The Bravo (23 page)

"Thy petition to his Highness, thy strife in the regatta, and thy search
for the ring, had the same object?"

"To me, Signore, life has but one."

There was a slight but suppressed movement among the council.

"When thy request was refused by his Highness as ill-timed—"

"Ah! eccellenza, when one has a white head and a failing arm, he cannot
stop to look for the proper moment in such a cause!" interrupted the
fisherman, with a gleam of that impetuosity which forms the true base of
Italian character.

"When thy request was denied, and thou hadst refused the reward of the
victor, thou went among thy fellows and fed their ears with complaints
of the injustice of St. Mark, and of the senate's tyranny?"

"Signore, no. I went away sad and heart-broken, for I had not thought
the Doge and nobles would have refused a successful gondolier so light a
boon."

"And this thou didst not hesitate to proclaim among the fishermen and
idlers of the Lido?"

"Eccellenza, it was not needed—my fellows knew my unhappiness, and
tongues were not wanting to tell the worst."

"There was a tumult, with thee at its head, and sedition was uttered,
with much vain-boasting of what the fleet of the Lagunes could perform
against the fleet of the Republic."

"There is little difference, Signore, between the two, except that the
men of the one go in gondolas with nets, and the men of the other are in
the galleys of the state. Why should brothers seek each other's blood?"

The movement among the judges was more manifest than ever. They
whispered together, and a paper containing a few lines rapidly written
in pencil, was put into the hands of the examining secretary.

"Thou didst address thy fellows, and spoke openly of thy fancied wrongs;
thou didst comment on the laws which require the services of the
citizens, when the Republic is compelled to send forth a fleet against
its enemies."

"It is not easy to be silent, Signore, when the heart is full."

"And there was a consultation among thee of coming to the palace in a
body, and of asking the discharge of thy grandson from the Doge, in the
name of the rabble of the Lido."

"Signore, there were some generous enough to make the offer, but others
were of advice it would be well to reflect before they took so bold a
measure."

"And thou—what was thine own counsel on that point?"

"Eccellenza, I am old, and though unused to be thus questioned by
illustrious senators, I had seen enough of the manner in which St. Mark
governs, to believe a few unarmed fishermen and gondoliers would not be
listened to with—"

"Ha! Did the gondoliers become of thy party? I should have believed
them jealous, and displeased with the triumph of one who was not of
their body."

"A gondolier is a man, and though they had the feelings of human nature
on being beaten, they had also the feelings of human nature when they
heard that a father was robbed of his son—Signore," continued Antonio,
with great earnestness and a singular simplicity, "there will be great
discontent on the canals, if the galleys sail with the boy aboard them!"

"Such is thy opinion; were the gondoliers on the Lido numerous?"

"When the sports ended, eccellenza, they came over by hundreds, and I
will do the generous fellows the justice to say, that they had forgotten
their want of luck in the love of justice. Diamine! these gondoliers are
not so bad a class as some pretend, but they are men like ourselves, and
can feel for a Christian as well as another."

The secretary paused, for his task was done; and a deep silence pervaded
the gloomy apartment. After a short pause one of the three resumed—

"Antonio Vecchio," he said, "thou hast served thyself in these said
galleys, to which thou now seemest so averse—and served bravely, as I
learn?"

"Signore, I have done my duty by St. Mark. I played my part against the
infidel, but it was after my beard was grown, and at an age when I had
learnt to know good from evil. There is no duty more cheerfully
performed by us all, than to defend the islands and the Lagunes against
the enemy."

"And all the Republic's dominions.—Thou canst make no distinctions
between any of the rights of the state."

"There is wisdom granted to the great, which God has denied the poor and
the weak, Signore. To me it does not seem clear that Venice, a city
built on a few islands, hath any more right to carry her rule into Crete
or Candia, than the Turk hath to come here."

"How! Dost thou dare on the Lido to question the claim of the Republic
to her conquests? or do the irreverent fishermen dare thus to speak
lightly of her glory?"

