Imagine a city where streets are water, cars are boats, and the foundations of its houses are fused with tree trunks felled as far back as the time of the First Crusade. Venice was not built—it grew into the seabed, island by island, canal by canal. And it grew so densely that today its 118 patches of land are welded into a single body by four hundred bridges.
History of Venice
At the end of the 6th century, a heavy wave rolled across northeastern Italy—Lombards, Swabians, Huns. The people of the Veneti tribe fled to the sea. They did not intend to build an empire. They simply wanted to survive where the invaders` spears could not reach them. The merciless lagoon seemed safe precisely because it was hostile.
The first settlers lived on pilings, caught fish, and evaporated salt. They did not yet know that their refuge would become "the most beautiful and splendid city that exists in the world." But even then, they understood one essential thing: here, you cannot build on earth. Here, you can only build on timber.
Piles That Turned to Iron
Venice stands on wooden legs. Beneath the waters of the Grand Canal, beneath the marble slabs of the piazzas, beneath the weight of St. Mark`s Basilica, more than a million logs are hidden—larch and oak. Salt water does not destroy this wood; it preserves it, turning it into fossilized stone. The mud of the lagoon tightly encases the piles, cutting off oxygen, and the wood does not rot. They began driving piles in the 9th century and did not stop for five hundred years.
Byzantium, the Cross, and Trade
For a long time, Venice formally belonged to Byzantium, but the emperor in Constantinople was far away, while the Doge was close by. In the 7th century, the Venetians chose their first ruler themselves and thereafter allowed no one to dictate who should govern them.
In 828, two cunning merchants stole the relics of Saint Mark from Alexandria, hid them under a load of pork (so that Muslim guards would not search the cargo), and brought them to Venice. From that moment, the city had a heavenly patron and a national idea: to build, to trade, and to submit to no one.
The Crusades made Venice fabulously rich. While the rest of Europe fought for the Holy Sepulchre, the Venetians counted their profits. Ships? Ours. Loans? Ours. Trading posts in conquered ports? Also ours. The Fourth Crusade turned into a grand swindle: instead of Jerusalem, the crusaders marched on Constantinople, and Venice claimed the lion`s share of the Byzantine inheritance.
Then came Napoleon. In 1797, the last Doge of Venice, Ludovico Manin, took off his cap and resigned. The French entered the city without a single shot fired, and for the first time in a thousand years, Venice ceased to be independent. Austria, Italy, Austria again—and finally, 1866. A referendum. The Venetian region said "yes" to the united Kingdom of Italy.
The Architectural Style of Venice
Venetian-Byzantine Period: Gazing Eastward
The first stone buildings of Venice looked not to Rome, but to Constantinople. Venetian architects drew inspiration not from ancient ruins, but from the living Byzantine tradition: mosaics, marble inlays, squat domes on low drums. The cathedral on the island of Torcello, the early San Marco, the palaces along the Grand Canal—all carried the gleam of Eastern luxury.
But a pure copy was never achieved. Venice digested foreign influences in its own way. It tempered Byzantine heaviness with Lombard solidity, and later, with Gothic lace.
Gothic: When Stone Became Lacy
In the 14th century, Venice fell ill with Gothic. But not the stern French kind—its own version, light, almost filigreed. Here, pointed arches do not thrust toward the sky like those in the cathedrals of Paris; they rest calmly on columns of colored marble. Triple-arched windows (triforas) became the hallmark of Venetian palazzos.
The Doge`s Palace burned several times. It was rebuilt, altered, extended. But every time—they returned to the Gothic façade. Because Venetians are conservative when it comes to the face of Venice. The Senate directly advised patrician families not to compete in architectural innovation, but to adhere to "harmonious equality." No one wanted the Grand Canal to become an exhibition of vanity.
Renaissance: Late and Adapted
In Florence, the Renaissance began in the early 15th century. It reached Venice only in the 1480s, and even then, cautiously. The first Renaissance church was San Michele in Isola on the cemetery island—modest, bright, with a façade of white Istrian stone.
The real Renaissance boom came in the 16th century, when architects from sacked Rome flooded into Venice. Jacopo Sansovino fled here in 1527—without money, but with a reputation. At first, his palace project was rejected: too bold, too original, "not Venetian." Sansovino took offense, scratched his head, and redesigned. He understood: in this city, innovations must look as though they have always stood here.
The result was masterpieces of Venice: the Marciana Library with its arcade, still considered the most elegant façade in Venice; the Zecca mint; the Palazzo Corner della Ca` Granda. Sansovino became the city`s chief architect and remained so until his death at 86.
Andrea Palladio came a little later and went further. His churches, San Giorgio Maggiore and Il Redentore, were pure classicism, without Venetian allowances for a Gothic past. But Palladio built not so much for the city as for the world`s architectural textbook. His style—Palladianism—spread across Europe and even reached American plantations.
