A Golden Book of Venice | Page 4

winged cherub's head, framed a splendid figure in sacerdotal
robes. Through the small, octagonal panes of the little windows
encircling the choir--row upon row, like an antique necklace of opals
set in frosted stonework--the sunlight slanted in a rainbow mist, broken
by splashes of yellow flame from great wax candles in immense golden
candlesticks, rising from the floor and steps of the altar, as from the
altar itself. From great brass censers, swinging low by exquisite

Venetian chainwork, fragrant smoke curled upward, crossing with
slender rays of blue the gold webwork of the sunlight; and on either
side golden lanterns rose high on scarlet poles, above the heads of the
friars who crowded the church.
On the bishop's throne, surrounded by the bishops of the dioceses of
Venice, sat the Patriarch, who had been graciously permitted to honor
this occasion, as it had no political significance; and opposite him Fra
Marco Germano, the head of the order of the Frari, presided in a state
scarcely less regal.
His splendid gift, the masterpiece of Titian, had been fitted into the
polished marble framework over the great altar, and never had the
master so excelled himself as in this glorious "Assumption." The
beauty, the power, the persuasive sense of motion in the figure of the
Madonna, which seemed divinely upborne,--the loveliness of the infant
cherubs, the group of the Apostles solemnly attesting the mysterious
event,--were singularly and inimitably impressive, full of aspiration and
faith, compelling the serious recognition of the sacredness and
greatness of the Christian mystery.
The choir-screen terminated in pulpits at either side, and here again the
Apostles stood in solemn guardianship on its broad parapet--but
emblems, rather; of the stony rigidity of doctrines which have been
shaped by the minds of men from some little phase of truth, than of that
glowing, spiritualized, human sympathy which, as the soul of man
grows upward into comprehension, is the apostle of an ever widening
truth. And over the richly sculptured central arch which forms the
entrance to the choir, against the incongruous glitter of gold and jewels
and magnificent garments and lights and sumptuous, overwrought
details--the very extravagance of the Renaissance--a great black marble
crucifix bore aloft the most solemn Symbol of the Christian Faith.
The religious ceremonial with which the festival had opened was over,
and down the aisles on either side, past the family altars, with their
innumerable candles and lanterns and censers,--ceaselessly smoking in
memorial of the honored dead,--the brothers of the Frari and the Servi
marched in solemn procession to the chant of the acolytes, returning to
mass themselves in the transepts, in fuller view of the pulpits, before
the contest began. The Frari had taken their position on the right, under
the elaborate hanging tomb of Fra Pacifico--a mass of sculpture, rococo,

and gilding; the incense rising from the censer swinging below the
coffin of the saint carried the eye insensibly upward to the grotesque
canopy, where cumbrous marble clouds were compacted of dense
masses of saints' and cherubs' heads with uncompromising golden
halos.
Some of the younger brothers scattered leaflets containing heads of the
theses.
There was a stir among the crowd; a few went out, having witnessed
the pageant; but there was a flutter of increased interest among those
who remained, as a venerable man, in the garb of the Frari, mounted
the pulpit on the right.
The Abbé Morelli sat in an attitude of breathless interest, and now a
look of intense anxiety crossed his face. "It is Fra Teodoro, the ablest
disputant of the Frari!" he exclaimed. "The trial is too great."
The lady with him drew closer, arranging the folds of the ample veil
which partially concealed her face, so that she might watch more
closely. But it was on Don Ambrogio Morelli that she fixed her gaze
with painful intensity, reading the success or failure of the orator in her
brother's countenance.
"Ambrogio!" she entreated, when the argument had been presented and
received with every sign of triumph that the sacredness of the place
made decorous, "thou knowest that I have no understanding of the
Latin--was it unanswerable?"
"Nay," her brother answered, uneasily; "it was fine, surely; but have no
fear, Fra Teodoro is not incontrovertible, and the Servi have better
methods."
"May one ask the name of the disputant who is to respond?" a stranger
questioned courteously of Don Ambrogio.
"It is a brother who hath but entered their order yesterday," Don
Ambrogio answered, with some hesitation, "by name Pierino--nay, Fra
Paolo. He is reputed learned; yet if the methods of the order be strange
to him, one should grant indulgence. For he is reputed learned----"
He was conscious of repeating the words for his own encouragement,
with a heart less brave than he could have wished. But the information
was