The Bravo (15 page)

We shall not detain the narrative, to describe the pomp in which a
luxurious and affluent aristocracy, that in general held itself aloof
from familiar intercourse with those it ruled, displayed its
magnificence to the eyes of the multitude, on an occasion of popular
rejoicing. Long lines of senators, dressed in their robes of office, and
attended by crowds of liveried followers, came from under the galleries
of the palace, and descended by the Giant's Stairway into the sombre
court. Thence, the whole issued into the Piazzetta in order, and
proceeded to their several stations on the canopied deck of the well
known bark. Each patrician had his allotted place, and before the rear
of the cortège had yet quitted the quay, there was a long and imposing
row of grave legislators seated in the established order of their
precedency. The ambassadors, the high dignitaries of the state, and the
aged man who had been chosen to bear the empty honors of sovereignty,
still remained on the land, waiting, with the quiet of trained docility,
the moment to embark. At this moment, a man of an embrowned visage, legs
bare to the knee, and breast open to the breeze, rushed through the
guards, and knelt on the stones of the quay at his feet.

"Justice!—great prince!" cried the bold stranger; "justice and mercy!
Listen to one who has bled for St. Mark, and who hath his scars for his
witnesses."

"Justice and mercy are not always companions," calmly observed he who
wore the horned bonnet, motioning to his officious attendants to let the
intruder stay.

"Mighty prince! I come for the last."

"Who and what art thou?"

"A fisherman of the Lagunes. One named Antonio, who seeketh the liberty
of the prop of his years—a glorious boy, that force and the policy of
the state have torn from me."

"This should not be! Violence is not the attribute of justice—but the
youth hath offended the laws, and he suffereth for his crimes?"

"He is guilty, Excellent and most Serene Highness, of youth, and health,
and strength, with some skill in the craft of the mariner. They have
taken him, without warning or consent, for the service of the galleys,
and have left me in my age, alone."

The expression of pity, which had taken possession of the venerable
features of the prince, changed instantly to a look of uneasiness and
distrust. The eye, which just before had melted with compassion, became
cold and set in its meaning, and signing to his guards, he bowed with
dignity to the attentive and curious auditors, among the foreign agents,
to proceed.

"Bear him away," said an officer, who took his master's meaning from the
glance; "the ceremonies may not be retarded for a prayer so idle."

Antonio offered no resistance, but yielding to the pressure of those
around him, he sank back meekly among the crowd, disappointment and
sorrow giving place, for an instant, to an awe and an admiration of the
gorgeous spectacle, that were perhaps in some degree inseparable from
his condition and habits. In a few moments, the slight interruption
produced by this short scene, was forgotten in the higher interest of
the occasion.

When the ducal party had taken their places, and an admiral of
reputation was in possession of the helm, the vast and gorgeous bark,
with its gilded galleries thronged with attendants, swept away from the
quay with a grand and stately movement. Its departure was the signal for
a new burst of trumpets and clarions, and for fresh acclamations from
the people. The latter rushed to the edge of the water, and by the time
the Bucentaur had reached the middle of the port, the stream was black
with the gondolas that followed in her train. In this manner did the gay
and shouting cortège sweep on, some darting ahead of the principal bark,
and some clinging, like smaller fish swimming around the leviathan, as
near to her sides as the fall of the ponderous oars would allow. As each
effort of the crew sent the galley further from the land, the living
train seemed to extend itself, by some secret principle of expansion;
nor was the chain of its apparent connexion entirely broken, until the
Bucentaur had passed the island, long famous for its convent of
religious Arminians. Here the movement became slower, in order to permit
the thousand gondolas to approach, and then the whole moved forward, in
nearly one solid phalanx, to the landing of the Lido.

The marriage of the Adriatic, as the ceremony was quaintly termed, has
been too often described to need a repetition here. Our business is
rather with incidents of a private and personal nature than with
descriptions of public events, and we shall pass over all that has no
immediate connexion with the interest of the tale.

