Italian Yesterdays, vol. 1

by Mrs. Hugh Fraser

From Verona, too, it was that the Austrian troops took train in the July of 1866, under Archduke Albrecht, to go up into Moravia to the assistance of Benedek’s army; and from Verona it was that the Archduke’s historic telegram was despatched, on receipt of the news of Sadowa, to the Emperor at Vienna, bidding him take heart and have no fear for the outcome of the struggle: “Nothing is lost yet so if only both Army and People will spurn discouragement from them. After the defeat at Regensburg came the glorious day of Aspern....”

But it was in vain that the lion-hearted Archduke tried to obtain the prolongation of the struggle; the country was willing to do its best, but the Emperor, by force of his responsibilities, was forced to view the matter from a different standpoint. It went against his conscience to lay a further burden of sacrifice and suffering upon his people, and so he did not hesitate to take upon himself the heartbreaking decision to suspend hostilities. The decision, too, however painful, was a wise one; and from that hour Austria has never ceased to grow in health and strength until to-day, when her position in the councils of Europe is once more what it was under Maria Theresa. Let us hope soon to see the time when, as her best friends have never ceased from urging her to do, Austria will put aside all the petty difficulties that have come between her and her mighty eastern sister, and so will join herself to Russia, together with Germany, in a firm and lasting renewal of her only natural policy—that of the Dreikaiserbund, the good old alliance of the three Emperors. In regard to this question, I wonder if I may be allowed to quote the dying injunction of the Emperor Nicholas to his son, the Tsarevitch Alexander, in 1855—“And tell Fritz” (Frederick William III of Prussia) “not to forget Papa’s words”—by which he referred to the advice given by Frederick William II to his son, to the effect that he ought never to let anything interfere with the natural alliance of Prussia with Russia.

CHAPTER XVIII THE BRAVI OF VENICE

Fascination of Venice’s Criminal Administration—Lords of the Night—Secret Detectives—Degeneration of Republic—Hired Ruffians—Their Murderous Activities—An Escapade of Pesaro, Paragon of Bravi—Gambara, Last of the Despots—Open War Against Law and Order—Final Pardon.

Of all subjects connected with old Venice, in the popular mind, that of her criminal administration is one of the most fascinating by reason of the endless traditions of mystery and terror with which it is fraught, and, of all historical executives, the Venetian “Signori di Notte”—the Lords of the Night—appeal the most irresistibly to the normal curiosity inherent in most people.

The very notion of the nocturnal jurisdiction implied by the title of that famous Board carries with it a suggestion of secrecy and of an unseen process of justice more or less summary, but invariably sharp and decisive. The members composing the Board were frequently of noble birth, and their official position was not unlike that of the Triumvirs of ancient Rome. Their functions, at the time when the Board first came into being, in the Twelfth Century, were those of police-chiefs and commissioners of sewers. They were responsible thus for keeping watch over the streets by night, and for seeing to the repairing of bridges and highways. In this manner they soon came to acquire an expert knowledge of those parts of the city that needed watching, either on account of the questionable condition of their buildings or else by reason of their being the favourite haunts of the criminal part of the population.

Under them, less in the character of ordinary police than of a secret detective force, were the “sbirri,” over whom they assumed special control after the unhappy affair of the conspiracy of the Marquis of Bedmar, the Spanish Ambassador, in 1618, when he plotted the overthrow of the Republic; a design frustrated only on the very eve of its accomplishment. The method employed by the “sbirro” in arresting his man was to throw his cloak over the victim’s head and to lead him, thus muffled and blindfolded, to prison. Occasionally, also, the “sbirro” was the owner of a sponging-house, to which he would conduct his prisoner and there detain him until certain demands were satisfied—much as happened to Captain Rawdon Crawley in “Vanity Fair.” It was in this manner—by muffling with a cloak—that the unfortunate Cavaliere Antonio Foscarini was arrested in 1622, on a charge of conspiring against Venice with the Spanish representatives at the Villa Dolo, the house of Lady Arundel and Surrey, where, together with her husband, she was living for the benefit of their children’s education. The charge was a false one, but Foscarini was strangled for it and his body was afterwards hung up between the Red Columns in the Piazza of St. Mark—the usual place of executions—for the public to gaze upon.

