Bishop of Feltre and Belluna, has been preserved by Muratori in the
nineteenth volume of the _Scriptores_. Other histories confirm most of
the facts therein related, and there is no reason to doubt the rest; yet
taken altogether, as the life of a possible human being, the story must
appear to most readers less probable than the wildest fictions of the
elder Dumas or Victor Hugo, and there is certainly no tale in the
English language, short of Malory’s _Morte d’Arthur_, at once so
fascinating and so incredible. Fortunately it is supported by the
evidence of contemporaries, by the acts of the Venetian government, and,
lastly, as to the dangers he survived, by the testimony of those who
prepared his body for burial when he died of extreme old age, and who
found upon him the scars of five-and-thirty wounds, a great number of
which would have been fatal to an ordinary man.
Carlo Zeno was the son of Pietro Zeno and of Agnese Dandolo, and
therefore came of the best blood in Venice. Pietro had been for some
time governor of Padua under the Carrara, and had subsequently won the
favour of Pope Clement VI. by his zeal against the Turks when in command
of a Venetian squadron in the East. The Emperor Charles IV. was also
well disposed towards him, and Carlo was named after that sovereign,
who sent a representative to appear for him at the child’s baptism.
Pietro died seven years later, leaving ten other children and a very
exiguous fortune, for he had always sought glory rather than wealth, and
his search had been rewarded.
It was decided to make a clerk of Carlo, and to send him at once to the
court of the Pope at Avignon. His Venetian schoolmaster wrote out for
him a Latin eulogium of his father and taught it to him, and when the
small boy was brought before the pontiff and the cardinals he knelt down
and recited this production without a fault. His august hearers were
moved by his beauty, his spirit, his memory, and his bodily grace, and
the performance seemed to them little short of miraculous for a child of
seven years. The Pope received him into his household, the future man of
war was dressed like a little priest, and before his education was half
finished he was designated to be a canon of the cathedral of Patras with
a rich benefice. After a time he was sent back to his uncle in Venice,
and his relations decided that he should be sent to the University of
Padua to make his studies.
Before he was thirteen he had his first taste of wounds and his first
narrow escape. When returning to Venice from the country he was robbed
by a shabbily dressed individual who imposed on him in order to be
allowed to make the trip in his boat. The robber left him for dead, but
he revived, and reached Mestre, where his hurts were dressed; and it was
characteristic of the future man that although a mere boy he succeeded
in tracking his aggressor with blood-hounds and handed him over to the
justice of Padua, where the man was executed.
After a considerable time he regained his strength, and returned to his
studies at the University, but his taste for excitement and adventure
led him into bad company; he gambled away his ready money, and even sold
his books in order to play, until at last, being quite penniless and
ashamed to go home, he disappeared from Padua, not yet a grown man, and
joined one of those many fighting bands of mercenaries which were
employed by the Italian princes of the time. During the following five
years he was not heard of in Venice, his relatives gave him up for dead,
and when he suddenly appeared at last he was greeted with no small
delight by his brothers and sisters.
He stayed a while with his family and then went to Greece, thinking that
it was high time to take possession of his canonry of Patras. The
governor received him with open arms, having no doubt heard that Zeno
was fond of fighting, for the Turks were just then very troublesome; and
the young man at once rendered good service, and would no doubt have
done much more, had he not been severely wounded--‘mortally,’ says the
good bishop of Feltre. During the night he fell into a syncope which
those who attended him took for death; they accordingly proceeded to
prepare him for interment, and only waited for the morning in order to
bury him; but he revived, a little before daybreak, and escaped being
buried alive. He was in such a condition of weakness that he had to be
taken to Venice to recover.
While he was there, Peter, King of Cyprus, came to the city and soon
took a strong fancy to Zeno, who seems to have made himself useful to
this new patron in various ways; but soon the Emperor Charles IV., who
was Carlo’s godfather, appeared in Italy, and finding his godson to his
liking carried him off and kept him with him for some time, employed him
on business which gave him a chance of seeing France, Germany and
England, and at last allowed him to return to Patras and to his somewhat
neglected ecclesiastical career.
