SCENE IN VENICE

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

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

I was born at Venice, in the year 1707, in a large and beautiful house between the bridges of Nomboli and Donna Onesta, at the corner of the street Cà cent’anni, in the parish of St. Thomas. Julius Goldoni, my father, was born in the same city; but all his family were of Modena.

Venice is so extraordinary a city, that it is impossible to form a correct idea of it without seeing it. Maps, plans, models, and descriptions, are insufficient; it must be seen. All other cities bear more or less resemblance to one another, but Venice resembles none; and every time I have seen it after a long absence, it has been a new subject of astonishment and surprise for me. As I advanced in years, and my knowledge increased and furnished me with more numerous objects of comparison, I ever discovered new singularities and new beauties in it.

But I then saw it as a youth of fifteen, who could not be supposed to be struck with what in reality was the most remarkable, and who could only compare it with the small towns which he had lived in. What I was most astonished at was the surprising view which it presents on a first approach. On seeing the extent of small islands so close together and so admirably connected by bridges, we imagine we behold a continent elevated on a plain, and washed on every side by an immense sea which surrounds it.

This is not the sea, but a very extensive marsh more or less covered with water, at the mouth of several ports, with deep canals which admit large and small vessels into the town and its environs. If you enter by the quarter of St. Mark through a prodigious quantity of vessels of every description, ships of war, merchantmen, frigates, galleys, barks, boats, and gondolas, you land at the Piazzetta where in one direction you see the palace and the ducal church, which announce the magnificence of the republic, and in another, the place or square of St. Mark, surrounded with porticos from designs by Palladio and Sansovino.

In going through the streets where haberdashery goods are sold, you tread on flags of Istrian marble, carefully roughened by the chisel to prevent them being slippery. The whole quarter is a perpetual fair till you arrive at the bridge of a single arch, ninety feet in breadth, over the great canal, which, from its elevation, allows the passage of barques and boats in the highest tides, which offer three different roads to passengers, and which upholds twenty-four ships with lodgings, the roofs of which are covered with lead....

In Italy, their places of public amusement are called theatres. There are seven in Venice, each bearing the name of the titular church of its parish. The theatre of St. John Chrysostom was then the first in the town, where the grand operas were represented, where Metastasio opened his dramatical, and Farinello, Faustine, and Cozzoni their musical career. At present, the theatre of St. Benedict is highest in rank. The five other are St. Samuel, St. Luke, St. Angelo, St. Cassian, and St. Moses. Of these seven, two generally are dedicated to grand operas, two to comic operas, and three to plays.... There are none of them which have not had works of mine, and which have not contributed both to my honour and profit.

CARLO GOLDONI (1707-1793).