Chapter 2: A Conspiracy.
Chapter 3: On The Grand Canal.
Chapter 4: Carried Off.
Chapter 5: Finding A Clue.
Chapter 6: The Hut On San Nicolo.
Chapter 7: On Board A Trader.
Chapter 8: An Attack By Pirates.
Chapter 9: The Capture Of The Lido.
Chapter 10: Recaptured.
Chapter 11: The Battle Of Antium.
Chapter 12: In Mocenigo's Power.
Chapter 13: The Pirates' Raid.
Chapter 14: The End Of The Persecutor.
Chapter 15: The Battle Of Pola.
Chapter 16: The Recapture Of The Pluto.
Chapter 17: An Ungrateful Republic.
Chapter 18: The Release Of Pisani.
Chapter 19: The Siege Of Chioggia.
Chapter 20: The Triumph Of Venice.
Preface.
Of all the chapters of history, there are few more interesting or
wonderful than that which tells the story of the rise and progress of
Venice. Built upon a few sandy islands in a shallow lagoon, and
originally founded by fugitives from the mainland, Venice became one of
the greatest and most respected powers of Europe. She was mistress of
the sea; conquered and ruled over a considerable territory bordering on
the Adriatic; checked the rising power of the Turks; conquered
Constantinople; successfully defied all the attacks of her jealous
rivals to shake her power; and carried on a trade relatively as great
as that of England in the present day. I have laid my story in the time
not of the triumphs of Venice, but of her hardest struggle for
existence--when she defended herself successfully against the coalition
of Hungary, Padua, and Genoa--for never at any time were the virtues of
Venice, her steadfastness, her patriotism, and her willingness to make
all sacrifice for her independence, more brilliantly shown. The
historical portion of the story is drawn from Hazlitt's History of the
Republic of Venice, and with it I have woven the adventures of an
English boy, endowed with a full share of that energy and pluck which,
more than any other qualities, have made the British empire the
greatest the world has ever seen.
G. A. Henty.
Chapter 1: Venice.
"I suppose you never have such nights as these in that misty island of
yours, Francisco?"
"Yes, we have," the other said stoutly. "I have seen just as bright
nights on the Thames. I have stood down by Paul's Stairs and watched
the reflection of the moon on the water, and the lights of the houses
on the bridge, and the passing boats, just as we are doing now.
"But," he added honestly, "I must confess that we do not have such
still, bright nights very often, while with you they are the rule,
though sometimes even here a mist rises up and dims the water, just as
it does with us."
"But I have heard you say that the stars are not so bright as we have
them here."
"No, I do not think they are, Matteo. I do not remember now, but I do
know, when I first came here, I was struck with the brightness of the
stars, so I suppose there must have been a difference."
"But you like this better than England? You are glad that your father
came out here?"
Francis Hammond did not answer at once.
"I am glad he came out," he said after a pause, "because I have seen
many things I should never have seen if I had stayed at home, and I
have learned to speak your tongue. But I do not know that I like it
better than home. Things are different, you see. There was more fun at
home. My father had two or three apprentices, whom I used to play with
when the shop was closed, and there were often what you would call
tumults, but which were not serious. Sometimes there would be a fight
between the apprentices of one ward and another. A shout would be
raised of 'Clubs!' and all the 'prentices would catch up their sticks
and pour out of the shops, and then there would be a fight till the
city guard turned out and separated them. Then there used to be the
shooting at the butts, and the shows, and the Mayday revels, and all
sorts of things. The people were more merry than you are here, and much
more free. You see, the barons, who are the same to us that your great
families are to you, had no influence in the city. You are a nation of
traders, and so are we; but in London the traders have the power, and
are absolute masters inside their own walls, caring nothing for the
barons, and not much for the king. If anyone did wrong he got an open
and fair trial. There was no fear of secret accusations. Everyone
thought and said as he pleased. There was no Lion's Mouth, and no
Council of Ten."
"Hush! hush! Francisco," the other said, grasping his arm. "Do not say
a word against the council. There is no saying who may be listening."
And he looked nervously round to see if anyone was within earshot.
