At one end of the calle a shrine is erected representing a temple, each part of which—pillars, pediment, and so on—is outlined by small lamps; while in the centre of the shrine there is a gas-jet with its paler light. A crowd gathers before the little temple waiting for the music to begin, while every window within hearing distance is open and filled with listeners, who meantime gossip with the people in the street. Somewhere in the calle there is sure to be a Madonna and Infant Jesus, who have on this day been carefully cleaned and trimmed with wreaths of flowers, long sprays of graceful vines, and bits of ribbon.
When the leader of the singers begins the chant, all other sounds are hushed. Even the children know that they must now be quiet. The key-note being thus given, other voices join in; and each verse requires about three minutes for its rendering, and between the verses there is a pause of five or six minutes, when the chatter of the men and women and the pranks of the children are resumed, until again cut short by the voice of the leader. This is repeated until the twenty-four verses of sombre chant are sung in a manner much resembling ordinary psalm-singing elsewhere.
The music over, the evening ends, as do all Venetian celebrations, with a supper at the nearest wine-shop. This singular observance of a day so sadly solemn elsewhere makes a curious impression at first on strangers who witness it, and is perhaps the most characteristic of all the public customs that one can observe in Venice.
CHAPTER VI.
GRADENIGO, TIEPOLO, AND THE COUNCIL OF TEN.
A new era was inaugurated in Venice by the fall of Constantinople. Prosperous and powerful as the Republic had previously been, it now sprang, as if by magic, into a position of which her most ambitious and far-seeing statesmen could not have dreamed.
A little more than a quarter of a century had elapsed since the visit of Pope Alexander, at which time sixty-five thousand was the highest estimate that could be made of her population; now, at the end of the Fourth Crusade, her nominal sovereignty embraced millions of souls, and the actual numbers within the borders of the Republic itself had vastly increased. The new territory and the various rights and privileges which she had acquired in the Lower Empire had largely increased her commerce and the sources of her wealth, and she hastened to make all these advantages permanent by a liberal and wise system of colonization.
At the beginning of the thirteenth century the Venetian nobility was the most powerful and opulent class in the world, as well as the most polished and enlightened, and were everywhere held in the highest consideration as men, soldiers, and diplomats. In the history of the Republic one fact stands forth prominently,—the devotion of Venetians to Venice,—devotion to the Republic, and to her elevation to the highest ideal of which they could conceive. To this end her sons directed all their powers, and were willing to sink their personality in her aggrandizement.