penalty inflicted by an ancient law "upon any one who should propose to throw down the old palace, and to rebuild it more richly and with greater expense;" and in 1422 a decree was accordingly passed to rebuild it. In 1423 Mocenigo died, and Francesco Foscari was chosen in his place. On the 27th March 1424 it was, that the first hammer was raised against the grand old palace of Ziani.

That hammer stroke was the first act of the period properly called the "Renaissance." It was the knell of the architecture of Venice,- and of Venice herself.

The central epoch of her life was past; the decay had already begun: I dated its commencement above (Ch. I. Vol. I.) from the death of Mocenigo. A year had not yet elapsed since that great Doge had been called to his account: his patriotism, always sincere, had been in this instance mistaken; in his zeal for the honour of future Venice, he had forgotten what was due to the Venice of long ago. A thousand palaces might be built upon her burdened islands, but none of them could take the place, or recall the memory, of that which was first built upon her unfrequented shore. It fell; and, as if it had been the talisman of her fortunes, the city never flourished again. It was about the middle of the sixteenth century that the whole work was completed. Led by fire, the successive architects of the palace, gradually advancing round the great square, finally reached the point whence they originally proceeded. Thus was the work of 1560 united to that which had been erected about the dawn of the fourteenth century. But another conflagration in 1574 devastated the building, leaving, in many parts, a mere shell, and that blackened or calcined by flame. After a protracted discussion as to whether it should be rebuilt or restored, the venerable Gothic pile was restored to its pristine glory. "It is as if the palace had been built at various epochs, and preserved uninjured to this day, for the sole purpose of teaching us the difference in the temper of the two schools."

By the aid of beautiful drawings, executed on the spot by himself, and most admirably engraved, our author leads his readers over every portion of the lordly pile, commenting upon this capital, drawing attention to yonder column of porphyry, expatiating on the exquisite beauty of that fig-tree stem or its matchless foliage, chiselled in imperishable stone, with a skill and yet with a grace and delicacy that no modern hand has ever successfully rivalled. We cannot quite give implicit assent to all that Mr. Ruskin advances in the course of his remarks on collateral topics, but he displays in them much thought, erudition, and research, combined with enthusiasm and rare eloquence. None can peruse this book without pleasure, few without profit; and on all that pertains to art, his opinion is at least entitled to the greatest deference. His talents justify his criticisms. We heartily concur with him in the following remarks upon pictures and their owners

The greater number of persons or societies throughout Europe, whom wealth, or chance, or inheritance has put in possession of valuable pictures, do not know a good picture from a bad one, and have no idea in what the value of a picture really consists. The reputation of certain works is raised, partly by accident, partly by the just testimony of artists, partly by the various and generally bad in modern times, attained popularity, in the full sense of taste of the public (no picture, that I know of, has ever, the term, without having some exceedingly bad qualities mixed up with its good ones), and when this reputation has once been completely established, it little matters to what state the picture may be reduced: few minds are so completely devoid of imagination as to be unable to invest it with the beauties which they have heard attributed to it.

This being so, the pictures that are most valued are for the most part those by masters of established renown, which are highly or neatly finished, and of a size small enough to admit of their being placed in galleries or saloons, so as to be made subjects of ostentation, and to be easily seen by a crowd. For the support of the fame and value of such pictures, little more is necessary than that they should be kept bright, partly by cleaning, which is incipient destruction, and partly by what is called "restoring," that is, painting over, which is of course total destruction. Nearly all the gallery pictures in modern Europe, have been more or less destroyed by one or other of these operations, generally exactly in proportion to the estimation in which they are held; and as, originally, the smaller and more highly finished works of any great master are usually his worst, the contents of many of our most celebrated galleries are by this time, in reality, of very small value indeed.

On the other hand, the most precious works of any noble painter are usually those which have been done quickly, and in the heat of the first thought, on a large scale, for places where there was little likelihood of their being well seen, or for patrons from whom there was little prospect of rich remuneration. In general, the best things are done in this way, or else in the enthusiasm and pride of accomplishing some great purpose, such as painting a cathedral or a campo-santo from one end to the other, especially when the time has been short, and circumstances disadvantageous.

