Ofall the places where the CarnivalWas most facetious in the days of yore,For dance, and song, and serenade, and ball,And masque, and mime, and mystery, and moreThan I have time to tell now, or at all,Venice the bell from every citybore,—And at the moment when I fix my story,That sea-born city was in all her glory.They’ve pretty faces yet, those same Venetians,Black eyes, arch’d brows, and sweet expressions still;Such as of old were copied from the Grecians,In ancient arts by moderns mimick’d ill;And like so many Venuses of Titian’s(The best’s at Florence—see it, if ye will),They look when leaning over the balcony,Or stepp’d from out a picture by Giorgione,Whose tints are truth and beauty at their best;And when you to Manfrini’s palace go,The picture (howsoever fine the rest)Is loveliest to my mind of all the show;It may perhaps be also toyourzest,And that’s the cause I rhyme upon it so:’Tis but a portrait of his son, and wife,And self; butsucha woman! love in life!...I said that, like a picture by GiorgioneVenetian women were, and so theyare,Particularly seen from a balcony(For beauty’s sometimes best set off afar),And there, just like a heroine of Goldoni,They peep from out the blind, or o’er the bar;And truth to say, they’re mostly very pretty,And rather like to show it, more’s the pity!LORD BYRON.
Ofall the places where the CarnivalWas most facetious in the days of yore,For dance, and song, and serenade, and ball,And masque, and mime, and mystery, and moreThan I have time to tell now, or at all,Venice the bell from every citybore,—And at the moment when I fix my story,That sea-born city was in all her glory.They’ve pretty faces yet, those same Venetians,Black eyes, arch’d brows, and sweet expressions still;Such as of old were copied from the Grecians,In ancient arts by moderns mimick’d ill;And like so many Venuses of Titian’s(The best’s at Florence—see it, if ye will),They look when leaning over the balcony,Or stepp’d from out a picture by Giorgione,Whose tints are truth and beauty at their best;And when you to Manfrini’s palace go,The picture (howsoever fine the rest)Is loveliest to my mind of all the show;It may perhaps be also toyourzest,And that’s the cause I rhyme upon it so:’Tis but a portrait of his son, and wife,And self; butsucha woman! love in life!...I said that, like a picture by GiorgioneVenetian women were, and so theyare,Particularly seen from a balcony(For beauty’s sometimes best set off afar),And there, just like a heroine of Goldoni,They peep from out the blind, or o’er the bar;And truth to say, they’re mostly very pretty,And rather like to show it, more’s the pity!LORD BYRON.
Ofall the places where the Carnival
Was most facetious in the days of yore,
For dance, and song, and serenade, and ball,
And masque, and mime, and mystery, and more
Than I have time to tell now, or at all,
Venice the bell from every citybore,—
And at the moment when I fix my story,
That sea-born city was in all her glory.
They’ve pretty faces yet, those same Venetians,Black eyes, arch’d brows, and sweet expressions still;Such as of old were copied from the Grecians,In ancient arts by moderns mimick’d ill;And like so many Venuses of Titian’s(The best’s at Florence—see it, if ye will),They look when leaning over the balcony,Or stepp’d from out a picture by Giorgione,
They’ve pretty faces yet, those same Venetians,
Black eyes, arch’d brows, and sweet expressions still;
Such as of old were copied from the Grecians,
In ancient arts by moderns mimick’d ill;
And like so many Venuses of Titian’s
(The best’s at Florence—see it, if ye will),
They look when leaning over the balcony,
Or stepp’d from out a picture by Giorgione,
Whose tints are truth and beauty at their best;And when you to Manfrini’s palace go,The picture (howsoever fine the rest)Is loveliest to my mind of all the show;It may perhaps be also toyourzest,And that’s the cause I rhyme upon it so:’Tis but a portrait of his son, and wife,And self; butsucha woman! love in life!...
Whose tints are truth and beauty at their best;
And when you to Manfrini’s palace go,
The picture (howsoever fine the rest)
Is loveliest to my mind of all the show;
It may perhaps be also toyourzest,
And that’s the cause I rhyme upon it so:
’Tis but a portrait of his son, and wife,
And self; butsucha woman! love in life!...
