 
 whom we have no proven grievance. Moreover, 
 the Bianchini would respond to the offer to cross 
 swords by sharpening their stilettos in order to stab 
 us in the dark, as it is their custom to do. They 
 are insatiable foes. They will never provoke us 
 openly while we are under the protection of those 
 in power, and when they let us know they hate us, 
 it is all up with us. Indeed, this is what I am a 
 little afraid of. Vincent, always so polite to me, 
 no longer bows to me when I pass before his 
 scaffolding. This morning, as we were escorting 
 our father back to the foot of the steps of the 
 basilica, I thought 1 saw under the portico the three 
 Bianchini watching us maHciously and ridiculing us. 
 The hatred, for a long time pent up in the bottom 
 of their souls, begins to show in their eyes. Bozza 
 48 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 can tell you, moreover, that many a time after the 
 close of day, or in the morning when he has been 
 the first to come to work, he has surprised Vincent 
 or Dominique Bianchini on our scaffoldings, study- 
 ing with the closest attention the least details of 
 our work.'* 
 
 " Bah ! all that proves nothing. If they do not 
 recognize us, it is because they are naturally rude. 
 If they looked askance at us this morning, it was 
 because they envied us the happiness of having a 
 good father. If they examine our work, it is be- 
 cause they wish to ascertain the cause of our supe-. 
 riority. Should these motives cause anxiety ?" 
 
 "Why, then, instead of talking naturally with 
 Bozza when he meets them on the scaffolding, do 
 they hastily withdraw by the opposite ladders like 
 guilty people?" 
 
 " If I meet them myself," cried Valerio, clinching 
 his fist, " they will have to explain themselves, or, 
 by Bacchus ! I'll make them come down faster than 
 they went up." 
 
 " That would only increase the evil; for to revenge 
 the one whom you will have insulted the other two 
 will league themselves against you until death. Be- 
 lieve me, * Honesty is the best policy.' Let us be 
 calm, and sustain the noble attitude that becomes us 
 49 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 as gentlemen. A generous-hearted line of conduct 
 may perhaps bring them round, or at least it will 
 prove them guilty in their animosity, and, if they 
 persecute us, we shall obtain redress." 
 
 "But indeed, brother, how can they persecute 
 us? What power have they to injure us.^ Can 
 they prove that we do not work as well as 
 they do?" 
 
 ** They will say that we do not work as rapidly, 
 and it will be easy for them to prove it." 
 
 "And we can prove that it is easy to work 
 quickly when one works badly, and that perfection 
 will not allow of haste." 
 
 " That is not very easy to prove. Between our- 
 selves be it said, the Procurator-Cassiere commis- 
 sioned to examine the work is not an artist. He 
 sees in mosaic work only an application of colored 
 particles more or less brilliant. Perfection of tone, 
 beauty of design, ingenuity of composition, are 
 nothing to him. He sees what strikes the fancy of 
 the common people, the brilliancy and rapidity of 
 the work. Did I not try in vain the other day to 
 make him understand that the old pieces of gilded 
 crystal used by our ancestors, and a little tarnished 
 by time, were more favorable to color than those 
 manufactured to-day ? * Indeed, you make a mistake, 
 50 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Messer Francesco,' said he, * in handing over to the 
 Bianchini all the gold of modern manufacture. The 
 commissioners have decided that the old will do 
 mixed with the new. I cannot see why you keep 
 the earlier ones for yourself. Do you think that the 
 mixture of the old with the new would have a bad 
 effect ? If so, you seem to consider yourself a better 
 judge than the Procurators of the Commission.' " 
 
 "And I could hardly help laughing at you," 
 interrupted Valerio, "when you answered him so 
 seriously, * My lord, I have no such insolent 
 pretensions.' " 
 
 " But did I not try in vain to make him understand 
 that this brilliant gold hurt the faces, and completely 
 ruined the effect of color? that my drapery could 
 not be made effective except on gold a little red in 
 tone ? and that if I had made use of shining back- 
 grounds, I should have been obliged to sacrifice all 
 the shading, and to make the flesh violet without 
 modelling, and draperies without folds and without 
 lights?" 
 
 " And he gave you an unanswerable reply and in 
 a very dry tone," said Valerio, laughing. ***The 
 Bianchini do not scruple to do it,' said he, * and their 
 mosaics please the eye much better than yours.* 
 What need of worrying yourself after such a decis- 
 51 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ion as that ? Suppress the shadows, cut a breadth 
 of material from a great plate of enamel and lay 
 it over the breast of Saint Nicaise, render Saint 
 Cecilia's beautiful hair with a badly cut tile, a pretty 
 lamb for Saint John the Baptist with a handful of 
 quicklime, and the commission will double your 
 salary, and the public clap its hands. Really, my 
 brother, you who dream of glory, I do not under- 
 stand how you can pledge yourself to the worship 
 of art." 
 
 " I dream of glory, it is true," replied Francesco, 
 "but of a glory that is lasting, and not the vain 
 popularity of a day. I should like to leave an hon- 
 ored name, if not an illustrious one, and make those 
 who examine the cupolas of St. Mark's five hun- 
 dred years hence say, *This was the work of a 
 conscientious artist.' " 
 
 " And who tells you that five hundred years hence 
 the public will be more enlightened than it is 
 to-day ?" said Bozza, in a rough voice, breaking the 
 silence for the first time. 
 
 " At least there will be connoisseurs to revise the 
 judgment of the public, and it is the connoisseurs 
 of all time that it is my ambition to please. Is it a 
 blameworthy ambition, Valerio ? " 
 
 " It is a noble ambition, but it is an ambition, and 
 52 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 all ambition is a malady of the soul," answered the 
 young Zuccato. 
 
 " A malady," replied Francesco, " without which 
 intelligence would have nothing to feed on, and 
 would languish in the dark without enlightening the 
 world. It is the wind which draws the spark from 
 the charcoal, which fans the flame and spreads it 
 afar. Without this celestial breeze there would be 
 no warmth, no light, no life." 
 
 "I do not consider myself dead," said Vale- 
 rio. " Nevertheless, ' this tempestuous breeze has 
 never blown over me. I feel that the spark of 
 life radiates at all times through my heart and my 
 bram. Provided I am warmed by the divine flame 
 and feel myself alive, it matters little whether the 
 light emanates from myself or from something 
 else. All light comes from the divine fire. What 
 is the aureole of the human head? Glory to un- 
 created genius ! The glory of man is no more in 
 himself than the sun is in the water which reflects 
 its image." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Francesco, raising to heaven his 
 great brown eyes wet with tears, "perhaps it is 
 foolishness and vanity to believe one's self anything 
 because, possessing the power to approach the ideal 
 in thought, he apprehends the beautiful a little better 
 53 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 than other men. However, in what should a man 
 glory, if not in that ? " 
 
 " Why is it necessary for a man to glory in any- 
 thing ? Provided he enjoys himself, is he not happy 
 enough?" 
 
 " Is not glory the most sensible, the most violent, 
 the most intense of all joys?" said Bozza, in an 
 incisive tone, turning his eyes toward Venice. 
 
 It was the hour when the Queen of the Adriatic, 
 like a beauty bedecking herself with diamonds for a 
 ball, began to light her lamps, and the still waters, 
 accustomed to basking in her splendor, in mute ad- 
 miration reflected her fiery garlands. 
 
 "You distort words, friend Bartolommeo," said 
 the young Valerio, giving a strong pull on the oar 
 in the phosphorescent water, causing a pale light to 
 play about the black sides of the boat. " The most 
 intense of human joys is love ; the most sensible is 
 friendship; the most violent is indeed glory. But 
 when you say violent, you say keen, terrible, and 
 dangerous." 
 
 " But cannot one say that this violent joy is the 
 most elevated of all ? " replied Francesco, gently. 
 
 " I could not think so," answered Valerio. " The 
 sweetest, noblest, most beneficent thing in life is 
 love. It is to feel and conceive the beau ideal. 
 54 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Therefore we must love all that approaches it, 
 dream of it without ceasing, seek it everywhere, 
 and grasp it as we find it." 
 
 "That is to say,'* returned Francesco, "to hug 
 vain phantoms, seize dim reflections, make - solid 
 flickering shadows, worship the spectre of one's 
 own fancies. Is that to enjoy and to possess?" 
 
 "Brother, if you were not somewhat ill," said 
 Valerio, " you would not talk like this. The man 
 who wishes in this life anything better than this life 
 affords, is a proud man who blasphemes, or an 
 ungrateful man who suffers. There are enough- 
 elevated pleasures for any one who knows how to 
 love. Were there nothing but friendship on the 
 earth, man would have no right to complain. If 
 I had only you in the world, I should still bless 
 Heaven. I have never imagined anything better, 
 and if God had permitted me to create a brother I 
 should not have been able to create anything so 
 perfect as Francesco. Go to ! God alone is a great 
 artist, and what we in our days of foolishness ask 
 of Him is not worth what He in his immutable wis- 
 dom gives us." 
 
 "Ah! my dear Valerio," said Francesco, folding 
 his brother in his arms, "you are right. I am 
 proud and ungrateful. You are worth more than 
 55 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 both of us, and you are indeed a living proof of 
 what you say. Yes, indeed, my soul is sick. Heal 
 me with your tenderness, you whose soul is so 
 healthy and so strong. Holy Virgin, pray for me ! 
 for I have been very guilty, having so good a 
 brother, in allowing myself to give way to the sin 
 of despondency." 
 
 "Nevertheless," replied Valerio, smiling, "the 
 proverb says, 'There is no great artist without 
 much sadness.' " 
 
 "And without a little hatred," added Bozza, with 
 a gloomy air. 
 
 " Oh, proverbs are always half a lie," said Valerio, 
 "for the reason that all proverbs, having their 
 counterpart, express falsehood and truth at the same 
 time. Francesco is a great artist, and I would pledge 
 my body and soul that he never knew hatred." 
 
 "Never toward others," said Francesco; "toward 
 myself very often, and herein lies the guilt of my 
 pride. I always want to be better and more skilful 
 than I am. I would like to be loved for my merit, 
 not on account of my suffering." 
 
 "You are loved for both one and the other," 
 replied Valerio. " But perhaps all men are not fitted 
 to content themselves with affection. Perhaps with- 
 out the need of being admired there would be no 
 S6 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 great artists, no masterpieces. The praise of the 
 uneducated is a commendation one does not care 
 for, but we find it indispensable. This need is so 
 inexplicable that it must serve some purpose in the 
 designs of God." 
 
 "It serves to make us suffer, and God is sov- 
 ereignly unjust," said Bozza, lying down again in the 
 bottom of the boat in an attitude of despair. 
 
 " Do not speak so," said Valerio. " See, my poor 
 boy, how beautiful the sea is down there, below the 
 horizon ! Hear how that passing guitar sighs with 
 sweet harmonies ! Have you not a sweetheart; 
 Bozza? Are we not your friends?" 
 
 "You are artists," answered Bozza, "and I am 
 only an apprentice." 
 
 "That does not prevent us from loving you." 
 
 " It should not prevent you from loving me ; but 
 it prevents me from loving you as much as I should 
 if I were your equal." 
 
 "Indeed! in that case I should not love the 
 nobility," said Valerio, " for I am an artist only in 
 name ; I am, to tell the truth, only an artisan. All 
 those whom I love are above me, beginning with 
 my brother, who is my master. My father was a 
 good painter ; Vicelli and Robusti are giants before 
 whom I am nothing. Nevertheless, I love them, and 
 57 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 I never dream of suffering on account of my inferi- 
 ority. Artists ! artists ! you are all children of the 
 same mother. She calls herself Covetousness^ and 
 you are all indebted to her more or less. That is 
 what consoles me for being a simpleton." 
 
 "Do not say that, Valerio," replied his elder 
 brother. "If you cared to take the pains, you 
 would be the first mosaic-worker of your time. 
 Your name would efface that of Rizzo, and mine 
 would come only after yours." 
 
 " I should be very sorry for that. By Saint Theo- 
 dore ! May you be always the first ! Holy Idleness ! 
 save me from such an unfortunate honor 1 " 
 
 "Do not utter such blasphemy, Valerio; art is 
 above all affection." 
 
 "Whoever loves art loves glory," added Bozza, 
 always sad and doleful, like the blast of a big brass 
 trumpet breaking in on a sweet and joyous song. 
 " Whoever loves glory is willing to sacrifice every- 
 thing to it." 
 
 "Many thanks," said Valerio; *' as for me, I shall 
 never sacrifice anything to it. And yet I love 
 art, you know it, both of you, although they accuse 
 me of loving only wine and women ; and indeed I 
 must love it well, since I devote half a life to it, 
 which I feel tempted to give entirely to pleasure. 
 58 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Never am I so happy as when I am at work. When 
 I succeed, I feel like tossing my cap away up above 
 the great tower of St. Mark's. If I fail, nothing 
 disheartens me, and the kind of anger I experience 
 against myself is still a pleasure such as one reaHzes 
 on a restive horse, a swelling sea, or in stimulating 
 wine. But the approbation of others does not incite 
 me any more than does a tip of the hat from my 
 lords, the Bianchini. When Francesco, my other 
 self, says to me, ' That is well done,' I am satisfied. 
 When my father, looking at my archangel, smiled in 
 spite of himself this morning, although he knit his 
 brows, I was happy. Supposing the Procurator- 
 Cassiere should say that Dominique the Red does 
 better than I, so much the worse for the Procurator- 
 Cassiere ; I shall not cry. Let the good people of 
 Venice find that I have not enough brick-dust in my 
 flesh, nor enough ochre in my draperies, Ewiva 
 giumento ! ^ If you were not so foolish, you would 
 not make me laugh so much, and that would be too 
 bad, for I laugh with all my heart." 
 
 " Happy, thrice happy carelessness ! '* said Francesco. 
 
 Talking thus they came back to the city. When 
 
 they were near the shore, "Before I leave you," 
 
 said Valerio, " we must come to an understanding. 
 
 1 Long life to the donkey ! 
 
 59 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Of what do you complain? What do you ask of 
 me ? That I give up pleasure ? You might as well 
 try to hinder water from running down hill." 
 
 "That you should take your pleasures less pub- 
 licly/' answered Francesco, " and that you give up, 
 for a time at least, your studio at San Filippo. All 
 that might be wrongly interpreted. People are 
 wondering already how the great number of ara- 
 besques which you design, and the lesser occupa- 
 tions to which you lend yourself, can be reconciled 
 with what you do at the basilica. If I did not know 
 your untiring activity, I should not understand it 
 myself; and if with my own eyes I did not see 
 your work progress, I should be inclined to think 
 that two or three hours' sleep after nights of pleas- 
 ure and excitement would hardly suffice for a man 
 devoted all day to hard work. Do not let your 
 numerous acquaintances, especially these talkative 
 noblemen, come to visit you so continually at the 
 basilica. Such an honor hurts the pride of the 
 Bianchini. They say that these young people make 
 you lose your time, — that they distract you from 
 your work to occupy yourself with trifles. For in- 
 stance, this pleasure society which you have started, 
 and which has caused so much talk among all the 
 tradesmen of the city." 
 
 60 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 *' Alas ! " cried Valerio, " it is just on this account 
 that I am in such haste to leave you this evening. 
 They expect me to regulate the costumes. There is 
 no such thing as withdrawing, and you, Francesco, 
 are pledged to take part." 
 
 ** I am pledged to it provided the aflfair does not 
 begin until after St. Mark's, because by that time I 
 hope to have my cupola finished." 
 
 " I said so both on your account and mine ; but 
 you can readily see that two or three hundred young 
 men eager for pleasure will not easily understand the 
 arguments of one who, unlike them, cares solely for . 
 work. They have declared that, if I refuse to be 
 with them immediately, the company will fall 
 through, — that nothing is possible without me. 
 Therefore they have already reproached me se- 
 verely, alleging that I had started them, that the 
 expenses have been contracted, the refreshments 
 ordered, and that so long a delay would give a 
 victory to the other companies. In short, they 
 have done so much that I stand pledged, both for 
 you and myself, to hoist the banner of the Com- 
 panions of the Lizard in fifteen days. We will open 
 with a grand game of rings and a splendid banquet, 
 to which each member will be expected to bring a 
 young and beautiful lady." 
 6i 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " Do you not think this foolishness will put back 
 your work?" 
 
 " Long life to pleasure 1 but I defy it to hinder me 
 from working when the hour for work strikes. 
 There is time for all, brother. So I can count on 
 you?" 
 
 "You may enter my name, and through your 
 hands I will deposit my fee ; but I shall not appear 
 at the fSte. I do not wish it said that the two 
 Zuccati were off duty at the same time. It must be 
 understood that, when one is enjoying himself, the 
 other works for two." 
 
 " Dear brother," cried Valerio, clasping him in his 
 arms, " I will work for four the day previous, and 
 you will be at the fete. Come, it will be a splendid 
 affair, and for a noble purpose, — a festival thor- 
 oughly democratic and thoroughly fraternal. It 
 shall not be said that noblemen alone have the right 
 to enjoy themselves, and that the working men have 
 religious confraternities only. No, no! the artist 
 is not set apart to do penance always ! The rich 
 fancy that we are made to expiate their sins. Come, 
 Bartolommeo, you will be there also ; I am going to 
 enter your name ; it will put you to a little expense. 
 If you have no money, I have, and I will be respon- 
 sible for everything. Au revoir, dear friends, till 
 62 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 to-morrow. Dearest brother, you will not say 
 that I have not listened to your advice with the 
 respect due to an elder brother. Come, tell me that 
 you are satisfied with me." 
 
 So saying, Valerio sprang lightly on the shore 
 of the ducal palace, and disappeared under the 
 flitting shadows of the colonnade. 
 
 63 
 
nPHAT same evening, towards midnight, Bozza^ 
   returning from the house of his sweetheart, 
 more sad and careworn than usual, weary of love, 
 weary of work, and weary of life, was walking with 
 great strides on the solitary shore. A blustering 
 wind had arisen, the waves were beating against the 
 marble quays, and mysterious voices seemed to 
 mutter words of hatred and malediction under the 
 black arcades of the old palace. 
 
 Suddenly he found himself face to face with a 
 man whose heavy and echoing tread had not been 
 able to rouse him from his reverie. By the light 
 of a lantern fastened to a floating pier Bozza and 
 the other nocturnal promenader met, and, stop- 
 ping abruptly, eyed each other from head to foot. 
 Bartolommeo, thinking this man might have some 
 evil design, placed his hand upon his stiletto; 
 but, contrary to his expectation, Vincent Bian- 
 chini, for it was he, touched his cap, and saluted 
 him courteously. 
 
 64 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Vincent, like his brother Dominique, was a coarse 
 fellow and a wicked man. Less brutal in appear- 
 ance, and capable in spite of his lack of education 
 of assuming tolerably good manners, exceedingly 
 cunning, skilled in lying, the result of his struggles to 
 free himself from the damaging accusations brought 
 against him by the Council of Ten, he was certainly 
 the most dangerous of the three Bianchini. 
 
 "Messer Bartolommeo," said he, ''I have just 
 come from a place where I thought I should see 
 you, and where I am very glad you had not, like 
 me, the curiosity to creep in on the sly." 
 
 " I do not know what you mean, Messer Vin- 
 cenzo," replied Bozza, bowing and trying to pass 
 him. 
 
 Vincent accommodated his step to that of Bozza, 
 without seeming to notice his desire to avoid him.. 
 
 "You probably know," said he, "that the prin- 
 cipal members of the new company have just held 
 a meeting to talk over the statutes and the rules 
 for admission. 
 
 " Possibly," said Bozza. " It matters very little to 
 me, Messer Bianchini. I am not a man of pleasure." 
 
 " But you are a man of honor, and that is why it 
 gave me pleasure not to see you among the auditors 
 of this fine assembly." 
 
 65 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 "What do you mean?" exclaimed Bozza, stop- 
 ping short. 
 
 " I mean to say, my dear Bartolommeo," replied 
 Vincent, "that if you had been there things would 
 have gone very differently, and perhaps there would 
 have been a little noise. Besides, it would be better 
 for everything to be arranged, for an affair so child- 
 ish does not deserve — " 
 
 " Come, speak out, Messer, 1 beg you," said Bozza, 
 impatiently. " Has anything occurred which touches 
 my honor?" 
 
 " Oh, no, not personally perhaps, but along with 
 others you have received an insult. This is what 
 happened. You know that the new company is to 
 be formed, like the other pleasure societies, of mem- 
 bers chosen from different professions, emulators 
 of each other in riches and talent. This company 
 had agreed to receive all those who belonged to 
 the corporation of glass-workers who were rich 
 enough and cared enough for pleasure to wish to be 
 admitted. Architects, glaziers, metal-workers, in 
 fact, all the avocations which are represented by the 
 work in the basilica, were to furnish their candi- 
 dates. That settled, it simply remained to register 
 the names of these candidates; and the founders of 
 the company, having at their head Messer Valerio 
 66 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Zuccato, your master, forthwith met for this pur- 
 pose. But would you believe that this artist, so 
 noted for his amiability and popularity, would have 
 shown himself full of pride and contempt in regard 
 to the greater part of the proposed admissions? 
 Yes, indeed, he took upon himself to act the part of 
 a gentleman, of a Senator in fact. He declared that 
 whoever was not a master in some profession or 
 other was not fit to enjoy himself in his company. 
 Many opposed him, and some went so far as to say 
 that certain apprentices were more economical and 
 more talented than their masters, and consequently 
 had more money and more influence. This is what 
 he never would listen to, and he expressed himself 
 in terms so haughty and severe that he offended 
 everybody. At this moment I happened to be near 
 him without his seeing me, and some one said to 
 him, ' If you push the matter so far, will you not 
 feel sorry for Bozza, that honest fellow who works 
 so well, and is so fond of you and your brother?' 
 Mf my apprentice is admitted into the company,' 
 said Valerio, ' I shall withdraw.' In spite of that, the 
 opinion of the majority ruled, and members will 
 be admitted, provided always that the company 
 judges them worthy to rank next to the mastership 
 in their respective vocations." 
 67 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Bozza did not reply to this speech ; but Vincent 
 Bianchini, who observed him closely, saw, by his 
 nervous step and a jerking movement of his arms 
 under his cloak, that he was very much annoyed. 
 
 However, Bartolommeo controlled himself, for he 
 did not put absolute faith in the words of Bianchini. 
 The latter, seeing that he must not allow the wound 
 to heal, added in a careless tone, " It is a pity, after 
 all, that a fellow so refined and so amiable should 
 allow himself to be puffed up with vanity. Inter- 
 course with the aristocracy must have been the 
 cause of this unfortunate turn of affairs. It does 
 an artist no good to mingle with people above 
 his class." 
 
 " There is no class above the artist," repHed the 
 young apprentice, angrily. " If Valerio thinks more 
 of anything else than of his art, he is not worthy of 
 the title he bears." 
 
 " This foolish vanity," continued Bianchini, calmly, 
 '* is a family failing. Sebastian Zuccato despises his 
 children because he is a painter and they are mosaic- 
 workers. Francesco, his oldest son, who ranks 
 among the first in his art, despises his brother 
 because he seems a step below him, and he in turn 
 despises his apprentice — " 
 
 " Do not say he despises me, Messer," said Bozza 
 68 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 in a hollow voice. " He dares not. Do not say that 
 any one despises me, for, by the blood of Christ ! I 
 will teach you the contrary." 
 
 " If you are despised by a fool," answered Bian- 
 chini, with hypocritical calmness, "this contempt 
 will turn to your glory. There are people whose 
 esteem is an insult." 
 
 "Such is not the case between Valerio and my- 
 self," said Bozza, trying to control the passions 
 which were rankling in his heart. 
 
 " I hope not," replied Vincent. '' Nevertheless, I 
 cannot conceive what he could have said of you to 
 the person who pronounced your name, for he 
 whispered to him, and I knew of whom he was 
 speaking only by the manner in which he drew his 
 cap down over his eyes, and pulled his coat collar 
 up to his ears, in order to mimic and ridicule you. 
 At the same time he frowned and imitated your 
 gesture, causing the confidant of his foolish pleas- 
 antry to burst out laughing." 
 
 "And who was it that dared to laugh?" cried 
 Bozza, drawing his cap down over his eyes, in spite 
 of himself, clinching his fist and striking his breast, 
 — the very gesture which, according to Bianchini, 
 Valerio had turned into ridicule. 
 
 "Indeed, I cannot tell you," answered Bianchini. 
 
 69 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ** I could not see his face, because as usual Valerio 
 had drawn about him a lot of listeners who were 
 devouring his witticisms. When I succeeded in 
 getting through the crowd, Valerio had changed 
 his interlocutor, and was speaking of other things ; 
 but they were laughing still in the place he had 
 just left. 
 
 " Very well ! " exclaimed the wretched young 
 man, " I thank you for telling me this : perhaps I 
 shall find an opportunity to reward you for it." 
 
 Saying this, Bozza quickened his step, and Bian- 
 chini watched him for some time, his black plume 
 tossing in the blustering wind. Then he lost sight 
 of him, and, congratulating himself for having 
 pierced the shield at the first blow, he remained 
 for a long while motionless on the foamy bank, 
 absorbed in his spiteful thoughts and wicked 
 designs. 
 
 70 
 
VI. 
 
