Journal – Probably Georgina Marsh-Caldwell on the Continent with Bertram Buxton and Richenda Buxton and others.
Venice. 1873
How can any picture of what Venice is, be brought to your mind, it is so utterly unlike any place you can ever have seen, and words are poor substitutes for eyes; but perhaps these words may give you some faint notion.
Imagine a city of Palaces and Churches. Palaces of marble and stone rich in colonnades, pillars both sculptured – complete arches filled, every variety of wondrous colonnades, of carved columns, capitals and arch, rich in – with balconies of stone cut in patterns of beautiful open tracing.
Churches of magnificent size, bearing massive lofty domes, or there with towers springing up to Heaven, in wealth of profusion wherever you turn you eyes imagine all the prodigality of beauty rising out of and resting on, sparkling waters of every shade of tenderest clearest green and blues; over all stretched a sky that is so clear you seem to look up through light to a blue the colour of (porsepine?) not dipped in lights and when the sun is setting them over the west a glorious veil of gold and clouds of tender rich rose colour shot with gold sailing in the forget-me-not blue.
The Palaces rise sheer out of the water. The grand Churches stand back a space and then marble or stone steps with (large sp-s) stretch to the waters edge and then with wide long steps dipping down into it people the sparkling water with long black boats going off at a point at each end from which flashes a large steel prow, coloured awnings fluttering in the breeze.A dark black solid cover concealing the seats and sitters within. One man or two standing with long handled oars at each end, sending these boats shooting in every direction across the waters.
If you look east there are ships whose masts and rigging stand clear in their confused lines adjacent a background of grand buildings and the few trees of a public garden.
Look south and the lake like sea is studded with islands like jewels rich in Church cupola and tower and massive buildings.
Look North there lies the Mare of Venice with some of her grandest buildings resting on their piles at the edge of some of her 72 islands.
Look east, the Grand Canal as they call their splendid broad waters sheet bordered with a wealth of Palaces and Churches. On its southern side more islands of Palaces and Churches and then a wider sheet of waters. The Guidecca and to its southern side, more Churches and more Palaces.
That was the Jews quarter in those harsh bitter times when few Jew was not allowed to live side by side with Christians.
And then again the sea Luke, or Lagoon, and far away the peaked mountains above Pevia(?). Such is a faint description of Venice, which we reached after along hot dusty and very fatiguing but oh how lovely journey fromMilan.
On Sunday 24th June about 5pm.
We crossed the lagoon by a long long railway viaduct which now connects Venice with the main land.
Venice, which first began to live 1480 years ago when a few miserable people fled to these islands to find a safe home from the Barbarian Huns, who under Attila were pouring over the mountains upon the rich Lombard plains of Italy.
Venice which was once the grandest and most powerful merchant city of Europe.
Venice which is now a relic of the past: we got to the Custom House and when with a whole train full of people we had been disposed of we passed out on a flagged quay and down a flight of long narrow steps to a large two manned Gondola.
Opposite, across the water, a grand Church with a cupola. A festa was going on and the doorway was rich in crimson cloth and wreathes of flowers.
Soon we passed out of the Grand Canal and began shooting through narrow water streets round corners, the musical warning cry of boat-men. Estavee Ah ee rang out as these corners were rounded.
Venice in these bye water streets looked dilapidated, sad, a fallen Queen. More than that, a beggared Queen. But that impression passed away entirely when we knew her.
We passed under many of the 300 narrow high pitched bridges which cross here 146 smaller canals, for Venice has streets of solid earth as well as water streets. Narrow, these are with lofty houses on each side only leaving a streak of blue sky to the sun.
But it is hot at Venice and shady streets are a blessing. And their being very narrow and flagged does not matter, for unless you go on the water in a Gondola, you must walk in Venice. There is neither carriage, nor cart, horse, mule or donkey. In fact no four legged beast bigger than a dog or cat: and it give a wonderful lightness to the sounds in Venice, nothing but the ring of feet on the pavement. The hum of voices, the soft dreamy splash of the oars and that musical cry of the boatmen.
We got to our Hotel, an old Palace, where once doubtless some grand merchant Prince had lived who had helped to guide the destinies of nations.
Every house has a door on a canal and on a street so that you can walk or boat from the house as you choose. X. A wide corridor with windows at each end, rich with pillars and carved capitals and pitted arches and balconies of carved stone, each pattern of which is a study run straight through the Palace.
Out of this corridor, the apartments and winding passages leading to others X. Our door was wide with (stys?) from it – washed by the canal waters, out of which rose huge thick poles coloured in stripes of blue and white, to which to fasten the Gondolas. Such poles, different coloured you see in front of all the large Palaces.