I said that, like a picture by GiorgioneVenetian women were, and so theyare,Particularly seen from a balcony(For beauty’s sometimes best set off afar),And there, just like a heroine of Goldoni,They peep from out the blind, or o’er the bar;And truth to say, they’re mostly very pretty,And rather like to show it, more’s the pity!LORD BYRON.
I said that, like a picture by Giorgione
Venetian women were, and so theyare,
Particularly seen from a balcony
(For beauty’s sometimes best set off afar),
And there, just like a heroine of Goldoni,
They peep from out the blind, or o’er the bar;
And truth to say, they’re mostly very pretty,
And rather like to show it, more’s the pity!
LORD BYRON.
Littlegolden cloudlets, like winged living creatures, were hanging up in the rosy glow above Santa Maria della Salute, and all along the Grand Canal the crowded gondolas were floating in a golden haze, and all the westward-facing palace windows flashed and shone with an illumination which the lamps and lanterns that were to be lighted after sundown could never equal, burnt they never so merrily. It was Shrove Tuesday in Venice, Carnival time. The sun had been shining on the city and on the lagoons all day long. It was one of those Shrove Tuesdays which recall the familiarproverb—
‘Sunshine at Carnival,Fireside at Easter.’
‘Sunshine at Carnival,Fireside at Easter.’
‘Sunshine at Carnival,
Fireside at Easter.’
But who cares about the chance of cold and gloom six weeks hence when to-day is fair and balmy? A hum of joyous, foolish voices echoed from those palace façades, and floated out seaward, and rang along the narrow calle, and drifted on the winding waterways, and resounded under the innumerable bridges; for everywhere in the City by the Sea men, women, and children were making merry, and had given themselves up to a wild and childish rapture of unreasoning mirth, ready to explode into loud laughter at the sorriest jokes. An old man tapped upon the shoulder by a swinging paper lantern—a boy whose hat had been knocked off—a woman calling to her husband or her lover across the gay flotilla—anything was food for mirth on this holiday evening, while the great gold orb sank in the silvery lagoon, and all the sky over yonder Chioggia was dyed with the crimson afterglow, and the Chioggian fishing-boats were moving westward in all the splendour of their painted sails.
M. E. BRADDON.
I wasat three very solemne feasts in Venice; I meane not commessations or banquets, but holy and religious solemnities, whereof the first was in the Church of certaine Nunnes inSt.Laurence parish.... This was celebrated the one and thirtieth of July, being Sunday, where I heard much singular musicke. The second was on the day of our Ladies assumption, which was the fifth of August, being Fryday, that day in the morning I saw the Duke in some of his richest ornaments, accompanyed with twenty-sixe couple of Senators, in their damaske long-sleeved gownes, come to Sainte Marks. Also there were Venetian Knights and Ambassadors, that gave attendance upon him, and the first that went before him on the right hand, carried a naked sword in his hand. He himselfe then wore two very rich robes or long garments, whereof the uppermost was white, of cloth of silver, with great massy buttons of gold, the other cloth of silver also, but adorned with many curious workes made in colours with needle worke. His traine was then holden up by two Gentlemen. At that time I heard much good musicke in Sainte Markes Church, but especially that of a treble voill which was so excellent, that I thinke no man could surpasse it. Also there were sagbuts and cornets as atSt.Laurence feast which yeelded passing good musicke. The third feast was upon Saint Roches day, being Saturday and the sixth day of August, where I heard the best musicke that ever I did in all my life both in the morning and the afternoone, so good that I would willingly goe an hundred miles a foote at any time to heare the like. The place where it was, is neare to Saint Roches Church, a very sumptuous and magnificentbuilding that belongeth to one of the sixe Companies of the citie.... This building hath a marvailous rich and stately frontispice, being built with passing fair white stone, and adorned with many goodly pillars of marble. There are three most beautiful roomes in this building; the first is the lowest, which hath two rowes of goodly pillars in it opposite to each other which upon this day of Saint Roch were adorned with many faire pictures of great personages that hanged round about them, as of Emperours, Kings, Queenes, Dukes, Duchesses, Popes, etc. In this roome are two or three faire Altars: For this roome is not appointed for merriments and banquetings as the halles belonging to the Companies of London, but altogether for devotion and religion.... The second is very spacious and large, having two or three faire Altars more: the roofe of this roome, which is of a stately height, is richly gilt and decked with