Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 253, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 October 1915 — BE DURING WAR [ARTICLE]

BE DURING WAR

Practically Closed to Visitors of • Every Nationality. The Gondola and the Pigeons of Bt. Mark’s Square, the City’s Two Chief Characteristics, Threatened With Destruction. y

By CAMILLO CIANFARRA.

(International News Service.)

Venice. —Of all the threats and perils which the exigencies of modern progress, and the requirements of modern life have heaped on Venice and her unique quaint beauty, those resulting from war are practically the worst, as they threaten to destroy two of Venice’s chief characteristics, the gondola and the pigeons of St. Mark’s square. Venice saw her last brilliant season in the spring of 1914. As to the summer bathing season, it was hastily interrupted at its height by the sudden outbreak of hostilities. Owing to her position, to the fact that she possesses one of the most important military arsenals of Italy and that she is the seat of the maritime defense of the Adriatic, the city has since then been practically closed to visitors of every nationality. After Italy’s intervention, Venice became a sort of Asiatic forbidden city, and not even Italians are admitted without a special permit from the commander in chief. This permit, however, is only issued to those *who can prove to the satisfaction of the' inquisitorial authorities that they have legitimate business to transact within the city boundaries, and is' invariably temporary. Idlers, curiosity mongers, and the socalled lovers of the picturesque, are Inexorably excluded. As to the newspaper men—well, Admiral Cutinelli regards them as the most undesirable of all, whether they be Italians or from the allied countries. The first result of the stringent measures adopted by the military authorities concerning the sojourn of foreigners, was a general closing of all large hotels and the transforming of the Lido into a sort of huge sanitarium where thousands of convalescing soldiers now bask in the sun wrapped in long white tunics and await the time for returning to the front ‘‘to finish the job.” With the hotels scores of curio, lace and other shops closed to save expenses while waiting for the return of the good times. But those who have suffered most from the absence of visitors are the thousands of pigeons nestling in the buildings and towers of Venice’s famous square. It is a well-known fact that the few pounds of Indian corn the municipality provides for thejr maintenance are anything but sufficient properly to nourish, the poor creatures, and that it was the charity of the tourists which in former years and at all seasons provided them with substantial food. But now, the familiar sight of the old English lady or the young American misses feeding the pigeons in the center of the square Is np longer to be seen and the poor birds vainly cluster around the man who stops to admire this or that facade or the frescoes Mark’s. The corn venders, known to thousands of Americans by their first name, are there as usual, but the purchasers are few, and the cooing pigeons fly back disappointed. Of late the pigeons have begun to emigrate to avoid starvation. As to the gondolas and the gondoliers, they have suffered terribly from the war, and their fate resembles much that of the pigeons. It was the tourist and the wealthy visitor who patronized the gondolier, and their absence from the city for more than a year has compelled scores of gondola proprietors to go out of business and sell their outfit at a sacrifice. The gondolier, the thick-set, sunburned, muscular specimen of humanity, that sent the gondola skimming 20 yards over the glassy surface at every stroke of the long oar, has disappeared with the mobilization, and is now either at the front or serving on one of the men-of-war cruising the Adriatic. Only a few old ones are left, and the visitor who now crosses the Grand canal is'painfully impressed by the small number -f gondolas in service. At sunset, when the cupolas, the domes and the spires of Venice glitter under the last rays of the parting sun the spectacle presented by the squares is even more saddening. Navy officers in immaculate white uniforms and army officers in gray have long replaced the variegated, fashionable, wealthy crowd that in former years added to Venice’s charm and picturesqneness, and tell in unmistakable words the story of Italy at war. Yet Venice is resigned; no one complains; every class has sacrificed on the altar of patriotism its own private interests.