YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

1938

LITERARY LANDMARKS

OF

VENICE

L.\URENXE HUTTON
AUTHOR OF " UTKRARY LANDMARKS OF LONDON '
'* LITERARY LANDMARKS OF EDINBURGH"
" LITERARY LANDMARKS OF JERUSALEM "

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1896

R- A \x

Copyright, 1896, by Harper & Brothers.

./ill rights reserved. f
3

TO
WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS
WHOSE VENETIAN LIFE
MADE HAPPY
MY LIFE IN VENICE

ILLUSTRATIONS

CALLE DEL PISTOR  Frontispiece
ORNAMENTAL HALF-TITLE  Facing fage xii
THE COUNCIL CHAMBER OF THE DOGES.
IN OTHELLO'S TIME  " " 6
THE OTHELLO HOUSE .  " " iq
PETRARCH AND LAURA  Page 1 6
THE HOUSE OF PETRARCH  Facingpage 20
A CHARACTERISTIC CANAL  " " 26
BYRON'S PALACE . .  <. 2Q
THE RIALTO BRIDGE. AS SHYLOCK KNEW
IT  " " 32
ENTRANCE TO THE MERCERIA .... " " 34
CASA FALIER, WHERE MR. HOWELLS LIVED " " 40
GOLDONI'S STAIRCASE  " " 42
GOLDONI'S STATUE  " " 44
BYRON's study IN THE ARMENIAN MON
ASTERY  " " 48
THE "NOAH corner" OF THE DOGE's
PALACE  " " 56
THE HOUSE IN WHICH BROWNING DIED . " " 60

INTRODUCTION

In a chapter upon " Literary Residences,"
among The Curiosities of Literature, Isaac
D'Israeli said: "No foreigners, men of let
ters, lovers of the arts, or even princes, would
pass through Antwerp without visiting the
House of Rubens, to witness the animated
residence of genius, and the great man who
conceived the idea." This volume is in
tended to be a record of the Animated Resi
dences of Genius which are still existing in
Venice; and it is written for the foreigners,
for the Men of Letters, for the lovers of art,
and even for the princes who pass through
the town, and who care to make such houses
a visit. It is the result of many weeks of patient
but pleasant study of Venice itself. Every
thing here set down has been verified by per-

sonal observation, and is based upon the read
ing of scores of works of travel and biography.
It is the Venice I know in the real life of
the present and in the literature of the past ;
and to me it is Venice from its best and most
interesting side.
The Queen of the Adriatic is peculiarly
poor in local guide-books and in local maps.
In the former are to be found but slight refer
ence to that part of Venice which is most
dear to the lovers of bookmen and to the
lovers of books; and the latter contain the
names of none but the larger of the squares,
streets, and canals, leaving, in many instances,
the searcher after the smaller thoroughfares
entirely afloat in the Adriatic, with no com
pass by which to steer.
The stranger in Venice, accustomed to the
nomenclature of the streets and the avenues,
the alleys and the courts, of the cities and
towns with which he is familiar in other
parts of the world, may be interested to
learn that here a large canal is called a Rio,
or a Canale ; that a Calle is a street open at
both ends ; that a Rio Terra is a street which

was once a canal; that a Ramo is a small,
narrow street, branching out of a larger one ;
that a Salizzada is a wide, paved street ; that
a Ruga is just a street ; that a Riighetta, or
a Piscina, is a little street ; that a Riva is a
narrow footway along the bank of a canal;
that a Fondanicnta is a longer and a broader
passage-way, a quay, or an embankment ;
that a Corte is a court-yard ; that a Sotto-
portico is an entrance into a court, through,
or under, a house — that which in Edinburgh is
called a Pend, and in Paris a Cit^ ; that a large
square is a Piazza ; that a small square is a
Piazzetta, or a Campo; that a small campo is a
Campiello; that a plain, commonplace house
is a Casa; that a mansion is a Palazzo ; that
an island is an Isola; that a bridge is a Ponte;
that a tower is a Campanile ; that a ferry is a
Traghetto ; that a parish is a Parrochia ; and
that a district is a Contrada, or a Sistiere.
Armed with this information, the readers
must do the rest for themselves.
To Mrs. Clara Erskine Clement, to Miss
Henrietta Macy, to Mrs. Walter F. Brown,
to Mr. Charles Dudley Warner, to Dr. Alex-

ander Robertson, to Mr. William Logsdail,
I owe my thanks for much valuable informa
tion given me while I was enlarging, elabo
rating, and revising the article, printed in
Harper's Magazine for July, 1896, upon
which this volume is based.
LAURENCE Hutton.
Casa Frolo,
50 Giudecca.

LITERARY LANDMARKS OF VENICE

LITERARY LANDMARKS OF
VENICE

It is almost impossible for any one who is
at all familiar with the voluminous amount
of literature relating to the history and to the
art of Venice, to refrain from quoting, volun
tarily or involuntarily, what he has read and
absorbed concerning " the dangerous and
sweet-charmed town," which Ruskin calls a
golden city paved with emerald, and which
Goethe said is a city which can only be com
pared with itself. Comparisons in Venice are
certainly as odorous as are some of its canals,
while many of its streets are not only paved
with emerald, but are frescoed now with glar
ing End-of-the-Nineteenth-Century advertise
ments of dentifrice and sewing-machines.
That which first strikes the observant

stranger in Venice, to-day, is the fact that
the Venetians have absolutely and entirely
lost their grip upon the beautiful. Nothing
on earth can be finer than the art of its glory;
nothing in the world can be viler than the
so-called art of its decadence. That the de
scendants of the men who decorated the
palaces of five or six hundred years ago could
have conceived, or endured, the wall-papers,
the stair-carpets, and the hat-racks in the
Venetian hotels of the present, is beyond be
lief. Whatever is old is magnificent, from the
madonnas of Gian Bellini to the window of
the Cicogna Palace on the Fondamenta Briati.
Whatever is new is ugly, from the railway-
station at one end of the Grand Canal to
the gas-house at the other. And the iron
bridges, and the steamboats, and the drop-
curtain in the Malibran Theatre are the worst
of all.
When the English-speaking and the Eng
lish-reading visitors in Venice, for whom this
volume is written, overcome the feehng that
they are predestined to fall into one of the
canals before they leave the city ; when they

become accustomed to being- driven about in
a hearse-shaped, one-manned row-boat ; when
they have been shown all the traditional
sights, have bought the regulation old brass
and old glass, have learned to draw smoke
out of the long, thin, black, rat-tailed straw-
covering things the Venetians call cigars —
when they have seen and have done all these,
they will find themselves much more inter
ested in the house in which Byron lived, and
in the perfectly restored palace in which
Browning died, than in the half -ruined,
wholly decayed mansions of all the Doges
who were ever Lord Mayors of Venice. The
guide-books tell us where Faliero plotted and
where Foscari fell, where Desdemona suf
fered and where Shylock traded; but they
give us no hint as to where Sir Walter Scott
lodged or where Rogers breakfasted, or what
was done here by the many English-speaking
Men of Letters who have made Venice known
to us, and properly understood. Upon these
chiefly it is my purpose here to dwell.
Venice, with all her literature, has brought
forth but few literary men of her own. There

are but few poets among her legitimate sons,
and few were the poets she adopted. The
early annalists and the later historians were
almost the only writers of importance who
were entitled to call her mother ; and to most
of these she has been, though kindly, little
more than a step-mother or a mother-in-law.
Shakspere, who wrote much about Ven
ice, and who probably never saw it, re
marked once that all the world's a stage.
Venice, even now, is a grand spectacular
show; and no drama ever written is more
dramatic than is Venice itself. Mr. Howells
prefaces his Venetian Life by an account of
the play, and the by-play, which he once
saw from a stage-box in the little theatre in
Padua, when the prompters, and the scene-
shifters, and the actors in the wings, were as
prominent to him as were the tragedians and
comedians who strutted, and mouthed, and
sawed the air with their hands, in full view
of the house ; and he adds : " It has some
times seemed to me as if fortune had given
me a stage-box at another and grander spec
tacle, and that I had been suffered to see

this Venice, which is to other cities like the
pleasant improbability of the theatre to every
day, commonplace life, to much the same
effect as that melodrama in Padua." It has
been my own good fortune to spend, at vari
ous seasons, a short time in the pit — " on a
standee ticket " — just to drop in for a moment
now and then, when the performance is
nearly over, and to look not so much at the
broken-down stage and its worn-out settings,
not so much at the actors and at the acting,
as to study the audiences, the crowds of men
and women in parquet, gallery, and boxes,
who have been sitting for centuries through
the different thrilHng acts of the great plays
played here ; and have applauded, or hissed,
as the case may be.
So strange and so strong is the power of
fiction over truth, in Venice, as everywhere
else, that Portia and Emilia, Cassio, Antonio,
and lago, appear to have been more real here
than are the women and men of real life. We
see, on the Rialto, Shylock first, and then its
history and its associations ; and the Council
Chamber of the Palace of the Doges is chiefly

interesting as being the scene of Othello's
eloquent defence of himself.
It is a curious fact, recorded by Th. Elze,
and quoted by Mr. Horace Howard Furness,
in his Appendix to The Merchant of Venice,
that at the time of the action of that drama,
in Shakspere's own day, there was living in
Padua a professor of the University whose
characteristics fully and entirely corresponded
with all the qualities of " Old Bellario," and
with all the requisites of the play. In his
concluding passages Elze described the Uni
versity of Padua at the close of the Sixteenth
Century, when there were representatives of
twenty-three nations among its students. He
said that not a few Englishmen took up their
abode in Padua, for a longer or a shorter time,
for the purposes of study ; all of whom must
naturally have visited Venice. " And," he
added, " if it has been hitherto impossible
to prove that Shakspere drew his knowledge
of Venice and Padua, and the region about,
from personal observation, it is quite possible
to suppose that he obtained it by word of
mouth, either from Italians living in England,

or from Englishmen who had pursued their
studies at Padua."
Among the significant names given by
Elze as students at Padua are Rosenkranz,
in 1587 to 1589, and Guldenstern, in 1603.
One of the most distinguished of the Eng
lish representatives who took up his abode in
Padua in the middle of the Eighteenth Cen
tury, was Oliver Goldsmith, who, according
to John Forster, received his degree there,
although there is no ofificial record of such a
fact. Signor Giuseppe Tassini, in his Curiosith
Veneziane, published in 1863, gives the follow
ing account of what is known as "Othello's
House," which has, in all probability, never
before been put into EngHsh, and is here
roughly translated. At the right-hand side
of the Campo del Carmine, or on the little
canal of the same name, he says, in effect,
stands what is left of an ancient palace
supposed, but incorrectly, to have belonged
once to an influential family called Moro.
Christoforo Moro, a cadet of the house, was
sent to Cyprus in 1505 ; and he returned in

