CHAPTER VII

I

The Doge and Dogaressa of the Fisher folk!

If imitation be the sincerest form of flattery, then must the Most Serene Doges and Dogaressas of Venice, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, have experienced gratification combined with amusement at the spectacle of the mock Court of the Zattere.

The fisher-folk of the parishes, wherein they principally resided, San Raffaele, Santa Marta, and San Nicolo degli Orfani, and others, were accorded the privilege of electing annually a Doge and Dogaressa to preside over the affairs of the fishing industry. They were chosen by vote and by acclamation, they were accountable to a Council of “Forty,” and they had their installation and coronation ceremonies. They were attended by duly appointed officers: the Dogaressa had her attendant maids of honour, the Doge his body-guard. At functions,—joyous or sad,—they wore official costumes, modelled upon those of the Doge and Dogaressa at the Ducal Palace—robes of State, the Corno and the regalia.

Upon the Election of a Doge of the Republic, the Fisher Doge and Dogaressa proceeded in mock State to the Palace to offer the congratulations of the fisher community, and then they went on to the Palace of the Dogaressa to salute her Serenity. Each Ascension Day—“La Sensa”—the Head of the State and his Consort entertained the fisher folk generally at collation, and the subsequent proceedings partook of the character of a saturnalia,—full license being granted by the Signori della Notte, or police, but no one was at all the worse for their conviviality.

There was no little stir in official circles, when, in 1557, the Council of “Forty” determined that, after being in abeyance nearly eighty years, the ceremonials of Entry and Coronation should be revived in honour of Signora Zilia Dandolo-Priuli. Two generations of Venetians had come and gone and had not beheld the most striking of all Venetian pageants. To be sure they had not been without gorgeous processions and bountiful festivals; the twelve annual Andate of the Doge and the Lords of the Council had been scrupulously carried out under each succeeding Head of the State; but demonstrations of magisterial dignity and military pomp are very poor equivalents for feasts of grace and beauty, love and chastity.

The Election of Messir Lorenzo Priuli to the Ducal throne, in 1556, was in a very great measure due to the attractive personality and ancestral dignity of his Consort. She was acknowledged to be the most distinguished noblewoman in Venice. Daughter of Messir Marco Dandolo, in direct descent from Doge Andrea Dandolo, and with the blood of the hero Doge Arrigo Dandolo coursing through her veins, she was in the best and truest sense a virago. Her marriage took place in 1526, but was as a matter of rank, a mésalliance, for the Priuli were one of the latest ennobled families,—dating their title only from 1450.

The Palazzo Priuli, upon the Fondamento dell’ Osmarin, was in its day one of the most magnificent in Venice, being entirely faced with superb frescoes by Palma Vecchio—alas they have all perished. Another Priuli palace belonged to Messir Girolamo Priuli, Procurator of San Marco, and brother of the new Doge: it was situated on the opposite riva of the Grand Canal, near the church of San Barnaba. A third Palazzo Priuli, or perhaps Casa Priuli, existed in the Cannaregio, a sestiere with its distinctive customs, peculiar physiognomy of its people and its special dialect. Built in 1520 by Messir Agnello Priuli youngest brother of the Doge, who married in 1517 Donna Andreiana Venier, daughter of Messir Francesco Venier, a two years’ Doge in 1554–1556, it was famous for its orchards and its great shady trees—the rendezvous of many a gay company under Dogaressa Zilia’s patronage.

The preparation for the Dogaressa’s solemn Entry and Coronation were on a very elaborate scale. The “Bucintoro,” which had borne no bevy of Venetian beauties for well-nigh one hundred years, was overhauled and covered with gold and blazonry. The Trade-Guilds—the Fragilie—were hard at work with new costumes, new banners, and new gifts for her Serenity. The clergy carefully recensioned their office-books and looked out their richest vestments. Music-masters and chorus-leaders furbished up their instruments, wrote festal marches, and rehearsed odes of welcome. The companies of La Calza gave busy work to all the Trades for new festal garbs. The dignified Lords themselves needed new robes, their consorts new dresses. Venice was alive with craftsmen and craftswomen, for the time was short, and very much to do.

Although the Election of Doge Francesco Priuli was effected late in the year 1556, the solemn Entry of the Dogaressa did not take place until the autumn of the year following. The reason for this unusual delay we need not canvass but assign it to the want of preparedness for the revival of a long disused observance.

On the 18th of September 1557, the “Forty,” the “Ten,” and fifty other nobles, assembled in the Sala d’Udienza del Doge, to inaugurate the solemnity. They despatched Cavaliere Giovanni Cappello,—the father of his Serenity’s son-in-law Andrea Cappello,—habited in a magnificent costume of richest red damask cloth of gold, stiff as herald’s tabard, with a distinguished and splendidly appointed suite to welcome in their name, in the Piazza, the ambassadors of the Emperor and of the Dukes of Savoy and Urbino. Passing under a triumphal arch erected near the public slaughter-houses, by the Guild of Butchers, the procession advanced to the quay of the Piazzetta and there embarked upon the gala-decked “Bucintoro.” A short cruise took the party, at the landing-steps of the palace of Messir Girolamo Priuli, which was hung from top to bottom with draperies of silk and cloth of gold, to pay their respects to her Serenity.

Dogaressa Zilia awaited her distinguished visitors at the entrance of the palace, accompanied by one hundred young noblewomen and attended by the Officers of State. She wore the full robes of her rank, her veil was of the finest white net of Candia, her chemisette and the edging of her great ermine sleeves were of the richest Burano lace, her Corno was of crimson velvet with a jewelled bandeau, and shoes of velvet, to match her head-dress, completed her costume. The jewels she wore were the most gorgeous owned by any gentlewoman in Venice, heirlooms in the Dandolo family, and taken from the Sultan’s treasury by Doge Arrigo Dandolo at the capture of Constantinople,—they were barbaric in magnificence.

Very graciously the Dogaressa bowed her acknowledgments of the reverential greeting of visitors, and, when the Cavaliere offered her the Promissione of her Consort, she assented to the clauses affecting herself, and thereafter bestowed upon each member of the deputation a richly embroidered purse of cloth of gold containing ten golden ducats. Then, seated in tribunes erected along the riva, the noble company witnessed a regatta of fisolere—long and narrow unprowed gondolas. This popular feature in the day’s proceedings was followed by a gorgeous water-pageant, undertaken by the Fragilie, the Compagnie della Calza, and other notable organisations.

