Genoa, and remained on the side of the Lombard League against the
Visconti. The defeat of the Venetian fleet at Porto Longo, November 4,
1354, almost caused a panic in Venice, where it was expected that at any
moment the Genoese would appear again before the Lido. The Doge and the
government, however, met the danger with energetic measures, obtained
help from the neighbouring principalities, and vigilantly watched the
more exposed outlying districts, such as Cape d’Istria and Zara; but the
agitation in Venice was not wholly allayed, and the need of peace was
felt more than ever. Charles IV., king of Bohemia and king of the
Romans, who had recently descended into Italy in order to assume the
imperial title, found it no easy matter to make terms between the
parties. From Avignon also Pope Innocent VI. was using every means to
pacify the divers Italian states; but neither the Emperor nor the Pope
were
[Illustration: CAMPO S. MARIA NOVA]
wholly successful, and in the winter of 1355 the condition of affairs in
Venice was such as to favour a conspiracy. It was not long, in fact,
before the plot of Marino Faliero was discovered, and it turned out to
be the most important of those which darken the history of the
fourteenth century.
Almost every one is acquainted with the legend of this conspiracy, and
may compare it with the truth so far as a recent examination of the
facts has made it known.
A grudge of long standing existed at that time between the houses of
Faliero and Steno. In the summer of 1343 a certain Paolo Steno
approached the house of Piero Faliero at San Maurizio late in the
evening, and calling out a German serving-woman, called Elizabeth or
Beta, with whom he seems to have been acquainted, he persuaded her with
specious arguments, or with the promise of reward, to let him enter the
room of Saray, who some say was the beautiful daughter of the master of
the house, but who Romanin says was a slave, as her name would seem to
indicate. A recent authority, Lazzarini, says that Romanin was mistaken;
but however this may have been, Saray, who was taken by surprise,
defended herself desperately, but could not escape the embraces of Paolo
Steno. A regular action was brought against the latter, and a number of
documents in the criminal archives of the Forty, dated in August and
September 1343, prove that the culprit was condemned to be imprisoned a
year in the lower dungeons called pozzi, and to pay a fine of three
hundred lire. The German serving-woman, who had escaped beyond the
frontier, was condemned in default to have her nose and her lips cut
off, and was perpetually banished; an accomplice, a servant in the
house of Faliero, was imprisoned six months in the lower dungeons, and
then banished. Three years later the mother of Saray, on her death,
named ‘Saray Steno’ among her children in her will, and it would appear
from this that Steno had satisfied justice and repaired his fault by
marrying the girl; but in this case it is certain that he did not long
survive the date of the deed, for before the conditions of the will
could be fulfilled we find that Saray was already the wife of a certain
Niccoletto Callencerio of Oderzo. It is impossible to say how far this
incident was the cause of the hatred between the families of Faliero and
Steno, but we may be sure that when Michel Steno insulted the Doge
eleven years later he was already influenced by the existence of the
family grudge.
On the tenth of November 1354 a request came before the Council of Forty
to proceed against the authors of certain words written in the Hall of
the Hearth in the ducal palace against the Doge’s nephew. There is no
mention of the Dogess. Amongst those cited to appear before the tribunal
within eight days we find the name of a Steno called Micheletto, the
diminutive of Michel, and son of the late Giovanni, coupled with that of
Piero Bollani, as the principal authors of the insulting lines, and a
certain Rizzardo Marioni is accused of having scrawled obscene symbols
beside what his companions had written. Besides these, certain other
noble youths were cited to appear, but were acquitted for lack of proof
that they had taken part in the deed. It must be taken for granted that
Romanin was not acquainted with the document cited by Lazzarini, since
he says that no proofs exist that Steno was either accused or punished.
Micheletto Steno was condemned to be imprisoned during a few days in the
lower dungeon; Piero Bollani and Rizzardo Marioni got off with less than
a week’s confinement.
