The Gritti Palace

Arriving at The Gritti Palace by boat is almost embarrassingly effective. The water slaps against the landing stage, gondolas drift below the Gothic windows, and across the Grand Canal Santa Maria della Salute looks as if Venice placed it there purely to improve breakfast. This is, of course, exactly the sort of thing Venice would do.

The palace dates to 1475, when the wealthy Pisani del Banco family shaped it into its Venetian Gothic form. In 1525 it became the residence of Andrea Gritti, the doge who helped restore Venice’s confidence after the bruising years of the League of Cambrai. That history matters here. The hotel is not simply borrowing old stone for atmosphere; it sits inside the story of the Republic’s power, money and self image.

Since 1895, the palazzo has lived its second life as one of the city’s great hotels. Inside, restraint has wisely been left to other destinations. There are Murano chandeliers, silk damask walls, carved ceilings, gilded mirrors and enough brocade to frighten a Belgian architect. Yet the rooms work because the canal light keeps everything moving. Velvet becomes softer, marble less solemn, and the whole performance suddenly feels natural.

John Ruskin stayed here in 1851 while working on The Stones of Venice, which gives the address a lovely architectural footnote. Hemingway, Somerset Maugham and Peggy Guggenheim also belong to its twentieth century mythology, but the real pleasure is more immediate: coffee with boats passing outside, a drink at Bar Longhi, the lacquered glamour of the Riva Lounge, and dinner at Club del Doge, where Alberto Fol gives Venetian ingredients the polish of a grand hotel without losing sight of the lagoon.

The Gritti is costly, formal and not remotely undiscovered. Good. Some hotels exist to calm you down; this one reminds you why Venice became a lifelong weakness.