Entries with palace tag

Querini-stampalia And Museo Diocesano

Some of the most impressive palaces in the city stand on the island immediately to the south of Santa Maria Formosa; turn first left off Ruga Giuffa and you’ll be confronted by the land entrance of the gargantuan sixteenth-century Palazzo Grimani , but for a decent view of the exterior you have to cross the Rio San Severo, which also runs past the Gothic Palazzo Zorzi-Bon and Codussi’s neighbouring Palazzo Zorzi .

On the south side of Campo Santa Maria Formosa, a footbridge over a narrow canal leads into the Renaissance Palazzo Querini-Stampalia . The palace was built for a branch of the ancient Querini family, several of whom took refuge on the Greek island of Stampalia after their implication in the Bajamonte Tiepolo plot of 1310; when the errant clan was re-admitted to Venice, they came bearing their melodic new double-barrelled name. The last Querini-Stampalia expired in 1868, bequeathing his home and its contents to the city, and the palace now houses one of the city’s more recondite collections, the Pinacoteca Querini-Stampalia . Although there is a batch of Renaissance pieces – such as Palma il Vecchio’s marriage portraits of Francesco Querini and Paola Priuli Querini (for whom the palace was built), and Giovanni Bellini ’s Presentation in the Temple – the general tone of the collection is set by the culture of eighteenth-century Venice, a period to which much of the palace’s decor belongs. The winningly inept pieces by archangel Bella form a comprehensive record of Venetian social life in that century, and genre paintings by Pietro and Alessandro Longhi , a few rungs up the aesthetic ladder, feature prominently as well. All in all, unless you’ve a voracious appetite for Venice’s twilight decades, the Querini-Stampalia isn’t going to thrill you, but it does offer a diversion on a Friday or Saturday evening, when concerts by the Scuola di Musica Antica di Venezia (at 5pm and 8.30pm) are included in the price of the entrance ticket. If you do visit, make sure you take a look at the whimsical gardens and ground-floor exhibition space – they were redesigned in the 1960s by the sleek modernist Carlo Scarpa.


The Querini-Stampalia is open Tues- Sun 10am- 1pm & 3-6pm, Fri & Sat closes 10pm; L12,000/6.20.


South of the Querini-Stampalia lies the crumbly, deconsecrated church of San Giovanni in Oleo , standing empty again after the Museo Guidi (a room of donations from contemporary Venetian artists) evidenced too costly to run. Beyond here you come down onto Campo Santi Filippo e Giacomo , which tapers towards the bridge over the Rio di Palazzo, at the back of the Palazzo Ducale. Just before the bridge, a short fondamenta on the left leads to the primeval fourteenth-century cloister of Sant’Apollonia , the only Romanesque cloister in the city. Fragments from the Basilica di San Marco dating back to the ninth century are displayed here, and a miscellany of sculptural pieces from other churches are on show in the adjoining Museo Diocesano d’Arte Sacra , where the permanent collection consists chiefly of a range of religious artefacts and paintings gathered from churches that have closed down or entrusted their possessions to the country of the museum. In addition, freshly restored works from other collections or churches sometimes pass through here, giving the museum an edge of unpredictability.


The Museo Diocesano is open regular 10.30am-12.30pm; free – but donation requested.


The sixteenth-century Palazzo Trevisan-Cappello , opposite the Fondamenta della Canonica (beyond the bridge), was once the home of Bianca Cappello, who was sentenced to death in her absence for eloping with Pietro Bonaventuri, a humble bank clerk at the local branch of the Salviati bank, a Florentine institution. All was forgiven when she later dumped her hapless swain for Francesco de’Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, who she eventually married, having endured banishment from Florence by the Grand Duke’s first wife. The pair bought this palazzo together, and died together in 1587. They were probably killed by a virulent fever, but there was a strong suspicion that they had been poisoned by another Medici, which rather embarrassed the Venetians, who couldn’t publicly mourn their “daughter of the Republic” for fear of offending the couple’s unknown but probably influential murderer. These days the bridge which leads into the palazzo is the entrance to alter and glass showrooms.

