Free The Thief of Venice by Jane Langton Page A
Authors: Jane Langton
beginner in Renaissance scholarship—an extended review of the magnificent Venetian exhibition, complete with illustrations.
The project was the darling of Homer's heart. Therefore he only reluctantly agreed to accompany Mary to the Scuola Grande di San Rocco.
"I'll come too," said Sam impulsively. And of course it was okay, tutto bene , because he would be obeying his new rule. He could do anything now, anything at all, even something as wild and fanciful as taking a day off to see again the most glorious works of art in the city of Venice.
So they set off together, walking from Castello through the sestiere of San Marco, avoiding the crowds in the piazza, then crossing the Rialto Bridge and working their way through a labyrinth of streets in San Polo. Suddenly Sam said, "Here we are," and stopped.
Mary and Homer stopped beside him. At once, responding to instinct, Mary lifted her camera and took a picture.
"My God," said Homer, impressed in spite of himself. It was a stage set for an Italian opera. The two white marble buildings in the Campo San Rocco were set at right angles, enclosing a space only big enough for a posturing tenor and a fat soprano. The two facades were a riot of garlanded columns, bristling acanthus leaves, pedimented windows, and marble reliefs.
"Over here," murmured Sam, leading the way into the building on the left. "The other one is the church. Tintoretto spent twenty-four years of his life decorating the Scuola."
They paid their way in, then followed Sam around the ground floor, looking up at the enormous paintings on the walls. Sam said nothing. But as they climbed a splendid staircase to the floor above he said, between gasps, "It always seems so amazing to me, tanto sorprendente , that a man with as keen and subtle a mind as Tintoretto's could be so swept away by the Christian myth." He stopped halfway to catch his breath. "And he wasn't just swept away, he was—what's the word?— esaltato ."
"Exalted," agreed Mary solemnly. "He certainly was."
"Well, of course"—doggedly Sam climbed the rest of the way—"it's an extraordinary story."
"What is?" said Homer, gasping up the last few steps.
"Oh, you know, the whole thing, the life of Jesus in the New Testament." Sam walked them across the enormous room, uttering sarcasms in a low voice. "The fairy story of the virgin birth. You know perfectly well that all those contemporary mystery religions had virgin births and godlike figures who were sacrificed and resurrected. Here, look at this one, the Adoration of the Shepherds ." They stopped and looked at the picture in the corner, and Sam's mockery continued. "There was no star, there were no kings, there were no shepherds kneeling at a manger. There were no tests for virginity in the first century B.C. Nobody knows anything about the mother of Jesus, and yet in Tintoretto's time this entire city was a temple to the Virgin Mary."
"It's a pretty wonderful painting though," whispered Mary. "How noble she is."
"Of course," said Sam. "That's my whole point. That a man of genius can take any absurdity and turn it into something magnificent. Come on, look at Moses striking water from the rock."
They followed him around the room, staring up in awe at the paintings and listening to Sam's whispered blasphemies.
"Hey," said Homer as they completed the circuit, "there's another room over here."
"More of the same." Sam led the way.
It was a chamber called the Albergo. Tintoretto's Crucifixion occupied an entire wall. "Oh," said Mary, and then she fell silent. Homer gripped her hand.
"John Ruskin said a clever thing about this one," said Sam softly. "Usually I can't stand Ruskin, he's so bossy and narrow-minded, but this time—"
"What did he say?" murmured Homer.
Sam knew it by heart. "I must leave this picture to work its will on the spectator, for it is beyond all analysis and above all praise."
Then he stopped talking, and they stood silently gazing at the tumble of muscular figures
The project was the darling of Homer's heart. Therefore he only reluctantly agreed to accompany Mary to the Scuola Grande di San Rocco.
"I'll come too," said Sam impulsively. And of course it was okay, tutto bene , because he would be obeying his new rule. He could do anything now, anything at all, even something as wild and fanciful as taking a day off to see again the most glorious works of art in the city of Venice.
So they set off together, walking from Castello through the sestiere of San Marco, avoiding the crowds in the piazza, then crossing the Rialto Bridge and working their way through a labyrinth of streets in San Polo. Suddenly Sam said, "Here we are," and stopped.
Mary and Homer stopped beside him. At once, responding to instinct, Mary lifted her camera and took a picture.
"My God," said Homer, impressed in spite of himself. It was a stage set for an Italian opera. The two white marble buildings in the Campo San Rocco were set at right angles, enclosing a space only big enough for a posturing tenor and a fat soprano. The two facades were a riot of garlanded columns, bristling acanthus leaves, pedimented windows, and marble reliefs.
"Over here," murmured Sam, leading the way into the building on the left. "The other one is the church. Tintoretto spent twenty-four years of his life decorating the Scuola."
They paid their way in, then followed Sam around the ground floor, looking up at the enormous paintings on the walls. Sam said nothing. But as they climbed a splendid staircase to the floor above he said, between gasps, "It always seems so amazing to me, tanto sorprendente , that a man with as keen and subtle a mind as Tintoretto's could be so swept away by the Christian myth." He stopped halfway to catch his breath. "And he wasn't just swept away, he was—what's the word?— esaltato ."
"Exalted," agreed Mary solemnly. "He certainly was."
"Well, of course"—doggedly Sam climbed the rest of the way—"it's an extraordinary story."
"What is?" said Homer, gasping up the last few steps.
"Oh, you know, the whole thing, the life of Jesus in the New Testament." Sam walked them across the enormous room, uttering sarcasms in a low voice. "The fairy story of the virgin birth. You know perfectly well that all those contemporary mystery religions had virgin births and godlike figures who were sacrificed and resurrected. Here, look at this one, the Adoration of the Shepherds ." They stopped and looked at the picture in the corner, and Sam's mockery continued. "There was no star, there were no kings, there were no shepherds kneeling at a manger. There were no tests for virginity in the first century B.C. Nobody knows anything about the mother of Jesus, and yet in Tintoretto's time this entire city was a temple to the Virgin Mary."
"It's a pretty wonderful painting though," whispered Mary. "How noble she is."
"Of course," said Sam. "That's my whole point. That a man of genius can take any absurdity and turn it into something magnificent. Come on, look at Moses striking water from the rock."
They followed him around the room, staring up in awe at the paintings and listening to Sam's whispered blasphemies.
"Hey," said Homer as they completed the circuit, "there's another room over here."
"More of the same." Sam led the way.
It was a chamber called the Albergo. Tintoretto's Crucifixion occupied an entire wall. "Oh," said Mary, and then she fell silent. Homer gripped her hand.
"John Ruskin said a clever thing about this one," said Sam softly. "Usually I can't stand Ruskin, he's so bossy and narrow-minded, but this time—"
"What did he say?" murmured Homer.
Sam knew it by heart. "I must leave this picture to work its will on the spectator, for it is beyond all analysis and above all praise."
Then he stopped talking, and they stood silently gazing at the tumble of muscular figures