Chapter 13

"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.

XVII

Giustinian Giustiniani had been among the electors and had listened to that strict canvassing of acts, both private and official, which preceded the final vote for the Prince of Venetia.

"Venice hath taken stand before the courts of Europe with a leader who feareth naught--save not to do the right," he magnanimously assured the Lady Laura one evening when, according to their wont, they were discussing the theme which never failed in interest. "Nay, not even that; for Donato hath courage in himself, and in his own rulings faith, and more a man needs not."

"Then wherefore hath the Signoria created this office of _Teologo Consultore_, and appointed thereto this friar of the Servi, of whom they tell such marvels--as if the Collegio, with all our learned chancellors, were not enough!"

"Leave thou these matters to the Signoria, who, verily, know how to rule--ay, and how to choose; for the man is like none other."

"What uses hath the Senate for this cloistered scholar, skilled in many sciences and master of tongues," the Lady Laura persisted, "that it should create an office--which since the _serrata_ it hath not been known to do--and appoint a friar over the heads of our nobles who have loyally served the Republic since our ancestors first sat in the Consiglio? There are the halls of Padua for our scholars, where already his friend, the master Galileo, holdeth high honors, by favor of the Senate; and if Fra Paolo were named Rector Magnifico, and put at its head----"

"Nay, nay, the Senate is wise," her husband interrupted, not ill pleased at her vehemence and the patrician pride which prompted it. "And if the Republic hath no present need of the Consultore's mastery of sciences, the fame thereof hath made a hearing for any speech of his. But he hath no mind to any social pleasures--how, then, my lady, hast seen him, or knowest thou the quality of his learning?"

"Fra Francesco is never weary of telling of his wisdom; they have been friends since boyhood in the Servi. The master Galileo, if one may believe him, can do naught without consulting Fra Paolo, and together they are building some strange tunnel that shall bring the stars nearer! It is like a fable to listen to these marvels of his friend, who for his discoveries might well hold all the chairs in Padua if Fra Francesco might decree his deserts! But Fra Francesco is simple-minded. Tell me, Giustinian, how doth the Consultore appear to thee?"

"To me and to all men like one who betrays no secret and speaks no idle word."

"Once," pursued the lady meditatively, "I had sight of him, going with Marco to the convent to see our Madonna of the Veronese, and Fra Paolo ministered in the chapel of the Consolation; very quiet and simple he seemed, like the other frati. I had not thought him great, nor a leader of men. Are there no statesmen in Venice who might better fit the dignity of so great an office?"

"Think not to teach subtlety to the Signoria, my Lady Laura! Is not every noble a statesman trained, and every one at the service of the Republic? But there is no greater theologian at the Court of Paul V, nor any ecclesiastic among them all more familiar with the writings of their authorities; and he hath a memory so astounding that he beareth the meaning of all their codes on the end of his tongue wherewith to confute the fallacious arguments of Rome."

"Giustinian!"

"It is like a woman to ask a thing and cry out if the answer be not smothered in sweets!" the old Senator retorted irritably, resenting her accent of reproof. "It is small marvel if the Consultore seemeth not great to thee; the power of the man is in the clarity of his vision and the brevity of his speech."

"Who named him to the Signoria?"

"Donato knew him well, and Morosini and all our ablest men; and his knowledge of the ways of Rome, where he hath been much in legislation at the Vatican, is a power in the Senate--which hath no mind to be taken in argument, nor to fail in courtesy, nor to show ignorance in its demands. It is much to have a judge whose opinion our adversary must respect."

"The Senate will be cautious--will not forget the reverence owed to the Holy Church?" she asked, in warning, troubled at his bold use of words.

"Nay, but the Republic will first remember the duty owed to our prince, since it is a matter that toucheth the State," he answered, uncompromisingly, "and for our duty to the Church--leave that to our frate, than whom none is more devout."

She was too keenly interested not to put the further question:

"Is it safe for Fra Paolo to lead this controversy? Is it pleasing to his order?"

Giustinian gave a contemptuous laugh.

"Thou mayest well ask! Fra Paolo also would not hear of it at first, foreseeing where it might lead. But from urgency of the Senate he yielded--if the consent of the general of the Servi were first won. Wherefore it was granted one knows not; but the purple robe had, perchance, some weight in the argument,--being a pleasing honor,--though one may dare assert that Fra Paolo himself gave it not a thought, having gathered honors all his life with no care for any greatness they might bring."

