Venice and its art

Front matter

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Preface

The present work is in a sense the continuation of an undertaking which began with the publication of the Art of Florence in 1912. It was intended from the beginning to cover briefly the art of the Italian Renaissance in two volumes, a plan now tardily realized after many and prolonged interruptions. The present volume differs from its predecessor in that more attention is given to the city itself, to its history as a key to the understanding of its art and to its own growth and physical transformation as a work of art in itself. This is in line with the growing feeling of the writer that art is an expression of the spiritual and cultural life of a people and that their history is the key to its interpretation.

The purpose of the book will be clear to those who are familiar with the earlier volume or with the author's work in the galleries of Europe. The book is not a record of personal research. No archives have been ransacked, no records discovered, no manuscripts edited or read. Information regarding the works here discussed is to be found in any good library. Nor has any attempt been made to make the list of works inclusive or to give all known facts regarding them. The works considered have been chosen as being representative of the artists in question and illustrative of the characteristics discussed.

The problem has been one of interpretation and presentation. We have Venice and the treasures of

v vi Preface her great art. What is their significance to one who is interested, not in painting, but in art, in humanity, in human culture and civilization.

Nearly forty years in the art galleries of Europe spent in the inspiring task of assisting intelligent inquirers to answer these questions is the author's preparation for this work. Libraries have made but a secondary contribution, the studio none at all. But through prolonged opportunity acquaintance has seemed to ripen into something of understanding and the message of the masters has in some small part sounded clear. It is this message that he attempts to present in the following pages.

Part I. Venice Chapter Page

I. The Refuge in the Lagoons 1

II. A Business Empire 21

III. Primitive Venice 38

IV. Byzantine Venice k 52

V. Gothic Venice 78

VI. Zenith and Decline 102

Part II. Venetian Art

VII. The Heritage of Byzantium 131

VIII. Mediaeval Art in Venice 149

IX. The Pioneers 173

X. The Master Without a Masterpiece .... 197

XI. The Painter of Perfection 214

XII. Reaction 244

XIII. The Genre Painter of Venice 258

XIV. The Lyric Painter 278

XV. The Greatest Painter 299

XVI. The Last of the Giants 334

XVII. Splendor and Decadence 354

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

Venice; Panorama from San Giorgio Frontispiece

Square and Church of Saint Mark 58

Saint Mark's, interior 61

Orante or praying figure 63

Byzantine Window Grills and Decorative Panels .... 68

Stairway of the Minelli Palace 70

The Loredan Palace, a restored Byzantine Palace .... 72

Byzantine Incrusted Ornament from St. Mark's .... 74

S. S. Giovanni e Paolo 83

Church of the Frari, interior 85

Forms of Venetian Arches 88

The Doge's Palace 91

Doge's Palace; capitals from lower arcade 92

Tracery of the Doge's Palace 93

Palace of the Embassy ; early Gothic 96

Ca d' Oro; late Gothic .... 98

Contarini-Fasan Palace, "House of Desdemona" .... 100

The Clock Tower seen from the Piazzetta 113

Palazzo Dario 117

Palazzo Vendramin-Calergi 118

San Zaccaria 119

The Library 120

Plazzo Corner della Ca Grande 121

San Giorgio Maggiore 121

Plazzo Rezzonice, the "Browning House" 122

San Moise 123

Santa Maria della Salute 124

The Sala del Senato, Doge's Palace 126

Saint Mark's; a dome, detail of mosaic decoration .... 154 Saint Mark's; mosaic decoration representing the carrying of

the body of Saint Mark into the Church 157

Saint Mark's; Vestibule with mosaic decoration . . . 158

Saint "Mark's; a pendentive; detail of mosaic decoration 160

Saint Mark's; Chapel of San Zeno: detail of mosaic decoration 162

Saint Mark's; the Madonna. Mosaic panel from the nave 163

Stefano da Sant' Agnese, Altarpiece. Academy, Venice I'1'1

Stefano da Sant' Agnese. the Ascension 1~1

ix

List of Illustrations

PAGE

Gentile da Fabriano, Adoration of the Magi. Florence, Uffizi 176

Jacopo Bellini, Madonna. Florence, Uffizi 180

Gentile Bellini, Madonna. London, National Gallery 184

Gentile Bellini, The Miracle in Saint Mark's Square . . 190

Gentile Bellini, Miracle of the Cross. Venice, Academy . . 193 Gentile Bellini, St. Mark Preaching in Alexandria. Milan, Brera 194

