risk coming to Venice without a safe-conduct. She arrived in the depth
of winter in 1516, with four maids of honour, her chamberlain, her
physician, and twenty-two servants. As the Council of Ten was ashamed to
imprison her it placed her in the keeping of the patrician Dandolo, who
was the general inspector of the ducal prisons, and he placed at her
disposal his palace on the Grand Canal, which is now the Hôtel Danieli.
She took up her quarters there on the thirteenth of January with her
suite, and on the twentieth she appeared before the Doge and his
counsellors arrayed in a magnificent silk gown and a black satin mantle
lined with sable; a heavy gold chain hung down upon her bosom, and a
golden coif was set upon her hair in the German fashion; three young
girls dressed in black cloth followed her, one after the other, and an
old duenna, the physician, and the chamberlain brought up the rear.
The fair Countess addressed the Doge with feminine eloquence and tact.
She began by rendering thanks for the kindness and consideration shown
to her husband, and she requested permission to see him twice a week.
She argued that this permission was absolutely necessary to her, for she
said that she was very ill, and that the treatment ordered by her doctor
was of such a nature that she entirely declined to submit to it except
in the presence of her husband. The Doge and his counsellors had never
had to face such arguments before; they felt themselves absolutely
powerless, and yielded at once.
But on the morrow old Dandolo, the inspector of prisons, appeared before
them in a condition of indescribable dismay and excitement. He said that
when the Countess was at last in her husband’s prison, on the previous
evening, she had made such a scene in order to be allowed to stay all
night that he, Dandolo, had yielded much against his will and had left
the couple together. And now, in the morning, he had found the
[Illustration: PALAZZO RESSONICO]
Countess still in bed, declaring that she was dangerously ill, and
demanding that her doctor should be sent to her without delay.
The Doge and his counsellors were in a quandary, and Dandolo was tearing
his hair. Sanudo informs us that ‘there was much noise in the council’
that morning, and it is easy to believe that he was telling the truth.
Almost half of the grave magistrates were in favour of leaving the
Countess with her husband; the rest, with a very small majority, voted
that she must quit the prison. The motion passed, but it was one thing
to decide what she should do, and quite another thing to make her do it.
She declared that since she was inside the tower, no power on earth
should get her out of it, and she defied the Doge, the Council of Ten,
and all their works. Before such portentous obstinacy the government of
Venice retired in stupefaction, and she was left in peace.
But she was human, after all, and under prolonged imprisonment her
health broke down, and she was obliged to leave the tower each year to
go to the waters of Abano; but even then she refused to go out until a
formal promise had been given her that she should be allowed to return
immediately after the cure.
No doubt it was owing to her presence that Frangipane’s confinement
became by degrees less rigorous, and that he was even allowed to watch
the procession of Corpus Domini from the balcony of the Library.
Apollonia had come in January 1516, and the pair were not liberated
till more than two years later. Germany, France, and Venice signed a
truce of five years, and agreed to exchange prisoners and give hostages
on the thirty-first of July 1518. Francis I. asked that Germany should
hand him over Frangipane as security for keeping the peace, promising
that he should not be imprisoned, but should be merely a prisoner of the
King on parole. It was not freedom yet, but such a change was more than
welcome, and the negotiations with the Signory for Frangipane’s delivery
were completed on the third of September. The words he wrote in the
embrasure of the window of his prison may still be read, says Dr. Thode,
who copied the inscription which I reproduce:--
Fo inchluso. qua. in. torise ... fina.. terzo
zorno de. setembro. del. M.D. XVIII. io. Christoforo. Frangepanibus
Chonte. de. Veglia. Senia. et Modrusa
Et io. Apollonia. Chonsorte. de sopradicto signor. chonte.
Vene. far. chompagnia. a. quelo. adi. XX. Zenar. MDXVI perfina
sopra dicto setembro. Chi mal. e. ben. non. sa. patir. a. grande
honor. may. poi. venir. anche. ben. ne. mal. de. qui. per.
sempre. non. dura.