Fourteen galleys, almost as big as the “Bucintoro,” belonging to the great Guild of Goldsmiths, covered with crimson damask and gold lace, led the way. The Canal was a mass of moving craft of every sort and size, full of merrymakers, and bands of music, space being riskily found for the bulky “Bucintoro” to steer her course with the Dogaressa seated on the Ducal throne at the prow, her gallant and beautiful Court around her. Salvoes of artillery, clangings of bells, soundings of horns and trumpets, and the clamour of the spectators accompanied the Progress to the Piazzetta. At the Butchers’ triumphal arch two hundred and fifty young girls of the city welcomed her Serenity. They were arrayed in crimson satin, green silk damask and white taffetas, and were adorned with magnificent jewels which had not been displayed in public for well-nigh one hundred years. Many wore great pearls, the biggest ever seen in Venice,—and gold chains of cunning workmanship with numerous rubies, emeralds, and sapphires: upon their heads were diamond coronets and lace veils spangled with brilliants. In this constellation of grace, beauty, and affluence, was a striking group of twelve brides,—recalling to everyone the romantic Venetian story of the past. Their golden hair, falling at will over their bare and painted shoulders, was restrained only by coronets of gold and silver leaves of myrtle: their costumes were of white satin and lace with golden girdles worn à la Grecque. Behind the brides were ranged two-and-twenty older matrons, clothed in black velvet, and covered with precious stones. This feature in the reception must have been arranged by a scenic painter or a master of costumes, for nothing so well tones masses of strong and vivid colours as here and there a sable touch.

The procession thus doubled in numbers, passed superlatively between the hundred German guards in the service of the Republic, making for the Basilica. Immediately before the Dogaressa came the wives of the Procurators of Saint Mark, with Madonna Marina, the wife of Messir Vettor Grimani at their head, all robed in black satin with long hanging scarves like those of the Dogaressa’s State robe. Attended by the Secretaries of the High Chancellor marched the Doge’s two sons-in-law,—Cavalieri Antonio Morosini and Pietro Cappello,—supporting Cavaliere Giovanni Priuli, their Serenities’ only Son, all vested in Ducal dress,—tabards of emblazoned cloth of gold, with trains or long togas of crimson silk velvet, worn over silver-gilt suits of armour.

Most becomingly costumed in richest silver damasked white silk velvet walked the Doge’s two daughters Madonne Antonio Morosini and Pietro Cappello followed by Cavaliere Matteo Dandolo, brother of the Dogaressa, in full Ducal robes, who immediately preceded her Serenity. He was attended by two Councillors of the Doge,—Messiri Antonio Giustiniani and Marco Centanni. Under the State Umbrella of cloth of gold, with erect figure and stately carriage, passed along the new First Lady of Venice,—conscious that, in her person, was revived the most gorgeous of all the noble “Triumphs” of Venice. The historic splendours of all the crowned Dogaressas of the past were centred in her, and men and women thanked God that the glories of Venice were once more dazzling their eyes, and making promise for their children.

The three pages of honour, who bore the Ducal train and held the heavy sleeves of fur and gold, paused before the Grand Portal of San Marco, and the Lords of the Council and State officials gathered around the Dogaressa and her children and relatives to keep back the pressure of the enthusiastic crowd. The Chapter of the cathedral were awaiting Her Serenity and the Prior at once sprinkled her with Holy Water, the acolytes holding aloft great lighted candles, and tossing big silver censers in the air. The Dogaressa humbly knelt to kiss a holy relic of Saint Mark whilst the choristers and musicians gave forth joyous anthems. Conducted by the ecclesiastics into the choir the Prior seated her upon the Doge’s throne and then “Te Deum,” was chanted. To each canon Dogaressa Zilia gave a purse of cloth of gold with one hundred gold ducats. The ritual of the Entry was celebrated as in the days of Dogaressa Regina Gradenigo-Vendramin. Upon the sacred Missal, held by the Bishop of Castello, the new Dogaressa swore to observe her Promissione. Several addresses were read to her, but nobody could hear a word because of the tremendous vociferations of the applauding multitude inside and outside the sacred edifice.

Bowing reverently to the High Altar Dogaressa Zilia passed through the Sanctuary and ascended the Foscara staircase, on her way to the Ducal Palace. As in days gone by, the Guilds made lavish displays in each room of delectable dainties for the palate and of supreme examples of their respective craftsmanship. The hairdressers were the first to offer their duty, being specially under the new Dogaressa’s patronage. They had spread a table with a very beautiful Oriental carpet and placed upon it a resplendent crystal mirror of Murano with the golden appurtenances of the toilet—splendid gifts for her Serenity. Possibly they warily foresaw the need of a new dressing of the Most Serene locks of auburn hair after the trying formalities already graciously performed! The Gastaldo, or Master of the Guild, advancing with many reverences addressed the Dogaressa: “Right welcome is Your Serenity, we hairdressers are your devoted servants, we rejoice with you, and beg you still to extend to us your Serene patronage.” Then, with a motion of the hand he invited her to partake of the delicacies and to quaff the rare vintage on silver dishes and out of crystal flagons, which His Serenity the Doge had provided for the use of all the Guilds.

The Dogaressa graciously replied:—“I am delighted that everything is so well arranged and I thank you heartily. I am not able to stay with you because I have to visit seventeen other rooms. I hope to see you all another time, I must now say farewell.”

Entering the room allotted to the Guild of Goldsmiths, her Serenity was saluted in a similar manner, and offered two splendid panels of tapestry, mounted in exquisitely carved frames overlaid with gold and silver. Passing through a corridor, which gave upon the Piazza, she beheld the immense awning of light blue canvas covered with golden stars, which stretched away to the four columns in front of the offices of the Signori della Notte al Criminali, which were draped in crimson damask and carried six-and-twenty emblazoned shields, and every window festooned and decorated with the Dandolo arms. As she went on her way the massed bands of the Guilds, in the Piazzetta, played a triumphal march. Each of the sixteen rooms was adorned by a separate Guild, and each Guild made a distinctive offering, saluting her Serenity with loyal devotion. In the last room the Officers of the Murano glass-workers were in charge of a rare exhibition of the lustrous objects of their craft. The offering of this ancient and noble Guild was a suite of glass new in style, shape and colour and jewelled,—chefs d’œuvre of the most fragile art of Venice. In honour of the new Dogaressa quite naturally the service was called “La Zilia.”

At length this very agreeable but very tiring Progress ended at the Sala del Gran Consiglio, where Dogaressa Zilia was placed upon the Ducal throne, having on her right the older ladies of her escort, the State Councillors, the Heads of the “Forty,” her brother, Cavaliere Matteo Dandolo and the Cavalieri Antonio Morosini and Pietro Cappello. The nobles and gentlemen all were in crimson satin having removed their heavy tabards of cloth of gold; they wore stoles of cloth of gold over their left shoulders. Upon benches opposite were seated ambassadors, judges, knights, members of the Council, and the more distinguished guests of the Government. The younger gentlewomen of the Dogaressa’s suite were upon her left hand, and with them an equal number of young nobles,—Companions of La Calza and young officers of the fleet and army. The ducal Corno was held over her head by the High Chancellor, who addressed her in the same terms as those used at the Coronation of Dogaressa Regina Gradenigo-Vendramin.