1508 to relate to the magnificos of his
native city his adventures there, having in
the meantime lost his first wife. In 15 15 he
was married again, and to Demonia Bian
co, daughter of Donato da Lazze. Rawdon
Brown and other writers, continues Signor
Tassini, believe that upon this hint Shak
spere spoke, making Othello a Moor, as a
play upon the name Moro, and turning De
monia Bianco into Desdemona. But he
adds that the Goro, not the Moro, family
lived here in the beginning of the Sixteenth
Century, the latter occupying a palace in the
Campo di S, Giovanni Decollate, now the
Campo S. Zan Degolk, some distance away.
Confusing the names of Goro and Moro,
and fancying that the ancient figure of a
warrior standing on the corner of the Campo
del Carmine house, now blackened by time,
although not so black as he is painted, repre
sents a Moor, the guides and the gondoliers,
and even the antiquaries, of Venice have
given to " OtheUo's House," according to
Signor Tassini, a local reputation and a name
which it does not merit.

The beautiful little Gothic Palazzo Con-
tarini-Fasan, built in the Fourteenth Century
and done over at the end of the Nineteenth,
on the right bank of the Grand Canal, going
towards the Rialto, and near the Grand Hotel,
seems to have no excuse, either from tradi
tion or from any confusion of names, for call
ing itself " the House of Desdemona " at all.
Its only dramatic interest to-day consists in
the fact that it has been the home of Signora
Eleonora Duse, the leading actress of Italy,
who is called by her admirers the Italian Sara
Bernhardt, although she has genius enough
of her own to warrant her being compared
with no Qne but herself.
And thus perish, at the hands of a trans
atlantic, present-day iconoclast and grubber
after the truth, two of the most cherished of
the Landmarks of Venice.
Mr. Hare is of the opinion that the Doge
Christoforo Moro, buried in the Church of
S. Giobbe in the Canareggio District, is the
Moro of the Othello legend, although he died
in 1470, almost half a century before Signor
Tassini married him to Desdemona ; and his

tomb, in the chancel of the church, as Mr.
Hare points out, " is ornamented with the
moro or mulberry, which was his family de
vice." It will be remembered that Othello
inherited from his mamma a handkerchief
spotted with strawberries (mulberries?) which
played an important part in the great tragedy
of his life.
Christoforo Moro lies under a large flat
stone in front of the altar of the church. The
slab has been greatly defaced by the tread
of generations of priests and of acolytes, but
its carvings still bear distinct traces of fruits
which to-day look as much like strawberries
as mulberries, while certain of their leaves are
decidedly of the strawberry form. A por
trait of Doge Moro hangs in the sacristy of
S. Giobbe. It exhibits a face in which there
are no signs of the duskiness which dramatic
tradition has given to Othello during all these
years, but which is hard enough to have
silenced the most dreadful belle who ever
frighted the isle from its propriety.
Mr. Hare also explains that a story very
like to that of Shakspere's Othello was told

THE OTHELLO HOUSE

in the seventh novella of the third decade
of Giovanni Battista Cinthio's collection of
stories, called the Ecatomiti, in which the
name of the heroine is the same, and in which
the original lago suggested to Othello that a
stocking filled with sand might be an admi
rable weapon against his wife if it were judi
ciously applied to her back. Mr. Hare quotes
Bishop BoUani as writing in 1602, June ist:
" The day before yesterday, a Sanudo, living
in the Rio della Croce, on the Giudecca, com
pelled his wife, a lady of the Cappello family,
to go to confession, and the following night,
towards the fifth hour, plunged a dagger into
her heart and killed her. It is said that she
had been unfaithful to him, but the voice of
her neighborhood proclaimed her a saint."
The voice of the gallery has proclaimed
Desdemona a saint ever since !
The Venetians still believe implicitly in the
statue of the sunburnt warrior, and in Shak
spere's history of his life. And Mr. Howells's
gondolier not only showed him the house of
Cassio, near the Rialto Bridge, but was ready
to point out the residence of the amiable

12
lago and of Emilia, his wife. Cassio, I may
remark, is said here to have been Desde-
mona's cousin, and lago is believed to have
been the major-domo of the distracted house
hold. The modern Venetian dealers in second
hand portraits, and the venders of bric-k-brac
of all kinds, seem to have learned their strict
and universal Economy of Truth from the
memorial tablets over their shops. If you
are offered here an article of original, home
made, present-time antiquity for five lire, you
may depend upon getting it for two lire and
a half, and you may be sure that it costs you,
even then, about twice as much as it is worth.
If an inscription in old Latin or in choice
Italian tells you that " Here lived " some
particular Venetian hero of sword or pen,
you may put down in your diary that he
probably visited next door, or that he died
over the way.
The tablet devoted to Marco Polo, how
ever, being upon the side of a play-house
where fiction is supposed to reign supreme,
seems to have established itself as the excep-

13
tion which proves this rule. Only a small
portion of the Palazzo dei Polo now remains.
What is left of it is little more than a frag
ment of an outside staircase in a corner of the
Corte Millione in the Canareggio District.
The mansion at one time covered no small
part of the neighboring territory, which still
bears distinct traces of wealthy and aristo
cratic occupancy. Over the door-way of the
MaHbran Theatre, on the Rio del Teatro
Malibran, is an inscription stating that " This
was the house of Marco Polo, who travelled
in the remotest parts of Asia, and described
them. This tablet was placed here by the
Commune in 1881."
The great voyager was born in this house,
and here he spent, in comparative quiet, after
many years of toilsome but profitable travel,
the last days of his life. Having, like Shak
spere's banish'd Norfolk, retired himself to
Italy, here in Venice he gave his body to
this pleasant country's earth, in 1323 or
thereabouts. How far the rest of the quota
tion is applicable to his peculiar case no
man, of course, can say. Polo was called by

14
alliterative neighbors " Mark the Millionaire"
— hence the "Corte MiUione"; and the rich
man, proverbially, does not find heaven a
place of easy access.
The Corte Millione, Polo's court-yard, is
now the al-fresco foyer of the Malibran
Theatre, which was built originally in 1678.
But hardly one of the millions of Venetian
youths who, for more than two centuries,
have cooled themselves under the stars, by
the side of Polo's old well and Polo's old
marble balustrade, between the acts of the
play or the ballet, ever heard of Mark the
Millionaire, or care where he lived or where
he died.
The mystery as to the exact part of this
pleasant country's earth which received Mar
co Polo's body has never been cleared up. In
a copy of his last will and testament, I read,
however, that he left a certain sum of money
to the Monastery of Saint Lawrence here,
"where I desire to be buried." He certainly
buried his father, Nicol6 Polo, in the old and
original Church of S. Lorenzo ; and the natu
ral inference is that he himself lies some-

15
where within its precincts. The sarcophagus
erected for the elder Polo by the filial care of
the younger Polo is known to have existed,
until towards the end of the Sixteenth Cen
tury, in the porch leading to the church.
The old building was renewed, from its
very foundations, in 1592, and no traces of
the ancient structure remain ; the old paro
chial records no longer exist, and even the
name of the Polos is as unknown to the
parochial authorities to-day as it is to the
worldlings who crowd the theatre erected
upon the site of the house which was their
home. Petrarch is known to have made several
visits to Venice, and he is said to have been
very familiar with it, and very fond of it,
even in his youth. In 1353 or '54 he was
certainly here, for a short time, in an ofificial
capacity ; and documentary evidence clearly
proves that he settled in Venice in 1362 — a
cholera year — and remained here until 1368,
making annual excursions to Padua, and
spending certain of the summer and autumn
months with friends at Pavia. During this

i6

period he determined to bequeath a portion
of his rich library to Venice for the use of
students and the general public, and as an

DEL PETRARCHA. E.DI M.LAVRA.
example to other men. He was highly es
teemed by the Venetians, and his house was
the meeting-place of the wise and the power
ful. Boccaccio was his guest here for many
months ; they talked and walked, and they
sailed the canals and the lagoons together in
perfect sympathy; and there still exists a

17
letter of Petrarch to Boccaccio, asking the
latter poet to come again, and to stay longer
next time.
Signor N. Barozzi, in a volume entitled
Petrarca c Venezia, published in Venice in
1874, reprints, from the old plan of the city,
now in the Archaeological Museum, a rough
sketch of Petrarch's houseduringhis residence
here between 1362 and 1368; and he seerris
to establish the fact that it was hired by the
poet, not presented to him by the city, as is
generally believed. It was then called the
Palazzo del Molin, and it stood near to the
Ponte del Sepolcro on the Riva degli Schia-
voni, a broad promenade and wharf a short
distance east of the Ducal Palace. This
house, according to Petrarch himself, was
humble enough ; it had two towers, a style
of architecture not uncommon in those days ;
and according to Signor Barozzi it was, later,
a monastery, and at the present time is oc
cupied as a barrack. If Signor Barozzi and
the plan are correct, it is not the house
marked by the tablet, and pointed out in the
guide-books as Petrarch's, but the building

