VENICE IN WAR TIME

New Zealand Times, Volume XLIII, Issue 9999, 17 June 1918, Page 6

VENICE IN WAR TIME

A war correspondent for the French Republic, who has recently , returned from Venice, relates the following observations upon tire n err conditions, there. Tile simple, easy style of these impressions shows us clearly what the invasion has dono in Italy—-things which would have been thought incredible a lew years ago. Ho describes the splendid performance of the Italian army in its present stand, and tha infinite preparations which lie behind the defence of Venice. Venice to-day is like a city of the dead. The picture of its canals and ciuays shows the absolute removal, of all the usual alcra of human habitation. ‘‘l know nothing sadder at this moment," writes tho correspondent, “than Venice, with throe-fourths of its population fled, with its monuments swathed in sandbags. ,listening to the cannon which thunder on the Piavo near by/’ The place is not simply deserted. . It has ceased to show any animation beyond a few stoical citizens, who cluster in knots before the railway station in the evening to road the military bulletins: or a few British and French officers. who buy souvenirs in the Piazza di San Marco. During- the day on the Rialto a few women weal-ins dark shawls over their heads straggle in and out of the empty shops, while the children play in the shelter of the arches. A basket or two of vegetables only reveals to a vivid imagination what the Rialto market was before the invasion came and destroyed its soothing cheerfulness. However. food is plentiful, thanks to the forethought and care of the Government. Tho Italian "Food Controller '.has dr;-"' dentlv provided lor the Venetians who remain, but they are deprived of the enormous catches of “scampi/* or smell lobsters, on the Adriatic coast, for the fishermen have gone to man tho motorboats and monitors at the mouth of the Piave. From dock and shipyard and factory the men have marched to work. rugged of feature, begrimed, rough, and in bloody earnest. Tho private lives of the people—about' 40.000 are left— have suddenly boon touched with the poisoned barb of aerial warfare. It, I*" thrust among them. Bombs fall from time to time, and hers is a sign on St. Mark's where an Austrian shell exploded. The problem is to protect tho mosaics of the church, for tho building itself is fairly safe being sheltered behind parapets of -windbags and heavy wooden beams. Most of the works of art have been removed from t.hn sauaro. but some remain notably the bronze pedestals of Leonardo and Veroce.hk/s statue of Collocmi. These and tho 1 loggotta" of Sansovino are protected bv sandbags, and. a network of mnsontv brings the visito- to the Palace of the Tfoges. The general impression is distinctly weird. Sandbags me everywhere, and the greatest care has been taken to cover the wonderful sixteenth conturv facade.

As for St. Mark’s P]ace. it is deserted

except that the pigeons and a solitarj man who scatters grain -for them remain. '

Tho astonishing thine; is how little these birds are put out by the crash, ol shells, clouds of emote and the move, mant of motor-boat* and seaplane on tho Gian® Canal. Apparently they take not the least notice ofl the bursting of bomba, or th& detonation of the heavy naval truna and field batteries which cover the entrance to the city and fill the firmament with one continuous roar that makes the windows of the old palaces rattle. The flocks of pigeons supply- tho Venetians with a symbol of fortitude, and every dar these verses appear in "111 Gazzettino." for this and tho "Gazzetta” are . the only papers published in Venice to-day:— "Qui i bene v.iyi fltrli di San JTarco Oomi i colombi cbe non sanno esileo Stamio. starano.” Which can lie freely translated in tho following:—

"Here, sons of St Mark, Like the cloves, which know not retreat* Let us remain, for they will stay," The correspondent, whose curiosity has been whetted bv the beauty of old Venice ami who desires some knowledge of the conditions of lift of the city nada it desolate. The monuments and statues are barricaded, tlio hotels are closed, and so are the cafes, the Oriental©, hlanin, and even the celebrated Oaf© Pierian, which has not shut its doors for over a hundred years. The cifcv is haunted by the jrhosta of war of invasion.

It is surprising that the population stranded in the lagoons can find anything to enjoy. But they manage to keen up their spirits in the evening, whc# tlie news of the day is published. There are also two kinemn shows going—n curious sign of the appeal that motion pictures have at all times. The Venetians see their usual world gone to .pieces,, suddenly- enveloped in the storm that has swept over their placid, unsuspecting lives. Though it must be a ling time before conditions favourable to real security can prevail in Venice, by the accident of geography the citv may escape actual invasion. ’ It is evidently stoutlv defended bv the army and nnvv, and no secret os made of the presence of a British force. Any one who knows Venice and the surrounding country can hopefully look forward to ■ successful defence and ultimate victory.