nothing but the dashing of
the oars, and the occasional cries of the gondolieri. I heard nothing at
Tasso. The gondolas themselves are things of a most romantic and
picturesque appearance; I can only compare them to moths of which a
coffin might have been the chrysalis. They are hung with black, and
painted black, and carpeted with grey; they curl at the prow and stern,
and at the former there is a nondescript beak of shining steel, which
glitters at the end of its long black mass.

"The Doge's Palace, with its library, is a fine monument of aristocratic
power. I saw the dungeons, where these scoundrels used to torment their
victims. They are of three kinds--one adjoining the place of trial,
where the prisoners destined to immediate execution were kept. I could
not descend into them, because the day on which I visited it was festa.
Another under the leads of the palace, where the sufferers were roasted
to death or madness by the ardours of an Italian sun: and others called
the Pozzi--or wells, deep underneath, and communicating with those on
the roof by secret passages--where the prisoners were confined sometimes
half-up to their middles in stinking water. When the French came here,
they found only one old man in the dungeons, and he could not speak."

CHAPTER XIII

THE GRAND CANAL. VI: FROM THE MOCENIGO PALACE TO THE MOLO, LOOKING TO
THE LEFT

Mr. W.D. Howells--A gondoliers' quarrel--Mr. Sargent's Diploma
picture--The Barbarigo family--Ruskin's sherry--Palace hotels--The
Venetian balcony.

The next palace, with dark-blue posts, gold-topped, and mural
inscriptions, also belonged to the Mocenigo, and here Giordano Bruno was
staying as a guest when he was betrayed by his host and burned as a
heretic. Then comes the dark and narrow Calle Mocenigo Casa Vecchia.
Next is the great massive palace, with the square and round porphyry
medallions, of the Contarini dalle Figure; the next, with the little
inquisitive lions, is the Lezze. After three more, one of which is in a
superb position at the corner, opposite the Foscari, and the third has a
fondamenta and arcade, we come to the great Moro-Lin, now an antiquity
store. Another little modest place between narrow calli, and the plain
eighteenth-century Grassi confronts us. The Campo of S. Samuele, with
its traghetto, church, and charming campanile, now opens out. The church
has had an ugly brown house built against it. Then the Malipiero, with
its tropical garden, p