Chapter M: E. Braddon (3)

The bells of San Marco gave the signal for the Angelus, and their ponderous roll dilated in long waves along the mirror of the harbour, vibrated through the masts of the ships, spread afar towards the infinite lagoon. From San Giorgio Maggiore, from San Giorgio dei Greci, from San Giorgio degli Schiavoni, from San Giovanni in Bragora, from San Moise, from the churches of the Salute and the Redentore and beyond, over the whole domain of the Evangelist, from the far towers of the Madonna dell’ Orto, of San Giobbe, of Sant’ Andrea, bronze voices answered, mingling in one great chorus, spreading over the silent company of stones and water one great dome of invisible metal, the vibrations of which seemed to reach the twinkling of the earliest stars. In the purity of evening the sacred voices gave the City of Silence a sort of immensity of grandeur. From the summit of their temples they brought anxious mankind the message sent by the immortal multitudes hidden in the darkness of deep aisles, or mysteriously troubled by the light of votive lamps; they brought to spirits worn out by the day the message of the superhuman creatures figured on the walls of secluded chapels and in the niches of inner altars, who had announced miracles and promised worlds. And all the apparitions of the consoling Beauty invoked by unanimous Prayer, rose on that storm of sound, spoke in that aerial chorus, irradiated the face of the marvellous night.

* * * * *

One afternoon not long ago, returning from the Gardens along the warm bank of the Schiavoni, that must often have seemed to some wandering poet like I know not what golden magic bridge stretching out over a sea of light and silence to some infinite dream of beauty, I thought, or rather I stood by and watched my own thoughts as I would an intimate spectacle,--I thought of the nuptial alliance of Autumn and Venice under those skies.

A sense of life was diffused everywhere; a sense of life made up of passionate expectation and restrained ardour, that surprised me by its vehemence, but yet could not seem new to me, because I had already found it gathered in some belt of shadow under the almost deathly immobility of summer, and I had also felt it here vibrating now and then like a mysterious pulsation under the strange, feverish odour of the waters. Thus, I thought, this pure City of Art truly aspires to the supreme condition of that beauty that is an annual return in her as is the giving forth of flowers to the forest. She tends to reveal herself in a full harmony as if she still carried in herself, powerful and conscious, that desire of perfection from which she was born and formed through the ages like some divine creature. Under the motionless fires of a summer sky she seemed pulseless and breathless, dead indeed in her green waters; but my feeling did not deceive me when I divined her secretly labouring under a spirit of life that would prove sufficiently powerful to renew the highest of older miracles....

The mutual passion of Venice and Autumn that exalts the one and the other to the highest degree of their sensuous beauty has its origin in a deep affinity; for the soul of Venice, the soul fashioned for the City Beautiful by its great artists is autumnal.

The correspondence between the external and the interior spectacle once discovered, my enjoyment found itself unspeakably multiplied. The crowd of imperishable forms that peoples its churches and palaces seemed from these latter to answer the harmony of daylight with a chord so deep and powerful that it soon became dominant. And--because the light of Heaven alternates with shadows, but the light of Art lasts in the human soul and cannot be extinguished--when the miracle of the hour ceased to cover all those things, my spirit felt itself alone and ecstatic among the splendours of an ideal autumn.

GABRIELE D’ANNUNZIO.

FROM A VENETIAN BALCONY

High-tide at Venice; warm wind driving in from the sea.
Hark! the cry of the gulls as they flit o’er the wide canal,
Flit and circle and skim, and dip in their savage glee,
Striking the lead-coloured waves that scatter tempestual,
Striking with sharp white wing like a flail, gorging their prey:
_Frutto di mare_, fruit of the ocean, drift of the way.

Hither and thither wend other wild birds in the storm--
Gondolas black as the swift that floats o’er an autumn sky--
Gondolas silent and shadowy, wondrously slender of form--
Gliding in close-measured rhythm down where the barges lie,
Under the glimmering bridges, and near to the palace walls
That frown in a gloomy dusk, as the sea-mist gathers and falls.

Now, with a burst of voices, clang the _Salute’s_ bells,
From yonder tower-lofts straining, heav’n high as they may go.
Again, to our fretful world, surely the _Angelus_ tells
Patience for need and pain, and solace and calm for woe.
As I listen the peal dies out--alas, and alas! alas!
But from over the pallid sunset the heavy storm-clouds pass.

O weird sea-birds, as ye utter your hoarse and discordant cry,
Do ye wot of the north, and the hearts that are watching your ominous
course?
Or is it enough for ye, birds, as gyrating and slanting ye fly,
To ride the broad Adriatic, and drink of her glamour and force,
Regardless that realms beyond realms, as waves upon waves, in unrest,
Look up for the message of love that God’s angel brings to the blest?

LADY LINDSAY.

AUTUMN IN VENICE

It is now late in October. The days are short but luminous still when the mists do not drift in from the lagoons of the Lido, or from the marshes of the low-lying lands beyond Mestre and Fucina. Boats still come in with rosy sunrise reflection shed on their orange sails, and take their loads of autumn apples and pears and walnuts to the fruit-market above Rialto. But soon, very soon, it will be winter, and the gondolas will glide by with closed felze, and the water will be a troubled waste between the city and the Lido, and men will hurry with muffled heads over the square of Saint Mark when the Alpine wind blows, and the strange big ships creep on their piloted course tediously and timidly through the snowstorms to their anchorage in the wide Giudecca.

