encountered man with the eye and hand of death; the struggle was
personal, unrelenting, resolute; a struggle for existence, not for
victory; the Venetians, pressed by a double danger, had no other hope;
the Greeks of Crete and Negropont with the Slavonian crews performed such
deeds as have been rarely equalled and never yet surpassed. Springing
with the force of tigers on their prey it many times happened that when
the Italian spear had pierced a Slavonian body the wounded man would
seize and draw himself forward on the slippery staff until he grappled
his enemy, and then both rolled struggling into the stream below. Again,
two running each other through at the same moment and sternly following
up their thrust would close and wrestle as long as life endured, or fall
while yet writhing into the bloody Po; for that great stream, full and
broad and ample as it was, became strongly crimsoned. Pacino at last gave
way, and with a few as yet ungrappled galleys made good his flight, but
left fourteen captured vessels in the hands of Venice.
[Illustration: AN ITALIAN KNIGHT, FIFTEENTH CENTURY]
After the battle of Casa-al-Secco Carmagnola, who as Cavalcanti asserts
was now at the head of fifty thousand fighting men, laid siege to
Casalmaggiore on the Po and recaptured Bina which Sforza had surprised;
he then reduced the former and both armies cautiously manœuvred, narrowly
watching each other’s motions until the beginning of October, when the
allies were besieging Pompeiano, a town situated about six miles from
Brescia on the high-road to Crema. While Malatesta was absent with
Filippo, the Milanese captains had so placed their army as to impede
the enemy’s progress without risking a general engagement, but when
Carlo returned he posted himself between Macalo (now Maclodio) and the
allies, with an intention to succour the besieged. The two camps only
four miles asunder were separated by what then was an extensive swamp,
now a fertile plain; what was then fetid black and stagnant pools full of
reeds and thorns, and swarming with snakes and every loathsome reptile,
now abounding in corn and vines and mulberries. The high-road from Orci
Novi on the Oglio to Pompeiano and Brescia ran like a causeway through
this waste and passed by a wooden bridge over a channel of deep water
that connected the opposite marshes. Adjoining the swamp and bridge one
side of the road was flanked by an extensive wood, so thick and wild and
full of savage beasts that both men and domestic cattle shunned it. Just
at the bridge-head the road entered a sort of enclosed space or basin of
solid earth in the midst of the marshes, a sort of trap from which no
army once entered and cut off from the bridge could hope to escape except
by the destruction of a superior enemy.
Niccolo Tolentino, a leader of great influence, having examined this
ground, advised Carmagnola to occupy the position while he and his friend
Bernardino with a strong division of the army concealed themselves in the
wood on the other side of the bridge and awaited Carlo’s advance, who
it was supposed would run headlong into the trap. This suggestion was
followed; the ambuscade was posted in the wood that night, and the other
troops were under arms at daylight. Carlo Malatesta on the other hand,
whether for the reasons mentioned by Corio or a wilful determination to
fight, was on his march by dawn of day; he soon crossed the bridge and
entered the trap with loud shouts of “_Viva il Duca! Viva il Duca!_”
Carmagnola had marshalled his army in the shape of a crescent and slowly
retired before him, but still deepening his centre as if fearful of the
encounter. When he heard that all had entered, he exclaimed, “They are
caught,” and from a rising ground shortly addressed his people before the
battle.
The instant that the enemy’s rear was well over the bridge and engaged
with their antagonists, Bernardino darted like lightning from the wood
and seized it at the head of a thousand horse; he was rapidly followed
by Tolentino with a much larger force, but leaving the latter to defend
the bridge he snatched up a heavy and well pointed lance, and with two
hundred men-at-arms dashed deep into the Milanese rear with loud cries
and great confusion. The two horns of the crescent then rapidly closed
in; Carmagnola charged in front; the crossbows played unceasingly from
every thicket; “_San Marco_,” “_Duca_,” and “_Marzocco_” resounded
through the field. “The shouts of men, the neighing of horses, the shock
of lances, the tempest of swords was so great,” says Cavalcanti, “that
the loudest thunder might have rolled above unheeded. The wild beasts
fled in terror through the woods and in these infernal swamps many
swarms of serpents were seen rustling through the reeds at the unwonted
uproar! O reader, think how cruel must have been this conflict when so
many animals, enemies to our nature, fled in so wild affright! All was
terror and distraction; Niccolo held steadily to the bridge; many were
driven into the marshes or dragged by their stirrups through them; the
flights of arrows were sometimes so dense as to obscure the sun, and
this deadly archery did infinite mischief; the air itself seemed changed
and terrified, and this great multitude was full of groaning, blood,
and death!” Every hope of victory at length vanished and the Milanese
broke, surrendered, and fled in all directions. Carlo Malatesta and eight
thousand prisoners laid down their arms, but, strange to say, almost all
were then or subsequently permitted to escape by Carmagnola; and this
first sowed the seeds of Venetian jealousy.
Guido Torelli, Piccinino, and Francesco Sforza escaped, and by the next
morning all but four hundred prisoners had obtained their liberty; this
produced strong remonstrances from the Venetian commissaries, upon which
Carmagnola sent for the remaining captives and said to them, “Since my
soldiers have given your comrades their liberty I will not be behind
them in generosity; depart, you also are free.” This battle was the
climax of Carmagnola’s glory: whether he was unwilling to reduce his old
patron too low, or was secretly influenced by the desire of peace and
the recovery of his wife and children who were in Visconti’s hands, or
by less honourable motives, seems uncertain; but his subsequent efforts
were insignificant. There is no doubt, says Poggio, that he could that
day have destroyed Filippo, if he had retained the prisoners who were
the flower of that prince’s army; but according to the custom of modern
soldiers they remained as lookers-on, intent only on dividing the booty,
and let the men-at-arms go free.
None of this was lost on the Venetians; but not a reproach was heard,
not a sentence uttered, no sign of displeasure reached his ear; he could
still be useful, was adding bit by bit to their conquests, and as yet in
too formidable a position to be struck; on the contrary, as was their
usual custom when meditating the sacrifice of a victim, more deference
was shown him, more respect paid him; but he was not forgotten.
_Death of Frescobaldi; the War Ended and Renewed_
[Sidenote: [1427-1428 A.D.]]
The liberated army of Milan was soon remounted, equipped, and in the
field; for most of these battles involved the waste of more money than
blood, as dead men paid no ransoms; and Visconti had ample resources.
He nevertheless became alarmed at his actual position, and sought new
strength by rousing the emperor Sigismund against Venice, by marrying his
daughter Maria to the duke of Savoy, and by stirring up the poor remnants
of the Carrara and La Scala families to agitate Padua and Verona. He
met these difficulties with an able head and a bold countenance, but
was in fact a strange character and differing according to cotemporary
writers from all other men. No stability, no confidence, no belief, no
firmness of purpose; mutable as the wind, no regard to promises, unsteady
in his friendships, and prone to sudden antipathies against those who
were apparently his dearest friends; cunning, sagacious, vain of his
own judgment, despising that of others; whimsically pacific and warlike
by turns; fond of a solitary life, he was rarely visible but governed
through his ministers and temporary favourites, and thence no doubt
proceeded many of his worst misfortunes.
A slight check before Genoa, more important from the heroic death
of Tommaso Frescobaldi than from any other injury, in some degree
damped the joy of Florence for this recent victory. Frescobaldi had
distinguished himself as Florentine commissary in the Aretine district
by an able and vigorous conduct under very trying difficulties and a
total neglect of him by the government; nevertheless he perseveringly
withstood the Milanese forces until the siege of Brescia relieved him.
