Such an attempt was made by Frederick Barbarossa. Reports came to his ears of a rebellious and factious spirit in the south. The burgesses of the Italian cities were growing restive under the imperial vicars. Milan had attacked and wasted Lodi: the feudal princes both of Church and State were scandalised by common burghers and mechanics rising to hold public offices, and even exercising the profession of arms. Twice the Emperor descended the Alps to bring the Italian communes to subjection. For a time he was successful, but a new era was dawning in Italy. The Lombard cities banded themselves in a league whose soul was the Pope, and swore to make no peace with the Emperor until their communal rights and privileges were secured. Venice, true to her policy of facing both ways, at first held aloof; but later, fearing her turn might come next, promised naval and financial aid to the league. The struggle continued until 1176, when the flower of German chivalry, including the emperor himself, bit the dust before the stout burghers of the Lombard League at Legnano. Frederick, to punish the Venetians for their support of the League and of Alexander III. against his own nominees for the papal chair, moved their arch enemy the Patriarch of Aquileia to attack Grado. He was defeated by the Doge and taken captive to Venice. With twelve of his canons he purchased liberty by undertaking to pay a yearly tribute of a fine bull, twelve pigs, twelve loaves of bread, and a quantity of wine. A quaint ceremony marked the reception of the tribute. The Doge with a train of nobles repaired to the ducal palace, where he struck down certain wooden castles with a wand. Then in the presence of the Doge and his suite a bull-fight took place in the Piazza; the pigs were beheaded, cut in pieces, and distributed among the nobles. At later celebrations a youth by an ingenious contrivance flew down from the top of the Campanile to the balcony of the ducal palace and presented a nosegay to the Doge. In Leonardo Loredano’s time the number of recipients had so increased that it was decided to distribute the pigs among the monasteries, and the bread and wine were given to the prisons.
In 1171, a few ships, all that remained of a fine merchant fleet in Constantinople, sailed up the lagoons and roused the Venetians to fury by the recital of a wanton attack on their countrymen in the East. All the Venetians in the ports of the Empire had been seized by order of the Emperor Manuel, cast into prison, and their property confiscated. The Emperor had been secretly gathering his forces, and by leaning on the Genoese felt strong enough to pay off old scores. An irresistible wave of popular indignation swept the state into a war with the Eastern Empire. To meet the cost a forced loan of one per cent. on property was levied, a national bank formed, and state bonds were issued for the amount of the loan bearing interest at four per cent. These securities were quoted daily on the Rialto according to the fluctuations of the market, and formed the first funded debt in Europe. In six months the Doge set forth with a magnificent fleet and the flower of Venetian manhood; but he wasted precious time in a punitive attack on Ragusa, and while besieging the capital of Negropont, the ancient Eubœa, weakly agreed to treat with the Emperor. The subtle Greeks temporised with the Venetian envoys, one of whom, Enrico Dandolo, we shall hear of again. Winter came, and a terrible pestilence wasted the Venetian forces. So great was the mortality that the Giustiniani perished to a man, and the last scion of this noble house was permitted to leave the cloister in order to marry the Doge’s daughter and save his name from extinction. Having raised up several sons, his wife retired to a convent and he to his cell at S. Nicolo del Lido to fulfil his interrupted vow. Before a year was past the unhappy Doge and all that remained of the expedition returned to Venice. The city became infected with the plague, and the angry people turned upon the Doge, who fled for refuge to S. Zaccaria, but was cut down before he reached the threshold.
The hasty inception and calamitous issue of this ill-omened war profoundly impressed the aristocracy of Venice. They determined that neither popular passion nor ducal ineptitude should again sway the policy of the state. The supersession of the democratic element and the further curtailment of the ducal privileges were effected by an elaborately-conceived constitution, which gave the shadow of power to the people and the substance to the aristocracy. Each of the six wards (sestieri) of the city was to elect two representatives, who were each to appoint forty of the chief citizens of their respective wards to form a great Council of four hundred and eighty members. The Council sat for a year, and when its term was completed, it, not the wards, nominated the twelve who were to appoint the Council for the following year. The Council was to elect the officers of state, including the Doge, who was chosen by eleven of its members delegated for that purpose. Further to control the Doge the two privy councillors instituted in 1032 were increased to six.
The constitution of 1172 narrowly escaped a baptism of blood. When the new Doge, Sebastiano Ziani, was presented for popular approbation a riot ensued, but the people were duped by an empty formula—Quest’ è il vostro doge se vi piace (This is your Doge if it be your pleasure), and debauched by a more abundant distribution of largess and a more gorgeous pageant.
The state of the finances no less than affairs on the mainland impelled the Republic to come to terms with Manuel. To strengthen her hands an alliance was sought with the Normans, and again we find Enrico Dandolo an ambassador, this time at the Court of Sicily. Barbarossa was now wearying of the struggle with the papacy. Like Henry IV., he found his legions powerless against a feeble old man armed with the impalpable weapons of the spiritual power. He had set up three schismatic popes, seized the very seat of Peter at Rome, and driven Alexander III., a wanderer and a suppliant, to the Courts of Europe. The indomitable old pontiff at length found his way to Venice, all’ unico domicilio di libertà, and an attempt at reconciliation was made. A splendid naval procession went to meet him: a seat of honour was prepared for him in the ducal barge between the Doge and the Patriarch, and apartments were assigned to him in the patriarchal palace at S. Silvestre. Soon it was reported that the Emperor himself was at Chioggia, and after many negotiations terms were agreed upon.[14] A bitter morsel the Emperor was forced to swallow. The uncompromising Pope would abate no jot of his claims—the Emperor must solemnly recognise him as the true and only successor of Peter, God’s vicar on earth, supreme over Cæsar.