many sumptuous embossings of gold, and the walles are beautified with sundry delicate pictures, as also many parts of the roofe; unto this room you must ascend by two or three very goodly paire of staires. The third roome which is made at one corner of this spacious roome, is very beautifull, having both roofe and wals something correspondent to the other; but the floore is much more exquisite and curious, being excellently distinguished with checker worke made of several kinds of marble, which are put in by the rarest cunning that the wit of man can devise. The second roome is the place where this festivitie was solemnized to the honour of Saint Roch, at one end whereof was an altar garnished with many singular ornaments, but especially with a great multitude of silver candlesticks,in number sixty, and candles in them of virgin waxe. This feast consisted principally of Musicke, which was both vocall and instrumental, so good, so delectable, so rare, so admirable, so superexcellent, that it did even ravish and stupifie all those strangers that never heard the like. But how others were affected with it I know not; for mine owne part I can say this, that I was for the time even rapt up with Saint Paul into the third heaven. Sometimes there sung sixeteene or twenty men together, having their master or moderator to keepe them in order; and when they sung, the instrumentall musitians played also. Sometimes sixeteene played together upon their instruments, ten Sagbuts, foure Cornets, and two Violdegambaes of an extraordinary greatness; sometimes tenne, sixe Sagbuts and foure Cornets; sometimes two, a Cornet and treble violl. Of those treble viols I heard three severall there, whereof each was so good, especially one, that I observed above the rest, that I never heard the like before. Those that played upon the treble viols, sung and played together, and sometimes two singular fellowes played together upon Theorboes, to which they sung also, who yeelded admirable sweet musicke, but so still that they could scarce be heard but by those that were very neare them. Those two Theorbists concluded that night’s musicke, which continued three whole howers at the least. For they beganne about five of the clocke and ended not before eight. Also it continued as long in the morning: at every time that every severall musicke played, the Organs, whereof there are seven faire paire in that room, standing all in a rowe together, plaied with them. Of the singers there were three or foure so excellent that I thinke few or nonein Christendome do excell them, especially one, who had such a peerelesse and (as I may in a manner say) such a supernaturall voice for such a privilege for the sweetnesse of his voice, as sweetnesse, that I think there was never a better singer in all the world, insomuch that he did not onely give the most pleasant contentment that could be imagined, to all the hearers, but also did as it were astonish and amaze them.... Truely I thinke that had a Nightingale beene in the same roome, and contended with him for the superioritie, something perhaps he might excell him, because God hath granted that little birde such a priviledge for the sweetnesse of his voice, as to none other: but I thinke he could not much. To conclude, I attribute so much to this rare fellow for his singing, that I thinke the country where he was borne, may be as proude for breeding so singular a person as Smyrna was of her Homer, Verona of her Catullus, or Mantua of Virgil: But exceeding happy may that Citie, or towne, or person bee that possesseth this miracle of nature. These musitians had bestowed upon them by that of Saint Roche an hundred duckats. Thus much concerning the musicke of those famous feastes ofSt.Laurence, the Assumption of our Lady, and Saint Roche.
THOMAS CORYAT (1611).
I hadnow visited the rich Palace of the Doges, had wandered in the empty, magnificent halls; seen the chamber of the Inquisition, with the frightful picture of the torments of hell. I went through a narrow gallery, over a covered bridge, high upon the roof,above the canals on which the gondolas glided: this is the way from the Doge’s Palace to the prisons of Venice. This bridge is called the Bridge of Sighs. Close beside it lie the wells. The light of the lamps alone from the passage can force its way between the close iron bars into the uppermost dungeon; and yet this was a cheerful, airy hall, in comparison with those which lie lower down, below the swampy cellars, deeper even than the water outside in the canals; and yet in these unhappy captives had sighed, and inscribed their names on the damp walls.
‘Air, air!’ demanded my heart, rent with the horrors of this place; and, entering the gondola, I flew with the speed of an arrow from the pale-red old palace, and from the columns ofSt.Theodoret and the Venetian lion, forth over the living, green water to the lagoons and Lido, that I might breathe the fresh air of the sea,—and I found a churchyard.
