During the long August evening and all the following day, on foot and by gondola, he explored the maze of canals crossed by scores of little bridges and a labyrinth of narrow streets, alleys and small squares that make Venice so unlike any other city. By night, while drinking coffee at a cafe in the crowded Piazza San Marco and listening to the band of a French Chasseur regiment, he delighted in the fairy like beauty of the Byzantine Cathedral. Filling one end of the huge open space, its innumerable coloured marble pillars, lit by the hundreds of lamps in the arcades along the other three sides, and its five cupolas standing out against the deep blue starlit sky, gave it the appearance of a painted back-drop on some gargantuan stage. By day, he admired the great square Palace of the Doges, the world famous Rialto Bridge and the scores of stately Palaces on the Grand Canal.
That afternoon, he learned by tactful enquiries that, on the fall of the Serenissima, the British Ambassador, Sir Richard Worsley, Bart., had demanded his papers and left Venice; but that the Consul, Mr. John Watson, had remained on as charge d’Affaires, and lived in the Calle del Sansovino, just behind the Dario Palace.
Next morning he went there in the guise of a perfume seller, supporting by a strap round his neck a box like covered tray, holding a score of small square glass bottles, each containing a different scent. Although not large, like nearly all the houses in the better quarters of Venice that of the Consul had a handsome pillared doorway of carved stone, and the windows of its ground-floor rooms were protected by iron grilles, wrought by a craftsman. Roger pulled down the long iron bell-pull, and waited.
The door was opened by a footman in undress livery, who had the dark eyes and complexion of a typical Italian. Immediately he saw that Roger was a huckster he made to close it again; but speaking in broken Italian Roger said quickly:
'Scent, very special, for your master. Scent from London. English Lavender. You tell him, English Lavender. He very pleased with you, English Lavender.' And, as he was speaking, he swiftly thrust a sequin into the servant's hand.
The man hesitated a moment, then, evidently reluctant to return such a handsome bribe, nodded and shut the door. Five minutes later he returned and let Roger into a small stone-flagged hall with a row of four pillars at its far end. Between two of them, a tall thin man of about fifty was standing. He had blue eyes and was wearing his own hair which had been a fiery red, but was now streaked with grey.
Roger had no doubt that he was Mr. Watson. After making a grave salaam, he went forward muttering his Italian patter, repeating 'English Lavender' and lifting the lid of the box of perfumes. The Consul made a pretence of looking at them and smelt the back of his hand on which Roger had smeared the wet stopper of one of the little bottles. As soon as the servant had disappeared, he said:
This is not lavender.'
'No,' Roger replied in a low voice. 'But I am English. When can I see you on private business? I have a letter from Mr. Pitt.'
After a surprised lift of his thick eyebrows, the Consul whispered back: 'There is a side door in the wall to the left. Be there at eleven o'clock tonight and give three sharp knocks.' Then, talking loudly in Italian again, he led Roger back across the hall and let him out.
A little over twelve hours later, he let him in by the side door. It gave onto a small court, having in it a single old magnolia tree, some tubs of flowers, and a marble table with an inlaid top upon which were an oil-lamp and some papers. The August night was very sultry and evidently the Consul had been working out there. Motioning Roger to an iron garden chair, he said at once:
I never expected to be honoured by a letter from the Prime Minister, but…'
'Forgive me,' Roger interrupted. 'I fear I misled you. The letter is to myself; and I wished to show it you only as evidence of my bona fides. Here it is.'
Ah well!' Mr. Watson hid his disappointment with a little shrug, took the letter that Colonel Wesley had delivered to Roger in Calcutta, read it through by the light of the lamp, and said: 'This makes it clear that you are in the Prime Minister's confidence, Mr. Brook. In what way can I be of service to you?'
Roger bowed. 'I thank you. Sir in the first place, do you know anything of a signor Rinaldo Malderini?'