Mantegna, Madonna and Child with Saints. Dresden . 204

Trial of Saint James. Padua, Eremitani 206

Mantegna, Circumcision (detail). Florence, Uffizi 208

John Bellini, Pieta. Milan, Brera .218

John Bellini, Pieta.. London, National Gallery .... 220

Mantegna, Agony in the Garden. London, National Gallery 222

John Bellini, Pieta. Venice, Doge's Palace 223

John Bellini, Madonna and Child. Milan 228

John Bellini, Madonna of the Trees. Venice, Academy . . 230

John Bellini, Madonna and Saints. Venice, Academy. . 234

John Bellini, Madonna and Saints. Venice, Frari .... 237 John Bellini, Madonna and Saints. Venice, Church of San

Zaccaria 240

John Bellini, detail of Fig. 53 242

Crivelli, Madonna with Saints. Milan, Brera 249

Crivelli, Annunciation. London, National Gallery. 252

Carpaccio, Vision of Saint Ursula. Venice, Academy . 265

Carpaccio, The Ambassador Before the King. Venice, Academy 267

Carpaccio, Death of Saint Ursula. Venice, Academy . . . 268

Carpaccio, Glorification of Saint Ursula. Venice, Academy . 270 Carpaccio, Saint George in Combat with the Dragon. Venice,

San Giorgio degli Schiavoni 273

Carpaccio, Saint Jerome in his Study. Venice, San Giorgio

degli Schiavoni 274

Carpaccio, The Presentation. Venice, Academy .... 276

Giorgione, The Picnic (Fete Champetre). Paris, Louvre . . 284

Giorgione, Madonna and Saints. Castelfranco .... 285

Giorgione, Christ Bearing the Cross. Boston, Fenway Court 286

Giorgione, Portrait of a Man. Berlin 288

Giorgione, Knight of Malta. Florence, Uffizi 290

Giorgione, Three Philosophers. Vienna 294

Giorgione, Stormy Landscape with Soldier and Gipsy. Venice,

Palazzo Giovanelli 295

Giorgione, Sleeping Venus. Dresden 297

Palma Vecchio, Santa Barbara. Venice, Santa Maria Formosa 303

List of Illustrations \i

Titian, The Gipsy Madonna. Vienna >u\

Titian. Madonna of the Cherries. Vienna J05

Titian, Madonna with Saints. Dresden J06

Titian. Madonna with Saint Bridget. Madrid. Prado . . 307

Titian, Man with a Glove. Paris, Louvre 310

Titian (or Giorgione?), The Concert. Florence, Pitti . . .311

Titian. Portrait of Himself. Berlin 113

Titian. Portrait ("Howard Duke of Norfolk"). Florence, Pitti 31 1

Titian. Portrait of Aretino. Florence, Pitti J15

Titian. La Bella. Florence, Pitti 517

Titian, The Assumption. Venice, Church of the Frari 320

Titian. Madonna of the Pesaro Family. Venice, Chu ch of

the Frari . . 32()

Titian, Presentation of the Virgin. Venice, Academy . . . 3_)(>

Titian. The Pieta. Venice, Academy $31

Tintoretto, The Last Supper. Venice, Scuola di San Rocco . 341 Tintoretto, Marriage at Cana. Venice, Santa Maria della

Salute 342

Tintoretto, Finding of the Body of Saint Mark. Milan, Brera 343 Tintoretto, Christ before Pilate. Venice, Scuola di San Rocco 346 Tintoretto, A Miracle of Saint Mark. Venice, Academy . 347

Tintoretto, The Annunciation. Venice, Scuola di San Rocco 348 Tintoretto, Bacchus and Ariadne. Venice, Doge's Palace. 349

Tintoretto. The Crucifixion (detail). Venice, San Rocco . . 350 Tintoretto, Christ Washing the Disciples' Feet. Spain,

Escorial 351

Tintoretto, Portrait of Procurator. Florence, Uffizi . . 352

Veronese, The Coronation of Esther. Venice, San Sebastiano 360 Veronese, The Triumph of Venice. Venice, Doge's Palace 1<>-

Veronese, Saints Gregory and Jerome (detail of altarpiece).

