Palazzo Pisani in Santo Stefano and Napoleon Bonaparte

Seats entrance hall

So the doorman at Palazzo Pisani was completely unaware of the name Leopold Robert, who was a stranger to him.

But he intelligently resumed: “Signora, there are several painters here who will give you more information than I can.”

And he offered to guide me around this immense palace.

We first pass through a courtyard with a cistern in the middle and a gallery around it adorned with all the busts of the Pisani; young women with coquettish eyes and smiling faces, haughty and serious warriors and magistrates; then a second courtyard adorned with mediocre statues, forming a grandiose decoration; finally a peristyle with columns overlooking an alley leading to the grand canal.


The view of Campo Santo Stefano It was through this passageway, draped in precious fabrics, that Napoleon I entered the Palazzo Pisani to attend a party that is still talked about in Venice.

On the left, I climb a magnificent staircase where statues abound.

Some have lost an arm, others a nose; the loves that used to frolic on the wall have had their heads or wings broken.

All these grey or powdery figures seem to look piteously at each other, humbled by the destruction and silence that surround them.

I arrive at a suspended gallery, which circulates around the immense ballroom where Napoleon sat.

I consider for a moment the mythological frescoes on the ceiling; then I ring a bell at a small door at the end of the gallery on the left: “Here, said the doorman, is the photographer's lodgings.”

And he left me at once.


The Palaces of Venice's Grand Canal I explain to her the purpose of my visit and she replies that her uncle will be happy to give me the information I want.

We pass through several large rooms with gilded cornices, one of which has been cut in half to make a kitchen and dining room.

I enter the photographer's studio, where I can see the photographer's work. I enter the studio of the photographer, a handsome old man, who welcomes me with kindness and who, in the name of Léopold Robert, immediately replies:

“It is in the flat occupied by M. Nerly, a Prussian painter. Nerly occupies, a Prussian painter, that Léopold Gobert killed himself, I'll take you there, we only have one floor to go up.”


Basilica and Bell Tower of St. Mark's I follow him; we cross a second gallery, which runs above the other one, around the same ballroom; at the far end we find a pretty covered terrace, decorated with flowers and rockeries.

We passed through a door on the left and were introduced to Mr Nerly, a true German type, blond, affable and gentle.

A painter of serious and restrained talent, Mr Nerly has lived in Venice for twenty years; he married there and has become much more Italian than German; he welcomes me into his studio, palette in hand, working on a large canvas.

It was in this studio that Léopold Robert committed suicide.


Palazzi of Venice's Grand Canal It was then reached by a corridor leading to another staircase.

Léopold Robert's brother, warned one morning by an old Italian woman, who served the painter, that Léopold Robert had not called, as was his custom, and was not answering him, rushed into the corridor, forced open the studio door, and found his poor brother sitting on a trunk, his throat open.

Blood was pouring out all around him; he had taken the singular care to wipe off his razors and put them back in their case.

He made one last sign to his brother, as if to tell him that all help was useless, then he expired. »
Louise Colet - The Italy of Italians 1862