When the Bucentaur became stationary, a space around her stern was
cleared, and the Doge appeared in a rich gallery, so constructed as to
exhibit the action to all in sight. He held a ring, glittering with
precious stones, on high, and, pronouncing the words of betrothal, he
dropped it upon the bosom of his fancied spouse. Shouts arose, trumpets
blew their blasts, and each lady waved her handkerchief, in felicitation
of the happy union. In the midst of the fracas—which was greatly
heightened by the roar of cannon on board the cruisers in the channel,
and from the guns in the arsenal—a boat glided into the open space
beneath the gallery of the Bucentaur. The movement of the arm which
directed the light gondola was dexterous and still strong, though the
hairs of him who held the oar were thin and white. A suppliant eye was
cast up at the happy faces that adorned the state of the prince, and
then the look was changed intently to the water. A small fisherman's
buoy fell from the boat, which glided away so soon, that, amid the
animation and uproar of that moment, the action was scarce heeded by the
excited throng.

The aquatic procession now returned towards the city, the multitude
rending the air with shouts at the happy termination of a ceremony, to
which time and the sanction of the sovereign pontiff had given a species
of sanctity that was somewhat increased by superstition. It is true that
a few among the Venetians themselves regarded these famous nuptials of
the Adriatic with indifference; and that several of the ministers of the
northern and more maritime states, who were witnesses on the occasion,
had scarcely concealed, as they cast glances of intelligence and pride
among themselves, their smiles. Still, such was the influence of
habit—for so much does even arrogant assumption, when long and
perseveringly maintained, count among men—that neither the increasing
feebleness of the Republic, nor the known superiority of other powers on
the very element which this pageant was intended to represent as the
peculiar property of St. Mark, could yet cover the lofty pretension with
the ridicule it merited. Time has since taught the world that Venice
continued this idle deception for ages after both reason and modesty
should have dictated its discontinuance; but, at the period of which we
write, that ambitious, crapulous, and factitious state was rather
beginning to feel the symptomatic evidence of its fading circumstances,
than to be fully conscious of the swift progress of a downward course.
In this manner do communities, like individuals, draw near their
dissolution, inattentive to the symptoms of decay, until they are
overtaken with that fate which finally overwhelms empires and their
power in the common lot of man.

The Bucentaur did not return directly to the quay, to disburden itself
of its grave and dignified load. The gaudy galley anchored in the centre
of the port, and opposite to the wide mouth of the great canal. Officers
had been busy, throughout the morning, in causing all the shipping and
heavy boats, of which hundreds lay in that principal artery of the city,
to remove from the centre of the passage, and heralds now summoned the
citizens to witness the regatta, with which the public ceremonies of the
day were to terminate.

Venice, from her peculiar formation and the vast number of her watermen,
had long been celebrated for this species of amusement. Families were
known and celebrated in her traditions for dexterous skill with the oar,
as they were known in Rome for feats of a far less useful and of a more
barbarous nature. It was usual to select from these races of watermen
the most vigorous and skilful; and after invoking the aid of
patron-saints, and arousing their pride and recollections by songs that
recounted the feats of their ancestors, to start them for the goal, with
every incitement that pride and the love of victory could awaken.

Most of these ancient usages were still observed. As soon as the
Bucentaur was in its station, some thirty or forty gondoliers were
brought forth, clad in their gayest habiliments, and surrounded and
supported by crowds of anxious friends and relatives. The intended
competitors were expected to sustain the long-established reputations of
their several names, and they were admonished of the disgrace of
defeat. They were cheered by the men, and stimulated by the smiles and
tears of the other sex. The rewards were recalled to their minds; they
were fortified by prayers to the saints; and then they were dismissed,
amid the cries and the wishes of the multitude, to seek their allotted
places beneath the stern of the galley of state.

It has already been mentioned in these pages, that the city of Venice is
divided into two nearly equal parts by a channel much broader than that
of the ordinary passages of the town. This dividing artery, from its
superior size and depth, and its greater importance, is called the Grand
Canal. Its course is not unlike that of an undulating line, which
greatly increases its length. As it is much used by the larger boats of
the bay—being, in fact, a sort of secondary port—and its width is so
considerable, it has throughout the whole distance but one bridge, the
celebrated Rialto. The regatta was to be held on this canal, which
offered the requisites of length and space, and which, as it was lined
with most of the palaces of the principal senators, afforded all the
facilities necessary for viewing the struggle.

