The conspirators had believed that their marching would be the signal for a rising of the people; but they were disappointed, and each advancing step proved that they had no sympathy from the masses.
Quirini reached the Piazza first; and as he entered the square, the soldiers charged on him with the cry of "Traitors! kill them, kill them!" Quirini and his two sons were cut down at once, it is said by the hand of Giustiniani himself, and seeing their leader killed, his followers fled wildly. When Bajamonte reached the Piazza, he was received in like manner; his standard, inscribed LIBERTÀ, was struck to the ground, the bearer being killed by a heavy flower-pot thrown from a window above him by a woman. This was the signal for a panic; and Bajamonte, with his men, turned to fly. Here and there they made a stand, and a fight ensued; they burned the customs offices, and at length reached the Rialto. This wooden bridge was cut down behind them; and they shut themselves within the house of Quirini, which was a fortress and defensible.
Meantime the followers of Quirini who escaped from the Piazza were attacked by soldiers in the Campo San Luca, and cut to pieces. The only hope remaining to the insurgents was that Badoer might arrive from Padua with the aid he had been sent to ask; but he was cut off by the Chioggians, and Bajamonte had no reliance save himself, his few followers, and the strength of his position.
The Doge soon sent envoys to him, offering amnesty and even pardon, should the rebels submit; but Bajamonte steadily refused. Gradenigo knew that Tiepolo could not be taken in his present quarters without a great loss of men and property; he also reflected that if he captured the leader he must either permit a traitor to go free, or execute the most popular man in all Venice. For these reasons he determined to use all possible means to bringabout a satisfactory negotiation; but everything proved ineffectual until an old man, and one much respected, Filippo Belegno, after many arguments and long persuasion, prevailed on Bajamonte to relent and accept the terms of the Doge, which he had at first believed to be but a snare for him and his followers.
By these terms Bajamonte and all the insurgents who had a right to a seat in the Council were banished to Dalmatia for four years; those of lower rank were pardoned on swearing allegiance to the Doge and the Constitution, and returning all the goods that had been taken from private dwellings or government stores. The lives of any of the exiles detected in breaking their parole would be forfeited, and to harbor them or correspond with them was made treasonable. Their wives and families were expelled from the Dogado, and the houses of Bajamonte and of the Quirini were demolished; on the site of the first a Column of Infamy was raised, and the armorial bearings of both houses were changed.
One cannot avoid a feeling of sympathy for Badoer and others who, being taken fighting, were beheaded, nor a sentiment of scorn for the traitor Donato, whose treachery was rewarded by a seat in the Council without election, while his family were made noble forever. Even Giustina Rosso was not forgotten, and for dashing down that flower-pot which came so near being fatal to Bajamonte, she was permitted to hold her residence in the Merceria for fifteen ducats annually, and to unfurl a standard from the so-called "mortar casement" on every festival day, and in 1341 her bust was placed near the Sotto Portico del Capello.
The 15th of June, being the day of San Vito, was made a festival, and one of the great Venetian anniversaries, when the Doge went in grand and solemn state to the very small and ancient church of that saint to give thanksfor the deliverance from this most important of the Venetian insurrections.
Bajamonte Tiepolo lived a stormy and unhappy life. In 1311 he was a conspirator at Padua, and somewhat later was hunted out of Treviso; in 1322 the Ten offered a reward for his capture; in 1328 the Doge was ordered to secure him if possible: but death fortunately released him from all his tortures. He had ever longed for the lagoons, the Piazza, his oldcontrada, and all the ways of his beloved Venice; but he refused all the proposals made to him for his return,—he could not trust the dreaded Ten.
However, so long as Gradenigo lived, he was haunted by fear of Tiepolo, and of what he might do; indeed, one historian goes so far as to say that he died of this revolt and its consequences. For a time the Venetians were constantly suspecting an ambush in the streets, and went to their beds in dread of the night and of the morrow. It was believed that only the most stringent measures could prevent a repetition of this insurrection, and that even worse things might happen. This tendency of the public mind found expression in a petition for a Committee of Inquiry, which proved to be the origin of the famous Council of Ten.
This Council was organized for a few months only, and for the special purpose of making a searching inquiry into all the ramifications of the late conspiracy. But on the following Michaelmas Day the Doge made one of his rare visits to the Great Council, for the purpose of saying that as the day had come on which the authority of the Ten expired, he recommended its extension for two months, as the need of it still existed in order to root out sedition and treason. The amendment was passed and the time extended to November 30, and again to January 30, 1311. At that time it was thought best to establish it for five years; and at last, in 1335, it was made permanent,and became the tyrant and terror of Venice. In his "Venetian Studies" Brown says:—
"More terrible than any personal despot, because impalpable, impervious to the dagger of the assassin, it was no concrete despotism, but the very essence of tyranny. To seek its overthrow was vain. Those who strove to wrestle with it clasped empty air; they struck at it, but the blow was wasted on space. Evasive and pervasive, this dark, inscrutable body ruled Venice with a rod of iron. For good or for bad, the Council of Ten was the very child of the new aristocracy, which had won its battle against both the people and the old nobility. The victorious party breathed, and their breath became the Ten; and it is the Ten which determined the internal aspect of Venice for the remainder of her existence."
Thus had Gradenigo silently and determinedly worked a greater revolution than Bajamonte could have made, had he succeeded in his plans; and he had made himself hated in his success, while his rival was beloved to the end. The name of Pietro Gradenigo is not so frequently mentioned as those of other Doges and generals of the Republic. The man who firmly established the aristocrats in power and originated the Council of Ten is forgotten in the importance and vast results of his work; but so far as the sovereignty of Venice was concerned, no man was more remarkable than Gradenigo.