Shades of evening were falling on the golden glory of a glorious festal day, as, by magic, torches burning coloured fires were kindled in every window of the Palace,—every Sala was lighted al giorno. Then defiled before the Serene Dogaressa in the Grand Courtyard a pageant of the Arts and Crafts, every member thereof bearing a lighted torch. In the van marched two by two, one hundred of the handsomest young gallants of Venice,—all tightly costumed in silks and satins,—and twenty-five gentlemen of the Doge’s private cabinet,—wearing long togas of black velvet and heavy gold chains of office.

Collations were spread in the cortili of the Palace, and banquets were given in the Council chambers, and then, in the Piazzetta, were athletic exhibitions of posed human pyramids and other figures, and a grand display of fireworks. The festivities wound up with dance and music, games and flirtations, till the new day began to peep through window and doorway as the pale moon withdrew her light before the fiery car of the advancing Sun God.

The festival of the Coronation was carried over three days, days of unalloyed pleasure and success. Bull-baiting, bear-baiting, cock-fighting, boxing, wrestling, skiff-races, swimming matches, well filled twenty-four hours, and then followed dramatic performances by members of La Calza. Venice was in a delirium of music, dancing, and general rejoicing. Rich and poor alike were feasted by the munificent Doge and Dogaressa, and, when on the last day of the festival, they made a round of visits to thank the Masters of the Guilds and others who had been conspicuous by their services in general, every one felt that rest was welcome, and that life might again return to its normal conditions.

The “Triumph” of Dogaressa Zilia Dandolo-Priuli marked a red letter in the annals of the Republic. It was taken as a proof that the spirit of the Venetians was by no means dead, but, at the same time, it served as a warning of the enervating effect of wanton enjoyment and leisured opulence. A poet-laureate arose, unknown now by name, who thus apostrophised the happy Signora Zilia:—

“Quæ decus ætherum, terrarum gloria tandem Zilia progreditur, patuit Dea, vertice odorem Spiravere comæ divinum, vestis ad imos De fluxitque pedes ...”

The reign of Lorenzo and Zilia Priuli was, for the most part, peaceful, so far as the intermittence of sporadic hostilities was concerned. To be sure the Turks never let the Venetians quite alone, and Venice kept on quietly pushing diplomatic aggression everywhere. Still the hindrances to home development were not unduly harmful and industry and commerce throve exceedingly. The Dogaressa, good as her word, spoken after her Coronation—“I hope to see you all another time”—extended her heartiest patronage to the Trades which most appealed to her in matters of taste, and she fostered new fashions in upholstery, napery, and table appointments, as well as personal adornments.

Alas, her wearing of the Corno was limited to three short years, for, in 1559, Doge Priuli was laid upon his death-bed,—another victim to pestilence. He was buried at San Salvatore, under the statue of his patron Saint Lorenzo. The Council paid unusual honours to the widowed Dogaressa, a decree, dated 24th June, immediately after the burial of her Consort, appointed her a household of eight maids of honour, and servitors for her sedan, and her gondola. She was to be attended in her visits to churches, hospitals and other institutions, by four elderly gentlewomen of distinction, and she was required to wear in public black satin brocade cut after the pattern of the cloth of gold State robes but without jewels. These instructions were to serve as the decree stated “per maggior decoro et honor de la Republica,” and the dowager Dogaressa was accorded the title of “Princess.” Furthermore a monthly allowance was granted her of fifty gold ducats, and the supervision of her affairs was delegated to the State Chamberlains.

The “Libro dei Cerimoniali,” still preserved among the Archives of the Republic, has a representation of Dogaressa Zilia Dandolo-Priuli in the costume of a widow. The dress is apparently of black cashmere, with full deep sleeves of black silk. Her widowhood lasted seven years, and she died regretted by all on 13th October 1566. Her funeral obsequies were conducted upon a scale commensurate with the unusual honours bestowed upon her in her lifetime. After the excision of the bowels and brain,—which were placed in a marble vase,—her body was “washed,” says the writer of the “Cerimoniali” “in pure spring water, and wrapped in tow, with sponges under the armpits.” Embalmed with aromatic wax and spices, the dead Princess was shrouded in the habit of a nun of the Convent of Sant’ Alvise, of the foundation of Donna Antonia Venier in 1388: over it was cast a chemise of cloth of gold, and a delicate lace veil shaded the face arranged under a Ducal Corno.

The lying-in-state was upon a bier in the Sala dei Pioveghi. During three days the Papal Legate, the Ambassadors, the Lords of the Councils, the Captains of the “Forty” and of the “Ten,” the Procurators, Judges, and all the Officers of State with the clergy and religious orders, the Religious congregations, the inmates of the State Orphanages and Homes for Women, and a vast concourse of citizens passed before the coffin. On the last day the Doge Girolamo Priuli,—his brother’s successor,—in full State ascended the Scala d’Oro accompanied by the Papal Legate and Cavaliere Giovanni Priuli,—the son of the late Doge and Dogaressa,—and entered the funeral chapel to assist at the final ceremonial.

A procession of the Prior and Chapter of San Marco with cross, banners, and lighted yellow wax torches, accompanied by the clergy of the church of San Fantino,—usually attended by the late Dogaressa,—and her private chaplains, filed into the Sala, and, after prayers and absolution, the coffin was raised upon the shoulders of master-marines of the Arsenal, borne down the Scala de’ Giganti, and carried solemnly across the Piazzetta to the portal of the Basilica, where the remains were blessed by the Bishop of Castello. The funeral cortège then advanced between military guards through the Piazza and Merceria to the Ponte d’Olio, and so on to the great church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo. All the calli were covered with black hangings, and every man, woman, and child was in deepest mourning. Within the church the coffin was placed upon an imposing catafalque, and surrounded with torches and candles. Conducted to his Chair of State the Doge laid aside his Corno, whilst the priest of the Collegiate Church of San Fantino delivered an impressive oration, ending with the apostrophization “Jam vero Ziliæ virtuti quæ potest per oratio inveniri?”

Such an imposing ceremonial at the burial of a widowed Dogaressa was unprecedented. Zilia Dandolo-Priuli came to her throne in the grand Ducal Palace and to her grave in the simple church of San Salvatore in a couple of “Triumphs” unique of their kind.

II

The dogado of Lorenzo Priuli was conspicuous only so far as it was adorned by the personality of a wealthy, talented, and fascinating wife. Had the reign of his brother Girolamo Priuli, his immediate successor, been graced by the presence of as illustrious a consort, certainly history would have recorded her charms, her influence, and her example. Alas, we know nothing about Signora Elena Diedo-Priuli beyond her name: the date of her birth, marriage, and death are unnoted, nor do we find any reference to her family, her forebears, or her offspring.

