scher, and other men of
learning. It would appear from evidence laid before the Venetian
Inquisitors that the prior of the monastery judged him to be a man of
genius and doctrine, devoid of definite religion, addicted to fantastic
studies, and bent on the elaboration of a philosophy that should
supersede existing creeds.[100] This was a not inaccurate portrait of
Bruno as he then appeared to conservatives of commonplace capacity. Yet
nothing occurred to irritate him in the shape of persecution or
disturbance. Bruno worked in quiet at Frankfort, pouring forth thousands
of metaphysical verses, some at least of which were committed to the
press in three volumes published by the Wechels.

[Footnote 100: Britanno's Deposition, Berti's _Vita di G.B._ p. 337.]

Between Frankfort and Italy literary communications were kept open
through the medium of the great fair, which took place every year at
Michaelmas.[101] Books formed one of the principal commodities, and the
Italian bibliopoles traveled across the Alps to transact business on
these important occasions. It happened by such means that a work of
Bruno's, perhaps the _De Monude_, found its way to Venice.[102] Exposed
on the counter of Giambattista Ciotto, then plying the trade of
bookseller in that city, this treatise met the eyes of a Venetian
gentleman called Giovanni Mocenigo. He belonged to one of the most
illustrious of the still surviving noble families in Venice. The long
line of their palaces upon the Grand Canal has impressed the mind of
every tourist. One of these houses, it may be remarked, was occupied by
Lord Byron, who, had he known of Bruno's connection with the Mocenighi,
would undoubtedly have given to the world a poem or a drama on the fate
of our philosopher. Giovanni Mocenigo was a man verging on middle life,
superstitious, acknowledging the dominion of his priest, but alive in a
furtive way to perilous ideas. Morally, he stands before us as a twofold
traitor: a traitor to his Church, so long as he hoped to gain illicit
power by magic arts; a traitor to his guest, so soon as he discovered
that his soul's risk brought himself no profit.[103] He seems to have
imagined that Bruno might teach him occult science or direct him on a
royal way to knowledge without strenuous study. Subsequent events proved
that, though he had no solid culture, he was fascinated by the
expectation of discovering some great secret. It was the vice of the age
to confound science wi