When he died, in August, 1311, he was hastily buried at Murano. Whether this was because he was so hated that a riot was feared, or on account of his excommunication, we know not. How truly of him could it be said, he brought nothing into this world; and it is certain he carried nothing out,—not even sufficient respect from those he had benefited to lead them to follow him to his grave. This was all the more noticeable from its contrast with the usual obsequies of those who held his office. Hazlitt gives the following account of a Doge's funeral:
"In the first instance the ducal remains were transported from the Palace on the shoulders of twenty of the oldest Senators to the saloon of the Signori di Notte; one of the household marched in front, carrying a sheathed sword with the point upward; and a large number of patricians followed the corpse. The Doge was splendidly attired in the costume which he wore on state occasions; and the gilded spurs, indicating his equestrian rank, were fastened at his heels. After a brief interval the procession was again set in motion; and, the members of the College having taken leave at this point, the rest proceeded to St. Mark's, where the Dogaressa and her ladies and a throng of mourning nobles had assembled. Here the burial service was performed with the accustomed solemnity; and after its celebration the bearers resumed their burden, and the body was conveyed, with every mark of pomp, to the family vault."
With Bajamonte Tiepolo died the old nobility. He and it and the people were sacrificed to the new aristocrats, who had overridden the old Constitution. From the Quirini-Tiepolo conspiracy the peculiar government which was purely Venetian, and unparalleled elsewhere, may be dated; and strangely enough, the leaders of the revolt contributed largely to the success of Gradenigo, since, but for the insurrection, it is doubtful if he could have riveted his chains and clasped them with the Council of Ten.
Time has obliterated the traces of the rebellion. The Column of Infamy was broken soon after its erection by one of Bajamonte's admirers, and after many removals from one garden to another it was carried to Como. A square of white marble in the pavement of the Campo of Sant' Agostino, inscribed "Col: Bai: The: MCCCX.," is the sole reminder of the insurrection; and this is where few strangers go, in the heart of Venice, between the Frari and the Campo San Polo.
The family of the Tiepolo were not crushed by the failure and exile of Bajamonte. Their palaces, alwaysbearing two obelisks on the roofs, are still seen on the Grand Canal, and prove that in later days this house was not disgraced by the remembrance of the Gran Cavaliero.
THE COUNCIL OF TEN.
Until within the last half-century it would have been a matter of surprise to hear a charitable word spoken for this famous council, much more to hear it defended as the best method for the government of Venice at the time when it was the controlling spirit of the Republic. But in more recent years the historians of various nationalities, taking into account the more reliable and wider knowledge that has come from the study of the Venetian archives, are not inclined to the severe condemnation of the Ten which it formerly received, and have indeed been led to think it well suited to its era, and of great value in upholding the power and guarding the prosperity of the Republic.
Formerly the opinion which Cooper expresses in the "Bravo" found an almost universal echo. After giving an account of the establishment of the Council, he says:
"A political inquisition, which came in time to be one of the most fearful engines of police ever known, was the consequence. An authority as irresponsible as it was absolute was periodically confided to another and still smaller body, which met and exercised its despotic and secret functions under the name of the Council of Three. The choice of these temporary rulers was decided by lot, and in a manner that prevented the result from being known to any but to their own number, and to a few of the most confidential of the more permanent officers of the government. Thus there existed at all times in the heart of Venice a mysterious and despotic power that was wielded by men who moved in society unknown, and apparently surrounded by all the ordinary charities of life; but which, in truth, was influencedby a set of political maxims that were perhaps as ruthless, as tyrannic, and as selfish as ever was invented by the evil ingenuity of man. It was, in short, a power that could only be intrusted, without abuse, to infallible virtue and infinite intelligence, using the terms in a sense limited by human means; and and yet it was here confided to men whose title was founded on the double accident of birth and the colors of balls, and by whom it was wielded without even the check of publicity.
"The Council of Three met in secret, ordinarily issued its decrees without communicating with any other body, and had them enforced with a fearfulness of mystery and a suddenness of execution that resembled the blows of fate. The Doge himself was not superior to its authority, nor protected from its decisions, while it has been known that one of the privileged three has been denounced by his companions.... Thus Venice prided herself on the justice of St. Mark; and few States maintained a greater show, or put forth a more lofty claim to the possession of the sacred quality, than that whose real maxims of government were veiled in a mystery that even the loose morality of the age exacted."
Since this Council is one of the most interesting and characteristic peculiarities of the Venetian government, it is worth while to quote a few authoritative and judicial opinions regarding it, and all the more that we have already cited those most severely against it. Hazlitt,—the able English historian of the Venetian Republic, and a member of the Inner Temple,—in speaking of the time (1335), when the Council of Ten was made permanent, says:—
"The Republic had now enjoyed halcyon days of peace since the return of the Zaratines to their allegiance in 1313. Twenty years of foreign war and domestic convulsion (1293-1313) were thus followed by twenty years of external and internal repose (1313-1333). Dalmatia was tranquillized; Genoa was humiliated. The Lower Empire, though not without its alarming symptoms, was quiescent. The pressure of extraordinary taxeswas no longer sensible. Prices were low. Provisions were abundant. Commerce had received an enormous impulse and expansion. The condition of trade was highly flourishing. The upper classes were elated by the development of fresh sources of wealth. The lower orders were exhilarated by the removal of their burdens. It was under these auspicious circumstances that the time was approaching for the dissolution of the Council of Ten.