Milan. Brera

Veronese, Christ at Fmmaus. Paris, Louvre 3()>

Veronese, Rape of Europa. Venice, Doge's Palace . . . 366 Veronese, Alexander Meeting the Family of Darius. London,

National Gallery

Veronese, Marriage at Cana. Paris, Louvre J74

Veronese, Vision of Saint Helena. London. National Gallery Tiepolo. Institution of the Rosary. Venice, Gesuati Tiepolo, Madonna with Saints. Venice, Gesuati ....

PART I VENICE

Chapter I

A glance at the map of Europe gives the impression that Italy is a natural unity. This impression is enhanced by the fact that just now the peninsula is printed in a single color which expresses the political accident of our time. Surrounded by the sea on all sides but one and fenced in on that side by a huge barrier, it seems predestined to a separate and unit existence. Such a unity it has at last attained but this unity is recent and probably transient. Politically and culturally Italy has usually been either divided or included in a larger whole. The tendency has always been to develop local centers of great individuality and persistence, and as these have acquired power to expand they have more often found their affinity and their opportunity outside of Italy than within it. Pisa, Genoa and Venice are examples of Empires ruled from Italy yet not essentially Italian. Rome indeed united the peninsula under her sway, but only because she established a world dominion in which Italy was included. But inclusion did not mean unity or community of feeling. It is doubtful whether the Cisalpine Gauls ever thought of themselves as a part of Italy or forgot that they were a part of greater Gaul. Roman rule, it is true, gave to these parts of I tab' a common language and a degree of common culture. But these were given also to France and Spain. Neither in the one case nor in the other were the barriers which divided these pe<>ple> overcome <»r a permanent unity effected. With the dissolution of the imperial power

Italy was promptly resolved into the original component parts which went their separate ways, developing distinct and even contrasted cultures and pursuing their several aims with a ruthlessness unsoftened by a millennium of imperial union. Gradually all semblance of uniformity disappears. Different political systems, different codes of law, different economic interests, and different culture ideals differentiate more and more these one-time members of a common family. This is the more remarkable when we recall that the unifying administration of Rome had endured for a thousand years to be followed through all the later centuries by the unifying pressure of the all powerful Roman Church.

The apparent unity of Italy is an illusion. Italy is neither so united in herself nor so separated from her neighbors as the map seems to indicate. The peninsula is divided by barriers, passable, to be sure, and that increasingly as civilization has become more resourceful, but always an obstacle to communication and trade. It is physically possible to cross the Apennines but for the most part it is not economically practicable. It formerly cost less to ship goods across the Mediterranean than across the Apennines. Hence the peoples thus separated had few dealings with each other and saw each other but seldom. Differences were encouraged and sympathies stifled by this isolation.

On the other hand the sea is not a barrier between civilized peoples unless they will it and make it so. Of all forms of transport the sea affords the easiest and the cheapest. Hence peoples that have access to the sea find their neighbors over-seas and their enemies over the mountains behind them. They may not love either the one or the other but it is the former that they will know, it is from them that they will learn, and it is their culture that they will appropriate and blend with their own.

If therefore our map is to express the significant facts we must redraw it in a very extraordinary and bizarre

fashion. The coast line, so sharply defined and so emphasized by the contrast of Italian color with the ocean's blue, we must pretty much efface even at the risk that the colors will "run" and the blue be tinted by the hue of the adjacent terra firma. On the other hand the mountains and other barriers that nature has interposed between peoples must be drawn in with heavy lines to indicate their obstruction to intercourse between them. With our map thus reconstructed in imagination we shall be better able to understand the stubborn persistence of these separate units which have traveled such different ways toward power and glory.

It is with one of these units and indeed with the most distinctive and considerable of them that we now have to deal. Seeking its location upon the map we are struck by the mighty mountain wall which, starting in the neighborhood of Vienna, sweeps westward in a broadening mass for some five hundred miles, then suddenly turns southward and again swerves abruptly to the east just in time to avoid falling into the sea at Genoa, and under the name of the Apennines meanders in an irregular southeasterly course back to the Adriatic. Doubling thus back upon itself it encloses a vast flatiron shaped plain which was once a bay or arm of the sea. The rainfall upon these mountains on either side, once far heavier than now, is the source of a dozen or more rivers which, even in these tamer geologic days, in the season of rains and melting snows are raging torrents which tear out bridges and are with difficult} kepi within the huge levees that have been built in recent centuries to restrain their violence. Thn^ confined, these active builders of the plain carry their burden of gravel and silt over ever lengthening courses into the sea. There the current ceases and the silt is dropped to be distributed by the prevailing winds and sea currents in long reefs or dunes along the coast.

