Venice.
The history of no nation presents a greater variety of singular events
than that of Venice. We have seen a conspiracy against this State,
originating among the citizens, and carried on by people of that rank
only. We saw another, soon after, which took its origin among the body
of the nobles; but the year 1355 presents us with one of a still more
extraordinary nature, begun, and carried on, by the Doge himself. If
ambition, or the augmentation of his own power, had been the object, it
would not have been so surprising; but his motive to the conspiracy was
as small as the intention was dreadful.
Marino Falliero, Doge of Venice, was, at this time, eighty years of age;
a time of life when the violence of the passions is generally pretty
much abated. He had, even then, however, given a strong instance of the
rashness of his disposition, by marrying a very young woman. This lady
imagined she had been affronted by a young Venetian nobleman at a public
ball, and she complained bitterly of the insult to her husband. The old
Doge, who had all the desire imaginable to please his wife, determined,
in this matter at least, to give her ample satisfaction.
The delinquent was brought before the Judges, and the crime was
exaggerated with all the eloquence that money could purchase; but they
viewed the affair with unprejudiced eyes, and pronounced a sentence
no more than adequate to the crime. The Doge was filled with the most
extravagant rage, and, finding that the body of the nobles took no
share in his wrath, he entered into a conspiracy with the Admiral of
the Arsenal, and some others, who were discontented with the government
on other accounts, and projected a method of vindicating his wife’s
honour, which seems rather violent for the occasion. It was resolved by
those desperadoes, to massacre the whole Grand Council. Such a scene
of bloodshed, on account of one woman, has not been imagined since the
Trojan war.
This plot was conducted with more secrecy than could have been expected,
from a man who seems to have been deprived of reason, as well as
humanity. Every thing was prepared; and the day, previous to that which
was fixed for the execution, had arrived, without any person, but those
concerned in the conspiracy, having the least knowledge of the horrid
design.
It was discovered in the same manner in which that against the King and
Parliament of England, was brought to light in the time of James the
First.
Bertrand Bergamese, one of the conspirators, being desirous to save
Nicolas Lioni, a noble Venetian, from the general massacre, called on
him, and earnestly admonished him, on no account, to go out of his house
the following day; for, if he did, he would certainly lose his life.
Lioni pressed him to give some reason for this extraordinary advice;
which the other obstinately refusing, Lioni ordered him to be seized, and
confined, and, sending for some of his friends of the Senate, by means
of promises and threats, they at length prevailed on the prisoner to
discover the whole of this horrid mystery.
They send for the Avogadors, the Council of Ten, and other high officers,
by whom the prisoner was examined; after which, orders were given for
seizing the principal conspirators in their houses, and for summoning
those of the nobility and citizens, on whose fidelity the Council could
rely. These measures could not be taken so secretly as not to alarm
many, who found means to make their escape. A considerable number were
arrested, among whom were two chiefs of the conspiracy under the Doge.
They being put to the question, confessed the whole. It appeared, that
only a select body of the principal men had been privy to the real
design; great numbers had been desired to be prepared with arms, at a
particular hour, when they would be employed in attacking certain enemies
of the State, which were not named; they were desired to keep those
orders a perfect secret, and were told, that upon their fidelity and
secrecy their future fortunes depended. Those men did not know of each
other, and had no suspicion that it was not a lawful enterprise for
which they were thus engaged; they were therefore set at liberty; but all
the chiefs of the plot gave the fullest evidence against the Doge. It
was proved, that the whole scheme had been formed by his direction, and
supported by his influence. After the principal conspirators were tried,
and executed, the Council of Ten next proceeded to the trial of the Doge
himself. They desired that twenty senators, of the highest reputation,
might assist upon this solemn occasion; and that two relations of the
Fallier family, one of whom was a member of the Council of Ten, and the
other an Avogador, might withdraw from the court.
The Doge, who hitherto had remained under a guard in his own apartments
in the palace, was now brought before this Tribunal of his own subjects.
He was dressed in the robes of his office.
It is thought he intended to have denied the charge, and attempted a
defence; but when he perceived the number and nature of the proofs
against him, overwhelmed by their force, he acknowledged his guilt, with
many fruitless and abject intreaties for mercy.
That a man, of eighty years of age, should lose all firmness on such
an occasion, is not marvellous; that he should have been incited, by
a trifling offence, to such an inhuman, and such a deliberate plan of
wickedness, is without example.
