light, which described an arch against the horizon, corresponding with that of the Rialto. A solitary lamp was burning upon its top. At 9 or 10 o'clock a concert of voices proceeded from this rendezvous of the lower classes, and at length others responded on the shore below. Sometimes the parties joined in the same tune and kept exact time, though they were far apart. The effect was charming. There was a plaintive, pleasing melancholy in the music, which seemed to breathe an elegy over departed greatness and grandeur.

We began to think that all which has been recorded or sung of this romantic city, is strictly true, and that the half had not been told us. Had the gondola taken us back to terra firma on the same night, our excursion would have left an impression of a visit to an enchanted land, presenting scenes entirely out of the sphere of ordinary life, and unlike any thing else to be found on earth. A tourist would do well to select a bright moonlight evening, cross the Lagune at sunset, navigate the canals, pause a moment at the Rialto, visit St. Mark's, climb the Campanile, saunter amidst the circles of Venetian beauty beneath the arcades, take a turn or two in the Public Garden, row to the Lido, and return to the shore at the dawn of day, before the inhabitants have gone to sleep. Rich as the city is in the works of art and the monuments of former grandeur, an examination in detail will by no means support the first impression, and the visitant finds his enthusiastic admiration declining daily, till his dreams of romance have all vanished, and the mistress of the hundred Isles is left without any feelings of deep regret. Venice is like a woman with a pretty face, but destitute of intellect or heart. She may please the eye, without being able to win and chain the affections.

LETTER LXXXV.

VENICE CONTINUED─RIALTO-SANTA TERESA-SQUARE OF ST. MARK'S--CHURCH-BRONZE HORSES-CAMPANILE—VIEW OF THE CITY AND ISLANDS-DUCAL PALACE ANCIENT HALLS -BRIDGE OF SIGHS-DUNGEONS--MINT--PUBLIC GARDEN— GREEKS AT VENICE.

September, 1826.-On the morning after our arrival, we chartered a gondola with one oar, at the rate of five francs a day, and commenced a voyage of discovery, directing our course along the Grand Canal to the Rialto, which was examined with a minuteness proportioned to its fame. It is built of white stone, resembling marble. The chord of its arch is only eighty feet. Its sides are embellished with statues in alto rilievo, with some other decorations and inscriptions. But the view from the water is neither grand nor beautiful. Poetry and association have done every thing for this bridge. It is at most a fantastic object. Its construction is peculiar. As it has long been one of the principal marts of the city, it is fitted up with appurtenances adapted to such purposes. The central passage is lined on both sides with jewellers' shops and boutiques for other merchandise. On the highest part of the bridge are transverse arches, enclosing a small square, which is occupied as a sort of Exchange. Behind the shops are two other passages, one on each side, guarded outwardly by handsome balustrades. The ascent from the ends to the centre of the walks is so steep, as to render steps necessary. It is of course never crossed by carriages, as there are none in the city. I do not recollect to have seen a horse, except the brazen steeds in front of St. Mark's, during my visit.

Saluting the Madonna, who guards the flight of steps leading from the bridge to the water, we re-embarked, passed under the ponderous arch, and continued our voyage through the Grand Canal. The next landing was effected upon the steps of the church of Santa Teresa Senza Calce, which once belonged to the Carmelites. Its front is majestic, rising from the water on double ranges of columns, crowded with

statues and other ornaments. The interior is rich, too rich, in splendid materials. A young priest seemed to take a pride in informing us, that the church cost 336,000 ducats.

Continuing our excursion, we emerged from the Canal into an arm of the Lagune, half a mile in breadth, separating the island of St. Maggiore from the rest of the city, and forming the principal harbour for boats and small craft. The view of St. Mark's and the neighbouring edifices, embracing a large number of churches and palaces; the lofty tower rising in the centre; the shipping in the port; and the Public Garden beyond, can hardly be surpassed in magnifiDebarking at the quay, which is as spacious and beautiful as those of the Arno, we found the winged Lion and a statue of Theodoric, poised far above our heads upon two stupendous columns of granite. An esplanade, denominated the Piazzetta, opens from the water to the great Square, in front of St. Mark's, which is the Palais Royal of Venice--the scene of the Carnival and other great fetes, the place of resort for eating, drinking, gaiety, and pleasure. It lies in the form of a parallelogram, perhaps a thousand feet in length, and three or four hundred in breadth, surrounded on three sides by continuous ranges of palaces, three stories high, uniform both in material and architecture, at least so far as not to break the unity of the view, or to of fend the eye. The whole area is neatly paved, and lined with deep arcades, into which shops and coffee-houses without number open, presenting at night a most brilliant spectacle. In architectural grandeur, this square far surpasses the Palais Royal. Several days were occupied in examining the edifices which surround it, and of which I shall attempt a hasty notice.

