gilt and then touched with colour, he is entitled to
perform both operations, but the painter disputes this right, and
maintains that the gilder should return it to him when the addition
of painting is desired." It was, however, finally decided by law that
each should exercise both professions, when one or the other played a
subordinate part in the finished work. Though the art of mosaic was
falling into decay as painting began to emerge, yet the commercial
manufactory of Byzantine Madonnas, which had been established as early
as 600, went on, on the Rialto, without any variation of the traditional
forms.

Florence very early discarded the temptation to cling to material
splendour, but as we pass into the Hall of the Primitives in the
Venetian Academy, we see at once that Venetian art, in its earlier
stages, has more to do with the gilder than the painter. The Holy
Personages are merely accessories to the gorgeous framework, the
embossed ornaments, the real jewels, which were in favour with the rich
and magnificent patrons. There is no sign of any feeling for painting
as painting, no craving after the study of form as the outcome of
intellectual activity, no zest of discovery, such as made the painter's
life in Florence an excitement in which the public shared. What little
Venice imbibes of these things is from outside influence, after due
lapse of time. A prosperous, luxurious city of merchants and statesmen,
she was too much bound up in the transactions and sensations of actual
life to develop any abstract and thoughtful ideals.

Perhaps the first painting we can discover which shows any sign of
independent effort is the series which Paolo da Venezia painted on the
back of the Pala d' Oro, over the high altar of St. Mark, when it was
restored in the fourteenth century. This reveals an artist with some
pictorial aptitude and one alive to the subjects that surround him. It
tells the story of St. Mark's corpse transported to Venice. The first
panel contains a group of cardinals of varying types and expressions; in
another the disciple listening to St. Mark's teaching, and crouching
with his elbows on his knees, has a true, natural touch. The dramatic
feeling here and there is considerable. The scene of the guards watching
the imprisoned Saint through the window and seeing the shadow of two
heads, as the Saviour visits him, imparts a distinct emotion; and there
is force as well as feeling for decorative composition in t