Part 19

In the church of Saint Mark’s he was presented to the people, and received the usual threefold laudation and salutation. It is worth noticing that Faliero was the last doge who was saluted by the pompous title of ‘Lord of a quarter and an eighth of the Roman Empire.’ Then, according to the regular ceremonial, he was carried round the square amid the acclamations of the multitude, to whom he threw money, and at last he was crowned upon the landing of the staircase that descended into the courtyard of the palace. This staircase was of stone, and led down from the hall of the Great Council to the story where was the covered loggia, and thence continued downwards in the open air, entering the courtyard, and following the same direction as the modern ‘Giants’ Staircase,’ but at the opposite extremity. It was demolished in the fifteenth century. Upon the same landing of the staircase the Doge took the oath of allegiance, with the amendments of which we have already spoken, and we may well believe that the new restrictions contained in the ‘Ducal Promise’ were unwelcome to his despotic nature.

During the reign of Marino Faliero, Venice continued the struggle with Genoa, and remained on the side of the Lombard League against the Visconti. The defeat of the Venetian fleet at Porto Longo, November 4, 1354, almost caused a panic in Venice, where it was expected that at any moment the Genoese would appear again before the Lido. The Doge and the government, however, met the danger with energetic measures, obtained help from the neighbouring principalities, and vigilantly watched the more exposed outlying districts, such as Cape d’Istria and Zara; but the agitation in Venice was not wholly allayed, and the need of peace was felt more than ever. Charles IV., king of Bohemia and king of the Romans, who had recently descended into Italy in order to assume the imperial title, found it no easy matter to make terms between the parties. From Avignon also Pope Innocent VI. was using every means to pacify the divers Italian states; but neither the Emperor nor the Pope were

wholly successful, and in the winter of 1355 the condition of affairs in Venice was such as to favour a conspiracy. It was not long, in fact, before the plot of Marino Faliero was discovered, and it turned out to be the most important of those which darken the history of the fourteenth century.

Almost every one is acquainted with the legend of this conspiracy, and may compare it with the truth so far as a recent examination of the facts has made it known.

A grudge of long standing existed at that time between the houses of Faliero and Steno. In the summer of 1343 a certain Paolo Steno approached the house of Piero Faliero at San Maurizio late in the evening, and calling out a German serving-woman, called Elizabeth or Beta, with whom he seems to have been acquainted, he persuaded her with specious arguments, or with the promise of reward, to let him enter the room of Saray, who some say was the beautiful daughter of the master of the house, but who Romanin says was a slave, as her name would seem to indicate. A recent authority, Lazzarini, says that Romanin was mistaken; but however this may have been, Saray, who was taken by surprise, defended herself desperately, but could not escape the embraces of Paolo Steno. A regular action was brought against the latter, and a number of documents in the criminal archives of the Forty, dated in August and September 1343, prove that the culprit was condemned to be imprisoned a year in the lower dungeons called pozzi, and to pay a fine of three hundred lire. The German serving-woman, who had escaped beyond the frontier, was condemned in default to have her nose and her lips cut off, and was perpetually banished; an accomplice, a servant in the house of Faliero, was imprisoned six months in the lower dungeons, and then banished. Three years later the mother of Saray, on her death, named ‘Saray Steno’ among her children in her will, and it would appear from this that Steno had satisfied justice and repaired his fault by marrying the girl; but in this case it is certain that he did not long survive the date of the deed, for before the conditions of the will could be fulfilled we find that Saray was already the wife of a certain Niccoletto Callencerio of Oderzo. It is impossible to say how far this incident was the cause of the hatred between the families of Faliero and Steno, but we may be sure that when Michel Steno insulted the Doge eleven years later he was already influenced by the existence of the family grudge.

On the tenth of November 1354 a request came before the Council of Forty to proceed against the authors of certain words written in the Hall of the Hearth in the ducal palace against the Doge’s nephew. There is no mention of the Dogess. Amongst those cited to appear before the tribunal within eight days we find the name of a Steno called Micheletto, the diminutive of Michel, and son of the late Giovanni, coupled with that of Piero Bollani, as the principal authors of the insulting lines, and a certain Rizzardo Marioni is accused of having scrawled obscene symbols beside what his companions had written. Besides these, certain other noble youths were cited to appear, but were acquitted for lack of proof that they had taken part in the deed. It must be taken for granted that Romanin was not acquainted with the document cited by Lazzarini, since he says that no proofs exist that Steno was either accused or punished.

Micheletto Steno was condemned to be imprisoned during a few days in the lower dungeon; Piero Bollani and Rizzardo Marioni got off with less than a week’s confinement.

