CONTINENTAL SKETCHES.

No. III.
VENICE.

gondolas are all black. Tradition says that this was so ordered by the government, in consequence of the many accidents occasioned by the nobles striving to rival one another in the splendour of PERHAPS there are few spots in Europe which their boats, and upsetting one another in their the traveller approaches with greater interest rage and hostility. The only rivalry now is bethan Venice; at least, so I felt when I found my- tween the hired gondoliers and the liveried serself, last summer, actually in a gondola, and on vants; and they seldom find their respective boats my way to the "ocean queen.' It takes near together without a race ensuing. These conabout three quarters of an hour to row from tests occasioned me some small alarm at first; but Mestri--a common, modern-looking town, where the skill of the boatmen is so great that accidents travellers usually leave their carriages-to Venice; are very seldom heard of. The funereal-looking and the high-road is marked out thither by means gondolas give a somewhat gloomy air to Venice, of piles driven into the water, at intervals; be- which accords admirably with the whole character yond which boundary, on either side, the gondo- of the place the ruined palaces, splendid yet las are forbidden by law to pass. About half way sombre churches, and the many monuments of deto the city we stopped to have our passports ex-parted greatness which every where meet the eye. amined, at a small island where the Austrian government has established a douâne. Being delayed here some minutes, I left the gondola, and landed, to obtain a better view of Venice, which was now distinctly visible, "throned on her hundred isles." The scene around was gay and novel in the highest degree: boats filled with market people, and piled with huge vegetable and fruit baskets, were waiting around the douâne, till their turn came for examination; for every boat going in or out of Venice is examined by the authorities. Many of the peasant women were extremely handsome, and picturesque in their attire; their dark eyes flashing from beneath a scarlet handkerchief tied across their heads, or from under the broad brim of a high straw hat, oecasionally decorated with flowers. Gondolas were every moment flitting past, from which looked forth, as they stopped, a gaily dressed Venetian dame or moustached Austrian officer. The douaniers being at last satisfied that we were not personnes suspects, our party was soon again on our way to Venice, regaling ourselves with delicious cherries and Italian bread, which is really excellent; and in a very short time we entered the grand canal, and had just recovered from our delight at finding ourselves passing under the Rialto, where trod "the Jew whom Shakspeare drew," when we stopped at the Lione Bianco, an hotel which had been strongly recommended to us, and soon allowed our thoughts to descend from romance to reality, by ordering, and afterwards very much enjoying, an excellent dinner; no bad thing even in Venice, the city of romance and poetry, considering that we had been reduced to somewhat poor fare for three or four days previously, whilst travelling amongst the mountains of the Tyrol.

The stranger's first care, on arriving in Venice, should be to secure a valet-de-place; for some order must be observed in visiting the numerous objects of interest scattered about: otherwise many will be missed, or left for want of time, unless a very long stay is intended. A gondola likewise is indispensable here, as elsewhere a carriage; for, in this singular city of the waters, there is no other means of being transported from place to place, since the streets are all canals, with the exception of a few narrow passages between some of the houses. Each respectable family has its gondola noored before their palace; and they are rowed by their own liveried servants, whose dress is the only indication of the rank of the owner, for the This is hardly accurate. It is possible to proceed on foot from one extr mity of Venice to the other, but only by lanes nd alleys, which a stranger could not explore.-E.