Works thus executed are of course despised, on account of their quantity, as well as their frequent slightness, in the places where they exist; and they are too large to be portable, and too vast and comprehensive to be read on the spot, in the hasty temper of the present age. They are, therefore, almost universally neglected, whitewashed by custodes, shot at by soldiers, suffered to drop from the walls piecemeal in powder and rags by society in general; all this evil, they are not often "restored." What is left but, which is an advantage more than counterbalacing of them, however fragmentary, however ruinous, however obscured and defiled, is almost always the real thing; there are no fresh readings: and therefore the greatest treasures of art which Europe at this moment possesses are lizards burrow and bask, and which few other living pieces of old plaster on ruinous brick walls, where the creatures ever approach; and torn sheets of dim canvas, in waste corners of churches; and mildewed stains, in the shape of human figures, on the walls of dark chambers, which now and then an exploring traveller causes to be unlocked by their tottering custode, looks hastily round, and retreats from in a weary satisfaction at his accomplished duty.

Many persons, capable of quickly sympathizing with any excellence, when once pointed out to them, easily deceive themselves into the supposition that they are judges of art. There is only one real test of such power of judg obscured by the filth, and confused among the rubbish, of ment. Can they, at a glance, discover a good picture the pawnbroker's or dealer's garret ?

a

THE STONES OF VENICE.

Many of the pictures on the ceilings and walls of the Ducal Palace, by Paul Veronese and Tintoret, have been more or less reduced, by neglect, to this condition. Unfortunately they are not altogether without reputation, and their state has drawn the attention of the Venetian It constantly happens, authorities and academicians. that public bodies who will not pay five pounds to preserve picture, will pay fifty to repaint it: and when I was at Venice in 1846, there were two remedial operations carrying on, at one and the same time, in the two buildings which contain the pictures of greatest value in the city (as pieces of colour, of greatest value in the world), curiously illustrative of this peculiarity in human nature. Buckets were set on the floor of the Scuola di San Rocco, in every shower, to catch the rain which came through the pictures of Tintoret on the ceiling; while, in the Ducal Palace, those of Paul Veronese were themselves

laid on the floor to be repainted; and I was myself pre

sent at the re-illumination of the breast of a white horse, with a brush, at the end of a stick five feet long, luxuriously dipped in a common house-painter's vessel of paint.

The sum of much that Mr. Ruskin has advanced, both in this and in former works, is contained in the following canons, which should be borne in mind by all who wish thoroughly to understand his writings:

1. That the true object of all art is to testify man's delight in the beauty and perfection of God's works.

2. That no encouragement should be bestowed upon the manufacture of any article not absolutely necessary, in the production of which invention has no share.

3. That "exact finish" should never be sought for its own sake, but only for some practical or noble end.

4. That all imitation or copying should be discouraged, except merely for the sake of preserving the record of great works.

5. That rough work is to be selected in preference to smooth, so that only its practical purposes be answered.

In explanation of this last dictum, he gives the following example :

Our modern glass is exquisitely clear in its substance, true in its form, accurate in its cutting. We are proud of this. We ought to be ashamed of it. The old Venice glass was muddy, inaccurate in all its forms, and clumsily cut, if at all. And the old Venetian was justly proud of it. For there is this difference between the English and Venetian workman, that the former thinks only of accurately matching his patterns, and getting his curves perfectly true and his edges perfectly sharp, and becomes a mere machine for rounding curves and sharpening edges, while the old Venetian cared not a whit whether his edges were sharp or not, but he invented a new design for every glass that he made, and never moulded a handle or a lip without a new fancy in it. And therefore, though some

*This is easily explained. There are of course, in every place and at all periods, bad painters, who conscientiously believe that they can improve every picture they touch; and these men are generally, in their presumption, the most influential over the innocence, whether of monarchs or municipalities. The carpenter and slater have little influence in recommending the repairs of the roof; but the bad painter has great influence, as well as interest, in recommending those of the picture.

