LETTER XXX.
Arrival at Venice.—An hour’s walk by moonlight.—The streets of Venice.—The Great Square of St. Mark.—The Piazzetta.—Palace of the Doges.—The Campanile.—The Bridge of Sighs.—The Port—Travellers’ book at the Leone Bianco.
It appeared as if we were in the centre of a civilization entirely novel. On entering the inn, we found ourselves in a large paved hall, but a step or two above the water, in the corner of which lay a gondola. Ascending a flight of steps, we were received in a suite of good apartments, and I ran to a window. Boats were gliding about in all directions, but no noise was heard beyond the plash of the oar; not a wheel nor a hoof rattling on a pavement. Even the fall of a rope in the water might be heard at a considerable distance. Every thing was strange; for, though a sailor and accustomed to aquatic scenes, I have never before seen a city afloat.
It was necessary to eat, and I restrained my impatience until after dinner. By this time it was evening; but a fine moon was shedding its light on the scene, rendering it fairy-like. C—— and myself quitted the inn, for he told me he had something that he was desirous I should see before I slept. Instead of taking a boat, we passed into the rear of the inn, and found ourselves in a street. I had heard of the canals, but, until then, believed that Venice had no streets. On the contrary, the whole town is intersected in this way; the bridges of the smaller canals serving as communications between these streets, which, however, are usually only eight or ten feet wide. That we took was lined with shops, and it seemed a great thoroughfare. Its width varied from ten to twenty feet
Following this passage, in itself a novelty, we inclined a little to the right, passed beneath an arch, and issued into the great Square of St. Mark. No other scene in a town ever struck me with so much surprise and pleasure. Three sides of this large area were surrounded by palaces, with arcades; and on the fourth stood a low ancient church, of an architecture so quaint, having oriental domes, and external ornaments so peculiar, that I felt as if transported to a scene in the Arabian Nights. The moon, with its mild delusive light, too, aided the deception; the forms rising beneath it still more fanciful and quaint. You will know at once, this was the church of St. Mark.
Another area communicated with the first, extending from it, at right angles, to the bay. Two sides only of this square, which is called the Piazzetta were built on; the side next the Piazza, or Great Square, and that next the sea, being open. On one of the other sides of this area the line of palaces was continued, and on the other rose the celebrated Ducal residence. This was, if possible, still more quaint and oriental than the church, transferring the mind at once to the events of the East, and to the days of Venetian greatness and power.
On every side were objects of interest. The two large columns near the sea were trophies of one conquest; the ranges of little columns on the side of the church were trophies of a hundred more; the great staircase at which we looked through an arch of the palace were the Giant’s Stairs, and the holes in the walls above them the Lions’ Mouths! This huge tower is the Campanile, which has stood there a thousand years rooted in mud; and those spars let into the pavement in front of the church are the very same on which the conquered standards of Cyprus and Candia, and the Morea, were wont to flap. The noble group of horses in bronze above the great door, is the group, restored at last to its resting-place of centuries.
Passing by the side of the palace of the Doges, which fronts the sea, by an arcade walk that lines its whole exterior, which is the celebrated Broglio, where none but the noble once could walk, and where intrigues were formerly so rife, we came to the bridge which spans the canal that bounds the rears of the church and palaces. The covered gallery that is thrown across this canal, connecting, at the height of a story or two above the ground, the palace with the prisons on the other side, was the Bridge of Sighs! By the side of the water-gate beneath were the submarine dungeons, and I had only to look towards the roof to imagine the position of the Piombi.
Then there was the port, lighted by a soft moon, and dotted with vessels of quaint rigs, with the cool air fanning the face,—the distant Lido,—and the dark hearse-like gondolas gliding in every direction. Certainly, no other place ever struck my imagination so forcibly; and never before did I experience so much pleasure, from novel objects, in so short a time. A noble military band played in the square; but though the music was, what German instrumental music commonly is, admirable, it served rather to destroy the illusion of magic, and to bring me down to a sense of ordinary things. After passing an hour in this manner, I returned to the Leone Bianco, and excited every one’s curiosity to see the same things. Poor W—— issued forth immediately; but, after an unsuccessful search in the maze of lanes, he returned disappointed.
The traveller’s book was brought me to write my name in: and I find that an American or two who had preceded me have been lampooned, as usual, in English! One would think pride, in the absence of good taste, would correct this practice.