"The original jurisdiction of this unique tribunal had been of a purely exclusive and strictly transient character. To devise measures for the safety of the State, to obtain by any expedients every new clew to the conspiracy of 1310, to unravel these clews to their source with untiring diligence, to bring to justice all who might have eluded detection, were the objects to which the labors of Decemvirs were directed, and the points to which their cognizance was confined. But the Council, even if its attributes had not been emphatically inquisitorial, showed no disposition to be perfunctory. The line of demarcation, if any such line had existed, was soon obliterated or ignored. Every branch of the Executive was submitted in its turn, under various pretexts, to the novel influence. Nor could it be denied that that influence was exercised, on the whole, to a highly beneficial end. It had been accounted a great revolution when, so recently as 1298, the Great Council succeeded in arrogating to itself the prerogatives which formerly belonged to the people. But the narrow jealousy and distrust, which were gradually growing up in the ranks of the nobility, had long made it palpably evident to the more discerning, that a still higher and still more concentric power must eventually arise to wrest these prerogatives from the hands of the Great Council itself. That power was already found to exist in the Decemvirs. Primarily elected, and constantly renewed by the legislative body on the clearest ground of expediency, the Ten had incessantly striven to popularize themselves, and to strengthen their position by propitiating the lower classes on the one hand, and by turning to account, on the other hand, with unequalled dexterity the disunion among the patricians, to rule that order with a hand of iron. By some the Dictatorship was viewed as an indispensable ingredient in the Constitution; by some it was tolerated as an odious necessity;but all accepted the silent innovation in a spirit of acquiescence. The Decemvirs knew their strength, and they quickly made that strength felt. It was on the 30th of January, 1336, that their commission was about to expire; on the 20th of July, 1335,they caused themselves to be declared a permanent Assembly....
"In the Middle Ages, when an almost total ignorance reigned of civil principles, it was not unnatural that a system pretending to rise above the common level of crude simplicity should be viewed as slightly cabalistic and inscrutable. The Venetian Executive, indeed, displayed the earliest attempt to organize a bureaucratic machinery and a plan for the distribution of public functions; and Venice also led the way in founding the practice of diplomatic etiquette and official routine.The Council of Ten was, perhaps, a constitutional evil; but it was certainly a constitutional necessity. The tribunal was more or less fatal to the political liberty of the Venetians; but it left untouched their civil privileges, and it was highly conducive to the preservation of the national independence. While it was inaccessible to the whispers of treason, it was not a stranger to the softer influences of humanity. Instances were known in which a female suppliant was permitted to penetrate into the Hall of the Decemvirs, and obtained that redress which had been denied to her elsewhere. An instance might be cited in which, when a foreign tyrant had tempted and overcome the virtue even of members of the College, the Ten, alone incorruptible and without a price, provided for the safety of the imperilled State! ... It was not very long after their original institution in 1310 that the Decemvirs resorted, in cases where peculiarly delicate investigation was requisite, to the practice of delegating their powers provisionally and specially to one, two, or three of their number, according to circumstances; and these extraordinary functionaries were known as the 'Inquisitori dei Dieci,' or the Inquisitors of the Ten.... The Capi submitted resolutions to their colleagues, and signed decrees in their name; and the letters purporting to be written by the Doge himself or his secretary were generally composed under their dictation, being forwarded to his Serenity only for subscription. The Inquisitors of the Ten, who were thus nearly coeval with the Ten themselves, maybe recognized as the forerunners of the famous 'Inquisitors of State.' But no tribunal existed at Venice under the latter title prior to 1596, nor even then was it clothed with the revolting attributes which have been ascribed to it by ignorance or malignity."
M. Armand Baschet has written a book founded on the Archives of Venice, called "Histoire de la Chancellerie Secrète," which treats of the Senate, the Cabinet, the Council of Ten, and the Inquisitors of State, in their relations to France. It is an exhaustive and learned work; and having quoted an English authority, it is wise also to give a few sentences from this erudite French writer:—
"No institution has been more falsely represented and more misjudged than the Council of Ten. The profound secrecy of its deliberations, to secure which the extremest precautions were always permitted, offered so favorable a subject for invention and exaggeration that pamphleteers and romancers could but seize upon it without reserve. Doubtless this extraordinary tribunal had its dramas, since politics and reasons of State imposed on it the duty of scrutinizing the depths of the heart. Assuredly, also, it had its faults,—for although called supreme, it was not divine, and was therefore liable to err; but to believe that it was established for the calm commission of evil, rather than to prevent or correct it, is one of those extremely gross errors for which the active research into the truth of history—which in our day is zealously carried so far—endeavors to make reparation.
"Was its creation the arbitrary outcome of the heated imagination of a tyrant of the school of Nero? Was it an offensive or defensive weapon invented by this tyrant in order to torment his people? Good sense proves this to have been impossible. The Council of Ten was created by the votes, the discussions, and conclusions of a numerous and intelligent Assembly; strong in its united strength; full of political instincts, which did not ignore the truth that the power which by a vote it was aboutto establish was created to prevent the dangers which men of great ambitions on the exterior, or revolutionists in the interior, might bring to the Republic.
"Was its establishment the work of a day? Would this great Council, created for two months only, have been continued by a new vote for one year, five years, ten years, and at last permanently, if the exercise of its power had not been recognized as a benefit rather than an evil? Was not this State, which in establishing this Council created a judge for itself, the best governed and most orderly which then existed in the world? What other nation then had a parliament like that of Venice? Could the sovereign exercise oppression even in his decrees? What was the Doge in the presence of the Grand Council, the lesser Council, and the Senate, other than a person with less power than the Sovereign of Great Britain to-day, who must be in accord with the will of the Parliament and the House of Lords? Moreover, it is manifest to one who seeks to know the Council of Ten from authentic sources, rather than from amusing histories without reliable knowledge, that this power was for the protection of the people against the patricians rather than against the people in favor of the patricians.
