"the resort of the studious in painting, and in particular of all the foreigners from the other side of the Alps who came to Venice at that time: Tintoretto's works serving as examples of composition, of grace, and harmony of design, of the management of light and shade, and force and freedom of color; and, in short, of all that can be called most accurate, and can best exhibit the gifts of the ingenious painter." All over Venice his works exist,--in the humblest chapels and sacristies, as well as in the Hall of the Great Council; and yet many have been burned, have perished by neglect, or have become indistinguishable with time. It is a curious fact that of all the Venetian school of painters there were but two born in Venice,--Giovanni Bellini and Tintoretto; and yet, so perfectly have the others suited themselves to her atmosphere that we feel their art to be hers individually, in perfect accord with her spirit and her needs. So, in architecture, Scamozzi, Palladio, Sansovino, and San Micheli were all born on the mainland; not one of them first saw the light in Venice. But who that stands in the Piazza, or passes up and down the Grand Canal, feels for a moment that any other architecture would have suited Venice, or that this would please us were it reproduced elsewhere? Assuredly Mediæval Venice possessed a charm which worked its spell on all who dwelt within her borders, which enabled her to impress them with her own signet, and draw out in her service the best that was in them. Venice was of old an enchantress; and in spite of years and the many maladies from which she has suffered, she has not yet lost her spell. The charm is still there. It is over you while within her borders, and fills you with delight. It surges around you from time to {370} time when you are far, far away, and you long to be with her again as you long for the beloved faces into which you cannot look, and which distance and time make no less dear. You shut your eyes on what is near you, and you think of the shimmer of her lagoons, the pearly tints of the cool hours of day, and the rosy, golden atmosphere of the warmer time. Her domes and palaces rise before you. You almost feel the motion of the gondola as you sweep around a curve, and a new and fascinating vista reveals itself. You hear a soft, musical language, or listen to the well-known cries of the gondoliers and the distant song or serenade, and you echo the words of Saint Victor: "Other cities have admirers; Venice alone has lovers." {371} INDEX. A. Abano, Baths of, 192, 194, 195. Abbiati, 187. Abydos, 47. Academy of Fine Arts, 347, 363, 367. Accademia delle Belle Arti, 356, 360. Adams, Charles Kendall, 254. Adda, The river, 192, 194, 275, 281. Adrian IV, Pope, 3. Adrianople, 67, 68. Adriatic, The, 48, 70, 167, 237, 266. Ægean, The, 48, 70. Alberti, Pietro, 61. Aldus the Printer, 255, 326-332. Alexander III., Pope, 3-9, 11, 13, 31, 90, 347, 350.