'Yes. He is, I think, the sole survivor of a noble Venetian family, and married to an Indian Princess. His is not an attractive personality and he is said to dabble in the Black Art. He is reputed to be rich and is interested in theatrical productions, acting frequently as backer for them. But he had also, at times, been employed by the government. He went on a mission to London for the Serenissima last summer; an unfortunate choice for us, as his sympathies are pro-French. He has since been absent from Venice for many months; but where, I do not know. He reappeared here about three weeks ago.'
'Ah!' exclaimed Roger. 'He is back, then. Where does he live?'
'He has a palace on the Grand Canal on the corner where the Canal San Barnaba runs into it. Anyone will point it out to you. If your business with him is secret, though, have a care of the gondolier who takes you there. Under the old regime, all gondoliers had to report nightly to the police on the trips they made and any conversations of interest between their passengers that they had overheard. That was one of the principal ways in which the Inquisitors were kept informed of everyone's doings, and the French have been quick to avail them; selves of it.'
'I thank you for the warning. It must be, though, one of the few things which have not changed with the coming of the French.'
Alas, yes. Venice was a delightful city. Provided one did not meddle in politics, there was no city in which greater liberty was enjoyed. I have been Consul here since '91 and had hoped never to be transferred to another post. Whether I shall be allowed to remain depends now on how Venice is disposed of in the peace treaty.'
'Since the preliminaries were agreed last April, I find it surprising the final terms have not yet been settled!'
It is the Austrians who have held things up. They are playing a waiting game, in the hope that events in Paris will enable them to exact better terms from General Buonaparte.
I have been long abroad, Sir,' Roger informed his companion. 'In fact, to India and back; so I am completely out of touch. Pray tell me how matters stand in Paris now?'
Mr. Watson sat back and crossed his long legs. 'The Directory still rules the roost and is as corrupt as ever. But it is having a hard fight to hold it down. Of the five, Rewbell, Barras and Larewelliere-Lepeaux are all rabid revolutionaries; Carnot and Barthelemy, who replaced Letourneur last March, are moderates. As Rewbell and Co. are in the majority, they are able to out-vote the other two on every measure; so the proscription of émigrés and the persecution of priests continues unchanged, although the vast majority of the French people would gladly see an end to the state of things they have inherited from the Terror.
'That this is so was clearly shown by the first re-election of the Corps Legislatif, which was held last March. Of the two hundred and sixteen members from the old Terrorist Convention who had to offer themselves for re-election, only eleven were returned. They were replaced almost entirely by Deputies who favour a restitution of the Constitution of '91. Few, if any, of them desire a King, of course; but they would like to see real liberty restored under just laws and religious toleration. Yet, with the Directory as it is still constituted, they are powerless.
'In January there was a Royalist conspiracy led by the Abbe Brottier. It was badly handled, so swiftly suppressed. But I don't doubt that, seeing the general state of France, the Austrians are procrastinating in the hope of another which will prove successful. Buonaparte and the Directory now form an uneasy partnership. His victories have so increased his stature that they are now frightened of him. On the other hand, he was Barras's protégé and is tarred with the same brush; so the overthrow of the Directory might lead to his recall, or anyway weaken his hand to an extent that would enable the Austrians to get better terms from him.'
'So that's how things stand,' Roger nodd
ed. 'The fact that the Austrians are making peace at all, though, throws the whole burden of the war onto us, and our situation was bad enough already. Knowing how anxious Mr. Pitt was to obtain peace, before I left England last summer I wonder greatly that he, too, is not endeavouring to negotiate a settlement with the French.'
'He did so endeavour, by sending my Lord Malmesbury to Paris last December. But at that time, of course, he was still bound by our understanding with the Austrians that their Belgian lands should be returned to them, and the French would not hear of it. They put a pistol to his Lordship's head, and told him to accept their own terms in full or quit Paris within forty-eight hours. Our Ambassador here, Sir Richard Worsley, when placing our affairs in my hands before he left, told me that the French Constitutional party are actually eager for peace, but the Directory regards Britain as the most implacable of all its enemies. They showed it by their insulting treatment of my Lord Malmesbury, and no doubt Mr. Pitt feels that, while they remain in power, to go hat in hand to them again would be too great a humiliation. Like the Austrians, he must be hoping for their downfall.'
