MARINO FALIERO; VETTORE PISANI AND CARLO ZENO.
In the autumn of 1354, Marino Faliero of San Apostoli, Count of
Valdemarino, although seventy-six years old, and having already
served the Republic in several important offices, was elected Doge.
At this time he was Venetian Legate at Avignon, and an envoy
extraordinary was sent to inform him of his election and attend him
on his return. At Verona he was met by an escort of honor, and the
Bucentaur awaited him at Chioggia, that he might make his entrance
into Venice as became his dignity; but as the State barge neared the
city, a dense fog made it unsafe to proceed with so large a ship, and
the ducal party was forced to take small boats to land. The gondola
in which Faliero was seated drew up at the Molo, exactly between the
Columns of Executions, which was thought by the Venetians to be a
sinister augury in the beginning of a reign, and was frequently
recalled in later years.
During the forty-two years in which Faliero had filled positions of
honor, at home and abroad, he had become accustomed to deciding
important questions on his own responsibility; his life had not
prepared him to be a lay figure and enjoy it, and he soon found that
a Doge was now little more than this. Faliero, too, was of a quick
temper, and had not hesitated to box the ears of a bishop who had
kept him waiting on a public occasion when he was Podestà at Treviso.
He was vigorous in health and {141} youthful in fooling, and had
married, late in life, a second wife, who was young and beautiful;
and his jealousy led him to believe that she was admired and coveted
by every gentleman who had the privilege of her acquaintance.
Naturally, her position as Dogaressa brought her in contact with all
the nobility of Venice, and the gay and dashing young cavaliers soon
discovered the weakness of the old husband.
On Carnival Thursday, April 2, 1355, the old-time ceremony of
immolating an ox and twelve boar-pigs, which symbolized the Patriarch
of Aquileia and his canons, was celebrated in the Piazza, which was
filled with a brilliant assemblage; the court looked on from the
palace windows, and later the Dogaressa gave a magnificent
entertainment to the rank and beauty of Venice. In the course of the
festivities a knot of gay young fellows who surrounded the maids of
honor grew boisterous, and indulged a freedom of conduct which
aroused the wrath of the Doge. He singled Michele Steno as the
victim of his displeasure, and commanded his exclusion from the scene.
Steno, full of mortification and rage, sought his revenge, and before
leaving the palace, managed to write, on the chair of the Doge, a
most insulting taunt, which naturally roused him to fury. Steno was
brought before the Forty, and sentenced to prison for two months and
to exile for a year. This lenient punishment was regarded by Faliero
as a more serious cause of complaint than the insult itself had been,
and he demanded that Steno should come before the Ten and receive a
severe sentence,--if not death, at least perpetual banishment. But
the age of the culprit, who might have been Faliero's grandson, and
the consideration that his offence was a folly rather than a crime,
precluded such severity; and the old Doge was reminded that before
the court he was but the equal of the poorest gondolier on the canals.
{142}
Faliero cursed the patricians and the laws which had made the head of
the Republic so helpless; and just then the admiral of the Arsenal
complained to him of an insult which he had received, and demanded
redress. Faliero replied with bitterness that he could not obtain
for others the justice which was denied him. One thing led to
another, until the admiral darkly hinted at a revenge which would
overturn the present condition of affairs and give the Doge more
power. The two men soon understood each other, and when they parted
were already conspirators against the State. Immediately they made a
plan for a revolution; each sought to enlist his friends in the
conspiracy, and soon about twenty were pledged to its aid.
The months that had passed since Faliero had been but a figure-head
to that republic in which he had hitherto been a leading spirit, had
brought him continual mortification and suffering. He had returned
to Venice in proud triumph, having received the highest honor that
the State could confer, which should be the crown and glory of his
life. He had come to rule, but he had found the palace little less
than a prison, his power a myth, and his condition a sort of gilded
bondage. His opinion was dominated by that of the Ten; and even the
giovinastri who paraded their youth and their finery in the Broglio
could laugh him to ridicule, and insult him unpunished.
The plot of the Doge and his sympathizers was badly and hastily
devised. They believed that in ten days six hundred and fifty
poniards would be at their service; and on the 15th of April, amid
cries of "Viva il Principe Faliero," the members of the obnoxious
order were to be sacrificed as they gathered in the Piazza, the
tocsin having been rung, and a false report of the arrival of a
Genoese fleet off the Lido occupying their minds. Not a suspicion of
the insurrection existed, and even the {143} followers of the chief
conspirators did not know what they were to do; they were simply to
obey when commanded.