I8
on the corner of the little Calle del Dose, and
some forty or fifty paces to the east of the
generally accepted spot.
The two original towers of the Petrarch
house disappeared long ago ; the entire front
is new and ugly, and the rear portions, al
though they are old and picturesque, do
not date back to the Fourteenth Century.
There is, probably, no part of the mansion
left, as Petrarch knew and loved it, except,
perhaps, the pavement of the court -yard.
Even the old marble well is not as old as
the days of the great poet. The interior of
the establishment is not now seen of the
public, except by permission of the military
authorities, but it is one of the most inter
esting of the Landmarks of Venice, because
of its association with the two immortal men
who once adorned it.
Petrarch from his tower had a perfect
view of the city and of the Adriatic, watch
ing as he did the navies of the then known
world as they entered and left the harbor,
and looking out over the sea and down upon
the crowds of busy men. His life here was.

no doubt, a happy one ; as must be the life
of any man who brings to Venice some
knowledge of its history, some idea of its
art, some fondness for its traditions, and let
ters of introduction to some of its men of
mind in all professions.
Signor Tassini says that while Petrarch
lived here he often enjoyed the society of
his natural daughter, Francesca, who once,
in this house, and in the absence of her fa
ther, received the sad news of the death, at
her home in Pavia, of her infant child ; when
Boccaccio acted as comforter, and tried in
vain to stay her maternal tears.
Mr. Horatio F. Brown and Mr. Howells
both quote a letter, written in Latin, by
Petrarch to his friend Pietro Bolognese, in
which he describes a famous festival held in
the Piazza S. Marco to celebrate a victory
over the Greeks in Candia. The poet was
seated in the place of honor, at the right of
the Doge, in the gallery of the Cathedral,
and in front of the bronze horses ; and he
tells of the many youths, decked in purple
and gold, ruling with the rein, and urging

with the spur, their horses in the then un-
paved square, and watched by a throng of
spectators so great that a grain of barley
could not have fallen to the ground. There
is not a horse in all Venice to-day; the
youths wear ulsters when it is cold, and very
little of anything when it is hot ; and every
grain of barley which falls to the ground
is ravenously devoured by the doves, who
alone of all the Venetians wear the purple
now. If tradition, for the once, speaks truly,
these very doves are the direct descendants
of the carrier-pigeons which brought to Ad
miral Dandolo information from spies in
Candia leading to the capture of the island,
and which may have received grains of bar
ley from the hand of Petrarch himself. As
such do the doves of the present day receive
grains of barley from me.
Mr. Brown, in his admirable study of The
Venetian Printing Press, says that Aldus is
not known, of a certainty, to have lived in
the house, or even on the site of the house.
No. 23 1 1 Rio Terra Secondo, in the parish
of S. Agostino, which is marked with a tablet

as his. But the fact that there still exists a
letter addressed to Gregoropoulos at the little
narrow Calle del Pistor, close by, and written
while Gregoropoulos was employed by Al
dus as corrector of Greek manuscript and
Greek proof, would seem to imply that the
famous printing-press may have stood in the
latter street, if such a gutter can be called a
street at all. It resembles no thoroughfares
elsewhere in the world except the closes of
Edinburgh ; but it is not unlikely to have
been the scene of the birth of the Aldines so
dearly prized by the bookworms of to-day.
The original Aldus is believed to have settled
in Venice about 1488. As Mrs. Clara Erskine
Clement remarks, he was no mere printer;
and although it is by that name now that he
is most frequently regarded, he was a scholar
before he was a printer, and he became a
printer because of his scholarship. Concern
ing the many troublesome visitors to his
place of business who went there to gossip
and to kill their time, Aldus wrote, upon a
later establishment : " We make bold to ad
monish such, in classical words, in a sort of

edict placed over our door, ' Whoever you
are, Aldo requests you, if you want anything
ask for it in a few words and depart, unless,
like Hercules, you come to lend the aid of
your shoulders to the weary Atlas. Here
will always be found, in that case, some
thing for you to do, however many you
may be.' "
Aldo Pio transferred the business in, or
about, 1506 to the Campo S. Paternian, now
called the Campo Manin ; and there he lived
and printed good books and good literature,
succeeded by his son and his grandson. A
very modern Bank for Savings now occupies
the site of this establishment, and covers
the entire back of the square. But a mar
ble tablet of recent date, placed on its side,
bears an inscription to the effect that " Aldo
Pio, Paolo, and Aldo IL, Manuzio, Princes
in the Art of Typography in the Sixteenth
Century, diffused, with classic books from
this place, a new light of cultured wisdom " ;
the translation being by Dr. Alexander Rob
ertson. This Campo S. Paternian house
was probably that which bore the inscrip-

23
tion quoted above, and relating to Atlas and
the intellectual Hercules.
According to tradition, a certain Hercules
named Erasmus came, in 1506, to lend his
shoulder to the support of the load ; and
found something to do. Erasmus in the
workshop of Aldus, printing, perhaps, his
own Adages, is a picture for a poet or a
painter to conjure with. Venice in all its
glory never saw a greater sight.
Luther is known to have passed through
Venice a few years later than this. He is
supposed to have lodged in the cloisters of
the Church of S. Stefano here, on his way
to Rome, and to have celebrated mass at its
high altar. S. Stefano is near the square of
the same name, and it is not otherwise par
ticularly distinguished. It dates back to the
end of the Thirteenth and the beginning of
the Fourteenth Century.
Another Hercules, as great in his way as
was Erasmus, lent the aid of his shoulders
to the weary Atlas of the Aldine Press in
the Sixteenth Century ; to wit, Paolo Sarpi,
Scholar, Scientist, Philosopher, Statesman,

24
Author, and Martyr,- whom Gibbon called
" the incomparable historian of the Council
of Trent," and who is called by his present-
day biographer. Dr. Robertson, " the great
est of Venetians."
Sarpi was born in Venice, in 1552 ; he was
educated in Venice ; in Venice he spent the
better part of his life ; in Venice he died ;
and in Venice he was very much buried.
He was brutally stabbed by hired assassins
while crossing the Ponte dei Pugni, in 1607;
but he recovered, and did not surrender his
indomitable soul until 1623.
Sarpi's posthumous fate for two centuries
was an exceedingly restless one. His body
was interred originally at the foot of an
altar in the Servite Church here, with which
he was intimately associated. In 1624 the
Servite friars, warned of an intended desecra
tion of his grave, removed his bones to a
secret place in their monastery. The next
year they carried them back to the church.
In 1722 they were removed to still another
part of the same church. In 1828, the whole
establishment having become a ruin, Sar-

=5
pi's bones were carried to the Seminary
belonging to, and adjoining, S. Maria della
Salute. They were next transferred to a
private house in the parish of S. Biagio ;
then they were kept, for a time, in the Li
brary of Saint Mark, in the Doge's Palace,
and finally they were placed under a slab,
near the main entrance of the Church of
S. Michele, on the Cemetery Island of that
name, where, after having been once more
disturbed, in 1846, it is to be hoped they will
be permitted to rest.
The church of the Servites no longer ex
ists. A fragment of its ancient wall and two
fine old door-ways, however, are still left.
The main entrance, long ago bricked up, re
mains to-day, with one other old gate, which
was the entrance to the monastery ; and that
is all. The larger portion of the site of the
foundation is a flower garden ; a modern
chapel, dedicated in 1894, occupies a small
corner of the ground. And the rest is an in
dustrial school for poor girls, from seven to
twenty-one years of age, who here, without
cost to themselves, are educated for a self-

26
supporting, useful life ; as noble a monu
ment as Paolo Sarpi could wish or have.
The remains of the church of the Servites
may be reached by the Rio di S. Fosca ; and
they stand in the parish of S. Maria dell'
Orto. Here Sarpi wrote his almost countless
works, from a Treatise on the Interdict, and
a History of Ecclesiastical Benefices, to the
History of the Uscocks, a band of pirates who
infested the Dalmatian coast.
An elaborate statue of Sarpi, erected in
1892, is in the Campo Fosca, near the scene
of his attempted murder, and on his direct
way between his cloistered home and the
Ducal Palace. The Greatest of the Vene
tians stands, in monumental bronze, with his
face to the street and his back to the ca
nal, and in figure as well as in features he
suggests in many ways the younger, and the
greater, of the D'Israelis, with whom, except
in nationality, he had so little in common.
The D'Israelis, it will be remembered,
were descended from a line of prosperous
Jewish merchants who had lived here in the
days when Venice was still, in a measure,

27
the Queen of the Adriatic. Neither of the
two men of the race who made it famous in
the annals of literature was born here, but
they were both of them visitors here, al
though neither of them has left any record
as to where or when. Isaac D'Israeli, how
ever, in a paper upon " Venice," among his
Curiosities, in refuting Byron's statement
that " In Venice Tasso's Echoes are no
more," takes bodily and literally, without
credit, Goethe's description of how he " en
tered a gondola by moonlight. One singer
placed himself forwards and the other aft,
and then proceeded to S. Giorgio." Then
follow, in Goethe's words, D'Israeli's remarks
upon the music of the gondoliers, closing,
still in Goethe's words, with an experience
familiar to all subsequent visitors here:
" The sleepy canals, the lofty buildings, the
splendor of the moon, the deep shadows of
the few gondolas that moved like spirits
hither and thither, increased the striking pe
culiarity of the scene ; and amidst all these
circumstances it was easy to confess the
character of this wonderful harmony."