We went up into a lower side corridor and by a flight of handsome stone steps on our left to a higher one. X. We were shown one our rooms at one end, on each side of this corridor. Some windows looking out across a paved court covered with groups of orange trees and other plants in large tubs arranged as a flower garden and on the left the canal continued and the Palace making the other 3 sides.
That opposite us also part of the Hotel freshly done up and making one understand a little of what Venice must have been in her glory. A window of one of the apartments looked on the canal.
I would be impossible to tell you all we saw at Venice, but some things we saw and did may interest you. (‘I will take you first to the Piazza’ crossed out) To tell you of all the Churches, Palaces, Pictures we saw would be impossible.
The Churches are generally very fine. They are almost innumerable when I tell you there are 25 the guide books recommend you to see and that every one has many beautiful and famous pictures in them, besides sculptures, tombs and other works of art. You will see it is better not to try to describe them.
The first place we will go to is the Piazza. The great meeting place of Venice, and unlike any other in the world.
We went through some narrow streets, came to a handsome arch in a long massive building, passed through it, found ourselves in a colonnade from which a flight of steps went down to a long square stretching away with its paved flagged (‘pavement’ crossed out) with large stones 576 feet long.
At one end we saw 185ft wide and widening out to the east end by slanting away on the right hand side to 269ft on each side splendid buildings uniform in height and architecture, infinite in variety of ornament of rich gay marble or stone. I do not know which, the upper stories are supported by pillars with richly carved capitals under thin colonnades, a wide flagged wall backed on the right or north side, principally by cafes and restaurants.
On the left or south side, principally by jewelers shops rich in corals and pearls and diamonds etc. At the farther end of this side a clock tower with its curious old clock whose hours are struck by two strong(?) men who come out and strike them with hammers on a bell.
At night the clock is lighted up, every 5 minutes that passes pumping (fon-?) as its time comes, before the light.
At the east end is the famous Church of St Mark with its crowd of cupolas and its front of 5 fine lofty round open arches supporting five arches above filled with pictures of the great events in our Blessed Lords life and the life of St. Mark. These are in coloured mosaics, a mosaic is a picture made up of little squares put together so as to form the picture either in coloured stones or thick glass, coloured and made for the purpose. The whole of the (crossing - ?)is lined with these mosaics.
The pictures on a gold ground of mosaic, the walls are lined with (insert above ?) and the pillars are made of precious marbles of different colours. The floor is all inlaid but from the sinking of the piles on which it is built is very uneven.
It is a very (large?) heavy gloomy church and in spite of its richness we did not admire it. From the Piazza it has a squat looking owing I think to its giant neighbour, the Campanile, which stands at that end of the Piazza.
At some little distance from St. Marks its 323ft of height rising from a base of 42ft wide would tend to make anything look squat. The Campanile is of a dull read brick, at its top are four open arches in white stone, inside which are the bells which are struck at certain stated times, in old times in cases of wars or troubles, above a high (gilded?) roof and as weathercock, an Angel 30ft high.
We went up it one day, not by steps but a sort of inclined pathway winding up inside. A horse could easily go up. The view over Venice is splendid .
We strolled down the Piazza, it was evening and full of people. Little round tables and chairs were set before the cafes and groups of people were at them eating (ices?) sipping coffee or lemonade. Smoking, chatting company a band plays 9 times a week and was playing there.
We strolled on and when we got to the Campanile turned sharp round to our right and found another smaller but still more beautiful Piazza on our left, the Ducal Palace with its colonnade of richest columns, the stone work above the arches carved in rich open pattern. Above the Palace of (brost?) and red brick and richly ornamented stone windows.
To our right another colonnade and richly carved grey stone building in front the blue sparkling Lagoon covered with gondolas (shipping steamers?). Two splendid red marble columns rising between it and us.
Then far away islands with their Churches and buildings, one behind the other, and over all the lovely evening sky. We went back and took our seat at one of the tables, called for (ices, pies?). The moon came out and the scene was as if another world.
Here we used to come for our luncheon, every day of (cies, ices?) and cakes. You don’t want much meat in these hot climates and here when the two (bronze?) me came forth and with their hammers beat out two o’clock, came sweeping down innumerable pigeons, of all colours.
It is wonderful to see them, coming flying in clouds from cornice to pillar, statue and frieze, to get their daily offering of (course?) No one knows when the custom began nor why but everyone knows these pigeons are sacred to the Venetians and they are so tame they will walk about amongst the people. Some eat out of their hands, some perch on them.
And now we will go to the Ducal Palace. We passed into the smaller Piazza and immediately to our left turned towards an open arch way. I should tire you were I to describe the wonderful beauty and richness of its carvings, imagine all you have seen richest and most beautiful and then you will have an idea of the feeling that you have in Venice almost at every turn and it is real beauty and like all real beauty you do not see it at first but it pons and pons and takes possessive of you as you ponder it and drink it in, as in all deepest reverie be it spoken. Does His Beauty of whom all beauty of man’s creation is as it were but a ray.
