CHAPTER V

I

“LA SERENISSIMA DOGARESSA DI VENEZIA”—“the Most Serene Duchess of Venice”—attained her highest dignity and splendour in the attractive personality of Signora Marina Galina da Santa Marina—the Consort of Doge Michele Steno. The reality of the “First Lady of Venice” had become more and more emphatic as each gracious wearer of the smaller Corno had made her solemn Entry into the City.

The ancient family of Galina, in 960, founded the Church and Monastery of San Felice, on the Campo of San Felice, a little way back from the Grand Canal. They belonged to the third division of the first grade of nobles, immediately after the “Apostolic” twelve and the “Evangelistic” four, and were among the ten families of considerable importance anterior to the Serrar del Consiglio of 1289. The termination of the name “da Santa Marina” was indicative of the sestiere in which the family originally dwelt: their church of Santa Marina, built in 1030, was destroyed by fire in 1820.

The date of Donna Marina’s marriage with Messir Micheletto, or Michele, Steno is nowhere recorded. His family was one of those ennobled after the Chioggian War: they were neither wealthy nor influential. Messir Giovanni Steno, his father, was a poor man, as men went in Venice, and lived in a small casa in the sestiere of Santa Maria Zobenigo, upon the neutral zone which separated the dwellings of the Castellani from those of the Nicolotti. His mother was Madonna Lucia Lando, and her family was equal in antiquity and distinction to that of her spouse—an arrangement quite usual and conventional in Venice, where the different grades of the aristocracy rarely intermarried.

Michele Steno’s parents were blessed with another son—the elder of the two—Fantino, and three daughters, Franchescina, Donata, and Cristina,—who became a cloistered nun in the Convent of San Lorenzo. Messir Giovanni, with Messir Paolo Gradenigo, went on an embassy of peace to Genoa, and, on his return in 1351, he executed a will, leaving to his second son, Micheletto, one thousand gold ducats and the half of his house property and other belongings.

Probably young Micheletto acquired some of the dare-devilry and impetuosity, for which he and other young smarts were notorious, from his early association with the rival factions of his sestiere. Incessant insults, quarrels and commotions characterised their mutual dealings, and their jests and oaths were indecent and sacrilegious:—“Corpo di Bacco!” and “Sangue di Dian!” were no less common in daily intercourse than “Sangue di Dio!” “Corpo di Crist!” Youth, aping strident manhood, not unusually delights itself in profanity and abuse. Marino Sanudo, who lived fifty years after Doge Michele Steno’s death, states in his “History of Venice,” that as a young man he was “poor but ambitious, ardent and astute.”

Sabellico has a note concerning the future Doge, and says, that, as co-ambassador to King Pietro d’Arragona in 1350, when he was no more than twenty-five years old, he displayed both tact and talent, and concluded a treaty very much to the advantage of the Republic. Michele Steno served the State with distinction and made himself an eligible candidate for the highest offices: in 1375 he was chosen one of the three Captains of the Council of Forty.

It certainly comes, however, with something of a shock to find him, the precocious, daring, and romantic lover of women,—from Elizabetta, his uncle Paolo’s attractive maid-servant to Aluycia Gradenigo, the fascinating Consort of Count Marino Falier,—mounting the Ducal Throne, which he had once stretched out his hand to profane! Forty-five years have come and gone and the hot-headed youth has developed into the sage septuagenarian. How true it is that the sowing of wild oats in young days provides for the harvesting of ripe corn in old age! Michele Steno and his Consort Marina could not have imagined that this consummation of their lives was in the lap of Fortune. If time and opportunity had modulated his character in tune with his environment, he was “still remarkable” says Sanudo, “for strength of will and irascibility of temper: a man of noble appearance and noted for the polish and gallantry of his manners.” His election to the dogado was effected in November 1400, but his installation as Doge was postponed to the following January. The usual ceremonies were duly celebrated and a new feature was added—a panegyric of the Doge and Dogaressa delivered in San Marco by Bishop Lionardo Delfino of Castello.

Indirectly his Promissione suggests that his aggressive temperament still caused men to look doubtfully at him. The legal titles of the Doge and Dogaressa were depressed, the idea of personal sovereignty was eliminated, and their Serenities were greeted as plain “Messir le Doxe” and plain “Signora la Dogaressa.” This new designation, however, was not altogether derogatory, for the great Patron Saint of Venice was styled:—“E stato galant’ uomo Messir San Marco!”—“What a brave fellow is ‘Mr’ Saint Mark!” Venetians were great sticklers about titles: everybody liked to be addressed with ceremony and to have assigned a rank higher than that actually held—but perhaps this was no Venetian peculiarity, it is rather the natural, if persistent, egotism, of all times and peoples.

In the “Trionfo della Dogaressa di Venetia nel Secolo XV,”—a document of the period, in the Museo Civico,—is a full account of the ceremonial observed and of the dresses worn at the solemn Entry of the Dogaressa Marina. The Government issued an order to the different Fragilie to prepare for the Festival. Each Guild had a portion of the Piazza and also of the Ducal Palace assigned for decoration with tapestries, carpets, and banners, and was also required to furnish a gala barge adorned with standards and decked with garlands, to form part of the water escort for the Bucintoro, which was prepared for the reception of the Dogaressa, her relatives and her suite.

Upon the day of the Entry the Doge, accompanied by a number of Councillors, made a progress from the Ducal Palace to his private residence to assist the Dogaressa in embarking upon her water progress. She awaited her Consort in the principal reception room, where each of the noble Company saluted her and received from her hands a very beautifully embroidered purse of cloth of gold. Then, preceded by State trumpeters and standard-bearers, and Grooms of the State to the Doge, she passed down the stairway. Following her came sixty beauteous damsels in superb costumes, and the ladies of her family in costly robes with many jewels.

The dress of the Dogaressa was magnificent: she wore a robe of cloth of gold fastened at the neck, with deep hanging sleeves, caught up by gold brooches upon the shoulders, a girdle of gold cord jewelled, and a mantle of stiff gold brocade embroidered with coloured silk like the Doge’s. Her head-dress was a coif of lace under a cap of crimson silk velvet raised in such a way as to support a miniature jewelled Ducal Corno, and a thin gauze veil fell with her wealth of unrestrained hair from under the Corno, over her shoulders. A massive gold chain encircled her bust. Her shoes were of crimson velvet. Her train, also of cloth of gold brocade, was borne by young girls in white dresses, and crowned with fresh flowers.

At the Dogaressa’s side walked the wife of the High Chancellor,—the first citizeness of Venice, a wise concession to popular sentiment,—and the stately procession was brought up by the Procurators of San Marco, Councillors of Honour, Senators and Gentlemen, two and two, every one being in full state costume. Upon the Bucintoro her Serenity was placed in the Doge’s seat at the bows. The Doge and his following meanwhile returned to the Ducal Palace to await the arrival of his Consort. The progress of the Dogaressa along the Grand Canal was a “Triumph.” The whole city had embarked upon every available craft and everybody tossed enthusiastic greetings to the stately, comely Dogaressa Marina as she passed along her glittering way. The great vessel breasted untossed the lapping ripples of the newly perfumed waters of the Canal, and made her way through floating sprays of gaily coloured flowers, submerging, as she passed them, many a daring gondolier and his heedless gala freight.