28
In another chapter of The Curiosities,
which is entitled " The Origin of the News
paper," D'Israeli, stealing, perhaps, from
somebody else, tells us that the first expres
sion of Literature in the form of a periodi
cal was made in Venice. It was, he says, a
Government organ originally issued once a
month ; and even long after the invention of
printing it appeared in manuscript. It was
called La Gazetta, he adds, perhaps from
" gazzera," a magpie, or chatterer, or more
likely from " gazzeta," the small Venetian
coin which was its price after it appeared in
type. If this fact establishes another Liter
ary Landmark for Venice, let Venice have
all the credit of it.
Marino Sanudo, the younger and the great
er of that name, was one of the early sons of
Venice who found his mother neither nour
ishing, comforting, nor affectionate. He be
gan to take notes, and to make notes, even
as a child, his initial researches having com
menced before he was ten years of age. He
started his Diary when he was about seven
teen; fifty-six volumes of it, covering a period

29
of almost as many years, are still in exist
ence, although not in Venice ; and the larger
portions of them have been printed. Besides
these, he published voluminous works, all of
them of the greatest value to the student of
the history of his native state. Mrs. Oliphant
calls him " one of the most gifted and aston
ishing of historical moles." The height of
his aspiration was the gratitude and appre
ciation of the world, by whom he was en
tirely forgotten for three centuries or more,
until Rawdon Brown rescued his name, and
his works, from oblivion, and shamed the
Venetians into marking, in a suitable way,
the house in which he lived ; although there
is no record of the grave in which he was
laid. Sanudo's house is still standing on the cor
ner of the Fondamenta and the Ponte del
Megio, directly in the rear of, and not far
from, the Fondaco dei Turchi. It is plain
and substantial, what is called a genteel man
sion, and it was a worthy home for a plain
and substantial and modest Man of Letters.
The tablet is weather-worn and stained, and

it looks much older than the days of Rawdon
Brown. The inscription, roughly translated,
states that " Here dwelt Marino Leonardo F.
Sanuto, who, while he well knew the history
of the whole universe, still wrote with truth
and fidelity of his own country and of his
own times. He died here in April, 1536."
According to tradition, says Signor Tas
sini, when Tasso came to Venice with Al
fonso di Ferrara to meet Henry III. of
France, he lodged in what is now known as
the Fondaco dei Turchi, an Italo-Byzantine
structure of the Ninth Century, and one of
the oldest secular buildings in the city. It
stands on the Grand Canal, on the left as
one sails from St. Mark's to the railway-
station, and past the Rialto ; but it was en
tirely modernized about a quarter of a century
ago, and it now contains the collection of the
Museo Civico. There is also a tradition that
Tasso, in later years, found refuge in the
Palazzo Contarini delle Figure, on the other
side of the Grand Canal and on the other
side of the Rialto Bridge. It is near to the
Mocenigo Palace, once the home of Byron.

BYRON S PALACE, VENICE

31
Montaigne arrived in Venice in 1580, and
his remarks about the city and its inhabi
tants three centuries ago are quaint and en
tertaining. He was somewhat disappointed
in the show places, but greatly interested in
the people. He recorded that he hired for
himself a gondola, which he was entitled to
the use of, night and day, for two lire per
diem, about seventeen sous, as he explained,
including the boatman. Provisions here he
found as dear as at Paris ; but then, in other
respects, he considered it the cheapest place
in the world to live in, for the train of at
tendants which one required elsewhere was
here altogether useless, everybody going
about by himself, which made great saving
in clothes ; and, moreover, one had no occa
sion for horses. His stay here was very short.
He said of Italy generally that he had never
seen a country in which there were so few
pretty women. And the inns he found far
less convenient than those of France or Ger
many. The provisions were not half so plen
tiful, and not nearly so well dressed. The
houses, too, in Italy were very inferior ; there

32
were no good rooms, and the large windows
had no glass or other protection against the
weather; the bedrooms were mere cabins,
and the beds wretched pallets, running upon
casters, with a miserable canopy over them ;
" and Heaven help him who cannot lie hard !"
Milton was in Venice in the months of
April and May, 1639, but the only incident
of his stay here which he recorded is that he
shipped to England a number of books which
he had collected in different parts of Italy ;
and some of these, we are told, by one who
saw them later in the lodging-house in St.
Bride's Church-yard, London, were curious
and rare, " including a chest or two of choice
music-books from the best masters flourish
ing then in Italy."
Among the volumes which Milton bought
and studied in Venice was a history of the
town, in Latin, printed by the Elzevirs in
163 1. It contains the folding-plates of the
Rialto, and of the interior of the Council
Chamber of the Doges, which are reproduced
here ; and the well-preserved copy of the
same work, bought behind the Cathedral by

33
the present chronicler, for a few lire, he high
ly prizes, as presenting views of the public
places of Venice contemporary with The
JSIerchant of Venice and Othello, and as, per
haps, having passed here through Milton's
own hands. It was the latest and most au
thentic chronicle of its kind when Venice re
ceived Milton on the bosoms of her canals.
John Evelyn came to Venice in the month
of May, 1645, and, as he put it, as soon as
he got ashore his portmanteaus were exam
ined at the Dogana, and then he went to his
lodging, which was at honest Signor Rhodo-
mante's, at the Black Eagle, near the Rialto,
one of the best quarters of the town. The
journey from Rome to Venice, he stated,
cost him seven pistoles and thirteen julios.
" Tvvo days after, taking a gondola, which
is their water -coach," he said, "we rode up
and down their canals, which answer to our
streets. These vessels are built very long
and narrow, having necks and tails of steel,
somewhat spreading at the beak, like a fish's
tail, and kept so exceedingly polished as to
give a great lustre." His first visit was to

34
the Rialto. " It was evening, and the canal
where the Noblesse go to take the air, as in
our Hyde Park, was full of ladies and gen
tlemen. . . . Next day I went to the Ex
change, a place like ours, frequented by mer
chants, but nothing so magnificent. . . .
Hence I passed through the Merceria, one
of the most delicious streets in the world for
the sweetness of it [!] ; and is all the way, on
both sides, tapestried, as it were, with cloth
of gold, rich damasks and other silks, which
the shops expose and hang before their
houses from the first floor ; ... to this add
the perfumes, apothecaries' shops, and the
innumerable cages of nightingales, which
they keep, that entertain you with their mel
ody from shop to shop,, so that shutting your
eyes you could imagine yourself in the
country, when, indeed, you are in .the mid
dle of the sea." Evelyn left Venice at the
end of March, 1646.
Ruskin, in The Stones of Venice, speaks of
"the hostehy of the Black Eagle, with its
square door of marble deeply moulded in the
outer wall, where we see the shadows of its

ENTRANCE TO THE MERCERIA

35
pergola of vines resting on an ancient well,
with a pointed shield carved on its side."
This must not be confounded with Signor
Rhodomante's establishment, where Evelyn
was entertained two centuries earlier. Eve
lyn's Black Eagle, after many inquiries among
the oldest residents of its neighborhood, and
after much interesting and fluent interchange
of bad Italian and worse English, was dis
covered to be the ancient house near the
Rialto Bridge, now numbered 5238 Calle dei
Stagneri, on the Ponte della Fava, and close
to the Campo S. Bartolommeo, where stands
the Goldoni statue. The house has retired
to private life, and is, at present, the home of
a practising lawyer in good standing.
Ruskin's Black Eagle died an unnatural
death in 1880, when a certain unusually
narrow street was wiped out of existence,
under the direction of a chie/' magistrate
(whose name was Dante di Siego Alighieri),
to make way for the broad avenue now known
as the Street of the 22d of March. The
inn was in a retired corner, but on the line
of travel between the larger hotels and the

36
Square of S. Moisfe. Not a stone of it seems
to be left in Venice now.
Ruskin himself, while preserving and pol
ishing The Stones of Venice, was very fond
of an old-fashioned modest little inn, called
La Calcina, in the Zattere Quarter, on the
corner of the Campiello della Calcina and
by the bridge of the same name. Ruskin's
rooms were over the portico, looking out on
the Giudecca Canal, and in fair weather he
breakfasted and dined under the shadow of
a pergola of vines in the very small garden
in the rear of the house.
On the Zattere side of this hostelry, over
a little gateway in a passage leading to the
garden, is a tablet stating that here died the
celebrated poet Apostolo Zeno, in 1750. He
was born in Venice, eighty-two years before.
He came of an old Venetian family, distin
guished in the world of letters. He was a
poet, "and the reformer and renovator" of
the melodrama in Italy, and he wrote works
of a serious as well as of a romantic char
acter. His fine library is now a portion of
the Library of St. Mark.

