Chapter 8

"The fisher came
From his green islet, bringing o'er the waves
His wife and little one; the husbandman
From the firm land, with many a friar and nun.
And village maiden, her first flight from home,
Crowding the common ferry."
ROGERS.

A brighter day than that which succeeded the night last mentioned never
dawned upon the massive domes, the gorgeous palaces, and the glittering
canals of Venice. The sun had not been long above the level of the Lido
before the strains of horns and trumpets arose from the square of St.
Mark. They were answered in full echoes from the distant arsenal. A
thousand gondolas glided from the canals, stealing in every direction
across the port, the Giudecca, and the various outer channels of the
place; while the well known routes from Fusina and the neighboring isles
were dotted with endless lines of boats urging their way towards the
capital.

The citizens began to assemble early, in their holiday attire, while
thousands of contadini landed at the different bridges, clad in the gay
costumes of the main. Before the day had far advanced, all the avenues
of the great square were again thronged, and by the time the bells of
the venerable cathedral had finished a peal of high rejoicing, St.
Mark's again teemed with its gay multitude. Few appeared in masks, but
pleasure seemed to lighten every eye, while the frank and unconcealed
countenance willingly courted the observation and sympathy of its
neighbors. In short, Venice and her people were seen, in all the gaiety
and carelessness of a favorite Italian festa. The banners of the
conquered nations flapped heavily on the triumphal masts, each
church-tower hung out its image of the winged lion, and every palace was
rich in its hangings of tapestry and silk, floating from balcony and
window.

In the midst of this exhilarating and bright spectacle was heard the din
of a hundred thousand voices. Above the constant hum, there arose, from
time to time, the blasts of trumpets and the symphonies of rich music.
Here the improvisatore, secretly employed by a politic and mysterious
government, recounted, with a rapid utterance, and in language suited to
the popular ear, at the foot of the spars which upheld the conquered
banners of Candia, Crete, and the Morea, the ancient triumphs of the
Republic; while there, a ballad-singer chanted, to the greedy crowd, the
glory and justice of San Marco. Shouts of approbation succeeded each
happy allusion to the national renown, and bravos, loud and
oft-repeated, were the reward of the agents of the police, whenever they
most administered to the self-delusion and vanity of their audience.

In the meantime, gondolas rich in carvings and gildings, and containing
females