We passed on from the Doge’s Palace to St. Mark’s. This church is very ancient; it was begun in the year 829, and after a fire rebuilt in the year 976. It was ornamented with mosaics and marble in 1071. Its form is of Eastern origin, and it is said its architects, who were ordered by the Republic to spare no expense, and to erect an edifice superior in size and splendour to anything else, took Santa Sophia, in Constantinople, for their model, and seem to have imitated its form, its domes, and its bad taste. But if riches can compensate the absence of beauty, the Church of St. Mark possesses a sufficient share to supply the deficiency, as it is ornamented with the spoils of Constantinople, and displays a profusion of the finest marbles, of alabaster, onyx, emerald, and of all the splendid jewellery of the East. The celebrated bronze horses stand on the portico facing the Piazza. These horses are supposed to be the work of Lysippus; they ornamented successively different triumphal arches at Rome, were transported by Constantine to his new city, and conveyed thence by Venetians, when they took and plundered it in 1206. They were erected on marble pedestals over the portico of St. Mark, where they stood nearly six hundred years, a trophy of the power of the Republic, until they were removed to Paris by Napoleon in the year 1797, and placed on stone pedestals behind the Palace of the Tuileries, where they remained some time, until they were again restored to Venice. In St. Mark’s I was shown two pillars of alabaster, two of jasper, and two of verde antique, said to have been brought from King Solomon’s temple, also two magnificent doors, inlaid with figures of gold and silver, and a very large crucifix of gold and silver, brought from Santa Sophia. I was also shown the tomb of St. Mark the Evangelist. How true all this is I cannot say, but perhaps many of my readers would like to know why St. Mark should be so much thought of in Venice, so much so as to become the patron saint, and have his name given to the most celebrated and splendid of its churches. Over a thousand years ago—to be precise, in the year eight hundred and twenty-nine—two Venetian merchants, named Bano and Rustico, then at Alexandria, contrived, either by bribery or by stratagem, to purloin the body of St. Mark, at that time in the possession of Mussulmen, and to convey it to Venice. On its arrival it was transported to the Ducal Palace, and deposited, by the then Doge, in his own chapel. St. Mark was shortly after declared the patron and protector of the Republic; and the lion, which, in the mystic vision of Ezekiel, is supposed to represent this evangelist, was emblazoned on its standards and elevated on its towers. The Church of St. Mark was erected immediately after this event, and the saint has ever since retained his honours. But the reader will learn with surprise that notwithstanding these honours the body of the Evangelist was, in a very short space of time, either lost or privately sold by a tribune of the name of Carozo, who had usurped the dukedom, and to support himself against the legitimate Doge, is supposed to have plundered the treasury and to have alienated some of the most valuable articles. Since that period the existence of the body of St. Mark has never been publicly ascertained, though the Venetians firmly maintain that it is still in their possession, and, as I said before, positively show the tomb which, they say, covers him.
Our next visit was to the arsenal. This occupies an entire island, and is fortified, not only by its ramparts, but by the surrounding sea; it is spacious, commodious, and magnificent.
Before the gate stand two vast pillars, one on each side, and two immense lions of marble, which formerly adorned the Piræus of Athens. They are attended by two others of smaller size, all, as the inscription informs us, “Triumphali manu Piræo direpta” (“Torn from the Piræus by the hand of Victory”). The staircase in the principal building is of white marble, down which the French (who invaded Venice) rolled cannon balls, an act of wanton mischief quite inexcusable, at the same time they dismantled the Bucentaur, the famous State galley of the Republic—a very Vandal-like act.
Venice, when in the zenith of its fame, might justly be said to bear a striking resemblance to Rome. The same spirit of liberty, the same patriot passion, the same firmness, and the same wisdom that characterized the ancient Romans seemed to pervade every member of the rising State, and at that time it might truly be said of Venice—
Italia’s empress! queen of land and sea!
Rival of Rome, and Roman majesty!
Thy citizens are kings; to thee we owe
Freedom, the choicest gift of Heaven below.
By thee barbaric gloom was chased away,
And dawn’d on all our lands a brighter day.