Life on the Lagoons

Front matter

LIFE ON THE LAGOONS {Frontispiece. THE LION OF ST. MARK. LIFE ON THE LAGOONS BY HORATIO F. BROWN LONDON KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO., i, PATERNOSTER SQUARE Of the following papers, thirteen, including those entitled "Sant' Elena " and " San Martino di Castrozza," appeared first in The Pall Mall Gazette, one in The Gentleman 's Magazine, and one in The Daily News. To the proprietors of these, thanks are due for their permission to reprint. (The rights qf translation and of reproduction are reserved. ) TO MY GONDOLIER, ANTONIO SALIN, MY CONSTANT COMPANION IN VENICE AND VENETIA. CONTENTS. PAGE Proem: A Rhapsody of Venice: "Mi Chiama il Mare" i Introduction ... ... ... ... ... ... 17 The Lagoons ... ... ... ... ... 26 A Ghost Story of the Lagoons ... ... ... 40 Fusina ... ... ... ... ... ... 46 The Brenta ... ... ... ... .. ... 52 Floods on the Mainland ... ... ... ... 60 Floods in the City ... ... ... ... ... 66 The Casa degli Spiriti ... ... ... ... 71 Sant' Elena ... ... ... ... ... ... 76 Malamocco ... ... ... ... ... 83 Burano ... ... ... ... ... ... 9° The Gondola ... ... ... ... ... 96 The Traghetti ... ... ... ... ... 117 A Strike among the Gondoliers ... ... ... 143 Padroni ... ... ... ... ... ... 148 A Gondoliers' Bank ... ... ... ... 163 The Lottery ... ... ... ... ... ... 170 Osele ... ... ... ... ... ... 178 Sails and Sailmaking ... ... ... ... 188 Processions ... ... ... ... ...

PROEM. A RHAPSODY OF VENICE : " MI CHIAMA IL MARE." I. " Il mare lo chiama " (the sea is calling it), said Antonio, as the Brenta bore our light boat fast down the stream from Padua to the sea. The sea was calling the river and us back to its breast ; and we went gladly. The day before, we had rowed from Venice to Padua, slowly and toilfully against the current ; passing the ruined villa of Malcontenta ; passing Oriago and Mira ; passing Dolo, with its tall campanile ; passing Stra and the Pisani's Villa, now a royal lodge ; the long water plants, lilies and ranunculus, tangled the oars ; the glossy violet-winged swallows darted about the bow. Venice lay behind us, but her voice was in our ears, calling as she always calls to those who turn away from her. We slept in Padua, and trod B LLFE ON THE LAGOONS. its narrow and arcaded streets, and strolled about Saint Anthony's church, with its silent, cloistered gardens and its Oriental groups of minarets and domes ; and now the brown floods of the Brenta were bearing us away to Brondolo and the sea.

The reaches opened out before us ; broad water avenues stretch ing continually on, mile upon mile ; either bank bordered with an undergrowth of wood just bursting into bud ; here and there a clump of poplars, voiceful with nightingales. Absolute silence over the water levels, save for the song of the birds and the regular splash of the oars. So we rowed on in silence. Each corner that was gained and turned showed us the Brenta making some new stretch for home. Then Brondolo at last ; and through the lock we went, with a crowd of Chioggian market-boats, that jostled each other and us, while the men who lay on the top of the cabbage piles, smoked with the deliberate passion of the Chiozzotto for his pipe and chaffed good humouredly. The gates were opened and we passed into the sea. There was " a breath of Venice in the breeze ; " the odour of the lagoons, clear and pungent ; a scent that seems to penetrate the being, to reach the very heart, and charms it to surrender.