 THE sun had scarcely begun to gild the tips of 
 the white cupolas of St. Mark's, and the gon- 
 doliers of the Grand Canal still lay sleeping on the 
 bank at the foot of the Leonine Column, when the 
 basihca began to fill with workmen. The appren- 
 tices, arriving first, erected the ladders, assorted the 
 enamel, and ground the cement, singing all the while 
 and whistling and talking in a loud voice in spite of 
 the distress of good Father Alberto, who tried in 
 vain to remind these young scatterbrains of the 
 solemnity of the place and the presence of the Lord. 
 If the exhortations of the priest mosaic-worker 
 did not have much effect under the majestic cupola 
 where the school of the Zuccati was at work, he 
 could at least give vent to his zeal and ease his con- 
 science by long and severe reprimands. He was 
 never interrupted by a rude word nor an insulting 
 laugh ; for if these pupils had their master Valerio's 
 gayety, ardor, and vivacity, they had also his gentle- 
 71 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ness, his goodness, and his pious respect for age and 
 virtue. 
 
 But things went very differently in the Chapel of 
 St. Isidore, where the Bianchini family, surrounded 
 by wild and undisciplined apprentices, could not 
 maintain order save by savage yells and terrible 
 threats. When a lewd song reached the ears of 
 Alberto, he could do nothing but cross himself, and 
 his grief found expression in stifled exclamations 
 and heavy sighs ; but when, above all the coarse 
 wrangling and brutal invectives which this set of 
 workmen indulged in, the terrible voice of Domi- 
 nique the Red came thundering under the echoing 
 arches of the basilica, the poor priest was obliged 
 to stop an ear with one hand, and with the other to 
 hold on to one of the rungs of his ladder to prevent 
 his falling. 
 
 During these days the master mosaic-workers 
 arrived early, and set to work almost as soon as 
 their apprentices. The Feast of Saint Mark was 
 drawing near. On this solemn day was to take 
 place the dedication of the basilica, entirely restored, 
 and decorated with new paintings by the greatest 
 masters of the age. After ten, fifteen, and twenty 
 years of assiduous labor, they were to be judged 
 publicly, regardless, it was said, of the patronage of 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the one class or the hatred of the other. It was to 
 be a great day for all the workmen, from the first of 
 the illustrious painters to the least of the daubers, — 
 from the architect with his sublime conceptions to 
 the docile workman who cut the stone and ;nixed 
 the mortar. Rivalry, jealousy, buoyant expectation 
 or sinister fear, — all the good and bad passions 
 which the thirst for glory and the greed for gain 
 awaken in men, whatever their position in art or 
 business, were aroused unceasingly under these 
 domes resounding with a thousand noises. Here 
 was heard abusive language, there the joyous song, 
 and further on the jest ; above, the hammer ; below, 
 the trowel; now the dull and continuous thud of 
 the tampon on the mosaics, and anon the clear and 
 crystal-like clicking of the glass ware rolling from 
 the baskets on to the pavement in waves of rubies 
 and emeralds ; then the fearful grating of the scraper 
 on the cornice, and finally the sharp rasping cry of 
 the saw in the marble, to say nothing of the low 
 Masses said at the end of the chapel in spite of the 
 racket. With all this was mingled the sound of the 
 impassive ticking of the clock, the heavy vibrations 
 of the bells, and the cries of a thousand domestic 
 animals, imitated with rare perfection by the little 
 apprentices in order to make Father Alberto, always 
 73 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 duped by this trick, turn his head quickly and drop 
 his work, which he never resumed until he had made 
 the sign of the cross in expiation of what he was 
 pleased to call his giddiness. 
 
 If the pupils of the Zuccati were more refined and 
 innocent in their sport than those of the Bianchini, 
 they were not much less noisy. Francesco rarely 
 imposed silence upon them. Absorbed in his work, 
 the patient and melancholy artist was wholly obliv- 
 ious to all the confusion of his boisterous studio ; 
 moreover, provided the work suited him, he did 
 not object to a gayety which pleased Valerio and 
 enhanced his zeal. Valerio was really the idol of his 
 apprentices. If he spurred them on without relaxa- 
 tion, and often enjoyed a good-natured criticism at 
 their expense, at heart he loved them as his children, 
 and charmed away their fatigue by his perpetual 
 cheerfulness. Every day he had new and extrava- 
 gant stories to tell them, every day he sang a song 
 more ridiculous than that of the day before. If he 
 saw a foolish fellow make a blunder, and deny it 
 through pride, or persist in it through ignorance, he 
 set all the school laughing at him, and daubed his 
 face with his brush. But if a good pupil sincerely 
 acknowledged his fault, or blushed in silence at an 
 involuntary mistake, he went to him, took his fools, 
 74 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 and in a few minutes repaired the error, and encour- 
 aged him either by gentle words or by saying 
 nothing, in order not to draw upon the mortified 
 apprentice the attention of his comrades. So it is 
 true to say, that, if Francesco was loved and respected, 
 Valerio was adored in his school, and his pupils 
 would have thrown themselves from the top of the 
 grand cupola to the pavement of the Place St. Mark 
 to please him. 
 
 Bartolommeo Bozza alone, always cold and reti- 
 cent, took no part in this merriment and enthusiasm. 
 Francesco was much impressed with his work, uni- 
 formly correct and solid, and with the austerity of 
 his manners. His sadness seemed to him to call for 
 sympathy, and he liked to say that this dark and 
 mysterious youth would, in the future, become a 
 great artist. As to Valerio, although he found little 
 pleasure in the company of Bartolommeo, he was 
 too kind-hearted not to credit him with all the good 
 qualities he had himself. 
 
 This day, Bozza, who was usually at work before 
 the other apprentices, did not appear until an hour 
 after sunrise. He v/as paler and more dejected than 
 ever, more taciturn and sinister than they had yet 
 seen him. He had not had a moment's rest. He had 
 wandered all night, like an unhappy ghost, through 
 75 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the dark, angular streets. His hair fell in tangles on 
 his hollow cheeks, his beard was disordered and 
 bristling, and his black plume had been broken by 
 the gale. He took his apron and tools in silence, 
 and placed himself near Valerio, who was at work 
 on his garland of the arch. 
 
 Francesco noticed the tardy arrival of his appren- 
 tice; but Bozza was always so prompt that the 
 master refrained from alluding to this delinquency, 
 the first of which he had been guilty during the 
 three years of his apprenticeship. 
 
 Valerio, always outspoken, and actuated by a 
 kindly solicitude, did not hesitate to question him. 
 
 "What is the matter, comrade?" said he, gazing 
 at him with surprise from head to foot. '* You look 
 as if you had been buried overnight. Let me touch 
 your hand to make sure that you are not your 
 ghost." 
 
 Bozza pretended not to hear him, and did not 
 respond to the oflfer of the friendly hand. 
 
 " You have been playing, eh, Bartolommeo ? You 
 lost money last night? Is that what ails you? 
 Come, do not take the game to heart. If it is a 
 question of money, don't let that trouble you. You 
 know my purse is yours." 
 
 Bozza was silent. 
 
 76 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " Oh, perhaps it is not that ? Your sweetheart has 
 deceived you, maybe, or you love her no longer, 
 which is worse. Come, make a lovely Madonna 
 to look like her, whose gentle eyes will be forever 
 fixed on yours. Perhaps you have an enemy ?- Shall 
 I act as your second in a duel? I am ready." 
 
 '* You ask a good many questions, Messer Vale- 
 rio," replied Bozza in a low but bitter tone. " Has 
 it come to this, that for being an hour late your 
 associates must submit to such catechising and give 
 an account of their conduct ?" 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " cried Valerio, amazed, " you are in a 
 very bad humor, my poor friend. It is to be hoped 
 that when the paroxysm is past you will do more 
 justice to my intentions." 
 
 He resumed his work, whistling the while, and 
 Bozza began his with a deliberation and an affecta- 
 tion of indifference and awkwardness which Valerio 
 did not wish to give him the satisfaction of noticing. 
 
 Nearly two hours went by, and Bozza, seeing he 
 was not succeeding in irritating Valerio, changed 
 his method, and began all at once to work rapidly, 
 paying no attention to the materials he used, and 
 mixing his colors in the oddest and most incon- 
 gruous manner. 
 
 Valerio looked askance at him, and studied him for 
 77 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 some minutes. He was surprised at his obstinacy, 
 but as it was the first time such a thing had hap- 
 pened he resisted the temptation which was goading 
 him on to anger, and resolved to repair the work of 
 his apprentice, saying to himself ," After all, it is only 
 a day lost for him and for me." 
 
 But in spite of this generous resolution, and in 
 spite of his determination not to cast his eyes on 
 the execrable work to which Bozza was savagely 
 devoting himself, the dry harsh sound of his tampon 
 had something feverish and irritating in it, and the 
 young master felt it was time to withdraw if he did 
 not wish to show his temper. He was at ease in his 
 conscience. Bozza's condition seemed to him a 
 kind of distemper, calling more for pity than anger. 
 Brave as a lion, but like the lion generous and 
 patient, he left his scaffolding, donned his black silk 
 doublet, and went to breathe the air for a moment 
 in the court of the basilica adjoining the ducal 
 palace, one of the most beautiful pieces of archi- 
 tecture in the world. 
 
 After making several turns under the galleries, he 
 thought himself calm enough to go back to the 
 studio, and as he descended the Giant's Staircase, he 
 found himself all at once face to face with Bozza. 
 The same kind of irritation that Valerio had felt 
 78 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 while hiding his anger had rankled in Bartolommeo*s 
 heart while he was trying in vain to enkindle that 
 of his rival. After Valerio had fled from his mute 
 torture, his own had become so exasperating that 
 he could no longer control it. Minutes §eemed 
 centuries to him, and, suddenly carried away by a 
 feeling of irresistible hatred, he hastily followed in 
 Valerio's footsteps, and joined him on the spot 
 where, nearly two hundred years before, the head 
 of Marino Faliero had rolled from the block, AU 
 Valerio's anger was roused again, and the two young 
 artists, immovable, with flashing eyes^ remained fojr 
 several moments undecided, each waiting impatiently 
 for the provocation of his adversary. They seemed 
 like two fierce dogs, growling inaudibly, with blood- 
 shot eyes and bristling backs, ready to spring upon 
 each other. 
 
 79 
 
VII. 
 
 DESPICABLE as were the artifices of Bianchini, 
 the spirit of observation with which nature 
 had endowed him, and the perfect knowledge he had 
 of the weakness and follies of other men, served 
 him better than the superiority of others would 
 have done. He had a profound and inveterate hatred 
 of the human race. Denying the existence of con- 
 science, he detested everything resembling it. He 
 did not shrink from any means of corruption. He 
 never took into account the possibility of good 
 intentions. His dark presentiments were almost 
 always verified. But it is true to say, that, as the 
 tempest breaks only those trees whose sap has 
 begun to dry up and whose trunks have lost their 
 elastic vigor, so the wicked schemes of Bianchini 
 triumphed only over hearts where the feeling of love, 
 the sap of life, flowed sparingly, and was choked 
 at each effort by the violence of contrary passions. 
 An instinctive cowardice prevented him from attack- 
 ing strong and generous souls directly. He knew 
 80 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 only the bad side of life, and this sinister knowledge 
 made him bold in the practice of duplicity. 
 
 If he had dared to face Bozza with such a palpable 
 he, it was because he foresaw that the latter, being of 
 a distrustful and self-centred nature, would nojt seek 
 the elucidation of it. Bozza, without exactly liking 
 deceit, hated frankness. His great failing was an ex- 
 traordinary self-love, always being wounded, always 
 suffering. Bianchini knew also that the whole effort 
 of his will was to conceal this weakness, — that the 
 fear of betraying it by his words made him silent, 
 incapable of all expansion, an enemy to all explana^ 
 tions which could but lay bare the depths of his 
 soul. If Bartolommeo sometimes half revealed him- 
 self to Francesco, it was because, seeing the melan- 
 choly of the latter, and thinking him afflicted with 
 the same malady as himself, he feared him less than 
 others. But he was deceived. Francesco's malady, 
 with the same outward symptoms, was of a totally 
 different nature from his own. His opinion of 
 Valerio, as he did not understand him at all, was 
 that he was a man made up of contradictions. He 
 was convinced that all this naive nonchalance was 
 an habitual affectation, in order to win friends and 
 adherents, and to make his way through the influ- 
 ence of those in power. It was owing to this 
 8i 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 misconception that the ruse of Bianchini had 
 succeeded. 
 
 When Bozza came into the presence of Valerio, 
 although he was not at all cowardly, his courage 
 forsook him. His determination to reproach him 
 for his supposed conduct of the night before gave 
 way to the fear of showing how much his pride had 
 suffered by that childish provocation. He felt that 
 true dignity required him to ignore it, or to pretend 
 to do so, and, instantly stifling his anger in the 
 bottom of his heart, he assumed his cold and 
 disdainful air. 
 
 Valerio, surprised at the sudden change in his 
 manner and expression, broke the silence first by 
 asking him what he had to say to him. 
 
 "I have to say to you, Messer," replied Bozza, 
 " that you must look for another apprentice. I am 
 going to leave your school." 
 
 "Because — " cried Valerio with the impatience 
 of a frank open nature. 
 
 " Because I feel obliged to leave you," answered 
 Bozza. "Ask me no more." 
 
 "And in announcing it to me so unexpectedly," 
 said Valerio, "did you mean to wound me?" 
 
 " Not at all, Messer," replied Bozza in a chilHng 
 tone. 
 
 82 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " In that case," said Valerio, making a great effort 
 to control his temper, " you owe it to the friendship 
 which I have always shown you to tell me the cause 
 of your leaving." 
 
 "It is not a question of friendship, Messer," 
 replied Bozza with a bitter smile. " That is a word 
 which must not be thrown away, and a feeling which 
 can exist but slightly between you and me." 
 
 "it may be that you have never felt it for any 
 one," said Valerio, wounded, "but with me this 
 feeling was sincere, and I have given you too many 
 proofs of it for it to be becoming in you to. 
 deny it." 
 
 "You have indeed given me proofs of it," said 
 Bozza ironically, " which it will be difficult for me 
 to forget." 
 
 Valerio, astonished, looked at him fixedly. He 
 could not believe in so much bitterness; the lan- 
 guage of hatred he would not understand. 
 
 " Bartolommeo," said he, seizing his arm and 
 leading him under the galleries, "you have some- 
 thing on your mind. I must have offended you 
 involuntarily. Whatever it may be, I swear upon my 
 honor that I would not have done it for anything. 
 That I may convince you, tell me what it is." 
 
 There was so much sincerity in the young mas- 
 
 83 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ter's voice and manner that Bozza thought Bianchini 
 must have been playing upon his creduHty; but at 
 the same time he felt more than ever the desire to 
 conceal his inordinate sensitiveness, and the knowl- 
 edge of his own weakness only made Valerio's 
 generous candor the more humiliating to him. His 
 heart, closed to affection, did not feel the need of 
 responding to these advances. " If Bianchini has 
 lied," said he to himself, " if Valerio does not despise 
 me this time, he has despised me every day of his 
 life, and he despises me this very moment by offer- 
 ing me his patronizing friendship and the forgive- 
 ness of a fault. Since I have gone so far as to say 
 it, I shall have to go on." Indeed, for a long time 
 Bozza had been uneasy in the society of the Zuccati, 
 and had hoped to break away from it. 
 
 "You have never offended me, Messer," he an- 
 swered coldly. " If you had done so, I should not 
 be contented with leaving you; I should demand 
 satisfaction." 
 
 " And in truth I am ready to give it to you if you 
 persist in believing it," replied Valerio, who felt 
 keenly the dissimulation of his apprentice. 
 
 " That is not the question, Messer ; and to prove 
 to you that, if I do not seek a quarrel, at least it is 
 not through fear that I avoid it, I am going to teU 
 84 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 you a reason for leaving you which may displease 
 you a httle." 
 
 "Let us have it," said Valerio. "We should 
 always speak the truth." 
 
 " I wish to tell you, master," said Bozza, speaking 
 in the most pedantic and wounding tone he could 
 assume, " that this is a question of art and nothing 
 more. Perhaps this may make you smile, — you 
 who despise art. But as for me, who prize nothing 
 else in the world, I must acknowledge to you that I 
 am a man ready to sacrifice the pleasantest rela- 
 tions in life in order to make progress and speedily 
 become a master." 
 
 " I do not blame you for that," said Valerio; " but 
 in what way is your progress hindered by me? 
 Have I neglected to teach you? And, instead of 
 employing you, as m.asters are in the habit of doing, 
 in the mechanical work of the school, have I not 
 treated you like an artist ? Have I not offered you 
 all possible opportunities for advancing, confiding 
 to you interesting, difficult work, and showing you 
 the best method, as heartily as if you had been my 
 own brother?" 
 
 " I do not deny your kindness," said Bozza; "but 
 at the risk of seeming a little vain I must confess, 
 master, that this method which seems the best to 
 85 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 you does not satisfy me. I aspire not only to be 
 first in my art, but still further to bring that art, 
 incomplete in your hands, to a degree of perfection 
 the revelation of which I feel within me. There- 
 fore you will permit me to free myself from your 
 method, and to follow my own. An inner voice 
 compels me. It seems to me that I am destined for 
 something better than to walk in the footsteps of 
 others. If I fail, do not pity me. If I succeed, count 
 upon me in my turn to refuse you neither my 
 assistance nor my advice." 
 
 Valerio, not suspecting, so devoid was he of 
 vanity, that this speech was invented for the sole 
 purpose of annoying him profoundly, could scarcely 
 keep from laughing. He had often noticed Bozza's 
 extreme self-love, and at this moment it seemed to 
 him he was suffering from an attack of mental 
 aberration. It was thus that he accounted for the 
 excited state in which he had seen him all the 
 morning, and, realizing what a gloomy and misery- 
 breeding state it was, he had the kindness not to 
 ridicule him too openly. 
 
 "If that is the case, my dear Bartolommeo," said 
 
 he smiling, " it seems to me that by remaining with 
 
 us it would be easier for you to give us this advice 
 
 and for us to receive it. As you have never been 
 
 86 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 opposed in your work, nothing shall prevent you 
 from improving and innovating as you choose. If 
 you bring our art to a greater degree of perfection, 
 I can promise you that, far from hindering it, I shall 
 be glad to profit by it for my own sake." 
 
 Bozza felt that Valerio, in spite of his good nature, 
 was making fun of him a little. In despair that he 
 had in vain wished to be wicked, and had only made 
 himself ridiculous, he could no longer control him- 
 self, and he answered him several times in a tone so 
 bitter that Valerio lost all patience, and at last said 
 to him ; — 
 
 "Really, my dear friend, if the extraordinary 
 and miserable work you were doing just now 
 when I left the basilica is a revelation of your 
 genius, I should much prefer that art should retro- 
 grade in my hands than make such progress in 
 yours." 
 
 ** I see, Messer," replied Bozza, vexed that all his 
 little intrigues turned against himself, " you are not 
 deceived by the excuses I have invented since morn- 
 ing for leaving you. I wanted to displease you, so 
 that you might turn me away, thereby saving you 
 the mortification of being left in the lurch. I am 
 sorry you did not understand my disinterested- 
 ness in this matter, and have obliged me to tell 
 87 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 you that I shall not remain an hour longer in 
 your school." 
 
 "And the cause of your going must remain a 
 secret.?" said Valerio. 
 
 "No one has the right to ask me," answered 
 Bozza. 
 
 " I could oblige you to fulfil your engagement," 
 replied Valerio, " for I have your written contract to 
 work under my direction until next St. Mark's; but 
 I do not wish to be served by constraint. You are 
 free." 
 
 "I am ready to indemnify you to any amount 
 you may exact, Messer," replied Bozza, '* for I fear 
 nothing so much as to remain your debtor." 
 
 " You will have to be resigned to that, however," 
 said Valerio, saluting him, " for I am determined to 
 accept nothing from you." 
 
 So they parted, the master and the apprentice. 
 Valerio watched him going, and walked nervously 
 under the arcades. Then, suddenly overcome with 
 sadness at the sight of so much ingratitude and 
 obduracy, he returned to his work, his face bathed 
 in tears. 
 
 Bozza, on the contrary, went to seek his sweet- 
 heart, and treated her better than usual that day. 
 He was light-hearted, almost gay. He felt his soul 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 relieved of a heavy load; it was the weight of 
 gratitude, a feeling insupportable to the proud. He 
 imagined he had just triumphed over all his past, 
 and was entermg with full sails into the glorious 
 independence of the future. 
 
 89 
 
VIII. 
 
 BOZZA was not an artist without merit. Not 
 only was he very superior to the Bianchini, 
 who were merely diligent and painstaking workmen, 
 but he had received from the Zuccati advanced ideas 
 in designing and coloring. His drawing was elegant 
 and correct, his tone was not lacking in truth, and 
 in rendering the brilliancy and richness of material 
 he surpassed perhaps even Valerio himself. But if 
 by dint of study and perseverance he had succeeded 
 in producing mechanical effects, he was far from 
 having drawn down from Heaven that sacred fire 
 which gives life to the productions of art, and which 
 constitutes the superiority of genius over talent. 
 Bozza was too intelligent and too much in earnest 
 in his search after the secret of this superiority in 
 others not to understand what he lacked himself, 
 and to seek diligently to acquire it. But in vain did 
 he try to give to his characters the pathetic grace 
 and lofty enthusiasm which distinguished those of 
 90 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the Zuccati. He succeeded in painting the physical 
 emotion only. In the scene from the Apocalypse, 
 the faces of the demons and the damned were ^/ery 
 well handled. But although he excelled in this, he 
 did not know how to give to these impersonations 
 of hatred and misery the intellectual sentiment 
 which ought to characterize religious pictures. The 
 wicked did not seem to be tormented by the flames 
 which consumed them. No feeling of shame or 
 despair was portrayed in their features contracted 
 by the heat. The rebel angels retained nothing of 
 their celestial origin. Their regret at the loss of 
 their primitive greatness was stifled under a frightful 
 expression of irony, and in gazing at these immov- 
 able features, these wild grimaces, these tortures 
 which recalled the Inquisition rather than the judg- 
 ments of God, one was more startled than pained, 
 more disgusted than awed. 
 
 In spite of these faults, perceptible only to supe- 
 rior natures, Bozza's work possessed excellent quali- 
 ties, and the Zuccati well understood his power 
 when they intrusted it to him ; but when he essayed 
 more lofty subjects, he completely failed. His 
 majestic movements were rigid, his inspired faces 
 were grimacing. In vain his angels spread their 
 strong and luminous wing ; their feet seemed ever- 
 91 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 lastingly embedded in the cement, and their eyes had 
 no other light than that of enamel or marble. 
 
 The disconcerted artists no longer recognized 
 their own thoughts in the execution of their designs, 
 however faithful in technique they might be; and 
 the Zuccati were obliged to retouch with great care 
 all which in their faces indicated feeling and the por- 
 trayal of moral life. From the time that the scene 
 from the Apocalypse had been completed, Bozza had 
 been employed on the grand festoon of the arch ; 
 and; as he had deemed it unworthy of his genius to 
 be assigned the task of making a servile copy of 
 ornamentation, he experienced interiorly all the tor- 
 tures of wounded pride. It was nevertheless with 
 extreme gentleness and delicacy that the Zuccati had 
 made him feel the need of leaving sacred subjects 
 to more able hands, and of finishing the details of 
 the arch while waiting until subjects suited to his 
 peculiar talent should be consigned to their school. 
 
 Bozza made no account of the special lessons in 
 designing and painting which the Zuccati gave him 
 in their leisure hours. To him nothing was of so 
 much importance as his own future glory, and in 
 his heart he reproached Valerio for his love of pleas- 
 ure, which prevented him from devoting all his 
 spare moments to him, and he reproached Francesco 
 92 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC -WORKERS. 
 
 for a too close application to his own work, which 
 sometimes obliged him either to shorten these lessons 
 or to put them off until the following day. He flat- 
 tered himself that these masters feared he would 
 surpass them, and that they purposely deprived him 
 of the means of advancing himself, in order that 
 they might profit the longer by his work. So in his 
 secret soul he abandoned himself to all the agony of 
 jealousy and resentment. 
 
 At other times — and these moments were still 
 more trying — he was forced to open his eyes and 
 admit that, in spite of the excellent lessons and dis- 
 interested advice they had given him, he had not 
 progressed as he should have done. He felt all the 
 defects of his work keenly, and asked himself in 
 dismay if, beyond a certain degree of talent, he was 
 always to find himself baffled. He realized what he 
 lacked, but could not attain it. His hand seemed 
 to translate into commonplace words the poetic 
 inspirations of his brain, and he half believed the 
 infernal powers had some jealous designs on his 
 destiny. 
 