I'd not count on it,' Roger remarked, with a shake of his head 'If they do fall, it will mean the dry guillotine for them a one-way trip to Cayenne so they'll fight to the last ditch. Besides, I greatly doubt if their overthrow would bring about any permanent change to our advantage. I am well acquainted with General Buonaparte. Unless I much misjudge the man, now he has proved himself by such a tale of victories he would march on Paris, throw the whole Chamber of Deputies into prison and restore the Directory; or something very like it. No. To my mind, instead of banking on such flimsy hopes, Mr. Pitt would be better advised to endeavour to rebuild the Coalition.'
How can he, with Spain and Holland gone over to the enemy, Italy overrun, and Austria about to sign a peace?'
'There is still Prussia; she might be drawn in again. And Sweden and Russia. What of the last? A year ago the old Empress Catherine was on the verge of making an alliance with us. Is she still havering?'
'We'll get no help there. She died last November,
'The Devil she did!' exclaimed Roger. 'Well, God rest her soul. She once played me a scurvy trick by forcing me to take a hell-cat as my wife. But she was a great woman for all that. Who has succeeded her?'
'Her son, as Paul I. He so hated his mother that he has reversed all her policies, good or bad, as though he hoped to spite her in her grave.'
I'm not surprised by that. He is a weak-kneed imbecile.'
At all events, he has become pro-French. Prussia is still occupied in holding down her share of Poland's carcase, and, since King Gustavus's assassination, there has been little hope of persuading the Swedes to fight.'
Roger sighed. Tis a plaguey poor look out for Britain, then. I doubt, though, if Austria will accept as final this setback she has sustained. She has a mighty reservoir of men and. can we but hang on, after she has licked her wounds a while she might come in with us again. I pray only that her diplomats will succeed in securing a peace that will leave her comparatively strong. Have you any idea of the terms under discussion?'
'I know those agreed in the preliminaries at Leoben, Austria was to surrender all rights to her Belgian territories and the Duchy of Milan and receive in compensation the Venetian lands in Dalmatia, Istria and on this side of the Adriatic as far south as the river Po. She was also to recognise the French frontiers as proclaimed by the Republic. Venice was to be compensated, if you can call it that, by receiving the Papal States of Romagna, Ferrara and Bologna.'
'The last would mean Buonaparte's committing infanticide on his young Cispadane Republic'
Mr. Watson smiled. 'As you have admitted, Mr. Brook, you are behind the times. He did so a month ago, but at its own request. In July he founded another Republic, the Cisalpine, formed from the Duchy of Milan, and the Cispadanes begged so hard for union with this more powerful young sister that he let them have their way.'
'Surely that makes it even less likely that he would now tear a large limb from it to please Venice?'
'I agree. But remember the preliminaries of Leoben were settled before he quarrelled openly with the Serene Republic.'
'True. So it looks now as if Venice will not possess any mainland territories in the future.'
'I think it likely; but she has only herself to blame. Sir Richard Worsley did his utmost to get the Serenissima to fight and, had he succeeded, what a different picture there might be. They had 13,000 devoted Slavonian troops here in the city alone. They could have armed the Veronese and others loyal to the Republic, called on the Tyrolese and Croats for help and launched a formidable army in Buonaparte's rear while he was at death grips with the Austrians up in the Syrian Alps. His supplies would have been cut off and by now, instead of his being the master of all Italy, his whole campaign might have been brought to ruin.'
Roger nodded. 'That I know was Mr. Pitt's hope. And even if she had failed, the Serene Republic would have made an end worthy of her. But I felt convinced from the beginning that the Serenissima would not have the guts to fight. What now, though? Do you think Buonaparte will leave the city its independence?'
'I certainly hope so; and so does our Government at home.'