Arrived at the Piazzetta the august company landed, and, after being led past the Basilica, made a stately progress all round the Piazza, adorned as for a great Church festival and packed full of perspiring people. All the beauty and fashion of the moment looked out of window casements and from altane roofs. Flowers and confetti were showered upon her Serenity who marched with the utmost dignity under the great Ducal umbrella of State, supported by the high officials of the Government. At the grand portal of San Marco the Dogaressa was received by the whole of the Chapter in gorgeous vestments, bearing lighted candles in great silver-gilt candelabra, and the principal gold crucifix, the while acolytes tossed their silver censers high. Sprinkled with holy water her Serenity stood reverently whilst the rector recited with her the following liturgy:—

LET US PRAY.

O Lord, preserve Thine handmaiden, our Dogaressa. My trust, O God, is in Thee. Send her help from the Sanctuary, O Lord. And strengthen her out of Sion. Let no foe approach her. And let not the son of wickedness come near to hurt her. Grant peace in thy borders. And abundance in thy palaces. O Lord, hear my prayer: And let my cry come unto Thee. The Lord be with you: And with thy Spirit:

LET US PRAY.

“We beseech Thee, Almighty God, that this Thy servant, our Duchess, may be instructed and comforted by Thy wisdom and ever remain true to Thy Holy Church, Through Christ our Lord, Amen.”

“O God, whose providence never faileth in the ordering of human affairs we pray Thee to extend Thy ineffable loving-kindness to our prayer, that as Queen Esther, the chosen servant of Thy ancient people, caused the sceptre of King Ahasuerus, her consort, to rule wisely, so this Thy Servant, our Duchess, the chosen of Thy Christian people, may do everything according to Thy will, so that she may please Thee in everything and, inspired by Thee, may with her whole heart, exercise her high office to Thy glory and to the welfare of us Thy Servants, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Then “Te Deum” was solemnly sung in the open air, the Dogaressa standing with her face to the people. The clergy next led the imposing procession up the central passage of the basilica and placed the Dogaressa ceremoniously upon the Doge’s throne by the High Altar, where seated she bestowed her thanks and many gold ducats upon the ecclesiastical dignitaries.

The State Chancellor now approached, and bowing low, addressed Dogaressa Marina as follows:—

“Most Serene Duchess, I am about to administer to you the Oath of Allegiance to the government of the Serene Republic of Venice. Will you promise to observe and maintain it intact?”

“I will do so most assuredly,” she replied.

The procession being re-formed the Dogaressa was conducted to the Ducal Palace, where, on ascending the grand staircase, she was met by a deputation of Masters of the Fragilie who invited her to take her seat at a table furnished with sweetmeats in golden baskets and red wine in silver cups; and whereat officials of the Guild were in attendance. Acknowledging their salutations graciously she replied: “gran mercè non se sentimo.”

Proceeding on her way the Dogaressa, with her escort of noble lords, chamberlains, and gentlewomen, passed through all the State rooms of the Palace, and entered the Sala dei Pioveghi where she took her seat upon the Doge’s throne and gave attention to the following solemn address by the High Chancellor:—“Your Serenity has deigned to come to this place which will be your home as long as you remain Dogaressa of Venice. Should you die, here your body will lie in State for three days before it is consigned to the tomb.”

To which very lugubrious oration the Dogaressa meekly replied:—“I am quite content to abide by what you say so far as it may please the Majesty of God.” Then, rising, she passed on once more, and entered the Sala del Gran Consiglio, where she was placed with much ceremony upon the great Throne of the Doge,—whence extending her hand everybody in the Presence advanced to kiss it.

These solemnities being accomplished her Serenity was conducted to the Presence Chamber, there she was greeted by the Doge and his two Councillors of State, and then she retired to her private apartments. The public festivities in celebration of the Induction and Proclamation of the Dogaressa continued for three days. She presided at banquets offered to the noblewomen, the wives of foreign ambassadors, and the wives and daughters of the more prominent citizens. Sports of all kinds and tournaments were held in the Piazza in presence of the Doge and Dogaressa, and upon the Grand Canal were fêtes and serenades. Indeed for a whole twelvemonth Venice kept holiday and witnessed a succession of splendid pageants.

The dogado of Michelo Steno and Marina Galina Steno was distinguished in many ways. First of all, and by way of leaving his mark upon Venice, in 1400, he caused the ceiling of the great Council Chamber of the Ducal Palace,—which its architect, Calendario, who was implicated in the conspiracy of Doge Marino Falier, had partly built, and where Guariento painted his “Paradise” walls,—to be covered with golden stars—the reflex of his name “Steno”—“Stellifer.” In the arena of arms, Genoa, Verona, Padua, and Friuli were humbled and the King of Hungary was routed. Carlo Zeno, the great Condottiere, led the victorious Venetians against the two first cities; but the Doge in person gained laurels at Padua and Friuli. Quaint ceremonies followed the defeat of the four cities, for forty nobles from each,—dressed respectively in red, white, purple, and green, came and made obeisance to Venice in the persons of the Doge and Dogaressa seated upon thrones set up in the Piazza. Each deputation laid at their Serenities’ feet the keys and the banner of their city, and, at the same time, craved the consideration and protection of the Republic.

Great rejoicings accompanied these demonstrations of fealty wherein the Fragilie took an active and splendidly organised part. Always under the patronage of the Dogaressas, the various crafts had, through one hundred and fifty years of progressive industry, attained both perfection in the details of their several interests, and also a dominant position in the social economy of the State. At the same time Literature was reaching out towards distinction and the Fine Arts were starting upon their pageant of renown. Truly the first decade of the fifteenth century was pregnant with great issues and great events, it was the hour before the glorious noontide of expectation—“Venetia riccha, saggia, e signorila,”—“Venice, rich, wise and gentle-born.”

An obvious and visible token of the opulent greatness of the new century was the foundation of the famous “Compagnia della Calza,” directly under the auspices of the stylish Doge and fashionable Dogaressa, old folks as they really were. This remarkable Society took its rise at the period of the pageants held during the first year of Doge Steno’s rule. The designation “Calza” was quite an arbitrary choice for the purview of the Compagnia had regard to all and every detail of dress and manner. It was first entitled “della Berretta,”—“Company of the Cap,” but the woven silken or worsted garment which clung to and exhibited the whole figure, was the emphatic feature of the sumptuary modes—hence came “Calza,”—“Company of the Tights.”

The society or union consisted of a number of clubs of young men—gay, rich and physically fit. The officers of the Compagnia consisted of a Prior or chief,—who went about in a gorgeous costume of cloth of gold,—two Councillors, treasurer, chaplain, painter, sculptor, architect, poet, annalist, and a notary. The Compagnia consisted of clubs, and each club bore a distinguishing name. Immortali, Reali, Perpetui, Semprevivi, Pavoni, Ortolani, etc., etc.,—there were forty of them. Every member wore striped silk tights, embroidered in gold and coloured silks with pearls and gems: each club had its special arrangement of stripes.

