There was no longer any doubt as to the intention of his Holiness toward
the rebellious spirit of the Most Serene Republic; the Ambassade
Extraordinary which had been appointed to convey to the Holy See the
dutiful congratulations of her devoted Venetian sons, on the accession
of Paul V, had few amenities to report in those lengthy dispatches to
which the Senate listened with a dignity which disdained to show the
least outward trace of irritation or forgetfulness, in a presence so
exasperating as that of the Papal Nuncio, Orazio Mattei.
Day after day the Senate sat, in solemn state, to hear its delinquencies
rehearsed in the words of Paul V, by the graphic pen of his Excellency
Agostino Nani, Ambassador from the Republic to the Holy See, with
ceaseless repetitions of demand on the part of the Sovereign Pontiff;
with ceaseless repetitions of refusal, most deferently couched, from the
courtly representative of the offending power; with threats of that most
dread compeller of obedience which none but a sovereign pontiff may
wield; and very clearly phrased, that all might understand, the
declaration in the words of his Holiness himself, that he had determined
to "mortify the over-weening audacity of the secular rulers of the
world."
With a patience which bore its fruit in a more rigid determination to
conquer, they listened, also, to many violent speeches from the Nuncio,
explanatory of papal authority, founded upon the dicta of a Gregory,
"_That none may judge the Pope. That all princes should kiss the feet of
the Pope_," and invariably sustained by this axiom of Mattei, delivered
as a refrain--so sure were the college of its repetition, "I am Pope
here; I want no replies, only obedience," and the reiterated assertion
that "Christianity depends upon the acceptance in its entirety of the
doctrine of papal supremacy, and that he has heard much of the vaunted
piety of the Venetian Republic, of which he fails to find evidence."
In vain the Senate pleaded that on such a point there might be differing
views, and that men should be known for Christians by their faithfulness
in duty, by their practice of almsgiving and of the sacraments and of
all other good and Christian works; but the answer came swiftly, "Naught
else availeth."
It was a relief to the stately and grim Giustinian to lose his temper in
the sanctity of his home, since that freedom was beneath the dignity of
a Venetian ruler in the company of others who were chafing like himself
from insults they would have rejoiced to hurl back in the face of the
speaker; and he was the less inclined to view favorably the efforts
toward conciliation of the embassy to the Holy See, because it would
have pleased him to have been named among those six of this Ambassade
Extraordinary, on a mission so important, as an honor due to his ancient
house.
"It is repetition _ad nauseam_," he insisted hotly, "of demands for
abrogation of those laws, for yielding up of those two reverend
criminals to the ecclesiastical courts, of Nani's soft replies to the
quick speeches of his Holiness--an unending farce!"
"Giustinian," said the Lady Laura quietly, "the difficulties are great.
How can the Holy Father yield a point which touches the honor of the
Church?"
"Verily, my lady, I believe thou art not responsible for thine own
foolishness!" her husband exclaimed angrily. "If that prelate cousin of
Saraceni comes again to thy salon, let him be refused! He shall not
prate to thee of 'law' and 'supremacy,' who hath sought for this
occasion to embroil us with the Holy See. For the Senate hath learned
to-day, through the trustworthy open mouth of our watchful Lion, with
evidence irrefragable, that it is this reverend father who hath carried
the tale to Rome."
"Tell me the right of it," she said again. "How may the honor of the
Church be saved, yet the dignity of Venice be maintained? If there be a
way, we women should speak for it."
"Is the honor of the Church maintained by standing as a shield to crime?
It is Venice who would save the Church; the civil ruler shall purge her
sacred courts of such iniquities and leave her the purer for her sons to
love. Such is the law--ancient and just--and a right Venice cannot
yield. And more than this," he continued impressively, "all Europe is
waiting on the issue, for the real contest is on the rights of civil
rulers, and these imprisoned ecclesiastics are but the pretext for a
quarrel; and ill-judged, verily, on the part of the Holy Father, since
if the cases were less heinous there might have been occasion for
confusion of judgment. But now, who will dare assert that the honor of
the Church is concerned in protecting men who disgrace mankind!"
"The Republic is then sure of her ground?"
"So sure we are of right that letters are already sent to every
Christian court of Europe, announcing the causes of this quarrel and the
stand of Venice."
"Marina is greatly troubled," said the Lady Laura, with a sigh.
"Let her go often to San Marco and pray for us--the child is good for
nothing else since this trouble came."
"She hath more comfort at San Donato; and the mother superior is a noble
woman and beloved by her."
"Ay, it is all one--so that she wear not out the patience of Marcantonio
by her importunities. The Senate will stand firm on the issue, and not
one of the Ca' Giustiniani shall flinch."
"Is there no possible doubt of the ending?" the Lady Laura questioned,
after a little troubled silence. Her heart was very sore for Marina, who
slept but little, and was constantly fasting.
