The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 4

L >> Lord Byron >> The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 4

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44

_March_ 20, 1820.

FRANCESCA DA RIMINI.

DANTE, L'INFERNO.

CANTO QUINTO.

'Siede la terra dove nata fui
Sulla marina, dove il Po discende
Per aver pace co' seguaci sui.
Amor, che al cor gentil ratto s'apprende,
Prese costui della bella persona
Che mi fu tolta, e il modo ancor m' offende.
Amor, che a nullo amato amar perdona,
Mi prese del costui piacer si forte,
Che, come vedi, ancor non mi abbandona.
Amor condusse noi ad una morte: 10
Caino attende chi vita ci spense.'
Queste parole da lor ci fur porte.
Da che io intesi quelle anime offense
Chinai 'l viso, e tanto il tenni basso,
Finche il Poeta mi disse: 'Che pense?'
Quando risposi, cominciai: 'O lasso!
Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio
Meno costoro al doloroso passo!'
Poi mi rivolsi a loro, e parla' io,
E cominciai: 'Francesca, i tuoi martiri 20
A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio.
Ma dimmi: al tempo de' dolci sospiri
A che e come concedette Amore,
Che conoscesti i dubbiosi desiri?'
Ed ella a me: 'Nessun maggior dolore
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria; e cio sa il tuo dottore.
Ma se a conoscer la prima radice
Del nostro amor tu hai cotanto affetto
Faro come colui che piange e dice. 30
Noi leggevamo un giorno per diletto
Di Lancelotto, come Amor lo strinse:
Soli eravamo, e senza alcun sospetto.
Per piu fiate gli occhi ci sospinse
Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso:
Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.
Quando leggemmo il disiato riso
Esser baciato da cotanto amante,
Questi, che mai da me non fia diviso,
La bocca mi bacio tutto tremante: 40
Galeotto fu il libro, e chi lo scrisse--
Quel giorno piu non vi leggemmo avante
Mentre che l'uno spirto questo disse,
L'altro piangeva si che di pietade
Io venni meno cos com' io morisse;
E caddi, come corpo morto cade.

FOOTNOTES:

[348] {317}[Dante, in his _Inferno_ (Canto V. lines 97-142), places
Francesca and her lover Paolo among the lustful in the second circle of
Hell. Francesca, daughter of Guido Vecchio da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna,
married (circ. 1275) Gianciotto, second son of Malatesta da Verrucchio,
Lord of Rimini. According to Boccaccio (_Il Comento sopra la Commedia_,
1863, i. 476, _sq._), Gianciotto was "hideously deformed in countenance
and figure," and determined to woo and marry Francesca by proxy. He
accordingly "sent, as his representative, his younger brother Paolo, the
handsomest and most accomplished man in all Italy. Francesca saw Paolo
arrive, and imagined she beheld her future husband. That mistake was the
commencement of her passion." A day came when the lovers were surprised
together, and Gianciotto slew both his brother and his wife.]

[349] ["On arrive a Ravenne en longeant une foret de pins qui a sept
lieues de long, et qui me semblait un immense bois funebre servant
d'avenue au sepulcre commun de ces deux grandes puissances. A peine y
a-t-il place pour d'autres souvenirs a cote de leur memoire. Cependant
d'autres noms poetiques sont attaches a la Pineta de Ravenne. Naguere
lord Byron y evoquait les fantastiques recits empruntes par Dryden a
Boccace, et lui-meme est maintenant une figure du passe, errante dans ce
lieu melancolique. Je songeais, en le traversant, que le chantre du
desespoir avait chevauche sur cette plage lugubre, foulee avant lui par
le pas grave et lent du poete de _l'Enfer_....

"Il suffit de jeter les yeux sur une carte pour reconnaitre l'exactitude
topographique de cette derniere expression. En effet, dans toute la
partie superieure de son cours, le Po recoit une foule d'affluents qui
convergent vers son lit; ce sont le Tesin, l'Adda, l'Olio, le Mincio, la
Trebbia, la Bormida, le Taro...."--_La Grece, Rome, et Dante_ ("Voyage
Dantesque"), par M. J. J. Ampere, 1850, pp. 311-313.]

