Venice

by Clara Erskine Clement Waters

The second campaign more plainly revealed the sluggishness of Carmagnola. In spite of the impatience of Venice and the magnificence of the rewards she promised, there was no activity. Again the Duke was full of intrigue, and pretended intelligence with the Venetian commander. It began to be understood at Venice that Carmagnola was neither as great nor as sincere as the Senate had believed when he first addressed them; and their distrust was not lessened when again the Duke proposed terms of peace through the mediation of his sometime friend and commander.

Casal Maggiore had been retaken by the Milanese. Angry letters were sent to Carmagnola, who replied that when the proper time arrived he would recover it in three days. This he did; but as he wished to free all his prisoners, according to the then custom of war, and as the Republic was a law to herself, and did not aim to follow the rules of mercenaries, there was a direct disagreement at once. The Senate ordered the captured garrisons to be detained. Carmagnola obeyed, but considered it a disgrace to his honor as a soldier. He so resented this infringement of his authority that he allowed his opportunities to slip away unimproved. The Duke was now sorely pressed by Savoy, as well as Venice, and yet Carmagnola refrained from entering his territory, and quietly remained in camp at Casalsecco and on Lago d' Iseo; and it was not until October, 1427, that by the battle of Macalo he retrieved his fame, and restored the Venetians to good-will towards him, in spite of the great dissatisfaction and grave suspicions of him which they had entertained for months.

A house in Venice at San Eustachio was given him, with Castenedolo in the Bresciano for himself and his heirs; and two nobles were sent to convey the thanks of the Republic to him, and at the same time to exhort him to follow up his victory at Macalo with a series of equally splendid triumphs, which were clearly within his reach. The government also suggested that the time had arrived for passing the Adda, and ending the war by a glorious victory which would insure an honorable peace.

But it seemed that Macalo was deemed sufficient by Carmagnola to quiet Venice for a time; and though all Italy agreed in the view of his employers, he did no more, and at the end of the year asked for permission to go again to the Baths. The disgust of the Venetians may easily be imagined; but as the Duke had already begun negotiations for peace through the friendly offices of the Pope, an ungracious consent was yielded to the request of their general; and as the envoys of the Duke came to him, even at Abano, he fancied that he could return to Milan whenever he willed. He was playing a game for himself, like a true mercenary soldier, and he desired by his sluggishness to lay the Duke under obligations to him. No doubt he intended to return to the service of Visconti, whose constant wars brought him great wealth in booty; and then his half-finished palace was there, and we can readily imagine that his wife desired to return to her own country.

While he was at Abano the negotiations proceeded, and a peace which was advantageous to Venice was signed on the 19th of April, 1428. Almost immediately Carmagnola made a triumphant entry into Venice, and his old father came to see how his son was honored by the Republic. Forty years ago a peasant-herder, he was now a noble of the proudest republic of Italy. Days of festivities followed. Venice had not realized her fullest hopes; but the Peace of Ferrara gave her Brescia and Bergamo, and added much to her territory and her importance.

But no peace with Milan could be long maintained, and soon the Senate knew that a third war was inevitable. They had paid Carmagnola the customary retaining-fee, and felt themselves quite secure of their leader, when suddenly, just as hostilities seemed imminent, he sent in his resignation. When the Senate met to consider this outrageous act, Carmagnola distinctly stated his price. He must have a thousand ducats a month, in peace or war. And now the mortification of Venice was complete. Through distrust of her own sons, and by her own laws, no Venetian gentleman could command more than seventy-five men. Had their General been one of their own countrymen, with Venetian soldiers, as in the old days, how great would the difference have been! But now, with the Duke of Milan ready to attack them, they were at the mercy of the great condottiere.

The war actually began in 1430, and this third campaign seemed only to emphasize the conduct of the second. Carmagnola was more inactive. The Duke sent his envoys to the General with greater frequency. The Venetians were less patient, especially as the audacity of their General became more and more surprising. In spite of offers to reward him with the lordship of Milan if he would reduce it, he refused to move. He attempted no concealment of his constant communication with Philip. He even wrote to the Senate concerning the envoys who were with him, and took no warning from the sullen replies he received. He was trifling with Venice, and did not try to hide it; and he was not intriguing with the Duke, although the latter intended to make it appear so, and succeeded in his plan.

According to Sabellico, the discussions of the Senate over the best way to treat Carmagnola went on for months. There were those who had always distrusted him. Others refused to desert his cause unless proofs of his treachery could be given. The General was in Venice during these discussions, but had no suspicions of them. This proves the perfect faith of the councillors, for his friends would not tell him any sooner than his enemies; and though there were those of them who greatly needed the rewards that the General would so generously have given for the information, not one would speak. The great court of the palace has been the scene of comedy and tragedy, many times repeated; but one act in the Carmagnola drama which occurred here is by no means the least interesting of these events.

One morning as the General went to pay his respects to Foscari, he met him passing from the Council Chamber to the Palace. The soldier cheerfully asked if he should bid his Serenity good morning or good evening, as he had not slept that night. To which the Doge smilingly replied that among the many matters spoken of in the long discussion nothing had been more frequently mentioned than Carmagnola's name,—a ghastly joke when we know that the discussion involved the soldier's life.

At last the whole matter was put in the hands of the Council of Ten, who at once invited the General to come to Venice to consult on matters of importance. Utterly unsuspicious, he set out at once; and all along his way, on the plains of Lombardy, as he rode, or as he sailed down the Brenta, he was honored and welcomed as if he were a royal personage. At Mestre he was met by eight gentlemen, who blandly escorted him to his fate. We may well wonder of what they talked to him,—if they told him of his wife and daughter who were expecting his return; or were they silent and abstracted, as if preoccupied with the grave questions to be discussed with him before the Council? They conducted him directly to the palace, and there dismissed his retainers, saying that their master would be long detained by the Doge, who had much to say to him.