OUIDA.

VENICE AT TWILIGHT

O for the autumn, and twilight and dream,
Where still waters gleam.

O for sky-distances, fading in blue,
With Venice in view.

O for the opal of cloud and lagoon,
With night-shadows strewn.

Palaces, blue-green, and hushed as in sleep,
Keep watch o’er the deep.

O for the autumn, and Venice aglow,
Where silken winds blow.

Like a chrysanthemum droops the fair town
As Night cometh down,

Crushing those petals of watery bloom
In tenderest gloom.

O at this hour, when Venice is blest,
May I, to my breast,

Gather one petal of delicate hue--
To bring, Love--to you!

HÉLÈNE VACARESCO.
_Translated by Fred. G. Bowles_

ALL SOULS’ DAY AT VENICE

They had put a bridge of boats from the northernmost quay of Venice to the cemetery island. A dense crowd, coming and going across it, black over the black anchored barges, each two with their yard of pale water between their tarred hulls. And, as we draw near, as we go beneath, the seeming silence turns into a murmur, and a rumble.

For this one day in all the year the cemetery island is bridged on to the islands of the living. This is no mere coincidence, but a real symbol.

The cloisters and the gardens are full as for a fair, crowds coming and going, buying tapers, lighting them at the glittering wax-lights before the chapel, bringing a few flowers.... Surely for these poor folk there is a reality, if only a negative one, in this suspending of the labour, cares, the empty grind of life; and their hour of watching by the dead may be, in some way deeper than words can say, an hour of communing with the eternities.

While thus the cemetery was given up to the living and to the long dead, the scarcely dead, the real dead, were arriving here and there with the real mourners. I noted a mound of fresh earth, with the ritual trowel sticking in it, a couple of surpliced and shaven Franciscans reciting the prayers to a few blear, red-eyed people (a nun among them); all these new-comers and their ministering clergy seeming a little scared by intruding their own dead man or woman into this great public feast of those who have long passed beyond. And the crowd, on its side, looked surprised at this new and definite reality of loss in the midst of its vaguer mournings; this man or woman, only just dead, carried in among those shadowy memories.

Very touching also were the little framed photographs, clean and evidently taken off some poor table or wall, and hung on the cross for the afternoon; the dead pauper having his effigy also on his grave, like the rich man among his marble, if only for those few hours.

As we got back into the gondola the crowd was streaming only one way along the black bridge; away from the cemetery, back into life.

VERNON LEE.

VENICE IN WINTER

In Venice only the melancholy drenching rain of a winter’s day brings rest to the eye, when water meets water, and sky is washed into sea and the city lies soaking and dripping between two floods. But soon the wind shifts to the north-east, out breaks the sun again, and all Venice is instantly in a glare of light and colour and startling distinctness, like the sails and rigging of a ship at sea on a clear day.

FRANCIS MARION CRAWFORD.

VENICE: THE END OF WINTER

There is joy in the heart of each Venetian when the end of winter is reached at last, and once more are visible, lying like pearls on the spring-blue ocean, the islands of Murano and Malamocco. They have long been veiled from view by opal mists, sometimes but half obscured and lying like a ghostly mirage in the distance. But now they stand out like bright and beautiful cameos, glistening white on a surface of blue. Tower and wall and roof, washed clean and new by the refreshing winter mists, stand ready to receive the sunlight. For these sun-loving and warmth-loving people the year should be always summer! This first bright burst of warm sunshine has set the spirit of cheer in the heart of each gondolier as he stands by his own favourite _traghetto_, furbishing up his gondola and preparing for the coming glorious seasons of spring and summer in Venice! He smiles and jokes again; he shouts once more in his old way to his brother gondolier across the opposite shore--_É primavera! é primavera!_

ENRICO ALBINI.

VENICE OF THE PAST

Dim phantoms of banners for conquest unfurl’d,
Of brows bright with diamonds, of bosoms empearl’d,
Of Venice, the mistress and Queen of the world;
Of argosies laden with damask and gold,
Of tributes barbaric from kingdoms grown old;
Of spousals fantastic and rings in the tide
Of Venice the bridegroom, and Ocean the bride.
CHARLES MACKAY.

Venice ... a ghost upon the sands of the sea, so weak--so
quiet,--so bereft of all but her loveliness, that we might
well doubt, as we watched her faint reflection in the
mirage of the lagoon, which was the City, and which the
Shadow.... It would be difficult to overrate the value of
the lessons which might be derived from a faithful study
of the history of this strange and mighty city: a history
which, in spite of the labour of countless chroniclers,
remains in vague and disputable outline,--barred with
brightness and shade, like the far-away edge of her own
ocean, where the surf and the sandbank are mingled with the
sky.
JOHN RUSKIN.

In Venice ... one cannot think if not in images. They come
to us from all quarters, in countless numbers, in endless
variety, and they are more real, more living, than the
people that elbow us in the narrow street. They let us bend
down to scrutinize the depths of their lingering eyes, and
we can divine the words they are going to say by the curves
of their eloquent lips.
GABRIELE D’ANNUNZIO.