Our first expedition, the morning after our arrival, was to the Piazza San Marco. Canaletti seemed to have rendered this place so familiar to my mind, that, although delighted, I scarcely felt surprised at its vastness and peculiar beauty; but, on entering the church, I was indeed astonished and enchanted. There is an eastern character and air of grandeur about it most striking; and the splendid pillars of verde antique, porphyry, jasper, and other precious marbles, with which every portion of the building is decorated, seem to transport the bewildered mind at once to some distant region, famed in fairy stories for wealth and splendour. St. Mark's is almost entirely filled with spoils brought from the church of St. Sophia, at Constantinople, by the Venetians, when they took that city. Among the greatest treasures in the cathedral is a small picture, over one of the altars, of a virgin and child. The Greek emperors used to carry it to battle with them, and believed that its presence secured victory to their arms. They appear once, at any rate, to have been disappointed, since it was brought here by the all-conquering armies of the republic, and placed amidst their proudest trophies. The great object of veneration, however, in the church is the tomb of St. Mark, said really to contain the body of that evangelist, who is known to have been buried at Alexandria, whence the Venetians transported it here. Silver lamps are kept continually burning before this sacred shrine: some of very great value were pointed out to us, presents from the rich Venetian citizens. The marbles in this wonderful edifice are of the richest and most costly description; and so numerous are the pillars, as to give an overloaded air to the building: every other step we took, our valet stopped to tell us "This pillar came from the church of St. Sophia, in Constantinople; this from the emperor's palace in the same far-famed city; that from Alexandria." I was lost in wonder and delight; and fancied myself transported at once to the "elime of the east, to the land of the sun;" so often is the mind carried thither by these monuments of the eastern grandeur of past age One peculiarity cannot fail to strike the wanderer through this vast and solemn pile, namely, the irregularity of the pavement; now rising, now sinking, never level for many feet together. This is occasioned by the falling in of the piles, on which the whole building, as indeed the greatest part of Venice, is erected. I gave an involuntary shudder when told the cause: it seemed so strange thus to be living on the bosom of the waters. But there

can, of course, be no cause for dread, since for so the third opens upon the Adriatic, which presents an hundred years many this "sea Cybele" has ever changing and lively appearance, with the gonnursed her children in safety, though borne on the dolas flitting up and down, and numerous larger vestreacherous element. A great part of the roof of sels from Naples, Trieste, &c., moored within sight. St. Mark's is ornamented with mosaic, represent- Having sufficiently observed the piazza, and ing scripture scenes: at least we concluded they the piazzetta, not forgetting the campanile, situated were such; but they are too high, and, from age, between or at the corner of the two squares, and too indistinct, to be distinguished, were the subjects from which there is a splendid view of the whole profane. Although I could have lingered for of Venice, we next directed our steps to the hours in this most interesting sanctuary, enjoying ducal palace. A vaulted passage, connected with the coolness of the vaulted aisles, where few stray the cathedral, leads you into a handsome court, sunbeams, only "a dim, religious light," ever round which the palace is built; and a noble flight penetrates; yet, as there was far, far more to be of steps, surmounted by gigantic stone figures, seen, and but three short days to devote to seeing leads to the grand entrance of the palace. In the all, we were at last obliged once more to emerge centre of the court is a well, where we observed into the brilliancy of an Italian sun in June, and people constantly bringing buckets for water. The examine the piazza more closely. The church Venetians have great difficulty in procuring this forms one side of this magnificent square at right necessary of life, as their only means of obtaining angles with it is the beautiful little building which it is from the main-land, with the exception of what contains the famous clock, where two bronze they can collect when rain falls. This well, and statues strike the hours with huge clubs. As the there are several in the city of the same kind, finger points the hour, first one steps forwards, merely contained rain-water. It is said that Maand beats on a bell hung just above the clock; as rino Faliero was beheaded at the top of the flight he concludes his labours, the other puts one foot of steps, and that his head rolled down into the forwards likewise, and again strikes the hour of court below. As I was musing on this sad story, the day. I stood long watching, after the figures and realizing the dreadful scene thus acted on the had again relapsed into their wonted stillness, very spot I was then treading, our valet-de-place, meditating on the strange and divers scenes those to my great vexation, disturbed my meditations by iron figures (could we suppose them endued saying that foolish people had invented this story; with sense) must have beheld, as, year after year, but that it showed great ignorance to believe it, century after century, they have unremittingly since the fact was, Marino Faliero had been beperformed their allotted task, and, except when headed long before this staircase was built. This thus occupied, gazed silently and pensively on the statement entirely upset my visions of the past, piazza below. How must they have exulted as and, inwardly wishing that stubborn facts would they beheld the pillars beneath erected as proud leave poetry and romance alone, I followed the trophies of victories achieved-Cyprus and Can- conductor to whom our valet-de-place had resigned lia subdued! Sadly must they have mourned as us, into the building itself, where I soon forgot they heard the dense crowds below discoursing my annoyance, every other feeling giving way to low and gloomily on the doom their traitor doge, that of delight in the splendid paintings which Marino Faliero, had just met with. Proudly, every where greet the eye. Titian, Tintoretti, and too, must they have exulted as year after year Paul Veronese have here left some of the noblest. only brought fresh honour to their beloved city, works of their art. These remain always the same: and all alone she withstood the league of Cam- unchanged as yet by time, unchanged by the bray. But grievously must they have mourned in changing fortunes of Venice, they still remain in spirit when they saw their city sink, beheld her all their wondrous beauty, a memorial of what glories fade; beheld at last an upstart conqueror Italia's sons have done: they are as a voice from ford it over their doge, and insult their noblest the past, speaking a different language from that officers; and now to see Austrian soldiers parad- which even genius speaks in these degenerate ing their beautiful piazza, and a foreign potentate's days. I always think descriptions of pictures are, brother ruler of her destinies. Alas, for Venice, of all others, dry and useless: buildings, scenery, the once mistress of the seas! I half wondered every thing can better be described than a paintthat the insensate figures did not refuse to performing, where often one ray of light thrown by the for the amusement of her conquerors the task they had once executed in her brighter days.