Venetian glass is ugly and clumsy enough, when made by clumsy and uninventive workmen, other Venetian glass is so lovely in its form that no price is too great for it; and we never see the same form in it twice. Now you cannot have the finish and the varied form too. If the workman is thinking about his edges, he cannot be thinking of his design; if of his design, he cannot think of his edges. Choose whether you will pay for the lovely form or the perfect finish, and choose at the same moment whether you will make the worker a man or a grindstone.

It seems to us, however, as though there were some sophistry in reasoning such as this. We know not why "lovely form" should not be combined with "perfect finish," seeing that The workman who moulds the goblet here, at least, the two depend on different arti

sans.

or the vase is never the one who finishes it on the wheel.

The exercise of his mechanical skill and dexterity, however low it may be, militates in no respect with the superior inventive powers of him who fashions the object from the molten "metal." His task is concluded before the We might succeeding operation commences. in the same way, in many other instances, point out fallacies as palpable as the above, throughout these pages, had we time and space. Ruskin's fault is one to which many young authors are prone, and mainly arises from a too after great tendency to generalise, and to adopt as incontrovertible convictions, what all, only strong opinions of his own.

are,

Mr.

One more extract, and we have done it pertains closely to the subject of Venice, and cannot fail to interest alike, those who have passed many bright and dreamy hours in gondolas upon her canals, or those, less fortunate, whose only acquaintance with that mode of locomotion is from the description of others.

Most persons are now well acquainted with the general aspect of the Venetian gondola, but few have taken the pains to understand the cries of warning uttered by its boatmen, although those cries are peculiarly characteristic, and very impressive to a stranger, and have been even very sweetly introduced in poetry by Mr. Monckton Milnes. It may perhaps be interesting to the traveller in Venice to know the general method of management of the boat to which he owes so many happy hours.

A gondola is in general rowed only by one man, standing at the stern; those of the upper classes having two or more boatmen, for greater speed and magnificence. In order to raise the oar sufficiently, it rests, not on the side of the boat, but on a piece of crooked timber like the branch of a tree, rising about a foot from the boat's stern, and called a "forcola." The forcola is of different forms, according to the size and uses of the boat, and it is always somewhat complicated in its parts and curvature, allowing the oar various kinds of rests and catches on both its sides, but perfectly free play in all cases, as the management of the boat depends on the gondolier's being able in an instant to place his oar in any position. The forcola is set on the righthand side of the boat, some six feet from the stern: the gondolier stands on a little flat platform or deck behind it, and throws nearly the entire weight of his body upon the forward stroke. The effect of this stroke would be naturally to turn the boat's head round to the left, as

By R. W. BROWNE, M.A. Ph. D., Prebendary Literature in King's College, London. work of Professor Browne as the natural supplement of the History of Greek literature which he published about a year ago. They should have formed one book; but the sepa ration may have financial advantages.

In a single volume of moderate bulk the Professor now gives us a clear and comprehensive account of the lives and works of the principal Latin writers, from Livius Adronicus to Frontinus, from B.C. 240 to A.D. 98. He deserves great credit for this succinctness, espe cially as his brevity is not purchased by mea greness or tameness. He evidently loves his subject; and he writes with a degree of animation, and a general elegance of thought and expression, which will render his chapters agree able, even to ripe scholars, and which will make the book an useful favourite with the more advanced pupils of schools, and the junior students of Universities-the classes for which it is best adapted. We do not concur with all

HISTORY OF ROMAN CLASSICAL LITERATURE.