THE ORIGIN OF VENICE

Venice, being a republic, which, both on account of its power and internal regulations, deserves to be celebrated above any principality of Italy.... I speak of their (the Venetians’) city from a remote period.... When Attila, king of the Huns, besieged Aquileia, the inhabitants, after defending themselves a long time, began to despair of effecting their safety, and fled for refuge to several uninhabited rocks, situate at the point of the Adriatic Sea, now called the Gulf of Venice, carrying with them whatever moveable property they possessed. The people of Padua, finding themselves in equal danger, and knowing that, having become master of Aquileia, Attila would next attack themselves, also removed with their most valuable property to a place on the same sea, called Rivo Alto, to which they brought their women, children, and aged persons, leaving the youth in Padua to assist in her defence. Besides these, the people of Monselice, with the inhabitants of the surrounding hills, driven by similar fears, fled to the same rocks. But after Attila had taken Aquileia, and destroyed Padua, Monselice, Vicenza, and Verona, the people of Padua and others who were powerful continued to inhabit the marshes about Rivo Alto; and in like manner all the people of the province anciently called Venetia, drived by the same events, became collected in these marshes. Thus, under the pressure of necessity, they left an agreeable and fertile country to occupy one sterile and unwholesome. However, in consequence of a great number of people being drawn together into a comparatively small space, in a short time they made those places not only habitable, but delightful; and having established among themselves laws and useful regulations, enjoyed themselves in security amid the devastations of Italy, and soon increased both in reputation and strength. For, besides the inhabitants already mentioned, many fled to these places from the cities of Lombardy, principally to escape from the cruelties of Clefis, king of the Lombards, which greatly tended to increase the numbers of the new city; and in the conventions which were made betwixt Pepin, king of France, and the emperor of Greece when the former, at the entreaty of the pope, came to drive the Lombards out of Italy, the duke of Benevenuto and the Venetians did not render obedience to either the one or the other, but alone enjoyed their liberty. As necessity had led them to dwell on sterile rocks, they were compelled to seek the means of subsistence elsewhere; and voyaging with their ships to every port of the ocean, their city became a depository for the various products of the world, and was itself filled with men of every nation.

For many years the Venetians sought no other dominion than that which tended to facilitate their commercial enterprises, and thus acquired many ports in Greece and Syria; and as the French had made frequent use of their ships in voyages to Asia, the island of Candia was assigned to them, in recompense for these services. Whilst they lived in this manner, their name spread terror over the seas, and was held in veneration throughout Italy. This was so completely the case, that they were generally chosen to arbitrate in controversies arising betwixt the states, as occurred in the difference betwixt the Colleagues, on account of the cities they had divided amongst themselves; which being referred to the Venetians, they awarded Brescia and Bergamo to the Visconti. But when, in the course of time, urged by their eagerness for dominion, they had made themselves masters of Padua, Vicenza, Trevisa, and afterwards of Verona, Bergamo, and Brescia, with many cities in Romanga, and the kingdom of Naples, other nations were impressed with such an opinion of their power, that they were a terror, not only to the princes of Italy, but to the Ultramontane kings. These states entered into an alliance against them, and in one day wrested from them the provinces they had obtained with so much labour and expense; and although they have in latter times re-acquired some portions, still, possessing neither power nor reputation, like all the other Italian powers, they live at the mercy of others....

Amongst the great and wonderful institutions of the republics and principalities of antiquity that have now gone into disuse, was that by means of which towns and cities were from time to time established; and there is nothing more worthy the attention of a great prince, or of a well-regulated republic, or that confers so many advantages upon a province, as the settlement of new places, where men are drawn together for mutual accommodation and defence. This may easily be done, by sending people to reside in recently acquired or uninhabited countries. Besides causing the establishment of new cities, these removals render a conquered country more secure, and keep the inhabitants of a province properly distributed. Thus deriving the greatest attainable comfort, the inhabitants increase rapidly, are more prompt to attack others, and defend themselves with greater assurance. This custom, by the unwise practice of princes and republics, having gone into desuetude, the ruin and weakness of territories has followed; for this ordination is that by which alone empires are made secure, and countries become populated. Safety is the result of it; because the colony which a prince establishes in a newly acquired country is like a fortress and a guard, to keep the inhabitants in fidelity and obedience. Neither can a province be wholly occupied and preserve a proper distribution of its inhabitants without this regulation; for all districts are not equally healthy, and hence some will abound to overflowing, whilst others are void.... With cultivation the earth becomes fruitful, and the air is purified with fires--remedies which Nature cannot provide. The city of Venice proves the correctness of these remarks. Being placed in a marshy and unwholesome situation, it became healthy only by the number of industrious individuals who were drawn together.

NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI.

A PILGRIM’S DESCRIPTION OF VENICE

On Wednesday, the 21st of May [1494], I took one of the Milanese couriers to guide me about Venice, and went to the houses of the merchants for whom I had letters, and to each one I gave his own. Then, as I was afraid of not finding a place in the galley, I was immediately introduced to the Magnificent Don Agostino Contarini, a Venetian patrician and captain of the Jaffa galley--thus the galley is named which carries the pilgrims going to Jerusalem--and he ordered my name to be written in the Pilgrims’ Book. At this time I found that I had been in too great a hurry to leave home, and that I must wait several days before the departure of the said galley.

