estates to the Church. Ferrara, therefore, remained under the supremacy
of the Holy See, and when the city was seized by the Ghibelline
Salinguerra the Venetians drove him out, and the city came under the
domination of the family of Este, with the consent of the Pope. By the
end of the thirteenth century this family had already reached such a
high position that the Marquis Azzo had married the daughter of Charles
II., king of Naples. Venice remained on excellent terms with this
Marquis Azzo, and constantly lent him assistance in his struggles with
his neighbours who threatened his liberty. He, however, fell dangerously
ill in the year 1307, and Venice, being well aware of the discord which
was brewing between his sons, seized the opportunity of furthering her
own interests. During his illness three Venetian envoys remained
constantly at Ferrara on pretence of sending information regarding the
health of the sick man, but in reality to watch the condition of affairs
and the disposition of the people. The old prince died, and left a will
so worded that one of his illegitimate sons, named Fresco, attempted to
have his own son, Folco, proclaimed lord of Ferrara, and to this end
asked help of Venice. Azzo’s two legitimate sons, Francesco and
Aldobrandino, however, turned to the Pope and obtained his support,
renewing their oaths of allegiance as feudatories of the Church.
[Sidenote: _Rom. iii. 20._]
A hot contest now ensued, and Fresco, realising the weakness of his own
cause, made over his rights, such as they were, to Venice. The troops of
the Pope and of the Marquis Francesco now entered Ferrara, and the city
was declared under the dominion of the Pope in 1308. But Venice
protested, and refused to surrender the fortresses she had taken over
from Fresco. It was in vain that the Pope attempted every means of
conciliation. The Republic had long coveted Ferrara as a possession, and
now refused to give up the part of the principality which she held, or
her claim to the rest. The negotiations therefore came to grief, and
ended in a solemn Bull of Excommunication against the Doge, his
counsellors, all the citizens of Venice, and all persons whatsoever who
had helped them; declaring, further, that Venice was dispossessed of all
she held in the principality of Ferrara and elsewhere; all men were
forbidden to engage in commerce with her; all men were permitted
thenceforth to make slaves of Venetians--if they could; the wills of all
Venetians were declared null and void; and all clergy were ordered to
quit the Venetian territories ten days after the expiration of the
thirty days which were allowed the Republic to consider whether she
would repent or not.
Venice, however, obstinately resisted; and in this place it should be
noted that the Venetians, though very devout, and always ready to decree
new festivities in honour of their saints, besides being extremely
generous in building churches and endowing religious institutions,
continuously showed themselves averse to all intervention of the Church,
where their political or material interests were concerned. Though they
respected the clergy, the latter never had any privileges in Venice
beyond those of ordinary citizens, and both priests and monks were
constrained to mount guard at night, and to appear before civil
tribunals in civil suits, like ordinary citizens.
Venice was still under the papal excommunication when the quarrel
between the Quirini and the followers of the Doge Gradenigo had reached
its climax, and when the anti-papal party, which we may fairly call the
Ghibellines, and which had the support of the Doge, overcame the
resistance of its opponents. Marco Quirini determined to take advantage
of the discontent of the greater part of the citizens in order to set on
foot an immense conspiracy. He was indeed the soul of this attempt, but
his son-in-law, Bajamonte Tiepolo, was the visible mover in it, for he
was beloved by the people, who called him the ‘Great Cavalier’; and he
was inspired by a profound hatred of the person of the Doge, who,
according to him, had usurped the dignity which had been conferred upon
the Tiepolo by the will of the people.
Friends of the two great families began to meet in the Cà Grande, which
was the palace of the Quirini. Marco made a speech, which to modern
democrats might seem a model of justice and patriotism, in which he did
not fail to prove that he was not impelled to take arms against the
head of the Republic by any motive of personal grudge or private
ambition, but that he was driven to extremities by the unwise policy of
the government and the extremely unjust laws which were being
promulgated to the destruction of the public liberties. A sort of report
of this speech is still preserved in the library of Saint Mark.
