Venice

by Clara Erskine Clement Waters

On Carnival Thursday, April 2, 1355, the old-time ceremony of immolating an ox and twelve boar-pigs, which symbolized the Patriarch of Aquileia and his canons, was celebrated in the Piazza, which was filled with a brilliant assemblage; the court looked on from the palace windows, and later the Dogaressa gave a magnificent entertainment to the rank and beauty of Venice. In the course of the festivities a knot of gay young fellows who surrounded the maids of honor grew boisterous, and indulged a freedom of conduct which aroused the wrath of the Doge. He singled Michele Steno as the victim of his displeasure, and commanded his exclusion from the scene.

Steno, full of mortification and rage, sought his revenge, and before leaving the palace, managed to write, on the chair of the Doge, a most insulting taunt, which naturally roused him to fury. Steno was brought before the Forty, and sentenced to prison for two months and to exile for a year. This lenient punishment was regarded by Faliero as a more serious cause of complaint than the insult itself had been, and he demanded that Steno should come before the Ten and receive a severe sentence,—if not death, at least perpetual banishment. But the age of the culprit, who might have been Faliero's grandson, and the consideration that his offence was a folly rather than a crime, precluded such severity; and the old Doge was reminded that before the court he was but the equal of the poorest gondolier on the canals.

Faliero cursed the patricians and the laws which had made the head of the Republic so helpless; and just then the admiral of the Arsenal complained to him of an insult which he had received, and demanded redress. Faliero replied with bitterness that he could not obtain for others the justice which was denied him. One thing led to another, until the admiral darkly hinted at a revenge which would overturn the present condition of affairs and give the Doge more power. The two men soon understood each other, and when they parted were already conspirators against the State. Immediately they made a plan for a revolution; each sought to enlist his friends in the conspiracy, and soon about twenty were pledged to its aid.

The months that had passed since Faliero had been but a figure-head to that republic in which he had hitherto been a leading spirit, had brought him continual mortification and suffering. He had returned to Venice in proud triumph, having received the highest honor that the State could confer, which should be the crown and glory of his life. He had come to rule, but he had found the palace little less than a prison, his power a myth, and his condition a sort of gilded bondage. His opinion was dominated by that of the Ten; and even the giovinastri who paraded their youth and their finery in the Broglio could laugh him to ridicule, and insult him unpunished.

The plot of the Doge and his sympathizers was badly and hastily devised. They believed that in ten days six hundred and fifty poniards would be at their service; and on the 15th of April, amid cries of "Viva il Principe Faliero," the members of the obnoxious order were to be sacrificed as they gathered in the Piazza, the tocsin having been rung, and a false report of the arrival of a Genoese fleet off the Lido occupying their minds. Not a suspicion of the insurrection existed, and even the followers of the chief conspirators did not know what they were to do; they were simply to obey when commanded.

But, as usually happens, when the time drew near, one of the conspirators had his own reasons for betraying the plot. In this case it was Beltramo, the skinner, who wished to save his especial patron, Lioni, who, being of quick wit, at the first hint from Beltramo had him arrested, and hastened to the palace to disclose his fears and suspicions to the Doge. Faliero made light of them, but in so awkward and embarrassed a manner as to arouse fresh misgivings where he endeavored to allay them; and Lioni, taking two other nobles with him, returned for a second examination of Beltramo, who now exposed the whole plot, taking care, however, to conceal the part which Faliero had in it.

The news was carried to the Ten at once. They too had heard a similar report, and were suspicious that some leaders of very exalted position were involved in the conspiracy. The tribunal summoned all its members to an extra sitting, omitting only Niccolo Faliero, nephew of the Doge. Decisive measures were taken at once; the city was put under martial law, and the conspirators were arrested to the number of twenty or more. Ten of these were hanged at the casements of the palace two days before the rising was to have taken place; one of the Falieri was imprisoned, and a Calendario was banished for life. Some names were entered on the Register of the Suspected; some of the suspected were set at liberty as blameless, and others received minor punishments.

In the course of all these proceedings the truth concerning Faliero had become known, and on April 16 he was conducted to the Chamber of the Great Council, attired in his robes of state, and was there accused of treason. He made no plea of denial, but acknowledged all, and declared himself the worst of criminals. The question of his punishment was put to vote, and but one suffrage was cast in favor of his life. His sentence was delivered: "Marino Faliero, being convicted of conspiring against the Constitution, should be taken to the head of the grand staircase of St. Mark's, and there, being stripped of the ducal bonnet and the other emblems of his dignity, should be decapitated." The Doge was then led back to the palace, maintaining his composure with heroic determination.

The next morning he was again led to the Great Council Chamber, where a body of councillors, decemvirs, and advocates surrounded him and attended him to the place of execution. To the vast concourse of all conditions of men who were there assembled, the Doge made an address which was received in an awful stillness. He implored the forgiveness of the Venetians, and declared his sentence to be just.