Their doublets of silk velvet embroidered with gold, fitted close to the body, and bore the badge of the particular club. They had slashed sleeves through which puffings of fine white linen shirts were pulled. Upon their shoulders they wore short cloaks of cloth of gold or crimson damask velvet, lined with choice fur. Their flowing locks of hair were restrained under jaunty little caps of red or black silk or cloth, with a handsome jewel at the side and a heron’s feather. Their pointed shoes were of fine red leather pierced at the toes and adorned with gold and pearls. Waist-belts of leather, jewelled and embroidered, with beautiful scarcelle, or pouches, at the side, a golden chain bearing a jewelled pendant, and rings on the fingers completed the superb costumes.

Women associates were freely admitted, upon the hems of whose tight fitting silken petticoats, was embroidered in gold, the word “Calza”; foreigners also were admitted to honorary membership. The gentildonne wore long sleeves,—lined with fur, and beautifully worked cinctures of gold and embroidery: their hair was arranged in plaits and rolled under golden nets, and their feet were shod in jewelled golden shoes. Their fine gold chains of interlaced and jewelled rings encircled throats and breasts.

The purpose of the “Compagnia della Calza” was however not merely the wearing of fine clothes, but the direction of State pageants, the reception of foreign princes and ambassadors, the performance of spectacular games and plays, and attendance at solemn Ecclesiastical functions. They also assisted at weddings, birthdays, baptisms, and funerals, and acted as elegant and audacious State masters of ceremonies in general.

With enthusiasm, each Maundy-Thursday, the gay young fellows entered the annual Caccia del Tori, which had originated after the first defeat of Friuli in 1164. Three other dates were added,—Santa Marta’s day, the first Monday in September, and the first in October, and the “rings” were on the Lido and in the Piazza. Later on every campi had its Caccia, and, degenerating as such festivals usually do, the places of the gentildonne were taken by courtesans dressed, masked, and mannered à l’ outrance.

“Con atti, adorni assai, polite e belle, Le Donne vedi andar, con tal maniera E con la fresca ziera. Che ’l par, che le vegna del Paradiso!”

The love of sumptuous dress gave a grand impetus to Venetian trade, but it led of course to many corruptions and exaggerations,—one of these was the wearing of enormously high pattens—zilve, they were called. The condition of the calli unfortunately required some such protection from mud and dirt, but women went about on shoe-stilts of poplar wood and leather which effectively dwarfed the slim tall figures of the men. At last an edict was issued which forbade this absurd fashion, especially in the case of pregnant women:—“filios abortivos in perditione corporis et animæ suæ.” This fashion, by the way, led to many ludicrous situations, for many a gallant admirer of a calle beauty, tall, commanding and superfine,—discovered her in her boudoir reduced to natural if disappointing dimensions, and forthwith declined her charms, and made a not too dignified exit!

The splendid dogado of Michele Steno, continued for twelve years: he died early in the year 1413, at the great age of eighty-four. His obsequies were consonant with his fame, and after the excision of his bowels and the embalming of his body, he was kept many days in State with a cloth of gold pall over him and burning torches of pinewood resin beside him in the old church of Santa Marina. Over his tomb were hung the keys of Padua, now in the Seminario Patriachale, and the marble sarcophagus had carved reliefs and an epitaph “amator justitiæ pacis et ubertatis.” He left behind him the finest stable of horses in Venice and the cleverest stand of falcons, and, beside and beyond these treasures, a disconsolate widow.

Seven years after her Coronation Dogaressa Marina, suffering from plague and expecting death made a will whereby she bequeathed fifty gold ducats to poor criminals, awaiting execution, six gold ducats to a monk of San Stefano, who preached to her in the Palace, for prayers for the repose of her soul. To the Rector of Santa Maria Zobenigo, Nicolo Fusolo, a velvet robe out of which to make a cope, and three hundred gold ducats, a gold chalice, a cross, a surplice, and other ornaments necessary for the sacerdotal office. All of these objects the worthy priest was to use during his lifetime, and then they were to be the property of the monks of San Domenigo.

The devout testator however recovered from her illness and in the Archivio Notarile is preserved a second will, dated 25th August 1420, seven years after the demise of her Consort, to whom she erected the superb marble monument, now, unhappily destroyed. The figure of the Doge was placed above a marble urn embellished with a rich intaglio frieze in which was the bust of the Dogaressa in mosaic. After the funeral she entered the Convent of Sant’ Andrea, upon the lonely Campo of that name, far away from the gorgeous tumultuous scenes of her reign in the Ducal Palace. In her second will Dogaressa Marina directs that she shall be buried, vested in a nun’s habit, in the cemetery of the Convent, and she leaves twenty-five gold ducats to cover all expenses. Upon her gravestone is the following inscription:—

“Hic jacet corpus Serenissimæ D. Marina, Uxoris Q. Sereniss. et Excellentiss. Princeps D. D. Michaelis Stenus, olim inclyti Ducis Venetiarum, quæ obiit die 4 mensis Maii MCCCCXXII. Amina cuius requiescat in Pace.”

This quiet ending to a splendid career is full of pathos. She, who had been crowned Duchess of Venice amid circumstances more splendid than any of her predecessors is laid without worldly honours in the simple grave of a pious nun. No canopy is now over her save the free air, no gorgeous tapestries surround her save the painted clouds and the distant Alps, whilst the wide salty lagune is her carpet of estate.

II

Upon the death of Doge Michele Steno the choice of his successor fell first upon Messir Paolo Giustiniani, the head of as famous a family as any in Venetian story, but a family which had, strange to say, never placed a representative upon the Ducal throne. The “Forty” however reconsidered their vote, and because Messir Paolo was a poor speaker they passed on the Corno to Messir Tommaso Mocenigo. When his election was in the balance Giustiniani spoke up warmly in the Council:—“My Lords,” he said, “I thank God that you have nothing more serious to lay to my charge. Messir Antonio Venier was no spokesman but he came to the dogado and found his tongue, so shall I!”

The family of Mocenigo came from Treviso. Ser. Giovanni Moceni was among the earliest councillors of the infant Republic at the end of the eleventh century. The Mocenighi were enrolled in the “Libro d’Oro” of 1289, in the fourth division of the first grade of nobles. Messir Tommaso’s spouse was a Cappello, of equal rank to himself, but her Christian name is not recorded and there is no account of her coronation or her death.

Anyhow the pageants, which celebrated Doge Tommaso Mocenigo’s election were perhaps the most splendid of any ever witnessed in proud, wealthy and fashionable Venice. Twenty foreign princes and ambassadors sat in the Ducal tribune, eighty thousand citizens and strangers packed themselves in the colonnades of the Piazza, at the windows of the Piazza were hundreds of noble gentlewomen and the prizes in the Giostre,—wherein the Marquises of Mantua and Ferrara took part,—were burnished silver helmets encrusted with precious stones, and costly jewelled golden collars. Everybody of note wore heavy cloth of gold or rich silver brocade. Never before had such a wealth of pearls and gems been displayed even in superlatively modish Venice. Every craftsman and craftswoman was kept hard at work making things of beauty and of value in honour of their new patroness.

