Ferrara.—The Prison of Tasso.—The Flying Bridge over the Po.—Austrian
Custom-house: unnecessary trouble given there.—Venetian
women.—Padua.—The style of Palladio.—A Miracle.—Infidelity in
mask.—Road to Mestre, and Villas on the Brenta.—Distant view of
Venice.—The Lagoons.—Origin of Venice.—Aquatic Post-house.—Approach
to Venice.—Canals.—The Rialto.
Our stay at Bologna was short, for we were fearful of being too late in
the season for Venice. The first day’s work was to Ferrara, which place
we reached early, having left Bologna with the appearance of the sun.
The country was low, and had in places a _reedy_ look, bordering on the
low marshy lands that environ Ravenna. The whole of the eastern margin
of the plain of Lombardy is of this character, the descent from the base
of the mountains being constant, as is proved by the rivers, though so
gradual as to be imperceptible.
Ferrara has the most deserted air of any considerable town I remember to
have seen. It lies on a dead flat, in a grassy, not to say _reedy_,
region also. In the centre of the place is a massive gloomy castle
surrounded by a ditch, in which the Dukes of the family of Este once
dwelt; but we could not enter it. We did visit a cell that has the
reputation of having been the prison of Tasso, where we found the name
of Byron written on the walls. Such a homage as this may be tolerated;
but one dislikes the cockneyisms of writing names on walls. Being no
poet, I did not presume to leave mine in the crowd.
The streets of Ferrara are straight and wide; circumstances that render
its desolation more apparent. The grass literally grew in them, and I
can best compare the town with the portion of Schenectady, that lies off
the canal; though allowance must be made for the ancient magnificence of
this place. We saw many curious books and manuscripts here, and many
memorials of Tasso and Ariosto. A small stream runs through the town;
but the whole country, like Holland, while there is no sea visible,
appears to be nearly “a wash.” It is said to be unhealthy in the autumn,
and one can readily believe it.
We were now touching once more on the Austrian dominions. Although
Ferrara belongs to the Church, it has an Austrian garrison, for the
place is fortified. We reached the Po a short distance from the gates of
the town, next morning, and crossed on what is called a flying bridge,
or a _ponte volante_. These bridges are common enough in Europe; though,
properly speaking, they are ferries. They consist of a large floating
stage, or a boat, that can receive several carriages. This is anchored
by a long hawser to some ground-fastening, one or two hundred fathoms
up-stream; the length of the hawser being, of course, proportioned to
the width of the river. To keep the rope above water, it is sustained by
more or less small boats, which sheer with the motion of the ferry-boat,
or stage. All that is necessary is to let the current take the bows of
the latter obliquely, when it sheers across the river, as a matter of
course. We crossed, with our two carriages and eight horses, in a very
few minutes, and without getting out of our seats.
On the Austrian bank is a custom-house; but we were not detained longer
than was necessary to examine the passport. Notwithstanding all that is
said against this government, it certainly is not obnoxious to the
charge of giving unnecessary trouble, except in cases that have probably
excited its suspicion. Despotic governments, moreover, have a power to
do polite and kind acts that free governments do not possess. In a
government of equal rights, the administration of the laws must be
equal, although a thousand cases occur in which this rule works
injuriously to those who, it is known, might with safety be exempted
from the operation of the rule; but in a government like this,
instructions emanating from the power, that frames the laws may temper
their administration. It is true, this faculty leads often to gross
abuses; but, in an age like this, it oftener leads to an exemption from
onerous, and, in the particular cases named, useless regulations. It is
on this principle that men of known character and pursuits obtain
passports that entitle them to proceed without the delays and trouble of
the custom-house examinations.
You are not to understand, however, that I had any such privilege; what
I have told you of the _bonhomie_ of the authorities in reference to my
own baggage, is to be taken as general, and in no manner as particular
towards an individual. You well know that I am no advocate for any
government but that which is founded on popular rights, protected from
popular abuses; but I am thoroughly convinced that the every-day
strictures on these points that are made by a large portion of our
travellers, are conceived in ignorance and prejudice, and are just as
worthless as are the common strictures of Europeans on our own
institutions. The disposition in every government is to do justice in
all ordinary cases, and we are no more peculiar in this wish than the
Emperors of Austria and of Russia. The faults of these systems lie much
deeper than the surface.
We found Rovigo, where we breakfasted, much smaller certainly, and every
way less important than, but with the same air of desertion as, Ferrara.
In front of us, after quitting Rovigo, appeared an island of hills in
the midst of the plain, and our route lay towards it. At their foot was
Monselice, where we passed another night. These hills form an oasis of
mountain in the desert of monotony around them. A party of Venetians
were at the inn, and the women had brilliant complexions and fair hair;
one had hair that was nearly red;—this was a proof that we were drawing
near the scene of Titian’s works. The Signora Guiccioli, so well known
to the admirers of Byron, is of the same style of beauty. It is odd that
Raphael, and indeed most of the Italian masters, painted their females
as _blondes_, when the prevalent style of the beauty of the women is
that of brunettes. Of the eight Americans of our party, I am the only
one that has not light hair and a fair complexion: a circumstance that
has excited much surprise in this part of the world, where we are deemed
to be, _ex officio_, black.