Tradition, as corroborated by the Doge’s own words afterwards, justifies us in believing that Faliero complained of the lenity shown to the culprits; but though he might have been displeased, it would have been impossible that he should be astonished. Since the insult was directed against the Doge or his nephew as private individuals, and not against the head of the Republic, a discriminating tribunal of Venice could only treat the affair as if it had happened between any other members of the nobility. Venice never incarnated any ‘divine right’ in the person of her Doge, and Faliero must have known that though a single word of slight against the honour of the ‘Lord Duke’ might cost him who uttered it both his eyes and his tongue, as happened in the same year to a certain Niccolò Cestello and to another Micheletto of Murano, even a grave insult against the person of the Doge was never legally punished by more than two months’ imprisonment, and generally by a shorter term and a small fine. The legend built up upon the later accounts says that Micheletto Steno was the head of the Forty, _i.e._ President of the Senate, when he wrote the insult of which he was convicted; but we have clear proof that at the time he was hardly more than twenty years of age, so that he had not even the right to vote at the meetings of the Great Council; and no one could belong to the Senate who was under thirty, much less be the head of that formidable body. So far as the Dogess is concerned, chroniclers and novelists have described her as taking part in a dance at the time, whereas she was a woman already of middle age, and her name is never mentioned in any of the numerous documents regarding the famous trial. There is one more argument against the fable that the insult was directed against her. The Venetian tribunals were extremely severe in all cases where the honour of a woman was touched. The mere fact of laying a hand on the shoulder of a woman not the man’s own wife or relative might be punished with a very heavy fine and many months of imprisonment, and a libellous writing against a noble lady was punished with two months in the pozzi and a fine of one hundred ducats. It would seem to follow that if Steno’s offence had been committed against the first matron in Venice, the tribunal would not have treated the matter with that indulgence of which the Doge complained on his own account. Moreover, it should be noted that Marino Faliero was elected on the eleventh of September 1354, and that the date of the trial was the tenth of November of the same year; but the legendary account says it was on the Thursday before Lent, which cannot come earlier than February and may be as late as March, that the insulting words were written. The scandal must have taken place very early in November, and probably happened during the festival held in the ducal palace on the occasion of the marriage of Santino Faliero and Regina Dandolo, a nephew and niece of the Doge, a marriage, consequently, for which the papal dispensation would have been necessary. This hypothesis would in some measure explain the fact that the writing was directed against the Doge and one of his nephews.

Whatever the true facts were in the Steno-Faliero trials, it is certain that the Doge entertained feelings of the strongest resentment against the aristocracy, against the judges, and, on the whole, against all the decrees of the government. There is no doubt but that the young nobles of that day deserved the indignation they excited in the minds of sensible people, for during several years past their insolence had become boundless, and they went to all lengths of violence, and worse, sometimes even making use of false keys to get into houses that were closed against them, and sparing neither matron nor maid. The lower classes especially suffered by their outrageous conduct in word and deed, and when the Doge conceived the idea of breaking down the power of the aristocrats, he fully believed he might count upon the sympathy and help of the people.

Now when the war with the Genoese was still raging, a certain Bertuccio Isarello, a sea-captain, and Giovanni Dandolo, a patrician, who was one of the superintendents charged with getting war-vessels ready for sea, got into a violent discussion. To be a sea-captain in those days not only indicated great energy and personal courage, but also implied a certain amount of consideration. Isarello had reached his present position after a life of many labours and adventures. He had been a merchant in the Rialto for a year; he had then been the navigating officer of a vessel trading to the East, belonging to a certain Jacopello Lombardo, and after that he had been promoted to be captain, or ‘patrono,’ of a galley, the property of Marin Michiel, with a salary of five lire of grossi monthly (about twenty-five shillings), and permission to take with him on his voyages three families as passengers. Like most other sea-captains of whom we have any account in the archives, Isarello owned several houses in Venice, and possessed considerable prestige among the seafaring class. The account of the incident here given is taken from the contemporary chronicle of de’ Monaci. It happened that in the course of manning a number of ships of war Dandolo had business with this Captain Isarello, and, finding him unexpectedly obstinate upon some point of which we have no account, proceeded to enforce his arguments with a box on the ear. The offended captain left the office where this took place, and told his friends what had happened. They promised at once to support him if he wished to be avenged. Accompanied by them, Isarello thereupon went at once to the square before the ducal palace, and walked up and down nursing his wrath until Dandolo himself should pass. The Doge and his counsellors, being apprised of the matter, sent for the captain and had from his own lips an account of the injury he had

suffered; but while they promised him every satisfaction which the law would allow, they severely reproved him for having dared to think of taking vengeance in person.