Sunday the 24th of July 1177 was a superb day for Venice. The whole Piazza was alive with princes and peoples of many nations. Two tall masts lifting up the banners of St Mark stood at the landing-stage by the Piazzetta. The day before, the Emperor, who was not permitted to land at Venice, “until he had set aside his leonine ferocity and put on the gentleness of the lamb,” was brought in great pomp from Chioggia to Lido and passed the night at the Abbey of S. Nicolo. In the early morning the Pope, having received at St Mark’s the formal abjuration of the schism by the Chancellor of the Empire, solemnly absolved the Emperor from the ban of the Church. The Doge and a great procession then set forth and brought the Emperor from Lido seated in the ducal barge between Doge and Patriarch. When he disembarked a procession was formed headed by the Doge, the Patriarch, and the clergy bearing banners and crosses, behind whom walked the Emperor. Having reached the Piazza he saw the Pope enthroned in full canonicals and surrounded by a throng of cardinals, archbishops, bishops, and clergy awaiting him in front of the atrium of St Mark’s.[15] “Touched by the Holy Spirit” he cast off his purple cloak, bowed his neck, and prostrated himself at the Pope’s feet, “venerating God in Alexander.” The pontiff then arose, stretched forth his hand, raised the Emperor, gave him the kiss of peace and blessed him. The air shook with the pealing of bells and the singing of the Te Deum by the Germans. The doors of St Mark swung open, the Emperor, giving his right hand to the Pope, led him to the altar, and having received his benediction returned to the Ducal Palace. The next day at the request of the Emperor a solemn mass was sung in St Mark’s by the Pope. The Emperor laid aside his mantle, took a wand, expelled the laity from the choir and led the aged Pope to the altar protecting him from the crowd. Himself sat in the choir amid the clergy, and devoutly and humbly listened to mass. At the sermon the Pope noticing the Emperor close by the pulpit ordered the patriarch of Aquileia to translate the sermon from Latin into German. The credo having been sung, the Emperor approached the Pope’s feet and made his oblations. At the end of mass the Emperor took the Pope’s hand, led him to his white horse and held the stirrup while he mounted. The Pope permitted him to go no further, dismissed him, and gave him his blessing. The successful accomplishment of this reconciliation added great lustre to the Venetian state. Never had she stood so high in the eyes of Europe. Nor were more solid gains lacking. Making the best of both worlds she received valuable privileges both spiritual and political before Pope and Cæsar left her shores. Many were the legends that clustered round this dramatic scene. Stories were told in later days of the fugitive Pope arriving in Venice, in mean attire, wandering about the tortuous ways until overcome by fatigue he lay down and slept on the bare ground near the Church of S. Apollinare. When rested he wandered on until he was received in the monastery of the Carità, where he served six months as a common scullion. A Venetian who had been on a pilgrimage to Rome recognised him. The Doge was advised and the Pope led to the palace in great pomp. To this day near the Church of S. Apollinare an inscription marks the legendary spot where “Alexander III. reposed when fleeing from the violence of Frederick the Emperor.” Frederick then bade the Venetians, so runs the fable, deliver up the fugitive or he would plant his eagles in St Mark, where they had never been before. To which the Doge retorted that the Venetians would not wait for him, and on learning that a fleet of seventy-five ships under the Emperor’s son, Otho, was under sail for Venice, set forth with thirty-four galleys, attacked the imperial fleet, captured forty vessels, sunk two, and made Otho prisoner. In the great scene before St Mark’s the Emperor was imagined lying prostrate on the ground, the Pope placing his heel on the imperial neck and saying: “I will tread on the asp and on the basilisk.” To which the Emperor objected: “Not to thee but to Peter”; to be quickly answered by the Pope: “Both to me and to Peter.”
The festival of La Sensa was celebrated during the Pope’s stay at Venice. The pontiff on that occasion handed a consecrated ring to the Doge saying: “Receive this as a pledge of the sovereignty which you and your successors shall have in perpetuity over the sea.” Henceforth the ceremony was held with added magnificence, and became the greatest of the many pageants for which Venice was so famous. On his gilded barge, the Bucintoro, commanded by three admirals and many captains of the fleet, and impelled by the arms of one hundred and sixty shipwrights from the arsenal, four to each oar, stood the Doge surrounded by the Patriarch and clergy, the great officers of state and the foreign ambassadors, the standard of St Mark waving over their heads. A great procession of gilded galleys and gondolas bright with flags followed the Doge to the island of St Helena where a collation of peeled chestnuts and red wine was offered by the Bishop of Castello and his clergy, while the Doge presented damask roses in a silver cup. One he took himself and distributed the others to his suite. The Bucintoro then swept through the Porto of the Lido into the open Adriatic. The patriarch blessed the ring and handed it to the Doge who cast it into the sea pronouncing the formula: “Sea, we wed thee in token of our true and perpetual dominion over thee.” From the musicians’ gallery on the barge rang out a joyous theme, and the Doge returned to the Molo after having heard mass at S. Nicolo. In the evening a banquet was given at the palace to the admirals and the hundred masters of the arsenal, the chief magistrates and the ambassadors. A great fair was held and the city gave itself up to a week’s festivities. Such with some modifications in detail was the famous wedding of the Adriatic, which ended only with the Republic herself in 1797.