From Monselice we made one stage to Padua, a place that we entered with
a good deal of interest. It is a large and, for Europe, a straggling
town. As this was the country of Palladio, we here met his architecture.
I cannot say I like it so much as I had anticipated. It has more
pretension than beauty or simplicity; though it strikes me there is an
effort at both. Still, this style is not without the noble. Boston is
the only place I know of in America that has any thing resembling it in
general outline; though Boston has nothing, within my knowledge, that
can be truly termed Palladian.
The great hall of Padua pleased us extremely. It is near three hundred
feet long, and near one hundred feet wide, though not very lofty. It is
the largest room I have seen, with the exception of the galleries. The
style is a mixed Gothic, the roof being of open rafters, and the effect
is quaint and striking. I prefer it, on the whole, to Westminster-hall;
though it is scarcely so noble.
A miracle had just been performed in one of the churches of Padua, a
Madonna giving some signs of animation. I went to see it, but found that
the visit was ill-timed; the image remaining as immovable as any other
image, during the presence of a heretic. I believe these things are much
less frequent than formerly, the French occupation not only destroying
most of the marvels of religion, but, in a great measure, religion
itself. It is a grand commentary on human wisdom and on human
consistency, that one may now see a king and his courtiers carrying
candles in those streets where rulers appeared in their shirt-sleeves
attending a trull in the assumed character of the Goddess of Reason!
Infidelity no longer comes to us naked; but it wears a mask of
philosophy and logic, in the pretended character of a _mitigated
Christianity_. The citadel that cannot be stormed, must be sapped.
We took the road to Mestre on quitting Padua. I cannot say that the
villas on the Brenta, or the canal, at all equalled my expectation. The
houses themselves were well enough; but the monotony of a country as
level as Holland, and the landscape gardening that is confined to
flowers and allées and exotics, compare ill with the broader beauties of
the Hudson, or the finish of the lawns on the Thames. The road and river
showed signs of a crowded population, and we were amused in that way,
but were scarcely in raptures with a sylvan scene. A part of our road,
however, was athwart a sort of common. At this point, looking across the
bay on our right, a town appeared rising above the water, singularly
resembling the view of New York as seen from the low lands near Powles
Hook. The presence of domes and the absence of ships marked the
difference between the places; but the likeness was sufficiently strong
to strike us all at the same moment. I need scarcely add, that the town
was Venice, and that the water was the Lagoons.
The carriage was housed at Mestre, and the luggage was put into a large
gondola. We took our places in the same boat, and in less than ten
minutes after reaching the shore, we were all afloat. There was a short
river, or creek, to descend,—I know not which it is,—and then we fairly
entered the bay. The Lagoon is formed by the deposit of several streams,
and the action of the waves of the Adriatic, which have piled long low
banks of sand across the broad mouth of a bay, where they have been
gradually accumulating from time immemorial. A number of islands formed
within this chain of banks, and channels necessarily made their own way
for the passage of the waters of the rivers. On these islands the
fishermen erected their huts. From this beginning, by the aid of piles,
quays, and the accumulations of a seaport, Venice grew to be the Queen
of the Adriatic, literally seated in the mud.
We stopped a moment at a small island, about half way across the Lagoon,
to have our passports examined, but met with no delay. The place was
barely large enough to hold a building or two, though the effect of this
aquatic post-house was odd. Not far from this, the boat passed a line of
posts with painted tops, that encircles the whole town, perhaps a mile
and a half from the islands. The posts stand a few hundred feet asunder.
These are to mark the limits of the place, Venice having just been
declared a free port. Of course, the gondola that is caught with
unentered goods within these posts would be seized.
After a pull of an hour or more, the boat entered a broad canal that was
lined by palaces and noble houses. Passing through this, which proved to
be short, it came out in another passage, that seemed to be a main
artery of the town, smaller lateral canals communicating with it at
short distances. Across the latter we could see, among the dark ravines
of houses, numberless bridges trodden constantly by foot-passengers; but
across the larger channel, which was the grand canal, there was only
one. This was of stone, and it was covered with low buildings. Of
course, its length was much greater than that of the others; and its
single arch was high and pointed, though not strictly Gothic. As we
glided beneath it, vessels that might contend with the Adriatic appeared
beyond, the water gradually widening. The bridge was the Rialto; the
water, the continuation of the canal, and the commencement of the
Giudecca, which is, in fact, the port.
A gondola was lying on its oars as we approached the grand canal,
recognising a boat from Mestre; and as we came up to it, Mr. C——, of
Carolina, who had preceded us a day or two, jumped on board, having
taken lodgings in expectation of our arrival. Under his guidance we
stopped at some stone steps, and disembarked at the _Leone Bianco_.