Blackwoods Edinburgh Magazine | Page 2

order that," says an old chronicler of the time, "the heat
being less great at those seasons, the blood of the combatants should
not become too heated and the fight too dangerous." "Also on cloudy
days," says the same authority, "that the spectators might not be
molested by the sun; and on Sundays or Saints' days, that the people
thereby might not be hindered from their occupations." On these
occasions one of the numerous bridges was selected as the scene of the
mock combat that constituted the chief amusement of the day. The
quays afforded good standing-room to the spectators; and here, under
the inspection of ædiles appointed by the people, the two parties met,
and disputed for supremacy in a battle, in which, however, no more
dangerous weapons than fists were allowed to be brought into play.
It was not the populace alone that divided itself into these two factions.
Accordingly as the palaces of the nobles stood on the one or the other
side of the canal, were their owners Castellani or Nicolotti, although
their partizanship existed but in jest, and only showed itself in the form
of encouragement to their respective parties; whereas with the lower
orders the strife, begun in good-humour, not unfrequently turned to
bitter earnest, and had dangerous and even fatal results. In the wish,
however, to keep up a warlike spirit in the people, and perhaps still
more with a view to make them forget, in a temporary and boundless

license, the strict subjection in which they were habitually held, the
senate was induced to permit the continuance of a diversion, which
from the local arrangements of Venice, the narrowness of the streets
and bridges, and the depth of the larger canals, was unavoidably
dangerous, and almost invariably attended with loss of life.
Hastily dressing himself, Antonio hurried into his gondola in order to
proceed to the bridge of San Barnaba, opposite to the church of the
same name and to the Foscarini palace, that being the spot appointed
for the combat. The canal of the Giudecca was one black mass of
gondolas, which rendered even a casual glimpse of the water scarcely
obtainable; and it was amidst the cries of the gondoliers and the noise
of boats knocking against each other, that the young painter passed the
Dogana and reached the grand canal. There the crowd became so dense,
that Jacopo, seeing the impossibility of passing, turned aside in time,
and making a circuit, entered the Rio de San Trovaso, whence, through
innumerable narrow canals, he succeeded in reaching the scene of the
approaching conflict.
The combatants were attending mass, and had not yet made their
appearance. Wonderfully great, however, was the concourse of
spectators already assembled. Since sunrise they had been thronging
thither from all sides, eager to secure places which might afford them a
good view of the fight. Every roof, gable, and chimney had its
occupants; not a projection however small, not a wall however lofty
and perilous, but was covered with people, for the most part provided
with baskets of provisions, and evidently determined to sit or stand out
the whole of the spectacle. In the anxiety to obtain good places, the
most extraordinary risks were run, and feats of activity displayed. Here
might be seen individuals clambering up perpendicular buildings, by
the aid of ledges and projections which appeared far too narrow to
afford either grasp or foot-hold; further on, some herculean gondolier
or peasant served as base to a sort of human column, composed of five
or six men, who, scrambling over each other's shoulders, attained in
this manner some seemingly inaccessible position. The seafaring habits
of the Venetian populace, who were accustomed from boyhood to
climb the masts and rigging of vessels, now stood them in good stead;
and notwithstanding all the noise, confusion, and apparent peril, it was
very rarely that an accident occurred.

Under the red awnings covering the balconies and flat roofs of the
palaces, were seated groups of ladies, whose rich dresses, glittering
with the costliest jewels and embroideries, appeared the more
magnificent from being contrasted with the black attire of the grave
patricians who accompanied them. But perhaps the most striking
feature of this striking scene was to be found in the custom of masking,
then almost universal in Venice, and the origin of which may be traced
in great part to dread of the Inquisition, and of its prying enquiries into
the actions and affairs of individuals. Amidst the sea of faces that
thronged roofs, windows, balconies, streets, and quays, the minority
only were uncovered, and the immense collection of masks, of every
form and colour, had something in it peculiarly fantastic and unnatural,
conveying an impression that the wearers mimicked human nature
rather than belonged to it.
Venice, whose trade