Indignant at this treatment he personally and boldly reproached the Ten
of War with their conduct, and in no measured terms. Niccolo d’Uzzano
tried to soothe him and was respectfully heard; but Vieri Guadagni so
impatiently rated him as to be told by Tommaso that nothing but his high
official dignity was a protection from personal chastisement. Niccolo,
who fully appreciated the worth of Frescobaldi, reproved Vieri for
his intemperance, and that citizen was soon after sent as commissary
to conduct the war against Genoa, where, for a while, his vigour and
ability were no less conspicuous than before. At last Fregoso and the
Florentines were defeated in an attempt to enter Genoa; and Tommaso, who
fought to the last, after all were routed was wounded and made prisoner.
The governor, a stern and cruel man, promised him life, liberty, and
reward if he would divulge his government’s secrets and say who within
the city of Genoa were in league with Campo Fregoso, but the alternative
of death and torture if he refused. To this Frescobaldi firmly answered:
“Obizzino, if for my silence on the subject of state secrets thou wilt
put me to death, abandon all hope of knowing those things that duty to
my country and constancy of purpose, even did I know them, would prevent
my revealing; and, as I have no hope of mercy from thee, so thou needst
not expect any disclosures from me, for even if I were informed I would
not tell thee.” He was instantly put to the torture, his wounds broke out
afresh in the agony, but he died without uttering a syllable. A noble
example for his living descendants!
[Sidenote: [1428-1430 A.D.]]
Florence now wished earnestly for peace because she could no longer
expect to gain anything by war, and a continually augmenting expense was
exhausting her resources; the more equal action of the Catasto promoted
this wish because the rich and great now bore the principal burden. They
again argued, and rightly too, that if war continued, Filippo must lose
his state, which Venice, not Florence, would gain by the very conditions
of the league, and thence with augmented power become more formidable
than Visconti himself, for there would then be none but Florence to
oppose her. Naples, ruled by a weak, licentious woman, was distracted;
the pontiff would not move; the emperor would be shut out by Venice,
who held the keys of Italy, and France was far too distant; better, it
was once more repeated, to have an unenduring enemy than an everlasting
and powerful neighbour. Venice had now acquired a taste for Italian
conquest, and the petty acquisitions of Carmagnola were still adding to
her territory; but her suspicions were awake and she finally consented
to treat, while Visconti was really anxious for peace in consequence of
his recent overthrow. The sincerity of all parties soon produced its
effects and the cardinal of Santa Croce at last restored tranquillity by
accomplishing the signature of a treaty at Ferrara about the middle of
April, 1428, after nearly five years of constant hostilities. The cost of
this long and ruinous war, according to Cavalcanti, amounted to 3,500,000
florins--according to Macchiavelli, 3,050,000.
The Florentines gained nothing by it but a heavy debt and the institution
of the Catasto; the Venetians, in addition to Brescia, gained part of
the Cremonese state with Bergamo and its territory as far as the Adda,
which now became their western boundary. Thus, says Cavalcanti, by the
operation of wicked citizens our people were loaded with poverty, the
Venetians with riches and territory; and pride and covetousness was the
cause of all.
But the peace was not for long. The Florentines attacked Lucca; Piccinino
came to its aid, and the general war recommenced. No less than fourteen
towns revolted in favour of Piccinino during one night, all sending
their keys, and generally imprisoning the Florentine authorities; yet
amidst the sharp oppression and barbarity of the time, it is refreshing
to find that some of the latter were spared in consequence of their just
government, and, with their families, carried safe across the frontier by
the revolted people; but such exceptions only prove the general rigour of
Florentine sway.
[Sidenote: [1430-1431 A.D.]]
In this state of things Micheletto Attendolo of Cotignolo, a nephew of
Sforza, was made captain of the Florentine army, to which some spirit
was soon after restored by an advantage gained at Colle against Count
Alberigo da Barbiano, Piccinino’s successor by Bernardino degli Ubaldini
and also by the gallant behaviour of Ramondo Mannelli and Papi Tedaldi,
which cast still greater credit on the Florentine arms. Stung with a
late defeat on the Po, where they were completely routed by a Genoese
admiral, the Venetians sent a squadron to the Tuscan coast and Riviera
of Genoa to revenge this injury; they however seem to have been shy of
coming to a general engagement until the Florentines, tired of such
harassing inactivity, fitted out two galleys under the above officers and
either forced or shamed them into an attack on the Genoese squadron.
Principally by their own daring courage the latter were completely beaten
near Portofino, and their admiral Francesco Spinola and eight galleys
captured. But long ere this Niccolo Piccinino had ridden triumphant over
most of the Florentine territory, capturing or destroying town after town
from Pontremoli to the gates of Arezzo, which would also have fallen had
he not unaccountably stopped to besiege the little fortress of Gargonza
on his march. This unchecked career of victory riveted his favour with
Filippo Visconti, while it raised the jealousy of Niccolo Tolentino,
who was fed by that prince on promises alone; wherefore the latter
quitted Milan in disgust and engaged with the Florentines, who lent him
to the pontiff with two thousand followers, and the consequence of this
defection was Piccinino’s recall to defend Lombardy now threatened by
the league. Pope Martin V’s decease in February, 1431, brought joy to
Florence which during all his reign he had never ceased to hate, and the
election of Gabriel Condelmieri, cardinal of Siena and a Venetian, who
assumed the pontificate as Eugenius IV, was scarcely less satisfactory.
His first measure was an attempt to restore tranquillity; but this
was done with so decided a leaning towards Florence as to disgust the
Sienese, Visconti, and all her numerous enemies.
War therefore became certain, and the league between Florence and Venice
was more closely riveted; but Siena, in concert with Genoa, both of whom
had long been favouring Lucca and were encouraged by Piccinino, soon
broke into open war; she commenced hostilities under Visconti’s general
Alberigo, and by means of Genoa seduced the seignior of Piombino, a
recent ward of the Florentines, to take up arms against them.
The incursions of these neighbours in Val d’Ambra increased Florentine
difficulties, and an attempt was made to engage Francesco Sforza; but
true to his own interest he was bought off by the promise of Visconti’s
infant daughter Bianca in marriage.
To cope with him and Piccinino, Carmagnola, notwithstanding his strange
conduct in the late war, was again placed at the head of the Venetian
armies, and he advanced into the Cremonese state, but was defeated with
great loss in a most terrible and bloody battle by Sforza on the 6th of
June, 1431, at Soncino on the banks of the river Po.
_The Great Naval Battle on the Po_
[Illustration: A MAGISTRATE OF FLORENCE]
A flotilla consisting of one hundred vessels of all descriptions was
equipped on the Po, and, under Niccolo Trevigiano, moved straight on
Cremona; Visconti had also prepared his squadron under the command of the
Genoese admiral Grimaldi, or, as some say, Pacino Eustachio of Pavia,
who had formerly suffered a defeat--probably both were employed; but
Venice was too quick, and excelled the Milanese fleet in numbers, size,
and equipment, so that for some time they had command of the river. The
hostile armaments ultimately met at Bina, near Cremona, and fought until
night parted them, with the loss of seven Milanese galleys. Sforza and
Piccinino, who had manned the squadron from their troops and feared an
attack from Carmagnola during the next day’s fight, deceived the Venetian
general by means of some pretended deserters who reported that they
were preparing to attack him in the heat of the naval battle. Whether
Carmagnola were really deceived, or, as the Venetians thought, had come
unwillingly to war, is still unsettled; but he acted as if he were, and
not only remained under arms all day but refused any succour to the
admiral. Sforza and Piccinino on the contrary reinforced the fleet with
almost all their troops, and next day, towards the end of June, the most
obstinate naval battle then on record was the consequence.
The Venetian galleys took a position with their bows to the stream, and
all chained together the better to resist it; the Milanese, less in
number but crowded with men, bore gallantly down on their antagonists;
both fleets were glittering with steel and rough with pikes and lances.
