CHAPTER I

THE BRIDE OF THE ADRIATIC

The best approach to Venice--Chioggia--A first view--Another water
approach--Padua and Fusina--The railway station--A complete
transformation--A Venetian guide-book--A city of a dream.


I have no doubt whatever that, if the diversion can be arranged, the
perfect way for the railway traveller to approach Venice for the first
time is from Chioggia, in the afternoon.

Chioggia is at the end of a line from Rovigo, and it ought not to be
difficult to get there either overnight or in the morning. If overnight,
one would spend some very delightful hours in drifting about Chioggia
itself, which is a kind of foretaste of Venice, although not like enough
to her to impair the surprise. (But nothing can do that. Not all the
books or photographs in the world, not Turner, nor Whistler, nor Clara
Montalba, can so familiarize the stranger with the idea of Venice that
the reality of Venice fails to be sudden and arresting. Venice is so
peculiarly herself, so exotic and unbelievable, that so far from ever
being ready for her, even her residents, returning, can never be fully
prepared.)

But to resume--Chioggia is the end of all things. The train stops at the
station because there is no future for it; the road to the steamer
stops at the pier because otherwise it would run into the water.