Here is the stranger, the Protestant, buried, far from his native country,—buried upon a little strip of land among the waves, which day by day seem to rend away more and more of its small remains. The billows alone wept. Here often sat the fisherman’s bride or wife, waiting for the lover or the husband, who had gone out fishing upon the uncertain sea. The storm arose, and rested again upon its strong pinions; and the woman sang Tasso’s songs, and listened to hear whether the man replied. But Love gave no return in song; alone she sat there, and looked out over the silent sea. Then, also, her lips became silent; her eye saw only the white bones of the dead in the sand; she heard only the hollow booming of the billows, whilst night ascended over the dead, silent Venice.
The dark picture filled my thoughts, my whole state of mind gave it a strong colouring. Solemn as a church reminding of graves, and the invisible saints stood before me the entire scene. Flaminia’s words resounded in my ear, that the poet, who was a prophet of God, should endeavour only to express the glorification of God, and that subjects which tended to this were of the highest character. The immortal soul ought to sing of the immortal; the glitter of the moment changed its play of colour, and vanished with the instant that gave it birth.... I silently entered the gondola, which bore me toward Lido. The great open sea lay before me, and rolled onward to the shore in long billows. I thought of the bay of Amalfi.
Just beside me, among sea-grass and stones, sat a young man sketching, certainly a foreign painter; it seemed to me that I recognized him. I stepped nearer, he raised his head, and we knew each other. It was Poggio, a young Venetian nobleman.
‘Signore,’ exclaimed he, ‘you on Lido! Is it the beauty of the scene, or,’ added he, ‘some other beauty, which has brought you so near to the angry Adriatic?... Such a blue, billowy plain,’ said he, pointing to the sea, ‘is not to be found in Rome! The sea is the most beautiful thing on the earth! It is also the mother of Venus, and,’ added he, laughing, ‘is the widow of all the mighty Doges of Venice.’
‘The Venetians must especially love the sea,’ said I, ‘regarding it as their grandparent, who carried them and played with them for the sake of her beautiful daughter Venetia.’
‘She is no longer beautiful now; she bows her head,’ he replied.
‘But yet,’ said I, ‘she is still happy under her sway of the Emperor Francis.’
‘It is a prouder thing to be queen upon the sea than a Caryatide upon land,’ returned he. ‘The Venetians have nothing to complain about, and politics are what I do not understand, but beauty, on the contrary, I do; and if you are a patron of it, as I do not doubt but you are, see, here comes my landlady’s handsome daughter, and inquires whether you will take part in my frugal dinner.’
We went into the little house close by the shore. The wine was good, and Poggio most charming and entertaining....
‘You do not sing?’ asked the lady of the house from me, when we had done.
‘I will have the honour to improvise before you,’ said I, as a thought entered my mind.
‘He is an improvisatore,’ I heard whispered around me. The eyes of the ladies sparkled; the gentlemen bowed. I took a guitar, and begged them to give me a subject.
‘Venice!’ cried a lady, looking boldly into my eyes.
‘Venice!’ repeated the young gentlemen, ‘because the ladies are handsome!’
I touched a few chords; described the pomp and glory of Venice in the days of her greatness, as I had read about it, and as my imagination had dreamed of its being, and all eyes flashed; they fancied that it was so now. I sang about the beauty in the balcony in the moonlight night, and every lady imagined I meant it for her, and clapped her hands in applause.... I sang about the proud sea,—the bridegroom of Venice; about the sons of the sea,—the bold mariners and fishermen in their little boats. I described astorm; the wife’s and the bride’s longing and anxiety; described that which I myself had seen; the children who had let fall the holy crucifix, and clung to their mothers, and the old fisherman who kissed the feet of the Redeemer.... And now my heart was wonderously light; the empty canals of Venice and the old palaces seemed to me beautiful—a sleeping fairy world.
HANS ANDERSEN.
