Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 425 | Page 2

narrow lanes, were ill-lighted: only those
having windows to the front were light or cheerful. The walls,
staircases, and floors, were all of marble--the proportions large, and the
decorations elegant. The date, 'JAN. 1676,' appeared over an inner door
in the salle.
A side-door in the rear of the house gave me exit for a walk into the

town. I found myself in a paved lane, here called a calle, with good
houses on each side. It led me into a wider lane, which had all the
characters of a street, excepting that it was comparatively narrow, and
only traversed by people on foot. Here I found shops of many kinds,
but almost all on a small scale; as also many stalls for the sale of fruit
and other petty articles. Following this way to the right, I soon came to
the outside of the great square, which is the principal public place in the
city. It was but necessary to go through a wide passage, to find myself
in the _Piazza_--that well-known paved and arcaded quadrangle, which
we have seen so often in pictures; the far extremity being closed by the
singular church of St Mark, while close by rose the lofty campanile and
the three tall flag-staffs. We sauntered for an hour about this grand
central region, viewing the outsides of things only, and dreaming of
those scenes of the past with which they were connected. After dinner,
I again went out by myself to walk through the town, for it was agreed
that we should put off regular sight-seeing till next day. Let not the
reader be surprised to hear of walking through Venice. It is permeated
in all directions by calles and narrow streets, which cross the canals by
high-arched stone bridges, thus giving pedestrian access to and from all
parts of the city. Certainly, however, no such thing as a leading
thoroughfare exists, and it must be difficult for strangers to acquire that
local knowledge which will enable them to find their way without a
guide. Unlike all other cities, no kind of vehicle, not so much as a
wheelbarrow, ever rattles along these narrow, tortuous ways. The
gondolas upon the canals are strictly the only conveyances used in
Venice. Thus the city has a stillness which, even in its most brilliant
days, must have impressed strangers with a sense of melancholy. In our
time, when Venice is reduced at once from independence and from
wealth, the effect is peculiarly depressing. I felt as if Venice were only
a curiosity to look at for a few days, not a place in which any
considerable portion of life could be spent with comfort.
Next morning, at eight o'clock, by which time we had breakfasted, a
gondola with two rowers waited for us at the porch of the hotel, along
with a clever, well-informed youth named Alessandro, who had
undertaken to be our cicerone. The charges for both gondolas and
guides had, we found, been raised since the late troubles, in common

with everything else in Venice, liberty being always somehow a
provocative to taxation, whether temporarily or permanently enjoyed.
What in 1843 would have cost six English shillings, now stood us eight
or nine. The gondola, as is well known, is a long boat, pointed at both
ends, and painted black--furnished in the centre with cushioned seats,
all black, over which is erected a kind of cot, with windows, to screen
the passengers. One man stands in the fore, another in the back part,
rowing with their faces forward, the oar working in a twisting manner
on the top of a piece of wood curiously grooved for the purpose. I
cannot say that I saw anything very peculiar in the dress of the
gondoliers, or indeed in the appearance of any of the people of Venice,
excepting the female water-carriers. With that exception, the people are
dressed in much the same manner as is customary over Europe
generally. So far as I recollect, not a single veiled or half-veiled lady,
sailing in her own gondola, met our eyes while we were in Venice. We
have to revert for all such things to Goldoni's plays and the pages of our
own Byron.
The real grand thoroughfare of Venice is the _Canale Grande_--a wide
curving street, which sweeps through a great part of the city. The
principal palaces of the nobility, the superbest of the churches, and the
best hotels, are placed along this water-street. As we moved along,
Alessandro told us, in respectable French, the history of each great
mansion, and what its owners had done in the history of the republic: a
recital as intelligent and as accurate as could have been expected in a
book. Most of these buildings have a melancholy, decayed look, being
generally very