[350] [The meaning is that she was despoiled of her beauty by death, and
that the manner of her death excites her indignation still. "Among Lord
Byron's unpublished letters we find the following varied readings of the
translation from Dante:--

Seized him for the fair person, which in its
Bloom was ta'en from me, yet the mode offends.
_or_,
Seized him for the fair form, of which in its
Bloom I was reft, and yet the mode offends.

Love, which to none beloved to love remits,
/ with mutual wish to please \
Seized me < with wish of pleasing him > so strong,
\ with the desire to please /
That, as thou see'st, not yet that passion quits, etc.

You will find these readings vary from the MS. I sent you. They are
closer, but rougher: take which is liked best; or, if you like, print
them as variations. They are all close to the text."--_Works of Lord
Byron_, 1832, xii. 5, note 2.]

[351] {319}["The man's desire is for the woman; but the woman's desire
is rarely other than for the desire of the man."--S. T. Coleridge,
_Table Talk_, July 23, 1827.]

[352] [Caina is the first belt of Cocytus, that is, circle ix. of the
Inferno, in which fratricides and betrayers of their kindred are
immersed up to the neck.]

[353] [Virgil.]

[co] {319}

_Is to recall to mind our happy days_.
_In misery, and this thy teacher knows_.--[MS.]

[354] [The sentiment is derived from Boethius: "_In omni adversitate
fortunae infelicissimum genus est infortunii, fuisse felicem_."--_De
Consolat. Philos. Lib. II. Prosa_ 4. The earlier commentators (_e.g._
Venturi and Biagioli), relying on a passage in the _Convito_ (ii. 16),
assume that the "teacher" (line 27) is the author of the sentence, but
later authorities point out that "mio dottore" can only apply to Virgil
(v. 70), who then and there in the world of shades was suffering the
bitter experience of having "known better days." Compare--

"For of fortunes sharp adversitee
The worst kinde of infortune is this,
A man to have ben in prosperitee,
And it remembren whan it passed is."

_Troilus and Criseyde_, Bk. III. stanza ccxxxiii. lines 1-4.

"E perche rimembrare il ben perduto
Fa piu meschino lo stato presente."

Fortiguerra's _Ricciardetto_, Canto XI. stanza lxxxiii.

Compare, too--

"A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things."

Tennyson's _Locksley Hall_.]

[cp] _I will relate as he who weeps and says_.--[MS.] (The sense is, _I
will do even as one who relates while weeping_.)

[355] [Byron affixed the following note to line 126 of the Italian: "In
some of the editions it is 'diro,' in others 'faro;'--an essential
difference between 'saying' and 'doing' which I know not how to
decide--Ask Foscolo--the damned editions drive me mad." In _La Divina
Commedia_, Firenze, 1892, and the _Opere de Dante_, Oxford, 1897, the
reading is _faro_.]

[cq] {321}----_wholly overthrew_.--[MS.]

[cr] _When we read the desired-for smile of her_. [MS, Alternative
reading.]

[cs]--_by such a fervent lover_.--[MS.]

[356] ["A Gallehault was the book and he who wrote it" (A. J. Butler).
"Writer and book were Gallehault to our will" (E. J. Plumptre). The book
which the lovers were reading is entitled _L'Illustre et Famosa Historia
di Lancilotto del Lago_. The "one point" of the original runs thus: "Et
la reina ... lo piglia per il mento, et lo bacia davanti a Gallehault,
assai lungamente."--Venice, 1558, _Lib. Prim_. cap. lxvi. vol. i. p.
229. The Gallehault of the _Lancilotto_, the shameless "purveyor," must
not be confounded with the stainless Galahad of the _Morte d'Arthur_.']

[357] [Dante was in his twentieth, or twenty-first year when the tragedy
of Francesca and Paolo was enacted, not at Rimini, but at Pesaro. Some
acquaintance he may have had with her, through his friend Guido (not her
father, but probably her nephew), enough to account for the peculiar
emotion caused by her sanguinary doom.]

[358]

Alternative Versions Transcribed by Mrs. Shelley.