37
During another visit to Venice Ruskin
lived in the house of Rawdon Brown (q. v.) ;
and after Mr. Brown's death he lodged at
the Hotel Europa. All this information was
gathered from his personal guide, who de
scribed him as " a very curious man, who
looked at things with his eyes shut," imitat
ing, as he spoke, that half-closed-eyelid gaze
of a near-sighted person so familiar to all
normally visioned observers.
In what is now called the Casa Brown, a
stone's -throw from the Calcina Inn, and in
the home of his warm friend and literary
executor Mr. Horatio F. Brown, lived and
worked, while in Venice, John Addington
Symonds, and herefrom he went, in the
spring of 1893, to Rome to die. Symonds's
apartments were on the lower floor of the
house, which stands on the Bridge and Cam
piello Incurabili, of the Zattere. In the up
per story were written Mr. Brown's Venetian
Studies, Life on the Lagoons, The Venetian
Printing Press, etc.
Rawdon Brown lived and died in the Casa
della Vida; S. Marcuolo — the address is

33
taken from one of his own visiting-cards.
He occupied the second and third floors of
this house, which fronts upon the Grand
Canal, nearly opposite the Church of S. Eusta-
chio ; and many of his contemporary Men of
Letters, besides Ruskin, were here his guests.
He bequeathed his apartments and their
contents to two faithful old servants.
Mr. Brown was buried, in August, 1883, in
the Protestant portion of the Cemetery of S.
Michele. Not far from Brown, in the same grounds,
lies Eugene Schuyler, "Statesman, Diplo
matist, Traveller, Geographer, Historian, Es
sayist," who died at the Grand Hotel in
Venice in 1890.
G. P. R. James, who died in Venice in
i860, was buried in this same Protestant
Cemetery. The tablet over his grave, black
ened by time, broken and hardly decipherable,
contains the following epitaph, said to have
been the composition of Landor ; " His merits
as a writer are known wherever the English
language is, and as a man they rest on the
heads of many. A few friends have erect-

39
ed this humble and perishable monument."
There is a vague tradition among the older
alien residents here that James was not
buried at S. Michele at all, but on the Lido,
where are a few very ancient stones and
monuments marking the graves of foreign
visitors to Venice. They are in a state of
picturesque and utter dilapidation, moss-cov
ered, broken, and generally undecipherable;
and none of them seem to be of later date
than the middle of the Eighteenth Century.
They are within the ramparts of Forte S.
Nicol6, near the powder-magazine, and are
only seen by the consent of the military au
thorities, which is obtained with difficulty.
It is said that Byron expressed a wish to
leave his bones here, if his soul should be
demanded of him in Italy.
Sir Henry Layard lodged at the Hotel di
Roma in 1867, when began his connection
with the glass-works of Murano.
He did not purchase the Palazzo Cappello,
on the Grand Canal, corner of the Rio S.
Polo, until 1878. Here he received and en
tertained nearly all the distinguished visitors

40
to Venice, until the time of his death, which
occurred in London in 1894.
Mr. Howells, upon his first arrival in
Venice, lodged, for a time, in the house of
his predecessor as American Consul, in a
little street behind the Square of St. Mark.
Then he removed to the Campo S. Bartolom
meo, on the Rialto side of the square, and
later he lived in the Campo S. Stefano before
he began house-keeping in the Casa Falier, a
queer little mansion on the right-hand side
of the Grand Canal, three doors from the in
famous Iron Bridge. The Casa Falier has
cage-like, over-hanging windows, one of them
figuring as " The Balcony on the Grand
Canal," from which he saw, and set down,
" sights more gracious and fairy than poets
ever dreamed."
His latest house here, in 1864-5, was
in the Palazzo Giustiniani dei Vescovi, on
the other side of the thoroughfare. It is
the middle of three Gothic palaces on the
Grand Canal which look towards the Rialto,
are next to the Palazzo Foscari, and which,
as some one has expressed it, are now a

CASA FALIER, WHERE MR. HOWELLS LIVED

41
mosaic-mill. Here he received and put upon
record the impressions of his Vcnctiau Life,
which have given so much pleasure to so
many readers, in Venice and out of it, and
which have told us so many things we want
to know about Venice and the Venetians.
Mr. Charles Dudley Warner, during one
long and happy summer in Venice, wrote the
story of his Winter on the Nile. He lived in
the Barbaro Palace, on the Grand Canal, not
far from the Falier house of Mr. Howells, on
the same side of the stream, but on the other
side of the Iron Bridge, and nearly opposite
the modern-mosaic-frescoed ancient establish
ment of Murano-work, which Mr. Howells
occupied later. Over the front door of Mr.
Warner's house is a great carved head of
some ancient worthy, perhaps a Barbaro,
perhaps a saint or a god, whose rank or title
is to-day unknown. Mr. Warner's writing
was done in a little room with a balconied
window, on the top floor of the neighboring
Palazzo Fosclo.
Of the other later-day historians of Venice,
it may be stated that Dr. Robertson, the an-

42
nalist of Sarpi and of St. Mark's, lives in the
Casa S. Leonardo, on the Rio S. Maria della
Salute, and by the side of the church of that
name ; that Mr. Augustus J. C. Hare took most
of his Walks in Venice from the Hotel Milano,
fronting on the Grand Canal ; that Mrs. Clara
Erskine Clement designed her crown for The
Queen of the Adriatic at the Hotel Europa ;
and that Mrs. Oliphant made The Makers of
Venice in a house in the Campo S. Maurizio.
To go back to the men of other days.
Addison came to Venice in the winter of
1699-1700. His remarks upon Italy are enter
taining enough, although of the guide-book
order, and he is uniformly silent regarding
his experiences here. As Walpole said of
him, he travelled through the poets and not
through Italy ; all his ideas were borrowed
from the descriptions, not from the reality,
and he saw places as they had been, not as
they were.
Goldoni is one of the few native actors
of Venice who merit an encore here. He is
as interesting to-day as he was to the audi
ences who crowded the theatres of Venice to

GOLDONI'S STAIRCASE

45
ers of the present at seventy cents an arm
ful. Rousseau lived long enough in Venice
to have added to his own innate power of
invention some of the Venetian love of ex
aggeration ; and if, in his Confessions, he in
creased the length of his stay here by at
least one -third, it is not easy to say how
much of what he said he did here is fiction
or fact.
Upon the Ramo dei Fuseri side of the
Hotel Victoria and upon the little bridge of
the same name is a tablet bearing the fol
lowing inscription : " Goethe wohnte hier 28
Sep.-ii, Oct. MDCCLXXXVI." Notwith
standing the bad reputation for veracity
which the Venetian tablets generally have
achieved for themselves, and despite the ex
traordinarily free and phonetic translation of
a distinguished American artist from Hart
ford, Connecticut, to the effect that Goethe
" weren't here," it seems from his own con
fessions that Goethe was here, on this iden
tical spot, and at that particular period of
his existence, for he wrote : " I am comfort
ably housed in 'The Queen of England' [so

46
named in honor of the consort of George
III.], not far from St. Mark's Square, and
this is the greatest advantage of my quar
ters. My windows look out on a small ca
nal between high houses ; directly under me
is an arched bridge, and opposite a densely
populated alley. So live I, and so shall I for
some time remain, until my packet is ready
for Germany, and until I have had a surfeit
of the pictures of the city. The loneliness I
have sighed for with such passionate longing
I now enjoy. I know perhaps only one man
in Venice, and I am not likely to meet him
in some time."
How much Goethe did for Venice, and for
the Hotel of the English Queen, Goethe him
self probably never knew. But ever since
Goethe expressed, in print, his romantic love
for the place, German brides have been com
ing here on their wedding-trips, and have
been trying to see Venice as Goethe saw it,
and have been quoting Goethe to their hus-
bands-of-a-day-or-two, and have been pre
tending an enthusiasm for Venice which they
do not always feel, simply because, somehow.

47
this is considered, on Goethe's account, the
proper thing for German brides to do.
The biographers of Samuel Rogers have
printed only fragmentary portions of the Di
ary and Letters written during his visit to
Italy in 1814, and very few of his personal
experiences here have been preserved. We
learn that Venice greatly delighted him, and
that he was particularly fond of loitering
about the Square of St. Mark. No doubt
he was wont to break his fast at the Restau
rant Quadri, and very likely he was accus
tomed to break the fast of the doves who
loitered there too.
Byron spent the winter of i8i6-'i7 in
Venice. On the 17th of November, 1816,
he wrote to Moore : "I have fallen in love,
which, next to falling into the canal (which
would be of no use, as I can swim), is the
best, or the worst, thing I could do. I have
got some extremely good apartments in the
house of a Merchant of Venice, who is a
good deal occupied with business, and has
a wife in her twenty-second year." He
spoke more than once of these lodgings, but

48
he gave no hint as to where they were, and he
asked Murray to address him Poste Restante.
Moore, however, says that for many months
he continued to occupy the same rooms " in
an extremely narrow street, called the Spez-
zeria, at the house of a linen-draper."
The Spezzeria is not a street, but a dis
trict of the town, near the Rialto Quarter.
It was devoted, in Byron's day, to the deal
ers in spices. His Merchant of Venice, there
fore, should have been a vender of drugs,
sugars, coffees, spices, wax- candles and the
like, in wholesale. But, alas for the romance
of it all ! tradition, in Venice, says that he
was a plain, commonplace baker who lived,
in good enough style, not in the Spezzeria,
but in the Frezzeria, the Street of the Makers
of Arrows.
In December Byron wrote to Murray:
" I have begun, and am proceeding in, a
study of the Armenian language, which I
acquire, as well as I can, at the Armenian
Convent here, where I go every day to take
lessons of a learned friar, and have gained
some singular and not useless information

49
with regard to the literature and customs
of that Oriental people. They have an es
tablishment here — a church and convent of
ninety monks, very learned and accomplished
men, some of them. They have also a press,
and make great efforts for the enlightening
of their nation. I find the language (which
is twin, the literal and the vulgar) difficult,
but not invincible (at least I hope not). I
shall go on. I found it necessary to twist
my mind ' round some severe study ; and
this, as being the hardest I could devise
here, will be a file for the serpent."
He twisted his mind around the Armenian
tongue for upwards of half a year, a long
time for Byron ; and his memory is still held
dear among the Armenian brothers, although,
of course, none of those are left now who
remember him personally; and there are
only a few relics of him to be found here.
A poor portrait, not contemporaneous; his
desk ; his inkstand ; his pen ; and some of
his manuscript Armenian exercises are rev
erently preserved. An aged monk who came
to Venice after Byron's day showed me,