"Eccellenza, I know little of rights that come by violence. God hath
given us the Lagunes, but I know not that he has given us more. This
glory of which you speak may sit lightly on the shoulder of a senator,
but it weighs heavily on a fisherman's heart."

"Thou speakest, bold man, of that which thou dost not comprehend."

"It is unfortunate, Signore, that the power to understand hath not been
given to those who have so much power to suffer."

An anxious pause succeeded this reply.

"Thou mayest withdraw, Antonio," said he, who apparently presided in the
dread councils of the Three. "Thou wilt not speak of what has happened,
and thou wilt await the inevitable justice of St. Mark in full
confidence of its execution."

"Thanks, illustrious senator; I will obey your excellency; but my heart
is full, and I would fain say a few words concerning the child, before I
quit this noble company."

"Thou mayest speak—and here thou mayest give free vent to all thy
wishes, or to all thy griefs, if any thou hast. St. Mark has no greater
pleasure than to listen to the wishes of his children."

"I believe they have reviled the Republic in calling its chiefs
heartless, and sold to ambition!" said the old man, with generous
warmth, disregarding the stern rebuke which gleamed in the eye of
Jacopo. "A senator is but a man, and there are fathers and children
among them, as among us of the Lagunes."

"Speak, but refrain from seditious or discreditable discourse," uttered
a secretary, in a half-whisper. "Proceed."

"I have little now to offer, Signori; I am not used to boast of my
services to the state, excellent gentlemen, but there is a time when
human modesty must give way to human nature. These scars were got in one
of the proudest days of St. Mark, and in the foremost of all the galleys
that fought among the Greek Islands. The father of my boy wept over me
then, as I have since wept over his own son—yes—I might be ashamed to
own it among men, but if the truth must be spoken, the loss of the boy
has drawn bitter tears from me in the darkness of night, and in the
solitude of the Lagunes. I lay many weeks, Signori, less a man than a
corpse, and when I got back again to my nets and my toil, I did not
withhold my son from the call of the Republic. He went in my place to
meet the infidel—a service from which he never came back. This was the
duty of men who had grown in experience, and who were not to be deluded
into wickedness by the evil company of the galleys. But this calling of
children into the snares of the devil grieves a father, and—I will own
the weakness, if such it be—I am not of a courage and pride to send
forth my own flesh and blood into the danger and corruption of war and
evil society, as in days when the stoutness of the heart was like the
stoutness of the limbs. Give me back, then, my boy, till he has seen my
old head laid beneath the sands, and until, by the aid of blessed St.
Anthony, and such counsels as a poor man can offer, I may give him more
steadiness in his love of the right, and until I may have so shaped his
life, that he will not be driven about by every pleasant or treacherous
wind that may happen to blow upon his bark. Signori, you are rich, and
powerful, and honored, and though you may be placed in the way of
temptations to do wrongs that are suited to your high names and
illustrious fortunes, ye know little of the trials of the poor. What are
the temptations of the blessed St. Anthony himself, to those of the evil
company of the galleys! And now, Signori, though you may be angry to
hear it, I will say, that when an aged man has no other kin on earth,
or none so near as to feel the glow of the thin blood of the poor, than
one poor boy, St. Mark would do well to remember that even a fisherman
of the Lagunes can feel as well as the Doge on his throne. This much I
say, illustrious senators, in sorrow, and not in anger; for I would get
back the child, and die in peace with my superiors, as with my equals."

"Thou mayest depart," said one of the Three.

"Not yet, Signore, I have still more to say of the men of the Lagunes,
who speak with loud voices concerning this dragging of boys into the
service of the galleys."

"We will hear their opinions."

"Noble gentlemen, if I were to utter all they have said, word for word,
I might do some disfavor to your ears! Man is man, though the Virgin and
the saints listen to his aves and prayers from beneath a jacket of serge
and a fisherman's cap. But I know too well my duty to the senate to
speak so plainly. But, Signori, they say, saving the bluntness of their
language, that St. Mark should have ears for the meanest of his people
as well as for the richest noble; and that not a hair should fall from
the head of a fisherman, without its being counted as if it were a lock
from beneath the horned bonnet; and that where God hath not made marks
of his displeasure, man should not."

