From the well-head, supplying all below,
Making the imperial city of the east,
Herself, his tributary.

ROGERS.

The traveller will find in these considerations a sufficient reason for regarding every quarter of Venice which reminds him of its former commerce with more than ordinary interest. It is hence that the Dogana comes in for its full share of respect in this city of merchants; and though it possess not so original a claim to notice as either the Rialto or the religious structures of Venice, it may give rise to recollections little less captivating. The means by which a number of mere fishermen, enjoying few or none of those advantages by which other communities have risen into notice, effected these objects, are well worthy of attention, and the history, consequently, of Venetian commerce has exercised the curiosity of many a talented antiquary. It is not the least surprising circumstance in the narrative, that their progress was made in the midst of domestic broils, and while they were exposed to the ferocious attacks of their piratical neighbours. In the middle of the tenth century, when they had acquired some degree of wealth and consideration, their situation may be learnt from the recital of an incident which still makes a figure in the chronicles of the republic.

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It was the custom of the principal citizens at that riod so to arrange their intended marriages, that several might take place at once. The time usually chosen for these public nuptials was some grand festival of the church, when the popular gaiety of the city and the

prayers of the faithful might combine with their own to hallow the happy ceremony. On the present occasion, the feast of the purification was appointed for the solemnization of the marriages, and on the eve of that day the intended brides repaired, according to custom, to the cathedral. A numerous band of the noblest and most beautiful of Venetian damsels accompanied them to the church, and before each was borne the casket of jewels, the rich vests, and other bridal presents, which they had received from their friends. But the city was scarcely hushed in repose, when a bark anchored close to the shore, and a body of corsairs from Trieste landed, and concealed themselves in the neighbourhood of the cathedral. With the first break of day, the city presented signs of the gay festival about to take place, and the sun had no sooner arisen than citizens of every rank and degree rushed to behold the highest born of their youth interchange their nuptial vows.

It was St. Mary's eve, and all pour'd forth
For some great festival. The fisher came
From his green islet, bringing o'er the waves
His wife and little one; the husbandman
From the firm land; with many a friar and nun,
And village-maiden, her first flight from home,
Crowding the common ferry. All arrived;
And in his straw the prisoner
So great the stir in Venice.

turn'd and listen'd,

Old and young

Throng'd her three hundred bridges; the grave Turk,

Turban'd, long-vested, and the cozening Jew,

In yellow hat and thread-bare gaberdine,

Hurrying along.

The lovers were speedily ranged round the altar;

parents and friends were preparing to give them their

final blessing, and the words of the priests were already mingling with those of the brides and bridegrooms, when suddenly a cry was heard at the door of the church; the gazing multitude fled in terror, and the pirates, with threatening aspects and naked swords, rushed up to the altar. The fathers and new-made husbands of the terrified girls, unprepared for such an interruption, were instantly dispersed; and the corsairs, seizing the damsels, with all their bridal treasures, bore them unopposed to their vessel. After the first stupor, which surprise and terror had occasioned, was over, the city resounded with clamour and lamentations :

Now hadst thou seen along that crowded shore
The matrons running wild, their festal dress
A strange and moving contrast to their grief;
And through the city, wander where thou wouldst,
The men half arm'd and arming-every where
As roused from slumber by the stirring trump;
One with a shield, one with a casque and spear;
One with an axe severing in two the chain
Of some old pinnace. Not a raft, a plank,
But on that day was drifting: in an hour
Half Venice was afloat. But long before,
Frantic with grief and scorning all control,
The youths were gone in a light brigantine,
Lying at anchor near the Arsenal;

Each having sworn, and by the holy rood,
To slay or to be slain.

The tumult at length reached the palace of the doge, Piero Candiano, who was distinguished for his courage, and the love he bore his people. No sooner, therefore, had he learnt the cause of the disturbance than he ordered some galleys to be manned, and putting himself at:

the head of a band of the boldest sailors, he instantly set sail in pursuit of the pirates. The most fearful anxiety reigned through Venice when they saw him depart-but terror was speedily exchanged for the most vivid delight. After a rapid pursuit, the doge had come up with the corsairs on the coast of Friuli, and there giving them battle had cut them nearly all in pieces, and delivered the brides in perfect safety from their hands. An annual festival was instituted in commemoration of this event.

Thus were the brides

Lost and recover'd; and what now remain'd

But to give thanks? Twelve breast-plates and twelve crowns, By the young victors to their patron saint

Vow'd in the field, inestimable gifts

Flaming with gems and gold, were in due time
Laid at his feet; and ever to preserve
The memory of a day so full of change,
From joy to grief, from grief to joy again,
Through many an age, as oft as it came round
'Twas held religiously. The doge resign'd
His crimson for pure ermine, visiting
At earliest dawn St. Mary's silver shrine;
And through the city, in a stately barge
Of gold, were borne with songs and symphonies
Twelve ladies, young and noble. Clad they were
In bridal white with bridal ornaments,

Each in her glittering veil; and on the deck,

As on a burnish'd throne, they glided by;

No window or balcony but adorn'd

With hangings of rich texture, not a roof
But cover'd with beholders, and the air
Vocal with joy.

Nothing can better prove the condition in which Venice must have long continued, when such a hardy

attempt could be made by a handful of men, carried to a successful termination.

and nearly

Nor are there wanting numerous incidents to prove, how fierce and turbulent a spirit ruled at Venice, while in all that regarded the increase of its wealth and commerce, the people were distinguished above every other in the world for prudence, regularity, and forbearance. Candiano the Fourth was the son of the third doge of that name, and his youth was disgraced by the most atrocious profligacy and violence. To the admonitions of his father he opposed the menaces and the swords of a desperate band of freebooting companions; and so intolerable at length became his conduct, that the people rose, and having seized him were about to inflict the summary punishment of death. From this danger, however, he was delivered by the entreaties of his father, and was sent into banishment; but even in his exile he continued to threaten his friends and countrymen with destruction. Providing himself with a vessel, he attacked every Venetian ship which came in his way, and his career as a pirate only ceased when his father died of a broken heart, occasioned by shame at the deeds of his son. "But how strange is the uncertainty of human passions," exclaims M. Daru; "this pirate, this madman, this exile, who they had sworn should never return, was the candidate who, in the election for doge, was called by their suffrages to the throne. Three hundred barks were sent to Ravenna to bring him home, and his return to Venice was a triumph."

A very short period, however, had passed before the new prince manifested all his former dispositions; and