The Bravo

by James Fenimore Cooper

  "It is no other, illustrious senator: with this ring did the Doge wed the Adriatic, in the presence of the ambassadors and the people."

  "Hadst thou aught to do with this, also, Jacopo?" sternly demanded the judge.

  The Bravo turned his eye on the jewel with a look of interest, but his voice maintained its usual depth and steadiness as he answered—

  "Signore, no—until now, I knew not the fortune of the fisherman."

  A sign to the secretary caused him to resume his questions.

  "Thou must account and clearly account, Antonio," he said, "for the manner in which the sacred ring came into thy possession; hadst thou any one to aid thee in obtaining it?"

  "Signore, I had."

  "Name him at once, that we take measures for his security."

  "'Twill be useless, Signore; he is far above the power of Venice."

  "What meanest thou, fellow? None are superior to the right and the force of the Republic that dwell within her limits. Answer without evasion, as thou valuest thy person."

  "I should prize that which is of little value, Signore, and be guilty of a great folly as well as of a great sin, were I to deceive you to save a body old and worthless as mine from stripes. If your excellencies are willing to hear, you will find that I am no less willing to tell the manner in which I got the ring."

  "Speak, then, and trifle not."

  "I know not, Signori, whether you are used to hearing untruths, that you caution me so much not to deal with them; but we of the Lagunes are not afraid to say what we have seen and done, for most of our business is with the winds and waves, which take their orders from God himself. There is a tradition, Signori, among us fishermen, that in times past, one of our body brought up from the bay the ring with which the Doge is accustomed to marry the Adriatic. A jewel of that value was of little use to one who casts his nets daily for bread and oil, and he brought it to the Doge, as became a fisherman into whose hands the saints had thrown a prize to which he had no title, as it were to prove his honesty. This act of our companion is much spoken of on the Lagunes and at the Lido, and it is said there is a noble painting done by some of our Venetian masters, in the halls of the palace, which tells the story as it happened, showing the prince on his throne, and the lucky fisherman with his naked legs rendering back to his highness that which had been lost. I hope there is foundation for this belief, Signore, which greatly flatters our pride, and is not without use in keeping some among us truer to the right, and better favored in the eyes of St. Anthony than might otherwise be."

  "The fact was so."

  "And the painting, excellent Signore? I hope our vanity has not deceived us concerning the picture, neither?"

  "The picture you mention is to be seen within the palace."

  "Corpo di Bacco! I have had my misgivings on that point, for it is not common that the rich and happy should take such note of what the humble and the poor have done. Is the work from the hands of the great Tiziana himself, eccellenza?"

  "It is not; one of little name hath put his pencil to the canvas."

  "They say that Tiziano had the art of giving to his work the look and richness of flesh, and one would think that a just man might find, in the honesty of the poor fisherman, a color bright enough to have satisfied even his eye. But it may be that the senate saw danger in thus flattering us of the Lagunes."

  "Proceed with the account of thine own fortune with the ring."

  "Illustrious nobles, I have often dreamed of the luck of my fellow of the old times; and more than once have I drawn the nets with an eager hand in my sleep, thinking to find that very jewel entangled in its meshes, or embowelled by some fish. What I have so often fancied has at last happened. I am an old man, Signore, and there are few pools or banks between Fusina and Giorgio, that my lines of my nets have not fathomed or covered. The spot to which the Bucentoro is wont to steer in these ceremonies is well known to me, and I had a care to cover the bottom round about with all my nets in the hope of drawing up the ring. When his highness cast the jewel, I dropped a buoy to mark the spot—Signore, this is all—my accomplice was St. Anthony."

  "For doing this you had a motive?"

  "Holy Mother of God! Was it not sufficient to get back my boy from the gripe of the galleys?" exclaimed Antonio, with an energy and a simplicity that are often found to be in the same character. "I thought that if the Doge and the senate were willing to cause pictures to be painted, and honors to be given to one poor fisherman for the ring, they might be glad to reward another, by releasing a lad who can be of no great service to the Republic, but who is all to his parent."

  "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 ou
rselves, 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.

  Chapter XIII

  *

  "Oh! the days that we have seen."

  SHELTON.

  A pause like that which accompanies self-contemplation, and perhaps conscious distrust of purpose, succeeded. Then the Three arose together, and began to lay aside the instruments of their disguise. When the masks were removed, they exposed the grave visages of men in the decline of life, athwart which worldly cares and worldly passions had drawn those deep lines, which no subsequent ease or resignation can erase. During the process of unrobing neither spoke, for the affair on which they had just been employed, caused novel and disagreeable sensations to them all. When they were delivered from their superfluous garments and their masks, however, they drew near the table, and each sought that relief for his limbs and person which was natural to the long restraint he had undergone.