ThoughOrio had quadrupled the sum he had desired, all the treasures of the world were nothing to him without a Venice to spend them in. At that time love of country was a passion so strong, so powerful, that it influenced all hearts, the vilest as well as the noblest. And truly there was little merit in loving Venice then,—she was so beautiful, so powerful, so gay! She was such a bountiful mother to all her children; such a delightful lover of their glory! Venice gave such caresses to her triumphant warriors, such glowing praise for their bravery, such elegant and noble rewards for their prudence, such rare pleasures to recompense their slightest services! Nowhere else could one find such splendid feasts, enjoy such luxurious idleness, or plunge at will, to-day in a whirlwind of pleasure, to-morrow in voluptuous repose. Venice was the most beautiful city of Europe; the most corrupted and the most virtuous. The righteous could there be always good, the vicious always bad. It had sunshine for some, shade for others. While there were wise institutions and touching ceremonies to proclaim noble actions, there werealso caves, inquisitors and executioners, to maintain order and subdue dangerous passions. There were days of triumph and ovation for the virtuous, and nights of debauchery and excess for the vicious: and in no other part of the world were ovations so exciting, excesses so poetical. Venice was the natural country for all strong minds, good or evil. It was the undeniable fatherland of all who knew it.
GEORGE SAND.
Venice,Oct.10, 1739.
I likethis place extremely, and am of opinion you would do so too: as to cheapness, I think ’tis impossible to find any part of Europe where both the laws and customs are so contrived purposely to avoid expenses of all sorts; and here is a universal liberty that is certainly one of the greatestagrémensin life. We have foreign ambassadors from all parts of the world, who have all visited me. I have received visits from many of the noble Venetian ladies; and upon the whole I am very much at my ease here. If I was writing to Lady Sophia, I would tell her of the comedies and operas which are every night, at very low prices; but I believe even you will agree with me that they are ordered to be as convenient as possible, every mortal going in a mask, and consequently no trouble in dressing, or forms of any kind....
Venice,Oct.14, 1739.
I find myself very well here. I am visited by the most considerable people of the town, and all the foreign ministers, who have most of them made greatentertainments for me. I dined yesterday at the Spanish Ambassador’s, who even surpassed the French in magnificence. He met me at the hall-door, and the lady at the stair-head, to conduct me through the long apartment; in short, they could not have shown me more honours, if I had been an ambassadress. She desired me to think myselfpatrona del casa, and offered me all the services in her power, to wait on me where I pleased, etc. They have the finest palace in Venice. What is very convenient, I hear it is not at all expected I should make any dinners, it not being the fashion for anybody to do it here but the foreign ministers; and I find I can live here very genteelly on my allowance. I have already a very agreeable general acquaintance; though when I came, here was no one I had ever seen in my life, but the Cavaliere Grimani and the Abbé Conti. I must do them justice to say they have taken pains to be obliging to me. The Procurator brought his niece (who is at the head of his family) to wait on me; and they invited me to reside with them at their palace on the Brent, but I did not think it proper to accept of it. He also introduced to me the Signora Pisani Mocenigo, who is the most considerable lady here. The Nuncio is particularly civil to me; he has been several times to see me, and has offered me the use of his box at the opera....
Venice,Nov.6, 1739.
Upon my word, I have spoken my real thoughts in relation to Venice; but I will be more particular in my description, lest you should find the same reason of complaint you have hitherto experienced. It is impossible to give any rule for the agreeablenessof conversation; but here is so great a variety, I think ’tis impossible not to find some to suit every taste. Here are foreign ministers from all parts of the world, who, as they have no court to employ their hours, are overjoyed to enter into commerce with any stranger of distinction. As I am the only lady here at present, I can assure you I am courted, as if I was the only one in the world. As to all the conveniences of life, they are to be had at very easy rates; and for those that love public places, here are two playhouses and two operas constantly performed every night, at exceeding low prices. But you will have no reason to examine that article, no more than myself; all the ambassadors having boxes appointed them; and I have every one of their keys at my service, not only for my own person, but whoever I please to carry or send. I do not make much use of this privilege, to their great astonishment. It is the fashion for the greatest ladies to walk the streets, which are admirably paved; and a mask, price sixpence, with a little cloak, and the head of a domino, the genteel dress to carry you everywhere. The greatest equipage is a gondola, that holds eight persons, and is the price of an English chair. And it is so much the established fashion for everybody to live their own way, that nothing is more ridiculous than censuring the actions of another. This would be terrible in London, where we have little other diversion; but for me, who never found any pleasure in malice, I bless my destiny that has conducted me to a part where people are better employed than in talking of the affairs of their acquaintance. It is at present excessive cold (which is the only thing I have to find fault with); but in recompense we have aclear bright sun, and fogs and factions things unheard of in this climate....
