Passing through the Piazzetta, we turn to the left on the Molo. This side of the Ducal Palace is beautiful in spite of the disproportion in the height of the lower story; this is caused by the rising of the sea-level, which is said to average three inches in a century, and consequently the pavement must be raised; if this is correct, the columns {203} of the palace must be fifteen inches below the present pavement. The entire _loggie_ on this side of the palace are the work of the Bon family; the designs on the capitals of the columns are very curious, illustrating mediæval allegories and legends which symbolize justice and good government. The windows are fine, and the balcony in the centre is richly ornamented; the bas-reliefs are wrought with great delicacy and skill. [Illustration: _Panorama from the Campanile of St. Mark._] From the Ponte della Paglia, at the end of the Molo, we have the best possible view of the Bridge of Sighs, which Howells calls a "pathetic swindle," and not without reason. It was not built until the end of the sixteenth century, since which there has been but one victim of political imprisonment. But there it hangs, high in air, "a palace and a prison on each hand." Looking up from the Paglia it is most effective, although vulgar prisoners only have passed over it to their death. No doomed Foscari or Carmagnola ever saw it; and perhaps its greatest interest is from that much-worn line of Byron's, "I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs." Passing the Paglia, we are on the Riva degli Schiavoni, in front of the Carceri, or public prison. As the apartments of the _Signori di Notte_ (heads of police) were on this side, it was not made to look like a prison. Below are rustic arches, above which Doric columns, on pedestals, support a fine cornice with consoles in the frieze. The upper rooms are now used for convicts and the windows are grated. One can but wonder how it would seem to be there, shut off from the world, and gaze out on the beautiful Church of San Giorgio Maggiore and the lagoon beyond, with the ever-changing aspect of the divinely colored waters; to watch the multitudes of steamers, gondolas, and other boats passing and re-passing; to listen to the sound of steps and voices on the Riva, and to all the different songs and cries from the boats. It must be {204} maddening. Was it the effect of the restless waves that Saint John watched from Patmos, in his exile, that made him say, "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; _and there was no more sea_"? Passing another bridge, we turn into a curious vaulted passage at the left which leads to the beautiful Church of San Zaccaria; it is three centuries and a quarter old, and the third which has been erected on this spot. Architects lavish praises on it; Fergusson says: "One of the finest of the early façades of Italy is that of San Zaccaria at Venice."