Tradition, as corroborated by the Doge’s own words afterwards, justifies
us in believing that Faliero complained of the lenity shown to the
culprits; but though he might have been displeased, it would have been
impossible that he should be astonished. Since the insult was directed
against the Doge or his nephew as private individuals, and not against
the head of the Republic, a discriminating tribunal of Venice could only
treat the affair as if it had happened between any other members of the
nobility. Venice never incarnated any ‘divine right’ in the person of
her Doge, and Faliero must have known that though a single word of
slight against the honour of the ‘Lord Duke’ might cost him who uttered
it both his eyes and his tongue, as happened in the same year to a
certain Niccolò Cestello and to another Micheletto of Murano, even a
grave insult against the person of the Doge was never legally punished
by more than two months’ imprisonment, and generally by a shorter term
and a small fine. The legend built up upon the later accounts says that
Micheletto Steno was the head of the Forty, _i.e._ President of the
Senate, when he wrote the insult of which he was convicted; but we have
clear proof that at the time he was hardly more than twenty years of
age, so that he had not even the right to vote at the meetings of the
Great Council; and no one could belong to the Senate who was under
thirty, much less be the head of that formidable body. So far as the
Dogess is concerned, chroniclers and novelists have described her as
taking part in a dance at the time, whereas she was a woman already of
middle age, and her name is never mentioned in any of the numerous
documents regarding the famous trial. There is one more argument against
the fable that the insult was directed against her. The Venetian
tribunals were extremely severe in all cases where the honour of a woman
was touched. The mere fact of laying a hand on the shoulder of a woman
not the man’s own wife or relative might be punished with a very heavy
fine and many months of imprisonment, and a libellous writing against a
noble lady was punished with two months in the pozzi and a fine of one
hundred ducats. It would seem to follow that if Steno’s offence had been
committed against the first matron in Venice, the tribunal would not
have treated the matter with that indulgence of which the Doge
complained on his own account. Moreover, it should be noted that Marino
Faliero was elected on the eleventh of September 1354, and that the date
of the trial was the tenth of November of the same year; but the
legendary account says it was on the Thursday before Lent, which cannot
come earlier than February and may be as late as March, that the
insulting words were written. The scandal must have taken place very
early in November, and probably happened during the festival held in the
ducal palace on the occasion of the marriage of Santino Faliero and
Regina Dandolo, a nephew and niece of the Doge, a marriage,
consequently, for which the papal dispensation would have been
necessary. This hypothesis would in some measure explain the fact that
the writing was directed against the Doge and one of his nephews.
Whatever the true facts were in the Steno-Faliero trials, it is certain
that the Doge entertained feelings of the strongest resentment against
the aristocracy, against the judges, and, on the whole, against all the
decrees of the government. There is no doubt but that the young nobles
of that day deserved the indignation they excited in the minds of
sensible people, for during several years past their insolence had
become boundless, and they went to all lengths of violence, and worse,
sometimes even making use of false keys to get into houses that were
closed against them, and sparing neither matron nor maid. The lower
classes especially suffered by their outrageous conduct in word and
deed, and when the Doge conceived the idea of breaking down the power of
the aristocrats, he fully believed he might count upon the sympathy and
help of the people.
Now when the war with the Genoese was still raging, a certain Bertuccio
Isarello, a sea-captain, and Giovanni Dandolo, a patrician, who was one
of the superintendents charged with getting war-vessels ready for sea,
got into a violent discussion. To be a sea-captain in those days not
only indicated great energy and personal courage, but also implied a
certain amount of consideration. Isarello had reached his present
position after a life of many labours and adventures. He had been a
merchant in the Rialto for a year; he had then been the navigating
officer of a vessel trading to the East, belonging to a certain
Jacopello Lombardo, and after that he had been promoted to be captain,
or ‘patrono,’ of a galley, the property of Marin Michiel, with a salary
of five lire of grossi monthly (about twenty-five shillings), and
permission to take with him on his voyages three families as passengers.