 Valerio often said to him, " Bartolommeo, the 
 greatest obstacle to the development of your facul- 
 ties is the intense anxiety that preys upon your 
 mind. Nothing beautiful or grand can blossom 
 93 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 except under the fructifying breath of a warm heart 
 and a free spirit. It requires all the health of body 
 and soul to produce sound work ; that which comes 
 from a sick brain has not the conditions of life. If, 
 instead of shedding the choking tears of weariness 
 and discouragement, you would really cry with ten- 
 derness and sympathy on the bosom of a friend, — if, 
 in fine, in those hours when you are so overcome 
 with fatigue that you can neither hold your tools 
 nor discern colors, sooner than weary your sight or 
 allow your will to become paralyzed, you would seek 
 in the diversions of your age, in the innocent sports 
 of youth, a means of restoring the strength of the 
 artist, giving it for a time a different treatment, — I 
 think you would be surprised on resuming your 
 work to feel your heart beat vigorously, and your 
 whole being transported with an unknown joy and 
 an invincible hope. But you seem in a manner 
 determined to be always sad, and ready to sink at 
 any moment under the burden of life. How can 
 you give to your work that life that is not in your- 
 self ? If you continue in this way, all the resources 
 of your genius will be exhausted before you can 
 make them serve you. By dint of looking at the 
 end, and of exaggerating the price of victory, you 
 are hindered from experiencing the sweet emotion 
 94 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 and pure delight of the work itself. Art, out of 
 revenge for not being* loved for herself alone, reveals 
 herself only at a distance to your blurred and 
 deceived vision; and if by resorting to unusual 
 methods you happen to succeed in winning the vain 
 applause of the crowd, you will not feel within you 
 the noble satisfaction of the conscientious artist 
 who can smile at the ignorance of crude judges, and 
 console himself for his poverty by shutting himself 
 up in a cot or a cave with his Muse, enjoying in her 
 embrace an ecstasy unknown to the vulgar." 
 
 The unfortunate artist fully understood the truth 
 of these words, but, instead of believing that Valerio 
 addressed them to him in the simplicity of his soul, 
 and with the sincere desire of placing him on the 
 right track, he accused him of harboring a feeling 
 of malicious pleasure and cruel contempt at sight of 
 his misery. Discouraged and disheartened, he would 
 then exclaim : " Yes, that is too true, Valerio. I am 
 lost. I am consumed like a torch blown by the 
 wind, without having thrown my light or filled my 
 lamp. You know it, you have put your finger on 
 the wound. You know the secret of your power 
 and of my weakness. Triumph then, humiliate me, 
 contemn my dreams, blast my hopes, laugh at my 
 aspirations. You have known how to use your 
 95 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 strength; you have controlled the race-horse; you 
 have tamed him. As for myself, I spur him inces- 
 santly, and, being carried away by him, I go to 
 pieces against the first obstacle." 
 
 It was in vain that the two Zuccati sought to 
 pacify him and restore his hope. He repulsed their 
 kindly interest, and, hurt by their compassion, he 
 tried to hide his discomfort afar from all eyes and 
 all consolation. 
 
 Seeing that tYieir affectionate advice only served 
 to aggravate the misery of this tortured soul, the 
 two young masters at last ceased speaking with him 
 about himself; and Bozza concluded thereby that 
 they no longer loved him, and were afraid that 
 perhaps he might profit too much by their advice. 
 The unfortunate necessity of abandoning a noble 
 and interesting work in order to finish some care- 
 fully selected ornamentation in a given time had 
 ended by embittering him. He had then resolved 
 to leave them as soon as his engagement should 
 expire, for he had no hope that they would propose 
 him for the mastership, as they had the right to do, 
 according to the terms of their agreement with the 
 Procurators. This right extended to only one 
 pupil a year, and Ceccato and Marini, his young 
 associates, seemed to him to be more in favor with 
 
 96 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the Zuccati than himself. He had an idea of going 
 to Ferrara or to Bologna to engage himself as a 
 master, and form a school ; for if he was one of 
 the last in Venice, he might hope to be one of the 
 first in a city less wealthy and less renowned. His 
 quarrel with Valerio had, in his eyes, the double 
 advantage of rendering him free and of giving him 
 an occasion for revenge. 
 
 The work was not finished, the feast of Saint 
 Mark was drawing near, the moments were counted. 
 In the two schools zeal was redoubled in order that 
 they should not fall behind with their engagements. 
 The absence or departure of one apprentice at this 
 time would be a real loss, and would seriously com- 
 promise the success of the extraordinary efforts 
 which were being made up to this day, in order not 
 to be outdone by the rival school. 
 
 97 
 
IX. 
 
 THE Bianchini were not slow to notice the ab- 
 sence of Bozza or the sadness of Valerio. 
 Vincent, with a brutal smile, related his artifice of 
 the evening before to his two brothers, and all three 
 of them, encouraged by this first success, resolved 
 to do everything in their power to injure the work 
 in the grand cupola and to ruin the Zuccati. After 
 consulting together at the tavern, Vincent put him- 
 self on Bozza' s track, and discovered him early in 
 the evening in the great orchard which extends 
 along the border of the lagunes in the neighborhood 
 of Santa Chiara. Bozza crept slowly along close to 
 a stretch of greensward dotted with beautiful trees, 
 whose branches leaned affectionately above the 
 placid waters. A profound silence reigned over 
 this rural city, and the last rays of the setting sun 
 tinted faintly in the distance the rustic clock of the 
 Isle of Certosa. On this side Venice presents an 
 appearance as naive and pastoral as on other 
 sides coquettish, proud, or terrible. Here one isees 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 only boats landing laden with fruit or vegetables; 
 here one hears only the sound of the rake on the 
 walk, or the hum of the spinning-wheels of the 
 women seated m the midst of their children on 
 the doorsteps of their fruit-houses. Here the con- 
 vent clocks strike the hours in a tone clear and 
 tender, and nothing interrupts the long melancholy 
 vibration. It was here that in former days the 
 author of " Childe Harold" often came to learn the 
 meaning of certain mysteries of nature: grace, 
 sweetness, charm, repose, strange words which 
 nature, either powerless or pitiless in his regard, 
 translated for him by languor, sadness, weariness, 
 despair. Bozza, insensible to the soothing influence 
 of such a charming evening, was absorbed in watch- 
 ing the rapid flight and bloody contests of the great 
 sea birds, which at this hour quarrel over their 
 last prey, or hurry to reach their hidden retreats. 
 This wrestling and commotion was the only thing 
 with which he was in sympathy. Everywhere the 
 vanquished seemed to him the personification of 
 his rivals ; and when the conqueror flung upon the 
 air his cry of rage and triumph, Bozza imagined 
 himself mounting on huge wings to the goal of his 
 insatiable desires. 
 Bianchini approached him with affected frankness, 
 99 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 and, after having told him that he had noticed for 
 some time past the Zuccati's evil dealings with him, 
 he begged him to tell him, under the seal of secrecy, 
 if he had really decided to leave their school. 
 
 "There is no secret about it," answered Bar- 
 tolommeo, " for it is not only a thing decided upon, 
 but a thing done." 
 
 Bianchini expressed his pleasure with reserve, and 
 assured Bozza that he might have stayed for ten 
 years with the Zuccati without making any progress 
 toward the mastership, and cited for example Marini, 
 who was a talented fellow, and who had been with 
 them for six years with no other recompense than a 
 modest salary and the title of companion. " Marini 
 flatters himself," he added, "that he will be made a 
 master on St. Mark's Day, according to the promise 
 of Messer Francesco Zuccati, but — " 
 
 "He promised it to him? Positively?" said 
 Bozza, his eyes flashing. 
 
 " In my presence," answered Vincent. " Perhaps 
 he made the same promise to you. Oh, there is no 
 counting on the promises of the Zuccati. They 
 treat their apprentices as they treat the Procurators, 
 — more talk than work. They have fine words by 
 which they explain to their dupes that art requires 
 a long novitiate, and that an artist would die in his 
 
 100 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 prime if he gave himself too soon to the caprices 
 of his imagination ; and that the greatest talents had 
 failed because too quickly freed from the servile 
 study of the model, etc. What don't they say? 
 They learned by heart in their father's studio, when 
 their father had a studio, five or six high-sounding 
 words which they heard said to Titian or Giorgione, 
 and now they consider themselves masters in paint- 
 ing, and talk like lords. Truly, it is so ridiculous 
 that I do not understand why that great devil of 
 yours in the Apocalypse — that piece of work so 
 perfect, so fantastically rendered, so horned and 
 so good-natured that I can never look at it without 
 laughing — does not detach itself from the wall, and 
 with his lion's tail come and box their ears when 
 they say things so foolish and so out of place 
 coming from them." 
 
 Although Bozza was hurt by this coarse praise 
 given to his most important effort, to a figure 
 which he had intended to render terrible, not gro- 
 tesque, he felt a secret pleasure in hearing the Zuccati 
 denounced and laughed at. 
 
 When Bianchini thought he had gained Bozza' s con- 
 fidence by salving his wound, he offered to take him 
 into his school, and went so far as to promise him 
 a much larger salary than that he received from the 
 
 lOI 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Zuccati; but he was surprised at getting only a 
 refusal for his answer, and at not seeing the slightest 
 satisfaction flit over Bozza's face. He thought that 
 the young man would let himself be bought over 
 for the sake of greater pecuniary advantages. The 
 Bianchini could not see in the life of an artist any 
 other end, any other hope, any other glory, than 
 money. 
 
 After having tried in vain to tempt him with 
 offers still more brilliant, Vincent gave up the idea 
 of entering into business relations with him, and, 
 assuming the complacent air of a man wholly dis- 
 interested, he sought by flattering him and convers- 
 ing with him to find out the reasons for his refusal 
 and the secret desires of his ambition. This was 
 not difficult. Bozza, this man so defiant and so 
 reserved that the most sincere friendship could not 
 draw from him an acknowledgment of his weak- 
 ness, yielded like a child to the seductions of the 
 grossest flattery. Praise was like fresh air to his 
 lungs, without which he would suffer and die. 
 When Bianchini saw that his whole ambition was to 
 become a master, and to have the glories of the 
 profession in its authority, its independence, its 
 title, regardless of acquiring no profit for his pains 
 and of suffering all privations for a long time to 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 come, he felt a profound contempt for this ambi- 
 tion, less vile than his own, and would have laughed 
 at him openly if he had not thought he could yet 
 use him to the detriment of the Zuccati. 
 
 "Ah, my young master," said he, "you. would 
 command, and not serve ! It would be very easy, I 
 know, for a man so talented as yourself. Very well ! 
 Long life to you ! You must be a master, but not 
 in a miserable little provincial town, where you 
 might toil for twenty years without being noticed. 
 You must become a master here in Venice, on Saint 
 Mark's Day, cutting out and filling the place of the 
 Zuccati." 
 
 "That is easier said than done," replied Bozza. 
 "The Zuccati are all-powerful." 
 
 "Perhaps not so much as you think," replied 
 Bianchini. " Will you pledge me your word to trust 
 in me and help me in all my plans ? I will pledge 
 you mine that in six months the Zuccati will be 
 driven from Venice, and that we two, you and I, will 
 be sole masters in the basilica." 
 
 Vincent spoke with so much assurance, and he 
 was known as a man so persevering, so capable, and 
 so fortunate in all his undertakings, — he had escaped 
 so many dangers and repaired so many disasters 
 where anybody else would have failed, — that Bozza 
 103 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 was moved, felt a thrill of pleasure coursing through 
 his veins, and the perspiration stood in beads upon 
 his forehead, as if the sun from out the sea into 
 which it had just sunken were shedding upon him 
 its very hottest rays. 
 
 Bianchini, seeing him duped, took his arm and 
 drew him along with him. 
 
 " Come," said he, " I want to make you see with 
 your own eyes a sure way of getting rid of our 
 enemies; but first you must take an oath that you 
 will not be influenced by any feeling of foolish sen- 
 sitiveness, and will do nothing to check my plans. 
 Your testimony is absolutely necessary to me. Are 
 you sure that you will not shrink from any of the 
 consequences of the truth, however hard they may 
 bear upon your old masters ?" 
 
 " And where will these consequences end ? " asked 
 Bozza in surprise. 
 
 "With life only," answered Bianchini. "They 
 will lead to exile, dishonor, and want." 
 
 " I will not lend myself to that," said Bozza, dryly, 
 movmg away from his tempter. " The Zuccati are 
 honest men, after all, and I cannot carry spite so far 
 as to hate them. Let me alone, Messer Vincent, you 
 are a wicked man." 
 
 "It seems so to you," replied Vincent, wholly 
 104 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 unmoved by an appellation for which he had long 
 since ceased to blush. "That scares you because 
 you believe in the honor of the Zuccati brothers. 
 It is very nice and very naive on your part. But if 
 one could make you see — I say, with your own eyes 
 — that they are men of bad faith, who deceive the 
 Republic, and defraud its treasuries by stealing their 
 salary and adulterating their work, — if I could make 
 you see it, what would you say ? And if, having 
 made you see it, I should summon you at the time 
 and place to bear witness to the truth, would you 
 doit.>" 
 
 " If I should see it with my own eyes, I should 
 say that the Zuccati are the greatest hypocrites and 
 the most outrageous liars I have ever met ; and if, in 
 that case, I should be summoned to bear witness, I 
 should do it, because they would then have treated 
 me shamefully, and I have too much hatred for men 
 who have the right to lord it over others not to 
 abhor those who arrogate to themselves this right 
 at the price of falsehood. They robbers and 
 villains ! I do not believe it ; but I would like to, 
 if only for the pleasure of telling them to their face, 
 * No, you have no right to despise me.' " 
 
 " Follow me," said Bianchini with a hideous smile; 
 " night is upon us, and moreover we can enter the 
 105 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 basilica at any time without exciting suspicion. 
 Come, and if you are not chicken-hearted, before 
 six months you will make a great yellow devil on 
 the highest scaffolding in the basilica which will 
 laugh louder than all the others, and which will be 
 worth to you a hundred golden ducats." 
 
 Thus speaking, he glided away among the sweet- 
 scented trees; and Bozza, treading with an uneasy 
 step on the border of thyme and fennel, followed 
 him tremblingly, like one on the verge of commit- 
 ting a crime. 
 
 io6 
 
X. 
 
 THE following day, Bozza was to be seen in the 
 school of the Bianchini, working zealously in 
 the chapel of Saint Isidore. Francesco, to whom his 
 brother had given an exact account of the scene of 
 the evening before, was so deeply wounded by this 
 conduct that he begged Valerio not to make any 
 further attempt to ascertain his motives. He suffered 
 in silence, resenting more strongly an injury done 
 to his beloved brother than if it had been done to 
 himself alone, not being able to understand how one 
 could resist the frankness and sweetness of any ex- 
 planation given by Valerio. He pretended not to 
 see Bozza, and from that day passed him by as if 
 he had never known him. Valerio, who well knew 
 that his brother had set his heart upon finishing his 
 cupola, and who saw the annoyance caused him by 
 Bozza' s desertion, resolved to die at the work rather 
 than not overcome this difficulty. Francesco was 
 in delicate health. His proud and sensitive soul was 
 107 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 beset with the fear of not fulfilling his engagements. 
 It was not a question of his reputation as an artist 
 alone, a reputation which he reproached himself for 
 having cherished too much, since he found himself 
 retarded for want of some one to do the mechanical 
 work; it was a question of honor. He was not 
 ignorant of the plots already attempted by the Bian- 
 chini to blacken his good name. When he had 
 accepted this enormous task, his father, thinking it 
 too much of an undertaking for the three years to 
 which it was limited, had tried to dissuade them 
 from it. Titian, believing that Valerio's pleasure- 
 loving life and the poor health of the other would 
 make the execution of it impossible, advised them 
 many times to become reconciled with the Bianchini, 
 and to ask of the Procurators a new arrangement. 
 But the Bianchini, who in the beginning had formed 
 part of the school of Francesco, had little talent and 
 an insurmountable pride. On no account would 
 Francesco have intrusted to them a work under- 
 taken and carried on with so much care and love. 
 
 In order to explain how important it was that this 
 master should not be behind for a single day, we 
 must go back a little, and say that the basilica of 
 St. Mark had been retouched during the preceding 
 years by incompetent and unreliable workmen. 
 1 08 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Considerable expense had only served to entertain 
 a troop of dissipated artisans, whose work it was 
 necessary to repair at a great cost. Father Alberto 
 and Rizzo, first mosaic masters, had shown to the 
 Procurators the necessity of observing some method 
 in regard to the expense and the work. After many 
 experiments it was finally agreed that Francesco 
 Zuccato should be the head of the mosaic studio ; 
 and Vincent Bianchini, notwithstanding he had been 
 banished for fourteen years under accusation of 
 passing false money and for having committed 
 several murders, — one, notably that of his barber, 
 — had, thanks to the strength of his work and that 
 of his two brothers, found protection in the person 
 of the Procurator-Cassiere, who had placed him 
 under the direction of the Zuccati. But, harmony 
 being an impossibility between these two families, 
 Francesco had asked permission to choose some 
 other pupils, and he had obtained it. To put an 
 end to the quarrels which this gave rise to, and to 
 pacify the Procurator, who was interested in the 
 Bianchini, the commission had decided to believe 
 upon hearsay that the latter were capable of work- 
 ing without direction on their own account. To 
 them was assigned a less favorable position and a 
 longer task than to the Zuccati. They themselves 
 109 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 had made these conditions, and asked this trial of 
 their talents. From that time they had not ceased 
 to make themselves important in the eyes of the 
 commission, who were, moreover, anything but 
 enlightened on the matter, and to depreciate the 
 school of Francesco, whose modesty and candor 
 would not allow him to argue against them. The 
 commission felt themselves in honor bound to have 
 work more elaborate and better done at less expense 
 than in the past. They wished, at the opening of 
 the renovated church, to deserve praise and remu- 
 neration from the Senate. 
 
 Francesco saw the fatal day approaching, and it 
 was in vain he put forth all his strength; hope 
 began to forsake him. He also saw that Valerio, 
 insensible to care and anxiety, was determined to 
 celebrate on that same day the organization of a 
 company of men of pleasure. Bozza's withdrawal 
 at such a critical moment bewildered him. " Even 
 if," said he to himself, " Valerio should give all his 
 time and strength to his work, it would not amount 
 to much. Let him amuse himself, then, since he is 
 so fortunate as to be insensible to the disgrace of 
 failure." 
 
 But he was mistaken in Valerio, who knew too 
 well his brother's chivalrous susceptibility not to 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC- WORKERS. 
 
 realize also that he would be inconsolable under 
 such a mortification. Therefore he called together 
 his favorite pupils, Marini, Ceccato, and two others. 
 He explained to them the condition of Francesco's 
 mind, and that of all the school, in the face of 
 pubHc opinion. He besought them to do like him- 
 self, — not to despair, not to give up either the 
 work or the pleasure, but to remain at their post 
 until all was successfully accomplished, even were 
 they to perish the day after Saint iVlark's. They all 
 swore to stand by him without relaxation, and they 
 kept their word. In order not to worry Francesco, 
 who was always anxious on account of the little 
 care Valerio took of his health, they covered up 
 with planks that part of the work which he was 
 reserving for his last touches, and worked upon it 
 during the night. A light mattress was thrown upon 
 the scaffolding, and when one of the workmen was 
 overcome with fatigue, he stretched himself upon 
 it and enjoyed a few moments' sleep, interrupted by 
 the joyous singing of the others and the creaking 
 of the planks under their feet. They took all their 
 trouble in good part, and pretended that they had 
 never rested better than when rocked to sleep by 
 the scaffolding, and lulled by the sound of the ham- 
 mer. Valerio' s constant cheerfulness, his pleasant 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 stories, his rollicking songs, and the great cruse of 
 Cyprus wine which was passed around, kept up a 
 wonderful enthusiasm. This devotion was crowned 
 with success. On the eve of Saint Mark's, as the 
 day was drawing to a close, and when Francesco, 
 not wishing to give even a silent reproach to his 
 brother, affected a resignation which he was far 
 from feeling in his soul, Valerio gave the signal, 
 the pupils took away the planks, and the master 
 saw the festoon and the beautiful angels that sup- 
 ported it finished as if by magic. 
 
 "Oh, my dear Valerio! " cried Francesco, trans- 
 ported with joy and gratitude, " was I not inspired 
 when I gave wings to your portrait } Are you not 
 my guardian angel? my archangel deliverer?" 
 
 "I was very desirous," said Valerio, returning his 
 caress, "to prove to you that I could attend to 
 affairs of business and those of pleasure at the same 
 time. Now, if you are satisfied with me, I am well 
 paid for my pains ; but you must also thank these 
 courageous companions who have assisted me so 
 kindly, and who have thereby made themselves 
 worthy of the mastership. It is for you to choose, 
 I do not say the most skilful, for they are all equal 
 in that respect, but the oldest one entitled to it." 
 
 " My dear children," said Francesco, after cordially 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 embracing them, '*you have all of late made gener- 
 ous sacrifices of your rights and of your wishes to 
 supply the loss of a young man sick with ambition, 
 whose talents and troubles seem to call for your 
 interest and compassion. You had resolved among 
 yourselves to prove to him that he accused you 
 wrongfully of being his rivals and his enemies. 
 Caring more for my instruction than for that vain- 
 glory with which he is consumed, you were on the 
 point of giving him a grand example of virtue and 
 disinterestedness, of making him a master voluntarily 
 and against his expectations. The ungrateful fellow 
 could not wait for this happy day, whereon he would 
 have been forced to love and admire you. He 
 has flown like a coward from masters whom he has 
 not understood, and from comrades whom he has 
 not appreciated. Forget him. Whoever loses you 
 is sufficiently punished. Where shall he find friend- 
 ships more sincere, services more disinterested? 
 Now, one place of mastership is at your disposal 
 because it is at mine, and I have no other wish than 
 yours. God preserve me from making a choice 
 among my pupils whom I esteem and love so 
 tenderly ! Make your own election. Whoever 
 among you shall have the greatest number of votes 
 shall have mine." 
 
 "3 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 "We shall not be long deciding," said Marini. 
 " We supposed, dear master, that you would do this 
 year as in preceding years, and we have made our 
 choice. Upon me has fallen the greatest number of 
 the votes of the school, Ceccato has given me his, 
 and I am elected. But all this is the result either of 
 injustice or of misunderstanding. Ceccato works 
 better than I. Ceccato has a wife and two little 
 children. He has need of the mastership and a 
 right to it. I am not pressed, I..have no family. I 
 am happy under your direction; I ha/e yet much 
 to learn. I transfer all my votes to Ceccato, and 
 give him mine, to which I beg you, master, to add 
 your own." 
 
 "Embrace me, brother," exclaimed Francesco, 
 clasping Marini in his arms. "This beautiful act 
 heals the wound which the ingratitude of Bar- 
 tolommeo has made in my heart. Yes, there are 
 still among us artists of great soul and noble devo- 
 tion. Do not blush, Ceccato, in accepting this 
 generous sacrifice. In Marini' s place, we all know 
 you would have acted as he has done. Be as proud 
 as if you were the hero of the evening. Whoever 
 inspires such a friendship is the equal of him who 
 proves it." 
 Ceccato, all in tears, threw himself into Marini' s 
 114 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 arms, and Francesco made it his duty to go at once 
 to the Procurators, in order that they might ratify 
 the promotion to the mastership due annually to 
 one of the pupils, according to the terms of the con- 
 tract passed between him and these magistrates. 
 
 "We will go and wait for you at table," said 
 Valerio, "for after so much hard work we need 
 some refreshment. Make haste to join us, brother, 
 because I must go and spend half the night at 
 San Filippo preparatory to the joyous festivities 
 of to-morrow, and I do not wish to leave the 
 supper table until I have clicked my glass with 
 yours." 
 
 "5 
 
XI. 
 
 JUST as Francesco was ascending the grand stair- 
 case of the palace of the Procurators, he met 
 Bozza, pale and absorbed in his thoughts, who was 
 coming down. Finding himself face to face with 
 his old master, Bartolommeo started, and was evi- 
 dently ill at ease. As Francesco looked at him with 
 a severity befitting this encounter, his face at once 
 fell, llnd his pale lips moved as if vainly trying to 
 speak. He stepped towards his master, and was 
 about to salute him. Overcome with remorse, 
 Bozza would have given his life could he at this 
 moment have thrown himself at Francesco's feet 
 and confessed all. But Francesco's cold recogni- 
 tion, the crushing look he cast upon him, and the 
 pains he took to evade his salutation by turning 
 away when he saw him lift his hand to his cap, left 
 him without courage to seize this opportune mo- 
 ment for repentance. He stopped irresolutely, wait- 
 ing for Francesco to turn and encourage him with a 
 gentle look. Then seeing that he was decidedly 
 ii6 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 condemned and deserted, " So be it," said he, clinch- 
 ing his fist with anger and despair. Then he strode 
 away. 
 
 Francesco went first to the apartment of the 
 Procuratoi-Cassiere who was the head of the com- 
 mission. He was surprised to find Vincent Bian- 
 chini seated familiarly with him, and haranguing in 
 a loud voice. But he was silent as soon as he saw 
 Francesco, and went into an adjoining room. The 
 Trocurator-Cassierej Melchior, frowned and affected 
 an austere manner, to which his short, broad face, 
 his round stomach and nasal utterance, gave a char- 
 acter more grotesque than imposing. Francesco 
 was not a man, however, to be deceived by this 
 professional trickery; he greeted him, and said he 
 was happy to to be able to announce to him that 
 the cupola was completed, and that consequently — 
 But the Procurator-Cassiere did not give him time to 
 finish his sentence. 
 
 " Well, well ! at last ! " said he, looking him full 
 in the eye with the evident intention of intimidating 
 him. " It is wonderful, Messer Zuccato, it is indeed. 
 Will you have the goodness to explain to me how it 
 was so quickly accomplished?" 
 