Tiepolo, at once more frank and more persuasive, replied to the words of
his father-in-law, explaining clearly that it was their joint design to
give the Republic a doge acceptable to the people and capable of
restoring to the latter their original and ancient rights. It is
possible that the meeting might have determined to take arms openly at
once, if old Jacopo, another of the Quirini, a man of wise counsel and
of little personal ambition, had not replied to these first two speeches
by attempting to persuade his hearers that they ought to desist from
what was a criminal attempt, and from bringing about the calamities of
bloodshed. This Jacopo was about to leave Venice as ambassador to
Constantinople. The conspirators, who respected him, but had not the
slightest intention of accepting his advice, pretended to yield, putting
off the moment for action until after his departure. When he had left
the city, they made every arrangement for carrying out their
revolutionary plans at dawn on Sunday, June 14, 1310.
During the night the conspirators were to meet in the Cà Grande in small
detachments. In the palace arms sufficient for all were hidden, with a
flag upon which was inscribed the word ‘Liberty.’ Marco Quirini and his
sons, Niccolò and Benedetto, were to go to Saint Mark’s by the Calle dei
Fabbri and the Bridge dei Dai, with a number of armed men; the other
conspirators were to enter the Piazza from the Merceria, under the
leadership of Bajamonte. For some time past Badoero Badoer had been in
Padua and its neighbourhood gathering a desperate band, and on the
appointed day he and his men were to be ready at the palace of the
Quirini. The plan was boldly conceived, and there was no small
likelihood of its success. But one of the conspirators, a burgher named
Marco Donà, lost courage at the last, or suffered himself to be seduced
by promises of rich reward from the Doge, including his admission to the
nobility. Early in the night he entered Gradenigo’s apartment, and
revealed everything to him. The Doge did not lose his presence of mind
for an instant, but gathered round him his counsellors, the Lords of the
Night, the heads of the Forty, and all his friends; every man then
quietly armed his servants, thereby gathering together a large number of
defenders. At no great distance from the palace was the Arsenal, where
there were a great number of artisans of every kind employed in the
construction of ships, and these men, both from their intelligence and
honesty, represented the pick of the Venetian lower class. They composed
the bodyguard of the Doge, and had the right to assist at all public
ceremonies, their chiefs having the privilege of entering the palace
freely. These men slept in the shipyard by turns, and were always ready
at the call of their ‘provveditori,’ who were three nobles elected at
intervals of thirty-two months for the direction and administration of
the
[Illustration: CALLE DEL SPEZIER]
Arsenal. With such forces at his command, it is perhaps not surprising
that the Doge was not intimidated by the conspiracy. As soon as he was
assured of being defended by his servants and the workmen, he sent
messages to the Mayors of Chioggia, Torcello, and Murano, with orders to
arrest the conspirators who were to enter Venice under the guidance of
Badoer. At the same time the members of the School of Charity and many
of the guild of painters took arms to watch the entrance to the Piazza.
Meanwhile the conspirators made their way through a tempest of rain and
wind to the Quirini palace, and arms were distributed to them; Badoer,
however, did not come, and his absence was attributed by his friends to
the storm. Without waiting for him they went out at dawn, during a
terrific thunderstorm, crying ‘Death to the Doge Gradenigo!’ The
Quirini, following the direction agreed upon, came out at Saint Mark’s
by the Bridge dei Dai, which thereafter received the name of ‘Ponte del
Malpasso’ (the Bridge of Evil Crossing). But instead of finding the
Square deserted, as they had expected, they were assailed by a strong
contingent of armed men. Marco and his son Benedetto were soon killed;
the other son, Niccolò, was wounded, and he probably obtained on that
day the surname of ‘the Lame,’ which he ever afterwards bore. The
remaining conspirators now scattered, to meet again soon afterwards in
the Square of Saint Luke, where they were again defeated by the guild of
painters. Meanwhile Bajamonte was coming down towards Saint Mark’s from
the Merceria, and in order to gather his followers together he halted at
the knot of elder-trees, where it was the custom to tie up the horses of
the councillors on the days of assembling. Here, by chance or by
intention, a woman of the people, who lived in a little house
overlooking the trees, dropped from her window a stone mortar, or the
stone of a hand-mill, which killed Bajamonte’s standard-bearer. The
banner inscribed with the word ‘Liberty’ was dashed to the ground, and
Tiepolo’s men fell into such confusion that he had great difficulty in
taking them back to the island of Rialto, burning behind him the bridge
which connected the island with the rest of the city. A regular siege
now followed, the insurgents defending themselves with the courage of
despair; and they might even then have been victorious if Badoer had
been able to reach Venice and to take the Doge’s forces in the flank,
but Badoer, with a great number of his rebellious companions, had been
taken and thrown into prison early in the morning, having been caught on
his way to Venice by the Mayor of Chioggia, who was a Giustiniani.