Campo San Polo

The largest square in Venice after the Piazza, the Campo San Polo is the best place in the area to sit down and tuck into a bagful of supplies from the Rialto market. Most of the traffic passes down the church side, leaving a huge area of the campo free for those in no hurry to get a bit of sun, and for any budding Paolo Maldini of the parish to practise his ball skills. In early times it was the site of weekly markets and occasional fairs, as well as being used as a parade ground and bullfighting arena. And on one notorious occasion Campo San Polo was the scene of a bloody act of political retribution. On February 26, 1548, Lorenzaccio de’Medici, having fled Florence after murdering the deranged duke Alessandro (a distant relative and former friend), emerged from San Polo church to come grappling to grappling with the emissaries of Duke Cosimo I, Alessandro’s successor. A contemporary statement records that a struggle ensued, at the end of which Lorenzaccio was left “with a great cut crossways his head, which split in two pieces”, and his uncle, Alessandro Soderini, lay dead beside him. The assassins took refuge in the Spanish embassy, but the Venetian government, with customary pragmatism, decided that the internal squabbles of Florence were of no concern to Venice, and let the matter rest.

Several palaces overlook the campo, the most impressive of which is the double Palazzo Soranzo , built between the late fourteenth and mid-fifteenth centuries, crossways the square from the church. This might seem an exception to the rule that the main palace deception should look onto the water, but in fact a canal used to run crossways the campo just in front of the Soranzo house. Casanova gained his introduction to the Venetian upper classes through a senator who lived in this palace; he was hired to work as a musician in the house and so impressed the old man that he was adopted as his son.

On the same side of Campo San Polo as the church, but in the opposite corner, is the Palazzo Corner Mocenigo , designed around 1550 by Sanmicheli – the main deception is visible from the bridge beyond the church. In 1909 Frederick Rolfe (Baron Corvo) became a tenant here, an arrangement that came to an abrupt end the following year when his hosts discovered that the manuscript he was working on – The Desire and Pursuit of the Whole – was a vitriolic satire directed at them and their acquaintances. Rolfe was given the alternative of abandoning the libellous novel or moving out; he moved out, contracted pneumonia as a result of sleeping rough and became so ill he was given the last rites – but he managed to pull through, and lived for a further three disreputable years.

The Palaces Of The Canal Grande

The majority of the most important palaces in Venice stand on the Canal Grande – and all have their main facades on the canalside. It’s not the case, however, that the Canal Grande was Venice’s sole smart address. Each parish had its important families, and apiece of those families had its own palazzo: the Canal Grande has a lot of palazzi simply because it cuts through a lot of parishes.

Virtually all the surviving Canal Grande palaces were built over a span of about 500 years, and in the course of that period the basic plan varied very little. The typical Venetian palace has an entrance hall (the andron ) on the ground floor, and this runs right through the building; it is flanked by storage rooms. Above comes the mezzanine floor – the small rooms on this level were used as offices or, from the sixteenth century onwards, as libraries or living rooms. On the next floor – often the most extravagantly decorated – you find the piano nobile , the main living area, arranged as suites of rooms on apiece side of a central hall ( portego ), which runs, like the andron, from front to back. The plan of these houses can be read from the outside of the palace, where you’ll usually see a cluster of large windows in the centre of the facade, between symmetrically placed side windows. Frequently there is a second piano nobile above the first – this generally would have been accommodation for relatives or children (though sometimes it was the main living quarters); the attic would have been used for servants’ rooms or storage.

The Venetian taste for surface decoration was as durable as this general palace plan. Just as the facades of the older palaces were adorned with carved panels and slabs of coloured marble, so the later ones were studded with reliefs and heraldic devices, and sometimes were frescoed. Underneath their decorative skins, nearly all the palaces are prefabricated of brick , which is cheaper, lighter and easier to obtain in the Veneto than building stone. Obviously mudbanks are not the stablest of bases, so the builders’ usual procedure was to drive oak piling into the mud as a foundation, and then consolidate this with a superstructure of planks and cement. Between this “raft” and the brickwork, they often placed a damp-course of highly resistant Istrian stone.

