But even in Venice--the magic city--there were days of mists, silvery
and gray, when life took on the indistinctness and indecision of a
dream; as there were days less lucent, when sea and sky melted in an
indistinguishable line and the chameleon tints of the marshes mellowed
into a monotonous gray surface--when the wonted brilliancy of the sunset
clouds, and the glittering domes and campaniles were only faint gray
shadows on the gray whiteness of the waters. And gondoliers came
suddenly into vision, parting the mists with thin, black, swaying
outlines, as quickly fading in the near, gray distance when they passed,
while the shipping loomed like phantoms on an immediate horizon,
vanishing, vision-like; and even the sounds of life came muffled over
the still lagoon, like ghostly echoes from a city wrapped in dreams.
These were days of dim forebodings, too, for the anxious men of action
who ruled the Republic. In the Broglio there was more often silence than
speech, as the older senators gathered in knots, with faces the more
expressive because of much reticence in words; the sense of approaching
contest increased their mental restlessness and made them outwardly more
stern. Each looked into another's stormy, resolute face, so passing many
a counsel whose echoes he feared to start under the rambling porticoes
of the Piazza, where friars of every order mingled freely with the
crowd, and idlers carried tales into dark, basement recesses, and one
knew not which was friend or foe. Meanwhile the Winged Lion, with those
terrible, jeweled, glaring eyes, and the primitive patron San
Teodoro--each high on his column, in a Nirvana of quiescence--kept
solemn semblance of vigil over that dread space where sometimes a horror
of which one dared not speak scattered the sunshine high in air between
those silent wardens of San Marco. Yet the horror of those figures
swinging lifeless, with veiled faces, was met in silence by a people
trained to suffer this secret meting out of penalty for transgressions
in which justice and vengeance stood confused.
The ceaseless chains of elections had begotten bribery, corruption, and
strife; the over-weening luxury had fostered unworthy ambitions--it was
a time of much lawlessness. Under the shadow of the embassies infamous
intrigues were planned by bands of idle men, who shrank from no deed of
evil which held its promise of gold; the water-storey of some splendid
palace might be a lurking-place for unprincipled men--spies and
informers by profession--who wore the liveries of noble families whose
secrets they would unhesitatingly consign to that merciless _Bocca del
Leone_, for favor or vengeance of those they secretly served. For
underneath the glitter and the pomp of these latter days of Venice--its
presage of decay--a turbulent mass of malcontents, foreigners
disappointed in intrigue, Venetians shut out from power, grasped and
plotted for its semblance,--sold murder for gold, treason for
gold,--escaping justice by the wiles they so deftly unveiled, or by the
importance of the deposition it was in their power to make. Secret,
swift, relentless, absolute--Venice had work for men who did not court
the sunlight; and such a nucleus drew to its dark centre intriguers from
other courts, and gathered in and strengthened the worthless within its
own borders, until the evil was growing heavy to deal with.
Causes of discontent between Church and State were alarmingly on the
increase; and while in no other dominion, save that of Rome alone, were
ecclesiastical possessions so rich, or their establishments more
splendid than at Venice, nowhere were the lines of power so jealously
defined and guarded as in the government of this Republic from which
ecclesiastics were rigorously excluded,--although no least ceremonial
was held complete without the presence of the Patriarch and priests who
evidenced the devotion of Venice to the Holy Mother Church,--though
every parish kept its festa, and the religion of Venice was an essential
part of the life of its people. But if the priests had no visible seat
in the splendid Council Chambers of the Republic, they boasted at Rome
that their sway over the consciences of these lordly senators was well
established by virtue of the confessional and that, in the event of
contest, there would be many votes for Rome.
The _ridotti_, the informal clubs of Venice in those days, were
important centres of influence--political, legislative, and literary;
and there was a certain palazzo Morosini, well known to many of the
senators who gathered in the Broglio, where questions of vital interest
to the thinkers and rulers of Venice were discussed with the degree of
knowledge that might have been expected from so eminent a company as
that which made the home of the distinguished senator Andrea Morosini
the scene of its ridotto, and where freedom of speech was much greater
than seemed wise in the candid sunshine of the Piazza.
Of its present numbers all, at some period of their lives, held high
office under the Republic--they were senators, secretaries of state,
ambassadors--and three among that little group of thirty lived to wear
the beretta. It represented essentially the patrician culture of Venice,
and Morosini himself was already eminent as an historian; but the chief
literary centre was still acknowledged to be that quaint house in Campo
Agostino, of Aldo Manuzio, _il vecchio_, bearing, as in his day,
shield-wise, its forbidding inscription, "Whoever you are, Aldo
requesteth you, if you want anything, to ask it in few words and depart;
unless, like Hercules, you come to lend the aid of your shoulders to the
weary Atlas. There will always be found, in that case something for you
to do, however many you may be." But in this Aldine mansion only the
most-learned men of letters gathered, and Greek was the sole language
permitted in its discussions.