But, as usually happens, when the time drew near, one of the
conspirators had his own reasons for betraying the plot. In this
case it was Beltramo, the skinner, who wished to save his especial
patron, Lioni, who, being of quick wit, at the first hint from
Beltramo had him arrested, and hastened to the palace to disclose his
fears and suspicions to the Doge. Faliero made light of them, but in
so awkward and embarrassed a manner as to arouse fresh misgivings
where he endeavored to allay them; and Lioni, taking two other nobles
with him, returned for a second examination of Beltramo, who now
exposed the whole plot, taking care, however, to conceal the part
which Faliero had in it.
The news was carried to the Ten at once. They too had heard a
similar report, and were suspicious that some leaders of very exalted
position were involved in the conspiracy. The tribunal summoned all
its members to an extra sitting, _omitting only Niccolo Faliero,
nephew of the Doge_. Decisive measures were taken at once; the city
was put under martial law, and the conspirators were arrested to the
number of twenty or more. Ten of these were hanged at the casements
of the palace two days before the rising was to have taken place; one
of the Falieri was imprisoned, and a Calendario was banished for
life. Some names were entered on the Register of the Suspected; some
of the suspected were set at liberty as blameless, and others
received minor punishments.
In the course of all these proceedings the truth concerning Faliero
had become known, and on April 16 he was conducted to the Chamber of
the Great Council, attired in his robes of state, and was there
accused of treason. He made no plea of denial, but acknowledged all,
and declared himself the worst of criminals. The question of his
punishment {144} was put to vote, and but one suffrage was cast in
favor of his life. His sentence was delivered: "Marino Faliero,
being convicted of conspiring against the Constitution, should be
taken to the head of the grand staircase of St. Mark's, and there,
being stripped of the ducal bonnet and the other emblems of his
dignity, should be decapitated." The Doge was then led back to the
palace, maintaining his composure with heroic determination.
The next morning he was again led to the Great Council Chamber, where
a body of councillors, decemvirs, and advocates surrounded him and
attended him to the place of execution. To the vast concourse of all
conditions of men who were there assembled, the Doge made an address
which was received in an awful stillness. He implored the
forgiveness of the Venetians, and declared his sentence to be just.
His crown and ducal robes were then removed, and replaced by a black
cloak and cap. His head was severed from his body at a single
stroke, and the mutilated remains were viewed by thousands, in San
Marco, before the burial. This occurred at the church of SS.
Giovanni e Paolo, the "Zanipolo" which we all know so well, either
through visits or books; there Faliero was secretly buried, and no
inscription told those who walked above his grave that there rest had
been found for the body of the fiery old Doge. The Ten simply
inscribed upon their books one sentence, "LET IT NOT BE WRITTEN," and
his portrait was hung in the Hall of the Great Council after his
death; but twelve years later, the Ten substituted for the picture a
black crape veil with the inscription, "This is the place of Marino
Faliero, beheaded for his crimes." Perhaps no better method could
have been taken to keep his name alive and cause his story to be
repeated from one generation to another, ever raising the question,
Was it a crime? Is not Mrs. Oliphant near the truth when she says,--
{145}
"The incident altogether points more to a sudden outbreak of the rage
and disappointment of an old public servant coming back from his
weary labors for the State, in triumph and satisfaction to what
seemed the supreme reward; and finding himself no more than a puppet
in the hands of remorseless masters, subject to the scoffs of the
younger generation, supreme in no sense of the word, and with his
eyes opened by his own suffering, perceiving for the first time what
justice there was in the oft-repeated protest of the people, uud how
they and he alike were crushed under the iron heel of that oligarchy
to which the power of the people and that of the prince was equally
obnoxious."
It seems like the irony of fate that the informer, Beltramo, should
have been rewarded hy the Ten with a thousand ducats and the
privilege of wearing arms, while but two thousand ducats were given
to the Doge's family out of all his vast property. But Beltramo
considered his claims so poorly satisfied that he outraged the Ten by
his conduct and was thrown into prison. It is said that after his
liberation he was assassinated by one of the conspirators whom he had
betrayed.
VETTORE PISANI AND CARLO ZENO.
On April 22, 1378, the Doge Andrea Contarini, in the Basilica of San
Marco, invested Pisani with the supreme command of the Venetian
fleet. As he presented the great banner to him, the Doge solemnly
said: "You are destined by God to defend with your valor this
Republic, and to retaliate upon those who have dared to insult her
and to rob her of that security which she owes to the virtues of our
progenitors. Wherefore we confide to you this victorious and dread
standard, which it will be your duty to restore to us unsullied and
triumphant."