I translate literally as follows:--
I was shut up here in the Torrisella till the third day of
September of 1518, Christopher of the Frangipane, Count of Veglia,
Senia, and Modrusa. And I, Apollonia, wife of the aforesaid lord
Count, came to keep him company on the twentieth of January 1516
until the said September. ‘Who cannot bear good and ill fate, Will
never come to honour great.’ Also, Nor good nor evil lasts for ever
here.
Frangipane seems to have written this record during one of his wife’s
absences at Abano, being perfectly sure that he was about to be set at
liberty. But there had been a hitch in the negotiations. Venice was not
ready to hand him over, and meanwhile, when Apollonia came back she was
refused admittance. Dandolo again offered her a home in his palace, and
did all he could to help her. Frangipane, deprived of her comforting
presence, fell ill and went almost mad. Even the Doge himself supported
his request to be allowed to be taken to a private dwelling. It was in
vain; but Apollonia was at last allowed to return to her husband. They
left no means untried to obtain the fulfilment of the treaty, and at
last Dandolo became so exasperated with the Council of Ten that he
resigned his post of inspector of prisons, telling the councillors to
their faces that of twelve thousand prisoners who had been in his
keeping, first and last, Frangipane was the only one who had been able
to complain of injustice.
The Ten accepted his resignation almost without comment, and replaced
him by two nobles. Then the couple tried to escape, but were discovered
and again separated. At last the government consented to ask the King of
France what was to be done with his hostage, whom he seems to have quite
forgotten. He answered by requesting that Frangipane should be sent to
Milan and handed over to the French governor, De Lautrec.
The loving pair were allowed to meet in the prison again, two days
before the departure, but Apollonia was not permitted to follow her
husband to Milan, and a heart-rending farewell took place at
Lizzafusina, on the frontier. Having reached his destination, the
unlucky Frangipane found himself in a much worse prison than the one he
had occupied so long in Venice. Again his faithful wife succeeded in
joining him, to share his captivity. But her strength was far spent, and
she died on the fourth of September 1519, in the fortress of Milan; and
soon afterwards Frangipane succeeded at last in escaping by sawing
through the bars of his window and letting himself down by a rope.
[Illustration]
III
VENETIAN DIPLOMACY
Before quitting the subject of Venetian official life, I must devote a
few pages to the diplomacy of the Republic, which has remained famous in
history.
The kings of France often confided diplomatic missions to the clergy,
but the Venetian diplomatists were always laymen, without a single
exception. The Signory constantly professed the most devout faith in
Catholic dogma, and as constantly exhibited the most profound distrust
of the popes. The Vatican was, indeed, the chief object of the
government’s suspicion. From the fifteenth century onward, any noble
who entered holy orders lost his seat in the Great Council, and I have
already explained that during the discussion of matters relating to
Rome,
[Sidenote: _Cecchetti, Corte Romana._]
all the ‘papalisti’ were ordered to withdraw. When Sixtus V. was elected
Pope in 1585, and the Republic sent four ambassadors together to
congratulate him, the sixteen nobles who attended the mission were most
carefully chosen from among those who never could be ‘papalisti.’
In answer to any criticism of her methods, Venice was almost always able
to bring forward the unanswerable argument of success; but the pages
which record her diplomatic relations with other powers are not the
fairest in her history. Her dealings with her neighbours were regulated
by strictly business principles; and ‘business’ is, I believe, the art
of becoming legally possessed of that which is not our own.
The marvellous accuracy with which the Venetian ambassadors related to
their government the details of what they observed abroad is proverbial,
and has been a godsend to students of history, such as M. Yriarte, to
whom the world is so much indebted for his study of Marcantonio Barbaro.
The post of foreign representative was a most honourable one, but there
were overwhelming responsibilities connected with it. In early times,
when diplomatic relations were less close and less continuous, the
Republic had sent permanent embassies only to Rome and Constantinople;
to other capitals special envoys were only despatched when some matter
was to be discussed. But in the sixteenth century Venice had
ambassadors everywhere, and each week brought long letters from all
countries teeming with details, not only of political or military
events, but concerning social festivities, manners, customs, court
intrigues, and every sort of gossip.
These letters were read aloud on Saturday to the Senate, which thus
assisted at a sort of consecutive series of lectures on the history of
the times; and as it was customary to choose the ambassadors from among
the senators, it was tolerably sure that when chosen they would always
be well informed, up to the latest moment.