 " So quickly, Monsignore ? It has been very slowly 
 to my mind, for it is now the eve of the appointed 
 117 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 day, and I was very much afraid this morning that 
 it would not be done in time." 
 
 " And you had reason to be afraid, for yesterday 
 a whole quarter of your festoon was yet unfinished, 
 a task requiring about a month of ordinary labor." 
 
 " That is true," answered Francesco. " I see your 
 Lordship has kept track of the least details." 
 
 •'A man like me, Messer," said the Procurator 
 emphatically, "knows the duties of his office, and 
 does not allow himself to be imposed upon by such 
 a man as you." 
 
 " A man Hke your Lordship," answered Francesco, 
 surprised at this outburst," ought to know that a man 
 like me is incapable of imposing upon any one." 
 
 " Lower your voice, Messer, lower your voice," 
 cried the Procurator, " or, by the ducal cap ! I will 
 make you hold your tongue for a long time." 
 
 The Procurator Melchior had the honor of count- 
 ing among his great-uncles a Doge of Venice, so he 
 had acquired the habit of thinking that he was a 
 little doge himself, and always swore by his cap, 
 which was made like a Phrygian bonnet or a cornu- 
 copia, the august insignia of the ducal dignity. 
 
 " I see that your Lordship is ill disposed to listen 
 to me," answered Francesco, gently, with a little 
 touch of disdain in his voice. "I shall withdraw 
 ii8 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 for fear I might displease you further. I will wait 
 for a more favorable moment — " 
 
 "To demand the salary for your laziness and 
 deceitfulness," exclaimed the Procurator. '*The 
 salary of those who steal from the Republic is 
 imprisonment, and take care that you are not re- 
 warded according to your deserts." 
 
 " I am at a loss to know why you make me such 
 a threat," answered Francesco. " I think your Lord- 
 ship has too much wisdom and experience to take 
 advantage of my present position, which will not 
 allow me to resent an insult on your part. The 
 respect due to your age and dignity closes my 
 mouth, but I will not be so patient with the villains 
 who have poisoned your mind against me." 
 
 " By the cap ! this is not the place to play the 
 bully, Messer. See that you justify yourself before 
 accusing others." 
 
 " I will justify myself before your Lordship, and 
 in a satisfactory manner, when you will condescend 
 to tell me of what I am accused." 
 
 " You are accused, Messer, of having unworthily 
 played upon the Procurators in passing yourself 
 oif for a mosaic-worker. You are a painter, and 
 nothing else. Indeed, you are very talented in that, 
 by the cap of my great-uncle ! I congratulate you. 
 119 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 But you are not paid for making frescos, and we 
 will see wliat yours are wortii." 
 
 " I swear upon my honor that I have not the hap- 
 piness to understand your Lordship's language." 
 
 "Sdeath ! We'll make you understand, and until 
 then you need not hope to receive any money. Ah ! 
 ah ! Mister Painter, you were right when you said, 
 *Monsignore Melchior understands nothing of the 
 work which we do. He is a good man, but much 
 better employed in drinking than in directing the 
 fine arts of the RepubHc' All right, all right, 
 Messer; we know all about your jokes and your 
 brother's at our expense and that of the honorable 
 body of magistrates. 'But he laughs best who 
 laughs last.' We will see what a figure you will 
 cut when we examine in person this beautiful work ; 
 and you will see that we know the difference between 
 enamel and paint, pasteboard and stone." 
 
 Francesco could not repress a smile of scorn. 
 
 "If I clearly understand the accusation brought 
 against me," he said, "I am guilty of having re- 
 placed some parts of the stone-work by painted 
 pasteboard. It is true, I made something to re- 
 semble the Latin inscription which your Lordship 
 ordered me to place above the outer door. I 
 thought that your Lordship, not having taken the 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 trouble yourself to prepare this inscription, too 
 flattering for us, had intrusted it to some one who 
 executed it in haste. I therefore took the liberty 
 of correcting the word Saxihus, but, faithful to 
 the duty I owe to the honorable Procurators, I 
 traced the word in stone as I received it in writ- 
 ing from their hands, and allowed my brother 
 to make the correction only on a piece of paste- 
 board glued to the stone. If your Lordship thinks 
 that I am in fault, it is only a matter of taking away 
 the pasteboard, and the text will appear beneath it 
 executed to the letter, as can be plainly proved by 
 your own eyes." 
 
 " Wonderful, Messer ! " cried the Procurator, 
 beside himself with rage. "You are convicting 
 yourself. Here is a new proof of which I shall take 
 note. Hollo ! Secretary, set down this avowal. By 
 the ducal cap ! we will bring down your insolent 
 pride. Ah! you think you can correct the Pro- 
 curators ! They understand Latin better than you 
 do. Look you, what a scholar ! Who would sus- 
 pect he had such a variety of information? I 
 will beg a chair for you as Professor of the 
 Latin Language in the University of Padua, for 
 surely you are too great a genius to devote your- 
 self to mosaic work." 
 
 121 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " If your Lordship keeps to your barbarism, I will 
 go directly and take down my pasteboard," said 
 Francesco, wholly out of patience. " All the Re- 
 public will know to-morrow that the Procurators 
 cannot boast of their knowledge of Latin; but 
 what does it matter to me?" 
 
 Speaking thus, he moved toward the door, while 
 the Procurator cried to him imperiously to leave his 
 presence, a command which he did not need to 
 repeat, for he was no longer master of himself. 
 
 Scarcely had he left the chamber, when Vincent 
 Bianchini, who had heard all in an adjoining room, 
 entered hurriedly. 
 
 "Eh, Monsignore, what are you doing .^" said he. 
 "You gave him to understand that his fraud was 
 discovered, and yet you let him go." 
 
 "What do you want me to do.?" answered the 
 Procurator. " I refused to pay him his salary, and I 
 humiliated him. He is punished enough for to-day. 
 After to-morrow we will prepare the case." 
 
 " And during these two nights he will slip into the 
 basilica, and replace all the pieces of pasteboard with 
 pieces of enamel, and so I shall appear to have made 
 a false statement, and my devotion to the Republic 
 will turn against me." 
 
 " And how would you have me prevent his wicked 
 
 122 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 designs?" said the bewildered Procurator. "I will 
 have the church locked.'* 
 
 " You cannot do it. Being the vigil of St. Mark, 
 the church will be full of people, and who knows by 
 what means he could not enter the most strongly 
 fortified place ? And then he will join his compan- 
 ions, enter into an understanding with them, invent 
 excuses — All is lost, and I am lost, if you do not 
 punish him at once." 
 
 "You are right, Bianchini, he must be punished 
 at once; but how?" 
 
 " Say the word, send two officers after him, he 
 has not reached the foot of the stairs ; throw him 
 into prison." 
 
 " By the ducal cap ! that idea did not occur to me. 
 But, Vincent, is n't it rather severe, such an act of 
 authority — " 
 
 " But, Monsignore, if you let him escape, he will 
 make fun of you all his life, and his brother, the 
 clever fellow, who is the favorite of all these young 
 patricians so jealous of your power and wisdom, 
 will not hesitate to joke — " 
 
 "You are right, dear Vincent," cried the Pro- 
 curator, emphatically, striking the little bell that 
 stood upon his desk. " The ducal dignity must be 
 respected, for I am of the ducal family, you know?'* 
 123 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 "And you will be Doge some day, I hope/' re- 
 plied Bianchini. " All Venice counts on saluting you 
 with the cap on your head." 
 
 The officers were despatched. Five minutes later, 
 poor Francesco, not knowing by virtue of what 
 power nor in punishment for what- crime, was led 
 blindfolded across a labyrinth of galleries, courts, 
 and staircases, toward the cell for which he was 
 destined. He stopped for a moment during this 
 mysterious journey, and, by the sound of water 
 murmuring beneath him, he knew he was crossing 
 the Bridge of Sighs. His heart stood still, and the 
 name of Valerio escaped from his lips like an eternal 
 farewell. 
 
 124 
 
XIL 
 
 VALERIO waited for his brother at the tavern 
 until the moment when, urged by the young 
 people who went there to find him, he was obliged 
 to give up the hope of drinking with him and with 
 the new master, Ceccato, that evening. Burdened 
 with a thousand cares, weighed down with a thou- 
 sand responsibilities for the fete of the morrow, he 
 passed half the night running from his studio in 
 San Filippo to the Place St. Mark, where arrange- 
 ments were being made for the game of rings, and 
 from there to the different workmen and manu- 
 facturers whom he employed for this occasion. 
 Wherever he went, he was accompanied by his 
 stanch apprentices, and many other young men of 
 different callings who were deeply attached to him, 
 and whom he engaged to carry messages from place 
 to place. When the waggish band drew up in march- 
 ing order, it was to the tune of song and laughter, 
 joyous preludes of the morrow's festivities. 
 125 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Valerio did not enter his lodging until three 
 o^clock in the morning. He was surprised not to 
 find his brother there; however, he did not give 
 himself any unreasonable anxiety on that account. 
 Francesco had a little love aflfair which he neglected 
 when art, his favorite passion, required all his time, 
 but for which he generally managed to absent him- 
 self whenever his work allowed him a little respite. 
 Moreover, Valerio was not much inclined by nature 
 to foresee evil, the very fear of which wears out the 
 greater part of humanity. He went to sleep, reckon- 
 ing on finding his brother in the morning, either at 
 San Filippo or where the first meeting of the gay 
 companions of the Lizard was to take place. 
 
 All the world knows that in the halcyon days of 
 her splendor the Republic of Venice, in addition to 
 the numerous corporations constituted to maintain 
 her laws, counted in her midst private associations 
 approved by the Senate, devout societies encouraged 
 by the clergy, and pleasure organizations tolerated 
 and even flattered in secret by a government anxious 
 to encourage by its love of pleasure the industry 
 of the working classes. The devout confraternities 
 were often composed of people representing but 
 one trade or profession, as that of merchants, 
 tailors, gunners, etc. Others were made up of 
 126 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 various workmen or merchants of the same parish, 
 who called themselves by its name, as that of 
 St. John the Beggar, the Madonna of the Garden, 
 St. George in the Seaweed, St. Francis of the Vine- 
 yard, etc. Each society had a building, called its 
 studio (scuola), which was decorated at the common 
 expense with works of the greatest masters in 
 painting, sculpture, and architecture. These studios 
 were composed generally of a lower loom, called 
 Valhergo, where the members assembled, a rich stair- 
 way, which was in itself a sort of museum, and a 
 vast hall where Mass was said and where they held 
 their conferences. There are still many studios in 
 Venice which the government has preserved as monu- 
 ments of art, or which have become the property 
 of private individuals. That of St. Mark is to-day 
 the museum of the paintings of the city That of 
 St. Roch contains many masterpieces of Tintoretto 
 and other illustrious masters. The mosaic pave- 
 ments, the ceilings loaded with gold or ornamented 
 with frescos by Veronese or Pordenone, the wain- 
 scoting sculptured in wood or engraved in bronze, 
 the minute and dainty bas-reliefs in which the entire 
 life of Christ or of some favorite saint is executed 
 in white marble with inconceivable finish and detail, 
 — such are the vestiges of that power and richness 
 127 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 to which aristocratic republics can attain, but under 
 which they must inevitably perish. 
 
 Moreover, each society or confraternity had its 
 patronal feast, called sagra, on which occasions it 
 appeared in all its splendor, and had the privilege of 
 taking part in all the feasts and solemnities of the 
 Republic, decorated with the insignia of the associa- 
 tion. In the procession of St. Mark, they held the 
 rank of parishioners, that is, they walked behind the 
 clergy from their church, carrying their reliquaries, 
 crosses, and banners, taking their places in chapels 
 reserved for them during the ceremonies. The 
 pleasure societies did not enjoy the same privileges, 
 but they were permitted to repair to the great 
 square, to erect their tents there, and to carry on 
 their jousts and banquets. Each company took its 
 title and its emblem according to its fancy, and 
 met wherever it pleased. Some were composed of 
 noblemen only, others admitted noblemen and ple- 
 beians indiscriminately, thanks to that apparent 
 fusion of classes which we see in Venice to-day. 
 The old paintings have preserved to us the elegant 
 and picturesque costumes of the Company of the 
 Stocking, who wore one red stocking and one white, 
 the rest of the dress being made of a variety of the 
 most brilliant colors. The Company of St. Mark 
 128 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 wore a golden lion on the breast; that of St 
 Theodosius, a silver crocodile on the arm, etc. 
 
 Valerio, celebrated for his exquisite taste and 
 ready skill at inventing and executing things of this 
 kind, had ordered and directed everything pertain- 
 ing to the exterior ornamentation, and it may be 
 said that in this respect the Company of the Lizard 
 eclipsed all the others. He had chosen this climbing 
 animal for their emblem, because all classes of 
 artisans, who composed their best members, — 
 architects, sculptors, glaziers and painters on glass, 
 mosaic-workers, and fresco-painters, — were, by the 
 nature of their work, accustomed to climb, and to live, 
 after a fashion, suspended to the walls of the arches. 
 
 On the Feast of Saint Mark, 1570, according to 
 Stringa, and 1574, according to others, the immense 
 procession made the circuit of the Place St. Mark 
 under the tents in the arcades purposely erected in 
 the form of arches outside of the arcades of the 
 Procuraties, which were too low to admit the enor- 
 mous crosses of solid gold, the huge chandeliers, 
 the shrines of lapis-lazuH surmounted with lilies cut 
 in silver, the reliquaries terminating in pyramids of 
 precious stones, — in a word, all that luxuriant 
 pageantry of which priests are so jealous and the 
 common people of the corporations so vain. No 
 129 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 sooner was the religious chant lost within the spa- 
 cious vestibule of the basilica, while children and 
 poor people busied themselves picking up the drops 
 of perfumed wax which had fallen upon the pave- 
 ments from thousands of tapers, and sought eagerly 
 for any stray stones or pearls which might have 
 escaped from the sacred jewels, than there appeared 
 in the centre of the place as if by magic a large 
 circle surrounded by wooden galleries, gracefully 
 decorated with variegated festoons and silken dra- 
 peries, beneath which the ladies could sit sheltered 
 from the sun and watch the games. The pillars 
 which supported the galleries were covered with 
 waving banners, upon which were romantic mottoes 
 in the naive and sprightly dialect of Venice. In the 
 midst stood a colossal pillar in the form of a palm 
 tree, upon the trunk of which were crawling a 
 crowd of charming lizards, in gold, silver, green, 
 blue, and striped, infinitely varied. From the top of 
 the tree a beautiful fairy with white wings leaned 
 towards this agile group, extending to it a crown in 
 each hand. At the foot of the trunk, upon a crim- 
 son velvet platform, beneath a dais of brocade 
 garnished with the most ingenious arabesques, was 
 seated the queen of the feast, the giver of prizes, — 
 little Marie Robusti, the daughter of Tintoretto, a 
 130 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 beautiful child ten or twelve years of age, whom 
 Valerio took pleasure in calling playfully his lady 
 love, to whom he showed the most tender care 
 and courteous attentions. When the galleries were 
 filled, she appeared, dressed after the manner of 
 Giambellino's angels, in a white tunic, with a veil 
 of sky-blue and a delicate wreath of young vine on 
 her beautiful fair hair, which fell in a thick golden 
 mass about her alabaster neck. Messer Orazio 
 Vecelli, Titian's son, gave her his hand. He was 
 dressed in oriental costume, for he had come from 
 Byzantium with his father. He seated himself near 
 her, as did also a numerous group of young men 
 distinguished by their talent or their birth, for 
 whom places of honor had been reserved on the 
 steps of the platform. The galleries were filled with 
 the most brilliant ladies, escorted by gallant cava- 
 liers. In a large reserved enclosure many prominent 
 persons did not disdain to take their places. The 
 Doge had set them the example. He accompanied 
 the young Duke of Anjou, who was to become 
 Henry III., King of France, and who was then pass- 
 ing through Venice. Luigi Mocenigo (the Doge) 
 had it at heart to do him the honors of the city, 
 and to display before his eyes, accustomed to the 
 more austere pastimes and barbarous festivals of 
 131 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the Sarmatians, the dazzling luxury and enchanting 
 gayety of the beautiful youth of Venice. 
 
 When all were seated, a purple curtain was raised, 
 and the glittering Company of the Lizard came forth 
 from a tent closed until then. They formed a solid 
 phalanx, having at their head musicians dressed in 
 the grotesque costumes of ancient times, and in the 
 centre was their leader, Valerio. They advanced in 
 good order until opposite the Doge and the Senators. 
 There the ranks parted, and Valerio, taking from the 
 hands of the standard bearer the red satin banner, 
 on which shone a silver lizard, came forward, and, 
 on his bended knee, saluted the Chief of the Republic. 
 There was a murmur of admiration at the sight of 
 this beautiful young man, whose strange and mag- 
 nificent costume showed to advantage his elegant 
 and graceful proportions. His tight-fitting green 
 velvet coat with large slashed sleeves was open at 
 the breast, revealing a corslet made of a kind of 
 goods from Smyrna with a gold foundation covered 
 with flowers in silk admirably shaded. He wore on 
 his left thigh the escutcheon of the company, repre- 
 senting the lizard, embroidered with fine pearls on a 
 crimson velvet ground. His belt was a masterpiece 
 of arabesque, and his poniard, studded with stones, 
 was the gift of Messer Tiziano, who had brought 
 132 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 it to him from the East. A superb white plume, 
 fastened to his cap by a diamond clasp, fell behind 
 to his waist, and swayed with his movements as 
 gracefully as the majestic aigrette of the Chinese 
 pheasant, which rises and falls at every sterp. 
 
 For a brief moment an expression of joy at such 
 success and the naive pride of youth shone upon the 
 animated face of the young man, and his sparkling 
 eyes wandered over the galleries and caught all 
 glances fastened upon himself. But soon this fur- 
 tive joy gave place to a dark foreboding. His eyes 
 anxiously sought anew some one in the crowd, 
 but could not find him. Vaierio stifled a sigh and 
 returned to his phalanx, where he remained preoc- 
 cupied, insensible to the gayety of others, deaf to the 
 noise of the fete, his face ciarkened by a heavy cloud. 
 Francesco, in spite of the promise he had made, him 
 to present the standard to the Doge himself, had 
 not appeared. 
 
 133 
 
XIII. 
 
 THE brilliant phalanx of the Company of the 
 Lizard marched three times round the circle, 
 amid the wild applause of the people, who were 
 amazed, not without reason, at the beautiful cos- 
 tumes and fine appearance of all the young cham- 
 pions. According to the statutes of the company, 
 it was necessary in order to become a member to 
 be of a certain height, to have no deformity, to 
 be under forty years of age, to come of an honest 
 family, and consequently not to show any of those 
 signs of hereditary degradation which perpetuate 
 the stigma of original vice, from generation to 
 generation, in the form of physical ugliness. Each 
 candidate was obliged to give proof of good health, 
 frankness, and loyalty, by drinking copiously on the 
 day of approval. Valerio had it for a maxim that a 
 good workman ought to b.e able to drink wine 
 without becoming intoxicated, and that an honest 
 man should have no fear for his reputation, nor for 
 that of his neighbor, through a candor forced out 
 134 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC- WORKERS. 
 
 of him by drunkenness. Certain statutes of this 
 jovial confraternity are curious enough to be re- 
 corded here. 
 
 " No one shall be admitted who cannot drink six 
 measures of Cyprus wine without falling into 
 idiocy. 
 
 " No one shall be admitted who, at the seventh 
 measure, babbles anything to the detriment of a 
 friend or a companion. 
 
 "No one shall be admitted who, at the eighth 
 measure, shall reveal the secret of his loves, and 
 tell the name of his sweetheart. 
 
 "No one shall be admitted who, at the ninth 
 measure, will betray the confidence of a friend. 
 
 "No one shall be admitted who, at the tenth 
 measure, does not know enough to stop and refuse 
 to drink." 
 
 It is difficult to determine to-day what this meas- 
 ure of Cyprus wine was; but if we judge by the 
 weight of the armor which they carried to battle, 
 the formidable samples of which are still in our 
 museums, we must believe that they would make 
 the most intrepid drinkers of to-day recoil. 
 
 Like their chief, the Companions of the Lizard 
 wore a green doublet; the rest of the dress was 
 white and close fitting, but their waistcoats were 
 135 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 of yellow silk, their plumes were scarlet, and they 
 carried a black and silver shield. 
 
 When the company had sufficiently promenaded 
 and displayed their costumes and banners, they 
 re-entered their tent, and twenty span of horses 
 appeared in the arena. The introduction of these 
 noble animals in their feasts was a luxury highly 
 appreciated in Venice, and, as if the idea formed of 
 them by a people little accustomed to seeing them 
 could not be satisfied by the reality, they were met- 
 amorphosed by the aid of very grotesque para- 
 phernalia into fantastic animals. Their coats were 
 painted, and false tails, either of foxes, bulls, or 
 lions, were fastened to them. The heads of some 
 were decorated with birds' feathers or golden horns, 
 or with masks of fabulous animals. Those be- 
 longing to the Companions of the Lizard were 
 more beautiful than the others, and therefore were 
 less foolishly transformed than was the custom at 
 this time. Nevertheless, some of them were dis- 
 guised as unicorns, by a long silver horn attached 
 to the front of their bridles; others had glittering 
 dragons or stuffed birds upon their heads. All of 
 them were painted, some rose-color, some turquoise- 
 blue, apple-green, or scarlet ; some were striped like 
 zebras or spotted like panthers; and others were 
 
 136 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 covered with golden scales resembling the great fishes 
 of the sea. Each span, similarly caparisoned, entered 
 the lists, led by a Moretto, or little black slave, gro- 
 tesquely dressed, and walking between the two 
 quadrupeds, which caracoled pleasingly at the sound 
 of the trumpets and the shouts of enthusiasm. 
 
 Valerio alone, influenced by the laws of a purer 
 taste, appeared on a Turkish horse as white as 
 snow, and of remarkable beauty. He had only a 
 simple housing of tiger skin, and broad silver bands 
 served him as reins. His mane, long and silky, 
 mixed with silver threads, was twisted into tresses, 
 and each tress terminated with a beautiful pome- 
 granate flower cut in silver and of exquisite work- 
 manship. His hoofs were silvered, and his full 
 magnificent tail swept freely against his generous 
 flanks. Like his master, he wore the ensign of the 
 company, a silver lizard on a crimson ground, 
 painted with extreme care on the left haunch ; and, 
 as he had the honor of carrying the chief, he was 
 the only horse decorated with the escutcheon. 
 
 Valerio had the horses uncoupled, and, placing 
 himself at the foot of the platform where sat little 
 Marie Robusti, he manifested his approval of ten 
 merry companions who offered to sustain the chal- 
 lenges, and who, mounting on their horses, placed 
 137 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC- WORKERS. 
 
 themselves five at his right, and five at his left 
 Then the young Moors walked the other ten un- 
 matched horses around the arena again, waiting 
 until the ten champions taken from the people 
 should present themselves for the race. They had 
 not long to wait, and the games began. 
 
 After having run at the ring, and gained and lost 
 the prize alternately, other young men came from 
 the galleries and presented themselves to take the 
 place of the losers, while other Companions of the 
 Lizard replaced those from their lists who had been 
 vanquished. The games went on in this way for 
 some time. The chief remained all the while on 
 horseback, presiding over the sports, going and 
 coming, and far more frequently entertaining him- 
 self with his dear little Marie, who besought him in 
 vain to take part in them, for it was to him alone, 
 she said, she wished to give the grand prize. Valerio 
 had superior skill in all these exercises, of which he 
 scorned to make a parade. He preferred to diiect 
 and keep up the pleasure of his companions. More- 
 over, he was sad and preoccupied. He did not 
 understand how it was, that, after the proof of de- 
 votion he had given his brother by finishing his 
 work, he should push his austerity to the point of 
 not assisting at the fete even as a spectator. 
 138 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC -WORKERS. 
 
 But Valerio awoke from his reverie when the 
 three Bianchini descended into the arena, and asked 
 to compete with the best racers in the company. 
 Dominique Bianchini, called Rosette (the Red), was a 
 very good horseman. He had lived for a long time 
 in other countries than Venice, in which city horse- 
 manship was but little understood. All the Com- 
 panions of the Lizard were not good riders. Only 
 those who had been brought up in the country, 
 or who were strangers in the city, knew how to 
 manage the bridle and to sit upright in the sad- 
 dle, a thing far less easy than a Venetian gondola. 
 Three of the most expert presented themselves 
 against the Bianchini, and were vanquished at the 
 first round; then others succeeded them with the 
 like result. The honor of the company was at 
 stake. Valerio felt it, for, until then, the cavaliers 
 had had the advantage over all the young men 
 of the city, and even over the noble lords who had 
 not disdained to compete with them. But his heart 
 was so sad that he did not care to accept the chal- 
 lenge, and bring down the pride of the Bianchini. 
 Vincent, seeing his indifference, and attributing it 
 to the fear of being vanquished, cried to him with 
 the voice of a bricklayer -. — 
 
 " Hollo ! eh, Monsignore, Prince of the Lizards, 
 139 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 are you changed into a tortoise, and do you find no 
 more champions to oppose us ? " 
 
 Valerio made a sign, and Ceccato and Marini 
 advanced. 
 
 " And you, Signore Valerio, royal Lizardee," cried 
 in his turn Dominique the Red, ** do you not con- 
 descend to risk yourself with an antagonist so 
 insignificant as myself?" 
 