50
one sunny afternoon, his own apartment,
which he said had once been the English
poet's. Although large and comfortable,
and scrupulously clean, it is scantily and
plainly furnished, and is not very inviting in
itself. It has but one window, which is al
most directly over the main entrance of the
establishment, with an outlook on to the
Httle canal and the open waters beyond.
The beautiful old monastery, with its more
beautiful old garden, is peaceful and rest
ful ; far from the madding crowd, and sur
rounded by an air of intellect and learning
which might tempt one to try to twist one's
mind around something sweet and nourish
ing for one's own sake, if not for Byron's.
On the 14th June, 1817, Byron wrote to
Murray again, this time from " the banks of
the Brenta, a few miles from Venice, where
I have colonized for six months to come."
He was again in Venice in 1818 and 1819,
and he wrote, " I transport my horse to the
Lido bordering the Adriatic (where the fort
is), so that I get a gallop of some miles daily
along the strip of beach which reaches to

51
Malamocco." At this period he was occu
pying the centre of the three Mocenigo Pal
aces, on the Grand Canal.
Moore met Byron in Venice in 1819, and
he describes the five or six days they spent
together here. He found Byron with whis
kers, and fuller both in face and person than
when he had seen him last, and leading any
thing but a reputable life. In Venice por
tions of Manfred, Childe Harold, and Don
fuan were written.
Bakers and poets, in Venice, seem to have
a mutual attraction, for there are men still
living here who remember Gautier when he
was a lodger over the baker's shop in the
Campo S. Moisfe, on the left-hand side, and
opposite the corner of the church, as one
goes towards the Square of St. Mark. His
landlord, like Byron's, was a Merchant of
Venice in bread and cakes, in a retail way ;
and the establishment is still to be seen on
the same spot, its window filled with the
staff of life of all sizes and in every shape,
some of the latter often fantastic.
The gondolas of Venice have frequent-

52
ly been compared to hearses, but Shelley
likened them to "moths, of which a coffin
might have been the chrysalis." Clara Shel
ley, a daughter of the poet, died " at an inn "
in Venice in 1818, and "she sleeps on bleak
Lido, near Venetian seas."
In fulian and Maddalo, written in 1818,
Shelley tells us how he —
"... rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of sand which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards "Venice : a bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand.
Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds.
Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds.
Is this ; an uninhabited sea-side,
"Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried,
Abandons ; and no other object breaks
The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes.
Broken and unrepaired, and the tide makes
A narrow space of level sand thereon.
Where 'twas our wont to ride while day went
down.
This ride was my delight.''
The Lido, of course, is here referred to.
Later, in the same poem, he says :

53
" Servants announced the gondola, and we
Through the fast-falling rain and high-wrought
sea
Sailed to the island where the mad-house stands."
Elsewhere he speaks of "ocean's nurse
ling, Venice " ; but he never states where he
lodged in Venice during any of his brief vis
its here.
Scott arrived in Venice on the 19th of
May, 1832, and he remained here until the
23d. His biographer says that he showed
no curiosity about anything but the Bridge
of Sighs and the adjoining dungeons, down
into which latter he would scramble, though
the exertion was exceedingly painful to him.
It is not recorded where he lodged here, and
he went slowly and sadly home to die.
George Sand and Alfred de Musset spent
a number of months, in 1833-34, at the Ho
tel Danieli, and there De Musset was very
ill of a brain-fever, caused, according to the
story of old residents, by Mme. Dudevant's
desertion of him, although other, and perhaps
better, authorities declare that she never left
his bedside until he was pronounced out of

54
danger. All statements agree, however, that
she was not with him when his brother came
for him, in the spring of 1834, and carried
him back to Paris.
James Fenimore Cooper, on his arrival
here in 1838, "spent a day or two at the
Hotel Leone Bianco, on the northwest side
of the Square"; but later he " took apart
ments near the Palazzo, where he set up his
own gondola." He did what we all do on
our first visit to Venice ; but his conclusions
are so unlike those of most of us that they
are worth recording. "Although Venice was
attractive at first," he says, " in the absence
of acquaintances it became monotonous and
wearying. A town in which the sound of
wheels and hoofs is never known, in which
the stillness of the narrow, ravine-like canals
is seldom broken, unless by the fall of an oar
or the cry of a gondolier, fatigues one by its
unceasing calm. I do not remember to have
been so much struck with any place on enter
ing it. I do not recollect ever to have been
so soon tired of a residence in a capital."
The very absence of the noise of hoof and

55
wheel, the very silence of which he com
plains, are, to most tired-minded travellers,
the greatest of the charms of the capital city
of Venice. But happily we each have our
own points of view.
Dickens came first to Venice in 1844, when
he wrote to Forster : " Here I sit in the sober
solitude of a famous inn, with the great bell
of St. Mark ringing twelve at my elbow ;
with three arched windows in my room (two
stories high) looking down upon the Grand
Canal, and away, beyond, to where the sun
went down to-night in a blaze." He did
not tell the name of the famous inn ; but
it sounds like Hotel Danieli. Elsewhere he
said to the same correspondent : " My Dear
Fellow — Nothing in the world that you have
ever heard of Venice is equal to the magnif
icent and stupendous reality; the wildest
visions of The Arabian Nights are nothing
to the Piazza of St. Mark, and the first im
pression of the inside of the Church. The
gorgeous and wonderful reality of Venice is
beyond the fancy of the wildest dreamer.
Opium couldn't build such a place, and en-

56
chantment couldn't shadow it forth in vis
ion." In 1853 he wrote to Forster: "We
live in the same house I lived in nine years
ago, and have the same sitting-room — close
to the Bridge of Sighs and the Palace of the
Doges. The room is at the corner of the
house, and there is a narrow street of water
running round the side." Again, no doubt.
Hotel Danieli.
In 1845 Mrs. Jameson wrote to Catharine
Sedgwick: "Did you visit Venice? I for
get. In the world there is nothing Hke it.
It seems to me that we can find a similitude
for everything else, but Venice is like noth
ing else — Venice the beautiful, the wonder
ful. I had seen it before, but it was as new
to me as if unbeheld ; and every, morning
when I arose I was still in the same state of
wonder and enchantment." She made sev
eral visits to Venice, but she gave no hint as
to her places of lodgement here.
George Eliot and Lewes arrived in Venice
on the night of the 4th June, i860. "What
stillness !" she wrote, " what beauty ! Look
ing out from the high windows of our hotel, I

THE "NOAH CORNER" OF THE DOGE's PALACE

57
felt it was a pity to go to bed. Venice was
more beautiful than romance had feigned."
On the 15th May, 1864, she wrote to the
Trollopes, from the Hotel de Ville: "We
reached Venice three days ago, and have the
delight of finding everything more beautiful
than it was to us four years ago." Her last
visit to Venice was made with Mr. Cross,
in the summer of 1880, when her husband
was very ill at the Hotel Europa.
Nearly opposite the Europa, on the Grand
Canal, stands the Casa Simitecolo, in the
parish of S. Gregorio, where Miss Constance
Fenimore Woolson died, on the 24th January,
1894. She had, during the preceding year,
occupied apartments in the Casa Biondetti,
on the same side of the Canal, but nearer
the Suspension - Bridge. As was her own
desire. Miss Woolson was buried in the
Protestant Cemetery in Rome.
Mr. Hare says that Chateaubriand was once
a guest at the Europa ; and that Wagner, in
the same house, wrote a certain Literary-
Musical Landmark, called Tristram and
Isolde. Wagner died in 1883, in the Palazzo

5S
Vendramin Calerghi, on the Grand Canal, a
fine mansion, dating back to the end of the
Fifteenth Century. It is opposite the Museo
Civico, and is sometimes called the "Non
Nobis Palace," because of the inscription
"Non Nobis Domine, Non Nobis," in great
letters across its front.
In the month of May, 1869, Helen Hunt
wrote: "We are most comfortably established
at .the Hotel Vittoria, not on the Grand
Canal, thank Heaven ! When N  at first
said that she did not dare to stay on the
Grand Canal, because she feared too much
sea air, I was quite dismayed. But now I am
thankful enough to have dry land, that is, a.
stone floor laid on piles, on one side of our
house. I look down from any window into
one of the cracks called streets; the people
look as if they were beiiig threaded into
the Scriptural needle's eye, and a hand-
organ looks like a barricade." " Cracks called
streets" is good.
On "Thanksgiving Day, 1873," Lowell
wrote to Thomas Hughes: "To-day the
weather is triumphant, and my views of life

59
consequently more cheerful. It is so warm
that we are going out presently in the gon
dola, to take up a few dropped stitches.
Venice, after all, is incomparable, and during
this visit I have penetrated into little slits
of streets in every direction on foot. The
canals only give one a visiting acquaintance.
The calli make you an intimate of the house
hold." In October, 1881, Lowell wrote to Mr.
Gilder from Hotel Danieli: "It is raining;
never mind, I am in Venice. Sirocco is do
ing his worst ; I defy him, I am in Venice. I
am horribly done ; but what can I expect ?
I am in Venice."
Lord Houghton was living in 1878 at the
Pension Suisse, or Hotel de Rome, on the
Grand Canal.
In 1878 Browning was at the Albergo dell'
Universo, the Palazzo Brandolin-Rota, on the
shady side of the Grand Canal, just below the
Accademia and the Suspension-Bridge. Here
he remained for a fortnight ; and he visited
the same hotel again in 1879, 1880, and 1881.
In 1885 he occupied a suite of rooms in the