He was sentenced to lose his head. The sentence was executed in the place
where the Doges are usually crowned.
In the Great Chamber of the palace, where the portraits of the Doges
are placed, there is a vacant space between the portraits of Fallier’s
immediate predecessor and successor, with this inscription:
Locus Marini Fallieri decapitati.
The only other instance which history presents to our contemplation, of
a sovereign tried according to the forms of law, and condemned to death
by a Tribunal of his own subjects, is that of Charles the First, of Great
Britain. But how differently are we affected by a review of the two cases!
In the one, the original errors of the misguided Prince are forgotten in
the severity of his fate, and in the calm majestic firmness with which he
bore it. Those who, from public spirit, had opposed the unconstitutional
measures of his government, were no more; and the men now in power were
actuated by far different principles. All the passions of humanity,
therefore, take part with the royal sufferer; nothing but the ungenerous
spirit of party can seduce them to the side of his enemies. In his trial
we behold, with a mixture of pity and indignation, the unhappy monarch
delivered up to the malice of hypocrites, the rage of fanatics, and the
insolence of a low-born law ruffian.
In the other, every sentiment of compassion is effaced by horror, at the
enormity of the crime.
In the year 1361, after the death of the Doge John Delfino, when the last
electors were confined in the Ducal Chamber to choose his successor, and
while the election vibrated between three candidates, a report arrived
at Venice, that Laurentius Celsus, who commanded the fleet, had obtained
a complete victory over the Genoese, who were at that time at war with
the Venetians. This intelligence was communicated to the electors, who
immediately dropped all the three candidates, and unanimously chose this
commander. Soon after, it was found, that the rumour of the victory was
entirely groundless. This could not affect the validity of the election;
but it produced a decree to prevent, on future occasions of the same
kind, all communication between the people without, and the conclave of
electors.
This Doge’s father displayed a singular instance of weakness and vanity,
which some of the historians have thought worth transmitting to us. I
do not know for what reason, unless it be to comfort posterity with the
reflection, that human folly is much the same in all ages, and that
their ancestors have not been a great deal wiser than themselves. This
old gentleman thought it beneath the dignity of a father to pull off his
cap to his own son; and that he might not seem to condescend so far,
even when all the other nobles shewed this mark of respect to their
sovereign, he went, from the moment of his son’s election, upon all
occasions, and in all weathers, with his head uncovered. The Doge being
solicitous for his father’s health, and finding that no persuasion,
nor explanation of the matter, that could be given, were sufficient to
overcome this obstinacy, recollected that he was as devout as he was
vain, which suggested an expedient that had the desired effect. He placed
a cross on the front of his ducal coronet. The old man was as desirous to
testify his respect to the cross, as he was averse to pay obeisance to
his son; and unable to devise any way of pulling off a cap which he never
wore, his piety, at length, got the better of his pride; he resumed his
cap, as formerly, that, as often as his son appeared, he might pull it
off in honour of the cross.
During the reign of Laurentius Celsus, the celebrated poet Petrarch, who
resided for some time at Venice, and was pleased with the manners of
the people, and the wisdom of their government, made a present to the
republic, of his collection of books; which, at that time, was reckoned
very valuable. This was the foundation of the great library of St. Mark.
In perusing the annals of Venice, we continually meet with new
institutions. No sooner is any inconveniency perceived, than measures are
taken to remove it, or guard against its effects. About this time, three
new magistrates were appointed, whose duty is to prevent all ostentatious
luxuries in dress, equipage, and other expensive superfluities, and to
prosecute those who transgress the sumptuary laws, which comprehend such
objects. Those magistrates are called Sopra Proveditori alle Pompé;
they were allowed a discretionary power of levying fines, from people
of certain professions; who deal entirely in articles of luxury. Of
this number, that of public courtesans was reckoned. This profession,
according to all accounts, formerly flourished at Venice, with a
degree of splendour unknown in any other capital of Europe; and very
considerable exactions were raised to the use of the State, at particular
times, from the wealthiest of those dealers. This excise, it would
appear, has been pushed beyond what the trade could bear; for it is at
present in a state of wretchedness and decay; the best of the business,
as is said, being now carried on, for mere pleasure, by people who do not
avow themselves of the profession.