It took several visits to Venice before I decided to visit the Palazzo Ducale- or the Doge’s Palace, as it’s called in English. Despite walking past the beautiful pink palace almost daily whenever I visited, my favoured travel style involves wandering city streets at my own pace, stumbling upon hidden nooks and crannies and favourite coffee spots to watch the world go by. Soaking up the atmosphere is way more appealing to me than standing in eternity-long queues to visit the top ten tourist hotspots of a city.
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And the Palazzo Ducale always has an eternity-long queue snaking under its arches and around its pink corner. This line snakes away from the Doge’s Palace, while another line snakes in the opposite direction, away from the mighty domes of the Basilica San Marco. Around the slow-moving lines, the Piazza San Marco is consistently flowing with faster-moving people, maps out, tripods up. And around the people, like shoals of fish collectively changing direction every ten seconds, are the pigeons.
I was curious about the inside of the palace, but I’d much rather spend my time slipping into side streets and staying on the move. No stagnating in a line for me, thank you very much.
Until one morning in October, when the line was nowhere to be seen. Destiny was clearly calling me, I decided. With time on my hands I knew that it was time to finally have a peek inside the Palazzo Ducale. I strolled on in through the open doors in such a flash that even though they’d sold me a ticket, I began to doubt it was actually open. (Genuinely; I even considered turning around and walking back out again in my confusion.)
Breezing through the ticket office, I surfaced outside in the wide open courtyard of the palace.
Exploring the Veneto: The Colourful Island of Burano
The Palace Courtyard
The dazzling sun filtered through the morning haze, and there were only a few other people quietly milling around. Venice is breathtaking in any kind of light, come rain or shine, but there was something extra specially wonderful about that Autumn morning. As I worked my way around the palace, I was met with a new view or a spectacle around every corner and at the end of every corridor.
The campanile of the basilica, red brick with its turquoise spire peeking over the white palace roof. The Giants’ Staircase, flanked by gigantic marble statues of Neptune and Mars. A whole assembly of marble statues gazing down into the courtyard. A glossy black gondola sitting in the shade of one of the covered arcades. (To be honest this looked like the sort of boat that a Death Eater would use for transportation.)
On the first floor I passed a stone gargoyle’s face laid into a wall, with an open mouth ready to swallow any letters that might come its way. These weren’t just any letters though; the ‘Boca de Leon’ was put here centuries ago so that Venetians could anonymously inform the authorities of any illegal goings on. Tax evasion? Put it in the box. Whisperings of a coup? Put it in the box.
Inside the Palazzo Ducale
Inside, the sights were grander and the atmosphere even more imposing. Back in the day, this wasn’t just the Doge’s residence (that’s the all-powerful ruler of Venice), it was also the place from where all of the Venetian Republic was governed.
The Palazzo Ducale was a palace that meant business.
Venice was once a powerful republic with an impressive navy, ruling the waves of the Western Mediterranean and controlling cities and towns far and wide across Italy, Croatia and Greece. And the Venetians were great at being in charge, because they ruled with an iron fist. The palace is filled with court rooms and government offices; these rooms were once bustling with people ruling the city and the whole kingdom.
Up the golden staircase with its ornate ceiling and solid gold everything, through the Doge’s rooms. A glance out of an open window revealed the rooftops of Venice in a pallet of reds, pinks and oranges, half-shrouded in the mist rising off of the green Grand Canal. Church bells ringing in the distance. Courtroom after courtroom, chambers and anterooms all decorated with elaborate golden ceilings, dark wood panelling and endless detailed paintings of Venice’s glorious battles, Roman gods and goddesses and Jesus and the Virgin Mary.
What a mixture.
The Chamber of the Great Council
The pinnacle of it all is the Chamber of the Great Council. This colossal room had enough space for all members of the Great Council of Venice, which consisted of all the male members of Venetian noble families over the age of twenty five. A row of dark wooden chairs sits higher up at one end of the room, with the Doge’s throne in the middle of the row. The white light glowing through the windows lights up the hundreds of figures of Il Paradiso- an enormous oil painting with Jesus and the Angel Gabriel shining centrally above the Doge’s throne.
The polished floor reflects the ceiling’s golden panels, crammed with scenes of swirling waves, stormy skies and bloody battles. Around the top of the walls are portraits of seventy six Doges, peering regally down at us minions below; all except one frame containing a black cloth. This hidden figure is Doge Marin Faliero, who attempted a casual coup d’etat in the 1300s. His punishment wasn’t just death, but the full eradication of his memory.
So I guess we’ll never know what he looked like.
Over the Bridge of Sighs
Following the path of the poor folks who were condemned in these courtrooms, I headed from the palace to the prison- via the Bridge of Sighs. It’s such a romantic name, but the Bridge of Sighs got its name from the sighs of prisoners being led directly from their trials to their prison cells. Peeking out of a crescent in the latticed limestone window, I could see down into the turquoise canal. A gondola glided through the teal water, and further up the canal the morning crowds were starting to gather on the bridge. I could hear the water glugging and lapping at the walls beneath the bridge and the chatter of the people. What a view to have, for your last ever view of the outside world, I thought.
In comparison to the grandeur of the Palazzo, the prison was terrifying. Humans can’t resist leaving their mark on a place, and plenty of prisoners throughout time have etched their names into the walls and window sills, accompanied with a date. In the case of some prisoners, full sketches of people have been chiselled into the stone walls as well. Each prison window is covered with iron bars, the heavy wooden doors bolted shut. This was not a nice-feeling place.
I came up for air in the prison courtyard, glad to have some sunlight on my face again as I gazed up at the three stories of cells around me. The Venetian Republic was a superpower which lasted for 1,100 years, until the last Doge of Venice was forced to abdicate by Napoleon. Eventually Venice fell into the hands of the Habsburg Empire (modern day Austria), then back to France, then back to Austria. Power struggles were all the rage in those days.
This great big palace went from being a symbol of ultimate power and importance, to not having much of a function at all. Yet there’s no denying its magnificence, even today. How many ghostly footsteps had I wandered over that morning, I wondered?
I left the Palazzo Ducale, joining a stream of people walking alongside the Grand Canal, and diverting away from them as soon as I found a narrow side street to head into. Back into the maze of the city, carving out my next route.
How to visit the Palazzo Ducale
Full price tickets to the Palazzo Ducale cost €25 per person, and reduced price tickets are offered for €13 to students under the age of 25, children under 14, and visitors over the age of 65.
I was incredibly lucky on the day that I visited; it was uncharacteristically quiet! Although it’s possible to turn up and buy tickets to the Palazzo Ducale on the day, book online in advance to avoid a queue.
From the 6th August 2021, visitors will only be allowed entry to the Palazzo Ducale with the EU Green Pass and an accompanying ID document.
More from the Venetian Republic:
A Guide to the Old Town of Corfu
The Secret Village of Argyrades
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