time of the Republic there were
nearly 6,000 men employed in it, in that of the French 4,000, now
800. The old armoury is very curious, full of ancient weapons,
the armour of Henry IV. of France, and of several Doges, Turkish
spoils, and instruments of torture. The Austrians have made the
French much regretted here. It is since the last peace that the
population of Venice has diminished a fourth, and the palaces of
the nobles have been abandoned. There is no commerce; the
Government spend no money, and do nothing to enliven or benefit
the town (there has not yet been time to see the effect of making
it a free port). The French employed the people, and spent money
and embellished the place. They covered over a wide canal and
turned it into a fine street, and adjoining it they formed a
large public garden, which is a delightful addition to the town.
Till the French came the bridges were dangerous; there was no
balustrade on either side, and people often fell into the water.
They built side walls to all of them, which was the most useful
gift they could bestow upon the Venetians.

This morning I asked for the newspapers which came by the post
yesterday, and found that they had not yet returned from the
police, and would not be till to-morrow. Before anybody is
allowed to read their newspapers they must undergo examination,
and if they contain anything which the censor deems objectionable
they detain them altogether. After dinner I went to the public
gardens, and into a theatre which is in them; there is no roof to
it, and the acting is all by daylight, and in the open air. I
only arrived at the end, just in time to see the deliverance of a
Christian heroine and a very truculent-looking Turk crammed down
a trap-door, but I could not understand the dialogue. Nothing
certainly can be more extraordinary or more beautiful than Venice
with her adjacent islands, and nothing more luxurious than
throwing oneself into a gondola and smoothly gliding about the
whole day, without noise, motion, or dust. At night I went to a
dirty, ill-lit theatre, to see the 'Barbiere di Seviglia,' which
was very ill performed. There was a ballet, but I did not stay
for it.

June 18th, 1830 {p.409}

To the Church of St. Mark, and examined it. It is not large, but
very curious, so loaded with ornament within and without, and so
unlike any other church. The pavement, instead of being flat, is
made to undulate like the waves of the sea. All the si