I walk slowly through this crumbling
beauty
In quiet, still, crowd-free early
morning,
Passing by the little pontes, the
Rialto Bridge,
Sleek, curved, black gondolas at
their mooring;
I wander narrow lanes and alleyways
To St. Marks’ Square, its splendour
of marble,
Into the Doge’s Palace, the Golden
Staircase,
And there in awed silence stop and
marvel.
Rich, carved and painted rooms reveal
a past
When trade from the East made Venice
great;
Unimaginable wealth and great beauty
Designed to overwhelm and intimidate.
In this room nervous ambassadors
waited;
This one has a Raphael painted
ceiling;
A third and fourth are to judge and
govern;
A fifth has paintings deeply
revealing.
This fifth is large. Paintings floor to ceiling
Depict Venetian sea battles. On each
wall
Thousands of ships tangle in brutal
chaos,
Scenes of death and horror which
deeply appal.
In the forefront of one a man in
agony,
Eyes rolling, mouth open, clutches an
arrow
Embedded in the centre of his
forehead,
A single emblem of this carnage and
woe.
I walk back into beautiful St Mark’s Square.
It too has displays of wealth and
power-
Gilded mosaics, golden winged angels,
The spear-wielding saint on his high
tower.
My mind is troubled by those sea
battles,
The thought of that sailor as he dies,
Troubled too by the thought that this
splendour
Came at the cost of ordinary men’s
lives.
Then I think of that old paradox-
How rapacious commerce plays its part
Not just in the beauty of
architecture
But in the wonder and glory of art,
And looking around this beautiful
place,
This land ingeniously reclaimed from
the sea,
See in it the beauty and the horror
That characterises human society.
And walking slowly past the gypsy
beggars,
The street hawkers, the tangled human
throng
That moves in shoulder to shoulder press,
Everywhere I hear that ancient song
Of money, power, desire and need,
That relentless pursuit of beauty and
wealth,
Save Venice no longer needs ships to
trade,
For Venice has trade sufficient in
just itself.
The Rialto Bridge. |
The narrow lanes... |
Sleek, curved, black gondolas. |
Doge's Palace |
Courtyard, Doge's Palace |
Golden Staircase |
Gilded Mosaics, St. Mark's. |
Gilded Mosaics. |
Statues, St. Mark's. |
Home, Hotel Al Vagon. |
I felt the same ambivalence in Venice, Neil - more so than in other European cities although inside any great cathedral I'd always find myself thinking of how many workers died to create such beauty (and many did). There's something quite cool and mysterious about those water people. You capture it quite beautifully. Lovely.
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