Barberigo della Terraza. Here was a splendid collection of paintings, including some of Titian's best. Neglect and damp has seriously injured them. I believe they have recently been bought by the Emperor of Russia. Knowing our nationality, our gondolier took especial pains to point out to us the Palazzo Mocenigo, where Byron lived, and wrote "Beppo," a portion of "Don Juan," "Sardanapalus," "Marino Faliero," &c.; and here his friend and biographer, Tom Moore, sojourned awhile. The Palazzo Bernardo is of the fifteenth century. The Palazzo Corner Spinelli, of the same period, is an exceedingly tasteful building. This was bought by Taglioni, the celebrated dancer; so that she must have received ample remuneration for the skilful use of her limbs, to be able to purchase and occupy so pleasant and costly a residence. Yet more palaces appear too numerous to take note of some now occupied as residences of the various ambassadors, others used as municipal buildings. One of the most ancient, the Palazzo Farsetti a peculiar mixture of Venetian, Byzantine, and Moorish architecture-is now used as the municipal hall. The Palazzo Loredan bears the arms of the King of Cyprus, husband of Catherine Cornaro, who resided here. A noble Gothic pile, of the fourteenth century, they said, was the Palazzo Bembo. Close by was the Palazzo Dandolo, once the residence of that famous Doge. It would never do to visit Venice without passing under the Rialto, which, from its mention by Shakespeare, is known over the civilised world. Consequently, thither we steered our course, and found it to be a very simple, but apparently strong bridge, of marble, of but a single span. It was built nearly three hundred years ago. Having visited that, of course we must go under the " Bridge of Sighs." It is an object of considerable interest to tourists, notwithstanding the adverse criticisms of Ruskin, who says: “It is a work of no merit, and of a late period. The interest it possesses is chiefly on account of its pretty name and the ignorant sentimentalism of Byron." Why write so harshly of that stanza of his ?—the stanza in which he says :— "I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs— A thousand years their cloudy wings expand O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the wingèd Lions' marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles." Whilst gently gliding along the Grand Canal, we caught sight of the glass mosaic establishment of Salviati. In a few minutes we were out of the gondola, and going through the various rooms of the establishment under the guidance of the manager, who most politely took great pains to show us the various processes carried on in numerous rooms by a large staff of workpeople; men and women, boys and girls, all in their separate departments busily engaged in the manufacture of the wonderfully-beautiful articles in glass for which Venice has so long been famous. Of course, after such attention, as we expected, we were ushered into the sale-rooms, where the completed goods were ready for sale to visitors, or packed for foreign markets—an astonishing variety of articles in woven glass, mosaic, and almost every ornamental manner in which it could be got up, from a few shillings to hundreds of pounds; some of the bracelets, &c., for marriage presents, containing most elaborate wreaths of flowers, birds, &c., in the beautiful but costly rose coral, with various tinted glasswork. We were very much interested with what we saw, and, as our purses were nearly £10 lighter on leaving, the attention paid was not altogether waste labour. Of course we visited the San Marco, said to be without an equal in Europe. We thought the view one of surpassing beauty. The sun shone with more than ordinary brilliancy. To our left was the Palace of the Doge; to our right, the Mint and the Palace of St. Mark; in front, the two magnificent monolith columns; beyond them the Lagoons, with innumerable gondolas gliding noiselessly yet rapidly along-forming a scene we never expected seeing equalled again. Being desirous of seeing everything to the best possible advantage, we ascended the Campanile-over three hundred feet high-not, as is usual elsewhere, by steps, but by an inclined plane, to the open belfry. A staircase then leads to the upper gallery, fifty feet higher. Our view from the summit is just impossible to describe it must be seen to be realised. Magnificent as was the scene below, this far surpassed it. The entire of Venice, the Queen of the Adriatic, was at our feet, seen to perfection from this altitude, -the windings of its various canals, a labyrinth of waters; innumerable domes and palaces and towers; and, in the distance, the Alps; to the north-east, the Euganean Hills; across the Adriatic, on the Austrian shore, the heights of Istria. It was from this tower that unfaithful priests, who had broken their vows or otherwise disgraced themselves, were suspended in cages until Fate had done its worst. Here Galileo studied the stars with the telescope invented by him in 1609, when residing here, which valuable instrument he presented to the Doge Donato. We were glad to have the opportunity of seeing and examining the Clock Tower, erected in 1496 by Pietro Lombardo. On its dialplate the twenty-four hours are marked, the signs of the Zodiac, and the phases of the moon. Above is the Madonna, sitting in state on a platform between two doors. We were sorry at being unable to see all the mechanical performances of the Orológio, but they are only to be witnessed during the great religious festivals, when the door on her right opens, and out walks an angel with a large trumpet, which he blows, then bows to the Madonna, and passes on. Following are three figures, but opinions are divided as to whether they are intended to represent three Moorish monarchs, or the three wise men who brought gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, at our Saviour's birth. One, however, is as black as midnight. These all pause, bow before the