But the chief quarry of the “sbirro” was that most romantic of figures, the “bravo”! The “bravi,” originally merely the retainers of noble houses, became, with the increasing degeneracy of the Republic in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth centuries, more and more mere murderers and ruffians, who plied their trade quite frankly for hire. The system ordinarily in favour among such members of Venetian society as had a grudge against any one of their neighbours was to send out for a “bravo”—they were always to be found at certain places and hours—and to bargain with him for a price that depended upon the extent of the hurt to be inflicted. I have seen one of the daggers used by such professional “bravi” and very curious they were, being crucifixes, of which the upper part of the cross and the transverse formed the hilt and quillons of a murderous-looking knife, its long double-edged blade having three lines engraved across it. The purpose of these lines was to mark the exact depth of the wound, whether slight, or severe, or mortal; if it were only desired that the lowest of the lines—that nearest the point—should be the depth of the stab, then the price was a small one; if the second line, then a larger sum of money would be necessary; and for the third, the uppermost line, a proportionate amount was demanded.

The alliance of the “bravi” with the upper class of Venice was from the first a natural one; for the common people has never any need of the services of hired men to settle its quarrels for pay. As a result of the wars of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth centuries there had sprung up a large class of impoverished or ruined adventurers, who were willing to lend their services to any cause, public or private, for hire; some such, it is said, were generally to be found in the number of the patricians privileged to sit on the benches of the Great Council as the supreme national body was called. By degrees these impoverished patricians, who were designated under the name of “Barnabotti,” drew to themselves the lawless element of the population and yoked it, through custom and mutual necessities, to their service, until the thing came to such a point that no wealthy or noble family of Venice but counted its dozen or its score of such retainers, thus establishing a return to the feudal principle of a State—or, rather, States innumerable—within the State; each of which was a law unto itself. The only modern institution comparable to the “Bravi” is that of the so-called “gunmen” of New York, with their system of hire and their deadly feuds between gang and gang. For the records of the “bravi” show many such public floutings of law in Venice. In the year 1539 a certain individual, who would certainly seem to have been attached in some way to the establishment of the French Ambassador, having committed some crime or other, was chased by the “sbirri” to the French Embassy in the Calle San Moisé, where he found refuge from his pursuers, all Embassies being removed by international usage beyond the sphere of police activities. The situation, then, was an extremely sensitive one; so much so, indeed, that it was thought advisable by the “Capo della Sbiraglia,” or chief of police, to send for an Advocate of the Commune, one Zorzi, that he might request the delivery of the criminal with all possible courtesy. Zorzi, on reaching the Embassy, met three of the members of its staff in the courtyard, and begged that they would make known his coming to the Ambassador. Instead of complying, however, they only ran back into the house, shouting to those within to make ready to bar the way; and Zorzi, on following them with some of the “sbirri,” found the staircase held against his further advance by a crowd of ruffians, while others were beginning to hurl down furniture and household utensils out of the windows on to the heads of the “sbirri” below. So that the prudent Advocate withdrew with his police and reported the matter to the Council of Ten, which promptly sent a force of soldiers to the Embassy to seize the original criminal, who had taken refuge there and, with him, all the other resisters of Messer Zorzi and the police. The Council had acted thus in spite of its all but certainty that the King of France would declare war on Venice for her violation of his Embassy; but, to its relief, no notice was taken of their action. It was quite certain, though, that the French Ambassador was in the habit of employing “bravi” about his person; and his colleague of Spain appears to have been guilty of the same delinquency. In 1556 Edward Courtenay, Lord Devon, died at Padua, of low fever, as was supposed, but in reality he was murdered by a “bravo” of Dalmatia, Marco Risano, in the pay of Ruy Gomez, the Spanish Minister. Courtenay’s papers were placed for safekeeping in the hands of the Paduan authorities until the pleasure of Queen Mary should be known concerning them. The Council of Ten, however, was enabled to obtain a knowledge of their contents by means of its officer, the “Podestà” of Padua; and certain documents which proved that Courtenay had been an agent and spy of France were found among the papers and purloined by the Council.

A typical “bravo” of a certain kind was a hardened blackguard of noble family called Leonardo Pesaro. He is said to have combined in his own person all the vices of the age in which he lived, the end of the Sixteenth Century and the beginning of the Seventeenth. Again and again this scoundrel was arrested and expelled from Venetian territory as an undesirable citizen; and, as often, he would return either to the capital or to one of the provincial cities, Padua or Vicenza or Verona. At last, though, in 1601, Pesaro crowned all his other achievements by one of the most shameless outrages ever perpetrated upon the laws of any country.