"Nay, it was not this that won them," said the Lady Laura, with decision, "but their hope that Fra Paolo would support the claims of the Holy Father; it could have been nothing else."

"A hope most reasonable, were he a man of less remarkable force," Giustinian answered confidently. "But, as if he held a divining-rod, he findeth at once the heart of a matter, and Venice hath no fears."

No, Venice had no fears. If there had been heartburnings, they were all forgotten; her rulers were one in determination while they calmly weighed the balance between Church and State, and confidently awaited the issue. The briefs had been opened and the chief Counsellor, the new Teologo Consultore, had given an opinion which filled the Senate with admiration.

"Two remedies might be found: one, material, by forbidding the publication of the censures and preventing the execution of them, thus resisting illegitimate force by force clearly legitimate, so long as it doth not overpass the bounds of natural right of defense; and the other moral, which consisteth in an appeal to a future council. But," continued this sagacious Counsellor, after a word explanatory of the "future council," "it were better to avoid this appeal in order not to irritate the Pope more than ever; and also because he who appealeth admiteth that the goodness of his cause is doubtful, whereas that of the Republic is indubitable."

Such was the opinion, brief as positive, to which the senators listened in undisguised satisfaction on that memorable day in January, 1606; and although those briefs, "Given in Saint Peter's, in Rome, under the Ring of the Fisherman, on the 10th of December, 1605," darkly threatened excommunication unless these dearly beloved sons of Venice withdrew from the stand they had taken, yet with a Doge who "would laugh at an excommunication," and a learned Counsellor who assured them that the cause of the Republic was indubitable, well might the shadows lessen in the Senate Chamber; while in calm assurance the Savii[7] prepared the reply to these communications from his Holiness, which the Signor Agostino Nani presently delivered in an audience at Rome.

[7] These Savii, or _wise men_, had charge of the diplomatic despatches of the Republic.

But the task of the courtly Nani was not an enviable one, deferent as was the form of the epistle in which these devoted sons declared that nothing could have been further from the thoughts of Venice than to prejudice the rights of the Church--humbly as they implored the Holy Father to recall the many acts of loyalty by which Venice had shown her love and reverence. Had she not been foremost in the Crusade? Was the Church anywhere more magnificently supported in temporal weal? Earnestly as they assured him of the harmlessness of those laws which he condemned as hurtful to their souls, quietly announcing that the Republic had transgressed no right in making laws for her own independent civil government,--and gracious and diplomatic as were the ways of Nani,--his Holiness declared the letter to be "frivolous and vain," and dismissed the ambassador with temper, assuring him that unless the Republic found means to retract those laws "the gates of hell should not prevail" to deter him from inflicting the utmost threatened penalty.

It was a frank contest of wills, in which each opponent conscientiously believed himself in the right; but it was, nevertheless, not an equal contest; for Paul, conceiving that his duty in the exalted position of head of the Church which had been so unexpectedly thrust upon him, lay in its mere temporal aggrandizement, while consciously turning all his powers in that direction, misnamed the struggle a _spiritual_ one. But Venice not only believed but confessed it to be merely a question of civil rights of rulers, and, strong in the sense of the justice of her cause, used every grace of trained diplomacy in asserting it--upon an understanding of civil law which was beyond the attainment of the lawyer Camillo Borghese, and with the aid of specialists whose knowledge of canon law equaled that of his Holiness.

Among the important matters touched upon in those days in the Senate the question had been broached, not without anxiety, as to whether Rome would have recourse to force of a less spiritual nature, and a secret commission had been appointed to examine and report from the frontiers any accession of papal troops, while envoys were sent to Ferrara on the same furtive errand: and the more serious Venetians were already discussing the possibility of war as one of the aspects of this quarrel with the Holy See.

One day, through the swift and secret mouth of the Lion, an unusual message reached the Ten, standing strangely out amid a mass of darker matter--denunciations, sinister information, hints of intrigues; the reason for the choice of this mysterious messenger was stated in the preamble: "To the end that this may, without circumlocution, immediately reach your noble body and be acted upon in your discretion--being secretly dismissed, if this seemeth wisest in the interests of the State." It was a brief offer on the part of Girolamo Magagnati to equip and maintain, at his expense, in the event of war with the Holy See, a war-galley of the largest size, as a gift to the Republic in the name of his little grandson, the infant Giustinian.