We passed through a deep arch way, more a corridor, into a square court surrounded by (‘the richest’ crossed out) buildings of the richest architecture and in front the (panto Harease?) of white marble so called from two great figures on top, at that top the Doges, when Venice ruled herself were carried the Doge was elected from the nobility and was the head of the Commonwealth for life.
Along marble corridors and splendid stair (casements?) a magnificent room 1757 ft long 34 ½ ft broad and 51ft high, along one side windows of richest sculpture which look out over the Quays and Lagoon.
At one end a magnificent pietro by Tintorel stretching the whole length it is the largest ever painted being 84 ft long and 34 ft high, the subject is Christ our Lord in Paradise.
Around pictures by the greatest artists of great events in the History of Venice. Above portraits of all the Doges but one, there a black cloth is painted and his name, he had betrayed the Constitution of his country and tried to gain more power for himself. (4) so he was beheaded and dropped out of the line of Doges.
The ceiling magnificently painted and gilded and so we passed from one splendid room to another where Venice used to call herself and much of the world into a smaller room.
The room of the Council of 3 and here we came face to face with that dark side of its terrible history. Here men tortured men with excruciating tortures. Whether they were innocent or guilty for at one time and for along time this Council of (‘ten’ crossed out) 3 ruled Venice by terror.
None was safe. Any enemy might denounce you. You would be seized, carried off, your family most likely heard nothing of you. Be thrust into the prisons and dungeons we shall go and see. Brought out into this room, tortured, to be made to confess what perhaps you had never done, condemned and then - .
And in this room hangs a large picture of Our Blessed Lord Crucified! And in the presence of this picture man tortured man. It seems impossible, but it is an awful truth. Like letters of fire it testifies what avail these things if the Lord Jesus Christ be not in your heart.
It was all very terrible there and then we crossed the dark covered in bridge “the Bridge of Sighs” where torn and bleeding and crushed hearts and bodies had passed. How many before us.
We went up first into the (Jeuirus ?) prisons, “under the lead“ Where men have worn away years and years of lives in small cells of 3 ft square and down. “Under the (Xtu?)” into utter darkness where those condemned to death were entered and spent the last few days or hours without hope or chance of seeing those they left behind once more, and then the hour came were led into a passage their heads placed on a block, the axe fell, a gondola was waiting, a small door opened. The body placed in it, through the black night rowed into the lagoon, a splash and all is over and none will ever know at home what when or where it has befallen you.
We were like beings come up from the depths below when a door was suddenly opened and the warm sunlight and sparkling blue waters were before us but it hung like a hideous nightmare over me and one could not but thank God such times were passed and feel the sun of Righteousness is ever rising more and more on the World.
One afternoon we took the steamer that starts every half hour for the Lido. It was evening and such an evening it was as of one of the gates of Heaven had been opened in that glorious sky. One felt as if such exquisite beauty could come from no other source.
But what is the Lido. This Lagoon is separated from the Adriatic sea by a thin strip of sandy shore with openings forming channels here and there. It is 20 miles or more long and in some places wide enough for towns. But here it is a narrow strip, planted over with lots of trees and gardens. Restaurants and wide alleys for riding in, thick with pleasure gardens of the Venetians.
We steamed along, a boat full of people all bright and cheery, it was getting late when we got there but we strolled along and at last found ourselves at the large bathing establishment and sitting ourselves on the sea wall watched the splash of the Adriatic, and then moon and stars came out and we strolled back and took our steamer, if possible by moonlight more beautiful than before did Venice look resting on her deep blue waters.
We spent a great deal of time in our gondola rowing from one place of interest to another, the motion is a soft gliding one, sometimes a more vigorous pull at the oar sends you skimming forward.
Our gondolier was a fine fair haired, blue eyed young man whose ancestors must have came over the mountains from Germany. When a thousand years and more they swept down upon Italy, a great contrast to the black haired sallow complexions, high nosed Venetians.
He had just set up for himself, a gondola in perfection is a costly matter but it is the ambition of all gondoliers to bring their gondola up to the perfect mark. He spoke of his almost as a living being. First the long black boat is bought and such cheap cotton running and cushions as can be afforded. The first embellishment added, the light steel prow which rises high out of the waters. It is something like a huge saw set on end, with great wide square teeth and gracefully curving outward at the top. It costs a great deal but the gondolier is in the lowest stage until that is obtained.
Then come better cushions, a solid black arched top which is placed over the seats and which is adorned more or less with silver ornaments. The Boatmen stands at the stern of the boat and rows with a long handled oar. He wears no coat, a bright coloured shirt and bright scarf wound round his waist instead of braces. Ours wore a soft brown wide awake on his head(?) their movements in rowing are very graceful.
