History of merchant shipping and ancient commerce, Volume 1 (of 4)

by W. S. Lindsay

The smaller states.

Reference has already been made to Amalfi,[711] Bologna, and Ancona, and to the part they took during the Middle Ages in the commerce of the Mediterranean. Though their trade, and that of Naples, Sicily, and Milan, was insignificant when compared to the trade of Venice, Pisa, Genoa, or Florence, it contributed essentially to the employment of merchant shipping. Naples and Sicily, for instance, furnished large quantities of grain, oil, cotton, sugar, and wines, requiring export to distant parts where they were in demand. Bologna was famous for its cloths and silks; Florence received a considerable portion of its Indian produce through Ancona; and Milan, towards the close of the Middle Ages, was an inland entrepôt of no mean commercial importance. Before the close of the fifteenth century the maritime commerce of Spain and Portugal had risen to a position second only to that of Venice, which was destined soon to be eclipsed by the still greater maritime discoveries of that period. But before taking a glance at the progress of these nations during the Middle Ages, or referring to those interesting episodes in their history, whereby they became the instruments of discovering America, and of establishing a fresh route to India, events which changed the seats and centres of commerce and gave an astounding impetus to shipping, it may be desirable to furnish an outline of the character of the sea-faring population at the period to which we now refer, their customs and superstitions, and their love for display in the decoration of their vessels.

Decorations and traditionary emblems of ships.

To cover the unsightly appearance of the resin and pitch necessary to render their vessels tight and to preserve them from decay, pigments were used of various colours, among which white, red lead, and vermilion were long in the highest favour. Green, from its resemblance to sea water, was adopted by piratical cruisers and explorers, to avoid observation. Princes, and other opulent personages, frequently decorated their ships in purple, richly gilt, with highly ornamented poops and sterns, and figure-heads of the most beautiful devices their artists could conceive. In these decorations the taste of the Middle Ages appears to have adhered to the traditionary emblems of the ancients. About the middle of the thirteenth century the Genoese, who, in their encounters with the Pisans, had previously painted their vessels green, assumed the colour of white, dotted with vermilion crosses—the cross gules upon a silver ground being the shield of St. George, the knight both of England and Genoa. In the sixteenth century, red had become the prevailing colour, though frequently black and white were intermingled in foliage, in varied lines or in capricious zigzags; and, sometimes, the ground was entirely black, the ornaments alone being of a dazzling vermilion. Except, however, on special occasions, the colour of mourning, unrelieved by any other, seldom shed its saddening influence over the vessels of the Middle Ages, as it does almost invariably over those of our own time. Then its use was almost exclusively confined to the bearers of death or of other disastrous news. The galleys which conveyed to Manfred the intelligence of the death of his brother Conrad were painted black, and their sails and pendants of a similar colour. In 1525, when Francis I. was captured at the battle of Pavia and carried captive to Barcelona, the six galleys which conveyed the captive monarch and his suite were painted in that sombre colour, from the topmasts down to the water-lines. The sails, banners, pendants, awnings, and oars were all black, and the knights of St. Stephen adopted the same colour when one of their captains was made prisoner by the Turks, vowing never to wear any other until victory should restore him to their country.

Although the ships of the ancients were frequently adorned with purple and gold beyond the decorations to the hull already described, they were surpassed in display by those of the Middle Ages, and, especially, by the ships of the nobles of the Italian republics. Ornaments, emblems, devices, and allegorical subjects with armorial bearings were lavishly engraved or painted on the hulls; while alternate stripes or squares of variegated colours decorated the sails. In the case of the more ordinary vessels of the merchant or of the fisherman, the image of a saint, of the Virgin Mary, or of some sacramental or cabalistic charm, were common devices to ward off malignant influences.

Signals.

Signals were made by means of figured and painted sails, streamers, or flags, and by the use of the ensigns. Indeed, nothing was wanting that could render a ship “magnificent,” according to the prevailing tastes of the period.

Manners and customs of seamen.

Having clung to the ancient mythological taste in the decorations of the exterior of their vessels for so many ages, the ship-owners now carried their pious zeal to the extremity of saintly image-worship, which continued until the Reformation, then in its turn relapsing again into pagan heresies. But the manners and habits of the seamen continued almost unchanged. Throughout the whole of the Middle Ages they were the same superstitious mortals, and as much addicted to the marvellous as ever they had been. Prior to the Reformation, they, like the rest of Europe, were of one catholic faith. They believed in God, adored the Virgin Mary, and prayed to every saint in heaven supposed to have any connection with the sea. They had, however, a great fear of a priest, chiefly on account of his black gown; and in bad weather, if peradventure any priest were on board, he would have risked being pitched into the sea, if the master, as was often the case, happened to be as superstitious and ignorant as his crew.

Their legends.