 *' Immediately, if necessary," answered Valerio. 
 "Let your brothers try first with my two com- 
 panions, and if they are beaten, I will give you a 
 chance." 
 
 The two Bianchini were again victorious; and 
 Valerio, determined not to leave them in the ascen- 
 dant, at last set spurs to his horse, and threw him 
 into a gallop. The trumpets blazed forth with 
 sounds more proud and joyous, when he was seen 
 swift as lightning making the circuit of the arena 
 three times without deigning to raise his arm or 
 look at the mark ; and suddenly, when he seemed to 
 be thinking of something else and acting like one 
 preoccupied, he carried off the five rings, with a 
 nonchalant and disdainful air. The Bianchini, as yet, 
 had taken but four ; they were, moreover, fatigued, 
 and, as they had won until then, their defeat was not 
 calculated to cause them much shame. But Rosetto, 
 140 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 who had not taken part in the last contest, and who 
 had been resting for some moments, was burning 
 with the desire to humiliate Valerio. He felt a par- 
 ticular hatred for him, especially since Valerio had 
 prevented his being received into the Company of 
 the Lizard on account of his repulsive ugliness. 
 Vincent, his elder brother, had been refused admis- 
 sion for having committed a dishonorable act, 
 and for having gone through a damaging lawsuit. 
 Gian Antonio alone had been admitted on trial ; but 
 he had not been able to drink three measures of 
 wine without losing his head and insulting in words 
 several very respectable people. All three of them 
 found themselves excluded from the company in a 
 very mortifying manner, and in order to avenge 
 themselves they had made Bozza believe that he had 
 been rejected beforehand because he was a bastard, 
 and thus they prevented him from trying to enter 
 their ranks. 
 
 Dominique darted toward Valerio, who wished 
 to return to his place, and leave the game to the 
 others. 
 
 " You promised me a chance to revenge myself, 
 Don Lizard," said he. " Do you already withdraw 
 from the game?" 
 
 Valerio turned, looked at Dominique with a con- 
 141 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 temptuous smile, and entered the arena without 
 honoring him with any other answer. 
 
 "Begin, since you are winning,** said Dominique. 
 " Honor to whom honor is due." 
 
 Valerio darted forward and secured four rings, 
 but what did not happen to him once in a hundred 
 times happened at the fifth ring : he let it fall upon 
 the ground. He had been startled by the face of his 
 father, which had suddenly appeared in one of the 
 near galleries. The old Zuccato seemed worried. 
 He sought the eyes of Francesco, and the stern look 
 he gave Valerio seemed to ask him, as formerly a 
 mysterious voice asked Cain, " What hast thou done 
 with thy brother?" 
 
 The Bianchini uttered a cry of joy. They felt 
 sure they would be avenged by Dominique, but the 
 proud precipitation with which he finished his course 
 betrayed him ; he missed the fourth ring. Valerio 
 was conqueror. Under any other circumstances 
 this victory would not have satisfied his self-esteem, 
 but he was so anxious to close the games and go in 
 search of his brother that he drew a long breath 
 when commanded to advance and receive the prize. 
 Already Marie's little hands held out to him the 
 embroidered scarf, and he was preparing to dis- 
 mount amid shouts of congratulations, when Bar- 
 142 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 tolommeo Bozza, dressed in black from head to 
 foot, his cap ornamented with an eagle's plume, 
 appeared in the arena so suddenly that he seemed to 
 have come out of the earth. He asked to take sides 
 with the Bianchini. 
 
 " I have had enough of it; the game is finished/' 
 said Valerio testily. 
 
 " Since when," cried Bozza in a sharp and satirical 
 tone, " did a chief of the arena draw back at the last 
 moment through fear of losing a prize illy won? 
 According to the very terms of the game you owe 
 Messer Dominique a chance to rataliate, for he was 
 evidently distracted during his last turn ; moreover, he 
 was very tired, and you ought not to be. Come on ! 
 If you are not as cowardly and fugacious as the Hzard, 
 your emblem, you are bound to give me a chance." 
 
 "I will give you that chance," replied Valerio 
 angrily, " but this evening or to-morrow you will 
 give me one of a more serious kind for the manner 
 in which you have dared to speak to me. Come, 
 begin. I throw up my hand, and give you three 
 points." 
 
 " I do not want even one," cried Bozza. " Quick ! 
 a horse ! What ! this sorry jade ! " said he, turning 
 towards the Moor who offered him a mettlesome 
 steed. " Have n't you a fresher one } " 
 143 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 So saying, he threw himself upon the horse with 
 surprising agihty, without putting his foot in the 
 5+irrup, and made him rear and caracole with such 
 audacity that everybody was impressed in his favor. 
 Then he darted like lightning into the course. 
 
 " I never play for less than ten rings," he shouted 
 in an arrogant tone. 
 
 " All right, ten rings ! " said Valerio, whose 
 troubled look began to shake the confidence of 
 his partisans. 
 
 Bozza brought down the ten rings at a single 
 round; then, suddenly checking his horse at the 
 height of his speed, after the daring and powerful 
 manner of the Arabs, he leaped to the ground while 
 the animal reared again, flung his weapon into the 
 middle of the arena, and went to throw himself care- 
 lessly at the feet of Marie Robusti, casting a look of 
 freezing irony upon his adversary. 
 
 Valerio, wounded to the quick, felt his courage 
 rekindled. He had eleven rings to take in order to 
 win. He was capable of doing it, but it was not 
 exactly what he was in the habit of doing ; for the 
 games were rarely more than five, and Bozza must 
 have practised considerably to meet with such 
 success all at once. Nevertheless, contempt and 
 resentment gave strength to the young master. He 
 144 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIO-WORKERS. 
 
 Started, and made nine rings easily ; but, when about 
 to take the tenth, he was conscious that he trembled, 
 and struck spurs to his horse in order to hide it 
 and to have a chance to recover himself. 
 
 " Well, well ! " said a voice in a neighboring igallery. 
 
 It was the voice of old Zuccato ; it seemed to say, 
 "You lose time, Valerio, and your brother is in 
 danger." At least so Valerio thought, for his mind 
 was bewildered. He turned his horse, and made the 
 tenth ring. 
 
 Bozza grew pale. One ring more, and he was 
 vanquished; but this would decide it, and Valeri'o 
 was plainly excited. However, pride fought with 
 this interior terror, and he would assuredly have 
 won if Vincent Bianchini, seeing his triumph immi- 
 nent, and finding himself near enough to make 
 himself heard, had not said to him, while flinging 
 upon him a look of malediction : — 
 
 " Yes, play, win, enjoy yourself, rampant beast ! 
 you will soon crawl under the leads with your 
 brother ! " 
 
 At the moment he uttered these last words, Vale- 
 rio threaded the ring ; he turned pale as death, and 
 let it fall. Shouts arose from all sides; the com- 
 panions and all the partisans of the Bianchini yelled 
 with wild and insolent joy. 
 145 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 "My brother!" cried Valeric, "my brother 
 under the leads ! Who is the wretch that says so ? 
 Who has seen my brother ? Who can tell me where 
 he is?'* 
 
 But his cries were lost in the uproar, order had 
 fled. Bozza received the prize, and went his way, 
 carried in triumph by the school of the Bianchini, 
 to which was added a train of malcontents who 
 had been refused admission into the Company of 
 the Lizard. A thousand vulgar jests, a thousand 
 blood-thirsty threats burst forth from that bois- 
 terous crowd. The terrified ladies clung to the 
 scaffoldings to let the rabble pass. The Companions 
 of the Lizard would have drawn their swords and 
 fallen upon them. The officers and halberdiers had 
 great trouble to restrain them. The crowd flocked 
 in sympathy about the beautiful Valerio, in whom 
 all the world, and we may well say all the women, 
 were intensely interested. Little Marie cried, and 
 angrily threw her crown under the horses' feet. In 
 this riotous disorder Valerio, insensible to his defeat, 
 and tortured with misgivings regarding his brother, 
 ran this way and that, with bewildered looks, asking 
 for his brother of every one he met. 
 
 146 
 
XIV. 
 
 "\ 17 HAT are you dreaming about, master ? " said 
 ^ ' Ceccato, joining him in the midst of the 
 crowd, and seizing him by the arm. " How is it 
 that you allow yourself to be so much disturbed 
 by a cowardly, insolent word ? Don't you see that 
 Bianchini sprung this wicked trick upon you to 
 make you miss the ring ? He ought to be punished. 
 But if you abandon your companions, if you sadden 
 the fete by your absence, the Bianchini will triumph. 
 It is easy to understand that they did it all in order 
 to be avenged for their expulsion. Come, Master, 
 lead back the little queen, and take a turn on the 
 quays with the music. The Company cannot march 
 without their head. At vespers we will look for 
 Messer Francesco." 
 
 " But where can he be ? " said Valerio, clasping 
 his hands. "Who knows what they may have 
 invented in order to throw him into prison?" 
 " In prison ? It is impossible. Master I By what 
 147 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 right and under what pretext? Can a man be 
 thrown into prison on the first accusation?" 
 
 " Nevertheless, he is not here. It must be some 
 very serious cause that detains him. He knows that 
 I cannot be happy at this feast without him, and, 
 although he does not like fetes, he owes me this 
 mark of appreciation, this reward for my work. It 
 must be that our enemies have lured him into some 
 hiding place, assassinated him perhaps ! Vincent 
 Bianchini is capable of everything." 
 
 " Master, you are crazy ; for the love of Heaven, 
 come back to us ! See, our discouraged phalanx is 
 dispersing, and, if we do not redeem ourselves in 
 the regatta this evening, the Bianchini will make 
 such a talk about it that all Venice will be asking 
 to-morrow, * How about that grand fiasco of the 
 Company of the Lizard ? ' " 
 
 Valerio allowed himself to be reassured a little by 
 the thought that perhaps Francesco had been to see 
 his father, and had been detained by him. The 
 oddity and severity of old Zuccato justified this 
 supposition up to a certain point, and the look of 
 displeasure he had given Valerio made him think 
 that he had come to censure him. He tried, there- 
 fore, to join his father in the crowd, prepared to 
 endure his bitter jests, of which, in spite of his 
 148 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 tender feeling for his son, the old man was very 
 prodigal; but he could not find him. Moreover, 
 surrounded by his disconcerted companions, he was 
 forced, if he would not have them entirely disband 
 and renounce their festival day, to march at their 
 head on the grand border of the Canal Saint George, 
 which is to-day the Quay of the Great Slaves.^ 
 
 The lively sound of the instruments, the gayety, 
 a trifle proud and spiteful, of little Marietta, whom 
 four companions carried in a sort of palanquin 
 elegantly decorated with flowers, and with bands 
 and arabesques designed by Valerio, the admiration 
 of all the people in the lagunes and all the sailors of 
 the port assembled on the bank and upon the float- 
 ing piers, the noise and commotion served, in a 
 measure, to reanimate Valerio. He renewed the 
 hope of finding his brother during vespers, for 
 which the first bell had sounded, calling for a pause 
 in the festivities, when the sheath of a poniard fell 
 from the roof of the ducal palace to his feet. 
 Struck with a sudden conviction, he seized it, and 
 drew from it a note written with a stub of char- 
 coal, which by good fortune Francesco had found 
 in his pocket. 
 
 "Companions who pass the day in joy to the 
 
 1 Riva degli Schiavoni, 
 149 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 sound of trumpets, tell Valerio Zuccato that his 
 brother is under the leads, and expects him." The 
 note contained nothing more. Hearing the music 
 approach, and fearing to let it pass, Francesco, who 
 could see nothing, but who knew Valerio's favorite 
 march played by the hautboys, had not taken time 
 to finish his thought, but had thrown his warning 
 through a little slit in the top of the walled windows, 
 which, according to masonry, are justly called jour 
 de souffrance. 
 
 Valerio uttered a frantic cry, and Francesco, in 
 spite of the din of the instruments and the noise of 
 the crowd, heard him in a voice of thunder pro- 
 nounce these words: — 
 
 " My brother under the leads ! Woe, woe to 
 those who have put him there ! " 
 
 Valerio stopped short with such an energetic 
 movement that a whole army could not have 
 moved him. The entire company halted sponta- 
 neously. The fatal news spread instantly through 
 all the ranks, and they dispersed, some to follow 
 Valerio, who darted like lightning under the arcades 
 of the palace, others to find the Bianchini and force 
 them to reveal the meaning of their behavior. 
 
 Valerio was running along, carried away by anger 
 and grief, without knowing whither he was going. 
 150 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 But, obedient to I know not what instinct, he 
 entered the court of the ducal palace. At this 
 moment the Doge was ascending the Giants' Stair- 
 case with the Duke of Anjou, the Procurators, and 
 some of the Senators. Valerio dashed boldly into 
 the midst of all these magnificent lords, and, forcing 
 his way, threw himself at the feet of the Doge, and 
 seized his ermine mantle. 
 
 "What is the matter, my child?" said Mocenigo, 
 turning towards him kindly. " Whence comes it that 
 your beautiful face wears a look of despair ? Have 
 you been subjected to injustice ? Can I repair it ? "' 
 
 "Your Highness," cried Valerio, pressing to his 
 lips the hem of the ducal mantle, " yes, I am sub- 
 jected to a great injustice, and my heart is broken 
 with grief. My elder brother, Francesco Zuccato, 
 the best mosaic artist in all Italy, the bravest cham- 
 pion and most loyal citizen of the Republic, has 
 been thrown into prison, without your order, 
 without your permission, and I come to ask you 
 for justice." 
 
 " In prison ! Francesco Zuccato ! " exclaimed the 
 Doge. " Who could have inflicted so severe a pun- 
 ishment on so noble a young man and so worthy 
 an artist? If he has committed a fault deserving 
 punishment, why was I not informed of it ? Who 
 151 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 gave the order ? Which of you, gentlemen, will give 
 me an account of this ? " 
 
 No one answered. Valerio spoke again. 
 
 " Your Highness," said he, " the Procurators who 
 had charge of the works in the basilica ought to 
 know. Monsignore Melchior, the Cassiere, certainly 
 ought to know." 
 
 "I will find out, Valerio," answered the Doge. 
 " Take heart, justice shall be done. Let us pass." 
 
 " Your Highness, strike me with the hilt of your 
 sword if my boldness offends you," said Valerio, 
 without relinquishing the mantle of the Doge, " but 
 listen to the plea of the most faithful of your citi- 
 zens. Francesco Zuccato could not commit a fault. 
 He is a man who never had so much as an evil 
 thought. To put him. in prison is to do him an 
 injury for which he will never be consoled, and of 
 which the whole city will be informed in an hour, 
 if you do not set him free, if you do not allow him 
 to show himself with his companions to all the 
 public, who are surprised not to have seen him 
 appear at their head. Yet again, your Highness, 
 hear me. Francesco is as frail in body as the reed 
 in the lagune. Let him pass but one day more in 
 prison, and he might as well never come out; and 
 you will have lost the best artist and best citizen of 
 152 
 
^THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the Republic; and misfortune will come of it, for 
 I swear — " 
 
 "Silence, child," interrupted the Doge, gravely. 
 " Do not make foolish threats. I cannot set a pris- 
 oner free without the consent of the Senate, and 
 the Senate will not give it without inquiring for 
 what he was committed; for some grave suspi- 
 cion must rest on a man's head if they put him 
 in prison. I have promised you justice; do not 
 doubt the Father of the Republic, but prove your- 
 self worthy of his protection by wise and prudent 
 behavior. All that I can do to lessen your anxiety 
 and your brother's trouble is to allow you to go to 
 him, that you may take care of him if his health 
 requires it." 
 
 "I am grateful, your Highness. May you be 
 blessed for this permission," said Valerio, bowing 
 his head and relinquishing the mantle of the Doge, 
 who went on his way. 
 
 The Duke of Anjou paused before Valerio, and 
 said to him with a gracious smile: "Young man, 
 take courage. I promise to remind the Doge that he 
 has pledged himself to grant you speedy redress, 
 and if your brother resembles you, I do not doubt 
 he is a gallant knight and a loyal subject. I wish 
 you to understand that, in spite of your failure, 
 153 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 I consider you the hero of the game, and I am 
 so much interested in your appearance and your 
 marked ability that I would like to take you to the 
 court of France when the noble Republic of Venice 
 will no longer require your services." 
 
 Speaking thus, he took off his rich golden chain 
 and placed it on Valerio's neck, requesting him to 
 keep it in remembrance of him. 
 
 IW 
 
XV. 
 
 VALERIO was conducted by two halberdiers to 
 his brother's cell. 
 
 " And you too ! " cried Francesco. " The wretches 
 have got the better of you too, my poor child? 
 What good has it done you to be without ambition 
 and without vanity ? Holy modesty, they have not 
 respected thee any more ! " 
 
 " I am not a prisoner by the will of the wicked," 
 answered Valerio, clasping him in his arms, " but by 
 my own wish. I shall never leave you. I come to 
 share your straw bed and your black bread. But 
 tell me, who brought you here, and on what 
 accusation?"   
 
 " I don't know," answered Francesco, " but I am 
 not surprised. Are we not in Venice ? " 
 
 Valerio tried to console his brother, and to 
 assure him that he could not have been arrested but 
 through some mistake, and that he would be set at 
 liberty at the earliest opportunity. But Francesco 
 answered him with deep despondency: — 
 
 155 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " It is too late now. They have done me all the 
 evil they could do me. They have done me an 
 injury which nothing can wipe out. What does it 
 matter to me henceforth whether I remain a year or 
 a day in this frightful prison^* Do you think that I 
 have felt the heat, do you think that I have felt 
 bodily pain during this endless day ? No, but I 
 have suffered all the agony of the soul. I to be 
 ranked with knaves and impostors ! I, who, after 
 so many long vigils and such conscientious work, 
 so much zeal and devotion to the glory of my 
 country, who to-day should have been crowned and 
 carried in triumph by my school amid the applause 
 of a grateful people, see me here in prison, as Vin- 
 cent Bianchini was for assassination and for passing 
 false money. This is the fruit of my labors, the 
 recompense of my courage ! Be a conscientious 
 artist; apply yourself with rigorous care and ex- 
 hausting studies for the rest of your suffering and 
 uncertain life; renounce the attractions of love, 
 the intoxications of pleasure, the sweet repose of 
 the spring nights ; and, on the day when you think 
 you have deserved a crown, they will load you with 
 irons, they will cover you with shame; and the 
 blind and fickle public, which finds it so hard to 
 welcome the truth, always receives calumny with 
 
 156 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 open arms ! Be sure of it, Valerio, this very mo- 
 ment these people who have seen me since the day 
 of my birth growing up and living in the love of 
 my work, hating injustice and respecting the laws, 
 these people who judge human consciences only by 
 the reverses or successes of fortune, — be sure of it, 
 they accuse me already, although it is only ten min- 
 utes since they knew of my being in prison. That 
 1 am unfortunate is enough to make them believe 
 that I am culpable. They no longer make any 
 distinction between my name and that of Vincent 
 Bianchini. Both of us have been accused, both of- 
 us have known the disgrace of imprisonment. I 
 may be set free ; perhaps I am innocent. But did 
 they never set fr^e one who was guilty? Who 
 knows if, like him, I shall not be banished ? Does 
 not Venice banish all whom she distrusts ? and does 
 she not distrust all who are denounced to her ? " 
 
 Valerio realized that his brother's suffering was 
 only too well founded, and that in trying to recon- 
 cile him to his situation he only made him feel more 
 keenly the severity and danger of it. Towards even- 
 ing he was preparing to go out to procure some 
 food for him and a cloak ; but when he called the 
 jailer, through the sHde in the door, he was informed 
 that orders had been received not to allow him to 
 157 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 go out again, and the jailer even showed him a 
 paper, bearing the seal of the Inquisitors of the 
 State, which ordered the arrest of the two brothers 
 Zuccati, without expressing upon what ground of 
 provocation. Francesco uttered a cry of anguish 
 upon hearing of this arrest. 
 
 "They will kill me," said he. "The butchers! 
 could they not make an end of me without torturing 
 me with the sight of my brother's suffering ?'* 
 
 '*Do not pity me," answered Valerio. "They 
 might not have allowed me to spend the days and 
 nights with you. Now I thank them, and I shall 
 never leave you." 
 
 Many days and many nights passed by, yet the 
 Zuccati brothers received no light as to their posi- 
 tion, no relief from their sadness and anxiety. The 
 heat was oppressive; the plague had broken out 
 in Venice, and the air of the prison was infec- 
 tious. Francesco, lying on his bed of rough and 
 dusty straw, no longer seemed to realize his mis- 
 fortune ; from time to time he reached out his arm 
 to convey to his lips some drops of brackish water 
 in a pewter mug. Exhausted by continual sweats, 
 he wiped his smarting face with the linen rags which 
 Valerio kept for him with extreme care, and took 
 the trouble to wash each day, setting aside for this 
 158 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 purpose half his miserable allowance of water. It 
 was almost the only service he could render his 
 unfortunate brother. Everything was wanting. He 
 had used all his rich clothing to make, with the aid 
 of some straw, a kind of pillow and a parasol for 
 him. He had kept for himself only a few tatters 
 upon which there still shone some remnants of gold 
 and of embroidery. He had tried in vain to offer 
 his pearls, his poniard, and his golden chain to the 
 jailers in order to procure for Francesco some 
 relief from the frightful regimen of the hard prison 
 fare. The jailors of the Inquisition were not to' 
 be bribed. 
 
 In spite of the impossibility of helping his brother 
 in his present situation, Valerio remained constantly 
 near him. Stronger than Francesco, and too much 
 absorbed in his suffering to feel his own, he busied 
 himself turning him on his miserable bed, fanning 
 him with the great plume of his cap, feeling his 
 burning hands, and watching his languid eyes. 
 Francesco no longer complained. He had lost his 
 hope. Whenever for a moment he roused from 
 his lethargy, he made an effort to smile upon his 
 brother, spoke a few tender words to him, and 
 immediately fell back into a dreadful stupor. 
 
 One evening Valerio was seated as usual upon the 
 159 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 scorching brick floor. Francesco's heavy head was 
 resting on his knee. The pitiless sun was setting in 
 a sea of fire, and cast a sinister reflection upon the 
 red walls, which seemed mercilessly to absorb and 
 retain its intense heat. The plague was spreading 
 farther and farther. All the exhilarating, gladsome 
 sounds of brilliant Venice had given place to the 
 silence of death, broken only by the mournful toll- 
 ing of the bell for the dying, and by the distant 
 chant of some pious monk passing along the canal, 
 conveying to the cemetery a boat filled with dead 
 bodies. A martin lighted on the chink in the roof 
 which admitted an occasional whiff of dry air into 
 the lodging of the Zuccati. This black swallow, 
 with his breast the color of blood, his note loud 
 and piercing, and his proud, untamed aspect, had the 
 effect of a bad omen on Valerio. It seemed restless ; 
 and, after having called, as is its custom, to bring 
 back some belated comrade, it flew up through the 
 air uttering a certain cry which the Venetians knew 
 well, and which they never heard without a kind of 
 terror. It is the cry which calls these wandering 
 birds together when the time has come for them to 
 change their hemisphere. They go away together 
 in numerous bands. The sky is obscured by them, 
 and the same day sees them all disappear, even to 
 1 60 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC- WORKERS. 
 
 the last one. Their departure is the signal for a ver- 
 itable scourge. The moielins, those imperceptible 
 insects, whose thin and continual humming irritates 
 even to the point of fever, and whose bite is unen- 
 durable, fill the atmosphere, and, being no longer 
 driven to the higher regions of the air by the hunt- 
 ing swallows, they swarm about the dwellings, infest 
 them, and steal the sleep from all Venetians, whom 
 wealth, with all its resources, does not preserve from 
 their attacks. 
 
 In prison, and at a time when the air, filled 
 with pestilential exhalations, entered with venomous 
 stings into all the pores, the arrival of the mo^elins, 
 soon to be followed by that of scorpions, was 
 a death signal for Francesco. Already consumed 
 with a violent fever, he managed to enjoy a little 
 rest for a few short hours in the night when the re- 
 freshing breeze reached him. But this rest was to 
 be taken from him. It was during the night that 
 little gnats penetrated into all the dwellings, espe- 
 cially into those where the heated breath of man 
 attracted them. Valerio listened anxiously. He 
 heard a thousand piercing cries, a thousand restless, 
 hurried chatterings, a calling and answering, a flying 
 away and returning, a uniting again and collecting 
 on the roofs as if to deliberate, then a darting away 
 i6i 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 with a piercing farewell cry, like a last malediction 
 upon the sorrowing city. Valerio placed himself in 
 the dormer window, where he could see nothing but 
 the sky. He saw the black specks moving in the 
 heavens at an immeasurable height, no longer de- 
 scribing the great regular circles of the chase, but 
 flying in a straight line direct for the east. It was the 
 martins already on their way. Francesco had heard 
 their parting cry ; he had read on Valerio's face the 
 fearful effect of this discovery. When suffering 
 overpowers man, he cannot conceive of an increase 
 of suffermg, however imminent and unavoidable, 
 he has not the strength to add, even in thought, 
 future evil to present evil. When this evil comes, 
 he is as if crushed under an unforeseen catastrophe. 
 Death itself, that final thing, so fatal, so inevitable, 
 surprises almost all men as if it were an injustice 
 from Heaven, a freak of destiny. 
 