_March_ 20, 1820.

line 4: Love, which too soon the soft heart apprehends,
Seized him for the fair form, the which was there
Torn from me, and even yet the mode offends.

line 8: Remits, seized him for me with joy so strong--

line 12: These were the words then uttered--
Since I had first perceived these souls offended,
I bowed my visage and so kept it till--
"What think'st thou?" said the bard, whom I (_sic_)
And then commenced--"Alas unto such ill--

line 18: Led these? "and then I turned me to them still
And spoke, "Francesca, thy sad destinies
Have made me sad and tender even to tears,
But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,
By what and how Love overcame your fears,
So ye might recognize his dim desires?"
Then she to me, "No greater grief appears
Than, when the time of happiness expires,
To recollect, and this your teacher knows.
But if to find the first root of our--
Thou seek'st with such a sympathy in woes,
I will do even as he who weeps and speaks.
We read one day for pleasure, sitting close,
Of Launcelot, where forth his passion breaks.
We were alone and we suspected nought,
But oft our eyes exchanged, and changed our cheeks.
When we read the desiring smile of her
Who to be kissed by such true lover sought,
He who from me can be divided ne'er
All tremulously kissed my trembling mouth.
Accursed the book and he who wrote it were--
That day no further did we read in sooth."
While the one spirit in this manner spoke
The other wept, so that, for very ruth,
I felt as if my trembling heart had broke,
To see the misery which both enthralls:
So that I swooned as dying with the stroke,--
And fell down even as a dead body falls.

Another version of the same.
line 21: Have made me sad even until the tears arise--

line 27: In wretchedness, and that your teacher knows.

line 31: We read one day for pleasure--
Of Launcelot, how passion shook his frame.
We were alone all unsuspiciously.
But oft our eyes met and our cheeks the same,
Pale and discoloured by that reading were;
But one part only wholly overcame;
When we read the desiring smile of her
Who sought the kiss of such devoted lover;
He who from me can be divided ne'er
Kissed my mouth, trembling to that kiss all over!
Accursed was that book and he who wrote--
That day we did no further page uncover."
While thus--etc.

line 45: I swooned to death with sympathetic thought--

[Another version.]
line 33: We were alone, and we suspected nought.
But oft our meeting eyes made pale our cheeks,
Urged by that reading for our ruin wrought;
But one point only wholly overcame:
When we read the desiring smile which sought
By such true lover to be kissed--the same
Who from my side can be divided ne'er
Kissed my mouth, trembling o'er all his frame!
Accurst the book, etc., etc.

[Another version.]
line 33: We were alone and--etc.
But one point only 'twas our ruin wrought.
When we read the desiring smile of her
Who to be kissed of such true lover sought;
He who for me, etc., etc.

MARINO FALIERO,

DOGE OF VENICE;

AN HISTORICAL TRAGEDY,

IN FIVE ACTS.

"_Dux_ inquieti turbidus Adria."
Horace, [_Od._ III. c. iii. line 5]

[_Marino Faliero_ was produced for the first time at the Theatre Royal,
Drury Lane, April 25, 1821. Mr. Cooper played "The Doge;" Mrs. W. West,
"Angiolina, wife of the Doge." The piece was repeated on April 30, May
1, 2, 3, 4, and 14, 1821.

A revival was attempted at Drury Lane, May 20, 21, 1842, when Macready
appeared as "The Doge," and Helen Faucit as "Angiolina" (see _Life_ and
_Remains_ of E. L. Blanchard, 1891, i. 346-348).

An adaptation of Byron's play, by W. Bayle Bernard, was produced at
Drury Lane, November 2, 1867. It was played till December 17, 1867.
Phelps took the part of "The Doge," and Mrs. Hermann of "Angiolina." In
Germany an adaptation by Arthur Fitger was performed nineteen times by
the "Meiningers," circ. 1887 (see _Englische Studien_, 1899, xxvii.
146).]

INTRODUCTION TO _MARINO FALIERO_.

Byron had no sooner finished the first draft of _Manfred_ than he began
(February 25, 1817) to lay the foundation of another tragedy. Venice was
new to him, and, on visiting the Doge's Palace, the veiled space
intended for the portrait of Marin Falier, and the "Giants' Staircase,"
where, as he believed, "he was once crowned and afterwards decapitated,"
had laid hold of his imagination, while the legend of the _Congiura_,
"an old man jealous and conspiring against the state of which he was ...
Chief," promised a subject which the "devil himself" might have
dramatized _con amore_.