The adverse admirals had a national hatred then far from extinct; the two
Milanese generals served personally on board, inspiriting their troops
as if on the field of battle; the defect of a weaker line of vessels was
compensated by a stronger personal force on the side of Milan, while on
that of Venice the last day’s success animated every breast to new and
more daring courage.
Thus prepared, the fight began, and the struggle was long and fierce; but
Grimaldi observed that the Po had risen during the night, and at that
season was unlikely to remain so; he therefore watched its fall, and
cheering his men to a little longer struggle seconded by the efforts of
both generals, looked anxiously for the grounding of the large Venetian
galleys, while his own lighter craft would still be afloat and able to
attack them. All turned out fortunate; the stream began to fall, the
water shoaled rapidly; the Venetians felt their galleys take the ground,
and turning all their attention to this accident exposed themselves to
the whole fury of Grimaldi who renewed the assault with double vigour.
Sforza and Piccinino fought like private men; the latter was severely
wounded in the neck and lamed for life, but all dashed boldly on to
victory while the Venetians struggled for existence: their admiral’s
galley at last struck, he himself escaping; but this was a signal of
defeat, and Grimaldi remained the conqueror. About twenty-nine galleons
and eight thousand prisoners were captured; the number of dead must
have been immense, but is not recorded, and Venice was furious; yet
the government looked in profound silence on Carmagnola with all the
mystery of its nature; no reproach, not an outward sign was suffered to
awaken his apprehensions; but a squadron immediately sailed to vindicate
national honour on the Tuscan and Genoese coasts, the result of which has
been already narrated.
On some erroneous suspicion of the Sienese, Count Alberigo was arrested
and sent prisoner to Milan where the duke absolved him; but Bernardino,
who had quitted the Florentines, succeeded and waged destructive war
against them, while Micheletto remained so idle and indifferent,
particularly in purposely neglecting a fair occasion of surprising
Lucca, that Niccolo Tolentino was ordered to supersede him. This general
had some immediate success, but receiving undue praise was imprudently
tempted to attack Bernardino at a place called the Capanne in Val d’Elsa,
where, at the moment of defeat, Micheletto came generously up to his
rescue and routed the enemy with great slaughter.
_The Revolt of Pisa; The Cruel Ruse of Baldaccio_
This raised the public spirits; but meanwhile the whole rural population
of Pisa revolted, and elected ten persons of a superior class with
authority to govern and tax them for all the purposes of war, resolving
to strike for Visconti while his forces were engaged in regular
hostilities; besides which a strong body of rustic youth were completely
armed and fought under their countryman Count Antonio da Pontedera, the
most active of Visconti’s partisans. Thus in addition to foreign war an
extensively organised rebellion pervaded the whole Pisan state, and these
untrained clowns battled with such valour and bitterness as shows the
excessive and universal detestation of Florentine rule, for no justly
governed though conquered people would have fought so rancorously. “Like
mad dogs, their bite is mortal,” said the men-at-arms: “we have not to
grapple with village clowns, but with demons of hell.” Wherefore none
of them were bold enough to meet this furious peasantry on equal terms;
“unless,” says Cavalcanti, “it were those who loved rather the requiem of
death than the pleasures of this world.”
Giovanni Fiesco, lord of Pontremoli, feeling the awkward position of his
states, which were alternately the prey of both parties, now sold that
town to Visconti; the war then became universal, malignant, destructive,
and attended with far more than common horrors; there was no present
mercy, and a dismal prospect for the future: famine stalked with
withering footsteps over all the land; fear and suspicion lurked in every
eye; and town and country, hamlet and village, castle and cottage, were
promiscuously overwhelmed in one vast flood of unutterable woe.
The condition of Pisa was lamentable: Giuliano di Guccio was the
Florentine captain or governor; Giuliano de’ Ricci the archbishop; both
of them men of stern, determined, and implacable natures, and the city
was pining from want. In this state, and probably fearful of a siege,
Guccio issued a hard command, “which for him was extreme cruelty and for
others tears.”
All the women, and their young and innocent children, without
distinction, were sternly driven from the town and their own homes.
“This unjust command was obeyed by the wretched victims, whose bitter
cries drew tears of pity even from the depths of the earth. Alas, what
a sight to behold these poor defenceless women and their nurslings thus
cast forth: some with an infant on each arm and on the back behind,
other little creatures clinging to their mothers’ skirts, naked and
barefoot; and thus they hastened along tripping and weeping with the pain
of their tender feet, and crying out with streaming eyes and uplifted
faces, ‘Where are we going to, mother?’ and making all beholders weep to
hear their sobbing voices and infantile questions, while the wretched
women answered, ‘We are going where our own evil fortune and the cruelty
of perverse men are sending us. O earth! Why art thou so hard-hearted
as to sustain a life which compared to death is sharpness? O profound
abyss, send forth thy messengers and let them drag us to thy dark
recesses, for thy bowels are sweeter than honey when placed beside the
bitterness of man! From some of us they have torn our husbands, from some
brothers, from others fathers; and now they cast us out desolate among
strange contending people, and we know not where to go! O God, provide
for thy creatures and punish us according to our sins, proportion the
punishment to the crime, and vouchsafe that support which will give us
patience to bear this unmitigated woe.’” Uttering such lamentations they
wandered towards Genoa but finally spread in all directions, and settled
particularly about Porto Venere and Pontremoli.
[Sidenote: [1431-1432 A.D.]]
The archbishop also had his share of this and other cruelties of a
similar nature; the times made people hard, but it becomes a priest’s
duty to try and soften them rather than ride by night, as this prelate
is described in the memoirs of his own family, on a powerful war-horse,
armed cap-à-pie, patrolling the streets to watch over the public
tranquillity; and if any wretch came under his suspicion in these
nocturnal rounds a waxen taper was instantly lighted and death and
confiscation of property, or else exile, submitted to his choice before
it had finished burning.
But the soldiers outdid even the priests. Baldaccio d’Anghiari was
one of those favourite generals of the Florentines that rendered war
more terrible by his natural or acquired ferocity. “He called homicide
boldness and resolution; the want of audacity he described as fearfulness
at alarming and doubtful things; fidelity was in his mind to be always
subservient to the cause he advocated, and sheer brutality was designated
as virtuous audacity. By such maxims he was led, and led others after him
with wonderful fortune to the most perilous achievements, and he often
put to death the enemies of Florence with his own hand, leaving others to
linger away a life which he had made worse than death itself.” This man,
thus described by a contemporary, took Collegioli, and in a sally that he
made from that place captured, amongst a crowd of prisoners, one named
Guasparri da Lucignano, who in person exactly resembled himself; it gave
rise to a strange notion which he hastened to realise thus.
Next morning Guasparri was attired in Baldaccio’s garments while his
men were ordered to give the Milanese war cry “_Duca! Duca!_” as if in
open mutiny, and follow it up by murdering the prisoner, whose bloody
and disfigured corpse was thrown from a tower into the ditch below. The
remaining prisoners were then set free and the body shown to them as
Baldaccio’s, against whom the troops affected to have mutinied; they were
ordered to disperse without delay and spread the news of this wicked
man’s death through the country, telling how the mutineers held the
castle in the duke’s name and waited for assistance. The story soon got
abroad and the Pisans in multitudes, armed and unarmed, crowded to see
the joyful spectacle, when suddenly the true Baldaccio appeared with his
troops, surrounded them, and sent them all prisoners to Florence.
