The Sun.
London, England, 1860-08-22 00:00:00

VENICE.

Galignani contains the following letter, which
gives a graphic account of the present social and
political aspect of the Queen of the Adriatic :
" The movement now going on in the south of
Italy cannot but have great effect on the Venetian
provinces ; and it is as well to inform you as to the
probable results, for blindly to deceive by drawing
a pleasing picture of contentment and happiness is
useless and unprofitable. If any traveller who has
just done' Rome, and is taking the Italian circuit
before returning to his native country, should
chance to visit Venice, his impression will be the
following I never was in a more quiet city in
my life ; it is dull, very dull, but as to any signs
of discontent none exist, and even Lord Elcho him.
self, whose acquaintance was confined to the Aus-
trians, or the few Austrian Italians, was led into
the same error. Now, as no Venetian will trust
any man whom he does not know well, so the
stranger will never hear the truth, and the Vene-
tian Gazette no more dares to mention the nightly
arrests than it does to recommend wholesome and
useful reforms. The stranger therefore betakes him-
self in the cool of the evening to the Piazza San
Mario, lolls in luxury either at the Café Speechi,
Florian, Suttilo, or any other—even the Quadri—
and there, to the sound of beautiful music, played
by one of the finest bands in Europe—for none can
surpass the Austrian in that respect—he takes his
ice or his coffee, smokes his cigar, and puffs out his
sorrows or his cares in the balmy air of an Adriatic
breeze. The stranger is driven to this—for there
are no theatres open—and as he knows no one, he
speaks to no one ; and his neighbour in the next
chair, a spy, a sure spy of the police, has an impro-
visatore talent of an Italian to fill up the gap in his
report. The band is gone ! the gas turned off from
the iron branches which threw a blaze over the 72
musicians; itinerant minstrels succeed. A host of
vendors of shell work, slippers, punches, and all
sorts of articles, rather disturb the luxury of the
traveller's quiet thoughts—for these vendors will
not easily take No' for an answer, and importune
the calmest into an angry ' Via-Via." He rises
from his chair, surveys with wonder the tall
Campanilla which stands out in the bright moon-
light, and entices him to view the Piazetta, the
Column, the island of St. Georgio, and gaze on
the silver rays which sparkle on the calm water
—all is still, still as death, silent as the grave. The
traveller has spent his evenings on the Piazza, and
is willing to write home that never was there since
the leaky ark reposed on mud any city, town, or
hamlet half so quiet, half so contented, as Venice,
that has not a London police. Hark ! there is a
tramp of soldiers. It is merely the guard. Every
city has its guard; and here in the narrow streets
the soldiers march in single file—the guard seems
as long and interminable as the sea serpent. Have
you a quick, observant eye, Mr. Traveller Yes.'
Very good. Just see if every musket in this greatest
of all cities is not loaded and capped and ready for
immediate use, and particularly remark if you can
see one soldier without a companion, Never mind
the everlasting meeting with officers in white uni-
forms by hundreds ; or if you are inclined to see
men and numbers at their parade or exercise take
a morning's stroll to the Campo di Marte, or look
at the artillery on the Piazzetta, or count the guns
pointed from the Island of St. Georgio, or go to the
end of the railway bridge and remark how many
forts you can number from the wall of the Botani-
cal Garden to the Fort Hainan, and its vis-a-vis
close to it, or take a walk along the Lido to Ma-
malocco, and if you are not the dullest of all ima-
ginable drones the thought will occur to you—why.
all this military display, these immense fortifica-
tions, this eternal surveillance, if Venice is the
quiet, dull city it looks? or consider if this quietude
is not the result of experience and prudence.
" What experience and what prudence ? Pooh,
pooh; all these forts and soldiers are merely for
defence—from invasion. Nonsense; discontent,
indeed ! Why, I walk about from noon to midnight
and have never heard a murmur of sedition, or even
.eeu 01;a1fpst demonstration beyond a tri-
coloured ribbon tied to a pigeon's neck.
" And have you not remarked that all the Italian

ladies wear mourning ? Do you see any gondolas
following an Austrian fresco on the Grand Canal ?
Or are you not aware that when the band played
in the boats under the windows of the Prince
of Hesse not a light was to be seen from any
house ? And when the music concluded by play-
ing the f Buone Sera,' that at its conclusion hun-
dreds of voices 'suddenly were heard singing to
that favourite air, Ah, Canaglia! presto andate
via de qua.' Are you aware that at San Marco
Church the preacher was hissed for his remarks
upon Garibaldi, that upwards of 30 arrests took
place in consequence, and that three cafes were
ordered to be closed because the spies had reported
that the hissing was arranged the night previous ?
The Venetians, wittily enough, revenged them-
selves by singing as the cafes were being closed,
Un alla volta per carita.'
" Bless me, and do you call this discontent ?
There are more straws to show the direction of the
wind.