the opinions expressed in it, nor can we say that it often shews critical powers of the highest order. It is, moreover, blemished by inaccuracies, some of which are quite startling, and are such as a man of strong mind and memory, thoroughly conversant with the Latin classics, should not have permitted to escape from his pen. Professor Browne begins his work by a short examination of the Latin language, which he rightly considers a fit introduction to his main topic, but which has been executed by him but indifferently. In discussing the elements of the primitive Latin he principally relies on Donaldson, who, in our judgment, is about the most dogmatic, and the most unsound philologer, that has made a noise in the learned world for a long time. Strangely enough, Professor Browne makes no mention of Francis Newman, and seems to be entirely unacquainted with the Newman's Regal Rome" of that writer. discovery of the large amount to which the Celtic element entered into the carly Latin language, and of the peculiar class of Latin words which are of Celtic origin, is one of the most remarkable additions to our stock of ethnological knowledge that has been made for many Professor Browne takes no notice of years. this, and gives a list of elements of Latin, from which the Celtic is wholly excluded (p. 12). Differing from him as to the Præ-Roman Origines of Latin, we also differ from his remarks on the fate of the Latin language after the fall of Rome. He says (p. 5)

Greek has evinced not only vitality, but individuality likewise. Compared with other languages, its stream flowed pure through barbarous lands, and was but little tinged or polluted by the soil through which it passed. There is nothing of this in Latin, neither the vitality nor the power of resistance to change. Strange to say, although partially derived from the same source, its properties appear to be totally different. Latin seems to have a strong disposition to change: it readily became polished, and as readily barbarized: it had no difficulty in enriching itself with new expressions borrowed from the Greek, and conforming itself to Greek rules of taste and grammar. When it came in contact with the languages of other nations the affinity which it had for them was so strong that it speedily amalgamated with them, but it did not so much influence them, as itself receive an impress from them. It did not supersede, but it became absorbed in, and was corrupted by, other tongues. Probably, as it was originally made up of many European elements, it recognised a relationship with all other languages, and therefore readily admitted of fusion together

with them into a composite form. Its existence is con-
fined within the limits of less than eight centuries. It
assumed a form adapted for literary composition less than
two centuries and a half before the Christian era, and it
ceased to be a spoken language in the sixth century.

On the contrary, we believe the vitality of the Latin language to have been remarkable: and its plastic power of adopting and assimilating new words from other tongues, as expressions for new ideas were required, was at cause of that vitality. once a proof and a

There are some excellent observations on the wide and long-continued dominion of the Latin language in the introductory chapter to Sir Francis Palgrave's History of Normandy and England, which would be perhaps more appropriately placed in a history of Latin literature than in the work which at present contains them. As Palgrave there reminds us, a Latin dialect is at this moment subsisting in the parts of Dacia which constitute the modern Wallachia. It certainly is not the Latin of literature; but the vernacular, the vulgar Latin, was not the Latin of literature, or of educated society, even in Cicero's time. The masses understood the correct Latin when spoken to them, though they were unable to speak it themselves.

This was the case, not only in Rome and Italy, but throughout the provinces of the empire, excepting those where the Hellenic or the Semitic tongue prevailed. The conquering power of the Latin was eminently exemplified by the extent to which the Teutonic races, who overthrew the material empire of Rome, abandoned their own languages for the Romana Rustica of the Provincials. Classical Latin ceased to be intelligible to the masses, not in the sixth century, but about the beginning of the ninth. The date is tolerably well fixed by the Canon of the Council of Tours, 813, by which the bishops throughout Charlemagne's Transalpine empire were enjoined to translate their sermons out of the learned Latin, in which they were composed, into Romana Rustica, or into Thestisca, or Deutsch, for the benefit of the common people. of long after that time Latin was a living language: it was the sole common language educated Europe. Palgrave truly says, "The Church never employed any other. WhenChristendom came together in her representative form, no language but that of Rome was heard; no Council was ever debated, no Canon was promulgated, in any peculiar or vulgar tongue. In the State, the Latin retained the same pre-eminence: Latin still continued to be the language of all official communications, the language of respect, the language of courtesy; and till the conclusion of the Hildebrandine era, or longer, the educaand marquis, duke and prince, and queen tional language of knight and baron, count and king."t

ever

western

But

The truth is, that a complete history of Latin literature would embrace many centuries after the extinction of the Roman western empire. The Latin fathers, the Jurists, the Schoolmen, the Medieval chroniclers, the writers of the Medieval rhymed political songs and satires, and the authors of the marvellous rhymed † P. 75.

* See Palgrave, 64.

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