"There it is, you see," his companion said. "So long as we have a safe
conscience, in London we are frightened at nothing, whereas here no one
can say with certainty that he may not, before tomorrow morning, be
lying in the dungeons of St. Mark, without the slightest idea in the
world as to what his crime has been."
"There, there, Francisco," Matteo said uneasily. "Do talk about other
things. Your notions may do very well in England, but are not safe to
discuss here. Of course there are plenty here who would gladly see a
change in some matters, but one cannot have everything; and, after all,
when one has so much to be proud of, one need not grumble because
everything is not just as one would like."
"Yes, you have much to be proud of," Francis Hammond agreed. "It is
marvellous that the people of these scattered islets should be masters
of the sea, that their alliance should be coveted by every power in
Europe, that they should be the greatest trading community in the
world. If I were not English I should like to be Venetian."
The speakers were standing at the edge of the water in front of the
Palace of St. Mark. In the piazza behind them a throng of people were
walking to and fro, gossiping over the latest news from Constantinople,
the last rumour as to the doings of the hated rival of Venice, Genoa,
or the purport of the letter which had, as everyone knew, been brought
by the Bishop of Treviso from the pope to the seignory.
The moon was shining brightly overhead, and glittering in the waters of
the lagoon, which were broken into innumerable little wavelets by the
continual crossing and recrossing of the gondolas dotting its surface.
There was a constant arrival and departure of boats from the steps,
fifty yards to the right of the spot where the speakers were standing;
but where they had stationed themselves, about halfway between the
landing steps and the canal running down by the side of the ducal
palace, there were but few people about.
Francis Hammond was a lad between fifteen and sixteen years old. His
father was a merchant of London. He was a man of great enterprise and
energy, and had four years before determined to leave his junior
partner in charge of the business in London, and to come out himself
for a time to Venice, so as to buy the Eastern stuffs in which he dealt
at the headquarters of the trade, instead of paying such prices as the
agents of the Venetian traders might demand in London.
He had succeeded beyond his expectations. In Venice there were
constantly bargains to be purchased from ships returning laden with the
spoils of some captured Genoese merchantman, or taken in the sack of
some Eastern seaport. The prices, too, asked by the traders with the
towns of Syria or the Black Sea, were but a fraction of those charged
when these goods arrived in London. It was true that occasionally some
of his cargoes were lost on the homeward voyage, captured either by the
Genoese or the Moorish pirates; but even allowing for this, the profits
of the trade were excellent.
The English merchant occupied a good position in Venice. The promptness
of his payments, and the integrity of his dealings, made him generally
respected; and the fact that he was engaged in trade was no drawback to
his social position, in a city in which, of all others, trade was
considered honourable, and where members of even the most aristocratic
families were, with scarcely an exception, engaged in commerce. There
were many foreign merchants settled in Venice, for from the first the
republic had encouraged strangers to take up their residence there, and
had granted them several privileges and advantages.
Between Venice and England there had always been good feeling. Although
jealous of foreigners, England had granted the Venetians liberty to
trade in London, Southampton, and some other towns as far back as the
year 1304; and their relations had always been cordial, as there were
no grounds for jealousy or rivalry between the two peoples; whereas the
interference of France, Germany, Austria, and Hungary in the affairs of
Italy, had frequently caused uneasiness to Venice, and had on several
occasions embroiled her with one or other of the three last named
powers. France had as yet taken a very minor part in the continual wars
which were waged between the rival cities of Italy, and during the
Crusades there had been a close alliance between her and Venice, the
troops of the two nations fighting together at the siege of
Constantinople, and causing the temporary overthrow of the Greek Empire
of the East.
The rise of Venice had been rapid, and she owed her advancement to a
combination of circumstances. In the first place, her insular position
rendered her almost impervious to attack, and she had therefore no
occasion to keep on foot any army, and was able to throw all her
strength on to the sea, where Genoa was her only formidable rival. In
the second place, her mercantile spirit, and her extensive trade with
the East, brought in a steady influx of wealth, and her gold enabled
her to purchase allies, to maintain lengthy struggles without
faltering, and to emerge unscathed from wars which exhausted the
resources, and crippled the powers, of her rivals.
