The Doge's Palace was for hundreds of years the center of Venetian government and the residence of the Doge, the republic's chief magistrate. Doges were elected by members of the aristocracy through different schemes that evolved over the years, gradually becoming more complex. The extent of the Doge's power also evolved over the years, though he was generally elected for life. The position of Doge seems to have been established as early as 700 A.D., but the current palace wasn't constructed until the 1309 through 1424 period, sort of. Since that time there have been a number of fires and repairs and renovations and expansions, but since 1797 and the French takeover there have been no Doges.

After crossing back across the Accademia Bridge, we went in search of lunch and found it at a cafeteria sort of place and then headed back toward Piazza San Marco. We'd heard that the tickets to the Doge's Palace were now combination tickets that included admission to the Correr Museum, a museum of Venetian art and history that occupies a good portion of the building space surrounding the Piazza. We'd also heard that the line to get these tickets was often much shorter at the Correr Museum than at the Doge's Palace. At this point Philip announced he'd seen enough of museums for awhile, and that he wanted to wander around Venice by himself. While he embarked on this mission, the remaining three of us went in search of the Correr's entrance, eventually finding it at the end of the Piazza opposite St. Mark's Basilica (behind the temporary stage). The Correr Museum has an interesting collection of paintings, sculpture and historical items, and we'd have liked to take a closer look at everything than we did, but we were worried about running out of time to see the Doge's Palace properly, so our visit was somewhat rushed. The Correr also has the apparently standard Venetian no-photography rule, with which we complied.

On exiting the museum, we found that the weather had taken a turn for the worse, becoming a steady drizzle. We walked over to the Doge's Palace (the entrance is on the waterfront side) and used our combination tickets to enter. After the entrance, we took a flight of stairs to our right up to a walkway that gave us a good view of the wet courtyard. At the north end of the courtyard was an elaborate façade to what was apparently the Doge's personal entrance to the Basilica, which he used as his private chapel.


Photography in the Palace was technically prohibited, but we were able to get a few pictures here and there (and I've added a couple from the Internet). From the walkway, we took another stairway up and walked through several rooms, including both the Doge's apartments and official rooms for the running of the republic. There were many magnificent paintings and paneled ceilings by Veronese, Tintoretto and others. One of these paintings, Tintoretto's Paradise, has been billed as the largest oil painting in the world.



From the Palace building, we were able to use the Bridge of Sighs to cross a small canal to the prison, which looked like a very unpleasant place to be spending any time, but which was apparently an improvement over the jail cells which had been in the main building before the building of the prison.



After returning to the main building, we were routed back to the courtyard, where we posed for pictures in front of the Giant's Staircase, a fenced-off outdoor stairway flanked by statues of Neptune and Mars.



This ended our visit, and we exited the Palace through a door which left us across the Piazzetta from the campanile of Piazza San Marco.


Despite the continuing drizzle, Connie and I were interested in going to the top of the campanile, but Nella was not. Nella found a bench under the arcaded passage along the side of the Doge's Palace, where she sat down and pulled out a book to read. Connie and I walked across and paid 8 Euros apiece (there was uncharacteristically no line, maybe because of the weather) and rode the elevator to the top.

The current campanile is not the original one, having been completed less than 100 years ago. Its predecessor was finished in the early 16th Century, but collapsed on July 14, 1902. There were no fatalities, as warning cracks appeared well before the collapse, and the campanile politely collapsed in a way that didn't do severe damage to any other structures (except for the Loggetta at its base). Many donations came in for its reconstruction, and the new campanile opened in 1912, this time with an elevator in its center (most welcome, as the tower is 323 feet tall). Apparently some instability in its foundation has recently been found, as there was construction going on to strengthen it during our visit.

Undaunted by the danger, we enjoyed the spectacular 360-degree view immensely.








And then it was 6:30, and the gigantic bells started to move. Huge bells can make a lot of noise, which is undoubtedly the idea, but when you're only a few feet away from them, this is way more noise than is strictly necessary, and the sound, which went on for five minutes or so, can be felt in one's internal organs as well as heard.

With ears ringing following this performance, we descended the elevator and rejoined Nella.



Then we collected Philip from the hotel to which he had returned and found dinner. After dinner we returned to our respective hotels to rest up for our upcoming travel day. Though after dark, Bob went out and took a few last pictures and listened to some of the live music performed every evening in the Piazza.