Salve Venetia, gleanings from Venetian history; vol. I

by F. Marion Crawford

One might scarce believe what multitudes thronged in the square of Saint Mark’s on that day. There were both sexes and all ages and every class. The Doge himself was on the terrace which is built on the front of the church, with many nobles; from its height he saw almost at his feet all that moved in the square below. Thus he was in the midst of those four gilt horses, the work of an ancient and unknown craftsman, that look ready to measure themselves against living coursers, and seem to paw the air. Lest the summer sun should dazzle the eyes, curtains of many colours had been hung here and there. I myself was bidden, as often the Doge deigns that I should be, and he made me sit at his right.... The great square, the church, the towers, the roofs, the porticoes, the windows, were all crowded with lookers-on. At the right a high platform had been raised whereon sat four hundred matrons, of the noblest, and fairest, and most richly-dressed in the city; and they continually ate the sweetmeats which were offered to them; and in the morning, and at noon, and at evening, it was as if they were a company come down from heaven. There were also bidden to the pageant several English noblemen, kinsmen to the king, who had come to Venice by sea, to exercise themselves in the art of navigation; and these gentles very freely shared our joy over the victory.

This racing lasted several days, and there was no prize but the honour, for in this first game there were no victors and no vanquished.

But for the second game prizes were made ready, for there were dangers to be faced, and the result could not be alike for all. There was a crown of gold adorned with precious stones for the first winner, and a richly-chiselled silver belt for the second. An edict had been sent forth, written in the military and vulgar tongue, under the Doge’s seal, to invite the people of the neighbouring provinces to take part in this contest on horseback; and indeed there came a good number of contestants, not Italians only, but also strangers who spoke other languages, hoping to win the prize and to cover themselves with glory.

The jousting lasted four days, and since Venice was, there never was seen a fairer sight. On the last day the Doge, the nobles, and the strangers who had been present, and also he who ordered the combat, to whom, after God, was due all the joy of the tournament, gave the first prize to a gentleman of Venice, and the second to a stranger from Ferrara.

Here ends the feast, but not the rejoicing. Here ends also this letter, by which I have endeavoured to show unto thine eyes and to make heard in thine ears that of which sickness has deprived them, that thou mayest know what is doing amongst us, and understand that even among navigators there are found excellent warriors, and souls of choice, and contempt of gold and thirst for honour.

Smedley, Sketches of Ven. History, I. chap. vii.

Unhappily the triumph so vividly described by Petrarch was not final, and two years later, before Lorenzo Celsi had closed his eyes for ever, another revolt broke out in Candia. This time Venice took such radical measures that, in the words of one of the ‘provveditori,’ ‘another rebellion was impossible, terrible examples had swept away the ringleaders, fortresses which gave them asylums, the cities of Lasitha and Anapolis, every building which might afford a stronghold, were razed to the ground; those of the inhabitants who were not put to the sword were transported to other districts, the surrounding neighbourhood was converted into a desert, and thenceforward no one, on pain of death, was permitted to cultivate, or even to approach it.’

Rom. iii. 202.

This was in 1366, but Celsi had died at the fresh outbreak of the revolution, most opportunely, some historians say, for his reputation and honour. It was even thought that if he had lived a few years longer he would have ended like Marino Faliero. Grave accusations were made against him during the last months of his life, but the Council of Ten declared them to be false, and his successor was instructed to declare, when presiding the first time at the meeting of the Grand Council, that the memory of the deceased Doge was untarnished.

Rom. iii. 229.