The Doge, however, on hearing Isarello’s story, recognised in him an instrument that might be useful against the aristocracy; and sending for him privately on the following night, received him in his own apartment, and laid before him the plan which he had been maturing for some time.

The most reliable accounts say that within a few hours Isarello gathered twenty conspirators, each of whom promised to furnish forty armed men; but of these twenty heads, only Isarello himself, Filippo Calendario, his father-in-law, erroneously stated to have been the architect who restored the ducal palace, but who was in reality only a master stone-cutter in the work, and two or three other trusty friends, were aware that the Doge himself was the prime mover in the conspiracy, the others supposing that the only object of the movement was to punish the nobles for their overbearing conduct, and to force the government to the better administration of justice. During a few days the principal conspirators came by night to the ducal palace, in order to prepare their plan of action. Meanwhile, in order to increase the unpopularity of the aristocracy, they practised a singular deceit. Two or three of them wandered about the city in the evening, apparently disguised as nobles, insulting the plebeians whom they met, and singing low songs under the windows of honest artisans’ wives; then separating, they loudly bade each other good-night, calling each other by the names of the most illustrious Venetian houses, so that the offended persons supposed they had been annoyed by the fashionable young good-for-nothings of the highest nobility. Meanwhile the conspirators discussed various means for getting possession of the city, and it was finally agreed that they should all meet, fully armed, on the night of the fifteenth of April 1355 in the Square of Saint Mark, before the ducal palace, when the Doge would cause the great bell to ring the alarm, and news would be bruited abroad among the people that the Genoese were at the mouth of the harbour with fifty galleys. Thereupon it was expected that the nobles would flock to the palace, as they always did in cases of danger, to meet in council, and the conspirators would be able to kill them without difficulty as they arrived. After the massacre, they intended to proclaim the absolute sovereignty of the Doge, who bound himself to confer all the important offices of the State upon men belonging to the working-classes. The plan failed, apparently for two reasons.

In the first place, it appears that among those whom the Doge invited to take part in the conspiracy was a certain Niccolò Zucuol, a close friend of the house of Faliero, a rich citizen of burgher origin, who was allied by marriage with the most noble families in Venice. The Doge, knowing that he could trust this man, revealed to him the whole plan, but Zucuol was opposed to it, and by prayers and arguments caused Marino Faliero to waver in his intention. Some chroniclers say that this honest Niccolò Zucuol obtained authority from the Doge to dissolve the conspiracy, and to induce the conspirators, if he could, to give up all idea of vengeance; others say that his arguments only frightened the Doge for the time, without really shaking his resolution.

Secondly, we find that a certain Vendramin, who was in the fur trade, made revelations to a sponsor of his, Niccolò Lion, a noble, in order to save him from the general massacre of the nobles, which was a part of the conspiracy. This Lion, who was a senator, heard the story late at night in his own house, and lost no time in acting on the information. He dressed in haste, and with no companion save the fur-merchant, boldly entered the Doge’s apartment, told him that he knew the truth, and threatened to bring him to account before his counsellors.

Marino Faliero did not lose his self-possession in this sudden turn of affairs, but coolly pretended to pity the credulity of the old senator. He even had the audacity to say that this was not the first he had heard of what he called an egregious calumny; that he himself had made most careful inquiry into the conspiracy, and had assured himself that there was not a word of truth in the story. Lion, however, placed no faith in the Doge’s statements, and insisted so forcibly that the ducal counsellors should be called in that the Doge was obliged to yield.

The chronicler Matteo Villani observes that it was here that the Doge lost his head, because he might easily have locked up Lion and Vendramin, or might

even have murdered them, and thus gained the time necessary for putting his plans into execution. It soon became known that the Privy Council had been summoned at that unusual hour, and this alone spread alarm through Venice. A number of nobles accompanied the six counsellors to the palace, and groups of curious and inquisitive persons gathered in the neighbourhood of Saint Mark’s. It was known that during the last few days, and under various pretexts, there had been frequent gatherings of seafaring men, and many of the nobles had noticed the threatening attitude of the working-men they passed in the street, and had even heard menacing speeches indistinctly spoken when they had gone by, though they had paid little attention to such matters at the time. But now, while the Privy Council was sitting within the palace, the whole population felt a sort of premonition of a terrible mystery, and of some great event that was not far off. Meanwhile two gentlemen of the house of Contarini requested to be immediately admitted to the presence of the Council. They said that a friend of theirs had been asked only a few hours previously by a friend of Filippo Calendario to take part in a conspiracy which was about to break out. The person they referred to was immediately called, and turned out to be a seafaring man named Marco Negro, who was able to give chapter and verse for all he stated. His story at once exhibited the conduct of the Doge in the strongest light. Following the example of the two Contarini, many more persons presented to the ducal counsellors very grave accusations against the Doge. Without losing time, and before daybreak, officers were sent out to arrest all persons suspected of having joined in the conspiracy. Amongst the first that were brought to the palace was Calendario himself and one of his accomplices, named Zuan da Corso. The latter, having been put to the torture, confessed everything, and Calendario, without waiting until similar pressure had been brought upon him, disclosed everything he knew, without the least attempt to hide the responsibility of the Doge. As soon as the Doge’s guilt was clear, the Council decided to proceed with its deliberations without regard to him, and immediately called in the Council of Ten in order to divide with the latter the responsibilities of government and justice. Niccolò Faliero, who was a near relative of the Doge’s, was not allowed to take part in the deliberations, that being the rule in such cases.