One of the most ornamental and useful bridges in Venice is the Ponte Diedo, where on 3rd October 1607, Fra Paolo Sarpi, theologian, lawyer and patriot was done to death. The nomenclature of another bridge, in the same sestiere Cannaregio—the Ponte Priuli, may suggest that the Priuli and Diedi were neighbours and probably engaged in the same industry.

The Priuli were among the noble families of 1450, and possibly the Diedi were patrician citizens not yet ennobled. Doge Girolamo Priuli occupied the Ducal throne eight years, during which episodes and events were few. Strenuous periods of national history have their reflex action in times of rest and recuperation. Venice was quiescent, her enemies left her pretty much alone, and internal troubles appeared to be exhausted. The burial of the Doge in 1567 was conducted at the church of San Salvatore: he was laid alongside his brother Doge Lorenzo, in the family vault, beneath the statue of his patron saint, San Girolamo.

Pietro Loredano wore the Corno for three years, 1567–1570: his Consort was Madonna Maria Cappello. Probably he was a son of “Grand” Doge Lionardo Loredano, and she was the daughter of a noble family which had given very many famous sons to Venice, although not one of them reached the throne. Two events marked this dogado,—both calamitous,—the terrible famine of 1569, when the harvest of all northern Italy and the contiguous countries entirely failed, and the destruction by fire of the famous Arsenal, the fountain-head of the whole naval and military system of the Republic.

The annals of Venice are blank what time Dogaressas Elena Diedo-Priuli and Maria Cappello-Loredano held their State within the Ducal Palace. The Republic was at peace, dormant and self-indulgent,—an unwonted experience for her once vigorous, aggressive, and victorious citizens. The end of the war with the Turks left her free to enjoy to the full her love of leisure and her fondness of festivity. The still evening of an eventful life was the twilight of her fame: her sun was near the setting, yet, ere she laid herself down no more to rise, expiring flashes of brilliant deeds and dying fires of fearsome catastrophes illuminated her political horizon.

The succession of Doge Alvise Mocenigo and Dogaressa Loredana Marcello-Mocenigo, in 1570, found Venice plunged in a sea of anxieties and perils. Incessant warfare, with defeats counteracting victories, produced solicitude and stupefaction which were subversive of all thoughts and sentiments of festivity. “Venus Calva,” once more was the figure the “Queen of the Adriatic,” bereft of all consolation, presented to an unfriendly world. The Doge’s election, of course, was conducted with the traditional solemnities, but the Dogaressa was denied the honour of a solemn Entry and Coronation: Pageants were out of the question in such anxious circumstances.

The Doge was the fourth member of his family,—ennobled in 1289,—to wear the golden Corno: he belonged to the San Samuele branch of the Mocenighi,—the “Casa Vecchia” as it was called, resident in that campo. A man of great strength of character, extremely charitable, and renowned for urbanity and conscientiousness, and truly he needed all these qualities in the upkeep of his dignity, and in the encouragement of his people. The Dogaressa was Loredana, daughter of Messir Giovanni Alvise Marcello,—a man of wealth and of a Ducal family, his ancestor, Doge Nicolo Marcello had occupied the supreme office just one hundred years before. She was married in 1533.

Dogaressa Loredana was a woman as handsome and virtuous as she was talented and accomplished. As a writer of letters and as a classical scholar, she had few equals in Venice. With her sisters, Donne Bianca, Daria, and Marina, she led not only the wits of the women of Venice, but also their tastes and their modes—“fiore de’l secolo,” they and their likes were called. Women had only very gradually and intermittingly achieved prominence in literary and artistic circles, but the end of the sixteenth century witnessed the rich blossoming of the New Women, for almost every “gentildonna di Venezia” was distinguished for her mental attainments as well as for her charms of person.

Dogaressa Loredana had at least one hobby,—botanical research. The Villa gardens of Venice and on the Brenta contained rare examples of plant life, the flower gardens of the convents, and the physic gardens of the monasteries had their unique treasures, but the fair botanist had other nurseries whence she obtained the objects of her devotion. Venetian agents in every port ministered to her passion, and the gardens of the Marcello Palace were filled with exotics. Alas, that her analyses and studies of plants and their properties have been lost, along with her letters, her translations, and her poems. The Dogaressa’s botanical researches however were not merely for personal gratification, they were of immense value to the faculty of medicine; her formulas and recipes were invaluable during the grievous visitations of plague which decimated the population soon after her death.

Short, sad to say, was the reign of the cultured and charming Dogaressa, she died of plague on 12th December 1572, but testimony of her virtues has been preserved in Messir Ottaviano Maggi’s “Oratio in funeralibus Lauraæ Moccenicæ,” a Latin panegyric pronounced at her funeral, which concludes with the ascription:—“Tu vero Lauredana matrona integerrima converte aliquando oculos in hanc rempublicam.” Palazzi also, in his “La Virtu,” extols the dead Signora: that famous pack of Playing-Cards at the Museo Civico has upon the “Knave of Cups”:—“Loredana Marcello-Mocenigo, was a Princess of great attainments, wherefore the painter finds it difficult to illustrate her virtues, Nobility rather than wealth is the distinction of Queens.” He calls her:—“Giantessa di merito!”

Amaden in the “Archivio privato de’ Marcelli” also recounts the praises of Dogaressa Loredana:—“She was remarkable for her constancy, both in the experiences of adversity and in the distractions of prosperity, judicious and discreet in the supervision of her household, reverent and charitable in her church duties, benevolent to her relatives and to her dependants, in a word, she was a most virtuous and noble Princess.”

Her obsequies were duly celebrated, though shorn of much of the usual State pageantry, in the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo. Her lying-in-state was arranged in the Sala de’ Pioveghi; where, simply shrouded in the habit of a nun of the Convento della Croce on the Giudecca, with the cowl: the embalmed body was wrapped in a great mantle of cloth of gold lined with lynx fur. Over the nun’s black fall was cast a rich veil of white silk edged with gold which covered the shoulders. Her head rested upon a cushion of cloth of gold, but it bore no Corno for the Dogaressa had not been crowned. A long stole of white silk ornamented with gold lace descended from her neck to her feet which were encased in the finest white silken hose and white kid shoes embroidered with gold.

The pall was of white silk brocade covered with gold embroideries, all the mourners wore purple, except the Vice-Doge and the foreign ambassadors. The Papal Nuncio and Cavaliere Giovanni Mocenigo, the Doge’s brother, were the principal pall-bearers. In all respects the funeral rites followed the ritual of that of Dogaressa Zilia Dandolo-Priuli. So highly had she been esteemed by all classes of the community, that, during six days, a constant stream of people—chiefly poor—passed before the dead Dogaressa’s grandiose bier. Doge Alvise bestowed munificent alms upon these needy admirers of his lamented Consort. The last “Requiem” was celebrated in the presence of the Doge, merely habited as a noble and without special ceremony, who then assisted in the entombment within the massive monument next the great portal of the Venetian Pantheon.