Pisani was fifty-four years old, and during more than half his life
had been in the active service cf the Republic, {146} sometimes in
its naval battles, again as Governor of Candia, then as Captain of
the Gulf, and everywhere successful. Now, in the full strength of
middle life, he was adored by the common people, and by the nobles
regarded with that hatred which is born of envy.
Two days after receiving his command, Pisani sailed from the Lido
with fourteen galleys, in pursuit of the Genoese fleet under Admiral
Fieschi. Not meeting the enemy, Pisani boldly sailed up the Tuscan
sea, spreading consternation in Genoa, which was just then threatened
with an attack by land. But Pisani soon sailed away, and met Fieschi
on May 30, off Porto d' Anzo.
The day was most unpropitious for battle; the sky was covered with
black, angry-looking clouds, while the rain poured down in torrents.
The galleys carried no sails, and the oars were frequently high in
air on one side while the ship rolled in the sea on the other. The
men found it difficult to stand; and when the vessels met, it was
dangerous and almost impossible to pass from one to another. At one
moment two ships were in violent action, side by side; and then,
quicker than it can be told, a mountainous wave raised one upon its
crest while the other was buried in a yawning gulf.
All through this terrible day the battle raged, and at its close
Pisani was victorious. He had taken or sunk four of the nine Genoese
ships; he had eight hundred prisoners, among whom was Fieschi
himself. Half of them were sent to Candia, and half to Venice, where
noble ladies dressed their wounds, and tended them with such
charitable piety that the names of eight of their number have been
preserved in history.
The season was spent by Pisani in constantly cruising in search of
another Genoese fleet under Luciano Doria, and in making a series of
brilliant attacks on the towns of the Hungarian and Greek coasts. He
was also sent to {147} escort Valentina Visconti to her husband,
Peter II. of Cyprus; and in the autumn, in opposition to his most
earnest wishes, he was commanded to remain at that island for the
winter.
Pisani's lieutenant was Carlo Zeno, who came of a family noted for
its bravery. He was ten years younger than Pisani, and had passed
his life in adventures worthy of a knight of fame; indeed, he had
been called "Zeno the Unconquered." He also had scoured the sea
during the summer of 1378, in search of the enemies of the Republic,
and had performed feats of daring and skill. Like Pisani, he often
acted on an impulse which savored of recklessness, while it was but
bravery. Zeno was also a scholar, and had been eminent in his
college at Padua; but his besetting sin of gambling obliged him to
fly, and his after life had been one long romance, until he entered
the service of Venice in 1377.
Pisani's forebodings for the winter at Cyprus were more than
realized; and in the spring of 1379, out of nineteen galleys six only
were fit for service, and scarcely men enough to man these were still
alive. But his personal friends in Venice built and equipped twelve
other ships, so that his fleet numbered eighteen sail. His enemies
were busy at Venice; but in spite of them and in spite of his
absence, he was confirmed in his office, and Carlo Zeno and Michele
Steno were made his lieutenants.
During the spring Pisani diligently prosecuted his search for the
Genoese fleet without success; but on the 7th of May, 1379, when he
was returning from Brindisi with a large convoy of grain, Doria, with
twenty-five sail, including two brigantines, suddenly presented
himself in the roads of Pola. Pisani had many good reasons for not
wishing to give battle to the Genoese at this time: his ships were
fewer than Doria's; there was much sickness among his men; Zeno was
absent on another expedition, {148} and he thought it wiser to act on
the defensive only. But the council of civilians who were with him
were unanimous in favor of an engagement, and even hinted at
cowardice in Pisani, whose rage at this injustice was almost
uncontrollable, and it was with great difficulty that he so far
governed himself as not to attack his accusers.
He bade his captains prepare for battle, and soon all was in
readiness. Pisani, in full armor, standing on the stern deck
addressed his men: "Remember, my brethren, that those who now face
you are the same whom you have vanquished with so much glory on the
Roman shore. Let not the name of Luciano Doria terrify you; it is
not the names of commanders that will decide the conflict, but
Venetian hearts and Venetian hands!" He then cried out, "He that
loves Saint Mark, let him follow me!" and this battle-cry was echoed
from ship to ship.
At first the day was propitious to the Venetians, who fought with
even more than their usual intrepidity, and victory seemed to be
theirs, when the Genoese vessels began a retreat and Pisani followed
in pursuit. After several miles had thus been made, and the Venetian
ships were separated from each other, by a skilful manoeuvre Doria
turned about, and renewing the combat with great vigor and ferocity,
gained a complete victory.