Like most other sea-captains of whom we have any account in the
archives, Isarello owned several houses in Venice, and possessed
considerable prestige among the seafaring class. The account of the
incident here given is taken from the contemporary chronicle of de’
Monaci. It happened that in the course of manning a number of ships of
war Dandolo had business with this Captain Isarello, and, finding him
unexpectedly obstinate upon some point of which we have no account,
proceeded to enforce his arguments with a box on the ear. The offended
captain left the office where this took place, and told his friends what
had happened. They promised at once to support him if he wished to be
avenged. Accompanied by them, Isarello thereupon went at once to the
square before the ducal palace, and walked up and down nursing his wrath
until Dandolo himself should pass. The Doge and his counsellors, being
apprised of the matter, sent for the captain and had from his own lips
an account of the injury he had
[Illustration: PONTE E FONDAMENTA DI DONNA ONESTA]
suffered; but while they promised him every satisfaction which the law
would allow, they severely reproved him for having dared to think of
taking vengeance in person.
The Doge, however, on hearing Isarello’s story, recognised in him an
instrument that might be useful against the aristocracy; and sending for
him privately on the following night, received him in his own apartment,
and laid before him the plan which he had been maturing for some time.
The most reliable accounts say that within a few hours Isarello gathered
twenty conspirators, each of whom promised to furnish forty armed men;
but of these twenty heads, only Isarello himself, Filippo Calendario,
his father-in-law, erroneously stated to have been the architect who
restored the ducal palace, but who was in reality only a master
stone-cutter in the work, and two or three other trusty friends, were
aware that the Doge himself was the prime mover in the conspiracy, the
others supposing that the only object of the movement was to punish the
nobles for their overbearing conduct, and to force the government to the
better administration of justice. During a few days the principal
conspirators came by night to the ducal palace, in order to prepare
their plan of action. Meanwhile, in order to increase the unpopularity
of the aristocracy, they practised a singular deceit. Two or three of
them wandered about the city in the evening, apparently disguised as
nobles, insulting the plebeians whom they met, and singing low songs
under the windows of honest artisans’ wives; then separating, they
loudly bade each other good-night, calling each other by the names of
the most illustrious Venetian houses, so that the offended persons
supposed they had been annoyed by the fashionable young
good-for-nothings of the highest nobility. Meanwhile the conspirators
discussed various means for getting possession of the city, and it was
finally agreed that they should all meet, fully armed, on the night of
the fifteenth of April 1355 in the Square of Saint Mark, before the
ducal palace, when the Doge would cause the great bell to ring the
alarm, and news would be bruited abroad among the people that the
Genoese were at the mouth of the harbour with fifty galleys. Thereupon
it was expected that the nobles would flock to the palace, as they
always did in cases of danger, to meet in council, and the conspirators
would be able to kill them without difficulty as they arrived. After the
massacre, they intended to proclaim the absolute sovereignty of the
Doge, who bound himself to confer all the important offices of the State
upon men belonging to the working-classes. The plan failed, apparently
for two reasons.
In the first place, it appears that among those whom the Doge invited to
take part in the conspiracy was a certain Niccolò Zucuol, a close friend
of the house of Faliero, a rich citizen of burgher origin, who was
allied by marriage with the most noble families in Venice. The Doge,
knowing that he could trust this man, revealed to him the whole plan,
but Zucuol was opposed to it, and by prayers and arguments caused Marino
Faliero to waver in his intention. Some chroniclers say that this honest
Niccolò Zucuol obtained authority from the Doge to dissolve the
conspiracy, and to induce the conspirators, if he could, to give up all
idea of vengeance; others say that his arguments only frightened the
Doge for the time, without really shaking his resolution.