It was perhaps a misfortune for Venice that the virtuous Dogaressa died when she did, for, had she lived but two short years or more, she might have exerted a moderating influence upon the profligacy of the nobles and citizens, who hailed with so much enthusiasm the visit of King Henry III. of Poland and France. No Royal visitor, in the whole history of the Republic, had ever been entertained with such a lavish display of magnificence and such unbounded prodigality. Everybody put on the most splendid gala costume, and all Venice was decked with the most gorgeous of festival tokens.

Henry found himself the object of universal homage, and, amorous prince that he was, he dallied delightedly in the sunshine of unrestrained enjoyment. Venice was full of courtesans of the boldest and most fascinating seductiveness. Sprightly, vivacious, and accomplished, they were endowed with the most captivating and coaxing ways. They hovered around their Royal guest, most superbly dressed,—or if you will the reverse,—bedizened with flashing jewels, their golden hair more resplendent than their robes of cloth of gold and chains of gold and pearls, was coiffured with subtle artifice. Their breasts were bare, supported by broad bands or belts of gold with screws arranged to tighten them at will.

The nuns in the convents were as gay and as approachable as were the glittering women of the Piazza; their “parlours” were the rendezvous of gallants,—young and old. All Venice went as mad as in the time of Carnival, and no voice was raised in Church or Council to restrain the infatuation. Every sort of entertainment was offered Henry and his suite of three hundred greedy courtiers. His body-guard was formed by thirty of the best-looking, best-dressed, and gayest young nobles. There were jousts, regattas, ridotti, masked balls, banquets, and theatricals galore. Bevies of beautiful maidens, in silken tissue, like nymphs in a moonlit glade, scattered flowers in the King’s way, and displayed their charms, unmoved by the curiosity of the bold French knights-errant.

Amid all the feverish frenzy of these demonstrations one pair of eyes fastened their mesmeric glare upon these of the happy monarch with peculiar significance, and he yielded unresistingly to the fascination. Veronica Franco,—“the Aspasia of Venice,”—was the centre of a brilliant but debonnaire literary and artistic circle. Born in 1546, in the parish of Sant’ Agnese, she was in the full bud of her virginity. She, like her frail sisters, was as they have been aptly described, “made up of three things—wood, clothes and breasts,”—their high pattens, their tightly clinging silk tissues, and their paints and puffs.

The amours of Henry and Veronica were sung by poets and philosophers, painters painted her on canvas and in miniature, and she herself made poems as full of love as were the whispers of her lover. Her awakening was sudden and effectual. After Henry had taken her love and kisses away with him to Paris, she renounced the reckless life of a courtesan and became the inspiring Venetian Sappho. Then she turned to religion and tried to undo the evils of the past by good works and the founding a penitentiary for fallen women. Michael Montaigne, who saw her at Santa Maria Formosa, tells us all this and more about her in his “Journal.”

“She gave me,” he says, “a book—‘Lettere Famigliarie Diverse,’—erotic and ascetic,—which she had dedicated to another of her admirers, the Cardinal Luigi d’Este.” “I saw also in Venice,” he adds, “one hundred and fifty noblewomen courtesans who were kept in the greatest luxury, spending money like Princesses in jewels, dresses, portraits, cosmetiques, and personal adornments.” The resplendent and repentant Veronica died in 1591, not more than forty-five years of age, worn out with enervating pleasures and austere penances: her heart the while being yielded a captive to the King of France. The love of a Venetian woman was fierce and all-absorbing in its intensity, and Sanguinacci’s poem—“Le Donne di Venegia” exactly gives the measure of their pulse:—

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

What the worthy Doge thought about all this wantonness he never divulged: his life was overshadowed by an irreparable sorrow—some say he never smiled after gentle Dogaressa Loredana closed her eyes in death.

The dogado of Alvise Mocenigo was marked by public grief as well as private sorrow. The loss of Cyprus and the battle of Lepanto made many a casa fatherless, where mothers and children wept for those they would see no more. Three years after the death of good Dogaressa Loredana, Venice was visited by a terrible calamity: forty thousand of the inhabitants were struck down by pestilence. Death came upon them with gaunt giant strides: men left home for the day’s work and duty well and hearty, before the curfew sounded they were repulsive corpses. Lords of the Council fell in the Council Chamber, words of wisdom dying on their dying lips. One quarter of the population was wiped out.

Doge Mocenigo displayed, as might have been expected, heroic courage. His self-denial and absolute disregard of personal risk found him comforting the dying and consoling the sorrowing: he was nurse, priest, and guardian to the poorest of the poor. What would not Signora Loredana have given to share her consort’s ministry! His piety took the shape of the foundation of the splendid church of Il Redentore, built by the great architect Palladio,—his master-piece,—to propitiate the Deity and to serve as a thank-offering for the cessation of the plague.

Five years of widowerhood ended for the Doge in 1577, and then his embalmed body was laid beside that of his Consort in SS. Giovanni e Paolo. A clause of his will proves his life’s devotion to her. Property at Villabona, which he had intended should be hers if he predeceased her, he left to his eldest niece, on condition that she and her daughter after her, took the names Loredana Marcello before their surname Mocenigo.

III

A Hero Doge!

Still green were the laurels which enwreathed the noble brow of Sebastiano Venier,—gracious emblems of the triumph of Lepanto, where his strategy, more than anything else, had won a famous victory. Acclaimed Doge by the tumultuous voice of the people in the Piazza, as well as by the unanimous suffrages of the “Forty” in the Council Chamber, Venier aroused the latent warlike spirit of all Venetians. Venice was herself again,—no longer “Venus Calva.” The lion of San Marco once more bristled his hoary mane, and all the gallants of La Calza strutted up and down,—their effeminate costumes exchanged for the bravery of martial uniform,—the cynosure of admiring matrons and blushing maidens.

“The Hero of Lepanto” was no youthful soldier breathing lustily the battle-smoke but an aged warrior of fourscore years and more—one more exponent of the vigour of old age so characteristic of Venetian manhood. He wiped out the disgrace of Cyprus, for Turkish standards flew proudly from the tall flagstaffs before St Mark’s. Great was the loss of precious lives to Venice—great their glory too!

A grand Andata, or Progress, swept the Doge and Dogaressa within the portals of the Basilica, upon the feast of Santa Giustina—the heroine patron of the Republic. Four days of religious processions and four nights of craft-pageantry kept all Venice in a whirl of enthusiasm such as she had not experienced for many a day. Whether solemn “Te Deum” or hilarious odes to Victory held the citizens most strongly, it was hard to say.