But he was destined to be a soldier. Scarcely had he reached his
destination when Patras was threatened by an army of ten or twelve
thousand Cypriotes and Frenchmen, horse and foot; so, at least, says
Carlo’s grandson the bishop, in not very good Latin. The bishop of
Patras turned at once to Zeno and placed under his command the small
force of which he could dispose, being about seven hundred riders. With
this handful of men, against odds of fifteen to one, Carlo kept the
enemy at bay during no less than six months, without losing one man, and
so harassed his adversaries that they abandoned the enterprise, made
peace, and retired. Yet, as if whatever he did must lead always to more
fighting, his success made him an object of envy to many, and especially
to a certain Greek knight, named Simon, who had the audacity to accuse
him of treachery. Thereupon Zeno challenged his calumniator to single
combat, and the day and place of meeting were named. The duel was to be
fought in Naples, under the auspices of Queen Johanna, of evil fame. It
was in vain that Carlo’s friends besought him to forgive Simon, and his
friend the bishop exhausted his eloquence in trying to reconcile the
two. The hot-blooded young Venetian preferred to throw up his
ecclesiastical benefice; and seeing himself thus free to marry, since he
had not yet actually taken orders, he forthwith espoused a noble and
rich lady of Clarentia, who was very much in love with him, and whose
fortune at once supplied the place of the large income he had forfeited.
He was obliged to leave his bride almost immediately in order to meet
his antagonist in Naples, and as the Neapolitan kingdom was distracted
by wars he had some difficulty in reaching the city. To his surprise,
and probably not much to his satisfaction, the Queen chose to treat the
quarrel as something more like a question of law than a point of honour;
a regular inquiry took place, Simon was declared to have been wholly in
the wrong, and was ordered to pay all the expenses to which Zeno had
been put on his account, and Queen Johanna forbade the duel.
His honour being now cleared beyond all possible calumny, he returned to
Greece and was at once named governor of a province, though he was not
yet twenty-three years of age, and his subsequent career might have been
more peaceful than it turned out but for the sudden death of his wife.
Her relations, or the Duke of Achaia, promptly cheated him of her dowry,
and he once more turned his face towards Venice, a good deal saddened
and nearly penniless.
[Illustration: RIO DELLA GUERRA]
And now, during the term of his mourning, he seriously thought of
bettering his fortunes in some permanent way, by following the example
of so many of his countrymen and engaging in trade. As a first step, he
made a good marriage with a daughter of the Giustiniani family; soon
afterwards he left his native city to establish himself in the East as a
merchant, and he spent seven years away from home, partly in the ‘city’
of Tanais, which I take to be the modern Rostov, at the mouth of the
Don, and partly in Constantinople.
Now at that time the rightful Emperor Calojohannes, who had been
friendly to the Venetians, was kept a close prisoner by his son
Andronicus, who had dethroned him, and favoured the Genoese.
Calojohannes was shut up in a certain fortress which overhung the sea,
and was guarded by a captain who was responsible for him. Andronicus
probably did not know, however, that this captain’s wife had in former
times yielded to the seductions of Calojohannes, and was still devoted
to him. It now occurred to the captive Emperor that she could safely
convey letters between him and Zeno, whose father had received many
favours at his hands in former years, and who would certainly be willing
to help him now.
The ‘little woman,’ as the bishop calls her, succeeded in her dangerous
errand, and it is needless to say that the mere suggestion of a perilous
enterprise instantly fired Zeno’s imagination. With incredible speed and
with absolutely marvellous skill, he won over no less than eight hundred
Greek soldiers who promised to obey him implicitly when called upon, and
to be secret. The latter obligation was not hard to perform, as they
would certainly have lost their heads if they had not observed it.
All being ready for the bold stroke, it only remained to bring the
Emperor safely out of prison before attempting a revolution, of the
success of which the sanguine Zeno had not the slightest doubt. This was
not exactly an easy matter, and Carlo undertook it himself. The
Emperor’s bedroom had one window high above the water, from which escape
must have been considered impossible since it was not protected by any
grating. Beneath this window Zeno came on a dark night by agreement with
the captain’s wife, and a rope was let down from the Emperor’s chamber.
