The Bravo (51 page)

The case before us was in proof of the truth of what has here been said.
The Signor Soranzo was a man of great natural excellence of character,
and the charities of his domestic circle had assisted in confirming his
original dispositions. Like others of his rank and expectations, he had,
from time to time, made the history and polity of the self-styled
Republic his study, and the power of collective interests and specious
necessities had made him admit sundry theories, which, presented in
another form, he would have repulsed with indignation. Still the Signor
Soranzo was far from understanding the full effects of that system
which he was born to uphold. Even Venice paid that homage to public
opinion, of which there has just been question, and held forth to the
world but a false picture of her true state maxims. Still, many of those
which were too apparent to be concealed were difficult of acceptance,
with one whose mind was yet untainted with practice; and the young
senator rather shut his eyes on their tendency, or, as he felt their
influence in every interest which environed him, but that of poor,
neglected, abstract virtue, whose rewards were so remote, he was fain to
seek out some palliative, or some specious and indirect good as the
excuse for his acquiescence.

In this state of mind the Signor Soranzo was unexpectedly admitted a
member of the Council of Three. Often, in the day-dreams of his youth,
had he contemplated the possession of this very irresponsible power as
the consummation of his wishes. A thousand pictures of the good he would
perform had crossed his brain, and it was only as he advanced in life,
and came to have a near view of the wiles which beset the
best-intentioned, that he could bring himself to believe most of that
which he meditated was impracticable. As it was, he entered into the
council with doubts and misgivings. Had he lived in a later age, under
his own system modified by the knowledge which has been a consequence of
the art of printing, it is probable that the Signor Soranzo would have
been a noble in opposition, now supporting with ardor some measure of
public benevolence, and now yielding gracefully to the suggestions of a
sterner policy, and always influenced by the positive advantages he was
born to possess, though scarcely conscious himself he was not all he
professed to be. The fault, however, was not so much that of the
patrician as that of circumstances, which, by placing interest in
opposition to duty, lures many a benevolent mind into still greater
weaknesses.

The companions of the Signor Soranzo, however, had a more difficult
task to prepare him for the duties of the statesman, which were so very
different from those he was accustomed to perform as a man, than they
had anticipated. They were like two trained elephants of the east,
possessing themselves all the finer instincts and generous qualities of
the noble animal, but disciplined by a force quite foreign to their
natural condition into creatures of mere convention, placed one on each
side of a younger brother, fresh from the plains, and whom it was their
duty to teach new services for the trunk, new affections, and haply the
manner in which to carry with dignity the howdah of a Rajah.

With many allusions to their policy, but with no direct intimation of
their own intention, the seniors of the council continued the
conversation until the hour for the meeting in the Doge's palace drew
nigh. They then separated as privately as they had come together, in
order that no vulgar eye might penetrate the mystery of their official
character.

The most practised of the three appeared in an assembly of the
patricians, which noble and beautiful dames graced with their presence,
from which he disappeared in a manner to leave no clue to his motions.
The other visited the death-bed of a friend, where he discoursed long
and well with a friar, of the immortality of the soul and the hopes of a
Christian: when he departed, the godly man bestowing his blessing, and
the family he left being loud and eloquent in his praise.

The Signor Soranzo clung to the enjoyments of his own family circle
until the last moment. The Donna Giulietta had returned, fresher and
more lovely than ever, from the invigorating sea-breeze, and her soft
voice, with the melodious laugh of his first-born, the blooming,
ringlet-covered girl described, still rang in his ears, when his
gondolier landed him beneath the bridge of the Rialto. Here he masked,
and drawing his cloak about him, he moved with the current towards the
square of St. Mark, by means of the narrow streets. Once in the crowd
there was little danger of impertinent observation. Disguise was as
often useful to the oligarchy of Venice as it was absolutely necessary
to elude its despotism, and to render the town tolerable to the citizen.
Paolo saw swarthy, bare-legged men of the Lagunes, entering occasionally
into the cathedral. He followed, and found himself standing near the
dimly lighted altar at which masses were still saying for the soul of
Antonio.