The work is hard whilst they are at it but the gondola is as often resting quietly on the waters as skimming over them. (‘Our man told us that the people’ crossed out) and in the evening the young ones go to their balls and the old ones to their pipes and chats in their cafes.
Our man told us that the people in Venice all very poor, there is little trade now, where centuries back the trade from the East poured into Europe. But in that hot climate little food is required and living is cheaper and easier than with us. He told us all must now be educated by the law of Italy and rejoiced in it, he himself was a good scholar.
They are up at five and the religious minded among them begin their day by going to their Church.
Besides the Gondoliers there are huge barges, the luggage trains of the canals piled with hay or straw with huge barrels of wine or oil with fresh water casks or cases of meat (undigo?) slowly creeping about the canals. They are very picturesque.
For centuries one of the most important and oldest industries of Venice has been the glass manufacturing (‘it is an old manufacture for centuries’ crossed out)
We went one day to see the works they make, splendid mirrors, the frames of which are formed of glass wreathes of coloured flowers and leaves.
One we saw in ferns and flowers was most exquisite a mirror for the Queen of the (Tarries?) we saw them make some kind of glass beads for which they are so famous, the workman is seated before a strong gas jet. He took up what looked like a stick of black liquorice in his right hand, a wire in his left, the stick of glass for such it was he held in the flame until it became so soft that he could twist a portion of it round the wire and the force of the flame in which he kept turning it shaped a bead, then he took up long pieces of that glass (‘the length’ crossed out) and thickness of a straw and 5 or 6 inches long.
He still held his black bead in the flame and with one of these sticks which he softened in the flame painted on it the light part of a pink rose, then in the same way he put in a darker shade, quickly for he was most rapid he took up blue sticks and painted forget me nots with the roses then green leaves and then a band of gold running through them. The beads all the size of snowberries.
It is wonderful how they can paint the tiny flowers on them. They have no patterns, each workman follows his own fancy.
Of course for necklaces and bracelets making many of the same pattern. This was only one that we saw, which also in varied in the colour of the bead and of the flowers as well as pattern but there are a great variety of beads made and all very pretty. The speed and (‘exactness’ crossed out) (witto?) which they finished their bead is astonishing.
On Sunday morning 29th (of June?) at 5 am we were suddenly awakened by a violent trembling of our beds. As if a giant had seized the four corners of the Palace and shaken it for a few seconds.
Then a pause, then shaken it again.
Then another pause and then a third shaking seemingly more violent then the first.
Every bell (‘began ringing’ crossed out) and in the hotel and from all the Churches began ringing. The walls creaked and the plaster crumbled down. Were the piles of the old Palace giving way and setting down. No, it was a earthquake. The severest which had been felt in the memory of the old inhabitants.
The (learned?) said afterwards had the shocks been quicker in another direction or repeated Venice would have sunk in her blue waters.
It was a bright lovely morning and a glorious day followed, but the effect on one of the party was a sensation of intense blank misery, every nerve seemed dislocated and the mind and spirits seemed dislocated with them, a sort of terror of the body and intense dump depression of the mind.
One has always heard that an earthquake is the one thing in which the most courageous lose courage and to which you can never become indifferent but each time the terror increases.
Venice disagreed so very seriously with one of the party and it was determined therefore, as fevers are not uncommonly caught there to leave as soon as possible.
So Sunday evening we left Venice (‘on the softest calmest’ crossed out) sweetest evening in which to set the memory of Venice the beautiful widowed of that wealth and power, in (trust, lush?) for which in times past as those who read her history will learn she committed every crime of cross dealing and cruelty.
Truly one learns these most forcibly, not riches, not power but righteousness and that alone establishes the City. The sad beautiful sounds of the Prophet toTyre were tolling their eternal truths in one’s spirit.
Thus saith the Lord God; Because thine heart is lift up, and those hath said, I am a
God, I sit in the seat of God, in the midst of the seas; yet through all a man, and not God, though thou set they heart in God? With thy wisdom and with thine understanding thou hast gotten thee riches, and hast gotten gold and silver into thy treasuries. By thy wisdom and thy traffic hast thou increased thy riches, and thy heart is lifted up because of they riches; therefore says the Lord God, because thou hast set thine heart as the heart of God, Behold therefore I will bring strangers upon thee and they shall defile thy brightness. … This saith the Lord God. Thou sealest up the sum fate of wisdom and perfect in beauty… Ref-(rip in page) multitude of they merchandise they have filled the midst of thee with v- and thou hast (seized?) therefore I will (rip) thee as profane act of the –mountain ofGod.Zek 23.1.ect
Is there no warning for us in all these things, nothing we can take to heart in these days?