From seven to eight hundred Venetians perished; twenty-four hundred
were made prisoners, and but six galleys remained afloat. Near the
end of the conflict Doria had raised his visor, exclaiming, "The foe
are already vanquished; the battle is all but ours," when Donato Zeno
plunged his lance into the throat of the victorious admiral, killing
him instantly.
Venice was filled with consternation and surprise when this dreadful
news was known. Her only fleet was destroyed; the enemy was
approaching the lagoons, and {149} Carlo Zeno was far away. A
terrible cry was raised against Pisani; his enemies could now make
him pay for his popularity and greatness and for some of his
outbursts of temper from which they had suffered, and they demanded
the extreme penally. He was brought to Venice in fetters, and was
not permitted to speak a word in self-defence. In July it was moved
in the Senate that he be beheaded between the Columns; but with a
shudder, this motion was denied, and he was sentenced to prison for
six months and to exclusion from all offices for five years.
[Illustration: Molo of San Marco; Columns of Execution.]
In August the Genoese fleet appeared before Venice, under the command
of Pietro Doria. Happily, some preparations had been made, and the
ports of Lido and Malamocco were blocked with sunken vessels, chains,
and palisades, but that of Brondolo was still open, and there the
enemy entered. Genoa was now allied with Hungary, Naples, Padua,
Aquileia, Austria, and Ancona against Venice. Twenty-four thousand
men were landed, and siege laid to the citadel of Chioggia. The
Venetians who held the place under Pietro Emo were not more than
thirty-five hundred; for six days these brave men held out against
such fearful odds, and even then were defeated by accident. Hazlitt
gives a picturesque description of the event:--
"On the 16th an alarm was suddenly spread among the troops of the
Podestà that the bridge behind them was in flames. It was a
fireship, of which the combustion in the canal of Santa Caterina had
diffused the erroneous impression. The Genoese caught and echoed the
cry, and renewed their flagging exertions with fresh ardor. They are
mowed down by the guns as they advance; the carnage is terrific.
Still, like demons in whose breast the thirst for vengeance and the
lust of spoil has extinguished the fear of death, they continue to
come up. The Venetians begin to lose ground and to fall back upon
the bridge. {150} They recede a little and a little more. It is in
vain that Emo and fifty chosen men-at-arms dispute the front with
desperate tenacity and transcendent heroism, foot to foot and hand to
hand. The position is slowly forced. The allies are upon the
bridge. The Venetians quicken their retrograde pace. In their haste
they omit to destroy the communication; and they enter the gates
pell-mell with their pursuers. Thus Chioggia fell."
The allies and Venetians had each lost many men, and nearly four
thousand Venetians were prisoners. The town was pillaged, but the
women were protected from harm. Some of the Venetians paid enormous
ransoms,--Emo three thousand ducats; and others probably as much, so
that the gain to the allies was large.
No words can portray the effect of the news of the fall of Chioggia
at Venice. The bell of the Campanile was tolled, and at once the
armed citizens filled the Piazza. The sobs and moans of women were
heard; elsewhere they were seen wringing their hands and tearing
their hair in mute despair. Some men, too, yielded to fear; while
others in their avarice hid their treasures. But the majority were
true Venetians, and declared that "the State cannot be lost while
those remain who can man a galley and handle a pike;" and the aged
Doge, the Council, and Senate refused to allow any reason for
despair. There was a scarcity of food, and the Republic was much
straitened in its resources; but Venetian fidelity would endure
everything before it would submit to defeat.
Nothing had been known of Carlo Zeno since his separation from
Pisani; his arrival would turn the scale, and he might come any day,
since an envoy had been sent to recall him, and before taking any
further warlike measures it was determined to try negotiation. But
Doria, who almost felt that at Chioggia he had conquered Venice,
replied: "By God's faith, my Lords of Venice, ye shall have no peace
from the Lord of Padua or from our {151} Commune of Genoa until I
have put a bit into the mouths of the horses of your Evangelist Saint
Mark. When they have been bridled, you shall then, in sooth, have a
good peace; and this is our purpose, and that of our Commune." Some
Genoese prisoners had been sent with the embassy, and their
unconditional surrender offered as a bait to the allies; but Doria
scornfully sent them back, saying that in a few days he would come to
release them and the rest of his countrymen.
