Few quarters of Venice have suffered more from decline, poverty, and neglect than the stretch now bordered by the Fondamente Nuove. In the sixteenth century, this was among the city’s most enchanting districts. Here stood the smaller pleasure palaces of the patricians, their gardens sloping gently toward the lagoon. After the business of the day, nobles withdrew to these retreats to refresh themselves and entertain their guests amid cultivated beauty and open skies.

From these gardens unfolded a sublime northern prospect:

“the hoar
And aëry Alps towards the north appeared
Thro’ mist an heaven-sustaining bulwark reared
Between the east and west; and half the sky
Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry.”

At evening, across waters cooled by the northern breeze, glided the gondolas — the “black Tritons” of the lagoon — bearing Venice’s wit, fashion, and beauty. Laughter traveled from boat to boat. Verses of Tasso were sung in alternating stanzas, answering one another across the rippling sea.

Nearby stood Titian’s palace, close to the present Fondamenta. Here the master received the celebrated figures of art and letters. While tables were being prepared, guests were shown his remarkable collection of paintings, then invited to stroll through the gardens. Banquets were arranged with refined elegance: delicate dishes, rare wines, music from sweet voices and many instruments. Seasonal entertainments followed, extending in pleasure and conversation until midnight brought the festivities to a close.

In those days, no brick wall enclosed the fair island of San Michele with its churches, cloisters, and gardens. No cloud of coal smoke stained the air of Murano, which was itself adorned with palaces and gracious pleasure grounds.

Murano: From Delight to Decline

Today, ferries depart every quarter hour from Fondamente Nuove for Murano. Yet how altered is its former glory — once praised as Muranum delitiae et voluptas civium Venetorum, the delight and pleasure of the Venetian citizens.

A seventeenth-century writer describes its palaces and gardens as beautiful beyond words. Spacious chambers and banquet halls were hung with tapestries depicting scenes from the Punic Wars, furnished with the finest productions of Venetian craftsmanship. The gardens were designed with artful pathways and shaded arbours of interlaced foliage. Fountains, fish-ponds, and cool grottoes adorned with coral and shells created scenes of refined taste. Meadows bloomed with flowers in manifold colors; trees bore the choicest fruits. Classical peristyles and exedrae, decorated with paintings and arabesques, offered shelter from sun and rain, inviting quiet conversation.

San Pietro Martire

Following the Fondamenta dei Vetrai, one soon reaches the Church of San Pietro Martire. Here is preserved Giovanni Bellini’s altarpiece of 1488: the Virgin and Child, before whom Saint Mark presents Doge Agostino Barbarigo. Despite damage and heavy restoration, it remains one of the most precious achievements of Venetian painting.

SS. Maria e Donato: Legend and Architecture

Crossing the Ponte Vivarini, one arrives at the ancient basilica of SS. Maria e Donato. Legend recounts that Emperor Otto I, caught in a violent storm, vowed to build a church to the Virgin if spared. She appeared to him in a vision, indicating a triangular space bright with red lilies as the chosen site. To the basilica erected there, Doge Domenico Michele brought in 1125 the body of Saint Donatus and the bones of a slain dragon — still suspended above the high altar.

The sacristan recounts the dragon’s tale with dramatic flourish. A monstrous beast once ravaged Cephalonia, devouring inhabitants and poisoning the river it swam. Bishop Donatus, determined to free the land, confronted the dragon. As his clergy fled, the saint advanced alone and spat upon the creature, which immediately fell dead. Drinking from the river, he found the waters restored to purity and called back his companions to witness the miracle.

The exterior apse, decorated with colored brick and marble, stands as one of the finest examples of twelfth-century Lombard architecture in northern Italy. Its patterned surfaces demonstrate a mastery of material and rhythm.

Inside lies a rare and precious pavement, even finer than that of St Mark’s. Though portions have been reset, enough remains intact to delight the attentive visitor. The designs are executed in opus Alexandrinum, porphyry, verde antico, and mosaic. A recurring motif shows two cocks holding between them a bound fox — the triumph of vigilance over cunning. Near the main entrance, the date September 1, 1140, is still legible in the nave floor.

In the apse stands a tall twelfth-century mosaic of the Virgin blessing. In the left aisle is a work by Sebastiano — the Virgin and Child with Saint John the Baptist, Saint Donatus, and the donor (1484).

The Glass Legacy of Murano

Murano’s local museum preserves a unique collection of Venetian glass from its finest period. Masterpieces by the Berovieri family and the Dalmatian craftsman Zorzi il Ballerin testify to the island’s technical brilliance. Ancient luminous red glass is displayed beside modern imitations, revealing the subtlety of lost techniques. The museum also houses a Libro d’Oro containing genealogies of members of the glassmakers’ guild — one of the most tightly regulated and prestigious of Venetian corporations.

Descendants of the Berovieri family continue to practice their craft, sustaining a lineage that once defined Murano’s artistic supremacy.