The missions of the Republic were limited to a residence of two years in
any one foreign capital; but this short time was amply sufficient to
bring about the financial ruin of the ambassador if he was not very
rich. It was his duty to display the most boundless magnificence for the
greater glory of the Republic, and his expenses bore no proportion to
his salary.
The following instructions, according to M. Yriarte, were given to
Marcantonio Barbaro on his departure for the court of France:--
‘You are to keep eleven horses for your service, including those of your
secretary and his servant, and four mounted messengers. You will
[Sidenote: _Yriarte, Vie d’un Patricien._]
receive for your expenses two hundred gold ducats monthly (about £1800
yearly), of which you are not required to render an account. You will
receive a thousand gold ducats for presents, and three hundred for the
purchase of horses, harness, and saddle cloths.’
The Secretary of Embassy was also named by the Senate, and though the
attachés might be chosen by the ambassador, his choice had to be
confirmed by the government. He was not allowed to take his wife with
him, as her presence might have distracted him from business, and also
because it might possibly have been a little prejudicial to the keeping
of secrets; but he was allowed to take his cook. These same instructions
appear as early as the thirteenth century.
Modern diplomatists, and especially Americans, will be interested to
know that the post of ambassador was so little desired as to make it
necessary to impose a heavy fine on any noble who refused it when he was
appointed; and it actually happened more than once that men paid the
fine rather than ruin themselves altogether in the service of their
sordid government. Once having left Venice, however, no resignation was
allowed, and the ambassador dared not return unless he was ordered to do
so. Requests for leave were very rare, and were only made under the
pressure of some very exceptional circumstances. Such a petition was
considered so serious a matter that when one arrived from abroad all
persons related to the ambassador were ordered to leave the Senate, lest
their presence should interfere with the freedom of discussion; but the
request was never granted unless two members of the family would swear
that the reasons alleged in the petition were genuine.
Legend assures us that each ambassador received, together with his
credentials, a box full of gold coin and a small bottle of deadly
poison. This is childish nonsense, of course, so far as the portable
realities were concerned, but ambassadors were instructed to hesitate at
nothing which could accomplish the purpose of the State, neither at
spending large sums which would be placed at their disposal when
necessary, nor at what the Senate was good enough to call measures of
exceptional severity--namely, murder.
The most important post in Venetian diplomacy was the embassy at
Constantinople, where the chief of the mission enjoyed the title of
Bailo, together with the chance of making a fortune instead of losing
one. The Bailo of Constantinople and the ambassador to the Pope took
precedence over all other Venetian diplomatists, and they were expected
to make an even greater display, especially at the pontifical court. The
four ambassadors sent to congratulate Sixtus V. on his election had each
four noble attachés, four armed footmen, and five-and-twenty horses, and
the one of the four who was already the resident in Rome was indemnified
for his expenses in order that he might appear as magnificently as his
three newly arrived colleagues.
On their return from a foreign mission the envoys of the Republic were
bound to appear at the chancery of the ducal palace, and to inscribe
their names there in a special register; and within a fortnight they
were required to render an account of what they had seen and learnt
abroad, and of the affairs with which they had dealt. These accounts,
called ‘relazioni,’ were brief recapitulations of their weekly letters
to the Senate; the first phrases were always written in Latin, but the
body of the discourse might be in Italian, or even in dialect. The
ambassador presented himself in full dress, wearing his crimson velvet
mantle and bringing the manuscript of his speech, which he afterwards
handed to the High Chancellor; for as early as the fifteenth century all
public speeches were required to be written out, in order that they
might be preserved exactly as they had been spoken, or rather read, for
it was not even allowable to recite them by heart. I need hardly add
that no stranger was ever admitted to hear an ambassador’s account of
his mission, and the senators swore a special oath of secrecy for the
occasion, even with regard to the most insignificant details.
Any one who examines a number of these documents will soon see that they
all begin with a portrait of the sovereign to whom the envoy was
accredited, and there is often a great deal about the royal family, its
surroundings, tastes, and habits. Almost invariably also the account
ends with a list of the presents and titles or decorations bestowed upon
the ambassador at the close of his mission, and all these he was
required to hand over intact to the Signory. Not uncommonly, however,
the presents were returned to him; but as no foreign titles could be
borne by Venetians, the recipient of them was usually created a Knight
of the Golden Stole, the only heraldic order recognised by the Republic
and in the gift of the government.