In addition to the State tournaments and pageants the Guild of Goldsmiths,—the richest trade corporation in Europe, and always specially under the patronage of the Dogaressa—arranged and dressed a Balordo—spectacle or revel,—wherein a cavalcade of knightly figures rode a quadrille arrayed in scarlet velvet,—horses as well,—and wearing chains of gold and ropes of pearls. The fabulous wealth of Venice was never so strikingly displayed and this prodigality added immeasurably to her fame and power. Peace was assured for no State could dare to try conclusions with her, knowing her vast resources.

Her population exceeded two hundred thousand,—one thousand being men of noble rank, each worth from seventy to four thousand gold ducats per annum. The State revenues figured at one million and a half gold ducats. The navy consisted of three hundred sea-going armed vessels manned by eight thousand sailors. Three thousand lighter vessels had trained crews of seventeen thousand men and the arsenal and dockyard hands numbered eleven thousand. Well was it said:—“El Mar Xe ’l fachin de la Terra!”—“The Sea is servant of the Land!”

Doge Tommaso Mocenigo proved himself to be the man of the hour. “Venetian of the Venetians, Venice and Venice only was his one and only love, indeed he carried his devotion so far that he narrowed his views of her, to the proportions of a “little Venice” in territory. With an iron will he bent all others to his behests, and, as a past-master in strategy, he undermined all opposition. He has come down to us as “one of the wisest and noblest rulers of the Venetian Republic,” the ninth “Grand” Doge of Venice.

His death-bed was the scene of a remarkable demonstration of his strength of character and of his solicitude for the welfare of Venice. He sent for the principal members of the Council of Forty, and, when they were assembled, he pronounced a valedictory address wherein he summed up statistically the condition of the State, enlarged upon his own share in its stability, and expressed his wishes with respect to the choice of his successor and the maintenance of his ideals.

There were seven candidates for the succession and the dying Doge succinctly reviewed the qualifications, or the reverse, of each:—“Marmo Caravello is too old, Cavaliere Bermbo limps and is blind of an eye, Lionardo Mocenigo is my brother after the flesh, Antonio Contarini has too many children and his wife still brings him one every year, Pietro Loredano is a proud man and too young, Gianbattista Badoer is Captain-General, let him be satisfied, and Francesco Foscari is an ambitious man who sets fire to things but is careful not to burn his own fingers. I pray you my Lords not to entertain his candidature, for I am convinced, that if you elect him Doge, he will bring untold disasters upon our beloved city.”

The Doge died in 1423 and his tomb is in the church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo with the inscription “Huomo oltre modo desideroso della Pace.” The effigy, sculptured upon the monument represents very exactly what Tommaso Mocenigo must have looked like in life—a noble form, comely features, the curve of the lip indicating masterfulness, the great round eyes daring, the high arched brow and cheek determination.

The week which followed the demise of Doge Tommaso Mocenigo was one of deep anxiety on the part of all the candidates for the Ducal office, probably none of them felt the strain more heavily than Messir Francesco Foscari and his spouse Madonna Marina. The fact of the late Doge’s animadversions roused their ambition and fired their determination to prove by fortune of election the erroneousness of his strictures.

Ten times in as many days the votes of the Council of Forty were cast without result, a clear majority of two-thirds was required for a constitutional decision. Apparently a policy of exhaustion was followed until only two candidates were left in the contest, Pietro Loredano and Francesco Foscari, and the latter and his wife were very hopeful of the result. Advocates of the rivals in the Council spoke long and bitterly: Pietro Orso was for Pietro Loredano,—Bernardo Pisani and Paolo Corner for Francesco Foscari. Bulgaro Vetterino also took part in the debate and denied that Foscari was too poor for the position—as was alleged. He stated that his client stood with his family for no fewer than one hundred and fifty thousand gold ducats.

At length Francesco Foscari received twenty-eight votes out of the forty-one, and Captain-General Badoer, who also supported his candidature, made the usual announcement—“This is your Doge”—to the huge body of citizens in the Piazza. At once a tumultuous response was made “Sia! Sia!”—“Agreed! Agreed!” and the first contested Dogal election Venice had known ended in general satisfaction.

Francesco Foscari was the youngest of the seven candidates for the Ducal Throne, aged just fifty-one. He came of a notable family and his forebears had rendered yeoman service to the Serene Republic. They belonged to Maestre but migrated to Rivoalto in the ninth century: the Foscarini were a branch of the same family. Equal in rank to the Mocenighi, Vernieri, and Malipieri, who had given Doges to Venice, they reckoned many warriors and statesmen in their generations.

The new Doge was born in 1373: his father was Messir Nicolo Foscari and he had two brothers—Donato and Marco. It was said they were in somewhat straitened circumstances and lived away from Venice to economise. Francesco however threw himself into political controversy and obtained several important posts under Government: in 1407 he was named chief of the “Forty.”

When a very young man, in 1395, he married Donna Maria, daughter of Messir Andrea Priuli dal Banco: she bore him several sons and daughters, but she died somewhere about the year 1414. Very little has been recorded of her but Palazzi, who refers to the famous pack of playing-cards at the Museo Civico with effigies of the earliest Dogaressas reads upon the “Knave of Clubs”:—“The first wife of Francesco Foscari, Doge of Venice, who whilst she was assisting at the Coronation of the Dogaressa (Agnese Cappello) narrowly escaped a thunderbolt which fell from heaven, but heaven never hurts the guiltless.”

Messir Francesco Foscari’s young family needed a second mother and he another helpmeet, accordingly, in 1415, wedding-bells again rang in a new bride at the Casa Foscari. Donna Marina was the eldest daughter of Messir Bartolommeo Nani a member of a family in the same category as the Foscari. She became the mother of four sons and five daughters, but most mysteriously they all died of the plague in 1425 and 1427, except the second boy—Giacomo.

When his election was completed the new Doge determined that nothing should be wanting to prove his nobility and the financial resources at his command. At the same time the Lords of the Council, knowing their man perfectly, added three new conditions to the Promissione:—1st. The Doge was required to fund all his private property with a reserve of twenty thousand gold ducats invested in silver plate; 2nd. Each of the State servants was to receive from the Doge two livery-suits per annum; and 3rd. His effigy and that of the Dogaressa were not to appear upon the new coinage.

Her Serenity Dogaressa Marina Nani-Foscari made her Entry into Venice and went to her Coronation attended by the most imposing procession ever marshalled for the purpose. Her supporters were the Marquises of Mantua and Ferrara, and among her train-bearers were scions of the noble houses of Padua, Vicenza, Treviso, and Friuli,—it was a regal pageant. The new Sala del Gran Consiglio within the Ducal Palace, with all its wealth of painting, gilding, carving, tapestry and mosaic in all its fresh and unsullied glory—“the most magnificent room in Europe,”—was opened by the Dogaressa that she might be crowned therein with the minor jewelled Corno.

All Sovereigns and States gazed at Venice with amazement—at the moment the supreme power of the world, the most splendid court on earth, and the shining example of peace, honour and prosperity. Her proud neighbour Florence sought her help, and cap in hand, her ambassadors, Palla negli Strozzi and Giovanni de’ Medici, knelt humbly before Doge Foscari. The King of Poland craved from the Doge and Dogaressa the honour of standing sponsors for his heir, and princes from all round entered the city in State and were regally entertained. The private apartments of their Serenities were crowded with splendid offerings, and the Pope bestowed his Pontifical blessing.