"Go to its archives, open its records, examine its parchments, penetrate into its correspondence, initiate yourself in the mysteries of its justice, understand its decrees, inform yourself as to its judgments, and you will see whether it made its power one long abuse, and whether the spirit of tyranny rather than that of justice was its inspiration and motive power. That it held a terrible power in its hands is incontestable; but that it used this power upon suspicion, and in the absence of other proof, is absolutely false. It is puerile to judge the penalties of those days by present standards. Should we not consider the manners and customs of its time? Under the best of our kings, under the most just, the most amiable and honest, were not the abettors of certain crimes furiously quartered? It is absurd to compare past history with the present, except it be to praise and admire the progress that has been made.
"Moreover, the Council of Ten had to sustain, in the course of three centuries, the most searching tests to which a politicalinstitution could be subjected. Three times its institution, its existence, and its system were placed under the ban of the Parliament which had created it. Three times was it called in question by a party in the Grand Council, and submitted to examination and discussion. The tribune was free; the speeches made for and against its abolition still exist. In 1582, 1628, and 1762 the eloquence of the orators threatened its destruction. Judges were elected by vote to thoroughly inform themselves regarding it. They did not act under personal instruction to proceed against the individuals invested with full powers and accused of having used them against the welfare of the State. Quite otherwise were they instructed, since, according to the results of their investigation, a considerable Assembly would decide for or against the preservation of this institution in the Republic. Its most secret papers were submitted to them; and three times the Council of Ten triumphed over the party opposed to it, after having been subjected to the most exciting and searching discussions which could possibly engage a great and vigorous political assembly."
The excursion to Murano must be made on a fine day, when the wind is favorable and the sea calm, as it is frequently very rough near that island. We leave Venice at the Fondamenta Nuove, and keep to the north. It is but a half-hour's row to Murano, and the aspect of the lagoon here is quite different from that to the south of Venice. To the east lies the desolate marsh-land formerly called the Dogado, where the Doge had preserves for fishing and shooting. From these marshes came the wild duck which the Doge presented to every noble, on December 4, Saint Barbara's Day.
We soon reach San Michele, the cemetery of Venice, to which the boats with black flags, so often seen, are always going. The sight of it reminds us of Mr. Howells and his "Venetian Life:"—
"As we go by the cemetery of San Michele, Piero the gondolier and Giovanna improve us with a little solemn pleasantry.
"'It is a small place,' says Piero, 'but there is room enough for all Venice in it.'
"'It is true,' asserts Giovanna; 'and here we poor folks become landowners at last.'"
We stay here long enough to see the handsome church built by Moro Lombardo in 1466; to examine the statues by Bernini, which, to say truth, do not seem to strike the Venetian key-note; and to read the name of Fra Paolo Sarpi in the pavement, beneath which lies this bravedefender of Venice against Pope Paul V. From the Carmelite convent of San Michele went Placido Zurla to be made a cardinal, and that Cappelari who ascended the papal throne, in our own century, as Gregory XVI. Here also lived Frate Mauro, who made in 1457 the celebrated Mappa-Mondo for Alphonso V. of Portugal. It is now in the library of St. Mark, and is a geographical encyclopædia of all that was known about our planet at that time.
It would be folly to attempt a new description of the panorama before us when we can quote a sentence from Ruskin which thus outlines the scene between Venice and Murano:—
"The pure cumuli of cloud lie crowded and leaning against one another, rank beyond rank, far over the shining water, each cut away at its foundation by a level line, trenchant and clear, till they sink to the horizon like a flight of marble steps, except where the mountains meet them, and are lost in them, barred across by the gray terraces of those cloud foundations, and reduced into one crestless bank of blue, spotted here and there with strange flakes of wan, aerial, greenish light, strewed upon them like snow. And underneath is the long dark line of the mainland, fringed with low trees; and then the wide waving surface of the burnished lagoon trembling slowly, and shaking out into forked bands of lengthening light the images of the towers of cloud above. To the north, there is first the great cemetery wall, then the long stray buildings of Murano, and the inland villages beyond, glittering in intense crystalline vermilion, like so much jewelry scattered on a mirror, their towers poised apparently in the air a little above the horizon, and their reflections, as sharp and vivid and substantial as themselves, thrown on the vacancy between them and the sea. And thus the villages seem standing on the air; and to the east there is a cluster of ships that seem sailing on the land; for the sandy line of the Lido stretches itself between us and them, and we can see the tall white sails moving beyond it, but not the sea;only there is a sense of the great sea being indeed there, and a solemn strength of gleaming light in the sky above."
Between the cemetery and Murano there is little more than a channel, and we enter a canal with narrow quays on each side, three or four feet above the canal. The houses, now inhabited by poor people, have certain really beautiful features in doorways and windows, which indicate that Murano "has seen better days." At present there is the sort of stir that belongs to a manufacturing town the world over,—street-cries from the dealers in fruits and fish; glass-makers coming and going, stopping now and then to speak with the women who are knitting in the doorways,—and altogether an air of active, practical life that is very unlike Venice itself.
Our first visit is naturally to the Cathedral of San Donato. The origin of this church is thus given in the legends: Otho the Great, who died in 973, had a vision in which the Virgin Mary showed him a triangular meadow covered with scarlet lilies, and desired him to build there a church in her honor. Nearly two centuries later, when the Doge Michiele II. brought from Cephalonia the embalmed body of Saint Donato, and gave it to this church, that saint was joined with the Virgin as its patron, and the cathedral henceforth called by his name. It is probable that the whole church was then rebuilt. At all events, the architecture is unmistakably of the twelfth century, and is very interesting, especially the semicircular apse, with its double rows of round arches and its beautifully sculptured marbles.