Then all Venice was roused; the bell which summoned the popular
assembly was rung, and the people were informed of their present
peril, and invited to aid the government with wisdom and advice.
There was, however, but one opinion; all desired to arm and go forth
with such galleys as were at the Arsenal,--they thought it better to
perish in defence of Venice than to perish in her palaces and squares
from want. A terrible crisis followed: all salaries were suspended;
no business was done; and by a new loan, to which the citizens
liberally subscribed, the finances were bettered. The city was
fortified by earthworks from Lido to Santo Spirito, and towers were
erected on each side the pass of San Niccolo.
A new captain-general was now to be elected, and the favorite of the
government, Taddeo Giustiniani, was nominated; but the people with
one accord refused to serve under any man save Vettore Pisani. After
a day's debate, late in the evening some Senators were deputed to
inform Pisani that the Doge and Senate were awaiting him. Naturally
the hero was much moved; and he replied that he preferred to have the
night for reflection, and to wait on the Seigniory the next morning.
Accordingly, at daybreak, the delegates, followed by the people, came
to the gates of the prison; and when he appeared with his usual
cheerful and good-humored aspect, he was lifted by some of his old
sailors and borne {152} on their shoulders to the palace, amid cries
of "Viva il Nostro Vettore! Viva Vettore Pisani!" but he chidingly
cried, "Viva San Marco!" The Doge and senators met him on the
staircase and graciously welcomed him. Mass was celebrated. Pisani
was some time in conclave with the College, the people constantly
shouting his name outside; and when he emerged he was borne, as he
had come, to his own house in San Fantino, where he had not been for
fifteen months.
As he was passing the Campanile, his old pilot, Corbaro, drew near to
him and shouted out, "Now is the time, _Compadre_, for revenging
yourself by seizing the dictatorship of this city. Behold, all are
at your service; all are willing at this very instant to proclaim you
prince, if you choose!" Pisani boiled with rage, and dealing Corbaro
a heavy blow on the cheek, burst into indignant speech, and at last
exclaimed: "Let none who wish me well say Viva Pisani! but, Viva San
Marco!" and the populace then shouted, "Viva San Marco e Vettore
Pisani! Viva il Pisani, ch'e nostro Padre!" and the throng was so
dense from the Piazza to San Fantino that not another man could have
found room to stand.
But the people soon learned that Pisani had merely been given the
command of the Lido, while Giustiniani was at the head of the navy.
Then a great tumult arose; and although the government alleged that
Pisani was needed at the Lido, the people to the number of fifty
thousand refused to embark on the galleys until Vettore Pisani was
made captain-general of all the forces of the Republic by sea and
land. The matter was then referred to the Ten, who were awed into
compliance; and the commission was granted as desired, and this but
four days after the fall of Chioggia, so hastily had all been done.
Meantime the allies had progressed less rapidly, owing to divisions
in their counsels; but they had pushed {153} forward to Malamocco,
and there erected a battery within three miles of the capital. Many
stray shots reached Santo Spirito.
Pisani had much to do to make efficient sailors and soldiers of raw
recruits, to provide for the safety of the city, to equip between
twenty and thirty skeletons of galleys which were at the Arsenal and
were ready for sea in three days, and to attend to the lists of the
volunteers. The whole city was enthusiastically patriotic. "All
classes hastened to enroll themselves. Painters quitted their
studios to be initiated in the rudiments of naval discipline on the
Giudecca; cutlers and apothecaries closed their workshops, and
devoted themselves to drilling and exercise. Artisans brought their
savings; women plucked the jewels from their dresses, and begged the
Seigniory to dispose of them as they would."
Pisani found the wooden towers which Giustiniani had erected at Porto
Lido to be insufficient, and demolished them in order to build others
of stone. Giustiniani, full of rage, endeavored to persuade the
friends of Pisani not to approve of this; and he, seeing the
hesitation, seized a trowel, crying, "He that loves Saint Mark, let
him follow me!" and laid the first stone with his own hands. The men
returned to their duty, and the castles of San Andrea and San Niccolo
were built in four days! Many other preparations were made; and when
on August 24 the Genoese attempted an attack at two different points,
they were repulsed in such a manner as to convince them of the
futility of their efforts, and the siege of Venice was raised. After
a few weeks Doria destroyed the works he had raised at Malamocco and
retired to Chioggia, there to await the fall of Venice by starvation.