Such atrocities, committed, not only without remorse or necessity, but
as it would seem for mere military pastime, gave the wars of this epoch
a character of barbarous vindictiveness and horror that was calculated
to lay a heavy load on the consciences of their authors; and if Cosmo
de’ Medici were really the fomenter of the Lucchese War, all his good
acts and good qualities were but a sorry exchange for the mass of human
suffering that his ambition inflicted and entailed upon his country. That
he could have prevented it there is no doubt had he only seconded Niccolo
da Uzzano; that he, on the contrary, strongly advocated and supported
it is equally certain; and that it was unjust and void of political
necessity can scarcely be questioned. Wherefore, putting aside all minor
accusations, he must stand convicted of advocating and fostering an
unjust and unnecessary war, waged with unusual horror, atrocious in its
character, and destructive in its consequences.
_The Fall of Carmagnola_
The Venetians, from their incipient discontent at Carmagnola’s conduct
after the victory of Macalo, had become deeply suspicious of his fidelity
since the naval action near Cremona (1432), and this was further
strengthened by his conduct at Cremona itself. His own troops had scaled
the walls and taken a gate of that city, where they defended themselves
for two whole days, vainly expecting assistance from Carmagnola who was
near at hand; at length exhausted with fatigue they could hold out no
longer and were all cut to pieces. He afterwards allowed Piccinino to
capture two fortified towns successively, under his very eyes and without
an effort to save them; so that, whether treacherous or not, Venice
had good cause for doubt and dissatisfaction. Carmagnola’s military
movements are said to have been always slow and well considered; nor was
he in the habit of permitting inclination to overcome reason; but the
Venetian commissaries attached to his army never ceased to urge him on
with all the confidence of ignorance; he, who was beyond measure proud
and never restrained his tongue, answered them in the manner of Hawkwood
to Andrea Vettori: “Go and prepare your broad cloths and leave me to
command the army.” “Foolish people,” said Carmagnola, “are you going to
teach one that was born in battles and nourished in blood? Go, mount your
senseless horses and visit the Caspian, then talk to me of its wonders,
and in such things I will place implicit faith; but be now content to
trust my experience, for I am not less expert on land than you are at
sea. You Venetians are rich in enterprise and prosperity, and if you
deem me faithless, why then, deprive me of office and I will seek my own
fortune.” The Venetians were both nettled and alarmed at this reproof,
particularly at the hint of seeking his own fortune, which indicated an
intention of returning to the duke, or, what would have been equally bad,
attaching himself to the emperor who was already in Italy.
[Illustration: GRAND CANAL, VENICE]
At what time they first began to entertain the idea of putting him to
death does not appear, but Cavalcanti asserts that it was continually in
debate and the secret closely kept for eight months by an assembly of
two hundred senators without a suspicion getting abroad or a word being
divulged on the subject. Finally his fate was decreed and in a manner
congenial to the time and country.[m] The incidents of its consummation
are too suggestive not to be given in some detail.
On the 28th of March, Foscari, in concert with all the members of the
privy council, proposed, at a meeting of the college, “that the pregadi
be dissolved, and that the Ten do take the matter into their own hands.”
The three chiefs of the Ten proposed as an amendment, that “this body
be not dissolved until the present business be out of hand.” But, on a
division, the first motion was carried by a majority of two, and the
dissolution was decreed, the decemvirs resolving to deal with the
matter before them “circumspectly, but vigorously.” In consideration
of the gravity of the question, the tribunal demanded the assistance
of a giunta of twenty senators; and these supplemental members, with
the doge and the privy council, raised the number to seven and thirty.
When the organisation of the conclave was nearly complete, a technical
irregularity having been discovered, the whole process was cancelled; and
the point, having been again submitted with all the previous forms, was
again solemnly confirmed. The senate was charged, upon pain of forfeiture
of goods and heads, to abstain from divulging any of these transactions,
and to keep the decemviral decree of the 28th a profound secret.
On the following day, Giovanni da Impero, secretary of the Ten, a person
of discreet character, and, according to the historian Sanuto, “with
a face as pale as a ghost,” was furnished with the ensuing written
instructions:
GIOVANNI:
We, Marco Barbarigo, Lorenzo Capello, and Lorenzo Donato,
chiefs of the council of Ten, and Tommaso Michieli and
Francesco Loredano, _avogadors_ of the commune, with our
council of Ten, command thee to repair forthwith to Brescia,
to Count Carmagnola, our captain-general, to whom, after the
customary salutations, you will say, that it being now full
time that something should be done for the honour and glory of
our state, various plans have suggested themselves to us for a
summer campaign. Much difference of opinion existing, and the
count enjoying peculiarly intimate conversance with Lombardy on
either side of the Po, we recommend and pray him to come here
so soon as may be, to consult with us and the lord of Mantua;
and if he consent to come accordingly, you will ascertain and
appraise us on what day he may be expected. But should he
decline to comply, you will with the utmost secrecy communicate
to our captains at Brescia and to our proveditor-general our
resolution to have the said Count Carmagnola arrested; and
you will concert with them the best means for carrying out
this our will, and for securing his person in our fortress of
Brescia. We also desire that, when the count himself shall
have been safely lodged, the countess his wife be similarly
detained, and that all documents, money, and other property,
be seized, and an inventory thereof taken. Above all, we wish
and charge thee, before seeking an interview with the count,
to disclose confidentially to the authorities at Brescia and
to the proveditor-general the nature of these presents (since
we ourselves have not communicated with them), enjoining them,
under pain of their goods and heads, in case the count be
contumacious, to execute our behests.
On the 30th, in consequence of an afterthought that Carmagnola might
penetrate the plans of the seigniory, and endeavour to escape, the
necessary orders were forwarded to the governors and captains of the
republic to second Da Impero, and if the general fled to any spot
within their jurisdiction, to detain him till further notice; and
a circular, superscribed by the doge, was sent to all the officers
serving immediately under Carmagnola, bidding them not be surprised
at these proceedings, assuring them of the earnest good-will of the
government, and soliciting their implicit obedience to the directions,
which they might receive through the authorities at Brescia and the
proveditor-general, Francesco Garzoni, Cornaro’s successor.
Having arrived at his destination, secretary Da Impero closeted
himself in the first instance with the podesta of Brescia and the
proveditor-general, and afterward proceeded to the quarters of the count
at or near Tercera. “After the customary salutations,” he presented his
credentials, which were as follows:
TO THE MAGNIFICENT COUNT CARMAGNOLA, Captain-General:
The prudent and circumspect person Giovanni da Impero, our
secretary, has been charged by us (_i.e._, the Ten) to speak
about certain matters to your magnificence, wherefore be
pleased to repose in him the faith you would give to ourselves.
Carmagnola, too glad to have an excuse for quitting camp, blindly fell
into the snare, and immediately started with the secretary of the Ten
for Venice. At Padua, he was received with military honours by the local
authorities; and he passed one night there, sharing the bed of Federigo
Contarini, captain of Padua, “his very good friend.” On the 7th of April
he reached the capital. A deputation of eight nobles was in waiting to
receive him. At the entrance of the palace, Da Impero vanished, and the
personal followers of the count were turned back with an announcement
that “their master will dine with the doge, and will come home after
dinner.” But his other companions remained, and ushered him into the hall
of St. Mark’s.
As he passed through, the general observed that the doors closed behind
him. He at once inquired where the doge was, declaring his wish to have
an audience, “as he had much to say to his serenity.”
Leonardo Mocenigo, one of the sages of the council, stepped up to him
and told him that Foscari, having had an accident in descending the
staircase, was confined to his room, and could not receive him till the
morrow.
Carmagnola then turned, with a gesture of impatience, on his heel, and
prepared to retrace his steps, remarking: “The hour is late, and it is
time for me to go home.”
When he arrived at the corridor which led to the Orba prison, however,
one of the nobles in attendance gently arrested his progress with, “This
way, my lord.”
“But that is not the right way,” retorted the count hurriedly.
“Yes, yes, it is perfectly so,” was the answer given.
