Venice

by Clara Erskine Clement Waters

Then, too, the "Anti-Doge" was always there,—the representative of the poor people, chosen by them, and usually the best gondolier among them. On some half-ruined boat he held a court of his fellows, all wearing masks. He had his own fifers, who fifed anything but well, and surrounded by hundreds of little boats he performed all sorts of buffoonish tricks,—now offering to tow the Bucentaur, again begging for a seat on the Ship of State, and all with most ridiculous gestures and in apparent good faith. Whatever he did was received with laughter and merriment, not only by his friends but by the patricians as well.

At length the castles of San Andrea and San Niccolo were reached; and just outside them the ring was dropped into the majestic Gulf of Venice. At this moment every sound was hushed. Each one of the vast throng desired to hear the words of the Sposalizio (marriage); and immediately following it the Patriarch of Venice returned thanks to the sea for all its blessings, and prayed for their continuance.

With the first buzz that indicated the close of these solemnities, the "Anti-Doge" cast an iron hoop into the water, and in a moment gayety reasserted itself. The return to Venice was in some sense a race for the smaller craft; the Bucentaur and the patrician boats were enlivened by songs and witty persiflage; and the whole evening was given up to merry-makings of various sorts.

Doubtless, in the earliest celebrations of this marriage there were those who shook their heads, looked solemn, and tried to be serious and even sad in the midst of the festivity, recalling and regretting the more simple celebration of Ascension Day, which had been good enough for their fathers, and was consequently fine enough for them. Such people exist everywhere and at all periods; but what was the difference?

At the end of the tenth century, and almost two hundred years before the visit of Pope Alexander, when, as the record says, "there was no custom of triumphs," Pietro Orseolo returned from his victorious expedition against the pirates and corsairs of Africa, who had been the scourge of all the coasts of the Adriatic. He had cleared the sea of robbers, and greatly extended the dominion of Venice.

For the first time a triumphal entrance was involuntarily made. The grateful populace surrounded the victor and attended him to the Great Council, where the most flattering praises were addressed to him, couched in magnificent words.

Orseolo had set out on his expedition on Ascension Day, and on its first anniversary the Feast of La Sensa was inaugurated. In a large barge, quite concealed by its covering of cloth of gold, the clergy in their richest vestments, wearing all the sacred jewels and ornaments, left the olive-groves of San Pietro in Castello, and at the Lido met the still more magnificent barge of the Doge. Then, as in later days, every sort of boat that could be used in all Venice was there, filled with all conditions of people.

The ceremony began with litanies and psalms, after which the Bishop rose and prayed aloud: "Grant, O Lord, that this sea may be to us and to all who sail upon it tranquil and quiet. To this end we pray. Hear us, good Lord." Then the singers intoned, Aspergi me, O Signor (Cleanse thou me, O Lord), while the two barges approached each other, and the Bishop sprinkled the Doge and the Court with holy water, and what remained was poured into the sea.

This simple religious rite, celebrated in the enchanting atmosphere of the lovely, blooming season of the year, must have deeply moved the hearts of those who went down to the sea in ships, as who did not in Venice? It was perfectly adapted to the initial years of a Republic when aristocratic rule was in its infancy; but two centuries later all was changed, and the Sposalizio was in accord with Ziani and his aims as truly as La Sensa represented Orseolo.

There are those who question all the story of the romantic incidents of Pope Alexander's visit to Venice. To them we would give the customary and most satisfactory answer of the Venetians: "Is it not depicted in the Hall of the Great Council? If it had not been true, our good Venetians would never have painted it."