XXVII

These days had been important in the Senate. In the deliberations prior

to the departure of di Gioiosa the concessions which Rome had

persistently asked had been so persistently and diplomatically declined

that even the wily cardinal dared no longer press them; and it seemed at

last that there was to be truce to the cautious and subtle word-weighing

of months past, as di Gioiosa, suddenly realizing that he held the

ultimatum of the Republic, had taken his departure for Rome in the

night--conceiving it easier, perhaps, to confess his partial defeat to

the dignified Signoria by proxy. So he made the announcement through a

gentleman of his household the next morning, while he was already

journeying toward the expectant Pope, to whom he carried bitter

disappointment; and the heart of the cardinal himself had been scarcely

less set upon those points of amelioration which he had not obtained. It

was a blow to his diplomacy and to his churchman's pride; for the terms

which the cardinal was empowered to offer were scarcely less haughty

than was the attitude which Venice had assumed throughout the quarrel.

His Holiness had wished that Venice, as a first step, should cancel the

"Protest" which she had widely published, declaring the interdict

invalid.

But Venice, with cool logic, had declined to accede to this; since the

protest, being based upon the censures, was practically annulled by

their withdrawal--which must therefore first take place. And, although

by this same logic she was led to declare that no act on the part of the

Republic would then be necessary to void her protest, she consented to

give a writing to that effect, so soon as the censures should have been

withdrawn.

The Pope requested that all who had left Venice on account of the

interdict should, upon its withdrawal, return and be reinstated in their

former privileges--making a special point of including the Jesuits.

But here, also, Venice made and kept to her amendment; all should

return, with full privilege and favor--save only the Jesuits, who had in

various ways rendered themselves obnoxious to the government.

The revocation of those laws which the Pope demanded was not to be

thought of, since this would be questioning the right of Venice to make

laws; neither was their suspension possible, for the laws were just. But

his Holiness might rest assured that they would be used in moderation

and Christian piety only--as they had ever been.

The real concession--the only one--was in the case of the ecclesiastical

prisoners--the Abbot of Nervessa and the Canon of Vicenza--whom his

Holiness persisted in claiming. But Monsieur du Fresne, the French

Ambassador, suggested that the Republic should, "without prejudice to

her right of jurisdiction over criminal ecclesiastics," _give_ these

prisoners to the ambassador as a mark of special favor to his king, the

mediator, who might then consign them to the Pope if he chose--they

being his to deal with.

Venice, with her powers of subtle reasoning, gladly embraced this way

out of the difficulty which had first appeared insuperable. "So to

_give_ them," she said, appeased, "confirms rather than questions our

authority, since no one may 'give' to another that over which he

exercises no dominion."

It was not Venice, but France, who was to request that the interdict be

withdrawn, that she might not seem to other nations to be under the ban;

for the Republic did not acknowledge that this condition of disfavor had

gone into effect; she could not therefore personally request the Pope to

change an attitude which put only himself in the wrong. But when there

was a hint of "absolution," which the cardinal in his zeal would also

ask the Holy Father to pronounce, Venice was silent from displeasure.

She had done no wrong; she would neither ask nor accept absolution.

The Senate might indeed be weary of these interminable discussions and

unending compliments, and glad of a respite in which to turn to other

matters. But there were no idle hours in that august assembly, though it

might chance that some whimsical phase of statesmanship lightened, by

way of entr'acte, the severity of their deliberations. They were,

possibly, not unpleasantly aware of the irony of the situation when a

letter from their governor in Constantinople announced "the extreme

solicitude of the Turkish Government for the life and welfare of the

Holy Father," who had so furthered their interests by widely inciting

discord among the nations of Christianity that, seeing therein a mark of

the special favor of Allah, the sultan had ordered prayers and

processions for the continued welfare of his Holiness!

The singular jealousy of the Venetians for the solidarity of their

government, with their no less singular jealousy of individual

aggrandizement, together with the rare perception of mental

characteristics that was fostered by the daily culture of the councils

in which every noble took his part, led them constantly to ignore their

selfish hopes in order to choose the right man for the place. These

sentiments, acting and reacting upon each other, had secured their

political prosperity; but a disaffection was beginning to make itself

felt in the Senate which led ultimately to over-limitations of power and

such multiplied checks and suspicions that noble living and wise ruling

became impossible.