Virgin, and pass on through the doorway to the left, when the door closes after them. On the platform is a huge bell, beside which stand two great figures with sledge-hammers to strike the hours. Above all is the Lion of St. Mark's, with outstretched wings. It is said that the enthusiasm of the Venetians is never worn out in reference to this wonderful clock. Although quite familiar with its workings, from frequent visits, they will linger to gaze and rapturously hail the procession and other performances. Strangers are amused at the number of pigeons which are everywhere about the Piazza, especially about two o'clock in the afternoon, when they regularly descend, to be fed at the public expense. They are wonderfully tame, and seem to fear no danger. We watched them with great interest and pleasure. Traditions vary as to the origin of this pleasing spectacle. One says, that having escaped from their place of residence during a religious festival, they came in a flock and established themselves under the roof of St. Mark's, and so pertinaciously adhered to their new residence that a decree of the Senate forbade their being disturbed, and gave orders for their being supported at the expense of the State. Another is, that when Admiral Dandolo was besieging Candia, he received important news from Venice by means of carrier-pigeons, and when victory crowned his efforts the tidings were conveyed by the same means to Venice; hence they and their descendants are liberally provided for by the generosity of the townspeople. The two monolith pillars are of Oriental granite, red and grey, brought in the twelfth century by the Doge Domenietrino Michelé. On the red column is the marble statue of St. Theodore, the protector of the Republic and the early patron of Venice; singularly enough, the sword is in his left hand, and the shield in his right hand. On the grey column is the winged Lion of St. Mark, in bronze. This was taken in 1807, by Napoleon, to Paris and deposited in the Invalides, but was restored in 1815. Around these columns cluster legends innumerable. One is, that after they were brought by the above-named Doge, they lay on the quay unraised for above a century, until a Lombard named Nicolo raised them to their present position, and claimed as his reward permission to keep a gambling-table at their base. The vicious love of play speedily attained such proportions, that, to repress it, the space between the columns was made the place of public execution. Superstitious people became of opinion that it was a true presage of evil for anyone to pass between them; and when the unfortunate Faliero landed here on his election as Doge, from inadvertence, owing to the prevalence of a thick fog, he passed between the fated colums; after a few months he was assassinated, or at least beheaded, within the closed doors of the palace, and the popular impression became the more deeply rooted. What a crowd of historic associations are connected with this noble square, the Place of St. Mark, the heart of Venice, the Forum, the Garden, the Grand Hall of the Ducal City, the general rendezvous for commerce and for pleasure! What wonderful scenes has it witnessed! Of what gorgeous fêtes and solemnities has it been the theatre! Here, about seven hundred years ago, blind old Dandolo received the crusader chiefs of France-Montfort, Montserrat, Montmorency, and Baudoin. Here it was that Barbarossa bowed his neck to the ancient Pontiff. Here were celebrated the splendid nuptials of Francesco Foscari, and at the tournament were assembled thirty thousand spectators, while a succession of pageants delighted and astonished the people for ten successive days. Here it was that Petrarch assisted at the gorgeous fêtes held in honour of the conquest of Candia, and exclaimed: "I know not that the world has an equal to this place." Here were crushed the conspiracies of Faliero and Tipolo, on the only two occasions when, for fourteen hundred years, Venetians fought against Venetians in the Place of St. Mark. Around this square the newly-elected Doge was wont to be carried in his chair of state on the shoulders of the Arsenalotti, scattering largess in his course; and around this square, on the Mardi Gras of each year, for several centuries, the bull and twelve hogs, in memory of the unique ransom of the Patriarch of Aquiela and his twelve Canons, were fiercely chased, and, with a single blow from a two-handed sword, four feet long and four inches broad, finally despatched. Around this square proceeded, and still proceeds annually, in pompous procession, the priestly pageant of the Corpus Domini, with lanterns and flambeaux, torches and candles. And here for centuries was held the Fiera Franca, or Free Fair, to which flocked merchants from all parts of Europe, when for eight days a city of shops appeared on the pavement of St. Mark's, filled with the rarest and most costly commodities, the lanes and streets of which may yet be traced by means of the tesselated stones. And here, too, is the Theatre of the Tombola, that characteristic lottery of Italy which draws on to the Piazza, en masse, the whole populalation of the Dogedom. Nor has this square in more modern times lost all its ancient glory. Its vast area blazed with illuminations on the visit of the Emperor Ferdinand when returning from his coronation at Milan. The balconies, entablatures, cornices, fringes, and all the caprices of architecture of the palaces and the cathedral were traced in lines of irisèd light: when the lofty Campanile heaved up its mighty mass, wedge-like, into the dark sky as of a blazing beacon amid a sea of fire; and dome, and spire, and pinnacle of the sacred, though Saracenic, architecture of St. Mark's was outlined in flame. It was here, at the base of the Tree of Liberty planted in the centre of the square, that the Insignia of the Ancient Republic were consumed on the 4th of June, 1797, and fifty years later, on the 22nd of March, 1848, that ancient republic was declared anew. The Palazzo |