It would be curious to examine into the first causes
[Illustration: PALAZZO DARIO]
of the relations between Venice and the other European states. It was
the exchange of raisins for wool which obliged England and Venice to
send each other permanent diplomatic missions. Up to that time only
occasional special envoys had been necessary. The first time that
England addressed a letter to the Signory she employed as her official
agent a Neapolitan monk, the Bishop of Bisaccia, chaplain to King
Robert, and this was in 1340. The envoy came to say that King Edward the
Third of England had the honour to inform the Doge Gradenigo that he had
defied Philippe de Valois to say that he was the anointed of the Lord.
The envoy further stated that the two rivals were about to invoke the
judgment of God, either by going unarmed into a den of wild beasts, who
would of course respect the Lord’s anointed and promptly devour the
pretender, or else by ‘touching for King’s Evil.’ Beginning in the
[Sidenote: _Rawdon Brown, Archives._]
fifteenth century there is a long list of English ambassadors and
ministers resident in Venice. The last English diplomatic representative
in Venice was Sir Richard Worsley, of whom I shall have occasion to
speak hereafter.
All the foreign diplomatists in Venice were constantly on the look-out
for the arrival of the special mounted messengers attached to each
foreign embassy. These were celebrated throughout Europe for their speed
and discretion. In the fifteenth century they were thirty-two in number,
and formed a small guild which was under the protection of Saint
Catharine; and they were almost all natives of Bergamo, a city which is
still singularly noted for the honesty and faithfulness of its
inhabitants, and which even now furnishes Venice with trusty
house-porters and other servants of whom responsibility is required.
[Illustration: CALLE BECCHERIA]
In the _Souvenirs_ of M. Armand Baschet, I find that the courier who
brought the news of the signing of the treaty of Cambrai from Blois to
Venice covered the distance in eight days, the best previous record to
Paris, which is about the same distance, having been nine, and the usual
time employed being fifteen. The employment of State courier could be
bought and could be left by will.
Each ambassador of the Republic seemed to possess a part of the
marvellously universal vision that belonged to the Council of Ten. Mr.
Rawdon Brown made a special study of the weekly letters of the Venetian
ambassadors in England, and found, for instance, that one of the
Republic’s representatives succeeded in regularly copying the letters
which Queen Elizabeth wrote to her lovers, which were therefore read
aloud to the Senate with the greatest regularity, together with many
other curious details of English court life.
I shall give two specimens, translated from the weekly letters in the
Albèri collection. In 1531 the patrician Ludovico Falier came to render
an account of his mission to the Court of Henry VIII. He expresses
himself as follows, concerning that King and the English:--
In order that my discourse may be better understood I shall divide
it into two chief parts, of which the one concerns my journey, and
the other the most puissant King Henry VIII., and the manners and
customs of his country from the year 1528 to 1531.... On the tenth
of December I reached Calais [he had left Venice in the middle of
October, but had travelled by short stages with a numerous suite];
it is a city of the French coast which belongs to the most serene
King of England, as I shall have occasion to repeat hereafter.
There I went on board a vessel to cross the ocean, which after
behaving furiously during the passage at last threw me upon the
English shore. I therefore arrived at Dover much more tired by
these few hours of navigation than by a journey of ninety days on
dry land. Having rested a little at Dover I got on horseback to go
to London. At St. George’s I met my most illustrious predecessor
Venier with several personages of the Court, including the most
reverend the Cardinal (Thomas Wolsey), and we all entered the city
together, and they accompanied me to my house. I was ordered almost
at once to go to the Cardinal, in order to kiss his hand, for this
ceremony always preceded that of an audience with the King; such is
the power of this prince [of the Church]. On leaving his apartment
I was conducted to his most serene Majesty, with whom I then had
the interview which I described in detail in my letter to your
Signory and to this glorious Senate.
