A Venetian Affair (16 page)

Andrea was utterly unprepared for the violent reaction his appearance had provoked—after all, Mrs. Anna and he had parted amicably in Padua only two days before. Then again, she had always been a difficult woman. But Zandiri’s behavior really incensed him. Andrea would teach him a lesson, give him a scare he would not forget. The law was on his side: threatening the life of a prominent Venetian patrician was a serious offense, and for once Andrea had every intention of using the prerogatives of his rank. Besides, the bewildered clientele of the inn had overheard everything. Zandiri had sealed his own fate.

However, rather than taking legal action in Venice, as Giustiniana had pressed him to do, Andrea decided to seek justice on the mainland, away from the city gossips. He asked Giustiniana to provide him with signed statements from three patricians who had been present at the scene in the inn and had heard Zandiri’s curses against Andrea, as well as sworn depositions by several servants attesting to the fact that Andrea had not provoked Zandiri—had not even been given the chance to speak to him. Once Giustiniana supplied the evidence, Andrea contacted the all-powerful Venetian
rappresentante
in Verona, who in turn ordered the chief of police to follow Andrea’s instructions to the letter. In effect, the
rappresentante,
himself a member of the ruling oligarchy and a friend of the Memmo family, allowed Andrea to take justice into his own hands.

Mrs. Anna spent most of the following day in church. In her absence, the two lovers had ample opportunity to plan their legal offensive together. Brazenly, they even visited some of the architectural marvels of Vicenza, including Andrea Palladio’s famous Teatro Olimpico. It was a good day, one of their best in a long time:

Seldom have we had a chance to be together as long and as
sweetly as today. Alas, this good fortune comes to me now, ensuring that the pain of separation will be stronger still! It is my
fate. . . . But oh my God, I cannot tell you more because my
mother is calling me now. Tomorrow I shall be at the Due Torri
[in Verona]. You will spy on us, I am sure, and I will be told
everything. . . . I hope our time together will not be bad there
either. Meanwhile, give the go-ahead to our great coup, and have
a good trip. God! We are rushing simultaneously toward new
bliss and new danger! If you love me, be passionate about everything, and fear nothing.

It felt as if their conspiratorial days were back. Secret messengers shuttled between them as they prepared the “great coup”: Zandiri would be arrested and thrown into jail. Giustiniana egged Andrea on, encouraged him to use all the powers in his hands to finally rid them of the “scoundrel.”

As soon as Andrea left for Verona that evening, however, doubts began to creep into Giustiniana’s mind, for she and her family now faced the prospect of a long and difficult journey without the protection of a man. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure: “If [Zandiri] comes with us it will be hell, and if he stays we will have to deal with a thousand dangers.”

That night a messenger sent by Giustiniana went looking for Andrea “all over Verona,” shaking guards out of their slumber and even forcing the deputy mayor from his bed to deliver an express letter to him. On the envelope, Giustiniana had used their old cipher to write:

Don’t be amazed, just laugh.

Sleepily, Andrea read on:

I cannot be entirely evil. I have worries and fears. My wish for
revenge is giving in to my good heart, and I am about to ask you
that yours give in as well for love of me. I foresee a thousand troubles if you have [Zandiri] detained. My mother would be so furious she would be capable of abandoning the family and ruining
us all. Memmo, give in to me, give up your resentment to your
Giustiniana, who beseeches you. Let me leave with a renewed
admiration for your soul.

Andrea did not want to leave Zandiri rotting indefinitely in some godforsaken prison of the Venetian Republic. He only wanted to give the man a scare. A public apology, he reassured Giustiniana, was all that was needed to grant Zandiri’s release. Meanwhile, the carriages in Vicenza had been repaired, and the next day, October 7, the Wynne party arrived in Verona and took up lodgings at the Due Torri, not far from where Andrea was staying.