At this moment, guards appeared, surrounded Carmagnola, and pushed him
into the corridor. The last words which he was heard to utter were: “I
am lost!” and, as he spoke, a deep-drawn sigh escaped from him. During
two days, he refused to take any kind of nourishment. The trial began on
the 9th of April with all the forms recognised and required in criminal
procedure by the constitution; the examination was conducted by a special
committee of nine persons--Luca Mocenigo, privy councillor; Antonio
Barbarigo, Bartolommeo Morisini, and Marino Lando, chiefs of the Ten;
Daniele Vetturi, Marco Barbarigo, and Luigi Veniero, inquisitors of the
Ten; and Faustino Viaro and Francesco Loredano, avogadors of the commune.
On the 11th, the accused, having declined to make any answers, was put
to the question. It happened that one of his arms had been fractured in
the service of the republic; and the committee consequently objected to
the use of the estrapade. But a confession was wrung from him by the
application of the brazier. During Lent, the process was suspended. At
its recommencement a mass of documents was submitted for investigation,
and numerous witnesses were summoned. Independently of the confession,
which was possibly of indifferent value, damning evidences of treasonable
connivance with Visconti were adduced. On the propriety of conviction
there was perfect unanimity; but in regard to the nature of the sentence
opinions were divided. The doge himself and three of the privy council
proposed perpetual imprisonment. The three chiefs of the Ten, and the
avogadors of the commune were, under all the circumstances of aggravated
guilt, in favour of capital punishment. A resort was had to the ballot,
and, of seven and twenty persons entitled to vote, nineteen voted for
death.
[Sidenote: [1432-1441 A.D.]]
On the 5th of May, 1432, Francesco di Carmagnola was led as a public
traitor to the common place of execution. He wore a scarlet vest with
sleeves, a crimson mantle, scarlet stockings, and a velvet cap _alla
Carmagnola_; a gag was in his mouth; his hands were pinioned behind him
according to usage; and there between the “red columns,” in the sight of
all Venice, his head was severed from his body at the third stroke of the
axe.
Thus fell, in the prime of life, the victim of his own blind and perverse
folly, a man of the first order of talents, and within whose reach the
most splendid opportunities had so recently been. The government of
Venice had tolerated his errors [says Hazlitt] until his criminality
was beyond a doubt. When his death was decreed, his corruption and
treason were already sufficiently glaring. Yet there were subsequent
discoveries, which made his case infinitely worse, and which procured
an instant mitigation of the penalty against Niccolo Trevisano and the
other officers concerned in the loss of the battle of the Po; and some
justice, however tardy and inadequate, was rendered to the sufferers by
the open declaration of a member of the seigniory in the great council,
“that, if the government had at the time been in possession of that
exact information which was now in its hands, its treatment of Trevisano
and his comrades would have been very different.” It has been said by a
modern writer, that “Carmagnola seems to have acted in so equivocal a
manner as would have made him amenable to any court-martial with little
chance of absolution.”[k]
There are other writers, however, who have regarded the guilt of
Carmagnola as by no means so clearly proved, and there are many who would
be disposed to approve the judgment of Pignotti,[o] who says, “Probably
he was guilty, but the public have always the right to term injustice any
act which decides the life and honour of a celebrated man without seeing
proofs of his guilt, or at least must consider them very doubtful, as no
person who possesses understanding can discover any reasonable motive for
concealing them. The proof of this,” Pignotti continues, “may be found
in the criminal system of the most polite nations, in particular in that
which has formed the glory and personal security of the English people.”
This perhaps is a slight over-statement; there may be reasons of state
that make it desirable to give publicity to all the facts where treason
is involved. And certainly it would seem as if the Venetian authorities
must have felt very sure of their ground before they decided to do away
with their captain-general, when no man of similar capacity was at hand
to take his place. Nevertheless, the question of the justice of the
execution of Carmagnola remains one of the unsolved problems of history.
Deprived of their great general, the Venetians were crippled, while the
cause of the Visconti was proportionately strengthened. Nevertheless,
the war was brought to a close not long after. Sigismund, who had been
crowned king of the Romans at Milan, was attacked by the Florentines and
shut up in Siena. Partly through his influence the duke of Milan was
led to sign a peace with the allies in 1433. The Venetians remained in
possession of Brescia and Bergamo.[a]
_Venice and the Turks_
[Sidenote: [1441-1465 A.D.]]
A little later, by the ruin and exile of the last of the noble family of
Polenta, the Venetians grasped the state of Ravenna (1441). In addition
to these possessions in Italy, Venice continued to enjoy extensive
territories in the East, besides Dalmatia and Durazzo; with other places
in Arbani, she was mistress of the chief cities in Morea and many of the
Ionian Islands. But the taking of Constantinople by the Turks and the
captivity of the Venetians settled in Pera, threatened her power in the
East, and she felt no repugnance to enter into a treaty with the enemies
of her religion. After the usual negotiations, terms were concluded
between Sigismund and Venice; by which her possessions were secured to
her and her trade guaranteed to her throughout the empire. In virtue of
this treaty, she continued to occupy Modon, Coron, Napoli di Romania
(Nauplia), Argos, and other cities on the borders of the peninsula,
together with Eubœa (Negropont), and some of the smaller islands. But
this good understanding was interrupted in 1463, when the Turks contrived
an excuse for attacking the Venetian territory. Under pretence of
resenting the asylum afforded to a Turkish refugee, the pasha of the
Morea besieged and captured Argos; and the republic felt itself compelled
immediately to resent the aggression.
[Illustration: A MAGISTRATE OF VENICE]
A reinforcement was sent from Venice to Napoli, and Argos was quickly
recaptured. Corinth was next besieged, and the project of fortifying
the isthmus was once more renewed. The promontory which unites the
Peloponnesus to the continent measures scarcely six miles across
between the gulfs of Ægina and Lepanto. In the early ages of Greece the
narrowness of this pass had suggested the possibility and expediency of
fortifying it by a rampart; under the emperor Justinian, the ancient
fortifications were renewed; and in 1413 a strong wall, named Hexamilion
from its length, was erected by the emperor Manuel. Upon the present
occasion, the labour of thirty thousand workmen accomplished the work
in fifteen days: a stone wall of more than twelve feet high, defended
by a ditch and flanked by 136 towers, was drawn across the isthmus; in
the midst the standard of St. Mark was displayed; and the performance of
the holy service completed the new fortification. But the approach of
the Turks, whose numbers were probably exaggerated by report, threw the
Venetians into distrust and consternation; and unwilling to confide in
the strength of their rampart they abandoned the siege of Corinth, and
retreated to Napoli, from which the infidels were repulsed with the loss
of five thousand men.
The Peloponnesus was now exposed to the predatory retaliations of the
Turks and Venetians; and the Christians appeared anxious to rival or
surpass the Mohammedans in the refinement of their barbarous inflictions.
The names of Sparta and Athens may create a momentary interest; the
former, denoted by the modern town of Mistra erected near its ruins;
the latter, the poor remains of the ancient city, but still one of
the richest and most populous of Greek possessions. In the year 1465
Sigismondo Malatesta landed in the Morea, with a reinforcement of a
thousand men; and, without effecting the reduction of the citadel,
captured and burned Mistra. In the following year, Vittore Capello, with
the Venetian fleet, arrived in the straits of Euripus, and landing at
Aulis marched into Attica. After making himself master of the Piræus,
he laid siege to Athens; her walls were overthrown; her inhabitants
plundered; and the Venetians retreated with the spoil to the opposite
shores of Eubœa.
[Sidenote: [1465-1478 A.D.]]