But other interests and ideas claimed his attention, and for more than
three years the project slept. At length he slips into the postscript of
a letter to Murray, dated, "Ravenna, April 9, 1820" (_Letters_, 1901, v.
7), an intimation that he had begun "a tragedy on the subject of Marino
Faliero, the Doge of Venice." The "Imitation of Dante, the Translation
of Pulci, the Danticles," etc., were worked off, and, in prospecting for
a new vein, a fresh lode of literary ore, he passed, by a natural
transition, from Italian literature to Italian history, from the
romantic and humorous _epopee_ of Pulci and Berni, to the pseudo-classic
drama of Alfieri and Monti.

Jealousy, as "Monk" Lewis had advised him (August, 1817), was an
"exhausted passion" in the drama, and to lay the scene in Venice was to
provoke comparison with Shakespeare and Otway; but the man himself, the
fiery Doge, passionate but not jealous, a noble turned democrat _pro hac
vice_, an old man "greatly" finding "quarrel in a straw," afforded a
theme historically time-honoured, and yet unappropriated by tragic art.

There was, too, a living interest in the story. For history was
repeating itself, and "politics were savage and uncertain." "Mischief
was afoot," and the tradition of a conspiracy which failed might find an
historic parallel in a conspiracy which would succeed. There was "that
brewing in Italy" which might, perhaps, inspire "a people to redress
itself," "and with a cry of, 'Up with the Republic!' 'Down with the
Nobility!' send the Barbarians of all nations back to their own dens!"
(_Letters_, 1901, v. 10, 12, 19.)

In taking the field as a dramatist, Byron sought to win distinction for
himself--in the first place by historical accuracy, and, secondly, by
artistic regularity--by a stricter attention to the dramatic "unities."
"History is closely followed," he tells Murray, in a letter dated July
17, 1820; and, again, in the Preface (_vide post_, pp. 332-337), which
is an expansion of the letter, he gives a list of the authorities which
he had consulted, and claims to have "transferred into our language an
historical fact worthy of commemoration." More than once in his letters
to Murray he reverts to this profession of accuracy, and encloses some
additional note, in which he points out and rectifies an occasional
deviation from the historical record. In this respect, at any rate, he
could contend on more than equal terms "with established writers," that
is, with Shakespeare and Otway, and could present to his countrymen an
exacter and, so, more lifelike picture of the Venetian Republic. It is
plain, too, that he was bitten with the love of study for its own sake,
with a premature passion for erudition, and that he sought and found
relief from physical and intellectual excitement in the intricacies of
research. If his history is at fault, it was not from any lack of
diligence on his part, but because the materials at his disposal or
within his cognizance were inaccurate and misleading. He makes no
mention of the huge collection of Venetian archives which had recently
been deposited in the Convent of the Frari, or of Doria's transcript of
Sanudo's Diaries, bequeathed in 1816 to the Library of St. Mark; but he
quotes as his authorities the _Vitae Ducum Venetorum_, of Marin Sanudo
(1466-1535), the _Storia, etc._, of Andrea Navagero (1483-1529), and the
_Principj di Storia, etc._, of Vettor Sandi, which belongs to the latter
half of the eighteenth century. Byron's chroniclers were ancient, but
not ancient enough; and, though they "handed down the story" (see
Medwin, _Conversations_, p. 173), they depart in numerous particulars
from the facts recorded in contemporary documents. Unquestionably the
legend, as it appears in Sanudo's perplexing and uncritical narrative
(see, for the translation of an original version of the Italian,
_Appendix_, pp. 462-467), is more dramatic than the "low beginnings" of
the myth, which may be traced to the annalists of the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries; but, like other legends, it is insusceptible of
proof. Byron's Doge is almost, if not quite, as unhistorical as his
Bonivard or his Mazeppa. (See _Nuovo Archivio Veneto_, 1893, vol. v. pt.
i. pp. 95-197; 1897, vol. xiii. pt. i. pp. 5-107; pt. ii. pp. 277-374;
_Les Archives de Venise_, par Armand Baschet, 1870; _Storia della
Repubblica di Venizia_, Giuseppe Cappelletti, 1849, iv. pp. 262-317.)

