CHIOGGIA
This custom of spending the summer months in the suburbs of Venice was called "villeggiatura." It was one of the gayest times of the year for the Venetians. They lived by night. All day long they lay behind closed blinds, while the sun parched and baked the ground. Only from five o'clock in the afternoon until four in the morning could they be said to live. Then they held dances, card-parties, and flirtations. During these hours, when the temperature was low, amusement and pleasure reigned supreme; but no sooner did the sun begin to rise than, as surely as Cinderella disappeared at the stroke of twelve, the gay society of the Brenta vanished, and the place lay dead and silent once more under the intolerable glare.
How different society in Venice was in the early days! Then the houses were marvels of luxury; the finest wit, the most brilliant conversation, and the most delightful music were to be heard in Venice. It was not in the houses of the old aristocracy that the most brilliant people—painters, writers, poets, and politicians—assembled. It was in the houses of women who were looked upon as more or less shady persons, whom no Venetian gentleman would dream of introducing to his wife. The wives of the aristocracy were seldom seen except at public functions. They took much the same position in society as the "honoured interior" takes in Japan at the present day. (The geisha, although she is infinitely more entertaining, has no social status whatever.) The Venetian lady of quality, unlike the "honoured interior," dressed in the most magnificent style. In the estimate of her husband nothing was too gorgeous or too costly for her to wear. Among all those of the larger towns of northern Italy, Venetian women of the sixteenth century were the first to wear needle-point.
Although the ideal woman of that time had to be tall, a Venetian mother never troubled herself about the height of her daughter. At any moment she could transform the girl's dwarfish stature to that of a splendid giantess by the use of a pair of high pattens, which were unnoticed beneath the long stiff dress. Neither was the colour of the hair a source of inconvenience. Should a girl's locks be of a mousey nondescript shade, her mother, instead of using injurious dyes, made her daughter sit every day for three hours in the front balcony where the sun shone the brightest, dressed in a crownless hat, so that her tresses might be pulled through it, and a very broad brim, in order that her face should not be tanned. Then the damsel's maid would sit and comb her mistress's hair, bleaching in the sun. Girls were never dressed so richly as their mothers. In fact, the uniform dress was very simple, generally plain black or white. When they went to church they wore long white veils, or falzulo, and on ordinary occasions long gauzy silk ones, through which they could see, yet not be seen. On her marriage day the girl was first introduced into society, and saw the bridegroom for the first time. After marriage the rules which ordered her life were not nearly so restricting.
In 1614 certain regulations were passed with regard to dress and household extravagances—the amount of money to be spent on dress, liveries, gondolas, jewellery, feasts and entertainments, gold and silver plate, and even the dishes and the menus of dinner-parties. All these were limited.
The earliest nobility consisted of twenty-four families who ruled as tribunes over the twelve islands of the lagoons that formed the Venetian State. Some of these families are still represented in Venice. In the year 1296 a rigid and definite aristocracy was formed. Those who held chief places in the management of the State, whether they were noble or they had gained importance through their riches, determined to establish themselves as the permanent rulers of Venice, and to close the doors of office against all parvenus. Thenceforward only near relations of those who sat in the Great Council could be recognised as members of the caste. The twenty-four families, nevertheless, had distinction, and were called the "old houses." Admission to the Venetian nobility was rarely conferred on anyone save foreign princes or distinguished generals. Now and then, when the State was sorely in need of money, a Venetian family was ennobled; but for the most part the aristocracy guarded their privileges most zealously.
In the days of her decadence, in the eighteenth century, the tightly-laced, lackadaisical men and the hooped and brocaded women of Venetian society lived a curious, aimless, artificial life. Their greatest pleasure seems to have lain in gossiping, eating, drinking, and generally struggling to kill time. It was an inane life, frigid, without freedom, without heart, without strong emotion. All pleasures seem to have been carried out by rule. Even the laughter and the jokes were artificial. There can be but small wonder that society fell into broken fortunes.
The ideal nobleman of to-day is a stronger, more active, finer person altogether than his senatorial ancestor. His character is healthier. He adopts more or less a country life. He owns property on the mainland, and is very much occupied in trying to make it pay. He rears cattle, grows crops, makes wine on his own premises, is interested in silk-growing and in model farms, and competes for agricultural prizes offered by the Government. His Venetian palace does not interest him greatly. He spends a few months there in the season, gives one or two large entertainments, and is constantly making alterations and improvements; but his heart is in the country, and he leaves Venice for his rural palazzo on the slightest pretext. This Venetian noble of to-day thinks a great deal of himself. His temper is haughty, and there is no softness or geniality about him. Nevertheless, he is a decided improvement.
What society there is still to be found in Venice is constituted by foreigners, mainly English and American. One of the great things to be done is to take a gondola and go to the Canal of the Slaves, beyond the public gardens on the island of St. Peter—to the home of an old fisherman celebrated for his fish dinners. This fisherman's cottage is just as celebrated in Venice as the Trafalgar Hotel in London, or the Ship Tavern at Greenwich, or La Rapée in Paris. Here, however, is a more picturesque environment—boats drawn up on the yellow sand, nets stretched to dry in the sun, planks forming a landing-place in front of the houses—all is very simple. One eats the fish dinner in a garden, under an arbour shaded by vines, where flowers and edible vegetables grow in charming but ill-kept confusion. The host is jovial; his wife, a great authority, is the cheerful mother of many children.