The remarkable balustrade around the upper gallery is also noticeable; and the chief interest of this church, which stands in the northern angle of the triangle, is in its exterior. The campanile, a few yards away, is heavy; and the modern buildings, with their ugly square windows and blank walls, make it difficult to enjoy even the littlethat remains from the old days. There is a ruined flag-staff foundation, with the iron hasps that held the standard still remaining, and a well with the date 1502. The interior of San Donato has been so changed in recent times that it is simply commonplace, with the exception of the pavement, which is beautifully inlaid, and dates from 1140, and a Madonna in Greek mosaic, which is a remarkable imitation of the Byzantine, though by no means beautiful. Doubtless some of the columns with delicately sculptured capitals were brought from Altinum.
The Church of the Angels must be visited for the sake of the Madonna by Gian Bellini, which was painted for the Doge Barberigo in 1488, and presented to the convent in which two of his daughters had taken the veil. The Doge, in all the pomp of his official attire, is presented to the Virgin by Saints Mark and Augustine. It is a most interesting picture, as are all those by this old painter, who loved to paint the Divine Mother and Child with their attendant saints and angels; and, as in this picture, with "beds of weeds and flowers, in which the crane, the peacock, and partridge alike elect to congregate."
But it is not for its churches, its architecture, or works of art that Murano is known to us. Neither is it of this Murano, with its few thousand inhabitants and less than a dozen manufactories, that we have been accustomed to think. It is of that Murano on which dwelt thirty thousand people, and from which ascended the smoke of three hundred furnaces, the fires of which were nearly all extinguished after the fall of the Republic. Now, however, in the new life that has come to Italy, the glass-making of Murano is reviving.
Salviati has done much to restore the art to its old-time excellence; and other countries again depend onVenice for many of these products. Again the beads of Murano are very beautiful, and an important element of commerce; and though many of the objects now made are more fantastic than useful, they are also very beautiful. Salviati imitates both the old glass and the mosaics, and varies his products in a thousand forms, which are still tinted with the old and famous colors,—girasole(opal),acqua marina,rubino,lattimo,giallo d'oro, and many others.
The frieze of mosaic at the South Kensington Museum in London, and the ceiling of the vestibule which leads from the grand staircase to the foyer in the Paris Opera House are excellent specimens of the modern mosaic work of Murano, which is now in full revival, and takes the first place in the world, as it did centuries ago. The following description of some splendid pieces made for Mr. H. Furber, of Chicago, shows the present importance of this art in Venice. They are intended for the "Columbus Palace" near the grounds of the "Columbian Exposition":—
"Among the important works recently executed is a large mosaic panel representing Columbus being received by Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand of Spain after his return from America. This panel, measuring about two hundred square feet, shows Columbus when kneeling before the sovereigns, presenting to them the natives of the newly discovered land, and some products of the soil. The persons represented are about thirty-eight in number, many of them of the natural size, formed in three principal groups. In the most important group is Columbus, having at his side the young crown prince and the sovereigns, surrounded by the dignitaries of the court, ladies and noblemen, and pages holding the standards. In the middle group, but more to the left, are the native Indians; and near the entrance of the hall other Spanish nobles and the companions of Columbus. The gorgeous and various attires of all the figures, their warlike implements, the splendid stuffs of all sorts andtints, the rich decoration of the hall, the pageantry of the court, the strange tones and costumes of the natives in full contrast with the others, and the various attitudes of all these personages form a whole in perfect harmony with the details of the scene, owing to the excellent distribution of the figures, and the perfect fusion of tints. The work is so delicately executed that no one can believe that the panel is not painted until on touching it he discovers that it is entirely composed of small enamel cubes, put together without any aid of color or cement, and worked according to the mode of the old Venetian mosaic school. This panel will form the pendant of another representing Columbus landing in America."
No glass has been so famous as that of Venice, because no other glass-makers have ever equalled the Venetians in the beauty of their products, nor in the marvellous manner in which they varied the use of their materials. Good authorities believe that this art was known to the earliest settlers of the lagoons, although they used their knowledge in the making of the necessities of life alone; but the material of the antique glass and the Muranese glass is precisely the same.
In 1292 the Grand Council, by a decree, ordered the removal of the glass-workers to Murano, and the destruction of the furnaces at Riva Alto. From the inauguration of this industry at Murano, the Government was extremely jealous in preventing the secrets of glass-making from being discovered by any strangers. From the year 1275 the export of lump glass, or of the materials used in its composition, and even of broken glass, was forbidden, and a heavy penalty attached to such acts; and from this time more stringent laws were made, and at length the manufactories were put in charge of the Council of Ten, so determined was the Republic to profit by the skill of its workers. These anxieties were not unreasonable, since it is known that men as high in position as theambassadors from France had a sort of police in their employ, who attempted to bribe the glass-workers, and to spy out the raw materials they used, and their manner of combining them.
It appears most probable that to the original knowledge of the earliest Venetians some additions must have been made from the methods of the Oriental mosaic-workers, who were employed in San Marco as early as the tenth century, although later the productions of the Venetians were sought in the East, where the making of fine glass had come to be a lost art. That this is true is proved by an order still existing for four hundred mosque lamps, bearing verses from the Koran, in colored enamels, to be made for the Grand Vizier of the Sultan. The Arabic influence which is so clearly shown in Venetian glass is supposed to have come from the specimens of glass found in the Roman Campagna, and in many other places in Italy, such as Nola, Campania, and so on, which in all probability were used as models at Murano.
Venice gained immense sums by her trade in glass beads alone. Their place in commerce is almost incredible, especially when they began to be covered with enamels, gold, and opaline colors. The Orientals exchanged for them silks, spices, precious metals, and all sorts of exquisite tissues. They found their way all over the world, and in modern days have been seen in central Africa, where they were used for money. The shrewd Venetians valued their exquisite pieces of glass, their vases, goblets, mirror frames, and ewers; but they were most jealous in the protection of their bead trade and manufacture.