Whilst the Spaniards under their princely admiral, Don Juan, evinced a spirit of apathy, quite unworthy of this military renown, the Pontiff,—the other ally of Venice,—crowned the eulogy of Marco Antonio Colonna, his Chief in Command, by the bestowal of the “Golden Rose” upon the noble Doge and Dogaressa. Amid all the jubilation and marks of high esteem Doge Sebastiano Venier and Dogaressa Cecilia Contarini-Venier maintained a dignified bearing and modestly sought the seclusion of their palace. There, deputations followed in quick succession from friendly States and Cities. The Brescian embassy, in particular, came full of “gratitude for precious services and in token of the devotion and infinite love felt for his Serenity by all the citizens of our city.” Calling at the Casa Venier the envoys were received first of all by the Dogaressa without ceremony, who told them that the Doge was upstairs in his study and said:—“I much fear he will be unwilling to accept your offering but I will go and hear what he says.” The reply was couched in grateful terms but, whilst he was pleased to possess a trifling recognition of his small services, he politely declined the costly shield of beaten copper, and the case of rare old Brescian wine.

Sebastiano Venier was the third Doge of his family, brother of Doge Francesco Venier, 1554–1556,—a family ennobled among the thirty by the Serrar del Consiglio, in 1289. Dogaressa Cecilia belonged to the renowned “Apostolic” family of Contarini, and was married in 3rd June 1544, in the Church of Santa Maria degl’Angeli at Murano. Doge Venier and she were busily engaged in working out the order of the ceremonial to be observed at the Coronation when he was struck down suddenly by paralysis on 3rd March 1578. He died within the year of his election, and he was buried in the choir of the Church of his Nuptials. Sebastiano Venier must be accounted the Twelfth “Grand” Doge of Venice.

The Lords of the Council grieved greatly at his demise and unanimously agreed to accord to the widowed Dogaressa a pension of four hundred gold ducats per annum, and made provisions for her similar to those bestowed upon Dogaressa Zilia Dandolo-Priuli in 1559—“in happy memory of noble Prince Sebastiano Venier.” Her residence, her household, her visits in the City, her gondola, and even her dress, were all prescribed by rigid but benevolent conventions. In the “Cerimoniali” (1464–1592) are two figures of Dogaressa Cecilia Contarini-Venier, along with those of Dogaressas Zilia Dandolo-Priuli and Loredana Marcello-Mocenigo, all in full State robes and also in widow’s weeds. Her death and burial have not been recorded.

Nicolo da Ponte, who succeeded the heroic Doge, was cast in quite another kind of mould. He was an ecclesiastic in proclivity if not in ordination, a theologian of high order and renown, but by no means an adherent politically of the Papal See. He represented the Republic, along with the Patriarch, at the Ecumenical Council of Trent. He actually refused to allow the Pope’s Nuncio to inspect the Venetian monasteries and affirmed the prerogative of the Patriarch of Venice on that behalf. The Doge’s Consort was Madonna Arcangela Canali, but there is nothing to record of her or of her family.

Possibly Doge da Ponte is best remembered by the kindly part he played in the romance of bewitching Bianca Cappello. Deceived and deserted by a good-for-nothing young Florentine banker’s clerk the young mother became a “Cosa di Francesco”—the Grand Duke of Tuscany. For years a price was put upon her head, but time is fruitful of revenge, and the daughter of proud Cavaliere Bartolommeo Cappello,—disowned by him, and outlawed by the State,—was, ten years later, created “a True and Special Daughter of Venice.” The Doge wrote as follows to the Grand Duke on 16th June 1579:—“We are thrilled with the greatest pleasure ... when we learn that your Highness has chosen such a wife on account of her distinguished virtues.”

The Grand Duchess’ marriage and Coronation were splendidly celebrated in Florence. Doge da Ponte was specially represented and the noble ambassadors Cavaliere Giovanni Michielo and Antonio Tiepolo bestowed upon the Queenly bride, in the name of the Council, a costly crown of gold and jewels, a rich cincture of solid gold, and a superb ruby ring. Venice also gave her “Daughter” a glorious necklace of diamonds, worth ten thousand gold ducats. Bianca loved Francesco and no other man, and her devotion was returned quite as faithfully. The power she exercised was wholly for his good and for the welfare of his sovereignty; and she lives, in unbiassed history, as the inspirer of most of the noble works which marked the reign of the last “Grand Medici!” Infatuated, he wrote of her:—

“A shining gem from Heaven’s treasury Hath Mother Human Nature taken And, wrapping it in a silken veil, Hath sweetly bestowed it on Florence— Saying,—‘To thee, fairest one, I give This beauteous Flora, choice gift of value.’”

Torquato Tasso, her Poet-laureate, celebrated her beauty and benignity:—

“Bianca—the new ‘Sun of Florence’ Causes all things worthy to be done Sun she is—no moon, pale and sad Flashing with splendours of Charity.”

The Grand Duchess Bianca Cappello-Medici was the third and last “Daughter of Venice.” That tender title had first been bestowed by the Republic upon Donna Ginevra, daughter of Messir Matteo Tiepolo, Podesta of Belluno, who was married in 1503 to Signore Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro. He died a few months after their nuptials and she entered the Convent of San Pietro de’ Fiorentini. Girl-like she soon wearied of the life of the cloister, and, renouncing her vows, she once more entered the world of fashion and romance. Many a suitor offered her his hand, and heart and purse, but she would not be again a wife, and she ended her days the inmate of a convent—that of San Nicolo di Murano.

The second “Daughter of Venice” was of course Donna Caterina Conaro, Queen of Cyprus, Jerusalem and Armenia. Pathos of the deepest was blended with the splendour of the rôle she was called upon to play, and with the romance of her later days. The daughter of Messir Conaro or Corner of the “Evangelistic” noble family, which gave four Doges to Venice, Donna Caterina, in 1468, was betrothed, when only fourteen years of age, to Giacomo di Lusignano, King of Cyprus. It was said that he had the pick of fifty eligible brides, but chose Donna Caterina Conaro by way of paying off the mortgage on his island kingdom held by Messir Marco Conaro and his partners: a sum of a hundred thousand gold ducats was written off as her hypothetic dowry. King James died in 1473, the year after their marriage, and Queen Caterina bore his posthumous son six months later. Rivals for the throne fought for the child and against one another,—even in the Queen’s bed-chamber,—and then she was rescued by an expedition from Venice, but her babe died in her arms upon the homeward voyage.

