The Express.
London, England, 1864-09-24 00:00:00

FIRE OFFICE.

VSNIOE, Sirr. 18.

The variety of opinion one hears about
Venice is remarkable but the general tone of visi-
tors new to the place is one of disappointment
at the Snit glance, satisfaction at the second, and
ecstasy at the third. The entrance by railway
through a country flat as the Essex marshes, and
much resembling them in character--the large
modern well-lit station, with porters, guards, and
soldiery about its platform, and " Omnibus to
S. Marco " by its portico outside—and the gas-lamps
of modern shape at regular intervals ou the quays
of the Grand Canal—all tend to destroy ro-
mance. " Beautiful Venice" is an expression so
hackneyed ; we have so often read of the " glorious
city " where
The sea is in the breed, the narrow streets,
Ebbiag sad flowing ; arid the malt seaweed
Clings to the marble of her palaces ;
and of

Gliding up her streets, u in a dream,
So smoothly, alsetly—by many a dome.
Moga►lib, and many a stately Portico ;

that we are apt to forget that no city oould be
formed of palaces exclusively, and that transacting
the business of life necessitates the use of common-
place instruments, and associations we connect
with vulgarity. The shabby houses seen side by
aide by the most stately edifices, giving one the
notion of an incongruous amalgam of Wapping and
Pall-mall—the gas-lamps, whose presence seem an
anachronism, which are too far apart to really light
the place, and are as conventional in shape as those
in the Strand—the eight of people walking on
quays where you have been taught walking is im-
possible—all combine to chill enthusiasm. The
omnibus," of course, is a public gondola, of which
there are several, and it is only by avoiding its
crowd and floating silently down the canal in your
owe boat, when you are rowed in and out the
wonderful intersections of the city, or are moored
at the steps of the various churches and
that you realise the bygone glories of the Veilre)il
your dreams. List night the Place St. Mark was
filled with a gaily-dressed crowd, who were pro-
menading, flirting, ice-eating, and smoking to the
strains or the band. Every variety of language,
and a vast quantity of different uniforms were re-
presented. The white coats of the Austrian soldiery,
and the blue ones of the naval officers of the same
service were conspicuously prominent. A war
steamer is at anchor just beyond St. Mark's steps,
and the latter, who are singularly like Englishmen
in appearance and bearing, spend their days and
evenings in Venice. The Austrian influence is
indeed markedly perceptible the instant you cross
the border at Fumblers. Two days ago you heard
the drum and saw little groups of white coats
before the train crossed the frontier line, while
by the close inspection of passports and
the rigid examination of baggage—by the
curious scrutiny of the lay officials—and the
casual stroll of military officers through the little
dinner rooms of the station, you saw that you had
passed from • constitutionally to a " paternally"
governed country. Old lady in corner of carriage,
who has ascertained your nationality, and with
whom you have exchanged civilities en route, wiuka
both eyes, makes a hideous grimace, and shaking
her clenched fist, cries d bas Autriche, just before
the train stops, to the complete discomfiture of
young Perkins, who is of a timid temperament, and
is in an agony of fear that the revolver be bought
for protection against Italian brigands should be
discovered on his person, and be be condemned to
spend the remainder of his days in an Austrian
dungeon. The passport vexation is got over, how-
ever, with the usual amount of gnat-straining and
camel-swallowing—the usual bumourous bungling
over English surnames—and the usual suppressed
expletives from heated, crowded, and irritable
Britons. In one particular it shines out meri-
toriously when compared with the proceedings of
Italian officials. There are no extortions, and a
fee or a pour boire is not even hinted at. On cross-
ing the Italian frontier a few miles out of Como,
and at the conclusion of the day's journey
from Bellinzona, the luggage of a large party
was examined in due course last week.
The roofs of the diligence, were emptied, and their
contents having been inspected and found harmless,
were replaced. This done, the word was given to
start, when a clamorous crew of porters and of-
ficials cried out for money. It was refused, and
the drivers ordered to proceed. These were ap-
parently in league with the dowaniers, for they
remained etationary, and it was not until we
had relieved the itching palm of the bead
of the party—a gentlemanly man in • straw
bat, who appealed and gesticulated, as he
said, "for the poor porters,' but who kindly
acted as their trustee, and put our douceur in has
own pocket—that we were permitted to proceed.
The eternal tipping of Switzerland and the Italian
States is only exceeded by the begging here. Every
time you leave your gondola, even for a moment, •
ragged rascal starts from the earth to give you his
arm, and demand soldi. Inside all the churche
may be found interesting Venetians who solve the
problem of " How to make the best of both worlds,"
by kneeling to the shrine of their patron saint or
that of the Virgin, and directing their appealing
glances and extending their eager bands to you.
Not a palazzo but has its porter, its custodian, and
its hangers on, and you may esteem yourself fortu-
nate if you can compound for a quantity by making
one comparatively large payment do for all. Our
boatman spumes French fluently, and is so well
" up" in Venice, that on showing him some copies
in oils just bought he at once directed us to the
precise room in the Academy where we should find
the originals. He manages our disbursements, and
tells us when " small money" is presentable.
Nothing escapes him that it is likely we should
wish to see, and on Sunday evening when we
ordered him home be calmly disobeyed us that we
might hear the gondoliers night-singing. This is
very striking. In a large gondola, lit up pith
coloured lanthorna, like Chinese ones, between
twenty and thirty men were seated, all of whom
joined in carefully arranged part songs and choruses,
while their boat was silently rowed from oppo-
site the Doge's Palace to the Rialto. It was
moored under the broad span of this, as were some
fifty other gondolas full of listeners. The bridge—
which has advertising posters affixed to its arch, just
like Hungerford or Waterloo—and adjacent quays
were crowded with the populace, gaily decked out
in Sunday gear ; the moon shone brightly ou the water,
which reflected back the lofty palaces and domes at
its aids, while the utter silence everywhere but in the
boat of singers was only varied by applause and
praise of a particularly sweet and mellow voice—all
made up a picture such as many of us had previously
only admired on canvas or read in poet's page. Still
Venice is a melancholy and depressing place. Of
its magnificent art treasures--many a one of which
is in itself worth a journey to see—it would be an
impertinence to speak in a hasty letter such as
this ; but the air of decaying grandeur and va-
nished influence everywhere perceptible is sad
enough. This strikes visitors in various ways,
but there is but one feeling about the
fact. Thoughtful observers read in the abid-
ing presence of foreign soldiery in its thorough-
fares—in the refusal to take Italian money
in its bureaus—in the black eagle surmounting
Venetian palaces, now the public offices of Austria
—in the desolation of many a noble pile strangely
perverted from its original use—in the confident
bearing and strange tongue of the aliens whose do-
mination is everywhere apparent-and in the
supple knees and abject pauperism among its peo-
ple—but one story ; and that story uniform in its
character and consistent in its parts. The treasures
brought together by argosies which were on every
sea, and councils which influenced the world, now,