LETTER XXXII.
Wearisome calm of Venice.—The Canals and Port the chief resort for recreation.—Garden planted by Napoleon.—Misconception respecting the Rialto.—The Bridge of Sighs.—Palaces.—The canals without footways on their margin.—Intercourse by land.—The Grand Canal.—The Lido.—The Islands.
Although Venice was so attractive at first, in the absence of acquaintances it soon became monotonous and wearying. A town in which the sounds of hoof and wheel are never known, in which the stillness of the narrow ravine-like canals, is seldom broken, unless by the fall of an oar, or the call of the gondolier,—fatigues by its unceasing calm; and although the large canals, the square, and the port offer livelier scenes, one soon gets to feel a longing for further varieties. If I do not remember to have been so much struck with any other place on entering it, I do not recollect ever to have been so soon tired of a residence in a capital. It is true, we knew no one, nor did any one know us; and an exclamation of pleasure escaped me on suddenly meeting the Grognon, in the Piazzetta; a pleasure which, I regret to say, did not seem reciprocal. But he had just arrived.
We took boat daily for the last week of our residence, living on the water, and among the palaces and churches. I was surprised to find that the Adriatic has a tide; for banks over which we have rowed at one hour, were bare a few hours later. In all this place, there are but two or three areas in which the population can seek the air, except by resorting to the canals and the port. Napoleon caused a garden to be planted, however, near the northern extremity of the town, which will eventually be a charming spot. It is larger than one might suppose from the circumstances; and here only can a Venetian enjoy the pleasures of verdure and shade.
You will be surprised to hear, that by the Rialto of Shakspeare, one is not to understand the bridge of that name. This bridge is divided into three passages, by two rows of low shops, which are occupied by butchers and jewellers (a droll conjunction,) and the height has rendered broad steps necessary to make the ascents and descents easy. Some travellers describe a small platform on the summit of the bridge as the Exchange, or the place where Shylock extorted gold. I believe this is altogether a misconception. The Rialto is the name of the island at one end of the bridge, and on this island the merchants resorted for the purposes of business; and “meeting me on the Rialto,” did not mean, on the bridge, but on the island, after which island the bridge, in fact, is named. Mr. Carter, among others, seems to have fallen into this error.
is pure poetry. This bridge is thrown across the narrow dark canal that separates the Ducal Palace from the Prison, and is, in fact, a covered gallery. The description of
though bad grammar, is sufficiently literal. It is bad grammar, because there are not a palace and a prison on each hand, but a palace on one side and a prison on the other. As poetry, the verse is well enough; but you are not to trust too implicitly to either Shakspeare or Byron, if you desire accuracy. The remainder of the description is not to be taken as at all faithful, though so very beautiful. It is morally, but not physically true. The Bridge of Sighs, if open, would be one of the worst places in all Venice to obtain the view described. I mention this, not as criticism, for as such it would be hypercriticism, but simply that you may understand the truth.
is also exaggerated. One or two buildings have been destroyed for the materials, I am told; and one palace remains half demolished, the government having interfered to save it. At least, such is the account of my gondolier. But, beyond this, there is little apparent decay in Venice, except that which is visible in the general inactivity of the business of the port and town.
The accounts that there are passages for foot-passengers along the margin of the canals is also untrue. Such may be the fact in particular spots, but it is by no means true as the common mode of communication by land. I have seen places on the Grand Canal where one may walk some distance in this manner; but it is on planks raised against and secured to the houses for the purpose, and not by any permanent footways. The intercourse by land is in the centre of the different islands, access being had to all the principal buildings both by land and by water, as I have told you before. On the side of the canals, the boats touch the door-steps, while in the rear narrow alleys serve as outlets. Most of these alleys are only four or five feet in width. These, again, communicate with the streets, which are usually very narrow. Perhaps half the buildings do not touch a canal at all, especially the smaller shops and dwellings.
You may imagine the effect of the celebrated regattas of Venice by considering the situation of the Grand Canal. This is a small river in appearance, a little winding to relieve the monotony; and it is literally lined with the large buildings that in Italy are called palaces. Every window has its balcony. The terms ‘canals’ and ‘lagoons’ are, however, misapplied as respects the bay and channels of Venice. You know, of course, there are no gates, which we are apt to associate with the idea of a canal, though improperly; but it is the land that is artificial here, and not the water. The Grand Canal is not unlike the letter S in its direction, and it widens sensibly near the port, which is a broad estuary between the islands of the town and the Lido.
This Lido is the bank that protects the Lagoon from the Adriatic. It is long, low, and narrow, and is not entirely without vegetation. There are a few houses on it, and in one or two places something like villages. Most of the islands, of which there are many that do not properly belong to the town, are occupied; one containing a convent with its accessories, another a church, and a third a hamlet of the fishermen. The effect of all this is as pleasing as it is novel; and one rows about this place, catching new views of its beauties, as one rows round and through a noble fleet, examining ships. Still, Venice must be left, the warm weather admonishing us to retire; and I am now actually occupied in the preparations necessary to a departure.