attle of Lepanto; the taking of Zara; the Pope
and Venice uniting against or triumphing over the Emperor, &c., &c. Some
of the most honorable achievements of Venice, including her long and
memorable defense of Candia (or Crete) against the desperate and finally
successful attacks of the Turks, are not even hinted at. But these
galleries are palpably in a state of dilapidation and decay, which
implies that the Austrian masters of Venice, though they cannot stoop to
the meanness of demolishing or mutilating the memorials of her ancient
glories, will be glad to see them silently and gradually perish. The
whole Palace has a dreary and by-gone aspect, seeming conscious that
either itself or the Austrian soldiers drilling in front of it must be
an anachronism--that both cannot belong to the same place and time.

"The traitor clock forsakes the hours,
And points to times, O far away!"

The paintings in the Manfrini Palace seem to me by no means equal to
those in the Orsini, Doria, and some other private collections of Rome;
even of those extravagantly praised by Lord Byron, I failed to perceive
the admirable qualities apparent to his more cultivated taste. The
collection in the Academy I thought much better, but still far enough
behind similar galleries in Rome. The fact is, modern Italy is
poverty-stricken in Art and Genius as well as in Industry, and lives
upon the trophies and the memory of her past greatness. I have not heard
in all this land the name of one living Italian mentioned as likely to
attain eminence in Painting, nor even in Sculpture.

Toward evening, my friend and I ascended the Campanile or Bell-Tower of
St. Mark's, some 330 feet high, and had thence a glorious view of the
city and its neighborhood. From this tower, the houses might almost be
counted, though of the Canals which separate them only a few of the
largest are discerned. But the port, the shipping outside, the gardens
(naturally few and contracted), the adjacent main-land, the Railroad
embankment across the Lagoon, the blue Euganian hills in the distance,
&c., &c., are all as palpable as Boston Harbor from Bunker Hill
Monument. Immediately beneath is the Place of St. Mark, the Wall-street
of Venice; just beside you is the old Palace and the famous Cathedral
Church of St. Mark; to the north is the Armory, one of the largest and
most interesting in Europe; while the dome of every Church in Venice and
all the windings of the Grand Canal ar