From the eleventh to the fourteenth century the preparation of enamel for mosaic work was the most important department of the glass-works at Murano, and the mosaic glass there made has never been equalled in beauty or durability elsewhere. Even pavements in San Marco,made from this glass, and now five or six centuries old, are still perfect in color, joints, and setting.
Salviati gives the name of glass to the Venetian manufacture alone, and applies "crystal or crystallified glass" to all other varieties, and Yriarte says:—
"These makers have but one object, to imitate the quality of crystal. Thus, when they have perfected the properties of clearness and brilliancy, they set about increasing the attractiveness of their productions by cutting them after they have been first run in moulds; that is to say, by employing mechanical means to obtain something like the richness, the variety of form, and vigor of line which alone can insure it success in the market. But to do this is to demand from glass qualities which it ought not to yield, and to change its nature, depriving it of its two essential qualities,—lightness and ductility.
"The glory of Murano is to have preserved the special properties of the material, and to have made it yield all the beauties of which it was capable."
These workers at Murano had two great advantages,—the material they used was ductile, light, especially brilliant, and possessed of vitreous appearance quite unique; and, added to these important conditions, the workmen had natural good taste, and the immense aid of historical traditions,—and by wisely employing its own resources Murano attained its great reputation; its forms and colors have not been equalled, and that they could be excelled is past imagining.
We know the name of the man who made mosaics for San Marco in 1100. It was Pietro, and he worked for the Doge Vitale Michiele I. In 1268 the glass-workers had formed a corporation. In 1292 they settled permanently on Murano. In 1329 they were employed to furnish glass for churches in other cities; and in 1376 the Senate declared that a master glass-maker might marry the daughter of a noble, and their children be held as of noblerank. It was at this time that the Venetian glass-workers decorated the fine edifices all over Italy, and made the windows for the Cathedral of Milan.
So vast had the industry now become that it was divided into specialties,—theverixellimade small objects and beads; thephiolerimade bottles. In the beginning of the fifteenth century Angelo Beroviero had the most famous furnace at Murano, at the sign of the Angel. He made both vessels and windows, and being a learned chemist knew how to give the most varied and beautiful colors to his glass. Beroviero also made the discovery of a process by which to apply enamel to glass in different colors. He made exquisite goblets; and special designs were executed for marriage and birth cups, or for any important occasion. Beroviero reached perfection in his art, and his brothers and sons were never surpassed in enamelled glass. To his son Marino may be ascribed the splendid glass in San Giovanni e Paolo, made after the designs of Girolamo Mocetto in 1473.
In truth, it is to the Berovieri that the progress in glass-making is due. They invented in 1463 that transparent glass called crystal; and giving up the old simplicity of form and decoration, they became bold and even audacious in their work. They used gold and enamel, and made those occasional pieces, now so precious, on which the designs and inscriptions furnish historical scenes from the fifteenth century.
In the beginning of the sixteenth century Andrea Vidaore invented the process of making artificial pearls with the enameller's blow-pipe, and later he invented glass jet, both of which discoveries became very remunerative. In 1507 two Muranese petitioned the Council of Ten for a grant of the monopoly of mirror glass all over the Republic for twenty-five years, and for permission to keep their fires lighted during the two months and a halfwhen all the fires were bound to be extinguished. Prior to this time the method of preparing mirror glass had been known and was used elsewhere; but at Venice the metal plates had been retained. Now, however, began the growth of that enormous industry in mirror plates which has retained its importance even in recent times, and which other nations have tried to appropriate.
The art of cutting glass in facets, and imitating precious stones, as well as of coloring "crystal" glass, was discovered in 1605; and all these inventions brought great wealth to the glass-workers, some of whom purchased nobility for themselves and their descendants.
Through Colbert, France succeeded in competing with Murano. England did the same by aid of the Duke of Buckingham; and Bohemia gave itself up to glass manufacture in such a way that the Venetian industry suffered at the end of the seventeenth century. Giuseppe Briati, a passionate lover of his art, left Murano, and took service in a manufactory at Prague, and having learned the Bohemian secrets, he returned to Venice in 1736, and obtained a license, for ten years, to manufacture and sell crystals made in the Bohemian fashion. Briati established himself in Venice in the Via del Angello Raffaelo. At this period mirrors were framed with flowers and foliage of cut glass, in relief, and lustres were decorated with flowers, grapes, and leaves in brilliant colors.Filigrana(filigree), too, was much in favor; and some of Briati's vases in this style are now very precious on account of their refinement of form and taste. Briati died in 1772, but at Murano his art survived.
In 1790 a license was granted to Giorgio Barbaria to make black bottles for export to England; and soon after he manufactured jet and enamels. Barbaria was the deputy of Murano until the fall of the Republic, when the island became almost a desert, and its master workmenand journeymen sought in other lands the bread they could no longer earn at Murano.
There are many interesting stories and traditions connected with the Berovieri. Angelo, who was the superior of them all, inherited a good business, and by his own discoveries became very rich. He had a large shop in Venice, besides his factory on Murano, from which he shipped immense quantities of glass to various ports in Europe and the Orient. His dwelling was in a part of Murano that was free from the smoke of the furnaces. It was of marble, and very handsome without, while within it was most luxurious and elegant. The garden stretched to the water's edge, and was laid out with much taste. Large trees afforded grateful shade at midday, and spicy odors from the flowers combined with the songs of the nightingales of the aviary in satisfying the senses. There were arbors so sheltered by vines that one could watch the gondolas on the blue waters and be quite unseen, and the lovely view was fitly crowned by the purple mountains in the distance.
Beroviero was fortunate in all the circumstances of his life. His beautiful wife was a wealthy lady of Milan. His son, Marino, was of great promise, and his two daughters were lovely girls, who had inherited their mother's beauty and their father's intellect. But one sorrow had penetrated even here. The eldest, Felicia, from a fall in childhood, had weakened her spine, and was forced to spend much of her life in a recumbent position.