Tiepolo now held his own upon the island of Rialto, where he had
entrenched himself; but the Doge, in order not to prolong the bloodshed
of a conflict between citizens, wished to prevail by some gentler means,
and promised all the rebels their lives, provided they would submit,
throw down their arms, and quit the territory of the Republic. The
negotiations were first attempted by some Milanese merchants, and then
by Giovanni Soranzo, who, as the father-in-law of Niccolò Quirini, the
latter having married his daughter Soranza, seemed to have a better
chance of being heard; but it was in vain. Tiepolo continued to resist
with mad obstinacy, and preferred anything rather than submission;
until at last one of the counsellors of the Doge, a certain Filippo
Belegno, succeeded in bringing about an understanding. Tiepolo consented
to retire from the island of Rialto, and to go into an exile which was
to last four years ‘in the Slavonic countries beyond the island of
Zara,’ but not in any country that was hostile to Venice; his noble
followers were also to be exiled during four years, and might reside in
any part of Italy that was outside the Venetian territories, but not
within the territories of Padua, Treviso, or Vicenza. They were informed
that if they were found beyond the limits to which they were assigned
they should pay for the indiscretion with their lives. By a decree of
the Great Council their wives were ordered to follow them into exile,
and were instructed to leave Venice within eight days. The other
conspirators, _i.e._ the servants of the nobles, and those who were
considered less responsible, were pardoned on condition that they would
submit and lead quiet lives. Thus of all those who had taken part in the
revolutionary movement, only Badoer and his friends were in the hands of
justice on the evening of the fatal day. When, according to the custom
of the times, they had confessed their crime under torture, Badoer was
beheaded, and the rest were all hanged between the columns. One-third of
the Quirini family property having been claimed by Giovanni, who had
taken no part in the conspiracy, the remaining two-thirds of the Quirini
palace on the Rialto were demolished, the share in the Cà Grande being
allowed to stand which had been Giovanni’s; but lest it should remind
posterity of the greatness of the family, the Republic bought out his
third part and turned it into a place for raising and killing poultry.
It is a singular circumstance, but quite authentically recorded, that
the government was just then without sufficient funds to pay Giovanni
for his share in the house, and it was actually proposed to pawn the
city’s silver trumpets, which were used in all public solemnities. The
government, however, succeeded in raising the sum in a more dignified
way.
[Sidenote: _Lazzari Guida, 171._]
The house of Bajamonte Tiepolo, at Sant’ Agostino, was levelled to the
ground, and on the spot a column recorded the traitor’s infamy. This
space is still open and desolate in our own time, after a lapse of six
hundred years.
The column was set up in 1314, and it bore the following inscription,
which is one of the most ancient specimens of Venetian dialect. It is in
the form of a rhymed quatrain: ‘This ground belonged to Bajamonte, and
now for his infamous treachery it has been turned common, that all may
look upon it now and ever, and be afraid.’
[Sidenote: _Cecchetti, Dubbii._]
It is not long since writers of democratic tendency still attempted to
make Tiepolo seem a martyr to liberty. The Provisional Government of
Venice, on July 13, 1797, invited the citizens to restore to honour the
memory of those heroes, born in times of tyranny, who had fallen victims
to their own generous efforts, and much more in the same manner. It was
proposed to set
[Sidenote: _Rom. iii. 39, note 2._]
up a statue to Tiepolo, as well as to the proto-martyr, Marin Bocconio;
but in the end, even the democratic government was obliged to concede
that its hero had been nothing but a seditious egotist, and the name of
Bajamonte has not lost the odium it deserves even to our own time; for
in spite of his standard blazoned with the word ‘Liberty,’ he had really
meant to seize the government of his country and to make the dogeship
hereditary in his family. After the conspiracy the public feeling
against the Tiepolo and Quirini families was so strong that those
branches of the Tiepolo which had remained faithful to the republic
changed their coats-of-arms. The innocent branches of the Quirini,
however, resorted to an expedient which is quite unique in heraldry, so
far as I know. In Italian ‘bono’ means ‘good’; the Quirini simply
charged their coat with a capital B, to show how good they had been!