Word was immediately sent to all the nobles then in Venice to arm themselves, and to bring their servants and retainers armed to the squares near their habitations. During the whole day and the following night these armed men remained constantly on the watch, ready to act under the orders of the Privy Council at a moment’s notice. Eighty or ninety nobles and trusty citizens continually rode through the city from post to post to preserve order and unity.

After the first hours of agitation, arrangements were made for a regular succession of watches at all the principal points. Meanwhile some of the conspirators sought safety in flight, while some were arrested in their houses. Isarello was taken in a garden, immediately after the first revelations of the conspiracy. Some of the other chiefs were chased as far as Chioggia, and brought back. On the same day Filippo Calendario and Isarello were hanged between the red columns of the loggia of the old palace, from which the Doge usually assisted at the Carnival festivities. Others suffered the same sentence, and as their bodies were not taken down directly after they were dead, there was soon a row of eleven corpses hanging from the balcony, beginning with those of the chief conspirators, who had been hanged with gags in their mouths, lest they should cry out to the people. The minor conspirators were spared this indignity.

The Doge during this time was under guard in his own apartments, until at last one counsellor, Giovanni Mocenigo, one inquisitor, Luca da Lezze, and one avogador, Orio Pasqualigo, entered together to examine him. As the Council was not willing to accept the sole responsibility of the trial, a committee was chosen, consisting of twenty nobles of the most ancient and illustrious families of Venice; these, however, were only to have a vote in consultation, but not upon the final sentence. It was in this way that the ‘Zonta,’ or supplementary committee of the Council of Ten, was constituted, and its usefulness was so readily recognised that from that time on it was always called to assist in cases of unusual importance. It followed that the court, before which the Doge was to be tried, consisted of thirty-seven persons, _i.e._ nine of the Council of Ten, since Niccolò Faliero could not sit, six ducal counsellors, twenty of the committee of nobles, and two avogadori of the Commonwealth. The High Chancellor, I presume, however, must also have been present; in which case the court consisted of thirty-eight. Contemporary documents give us the names of all these judges except the last.

On the seventeenth the three individuals who had been with Marino Faliero by night opened the case. The accusations having been heard, examined, and discussed by the court, the following proposal was made:--‘Does it seem to you that from what has been said and read, proceedings should be taken against Marino Faliero, the Doge, for attempting to betray the State and Commonwealth of Venice?’ Following the so-called Rite of the Council of Ten, the heads and the avogadori of the Commune proposed the sentence, and this was discussed until evening. It was finally decided that Marino Faliero should be beheaded on the landing of the stone staircase, where he had sworn the ducal oath of allegiance. It was further decreed by the sentence that all his goods should be confiscated, with the exception of two thousand lire of grossi, equal to five hundred pounds, which he was to be allowed to leave as he would by will. All that now remained was to announce to the Doge the sentence of death, and to strip him of the ducal insignia. Giovanni Gradenigo was charged with this duty, the same man who was presently to take his place upon the ducal throne. He was of the family of the Dogess; and it is possible, though I think extremely improbable, that the Council intended to send to the condemned man a person who might in some measure show him sympathy in his last moments. If the tribunal really had any such intention, it must be admitted that the manner in which it was carried out left much to be desired. A chronicler of a later time says that he heard the story told as follows:--‘Messer Zuan Gradenigo was the person who received the orders of the chiefs of the Ten to go to the Doge; and he found him walking up and down in the hall of his house (the palace). At once he said to him, “Give me that cap.” And he, the Doge, with his hands, gave it up, not suspecting a sentence of death. And he (Gradenigo) said to him, “You are condemned to have your head cut off within the hour.” Having heard which he (the Doge) was in great anguish, and could not answer anything.’