In order that the tediousness of waiting should not make me desire to turn back and do as the children of Israel did when they went into the Promised Land, I determined to examine carefully the city of Venice, about which so much has been said and written, not only by learned men, but also by great scholars, that it appears to me there is nothing left to say. And I did this solely to amuse myself during the time I had to spend in such a great port. I wanted to see everything it was possible for me to see; and I was aided continually by the company given me by the Magnificent Doctor and Cavalier, the Lord Tadiolo de Vicomercato, Ambassador to the aforesaid Signoria of Venice for our most illustrious Lord the Duke of Milan. I paid him a visit, as was my duty, as soon as I arrived, and from him, although I did not merit it, I received more than common attention.

Before going further, I must make excuses to the readers of this my itinerary, if it should seem to them that I have overpraised this city of Venice. What I write is not written to win the goodwill of the Venetians, but to set down the truth. And I declare that it is impossible to tell or write fully of the beauty, the magnificence or the wealth of the city of Venice. Something indeed can be told and written to pass the time as I do, but it will be incredible to anyone who has not seen the city.

I do not think there is any city to which Venice, the city founded on the sea, can be compared; nevertheless I appeal always to the judgment of every person who has been there some time. Although this city is built entirely in the water and the marshes, yet it appears to me that whoever desires to do so can go everywhere on foot, as it is well kept and clean. Anyone, however, who does not want to endure the fatigue can go by water, and will be entreated to do so, and it will cost him less than he would spend elsewhere for the hire of a horse. As to the size of the city, I may say that it is so large, that, after being there so many days as I was, I made but little acquaintance with the streets. I cannot give the dimensions of this city, for it appears to me not one city alone but several cities placed together.

I saw many beautiful palaces, beginning with the Palace of St. Mark, which is always inhabited by the Doge and his family. The façade of the said palace has been renovated in part with a great display of gold; and a new flight of steps is being built there--a stupendous and costly work--by which to ascend to the said palace from the side of the Church of St. Mark.... Besides the other notable things in the said palace, I saw a very long hall whose walls are painted very ornately. And there is painted the story how Frederick Barbarossa drove away Pope Alexander the Fourth, who fled in disguise to Venice, and was recognized in a monastery called the Monastery della Carità. The whole story is represented with such richness and naturalness in the figures that I think little could be added. The ceiling of the said hall is decorated with great gilded pictures. Seats are placed round the said hall, and in addition there are three rows of double seats, in the body of the hall, placed back to back. There are two magnificent gilded seats, one at each end of the said hall; I was told they were for seating the Doge, one for the winter and the other for the summer. In this hall sit the Great Council of all the gentlemen, who, it is said, are two thousand five hundred in number....

I will not attempt to describe the number of large and beautiful palaces splendidly decorated and furnished, worth, some a hundred, some fifty, some thirty thousand ducats, and the owners of the same, because it would be too hard an undertaking for me, and better suited to someone who had to remain a long time in the said city of Venice. On the Grand Canal there is the most remarkable beginning of a palace for the Sforza family, and for the honour of the Milanese I am very sorry it has not been finished. For after seeing the said foundations, I am sure that the palace would be very magnificent if it were completed.

The said city, although it is in the water, as I said, has so many beautiful piazzas, beginning with that of St. Mark, that they would suffice for any great city placed on the mainland. It is a marvel to see how long and spacious they are. I have observed that the said city is so well ordered and arranged, that however much it rains, there is never any mud.

Something may be said about the quantity of merchandise in the said city, although not nearly the whole truth, because it is inestimable. Indeed, it seems as if all the world flocks there, and that human beings have concentrated there all their force for trading....

As the day of our departure was drawing near, I determined to leave everything else and study the owners of the many beautiful things I have noted--that is, the Venetian gentlemen, who give themselves this title. I have considered the qualities of these Venetian gentlemen. For the most part they are tall, handsome men, astute and very subtle in their dealings, and whoever has to do business with them must keep his eyes and ears well open. They are proud--I think this is on account of their great dominions--and when a son is born to a Venetian gentleman they say to themselves, ‘A Lord is born into the world’ (_E le nato un Signore al Mondo_). They are frugal and very modest in their manner of living at home; outside the house they are very liberal.

The city of Venice preserves its ancient fashion of dress--which never changes--that is, a long garment of any colour that is preferred. No one would leave the house by day if he were not dressed in this long garment, and for the most part in black. They have so observed this custom, that the individuals of every nation in the world--which has a settlement in Venice--all adopt this style, from the greatest to the least, beginning with the gentlemen, down to the sailors and _galeotti_. Certainly it is a dress which inspires confidence, and is very dignified. The wearers all seem to be doctors in law, and if a man should appear out of the house without his toga, he would be thought mad....

When the Venetian gentlemen take office or go on some embassy, they wear very splendid garments; in truth, they could not be more magnificent. They are of scarlet, of velvet, of brocade, if the wearers hold high office; and all the linings of every kind are very costly.... The Venetian women, especially the pretty ones, try as much as possible in public to show their chests--I mean their breasts and shoulders--so much so, that several times when I saw them I marvelled that their clothes did not fall off their backs. Those who can afford it, and also those who cannot, dress very splendidly, and have magnificent jewels and pearls in the trimming round their collars. They wear many rings on their fingers, with great balass rubies, rubies and diamonds. I said also those who cannot afford it, because I was told that many of them hire these things. They paint their faces a great deal, and also the other parts they show, in order to appear more beautiful.... I thought it my duty to seek out the churches and monasteries and go and see the relics which are very numerous; and this seemed to me a meritorious work for a pilgrim who was awaiting the departure of the galley to go to the Holy Sepulchre--thus finishing the time as well as I could.

