The Lancaster gazette. [volume] (Lancaster, Ohio) 1863-1886, 1864-07-21
lFrom the Boston Advcrtlserl
Letter from Venice,
F'a'h Dpsrisi.
VENICE, May 28th, 1861.

VENICE, May 18th, lsGI
/.
When fret Began to write these
uDcareiul little sketches of life in Ven
ice, had notion to call them Peb-
bles Of Venice, less from the wish to
widen the distinction between them
and the Stones Of Venice, than from
desire to deal honestly with my reader,
and to give him to understand ut the
out set that equality, Conference and
finish, were 10 part OF my plan for lis
amusement. But afterward it seemed
better to leave this to his own percep,
ton, and indeed before had written
many Of the sketches, | began to be
aware Of certain unwillingness 10
deal sincerely either with my subject
or my reader, and | would, If could,
have gradually forgotten whatever
promise Of fidelity and truthfulness ]
might have made in the beginning.
It is hard to. keep from f4bling
many things Of Venice. The city
itself is such exquisite improbabiIity
that l feel when | write about it, that
some modest lies, judiciously and tenn
perately invented, would be less try
/ ing to the readers credulity, than the
cXtravagant and fantastic truth
Moreover ones conscience, more o. loss
uncomlortably vigiIant elsewhere,
drowses in the charm of the place, and
as in some
"Land where ali things Igays seem The same"
it is hard TO remember here that fact
is moro virtuous than fiction. | do
not greatly blame the tourists, there
fore, who have committed So many
sins Of omission about Venice, and
have made it all canals, and palaces,
and gondolas. | confess that | myself
am greatly tempted ncvcr to say any
thing Of streets that reck with damp in
winter, and unwholcsome smells in
summer; Of beautiful marbles corrodod
by the hungry sea air Of churches
beloved and honorcd by all the arts,
trembling to decay; Of stately palaces
turned into barracks for the Croats /;
Of the ruined homes OF the proudest
patritians since old Romes, peopied
/ by herds Of poor who decorate the
sculptured balconies with tattercd linen
Of both sexes, and patch the lofty
windows with obsolete hats; cf ell the
magnificent discomforts and hopeless
discontents Of people capable Of the
most and doing the least; oi existence
of sensuous calm. ard noble energies
rusting in disuse; Of the doom which
seems TO be written against Venice in
the hierogliphic seams and tisurcs OF
her crumbling masonry. Nay, rs in
Venice you become part OF her, it is
as hard to speak of her defects and
gloomy fate as il they were our own
In other years when there was life il
the city, and this sad ebb Of pros pcritJ
was full tide in the canals there nigh
have been some incentive TO keep one
thoughts and words from lapsing into
habits of luxurious dishonesty, some
reason for telling the whole hard truth
Of things, some policy to serve, some
end to gain. But now, what matter
Here is nothing to be ended; the
: hurt is past all surgery; let us hide il
and be deceived in peace. IT refrain
= from putting into my pictures all i'm,
= aginabe delights, | at least need mo-
ill them with miserable things, anC
, may surely throw upon them now ane
: then, as my compensation for the par
tial truth am forced TO tell
| "Thc light that never vas on sea or land"
/ II.
, Though this light is no strang
G thing in Venice, by day or night, an
{ remember how it lay once upon th
, scene which beheld looking from tn
G Southern parapct Of the gardens TOW
- ard the city. 1t was a soft night o
s early spring, and as | turned from tn
. dim campaniW on the cvancscent is
= lands in the cast ca solitary gondol
Y gliding across the calm Of the water
and striking its moonlight silver int
+ multiludinous ripplcs,) l glanced 0th
= wart the vague shipping in the basi
c of st. Mark, and saw all the ligh. fror
If the Piazzetta to the Guidccca, maxim
:. q crescent OF flame in the air, and cas-,
G ing deep into the water under them
r crimson glory that sank also down an
G down in my heart, and illumined Il
If its memories of beauty and delight
o Behind these lamps rose the shadow
h masses of church and pa!aoe tn
d moon stood silver full in the heavch'
d the gondola drifted away to the nortt
ii ward the islands of the Iagoons seen
st cd to rise and sink with the light pa
n pitations Of the waves like pictures o
- the ondulating field of banners; tn
II stark rigging Of Il ship showed bIac
+ against the sky the Lido sank tro'
Of sight upon the cast, as if the sbol
lc had composed itself to sleep By the sic
lo of its beloved sea to the music OF tt
surge that gently beat its sands; II
" yet loahess boughs OF the trees aboN
r. me stirred themselves together, an
Of out of one of those trembling towe
g. in the lagoons, one rich, full sob, bur
a from the heart of bell, too deep
b. stricken with the glory of the seen
er and suffused the languid night wi
" the murmer Of luxurious, ineffab
i sadness.
, But there is a perfect democracy
III the realm Of the beautiful, aud wha
n soever pleases is equal to any 9th
Ill thing there, no matter how low its OF