"This is one of thy fellows?" he asked of a fisherman, whose dark eye
glittered in that light, like the organ of a basilisk.

"Signore, he was—a more honest or a more just man did not cast his net
in the gulf."

"He has fallen a victim to his craft?"

"Cospetto di Bacco! none know in what manner he came by his end. Some
say St. Mark was impatient to see him in paradise, and some pretend he
has fallen by the hand of a common Bravo, named Jacopo Frontoni."

"Why should a Bravo take the life of one like this?"

"By having the goodness to answer your own question, Signore, you will
spare me some trouble. Why should he, sure enough? They say Jacopo is
revengeful, and that shame and anger at his defeat in the late regatta,
by one old as this, was the reason."

"Is he so jealous of his honor with the oar?"

"Diamine! I have seen the time when Jacopo would sooner die than lose a
race; but that was before he carried a stiletto. Had he kept to his oar
the thing might have happened, but once known for the hired blow, it
seems unreasonable he should set his heart so strongly on the prizes of
the canals."

"May not the man have fallen into the Lagunes by accident?"

"No doubt, Signore. This happens to some of us daily; but then we think
it wiser to swim to the boat than to sink. Old Antonio had an arm in
youth to carry him from the quay to the Lido."

"But he may have been struck in falling, and rendered unable to do
himself this good office."

"There would be marks to show this, were it true, Signore!"

"Would not Jacopo have used the stiletto?"

"Perhaps not on one like Antonio. The gondola of the old man was found
in the mouth of the Grand Canal, half a league from the body and against
the wind! We note these things, Signore, for they are within our
knowledge."

"A happy night to thee, fisherman."

"A most happy night, eccellenza," said the laborer of the Lagunes,
gratified with having so long occupied the attention of one he rightly
believed so much his superior. The disguised senator passed on. He had
no difficulty in quitting the cathedral unobserved, and he had his
private means of entering the palace, without attracting any impertinent
eye to his movements. Here he quickly joined his colleagues of the
fearful tribunal.

"
There
the prisoners rest together;
they hear not the voice of the oppressor."
JOB.

The manner in which the Council of Three held its more public meetings,
if aught connected with that mysterious body could be called public, has
already been seen. On the present occasion there were the same robes,
the same disguises, and the same officers of the inquisition, as in the
scene related in a previous chapter. The only change was in the
character of the judges, and in that of the accused. By a peculiar
arrangement of the lamp, too, most of the light was thrown upon the spot
it was intended the prisoner should occupy, while the side of the
apartment on which the inquisitors sat, was left in a dimness that well
accorded with their gloomy and secret duties. Previously to the opening
of the door by which the person to be examined was to appear, there was
audible the clanking of chains, the certain evidence that the affair in
hand was considered serious. The hinges turned, and the Bravo stood in
presence of those unknown men who were to decide on his fate.

As Jacopo had often been before the council, though not as a prisoner,
he betrayed neither surprise nor alarm at the black aspect of all his
eye beheld. His features were composed, though pale, his limbs
immovable, and his mien decent. When the little bustle of his entrance
had subsided, there reigned a stillness in the room.

"Thou art called Jacopo Frontoni?" said the secretary, who acted as the
mouth-piece of the Three, on this occasion.

"I am."

"Thou art the son of a certain Ricardo Frontoni, a man well known as
having been concerned in robbing the Republic's customs, and who is
thought to have been banished to the distant islands, or to be otherwise
punished?"

"Signore—or otherwise punished."

"Thou wert a gondolier in thy youth?"

"I was a gondolier."

"Thy mother is—"

"Dead," said Jacopo, perceiving the other paused to examine his notes.

The depth of the tone in which this word was uttered, caused a silence,
that the secretary did not interrupt, until he had thrown a glance
backwards at the judges.

"She was not accused of thy father's crime?"

"Had she been, Signore, she is long since beyond the power of the
Republic."