The lovers managed to steal another full day together, roaming the streets and squares of the town while Mrs. Anna attended a succession of church services and Zandiri took care of travel arrangements. Before curling into bed, Giustiniana wished Andrea a good night:

Sleep well, my heart, for you will need it after all the walking
we did. I could learn so much traveling with you! You’ve seen
everything, you know everything, and you are so good at pointing
out things and drawing distinctions. . . . I love you, yes, I do love
you. Oh God! How much there is to say—more than I even dare
to wish or say. . . . Good night. . . . Dream of me. . . . Love me
much. Will you always let me ask you to love me?

The Wynne party started early the next morning on the road to Brescia, most of them unaware of the trap that Andrea and Giustiniana had laid for Zandiri in what was then the last major city of the Venetian State before entering the Duchy of Milan. They spent the night in the small town of Desenzano and arrived in Brescia the following afternoon. The two lovers kept in regular contact during the trip through brief express notes sent from the stations along the road; it was important to synchronize the steps that were to lead to what Giustiniana, perhaps not fully anticipating the seriousness of the matter, was now calling “the great prank.”

The Wynnes had barely settled into their lodgings in Brescia and were still unpacking when loud noises were heard in the foyer: police officers had arrived at the inn, shouting orders and creating great alarm among the guests. They summoned Zandiri downstairs and, after questioning him briefly, dragged him away.

For all her conniving, Giustiniana was suddenly frightened.

God only knows what is going on. I tremble for my own sake as
well. My mother is spewing fire at this moment. . . . If you love
me, Memmo, try to be as prudent as you can. I never thought
things would take such a turn. They tell me [Zandiri] is in jail!

That afternoon word came back to the Wynnes confirming that Zandiri had been roughly interrogated by the police and locked up in the Castello, Brescia’s intimidating fortress in the Old City. Mrs. Anna became incandescent when she realized that her traveling companion would not be returning to the inn that night. She accused Andrea of acting out of spite and vowed to expose him in Venice. Then she turned on her daughter.

I warn you: my mother is in a fury, and she blames me for
everything. She also says she will take her vengeance on me and
plans to send all the letters she has—mine and yours—tomorrow
morning by courier either to the [British Resident in Venice] or to
someone else—I don’t quite know; right now she swears she will
ruin me. If she continues to insult me the way she has, I might
have to make a decision. . . . I cannot stand it any longer.

Giustiniana hoped things could still be resolved the following morning with a simple apology by Zandiri, but she feared that his own pride and her mother’s anger might conspire to make matters worse for everyone: “If he asks your forgiveness and if you grant it immediately, as you intend to,” she wrote to Andrea before retiring that evening, “things will settle themselves. But if he behaves crazily, God only knows what we must fear!”

The next day Giustiniana awoke to find her mother’s fury unabated. She had taken the affront personally, and she seemed determined to wage war on them even if it meant keeping Zandiri locked up a while longer. “My mother has sworn to ruin us,” she told Andrea. “She doesn’t want [Zandiri] to say he’s sorry. . . . I’m desperate.” It was pure theater: Mrs. Anna was in one corner of the room writing a letter to Murray, the British Resident, while Giustiniana was sitting across the room writing frantically to Andrea about Mrs. Anna writing to Murray. “. . . She makes it appear as if [Zandiri’s] arrest were the result of some violent action on your part designed to keep us here. God only knows what else she will make up.”

In open revolt against Mrs. Anna, Giustiniana decided to send her own version of events to the Resident in order to preempt her mother’s letter to him.

Sir,

I will be in serious danger if you do not help me and grant me
your protection in a case so clearly ruled by vengeance alone—not
by justice. Hear me, sir, and save me.

When we arrived in Vicenza our carriages broke down, and
we were told the repairs would take four days. I immediately
informed Memmo with the sole purpose of bidding him farewell
just one more time; and he, hoping for the same, rushed to
Vicenza. My mother was asleep when he arrived at the inn. He
waited for her to wake up in order to congratulate her on the fact
that nothing distressing had happened to the family on account of
the crash. Having observed that was the case with his own eyes,
he was about to go back—as he had promised my mother and as
she herself seemed convinced he would do, since he was without
coffer and manservant.