The third source of her success lay in the spirit of her population.
Like Rome in her early days, she was never cast down by reverses.
Misfortune only nerved her to further exertions, and after each defeat
she rose stronger than before. But the cause which, more than all,
contributed to give to Venice her ascendancy among the cities of Italy,
was her form of government. Democratic at first, as among all
communities, it had gradually assumed the character of a close
oligarchy, and although nominally ruled by a council containing a large
number of members, her destinies were actually in the hands of the
Doge, elected for life, and the Council of Ten, chosen from the great
body of the council. Thus she had from the first been free from those
factions which were the bane of Genoa and Florence. Some of the great
families had from time to time come more prominently to the front than
others, but none had attained predominant political power, and beyond a
few street tumults of slight importance, Venice had not suffered from
the popular tumults and uprisings which played so prominent a part in
the history of her rivals.
Thus, undisturbed by discord at home, Venice had been able to give all
her attention and all her care to her interests abroad, and her
affairs, conducted as they were by her wisest citizens, with a single
eye to the benefit of the state, had been distinguished by a rare
sagacity. Her object had been single and uniform, to protect her own
interests, and to prevent any one city on the mainland attaining such a
preponderance as would render her a dangerous neighbour. Hence she was
always ready to ally herself with the weaker against the stronger, and
to aid with money and men any state struggling against an ambitious
neighbour. Acting on this principle she by turns assisted Padua against
Verona, and Verona against Padua, or either of them when threatened by
the growing power of Milan, and at the end of a war she generally came
out with an increased territory, and added importance.
It is probable that no community was ever governed, for hundreds of
years, with such uniform wisdom and sagacity as was Venice; but the
advantage was not without drawbacks. The vigilance of the Council of
Ten in repressing plots, not unfrequently set on foot by the enemies of
the republic, resulted in the adoption of a hateful system of
espionage. The city was pervaded with spies, and even secret
denunciations were attended to, and the slightest expression of
discontent against the ruling authorities was severely punished. On the
other hand, comparatively slight attention was paid to private crime.
Assassinations were of frequent occurrence, and unless the victim
happened to be very powerfully connected, no notice was taken when a
man was found to be missing from his usual place, and his corpse was
discovered floating in the lagoon. Consequently crimes of this kind
were, in the great majority of cases, committed with impunity, and even
when traced, the authors, if possessed of powerful protectors, seldom
suffered any greater punishment than temporary banishment.
After standing for some time on the Piazzetta, the two lads turned and,
entering the square of Saint Mark, mingled with the crowd. It was a
motley one. Nobles in silks and satins jostled with fishermen of the
lagoons. Natives of all the coasts and islands which owned the sway of
Venice, Greeks from Constantinople, Tartar merchants from the Crimea,
Tyrians, and inhabitants of the islands of the Aegean, were present in
considerable numbers; while among the crowd, vendors of fruit and
flowers from the mainland, and of fresh water or cooling drinks, sold
their wares. The English lad's companion--Matteo Giustiniani--belonged
to one of the leading families of Venice, and was able to name to
Francis most of the nobles and persons of importance whom they passed.
"There is Pisani," he said. "Of course you know him. What a jolly,
good-tempered looking fellow he is! The sailors would do anything for
him, and they say he will have command of the next fleet that puts to
sea. I wish I was going with him. There is sure to be a fierce fight
when he comes across the Genoese. His father was one of our greatest
admirals.
"That noble just behind him is Fiofio Dandolo. What a grand family they
have been, what a number of great men they have given to the republic!
I should like to have seen the grand old Doge who stormed the walls of
Constantinople, and divided the Eastern empire among the crusading
barons. He was a hero indeed.
"No; I don't know who that young noble in the green velvet cap and plum
coloured dress is. O yes, I do, though; it is Ruggiero Mocenigo; he has
been away for the last two years at Constantinople; he was banished for
having killed Polo Morosini--he declared it was in fair fight, but no
one believed him. They had quarrelled a few days before over some
question of the precedence of their families, and Morosini was found
dead at the top of the steps close to the church of Saint Paolo. Some
people heard a cry and ran up just as Mocenigo leapt into his gondola,
but as it rowed off their shouts called the attention of one of the
city guard boats which happened to be passing, and it was stopped. As
his sword was still wet with blood, he could not deny that he was the
author of the deed, but, as I said, he declared it was in fair fight.