Thus the bridging of the Adriatic goes on, slowly, it may seem, as we are wont to measure things, but rapidly as compared with like processes elsewhere. Ravenna, a seaport in the days of Augustus, is now six miles inland; Adria, another ancient seaport, is now nearly fourteen miles inland. On an average the coastline is advancing about three miles in a thousand years or about fifteen feet a year. Were the progress a systematic and orderly one the change in a lifetime would be distinctly visible.

But the process is anything but systematic and orderly. Coastlines remain fixed for decades while broad areas of sea are slowly growing shallower and changing from lagoon to marsh. The rivers obstruct their own channels and cut new ones through the mud they have deposited. They lay out reclamation projects, too, which seem too ambitious and build new barriers against the sea without cleaning up their work behind. Lagoons and mud flats and marshes remain as witnesses to their unfinished work. Such marshes are found around Milan and even out as far as Turin. In the east where the work is still in progress, immense areas of lagoon or shallow water alternating with mud flats at low tide constitute a sort of no-man's-land, something that is not quite either land or sea. Gradually little clumps of grass or other vegetation appear on the unsightly mud and their mingled growth and gathered dust slowly raise them above the few inches of tidal water and thus the amphibious ooze gives birth to land. All this may be observed, if not in the immediate vicinity of Venice where all has been toilsomely artificialized, at least in the unfettered lagoons to the north and to the south.

As has been noted, however, the sea is more or less on the defensive against the action of the rivers. The prevailing winds from the east beat back the silt and the sea current that moves slowly southward along the western shore strings it out in long sandy barriers, natural breakwaters that stretch almost unbroken for fifty miles along the shore, the highest and driest land of all. Sheltered behind these lies the broad expanse of the lagoons, half marsh, half lake, sprinkled with low lying islands, small and large, and furrowed by devious river channels hidden beneath the shimmering surface. It was at once the safest and the most unattractive of all human habitations.

We have no record or relic of the earliest habitation in the lagoons. We know that the Yeneti, a people who come from the other side of the Adriatic, inhabited the adjacent mainland where they maintained themselves against the attacks of the invading Gauls and other enemies until all fell under the sway of Rome and became Romans in due course like the other Italian peoples. When the Pax Romana was fully established and the gateways of the north were held by the imperial legions northern Italy awoke to new life and great cities sprang up like magic almost rivaling in wealth and culture the great capital itself. Such were Mediolanum, the modern Milan, Bononia (Bologna) and Verona. But the greatest and richest of all was Patavium (Padua which lay within the territory of the Veneti. This was the northern Rome.

So long as these conditions lasted there was little temptation to settle on the mud flats of the lagoon. Yet it is probable that even then they were inhabited by a harmless fisher folk whose primitive life was scarce touched by the culture of the mainland and who found in the security of the lagoons and the absence of the tax gatherer a compensation for their isolation.

Between them and the city dwellers of Patavium the gulf must have been wide and deep. Primitive savagery still exists within a day's march of our modern cities. How much more so in this earlier day and guarded by the sheltering lagoon.

But the Pax Romana failed from off the earth. The barbarian broke the cordon of the legions and his hosts poured through the opened gateways upon devoted Italy to settle his long score with regnant civilization. The great cities of the north lay helpless in his path. The inhabitants fled before the storm to whatever refuge seemed to promise safety. To the cities of the eastern plain the choice could not be doubtful. The lagoon with its primitive savagery had little to tempt the city dweller but it offered in fullest measure the one thing needful. Armies might march and countermarch, storming the walled cities and even penetrating the mountain fastnesses but no army could cross this morass. The triremes and the galleys, too, must stop short of these deceptive shallows where even a skiff would ground. Only to those who knew the devious and submerged channels kept fitfully open by the capricious rivers were these island homes accessible.