"Do they dare to reason thus?"

"I know not if it be reason, illustrious Signore, but it is what they
say, and, eccellenza, it is holy truth. We are poor workmen of the
Lagunes, who rise with the day to cast our nets, and return at night to
hard beds and harder fare; but with this we might be content, did the
senate count us as Christians and men. That God hath not given to all
the same chances in life, I well know, for it often happens that I draw
an empty net, when my comrades are groaning with the weight of their
draughts; but this is done to punish my sins, or to humble my heart,
whereas it exceeds the power of man to look into the secrets of the
soul, or to foretell the evil of the still innocent child. Blessed St.
Anthony knows how many years of suffering this visit to the galleys may
cause to the child in the end. Think of these things, I pray you,
Signori, and send men of tried principles to the wars."

"Thou mayest retire," rejoined the judge.

"I should be sorry that any who cometh of my blood," continued the
inattentive Antonio, "should be the cause of ill-will between them that
rule and them that are born to obey. But nature is stronger even than
the law, and I should discredit her feelings were I to go without
speaking as becomes a father. Ye have taken my child and sent him to
serve the state at the hazard of body and soul, without giving
opportunity for a parting kiss, or a parting blessing—ye have used my
flesh and blood as ye would use the wood of the arsenal, and sent it
forth upon the sea as if it were the insensible metal of the balls ye
throw against the infidel. Ye have shut your ears to my prayers, as if
they were words uttered by the wicked, and when I have exhorted you on
my knees, wearied my stiffened limbs to do ye pleasure, rendered ye the
jewel which St. Anthony gave to my net, that it might soften your
hearts, and reasoned with you calmly on the nature of your acts, you
turn from me coldly, as if I were unfit to stand forth in defence of the
offspring that God hath left my age! This is not the boasted justice of
St. Mark, Venetian senators, but hardness of heart and a wasting of the
means of the poor, that would ill become the most grasping Hebrew of the
Rialto!"

"Hast thou aught more to urge, Antonio?" asked the judge, with the wily
design of unmasking the fisherman's entire soul.

"Is it not enough, Signore, that I urge my years, my poverty, my scars,
and my love for the boy? I know ye not, but though ye are hid behind the
folds of your robes and masks, still must ye be men. There may be among
ye a father, or perhaps some one who hath a still more sacred charge,
the child of a dead son. To him I speak. In vain ye talk of justice when
the weight of your power falls on them least able to bear it; and though
ye may delude yourselves, the meanest gondolier of the canal knows—"

He was stopped from uttering more by his companion, who rudely placed a
hand on his mouth.

"Why hast thou presumed to stop the complaints of Antonio?" sternly
demanded the judge.

"It was not decent, illustrious senators, to listen to such disrespect
in so noble a presence," Jacopo answered, bending reverently as he
spoke. "This old fisherman, dread Signori, is warmed by love for his
offspring, and he will utter that which, in his cooler moments, he will
repent."

"St. Mark fears not the truth! If he has more to say, let him declare
it."

But the excited Antonio began to reflect. The flush which had ascended
to his weather-beaten cheek disappeared, and his naked breast ceased to
heave. He stood like one rebuked, more by his discretion than his
conscience, with a calmer eye, and a face that exhibited the composure
of his years, and the respect of his condition.

"If I have offended, great patricians," he said, more mildly, "I pray
you to forget the zeal of an ignorant old man, whose feelings are master
of his breeding, and who knows less how to render the truth agreeable to
noble ears, than to utter it."

"Thou mayest depart."

The armed attendants advanced, and obedient to a sign from the
secretary, they led Antonio and his companion through the door by which
they had entered. The other officials of the place followed, and the
secret judges were left by themselves in the chamber of doom.