At the close of the Preface, by way of an afterthought, Byron announces
his determination to escape "the reproach of the English theatrical
compositions" "by preserving a nearer approach to unity," by
substituting the regularity of French and Italian models for the
barbarities of the Elizabethan dramatists and their successors. Goethe
(_Conversations_, 1874, p. 114) is said to have "laughed to think that
Byron, who, in practical life, could never adapt himself, and never even
asked about a law, finally subjected himself to the stupidest of
laws--that of the _three unities_." It was, perhaps, in part with this
object in view, to make his readers smile, to provoke their
astonishment, that he affected a severity foreign to his genius and at
variance with his record. It was an agreeable thought that he could so
easily pass from one extreme to another, from _Manfred_ to _Marino
Faliero_, and, at the same time, indulge "in a little sally of
gratuitous sauciness" (_Quarterly Review_, July, 1822, vol. xxvii, p.
480) at the expense of his own countrymen. But there were other
influences at work. He had been powerfully impressed by the energy and
directness of Alfieri's work, and he was eager to emulate the gravity
and simplicity, if not the terseness and conciseness, of his style and
language. The drama was a new world to conquer, and so far as "his own
literature" was concerned it appeared that success might be attainable
by "a severer approach to the rules" (Letter to Murray, February 16,
1821)--that by taking Alfieri as his model he might step into the first
rank of English dramatists.

Goethe thought that Byron failed "to understand the purpose" of the
"three unities," that he regarded the law as an end in itself, and did
not perceive that if a play was comprehensible the unities might be
neglected and disregarded. It is possible that his "blind obedience to
the law" may have been dictated by the fervour of a convert; but it is
equally possible that he looked beyond the law or its fulfilment to an
ulterior object, the discomfiture of the romantic school, with its
contempt for regularity, its passionate appeal from art to nature. If he
was minded to raise a "Grecian temple of the purest architecture"
(_Letters_, 1901, v. Appendix III. p. 559), it was not without some
thought and hope of shaming, by force of contrast, the "mosque," the
"grotesque edifice" of barbarian contemporaries and rivals. Byron was
"ever a fighter," and his claim to regularity, to a closer preservation
of the "unities," was of the nature of a challenge.

_Marino Faliero_ was dedicated to "Baron Goethe," but the letter which
should have contained the dedication was delayed in transit. Goethe
never saw the dedication till it was placed in his hands by John Murray
the Third, in 1831, but he read the play, and after Byron's death bore
testimony to its peculiar characteristics and essential worth. "Lord
Byron, notwithstanding his predominant personality, has sometimes had
the power of renouncing himself altogether, as may be seen in some of
his dramatic pieces, particularly in his _Marino Faliero_. In this piece
one quite forgets that Lord Byron, or even an Englishman, wrote it. We
live entirely in Venice, and entirely in the time in which the action
takes place. The personages speak quite from themselves and their own
condition, without having any of the subjective feelings, thoughts, and
opinions of the poet" (_Conversations_, 1874, p. 453).

Byron spent three months over the composition of _Marino Faliero_. The
tragedy was completed July 17 (_Letters_, 1901, v. 52), and the copying
(_vide post_, p. 461, note 2) a month later (August 16, 17, 1820). The
final draft of "all the acts corrected" was despatched to England some
days before October 6, 1820.

Early in January, 1821 (see Letters to Murray, January 11, 20, 1821,
_Letters_, 1901, v. 221-228), an announcement reached Byron that his
play was to be brought out at Drury Lane Theatre, by Elliston. Against
this he protested by every means in his power, and finally, on
Wednesday, April 25, four days after the publication of the first
edition (April 21, 1821), an injunction was obtained from Lord
Chancellor Eldon, prohibiting a performance announced for that evening.
Elliston pursued the Chancellor to the steps of his own house, and at
the last moment persuaded him to allow the play to be acted on that
night only. Legal proceeedings were taken, but, in the end, the
injunction was withdrawn, with the consent of Byron's solicitors, and
the play was represented again on April 30, and on five nights in the
following May. As Byron had foreseen, _Marino Faliero_ was coldly
received by the playgoing public, and proved a loss to the "speculating
buffoons," who had not realized that it was "unfit for their Fair or
their booth" (Letter to Murray, January 20, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v.
228, and p. 226, note 2. See, too, _Memoirs of Robert W. Elliston_,
1845, pp. 268-271).

Byron was the first to perceive that the story of Marino Faliero was a
drama "ready to hand;" but he has had many followers, if not imitators
or rivals.

"_Marino Faliero_, tragedie en cinq actes," by Casimir Jean Francois
Delavigne, was played for the first time at the Theatre of Porte Saint
Martin, May 31, 1829.