It was a time of suppressed excitement, and there had been a grave

discussion as to the growing power of the Ten, against which some of the

senators had dared to express themselves openly; for many of these

strong men were beginning to feel that their government weighed upon

them like a Fate, crushing all liberty and individuality; and of secret

trials without defense there were tragic memories haunting the annals of

that grave tribunal.

But so great were the complications of the involved Venetian machine--so

many were the mysteries and fears environing the daily life of these

patricians--that each felt the actual to be safer than the untried

unknown, and surrendered the hope of change, tightening the cords that

upheld the government as their only means of safety.

For there was an under side to all this gold-tissued splendor that was

sometimes laid bare to the people, in spite of the deftness with which

the Signoria stood tirelessly ready to cover up the flaws; and a recent

sad travesty of justice was one of the weird happenings of this time.

Not long since a formal _decree of pardon_ had been solemnly declared

and published throughout Venetia, at which the people stood aghast. For

the man to whom this clemency was graciously extended had been condemned

and executed between the columns of San Marco and San Teodoro, ten years

before--standing accused of conspiracy against the State. There had been

many murmurings when the name of this old patrician, holding honorable

office in service of the Republic, had been erased from the Golden Book;

and he had suffered his ignominious death protesting that the charge was

false, and that all who had aided in his condemnation should die before

the year was out. His dying words had proved a grim prophecy, which,

encouraged by the pressure of the senators, induced the Signoria to

order a re-investigation of his case, whereby the _manes_ of this

dishonored servant of the State were re-instated in that serene favor

now so worthless.

And to-day the people gathered in gloomy silence while the great bell of

the campanile tolled the call to the solemn funeral pageant by which the

Republic offered reparation over the exhumed body of the victim. The

senators, wrapped in mourning cloaks, surrounded the bust of the man

they desired to honor as it was carried in triumph to the church where

the tomb was prepared; and the three _avvogadori_, who had the keeping

of the Golden Book, bore it on a great cushion behind the marble effigy,

the leaf bound open where the name was re-inscribed. Here also walked

the domestics of the re-habilitated noble of Venice--the hatchments that

had been doomed to oblivion freshly embroidered upon their sleeves above

their tokens of crêpe. The Doge and the Signoria all took part in this

tragic confession of wrong, doing penance unflinchingly for the sins of

their predecessors; for Venice could be munificent in reparation, not

shrinking from her own humiliation to appease outraged justice and

confirm her power, and there was nothing lacking that might add

impressiveness to the pageant.

But the people looked on gloomy and unappeased, filled with a horror

which the funeral pomp did little to quiet; they did not follow as the

_cortège_ descended the steps of the Piazzetta to embark in the waiting

gondolas that had been lavishly provided by the Republic. Santissima

Maria! they wanted to get back to their own quarters on the Giudecca and

breathe a little sunshine! What did one noble matter, less or more? "But

it's a gloomy barcarolle that a dead man sings!"

"And one that hath not died his own death!" a woman answered under her

breath, as she crossed herself with a shudder.

The wind inflated the empty folds of the crimson robe that draped the

bier, carrying it almost into the water, as the gondolas glided away

from the Piazzetta.

"San Marco save us! he wanted none of their pomp," said an onlooker

scornfully. "The ten good years of his life and a quiet grave in San

Michele--the Signoria would buy them dear, to give them to _him_

to-day!"

Yet if some had died unjustly, there was not less need of ceaseless

vigilance against unceasing intrigue, within and without that body which

held the power; and one morning the Senate was thrown into a state of

great agitation by disclosures from one of the brothers of the Frari,

indubitably confirmed by the papers which he delivered into the hands of

the Doge.

"It is beyond belief!" Giustinian Giustiniani exclaimed to the Lady

Laura, "how Spain findeth method to make traitors in Venice itself! It

is a nation treacherous to the core, and it were beyond the diplomacy of

any government,--save only ours,--to maintain relations on such a basis

of fraud."

"What is there of new to chide them for?" she asked with keen interest.