CANON PIETRO CASOLA.
_‘Pilgrimage to Jerusalem in the Year 1494,’
Translated by M. Margaret Newett, B.A._

VENICE: SOME SIXTEENTH-CENTURY
CHARACTERISTICS

I came to Venice at the time of a Faire, which lasted fourteene dayes, wherein I sawe very many, and faire shewes of wares. I came thither too short for the first passage, which went from Venice about the seventh or eighth of May, and with them about three score pilgrims, which shippe was cast away at a towne called Estria, two miles from Venice, and all the men in hers, saving thirtie, or thereabouts, lost.

Within eight dayes after fell Corpus Christi day, which was a day amongst them of procession, in which was shewed the plate and treasurie of Venice, which is esteemed to be worth two millions of pounds, but I do not accompt it woorth halfe a quarter of that money, except there be more than I sawe. To speake of the sumptuousnesse of the copes and vestments of the Church, I leave, but the trueth is, they bee very sumptuous, many of them set all over with pearle, and made of cloth of gold....

To tell you of the duke of Venice, and of the Seigniory: there is one chosen that ever beareth the name of duke, but in trueth hee is but servant to the Seigniorie, for of himselfe hee can doe little: it is no otherwise with him, then with a priest that is at Masse upon a festival day, which putting on his golden garment, seemeth to be a great man, but if any man came unto him, and crave some friendship at his handes, hee will say, you must goe to the Masters of the parish, for I can not pleasure you, otherwise then by preferring of your suite: and so it is with the duke of Venice, if any man having a suite, came to him, and make his complaint, and deliver his supplication, it is not in him to help him, but hee will tell him, You must come this day, or that day, and then I will preferre your suite to the Seigniorie, and doe you the best friendship that I may. Furthermore, if any man bring a letter unto him, he may not open it, but in the presence of the Seigniorie, and they are to see it first, which being read, perhaps they will deliver it to him, perhaps not. Of the Seigniory there be about three hundred, and about fourtie of the privie Counsell of Venice, who usually are arayed in gownes of crimsen Satten, or crimsen Damaske, when they sit in Counsell.

In the Citie of Venice, no man may weare a weapon, except he be a soldier for the Seigniorie, or a skoller of Padua, or a gentleman of great countenance, and yet he may not do that without licence.

As for the women of Venice, they be rather monsters, then women. Every Shoemakers or Taylors wife will have a gowne of silke, and one to carrie up her traine, wearing their shooes very neere halfe a yard high from the ground: if a stranger meete one of them, he will surely think by the state that she goeth with, that he meeteth a Lady.

LAURENCE ALDERSEY (1581).

THE BEAUTIE AND MAGNIFICENCE OF VENICE

I having oftentimes observed many strangers, men wise and learned, who arriving newly at _Venice_, and beholding the beautie and magnificence thereof, were stricken with so great an admiration and amazement, that they woulde, and that with open mouth, confesse, never any thing which before time they had seene, to be thereunto comparable, either in glory or goodlinesse. Yet was not every one of them possessed with the like wonder of the same particular thing: for to some it seemed a matter of infinite marvaile, and scarcely credible to behold, so unmeasurable a quantity of all sorts of merchandise to be brought out of all realmes and countries into this Citie, and hence againe to be conveyed into so many strange and far distant nations, both by land and sea. Others exceedingly admired the wonderful concourse of strange and forraine people, yea, of the farthest and the remotest nations, as though the City of _Venice_ onely were a common and general market to the whole world. Others were astonished at the greatnesse of the empire thereunto belonging, and the mightinesse of their state both by land and sea: but the greater part of the most wise and judiciall sort were rather in themselves confounded with amazement at the new and strange manner of the situation of this Citie, so fitte and convenient for all things, that it seemed unto them a thing rather framed by the hands of the immortall gods, than any way by the arte, industry, or invention of men. And for this only cause deemed the Citie of _Venice_ to excell all those, that in this age are to be found, or at any time ever were.... The situation of _Venice_ being rather to be attributed to some divine providence, than to any human industry, is (beyond the beliefe of all those that have not seene this cittie) not onely most safe and secure, both by land and sea from all violence, but also in the highest degree opportune and commodious to the aboundance of all thinges that are behoovefull to the citizens, as also for traffique of all sortes of merchandise, in manner with all nations of the worlde. For it is seated in a remote and secrete place of the Adriatike sea, where on that side (where the sea beholdeth the continent) there are mightie great lakes; fortified with an admirable artifice of nature. For twelve miles off the continent, the sea beginneth to be shallow: the banke which ariseth behind these shallowes, reacheth almost three score miles, and incloseth the lakes within.... In this manner therefore are the lakes of the Citie of _Venice_ inclosed, partly with firme ground, partly with this banke and shallowes: in middle of the which, in that place, which of our ancestors was called _Rialta_, and as yet retaineth the name, was the Citie of _Venice_ budded, at such time as the _Hunnes_ under the conduct of _Atyla_ did spoile with fire and sword the territory of Venetia, a noble province of _Italie_, which bordered upon those lakes: in which calamitous time the citizens of _Padua_, of _Aquilea_, of _Concordia_, and of _Altina_, being all faire and goodly cities of _Venetia_, such of them as were chiefe in riches, and nobility, did first get themselves with their families into certaine islands, or rather little hills, which did appear out somewhat above the sea, and there built them places of abode, in which as in a secure haven they avoyded the ragefull tempest of the _Hunnes_.

