ishop of Paphos in
Cyprus, and being of the church militant he had in 1501 commanded the
Papal fleet against the Turks. The expedition was triumphant enough to
lead the Bishop to commission Titian to paint two pictures commemorating
it. In the first the Pope, Alexander Borgia, in full canonicals,
standing, introduces Baffo, kneeling, to S. Peter, on the eve of
starting with the ships to chastise the Infidel. S. Peter blesses him
and the Papal standard which he grasps. In the second, the picture at
which we are now looking (see the reproduction opposite page 246), Baffo
again kneels to S. Peter, while behind him a soldier in armour (who
might be S. George and might merely be a Venetian warrior and a
portrait) exhibits a captured Turk. Above S. Peter is the Madonna, with
one of Titian's most adorable and vigorous Babes. Beside her are S.
Francis and S. Anthony of Padua, S. Francis being the speaking brother
who seems to be saying much good of the intrepid but by no means
over-modest Baffo. The other kneeling figures are various Pesari.
Everything about the picture is masterly and aristocratic, and S. Peter
yields to no other old man in Venetian art, which so valued and
respected age, in dignity and grandeur. In the clouds above all are two
outrageously plump cherubs--fat as butter, as we say--sporting (it is
the only word) with the cross.

As I sat one day looking at this picture, a small grey and white cat
sprang on my knee from nowhere and immediately sank into a profound
slumber from which I hesitated to wake it. Such ingratiating acts are
not common in Venice, where animals are scarce and all dogs must be
muzzled. Whether or not the spirit of Titian had instructed the little
creature to keep me there, I cannot say, but the result was that I sat
for a quarter of an hour before the altar without a movement, so that
every particular of the painting is photographed on my retina. Six
months later the same cat led me to a courtyard opposite the Sacristy
door and proudly exhibited three kittens.

Jacopo Pesaro's tomb is near the Baptistery. The enormous and repellent
tomb on the same wall as the Titian altar-piece is that of a later
Pesaro, Giovanni, an unimportant Doge of Venice for less than a year,
1658-1659. It has grotesque details, including a camel, giant negroes
and skeletons, and it was designed by the architect of S. Maria della
Salute, who ought to have known better. The Doge himself is not unlike
the author of