Ascending always, you meet on the left the Corner della Regina Palace, so named on account of the Queen Conaro, whom Parisians know through Halévy’s opera, La Reine de Chypre, in which Madame Stoltz played such a fine rôle. I do not remember if the scenery of MM. Séchan, Dieterle and Despléchin resembled it; it could have been without sacrificing anything, because the architecture of Domenico Rossi is of great elegance. The sumptuous palace of Queen Cornaro is now a pawn shop, and the humble rags of misfortune and the jewels of improvidence come to heap themselves here beneath the rich decorations which should not fall into ruins: for to-day it does not suffice to be beautiful, it is necessary to be useful.
The College of the Armenians, which is a short distance from here, is an admirable building by Baldassare de Longhena, of a rich, solid and imposing architecture. It is the ancient Pesaro Palace.
To the right there rises the Palazzo della Cà d’Oro, one of the most charming of the Grand Canal. It belonged to Mademoiselle Taglioni, who had it restored with the most intelligent care. It is all embroidered, all denticulated, all cut out in a Grecian, Gothic and Barbarian style, so fantastic, so light and so aërial that you would say it must have been made for the nest of a sylph. Mademoiselle Taglioni took pity upon these poor abandoned palaces. She rented several of them that attracted her out of pure commiseration for their beauty; three or four were pointed out to me upon which she had bestowed this charity of repairs.
Look at those blue and white stakes sprinkled with golden fleur-de-lis; they will tell you that the ancient palace Vendramini Calergi has become a quasi-royal habitation. It is the dwelling of Her Highness the Duchesse de Berry, and certainly she is better lodged than at the pavilion Marsan; for this palace, the most beautiful one in Venice, is a masterpiece of architecture and its carvings are of a marvellous delicacy. Nothing could be more beautiful than the groups of children who are supporting shields upon the arches of the windows. The interior is filled with precious marbles: you admire above all two porphyry columns of such rare beauty that their value would pay for the palace.
Although I have been a long time about it, I have not told all. I see that I have not yet spoken of the Mocenigo palace, where the great Byron lived; our gondolier however has grazed the marble stairway, where with her hair flying in the wind, her foot in the water, in the rain and tempest, the daughter of the people and mistress of Lord Byron welcomed him upon his return with these tender words: “Great dog of the Madonna, is it time to go to the Lido?”
The Barbarigo Palace also deserves mention. I have not seen the twenty-two Titians that are contained within it and which are held under seal by the Russian consul who has bought them for his master; but it still possesses some very beautiful pictures, and the carved and gilded cradle destined for the heir of this noble family,—a cradle which might be converted into a tomb, for, like most of the ancient families of Venice, the Barbarigo family is extinct: of the nine hundred patrician families inscribed in the Golden Book, only about fifty now remain.
The old caravansary of the Turks, so crowded at the time that Venice held all the commerce of the Orient and the Indies, presents now two rows of Arabian arcades, littered and obstructed by hovels that have pushed themselves up there like unhealthy mushrooms.
SAINT OUEN, FRANCE.