The church of San Marco, adjoining the palace, and forming one side of
the Piazza or square, is like no other building I ever saw--decidedly
Oriental in style--indeed such a building as Aladin might have evoked
by his lamp; which reminds me, by the way, that there is a prevalent
tinge of the East all over Venice, seen in the architecture
particularly. The vaulting and arching of this church are all
described as Byzantine in style, and are therefore round; but it has
been a custom in Venice to fix up on such a building as this any
reliques of antique sculpture which have been taken in the countries
with which the Republic was at war: accordingly, the front of San
Marco bristles all over with curious pillars and carvings, including,
above all, the four celebrated bronze horses which Napoleon took to
Paris, and which were restored after his downfall. Walking through one
of the low-browed doors, we pass across a vestibule, where a stone is
pointed out in the pavement as the spot on which the emperor
Barbarossa laid his head beneath the foot of Pope Alexander III. Then
proceeding into the interior, you find the dusky atmosphere dimly
blazing with a peculiar glitter from the walls and ceilings, the whole
being one mass of gold mosaic, on which scripture subjects are
inserted in a darker colouring. Think of a huge church, the interior
facing of which is composed of pieces of gilt stone, each no bigger
than the point of your finger would cover! But this is not all. The
wide-extending pavement is seen to be composed in like manner of small
pieces of marble and precious stones, set so as to form regular
figures, all most exact, and still wonderfully entire, though it has
endured the feet of daily thousands for several centuries.
Unfortunately, from some infirmity in the vaulting below, this
singular floor is thrown into undulations, in some places so great as
to require care in walking over them. I spent hours in wandering about