VENICE IN WAR TIME.
-VENICE was, presumably, the first Italian town to feel the shock of the present conflict, for within three hours
of Italy's declaration of war two Austrian aeroplanes were hovering over the city, dropping bombs not only near the Arsenal—a legitimate objective in the new circumstances— but also in the vicinity of historic treasures, precious alike to Italy and to the whole civilized world.
The Venetians accepted this first aerial attack on the morning of May 24th with equanimity, not to say indiffer
ence, and it did practically no damage. On the night of May 28th, however, a second raid oacurred, which, in spite of the presence of French and Italian aviators, who had in the meantime arrived, proved to be a complete surprise, for the Austrians succeeded in discharging their first bomb before the warning siren was sounded, although it was a bright moonlight night.
With the fate of Louvain, Reines, Arras, and Ypres fresh in
their memory, the Venetians were prompt in recognizing the perils to which their city, once "the admiredest &tie in the world," was exposed. Consequently the protective measures undertaken have been very extensive and very rapidly executed. The most valuable works of art have been taken away from the Palazzo Ducal°, the Masco Civics), and the Galleria di Belle Arti, while others have been suitably screened. The copper roof of the Campanile has been painted white and the figure shrouded. "That stately symbol of a proud tradition," the Doge's Palace, has been strengthened by the addition of interjacent brickwork supports; the bronze horses, returned from Paris just a century ago, have been removed from San Marco, the interior of which is covered with sandbags, the pillars being protected with wood and the statues swathed in canvas. These are but a few instances of the protective methods adopted generally throughout the city. It is perhaps hardly necessary to add that they are in no way connected with military defenee, and that the German allegations of the Campanile being used as a watch-tower are without foundation.
Although the general aspect of the city remains unchanged, these very necessary precautions have naturally done much to disfigure many of her monuments. Such disfigurations are only too obvious by day, and notwithstanding that the port is closed to commerce, the rush and bustle of military and naval movement disturb the normally;peaceful appearance of the Lagoon and the Grand Canal. As night closes in, however, they become almost imperceptible, and possibly the Queen of the Adriatic has never looked more lovely than now when, undisturbed by any light of human making, the moon sheds her cool beams, bathing water and buildings in the whiteness of virgin snow. The effect is, perhaps, most striking on the Piazza and along the Riya degli Schiavoni ; but it is not less fascinating in the interior of the city, along the narrow cal with their contrasts of light and shade ; while at the Rialto, Goldoni, from his pedestal, seems to be quietly amused at the admiration evoked by a sight which in his day must have been familiar. And ordinarily the silence reigning over the shadowy, phantom-like city is complete save when the shout of the sentinels rings out clearly from the house-tops : "All' aria, buena ! " At timea, however, this silence has been rudely broken by attacks from the air. "Lo spettacolo degli neroplani" has become almost popular with the Venetians, for the flight of this modern destructive machine over the old-world city presents a contrast full of fascination, despite the fusillade with which it is received, the crackling of machine.guns and rifles and the fall of shrapnel. So far from complying with the instructions issued, the people invariably rush out of doors to witness these attacks, and the fact that they have been accepted without the slightest sign of panic must probably be attributed to the little damage done, to the imposing spectacle of a battle in the air, but mainly to the character of the Venetians themselves, who are inclined to take nothing seriously—possibly a weakness in peace time, but a good stand-by in war. Monnier regarded Venice as "is fontaine du fire"; " quella zente eke git in boon 'I riso," wrote one of her oldest poets. It would be wrong to conclude, however, from this outward and apparent lightness of heart that the Venetians do not 'appreciate the true significance of the present world-wide 'struggle, and that they are not prepared to contribute their share to bring it to a successful conclusion. As a matter of fact, here, where the Austrian yoke was most severely felt, enthusiasm for the war and the desire for revenge are possibly stronger than in other parts of Italy, and, whatever may be the future of the Dalmatian coast, the Venetians are clearly determined to bring relief to their nationals in Trieste and Treutino. This determination finds expression in many ways other than that of actual fighting. " Quando seoppia in guerra," wrote Gustavo Modena in 1848, "gli uomini prericlono 11 fucile, le donne preparano filacce." Here, as elsewhere, all are doing their utmost in war work of one kind and another, while most of the hotels and many private houses have been turned into hospitals. And this state of war has possibly rendered Venice more thoroughly Venetian than she has been for many a day, owing to the practically total absence of any foreign element. On the one hand, the wealthier Venetians, who in ordinary years retire at this season to their country -villas in order to escape the enervating effect of the sirocco, have remained in the city. On the other, the annual invasion of German and Hungarian tourists has not taken place. While from an aesthetic standpoint the absence of the latter is a distinct gain, economically it has necessarily involved considerable loss. Its ultimate effect, however, promises to be beneficial, for it has already awakened many traders to the disastrous policy of depending too entirely on forestierl, and may possibly lead to a revival of Venetian industries and induce Venice to assume her proper place as Italy's second port.
The Lido has for centuries been so closely connected with the history of Venice that its development in recent years as a health and pleasure resort has frequently been regarded locally as a departure from Venetian tradition. It is familiar in Venetian history as the point of departure and arrival of the Fleet during the Crusades and the struggle of centuries with the Turks. It was strongly fortified, and formed the quarters of the garrison, The bones of St. Mark were landed here in 829, and hero was performed the annual ceremony of the well-known " Sposalizio del Mare." The Lido was the scene of the reception of foreign Princes, the pomp of which was so favourite a subject with the chroniclers, and the most gorgeous of which was probably that of Henry of 'Valois in 1574 on his way to assume the crown of Prance. It was also the scene in 1797 of the incident with "Le Liberateur d'Italie," which led to the overthrow of the Republic by Napoleon. By reason of these and other events, the Lido has always possessed for the Venetians an historical attraction wholly different in character from that sentimental fascination which it offered to foreign visiters like Goethe and Wagner, Byron and Shelley, Alfred de Musset and George Sand. For them it was the scene of official ceremonies and warlike preparations, 'marking the rise and decline of the ancient Republic, and it was never associated with the more intimate joys and sorrows of their domestic life. Consequently the transformation of this historic spot into a pleasure resort appeared to many to be an act of desecration, more especially to those who detected in the German hotels and villas, which sprang up everywhere, the outcome of that commercial invasione tedesca which had obtained so firm a footing in Venice itself. With the advent of war, however, such criticism has for the nonce been set at rest, for the Lido has resumed its historic roe. Its dwellings are desolate, its stabilimenti closed, its beach deserted. The fortifications have been strengthened, and with Malamocco it has again become, as in earlier days, the headquarters of the Fleet and the chief station for submarine's and aircraft.
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