The Church of St. Mark, standing at one end of the Piazza, is the most prominent object. I have called it the St. Peter's of Venice. Such it is in a religious point of view, and the richness of its materials; though it will bear no comparison in size and architecture. It is an irregular, rude, Gothic pile, in which oriental marbles and the splendid spoils of the east have been heaped together, without much regard to taste or elegance. Its exterior is grotesque, and strikes only by its novelty, being a mixture of all orders and of all kinds of materials. Its front is indented with five deep alcoves, filled with rows of pillars, differing as much in style as in colour-some Moorish, others Gothic, and the rest

Grecian. It is said there are three hundred in all. In their wars with the Turks and other nations, the Venetians brought home the fragments of demolished temples, and added them to this proud structure, which in turn was doomed to conquest and pillage. Our guide informed us, that the silver heads of saints were picked out of the doors, and many of the valuable ornaments pilfered by the French soldiers, instead of being left for the Austrians.

A gallery extends across the whole front of the church, above which rise five stately domes, in the midst of innumerable pinnacles. We ascended to the terrace, under the guidance of a priest, and examined the celebrated bronze-gilt horses of Lysippus, which have been great travellers, and jaded almost into hacks. They were plundered from Corinth by Mummius Achaicus and carried to Rome; thence returned to Constantinople; on the conquest of that city by the Venetians, they were taken as trophies, and placed over the front of St. Mark's; Napoleon led them captive over the Alps, to grace his triumphal arches at Paris; and the members of the Holy Alliance conducted them back to the Adri atic. They are sadly maimed, bruised, and galled by so many long journeys. The gilding has in many places been scratched off for the sake of the gold. One of the collars was broken and lost in the removal, and a new one put on by the French. They have been patched up and repaired since their return. In size, they are somewhat larger than life, extremely well proportioned, and spirited in their attitudes. Their present location is horrible. They are moderately elevated upon pedestals, and nothing but their heads can be seen from the Square below. Why did not the Emperor of Austria, who acted in the capacity of groom at the restoration, direct them to be placed in the centre of the area, or any where else than among the pinnacles of a church, between which and war-horses there is a strange incongruity?

The inside of St. Mark's is as unique as the exterior. Dark and gloomy as it is, I was pleased with it on account of its nationality. It was commenced during the early ages of the Republic, in the 7th or 8th century, and enriched with the trophies of victory. The spoils of the east are here accumulated. Our cicerone stated, that the church contains one hundred and forty different kinds of marbles and precious stones. They are thrown together in a rude manner, but diɛ

play unbounded wealth, as well as an enthusiastic patriotism. All the inscriptions relate rather to the glories of the Venetian arms, than to the doctrines and precepts of the Prince of Peace. The tomb of old Dandalo is conspicuous, and the walls are hung with the escutcheons of other warriors. Here are pillars from the temple of Solomon, and doors from the church of St. Sophia at Constantinople. Every altar, every column, every stone is historical, associated with the achievements of the Republic. Even St. Mark, the Patron of the city, is clothed with the badges of power, rather than with the symbols of religion.

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We inquired of a priest, where the dust of the saint repoHe replied, "under the church," without being particular as to the precise spot. It is said to have been brought from Alexandria, and here deposited. The relics have all disappeared, in the successive revolutions which Venice has undergone. A candle was lighted, to show us the perfect transparency of two oriental columns of alabaster. pavement is undulating like the sea, on which it rests. in some places so uneven, that one can scarely walk upon it with convenience. It is mosaic, composed of precious stones infinitely varied. We trampled upon agate and jasper. The shrines are gorgeous, and always thronged with votaries. Many of the ornaments are lost to the eye, owing to the dim light. The walls and the ceilings of the domes are covered with mosaics, frescos, and gildings, which are but imperfectly seen, and might perhaps as well be entirely concealed.

In front of St. Mark's stand three red masts, which in our country would be called liberty-poles. They were erected to commemorate the capture of Cyprus, Candia, and the Morea, whence they were brought as trophies. They are fixed at bottom in sockets of bronze, and on the top of each is perched a brazen lion, wearing a crown, which in this instance needs his wings to keep his balance at such a height, and on such a slender support. Two other lions, in red marble, repose with more dignity, by a fountain, or rather a cistern, on the left of the church; and a third, on a neighbouring building, holds the book of the Evangelist in his paws. Above his head is a clock, on the face of which the sun is represented passing through the signs of the zodiac. In short, the image of the king of beasts, in the form shadowed forth by the prophet Ezekiel, meets the traveller at every