and garments are brought into harmony with the
sky and background, and in all those that follow we find this quality
of light. The landscape behind the massacre has gained in natural
character, the city is at some distance, houses and churches are half
buried in woods; the setting is much more natural than are the quaint
and elegant pages who occupy it, and who are drawing their crossbows and
attacking the martyrs with leisurely nonchalance. The panel in which the
betrothed couple meet shows a great advance, and this and the succeeding
ones of the ambassadors, which were painted between 1495 and 1498, must
have crowned Carpaccio's reputation. He paints Venice in its most
fascinating aspect; the enamelled beauty of its marbles, its sky and
sea, its palaces and ships, the rich and picturesque dresses men wore
in the streets, the barge glowing with rich velvets. He evinces a
fairy-tale spirit which we may compare with the work of Pintoricchio.
His Prince, kneeling in a white and gold dress, with long fair curls, is
a real fairy prince; Ursula, in her red dress and puffed sleeves, her
rippling, flaxen hair and strings of pearls, is a princess of story.
Carpaccio's art is simple and garrulous in feeling, his conception is
as unpassionate as the fancies of a child, but he has a true love for
these gay crowds; Venice going upon her gallant way--her solid, worthy
citizens, men of substance, shrewd and valuable, taking their pleasure
seriously with a sense of responsibility. They throng the streets and
cross over the bridges, every figure is full of freedom and vitality.
The arrival and dismissal of the ambassadors are the best of all the
scenes. In the middle of the great stage King Maurus of Brittany sits
upon a Venetian terrace. In the colonnade to the left is gathered a
group of Venetian personages, members of the Loredano family, which was
a special patron of St. Ursula's Guild, and gave this panel. The types
are all vividly realised and differentiated: the courtier looking
critically at the arrivals; the frankly curious bourgeoisie; the man
of fashion passing with his nose in the air, disdaining to stare too
closely; the fop with his dogs and their dwarf keeper. Far beyond
stretch the lagoons; the sea and air of Venice clear and fresh. What is
noticeable even now in an Italian crowd, the absence of women, was then
most true to life, for except on special occasions they were not seen in
the streets, but were kept in almost O