One of the _habitues_ of the Aldine Club was chief among this noble
company of the Morosini. He was a grave, scholarly man who listened and
questioned much out of a seemingly inexhaustible fund of historic,
legal, and ecclesiastical knowledge--a man who had the power of
stimulating others, and whose rare word, when uttered, was of value. He
had opinions gathered at first hand from influential minds of every land
and creed to contribute to the talk when it flowed in narrowing
channels; and he himself came thither for refreshment from abstruse
studies, out of a quiet cell in the convent of the Servi, while
seemingly unaware that many a stranger begged for an invitation to the
palazzo Morosini in the hope of an introduction to this "miracle of
Venice."
Perhaps this grave friar, apparently so careless of his distinction, was
the unsuspected intellectual thread which bound, as it were, together
the various influential circles of Venice; for in every centre, plebeian
or patrician, where there was anything new to be mooted or anything of
value to be discussed, he was a visitor so welcome and so frequent that
he might well have exerted a steady, unifying influence upon Venetian
thought.
At the sign of the "Nave d'oro," in the Merceria, where the vast
commercial interests of Venice were the absorbing theme, and strangers
from every clime and merchants just returned from distant ports were
eager now, as in the days when Marco Polo had so valiantly entertained
the goodly company, to rehearse the tale of their adventures--it was
neither merchant nor noble who stood forth on the bizarre background of
brilliant baubles and gold-woven tissues as the centre of this ridotto,
but a friar, learned in languages and sciences, of whom it was
pleasantly affirmed that "he was the only man in Venice who could
discuss any subject in any tongue!"
As this friar, unattended and on foot, turned out of the narrow calle
from San Samuele into the Campo San Stefano, the Giustiniani, father and
son, were just landing from their gondolas in the midst of a gay
retinue, on the steps of the palazzo Morosini; other gondolas of other
nobles were floating in full moonlight before the quay; and to Fra
Paolo, who did not share the Venetian love of color and of art, the
elaborately frescoed façade of an opposite palace--an extravagant freak
of the Veronese's which the Venetians were already beginning to cherish
as the work of their great artist who would paint no more--seemed an
impertinence unworthy of that dazzling illumination.
Marcantonio Giustiniani had but lately returned from Rome, where, during
his residence as Secretary to the Venetian Ambassador, the affair of the
Venetian Patriarch Zani, which had roused such indignation in Venice,
had taken place. The matter was still of interest in official quarters,
because the death of Zani had caused a new vacancy, to which Venice,
according to her ancient right, had appointed the successor; and this
new Patriarch Vendramin should never go, as Zani had done at the request
of the Holy Father, to receive his benediction and be met with that
perfidious announcement that he had "examined and approved the Venetian
candidate," whom he now confirmed as Patriarch to the Most Serene
Republic!
At the thought of the manner in which they had been entrapped and
outwitted--denuded, as it were, before the Roman Court of some
semblance of their ancient privilege of appointing their own
Patriarch--there was fresh indignation among these proud patricians. The
secretary Marcantonio Giustiniani had been present at the audience
granted by Clement to the Venetian Patriarch. "He would know if it had
been possible--even with the most favorable intentions toward
Rome,"--they were crowding round him and questioning with jealous
eagerness,--"even with the feeling which loyal sons should possess for
their Mother Church--to interpret that rude cross-questioning of his
Holiness, so unexpected and unexampled and contradicting his own
explicit promise--otherwise than as an examination--_an examination
which prejudiced the ancient right of Venice_?"
A scarcely perceptible smile flitted over the young secretary's handsome
face--they were so venerable and eager, so careful of shadows of
form!--and in a sudden side-light a hint of a question obtruded itself
on his consciousness, as to whether there could be a slightly farcical
aspect to such an episode between two most Catholic and Christian
governments? He saw them both fired with feelings of very human
strength, both dealing only with shadows of reality--the Sovereign
Pontiff grasping at a semblance of power in insisting that this
candidate, named by Venice to a see within her gift, to which he, the
Pope, would dare present no other, was invested by _his_ examination and
approval; and the Republic, receiving back its own appointee, confirmed
with the papal benediction, jealously aroused to unappeasable
indignation by the empty form of questioning which had preceded this
singular ceremony.