Sights of Venice
Venetian palaces:
Doge`s Palace (Palazzo Ducale) is the only one that bears this title by right. The rest are simply "Ca’" (short for Casa, house). Venetian modesty, laced with pride. Doges could call their residence a palace; aristocrats—only a "house."
The lower level of the Doge`s Palace is a light arcade, the second an airy loggia, the third a heavy pink wall with sparse windows. A structure absurd by all laws of physics: a massive block resting on slender columns. Yet it has stood for seven hundred years. Inside—the Giants` Staircase, where doges were crowned, and Tintoretto`s gigantic "Paradise," the largest oil painting on canvas in the world.
Ca` d`Oro—a Gothic fantasy in stone. Once, its façade was covered in gold leaf; hence the name ("Golden House"). Today, the gilding remains only in the name, but the lacework of arches and marble inlay still make you crane your neck. Inside—the Galleria Franchetti: paintings, sculptures, majolica.
Ca` Rezzonico—a Baroque giant on the Grand Canal. It took a century and a half to build, and it was completed when Venice was already declining. Today, it houses the Museum of 18th-Century Venice: painted ceilings, gilded furniture, ballrooms.
Palazzo Vendramin Calergi—early Renaissance, pure, clear, mathematically precise. Mauro Codussi built it for a noble family; four centuries later, Richard Wagner died in this palace. Today, it houses a casino and the composer`s archive. Gamblers crowd the entrance, unaware that a masterpiece looms above their heads.
Ca` Foscari—Gothic turning into a university. Its stern façade gazes at the bend of the Grand Canal as intently as it did in the 15th century, when trade courts convened here. Now students pore over textbooks in its halls.
Fondaco dei Turchi—a 12th-century Byzantine palace in Venice. Lombard towers on the sides, arcades along the façade, the heavy solidity of the first crusaders. Venetians did not like to demolish the old—they repurposed it.
Ca` Pesaro—Baroque splendor, built by Baldassare Longhena. A weighty ground floor, giant windows, statues gazing at the water. Today—a museum of modern art and an oriental collection.
Canals: The Circulatory System of Venice
Grand Canal (Canal Grande)—the main artery. Three kilometers eight hundred meters long, an inverted S-shape, width ranging from thirty to seventy meters. Along its banks—two hundred palaces, each with a ceremonial entrance directly on the water. Gondolas, vaporettos, water taxis—everything flows here, never stopping for a moment.
Seen from the water, Venice reveals itself properly: in layers, in tiers, in balconies. Façades face the canal, not the streets. Water was the main road, and architecture submitted to it unconditionally.
Cannaregio Canal (Canale di Cannaregio)—the second most important canal, leading to the lagoon. Quieter than the Grand Canal, fewer tourists, more locals. Along its banks—old shipyards and houses where laundry dries right over the water.
Giudecca Canal (Canale della Giudecca)—a wide strait between the main city and the island of the same name. The façades of Il Redentore church and palazzos facing south, toward the sun, open onto it.
Strictly speaking, there are only four canali. The remaining 150-odd are rii—small streams cutting through the neighborhoods. Water reaches almost to the doorsteps, laps at the foundations, reflects the bridges. Depth? Five meters on average. Navigation—around the clock. Gondola price—€80 for half an hour during the day, €100 for 35 minutes in the evening. Haggling is inappropriate.
Churches and Cathedrals of Venice
St. Mark`s Basilica (Basilica di San Marco)—not just a church, but an ark. Greek cross, five domes, four hundred columns. Golden mosaics on the lunettes, marble floor rippling like waves, the Pala d`Oro—an altarpiece encrusted with rubies, sapphires, and pearls. Above the main entrance—four bronze horses, looted from Constantinople. Napoleon took them to Paris, then returned them. The basilica was built, rebuilt, and added to for eight hundred years. Byzantium, Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance—all merged in this golden masterpiece.
Santi Giovanni e Paolo—the Venetian Pantheon. Vast brick Gothic, austere, powerful, without the mosaic luxury of San Marco. Twenty-five doges are buried here, and each tomb is a museum in itself. Pietro Lombardi, Tullio Lombardi, Giovanni Bellini—names on marble sound like incantations.
Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari—a Franciscan basilica where the walls can barely contain the air. Titian painted the "Assunta" for the high altar—and is buried here himself. Nearby—Canova`s tomb, which he designed for someone else, but occupied himself. Venice abhors emptiness.
Santa Maria della Salute—the white Baroque lady at the entrance to the Grand Canal. Built in gratitude for deliverance from the plague. Every year on November 21st, Venetians lay a pontoon bridge and walk to the statue of the Madonna in thanksgiving. Longhena spent half a century building it, and it was worth the wait.