Hence this sudden pilgrimage of polished urbanites from the great eastern cities to the scattered fisher settlements of the lagoon. It is a subject that appeals to the imagination. What were the sentiments of these humble folk toward their unbidden guests? What of the demand upon the accommodations of their mud huts? Upon the resources of their commissariat? What luck did the city lawyer or merchant have as he tried his hand at deep sea fishing or strove to rear a mud dwelling for himself and pen in its uncertain ground with stakes and twisted osiers? What of the pampered girl accustomed to her perfumed bath and the services of coiffeur and dressing maid and who now had to shift for herself and share menial duties and exchange her luxurious couch for a resting place on the hard earth floor? It is needless to inquire about the aged, the infirm, the woman with child. Not a few, there must have been, who had occasion to envy those who fell by the sword.

And to all this inevitable misery was added the equally inevitable friction between the refugees and their unwilling hosts, a friction which can be traced for centimein the history of the great community which had this inauspicious beginning. Whatever may have been the attitude of the lagoon dwellers at the outset toward these refugees who were fleeing from imminent destruction they must speedily have found them a burden. Though coming as suppliants they were Romans accustomed to command and not too considerate of those whose interests conflicted with their own. If there were cases where the alternative to starvation was forcible appropriation we can hardly doubt as to their choice. These early years have left no record, but when somewhat later the curtain is lifted there is an unmistakable rift between patrician and plebeian in which we can hardly fail to recognize these two elements so unwillingly united upon the islands of the lagoons.

It i> important that we should impress upon our minds both the fact and the character of this forced migration. It was little enough that these refugees carried wit h them. Slaves were scattered and chattels abandoned and jewellost. Hut whatever they took or left they were Romans and they carried with them the spirit and the gathered wisdom of Rome to the founding of a new empire. We shall hardly account for the great things thai follow unless we bear in mind this great beginning. It is no accident that Venice was modern while the rest of the world was mediaeval, that she was a republic while her neighbors were despotisms, that she developed central authority while other nations dragged out the helpless existence of feudalism. Venice was founded by Romans while they were founded by Vandals and Lombards and Goths. Though not a little beholden to Roman tradition, the nations that struggled into existence under barbarian leadership had to pass through an apprenticeship which Venice was spared. In Venice alone the continuity of Roman development, though profoundly modified by peculiar conditions, was unbroken. Was Venice ever mediaeval?

The first settlements in the lagoons were not permanent. The refugees at first sought temporary shelter expecting to return to their homes when the barbarian withdrew, as in the earlier instances he did. Then for the most part the refugees returned, though doubtless some remained from necessity or choice. Then there was a new invasion and a new exodus, doubtless with additions to the permanent colony of the lagoons and some amelioration of conditions. The barbarians in their turn were making permanent contributions to the population of the mainland and lessening by so much the temptation of the refugees to return. Finally after more than a century of this intermittent misery came a last invasion more barbarous and more permanent than before, and the refugees fled to the lagoons to remain.

It is a curious fact that in all these migrations the cities of the mainland maintained their identity. There was no indiscriminate mingling in the lagoons nor did the colonists unite in a single settlement. In general each city chose its own island refuge where it maintained the traditions as well as the jealousies of the mainland. As the cities revived under barbarian rule the island colonies not infrequently based claims of their own on former jurisdictions or privileges of their parent cities.

All in all. occasions <>f discord were plentiful and the Strong rule (A Rome, if potentially present, was at first in abeyance. For a time they sought control in a council representing the twelve principal settlements by as many councillors. This merely voiced the discords without suppressing them and at last resort was had to a single head, the Doge, who for the next eleven hundred years embodied or symbolized the power of a united state.

Hut this union did not at once result in a single consolidated community. The Venice that we know was not the state; it was not even its capital nor did it bear its name. It was a minor member of the twelve scattered communities that it was later to dominate and ultimately to absorb. A visit to Torcello, an island now given over to market gardens but which once had a population of twenty thousand as its splendid deserted church attests, is an instructive reminder to the traveler of what has taken place in the lagoons. In the factional struggle between patricians and plebeians already referred to, each party had its stronghold in one of the twelve settlements. Since neither party would tolerate the possession of the seat of government by the other a neutral settlement was chosen, Malamocco, out on the sandy breakwater where one of the rivers, putting through, offered a convenient entrance for shipping. And here our Venice might have grown up with the waves of the blue Adriatic dashing againsl it- seawalls if Charlemagne had not sought to add the lagoons to his Italian dominions. Warned of an impending sea attack the government and its valuables were removed from the outlying and exposed Malamocco to the group of islands known as Rivo Alto, "high bank," later. Rialto which, though less convenient and less favored than others, could not be attacked either by land or 9

Between these low lying islands two rivers wended their sluggish way in shallow channels later to be lined with warehouses and palaces. At last were laid the foundations of Venice.

