Venice.
The view of Venice, at some little distance from the town, is mentioned
by many travellers in terms of the highest admiration. I had been so
often forewarned of the amazement with which I should be struck at first
sight of this city, that when I actually did see it, I felt little or no
amazement at all. You will behold, said those anticipators, a magnificent
town,—or more frequently, to make the deeper impression, they gave it
in detail—You will behold, said they, magnificent palaces, churches,
towers and steeples, all standing in the middle of the sea. Well; this,
unquestionably, is an uncommon scene; and there is no manner of doubt
that a town, surrounded by water, is a very fine sight; but all the
travellers that have existed since the days of Cain, will not convince
me, that a town, surrounded by land, is not a much finer. Can there be
any comparison, in point of beauty, between the dull monotony of a watery
surface, and the delightful variety of gardens, meadows, hills, and woods?
If the situation of Venice renders it less agreeable than another city,
to behold at a distance, it must render it, in a much stronger degree,
less agreeable to inhabit. For you will please to recollect, that,
instead of walking or riding in the fields, and enjoying the fragrance of
herbs, and the melody of birds; when you wish to take the air here, you
must submit to be paddled about, from morning to night, in a narrow boat,
along dirty canals; or, if you don’t like this, you have one resource
more, which is, that of walking in St. Mark’s Place.
These are the disadvantages which Venice labours under, with regard to
situation; but it has other peculiarities, which, in the opinion of many,
overbalance them, and render it, on the whole, an agreeable town.
Venice is said to be built in the sea; that is, it is built in the midst
of shallows, which stretch some miles from the shore, at the bottom of
the Adriatic Gulph. Though those shallows, being now all covered with
water, have the appearance of one great lake, yet they are called Lagune,
or lakes, because formerly, as it is imagined, there were several. On
sailing on the Laguna, and looking to the bottom, many large hollows
are to be seen, which, at some former period, have, very possibly, been
distinct lakes, though now, being all covered with a common surface
of water, they form one large lake, of unequal depth. The intervals
between those hollows, it is supposed, were little islands, and are now
shallows, which, at ebb, are all within reach of a pole.
When you approach the city, you come along a liquid road, marked by rows
of stakes on each side, which direct vessels, of a certain burthen, to
avoid the shallows, and keep in deeper water. These shallows are a better
defence to the city than the strongest fortifications. On the approach of
an enemy’s fleet, the Venetians have only to pull up their stakes, and
the enemy can advance no farther. They are equally beyond the insult of
a land army, even in the midst of winter; for the flux and reflux of the
sea, and the mildness of the climate, prevent such a strength of ice as
could admit the approach of an army that way.
The lake in which Venice stands, is a kind of small inner gulph,
separated from the large one by some islands, at a few miles distance.
These islands, in a great measure, break the force of the Adriatic
storms, before they reach the Laguna; yet, in very high winds, the
navigation of the lake is dangerous to gondolas, and sometimes the
gondoleers do not trust themselves, even on the canals within the city.
This is not so great an inconveniency to the inhabitants as you may
imagine; because most of the houses have one door opening upon a canal,
and another communicating with the street; by means of which, and of the
bridges, you can go to almost any part of the town by land, as well as by
water.
The number of inhabitants are computed at about 150,000; the streets, in
general, are narrow; so are the canals, except the grand canal; which is
very broad, and has a serpentine course through the middle of the city.
They tell you, there are several hundred bridges in Venice. What pass
under this name, however, are single arches thrown over the canals; most
of them paltry enough.
The Rialto consists also of a single arch, but a very noble one, and of
marble. It is built across the grand canal, near the middle, where it is
narrowest. This celebrated arch is ninety feet wide on the level of the
canal, and twenty-four feet high. Its beauty is impaired by two rows of
booths, or shops, which are erected upon it, and divide its upper surface
into three narrow streets. The view from the Rialto is equally lively and
magnificent; the objects under your eye are the grand canal, covered with
boats and gondolas, and flanked on each side with magnificent palaces,
churches, and spires; but this fine prospect is almost the only one in
Venice; for, except the Grand Canal, and the Canal Regio, all the others
are narrow and mean; some of them have no keys; the water literally
washes the walls of the houses. When you sail along those wretched
canals, you have no one agreeable object to cheer the sight; and the
smell is overwhelmed with the stench which, at certain seasons, exhales
from the water.