The victorious career of Matthias Corvinus, king of Hungary, for a
time diverted the sultan from the war in the Morea; but when Matthias
was induced to change his antagonists, and, instead of warring against
the Turks, to turn upon his Christian brethren of Bohemia, Muhammed II
solemnly bound himself by oath to abolish the idolatrous religion of
Christ, and invited the disciples of the prophet to join him in his
pious design. In the beginning of the year 1470, a fleet of 108 galleys,
besides a number of smaller vessels, manned by a force 70,000 strong,
issued from the harbour of Constantinople, and sailed for the straits
of Euripus. Never since the days of Xerxes had those seas been cumbered
by so vast a multitude; and in the same place, whither the Great King
had once despatched his countless fleet, the vessels of the sultan were
anchored. The army landed without molestation on the island, which they
united to the mainland by a bridge of boats, and immediately proceeded
to lay siege to the city of Negropont. Muhammed caused his tent to be
pitched on a promontory of the Attic coast, and thence surveyed the
operations of his soldiery.
The hopes of the besieged were now centred in the Venetian fleet, which,
under the command of Niccolo Canale, lay at anchor in the Soronic
Gulf. But that admiral, whilst he awaited a reinforcement, let slip
the favourable opportunity of preventing the debarkation of the enemy,
or of shutting up the Turks in the island by the destruction of their
half-deserted fleet and bridge of boats. By an unaccountable inactivity,
he suffered the city to be attacked, which, after a vigorous resistance
of nearly a month, was carried by assault; and all the inhabitants who
did not escape into the citadel were put to the sword. At length that
fortress was also taken; and the barbarous conqueror, who had promised
to respect the head of the intrepid governor, deemed it no violation of
his word to saw his victim in halves. After this decisive blow, which
reduced the whole island, Muhammed led back his conquering army to
Constantinople. The Venetian admiral was forthwith superseded by a new
commander, and sent loaded with irons to Venice, where his countrymen, by
an unaccustomed exercise of moderation, were content to spare his life,
and punished his delinquency by perpetual exile.
This success encouraged the Turks to attack the Venetians in their
Italian territory; and the pasha of Bosnia invaded Istria and Friuli, and
carried fire and sword almost to the gates of Udine. In the following
year, however, the Turks were baffled in their attempt to reduce Scutari
in Albania, which had been delivered by the gallant Scanderbeg to the
guardian care of Venice. Some abortive negotiations for peace suspended
hostilities until 1477, when the troops of Muhammed laid siege to Croia
in Albania, which they reduced to the severest distress. But a new
incursion into Friuli struck a panic into the inhabitants of Venice,
who beheld, from the tops of their churches and towers, the raging
flames which devoured the neighbouring villages. A hasty muster of all
their available forces was made to defend the capital; but the Turks,
distrustful of their strength, or satiated with plunder, once more
withdrew into Albania. The siege of Croia was soon after terminated by
its surrender and the massacre of its inhabitants; and the sultan, in
person, undertook the reduction of the stubborn city of Scutari.
But not even the presence of the sultan could accomplish the capture of
that redoubted garrison. In vain did the janissaries scale the walls; in
vain did the Turkish artillery thunder against the shivered barriers;
whilst new assailants replaced those who fell overwhelmed by the javelins
and stones launched on them by the besieged. For two days and a night
the grand assault was kept up without intermission, until, weary of the
useless sacrifice of his men, Muhammed resolved to convert the siege into
a blockade. The surrounding country was harassed by the ravages of the
Turks; but a new attempt upon Friuli was successfully resisted; and the
infidels were compelled to confine their incursions to the frontiers of
Germany.
These repeated aggressions on her territories made Venice every day more
anxious to conclude a peace with the sultan; and a fresh negotiation was
opened, wherein the republic submitted to conditions she had, on a former
occasion, rejected. It was agreed that the islands of Negropont and
Mytilene, with the cities of Croia and Scutari in Albania, and of Tenaro
in the Morea, should be consigned to the Turk; whilst other conquests
were to be reciprocally restored to their former owners. A tribute of
10,000 ducats was imposed upon Venice, and the inhabitants of Scutari
were to be permitted to evacuate the city without molestation. Upon this
footing a peace was concluded, which delivered Venice from a ruinous
war of fifteen years. The poor remnant of the defenders of Scutari, now
reduced to 500 men and 150 women, were suffered to depart from their
homes; and being conducted to Venice were munificently provided for at
the expense of the republic (1479).[g]
[Sidenote: [1454-1489 A.D.]]
While Venice was thus contending with difficulty against Ottoman power
for the preservation of her colonies, Genoa, with less vigour and
fortune, had lost the whole of her possessions and influence in the Black
Sea. With the sceptre of Constantinople, the Turks had acquired the key
of the Euxine; the Genoese could no longer communicate by sea with their
great colony at Kaffa, except at the pleasure of the sultan: and it was
easy to foresee that Muhammed II would not permit them long to retain so
valuable a dependency. Upon the occasion of some petty quarrel with the
colonists of Kaffa, the Tatar governor of the Crimea besieged the place,
and invited the co-operation of the sultan. The Turkish fleet appeared
before the port, and easily effected a breach in the walls; the colonists
were reduced to capitulate; and the last vestige of the Genoese power
in the Euxine was destroyed (1475). The misfortunes of the Genoese were
without a counterpoise; but the reverses of Venice in the late war were
balanced by the acquisition of the large and beautiful island of Cyprus.
Ever since the conquest of Cyprus by Richard Cœur-de-Lion, and his gift
of its crown to Guy of Lusignan, the descendants of that chieftain
had preserved his inheritance with the kingly title. But a disputed
succession and a civil war in 1459 entailed ruin on the dynasty of
Lusignan. After a contest between the legitimate daughter, and James,
the natural son of the late king, in which the latter prevailed, the
Venetians bestowed on him their protection and the hand of Catherine
Cornaro, a young lady of noble family, who was solemnly declared the
adopted daughter of the republic. The new king of Cyprus, who had thus
contracted the singular relation of son-in-law to the Venetian state,
fulfilled its duties with fidelity and deference. But he died after
only a short reign; and the republic immediately acted as the natural
guardian of his widow and posthumous child. The Cypriotes, however, were
not disposed to accept of the insidious protection of a foreign state;
and, during the absence of the Venetian fleet, they rebelled against the
queen, and deprived her of the charge of her infant son. On his return,
Mocenigo, the Venetian admiral, saw the importance of the crisis. He
collected a strong body of land-forces from the republican colonies;
he awed the islanders into submission, and occupied their fortresses
with his troops; and from this epoch Cyprus may be numbered among the
possessions of Venice. The infant son of James of Lusignan and Catherine
Cornaro died; the republic faithlessly removed to Venice some natural
children on whom, in default of legitimate issue, James had settled the
succession; and, in 1489, the Venetian government at length wholly threw
off the mask and completed their perfidious usurpation, by obliging
the adopted daughter of their state to abdicate her kingdom. Catherine
Cornaro had enjoyed no more than the shadow of royalty under the
authority of the delegated counsellors of the Venetian senate: but that
body were still fearful of her attempting to render herself independent
by a second marriage; and after obtaining her solemn act of resignation
in favour of the republic, they withdrew her from the island, and
assigned her for life a castle and a revenue in their Lombard states.[p]
_The Government of Venice._
The government of Venice had now assumed that perfection of oligarchical
despotism which subsisted, with very little variation, from the year
1454 until the inglorious dissolution of the republic in 1797. The
sovereign authority was vested in the great council; the government in
the senate; the administration in the seigniory; the judicial authority
in the quarantia; and the police in the Council of Ten. To these august
assemblies the nobles were alone admissible; so that every member of the
subordinate councils had a seat in the great council.
