Our stay in Venice had come to an end, we left our hotel, the La Calcina on the Zattere at 11 A.M., a fog was covering the city and the Lagoon. The Venetian in the water bus (vaporetto) ticket office closes it after I have bought our tickets - closes it at this time of day!? Anyway no one else is waiting, no one else approaching out of the fog.

 

As we stand on the pier still waiting for the water bus to the airport, another man eventually arrives and reopens the ticket office and then sits looking blankly and lonely looking out of his small window. I look out over the wide fog bound expanse of the Gindecca Canal, wondering if the bus will be on time in such weather. To my left the Church of the Gesuati starts to ring its bells in a way unfamiliar to me. I notice a group of dark winter clad figures clustered on its steps that go down to the water. Then to my right emerging from the fog and gliding silently out of a small canal, the Rio di Travaso, a funeral gondola appears with a coffin draped in black with a red design on the fabric. It curves round in front of us, a dramatic ghostly image in the fog and then turns slowly to the steps of the Gesuati, where the bearers and mourners receive it to carry and escort the coffin into the church: they disappear; the doors are then closed to the world outside; the tolling bells stop.

 

 

There is a silence on the Fondamenta Zattere, except for the lapping of water on the steps. We are left outside, winter bound, waiting for the airport water bus, at the same time knowing that inside the church there is taking place a traditional way of marking and honouring a death in a splendid Renaissance architectural setting crowned by the glorious work of the painter Tiepolo; the second to none Tiepolo.  

  

Three large frescos by that artist adorn the ceiling of the Gesuati, depicting scenes from the history of St. Dominic and the Dominican Order, an apotheosis of visual art if ever there was one. Each a swirling composition of colour and form integrating the Earthly and the Spiritual with a visual strength, a silent symphony, that only the Italians can achieve without going "over the top". In fact a visual representation at that very moment high above the heads of the mourners, the candles and the coffin draped in black with a red design on it. What a wonderful setting for a final "good-bye".

 

My heart sinks at the thought of our funeral parlours.

 

Soon out of the now thinning fog comes our water bus; we board it, it goes off; the Gesuati desolves into the lingering fog and in a few hours time we will be in London.

 

We knew that we had just seen a very real part of the Venetian way of life and I will forever carry with me the sound of these tolling bells on that fog bound Venetian morning; they were indeed different to my Anglican ears, which are accustomed to a single note, rung every five or so seconds. The Gesuati bells had three distinctly different notes; a sort of slow drawn out ding - pause, dong - pause, dell - pause. 3 second pauses between each note, then a pause of about 6 seconds before a repeat. A toll that had a gentleness about it, sad and compassionate, less formal than ours. Theirs is an outward expression of mourning born out of love and affection, emotions we try not to show in public. Anglican bells, when tolling, have cerebral restraint about them - death is undeniably present - feelings "on hold".

 

We arrived at the airport dock; the fog had cleared, our flight was on time. We left Venice far below as the jet gained height, one had a heavy feeling of leaving a place one did not want to leave.

 

Victor Miles.