SIR LEWES LEWKENOR (1599).

FAYRE VENICE

The antique _Babel_, Empresse of the East,
Uprear’d her buildinges to the threatened skie:
And Second _Babell_ tyrant of the West,
Her angry towers upraised much more high.
But with the weight of their own surquedry,
They both are fallen, that all the earth did feare,
And buried now in their own ashes ly,
Yet showing by their heapes how great they were.
But in their place doth now a third appeare,
Fayre _Venice_, flower of the last worlds delight.

EDW. SPENCER (1599).

SOME MARVELS OF VENICE

This stately City built on the bottome of the gulfe of the Adriatique Sea, in the midst of marshes upon many ilands, is defended on the East side against the sea, by a banke of earthe, which hath five (or some say seven) mouths or passages into the sea, and is vulgarly called _Il Lido_: and being so placed by nature, not made by art, bendeth like a bowe, and reacheth thirty-five miles.... Venice hath thirty one Cloysters of Monkes, and twenty eight of nunnes, besides chappels and almes-houses. Channels of water passe through this city (consisting of many ilands joyned with bridges) as the bloud passeth through the veines of a man’s body; so that a man may passe to what place he will both by land and water. The great channell is in length about one thousand three hundred paces, and in breadth forty paces, and hath only one bridge called _Rialto_, and the passage is very pleasant by this channel; being adorned on both sides with stately pallaces. And that men may pass speedily, besides this bridge, there be thirteen places called _Traghetti_, where boats attend called _gondole_, which being of incredible number give ready passage to all men. The rest of the channels running through lesse streets, are more narrow, and in them many bridges are to be passed under. The aforesaid boats are very neat, and covered all save the ends with black cloth, so as the passengers may goe unseene and unknowne, and not bee annoyed at all with the sunne, winde, or raine. And these boats are ready at call any minute of the day or night. And if a stranger know not the way, hee shall not need to aske it, for if he will follow the presse of people, hee shall be sure to bee brought to the market place of Saint _Mark_, or that of _Rialto_; the streets being very narrow (which they pave with bricke), and besides if hee onely know his host’s name, taking a boat, he shall be safely brought thither at any time of the night.... Saint _Marke_ is the protecting saint of this city. The body of which saint being brought hither by merchants from _Alexandria_: this church was built in the year 829 at the charge of the Duke _Justinian_, who dying, gave by his last will great treasure to that use, and charged his brother to finish the building, which was laid upon the ruines of Saint _Theodore’s_ Church, who formerly had been the protecting saint of the city.... The building is become admirable, for the singular art of the builders and painters, and the most rare peeces of marble, porphyry, ophites (stones so called of speckles like a serpent) and like stones; and they cease not still to build it, as if it were unfinished, lest the revenues given by the last wils of dead men to that use, should return to their heirs (as the common report goes).... Upon the ground neere the great door, is a stone, painted as if it were engraven, which painting is vulgarly called, _a la mosaica_, and upon this stone _Pope Alexander_ set his foot upon the necke of the Emperor _Frederick Barbaross_, adoring him after his submission. The outward part of the church is adorned with one hundred and forty eight pillars of marble, whereof some are ophytes, that is speckled, and eight of them are porphyry neere the great doore, which are highly esteemed. And in all places about the church, there be some six hundred pillars of marble, besides some three hundred in the caves under ground. Above these pillars on the outside of the church is an open gallery, borne up with like pillars, from whence the Venetians at times of feasts, behold any shewes in the market place. And above this gallery, and over the great door of the church, be foure horses of brass, gilded over, very notable for antiquity and beauty; and they are so set, as if at the first step they would leap into the market place. They are said to be made to the similitude of the horses of _Phœbus_, drawing the Chariot of the Sunne, and to have been put upon the triumphal arch of _Nero_, by the people of Rome, when he had overcome the Parthians.... Above this gallery the image of Saint _Marke_, of marble, and like images of the other Evangelists and of the Virgin _Mary_, and of the _Angel Gabriell_, are placed, and there is a bell upon which the houres are sounded, for the church hath his clock, though another very faire clocke in the market place be very neere.... I passe over the image of Saint _Marke_ of brass in the forme of a lion, guilded over, and holding a booke of brasse. Likewise the artificiall images of the Doctors of the Church, and others. I would passe over the image of the Virgin _Mary_, painted _a la mosaica_, that is as if it were engraven, but that they attribute great miracles to it, so as women desirous to know the state of their absent friends, place a wax candle burning in the open air before the image, and beleeve that if their friend be alive, it cannot be put out with any force of wind; but if he be dead, that the least breath of wind puts it out, or rather of it self it goes out: and besides for that I would mention that those who are adjudged to death, offer waxe candles to this image, and as they passe by, fall prostrate to adore the same. To conclude, I would not omit mention thereof, because all shippes comming into haven, use to salute this image, and that of Saint _Marke_, with pieces of ordinance, as well and more than the Duke. A merchant of _Venice_ saved from shipwracke, by the light of a candle in a darke night, gave by his last will to this image, that his heires for ever should find a waxe candle to burne before the same.... Touching the inside of the church: In the very porch thereof is the image of Saint _Marke_, painted with wonderfull art, and the Images of Christ crucified, of Him buried, and of the foure Evangelists, highly esteemed; besides many other much commended for the said painting like engraving, and for other workemanship. And there be erected foure great pillars of ophites, which they say were brought from the Temple of _Salomon_. At the entery of the doore, is an old and great sepulcher, in which lies the Duke _Marino Morosini_. Not far thence is the image of Saint _Geminian_ in pontificall habit, and another of Saint _Katherine_, both painted with great art. When you enter the body of the church there is the great altar, under which lies Saint _Marke_, in a chest of brasse, decked with images of silver guilded, and with plates of gold, and images enamelled, and with the image of Christ sitting upon a stately throne, adorned with pillars of most white marble, and many precious stones, and curiously engraven. At the back of this altar there is another, which they call the altar of the most Holy Sacrament, made of best marble, with a little doore of brasse, decked with carved images, and with foure pillars of alabaster, transparent as christall, and highly esteemed; and upon the same hang every day two lampes of copper: and at the times of feasts there hang two of pure silver.... At the entry of the chancell, is the throne of the dukes, make of walnut-tree, all carved above the head, and when the dukes sit there, it was wont to be covered with carnation satten, but now it is covered with cloth of gold, given by the King of Persia. There be two stately pulpits of marble, with histories carved in brass, where they sing the Epistles and Gospels. On the left hand by the altar of Saint _James_ is a place, where (if a man may beleeve it) the body of Saint _Marke_, by a crevice suddenly breaking through the marble stone, appeared in the yeere 1094, to certaine priests who had fasted and praied to find the same, the memory of the place where it was laied at the building of the church about 829 being utterly lost....