The rest was child’s play to the athletic young Venetian, and in a few
moments he was in the presence of Calojohannes. But he had not counted
upon the hesitating character and the soft heart of the man he wished to
set free. With many tears the unhappy captive expressed his gratitude to
Zeno for risking his life in such an adventure; but two of his sons were
in the power of his third son, Andronicus, who would not hesitate to
murder them on learning that the Emperor had escaped, and Calojohannes
was not willing to sacrifice the children he loved for the sake of a few
short years of life on the throne.
Carlo answered that there was no time for weeping and hesitating, and
that Calojohannes should have considered these matters sooner; that if
he would climb down the rope at once Zeno was ready to do all he had
promised, and more also, but if not, Zeno would refuse to have anything
to do with the matter again. The Emperor continued to hesitate and to
shed tears, and Zeno left him at once.
Nevertheless, no long time passed before the captain’s wife was again
the bearer of an entreating letter from the captive, who once more
implored his friend’s assistance; and by way of an inducement he added
that he had made a will leaving the island of Tenedos to the Venetian
Republic. The will itself accompanied the letter, to prove the writer’s
good faith. Zeno answered, accepting the proposal on behalf of his
country, and the little woman hid the letter in her shoe. Unhappily for
her and for the prisoner it dropped out just before she entered the
Emperor’s room, and was instantly picked up by a sentinel and sent to
Andronicus. The poor messenger was seized, tortured, and made to confess
the whole plot, including of course the part played by Zeno.
His life was now in imminent danger; he could neither remain in
Constantinople nor leave without great risk of being taken and executed
for high treason. Venice at that time sent a Bailo, or military
ambassador, to the capital of the East, who had jurisdiction over all
Venetians residing there; in due course, and with the proper
formalities, Andronicus applied to this high official to have Zeno
arrested as having conspired against the throne, and the ambassador’s
position would manifestly have been extremely delicate if Zeno had not
opportunely made his escape by the aid of a soldier who was grateful to
him, and who helped him to get on board one of the Venetian men-of-war
which periodically visited the city in order to protect the interests
of the Republic.
Zeno now showed the Emperor’s will to the officer
[Illustration: RIO PERTRIN]
in command, and the latter considered that, in view of a possible
attempt on the part of the Genoese, it would be justifiable to try to
seize Tenedos. On reaching the island it was found to be in the keeping
of a Greek officer, who still held it in the name of the dethroned
Emperor. The fortress was ascertained to be fully provisioned and
provided with an abundance of arms, and by no means to be taken by
assault. But Carlo obtained an interview with the governor, and soon
persuaded him that his best course, in the interests of Calojohannes,
would be to place the island under the protection of Venice. Thereupon
the squadron left a strong garrison in the town and returned to Venice
with Zeno.
The Senate did not altogether approve the high-handed annexation;
nevertheless, fearing lest the Genoese should help Andronicus to recover
the island, they determined to send a fleet of fifteen ships to guard
it, under Pietro Mocenigo, and not long afterwards two more vessels were
sent to join the squadron, the one commanded by Zeno himself and the
other by Michel Steno, who was afterwards Doge. Thereupon the Genoese
immediately sent a large fleet to the East, Venice sent more
reinforcements, and a conflict became imminent. Vittor Pisani now took
charge of the whole Venetian force, with orders to make a naval
demonstration before Constantinople; but though Zeno actually landed
with some of his men by means of ladders, nothing worth mentioning was
accomplished beyond the recovery of a Venetian man-of-war, which the
Greeks had seized on hearing of the occupation of Tenedos. Thither the
fleet now returned, and three galleys were left under Zeno to protect
the island.
Before long the Genoese, having heard of the departure of the main body
of the Venetian fleet, sent twenty-two galleys to capture the object of
contention. Zeno had only three hundred regular soldiers and a fair body
of archers, and the Genoese proceeded to land their troops in great
numbers, which was an easy matter, as the sea was absolutely calm and
motionless although the month was November. Zeno occupied the suburbs of
the town, and the castle was in charge of Antonio Venier.