Venice seized the kingdom, rendered royal honours to her “Daughter,” and assigned her a palace and a regal maintenance at the Castle of Asolo in the Marca Trivigiana. There she reigned over a miniature Court of cultured and distinguished men and women, where literature and romance played many parts. The leader of her revels and symposia was Pietro Bembo, who in his “Gli Asolani” discourses after the manner of Giovanni Boccaccio of love, pleasure, and philosophy. The while he was writing sonnets to his Queen and bending his knee in homage he was carrying on a liaison with the Princess Lucrezia Borgia, and then by her influence he was created a Cardinal,—an example of ecclesiastical incontinence. Gentile Bellini, in his master-piece at the Venice Accademia, “The Miracle of the Cross,” painted Queen Caterina and many of the ladies and gentlemen of her Court. The faces are life studies, the costumes regal in magnificence.

Queen Caterina was treated with the utmost distinction by all Venetians, and when she died, in 1510, her remains were accorded honours similar to those rendered to a departed Dogaressa. She was first buried in the church of SS. Apostoli and then translated, in 1665, to San Salvatore. Over her coffin Andrea Navagero pronounced a remarkable oration in which he extolled the Queen’s beauty, grace, and gentleness, her goodness, erudition, and constancy. With Pietro Bembo, in one of his delightful Canzone may we sing of her:—

“Non si vedra giammai stanca ne sazia Questa mia penna Amore, Di renderti, Signore, Del tuo cotanto onore alcuna grazia: A cui pensando volentier si spazia Per la memoria il cuore, E vede ’l tuo valore Ond ’ci prende vigore e te ringrazia.”

A “Daughter of Venice” was of course a Dogaressa in rank, hence brief stories of the three Venetian Queen-Graces, Ginevra, Caterina and Bianca, are by no means superfluous in the “Libro d’Oro delle Dogaresse di Venezia.”

Three years of unbroken peace followed the death of Doge Nicolo da Ponte in 1588, under the administration of Doge Pasquale Cicogna. The Dogaressa was Madonna Laura Morosini. He was the son of an apothecary, ennobled after the Genoese War of Chioggia: she was of an “Apostolic” family, but nothing is recorded of her. The Doge was reckoned as a parsimonious and unsympathetic sort of man, and was very unpopular with the citizens by reason of his niggardliness in the matter of largesse at his election Progress through the Piazza. Their tomb is at Santa Maria de’ Gesuiti, where he and his Consort lie side by side peacefully sleeping.

IV

At the very end of the sixteenth century one more resplendent Dogaressa passed through Venice in solemn State to her Coronation—Signora Morosina Morosini-Grimani. She was a daughter of Messir Andrea Morosini, the head of the senior branch of the second family in the highest grade of nobility,—the “Apostolic,”—members of which grade had come to be looked upon not only as merchant-princes, but as Princes of the State. She was married to Messir Marino Grimani, from her father’s house, Palazzo Morosini (now Sangredo), upon the Grand Canal, in the no longer existent church of San Cristoforo on 27th November 1560.

The newly-married pair set up housekeeping in splendid fashion in the Palazza Grimani (now the Court of Appeal). Messir Marino Grimani was one of the very foremost Venetians who plumed themselves as being “the first gentlemen in Europe not considering it a disgrace to be merchants as well.” The fruits of his commercial success were displayed, not only in the appointments of the palace, but in the delights of his lovely villa-gardens at Santa Caterina, with their lovely views over the lagunes to Murano and her sister isles. Madonna Morosina shared her husband’s al fresco tastes, for her father’s gardens at San Canciano were as charming as any of those Venetian beauty-spots.

Messir Marino was the popular candidate for the throne, left vacant by the death of Doge Pasquale Cicogna. He was famed for his generosity and was especially delighted to provide entertainment for poor people and their families. His election by the “Forty” was unanimous: probably the gracious Madonna Morosina, her personality, her refinement, and her wit, had a good deal to do with the decision! Maintaining his reputation for magnificent hospitality the new Doge furnished banquets for three whole days to every working man and woman in Venice. His Election Progress around the Piazza was accompanied by lavish largesse, and, not satisfied with what his suite scattered broadcast, the amiable Dogaressa, accompanied by her three daughters, from the State balcony of the Ducal Palace, threw handfuls of silver and copper coins among the crowds in the Piazza. Not only was the Doge generous and the Dogaressa affable, but he was pompous and she ambitious. They determined that her Entry in State and her Coronation should surpass anything yet “seen in Venice.”

The spirit of going-one-better-than-one’s-neighbours, was a very strongly marked characteristic of Venetians all through their history. Certainly there was something of vulgarity in the idea, but there was also distinction in the realisation. If the Doge and Dogaressa were high and mighty sort of people their elevation also raised the tone of society, and materially improved the condition of employment. Hence the public were quite responsive to the call of their Serenities.

The pageant, or “Triumph” of Dogaressa Morosina Morosini-Grimani was postponed until May 1597, in order that the new appointments, decorations, and personal adornments, might be made as splendid as possible. Every craftsman and craftswoman went to work with a will, and nobody cared in the least about any sumptuary laws of the past nor any other arbitrary indictment. The “Forty” and the “Ten” made no move and consequently everything went on with the greatest equanimity.

One new feature was noted with respect to the Dogaressa and her Coronation—the delivery, printing, and circulation broadcast, of elegant and eloquent panegyrics. Commissions were eagerly accepted by poets, orators, and publishers—one of these effusions, as an example, ran as follows:—

“O magnanimous Duchess O most glorious grand Duke No such two Divinities Ere have gladden’d Venice skies!”

The Dogaressa was addressed by her admirers as “Most Singular and Most Serene Lady, words fail to assure your Highness of the devotion of your enthusiastically admiring servants.” Much the same high-flown sentiment distinguishes Palazzi’s pack of Playing-cards, for, on the Knight of Coins (Diamonds), we read:—“The Coronation of Morosina Morosini, wife of Doge Marino Grimani Anno 1597. She commands not alone herself but she is Mistress of a mighty Empire.”

Upon the morning of her “Triumph” the Dogaressa, attended by four hundred young noblewomen, all beautifully dressed in white silk lace,—in honour of her Serenity’s patronage of Burano,—and covered with newly-mounted jewels,—each girl an animated miniature Golconda—took her place upon a dais in the great hall of the Grimani palace,—lately completed (1581) by the famous architect Sammichieli. The walls of the noble apartment were hung with a novel and effective decoration,—stamped leather, gilded and emblazoned. This was a new artistic adjunct in princely mansions lately introduced from Cordoba in Spain. The vogue spread at once in Venice, and, before the end of the century, it was computed that three thousand skilled workers were employed by the Guild of Leather-merchants, and a sum of one hundred thousand gold ducats was added to their annual revenues.