 "Counting from to-morrow," said Francesco to 
 his brother in a faint voice, "I shall sleep no 
 more." He pronounced his own death sentence. 
 Valerio understood it, and let his head fall upon his 
 breast. The scalding tears, which until then he had 
 had the stoicism to repress, rolled in floods down 
 Jiis pale and emaciated cheeks. 
 
 162 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE Inquisition was a power so mysterious, so 
 absolute, there was so much danger involved 
 in trying to penetrate its secrets, and this was so 
 difficult to do, that three days after Saint Mark's 
 nobody spoke any more of the Zuccati. The report 
 of Francesco's arrest had spread rapidly, and this 
 report had died away like the wave which breaks 
 on the silent and desert shore. The slightest rock 
 would repulse and excite it ; but a sandy shore, for a 
 long time smoothed and devastated by the storms, 
 receives the surges without resistance, and all their 
 force is annihilated for want of provocation : such 
 was Venice. The restless effervescence, the natural 
 curiosity of her people, spent themselves like the 
 empty foam of the waves on the shores of the ducal 
 palace, and the dark waters which bathed its quays 
 bore at every hour a stream of blood, the unknown 
 source of which was hidden in the bowels of this 
 mysterious den. 
 
 163 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Moreover, the plague had come, filling all hearts 
 with alarm and discouragement. All work was 
 suspended, all the schools were dispersed. Marini 
 had been attacked among the first, and was strug- 
 gling with a slow and painful convalesce' :e. Cec- 
 cato had lost one of his children, and was devoting 
 himself to his death-stricken wife. The anger of 
 the Bianchini had been stifled momentarily by the 
 fear of death. Bozza had disappeared. 
 
 Old Sebastian Zuccato had retired to the country 
 on the Feast of Saint Mark, at the breaking up of 
 the games, in a bad humor at what he called the 
 extravagance and vainglory of his sons. He was 
 wholly ignorant of their misfortune, and fretted at 
 not seeing them, as usual, pacifying his anger by 
 their respectful attentions. 
 
 The plague having lost a little of its maHgnity, 
 old Zuccato was afraid at last that his sons might 
 have succumbed to it. He came to Venice, deter- 
 mined to be severe with them, but full of anxiety ; 
 and the more irritated he was against them, the more 
 he felt how impossible it was not to love them. It 
 must not be thought that, after the scene at the 
 basilica, Sebastian was reconciled to mosaic work. 
 He was always prejudiced against it, and against 
 those who gave themselves to it. If he had, in spite 
 164 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 of himself, yielded to the power which great things 
 exercise over artists' souls, if he did press his chil- 
 dren to his heart and shower upon them tears of 
 tenderness, he had not, for all that, abandoned any 
 of his preconceived ideas regarding the superiority 
 of certain branches of art. Even had he wished it, 
 he was not the master to give up at the hour of 
 death the ideas he had obstinately cherished all his 
 life. The only thing which consoled him was the 
 hope that Francesco would some day renounce this 
 vile metal work, and return to his easel. With the 
 intention of exhorting him anew, he went to the 
 basilica, thinking to find him busy on some other 
 cupola. But he found the basilica draped in black, 
 and heard mournful chants resounding through the 
 gloomy arches. The wax tapers, struggling with 
 the last rays of day, diffused a dull red glimmer, 
 more appalling than the darkness. The last honors 
 were being paid to two Senators who had died of 
 the plague. Their catafalques were under the por- 
 tico. All was done hastily, and it was easy to see 
 that the priests fulfilled their sacred duties with fear 
 and precipitation. The old Zuccato trembled from 
 head to foot on seeing these two caskets. He could 
 only reassure himself by learning the names of these 
 two dead magistrates. Then he left the church, and 
 i6s 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ran to Valerie's studio in San Filippo. But there he 
 was told that neither Francesco nor Valerio had been 
 seen since Saint Mark's Day ; and he sought with no 
 better success in all the places where they were in 
 the habit of going. Finally, when beside himself 
 with anxiety, he succeeded in finding poor Ceccato, 
 and inferred from his gloomy forebodings that his 
 sons must be dead in prison either through grief or 
 sickness. He remained for some moments immova- 
 ble, absorbed, and pale as death. At last he departed, 
 and, without a word to Ceccato or his disconsolate 
 family, he went to the abode of the Procurator- 
 Cassiere. He was far from accusing this magistrate 
 of the unjust arrest of his sons. Naturally patient, 
 he would have thought himself wanting in respect 
 and love for the laws in suspecting a magistrate 
 guilty of error or prejudice. Dissatisfied with his 
 sons, and ready to accuse them of idleness or inso- 
 lence according to the decision of the Procurator, 
 at least he wished to know at any cost what had 
 become of them. So he humbly approached the 
 great Cassiere^ who, doubtless to preserve himself 
 from the plague, was more than ever occupied with 
 his own well-being. He found him surrounded by 
 flagons and aromatics of all kinds to purify the air 
 which he breathed. Nevertheless, Sebastian's cere- 
 i66 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 monious salutations made him a little more tractable 
 than he was ordinarily. 
 
 " That 'II do, that '11 do," said he, making a sign 
 to Sebastian to keep at a distance, and enveloping 
 his nose in a large handkerchief saturated with 
 essence of juniper. " Far enough, my man. Don't 
 come so near, and hold your breath a little. By the 
 cap ! in these cursed times we do not know to 
 whom we are speaking. Are n't you sick ? Come, 
 hurry up ! What is the matter ? " 
 
 " Your respected Lordship," answered the old man, 
 slightly mortified at this unceremonious welcome, 
 " sees before you the syndic of painters, Sebastian 
 Zuccato, your very humble servant, and the father 
 of—" 
 
 "Ah! so," replied Melchior, without disturbing 
 himself save by a feint of touching languidly his 
 black silk cap, which fitted close to his flat head. " I 
 did not remember you, Messer Zuccato. You are 
 an honest man, but your sons are two cunning 
 knaves." 
 
 " Your Excellency, the word is a little severe. I 
 cannot deny that my sons may be bad enough sub- 
 jects, very dissipated, very obstinate in their ideas, 
 and devoted to a very foolish and very contemptible 
 calling. I know they have incurred the displeasure 
 167 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 of our lords, the magistrates, and yours in par- 
 ticular. I am sure they must have committed 
 some grave fault, since your kindness to them has 
 changed to severity. I do not come to justify them, 
 but to appease your anger, and to beg that your 
 mercy will take into consideration the poisonous 
 air, the severity of the season, and the delicate 
 health of my eldest son, which has been sufficiently 
 endangered by prison fare for him to remember 
 this punishment and not expose himself to it 
 again.'' 
 
 "Your son is indeed sick, they tell me," replied 
 the Procurator. "But who is not sick during this 
 malignant time ? I am suif ering a great deal myself, 
 and without the assiduous care of my physician I 
 should have died, I do not doubt. But one must 
 take precautions, great precautions. By the ducal 
 cap! I advise you also, Master Sebastian, to take 
 precautions." 
 
 ''Your Excellency says that my son Francesco 
 is sick.?" said Sebastian, affrighted. 
 
 " Oh, that need not disturb yoii : one is no worse 
 off in prison than anywhere else. We know by 
 exact statistics that the death rate among prisoners 
 under the leads is no greater than in other prisons 
 of the RepubHc." 
 
 i68 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " Under the leads,i your Excellency ! " cried old 
 Zuccato. " Your Lordship said under the leads ! 
 Are my sons under the leads?" 
 
 " By the cap ! they are, and they deserve no less 
 for their extortions and sponging." 
 
 "My God! Monsignore, you wish to frighten 
 me," said Zuccato in a loud voice, and recoiling a 
 step. " My children are not under the leads ! " 
 
 "They are, I tell you," answered the Procurator; 
 " and I cannot take them out until their process is 
 prepared and judged. As soon as the plague will 
 permit us to attend to their case, we shall do so;, 
 but, by the ducal cap! I am much afraid their 
 coming out will be only for the worse, for they are 
 guilty, and perpetual banishment is the penalty for 
 those who steal the public funds." 
 
 " By the body of the devil ! Messer," cried the old 
 man, drawing near to the Procurator, " whoever says 
 that lies in his throat, and those who have put my 
 sons under the leads will repent of it while I can 
 raise a fmger." 
 
 "Do not come near me," cried Melchior in his 
 turn, rising quickly and pushing back his arm-chair. 
 "Do not let me feel your breath on my face. If 
 
 1 The prison in the upper story of the ducal palace, 
 which has a leaden roof. 
 
 169 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 of our lords, the magistrates, and yours in par- 
 ticular. I am sure they must have committed 
 some grave fault, since your kindness to them has 
 changed to severity. I do not come to justify them, 
 but to appease your anger, and to beg that your 
 mercy will take into consideration the poisonous 
 air, the severity of the season, and the delicate 
 health of my eldest son, which has been sufficiently 
 endangered by prison fare for him to remember 
 this punishment and not expose himself to it 
 again." 
 
 "Your son is indeed sick, they tell me," replied 
 the Procurator. "But who is not sick during this 
 malignant time ? I am suflFering a great deal myself, 
 and without the assiduous care of my physician I 
 should have died, I do not doubt. But one must 
 take precautions, great precautions. By the ducal 
 cap! I advise you also, Master Sebastian, to take 
 precautions." 
 
 "Your Excellency says that my son Francesco 
 is sick?" said Sebastian, affrighted. 
 
 " Oh, that need not disturb yoil : one is no worse 
 off in prison than anywhere else. We know by 
 exact statistics that the death rate among prisoners 
 under the leads is no greater than in other prisons 
 of the Republic." 
 
 i68 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " Under the leads,i your Excellency ! " cried old 
 Zuccato. " Your Lordship said under the leads ! 
 Are my sons under the leads?" 
 
 " By the cap ! they are, and they deserve no less 
 for their extortions and sponging." 
 
 "My God! Monsignore, you wish to frighten 
 me," said Zuccato in a loud voice, and recoiling a 
 step. " My children are not under the leads ! " 
 
 "They are, I tell you," answered the Procurator; 
 " and I cannot take them out until their process is 
 prepared and judged. As soon as the plague will 
 permit us to attend to their case, we shall do so ;. 
 but, by the ducal cap! I am much afraid their 
 coming out will be only for the worse, for they are 
 guilty, and perpetual banishment is the penalty for 
 those who steal the public funds." 
 
 " By the body of the devil ! Messer," cried the old 
 man, drawing near to the Procurator, " whoever says 
 that lies in his throat, and those who have put my 
 sons under the leads will repent of it while I can 
 raise a finger." 
 
 "Do not come near me," cried Melchior in his 
 turn, rising quickly and pushing back his arm-chair. 
 "Do not let me feel your breath on my face. If 
 
 1 The prison in the upper story of the ducal palace, 
 which has a leaden roof. 
 
 169 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 you 've got the plague, keep it, and go to the 
 devil with your rascally sons. I tell you they will 
 be hanged if you aggravate their case by making a 
 noise. All the Zuccati are villanous knaves. Upon 
 my word, you poison the air, Messer. Get out ! " 
 
 While uttering these words, Melchior continually 
 drew back, and the old Zuccato, motionless in his 
 place, gave him a look that froze him with terror. 
 
 '' If I had the plague," said he at last, in a sepul- 
 chral voice, " I should like to fold in my arms all 
 those who dare to say that the Zuccati are robbers. 
 I hope this idea has never come to any one, and that 
 the magistrate to whom I have the honor of speak- 
 ing may be seized with fever and delirium this very 
 moment. Yes, yes, Monsignore, it is the pestilence 
 speaking through you when you say that the Zuccati 
 have kept the public money. Know that the Zuc- 
 cati come of noble race, and that the blood which 
 courses through their veins is purer than that of the 
 ducal families. Know that Francesco and Valerio 
 are two men whom they may indeed put to death 
 by torture, but whom they cannot dishonor. Your 
 Lordship will do well to call your physician, for a 
 mortal venom is running through your veins." 
 
 Finishing these terrible words, Sebastian darted 
 out of the Procuraties, and ran to the ducal palace. 
 170 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Melchior rang his bell in great agitation, called for 
 his doctor, and made him bleed, rub, and physic him 
 all night, believing that old Zuccato had given him 
 the plague by witchcraft. He fainted away many 
 times, and nearly died with fear. 
 
 171 
 
XVII. 
 
 SEBASTIAN ZUCCATO hastened to throw himself 
 at the feet of the Doge, and demanded justice 
 with all the eloquence of paternal love and out- 
 raged honor. Mocenigo listened to him kindly, 
 and showed him marks of the highest esteem. He 
 regretted much the prolonged torture to which his 
 sons had been subjected, and took it upon himself 
 to have them transferred to less grewsome quarters. 
 He even allowed the old Sebastian to see them every 
 day, and to administer to them such care as his ten- 
 derness suggested. But he did not conceal from him 
 that the most serious charges had been preferred 
 against them, and that their case would be a long 
 and weighty affair. 
 
 However, thanks to his persistent importunity, 
 old Zuccato, with the influence of Titian, Tintoretto, 
 and many other great masters, all friends of the 
 Zuccati, thanks also to the kind protection of the 
 Doge, the Council of Ten, whose functions had been 
 suspended for several months owing to the epi- 
 172 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 demic, assembled at last; and the first question 
 this august tribunal attacked was the case against 
 the Zuccati, accused ; — - 
 
 " I . Of having stolen their salary, because their 
 work was hastily done and without solidity ; for in- 
 stance, by working out of season {fiwr di stagione), 
 that is to say, in cold weather, when work in mastic 
 does not hold, in order to make up for the time 
 they had lost during the fine season in promenades, 
 dissipations, and debaucheries of all kinds ; 
 
 " 2. Of having made figures badly drawn and gro- 
 tesquely colored, the result of obstinately working 
 the greater part of the night to make up for their 
 previous laziness (ingordigia) j 
 
 "3. Of having done this detestable work through 
 their entire ignorance of their business, an ignorance 
 which rendered Valerio Zuccato incapable of accom- 
 plishing anything but senseless articles for the toilets 
 of women and young people (culfle.fraslagli, vesture, 
 etc.), which childish performance occupied him in- 
 cessantly, and afforded him a lucrative profession at 
 San Filippo, while the public paid him handsomely 
 for work which he did not and could not do; 
 
 "4. Of having, by contemptible trickery, used in 
 many places painted pieces of wood and pasteboard 
 instead of enamel and stone {i pe^^i) in order to 
 ^7Z 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 show a degree of detail of which the mosaic mate- 
 rials are not susceptible, thereby acquiring for them- 
 selves the credit of great artistic merit during their 
 lives, only to leave behind them works which would 
 last no longer.'* 
 
 The documents relating to this strange case are 
 still to be found in the archives of the ducal palace; 
 and Signor Quadri has given a faithful account of 
 it, which can be read in an article entitled "Dei 
 Musaici," at the end of his excellent work on 
 Venetian painting. 
 
 The plaintiffs were the Procurator-Cassiere Mel- 
 chior, Bartolommeo Bozza, the three Bianchini, Jean 
 Viscentin, and several other pupils of their school, 
 and finally Claude de Corr^ge, organist of St. 
 Mark's, who hated the noise of the workmen, and 
 who would have testified equally in favor of the 
 Zuccati and against the Bianchini, hoping that, 
 wearied with these quarrels and useless expenses, 
 the government would give up these extravagant 
 repairs, the principal inconvenience of which, in the 
 eyes of the organist, was the annoyance this contin- 
 ual racket occasioned to his school of plain chant 
 held in the organ loft. 
 
 The witnesses in favor of the Zuccati were Titian 
 and his son Orazio, Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese, 
 174 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Marini, Ceccato, and the good priest Alberto Zio. 
 All of them appeared before the Council of Ten, and 
 vouched for the great talent, beautiful work, proper 
 behavior, close application, and perfect honesty of 
 the Zuccati brothers and all their school. 
 
 In their turn the Zuccati brothers were brought 
 before the judges. Valerio supported his dear 
 brother in his arms, scarcely recovered from his 
 long and serious illness, faint, crushed, apparently 
 indifferent to the issue of the trial which he no 
 longer had the strength to bear. Valerio was pale 
 and thin. He had been provided with clothing; but 
 his long beard, his hair carelessly combed, his halting 
 step, and a certain convulsive tremblmg, testified to 
 his suffering and his grief. Indifferent to his own 
 wrongs, but indignant at the injustice done his 
 brother, life, at last, had become a serious matter to 
 him. Anger and revenge flashed in his eyes; a dull 
 fire shot from them, now sunken with famine, 
 fatigue, and mental agony. In passing before Bar- 
 tolommeo Bozza to take his place upon the bench 
 for the accused, he raised his two arms laden with 
 chains as if he would crush him, and his face, blazing 
 with rage, said, "I would like to send you under 
 the earth.** 
 
 The guards restrained him, and he sat down, still 
 175 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 holding Francesco's cold, trembling hand in his 
 own. 
 
 "Francesco Zuccato," said the judge, "you are 
 accused of theft and fraud against the Repubhc; 
 what have you to say?" 
 
 "I say," answered Francesco, "that I might as 
 well be accused of murder and parricide, if it be 
 the good pleasure of those who persecute me." 
 
 " And 1,'* said Valerio, impetuously, rising to his 
 feet, " I say that we He under an outrageous accusa- 
 tion, and that for three months we have suffered in 
 prison, from which my brother has come out in a 
 dying condition, and all because the Bianchini hate 
 us, and because Bozza, our pupil, is a scoundrel; 
 but particularly because the Procurator, Monsignore 
 Melchior, made a mistake in Latm. which we took 
 upon ourselves to correct. It is the first time two 
 citizens were ever imprisoned for not wishing to 
 commit a barbarism." 
 
 Valerio's wrath was not calculated to win the 
 good will of the magistrate. The old Zuccato, 
 seeing the unfortunate effect of this harangue, arose 
 and said: — 
 
 " Silence, my son. You talk like an impudent fool. 
 This is not the way in which an honest citizen should 
 defend himself before the fathers of his country. 
 176 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Gentlemen, excuse his rudeness. These poor young 
 men are suffering from fever. Examine their case 
 according to your unswerving equity. If they are 
 guilty, punish them without pity: their father will 
 be the first to praise you for this act of justice, and 
 to bless the severity of the laws which chastise 
 fraud. Yes, yes, were it necessary to shed their 
 blood myself, I would do it, my fathers, before I 
 would see the august power of the Republic fall into 
 discredit. But if they are innocent, as I am con- 
 vinced they are, make them prompt and generous 
 redress; for you see my eldest son here has no 
 longer but a breath of life left in him; and as for 
 the younger, you see he is delirious." 
 
 Saying this with a strong voice, the old man fell 
 on his knees, while tears rolled copiously down his 
 long white beard. 
 
 "Sebastian Zuccato," answered the judge, "the 
 Republic knows your veracity and your loyalty. 
 You have spoken as becomes a good father and a 
 good citizen, but if you have nothing else to say in 
 defence of your sons you must withdraw." 
 
 At a sign from the magistrate, the vassal who had 
 
 led in Sebastian, led him away. The old man cast 
 
 a look of despair upon his two sons as he passed 
 
 out, and, joining his hands, raised his eyes to heaven 
 
 177 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 with an expression so heart-rending it might have 
 melted the marble pillars of the great hall ; but the 
 Council of Ten was colder and more inflexible than 
 they. 
 
 After the three Bianchini had affirmed their accu- 
 sation upon oath, Bartolommeo Bozza, being sum- 
 moned in his turn to the witness stand, placed his 
 hand upon the crucifix which was presented to him, 
 and said : — 
 
 " I swear upon the Christ that I have passed three 
 months under the leads for not being willing to bear 
 false witness." 
 
 A movement of surprise passed over the assembly. 
 Melchior knit his brows. Bianchini the Red ground 
 his teeth, and young Valerio, rising impatiently, 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " Is it true ? O my poor pupil ! And can I stilt 
 pity and love you ? Ah ! this thought sweetens all 
 my pain." 
 
 "Silence, Valerio Zuccato," said the judge, "and 
 let the witness speak." 
 
 Bartolommeo was as weak and sick as the Zuccati. 
 He also had been subjected to the slow torture of 
 imprisonment. He testified that, some days before 
 the Feast of Saint Mark, Vincent Bianchini had con- 
 ducted him to the scaflFolding of the Zuccati that he 
 178 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 might see close to and touch many places in their 
 work where painted pasteboard had evidently been 
 used instead of stone, and that from there he had 
 taken him to the house of the Procurator-Cassiere to 
 make affidavit to that effect, which he did in the in- 
 dignation and sincerity of his heart. From that day, 
 being convinced of the trickery practised by the 
 Zuccati, and not wishing to be an accomplice in a 
 work which could not fail to be condemned, he had 
 worked in the school of the Bianchini. But Vincent 
 on the eve of Saint Mark's, having again conducted 
 him to the Procurator, had wished to make him 
 promise to testify that he had been an eyewitness 
 of the facts as set forth in the accusation : this he 
 had refused to do, because, if he had seen the proofs 
 of the fraud, at least he had not seen the fraud com- 
 mitted. " If I had seen it," said he, " I should not 
 have waited for an invitation from the Bianchini 
 before leaving the school of the Zuccati. But I had 
 never seen anything of the kind. There was not the 
 slightest thing in the behavior of my masters up to 
 that time to give a show of truth to the discovery 
 which was brought under my observation. It was 
 therefore impossible for me to swear by the Christ 
 that I had seen them use cardboard and paint. 
 When Vincent Bianchini saw that I did not serve his 
 179 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 purpose as he wished, he turned against me and 
 accused me of duplicity with the Zuccati. Mon- 
 signore Melchior made me a great many threats, 
 which provoked me to such a degree that I told him 
 to beware of the Bianchini. That same evening I 
 was arrested and imprisoned. From that day I have 
 believed that my old masters were innocent, and that 
 the man capable of asking me to take a false oath 
 was also capable, unknown to the Zuccati and all the 
 world, of having destroyed a part of the mosaic 
 work during the night, and of having replaced the 
 stone by wood and pasteboard, for the purpose of 
 ruining them. I should state that this substitution 
 is effected with so much skill that without scratch- 
 ing these pieces {i pe^^i) a little it is impossible to 
 detect it." 
 
 Thus spoke Bozza with a firm voice, and a Bo- 
 lognese accent very slow and distinct. Summoned 
 to express his opinion upon the continual diversions 
 to which Valerio devoted himself, he admitted that 
 this young master had often been reprimanded for 
 idleness and dissipation by his elder brother, and 
 that he made up afterwards for lost time by work- 
 ing nights, which might justify the reproach con- 
 veyed in the accusation of his having made works 
 without solidity {fuor di stagione). He also stated 
 i8o 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 that Valerio did not understand metal work as well 
 as his brother, and that he made many ornamental 
 objects according to his own particular fancy. In a 
 word, it was easy to see that he was not speaking out 
 of any kind feeling for the Zuccati, and that he would 
 not have been in the least sorry had he hurt them by 
 telling the truth. But he had a horror of the lie in 
 which the Bianchini had wished to entrap him, and 
 whom he would never forgive for having caused his 
 imprisonment. 
 
 The Council closed the day's session by nominat- 
 ing a committee of painters authorized to examine, 
 under the eyes of the Procurators, the work of the 
 two rival schools. The committee was composed of 
 Titian, Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese, Jacopo Pistoja, 
 and Andrea Schiavone, who from that time was 
 called Medolay owing to the pains he took to analyze 
 mosaic work to the utmost. 
 
 i8i 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Cassiere, annoyed at the success of the Zuccati, took 
 up the word. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he to the illustrious masters, 
 " I must remind you that we have not come here to 
 look at paintings, but at mosaic work. It matters 
 very little to the State whether the hand of the 
 Virgin be modelled more or less according to the 
 rules of your art. It matters still less whether in 
 the leg of Saint Isidore the calf be a little too high 
 or a little too low. All this is very well as a subject 
 for discussion — " 
 
 '* How ! " cried Titian, who at this impious speech 
 forgot for the moment his guarded courtesy, — " it 
 matters little to the State that mosaic-workers do 
 not understand drawing, and that the mosaics are 
 not elegant and correct reproductions of the works 
 of the painters ? This is the first time that I have 
 heard of such a thing, Monsignore, and it will 
 require all the respect with which your judgment 
 inspires me to make me embrace this opinion.** 
 
 Nothing heightened the erroneous convictions of 
 the Procuratoi'-Cassiere like contradiction. 
 
 " And I, Messer Tiziano,'* he exclaimed with heat, 
 " I assure you that all that is insignificant and child- 
 ish. These are quarrels of the school and discussions 
 of the studio, in which the dignity of the magistracy 
 184 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 will not allow itself to be compromised. Commis- 
 sioned by the Republic to watch over its interests, 
 and to conduct the public expenses honestly and 
 economically, the Procurators will not permit the 
 works of St. Mark's to fall short of their contract 
 for the useless pleasure of amusing amateurs in 
 painting." 
 
 "I did not think," said Francesco Zuccato in a 
 feeble voice, and casting a pitiful look upon his work, 
 " that I could fall short of my contract by following 
 as closely as possible the models of my figures, and 
 in conforming conscientiously to all the rules of my. 
 art." 
 