"Do you want reasons for discontent? I will
give you enough. Now, listen to this. In the first
place, the taxation of the Venetian provinces is 60
per cent., so that if you, Mr. Traveller, had £l,OOO
a year, you would not feel very contented if an ab-
solute Government took £6OO of it. You would not
feel very enamoured of the Government which
arrested any of your friends and placed yourself in
the same jeopardy, and who, without any trial, or
form of trial, or mockery of trial, or without your
being informed for what you were arrested, sent you
away to an unhealthy prison situated on the
marshes of the Danube. Or if you had a sister
who was ill, and went to ask for a passport to go
out of the kingdom to some baths recommended by
the doctor, received for an answer, If you are well
enough to travel you are well enough to remain,
you cannot go.' Or if you had estates in other
countries where revolution has begun, and you ven-
tured then to go, you heard that your name was
placarded on the Rialto and elsewhere, with the
comfortable assurance that if you did not return
within four months your estates would be sdques-
tered first and sold afterwards : and you knew it
was no idle threat by the fact of its having been
already carried into execution, and that even if
you were allowed to leave the country for three
months, you might have to suffer the indignity of
having your stockings taken off to see you conveyed
no letters, as happened lately to Count —, one
of the first noblemen in Venice. Or what think
you of the case of the Countess of Vicenza, who had
a visit from the prefect of police, who had a letter
in his hand. This letter is from your husband,
madame ; he refers to H. and L. and M.; who do
these letters represent ?" I cannot tell,' answered
the countess. ' I have never seen the letter.' Oh,
then, perhaps your memory will be better by a little
solitude ; come to prison.' The countess had very
lately been confined, and was sucking the infant ;
if another nurse had not been found the child might
have died. These are trifles, you say ; well, what
think you of this. Young men to the amount of
50,000 have fled the country to take service in
Piedmont. They are all afliched on the Rialto, and
called upon to return. If they do so, what have
they to expect ? They have to expect a cordial
reception—that of course—the Austrian police are
not such fools as to scare the birds they intend to
entrap. The returned man is placed under sur-
veillance, to be arrested shortly after, or he is made
to join the army, of which no one who has not seen
the discipline can for a moment estimate the punish-
ment, so that the very fear of the punishment keeps
these people from returning ; and then their pro-
perty is confiscated, and certainly not for the
benefit of the next of kin. Thus there is neither
security of life or property; the unsuspicious man
may be arrested in his bed—actually not have suffi-
cient time to dress himself (and remember this is
no on chit ; I c in vouch for it among my own per-
tonal friends)—torn from his wife and family, who
are left without any resources except through the
kindness of friends bold enough to be charitable In
spite of the police, sent for months to distant gaols,
and munificently endowed by this paternal Govern-
ment with eight sous a day. These are gentlemen
of rank, lawyers of eminence, and men whose in-
come ceases with their incarceration. And can you
believe that the quiet or order is of that kind Which
euitt
would all i e r e
have
emanates from men contented with their Govern-
mentbroken ripe and
rrneeandty for
?No,atthismoin
insurrection,
and
out before had the Hungarians persevered or Gari-
baldi been free to assist the Venetians. There will
be no want of arms. In vain is Verona being for-
tified afresh, or forts springing up in every direc-
tion—troops stationed ready to inundate the coun-
try. when an oppressed nation rises, it rises
like one immense giant, and throws off the in-
cubus which prostrated it. The hour is
near at hand ; every ear listens with out-
stretched attention to every rumour concern-
ing the great Italian liberator. Garibaldi's name

is on every Italian lip, with blessings on him anti
prayers for his success. The Neapolitan example
is lost. Francis 11. will have the sins of his father
visited on him. If Francis Joseph could profit by
what is passing around him he would sell Venetia,
make salutary reforms in his own country, and
hold out a generous hand to those Hungarians who
at present are inclined to keep him as their Sove-
reign, but who have another in view, and have even
struck money with his effigy thereon."