Two sides of the piazza are occupied by shops; and all round a colonnade runs, covered over with a blue awning; beneath which, towards evening, numerous groups may always be seen, smoking, sipping coffee, taking ice, &c., and often employed playing at chess or backgammon. The principal inhabitants of Venice, both ladies and gentlemen, assemble here, at the doors of the cafés, to enjoy the delicious coolness of an Italian night. At many of the doors, as we passed, we saw parties of majestic-looking Turks and bearded Armenians, in the picturesque attire of their country: they add much to the novel and eastern character of the whole scene.

The piazzetta, or smaller square, leads from the grand piazza. The famous ducal palace occupies the one side, and the viceroy's the other; whilst

artist's brush forms the charm of the whole.

In many of the rooms here we observed young artists copying the most celebrated of the pictures. Some of them I looked over: they struck the eye as hard and dry, by the side of the beautiful originals; still it was pleasant to see that the love of the beautiful and of art was yet alive in this politically dead country.

In one apartment of the palace, portraits of all the doges are hung round the walls. The eye wanders over these unfamiliar faces, vacantly and without interest, till it rests upon one pictureframe containing no portrait, merely a black curtain painted in the centre, on which is a scroll, containing a Latin inscription, the purport of which is, that Marino Faliero was a traitor to his country, and was beheaded on such a day. Strange constitution of the human heart, that anything at once mysterious and melancholy, even although

associated with guilt, should instantly enchain the heart, and create for itself a vivid interest in the mind: yet so it is. My eye rested long on that melancholy scroll, which at once brought the whole story to my recollection, and Marino Faliero, with his crimes, thus claimed attention, and mayhap a sigh; whilst all the other wise and virtuous doges, with their long white beards and aged countenances, were passed over with scarce a glance. Yes, there was one face, too, on which I gazed with a sad interest-it was that of the last doge of Venice; him whom the haughty conqueror had trampled on and insulted and deposed. His was indeed a sad fate, a touching instance of the decline of human greatness. Our valet-deplace told us that he was still alive: I marvel how he bears the loss of his power.

up at the roots, existence must have dragged on, a mere burden. Thus, entirely unsupported by all exterior excitement in life, uprooted from all that sustains life, the soul must either have become (and this, of course, would depend on the previous moral state of the victim) more intimately joined in communion with its Maker, and only conscious of the presence of its earthly covering by the daily calls to support its frail existence; or it would become merely animal, and a state of utter apathy and inanity would ensue, often, probably, ending in hopeless idiotcy. In one of the darkest and gloomiest of these cells, Byron's famous lines were pointed out to us. They have been renewed from time to time since he wrote them; so that they are still quite distinct. The trap-door is shown through which the The apartment which contains these portraits is bodies were privately thrown into the canal bealso adorned with historical paintings, represent-low, when the cruelty of man had done its worst. ing different scenes in the fortunes of Venice. They are deeply interesting to those well acquainted with her history; unmeaning, of course, to others: in fact, I consider that at least half the pleasure of travelling is lost to those who go with their minds unfurnished from the past; for unnumbered are the delights arising from historical associations, connecting, as it were, the past with the present.