 "I know the rules of your art as well as you, 
 Messer," said the Procurator, red with anger ; " you 
 cannot make me believe that a mosaic-worker must 
 of necessity be a painter. The Republic pa}'S you 
 for servilely and faithfully reproducing the cartoons 
 of the painters, and provided you fasten your stones 
 solidly and neatly to the wall, provided you know 
 how to use good materials and to adapt them to the 
 purposes for which they are mtended, it matters 
 very little that you should know the rules of paint- 
 ing and drawing. By the ducal cap ! if you were 
 such great artists, the Republic could be very eco- 
 nomical. It would no longer have to pay Messer 
 185 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Vecelli and Messer Robusti for designing your 
 models. You could be allowed to compose, direct, 
 and draw your own subjects. Unfortunately, we 
 have not enough confidence in you as master paint- 
 ers to trust them to you." 
 
 '' Nevertheless, Monsignore," said Titian, who had 
 recovered his calm and who knew how to give a 
 benign expression to the contemptuous smile play- 
 ing about his lips, "I venture to object to your 
 Lordship, that, in order to know how to copy a 
 good drawing faithfully, one must himself be a good 
 artist. Were it not so, one might trust Raphael's 
 cartoons to the first schoolboy that presented him- 
 self, and it would suffice that one have a grand 
 model under his eyes to constitute him at once a 
 great artist. Things are not done in this way, as 
 your Lordship will permit me to say, with all the 
 respect which I profess for your opinions ; but it is 
 one thing to govern men by sublime wisdom, and 
 another to amuse them with frivolous talents. We 
 should be very much perplexed, we poor artisans, 
 if, like your Lordship, we had to hold the reins of 
 the State with a firm and generous hand; but — *' 
 
 " But you pretend, flatterer," said the Procurator, 
 somewhat softened, "that you understand what 
 pertains to painting and mosaic work better, than 
 i86 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 we. You will not deny, at least, that solidity is one 
 of the indispensable conditions of this kind of work, 
 and if, instead of using stone, crystal, marble, and 
 enamel, one employs pasteboard, wood, oil, and var- 
 nish, you will admit that the funds of the Republic 
 have not been put to their proper use." 
 
 Here Titian was slightly embarrassed, for he did 
 not know how much foundation there might be for 
 this accusation of the Bianchini, and he feared to 
 compromise the Zuccati by any imprudent remark. 
 
 " I deny, at least," said he, after a moment's pause, 
 ** that this substitution of material constitutes a fraud, 
 provided it be proved, as I think it can be, that the 
 brush may be used in certain places of mosaic work 
 with as much solidity as enamel." 
 
 " Very well, this is what we are going to find out, 
 Messer Vecelli," said the Procurator, " for we do not 
 wish to doubt your sincerity in this matter. Let us 
 have some sand and a sponge here ; and by the cap ! 
 we '11 have it rubbed thick all over these walls." 
 
 Francesco's lifeless eyes glistened, and turned with 
 comtemptible hatred toward the inscription where 
 the word Saxis had replaced the barbarism Saxibus. 
 He thought to himself, if he should be condemned 
 for the substitution of a single letter, he would con- 
 sole himself for it by seeing the blunder of the 
 187 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Procurator made public. Melchior understood his 
 thought, and read his look; he avoided applying the 
 test here, and carried it to other parts of the dome. 
 
 The mosaics of the Zuccati, thoroughly rubbed 
 and washed in all places, withstood the experiment 
 perfectly; no part of it fell nor was likely to fall. 
 The Procurator-Cassiere began to think that the 
 avowed hatred of the Bianchini and his own preju- 
 dice had misled him in an aifair but little to his 
 credit, when Vincent Bianchini, approaching the two 
 archangels, one of which was the portrait of Valerio 
 and the other of Francesco Zuccati, said boldly : -— 
 
 " It is true that wood and painted pasteboard may 
 resist sand and a wet sponge, but it is not true that 
 they can resist the influence of time, and here is a 
 proof of it." So saying, he took out his stiletto, 
 and, punching it into the naked breast of the arch- 
 angel which represented Francesco Zuccato near to 
 the heart, he started a piece of flesh-colored sub- 
 stance, which he quickly cut in two with his knife 
 and handed to the Procurators. The fragment being 
 passed from hand to hand, Titian himself was forced 
 to admit that it was a piece of wood. 
 
 i88 
 
XIX. 
 
 FRANCESCO and Valerio were led back to prison, 
 and eight days afterwards tliey appeared again 
 before the Council of Ten. The proces-verbal report, 
 drawn up by the commission of painters, was read 
 aloud to them. They avoided any allusion to the 
 inferiority of the works of the Bianchini. They- 
 knew that to depreciate them as works of art would 
 irritate the Procurator-Cassiere more and more, and, 
 the affairs of the Zuccati having taken a sufficiently 
 bad turn, prudence required that they should not 
 further excite their enemies ; but they were profuse 
 in their praise of the cupola of the Zuccati, and they 
 had proved the solidity of all this work with the 
 exception of two unimportant figures, where wood 
 had been used instead of stone. Titian had even 
 affirmed that he thought this painted mosaic work 
 capable of resisting the ravages of time for five 
 hundred years or more ; and his prediction is veri- 
 fied, for these pieces spoken of in the process are 
 still in existence, and apparently as beautiful and 
 189 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 solid as the other parts of the mosaic work. As to 
 the ability of the young Zuccato, charged by his 
 accusers of incapacity or ignorance, he was glori- 
 ously vindicated by the proch-^erbal, and declared at 
 least as capable as his brother. 
 
 After this statement, the whole accusation rested 
 only upon one point, that of the substitution of 
 unusual material in the execution of the figures of 
 the two archangels. 
 
 Francesco, questioned as to what he had to offer 
 in his defence, said that, having been for a long time 
 convinced of the advantage of this substitution for 
 certain details, and anxious to prove its solidity, he 
 had ventured to try it in these two figures, which 
 were of little importance, and which he always meant 
 to repair at his own expense if its durability did 
 not fulfil his expectations, or if the Republic was 
 opposed to such an innovation. 
 
 The Council did not seem willing to accept this 
 excuse. Pressed by accusations and threats, Valerio 
 could not control his temper. 
 
 "Very well," said he, "since you wish to know, 
 learn the secret that my brother wished to keep. In 
 telling it to you, I know very well that I expose 
 myself, not only to the hatred and envy which are 
 already brought to bear against us, but also to that 
 190 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 of all our future rivals. I know that rude workmen 
 and vile mechanics will be indignant at seeing in us 
 conscientious artists. I know they will pretend to 
 consider mosaic work nothing but a work of simple 
 masonry, and that they will persecute as unworthy 
 companions and ambitious rivals any one who tries 
 to make an art of it, and bring to it the fire of 
 enthusiasm or the light of intelligence. Very well, 
 I object to such blasphemy. I say that a true 
 mosaic-worker ought to be an artist, and I assert 
 that my brother Francesco, the pupil of his father 
 and of Messer Tiziano, is a great painter ; and I prove 
 it by declaring that the two figures of the archangels 
 which have obtained the praise of the illustrious 
 commission nominated by the Council, were con- 
 ceived, composed, designed, and colored by my 
 brother, whose apprentice I was, and the workman 
 who faithfully copied his cartoons. Perhaps We 
 have been guilty of a serious crime for taking upon 
 ourselves to consecrate our best work to the Repub- 
 lic, offering it gratis and privately, with a modesty 
 becoming young men and with a prudence becom- 
 ing young men who acknowledge another God than 
 money and public favor ; but when we are accused 
 of fraud, we are forced to set aside this prudence 
 and modesty. We ask, therefore, that it be proved 
 191 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 whether we have tried this innovation except in a 
 composition not required of us, and which we are 
 ready to remove from the basilica if the government 
 considers it unworthy to appear beside the works of 
 the Bianchini." 
 
 Upon examining the cartoons of the various com- 
 positions designed by the painters and intrusted to 
 the mosaic-workers, they did not find these two 
 archangel figures. The Procurator Melchior urged 
 each of the painters to give his opinion upon the 
 merits of these figures, and to specify what they had 
 had to do with them. As they had been invested by 
 the State with all rights and all power in regard to 
 these things, a simple sketch drawn by one of them 
 would have sulTiced to prove that the Zuccati, bound 
 to execute to the letter their designs, had rendered 
 themselves guilty of unfaithfulness, disobedience, 
 and fraud in executing them according to a method 
 of their own, and in using material not approved 
 by the Commission of Procurators. The painters 
 declared upon oath that they had not had even an 
 idea of these figures ; and as to their merit they also 
 stated that they themselves would not have been 
 able to create anything more correct or more noble. 
 Titian was questioned twice. They knew his friend- 
 ship for the Zuccati; they knew also his tact, his 
 192 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ingenuity in evading the questions he did not wish 
 to answer. Summoned to say whether he was the 
 author of these figures, he answered courteously, 
 " I wish I were, but, to tell the truth, I have not even 
 seen the design of them, and I had no suspicion of 
 their existence until, as a member of the commis- 
 sion, I was ordered to examine them." 
 
 The Bianchini maintained that the Zuccati were 
 not capable of designing works worthy of so much 
 praise without assistance. In spite of the declara- 
 tions of the painters, they held an inquiry to which 
 Bozza was summoned, and, as an old pupil of the 
 Zuccati, he was requested to state if he had seen any 
 painter touch these figures. He replied, that once 
 only he had seen Messer Orazio Vecelli, Titian's son, 
 come by night to the studio of the Zuccati at the 
 time when they were working there. Orazio was 
 summoned, and declared upon oath that he had not 
 even seen them, and that his visit to the studio of 
 San Filippo by night was for no other object than 
 to order from Valerio a mosaic bracelet which he 
 wished to present to a lady. There was no longer 
 any proof against the Zuccati. They were acquitted, 
 on the sole condition of replacing at their own ex- 
 pense, by pieces of stone and enamel, the fragments 
 of painted wood employed in certain details of their 
 193 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 figures. This part of the decree was simply a mat- 
 ter of form, in order not to encourage innovators. 
 They did not even insist on the execution of it, for 
 the painted pieces are there still. The barbarism 
 of the Procur ator 'Gassier e alone has been restored 
 according to the manner in which it came forth 
 from the learned brain of this magistrate, and above 
 the two archangels we read this other touching in- 
 scription, alluding to the persecutions suffered by 
 the Zuccati ; — 
 
 Ubi diligenter 
 
 INSPEXERIS ARTEMQ. AC LABO- 
 REM FRANCISCI ET VALERII 
 ZVCATI VENETORVM FRATRVM 
 AGNOVERIS TVM DEMVM IVDI- 
 CATO. 
 
 194 
 
XX. 
 
 IN spite of the fortunate termination of this legal 
 process, much was required before the fortunes 
 of the Zuccati took on a happy aspect. Francesco* s 
 health returned slowly. No new public work was 
 demanded of the mosaic-workers. There was some- 
 talk even of keeping them at a standstill, and of 
 preserving all the old Byzantine works, for fashion 
 had taken an austere turn, and while the wise 
 sumptuary laws covered the cloaks and gondolas 
 with mourning, the people, less serious, through a 
 spirit of imitation, wrapped themselves in long 
 Roman togas, and wore ornaments of iron and 
 silver only. The word "economy" was on every 
 lip. The plague had paralyzed commerce, and, as 
 generations pass readily from one excess to another, 
 after ruinous luxury and foolish expenditures came 
 a time of penurious retrenchments and childish 
 reforms. Artists fared ill in these hours of 
 financial depression. The Procurator-Cassiere was 
 195 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 not an isolated fool, but the representative of a 
 great number of narrow souls. 
 
 Francesco had fallen into a state of deep despond- 
 ency. An enthusiastic artist, he had aspired to and 
 hoped for glory. He had served her as one serves 
 a noble mistress, by noble sacrifices, with an ardent 
 and exclusive worship. For his sole recompense, 
 he had seen himself exposed to an infamous impris- 
 onment, imminent death, and a disgraceful lawsuit. 
 Moreover, the success of his masterpieces was ques- 
 tioned. Men do not see without chastisement mis- 
 fortune burst upon the head of the elect. They are 
 seized, therefore, with a vertigo of mediocrity, and 
 try in all manner of ways to excuse and justify the 
 evils with which genius is stricken. It was enough 
 to have found a small piece of wood in one of the 
 little figures of the Zuccati for the public to con- 
 clude at once that the whole mosaic work was exe- 
 cuted in wood. The illiterate even went so far as 
 to say it was of paper, and, convinced of its want 
 of solidity, they would have considered it a lack of 
 patriotism to lift their heads in order to admire the 
 beauty of the figures. The young artist was wounded 
 to the depths of his soul, and suffered the more 
 as he carefully concealed his wound, and hated the 
 public too much to give it the satisfaction of seeing 
 196 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 him vanquished. Closely shut up in his little room 
 at San Filippo, he passed his days at the window 
 absorbed in sad thoughts, and was only distracted 
 from his misery by watching the great ivies of the 
 court swaying in the breeze. This quiet^ scene 
 was refreshing to him after his sojourn under the 
 leads, where the want of air had slowly undermined 
 his life. 
 
 During the time of his success and his sumptuous 
 amusements, Valerio had fallen considerably into 
 debt. His creditors tormented him. Francesco 
 found out this secret, and devoted all his savings to 
 the payment of these debts. Valerio knew this only 
 a long time afterward. He was sad enough without 
 remorse being added to the anxiety caused him by 
 his dear brother's health. The thought of losing 
 him shook his very soul, and he felt that, in spite of 
 his natural disposition to accept the ills of life, he 
 could never console himself for his loss. Incapable 
 of melancholy, too strong for resignation and too 
 strong also for despair, he often fell into violent 
 states of indignation, followed by brilliant hopes, 
 and he entertained Francesco with dreams of fame 
 and happiness, although really at heart no one needed 
 glory less than he in order to be happy. 
 
 Old Sebastian begged them to return to the brush, 
 197 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 and give up this vile mosaic work. But Francesco 
 had received too rude a shock to yield himself to 
 fresh hopes. To undertake a new career at thirty 
 required a resolution beyond the power of a spirit 
 so wounded, a body so weakened. To his suffering 
 was added that of his friends. His disgrace had 
 caused Ceccato to lose his prerogatives as master ; 
 both he and Marini were in a state of absolute want. 
 In vain Francesco solicited the payment for his 
 year's work. The finances, like all other depart- 
 ments of the administration, were dull and in dis- 
 order. All his efforts were useless. They put him 
 off from day to day, from week to week. The 
 secret hatred of the Procurator-Cassiere had some- 
 thing to do with these postponements of payment. 
 By this subtle vengeance he paid back the irony 
 of the Zuccati, too little punished in his opinion by 
 the Council. 
 
 The Zuccati were resolved to share their last crust 
 of bread with their faithful apprentices. They fed 
 Marini, Ceccato, his young convalescent wife, and 
 his remaining child. Valerio still obtained some 
 money from the Greeks stationed in Venice, by sell- 
 ing them jewelry ; but this resource would not be 
 sufficient for such a numerous family after Fran- 
 cesco's savings should be spent. Then Valerio 
 198 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 reproached himself bitterly for not having laid by 
 anything ; he realized too late that prodigality is a 
 vice. "Yes, yes," said he with a sigh, "the man 
 who spends what he earns by the sweat of his brow 
 in empty amusement and foolish display does not 
 deserve to have friends, because he cannot aid them 
 in the day of distress." 
 
 So it was necessary for him to see by what inde- 
 fatigable zeal and skilful application he could repair 
 the faults of the past. He had divided his narrow 
 room into three compartments, — a studio, a refec- 
 tory, and a sleeping-room for Francesco. At night 
 he slept on a mat in the first convenient corner, 
 oftener on the terrace raised above the roof. During 
 the day he worked assiduously, and got his appren- 
 tices to make mosaic pictures, hoping always that 
 the time would come when works of art would no 
 longer be ranked as luxuries and objects of fancy. 
 He alone attended to all the details of the housekeep- 
 ing, and, if he allowed Ceccato's wife to prepare the 
 dinner, he did not permit her to fatigue herself in 
 the least by going to purchase it. He went himself 
 to the fish market, to the vegetable market, to the 
 frittole, and he might be seen, covered with per- 
 spiration, threading the winding streets with a basket 
 under his cloak. If he met any of the young noble- 
 199 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 men who heretofore had shared his pleasures and 
 his generosity, he carefully evaded them, or obsti- 
 nately concealed his poverty from them, fearing they 
 might send assistance to him, the offer of which 
 alone would have humiliated him. He pretended to 
 have lost nothing of his gayety,but the forced laugh- 
 ter upon his drawn lips, the quick glance of his eye, 
 still sparkling with fever and excitement, could 
 deceive only the shallowest of friends or minds 
 preoccupied. 
 
 One day, when Valerio was crossing one of these 
 dark silent little courts, which served as a passage to 
 the armory, where four persons would hardly meet 
 face to face in broad daylight, he saw, near a damp 
 wall, a man trying to support himself, but who fell 
 from weakness. He drew near, and took him in his 
 arms. But what was his surprise when he recog- 
 nized in this man, in rags, emaciated with hunger, 
 and whom he had taken for a beggar, his old pupil, 
 Bartolommeo Bozza ? 
 
 ''There are then in Venice," said he, "artists 
 more unfortunate than I." 
 
 He made him swallow at once a few drops of wine 
 of Istria, a bottle of which he had in his basket. 
 Then he gave him some figs, which the poor man 
 seized voraciously and devoured without removing 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 the skins. When his hunger was somewhat ap- 
 peased, he recognized the kindly man who had 
 assisted him. A torrent of tears flowed from his 
 eyes, but Valerio never knew whether it was shame, 
 remorse, or gratitude which caused them ; for. Bozza 
 did not utter a word, and tried to flee. The gentle 
 Valerio detained him. 
 
 " Where are you going, my poor fellow ? " said 
 he. *'Do you not see that your strength has not 
 returned, and that you will fall in a few minutes a 
 little farther on ? I am poor also, and I cannot offer 
 you money, but come with me; your old friends 
 will open their arms to you, and while there is a 
 measure of rice in San Filippo you shall share 
 it with them." 
 
 Then he took him by the hand, and Bozza allowed 
 himself to be led mechanically, showing neither joy 
 nor surprise. 
 
XXI. 
 
 FRANCESCO could not repress a movement of 
 repugnance when Bozza appeared before him. 
 He knew that this young man, honest in many re- 
 spects and incapable of a mean action, had no kind- 
 ness, no affection, no generous impulses in his heart. 
 In him all expressions of tenderness and sympathy 
 were overruled by his indomitable pride and inexo- 
 rable ambition. However, when Francesco learned 
 in what a condition Valerio had found him, he has- 
 tened to find him a pair of shoes and one of his 
 best suits, and offered them to him while his brother 
 prepared for him a substantial meal. From this 
 moment Bozza became one of this poor family, 
 which, by dint of economy, method, and labor, still 
 lived honorably at San Filippo. Valerio did not re- 
 gret the trouble he had been to, and in the evening, 
 when he saw his old school reunited around the 
 frugal board, his heart beat again with joy, and his 
 whole being was filled with happiness. Then Fran- 
 cesco's restless eyes met those of Bozza, always full 
 of indifference or disdain. Bozza understood noth- 
 
 202 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 ing of the heroic devotion of the Zuccati. So little 
 conception had he of such nobility of character, that 
 he attributed it to motives of personal interest, to 
 the design of founding a new school in order to 
 secure the labor of their apprentices, or to. engage 
 their services beforehand, so that they would not 
 join another school. What his companions justly 
 regarded as sublime was to him simply clever. 
 
 But poverty threatened them more and more. 
 The Zuccati were determined to endure the severest 
 privations before calling upon the illustrious mas- 
 ters whose friendship they possessed. Their father-'s 
 fortune was more than mediocre. His pride had 
 always prevented his receiving any assistance from 
 his sons, who occupied, according to his ideas, such 
 a humiliating position. While they had been pros- 
 perous, they had handed over to him a part of their 
 salary; but, in order for him to accept it, Titian 
 had to make him consent to receive it in his name. 
 Now that the Zuccati could no longer assist their 
 father, Titian continued, on his own account, to fur- 
 nish the old man this allowance, and the grateful 
 sons concealed their want from him, fearing to abuse 
 his generosity. 
 
 Fortunately Tintoretto watched over them, al- 
 though he himself was straitened in circumstances 
 203 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 at this time. Art seemed to fall into discredit. The 
 confraternities made but modest votive offerings. 
 They talked of selling all the paintings in the studios 
 in order to distribute the proceeds among the poor 
 workmen of the corporations. The noblemen hid 
 all signs of luxury in the depths of their palaces, in 
 order to avoid any great demands that might be 
 made upon them in behalf of the poorer classes. 
 Nevertheless, Tintoretto still found means to assist 
 his unfortunate friends. Besides finding, unknown 
 to them, many purchasers for their beautiful orna- 
 ments, he constantly insisted that the Senate should 
 give them employment. He succeeded finally in 
 proving the need of new repairs in the basilica. 
 Some of the walls in Byzantine mosaics (those still 
 to be seen in St. Mark's) might be preserved, but it 
 would be necessary to remove them entirely, and to 
 replace them by means of new mastic. Other por- 
 tions were altogether irreparable, and it would be 
 necessary to replace them by new compositions be- 
 fore they all fell to dust, which would incur more 
 expense than one would think. The Senate decreed 
 these works to be done, and voted a sum for the 
 purpose; but they decided that the number of work- 
 men in mosaic should be reduced, and, to put an 
 end to all rivalry, there should be but one head and 
 204 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 one school. The head should be he who, after a 
 meeting of all the workmen previously employed, 
 should be judged the most capable by the painters 
 of the commission : his school should be organized 
 at once, not by his own choice according to his 
 sympathy and his family interest, but according to 
 the degree of ability of the other competitors known 
 to the commission. There was to be a grand prize, 
 a second prize, and four minor prizes. The number 
 of masters was limited to six. 
 
 The committee was then nominated, and was com- 
 posed of the painters who had examined the works- 
 of the Zuccati and the Bianchini. The meeting was 
 opened, and the subject proposed was a picture in 
 mosaic representing Saint Jerome. When Tintoretto 
 carried these joyful tidings to the Zuccati, he placed 
 in their hands the one hundred ducats which was due 
 them for their year's work, and which he had at last 
 succeeded in obtaining. This unexpected triumph 
 over a destiny so unfortunate and so appalling awoke 
 again both Francesco's and Bozza's failing energy, 
 but in a manner strongly contrasted ; for while the 
 young man folded in his arms his brother and his 
 dear apprentices, Bartolommeo, with a yell as harsh 
 and wild as that of a sea-gull, darted out of the 
 studio, and was never seen there again. 
 205 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 The first thing he did was to run to the Bianchini 
 and inform them as to their prospective situation. 
 Bozza felt hatred and contempt for the Bianchini, 
 but he could turn them to account. It was very 
 evident that, either through partiality or justice, the 
 works of Francesco and his pupils would be judged 
 the first at the meeting. The Bianchini were only 
 mechanics, and certainly would not be engaged ex- 
 cept in subordinate positions upon the future work 
 of the Republic. On the other hand, Bozza knew 
 that Francesco's weak and sickly condition would 
 not allow him to work. He thought that Valerio 
 would accomplish alone the two efforts demanded 
 of the Zuccati, that even the apprentices might have 
 a hand in them ; for the allotted time was short, and 
 the committee would take into consideration the 
 promptitude as well as the knowledge of the con- 
 testants. In the bottom of his heart he flattered 
 himself that he could rival all the school. During 
 the last days passed at San Filippo he had closely 
 studied the rules of design, and had sought to 
 master the secrets in color and drawing which 
 Valerio had so candidly and generously imparted 
 to him. 
 
 Although hoping to surpass the Zuccati, Bozza was 
 not blind to the difficulty of supplanting Francesco, 
 206 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 whose name was already illustrious, while his own 
 was still unknown. It was necessary in order to get 
 rid of him that the Procurators should intimidate 
 the judges by the intrigues and menaces of Melchior. 
 Now the Procurators were in favor of the Bianchini, 
 for they had praised them servilely by telling them 
 that they understood painting and mosaic work 
 much better than Tintoretto or Titian. Determined 
 to fight against the talent of the Zuccati, Bozza had 
 only to secure to himself the influence of the Bian- 
 chini. He did so by showing the Bianchini that 
 they could not do without him, because they were • 
 entirely ignorant of the rules of design, and that 
 their works would surely be discarded by the com- 
 mittee if they did not abandon the direction of them 
 to him. This insolent pretension did not wound 
 the Bianchini. Money was much dearer to thern 
 than praise, and the indifference of the painters 
 toward them at the time of the last examination 
 filled them with misgivings for the future. There- 
 fore they accepted Bozza' s offer, and even agreed to 
 give him ten ducats in advance. With half of this 
 sum he hastened at once to buy a beautiful chain, 
 which he sent to the Zuccati, and which Francesco 
 placed upon his brother's neck without knowing 
 whence it came. 
 
 207 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Everywhere work was vigorously resumed. But 
 Francesco, for the moment reanimated with hope, 
 overrated his strength, and, being stricken down 
 with fever after a few days, was obliged to interrupt 
 his work and watch the progress of his school from 
 his bed. 
 
 208 
 
XXII. 
 