In passing from one end of this long course to the other, the men
destined for the race were not permitted to make any exertion. Their
eyes roamed over the gorgeous hangings, which, as is still wont
throughout Italy on all days of festa, floated from every window, and on
groups of females in rich attire, brilliant with the peculiar charms of
the famed Venetian beauty, that clustered in the balconies. Those who
were domestics, rose and answered to the encouraging signals thrown from
above, as they passed the palaces of their masters; while those who were
watermen of the public, endeavored to gather hope among the sympathizing
faces of the multitude.

At length every formality had been duly observed, and the competitors
assumed their places. The gondolas were much larger than those commonly
used, and each was manned by three watermen in the centre, directed by a
fourth, who, standing on the little deck in the stern, steered, while he
aided to impel the boat. There were light, low staffs in the bows, with
flags, that bore the distinguishing colors of several noble families of
the Republic, or which had such other simple devices as had been
suggested by the fancies of those to whom they belonged. A few
flourishes of the oars, resembling the preparatory movements which the
master of fence makes ere he begins to push and parry, were given; a
whirling of the boats, like the prancing of curbed racers, succeeded;
and then, at the report of a gun, the whole darted away as if the
gondolas were impelled by volition. The start was followed by a shout,
which passed swiftly along the canal, and an eager agitation of heads
that went from balcony to balcony, till the sympathetic movement was
communicated to the grave load under which the Bucentaur labored.

For a few minutes the difference in force and skill was not very
obvious. Each gondola glided along the element apparently with that ease
with which a light-winged swallow skims the lake, and with no visible
advantage to any one of the ten. Then, as more art in him who steered,
or greater powers of endurance in those who rowed, or some of the latent
properties of the boat itself came into service, the cluster of little
barks which had come off like a closely-united flock of birds taking
flight together in alarm, began to open, till they formed a long and
vacillating line in the centre of the passage. The whole train shot
beneath the bridge so near each other as to render it still doubtful
which was to conquer, and the exciting strife came more in view of the
principal personages of the city.

But here those radical qualities which insure success in efforts of this
nature manifested themselves. The weaker began to yield, the train to
lengthen, and hopes and fears to increase, until those in front
presented the exhilarating spectacle of success, while those behind
offered the still more noble sight of men struggling without hope.
Gradually the distances between the boats increased, while that between
them and the goal grew rapidly less, until three of those in advance
came in, like glancing arrows, beneath the stern of the Bucentaur, with
scarce a length between them. The prize was won, the conquerors were
rewarded, and the artillery gave forth the usual signals of rejoicing.
Music answered to the roar of cannon and the peals of bells, while
sympathy with success, that predominant and so often dangerous principle
of our nature, drew shouts even from the disappointed.

The clamor ceased, and a herald proclaimed aloud the commencement of a
new and different struggle. The last, and what might be termed the
national race, had been limited by an ancient usage to the known and
recognised gondoliers of Venice. The prize had been awarded by the
state, and the whole affair had somewhat of an official and political
character. It was now announced, however, that a race was to be run, in
which the reward was open to all competitors, without question as to
their origin, or as to their ordinary occupations. An oar of gold, to
which was attached a chain of the same precious metal, was exhibited as
the boon of the Doge to him who showed most dexterity and strength in
this new struggle; while a similar ornament of silver was to be the
portion of him who showed the second-best dexterity and bottom. A mimic
boat of less precious metal was the third prize. The gondolas were to be
the usual light vehicles of the canals, and as the object was to display
the peculiar skill of that city of islands, but one oarsman was allowed
to each, on whom would necessarily fall the whole duty of guiding, while
he impelled his little bark. Any of those who had been engaged in the
previous trial were admitted to this; and all desirous of taking part in
the new struggle were commanded to come beneath the stern of the
Bucentaur within a prescribed number of minutes, that note might be had
of their wishes. As notice of this arrangement had been previously
given, the interval between the two races was not long.