When Buona, the younger, reached a marriageable age, there were many suitors for her hand among the young nobles of Venice. One day when Signor Beroviero was very busy, his wife sent him a note:—
Hasten home. I am in a great perplexity. The two young nobles, Da Canale and Mocenigo, have come separatelyto sue for Buona. Mocenigo was first, and he is with me and Buona now; and we have put Da Canale in another room to talk to Felicia. Hasten to our rescue! Your wife.
Most impatient at the interruption, Beroviero left his counting-house.
Meanwhile the comedy was played by his wife and daughters. Signora Beroviero had heard that Buona was much admired, and her father had already received several offers for her hand, to which he had replied that his daughter should be won, not sold. Acting on this hint, these two young men had come to win her if possible. Both were members of the Great Council, and of high position. Mocenigo had been shown to the drawing-room, and received by Signora Beroviero and Buona. Before the usual compliments were exchanged, Da Canale arrived, and was taken to a charming room opening on the garden, where Felicia was busy with her embroidery. He was splendidly attired, and had evidently come on a visit of importance. He displayed some impatience, as he threw off his cloak, and saw his companion; but Felicia entertained him as best she could until her father came, and held him in conversation until Mocenigo, who had been told of the presence of his rival, could retreat,—for Signora Beroviero had set her heart on Mocenigo for her son-in-law. But Buona was of quite another opinion, and in spite of all the praises of him that she heard she refused to marry him; and when her mother appealed to the father, his only reply was, "She is free to marry as she chooses."
Just at this time Beroviero received an order from the Doge for a collection of glass to be presented to the Emperor Frederick III. on the occasion of his visit to Venice. This caused a great excitement. The father, son, and three advanced apprentices were constantly in solemn conclave. Among these last was one Giorgio, who, although the senior, had made small advance in hisart. When the important matter in hand was well understood, and a proper part assigned to each one, all the resources of the manufactory were devoted to making a grand display of Venetian skill in color and design.
Other glass-workers were filled with jealousy of Beroviero, when the truth about this order was known; and this feeling was not lessened by the magnificent display which was soon made in the window of his shop in Venice. Naturally many strangers came hither on account of the proposed visit of the Emperor, and all the tradesmen of the city were making their shops as attractive as possible; but no other drew such crowds of gazers as that of Beroviero, now that the gift from the Doge to the Emperor was on exhibition. A large vase glowed like a magnificent ruby; white flowers, as delicate and natural as if actually growing, twined around a vase of glorious blue; while cups and wineglasses of exquisite shape and ethereal thinness were in contrast to goblets heavy with gold and enamel. But the chief object was a lace-work goblet, such as was never made elsewhere. It was the most wonderful of all the Venetian glasses, and so fragile was it that its construction was a mystery. Marsh gives this account of the method:—
"In manufacturing it the workman first of all placed threads of opaque glass round the inside of a mould made of charcoal. Then he dipped his rod into a pot of molten glass, and blew a drop out within the mould until it touched the opaque threads, which at once adhered to the outer surface of the glass. The goblet so blown was as thin as the white film of an egg. Then a second goblet was blown, and the opaque threads were made to adhere on the inner surface of the glass, running in a reverse direction to those which adhered to the outer surface of the first goblet. Thus the workman obtained two goblets, the outside of one and the inner side of the other, bearing the opaque threads of glass. Having secured this object, he next proceeded to placeone glass inside the other. At the moment the threads of opaque glass touched one another they adhered, imprisoning in the centre of each diamond, formed by the threads crossing one another, a fine bubble of air. The body of the goblet was covered with these diamonds, the air bubble appearing in the centre of each. Notwithstanding the fact that the goblet was composed of two distinct casings, yet, when they were united, the two presented a body not half as thick as an ordinary wafer. This species of glass was the most exquisite that Venice ever produced."
Beroviero had been invited to be present when the Emperor received this gift on which so much thought and labor had been lavished; and at length the day arrived. The Emperor, with his young bride, Elenora of Portugal, with a great assemblage of the rank and beauty of Venice, and many noble visitors, were gathered in the great hall of the Ducal Palace, where the Doge and high officials received them. Beroviero, his wife, son, and Buona, with representatives from some rival glass-works, were also there.
First the Doge presented to the Empress a crown set with jewels, and many other costly articles of attire. He then offered to the Emperor the splendid service of glass; to which his Majesty gave but slight attention, even while the Doge was describing its beauty and value. The Emperor replied in a cold and haughty tone; and while he was thus expressing his thanks, his court-jester executed a pirouette, and hit the tray containing the glass, which fell to the ground, shivered into numberless pieces. The Emperor exclaimed, "Had they been of gold or silver, that calamity could not have happened!"
The faces of the Doge and of the whole assembly expressed their horror and anger; and the Emperor begged to be allowed to order another set. But the Doge replied, "Venice does not sell her gifts!"
His Majesty offered large sums, but no glass-makerwould undertake to replace what had been destroyed; and on the next day the Emperor departed, while the episode of the glass-breaking was the general topic of conversation in all Venice.
Beroviero was filled with surprise and rage, while his rivals ridiculed him beyond endurance. The apprentices and workmen took sides with their masters, and fierce encounters took place between those of Beroviero and those of other factories. From that day Angelo Beroviero was a different man. He neglected his business, involved himself in quarrels, and was morose and irritable at home.
And now the dull, inattentive Giorgio came to the front, and challenged the senior apprentices of the principal rival establishments of Riva, Marcelli, and Gritti to a gondola tournament. The latter declined; but two contests would take place, and a day was fixed. Beroviero heard of this with pleasure, and was grateful to Giorgio for this dignified method of showing himself the friend of his master.