Such sights as these make one's heart burn with indignation against the perpetrators of such deeds of darkness; and I could not help giving vent to some of my horror to our sombre guide, who quickly replied, in an angry tone, that he did not suppose that the Venetian government had ever been unjust in their treatment of criminals; and that, he had little doubt, all who had been conOur conductor next introduced us into the fined in these dungeons deserved their fate. As chamber where the council of ten held their our old man seemed somewhat despotically inmeetings; a sombre-looking apartment, from clined, I dared say no more, but followed him in which a secret door led on to the Bridge of Sighs. silence, and felt much relieved when the bright, An involuntary shudder thrills through the frame, free air of heaven again played on my brow; and as these spots, so familiar to one's imagination, I recollected that, in our own happy land, each are pointed out. Yes; there sat the awful three, man may dwell securely "under his own vine at whose word all Venice-nay, the doge him- and fig-tree," without fear of the hidden acself-trembled. They look stern and cold, as if cuser's sting. Still, I have very little doubt that humanity was frozen in their vitals. With what a the mystery with which everything connected stony gaze do they wither the heart of that un- with the Venetian government was conducted fortunate whom their minions have just brought has led people to exaggerate its cruelties, and to before them! He reads his doom in their eyes, and imagine far more scenes of despotism and injustice shudders as he thinks that none will mourn over than ever really took place. It does not follow his fate, because none will know the sad cer- that, because there was no check on the power of tainty. Condemned, executed, in obscurity and the "Three," therefore they should always use it mystery, he will merely "cease to be:" friend- as a means of executing their private vengeance. ship will weary itself to discover him, and affec- Venice was a peculiarly-situated place: surtion itself grow cold, at last, with sickening rounded on all sides, when she first became a city, doubts and fears. What is his crime? He by powerful enemies, all eagerly seeking every knows not. An enemy has accused him the opportunity to subvert her, and containing no refatal billet in the lion's mouth has sealed his condemnation: there is no hope. So he nerves himself to meet his fate, crosses the fearful Bridge of Sighs, and that night a heavy plash in the murky water of the canal below announces to the terrified ones who are, unhappily, awake at the midnight hour, that a fellow-citizen has been doomed. I could have laughed at myself for thus conjuring up these horrors, which possibly, after all, only had birth in the heated imaginations of poets and romancers; but the influence of the place was too strong to be withstood. All seemed to me frightfully real; and sadly and gloomily I followed our guide to inspect yet more terrific places-the prisons underneath the palace. We were here consigned to the charge of a stern, fierce-looking old man, whose duty it was to show strangers through these cells. Alas, that man should ever thus torment his fellow-man! It surely was impossible that human beings should ever have actually spent days, months, nay, years, in such dens; so narrow, so utterly, hopelessly dark! Life-warm, breathing life—must have been dried

sources but within herself, it was only by securing herself from domestic treason that she could at all hope to continue great. Thus, no man was allowed to interfere with affairs of state unless actually concerned in them; each was encouraged to bring any hidden treason to light; and terror was employed as a suitable engine to keep a volatile and easily-excited people in order. Any moment the traitor felt he might be accused and dragged before the dread tribunal; and then, were he guilty, woe to him! The innocent, we will hope, were not often punished; and possibly the knowledge of the almost all-seing power of the government might deter many a one from entering on treasonable practices. Still, with all allowances we can in strict charity make, we may justly fear, from the well-known depravity of human nature, that, where such powers were granted to men, unlimited and not liable to be called in question, many sad instances did occur of private wrongs being punished under the guise of strict justice and love of country. In the piazzetta where we now stood, on emerging from the

"The generic and specific characters of the la- | certine group," says Mr. Bell, "have only of late years received the degree of attention they deserved. The divisions and subdivisions of this numerous family have been either overlooked, or so arbitrarily defined as to be detected with difficulty; and their nature has been greatly misunderstood. The employment of minute characters in the structure and proportions of the different parts of the body, the relative dimensions of the limbs, and the form and size of certain important scales, has, however, of late produced a greater degree of certainty and more accurate definition, not only in the relation of the groups, but also in the character of the species."

True lizards are covered above by small imbricated scales; that is, scales which lie over one another. A plate of bone protects the orbits above the eyes. The top of the head and the temples are covered with plates. The scales of the tail are long and narrow, and disposed in rings around it. The tongue is long and forked. The under parts are covered with broad plates, not imbricated, but applying to each other at the margin; and a collar of scales, larger than those which cover the throat, passes across the lower part, before the base of the fore-limbs. A row of pores runs down the inside of each thigh. They possess the property of being long without foodseven or eight months--and also of reproducing a limb or tail that has been mutilated.

