Salve Venetia, gleanings from Venetian history; vol. I

by F. Marion Crawford

Rom. ii. 244.

the day of his coronation, called the ‘promission ducale,’ the ‘ducal promise.’ At first this oath was simply a promise to obey scrupulously the laws of the Republic, but little by little clauses were added to it which went so far as to deprive the Doge even of certain rights common to all other citizens of Venice. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the ‘ducal promise’ reached a stage of development at which it destroyed the liberty of the chief of the state, and became almost an insult to his dignity. During the interregnum between the death of each doge and the coronation of his successor, three grave magistrates were chosen by the Great Council, called the ‘Inquisitors upon the deceased Doge,’ who held a solemn trial of the dead man’s actions and of his whole life; at the same time five other personages studied the wording of the next ‘ducal promise,’ of which they were termed the ‘Correctors,’ their business being to examine the situation, and to ascertain how it might be possible for the future sovereign to advance his own fortunes at the expense of the public interests; to judge, or merely guess, what matters he might be able to influence too much, and thereby to decide in what way his actions and powers could be still further restrained and limited by introducing new clauses into the promise.

The first law which was elaborated and passed by the Great Council was one which reformed the election of the doges. The Council wished to reserve the electoral right to eleven of its own members, but the people protested against this encroachment on ancient traditions. The legislators then went to work to prove, with all the eloquence at their command, that the law they wished to pass did not in any way infringe the rights of the national assembly, but that it was simply a wise and paternal effort on the part of the Council to help the people in their choice; for the law provided that eleven electors were to appear before the assembly and present their candidate with the words, ‘Here is your Doge, if this choice pleases you.’

Rom. ii. 95.

Incredible as it seems, the people were prevailed upon to accept this proposal, not seeing that in so doing they were forfeiting their most valuable privilege. They even acclaimed with enthusiasm the first Doge who was elected under the new law in 1172. He was Sebastian Ziano. ‘Long life to the Doge,’ the people cried, ‘and may he bring us peace!’

Rom. ii. 123.

On this occasion, it is true, the popular enthusiasm was justified, for the rule of Ziano was just and honourable. But, in spite of the success of the experiment, the Great Council introduced a further change in the law, and at the next election the number of electors was increased to forty, and later still to forty-one, in order to prevent a tie.

Looking back on the labours of the Great Council in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, one cannot help being struck by the unchangeable purpose which runs through all the laws it passed, from the time it came into existence till it shut its doors in the face of the people, never to open them during the five hundred years of history which then lay before the Republic. One cannot but acquire the conviction that the aristocracy set to work very early to get possession of the supreme power, to the exclusion even of the Doge himself, and that they worked out their plan in the course of a hundred and fifty years—say, five generations—without ever hesitating or turning aside after new ideas; and, moreover, that during that time the eyes of the people were never once really open to what was going on.

As soon as the relations between the Doge and the government were established, the Great Council, always paternally ‘guiding’ the popular assembly, set to work upon laws affecting the administration, and the conditions and relations of commerce. And here it must be said that several of the doges who reigned in the thirteenth century exhibited remarkable talents for legislation; the names of Orio Mastropiero, Enrico Dandolo, and Jacopo Tiepolo mark so many stages in Venetian progress and civilisation.

Rom. ii. 241.