rtraiture. But at Venice, all is exactly the
reverse of this. The tone of mind in the painter appears often in some
degree frivolous or sensual; delighting in costume, in domestic and
grotesque incident, and in studies of the naked form. But the moment he
gives himself definitely to portraiture, all is noble and grave; the
more literally true his work, the more majestic; and the same artist who
will produce little beyond what is commonplace in painting a Madonna or
an apostle, will rise into unapproachable sublimity when his subject is
a member of the Forty, or a Master of the Mint.

Such, then, were the general tone and progress of the Venetian mind, up
to the close of the seventeenth century. First, serious, religious, and
sincere; then, though serious still, comparatively deprived of
conscientiousness, and apt to decline into stern and subtle policy: in
the first case, the spirit of the noble grotesque not showing itself in
art at all, but only in speech and action; in the second case,
developing itself in painting, through accessories and vivacities of
composition, while perfect dignity was always preserved in portraiture.
A third phase rapidly developed itself.

Sec. LXXVI. Once more, and for the last time, let me refer the reader to
the important epoch of the death of the Doge Tomaso Mocenigo in 1423,
long ago indicated as the commencement of the decline of the Venetian
power. That commencement is marked, not merely by the words of the dying
Prince, but by a great and clearly legible sign. It is recorded, that on
the accession of his successor, Foscari, to the throne, "SI FESTEGGIO
DALLA CITTA UNO ANNO INTERO:" "The city kept festival for a whole year."
Venice had in her childhood sown, in tears, the harvest she was to reap
in rejoicing. She now sowed in laughter the seeds of death.

Thenceforward, year after year, the nation drank with deeper thirst from
the fountains of forbidden pleasure, and dug for springs, hitherto
unknown, in the dark places of the earth. In the ingenuity of
indulgence, in the varieties of vanity, Venice surpassed the cities of
Christendom, as of old she surpassed them in fortitude and devotion; and
as once the powers of Europe stood before her judgment-seat, to receive
the decisions of her justice, so now the youth of Europe assembled in
the halls of her luxury, to learn from her the arts of delight.

It is as needless, as it is painful, to trace the steps of her final
ruin. That ancien