Marco Donà, the man who had revealed the plot, was rewarded by being
admitted to the Great Council, and his name was inscribed in the ‘Golden
Book,’ making the honour hereditary. The woman who had killed
Bajamonte’s standard-bearer, and whose name was Rossi, on being asked
what reward she would prefer, requested to be allowed to fly the
standard of Saint Mark from her window on the day of Saint Vitus (June
15), and on the other solemn festivals of the year; and that neither she
nor her descendants should ever be required to pay a higher rent for the
house in which she lived, and which belonged to the patrimony
[Sidenote: _Fulin, Arch. Ven. (1876), and Soranza Soranzo._]
[Sidenote: _Molmenti, Dogaressa._]
of the Basilica of Saint Mark. There exists under date of the year 1468
the protest of a certain Rossi, her descendant, whose rent had been
raised from fifteen ducats to twenty-eight. He won his case. The house
is called in our own time the ‘House of the Miracle of the Mortar.’ It
is in the Merceria, at the corner of the Calle del Cappello. The
standard which Lucia Rossi used to display at her window is preserved in
the Correr Museum.
The Rector of the guild of painters also received special honours, as
well as the brethren of the Carità, who had lent armed assistance.
One might be surprised at the lenity with which the Republic judged the
ringleaders of the Tiepolo-Quirini conspiracy; but it must not be
forgotten that the conspirators, entrenched on the Rialto, were beyond
the Doge’s power, and still threatened the safety of the city and of the
Republic, which was no doubt glad to be rid of them at any price.
Moreover, we have record of a pitiful episode, which shows that the
Venetian government could be severe to cruelty without necessarily
employing the executioner.
Among the nobles who went into exile beyond Zara after the affair at
Rialto was Niccolò Quirini, Marco’s son, surnamed ‘the Lame.’ His wife,
who was, as we have said, the daughter of Giovanni Soranzo, joined him
in his exile. At the end of four years, says Molmenti, she felt an
irresistible longing to see her family again, and asked permission to
return home, but it was not granted to her. Her father, however, had
been made Doge in 1311, and she began the journey, trusting to his
influence. No sooner had she reached Venice than she was arrested and
condemned to perpetual confinement in the convent of Sta. Maria delle
Vergini, in one of the most distant districts of the city.
[Sidenote: _Galliccioli, vi. 58._]
[Sidenote: _Giustina Renier Michiel, Origini ii. 73._]
In connection with this story it should be noted that the convent in
which she was imprisoned was not one of cloistered nuns. Until the end
of the fifteenth century they bore the title of ‘canonesses’; they were
under the government of an abbess, but took no solemn vows, wore no
veils, and could even leave the convent and marry. The convent itself
was under a sort of tutelage of the Doge. It had been founded and
endowed at the beginning of the thirteenth century by the Doge Pietro
Ziani, together with a church dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and became
the common residence of many noble ladies, and of many noble girls who
were educated there. The Doge conferred the investiture upon the abbess,
according to the custom of those times, by means of a golden ring, and
once a year he went to visit the convent. This was in the month of May;
and after hearing mass the Doge went into the parlour, where the abbess
received him, being dressed in a magnificent white mantle, with two
veils upon her head, one white and the other black. She presented the
Doge with a small bunch of flowers, set in a golden handle, for which
the Doge expressed his thanks in a set form. The Doge Soranzo must have
gone through this function many times while his own daughter was a
prisoner in the nunnery, and not allowed to assist in the ceremony. The
old building of the Vergini was destroyed by fire in 1375, but was
restored with greater splendour than before as a place for educating
noble Venetian girls.