The situation in Venice was so desperate that some of the councillors
even made a motion for emigration to Candia or Negropont; but this
wild notion was met with {154} declarations that death among the
ruins of Venice would be preferable to life elsewhere. Food was so
scarce and dear that a large proportion of the people were famishing;
even the wealthy families often ate their last loaf not knowing where
to get another, and they were also as charitable as it was in their
power to be to their poorer countrymen. Thus the autumn passed and
winter had come, and yet Carlo Zeno had not returned. He was the
only hope for Venice and her people. A letter found on a captured
vessel gave information of splendid successes which he had achieved
and rich booty that he had taken; his name inspired terror from the
Golden Horn to the Riviera, and he was now probably off Canea,
whither a messenger was sent to command his immediate return.
Just at this point Barbarigo captured three of the Genoese ships and
took one hundred and fifty prisoners, and Pisani advised that this
good fortune should be followed up by an endeavor to recover
Chioggia. He recognized the daring and difficulty of the
undertaking; but not to make this effort meant starvation, and they
might reasonably count on the aid of Zeno very soon. This advice was
acted upon, and a decree was published that of those families of
plebeians who should most liberally meet this emergency by the offer
of soldiers and money, thirty should be summoned to the Great
Council; that to those not thus called five thousand ducats should be
annually distributed, and continued to their heirs forever; that all
foreign merchants who showed zeal for the cause should be made
citizens, and all Venetians who eluded the burdens and hardships of
the time should forfeit all civil rights. This measure produced
immediate results. Men and money were freely offered; and the Doge
Contarini, seventy-three years old, but hale and hearty still, wished
to assume command, with Pisani as his admiral and
vice-captain-general.
{155}
Pisani had learned, by one means and another, that Doria had thirty
thousand men, fifty galleys, seven hundred or more light craft, and
full supplies of every sort. The odds against the Venetians were
overwhelming, but they delayed not, and December 21 was fixed for the
beginning of the attack. Thirty-four galleys, sixty barks, and four
hundred boats of all sorts of build and dimensions made up the
Venetian fleet. Orders were issued that every man should be at his
post in the ships, at noon, under pain of death. The whole force was
divided into three parts,--the first under command of Pisani; the
centre under the Doge, assisted by Cavalli; and the last under
Cornaro, called _Collo storto_ from his crooked neck. At the hour
for vespers the Doge, Pisani, and the leaders attended a Mass in San
Marco, and it was eight o'clock before Contarini mounted his barge
and unfurled the same great banner which had floated above the
victory over Barbarossa. All had been done rapidly and without noise.
It was a mild winter evening; the stars were bright and the sea calm,
and everything seemed propitious to the undertaking. Soon after
passing the Lido a fog came on, but speedily disappeared; and not far
from ten o'clock the fleet was off the Pass of Chioggia, at the
southern point of Pelestrina. Pisani had planned to blockade the
Genoese instead of attacking them; and in the course of three days
the Strait of Chioggia was choked and dammed on the shores of
Pelestrina and Brondolo.
But this had been done at the cost of great hardships and loss of
life. Even in this winter-time the men had worked in the water up to
their waists, all the while in danger of drowning as well as of being
shot by the enemy. They began to murmur; they declared that this was
more than flesh and blood could bear, and they demanded leave to
return to Venice. Pisani had shared all their perils, {156} but he
knew that great firmness was required to put down this discontent,
and he asked the Doge, in a tone which made his request a command, to
swear on his sword that he would not return to Venice unless Chioggia
was taken. Contarini took this oath without hesitation. This scene
occurred on Christmas eve.
The Venetian engineers, now that the blockade was complete even to
the canal of Lombardy, began the erection of a fort at Fassone, and
mounted it with cannon of the largest caliber; one, called the
"Trevisan," could throw stones weighing one hundred and ninety-five
pounds, and the "Victory" was almost as powerful. Neither of these
could be fired more than once in twenty-four hours! By the time that
this work was accomplished, December 29, the condition of the
Venetians was deplorable. They were on half rations, and every day
in collision with the enemy, while the cold was piercing. The
officers, oarsmen, and crossbowmen now declared that they would brave
all consequences and return to Venice. Even Pisani was shaken for a
little; but he summoned all his heroism and fortitude, and besought
his men to hold out until Zeno could reach them. He prevailed, but
at the cost of a pledge that if Zeno had not arrived on New Year's
day, he would raise the blockade and return home.