San Giorgio Maggiore—Palladian geometry on a separate island. White façade, two bell towers, a view of the Doge`s Palace opening from the forecourt. Palladio calculated the proportions so precisely that even the waves cannot disturb the harmony.
San Zaccaria—Gothic transitioning into Renaissance directly on the façade. The lower tier—pointed arches, the upper—rounded ones. Inside—Giovanni Bellini`s "Madonna and Child," which Napoleon took to Paris and only returned twenty years later. And a crypt, half-submerged in water. Doges from the 8th century sleep in the damp, but forever.
Madonna dell`Orto—a Gothic church in a working-class district, where Tintoretto is buried. He painted the walls himself, chose the subjects himself. Come at sunset, when the sun pierces the stained glass and ignites the dust in the air.
Galleries and Museums of Venice
Gallerie dell`Accademia—the main collection of Venetian painting. Byzantine Madonnas, Bellini, Carpaccio, Giorgione, Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese. Leonardo`s "Vitruvian Man" lies in a safe and is shown once a decade—paper cannot tolerate light. The rest is always accessible.
Peggy Guggenheim Collection (Collezione Peggy Guggenheim)—American modernism in Venetian interiors. Palazzo Venier dei Leoni on the Grand Canal, inside—Picasso, Dalí, Kandinsky, Pollock. Peggy lived here from 1949, collecting art and dogs. Both remained as her legacy to the city.
Murano Glass Museum (Museo del Vetro)—on the island of Murano, in the Palazzo Giustinian. Two floors of glass magic: Roman amphorae, Venetian goblets, lattimo, mosaics, fantastic beasts of colored mass. Masters blow glass right in front of visitors—fire, breath, eternity.
Natural History Museum (Museo di Storia Naturale)—an unexpected find in a city of masks and gondolas. Fondaco dei Turchi, 13th century, inside—a twenty-meter whale skeleton under the ceiling. Children crane their necks, adults remember that Venice stands on the sea and the sea is alive.
Scuola Grande di San Marco—a Renaissance façade by Lombardi and Codussi, false perspectives, colored marble. Inside—a hospital, but the façade can be viewed for free. One of the finest examples of the early Renaissance in Venice.
Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni—small, cramped, overflowing with masterpieces. Carpaccio painted a cycle on the patron saints of Dalmatia, and his brush lingered here for seven years. "Saint George Slaying the Dragon"—all Venetian guides bring tourists here, but the crowd never thins.
Bridges: Four Hundred Handshakes
Rialto Bridge (Ponte di Rialto)—the stone old man, unique and inimitable. Wooden predecessors, 12,000 piles, a scandalous competition, and a stubborn 76-year-old winner. Today—souvenirs and crowds, but at six in the morning, when the shops are closed and the sun barely gilds the marble, the Rialto belongs only to the water.
Bridge of Sighs (Ponte dei Sospiri)—a Baroque arch over a narrow canal. Legend has it: convicts sighed, glimpsing freedom from the prison windows. Truth: tourists sigh, believing the legend. A kiss under the bridge—eternal love. Gondoliers know this spot and will surely glide there if you forget to say "no."
Bridge of Three Arches (Ponte dei Tre Archi)—the only surviving three-span bridge in Venice. It stands on the Cannaregio Canal, built in 1688 from a drawing by Jacopo de` Barbari. The central arch is high, the side ones low. Historians argue: was it to keep enemy ships out, or simply because it looks beautiful?
Accademia Bridge (Ponte dell`Accademia) — wooden, though it appears stone. Spans the Grand Canal at its narrowest point, leading to the eponymous gallery. From here opens the picture-postcard view of Santa Maria della Salute.
Constitution Bridge (Ponte della Costituzione) — glass, straight, modern. Architect Santiago Calatrava, year of construction 2008. Venetians frown: too sterile. Tourists photograph: a contrast of eras.
What Is Unusual About Venice
• The canals do not smell. Contrary to stereotypes. Tides flush the water twice a day, renewing the lagoon. A smell may appear in intense heat, but it is rare.
• House numbers. Venice has no unified street numbering system. Each district (sestiere) numbers its houses separately. House 1234 in San Polo may neighbor House 2 in Dorsoduro. Mail carriers are saints.
• Acqua Alta. In autumn and winter, the lagoon encroaches upon the city. St. Mark`s Square goes underwater for a few hours. Citizens pull out rubber boots, tourists—cameras. The city is used to it.
• Venice is not sinking—it is settling. And simultaneously, the sea level is rising. Forecasts are alarming, but Venice has always been sinking and has always floated.
Venice—a city where streets are water, cars are boats, and its foundations are fused with tree trunks felled back when Byzantium was an empire and the Doges were merely first among equals. It is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, where every tourist longs to go.