'In that I disagree,' Roger said firmly. 'I would like to see it given to Austria. So rich and populous a city would prove a great asset under firm rule. Should there be a resumption of the war, the possession of such a place could make a vast difference.'
'Buonaparte must know that, so, although the Austrians may press for it, I greatly doubt if he will let them have it.'
They fell silent for a minute, then Roger said, 'Given that they are allowed to retain their independence, I take it that when the French have withdrawn there is a possibility that the Municipality may be overthrown and the Serenissima revived? If it was your ambition to become Doge in such a new government, how would you set about it?'
Without a second's hesitation, the Consul replied, 'I should become a leader in the resistance movement which has already started, and hope to make a name for myself by some shrewd blow against the French.'
'I see,' said Roger thoughtfully. 'There are then still a few Venetians left who have some stomach for a fight.'
'Yes; and the man you enquired about has, since his return, become their leader.'
'What!' cried Roger, springing up. 'Malderini! But I thought you said he was pro-French?'
'He was, a year ago; but he has now changed his tune. I much dislike the man but needs must collaborate with him. Only a few days ago I received instructions from the Foreign Office to render these conspirators all the aid in my power.'
Roger suddenly hit the table with his fist. Ten thousand devils! What a plaguey twist of fate! To think that, now I've run my most deadly enemy to earth, I should find him on my side of the fence!'
Chapter 22
Within the Enemy's Gates
Roger had found himself confronted with many a tricky problem in the past, but never one in which his private interests were so diametrically opposed to his duty to his country.
Before letting him out of the side door of the Consulate, Mr, Watson had made it plain that he believed the secret resistance movement in Venice would become a force to be reckoned with, because among the conspirators who formed its council there were representatives of all classes; and, when considering the matter later, Roger was forced to concede that the Consul was probably right. He had already seen enough of the city to realise that three months had been ample to take the gilt off the gingerbread for even the poorer classes, as far as the new French brand of 'Liberty' was concerned.
Like all the other proletariats in the cities of the Rhine, Belgium, Holland, and Northern Italy, into which the Republic had sent its agitators, they had eagerly drunk in the fine-sounding phrases about 'equality' and a new 'brotherhood of man' in which the nobles and the priests must disgorge their wealth and surrender their age-old privileges. But, instead of their taxes becoming less
, they had been made far heavier by the crushing indemnity that Buonaparte had imposed upon the city. Food, wine and all other commodities, which had always been so cheap as long as the Serene Republic controlled its great mainland territories, had now become scarce and expensive, owing to the endless requisitions and the French paid for nothing. The French troops proved no 'brothers', but lorded it everywhere as conquerors, ousting the citizens from the best tables at the cafes, and beating up shopkeepers who refused to sell them goods for only a fraction of their value, while after dark no woman, even if escorted by a man, was safe from them. Buonaparte's Commissioners had stripped the Doge's Palace of its finest paintings, commandeered the Venetian Fleet and, bitterest blow of all to Venetian hearts, even made off with the Bucentaur the magnificent gilded barge in which with splendid pageantry the Doge had, each year, celebrated the immemorial festival of the marriage of the city to the sea.
Now that it was August, the people danced no more round the Trees of Liberty that they had set up with such enthusiasm in May.
Whether they would have the courage to rise and massacre their oppressors was another question. As Roger considered it and the possible result of such a rising he wondered if after all Mr. Pitt might not have been right in his contention that if Venice could have been won over in the previous autumn she would have made a valuable ally. From what Mr. Watson had said, it was clear that had the Serenissima decided to fight, even in the last stage, the city would have proved a terrible thorn in Buonaparte's flank. He had had no fleet so could have attacked only from the landward side, from which it was separated by three miles of water, rendered most treacherous by innumerable shoals and shallows to all who did not know the channels. In the face of the many forts that protected it, and with a garrison of 13.000 hardy Slavonians, even Buonaparte's veterans might have found it too hard a nut to crack. Yet, in the event, Roger's estimate of the decadent nobility that then ruled the city had proved correct; they had not had a kick left in them.
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