The Morosinis asserted that Polo's sword was undrawn, but the Mocenigo
family brought forward a man, who swore that he was one of the first to
arrive, and pick up the sword and place it in its scabbard to prevent
its being lost. No doubt he lied; but as Mocenigo's influence in the
council was greater than that of the Morosini, the story was accepted.
However, the public feeling was so strong that they could not do less
than sentence Ruggiero to two years' banishment. I suppose that has
just expired, and he has returned from Constantinople. He had a bad
reputation before this affair took place, but as his connections are so
powerful, I suppose he will be received as if nothing had happened.
There are plenty of others as bad as he is."
"It's a scandalous thing," Francis Hammond said indignantly, "that,
just because they have got powerful connections, men should be allowed
to do, almost with impunity, things for which an ordinary man would be
hung. There ought to be one law for the rich as well as the poor."
"So there is as far as the state is concerned," his companion replied.
"A noble who plots against the state is as certain of a place in the
lowest dungeons as a fisherman who has done the same; but in other
respects there is naturally some difference."
"Why naturally?" Francis retorted. "You belong to a powerful family,
Giustiniani, and my father is only a trader, but I don't see that
naturally you have any more right to get me stabbed in the back, than I
have to get you put out of the way."
"Naturally perhaps not," Matteo laughed; "but you see it has become a
second nature to us here in Venice. But seriously I admit that the
present state of things has grown to be a scandal, and that the doings
of some of our class ought to be put down with a strong hand."
"Well, I shall say goodnight now," the English boy said. "My father
doesn't like my being out after ten. He keeps up his English habits of
shutting up early, and has not learned to turn night into day as you do
here in Venice."
"The bell has just tolled the hour, Francis," his father said as he
entered.
"I didn't think it was quite so late, father; the Piazza is crowded. I
really do not think there is one person in Venice who goes to bed so
early as we do. It is so pleasant in the moonlight after the heat of
the day."
"That is true enough, Francis, but men are meant to sleep at night and
to work in the day. I think our fathers carried this too far when they
rang the curfew at eight; but ten is quite late enough for any honest
man to be about in the streets, and the hours of the early morning are
just as pleasant and far more healthy than those of the evening,
especially in a place like this where the mists rise from the water, to
say nothing of the chance of meeting a band of wild gallants on their
way homewards heated with wine, or of getting a stab in the back from
some midnight assassin. However, I do not blame Venice for enjoying
herself while she can. She will have more serious matters to attend to
soon."
"But she is at peace with every one at present, father. I thought when
she signed the treaty with Austria after a year's fighting, she was
going to have rest for a time."
"That was only the beginning of the trouble, Francis, and the council
knew it well; that was why they made such terms with Austria as they
did. They knew that Austria was only acting in accord with Hungary, and
Padua, and Genoa. The others were not ready to begin, so Austria came
on her own account to get what booty and plunder she could. But the
storm is gathering, and will burst before long. But do not let us stand
talking here any longer. It is high time for you to be in bed."
But though Francis retired to his room, it was more than an hour before
he got into bed. His window looked down upon one of the canals running
into the Grand Canal. Gondolas lighted by lanterns, or by torches held
by servitors, passed constantly backwards and forwards beneath his
window, and by leaning out he could see the passing lights of those on
the Grand Canal. Snatches of song and laughter came up to him, and
sometimes the note of a musical instrument. The air was soft and balmy,
and he felt no inclination for sleep.
Francis thought over what his father had said of the probability of
war, as he sat at his window, and wished that he were a couple of years
older and could take part in the struggle. The Venetian fleet had
performed such marvels of valour, that, in the days when military
service was almost the sole avenue to distinction and fortune, the
desire to take part in a naval expedition, which promised unusual
opportunities of gaining credit and renown, was the most natural thing
possible for a boy of spirit.