Venice,June 1, 1740.
You seem to mention the regatta in a manner as if you would be pleased with a description of it. It is a race of boats: they are accompanied by vessels which they call Piotes, and Bichones, that are built at the expense of nobles and strangers that have a mind to display their magnificence; they are a sort of machines adorned with all that sculpture and gilding can do to make a shining appearance. Several of them cost one thousand pounds sterling, and I believe none less than five hundred; they are rowed by gondoliers dressed in rich habits, suitable to what they represent. There was enough of them to look like a little fleet, and I own I never saw a finer sight. It would be too long to describe every one in particular; I shall only name the principal:—the Signora Pisani Mocenigo’s represented the Chariot of the Night, drawn by four sea-horses, and showing the rising of the moon, accompanied with stars, the statues on each side representing the hours to the number of twenty-four, rowed by gondoliers in rich liveries, which were changed three times, all of equal richness, and the decorations changed also to the dawn of Aurora and the midday sun, the statues being new dressed every time, the first in green, the second time in red, and the last blue, all equally laced with silver, there being three races. Signor Soranzo represented the Kingdom of Poland, with all the provinces and rivers in that dominion, with a concert of the best instrumental music in rich Polish habits; the painting and gilding were exquisite in their kinds;Signor Contarini’s piote showed the Liberal Arts; Apollo was seated on the stern upon Mount Parnassus, Pegasus behind, and the Muses seated round him: opposite was a figure representing Painting, with Fame blowing her trumpet; and on each side Sculpture, and Music in their proper dresses. The procurator Foscarini’s was the Chariot of Flora guided by Cupids, and adorned with all sorts of flowers, rose-trees, etc. Signor Julio Contarini’s represented the Triumphs of Valour; Victory was on the stern, and all the ornaments warlike trophies of every kind. Signor Correri’s was the Adriatic Sea receiving into her arms the Hope of Saxony. Signor Alvisio Mocenigo’s was the Garden of Hesperides; the whole fable was represented by different statues. Signor Querini had the Chariot of Venus drawn by doves, so well done, they seemed ready to fly upon the water; the Loves and Graces attended her. Signor Paul Doria had the Chariot of Diana, who appeared hunting in a large wood: the trees, hounds, stag, and nymphs, all done naturally: the gondoliers dressed like peasants attending the chase: and Endymion, lying under a large tree, gazing on the goddess. Signor Angelo Labbia represented Poland crowning of Saxony, waited on by the Virtues and subject Provinces. Signor Angelo Molino was Neptune waited on by the Rivers. Signor Vicenzo Morosini’s piote showed the Triumphs of Peace; Discord being chained at her feet, and she surrounded with the Pleasures, etc....
I must say one word of the bichonis, which are less vessels, quite open, some representing gardens, others apartments, all the oars being gilt either with gold or silver, and the gondolier’s liveries either velvetor rich silk, with a profusion of lace, fringe, and embroidery. I saw this show at the Procurator Grimani’s house, which was near the place where the prizes were delivered: there was a great assembly invited on the same occasion, which were all nobly entertained.
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.
InVenice once they lived andloved—Fair women with their red-goldhair—Their twinkling feet to music moved,In Venice where they lived and loved,And all Philosophy disproved,While hope was young and life was fair,In Venice where they lived and loved.LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
InVenice once they lived andloved—Fair women with their red-goldhair—Their twinkling feet to music moved,In Venice where they lived and loved,And all Philosophy disproved,While hope was young and life was fair,In Venice where they lived and loved.LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.
InVenice once they lived andloved—
Fair women with their red-goldhair—
Their twinkling feet to music moved,
In Venice where they lived and loved,
And all Philosophy disproved,
While hope was young and life was fair,
In Venice where they lived and loved.
LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.