In Germany tragedies based on the same theme have been published by Otto
Ludwig, Leipzig, 1874; Martin Grief, Vienna, 1879; Murad Effendi (Franz
von Werner), 1881, and others (_Englische Studien_, vol. xxvii. pp. 146,
147).

_Marino Faliero_, a Tragedy, by A. C. Swinburne, was published in 1885.

_Marino Faliero_ was reviewed by Jeffrey, in the _Edinburgh Review_,
July 21, 1821, vol. 35, pp. 271-285; by Heber, in the _Quarterly
Review_, July, 1822, vol. xxvii. pp. 476-492; and by John Wilson, in
_Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_, April, 1821, vol. 9, pp. 93-103. For
other notices, _vide ante_ ("Introduction to _The Prophecy of Dante_"),
p. 240.

PREFACE.

The conspiracy of the Doge Marino Faliero is one of the most remarkable
events in the annals of the most singular government, city, and people
of modern history. It occurred in the year 1355. Every thing about
Venice is, or was, extraordinary--her aspect is like a dream, and her
history is like a romance. The story of this Doge is to be found in all
her Chronicles, and particularly detailed in the "Lives of the Doges,"
by Marin Sanuto, which is given in the Appendix. It is simply and
clearly related, and is perhaps more dramatic in itself than any scenes
which can be founded upon the subject.

Marino Faliero appears to have been a man of talents and of courage. I
find him commander-in-chief of the land forces at the siege of
Zara,[359] where he beat the King of Hungary and his army of eighty
thousand men, killing eight thousand men, and keeping the besieged at
the same time in check; an exploit to which I know none similar in
history, except that of Caesar at Alesia,[360] and of Prince Eugene at
Belgrade. He was afterwards commander of the fleet in the same war. He
took Capo d'Istria. He was ambassador at Genoa and Rome,--at which last
he received the news of his election to the dukedom; his absence being a
proof that he sought it by no intrigue, since he was apprised of his
predecessor's death and his own succession at the same moment. But he
appears to have been of an ungovernable temper. A story is told by
Sanuto, of his having, many years before, when podesta and captain at
Treviso, boxed the ears of the bishop, who was somewhat tardy in
bringing the Host.[361] For this, honest Sanuto "saddles him with a
judgment," as Thwackum did Square;[362] but he does not tell us whether
he was punished or rebuked by the Senate for this outrage at the time of
its commission. He seems, indeed, to have been afterwards at peace with
the church, for we find him ambassador at Rome, and invested with the
fief of Val di Marino, in the march of Treviso, and with the title of
count, by Lorenzo, Count-bishop of Ceneda. For these facts my
authorities are Sanuto, Vettor Sandi,[363] Andrea Navagero,[364] and the
account of the siege of Zara, first published by the indefatigable Abate
Morelli, in his _Monumenti Veneziani di varia Letteratura_, printed in
1796,[365] all of which I have looked over in the original language. The
moderns, Daru, Sismondi, and Laugier, nearly agree with the ancient
chroniclers. Sismondi attributes the conspiracy to his _jealousy_; but I
find this nowhere asserted by the national historians. Vettor Sandi,
indeed, says that "Altri scrissero che....dalla gelosa suspizion di esso
Doge siasi fatto (Michel Steno) staccar con violenza," etc., etc.; but
this appears to have been by no means the general opinion, nor is it
alluded to by Sanuto, or by Navagero; and Sandi himself adds, a moment
after, that "per altre Veneziane memorie traspiri, che non il _solo_
desiderio di vendetta lo dispose alla congiura ma anche la innata
abituale ambizion sua, per cui aneleva a farsi principe independente."
The first motive appears to have been excited by the gross affront of
the words written by Michel Steno on the ducal chair, and by the light
and inadequate sentence of the Forty on the offender, who was one of
their "tre Capi."[366] The attentions of Steno himself appear to have
been directed towards one of her damsels, and not to the
"Dogaressa"[367] herself, against whose fame not the slightest
insinuation appears, while she is praised for her beauty, and remarked
for her youth. Neither do I find it asserted (unless the hint of Sandi
be an assertion) that the Doge was actuated by jealousy of his wife; but
rather by respect for her, and for his own honour, warranted by his past
services and present dignity.