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.