To the Lacerta agilis (L. stirpium, Daudin), and the Zootoca vivipara, Wagler, those alone proper to our own country, the remarks in the present paper must be chiefly confined.

The Zootoca vivipara is generally about six inches in length. It has no teeth on the palate. Its colour and markings are various. The upper parts are usually olive-brown, with a dark brown and often interrupted line down the back, and a broad longitudinal band down each side, between which and the middle line are black spots. In the male, the under parts are of a fine orange spotted with black; in the female, pale olive grey. By this means they are easily distinguishable. Their favourite haunts are sunny banks, heaths, &c. Their sight is very acute, and their hearing by no means deficient. On the slightest noise, they dart off to their burrows, and, after a little time, cautiously make their re-appearance, and on the least alarm again disappear.

This species brings forth living young, the eggs being hatched while yet within the body of the parent. It is, therefore, ovoviviparous. The female passes a great portion of the day, in June, basking in the sun, for the sake of the vivifying heat, as necessary for the extrusion of the young from the eggs as if previously deposited in the sand. The number of young produced is four or five, which are sometimes seen with their parent. From their birth they can run about, and soon learn to seize their prey.

During the winter, this as well as the sand lizard hybernates; but whether its torpidity is very profound is uncertain. It appears early in the spring, and continues active till late in autumn, when it retires to its burrow.

This species has, as well as the other to be described, been termed "agilis." "It has been well observed," says Mr. Bell, "by the prince of Musignano-whose knowledge of the European

vertebrata in general, and of the reptilia in particular, is undoubtedly superior to that of any other naturalist-that the Linnæan term 'agilis' has been applied by the zoologists of different countries to that species of lizard which is best known or most common in their own."

There

The sand-lizard (lacerta agilis, Linn.; L. stirpium, Daudin) is much larger than the viviparous lizard, sometimes measuring a foot in length. It is subject to much variation of colour. would appear, indeed, to be two varieties-one, the most common, of a sandy-brown colour, with longitudinal stripes of a darker tint, and a lateral series of black spots, each with a white or yellowish dot in the centre; the other variety having the upper parts of a brownish green, marked in a very similar way.

The ordinary residence of this species of lizard is sandy heaths; and, though less active than the viviparous, it runs with considerable alertness. It is sometimes found basking on sunny banks and in verdant spots, and has been observed also near marshes. According to Mr. Bell, it occurs in the neighbourhood of Poole both on sandy heaths and in moist situations; and that able naturalist adds, "It has been stated by a gentleman of my acquaintance, that the brown varieties are confined to the sandy heaths, the colours of which are closely imitated by the surface of the body; and that the green variety frequents the more verdant localities. Be this as it may, and it is a statement which at present I can neither confirm nor dispute, it is certain that these varieties mentioned by Linnæus, and seen by Müller, do exist in the place I have named, and within a comparatively short distance." It is common in France, but rare in Italy; it is abundant in the middle districts of Europe, and extends as far north as Sweden and Denmark. It is found in Ireland. According to M. Bibron, it inhabits the plains and hills, but never the mountains, of the continent; preferring the margin of woods, gardens, and vineyards. Its burrow, varying in depth, is worked out under a collection of herbage, or between the roots of a tree. Here it hybernates, having closed the entrance with earth and dried leaves. It feeds on insects.

The rev. Revett Sheppard, the first who described this lizard (Linnæan Transactions, 1802), says he has often mistaken it for the viper, when hastily passing it. He designates it "lacerta anguiformis."

Mr.

If seized whilst endeavouring to escape, it will turn and bite; and when captured it is impatient of confinement, and ultimately dies. It is extremely timid, and, unlike the beautiful green lizard (lacerta viridis) of southern Europe and of Guernsey, never can be rendered familiar. Burton mentions that he found remarkable specimens of this kind, in the interstices at the base of Pompey's pillar*. That species may be readily tamed, and taught to come to the hand for its food and to drink from the hollow of the palm of any one to whom it is accustomed. It will lie coiled up in between the two hands, enjoying the warmth, and not offerings to escape. Whenever it sees a man, "it seems to feel pleasure in displaying the brilliancy of its eyes and its golden scales, as the peacock expands its plumage." It is this lizard that is described

* Rev. H. Burton's voyage to Alexandria, &c., 1838.