Italian Yesterdays, vol. 1

by Mrs. Hugh Fraser

A certain Doge of the name of Ziani, who lived in the beginning of the Thirteenth Century, happened to hear that his son, while bathing near the Abbey of San Giorgio, had been attacked by some dogs belonging to the monks, and had been very badly bitten, so badly indeed that, at the time, he was not expected to recover. Flying into a rage of truly ducal proportions, the ruler instantly ordered the monks, the monastery, and the hounds to be burnt—all together. The monks appear to have escaped, but the house and the dogs were destroyed before the Doge had time to rescind the order. In true Latin fashion, of course, he repented of his decree, just too late to prevent its execution; and, in his repentance for the sacrilege, he undertook to rebuild the monastery at his own expense and take upon himself, besides, an annual pilgrimage, as an additional penance. He was a man of the most kindly nature and of a most pious disposition!

To illustrate the combination of romance, tragedy, loyalty and treachery, piety and brutality that characterised the time and the place, few better examples can be found than the story of the feud between the Caloprini and Morosini in the Tenth Century.

It arose over the hoary question of whether the friendship and support of the Eastern or the Western Empire was most to be desired for the good of the State. This, to be sure, was only a peg on which a private feud was hung, and neither one house nor the other, as far as can be ascertained, had the slightest personal leanings either in the direction of Otto or of the Byzantines. It was enough that a certain amount of popular feeling could be roused and a certain number of the common citizens could be induced to quarrel on the subject, while the great Houses were always to be depended upon when either loot or power was dangled before them.

The Caloprini opened their political campaign by the assassination of the most prominent member of the opposing faction, Domenigo Morosini, who is said to have been a person of the most exemplary piety—and his naked body was discovered in a boat near one of the water gates. It was asserted, and with some show of truth, that he had been set upon, while coming out of church—he had made a tactical error in going to worship in the district over which the Caloprini held sway—and had been beaten to death by some ruffians in the pay of Stefano of that ilk. The boat being handy, they had pitched the body into it and had allowed it to drift whither it would.

To Stefano’s surprise, the citizens of Venice seemed to regard the affair with real anger and disgust; but, knowing the form which their resentment would probably take, he forestalled their intention, by slipping out of the city one cold, wet evening with several of his followers and arrived, after a long journey, at the Court of the Emperor.

Here Stefano flung himself at the feet of authority and, in terms almost abject, begged the Emperor to look with pity upon his, Stefano’s, beloved State, torn with the dissensions of wicked men, who had driven him and his companions into exile for no reason except that, being people of some position and of grave and pious character, they had attempted to reason with the belligerents and had refrained from mixing in the ungodly business. How much of this Otto believed it is hard to say, for he appears to have withheld any definite statements until the preamble was over. Continuing, Stefano, on his own account, offered Venice to the Emperor, with all its contents, adding that, in the case of the former’s acceptance, he would be more than pleased to act as the Emperor’s Viceroy and would guarantee a solid yearly tribute. History asserts that Stefano was believed to be honest, but by what process of reasoning the belief was arrived at we are not told. At any rate, it did not take the Emperor very long to decide upon the annexation of the province, the governorship of which was at the same time offered to that sterling patriot, Stefano.

The first step the Imperial Court took was to declare a blockade and a cessation of all commercial intercourse between Venice and the Empire. The former was then declared to be in a state of siege. The blockade was cheerfully undertaken by Stefano in person, whereupon the Bishop of Belluna descended upon Città Nuova, which was now defenceless, and sacked it thoroughly.

The government of Venice fulminated against the traitors, but, beyond soothing their own outraged pride, the verbal thunders accomplished little or nothing. It is difficult to make any pretence of serious protest upon an empty stomach, and Stefano must have laughed consumedly when he heard about it.

But, just as Venice was about to surrender to the inevitable, Providence came to its aid and removed Otto by means of an ague, when the Imperial policy was promptly reversed by the two Regents, and Stefano was out in the cold once more. As Napoleon once observed, “La fortune de la guerre est bien capricieuse!”

It was an awkward situation that he was in, to put it mildly. Forgiveness and charity were not salient features of State policy in those downright times, and everything that he owned on earth was in the State which he had been so active in attempting to starve, and of whose recent inconveniences and humiliations he had been the direct cause.