A brighter day than that which succeeded the night last mentioned never dawned upon the massive domes, the gorgeous palaces, and the glittering canals of Venice.  The sun had not been long above the level of the Lido before the strains of horns and trumpets arose from the square of St. Mark.  They were answered in full echoes from the distant arsenal.  A thousand gondolas glided from the canals, stealing in every direction across the port, the Giudecca, and the various outer channels of the place; while the well known routes from Fusina and the neighboring isles were dotted with endless lines of boats urging their way towards the capital.

The citizens began to assemble early, in their holiday attire, while thousands of contadini landed at the different bridges, clad in the gay costumes of the main.  Before the day had far advanced, all the avenues of the great square were again thronged, and by the time the bells of the venerable cathedral had finished a peal of high rejoicing, St. Mark’s again teemed with its gay multitude.  Few appeared in masks, but pleasure seemed to lighten every eye, while the frank and unconcealed countenance willingly courted the observation and sympathy of its neighbors.  In short, Venice and her people were seen, in all the gaiety and carelessness of a favorite Italian festa.  The banners of the conquered nations flapped heavily on the triumphal masts, each church-tower hung out its image of the winged lion, and every palace was rich in its hangings of tapestry and silk, floating from balcony and window.

In the midst of this exhilarating and bright spectacle was heard the din of a hundred thousand voices.  Above the constant hum, there arose, from time to time, the blasts of trumpets and the symphonies of rich music.  Here the improvisatore, secretly employed by a politic and mysterious government, recounted, with a rapid utterance, and in language suited to the popular ear, at the foot of the spars which upheld the conquered banners of Candia, Crete, and the Morea, the ancient triumphs of the Republic; while there, a ballad-singer chanted, to the greedy crowd, the glory and justice of San Marco.  Shouts of approbation succeeded each happy allusion to the national renown, and bravos, loud and oft-repeated, were the reward of the agents of the police, whenever they most administered to the self-delusion and vanity of their audience.

In the meantime, gondolas rich in carvings and gildings, and containing females renowned for grace and beauty, began to cluster in hundreds around the port.  A general movement had already taken place among the shipping, and a wide and clear channel was opened from the quay at the foot of the Piazzetta, to the distant bank, which shut out the waves of the Adriatic.  Near this watery path, boats of all sizes and descriptions, filled with the curious and observant, were fast collecting.