Upon so slender a thread was Pisani forced to hang the existence of
the Republic. Forty-eight hours might decide that the civilization
of the world was to be sunk in darkness; that art, science, and
letters were to be lost in a deluge of bloodshed. For if Venice were
conquered, by whom would she be ruled? Such contentions must ensue
as would involve all Europe, and result in consequences too
disastrous to be imagined. The suspense of the last two days of the
year was past any telling, and no change had come; but the first
glimmer of the light of the New Year revealed fifteen sail in the
offing. Can we understand {157} the anxiety of the Doge and his
leaders as they asked the question, "Are these our ships under Zeno,
or are they new forces for our enemies?" Light boats were despatched
to learn the truth, and no imagination can apprehend the delirious
joy when it was found that the Lion of St. Mark had been hoisted by
the new-comers. Carlo Zeno was there, and Venice was saved!
It is needless to dwell upon the details of the continued siege of
Chioggia and the various efforts made by the Genoese. They did not
easily submit to their fate. They tried negotiation, and made every
effort for a compromise; but the Venetians had suffered too much to
make any terms save those of unconditional surrender, and this came
at last on June 22, and Chioggia was given up to pillage by the Star
Company of Milan and the Tard Venus of Sir John Hawkwood, the
mercenary troops to which this privilege had been promised. The
booty was enormous, and the Republic gained nineteen good ships, and
large stores of salt, powder, and equipments of all kinds; the salt
alone was valued at ninety thousand crowns.
The prisoners numbered 4,440, and were more like ghosts than men, so
near starvation had they come. They were sent to Venice, where many
died in their prisons while preparations were being made for the
triumphal return of Contarini. This occurred on the first day of
July, and was as magnificent as such a spectacle at Venice was sure
to be. But rarely, even in this city, had so remarkable a trio been
seen as that of the patriotic and dauntless Doge, the single-hearted
Pisani, and the peerless Zeno.
But two days elapsed before Pisani again set sail and occupied
himself in opposing the enemies of the Republic. In pursuit of the
Genoese he reached Manfredonia on August 12. The hardships of
service and imprisonment had told on the constitution of the Admiral,
and he was {158} now attacked by fever which greatly alarmed his
friends; but he made light of it, and on the 18th despatched Corbaro,
his old companion, with eight galleys to follow the Genoese fleet,
which was in sight. But his impatience overcame his resolution to
remain behind, and in spite of all expostulation he left his
sick-bed, armed himself, and directed his sails to be set. The
enterprise failed; Corbaro was killed; Pisani was wounded slightly,
and returned at evening to Manfredonia much dejected, ill, and
fainting. He was removed to the house of the commandant of the port,
who procured a physician for him; he requested an amanuensis, and
dictated a long letter to the Senate, closing with his plans which
should "make Genoa rue the day when she entered upon the War of
Chioggia."
The letter finished, he asked for water, and then for bread, which he
began to eat ravenously, but suddenly changed color, gasped for
breath, and sank lifeless upon his pillow. He was but fifty-six
years old, and his life-work would have honored fourscore years,
since we live not by time, but by deeds. He was deeply mourned, and
the tears on the faces of the weather-beaten sailors when they
learned of the death of their "Father" proved how truly they had
loved their brave commander, who had survived the redemption of the
Doge's vow but seven weeks.
The most sumptuous funeral was decreed by the Senate, and he was to
be buried in San Antonio di Castello, where his father and brother
already rested. The whole people were so wrapped in grief, and the
public mind so occupied with the obsequies, that "if the smallest
Genoese fleet had made a descent at that conjuncture, the country
would have stood in the utmost peril." As the procession was about
to move, a popular clamor was raised, the people declaring that
Pisani ought to be buried nowhere but in {159} the Ducal Chapel; and
just when a tumult was threatened, a sailor put his shoulder to the
bier, crying out, "We, his children, are carrying this brave captain
to our Father, Saint Anthony!"
This quelled the excitement, and the procession began to move; it
extended from San Fantino to San Antonio, and yet, when the
pall-bearers were entering the church, hundreds had not found a place
in the line!
A splendid mausoleum was erected over the family vault, upon which
was placed a statue of Pisani, in the uniform of a captain-general,
grasping an ensign with two streamers, and surmounted by a cross.
The capture of Cattaro, in August, 1379, was later painted to his
honor by Andrea Vicentino in the Sala dello Scrutinio, in the Ducal
Palace.