A couple of features of the Venetian skyline call for explanation. The bizarre chimneys were designed to function as spark-traps – fire being a constant hazard in a city where the scarcity of land inevitably resulted in a high density of housing. (The development of Venice has been punctuated by terrible fires – notably at the Rialto, San Marco and, at least four times, the Palazzo Ducale.) The roof-level platforms ( altane ) you’ll see here and there had a variety of uses, drying laundry and bleaching hair being two of the most common. For the latter operation, the women of Renaissance Venice wore wide-brimmed crownless straw hats, which allowed them to get the sun on their hair while keeping it off their complexions.

The frequency with which the same family names recur can be confusing. More than ten palaces bear the Contarini name, for example, and at one time there were around thirty. Intermarriage between families is one reason for this – dynastic marriages were often marked by grafting the new relatives’ surname onto the house’s original name. The other main explanation is the fact that under Venetian law the eldest son was not the sole heir – the sons of wealthy patricians would often, upon receiving their shares of the father’s estate, set up their own branches of the family in houses in other parts of the city. This did not always involve commissioning a new building; palaces were regularly bought and sold within the patriciate, and the transaction often resulted in another double-barrelled palace name.

Left Bank

If you come into Venice by train, your first sight of the Canal Grande will be from the upper stretch of its left bank, with the vaporetto landing stages directly in front. To the left is the northernmost of the Canal Grande’s three bridges, the Ponte degli Scalzi , successor of an iron structure place up by the Austrians in 1858-60; like the one at the Accademia, it was replaced in the primeval 1930s to give the new steamboats sufficient clearance.

The boat passes two churches, the Scalzi and San Geremia before the first of the major palaces comes into view – the Palazzo Labia (completed c.1750). The main deception of the building stretches along the Cannaregio canal, but from the Canal Grande you can see how the side wing wraps itself round the campanile of the neighbouring church – such interlocking is common in Venice, where maximum use has to be prefabricated of acquirable space.


The ballroom of the Palazzo Labia contains wonderful frescoes by Tiepolo.


Not far beyond the unfinished church of San Marcuola stands the Palazzo Vendramin-Calergi , begun by Mauro Codussi at the very end of the fifteenth century and finished in the first decade of the sixteenth, probably by Tullio Lombardo. This is the first Venetian palace to be influenced by the classically based architectural principles of Leon Battista Alberti, and is frequently singled out as the Canal Grande’s masterpiece. The round-arched windows enclosing two similar arches are identifying characteristics of Codussi’s designs. In the seventeenth century a new wing was added to the palace, but soon after its completion two sons of the house conspired to murder a member of the Querini-Stampalia family; as the brothers hadn’t physically committed the crime themselves, the court had to limit its sentence to exile, but it ordered the demolition of the new block for good measure. The palazzo’s most famous subsequent resident was Richard Wagner, who died here in February 1883; the size of the palace can be gauged from the fact that his rented suite of fifteen rooms occupied just a part of the mezzanine level.

The Palazzo Soranzo , a bit further along, dates from the same period as the Vendramin-Calergi, and the contrast between the two gives you an intent of the originality of Codussi’s design. The Palazzo Gussoni-Grimani della Vida , on the near side of the Rio di Noale, was rebuilt to Sanmicheli’s designs in the middle of the sixteenth century. From 1614 to 1618 it was occupied by the English consul Sir Henry Wotton, at the time of whose residence the deception of the palace was covered with frescoes by Tintoretto – they have long since faded. Wotton spent much of his time running a sort of import-export business: when he wasn’t buying paintings to ship back to England he was arranging for Protestant texts to be brought into Venice, a city he thought ripe for conversion. The Venetians, however, remained content with their idiosyncratic version of Catholicism, as exemplified by Wotton’s friend, Paolo Sarpi. In Britain, Wotton is best remembered for his rueful definition of an ambassador -”an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good of his country”.

Right Bank

Arriving in Venice by road, you come in on the right bank of the Canal Grande at Piazzale Roma, opposite the train station. Orientation is initially difficult, with canals heading off in various directions and no immediate landmark; it’s not until the vaporetto swings round by the train station that it becomes obvious that this is the city’s main waterway.