But the dignified company were pressing the young secretary for his
answer, and one of them anxiously repeated the keynote, "_An examination
which prejudiced the ancient right of Venice_?"
"Courtesy and wisdom would render any other opinion inadmissible,"
Marcantonio replied,--"in Venice."
The elder Giustinian had detected the slight pause which preceded the
last two words. "Wherefore 'in Venice'?" he questioned, with some heat.
"It is a question not of locality, but of justice and judgment."
"It is a question of judgment," Marcantonio echoed suavely, "upon which,
it hath been told me, the Senate hath already passed a law that shall
keep our Most Reverend Signor Vendramin from such a fate."
"Ay, never again may our Patriarch leave the Republic for confirmation
of the see which she alone may grant. The law is just," said the Senator
Leonardo Donate.
"In the days when his Holiness was but an Eminence, it hath been said,
he gave our ambassador a chance to prove his temper?" Morosini
questioned of Donato, who had been ambassador in Rome while Paul V, who
had but just ascended the throne, was still Cardinal Borghese.
"It was in the matter of the Uscocks," Donato answered, after a moment's
hesitation, seeing that some were waiting for the story. "And it was the
second time that half-civilized tribe hath provoked disputes between two
most Christian nations. 'If I were Pope,' said the cardinal, 'I would
excommunicate both Doge and Senate!'"
Fra Paolo scrutinized the faces of the listeners, and fixed his gaze
searchingly on the speaker. There was an uneasy movement among the
company, but Leonardo Donate did not flinch.
"May they not know your answer, most noble Signor?" Morosini urged.
"For, verily, it was of a quality to illumine a page of history."
"The words were few," said Leonardo, with dignity. "'_If I were Doge, I
would trample your edict under foot_.'"
There was a sudden hush, in which those who had not been listening
became intensely conscious of the words just uttered by the aged and
illustrious Cavalière Leonardo Donate, for there had been of late an
abiding undercurrent of suppressed excitement ready to awake at any
mention of Papal supremacy. The Republic had always jealously guarded
against any transference of temporal power from prince to prelate, and
many events which seemed linked in a chain that might lead to the most
deplorable results had succeeded to the election of Camillo Borghese as
Paul V; the desire evidently manifested by Clement during his latter
days to encroach on the perquisites and possessions of the minor Italian
States was crystallizing into a fixed purpose of ecclesiastical
aggrandizement on the part of the new Pope.
"He was brandishing Saint Peter's sword before he had been knighted,"
remarked the Signor Antonio Querini, who was deeply interested in all
disputes between Church and State.
"But not before he had received strenuous training," responded the
grave, clear voice of the friar. "For five years he hath held office as
Auditor of the Apostolical Chamber, the style of which is written thus,
_'Universal Executor of censures and sentences recorded both in Rome and
abroad'_--a duty which he may be said to have discharged more faithfully
than any of his predecessors, as one cannot recall in any previous fifty
years as many thunderbolts and monitions as were launched during those
five years of his office!"
Some romance could but attach to the unswerving judicial attitude of a
friar who had friends in high favor at the Court of Rome--who had known
a Bellarmino and a Navarro, and yet pursued, unchanging, the calm tenor
of his critical way. It was rumored that Sixtus V had been known to
leave his coach to converse with him, and would have given him, at his
mere request, a cardinal's hat; that Urban VII, as cardinal and pope,
had been his devoted friend; that Cardinal Borromeo--the saintly San
Carlo--had wished to attach him to his cathedral; and many were the
instances reported when marks of special appreciation had been granted
him from Rome, in lieu of denunciations which those jealous of his rapid
advance had sought to bring upon him. Even the late Pope Clement had
expressed admiration for his learning, while it was, nevertheless, well
known that Fra Paolo's counsels to the Senate, in certain troubles
arising out of Clement's attitude at Ferrara, had brought him the
refusal of the bishoprics of Candia and Caorle; but, whatever the
occasion, he was invariably discreet and fearless.
However pungent the tone, the words of this man could no more be
attributed to personal bitterness than they might be influenced by
personal interest; and although the opinion which they indicated was a
surprise to some of the company, instinctively they felt the situation
to be graver than they had feared, and the evening's talk drifted as
wholly into the current of Church and State as if this ridotto were a
commission appointed by the Ten to prepare resolutions upon the
situation. And the list of grievances now reviewed, which had occupied
the Senate during the closing years of Clement's reign, was, in truth,
long. Vast differences of opinion concerning the Turks and the piratical
tribes who infested the shores of Italy and the uses their villainy
might be made to serve; troubles at Ferrara, teasing and undignified,
temporarily brought to a close by the sending of the galleys of the
Republic to prevent the seizure of their fishing-boats by agents of his
Holiness; questions of boundaries and taxes; attempts to divert the
trade of Venice, to arrest improvements redounding not only to the
advantage of the Republic but to that of the neighboring country; to
forbid, under pain of excommunication, all commerce with countries
tainted with heresy. These were matters meet for discussion by temporal
sovereigns touching the balance of power--so viewed and strenuously
resisted by the clear-headed Venetians, with much deference of form,
whenever practicable--as became loyal sons of the Church; but
occasionally, when nothing might be expected from temporizing, with a
quiet disregard which proved their consciousness of strength.