In 1381 a peace was made at Turin between Venice and the allies, and
immediately afterwards the Senate redeemed its promise and created
thirty new councillors, selected from the loyal grocers, skinners,
apothecaries, and other plebeian traders. A series of public
festivities followed; the newly made nobles went in procession to San
Marco, bearing lighted tapers in their hands; tournaments, regattas,
and banquets were held with unusual rejoicings, for the sadness of
many months was forgotten, and thankfulness and joy filled all
hearts. We may well imagine that some patricians of ancient and
honorable descent saluted the newly ennobled masons and other
artisans with a poor grace; but that was of small account to these
men who had earned the honors that the others had simply been born
to, by sacrificing much for the Republic, and they fully enjoyed
their new estate and its privileges.
Contarini lived to witness this happy conclusion of the recent war,
and died in 1382, when seventy-four years old. He may be called the
last of the hero-princes of {160} his time. He had been a grand
central figure in the dreadful days of the Chioggian War; by his
example he had imparted courage to failing hearts, and by his oath to
conquer Chioggia or see Venice no more, he made it impossible for his
soldiers and sailors to desert him, and thus his chivalry warded off
failure and catastrophe. The generation which followed him listened
to the tales of those who had fought under Pisani on the sea, or
served under Contarini at Chioggia, with the same breathless interest
with which our youth now listen to the stories of the veterans who
were engaged in our own struggles for the preservation of our country.
When Vettore Pisani died, there was but one man thought worthy to
replace him, and Carlo Zeno was made Admiral of the Fleet. Under him
the Adriatic bore no enemies to Venice upon its bosom, and he
suffered no defeat in any encounter, although the remaining
thirty-six years of his life were largely spent in the service of the
Republic.
Jacopo Zeno, Bishop of Padua, was the grandson of Carlo, and his
biographer. He tells us that Carlo was "square-shouldered,
broad-chested, solidly and strongly made, with large and speaking
eyes, and a manly, great, and full countenance; his stature neither
short nor tall. Nothing was wanting to him which strength, health,
decorum, and gravity demanded."
The details of his life as given by the Bishop are not altogether
assuring as regards "decorum and gravity;" for although he certainly
was an admirable general or admiral, he was equally capable as a
pirate, and though his patriotism was undoubted, he could make
himself quite at home with any sort of men from any part of the
globe. Indeed, he served Galeazzo Visconti at Milan and in Piedmont
for ten years with the same zeal that he hnd served Venice. During
this time he loaned four hundred {161} ducats to Francesco da
Carrara, who then was at peace with Venice; some years later this
money was repaid, and the entry in Carrara's book was simply this:
"To Carlo Zeno, paid four hundred ducats."
After the death of the Carrarese and after Zeno's return to Venice,
this register was sent to the Ten. A suspicion that Carlo Zeno had
accepted a bribe was the natural result, and he was called before the
secret tribunal. He told the simple truth; but it availed nothing,
and he was sentenced to loss of public place and rank, and two years
in prison! The Bishop vividly portrays the indignation which
followed this sentence in Venice and in other cities where Zeno was
known; and he does not say that his grandfather was a prisoner for
two years, but he does say that when he was at liberty he went to
Jerusalem, and turned his thoughts to spiritual things.
As he was returning, he aided the King of Cyprus to defeat the
Genoese and save the island with the cunning and skill of his younger
days, though he was now past seventy; and after reaching Venice, he
married a third wife, as his grandson frankly states, "for no other
reason than to secure good domestic government, and a consort and
companion who would take upon herself all internal cares, and leave
him free to study philosophy and the sacred writings."
He surrounded himself with learned men, and his house became a centre
for the exchange of thought among scholars, statesmen, and good
citizens, while he spent his days in reading, writing, and constant
attendance on the services of the Church. "In the cold winter he had
his bed filled with books, so that when he had slept sufficiently he
could sit up in bed, and pass the rest of the night in reading, nor
would he put down his book save for some great necessity."
But this serene and undisturbed life did not continue to {162} his
end. His wife and his favorite son, the father of the Bishop, died;
the son was but thirty, and his old father was desolate. His son
Pietro was a naval commander of honorable repute, but it was on
Jacopo that the old man's heart was fixed. At last, in 1418, when
eighty-four years old, and honored by all Venice, the father also
died.
The religious orders claimed the privilege of carrying him to his
grave; but the seamen of Venice rose as one man, and hastened to the
Doge to claim their right to bear the body of their beloved
commander. "Their prayer was granted; and with all the
ecclesiastical splendors in front of them, and all the pomp of the
State behind, the seamen of Venice carried him to his grave, each
relay watching jealously that every man might have his turn."
His tomb was in a church of the Cistercians, destroyed long since.
Its site is now a part of the Arsenal. Let us hope that his bones
rest beneath so fitting a monument as this for "Zeno the Unconquered."
{163}