"Only of that which lieth between; the end is triumph for Venice,"
Giustinian declared. "Tell that to Marina, and calm her fears. Also, let
it not be known that she is so weak in courage; it would be held against
Marcantonio, to whom the suspicion of being wife-ridden would do an
infinite injustice. And bid Marcantonio himself tell her of the vote
that hath passed the Senate, without dissent of a single voice, for
letters to be sent to the imperious Paul to make an end of his demands,
declaring that Venice recognizeth for the temporal government of her
states no superior, save God alone."
Meanwhile in Rome, to the Ambassador Agostino Nani, Paul had already
superbly made answer, "We are above all men, and God hath given us power
over all men; we can depose kings and do yet more than that. Especially
our power is 'quae tendunt ad finem supranaturalem.' (Over those things
which tend to a supernatural end.)"
All thoughts of festivity in the City of the Sea were over; the strength
of her patricians--men and women--was concentrated on this momentous
quarrel with the Holy See, which they would indeed have put off were it
possible, but which, having come upon them, they would bear with
conquering pride. All through those dark December days the pressure
tightened; there were mutterings of the coming storm, against which the
rulers of Venice were planning defense; there was an oppression, like a
sense of mental sirocco, in the air--a vague terror of the unknown among
the people, gathering like the blighting breath which precedes some
fierce tornado--while in the palace of San Marco, the Doge, Marino
Grimani, Chief of the Republic in revolt against the Holy See, lay
dying!
The Lady Marina Giustiniani had forgotten how to smile. When her little
one lifted his rosy baby face to hers she smothered him in caresses,
that he might not see her tears; and her husband failed to note the
change, for the Senate sat in unbroken session and the permitted
absences from the Council Chambers of the Republic barely sufficed for
sleep. Daily in the oratory of her palace Mass was said, and Marina
passed long hours there on her knees alone, tracing the coming horror to
its most dread issue, trying to understand it wholly, that she might
pray with all her soul against it--this _Curse_ which was to blight the
lives of all she loved, and of which her dearest seemed to feel no
dread! She scarcely ate nor slept--watching, for the morning, when a new
intercession for mercy should rise from the oratory in her palace;
waiting for the evening, when she might go with her maidens to vespers
in San Marco. And still the days darkened in threats--had God forgotten
to be gracious?
And on this Christmas morning, when the Doge of Venice lay dying in his
halls of state, the nuns of San Donate, won by the prayers and gifts of
the Lady Marina, were making a procession to all the shrines of Murano,
praying, if by any means, God would stay this curse from falling upon
Venice.
No joy-bells rang to usher in the sunrise Mass of this memorable
Christmas day. The royal standards of the mighty Lion drooped at
half-mast before the dimmed magnificence of San Marco, their glowing
gold and scarlet deadened to shades of mourning steel; and low, muffled
tones, like the throbbings of the heart of a people, dropped down from
the campanile through an atmosphere still and cold as a breath of dread;
while from the embassies, the homes of the senators and Signoria, the
Patriarch and bishops of Venice, gondolas by twos and threes loomed
black against the gray-dark of the winter dawn, hurrying noiselessly to
the steps of the Piazzetta; and dark, stately figures, each heralded by
its torch-bearer, glided like phantoms under the arcades of the Ducal
Palace, up between the grim, giant guardians of the stairway, and on to
the galleries adjoining the apartments of the Doge, to await the hour of
Mass.
An edict, more unanswerable than any ever issued by Republic or Curia,
had gone forth, and in solemn state Venice awaited its fulfilment.
In that hush of reverent waiting, before the first faint saffron streak
had glimmered in the east, up through the flaring torches of the lower
court, unbidden and unwelcome, came the single figure in all that throng
which seemed to have no part in the solemn drama. To-day was like other
days for the nuncio, who was no member of the court of Venice, but a
figure without discretionary privilege, sent to keep in perpetual mind a
higher power. By his peremptory instructions he requested at once a
formal audience to deliver a message from his Holiness Paul V, which
could brook no delay.
"Behold!" said he, after due grace of apology, when the senators had
withdrawn to the Sala di Collegio and taken their accustomed places,
"here are two briefs which, by the imperative instructions of our
Sovereign Lord the Pope, I must at once deliver to your Serene
Highnesses."
They were sealed with the sacred seal of the Curia, and each bore the
inscription:
"A Marino Grimani, Duce; e alla Republica Veneta."
There was but a moment's consultation among the Signoria.
"The Serenissimo is _in extremis_," the most venerable of the Ducal
Councillors announced, "therefore these briefs which, in the name of the
Serene Republic of Venice, we receive, cannot be opened until the solemn
ceremonials of the death and the election shall have been concluded,"
and so dismissed the bearer of the Papal message to return to the
audience of the greater king.