From time to time, as the informal summary progressed, there was an
outburst of indignation.
"Could an aggression be more palpable than that _Index Expurgatorius_
demanded by Rome in 1596, when the ruling doctrine of exclusion involved
no question of morality or irreligion, but solely concerned books
upholding rights of consciences and rulers!"
"It was a contest honorable to Venice, and one which Italy will
remember," responded a secretary of the Senate, who was a regular member
of this ridotto. "I am proud that it was my privilege to transcribe for
the records of the Republic the papers relating to that Concordat which
secured so great a measure of freedom for our press."
There had been a short truce between Rome and Venice since the accession
of Paul V, who had been so immediately concerned with a certain prophecy
foretelling the death of a Leo and a Paul that his fears were only set
at rest by a further astrological announcement, judiciously arranged in
the palace of his eminence the brother of the Pope, to the effect that
"the evil influences were now conquered." Whereupon Paul had undertaken
in earnest the work which he conscientiously believed to be the highest
duty of a sovereign pontiff, had recalled all nuncios not in full
sympathy with his views of aggrandizement, and had replaced them with
envoys whose notions of authority were echoes of his own; and, as an
opening move, had made the demand, so resented by Venice, that the new
Patriarch Vendramin should be sent to Rome for examination before he
could be allowed to take possession of his prelacy.
"But what hath Venice to fear from a Pope who is paralyzed for the first
two months of his reign by a reading of a horoscope!" exclaimed one of
the company scornfully.
"Nay, then," said Donato, who had seen much of the world; "it is a petty
superstition of the age; it is not the fault of the man, who hath
sterling qualities. And by that same potency of credulity have his fears
been set at rest. It is a proof of weakness to undervalue the strength
of an adversary--for so at least he hath recently declared himself on
this question of temporal power, by his petty aggressions and triumphs
in Malta, Parma, Lucca, and Genoa."
"I crave pardon of the Cavalière Donato," Antonio Querini responded
hotly. "May one call the action at Genoa _petty_?--the compulsion of the
entire vote of a free city, the placing of the election of the whole
body of governing officials in the power of the Society of Jesus?"
"And it was under threat of excommunication, which made resistance a
duty from the side of the government," Giustinian Giustiniani asserted
uncompromisingly.
"But impossible from the Church's point of view. It is the eternal
question," Leonardo Donato answered gravely.
"_The solution is only possible by precisely ascertaining the limits
within which each power is absolute_," the friar announced, with quiet
decision.
A momentary hush fell upon the company, for the words were weighty and a
surprise.
"It is well to know the qualities we have to fear," said Andrea
Morosini, "and we have listened in the Senate to letters from our
ambassador at Rome which bespeak his Holiness of a presence and a
dignity--save for over-quickness of temper--which befit a Pope; and that
he hath reserved himself from promises, to the displeasure and surprise
of some of those who created him."
"It was rumored in Rome," said the younger Giustinian, "that the learned
Bishop Baronious, in the last conclave, by his persistence found means
to save the Consistory from the election by 'adoration' of another
candidate whose life would bear no scrutiny and who never darkened the
doors of his own cathedral! By this election the Church hath verily been
spared a scandal."
"Therefore, let it be known," said Fra Paolo, with deep gravity, "lest
the nearness of such a scandal should breed confusion--and I speak from
knowledge, having been much in Rome--we have now a Pope blameless in
life; in duty to his Church most faithful and exemplary and concerned
with her welfare, as to himself it seemeth; of an unbending conscience
and a will most absolute; moreover, of marvelous reading in certain
doctrinal writings which seem to him the only books of worth, and with
the training of a lawyer wherewith to assert them. This is the man with
whom we have to contend."
"Are there no faults?" thundered Giustinian Giustiniani, while the
others listened disconcerted. "A soldier seeks for weak spots in the
armor."
"I know him," said Leonardo Donato, "and there _is_ one fault. It limits
his power to achieve; it increases his absolutism. It is
near-sightedness--smallness of vision."
