A Golden Book of Venice | Page 3

friars of the Servi, who were rivals of the Frari both in learning and splendor, and the entire Servite Brotherhood, black-robed and white-cowled, was just coming in sight over the little marble bridge, preceded by youthful choristers, chanting as they came and bearing with them that famous banner which had been sent them as a gift from their oldest chapter of San Annunziata in Florence, and which was the early work of Raphael.
A small urchin, leaning far over the edge of the quay and craning his neck upward for a better view, reported some special attraction in this approaching group which elicited yells of vociferous greeting from his colleagues, with such forceful emphasis of his own curling, expressive toes, that he lost his balance and rolled over into the water; from which he was promptly rescued by a human ladder, dexterously let down to him in sections, without a moment's hesitation, by his allies, who, like all Venetian boys of the populace, were amphibious animals, full of pranks.
But now there was no more time for fooling on the quay, for at the great end-window of the library of the convent of the Frari it could be seen that a procession of this body was forming and would presently enter the church, and the fun would begin for those who understood Latin.
A round-faced friar was giving obliging information. The contest would be between the Frari and the Servi; there was a new brother who had just entered their order,--and very learned, it was said,--but the name was not known. He would appear to respond to the propositions of the Frari.
"Yes, the theses would be in Latin--and harder, it was said, had never been seen. There were the theses in one of those black frames, at the side of the great door."
"But Latin is no good, except in missals, for women and priests to read."
The gondolier who owned the voice was undiscoverable among the crowd, and the remark passed with some humorous retaliation.
Hints of the day's entertainment sifted about, with much more,--each suggestion, true or otherwise, waking its little ripple of interest,--as some nearest the curtain lifted it up, went in, and returned, bringing reports.
"The church is filled with great ones, and Mass is going on," a small scout reported; "and that was Don Ambrogio Morelli that just went in with a lady--our old Abbé from the school at San Marcuolo--Beppo goes there now! And don't some of us remember Pierino--always studying and good for nothing, and not knowing enough to wade out of a _rio_? The Madonna will have hard work to look after _him_!"
"Don Ambrogio just wants to cram us boys," Beppo confessed, in a confidential tone; "but it's no use knowing too much, even for a priest. For once, at San Marcuolo--true as true, faith of the Madonna!--one of those priests told the people one day in his sermon that there were no ghosts!"
The boy crossed himself and drew a quick breath, which increased the interest of his auditors.
"_Ebbene_!" he continued, in an impressive, awestruck whisper. "He had to come out of his bed at night--Santissima Maria!--and it was the ghosts of all the people buried in San Marcuolo who dragged him and kicked him to teach him better, because he wanted to make believe the dead stayed in their graves! So where was the use of his Latin?"
"Pierino will be like his uncle, the Abbé Morelli, some day; they say he also will be a priest."
"I believe thee," said Beppo, earnestly; "and that was he going in behind the banner, with the Servi."
The little fellows made an instant rush for the door, and squeezed themselves in behind the poor old women of the neighborhood for whom festivals were perquisites, and who, maimed or deformed, knelt on the stone floor close to the entrance, while with keenly observant, ubiquitous eyes they proffered their aves and their petitions for alms with the same exemplary patience and fervor--"Per l'amor di Dio, Signori!"
The body of the church, from the door to the great white marble screen of the choir and from column to column, was filled with an assembly in which the brilliant and scholarly elements predominated; and seen through the marvelous fretwork of this screen of leafage and scroll and statue and arch, intricately wrought and enhanced with gilding, the choir presented an almost bewildering pageant. The dark wood background of the stalls and canopies, elaborately carved and polished and enriched with mosaics, each surmounted with its benediction of a gilded winged cherub's head, framed a splendid figure in sacerdotal robes. Through the small, octagonal panes of the little windows encircling the choir--row upon row, like an antique necklace of opals set in frosted stonework--the sunlight slanted in a rainbow mist, broken by splashes of yellow flame from great wax candles