Secondly, we find that a certain Vendramin, who was in the fur trade,
made revelations to a sponsor of his, Niccolò Lion, a noble, in order to
save him from the general massacre of the nobles, which was a part of
the conspiracy. This Lion, who was a senator, heard the story late at
night in his own house, and lost no time in acting on the information.
He dressed in haste, and with no companion save the fur-merchant, boldly
entered the Doge’s apartment, told him that he knew the truth, and
threatened to bring him to account before his counsellors.
Marino Faliero did not lose his self-possession in this sudden turn of
affairs, but coolly pretended to pity the credulity of the old senator.
He even had the audacity to say that this was not the first he had heard
of what he called an egregious calumny; that he himself had made most
careful inquiry into the conspiracy, and had assured himself that there
was not a word of truth in the story. Lion, however, placed no faith in
the Doge’s statements, and insisted so forcibly that the ducal
counsellors should be called in that the Doge was obliged to yield.
The chronicler Matteo Villani observes that it was here that the Doge
lost his head, because he might easily have locked up Lion and
Vendramin, or might
[Illustration: RAMO DELLA SCUOLA]
even have murdered them, and thus gained the time necessary for putting
his plans into execution. It soon became known that the Privy Council
had been summoned at that unusual hour, and this alone spread alarm
through Venice. A number of nobles accompanied the six counsellors to
the palace, and groups of curious and inquisitive persons gathered in
the neighbourhood of Saint Mark’s. It was known that during the last few
days, and under various pretexts, there had been frequent gatherings of
seafaring men, and many of the nobles had noticed the threatening
attitude of the working-men they passed in the street, and had even
heard menacing speeches indistinctly spoken when they had gone by,
though they had paid little attention to such matters at the time. But
now, while the Privy Council was sitting within the palace, the whole
population felt a sort of premonition of a terrible mystery, and of some
great event that was not far off. Meanwhile two gentlemen of the house
of Contarini requested to be immediately admitted to the presence of the
Council. They said that a friend of theirs had been asked only a few
hours previously by a friend of Filippo Calendario to take part in a
conspiracy which was about to break out. The person they referred to was
immediately called, and turned out to be a seafaring man named Marco
Negro, who was able to give chapter and verse for all he stated. His
story at once exhibited the conduct of the Doge in the strongest light.
Following the example of the two Contarini, many more persons presented
to the ducal counsellors very grave accusations against the Doge.
Without losing time, and before daybreak, officers were sent out to
arrest all persons suspected of having joined in the conspiracy. Amongst
the first that were brought to the palace was Calendario himself and one
of his accomplices, named Zuan da Corso. The latter, having been put to
the torture, confessed everything, and Calendario, without waiting until
similar pressure had been brought upon him, disclosed everything he
knew, without the least attempt to hide the responsibility of the Doge.
As soon as the Doge’s guilt was clear, the Council decided to proceed
with its deliberations without regard to him, and immediately called in
the Council of Ten in order to divide with the latter the
responsibilities of government and justice. Niccolò Faliero, who was a
near relative of the Doge’s, was not allowed to take part in the
deliberations, that being the rule in such cases.
Word was immediately sent to all the nobles then in Venice to arm
themselves, and to bring their servants and retainers armed to the
squares near their habitations. During the whole day and the following
night these armed men remained constantly on the watch, ready to act
under the orders of the Privy Council at a moment’s notice. Eighty or
ninety nobles and trusty citizens continually rode through the city from
post to post to preserve order and unity.
After the first hours of agitation, arrangements were made for a regular
succession of watches at all the principal points. Meanwhile some of the
conspirators sought safety in flight, while some were arrested in their
houses. Isarello was taken in a garden, immediately after the first
revelations of the conspiracy. Some of the other chiefs were chased as
far as Chioggia, and brought back. On the same day Filippo Calendario
and Isarello were hanged between the red columns of the loggia of the
old palace, from which the Doge usually assisted at the Carnival
festivities. Others suffered the same sentence, and as their bodies were
not taken down directly after they were dead, there was soon a row of
eleven corpses hanging from the balcony, beginning with those of the
chief conspirators, who had been hanged with gags in their mouths, lest
they should cry out to the people. The minor conspirators were spared
this indignity.