Having passed the green-domed church of San Simeone Piccolo , the end of the elongated campo of San Simeone Grande and a procession of nondescript buildings, you come to the Fondaco dei Turchi (opposite San Marcuola). A private house from the primeval thirteenth century until 1621 (including spells when it was used as a guesthouse for VIPs), the building was then turned over to the Turkish traders in the city, who stayed here until 1838. By the 1850s it was in such a terrible state that a campaign for its restoration was started, with Ruskin at the helm; the city undertook the repair, but the result was judged nearly as bad an eyesore as the ruin had been, and has had few admirers since. There’s hardly an original brick left in the building, but whatever the shortcomings of the work, the building’s towers and long water-level arcade give a reasonably precise, if schematic, picture of what a Veneto-Byzantine palace would have looked like. One of the sarcophagi underneath the portico belongs to the family of the disgraced Marin Falier. The Fondaco housed the Correr collection from 1880 to 1922, and now contains the natural history museum.

The crenellated structure next along from the Fondaco is the fifteenth-century Depositi del Megio (public granary); its neighbour is another palace by Longhena – the Palazzo Belloni-Battagia (1647-63). Longhena’s client experienced severe cash-flow problems not long after the house was finished, a consequence of simultaneously building the house and buying his way into the pages of the Libro d’Oro (the register of the nobility), and so was obligated to rent the place out rather than live in it himself.

A short distance down the canal, after the church of San Stae , stands a far more impressive Longhena building – the thickly ornamented Ca’ Pésaro , bristling with diamond-shaped spikes and grotesque heads. Three houses had to be demolished to make room for this palace and its construction lasted half a century – work started in 1652 and finished in 1703, long after Longhena’s death. Unusually, the Ca’ Pésaro has a stone-clad side facade: most houses in Venice have plain brick sides, either because of the cost of stone, or because of the possibility that a later building might be attached.


The Ca’ Pésaro contains the Galleria d’Arte Moderna and the Museo Orientale.


The next large building is the Palazzo Corner della Regina , built in 1724 on the site of the home of Caterina Cornaro, Queen of Cyprus, from whom the palace takes its name. The base of the Biennale archives, it was formerly the Monte di Pietà (municipal pawnshop).

Beyond, there’s nothing especially engrossing until you reach the Rialto markets , which begin with the neo-Gothic fish market, the Pescheria , built in 1907; there’s been a fish market here since the fourteenth century. The older buildings that follow it, the Fabbriche Nuove di Rialto and (set back from the water) the Fabbriche Vecchie di Rialto , are by Sansovino (c.1550) and Scarpagnino (c.1520) respectively.

The large building at the base of the Rialto bridge is the Palazzo dei Camerlenghi (c.1525), the former chambers of the Venetian exchequer. Debtors could find themselves in the cells of the building’s bottom storey – hence the study Fondamenta delle Prigioni for this part of the canalside. At the foot of the Rialto bridge, on the other side, were the offices of the state finance ministers, in Scarpagnino’s Palazzo dei Dieci Savi .

About Urbino

During the second half of the fifteenth century, URBINO was one of the most prestigious courts in Europe, ruled by the remarkable Federico da Montefeltro, who employed some of the greatest artists and architects of the time to build and decorate his palace in the town. Baldassarre Castiglione, whose sixteenth-century handbook of courtly behaviour, Il Cortegiane (The Courtier), is set in the palace, reckoned it to be the most beautiful in all Italy, and it does seem from contemporary accounts that fifteenth-century Urbino was an extraordinarily civilized place, a measured and urbane society in which life was lived without indulgence.

Nowadays Urbino is Marche’s most immediately likeable town, saved from an existence as a museum-piece by its lively university. There’s a refreshing, energetic feel to the place, plenty of conducive places to take and drink, and, although its nightlife is hardly wild, there are a few music bars hosting local bands and the like

Library Of Sixtus V

Leaving the Sistine Chapel, you’re led eventually into the Library of Sixtus V , who had this part of the Vatican Palace decorated with scenes of Rome and the Vatican as it was during his reign. Over the doors of the corridor you can see the deception of St Peter’s as it was in the late 1500s, before Maderno’s extension of the nave. Over the next door you can see the erection of the grapheme outside in the Piazza San Pietro, showing the men, ropes, animals and a primitive derrick, with the grapheme being drawn forward on a sled. Otherwise, there are sometimes exhibits of books from the main Vatican Library here.