A dark side there was however to this glorious panorama. Intercourse with the East introduced the seeds of pestilence, and in 1424 and 1427 cholera raged in every part of fair Venice, sixteen thousand and twenty thousand deaths respectively made huge gaps in every family circle. The Doge and Dogaressa, indifferent of their own security, mixed freely with the stricken sufferers, and, by their efforts, the first pest-house in Europe was established upon Santa Marina di Nazaret. These dark clouds rolled away at last, and Venice was once more all smiles and blushes; but upon the domestic horizon of the Doge’s family appeared an evil meteor, small at first but soon to burst in overwhelming calamity.

The tragedy of Giacomo Foscari is as well known as any among all the affecting stories of Venice. The only survivor of a promising young family of fourteen children, Giacomo was the one and only domestic joy of his bereaved parents. Upon him they lavished all their affection, upon him they fastened all their hopes. Gentle and loving in disposition and possessed of talent and ambition, the lad grew to manhood petted and pampered, in the artificial environment of the Ducal Court. Skilled in all the exercises of the Giostra and approved in all the elegancies of the Compagnia della Calza, the Doge’s son was the most eligible of all the prospective bridegrooms in Venice. He had not long to wait, nor far to look, for his bride. By the Promissione of his father he was certainly limited in his choice to Venetian maidens but that was of course no bar sinister to matrimony, for no damsels were more lovely, more lively than the young gentildonne of the Piazza.

Lucrezia Contarini was out and away the most beautiful girl in all the gay city of Venice. Her family was one of the very first—“Apostolic,” her physical charms were of the healthiest, her mental attainments the most exalted: indeed Giacomo and Lucrezia were an ideal couple, and nothing but distinction and prosperity were prophesied of their auspicious union. Her father gave his daughter a goodly dowry of sixteen thousand gold ducats and one thousand more as a loan, and he also provided a sumptuous marriage feast. Five palaces still exist to prove the influence and high condition of the family. Lucrezia’s home was the Palazzo Contarini degli Scrigni,—or Money-chests,—upon the Grand Canal, called so because of the big iron safes full of treasures of all kinds it contained.

The marriage was celebrated on 29th January 1441, and the nuptial ceremonies and festivities were the most gorgeous ever seen in opulent Venice. Upon the morning of the auspicious day Cavaliere Eustachio Balbi, Chief of the Compagnia della Calza and Master of the Ceremonies, with eighteen young nobles sumptuously attired and splendidly mounted,—their horses were caparisoned in silver brocade of Alexandria, the most costly known,—assembled at the Balbi Palace as the nuptial escort of the bride. With all the pride on earth the glittering cavalcade, having crossed the Grand Canal by a bridge of boats, curvetted through the narrow calli and deployed upon the Piazza, round which they galloped furiously, on their way to salute the Doge and Dogaressa awaiting them in the State balcony of the Ducal Palace. Then retracing their caracoling steps amid showers of kisses and laurel wreaths thrown to and from admiring maidens at every window, they recrossed the Canal and drew rein before the Contarini Palace.

Fair Lucrezia, in her flashing bridal-dress of white silk and silver tissue and wearing, among many precious jewels, a high golden comb set with enormous pearls, awaited her escort at the portal of the Palace. She was supported by her sponsors the Procurators of San Marco, and attended by sixty young noblewomen garbed in cloth of gold and costly lace, each with her golden casket full of white carnations, the Contarini emblem, to scatter before the bride.

The lovely procession—a pageant of fair girls and comely youths—moved in stately grace to the Church of San Barnaba hard by, where already the Doge and Dogaressa had been received by the clergy and escorted to their thrones. Giacomo Foscari, the bridegroom, with his supporters,—men of his house and young nobles of the Council,—all in superb costumes, stood before the altar. He and his bride, her hand in his, knelt in the centre of the prostrate congregation whilst the nuptial Mass was sung.

Venetian weddings were the most magnificent in Europe, for the citizens’ nuptials were as splendid as Royal marriages. There was a strange blending of Orient mysticism and romance with the Western spirit of progress and reality. One very quaint custom was the visit of the bridegroom-elect and his best men to the house of the bride, upon the eve of the marriage morn. Every door was barred, every window and jalousie closed, save one far up the wall. A crazy ladder, all too short, was left at hand, scaling which, with a fall or two assured, the venturesome youth attained the open window-sill. Inside the house every door was shut, but, running down the stairs, the young fellow drew back the bolts of the great door and admitted his friends. Then, every room door flew open, and, headed by the father and mother of the girl, the family and the guests entered the reception-room. Bearing in his hand a leg of mutton the happy groom approached the father, and, offering it to him, said:—“See, your Excellency, take this bit of dead meat in exchange for a bit which is alive, namely your daughter.” The happy couple then knelt and received the parental blessing: a banquet and a dance followed in due order.

Whether Giacomo Foscari went through all these old-world and traditional observances we know not, but, after the nuptial Mass, the Doge and Dogaressa returned to the Ducal Palace where a noble banquet was spread before the Lords of the Council, the foreign ambassadors, and the nobles of the Court and City. Meanwhile the “Bucintoro” was steered in front of the Contarini Palace,—with many attendant boats, both great and small, all gaily decked with banners and wedding favours,—to convey the bride and bridegroom to the presence of their Serenities. One hundred and fifty damsels of noble birth, all in festal white and richly jewelled, with as many stylish young companions of La Calza, accompanied the happy couple. At the Piazzetta an equal company of the beautiful and the brave was in attendance to escort the water-pageant into the Ducal Palace, and there, at the head of the Great Staircase, the Doge and Dogaressa, in robes of State and surrounded by the great officers of the Court, gave an affectionate and dignified greeting to their son and daughter. A grand ball was given and a rich collation and the night was far spent before the happy, weary guests found their link-lighted way to their brilliantly illuminated gondolas, and so home and to bed.

Lucrezia Contarini-Foscari’s trousseau was superb:—A robe of cloth of gold and crimson velvet, lined with squirrel, and a train of white satin brocade two yards long; a robe of cloth of gold and peacock blue satin, the deep sleeves lined with ermine; a robe of cloth of gold and green brocade with open sleeves of fine lace; and a fourth robe of cloth of gold and yellow damask lined with ermine:—the four cost Messir Contarini two thousand gold ducats!

Accompanying these were four magnificent jewels for the hair with high combs—one of rubies, another of emeralds, a third of diamonds and the fourth, a huge Balax ruby—the four were valued at three thousand eight hundred gold ducats. Fortunate Lucrezia’s coffer of jewels also contained a necklace of diamonds and pearls, which had belonged to the unfortunate Queen of Cyprus, Caterina Conaro; a superb shoulder strap of diamonds and pearls en suite, and a range of gem rings—four of large rubies, worth two thousand gold ducats. The rest of the trousseau would require pages to enumerate, anyhow the bride of Giacomo Foscari entered the palace,—purchased by his father, the Doge in 1428 from the Giustiniani for twenty thousand gold ducats,—with four immense cassoni full of valuables!