On the appointed day hundreds of gondolas were off Murano, while crowds stood on the shore, and every balcony was filled with ladies and gentlemen, all anxious to see the contest. Each combatant was allowed an assistant to propel his gondola. This was usually the youngest apprentice; and with Giorgio was Hector, a boy of fourteen, and a very skilful oarsman. He stood in the stern, while Giorgio was on the prow, bearing a leather shield and a blunt-headed lance. On the prow was a figure of an angel, while the rival boats carried their symbols of an anchor and a dolphin. Felicia could witness the whole sport from her window; but Buona, with their maid Giannetta, was on the shore.
At last two gondolas shot out from the crowd of boats, and sped quickly towards a post moored at some distancein the open water. As Giorgio, lightly clad, stood on the prow of the Angel, and approached the other gondola decorated with an anchor, the symbol of the house of the Riva, it was easily seen that the other apprentice, who was of heavy build, and handled his lance awkwardly, was no match for Giorgio. As they neared the post, there was much applause; and as Giorgio turned his eyes towards his master's garden, he saw a handkerchief waving in the hand of Buona, who, as she saw the contest about to begin, exclaimed, "Now God and Saint Mark be with him!" Hearing this, her maid, Giannetta, uttered a little scream, for her mistress had put her own thought in words, and blushing she said that she had stepped on a sharp stone and hurt her foot; but in that moment Buona knew that the maid loved Giorgio, and Giannetta feared that her mistress cherished a like sentiment.
The two gondolas were now advancing towards each other. The lances were lowered, the boats met and then separated, and it was seen that the gondola with the anchor at the prow was empty. Both the champion and his rower were gone. Giorgio had parried the opponent's lance, and putting his own lance between the legs of his enemy, had toppled him into the water, and then, as the lightened gondola passed him, a vigorous push in the breast of the rower had sent him splashing after his companion. These achievements were warmly applauded by the crowd on shore; and a number of boats, full of his friends, quickly surrounded that of Giorgio to congratulate him on his success.
By the usual rules of combat the victor was entitled to an hour for repose before meeting his next opponent; but Giorgio signified his readiness to begin again at once, and in a few minutes the gondola, with a dolphin as its symbol, and an apprentice of the Marcelli on its prow, rowed up to the starting-post. The second champion wasfar superior to the first; but after one or two slight thrusts from the lances, Giorgio profited by a fortunate moment, and hurled the second opponent into the water. Now was he a hero indeed, and all possible honors were shown him by his friends and even by his superiors. He had established a claim to the championship of all the gondoliers of Murano, with which the Berovieri were as well pleased as he.
This day had revealed Buona to herself, and she was horrified to find that she was a rival to her own maid in the affections of a poor apprentice. She determined to stifle this unworthy sentiment; but so difficult did she find her task that physicians soon were summoned to account for her blanched cheeks, and restore her to health. Mocenigo, with her parents' consent, strove to arouse her to an interest in life; but all was useless, and when fully convinced of her utter indifference to him, he quietly ceased to visit her, and she soon entered a convent.
She confided her secret grief to her confessor alone, and never regretted the gay life she might have led at Venice as the bride of some young noble. As years went on, and the poor sought aid at her convent in their seasons of sorrow and suffering, the name of Suora Buona was that most frequently on their lips.
From the day of the tournament Giorgio became seriously attentive to his business, and before very long he presented his master with a goblet, asking him to accept his first discovery. Beroviero examined it with curious delight. The inside was perfectly smooth, while the outside was covered with a thousand irregular cracks, and the whole looked as if it had been frosted. Beroviero was filled with surprise, and declared the goblet to be beautiful and entirely new.
Giorgio explained that his discovery was an accident, as most discoveries are. He had observed the effect on adrop of hot glass when it fell into the water. It became crackled and frosted, and he at once tried the same thing on his goblet. Beroviero assured Giorgio that his discovery would prove of great value, and promised to take the young man to the palace, that he might show the goblet to the Doge. But that very evening the old glassmaker was attacked by masked thieves as he was floating in his gondola, and survived his wounds but a few hours.
Marino, who succeeded his father, claimed Giorgio's invention as the property of the firm, as Giorgio was still an apprentice, and the courts decided in his favor. Thus Marino had the sole right to make crackled glass; and Giorgio, driven to desperation by this injustice, stole the book in which Angelo Beroviero had written out all his methods and discoveries, and made an exact copy of it. This he sold to another firm, and with the proceeds set up a factory of his own. He married Giannetta, and seemed to have a promising future before him; but whatever he undertook ended unfortunately. The theft by which he thought to found a fortune was heavy on his conscience, and to it he attributed all his unhappiness. But under his son the Ballerini (Giorgio was called Ballerino in derision) became celebrated, and attained great eminence as glass-makers.
When Buona entered the convent, Felicia devoted herself to making an altar-cloth, in which she used the most costly materials that she could procure. The design was that of the Crucifixion. Three years she labored on it, and at last all was completed save the crown of thorns. She had constantly grown more and more fragile; and one evening, as the sun was setting, she called her mother, saying, "See, dear mother, the end is come. I have pointed the last thorn in His earthly crown."
As she ceased speaking, her head drooped, and she was dead. She was buried beneath the altar of the conventchurch, and her exquisite embroidery served both as a cloth for the altar and a monument to her who had wrought it in loving faith.
Marino Beroviero maintained the reputation of his family, and made still further advances in his art. His business was extensive and prosperous, and a few years after his father's death he married the sister of Mocenigo, the former suitor of Buona.
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 andyouthful 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.
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 thefollowers 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 punishmentwas 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,—
"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,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 toescort 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.