And now we are in the broadest street of Venice, the Via Garibaldi. It leads to the Giardini Pubblici, which is a park rather than a garden, and was made by Napoleon in 1807. The space was gained by the destruction of four churches, as many monasteries, and a hundred houses, none of which are now missed. It is a pleasant place to take luncheon, with a lovely panorama before us, to which the boats and their ever-fascinating sails give life and cheerfulness. Beyond the canal of the Giudecca rises the dome of the Redentore; the square tower of the Dogana and the cupolas of the Salute make a striking effect against the cloudless sky; well round to the right we see the top of the Campanile behind the Ducal Palace, and before us, the island of San Giorgio Maggiore, with its picturesque church and fine clock-tower, seems very near.
Undoubtedly, all this is best at sunset with the golden west for a background; indeed, few points are so favorable for watching the glorious death of day, especially if one lingers while the fires die out and even the more delicate tints fade away. Then a mysterious indistinctness steals over all the distant objects, but now so clearly cut against the flaming sky. There was a reality and emphasis about these towers and spires, the canals, and all the moving objects that made them a part of a work-a-day, practical world, but in the dusky twilight the outlines run together; we see and do not see the true forms of the various parts of Santa Maria della Salute, but a beautiful whole remains; even the nearer San Giorgio becomes mysterious; the smaller features disappear, while the whole is profoundly impressive and grand, seeming to clothe itself with the night, as if retiring into its own world of peaceful and solemn repose.
But at whatever hour one comes, this garden seems deserted, except on the one September Monday when it is the custom to picnic here. To-day we leave it quite empty, and walk along the Riva of the Rio di Sant'Anna, making our way to the calle larga and the bridge which connects Venice with the island called San Pietro, or Olivolo, or Quinta Valle. Early in the history of Venice this island became important; and the first large church of the Republic, built here among the olives, was made the patriarchal church, and so continued until Napoleon bestowed that honor on San Marco, and converted the patriarchal palace of San Pietro into a barrack. After 766 the Bishop of Olivolo was an important man; he could not have been very wealthy, since his income depended on the mortuary tax, from which he was called Vescovo de' Morti (the Bishop of the Dead), and on an annual poll-tax of three hens from the people of a certain district.
One evening in June, 836, as the Doge Badoer III. was leaving San Pietro after vespers, unattended, as was his custom, he was seized by a number of bravoes, who compelled him to submit to the tonsure and then hurried him to a neighboring convent, where he was securely lodged. To kidnap a Doge of Venice was a most high-handed and extraordinary proceeding, and it is gratifying to know that his enemy who caused it to be done, was not elected to fill the vacancy he had created.
It was also at San Pietro di Castello, as the church came to be called, that the "Brides of Venice" were wed. By ancient custom, on Saint Mary's Eve, January 31, twelve poor virgins, endowed by the Republic, came here with their lovers, parents, kinsfolk, and friends; the brides were dressed in white with their hair hanging loosely about the shoulders, and each one with her dower in a little box suspended by a ribbon around her neck. Many boats dressed with flags and flowers bore the happy company over the canals towards Olivolo.
The Doge and the chief officers of State assisted at the ceremony, and the Bishop preached a sermon and pronounced a blessing on all these fortunate young people, who went away wedded and joyous. But in 939 a most unhappy interruption occurred. The pirates of Trieste, who knew all about this wholesale wedding, hid themselves near by until all the assembly had entered the church, and then, rushing in, just as the brides were to be given away, they seized them, even at the foot of the altar, and before the Venetians could comprehend the danger, the maidens were in the barks of the pirates and sailing towards Trieste!
No such outrage as this had ever been perpetrated in Venice, and the Doge Sanudo II. summoned the people to arms with the bell of the Campanile. The trunk-makers offered their boats, which were near at hand, and the Doge with the lovers and friends of the brides were soon in hot pursuit, and erelong hundreds of other boats followed. They soon overtook the Istrians, and killed almost every one of them in the conflict which ensued. The rescued brides were taken back to the usual festivities of the evening, which were greatly enhanced by their gratitude at being delivered from the unusual dangers that had threatened them.
After this episode the Festa delle Marie was established. Twelve dolls were dressed in bridal costume, and carried around the Piazza in procession; but this dumb show did not satisfy the Venetians, and was soon replaced by a solemn procession of twelve virgins attended by the Doge and the clergy. They paid a visit of ceremony to the parish of Santa Maria Formosa, where the trunk-makers who originated this festa welcomed them most hospitably. Tradition says that when these men requested the Doge to institute this Andata, he asked,—
"And what if it should rain?"