Meanwhile there was no arresting of that other message, which came
swiftly, and the placid old Grimani--wise, beloved, and regretted--laid
down his sceptre of state in the moment of the greatest need of Venice,
and passed on to a Court of Inquiry whose findings are inalterably just.
Calmly, as if they knew not the contents of the unopened briefs, or like
men never to be surprised into forgetfulness, the Signoria and
councillors assisted at the crowded ceremonials of the days that
followed, when the Serenissimo lay in state in the _chapelle ardente_,
which was prepared in one of the great chambers of the Palace, with
twenty nobles in ceaseless attendance, the people thronging silently to
pay their duty to their Prince--when, by night, in solemn procession,
with torches and chanting of requiems, they carried him to the church of
San Zanipolo, their gondolas draped in mourning, their banners furled in
crêpe, the imposing insignia of the state he had put off forever borne
before him to the giant baldichino before the high altar, where,
surrounded by innumerable candles, he lay until the morning should bring
the closing pomp of the last solemn Mass.
Not one honor had been omitted, not one ceremonial abridged because of
those briefs upon which the seal of the Vatican was still unbroken; and
when the imposing obsequies were over, and there was no longer a prince
to lift the weight of the gold-wrought mantle and the ducal beretta in
the sight of the people, the ship of state yet bore herself superbly,
steering as serenely through the troubled sea as if each man still read
his signal in the face of a beloved commander.
And now the singular strength of the Republic and the perfection of the
machine of government was evidenced, as, without a moment of indecision,
the officers proceeded to discharge the duty allotted to the hour,
according to the forms prescribed in those endless volumes of the "Libri
Ceremoniali," which provided for every function of life or death of the
punctilious Venetian court.
No leader, however loved and revered, was individually great, but only
as he contributed to the greatness of Venice--the one deathless entity;
her noblest were content to give of their greatness and be themselves
nameless; and against the less great, for whom self-effacement was
impossible--men strong in gifts and eager for power--the jealous
Republic had provided a system of efficient checks, based upon an astute
understanding of the fears and claims of self-interest. Venice knew no
hiatus in rule; all were leaders to point the way of that inviolable
constitution when the supreme voice was temporarily silent, for it was
the voice of an impersonal prince, and not of the man--who had
absolutely put off individuality when he assumed the insignia of
royalty.
In this hour of adversity the men of Venice rose to their greatest,
forgetting their rivalries and standing breast to breast in phalanx
around their vacant throne, that Venice might meet trouble with
increased strength when the eyes of the world were curiously turned upon
her.
Inexorably, though no voice had been raised against Grimani, they
appointed that commission of inquisitors to review every official act of
the last wearer of this crown which now lay idly waiting on the golden
cushion; as sternly elected, those five "correctors" of the coronation
oath so soon to be administered to a new wearer of the ermine, and
without pause for praise or strife, proceeded to the cumbersome choice
of the ducal electors whose word should suffice to create a new Venetian
prince.
Meanwhile, against the barred doors of the Council Chambers, where those
grave Signori were balloting and re-balloting with exemplary patience
for the golden balls, the nuncio knocked again, breathless with his
latest message sent in haste from the Holy See: "_The election of a new
prince would be void, being made by a people under censure_."
But the law of Venice was ready with its decorous shield, and the
message could not pass beyond. The punctilious Signoria might give no
audience in the days that intervened between Doge and Doge, except to
receive that message of condolence which it had not entered the heart of
his Holiness to frame, and the nuncio appealed in vain to other
authorities in Venice to win him audience for the delivery of his
sovereign's mandate.
With whatever burnings of heart and secret hopes and ambitions those
forty-one elected nobles, after days of weary, patient tossings of gold
and silver balls--a mere intricate child's play had it not been for the
greatness of the prize--saw themselves closed within the chamber from
which they might not issue forth until there was again a prince in
Venice; with what vividness a Giustinian foresaw his own stern visage
stamped on the coin of Venice in that moment when his name appeared on
the first folded paper drawn from the fateful urn; with what dignity he
concealed his baffled hope and watched, from under frowning eyebrows, a
Morosini and a Ziani pass, in turn, through the fierce ordeal of
relegation to obscurity--the annals of that secret council do not
reveal.
But in this stress of Venice the electors quitted themselves like true
men, and when the noble Cavalière Leonardo Donato--full of dignity, of
wisdom, and of honors, skilled in diplomacy and experience, and bold as
wise--came forth to scatter his coronation gift of coin in the Piazza,
and after solemn religious ceremonial was shown from the pulpit of San
Marco as Prince of Venice, well might the people shout in acclamation,
"_Provato! Provato_!" ("Approved!") and the watching courts of Europe
hasten to express, through their resident ambassadors, eager
congratulations that one so fitted to fill the position with distinction
had taken his place among the rulers.
But Orazio Mattei brought no message of congratulation from Rome.