The people had conceived so much hatred for him, that, after his death, they resolved to abolish the office. In the general assembly it was agreed, that the chief magistrate, for the future, should be elected every year; that he should have the same power as formerly, while he remained in office; but, as this was to be for a short time, they imagined he would behave with equity and moderation; and as they had an equal dislike to Doge and Tribune, he was called Master of the Militia.
The form of government, introduced by this revolution, was but of short duration. Factions arose, and became too violent for the transient authority of the Masters of the Militia to restrain. The office expired five years after its institution; and, by one of those strange and unaccountable changes of sentiment, to which the multitude are so subject, the authority of the Doge was restored in the person of the son of their last Doge, whom, in a fit of furious discontent, they had assassinated. This restoration happened about the year 730.
For a long time after this, the Venetian annals display many dreadful scenes of cruelty, revolt, and assassination; Doges abusing their power, endeavouring to establish a permanent and hereditary despotism, by having their eldest sons associated in the office with themselves, and then oppressing the people with double violence. The people, on the other hand, after bearing, with the most abject patience, the capricious cruelty of their tyrants, rising at once, and murdering them, or driving them, with ignominy, out of their dominions. Unable to bear either limited or absolute government, the impatient and capricious multitude wish for things which have always been found incompatible: the secrecy, promptitude, and efficacy, of a despotic government, with all the freedom and mildness of a legal and limited constitution.
It is remarkable, that when the Doge was, even in a small degree, popular, he seldom found any difficulty in getting his son elected his associate in the sovereign authority; and when that was not the case, there are many instances of the son being chosen directly on the death of his father.
Yet, about the middle of the tenth century, the son of the Doge, Peter Candiano, took arms, and rebelled against his father. Being soon after defeated, and brought in chains to Venice, he was condemned to banishment, and declared incapable of being ever elected Doge. It appears, however, that this worthless person was a great favourite of the people; for no sooner was his father dead, than he was chosen to succeed him, and conducted, in great pomp, from Ravenna, the place of his exile, to Venice.
The Venetians were severely punished for this instance of levity. Their new Doge shewed himself as tyrannical in the character of a sovereign, as he had been undutiful in that of a son. He became a monster of pride and cruelty. The people began to murmur, and he became susceptible of that terror which usually accompanies tyrants. He established a body of life-guards, to defend his person, and lodged them within the palace. This innovation filled the people with indignation, and awakened all their fury. They attack the palace, are repulsed by the guards, and set fire to the contiguous houses. The wretched Doge, in danger of being consumed by the flames, appears at the gate of the palace, with his infant son in his arms, imploring the compassion of the multitude: they, inexorable as demons, tear in pieces both father and child. At such an instance of savage fury, the human affections revolt from the oppressed people, and take part with their oppressor. We almost wish he had lived, that he might have swept from the earth a set of wretches more barbarous than himself.
Having spent their fury in the destruction of the tyrant, they leave the tyranny as before. No measures are taken to limit the power of the Doge.
For some time after this, a spirit of superstition seemed to lay hold of those who filled that office, as if they had intended to expiate the pride of the late tyrant by their own humility. His three immediate successors, after each of them had reigned a few years with applause, abandoned their dignity, shut themselves up in convents, and passed the latter years of their lives as Monks.
Whatever contempt those pious Doges displayed for worldly things, their example made little impression on their subjects, who, about this time, began to monopolize the trade and riches of Europe. And some years after, when all Christendom was seized with the religious phrenzy of recovering the Holy Land, the Venetians kept so perfectly free from the general infection, that they did not scruple to supply the Saracens with arms and ammunition, in spite of the edicts of their Doges, and the remonstrances of the Pope, and other pious princes.