Everything about the young couple promised human happiness of the highest and the best, and all went well with Giacomo and Lucrezia Foscari until, in the very midst of their gaiety and fame, a crushing calamity befell them with a suddenness and an awfulness unspeakable. In 1445 Giacomo was accused before the Council of Ten of receiving bribes, not only from men in Venice who sought social and political gains, but also from Duke Filippo Maria Visconti of Milan—the best hated and most feared of all the foreign sovereigns. This situation was created by the extravagance of the young couple, but surely every excuse was admissible: he, the petted child of parents who denied him nothing, and she, whose head was turned by her almost fabulously wealthy marriage. They were in heavy debt and how to meet their liabilities (they dared not consult their parents) was the question.

On the 15th of February, a Zenta or Commission, appointed to examine into the charges, and Giacomo showed at once the weakness of his character and of his case by precipitate flight to Trieste. His chief accuser was the very Pietro Loredano who had lost the dogado to Francesco Foscari and had sworn to be avenged for his defeat. It was a stunning blow to the old Doge and Dogaressa but they maintained their dignity with the highest fortitude in face of the declaration of the Zenta:—“Considering the base, disgraceful, and abominable, excesses committed by Giacomo Foscari, son of our Lord the Doge, against the honour and dignity of our State and Government, it is resolved that he be condemned to exile, and the confiscation of his goods in default.”

In vain the broken-hearted Dogaressa pleaded for her son,—her only living child, but stern duty was the master of those Venetian councillors, of human sympathy they had little, and the Doge forced himself to side with them against his boy,—an heroic figure, externally impassive inwardly a wreck. Other charges were preferred against the absent Giacomo,—murder or accessory thereto included. He was brought back to Venice to be tortured into a confession of crimes of which he was wholly innocent, and then banished for life to Candia. He made a last and painful appeal to his father, but the broken-hearted old man spoke firmly in the bitterness of his soul. “Go,” said he, “my son, my dearly loved son, go, and obey the commands of your country and seek nothing more.”

As a last favour, however, his mother the Dogaressa, and his wife, Lucrezia with her two little children were allowed to bid him farewell in the Torricelli prison within the Ducal Palace. Never was there a more affecting scene; poor Giacomo’s mutilated body and distorted features terrified them, and both mother and wife were borne fainting away. The wretched man sailed away to his place of exile, but he survived his arrival only a few short months. Death was a friend-in-need, and yet he had not needed to die so young, if Pietro Loredano had not again interfered to delay the free pardon granted in 1457.

This Loredano was a devil in disguise; he even protested that the sobs and tears and lamentations of the afflicted Doge and Dogaressa indicated imbecility and unfitness for office, and he urged upon the “Ten” the risk they ran of his Serenity summoning the “Forty” and haling them for their harshness and barbarity before the Greater Council. In a panic they hastened to demand the abdication of the Doge. The Dogaressa sought the detractor of her husband and appealed to him for pity, but he pushed her away and scandalously accused her of unfaithfulness as spouse and of treason as Dogaressa!

When acquainted with the decree of the “Ten” the grand old man bowed his proud white head, and with dignity exclaimed:—“I never for a moment thought that my old age would prove injurious to Venice but I yield to the decision of the Council” and then with full meaning he addressed to Pietro Loredano who had the effrontery to be one of those to convey the sentence of deprivation, he added, “Your malice has driven me from the eminence to which I have been raised and which I have maintained unsullied for thirty years.” Loredano made no reply but upon that day’s page in his priorista or diary, he wrote in a crabbed hand “’L ’la pagati,”—“He has paid his debt.”

On 24th October 1457 the brave and noble old Doge and the faithful and virtuous Dogaressa Marina bade farewell to the Ducal Palace and sought the seclusion of their own palace at San Pantaleone. “Now,” said he, “we shall have peace in our old age if no joy.” A pension of two thousand gold ducats was accorded to the ex-Doge. All this brutality and haste was apparently kept from the knowledge of the people with whom the Doge and Dogaressa were highly popular, but directly the facts became known a revolution was threatened and matters became so serious that the “Forty” decreed that no man should name “the affair of Francesco Foscari under pain of instant death.”

Francesco Foscari was a “Grand” Doge with respect to the length and distinction of his reign, and also with respect to the dignity with which he met and bore his heavy trials. Still in his time Venice lost her foreign possessions and her fame as the greatest of European naval powers. Too much attention was given to trivial matters of domestic policy and too little to the imperial demands of a strong navy and a forceful foreign policy.

III

The long dogado of Francesco Foscari,—thirty-four years, the most extended of any in the whole range of the one hundred and twenty Chief of Magistrates of Venice,—in a sort of way paralysed the life of the Court and the action of the Government. Doge Francesco abdicated at the advanced age of eighty-four, and his entourage and that of the Dogaressa had grown old as well:—she was seventy-two. Youth, beauty and gaiety at home were at a discount and the maintenance of the naval and military services abroad were inefficient and decadent. The times were worn out, and what enthusiasm remained in the hearts of nobles and citizens went out to other men and other measures.

The advent of Doge Pasquale Malipiero was hailed with a feeling of relief and a spirit of hopefulness. He was a man of gentle disposition and noted for the consideration and urbanity of his character. He was most scrupulous not in any way to derogate from the high esteem accorded to his predecessor, nor to wound the susceptibilities of the Dogaressa.

Two days after his abdication Francesco Foscari died of a broken heart and Doge Malipiero was the first to offer Dogaressa Marina sympathy and assistance. The State decreed a public funeral but she emphatically refused to surrender the dead body of her husband. “No,” she said, “posthumous honours are a mockery after official injustice; I will bury my dead how and where I like.” Her strong and unforgiving attitude is recorded by the pack of Playing-Cards, so often referred to in this volume, upon the “Eight of Swords”:—“Nani, the second wife of Doge Foscari, determined to vindicate the fair fame of her husband, by burying him at her own expense and not at that of the State. Nothing is more fierce than offended innocence.”

The Council of Ten expostulated with her and declared that, if she refused the order of burial, her husband’s corpse would be taken away by force. It was perfectly well understood however that this peremptory action was influenced by abject fear of the consequences to the Lordly Councillors should full State funeral rites not be accorded to the remains of the beloved old Doge.

At length the Dogaressa yielded reluctantly but positively declined to follow the usual custom and appear as chief mourner. A pompous procession bore from the Foscari Palace to the “Bucintoro” the dead ruler’s earthly casket which was steered through kneeling weeping crowds afloat and on rive to the Piazzetta and thence into the choir of San Marco. The great bell of the basilica,—which had scarcely ceased its clear, crisp emphatic clang announcing the succession of the new Doge,—gave forth slow and muffled tones. In the middle of the Piazza a halt was called and Messir Bernardo Giustiniani, the oldest noble, holding aloft the sword of the deceased Doge pronounced a funeral oration.

Upon the bier rested the jewelled Corno and the Ducal State robes which Pasquale Malipiero had so sympathetically laid aside whilst he walked bare-headed immediately behind, clad in the purple of a simple Lord of the Council. After the Requiem the procession re-formed, and, with the casket under its pall of cloth of gold placed under the Ducal canopy, the “Bucintoro” carried all that remained of Doge Francesco Foscari in stately silence to his last resting-place before the High Altar of the Church of Santa Maria Gloriosa de’ Frari.

