After the Mass is over, the Doge returns to his Palace attended by the same Train that accompanied him to Church. When he has ascended the grand Stair-case of his Palace he seats himself in an Arm-Chair which is plac'd over-against the Stair-case. After he has sate a few Moments, he dismisses the Ambassadors and the other Persons of his Retinue, and retires to his Apartment.
Next to St. Mark's Church is the Doge's Palace, a vast Building, of which you will find a large Account in Misson's Travels.
The present Doge is Aloisio Mocenigo[163], a Prince as much to be respected for his Merit as for his Dignity. He is a Gentleman of great Sagacity, talks well, is very polite, and has infinitely more Generosity than is ascribed to those of his Country. He is a handsome Man, and has a noble Aspect that is improv'd by his white Locks of Hair which render him venerable. Before he was advanc'd to be a Doge, which was in 1722, he serv'd the Republic with distinction in quality of Generalissimo. The vain Honours which this new Dignity has procur'd him have not puff'd him up, and he seems to think them rather a Burden than a Pleasure. Before he came to be Doge he was the most sociable Nobleman at Venice, and he now sees more Company than ever his Predecessors did. He masks himself at publick Rejoicings, goes out every Night in a common Gondola without Guard or Retinue, and diverts himself at his Brother's. He has sometimes too been upon Terra Firma, not valuing it tho' he lost for a while all the Honours annexed to his Dignity as Doge; for you know that this Character does not go beyond the Lakes. He is oblig'd to be present at all the public Ceremonies, tho' very much against his Inclination and Temper, which is far more uniform than that of the other Italians.
The Ceremony in which he shines with the greatest Lustre, is that of marrying the Sea, which without dispute is one of the finest Shews in all the World. 'Tis perform'd on Ascension-Day, when the Doge, the Ambassadors, and the Senate ride out into the Adriatic on board a Vessel call'd the Bucentaur, attended by the State-Gondolas of the Ambassadors gilded, with a vast number of other Gondolas and Galleasses which surround the Bucentaur, the most stately Vessel that was ever built, and more magnificent than all that History (or
even Romance) tells us of the sumptuous Vessel of Cleopatra. When the Doge goes on board the Bucentaur he is saluted by the great Guns from the Galleys, the Men of War, and the Merchant-Ships in the Harbour; and while he performs the Ceremony of marrying the Sea by throwing in a Ring to denote the Sovereignty of the Republic over the Gulph, there's nothing heard but Kettle-Drums, Trumpets, and Concerts of Music, with the loud Acclamations of the People.
His Serene Highness marries two other Wives whom he maintains with as little Trouble as the Sea. They are the Abbesses of the Convents of the Virgin and St. Daniel. This Ceremony is perform'd upon St. Philip's Day, when the Doge in a Galeass accompany'd by the Ambassadors and the Senate, repairs with a great Train to those Convents which are situate on the Shore behind the Arsenal. The Prelate who officiates for the Day receives him at the Entrance of the Church, brings him the Holy Water, and conducts him to a Place prepared for him in the Choir where he assists at High Mass. Then he repairs to the Grate, in which there's a large Opening where the Lady Abbess appears with her Nuns. The Abbess addressing herself to the Doge intreats him to continue the Favour of his Protection to herself and the Nuns; to which the Doge returns answer, that she and all the Convent may depend upon his Good-Will. Then he turns about and walks on foot to the Convent of St. Daniel, where his Reception and Transaction are the same as at the Convent of the Virgin. These two Convents have very singular Privileges. The Abbesses have the Crosier-Staff, and both they and their Nuns depend solely upon the Doge, and not at all upon the Pope or the Court of Rome either in Spirituals or Temporals. They have good Revenues and live as much as can be at their Ease. The
Dress of these Nuns is rather gay than modest. Like the Nuns at Strasbourg they wear their Hair in Tresses: Their Petticoats are so short that you may see their Ancles; and instead of Stays they wear Jackets with short Skirts, which are very becoming to those that are of a good Shape. Their Necks are quite bare, only when they go into the Choir they cover them with Veils of fine white Wool, which trail on the ground. These Nuns are the Daughters of the Nobles, and enjoy great Liberty, more than I believe they have under their Father's Roof.
The Festival of St. Mark is always celebrated with very great Solemnity. On the Day preceding, the Doge accompany'd by the Ambassadors repairs with a great Train to St. Mark's Church, where he assists at the Vespers. Next Day the Confraternities, who are nine in number, meet at the Ducal Palace, accompany the Doge to Church in Procession, and are present at High Mass. After this the Doge returns to his Palace, and the Brotherhoods go round the Square. Each Society has magnificent Images, and two Canopies richly embroider'd with Gold and Silver; whose Poles or Supporters are of solid Silver. The Procession is clos'd by a Man dress'd in a Gown of red Damask, carrying a Pole with a moving Wheel at the end of it; which serves to support a gilt Lion surrounded with Laurel Branches, and little Standards of divers Colours. The Lion turns round incessantly, and the Man who carries it makes him leap, and play a hundred Gambols: He is surrounded with a Multitude of People, who cry out, God bless St. Mark. This Sight, how ridiculous soever, is nevertheless amusing, draws abundance of the Nobility to the Square, and on that Day every body is mask'd. After the Procession is over, the Maskers go to see the Doge's Table, who entertains
the Ambassadors and the Senate at Dinner, on a Table in form of a Horse-shoe; which is extravagantly adorn'd with Kickshaws, and Machines made of Starch, which are here call'd Triumphs. Nothing of the kind can be better executed, or more magnificent. As there is a great Apprehension of a Croud, all the Maskers are turn'd away at Dinner-time. They keep on their Masks all day long; and after Dinner all the Nobility, or to speak more properly, the whole City of Venice appears mask'd upon the Square of St. Mark; and indeed, for one who never saw it before, 'tis a remarkable fine Shew. What surpriz'd me, and if I may say it, made me laugh, was to see all the Maskers fall on their Knees at the Sound of the Angelus; you wou'd swear every body was in Rapture, yet every thing that goes before and that follows the Stroke of the Bell is not the most devout.