Meanwhile, I called in Zandiri—the very stern and knowledgeable manager of our trip—to explain to him all that was
going on. But he simply walked from one room to the next without greeting [Memmo] and even slammed the door in his face.
That wasn’t enough: when I went down, I was upbraided by my
mother in the usual manner while Signor Zandiri hurled insults
at Memmo and threatened to kill him even though he was by then
far away. His insults were heard by three gentlemen and by many
servants. Once Memmo was informed of all this he thought he
would simply remind Signor Zandiri that such a rodomontade
was very much to his own disadvantage, and in lieu of availing
himself of the harsh instruments he had at his disposal, the use of
which might have o fended our family, he asked the three noblemen for their honest testimony and gathered more evidence of the
fact that he had not even spoken to Zandiri; then he turned to the
[Venetian]
rappresentante
to obtain justice. The
rappresentante
happened to be out of town, and [Memmo], who, despite
his gentle manner, was determined to make [Zandiri] feel his
superior status and mortify him, went ahead of us to Verona,
whence the
rappresentante
had in fact just left for Vicenza. This
unexpected turn of events forced [Memmo] to go on to Brescia,
where he was finally able to present his case and where Zandiri
was reprimanded by the Tribunal in presence of the authorities as
well as many gentlemen and then transferred to the Castello and
put at [Memmo’s] disposal.

My mother went into a fury when she heard of the arrest and
blamed me for everything and swore to ruin Memmo and me—
again. She doesn’t want [Zandiri] to tell Memmo he’s sorry, even
though that would put an end to everything. . . . We could resume
our journey as early as tomorrow and Memmo could return to
Venice. But no, she wants to move ahead and take her revenge on
us for no fault of our own. As she is now writing to you, I have
decided to inform you as quickly as possible of the facts, all of
which can be proven by eye-witness noblemen.

I know, Mr. Murray, your sense of justice as well as your prudence. And I know that, once well apprised of all the facts, you
will not encourage her unfair wrath. I have left Memmo to go to
London in accordance with the orders my mother has received
[from Lord Holderness]—though under the laws of my country
no one could have forced me to had I decided to do otherwise.

Truth reigns in all I have said to you, and all I ask is that you
consider it well. I have reason to be fearful, and I put myself in
your hands for whatever future violence I might suffer. Whatever
you have heard about me, I am sure you will do right. . . . My
character is not tainted. You have had occasion to know me.
Meanwhile I am fearful of everything, and the only prudent
course of action I can take is to ask for your useful and experienced assistance. Use your best judgment in reading my letter
written in the greatest haste. . . . I also beg for the protection of
Lady [Murray], your wife, to whom I have the honor of being . . .

It was a remarkable letter, scribbled at top speed with one eye on the page and the other on Mrs. Anna sitting across the room. Her tone was respectful, even obsequious, but with just enough familiarity to give her appeal a personal touch, enhanced by her prudent inclusion of the Resident’s wife in her plea.

The last thing Murray could have wished was to become embroiled in a dispute in a remote provincial town between an angry Anglo-Venetian lady with a rather stained reputation and a well-known member of a prominent Venetian family. Luckily, the confrontation was defused before it could escalate into a full-blown diplomatic incident.

Giustiniana told Andrea about the two letters that were due to leave for Venice, and he informed the
rappresentante.
The following morning, the police intercepted Mrs. Anna’s messenger, who had been instructed to slip out of town unnoticed. Her letter to Murray and the accompanying documents—a selection from the two lovers’ correspondence—were handed over to Andrea, who, in a magnanimous gesture, returned them to Mrs. Anna unopened. But the
rappresentante
stepped in to remind Mrs. Anna of a basic fact of life in the Venetian Republic: Andrea’s word carried more weight than hers. There was really no point, he added, in pursuing the matter further. She would only damage herself and her family.