The security of Venice was soon doubly assured by an acquisition of priceless importance which it is difficult for us to appreciate. Some Venetian merchants who happened to be in Alexandria when the Moslems were demolishing the church in which rested the bones of Saint Mark appropriated the precious relics and bore them in triumph to Venice where they were received with indescribable rejoicing and a new church built to receive them. The future of Venice was now assured. It is true that these relics were acquired by methods to which a really ethical evangelist might be expected to take exception. They were taken without the consent of their owners to whom they were as sacred as to the Christians. Moreover relics of this kind were objects of commerce in which Venetians dealt extensively then and later, and the bones of an evangelist were rated with crown jewels. But the theft of Christian relics from Moslem owners would hardly have troubled a mediaeval conscience. The theft was successfully perpetrated and the relics were smuggled out packed in pork which the vigilant Moslem officials refused to investigate. These antecedents in no way lessened the efficacy of the relics to the men of that time. Relics, it would seem, have no choice but to exert their potency in favor of those who possess them, no matter how acquired. As this conviction was entertained both by possessors and would-be marauders, the relics did in fact protect the Venetians. A truly pious thief — and most thieves were of this class — would think twice before molesting aught that had been committed to the protection of Saint Mark. How it was that stolen relics should protect those who stole them from the depredations of other thieves is one of those gratuitous inquiries which the modern mind injects to its own embarrassment into the placid mentality of a vanished age.

Meanwhile other momentous things had been happening with results of the utmost importance which we are quite too much inclined to take for granted. We have seen that the different lagoon settlements remembered their parent cities and were inclined to assert their claims on occasion. In like manner these cities remembered them and asserted their claims to them even after their own character had quite changed. Patavium in particular, now a Lombard capital, claimed as of ancient right, jurisdiction over the valley of the Brenta to its mouth, a claim anciently reasonable and valid. But the Brenta was one of the rivers which flowed in submerged channel between the islands of Rivo Alto. Hence Patavium claimed jurisdiction over Venice, and the patricians who, it will be remembered, represented the Roman refugees, at first favored this claim, for as yet the struggling community had no thought of being other than a part of that great Roman world which it was the wish of all to restore and maintain. But Patavium and all else on the mainland had ceased to be Roman. A barbarian sat on the throne of Caesar and although he might use the old insignia the change was patent to all. Meanwhile another power with clearer title claimed allegiance in the name of Rome. The Eastern Empire, still intact and flourishing, claimed the Roman heritage and sought to wrest Italy from the barbarian. The brief result of this effort was the Exarchate of Ravenna where for a few decades the exotic art of the east maintained a splendid oasis in the midst of the barbarian desert.

In this enterprise the Eastern Empire sought and obtained the aid of Venice and laid claim to her allegiance. And since the Patricians favored the claims of the mainland, the Plebeians favored the claims of Constantinople and they won. There is reason to suspect, however, that the Venetians were already beginning to entertain the heretical idea of independence. It may seem strange to speak of this as heretical. It is, as we all know, the orthodoxy of our day. It is the almost universal assumption of modern thought that all human aggregates which show a certain distinctness, territorial, racial, or what not, "are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states." Many facts, to be sure, militate against this assumption. The existing world lends itself but poorly to division into independent states. Xo existing state is ideally constituted for independent existence and no theoretical division would satisfy even its author. Moreover when we have completed our division there is a demand for subdivision and so on indefinitely. But no matter what the difficulties or how numerous our failures, we never falter in our belief that in independence and "self-determination" we are to find our much desired harmony and welfare.

The men of an earlier day thought very differently. Long accustomed to Roman rule they had found in it all the peace and prosperity they knew. The basic assumption underlying all thought was that only world rule could bring world peace. Nay, more. That world rule, however inoperative in their day, existed • still. It might be in abeyance but it could not perish. Somewhere was the crown and purple of Caesar and somewhere was one who was entitled to wear them. When the Pope crowned Charlemagne Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire he was merely acting on this universal idea. He was recalling the long absent Caesar and restoring the longed for world dominion.