"Is not the old enough to make one wrathful! Boastful threats of arms

against the Republic if she yield not obedience to the Holy Father, with

secret promises of armed assistance to his Holiness to keep him firm in

his course, at the very moment of her cringing attempts at mediation

lest France should carry off the glory!--and because Spain hath neither

men to spare for Rome, nor courage to declare against the Republic, nor

diplomacy to bring anything to an issue!"

"Nay, now them art returned to Venice forget the disturbing ways of

Spain," the Lady Laura answered, with an attempt at conciliation. "I am

glad that thy mission in that strange land hath come to an end."

"Ay, but the ways of Spain do make traitors of us all!" Giustinian

exclaimed hotly. "When a senator of the Republic hath such amity for the

ambassador of his Most Catholic Majesty, forsooth, that at vespers and

at matins, in the Frari, they must use the self-same kneeling stool--a

tenderness and devotion beautiful to see in men so great; for it is aye

one, and aye the other, and never both who tell their beads at

once--that, verily, some brother of the Frari doth take cognizance of a

thing so rare and saintly and bringeth word thereof to the Serenissimo,

_with matter of much interest found within the prie-dieu_."

"Giustinian!"

"Ay, these minutes of the noble Senator, who acteth so well the spy for

favor of Spain, would do honor to a ducal secretary, for accuracy of

information concerning weighty private matters before the Council! And

due acknowledgment of so rare a courtesy doth not fail us in the very

hand of the ambassador himself, for this letter also was intercepted!

This frate who hath brought the information verily deserveth honor for

so great a service!"

"And the others?"

"Is there more than one treatment for a traitor?" Giustinian exclaimed,

with increasing temper. "And for the ambassador--it hath already been

courteously signified to him that the air of Venice agreeth not well

with one of his devotional tendencies."

"Tell me the name of the traitor," the Lady Laura urged, coming close

and laying her hand upon his shoulder.

"Nay," said her husband, shaking off her touch impatiently, "my anger

doth unlock my speech to a point I had not dreamed, for the matter may

be held before the Inquisition! But it is a name unknown to thee, and

new to this dignity, which he weareth like a clown! The freedom is still

too great for this entry to the Senate; the serrata hath done its work

too lightly if it leave space for one parvenu! To-morrow, when thou

takest the air in thy gondola, my Lady Laura, thou shalt look between

the columns of the Ducal Palace and know whatever the State will declare

to thee of that which concerneth the government alone! The times are

perilous."

"They will be better when the interdict is removed----"

"Ay--no--one knows not; it is a matter too grave for women and too

little for the Republic to grieve about. His Holiness would have us on

our knees, weeping like naughty infants, and abjectly craving his pardon

for daring to make our own laws and uphold our prince!"

"Giustinian, there is more to it than that."

"Ay, there _is_ more, if it setteth the women up to preach to us and to

expound the laws of the Republic--a knowledge in which I knew not that

they held the mastery! Take not the tone of Marina, who hath come near

to killing herself and making half a fool of Marcantonio."

"Nay, Marco is true to Venice and swerveth not. And for our

daughter--she hath suffered till it breaks my heart to look into her

face, poor child! And thou, Giustinian, wert little like thyself, when

she lay almost dying! The Signor Nani hath confessed to me that in Rome

there was much intriguing for her favor--of which she suspected naught.

It was a harm to them that they went to Rome; I would not have had it

so."

"Ay, thou would'st not have had it so; thou would'st have had it all

thine own way!" retorted Giustinian, who was becoming impossible to

please, now that the paths of government were growing more thorny and

exacting, and the Lion showed no sign of climbing to his portal. "That

father confessor of hers hath much to answer for. Keep the little one

well out of the way of their craft--dost thou hear? He is to be trained

for Venice, after the ways of the Ca' Giustiniani. And Marcantonio--who

knows?"

He had drifted into his favorite reverie, and wandered abstractedly out

upon the balcony looking longingly toward the rose-colored palace where

his every ambition centred; but he felt the glittering, jeweled eyes of

the patron saint of Venice glare upon him mockingly from his vantage

point upon the column, while the very twist of the out-thrust tongue

insinuated a personal message of malice and defeat.