The fight that followed was perhaps the first of those heroic deeds of
arms which shed undying lustre on Carlo Zeno’s name. The enemy had
scarcely expected that the little force he had would oppose them; but
instead, they encountered the most determined resistance as soon as they
approached the outlying buildings of the town; they fought some time,
were repulsed, and retired to their ships at dusk.
On the following morning they proceeded to land engines of war with the
evident intention of laying regular siege to the town, and their
movements soon showed that they meant to attack it on the side farthest
from the castle. Zeno hastened to dispose a detachment of his men in
ambush in a number of half-ruined and empty houses that stood in that
quarter. With his remaining force he retired farther in, waited until
the enemy were close to him, and then charged them furiously. They were
but half prepared, and at the same instant the soldiers he had placed in
hiding attacked them suddenly in the rear, and a large force found
itself completely surrounded by a small one of which it naturally
exaggerated the numbers.
The Genoese were at first slaughtered like sheep, for while the Venetian
regular soldiers hewed down the outer ranks, the bowmen shot their
arrows into the central press with deadly effect; but rallying, I
suppose, they broke through the thin line of their assailants, and again
retired to their ships.
Zeno was badly wounded in the calf of the leg by an infected arrow, no
uncommon thing in those days, when arrows were drawn from the bodies of
the dead after battle and were used again and again. A ‘poisoned arrow’
in the warfare of the Middle Ages by no means implied that the enemy had
dipped the barb in venom. As usual, Zeno paid no attention to such a
trifle as a wound, and when the enemy returned on the morrow they were
greeted by terrific discharges of artillery from the cannon which he had
moved into place during their absence, and they were driven off with
such slaughter that they gave up the enterprise, and sailed away on the
next day. But in this last affair Zeno had been twice wounded again, in
the hand and knee, and was so exhausted that he fell into spasms
followed by syncope, like a man dying. His grandson tells us, obscurely
enough, that he must have died indeed but for the assistance of a
Gallo-Greek surgeon, whose novel mode of treatment consisted in burning
the sound knee in order to draw health into the injured one. It is
slightly more probable that Zeno’s iron constitution had something to do
with the cure. The weather became cold, and winter set in soon
afterwards, and he returned to Venice covered with glory.
He deserved the praise that was freely given to him, for he had beaten a
fleet and an army by sheer genius and courage with a handful of men and
three ships, and had preserved to Venice the valuable island which
guards the entrance to the Dardanelles. The hatred and rivalry between
the two republics were of too long standing to be much embittered by his
victory; but his success certainly helped in some degree to precipitate
the final struggle.
I have sometimes thought that the behaviour of Venice to her most
distinguished generals and statesmen may be compared with that of
sea-captains who have a brave but unruly crew to deal with, and who
alternately ‘keep the men busy’ and clap the roughest hands in irons in
order to impose respect upon the rest; and at times, it may be said
without levity, that the conduct of the government was like that of an
unpopular and cowardly schoolmaster, who is a little nervous about his
personal safety, and loses his nerve in matters of reward and
punishment.
On the whole, Venice would have preferred that her battles should be won
for her by paid condottieri; but when one of her own sons insisted on
being a hero, something had to be done at once lest he should get into
mischief. If there was no reasonable ground for imprisoning him, as
Vittor Pisani was imprisoned, and as Carlo Zeno was himself imprisoned
at a later date, he must be ‘kept busy.’ On this occasion Carlo had
hardly reached Venice when he was appointed to the important post of
military governor in Negroponte, being at that time little more than
thirty years of age.
The time which intervened between the date of this appointment and the
siege of Chioggia was spent by him chiefly in fighting the Genoese at
sea, with almost unvarying success, and some of his exploits will be
referred to hereafter in their proper places. It would be impossible to
narrate them all in any space less than a volume, and I have here told
enough, it is to be hoped, to give the reader an idea of what his youth
had been before the fortunes of war offered larger opportunities to his
genius and patriotism.