The doge was, in name at least, the head of the government, and as
such presided over every council. The external marks of respect were
conceded to his station, and the splendour of the ducal trappings was
well contrived to dazzle the multitude. But from an absolute sovereign
the duke of Venice had gradually dwindled down to a powerless pageant;
and the aristocracy seem to have delighted in shackling their prince
with irksome, though generally wise restrictions. No person if chosen
was permitted to decline the dignity; and the dignity when once accepted
could never be resigned unless by the consent of the great council. On
the other hand, the doge was liable to deposition; and the history of
the unfortunate Foscari evinces the rigorous treatment to which the
sovereign was open. The doge was forbidden to quit the limits of Venice
without special permission; to possess property out of the city; to
exercise commerce; or to receive any gratuity from a foreign prince.
His revenue was limited to 12,000 ducats, and his expenditure was
matter of the severest scrutiny. In his public capacity he could make
neither war nor peace; he could open no despatches save in the presence
of the seigniory; nor could he return an answer to a foreign potentate
without their approbation. His wife and family were also precluded from
accepting presents. His brothers, his sons, and even his servants, were
ineligible to public office; and his children were prohibited from
contracting foreign marriages. After his death, his heirs were liable
to be visited for the errors of his reign; and compellable to make good
any malversation reported by the censors appointed to inquire into his
administration.
The great council included all the nobles who had attained the age of
twenty-five. We have already seen the artifices by which this noble
body shut the door of the assembly against all whose names were not
registered in the Golden Book. But during the famous war of Chioggia the
door was again unbarred; and faithful to her promise Venice admitted
into her nobility those thirty citizens who were adjudged to have
exerted themselves most strenuously in defence of their country. In this
illustrious assembly the real sovereignty of Venice existed; from the
great council emanated the senate and other councils; and it absorbed
all other assemblies, since only its own members were eligible to the
important departments of government. Its peculiar office was to make or
repeal laws; to ballot for magistrates; and to approve of, or annul, the
taxes proposed by the senate. The residue of the sovereign functions it
was content to leave to the senate; and as the senators were themselves
members of the council no great risk was incurred of any violent
collision.
[Illustration: BRONZE WELL IN THE DUCAL PALACE, VENICE]
The chief restrictions imposed upon the nobles related to their
intercourse with foreign powers. They were forbidden to acquire foreign
property; to accept foreign presents; to hold communication with any
foreign ambassador. All intermarriages of themselves and their children
with foreigners were prohibited; but as too strict an adherence to this
prohibition might have deprived the state of advantageous alliances, an
ingenious evasion was contrived; and when the daughter of a Venetian
noble was sought by a foreign potentate, the state adopted her as its
own, and gave her in marriage as the daughter of St. Mark. Attempts were
made from time to time to prohibit the nobles from trading; but the
impolicy of such a restriction in a commercial state was too strongly
felt to render the interdiction available.
The senate, which originally consisted of sixty members, elected annually
by the great council from their own body, was afterwards increased
by the addition of sixty extraordinary members: and the admission of
various public functionaries, in virtue of their office, at length
swelled this body to three hundred. To the senate the immediate functions
of government were entrusted; and they deliberated and decided upon
many important points without any reference to the great council. They
made war or peace; entered into treaties; appointed ambassadors and
commanders; coined money; raised loans; and regulated the distribution
of the finances. But they had no authority to make laws or impose taxes,
unless these were afterwards approved and confirmed by the great council.
The executive power was vested in the seigniory which consisted of the
doge and the six red counsellors nominated by the great council, one for
every quarter of the city. To these were associated the three chiefs
of the criminal quarantia, and sixteen sages; and this assembly of
twenty-six was styled “the college.” They gave audiences to ambassadors
of foreign princes; received memorials and manifestoes; and opened all
public despatches, which they were bound to transmit for the perusal of
the senate. To them also belonged the convoking of the senate; and by
them the resolutions of the senate were to be effectuated.
The supreme judicial authority was lodged in a criminal tribunal of forty
judges, and two civil tribunals, each also consisting of forty. These
judges were all nominated from among the patricians by the great council;
those of the criminal quarantia were _ex-officio_ members of the senate;
and as the judges of the civil courts passed on to the criminal, all
became senators in rotation. These tribunals formed courts of appeal from
others of inferior jurisdiction; and administered justice according to
the civil law, modified by statutes and local customs. Their proceedings
were encumbered by formalities, and were consequently tardy; but their
decisions (which were given by ballot) are admitted to have evinced
sagacity and integrity. In criminal matters, indeed, the friends of the
accused were permitted to use private influence with the judges; but such
culpable attempts at the perversion of justice were strictly forbidden in
civil proceedings.
[Illustration: A VENETIAN NOBLEMAN]
[Sidenote: [1454 A.D.]]
The terrible Council of Ten had already overawed Venice for more than a
century, when a new engine of tyranny was introduced still more terrific.
The Council of Ten being deemed too numerous a body for securing the
desired promptness and mystery of their proceedings, it was resolved by
the great council in 1454 to erect another tribunal, consisting of three
members with the most unlimited authority over the lives and liberty
of the community. The Council of Ten were empowered to nominate two of
their black counsellors, and one member of the doge’s council; and were
directed to prepare a body of statutes for the guidance of this new
“Inquisition of State.” Three days after the passing of this decree the
council were ready with these statutes; but the elaborate minuteness of
their provisions clearly proves that much time and deliberation had been
previously expended upon them. That this frightful tribunal existed too
soon became manifest; yet such was the mystery which enveloped its origin
that no one presumed to fix the time of its establishment, until the
modern historian of Venice in his laborious researches discovered a copy
of this diabolical code. Such a tissue of refined cruelty and perfidy
was surely never before given to the world; and the framers of the
“Statutes of the Inquisition” appear to have been gifted with a subtle
and relentless spirit of wickedness which might challenge the malignity
of assembled fiends.
An attentive perusal of this manual of assassination can alone give
an adequate notion of the precision and acuteness with which the
depositaries of this unbounded power are enjoined to draw the unwary
into their snares; or of the cold-blooded and uncompromising villainy
recommended for the preservation of Venetian policy. Subject to these
instructions, the three inquisitors were abandoned to their own
discretion in selecting the time and place of seizure and investigation,
the tortures to be employed, and the manner of destroying their victims.
The nobles and citizens might thus be publicly exposed on a gibbet, or
silently consigned to the adjacent canal. Innumerable spies pervaded
the city; the recesses of domestic privacy and the inmost apartments of
the ducal palace were alike laid open to the penetrating gaze of the
Inquisition. Such was the mystery which surrounded the inquisitors that
it was never known, except by the council, to which of their members
this terrible office was entrusted; and an unguarded whisper in an
inquisitor’s presence might in a moment be followed by incarceration and
death.
A system, if possible more monstrous, was also encouraged at Venice.
A number of iron mouths in different parts of the city gaped for
accusations; and an anonymous charge deposited by a secret enemy was
sufficient to drag the unconscious accused before his judges. No human
being could enjoy security for an instant; the daggers and the poison of
the Inquisition were always at hand; and the innocent might suddenly be
torn from the midst of his friends and consigned to the burning heat of
the leaden roofs, or forever immured in the wells, those dismal dungeons
sunk lower than the surface of the canals, where they might sicken and
perhaps die from the foul air.
Amidst these institutions, where the functions of the state were
exclusively vested in the nobles, and the legislative, executive, and
judicial powers united in one body, we may be at a loss to discover what
security existed for the welfare of the subordinate classes. The three
avogadors, one of whom was necessarily a member of the great council
and senate, might, indeed, call upon the legislature to pause when any
measure was proposed injurious to the public; but in this anxiety for
the general good no safety was to be found for private life or liberty;
and we have no means of ascertaining the quantity of individual misery
inflicted by this odious government. But amidst the distraction of shows
and pageants, the people might at least console themselves with the
impartiality of their despotic rulers; since the nobles, and even the
doge himself, were liable to feel the rigour of this unsparing oligarchy.