"Draw him strongly," said Giustinian, in a tone of concentrated wrath.
"Let us measure our foe before we meet."
"There are no books Borghese hath not read; there is no point of view
but that which he doth teach, no appeal from the law as he interpreteth
it. _It is a fault of unity_. One power--the Church; one duty--its
aggrandizement; one prince--temporal and spiritual alike; one unvarying
obedience. All is adjusted to one centre; it is the simplification of
life!"
There was an ominous silence and an evident wish to change the theme,
and the company readjusted itself by twos and threes. The Senator
Morosini turned graciously to Marcantonio. "It hath been told in
Venice," he said, "that the Lady Marina was received in Rome with marks
of very special favor."
"The introduction of our Reverend Father Paolo had preceded her," the
young secretary answered lightly, bowing in the direction of the friar,
who sat apparently lost in thought. But Morosini repeated Marcantonio's
speech with some amusement, for the scholarly friar had never been known
to have a friend among the women--old or young.
"I do not understand," he said, with no perception of any humor in the
situation.
"It was the gift of the Reverend Father Paolo to the chapel of the
Servi," Marcantonio explained. "The Madonna del Sorriso was well known
in Rome."
"Ah, I recall now the face of your lady, though I have not known her,"
the friar responded courteously, yet he hesitated a moment before
accepting the seat which the secretary rose to offer him. "If it is the
face which the Veronese hath painted, her spirit must be fair. It should
make a home holy," he added, after a moment's pause.
Marcantonio's face flushed with pleasure. The friar was still regarding
him with a gaze so penetrating, yet apparently so guiltless of
intentional rudeness that it ceased to be an impertinence, and amused
the young Venetian by its unconventionality. "Is there anything it would
please Fra Paolo to ask of me?" he inquired affably.
"If there are children--" the friar pursued quite simply.
"Our little son was baptized in Saint Peter's in Rome; he had sponsors
among the cardinals and a private audience and benediction from his
Holiness, Pope Clement," the young nobleman replied, trying to repress a
pleasurable sense of importance. "It was a pleasure to the Lady
Marina--she is devoted to the Church, and his Holiness was always most
gracious to her."
"As was fitting for the lady of a Venetian representative, and due to
Venice," the elder Giustinian hastened to explain, "his late Holiness
was ever courtly and a gracious diplomat."
He had been aware from his little distance how the talk had turned, and
he was alert to give it the coloring he liked best. For while the young
people were still in Rome, Signor Agostino Nani, watchful as an
ambassador well might be of the interests of so princely a house, had
confided to the "Illustrissimo Giustiniani," in a private and friendly
letter, that courtesies so unusual had been extended to this noble
young Venetian lady--so devoted to the Church, so gentle and
unsuspicious, so incapable of counter-plotting--that it would be wise to
guard against undue influence by a too prolonged stay at the Roman
court; and the honorable recall of the Secretary Giustiniani had soon
thereafter been managed.
The friar's face had grown stern, but he did not resume the conversation
until the elder Giustinian had strolled away with his host. Then he
turned to Marcantonio, speaking earnestly. "Simplicity is no match for
subtlety," he said, "and much favor hath been shown to her. You will
pardon me, Signore, not because you are young and I am old, but because
the face of your lady hath moved me with a rare sense of unworldliness.
There should be no flattery in an act our Lord himself hath taught by
his example, and an old man like Pope Clement might well bestow his
blessing on your little child. But the times are not free from danger;
the home is best for the little ones--do not send him from his mother to
the schools."
"He is but learning to speak," the young man answered, smiling at the
friar's earnestness; "only his baby word for his mother's name."
"There are schools for the sons of noblemen in which he will forget it,"
said the friar bitterly; "where they teach disloyalty to princes and
unmake men to make machines--and the mainspring is at Rome. Gentle women
are won to believe in them by the subtle polish of those who uphold
them, and the marvelous learning by which their teachers fit themselves
for office. And among them are men noble of character and true of
conscience--but bound, soul and body, by their oath; the system of the
Jesuit schools in Venice is for nothing else but the building up of
their order--at all costs of character or happiness. Let her keep her
little son, for her face seemed wise and tender; the favor which hath
been shown her may have a meaning."
"Will not my father some time come to the palazzo Giustiniani? The Lady
Marina would make him welcome."
"Nay, I thank you," the friar answered, instantly resuming his habitual
reserve. "Such gentle friendships form no part of my duty. I spake but
in friendly counsel. We, from without, see how the home should be more.
The orders are many to maintain the Church--they need no urging--but the
home hath also its privileged domain of childhood to be defended."