"Shortly after thy father fell under the displeasure of the state, thou
quittedst thy business of a gondolier?"

"Signore, I did."

"Thou art accused, Jacopo, of having laid aside the oar for the
stiletto?"

"Signore, I am."

"For several years, the rumors of thy bloody deeds have been growing in
Venice, until, of late, none have met with an untimely fate that the
blow has not been attributed to thy hand?"

"This is too true, Signor Segretario—I would it were not!"

"The ears of his highness, and of the Councils, have not been closed to
these reports, but they have long attended to the rumors with the
earnestness which becomes a paternal and careful government. If they
have suffered thee to go at large, it hath only been that there might
be no hazard of sullying the ermine of justice, by a premature and not
sufficiently supported judgment."

Jacopo bent his head, but without speaking. A smile so wild and meaning,
however, gleamed on his face at this declaration, that the permanent
officer of the secret tribunal, he who served as its organ of
communication, bowed nearly to the paper he held, as it might be to look
deeper into his documents. Let not the reader turn back to this page in
surprise, when he shall have reached the explanation of the tale, for
mysticisms quite as palpable, if not of so ruthless a character, have
been publicly acted by political bodies in his own times.

"There is now a specific and a frightful charge brought against thee,
Jacopo Frontoni," continued the secretary; "and, in tenderness of the
citizen's life, the dreaded Council itself hath taken the matter in
hand. Didst thou know a certain Antonio Vecchio, a fisherman here in our
Lagunes?"

"Signore, I knew him well of late, and much regret that it was only of
late."

"Thou knowest, too, that his body hath been found, drowned in the bay?"

Jacopo shuddered, signifying his assent merely by a sign. The effect of
this tacit acknowledgment on the youngest of the three was apparent, for
he turned to his companions, like one struck by the confession it
implied. His colleagues made dignified inclinations in return, and the
silent communication ceased.

"His death has excited discontent among his fellows, and its cause has
become a serious subject of inquiry for the illustrious Council."

"The death of the meanest man in Venice should call forth the care of
the patricians, Signore."

"Dost thou know, Jacopo, that thou art accused of being his murderer?"

"Signore, I do."

"It is said that thou earnest among the gondoliers in the late regatta,
and that, but for this aged fisherman, thou would'st have been winner of
the prize?"

"In that, rumor hath not lied, Signore."

"Thou dost not, then, deny the charge!" said the examiner, in evident
surprise.

"It is certain that, but for the fisherman, I should have been the
winner."

"And thou wished it, Jacopo?"

"Signore, greatly," returned the accused, with a show of emotion, that
had not hitherto escaped him. "I was a man condemned of his fellows, and
the oar had been my pride, from childhood to that hour."

Another movement of the third inquisitor betrayed equally his interest
and his surprise.

"Dost thou confess the crime?"

Jacopo smiled, but more in derision than with any other feeling.

"If the illustrious senators here present will unmask, I may answer that
question, haply, with greater confidence," he said.

"Thy request is bold and out of rule. None know the persons of the
patricians who preside over the destinies of the state. Dost thou
confess the crime?"

The entrance of an officer, in some haste, prevented a reply. The man
placed a written report in the hands of the inquisitor in red, and
withdrew. After a short pause, the guards were ordered to retire with
their prisoner.

"Great senators!" said Jacopo, advancing earnestly towards the table, as
if he would seize the moment to urge what he was about to say;—"Mercy!
grant me your authority to visit one in the prisons, beneath the
leads!—I have weighty reasons for the wish, and I pray you, as men and
fathers, to grant it!"

The interest of the two, who were consulting apart on the new
intelligence, prevented them from listening to what he urged. The other
inquisitor, who was the Signer Soranzo, had drawn near the lamp, anxious
to read the lineaments of one so notorious, and was gazing at his
striking countenance. Touched by the pathos of his voice, and agreeably
disappointed in the lineaments he studied, he took upon himself the
power to grant the request.