The tomb of Dante is near the church of San Francesco. It is an uncouth shrine which covers the poet’s remains, but it ranks high among those of its class from more sincere motives than those which usually induce one to rave over more pompous and more splendid charms.
“Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar,”
sang Byron.
Northward from Ravenna, but in roundabout fashion whether one goes by road or rail is Comacchio. Comacchio is four kilometres from the Adriatic and forty-four from Ferrara. Ariosto called the inhabitants:—
“ . . . . . . .gente desiosa
Che il mar si turbi e sieno i venti atroci,”
but this need not deter the seeker after new sensations from going there to see them catch eels on a wholesale plan, and handle them afterwards in a manner of cleanliness and with a rapidity which is truly marvellous.
They are caught by wholesale, and a tagliatore armed with a useful-looking hatchet called a manarino chops them into pieces called morelli. After this the eels are cooked on a great open-fire spit and finally packed in boiling oil, like the little fishes of the Breton coast, and ultimately sold and served as hors d’œuvres in Italian restaurants the world over. North of Comacchio on the shore of a Venetian lagoon is Chioggia.
Chioggia has no great architectural or historical monuments, but is as paintable as Venice itself; indeed, it is a little brother to Venice, but lacking its splendour and great palaces. Its quay-side Madonna is venerated by all the fishing folk round about.
Venice early conquered Chioggia and in turn the Genoese came along and took it from their rival in 1379, though the Venetians within the year got it back again. With such a fate ever hanging over it, Chioggia had not great encouragement to build great palaces and so its inhabitants turned to fishing and have always kept at it.