The following day the new Doge re-assumed the regalia of his office and helped to prepare his Consort for her State Entry and Coronation. In 1414 he had married the woman he loved,—Donna Giovanna,—daughter of Messir Antonio Dandolo, above himself in station, for the Malipieri were of an inferior grade of nobility to the “Apostolic” Dandoli. 26th January, 1457–1458, was the auspicious day chosen for the Dogaressa’s ceremonial. The funereal cloths which had swathed the “Bucintoro” were rent away and banners,—blazoned in gold and colours,—and great swaying garlands of greenery transformed the noble vessel into a gorgeous Argosy which, with the Dogaressa and her attendant ladies and many maids of honour on board, swept gracefully down the Grand Canal.

The ritual of the inauguration rites was similar to that arranged for the Dogaressa Marina Galina-Steno, but the new First Lady of Venice managed to project quite a personal feature into the proceedings. As the patroness in particular of the printing-press and of the lace-cushion and of the respective craftsmen and craftswomen these two guilds were specially honoured. Palazzi, in “La Virtu in Giuocco” records that Dogaressa Giovanna was “a princess of splendid physical and mental gifts but possessed of no private fortune” ... in 1469 Giovanni Spira dedicated to her the first book ever printed in Venice—“Epistolæ ad Familiares” of Cicero.

In that quaint pack of Playing-cards at the Museo Civico, the “Knight (King) of Swords” bears an eulogy of Dogaressa Giovanna with a wood-cut of a printing-office, and the following inscription:—“The Art of Printing was introduced in Venice by the Dogaressa Dandolo-Malipiero—the Press has made the name Dandolo immortal.”

This is perhaps a piece of special pleading but, inasmuch as Dogaressa Giovanna Dandolo-Malipiero was a woman of culture and the friend of men of letters, her patronage of the earliest printers undoubtedly gave the premier place to Venice in the history of printing. Missals, Service-books and other books, used in the churches, were printed from wooden blocks as early as 1441 by unknown craftsmen. With Giovanni da Spira (of Speyer) came to Venice his brother Wendelin, and they were joined by a French engraver of coins,—Nicolo Jenson of Tours, who turned his attention to cutting wooden letters and making wooden blocks. Their family of pupils and followers, between 1470–1500, numbered no fewer than one hundred and fifty-five printers of note. Of early books printed in Venice, four were produced in 1469,—all with grateful allusions to the Dogaressa,—sixteen in 1479, and ninety-eight in 1489:—they were chiefly Classics, Bibles, and Morals. In 1480 appeared the first illustrated book the world had seen in print “Hypnerotomachia”—“The Dream of Love.” Venice thenceforward became and, remained for two hundred years, the greatest of all centres for books, printers, and publishers.

As the patroness of Venetian lace-workers Dogaressa Giovanna Dandolo-Malipiero made for herself unquestionable renown. She knew, of course, by heart the fascinating story of Bella di Giovan d’Isola di San Giorgio in Alga, and probably she was herself a skilful artist in the exquisite craft. Burano was the earliest metropolis of the Merletti a Piombini—the offspring of fine thread and beaded bobbins,—and the “Buranelle,” or lace girls of Burano were as famous then as now for their manipulative talent. The gracious Dogaressa gathered around her a number of young gentlewomen and encouraged them to twist and knot the delicate threads. Perhaps they called to mind the tradition of the heroines of Aquileia, for the early Burano lace is as fine and as strong as the interlaced locks of hair, which made such stout hawsers for the catapults in that famous siege.

Just as the bewitching Bella was inspired to imitate a beautiful piece of coral seaweed so the clever lace-workers of Burano went to Nature for their models. Already, in the fourteenth century, they had noted the swirling whirlpools of the gondolier’s pole and the rippling eddies of the tide on the steps of the rivi; and had observed the rolling clouds above their heads and the distant indented Dolomites beyond the Lagune; and had produced their opus araneum or punto-in-aria,—openwork. Then followed quite naturally, imitations of moving objects around them—the sailors, the cordage, and the nets of fishing vessels, with bits of flotsam and jetsam, shells, seaweed and fish scales, evolving punto-a-reticelli,—network.

Very easily foliage and flowers of Venetian gardens prompted lace ideas; hence we have punto-a-folgiami,—spraywork. Next, fish in ships’ holds or in crystal bowls, birds on wing and insects, appeared in twisted thread as punto-a-groppo,—raised work; and fabled animals, domestic pets, and arabesques formed another range of subjects,—punto-a-maglia,—figure work. Effigies in Church, people on Piazza, faces on the Rialto, and many other human models came out of leaded bobbins as punto-a-quadra and punto-a-burato,—portrait work, and so forth.

Dogaressa Giovanna must have been a woman of marked erudition and consummate taste to combine two such dissimilar avocations as printing and lace-making in her heart’s interest. Her patronage of Burano and its craft directly interested the votaries of fashion everywhere, and the women of all lands should ever hold her in high estimation. Burano became the mother of Honiton, of Valenciennes and Alençon, of Mechlin and Brussels, and the delicate meshes of her lace-work have enriched woman’s realm with the most decorative attribute it possesses.

Doge Pasquale Malipiero died in 1462 and was buried in the great church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, in the left aisle, where his Florentine sarcophagus may still be seen. With him was laid all that remained of noble Dogaressa Giovanna, but the date of her death is not recorded—“Giovanna, the Queen of Lace, the Empress of Printing.” In the Museo Civico is a medal which has, on the obverse, the bust of Doge Malipiero, and on the reverse that of Dogaressa Giovanna, with the legend:—“Inclite Johanne ... Alme ... Urbis ... Venatiar ... Ducise.” She wears the Corno with an ample coif or veil which hides somewhat the marks of age: the face is thin, the cheeks hollow, the forehead high, and the eyes somewhat sunken. The medal is very delicately chiselled and is said to have been the work of Pietro Guidizzaro,—a noted medallist of the fifteenth century. In the Berlin Museum is another medal with a similarly incised portrait of Dogaressa Giovanna, but in place of that of the Doge, her husband, are represented two beauteous Venetian maidens,—representing “Printing” and “Lace-making,”—with the legend:—“Vincit ... Honia ... Bona ... Volontas.”

Cristoforo Moro and his Consort Cristina Sanudo mounted the Dogal throne in 1462. He was an ill-conditioned sort of man, very parsimonious but in a way very devout, and as we say now, an advocate of “peace at any price.” His personal appearance was hardly in his favour,—for he was short of stature, very stout, and his features were marred by a decided squint. The Mori belonged to the least honourable grade of nobility, having purchased their title after the war in Candia for one hundred thousand gold ducats. They also bought the Palazzo Lin, the property of an extinct Venetian family upon the Grand Canal, and henceforth gave themselves all the airs and graces of hereditary nobles. Their good conceit of themselves was quite effective and quite in the order of Venetian social convention.

The Dogaressa Cristina was the daughter of Messir Lionardo Sanudo and Madonna Barbara Memo his wife; her marriage was celebrated in 1412. Once more the Venetians had the spectacle of a patriarchal couple installed in the Ducal Palace. Notwithstanding her age the new Dogaressa went through all the ceremonies of her Entry and Coronation with dignity and charm. “She was a woman,” Marino Sanudo, her nephew the historian says, “of a remarkably gentle disposition and held in reverence for her works of charity.”