 THIS relapse caused Valerio such intense anxiety 
 that he had to give up his work and with- 
 draw from the contest. Francesco's condition was 
 serious, and the mental agony he felt at seeing his 
 masterpiece begun and interrupted augmented still 
 more his physical suffering. This agony was still 
 further increased when Ceccato's wife thoughtlessly 
 told him that, in passing by, she had seen Bozza in 
 the Bianchini's studio. This mark of ingratitude 
 seemed to him so black that he cried with indigna- 
 tion, thus heightening his fever. Valerio, seeing 
 him so worried, pretended that Nina was deceived, 
 and that he should go himself and find out if it 
 were true. He could not really believe in such 
 heartlessness on the part of a workman with whom, 
 in spite of so many grievances, he had shared his 
 last penny. He proceeded to San Fantino, where the 
 Bianchini had their studio, and through the open 
 door he saw Bozza occupied in directing the young 
 Antonio. He requested an interview with him, and, 
 209 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 having taken him a short distance away, he earnestly 
 reproved him for his conduct. 
 
 " Seeing you go away so hurriedly the other day,'* 
 said he, " I knew very well that, at the first hope of 
 personal success, your old friends would be strangers 
 to you. I understood very well the egotism of the 
 artist, and my brother tried to excuse it, saying that 
 the thirst for glory is a passion so imperious that 
 everything gives way before it; but between egotism 
 and wickedness, between ingratitude and treachery^ 
 there is a chasm which I did not believe you could 
 overleap so lightly. All honor to you, Bartolom- 
 meo ! You have given me a bitter lesson, and you 
 have made me distrustful of the ennobling influence 
 of benefits." 
 
 "Do not speak of benefits, Messer," said Bozza, 
 coldly. " I have not accepted any. You assisted me 
 in the hope that I would become useful to you. For 
 my part, I do not wish to become useful to you, and 
 I have repaid your services by a gift, the value of 
 which far surpasses the amount of expense you have 
 been to on my account." 
 
 Saying this, Bozza pointed to the chain which 
 Valerio wore on his neck. As soon as Valerio 
 understood to what he referred, he snatched it so 
 violently that it broke into pieces. 
 
 210 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 " Is it possible," he exclaimed, choking back the 
 tears of shame and anger, — " is it possible that you 
 have dared to send me a gift ?" 
 
 "This is done every day," answered Bozza. "I 
 do not deny your kindness in receiving me, and I 
 likewise give you credit for knowing me well enough 
 not to be troubled in regard to the expense you 
 have been to in taking care of me." 
 
 " So," said Valerio, holding the chain in his trem- 
 bling hand, and fixing his eyes ablaze with anger 
 upon Bozza, " you took my studio for a shop, and 
 thought I kept open house by way of speculation ? 
 It is thus you appreciate my sacrifices, my devotion 
 to my unfortunate brethren! When, in order to 
 give you time to work, I myself prepared your 
 meals, you looked upon me as your cook ! " 
 
 " I had no such thought," answered Bozza coldly; 
 " I thought you wanted to enlist an artist whom you 
 considered not without talent, and, in order to free 
 myself and make things even with you, I made you 
 a present. Is n't it customary ?" 
 
 Valerio, exasperated at these words, threw the 
 chain violently in his face. Bozza was struck near 
 the eye, and the blood ran. 
 
 " You will pay me for this insult," said he calmly. 
 " If I control myself here, it is because by one word 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 I could have ten poniards pointed at your throat. 
 We shall meet elsewhere, I hope." 
 
 " Do not doubt it/' said Valerio. 
 
 And they parted. 
 
 On returning home, Valerio met Tintoretto, and 
 told him what had just happened. He also informed 
 him of Francesco's relapse. The master was seri- 
 ously grieved, but, seeing that discouragement had 
 entered Valerio' s soul, he carefully refrained from 
 giving him those ordinary consolations which only 
 aggravate still more the suffering of an ardent tem- 
 perament. He pretended, on the contrary, to share 
 his doubts regarding the future, and to think Bozza 
 very capable of surpassing him in the contest, and 
 of conducting the school of the Bianchini so well 
 that it would excel that of the Zuccati. 
 
 **This is all very discouraging to think of," added 
 he. " Here are these men who know in fact noth- 
 ing about art; but, thanks to a young man who did 
 not know much more a little while ago, thanks to 
 perseverance and pluck, which often take the place 
 of genius, the most brilliant talent will sink into the 
 shade perhaps, where ignorance, or at least bad taste, 
 will bear the palm. Farewell to art; the days of 
 decadence have come." 
 
 "Perhaps this misfortune is not inevitable, my 
 
 212 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 dear master," said Valerio, roused by this assumed 
 air of dejection. " Thanks to God, the contest is 
 not yet opened, and Bozza has not yet produced his 
 masterpiece." 
 
 " I will not conceal from you," replied Tintoretto, 
 " that he has made a very fine beginning. I happened 
 to see it yesterday when passing through San Fan- 
 tino, and I was surprised at it, for I did not believe 
 Bozza capable of such productions. His pupil, 
 young Antonio, is very apt, and moreover Bar- 
 tolommeo retouches his work so minutely that no 
 defect is allowed to remain in it. He also directs- 
 the two others, and the Bianchini are such servile 
 copyists that, with a good instructor, they are capa- 
 ble of drawing very well by a gift of imitation 
 without understanding drawing." 
 
 " But indeed. Master," said Valerio with a troubled 
 look, *' you will not give the prize to these charlatans 
 to the detriment of the true disciples of art ? Messer 
 Tiziano will not do so either ? " 
 
 " My dear child, in this contest we are not called 
 upon to judge the men, but the works; and, to make 
 more sure of justice, it is probable that their names 
 will be withheld in the proceedings. Besides, you 
 know it is the custom to pronounce judgment upon 
 a piece of work without having seen the signature. 
 213 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 For this reason it is covered up with a slip of paper 
 before the picture is presented to us. This custom 
 is the symbol of the impartiality which ought to 
 guide our judgment. If Bozza surpasses you, my 
 heart will bleed, but my lips shall speak the truth. 
 If the Bianchini succeed, I shall think that imposture 
 has triumphed over loyalty, vice over virtue; but I 
 am not an Inquisitor, and I have only to judge of 
 pieces of enamel arranged in a given space more or 
 less artistically.'* 
 
 " I know that very well, Master," replied Valerio, 
 a little piqued; "but why do you think that the 
 school of the Zuccati will not force you to give it 
 the palm ? It fully intends to do so. Who asks any 
 unlawful indulgence from you ? We should not do 
 so, even supposing that we were able- to obtain it 
 from you." 
 
 " You seem so discouraged, my poor Valerio, and 
 you have such an amount of work to do, that, if 
 your brother does not speedily recover, I tremble 
 indeed at the position in which you now are. More- 
 over, Francesco being sick, has your school an ex- 
 istence ? You are an able master, you are endowed 
 with wonderful facility, and inspiration seems to be 
 beforehand with you. But have you not always 
 turned your back upon glory.? Are you not in- 
 214 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 different to the applause of the public ? Do you not 
 prefer the intoxication of pleasure, a sort of dolce 
 far niente existence, to titles, riches, and praise? 
 You are a man highly gifted, my young master; 
 your intelligence might overcome all things. But I 
 must not deceive you ; you are not an artist. You 
 scorn the contest, you disdain the prize, you are too 
 broad-minded to descend into the arena. Bozza, 
 with a hundredth part of your genius, will succeed 
 yet by his ambition, perseverance, and stubborn 
 disposition." 
 
 "Master, perhaps you are right," said Valerio, 
 who had listened to this speech like one in a dream. 
 "I thank you for having expressed your fears to 
 me ; they are the result of a tender solicitude only 
 too well founded. However, Master, we shall see. 
 Adieu." 
 
 Saying this, Valerio, following the custom of the 
 time and the country, kissed the hand of the illus- 
 trious master, and lightly crossed the Rialto. 
 
 215 
 
XXIII. 
 
 VALERIO threw everybody into commotion on 
 going back to the studio. He walked briskly, 
 spoke loudly, hummed with a disconsolate air the 
 refrain of a merry drinking song, said with an air 
 of tenderness some hard words, broke his tools, 
 made fun of his pupils, and, drawing near to his 
 brother's bed, he embraced him passionately, saying 
 to him with a manner half foolish, half inspired, 
 "Come, be easy, Checo, you will win. You will 
 have the grand prize; we will present a masterpiece 
 for the contest. Come, come, nothing is lost. The 
 Muse has not yet reascended to heaven." 
 
 Francesco looked at him in amazement. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" said he. "All 
 that you say is so strange ! What has happened ? 
 Have you had a quarrel with any one ? Have you 
 met the Bianchini ? " 
 
 " Explain yourself. Master ; tell us what has hap- 
 pened," added Marini. " If I may believe some talk 
 I overheard this morning in spite of myself, Bozza*s 
 216 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS 
 
 picture is already far advanced, and they say it will 
 be a masterpiece. This is why you are annoyed, 
 my Master; but reassure yourself; our efforts — " 
 
 "I, annoyed?" cried Valerio; "and since ^ when 
 was I annoyed if one of my pupils distinguished 
 himself? At what moment of my life have you 
 seen me disturbed or uneasy over the success of an 
 artist ? Indeed, I am very envious, am I not ? " 
 
 " What makes you so touchy, my good master ? " 
 said Ceccato. "Which of us ever had such a 
 thought? But tell us, we beg of you, if it is true, 
 that Bozza has really done something fine?" 
 
 "Without doubt," said Valerio, smiling and sud- 
 denly resuming his sweetness and accustomed gayety, 
 "he ought to be able to. I gave him good rules 
 enough. Very well. What is the matter with you 
 then, all of you, that you are so down-hearted? 
 One would think you were so many willows hang- 
 ing over a dried up cistern. Come, what 's the 
 matter there ? Has Nina forgotten the dinner ? Has 
 the Procuratoi'-Cassiere ordered a new barbarism? 
 Come, children, to work ! We have not a day to 
 lose, — no, not an hour. Come, come, the tools ! the 
 enamel ! the boxes ! let every one surpass himself, 
 for Bozza does fine things, and it is for us to do still 
 finer ones." 
 
 217 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 From this moment joy and activity reigned again 
 in the little studio at San Filippo. Francesco seemed 
 to come back to life in finding once more in all 
 these friendly looks a gleam of hope, a ray of holy 
 joy, such as formerly had given birth to the master- 
 pieces in the cupola of St. Mark's. Misgivings had 
 for a moment rested on all these young heads, like 
 a leaden dome above the smiling caryatides, but 
 Valerio had driven it away with his good humor. 
 The immense will power he was exerting was con- 
 centrated within ; he showed it only by an increase 
 of cheerfulness. But a marked change had taken 
 place in Valerio; he was no longer the same man. 
 If he had not fallen a victim to the allurements of 
 vanity, if he had not become one of those jealous 
 mortals who cannot endure that others should be- 
 come successful or famous, at least he was reli- 
 giously devoted to his profession. His character had 
 become serious under the mask of gayety. Misfor- 
 tune had cruelly tried him in the most sensitive part 
 of his soul, by striking those whom he loved, and 
 proving to him by bitter lessons the advantages of 
 regularity. He also came to understand why Fran- 
 cesco, in spite of his economy and uniform habits, 
 found himself in such straitened circumstances the 
 day after the trial. Discovering in his brother's 
 218 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 trunk the receipted bills of his own creditors, Va- 
 lerio had cried like the prodigal son. Great souls 
 often have great faults, but they overcome them; 
 and this it is which distinguishes them from the 
 vulgar. So from that day, Valerio, even when in 
 the best of circumstances, never again departed 
 from the rules of moderation and simplicity which 
 he had imposed upon himself in the secrecy of his 
 heart. He never spoke a word of this resolution to 
 any one, but he showed his gratitude to Francesco 
 by a life-long devotion, and his steadfastness of soul 
 by morality in spite of all temptation. 
 
 Innocent mirth, happiness born of industry, song 
 and laughter, awoke again the slumbering echoes of 
 this little room. The winter was severe, but wood 
 was not lacking, and every one had hereafter a fine 
 sable cloak and a warm velvet doublet. Francesco's 
 strength returned as if by a miracle. Nina regained 
 her freshness and grace, and the expectation of giv- 
 ing birth to another child consoled her for the loss 
 of her first-born. The one who survived the plague 
 grew visibly, and little Marie Robusti, his godmother, 
 often came to the studio of the Zuccati to amuse 
 him. This young and charming girl took a special 
 interest in the work of her young friends, and she 
 was already capable of appreciating its worth. 
 219 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 At last the great day arrived, and all the pictures 
 were carried to the sacristy of St. Mark's, where the 
 committee were assembled. Sansovino had been 
 added to the masters previously nominated. 
 
 Valerio had done his best, and hope was all aglow 
 in his heart. He came to the meeting with that holy 
 trust which is not incompatible with modesty. He 
 loved art for its own sake, and was happy in that 
 he had successfully expressed his thought, and the 
 injustice of men could not wrest from him this inno- 
 cent satisfaction. His brother was obviously ex- 
 cited, but without false shame, without hatred, and 
 without jealousy. With his beautiful pale face, his 
 delicate trembling lips, his glance at once timid and 
 proud, he anxiously awaited the masters of the com- 
 mittee. All of them wished to be able to award 
 him the prize ; but their attention was diverted by a 
 man so wan, so agitated, so convulsively bowing 
 his salutations, half cringing, half insolent, that they 
 were almost frightened, as one is at the sight of a 
 madman. Soon however, Bozza recovered his self- 
 possession and decorum, but he felt every moment 
 as if he should faint away. 
 
 The mosaic-workers waited in an adjoining apart- 
 ment while the Commission proceeded to examine 
 their works. At the end of an hour, which seemed 
 
 220 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 a century to Bozza, they were summoned, and Tin- 
 toretto, advancing to meet them, requested them to 
 sit down in silence. His immovable features ex- 
 pressed to none of them what each wished to 
 discover. The silence could be felt. Their'breath 
 came short ; their throats swelled, their hearts beat 
 quickly. When they had seated themselves on the 
 bench assigned to them, Titian, being the oldest, 
 placing himself near the pictures which had been 
 arranged in a line along the wall, pronounced in a 
 clear, firm voice the following formula : — 
 
 "We, Vecelli called Tiziano, Jacopo Robusti 
 called Tintoretto, Jacopo Sansovino, Jacopo Pistoja, 
 Andrea Schiavone, Paolo Cagliari called Veronese, 
 all master painters approved by the Senate and by 
 the honorable and fraternal corporation of painters, 
 commissioned by the glorious Republic of Venice, 
 and nominated by the venerable Council of Ten, to 
 act as judges of the works presented at this meeting, 
 have, with the help of God, the light of reason, and 
 uprightness of heart, attentively, conscientiously, 
 and impartially examined the said works, and have 
 unanimously declared worthy to be promoted to 
 the first mastership, having the direction of all the 
 other masters herein mentioned, only the author of 
 the picture on which we have inscribed the number 
 
 221 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 one, with the seal of the Commission. This picture, 
 the author of which is unknown to us, faithful that 
 we are to the oath that we have taken not to read 
 the signatures before having pronounced on the 
 merit of the works, will now be presented to your 
 eyes as well as to our own." 
 
 At the same time, Tintoretto lifted one of the 
 veils which covered the picture, and removed the 
 slip which concealed the signature. Francesco 
 uttered a cry of joy. The awarded picture was his 
 brother's. Valerio, who in his most sanguine 
 moments had never counted on anything more than 
 the second prize, remained motionless, and dared 
 not allow himself to feel any pleasure save that of 
 seeing his brother's delight. 
 
 The second awarded picture was Francesco's, the 
 third, Bozza's. But when Tintoretto, who took pity 
 on his suffering and imagined he could give him 
 great pleasure, turned toward him expecting to see 
 him stand like the others and uncover, he was 
 obliged to call him three times. Bozza remained 
 immovable, his arms crossed upon his breast, his 
 back resting against the wall, his head sunken and 
 hidden on his bosom. A third-rate prize was alto- 
 gether beneath his notice. His teeth were set so 
 tight, and his knees were so drawn up, that they 
 
 222 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 were almost obliged to carry him out after the 
 meeting. 
 
 The last prizes fell to Ceccato, Gian Antonio Bian- 
 chini, and Marini. The two other Bianchin; failed, 
 but the Republic gave them work later on, when 
 it realized that more than the limited number of 
 mosaic-masters were needed. But their task was 
 assigned them in buildings where they would find 
 themselves neither in contact nor rivalry with the 
 Zuccati, and their hatred was forever reduced to 
 powerlessness. 
 
 223 
 
XXIV. 
 
 BEFORE breaking up the meeting, Titian exhorted 
 the young laureates not to imagine that they 
 had arrived at perfection, but to work for a long 
 time yet after the models of the old masters and the 
 cartoons of the painters. ** It is in vain," said he, 
 " that the vulgar are moved at the sight of brilliant 
 particles neatly joined together in uncouth repre- 
 sentations of religious subjects; it is in vain that 
 prejudiced people deny that mosaic work can attain 
 to the beauty of design of fresco painting. May 
 those among you who realize by what processes 
 they have merited our votes and excelled their com- 
 petitors persevere in the love of truth and the study 
 of nature. May those who have committed the 
 folly of working without rule and without convic- 
 tion profit by their failure, and apply themselves 
 seriously to study. It is never too late to abandon 
 a false method and to repair lost time." 
 
 He entered into a minute examination of all the 
 works exhibited at the meeting, and brought out 
 224 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 their beauties and defects. He dwelt particularly on 
 Bozza's errors, after having given great praise to the 
 beautiful parts of his work. He criticised the face 
 of Saint Jerome for lack of grace in the drawing, 
 and for a certain expression of cruelty which was 
 less becoming to a saint than to a pagan warrior, a 
 conventional color devoid of life, a frigid, almost 
 contemptuous look in the eye. " It is a fine face," 
 added he, " but it is not Saint Jerome." 
 
 Titian spoke also of the Bianchini, and tried to 
 soften the bitterness of their defeat by praising their 
 works in certain respects. As it was his custom to 
 make his dose of honey a little stronger than his 
 absinthe, after having approved the mechanical part 
 of their work, he tried also to praise their design ; 
 but in the midst of a somewhat hazardous speech 
 he was interrupted by Tintoretto, who pronounced 
 these words, contained in the proch-verhal : — 
 
 " lo non ho fatto giudizio delle figure, ne della sua 
 bonta, perch^ non mi h sta domanda." 
 
 At the close of this memorable morning, Titian 
 gave a grand dinner to all the painters of the com- 
 mission, and to all the mosaic-masters who had 
 received a prize. Little Marie Robusti was there 
 dressed as a sibyl, and Titian that evening made her 
 his model for the sketch of the head of the child 
 225 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 Virgin in the beautiful picture to be seen in the 
 Museum of Venice. Bozza did not appear. 
 
 The banquet was superb. They gayly drank to 
 the health of the laureates. Titian noticed with 
 surprise Francesco's face and behavior. He did not 
 understand this total absence of jealousy, such ten- 
 der, devoted fraternal love in an artist. He knew 
 very well that Francesco was not without ambition, 
 but his heart was more exalted than his genius. 
 Valerio was in raptures over his brother's happiness. 
 Sometimes he was so affected by it as to become 
 melancholy. At dessert, Marie Robusti drank to the 
 health of Titian ; and, immediately after, Francesco, 
 rising, lifted his cup, and said with a beaming coun- 
 tenance, " I drink to my master, Valerio Zuccato." 
 The two brothers threw themselves into each other's 
 arms, and mingled their tears. 
 
 The good Father Alberto, they say, enjoyed him- 
 self a little too much, although he drank only a 
 few drops of Grecian wine, while the convivialists 
 drained full cups. He was so gentle and so sincere 
 that his indiscretion only made him diffusive in his 
 praise and admiration. 
 
 The old Zuccato came in at the close of the dinner. 
 He was in a bad humor. 
 
 " A thousand thanks, Master," said he to Titian, 
 226 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 who offered him a cup. " How can you expect me 
 to drink on a day like this ^ " 
 
 " Is not this the happiest day of your life, com- 
 rade ? '* replied Titian. " On this account,^ ought 
 you not to empty a flagon of Samos with your 
 friends ? " 
 
 " No, Master," replied the old man, " it is not a 
 happy day for me. It binds my sons forever to an 
 ignoble calling, and condemns two first-class geniuses 
 to unworthy works. Great heavens ! I do not see 
 that this calls for a toast." 
 
 He condescended to bow when his sons drank to 
 his health. Then little Marie came to stroke his 
 silvery beard, begging what she called a pardon for 
 her husband. 
 
 " Hey day ! " said Zuccato, " does this pleasantry 
 still continue, my pretty child?" 
 
 " So much so," answered Tintoretto, smiling, 
 " that I wish to give you a betrothal dinner at the 
 earliest opportunity." 
 
 History does not say whether this dinner ever 
 took place, or v/hether Valerio Zuccato married 
 Marie Robusti. It is to be supposed that they 
 remained intimately united, and that the two families 
 were always one. In vain did Francesco desire to 
 abdicate his authority in virtue of his brother's 
 227 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 claims : he was obliged by Valerie's persistency to 
 return to his position as first master, so that Va- 
 lerie's title remained purely honorary. The school 
 of the Zuccati once more became successful and 
 happy. Nothing was changed, except that Valerio 
 led a regular life, and that Gian Antonio Bianchini, 
 influenced by good example and won by good deeds, 
 became an excellent artist in conduct as well as in 
 ability. Happy days succeeded this new horizon, 
 and the Zuccati produced other masterpieces, a de- 
 scription of which would take too long, and more- 
 over you have, my children, ample leisure to go and 
 admire them in our basilicas. Bozza's Saint Jerome 
 is in the Exchequer, that of Gian Antonio in the 
 sacristy of St. Mark's. That of Zuccato was sent as 
 a gift to the Duke of Savoy. I cannot tell you what 
 has become of it. 
 
 228 
 
HERE ended the Abbe's story. Some allowances 
 must be made for Bozza. In spite of the 
 great failings of this artist, his great sufferings 
 interest us. 
 
 " Bozza," said the Abb^, " could not endure the 
 idea of working under the direction of the Zuccati.' 
 The dread of finding them still generous after all 
 his faults was more appalling to him than all his 
 punishments. He wandered from city to city, 
 working sometimes at Bologna, sometimes at Padua, 
 living on little and earning still less. In spite of his 
 great talent and his diploma, his haughty manner 
 and gloomy appearance inspired mistrust. He was 
 not over sensitive to poverty, but obscurity was 
 the torment of his life. He returned to Venice after 
 a few years, and the Zuccati obtained a mastership 
 for him and occupation. Times had changed. The 
 government had become less strict in its reforms. 
 Bozza could work; but it seems that Tintoretto 
 229 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 could never forgive him for his conduct toward the 
 Zuccati. The stiff old man, obliged to furnish him 
 with cartoons, made him wait so long for them 
 that Bozza, in a letter which we have, complains 
 of being reduced to want by the delays of the 
 master. The Zuccati had nothing of this kind to 
 fear: they could design their own subjects, and 
 moreover they were loved and esteemed by all the 
 masters. They carried the mosaic art to a degree 
 of perfection which has never since been equalled. 
 Bozza has left some beautiful works, but he never 
 could overcome his faults, because his soul was 
 incomplete. 
 
 "Marini and Ceccato seem to have outlived the 
 Zuccati, and to have filled their places in the first 
 rank of the mastership. 
 
 " And now, my friends," added the Abb^, " if you 
 examine these magnificent walls of mosaic work, ac- 
 complished during the period when Venetian paint- 
 ing was at its height, and if you call to mind what I 
 showed you the other day at Torcelli, of some old 
 fragments of Byzantine gypsoplasts, you will see 
 that the destinies of this entirely Oriental art were 
 linked with those of painting until the time of the 
 Zuccati ; but later on mosaic work, left to itself, de- 
 230 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 generated and finally was lost altogether. Florence 
 seems to have mastered this art, but she uses it 
 solely for decorative purposes. The new chapel of 
 the Medici is remarkable for the richness of the 
 materials employed in its ornamentation. Lapis- 
 lazuli veined with gold, the most precious marbles, 
 ambergris, coral, alabaster, Corsican green, and mal- 
 achite, are arranged in arabesques and decorative 
 designs with exquisite taste. But our old pictures 
 with their undying colors, our brilliant enamel in 
 all imaginable shades, so ingeniously obtained by 
 the glass manufacturers of Murano, our illus- 
 trious mosaic-masters, our rich corporations, and 
 our jovial confraternities exist no longer, except 
 to prove by these monuments, these ruins, or 
 these souvenirs the grandeur of the time which is 
 no more." 
 
 Day dawned on the horizon. The gray gulls rose 
 in flocks from the farther extremity of the marshes 
 of Palestrina, and ploughed through the air in all 
 directions, while the light grew visibly brighter 
 every moment. The sun rose with a rapidity of 
 which I was unconscious, and the beauty of that 
 morning threw me into a kind of ecstasy. 
 
 "Behold the only thing which strangers cannot 
 231 
 
THE MASTER MOSAIC-WORKERS. 
 
 take away from us," said the Abb^ to me with a 
 sad smile. " If a decree could prevent the sun from 
 rising radiantly on our cupolas, long ago three 
 guardsmen would have signified to it that it should 
 keep its smiles and loving looks for the walls of 
 Vienna." 
 
 232 
 
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