The foure square market place of _Rialto_ is compassed with publike houses, under the arches whereof, and in the middle part lying open, the merchants meet. And there is also a peculiar place where the gentlemen meet before noone, as they meet in the place of Sainte _Marke_ towards evening; and here to nourish acquaintance, they spend an houre in discourses, and because they use not to make feasts one to another, they keepe this meeting as strictly as merchants, lest their friendship should decay. The gold-smiths shoppes lie thereby, and over against them shoppes of jewellers, in which art the Venetians are excellent.... To conclude: this most noble city, as well for the situation, freeing them from enemies, as for the freedome of the Common-wealth, preserved from the first founding, and for the freedome which the citizens and very strangers have, to enjoy their goods, and dispose of them, and for manifold other causes, is worthily called in Latine _Venetia_, as it were _Veni etiam_, that is, _come again_.

FYNES MORYSON.

ADDRESSED TO VENICE

Fayre mayden towne that in rich _Thetis_ armes,
Hath still been fostered since thy first foundation.
Whose glorious beauty cals unnumbered swarmes
Of rarest spirits from each forrin nation,
And yet (sole wonder to all Europes eares,
Most lovely Nimph, that ever _Neptune_ got)
In all this space of thirteene hundred yeares,
Thy virgin state ambition ne’er could blot.
Now I prognosticate thy ruinous case;
When thou shalt from thy Adriatique seas,
View in this Ocean Isle thy painted face,
In these pure colours coyest eyes to please,
Then gazing in thy shadowes peerless eye,
Enamour’d like _Narcissus_ thou shalt die.

J. ASHLEY (1599).

SCENE IN VENICE

Black Demons hovering o’er his mitred head,
To Cæsar’s Successor the Pontiff spake;
‘Ere I absolve thee, stoop! that on thy neck
Levelled with earth this foot of mine may tread.’
Then he, who to the altar had been led,
He, whose strong arm the Orient could not check,
He, who had held the Soldan at his beck,
Stooped, of all glory disinherited,
And even the common dignity of man!--
Amazement strikes the crowd: while many turn
Their eyes away in sorrow, others burn
With scorn, invoking a vindictive ban
From outraged Nature; but the sense of most
In abject sympathy with power is lost.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

THE MARRIAGE OF VENICE WITH THE SEA

HOW THE CEREMONY WAS FIRST INSTITUTED

From Venice wee departed on the twentieth of August 1610, in the _Little Defence_ of London. The Venetians are Lords of this Sea, but not without contention with the Papacie. On Ascention Day, the Duke accompanyed with the Clarissimoes of that Signiory, is rowed thither in the Bucentoro, a triumphall Galley, richly, and exquisitely gilded: above a roome (beneath which they row) comprehending the whole length and breadth of the Galley; neere the poope a throne, and the rest accommodated with seates, where he solemnely espouseth the Sea: confirmed by a Ring throwne therein, the Nuptiall Pledge and Symboll of subjection. The Ceremonie received a beginning from the Sea-battell fought and wonne by the Venetians, under the conduct of Sebastiano Zani, against the forces of Fredericke Barbarossa, in the quarrell of Pope Alexander the Third. Who flying his furie in the habit of a Cooke repayred to Venice, and there long lived disguised in the Monastery of Charitie. Zani returning in triumph with the Emperours Sonne, was met by the Pope, and saluted in this manner: Here take, O Zani, this Ring of Gold, and by giving it to the Sea, oblige it unto thee. A ceremonie shall on this day bee yearly observed, both by thee and thy Successors, that Posteritie may know how you have purchast the Dominion thereof by your valours, and made it subject unto you, as a Wife to her Husband.