6o
Palazzo Alvise, on the other side of the
Grand Canal, and about midway between the
Grand Hotel and the Hotel Grande Bretagne ;
and during the same year he entered into
negotiations for the purchase of the Palazzo
Montecuccoli, next door to the Albergo dell'
Universo, which he used to frequent. He
wrote : " It is situated on the Grand Canal,
and is described by Ruskin — to give no other
authority — as 'a perfect and only rich ex
ample of Byzantine Renaissance : its warm
yellow marbles are magnificent.' And again,
' an exquisite example [of Byzantine Renais
sance] as applied to domestic architecture.'
So testifies The Stones of Venice'' He never
\)wned the palace, however, the foundations
of the house proving insecure.
During the last year of his life he lived in
a beautifully restored palace on the Grand
Canal. It is one of the finest private resi
dences in Europe ; but as it is now the home
of the poet's son, it is not, of course, except
in his absence, open to the public view. It
contains many original portraits of Robert
and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, by different

THE HOUSE IN WHICH BROWNING DIEU

61

artists and at different ages, a number of
bronze and marble busts of them by the
present occupant, and notably their private
libraries. Never was seen such a collection
of absolutely invaluable "presentation cop
ies" from all the writers of note who were
the contemporaries and the friends of the
wonderfully gifted husband and wife. To
at least one visitor to Venice it is the
most interesting spot in the interesting
city ; and he would rather be the possessor
of that private library than of all the rest
of the great treasures of Venice put to
gether. Off the library, and on what, for want of a
better term, may be called the drawing-room
floor, is a bow-windowed recess delicately and
exquisitely decorated in white and gold. It
was originally the private chapel of that
member of the Rezzonico family who be
came Pope Clement XIII. ; and, carefully
restored, it has been dedicated by the hus
band and the son to the memory of Mrs.
Browning. It is plainly visible from the
larger and the smaller canal ; but it was not

62
intended for the world to see, and what is its
nature, and what its contents, I have no right
yet, and no wish here, to disclose.
On the side of the Browning Palace, above
the little Canal of S. Barnaba, and immedi
ately below the windows of the poet's bed
room, is a tablet with this inscription,
"Robert Browning died in this house 1 2th
December, 1889.
"Open my heart and you will see
Graved inside of it ' Italy.' "
This Rezzonico Palace was purchased by
Mrs. Robert Barrett Browning in 1888, and
here at the close of the next year the poet
died. He had said to Miss Browning, not
very long before, that he wished to be
buried wherever he might chance to breathe
his last : if in England, by the side of his
mother; if in France, by the side of his
father ; if in Italy, by the side of his wife.
Further interments having been prohibited
in the English Cemetery in Florence, where
lies his wife, his body was placed tempo
rarily in the chapel of the Mortuary Island

63
of S. Michele here. A few days later he was
laid at rest in the Poets' Corner at Westmin
ster Abbey, with "Italy" graved inside his
heart.

INDEX OF PERSONS

Addison, Joseph, 42.
Aldo IL, Jilanuzio, 22.
Aldo, Paolo, 22.
Aldo, Pio, 20-22.
Barozzi, N., quoted, 17.
Boccaccio, 16-19.
Bollani, Bishop, quoted,
II.
Bolognese, Pietro, 19.
Brown, Horatio F., 37.
Brown, Horatio F., quot
ed, 19. 20-21.
Brown, Rawdon, 37-38.
Brown, Rawdon, quoted,
8, 29-30,
Browning.Elizabeth Bar
rett, 60-61.
Browning, Robert, 59-63.
Byron, Lord, 30, 38, 47-
51-
Byron, Lord, quoted, 27.
Ceresole, 'Victor,
quoted, 44.
Chateaubriand, 57.
Cinthio, G.B., quoted, 11.
Clement, Clara Erskine,
42.
Clement, Clara Erskine,
quoted, 21.

Cooper, James Fenimore,
54-55-
Dickens, Charles, 55-
56.
Disraeli, Benjamin, 26-
27.
D'Israeli, Isaac, 26-27.
D'Israeli, Isaac, quoted,
v., 27-28.
Dudevant, Mme., 53-54.
Duse, Elenora, 9-10.
" Eliot.George," 56-57.
Elze, Th., quoted, 6-7.
Erasmus, 23.
Evans, Mary Anne, 56-
57- .
Evelyn, John, 33-34.
Furness,Horace How
ard, quoted, 6-7.
Gautier, Th^ophile,
SI.
" George Eliot," 56-57.
" George Sand," 53-54.
Gibbon, Edward, quot
ed, 24.
Goethe, 45-47.
Goethe, quoted, i, 27.

66

Goldoni, 'Carlo, 42-44.
Goldsmith, Oliver, 7.
Gregoropoulos, 21.
Hare, Augustus J. C,
42.
Hare, Augustus J. C,
quoted, lo-ii, 57.
Houghton, Lord, 59.
Howells, William Dean,
40-41.
Howells, William Dean,
quoted, 5, ii, 19.
Hunt, Helen, 58.
James, G. P. R., 38-39.
Jameson, Anna, 56.
Landor, Walter Sav
age, quoted, 38-39.
Layard, Sir Henry, 39-
40.
Lewes, George Henry,
56-57-
Lowell, James Russell,
58-59-
Luther, Martin, 23.
Milton, John, 32-33.
Montaigne, 31-32.
Moore, Thomas, quoted,
48, 51-
Moro, Christoforo, 7, 8,
9-10.
Musset, Alfred de, 53-54.
Oliphant, Margaret
W., 42.
Oliphant, Margaret W.,
quoted, 29.

Petrarch, 16-20.
Polo, Marco, 13-15.
Polo, Nicolo, 14-15.
Robertson, Alexan
der, 41-42.
Robertson, Alexander,
quoted, 22, 24.
Rogers, Samuel, 47.
Rousseau, J. J., 44-45.
Ruskin, John, 36, 37.
Ruskin, John, quoted, i,
34-35, 60.
" Sand, George," 53-54.
Sanudo, Marino, 28-30.
Sarpi, Paolo, 23-26.
Schuyler, Eugene, 38.
Scott, Walter, 53.
Shakspere, 4, 6-7.
Shakspere, quoted, 4, 13.
Shelley, Percy B., 52-53.
Symonds, John Adding
ton, 37.
Tassini, Giuseppe,
quoted, 8-9, 19, 30,
43-
Tasso, 30.
Wagner, Richard, 57-
58.
Walpole, Horace, quot
ed, 42.
Warner, Charles Dudley,
41.
Woolson, Constance
Fenimore, 57.
Zeno, Apostolo, 36.

INDEX OF PLACES

Accademia, 59.
Agostino, S., Parish, 20,
21.
Alvise, Palazzo, 60.
Armenian Convent, 48-
50.
Barbaro, Palazzo, 41.
Barnaba, S., Canale, 62.
Bartolommeo, S., Campo,
35. 40, 43-
Biagio, S., Parish, 25.
Biondetti, Casa, 57.
Black Eagle, Inn, Eve
lyn's. 33-35-
Black Eagle, Inn, Rus
kin's, 34-36.
Brandolin - Rota, Palaz
zo, 59.
Brenta, The, 50.
Briati, Fondamenta, 2.
Bridge of Sighs, 53, 56.
Brown, Casa, 37.
Calcina, Campiello
DELLA, 36.
Calcina, Ponte della, 36.
Calcina, Inn, 36, 37.
Calle :
Dose, del, 18.

Nomboli, dei, 43.
Pistor, del, 21.
Stagneri, dei, 35.
Teatro, del, S. Moise,
44-
Campo or Campiello :
Bartolommeo, S., 35,
40. 43-
Calcina, della, 36.
Canova, 43.
Carmine, del, 7, 8.
Fosca, 26.
Incurabili, 37.
Manin, 22-23.
Maurizio, S., 42.
Moise, S., 36, 51.
Paternian, S., 22-23.
Rusolo, 43.
Stefano, S., 23, 40.
Canale :
Barnaba, S., 62.
Calcina, della, 36.
Carmine, del, 7.
Giudecca, 36.
Grand Canal, 9, 30, 38,
39, 40,41,42, 51, 55,
57, 59, 60, 61.
Canareggio, District, 10,
13.44-
Canova, Campo, 43.

68

Cappello, Palazzo, 39-40.
Carmine, Campo del, 7
8.
Carmine, Canale del, 7.
Casa: Biondetti, 57.
Brown, 37.
Falier, 40-41.
Leonardo, S., 42.
Simitecolo, 57.
'Vida della, 37-38.
Centani, Palazzo, 43. '
Chioggia, 43.
Churches :
Eustachio, S., 38.
Giobbe, S., 10.
Giorgio, S., 27.
Lorenzo, S., 15-16.
Maria della Salute, S.,
25, 42-
Michele, S., 25.
Moise, S., 51.
Servite, 24-26.
Stefano, S., 23.
Cicogna, Palazzo, 2.
Contarini delle Figure,
Palazzo, 30.
Contarini-Fasan, Palaz
zo, 9.
Council Chamber of the
Doges, 6, 32.
Croce, Rio della, ii.
Danieli, Hotel, 53-54,
55-56, 59.
District :
Canareggio, 10, 13, 44.
Spezzeria, 48.
Zattere, 36, 37.
Dogana, 33.

Doge's, Palace of the, 5,
25, 54, 56.
Dose, Calle del, 18.
English Queen, Ho
tel, 45^46, 58.
Europa, Hotel, 37, 42, 57
bis.
Eustachio, S., Church,
38.
Exchange, The, 34.
Falier Casa, 40-41.
Fava, Ponte della, 35.
Fondaco dei Turchi, 29,
30-
Fondamenta: Briati, 2.
Megio, del, 29.
Penitente, delle, 44.
Toma, S., 43.
Fosca, Campo, 26.
Fosca, S., Rio, 26.
Foscari, Palazzo, 40.
Fosclo, Palazzo, 41.
Frezzeria, Via, 48.
Fuseri, Ramo dei, 45.
Giobbe, S., Church, 10.
Giorgio, S., Church, 27,
Giudecca Canal, 36.
Giudecca Island, 12.
Giustiniani dei 'Vescovi,
Palazzo, 40-41.
Goldoni Statue, 35, 43.
Grande Bretagne, H6tel,
60.
Grand Canal, 9, 30, 38,
39, 40, 41, 42, 51, 55,
57, 59, 60, 61.