[Illustration: BRIDGE AT CHIOGGIA]
XIV
THE WAR OF CHIOGGIA
The long rivalry of Venice and Genoa has been sufficiently explained,
and frequently alluded to in the previous pages. To give a connected
account of the almost constant warfare waged between the two republics
in Eastern and Mediterranean waters, from the Sea of Azov to Cape Corso,
is beyond the scope and limits of the present work; for in order to
understand the nature of the last tremendous struggle that took place at
Chioggia, almost within sight of Venice, it is only necessary to
recapitulate briefly those events which, during the latter half of the
fourteenth century, led directly to the crisis--a crisis after which the
vanquished aggressor retreated, definitely beaten and for ever
humiliated.
At the outset I shall inform my readers that I have preferred the
account given by Romanin to that of the more romantic Daru; for the
latter evidently followed the older historian Sabellico, even into the
regions of the fabulous, whereas Romanin writes largely upon the
authority of Caroldo and of Stella, the latter a Genoese whose account
of his countrymen’s disaster is above suspicion.
[Sidenote: _1345. Rom. iii. 152._]
In the year 1345, a powerful Tartar chief named Zani Beg barbarously
murdered certain Venetian and Genoese merchants established in the
Crimea. For a short time this outrage united the two republics in a
common desire for revenge, and they signed a treaty by which they
mutually agreed to suspend all commercial relations with the Crimea--to
‘boycott’ the peninsula, as we should say. This was perhaps their only
possible means of punishing Zani Beg for his wanton cruelty, since it is
idle to suppose that two maritime nations could or would have carried
war against a barbarian horde into the interior of such a country as the
Crimea.
But the agreement had not been made with any sincere purpose, and before
long the merchants of the two countries secretly resumed the trade, each
trying to outwit the other. The result could not be doubtful; in 1350
the Genoese seized several Venetian ships with rich cargoes on the
coast of Syria, and war broke out between the republics.
[Sidenote: _Rom. iii. 169._]
The first two engagements, off Negroponte and on the Bosphorus, were
disastrous to the Venetians, but the third, which took place off Lojera
on the coast of Sardinia, resulted in an important victory for them; and
the honour of the standard of Saint Mark would have been redeemed if
Niccolò Pisani, the Venetian admiral, had not caused nearly five
thousand prisoners of war to be drowned, a barbarity which accords ill
with the man’s real courage, and would be incredible if it were not
proved beyond the possibility of contradiction.
It was after this defeat that the Genoese Republic placed itself in the
hands of Giovanni Visconti, Archbishop of Milan, the strongest of the
Lombard princes. This extraordinary act was prompted solely by the
desire of immediate revenge upon the Venetians, and Visconti was not
slow to lend the required means for continuing the war, though he was
cautious with regard to actual hostilities, and attempted a
reconciliation by sending Petrarch as ambassador to Venice. The
negotiations failed, however, and each republic sent out a new fleet;
with extraordinary daring, Doria, the Genoese admiral, sailed up the
Adriatic and ravaged Istria and Parenzo, threatening Venice itself, but
retiring after inspiring something very like a panic. It was at this
moment that the Doge Andrea Dandolo died, and that Marino Faliero was
elected to succeed him.
On his side, Pisani, the Venetian commander, attempted no such
undertaking. Deceived, doubtless, by Doria’s clever manœuvres, he sought
him in the Archipelago, and thither Doria sailed, after his exploits in
the Adriatic. The hostile fleets met off Modon, opposite Sapienza, and
the engagement resulted in the
[Illustration: STREET IN CHIOCCIA]
total defeat of the Venetians. Niccolò Pisani himself, six thousand
other prisoners, and thirty galleys of war were carried off by Doria to
Genoa; and it has been justly said that had he placed his prisoners in
safety, manned his prizes, and sailed with them to Venice, the city must
have fallen an easy prey to his attack.
By this disaster Venice was reduced to great straits, and while private
citizens equipped men-of-war at their own cost, to help the country, the
Republic appealed to Giovanni Visconti and obtained a four months’
truce.
The battle of Modon, or Sapienza, was fought on the third of November
1354; the truce was obtained soon afterwards, and on the sixteenth of
April 1355 Marino Faliero was beheaded for treason.
[Illustration: THE SHRINE AT CHIOGGIA]