Francis was a well built lad of nearly sixteen. He had, until he left
London when about twelve years old, taken his full share in the rough
sports which formed so good a training for the youths of England, and
in which the citizens of London were in no way behind the rest of the
kingdom. He had practised shooting with a light bow and arrows, in
company with boys of his own age, in the fields outside the city walls;
had engaged in many a rough tussle with light clubs and quarterstaffs;
and his whole time--except for an hour or two daily which he had, as
the son of a well to do citizen, spent in learning to read and
write--had been occupied in games and exercises of one kind or other.
Since his arrival in Venice he had not altogether discontinued his
former habits. At his earnest solicitation, his father had permitted
him to attend the School of Arms, where the sons of patricians and
well-to-do merchants learned the use of sword and dagger, to hurl the
javelin, and wield the mace and battleaxe; and was, besides, a
frequenter of some of the schools where old soldiers gave private
lessons in arms to such as could afford it; and the skill and strength
of the English lad excited no slight envy among the young Venetian
nobles. Often, too, he would go out to one of the sandy islets, and
there setting up a mark, practise with the bow. His muscles too, had
gained strength and hardness by rowing. It was his constant habit of an
evening, when well away from the crowded canals in the gondola, with
Giuseppi, the son and assistant of his father's gondolier, to take an
oar, for he had thoroughly mastered the difficult accomplishment of
rowing well in a gondola; but he only did this when far out from the
city, or when the darkness of evening would prevent his figure from
being recognized by any of his acquaintances, for no Venetian of good
family would demean himself by handling an oar. Francis, however,
accustomed to row upon the Thames, could see no reason why he should
not do the same in a gondola, and in time he and his companion could
send the boat dancing over the water, at a rate which enabled them to
overtake and distance most pair-oared boats.
After breakfast next morning he went down to the steps, where Beppo and
Giuseppi, in their black cloth suits with red sashes round their
waists, were waiting with the gondola in which Mr. Hammond was going
out to Malamocco, to examine a cargo which had the day before arrived
from Azoph. Giuseppi jumped ashore.
"I have heard of just the gondola to suit you, Messer Francisco, and
you can get her a bargain."
"What is she like, Giuseppi?"
"She belongs to a man out at Lido. She was built for the race two years
ago, but her owner fell sick and was unable to start. He has not got
strong again, and wants to sell his boat, which is far too light for
ordinary work. They say she is almost like an eggshell, and you and I
will be able to send her along grandly. She cost four ducats, but he
will sell her for two."
"That is capital, Giuseppi. This gondola is all well enough for my
father, but she is very heavy. This evening we will row over to Lido
and look at her."
A few minutes later Mr. Hammond came down. Beppo and his son took off
their jackets, and in their snow white shirts and black trousers, set
off by the red scarf and a red ribbon round their broad hats, took
their places on the bow and stern. Mr. Hammond sat down on the cushions
in the middle of the boat, and with an easy, noiseless motion the
gondola glided away from the stairs. Francis, with a little sigh,
turned away and strolled off for a couple of hours' work with the
preceptor, with whom he had continued his studies since he came to
Venice.
This work consisted chiefly of learning various languages, for in those
days there was little else to learn. Latin was almost universally
spoken by educated men in southern Europe, and Greeks, Italians,
Spaniards, and Frenchmen were able to converse in this common medium.
French Francis understood, for it was the language in use in the court
and among the upper classes in England. Italian he picked up naturally
during his residence, and spoke it with the facility of a native. He
could now converse freely in Latin, and had some knowledge of German.
At the same school were many lads of good Venetian families, and it was
here that he had first made the acquaintance of Matteo Giustiniani, who
was now his most intimate friend.
Matteo, like all the young nobles of Venice, was anxious to excel in
military exercises, but he had none of the ardour for really hard work
which distinguished his friend. He admired the latter's strength and
activity, but could not bring himself to imitate him, in the exercises
by which that strength was attained, and had often remonstrated with
him upon his fondness for rowing.
"It is not seemly, Francisco, for a gentleman to be labouring like a
common gondolier. These men are paid for doing it; but what pleasure
there can be in standing up working that oar, till you are drenched
with perspiration, I cannot understand. I don't mind getting hot in the
School of Arms, because one cannot learn to use the sword and dagger
without it, but that's quite another thing from tugging at an oar."