6c,

Grand Hotel, 9, 38, 60.
Gregorio, S., Parish, 57.
Hotels :
Black Eagle, Evelyn's,
33-35-
Black Eagle, Ruskin's,
34-36.
Calcina, 36, 37.
Danieli, 53-54, 55-5^.
59-
English Queen, 45-46,
58.
Europa, 37, 42, 57 bis.
Grand, 9, 38, 60.
Grande Bretagne, 60.
Leone Bianco, 54.
Milano, 42.
Roma, 39, 59.
Suisse, 59.
Universo, 59-60.
"Victoria, 45-46, 58.
"ViUe, de, 57.
Incurabili, Campiello,
37-
Incurabili, Ponte, 37.
Leonardo, S., Casa, 42.
Leone Bianco, Hotel, 54.
Library of S. Marco, 25,
36.
Lido, 39, 50, 52.
Lorenzo, S., Church, 15-
16.
Malamocco, 51.
Malibran Theatre, 2, 13,
14.
Manin, Campo, 22-23.

Marco, S., Cathedral, 19-
20, 55.
Marco, S., Library, 25,
36.
Marco, S., Piazza, 19-20,
40, 46, 47, 54, 55.
Marcuolo, S., Parish, 37-
38-
Maria dell' Orto, S., Par
ish, 26.
Maria della Salute, S.,
Church, 25, 42.
Maria della Salute, S.,
Rio, 42.
Marzo, 22 ; 'Via, 35-36, 44.
Maurizio, S., Campo, 42.
Megio, Fondamenta del,
29.
Megio, Ponte del, 29.
i\Ierceria, Via, 34.
Michele, S., Cemetery
Island, 25, 38-39, 62.
Michele, S., Church, 25.
Milano, Hotel, 42.
Millione, Corte, 13, 14-
15-
Minerva Theatre, 44.
Mocenigo, Palazzo, 30, 5 1 .
Moise, §., Calle del Tea
tro, 44.
Moise, S., Campo, 36, 51.
Moise, S., Church, 51.
Molin, Palazzo del, 17.
Montecuccoli, Palazzo,
60.
Museo Civico, 30, 58.
Nicolo, S. Forte, 39, 50.
Nomboli, Calle dei, 43.
Non-Nobis, Palazzo, 58.

70

Palace :
Alvise, 60.
Barbaro, 41.
Brandolin-Rota, 59.
Cappello, 39-40.
Centani, 43.
Cicogna, 2.
Contarini delle Figure,
^30-
Contarini-Fasan, 9.
Doge's, 5, 25, 54, 56.
Foscari, 40.
Fosclo, 41.
Giustiniani dei Ves
covi, 40-41.
Marco, S., 25, 36.
Mocenigo, 30, 51.
Molin, del, 17.
Montecuccoli, 60.
Non-Nobis, 58.
Polo, dei, 13-15.
Rezzonico, 61-62.
Vendramin - Calerghi,
58.
Parish :
Agostino, S., 20-21.
Biagio, S., 25.
Gregorio, S., 57.
Marcuolo, S., 37-38.
Maria, S., dell' Orto,
26.
Paternian, S., Campo,
22-23.
Piazza S. Marco, 19-20,
40, 46-47, 54, 55.
Penitente, Fondamenta
delle, 44.
Pistor, Calle del, 21.
Polo, Palazzo dei, 13-15.
Polo, S. Rio, 39-40.

Ponte :
Bridge of Sighs, 53, 56.
Calcina, 36.
Fava, della, 35.
Incurabili, 37.
Megio, del, 29.
Pugni, dei, 24.
Rialto, 6, 32-33, 34, 35,
40, 43-
Sepolcro, del, 17.
Sosperi, dei, 53, 56.
Protestant Cemetery, 25,
38-39, 62.
Pugni, Ponte dei, 24.
Quadri, Restaurant,
47-
Rezzonico, Palazzo,
61-62.
Rialto Bridge, 6, 32-33,
34. 35. 40. 43-
Rio: Croce, della, 12.
Fosca, S., 26.
Maria della Salute, S.,
42.
Polo, S., 39-40.
Teatro Malibran del,
13-
Terra Secondo, 20-21.
Roma, Hotel, 39, 59.
Rusolo, Compo, 43.
Schiavoni,Riva degli,
17-
Secondo, Rio Terra, 20-
21.
Sepolcro, Ponte del, 17.
Servite Church, 24-26.

Simitecolo, Casa, 57.
Sosperi, Ponte dei, 53, 56.
Spezzeria, District, 48.
Stagneri, Calle dei, 35.
Stefano, S., Campo, 23,
40.
Stefano, S., Church, 23.
Suisse, Pension, 59.
Teatro Malibran,
Rio del, 13.
Toma, S., Fondamenta,
43-
Turchi, Fondaco dei, 29,
30-

Universo, Albergo
dell', 59-60.
Vendramin-Calerghi, Palazzo, 58.
Via:
Frezzeria, 48.
Marzo, 22, 35-36, 44.
Merceria, 34.
Victoria, Hotel, 45-46,
58.
Vida, Casa della, 37-38.
Ville, Hotel de, 57.
Zattere, District, 36, 37.

THE END

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With Portrait. i6mo. Cloth, Ornamental, $1 00.
Mr. Hutton had a wealth of curious reading to draw
upon, and this is clearly shown in his pertinent allusions to
old times and customs. The author dresses his thoughts
and observations in a style that is always attractive. — Sat
urday Evening Gazette, Boston.
FROM THE BOOKS OF LAURENCE HUTTON.
With Portrait. i6mo. Cloth, Ornamental, %\ 00.
Mr. Hutton's touch is graceful, his acquaintance with the
subjects thorough, and he never imposes with unnecessary
erudition, — N. V. Times.
EDWIN BOOTH.
With Portraits and Illustrations. 32mo, Cloth,
Ornamental, 50 cents. (" Harper's Black and
White Series.")
A delightful, affectionate memoir of the great actor, by
one who knew him well. — Christian Intelligencer N. Y.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
For sale hy all booksellers, or will he sent hy ike publishers, postage pre
paid, on receipt oy price.

ITALIAN GARDENS
By Charles A. Platt. With a Colored Frontis
piece (printed in Paris) and many Illustrations.
4to, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt
Top, $s oo. {In a Box.)
It would be hard to imagine a handsomer book, or one
in which an attractive subject is more pleasantly treated. . . .
Those artistically inclined will read and look at this volume
for its power of illusion in transporting one to the Colonna
grass-plots or those of the Villa Medici, while the more
practically inclined will note the useful suggestions to the
occidental landscape gardener. — Hartford Courant.
The sketches are delightful, so well chosen and so well
made as to bring back to one who is familiar with them a
vivid experience of his own happy hours in them. . . . Mr.
Piatt's text is agreeably helpful and suggestive without
being obtrusive or impertinent. — Independent, N. Y.
So much of Italian literature and art is associated with
the stately and beautiful mementoes of past centuries, that
the literary and aesthetic interest of these scenes will tran
scend for most of us their value as historical examples of
landscape art. Whatever our point of view may be, there
will be a general agreement regarding the charm of the
theme and the felicity of the artist-author's treatment. —
Outlook, N. Y.
Reveals to even many European tourists what they have
not seen. The old gardens are lovely, even under neglect.
Mr. Piatt's descriptions are excellent ; the illustrations ex
quisite. — Christian Intelligencer, N. Y.
The book will be an ornament to any house, a means of
culture, and a practical aid to those who wish to understand
landscape architecture in theory and practice. — Boston
Beacon.
Published bv HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
S^^ Th£ above work is for sale by all booksellers, or will be sent by
ihe publishers, postage prepaid, on receipt of the price.

By CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON

Miss Woolson is one of the few novelists of the day who
know how to make conversation, how to individualize the
speakers, how to exclude rabid realism without falling into
literary formality. — N. Y. Tribune.
For swiftly graphic stroke, for delicacy of appreciative
coloring, and for sentimental suggestiveness, it would be
hard to rival Miss Woolson's sketches, — Watchman, Bos
ton. Characterization is Miss Woolson's forte. Her men and
women are not mere puppets, but original, breathing, and
finely contrasted creations. — Chicago Tribune.

Mentone, Cairo, and Corfu. Illustrated. Post
Svo, Cloth, Ornamental, $i 75.
Dorothy, and Other Italian Stories. Illustrated.
i6mo. Cloth, Ornamental, %i 25.
The Front Yard, and Other Italian Stories. Il
lustrated. i6mo, Cloth, Ornamental, %\ 25.
Horace Chase. A Novel. i6mo. Cloth, Orna
mental, $1 25.
Jupiter Lights. A Novel. i6mo. Cloth, Orna
mental, %\ 25.
East Angels. A Novel. i6mo. Cloth, Ornamental,
$1 25.
Anne. A Novel. Illustrated. i6mo. Cloth, Orna
mental, $1 25.
For the Major. A Novelette. i6mo, Cloth, Or
namental, $1 00.
Castle Nowhere. Lake-Country Sketches. i6mo.
Cloth, Ornamental, %i 00.
Rodman the Keeper. Southern Sketches. i6mo.
Cloth, Ornamental, $1 00.

Published bv HARPER & BROTHERS, New York
BI^^ Tlie above works are for sale hy all booksellers, or will be se?it
by ike piihliskers, postage prepaid, on receipt qf the price.

YALE UNIVERSITY

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