The ambassador goes on to speak in the past tense of Cardinal Wolsey,
who had fallen into disgrace in the interval. He goes on to speak of the
Queen, who was then Catharine of Aragon.
My lady the Queen is small of stature, and plump, and has an honest
face; she is good and just, affable and pious. She speaks fluently
Spanish, Flemish, French, and English. Her subjects love her more
than they ever loved any Queen; she is five and forty years old,
and she has already lived thirty-five years in England.
The ambassador speaks of the King next.
God has united in King Henry VIII. beauty of soul with beauty of
body, so that every one is astonished by such wonders ... he has
the face of an angel, for it would not be enough to say that he is
handsome; he resembles Cæsar, his look is calm, and contrary to
English fashion, he wears his beard; who would not admire so much
beauty accompanied with so much strength and grace? He rides very
well, jousts and handles a lance with great skill; he is a very
good shot and an excellent tennis player. He has always cultivated
the extraordinary qualities with which nature has adorned him from
his birth, for he thinks that nothing is more unnatural than a
sovereign who cannot dominate his people by his moral and physical
qualities.
And here the ambassador seems to have thought that he had gone rather
far, for he finds something to say about Henry’s less admirable
characteristics.
Unhappily this prince, so intelligent and reasonable, is given up
to idleness, has allowed himself to be led away by his passions,
and has left the government of the State in the hands of a few
favourites, the most powerful of whom was the Cardinal, until he
fell into total disgrace. Since then, from having been generous, he
has become miserly, and whereas formerly all those who treated of
affairs with him went away satisfied and covered with gifts, he now
allows all to leave the Court with discontent. He makes a show of
great piety, hears two low masses every day, and high mass also, on
feast days. He gives to the poor, to orphans, widows, young girls,
and infirm persons, and for these charities he gives his almoner
ten thousand ducats yearly. He is beloved by all. He is forty years
of age and has reigned twenty-two.
Falier speaks next of the climate of Great Britain and the products of
the country, and gives a long description of a brewery. He briefly but
sufficiently describes the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and
gives some account of the British Constitution. He gives also a
statement of the King’s sources of income with their amount, and the
accuracy of the figures suggests that he must have got access to papers
not intended for his perusal.
His Majesty may count upon over five hundred thousand ducats
[£375,000] a year, divided as follows:--
Ducats.
From the Crown (Lands) 190,000
Customs 150,000
Vacant Benefices 40,000
Privy Seal 10,000
Rebels (Confiscations, etc.) 50,000
Lands on the Continent 10,000
Fines for Crimes 25,000
Royal Guards 50,000
_______
Total 525,000
=======
I cannot tell exactly what he gets from taxes, but from information
which I have endeavoured to obtain from grave and experienced
persons, His Majesty exacts from his subjects about a million of
ducats; for the six millions of ducats which he had inherited from
his father were all spent in the wars with France, Flanders, and
Scotland. His Majesty usually spends 425,000 ducats for his Court,
which consists of five hundred men; namely, twenty-six
chamberlains, of whom one is Treasurer of the Chamber [keeper of
the privy purse?], one is a Majorduomo called a ‘Steward,’ his
assistant, who carries a little white stick as a sign of his
dignity; the Treasurer General, who pays all accounts; the
accountant who distributes [the payments]; the ‘cofferers’ in
charge of the said accounts; the Master of the Horse who has the
management of the royal stables. There are three hundred horses,
between Arabs, Turkish horses and racers, hackneys and others. His
Majesty has also eight chaplains, of whom one distributes his
charities, and there are many persons for his service of whom I do
not speak in detail lest I should fatigue Your Serenity. His
Majesty has always in his pay three hundred halberdiers who are on
guard by tens at a time for the King’s person, and pass the night
in the private antechamber.
His Majesty spends as follows:--
Ducats.
For the Maintenance of his Court 100,000
Presents 120,000
Horses 20,000
Parks, and Packs of Hounds 50,000
Soldiers who guard the Fortresses 30,000
His Majesty’s Chamber (Privy Purse) 30,000
Buildings 10,000
Charities 10,000
Embassies and King’s Messengers 40,000
Expenses of the Queen (Catharine of Aragon), and
the Princess (Mary) 30,000
-------
Total 440,000
=======