It must not be supposed that the convent had barred windows, nor that
there were gratings at the parlour door, from behind which the novice
never returned again to the outer world. Gratings and bars and the
strict cloister were not introduced into the rules of Italian nuns until
much later, when the Church was obliged to check the grave abuses which
had gradually crept into convent life. In the time of Soranza, and
particularly in the convent of the Vergini, there was much freedom, and
any reasonable excuse was admitted for allowing the canonesses to go out
into the city; they not infrequently visited their relations, and even
stopped with them in the country.
Soranza had been placed in custody in a little house that was built
against the wall of the convent; its door had two different keys, one of
which was given to the abbess, and the other to the housekeeper sister,
so that the two were obliged to enter together, and while guarding their
prisoner they watched each other. Soranza was allowed one woman servant,
who was allowed to go out in order to wash linen, but she was warned
that she would be condemned to a heavy fine if the smallest bit of
writing were ever found upon her.
Four years Soranza languished uncomplaining in her narrow dwelling.
Then she appealed to the Council of Ten for permission to walk in the
convent garden. The Council allowed her this liberty for only four
months. Fearing that it would not be continued to her she wrote again
before the term expired, to beg that it might be extended, representing
that she could not live without a little air; and the Council made the
permission permanent.
At last it was known that Niccolò was dead, stabbed by an unknown hand,
and Soranza was a widow; nevertheless, for the sake of the name she yet
bore, the Republic still treated her as a prisoner. Amongst the archives
of the Council of Ten are found more than sixty documents concerning
her, and there are letters from her entreating to be allowed to visit
her father, the Doge, at the ducal palace, or to go and take care of a
sick friend. Sometimes she obtained what she asked, sometimes the most
innocent indulgences were refused her, and it is clear that the Republic
did not mean her to think that she could have anything otherwise than as
a special favour.
When Soranza breathed her last in the little house that had been her
prison, she had occupied it for twenty-five years. During the last ten
years, however, the wife of Andreolo Quirini was confined with her.
She was not the last of those unhappy ladies who had been exiled with
their husbands. In 1320 a man called Riccio arrived in Venice, bringing
the head of Pietro Quirini who had been treacherously assassinated by an
‘unknown’ hand--possibly the hand of Riccio himself, who brought the
victim’s head in order to claim his fee. Pietro left a widow, still
young, who at once asked permission to come home to Venice. She was told
plainly that if she had no children and expected none she might return,
but that otherwise she must remain in exile ‘at the disposal of the
Ten.’
[Illustration: RIO DI S. PANTALEONE]
In the following year another Niccolò Quirini died abroad, and his widow
was allowed to return on condition of living in a convent, never to go
out without permission of the Council of Ten. She had in Venice a
devoted admirer, one Angelo Bembo, who obtained permission to have her
placed in the convent of Santa Maria di Valverde, on the island of
Mazzorbo, a lovely and retired spot, where seclusion would be more
bearable than in the city. The young widow seems to have made good use
of her stay there, for the papers in the archives of the Ten which
concern her contain the information that she soon afterwards married her
friend, and was allowed to return to the world. She had recovered all
her liberty by the mere change of name.
As some justification for this excessive rigour on the part of the
government, it should be remembered that the exiled Tiepolo and Quirini
families had never ceased to plot against the Republic after their
defeat, both in the countries where they were allowed to live and in
Venice itself, by means of agents. A letter of the Council of Ten
confers upon Federigo Dandolo and Marin Falier full powers to get rid of
the obnoxious Bajamonte, in any way they might, for the good of the
country. The note is dated in 1328. From that time forward his name was
never pronounced in council, nor mentioned in any document; and it may
be supposed that he, like Niccolò Quirini, came to his end, murdered by
some emissary of the Republic. The fact that we find no allusion in the
subsequent history of Marin Falier to the part he possibly played in
that side tragedy is not evidence that he failed to carry out his
instructions.
[Sidenote: _Armand Baschet, Archives, 514._]
A careful examination of early documents seems to show that the Council
of Ten existed before the Tiepolo-Quirini conspiracy, which is generally
held to be the circumstance which called it into existence. It is
certain, however,
[Sidenote: _Rom. iii. 39 sqq., 52._]