GEORGE SANDYS (1610).

THE DOGE OF VENICE GOES IN STATE

I was present at high mass this morning, October 6th, which annually on this day the Doge must attend, in the church of St. Justina, to commemorate an old victory over the Turks. When the gilded barks, which carry the princes and a portion of the nobility, approach the little square, when the boatmen, in their rare liveries, are plying their red-painted oars, when on the shore the clergy and the religious fraternities are standing, pushing, moving about, and waiting with their lighted torches fixed upon poles and portable silver chandeliers; then, when the gangways, covered with carpets, are placed from the vessels to the shore, and first the full violet dresses of the Savii, next the ample red robes of the Senators are unfolded upon the pavement, and lastly when the old Doge--adorned with his golden Phrygian cap, in his long golden _talar_ and his ermine cloak, steps out of the vessel--when all this, I say, takes place in a little square before the portal of a church, one feels as if one were looking at an old worked tapestry, exceedingly well designed and coloured. To me, northern fugitive as I am, this ceremony gave a great deal of pleasure. With us, who parade nothing but short coats in our processions of pomp, and who conceive nothing greater than one performed with shouldered arms, such an affair might be out of place. But these trains, these peaceful celebrations, are all in keeping here.

The Doge is a well-grown and well-shaped man, who, perhaps, suffers from ill health, but, nevertheless, for dignity’s sake, bears himself upright under his heavy robe. In other respects he looks like the grandpapa of the whole race, and is kind and affable. His dress is very becoming, the little cap, which he wears under the large one, does not offend the eye, resting as it does upon the whitest and finest hair in the world.

About fifty _nobili_, with long, dark-red trains, were with him. For the most part they were handsome men, and there was not a single uncouth figure among them. Several of them were tall with large heads, so that the white curly wigs were very becoming to them. Their features are prominent; the flesh of their faces is soft and white, without looking flabby and disagreeable. On the contrary, there is an appearance of talent without exertion, repose, self-confidence, easiness of existence, and a certain joyousness pervades the whole.

When all had taken their places in the church, and mass began, the fraternities entered by the chief door, and went out at the side door to the right, after they had received holy water in couples, and made their obeisance to the high altar, to the Doge, and the nobility.

GOETHE.

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC

Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;
And was the safeguard of the west: the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.

She was a maiden City, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And, when she took unto herself a Mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.

And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reached its final day:
Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which once was great, is passed away.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

VENETIAN DAMES

It was now Ascension Weeke, and the greate Marte or Faire of the whole yeare was now kept, every body at liberty and jollie. The noblemen stalking with their ladys on _choppines_; these are high-heel’d shoes, particularly affected by these proude dames, or, as some may say, invented to keepe them at home, it being very difficult to walke with them; whence one being asked how he liked the Venetian dames, replied that they were _mezzo carne, mezzo ligno_, half flesh, half wood, and he would have none of them. The truth is, their garb is very odd, as seeming allwayes in masquerade; their other habits are also totally different from all nations. They weare long crisped haire, of severall strakes and colours, which they make so by a wash, dishevelling it on the brims of a broade hat that has no head, but an hole to put out their heads by; they drie them in the sunne, as one may see them at their windows. In their tire they set silk flowers and sparkling stones, their peticoates coming from their very arme-pits, so that they are neere three-quarters and an half apron; their sleeves are made exceedingly wide ... and commonly tucked up to the shoulder, showing their naked armes, thro’ false sleeves of tiffany, girt with a bracelet or two, with knots of points richly tagged about their shoulders and other places of their body, which they usually cover with a kind of yellow vaile of lawn very transparent. Thus attir’d they set their hands on the heads of two matron-like servants or old women, to support them, who are mumbling their beades. ’Tis ridiculous to see how these ladys crawle in and out of their _gondolas_ by reason of their _choppines_, and what dwarfs they appeare when taken downe from their wooden scaffolds; of these I saw nearly thirty together, stalking half as high again as the rest of the world, for courtezans or the citizens may not weare _choppines_, but cover their bodies and faces with a vaile of a certaine glittering taffeta or lustreè, out of which they now and then dart a glaunce of their eye, the whole face being otherwise entirely hid with it; nor may the common misses take this habit, but go abroad bare-fac’d. To the corners of these virgin-vailes hang broad but flat tossells of curious Point de Venize; the married women go in black vailes. The nobility weare the same colour, but of fine cloth lin’d with taffeta in summer, and fur of the bellies of squirrels in the winter, which all put on at a certaine day girt with a girdle emboss’d with silver; the vest not much different from what our Bachelors of Arts weare in Oxford, and a hood of cloth made like a sack, cast over their left shoulder, and a round cloth black cap fring’d with wool which is not so comely; they also weare their collar open to shew the diamond buttons of the stock of their shirt. I have never seene pearles for colour and bignesse comparable to what the lady’s wear, most of the noble families being very rich in jewells, especially pearles.

JOHN EVELYN.

THE VENICE OF CARLO GOLDONI

A PRINCE AMONG WRITERS OF COMEDY