The Doge during this time was under guard in his own apartments, until
at last one counsellor, Giovanni Mocenigo, one inquisitor, Luca da
Lezze, and one avogador, Orio Pasqualigo, entered together to examine
him. As the Council was not willing to accept the sole responsibility of
the trial, a committee was chosen, consisting of twenty nobles of the
most ancient and illustrious families of Venice; these, however, were
only to have a vote in consultation, but not upon the final sentence. It
was in this way that the ‘Zonta,’ or supplementary committee of the
Council of Ten, was constituted, and its usefulness was so readily
recognised that from that time on it was always called to assist in
cases of unusual importance. It followed that the court, before which
the Doge was to be tried, consisted of thirty-seven persons, _i.e._
nine of the Council of Ten, since Niccolò Faliero could not sit, six
ducal counsellors, twenty of the committee of nobles, and two avogadori
of the Commonwealth. The High Chancellor, I presume, however, must also
have been present; in which case the court consisted of thirty-eight.
Contemporary documents give us the names of all these judges except the
last.
On the seventeenth the three individuals who had been with Marino
Faliero by night opened the case. The accusations having been heard,
examined, and discussed by the court, the following proposal was
made:--‘Does it seem to you that from what has been said and read,
proceedings should be taken against Marino Faliero, the Doge, for
attempting to betray the State and Commonwealth of Venice?’ Following
the so-called Rite of the Council of Ten, the heads and the avogadori of
the Commune proposed the sentence, and this was discussed until evening.
It was finally decided that Marino Faliero should be beheaded on the
landing of the stone staircase, where he had sworn the ducal oath of
allegiance. It was further decreed by the sentence that all his goods
should be confiscated, with the exception of two thousand lire of
grossi, equal to five hundred pounds, which he was to be allowed to
leave as he would by will. All that now remained was to announce to the
Doge the sentence of death, and to strip him of the ducal insignia.
Giovanni Gradenigo was charged with this duty, the same man who was
presently to take his place upon the ducal throne. He was of the family
of the Dogess; and it is possible, though I think extremely improbable,
that the Council intended to send to the condemned man a person who
might in some measure show him sympathy in his last moments. If the
tribunal really had any such intention, it must be admitted that the
manner in which it was carried out left much to be desired. A chronicler
of a later time says that he heard the story told as follows:--‘Messer
Zuan Gradenigo was the person who received the orders of the chiefs of
the Ten to go to the Doge; and he found him walking up and down in the
hall of his house (the palace). At once he said to him, “Give me that
cap.” And he, the Doge, with his hands, gave it up, not suspecting a
sentence of death. And he (Gradenigo) said to him, “You are condemned to
have your head cut off within the hour.” Having heard which he (the
Doge) was in great anguish, and could not answer anything.’
It is certain that Marino Faliero immediately made his will by the hand
of a notary. This document is still wholly preserved, and is the best
argument that could be produced of the honour of the Dogess. By it the
Doge, who was about to die, leaves his wife sole executrix of his last
will; leaving it also to her to do for his soul what she could with what
he left her, in the way of pious services and charities.
About sunset the condemned man, deprived of all his ducal insignia, came
down from his apartment to the landing of the staircase, and on the same
spot where he had sworn, _bona fide, sine fraude_, to uphold the
constitution of the State, his head was cut off.
The bloody sword with which the execution was performed was shown to the
people from the loggia of the palace.
The following quotation is taken from an anonymous chronicler of the
sixteenth or seventeenth century, quoted by Lazzarini, and gives some
further details of the end of Marino Faliero, though it is impossible to
guarantee them as wholly trustworthy:--