Palazzi wrote of her in his “Fasti Ducales” that “she was an example to other gentlewomen in her care of the poor.” Upon the “Knave of Swords” in the pack of Cards at the Museo Civico is the following inscription:—“Sanuta, wife of Cristoforo Moro, Doge of Venice, raised her voice to Heaven only for the good of the people, the gift of Heaven, and the Seal of justice.”

A few notable events occurred during the reign of Doge Cristoforo Moro. His Promissione, like its forerunners, cut down the Ducal prerogatives and also severed the last strand of the coil which feebly held the rights of the people. The title of the Republic passed from “Comune Venetiarum” to “Dominium, or Signoria Venetiarum.” War with Friuli broke out afresh and the Doge shrank from the responsibilities of leadership until twitted by Condottiere Vettor Cappello:—“Have,” said he, “my lord less care for thy skin and more for thine honour!” The Venetians had gradually lapsed into a state of false security: their fame on land and sea made them confident that Venetian supremacy was assured. No new battleships were laid down and the manning and armament of the fleet were neglected until, in 1469, the “Mistress of the Seas” received a stunning awakening—the Turks wrested from her for ever her superiority afloat.

In the world of craft and fashion Dogaressa Cristina was the recognised patroness and leader, but skill and beauty yielded to cheapness and frivolity. She set her face against the introduction of foreign-made goods and insisted upon the craftsmen improving both the materials and the manner of their industries. The Church, in the person of Frate Mauro Lapi, of the Frari monastery, appealed to her to redress the effeminacy of young courtiers in the wearing of long hair—“capiliaturas nimis longas al faciunt mulieres.”

Both the Doge and Dogaressa were much occupied in arranging and furnishing the newly completed private apartments in the Ducal Palace. Whilst superintending this undertaking, and assigning positions for the almost numberless “Spoils of Venice,” taken by her Doges, after their victories afloat and ashore, Dogaressa Cristina was called upon in 1471, to resign her lifelong partner and to go into retirement. Year after year spent its slow course and at last no one remembered the gracious Signora when, in 1533, Martino Sanudo came to make his will. “I bequeath” he wrote, “to the Church of Messir San Sebastiano a very venerable relic—a bone of the Saint which belonged to my Aunt Sanuta Moro, and which she had religiously preserved by way of a charm against the plague.” This sacred benefaction demonstrated the piety of the old Dogaressa, as, by her will, executed in January 1471, she proved her charity.

To the clergy of the monastery of San Giobbe Dogaressa Cristina assigned a goodly benefaction to provide Masses for the repose of her own soul, her husband’s—the Doge and her father’s, mother’s, and her brothers’. The building of this church was due to the Doge and Dogaressa: in the choir is his tomb bearing the sculptured recognisance of his family—the Moro—mulberry, and over the door of the Sacristy is his portrait. Perhaps the natural modesty of the Dogaressa forbade hers, as a pendant, but her patron Saint San Bernardino da Siena stands as a statuette along with Sant’ Antonio da Padua and San Giobbe—the patrons of the Doge.

Doge Nicolo Tron (1471–1473) was a very different sort of man from his predecessor, both in appearance and in character. Tall and extremely handsome, an athlete in form and practice, he had however two unpleasing idiosyncrasies—a repulsive expression and a stuttering tongue. He was not a man of good family, but what he lacked in heredity he more than made up in wealth. When a young man he settled in Rhodes,—a land of gold in that day—and acquired by his industry and profitable speculations an immense fortune,—said to be at least one hundred thousand gold ducats.

In 1424 he married Aliodea, daughter of Messir Silvestro Morosini of the sestiere of Santa Giustina, a significant union of rank and money and a new phase in Venetian matters matrimonial. Ambitious to prove to his fellow-citizens and the proud nobles his worthiness and opulence the new Doge departed from the ordinary festive arrangements of the Fragilie, and himself spread the banquet for them in honour of his Consort. Every attribute of dignity, every emblem of sovereignty, and every decorative feature of the installation ceremonies, were mounted upon a magnificent scale. The robes of State were the richest ever worn by Doge and Dogaressa, and right nobly, we may be sure, the Serene couple bore themselves. If he was handsome she was beautiful—all the Morosinis were—a trait which never failed in that splendid family.

The Palazzo Tron, on the Grand Canal, was most extravagantly furnished, the decoration of one room alone with marble, sculptures, carved wood, gilding, and rare glass cost more than two thousand gold ducats.

Aliodea Morosini-Tron was the most attractive, and the best dressed gentlewoman in Venice. Palazzi goes into ecstasies over her fascinations, and he makes delightful play with her popular name “Dea.” “Dea” he says, “corresponds with ‘love’ and ‘beauty’ and such were the characteristics of the Princess who was truly and indeed the ‘Venus of the Century.’” Once more the old pack of Playing-cards sets forth the Dogaressas virtues:—The “Knave of Coins” (Diamonds) has:—“Dea Morosini, wife of Nicolo Tron, Doge of Venice, a most religious Princess, her humility caused her to choose a private burial—Dea se a Dio.” She gave her husband two children, both boys, the elder Giacomo became Procurator of San Marco, and the younger,—a soldier,—fell at the terrible battle of Negroponte.

Doge Tron died in 1473 and was buried in the church of Santa Maria Gloriosa de’ Frari under a huge monument by the High Altar. He was the last Doge of Venice whose effigy was stamped upon the coinage of the Republic. His was a very prosperous dogado, and the decline of Venice was for a brief space stayed. Victories in the East led to the acquisition of Smyrna, and the littoral of Asia Minor. Cyprus too came under the banner of San Marco.

Of Dogaressa “Dea’s” good works and influences we seem to have no records, save what her epitaph recites upon her simple last resting-place at San Giobbe:—“Deæ rariss. mulieris illustriss. Dom Nicolai Throni inclyti Ducis Venetiarum, Conjugis, humili hoc in loco Corpus jussu tuo conditum est, animan vero ejus propter vitæ virtutum et morum sanctitatem ad cœlestem patriam advolasse credemdum est. Ann. Salutis MCCCCLXXVIII.” She survived her husband just five years and probably kept her cell in the fervour of devotion at the convent of San Giobbe, far, far away from the madding crowd.

There is an apocryphal story affecting Doge Nicolo Tron namely that he was twice married, first to Donna Laura Nogarola, daughter of Messir Lionardo Nogarola of Verona, and sister of the celebrated Isotta,—famed as a writer of interesting letters and as a profound classical scholar. Madonna Laura herself was conspicuous for her beauty of person, her devout disposition, her charm of manner, and her erudition. It is a moot point with historians whether Messir Nicolo Tron divorced the illustrious Laura before he married the divine Dea, or whether after all the former fair gentlewoman was not the wife of Messir Cristoforo Pellegrino Ambassador from Verona to Venice during the dogado of Doge Nicolo Tron. A third supposition refers to the handsome and wealthy Doge’s adventures in the regions of Platonic affection, but of this only surmise is possible—facts are wanting, and here comes romance!