The annals of Venice present many glaring instances of her noblest sons
perishing under the malice of an enemy, or sacrificed to the detestable
policy of the state; and every page of her history is deformed by
examples of perfidy and injustice. Without adverting to these, we will
here briefly repeat the characteristic story of Foscari; and it is
remarkable that the Inquisition of State originated at the close of this
doge’s reign.
[Illustration: ST. MARK’S, VENICE]
_The Two Foscari_
[Sidenote: [1423-1455 A.D.]]
On the death of Tommaso Mocenigo in 1423, Francesco Foscari was raised
to the ducal throne. A vigorous understanding, a bold and enterprising
spirit, were the conspicuous qualities of the new doge; and during
his long and warlike reign Venice attained a pitch of glory and power
she had never before enjoyed. But whilst Foscari was thus increasing
the prosperity of his country he was struggling with severe domestic
affliction. Three of his sons were successively swept away to the grave;
and the survivor was reserved but to augment the misery of his afflicted
father. Jacopo, the youngest Foscari, was secretly accused before the
Council of Ten of having received from Filippo, duke of Milan, presents
of money and jewels, and immediately summoned to answer the accusation.
The unhappy Francesco, who presided as doge, beheld his only son
stretched upon the rack, heard his confession of guilt, and acquiesced in
the sentence of perpetual banishment to Napoli di Romania. This sentence
was, however, in some degree mitigated; and Trieste was fixed on as the
place of his exile, whither he was allowed the consolation of being
accompanied by his young wife. After residing there above five years a
new calamity awaited him. On the 5th of November, 1450, Almoro Donato,
one of the chiefs of the council, was assassinated; and the circumstance
of a servant of Jacopo’s having been seen in Venice on that day was
deemed sufficient to fasten suspicion on his master. The severities of
the rack having extorted nothing from the servant, Jacopo was conducted
to Venice, and in his father’s presence once more put to the torture. Far
from admitting his participation in the murder, the unfortunate culprit
vehemently asserted his innocence; but his protestations availed him
nothing; and the inexorable council pronounced a sentence of perpetual
banishment to the island of Candia.
[Illustration: THE DOGANA, VENICE]
The doge Francesco had already on two occasions expressed his desire
of abdicating his dignity; but on each occasion the great council
refused to permit his resignation. The cruel persecution of his son now
redoubled his anxiety to descend from that eminence which exposed him
more conspicuously to the malice of his enemies. But the council not only
reiterated their refusal, but compelled him to bind himself by oath to
retain the duchy until relieved by death.
During a five years’ residence at Canea in Candia, Jacopo Foscari had
exerted every means in his power to obtain the reversal of his unmerited
sentence. Wearied of the hopeless attempt to soften his obdurate
countrymen, he at length addressed a letter to Sforza, duke of Milan,
entreating him to use his influence with the Venetian senate. To solicit
foreign protection was an offence at Venice; and the letter, by design
or accident, being intercepted, Jacopo was conveyed from Canea, and for
the third time put to the rack before the Council of Ten. He immediately
admitted the offensive letter, and rejoiced in the step he had taken,
which once more restored him to his beloved country, and to the presence
of his wife, his father, and all that was dearest to him upon earth.
This touching avowal weighed little with the heartless tribunal, and he
was sentenced to be imprisoned in a dungeon for a year, and then again
carried back into Candia. After the expiration of his imprisonment, he
was sent into exile and soon afterwards died. Meanwhile his innocence
of the imputed murder was completely established: the real assassin of
Donato confessed on his death-bed that his, not Jacopo’s, was the guilty
hand.
[Sidenote: [1455-1457 A.D.]]
The wretched father now sank under this accumulation of misery: he
fled from public business; abstained from attendance in the councils;
and at the age of eighty-four buried himself in retirement so suitable
to his years and misfortunes. But the malice of his enemies was still
unsatiated; it was resolved that he should be precipitated from a throne
he had already thrice attempted to vacate. By an enormous stretch of
power, the Council of Ten intimated to the doge in the name of the great
council, that the state called for his resignation and absolved him from
his oath. They condescended to offer him a pension of 1500 ducats, and
peremptorily insisted on his quitting the ducal palace within eight days
under pain of confiscation of his property. After a momentary struggle
with his pride the old man bowed to the decree, and descended the Giants’
Staircase, which thirty-four years before he had mounted as the sovereign
of Venice. The assembled populace beheld with pity and indignation the
aged father of the republic pass slowly towards his private dwelling;
but the murmurs of compassion were in a moment silenced by a menacing
proclamation of the Ten. The electors proceeded to the choice of a new
doge, and on the 30th of October, 1457, seven days after the deposition
of Foscari, Pasquale Malipiero was declared duly elected. The tolling
of the bell of St. Mark’s tower, which announced the election, awakened
in the soul of Foscari a conflict of passions too furious for exhausted
nature, and he survived the shock only a few hours. Notwithstanding the
resistance of his widow, the council, who had thus hurried him to his
grave, resolved upon the mockery of a magnificent funeral; and he was
interred with all the splendour usual at a doge’s obsequies, the newly
elected duke assisting in the habit of a senator.
One of the chief instruments of the ruin of Foscari was Giacomo Loredano,
a noble, whose long-cherished rancour was thus formally entered on his
commercial accounts: “Francesco Foscari, for the death of my father and
uncle.” But the debt was now liquidated, and on the opposite page the
cold-blooded Loredano wrote the discharge, “he has paid it.”[g]
FOOTNOTES
[17] Murat. Annali.--Without burdening the text with a barren enumeration
of names, we here subjoin a list of these doges, by which the insecurity
of their dignity will sufficiently appear. 1339. Simone Boccanera,
abdicated 1344; Giovanni da Murta, died 1350; Giovanni de’ Valenti.
— 1356. Boccanera restored, died 1363; Gabriello Adorno, deposed and
imprisoned 1370; Niccolo di Guarco, dep. 1383; Leonardo di Montaldo,
died 1384; Antonio Adorno, dep. 1390; Jacopo Campo Fregoso, dep. 1392;
Antonio restored and again dep. 1392; Antoniotto di Montaldo, dep. 1394;
Niccolo Zoaglio, dep. 1394; Antonio di Guarco, dep. 1394; Antonio Adorno
again restored, resigned 1396. — 1413. Georgio Adorno, dep. 1415; Barnabò
Goano, dep. 1415; Tommaso Fregoso, dep. 1442; Raffaello Adorno, resigned
1447; Barnabò Adorno, dep. 1447; Giano Fregoso, died 1448; Lodovico
Fregoso, dep. 1450; Piero Fregoso, dep. 1458. — 1461. Prospero Adorno,
dep. 1461; Lodovico Fregoso, dep. 1463; Paolo Fregoso, dep. 1464. — 1478.
Battista Fregoso, dep. 1483; Paolo Fregoso, restored, dep. 1487.
[18] DOGES OF VENICE, 1289-1501.--1289, Pietro Gradenigo, the 49th doge;
1311, Marino Giorgi; 1312, Giovanni Soranzo; 1328, Francesco Dandolo;
1339, Bartolommeo Gradenigo; 1343, Andrea Dandolo; 1354, Marino Falieri;
1355, Giovanni Gradenigo; 1356, Giovanni Delfino; 1361, Lorenzo Celsi;
1365, Marco Cornaro; 1367, Andrea Contarini; 1382, Michele Morosini;
1382, Antonio Venier; 1400, Michele Steno; 1414, Tommaso Mocenigo; 1423,
Francesco Foscari; 1457, Pasqual Malipier; 1462, Cristoforo Moro; 1471,
Niccolo Tron; 1473, Niccolo Marcello; 1474, Pietro Mocenigo; 1476, Andrea
Vendramin; 1478, Giovanni Mocenigo; 1485, Marco Barbarigo; 1486, Agostino
Barbarigo; 1501, Leonardo Loredano, the 75th doge.
[Illustration]