"But I like it, Matteo; and see how strong it has made my muscles, not
of the arm only, but the leg and back. You often say you envy me my
strength, but you might be just as strong if you chose to work as I do.
Besides, it is delightful, when you are accustomed to it, to feel the
gondola flying away under your stroke."
"I prefer feeling it fly away under some one else's stroke, Francisco.
That is pleasant enough, I grant; but the very thought of working as
you do throws me into a perspiration. I should like to be as strong as
you are, but to work as a gondolier is too high a price to pay for it."
That evening, Francis crossed the lagoon in the gondola with Giuseppi,
to inspect the boat he had heard of. It was just what he wanted. In
appearance it differed in no way from an ordinary gondola, but it was a
mere shell. The timbers and planking were extremely light, and the
weight of the boat was little more than a third of that of other craft.
She had been built like a working gondola, instead of in the form of
those mostly used for racing, because her owner had intended, after the
race was over, to plank her inside and strengthen her for everyday
work. But the race had never come off, and the boat lay just as she had
come from the hands of her builder, except that she had been painted
black, like other gondolas, to prevent her planks from opening. When
her owner had determined to part with her he had given her a fresh coat
of paint, and had put her in the water, that her seams might close up.
"I don't like parting with her," the young fisherman to whom she
belonged said. "I tried her once or twice, and she went like the wind,
but I got fever in my bones and I am unlikely to race again, and the
times are hard, and I must part with her."
Francis and Giuseppi gave her a trial, and were delighted with the
speed and ease with which she flew through the water. On their return
Francis at once paid the price asked for her. His father made him a
handsome allowance, in order that he might be able to mix, without
discomfort, with the lads of good family whom he met at his preceptor's
and at the schools of arms. But Francis did not care for strolling in
the Piazza, or sitting for hours sipping liquors. Still less did he
care for dress or finery. Consequently he had always plenty of money to
indulge in his own special fancies.
As soon as the bargain was completed, Giuseppi took his place in the
old gondola, while Francis took the oar in his new acquisition, and
found to his satisfaction that with scarcely an effort he could dart
ahead of his companion and leave him far behind. By nightfall the two
gondolas were fastened, side by side, behind the gaily painted posts
which, in almost all Venetian houses, are driven into the canal close
to the steps, and behind which the gondolas belonging to the house lie
safe from injury by passing craft.
"I have bought another gondola, father," Francis said the next morning.
"She is a very light, fast craft, and I got her cheap."
"I don't see what you wanted another gondola for, Francis. I do not use
mine very much, and you are always welcome to take it when I do not
want it."
"Yes, father, but you often use it in the evening, and that is just the
time when one wants to go out. You very often only take Beppo with you,
when you do not go on business, and I often want a boat that I could
take with Giuseppi. Besides, your gondola is a very solid one, and I
like passing people."
"Young people always want to go fast," Mr. Hammond said. "Why, I can't
make out. However, Francis, I am not sorry that you have got a boat of
your own, for it has happened several times lately, that when in the
evening I have gone down intending to row round to the Piazzetta, I
have found the boat gone, and have had to walk. Now I shall be able to
rely on finding Beppo asleep in the boat at the steps. In future, since
you have a boat of your own, I shall not be so particular as to your
being in at ten. I do not so much mind your being out on the water,
only you must promise me that you will not be in the streets after that
hour. There are frequent broils as the evening gets on, not to mention
the danger of cutthroats in unfrequented lanes; but if you will promise
me that you will never be about the streets after half past nine, I
will give you leave to stay out on the water till a later hour; but
when you come in late be careful always to close and bar the door, and
do not make more noise than you can help in coming up to your room."
Francis was much pleased with this concession, for the obligation to
return at ten o'clock, just when the temperature was most delightful
and the Grand Canal at its gayest, had been very irksome to him. As to
the prohibition against being in the streets of Venice after half past
nine, he felt that no hardship whatever, as he found no amusement in
strolling in the crowded Piazza.