Meanwhile a lordly deputation had been despatched by the “Forty” to salute “The First Lady of Venice” and bespeak her acceptance of the Promissione, and thereafter to escort her on her solemn Entry. The noble Lords found her Serenity sumptuously attired in tissue of fine gold with an immense State mantle of cloth of gold embroidered all over with silver floral designs in high relief,—quite a novel and truly rich production of Venetian brains and Venetian hands. It was reported that this magnificent robe was manufactured under the Dogaressa’s personal directions and after her own design.

The cap of the new Corno was of the same costly material, the coronal was a mass of immense precious stones, and from underneath it fell a delicate veil of white silk lace shot with gold and silver threads and heavily spangled with jewels. Upon her open bosom, lightly covered with a fichu of priceless Burano lace sewn with pearls, reposed a flashing cross of brilliants, suspended by a very exquisitely interlaced chain of burnished gold. Her fingers were covered with gemmed rings, which her Serenity was very careful not to hide within a pair of beautifully embroidered gloves held by one of her ladies.

The ceremony of the presentation of the Promissione was soon over, and, in return, the Dogaressa personally handed to each noble Lord of the deputation the customary gift of a purse of cloth of gold containing, not the usual number of gold ducats, but a special token—an osella of gold, after the example of Doge Antonio Grimani, her Consort’s great-uncle, in 1521. The osella had, on the obverse, a profile in relief of the Dogaressa wearing the Ducal Corno, with her name “Mavrocena Mavioceni:” upon the reverse was a raised wreath of laurel encircling the legend:—“Manus Mavrocenæ Grimanæ Ducessæ: Venet: 1597.”

The “Bucintoro” received on board just such another illustrious company as that which graced the water-pageant of Dogaressa Zilia Dandolo-Priuli forty years before. The costumes of the suite were richer and in better taste than those of Dogaressa Zilia’s Court;—cloth of silver sewn with pearls and raised flowers in gold looked more delicate than the customary heavy cloth of gold. The palaces, the dwelling-houses, and the churches by the Canal, were all lavishly decorated upon a uniform and beautiful plan. Coronation favours, bestowed upon all applicants at the Doge’s command, imparted a note of festivity quite striking but harmonious. Venice for the nonce became the city of the Morosini-Grimani; but, perhaps, some of the noble Lords regarded these tokens of popularity with uneasy minds; they had, in all their generations, a wholesome dread of a personal Ducal rule.

The pageant on the Canal was the most remarkable ever undertaken by the Trade-Guilds. Almost every gondola and barca was formed into a fabled beast of the earth or some fearsome sea monster. The whole Court of Parnassus was enlisted in honour of the Dogaressa, and the Gods and Goddesses floated proudly and quaintly by. An immense fleet of bregantini,—great vessels with sweeps,—filled with spectators of all classes, followed in the wake of the “Bucintoro.” Once more the ripples of the quiet tideway were charged with sweetest perfumes, and covered with flowers—mostly damask roses—the floral emblem of Morosini.

The ceremonies of the Landing, in the Basilica, and in the Ducal Palace, were all performed with splendour, and the Dogaressa retired to her private apartments to remove her heavy State robes and assume her ball-costume—for, of course, dancing was the finale of all Court functions. Dogaressa Morosina’s ball was unique and historical: all Venice danced where there was any room, for every place was crowded—more than two hundred thousand visitors had to be accommodated somewhere or other. Dancing platforms were erected upon ranges of barges on the canals, and Venice sang and danced—danced and sang, the livelong night in ecstasy. Within the Ducal Palace the Sala dello Scrutino was set apart for refreshments of the choicest kind. The old Greek menus, which had delighted the sybaritic Romans of Mecænas’ time were revived. At the great banquet, given by the Doge and Dogaressa to the dignitaries of the Church and State, and the foreign Princes and Ambassadors, there were forty-seven courses, beginning with spiced sturgeon and ending with “apples of Paradise.”

The day after the Coronation was occupied in giving and viewing presents. To every noble and gentle person assisting at the ceremonies, the Doge and Dogaressa gave an osella, to the officials and domestics gifts of golden ducats, to the worthy poor hospitable spreads of good cheer. Pope Clement VIII. sent a Legate with a “Golden Rose” to the Dogaressa and a jewelled Corno to the Doge. The Duke of Savoy offered a massive belt of thirty golden rosettes covered with fine pearls, but it was incontinently seized by the Provvidetori delle Pompe, possibly as a mean protest just to show their power! Many other costly gifts found their way into the hands and the collection of the Most Serene couple.

On the third day was held a grand naval review before the island of San Giorgio Maggiore, in which ships of England, Holland, and Flanders took part. A regatta and aquatic sports were contested between the native gondoliers and marines, and the foreign sailors, dressed severally in white and red costumes. The contention was the keenest of the keen. The Nicolotti and Castellani mainly held their own, but when some of their men were defeated, their wives drove them home with sticks and banter:—“Va! Va! Via di quid, parca, infame vituperoso!”

In the evening all Venice was illuminated, and we can very well imagine the glory and the eerieness of the spectacle,—Venice,—standing in and out of the water, the serenity of a May night over her, and her flashing moving gondola lights was like the city of a dream, the home of Gods and fairies.

“A City magical in splendour Rising out the light beyond the Sea.”

All through the eleven-years dogado of Doge Marino Grimani, peaceful and prosperous conditions were the lot of a busy people. The arts and crafts had reached the apogee of their fame. The Dogaressa was the patroness especially of the lace-workers of Burano,—following the example of Dogaressa Dandolo-Malipiero of a hundred and forty years ago. Moreover she headed a committee of noble ladies to encourage the delightful craft among the gentlewomen of Venice.

Doge Marino Grimani died in 1608, and the widowed Dogaressa gave herself to works of piety,—for example she restored the church of San Sebastiano. She survived her Consort eight years and died on the 21st of January 1613–1614—directing in her will that her body should not be embalmed. The funeral was a State function, recalling that of Dogaressa Zilia Dandolo-Priuli, at SS. Giovanni e Paolo, where an impassioned oration was pronounced:—“Illinc clamor, hinc silentium: illinc lætitia, hinc mæmor: illinc ludi, hinc lacrymæ.” The Doge and Dogaressa took their long last sleep under the splendid monument by Girolamo Compagna, in the simple church of San Giuseppe di Castello, just beneath the splendid picture by Tintoretto of “St Michael slaying the Dragon,” which the Doge had commissioned, and wherein he is represented kneeling in the red robes and ermine of a Captain of the “Forty.”

In “The Merchant of Venice,” Shakespeare, in two concise paragraphs, illustrates quite characteristically the prosperity and peace enjoyed by the Venetians at the end of the sixteenth century:—

“The trade and prosperity of the City Consisteth of all nations—” Act III., Scene iv.

“How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon the bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep on our ears. Softest stillness and thought Become the touches of sweet harmony....” Act I., Scene iv.