Describing the City, Describing the State : Representations of Venice and the Venetian Terraferma in the Renaissance [1 ed.] 9789004428201, 9789004415904

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Describing the City, Describing the State

Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions Edited by Andrew Colin Gow (Edmonton, Alberta) In cooperation with Sara Beam (Victoria, BC) Falk Eisermann (Berlin) Johannes Heil (Heidelberg) Martin Kaufhold (Augsburg) Ute Lotz-Heumann (Tucson, Arizona) Jurgen Miethke (Heidelberg) Christopher Ocker (San Anselmo and Berkeley, California) Beth Plummer (Tucson, Arizona) Ulinka Rublack (Cambridge, UK) Founding Editor Heiko A. Oberman†

volume 221

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/smrt

Describing the City, Describing the State Representations of Venice and the Venetian Terraferma in the Renaissance

By

Sandra Toffolo

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: View of Venice, in a manuscript containing Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s travel account. Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, II.IV.101, fol. 1v. Courtesy of the Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali e per il turismo / Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2020018156

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 1573-4188 ISBN 978-90-04-41590-4 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-42820-1 (e-book) Copyright 2020 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests for re-use and/or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill NV via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Acknowledgements vii Figures ix A Note on the Book x Introduction 1 1 Geographical Descriptions, the Myth of Venice, and the Venetian Terraferma 3 2 Placing Texts within Literary Contexts 10 3 Constructing a Mainland State 21 4 Outline of the Book 30

part 1 Perceptions of Venice in Its Urban Setting 1 Venice, Religious City 35 1 God’s Role in the Foundation of Venice 35 2 Divine Protection throughout History 48 3 Connections to Saint Mark 51 4 External Religious Structures 60 5 The Piety of the Venetians 69 2 Venice, Centre of Material Culture 78 1 A City Situated ‘in the Stormy Fury of the Sea’ 78 2 Urban Structure 95 3 Wealth 100 4 Commerce 118 5 Industry 132 6 Art and Scholarship 141 3 Venice, Seat of an Ideal Government 148 1 The Development of a Political Narrative of Venice 148 2 Elements of a Political Venice 151 3 The Ideal of a Mixed Constitution 157 4 The Concept of Liberty 159 5 Politics and Morality 161

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4 Venice, Morally Exemplary City 170 1 ‘It Presses Every Gathered Virtue to Its Bosom’ 170 2 A Moral Venice from Its Foundation 176 3 Morality and Poetry 178

part 2 Perceptions of Venice and the Terraferma as a State 5 Venetian Views on Venice and the Terraferma as a State 191 1 Justifications for Mainland Expansion 191 2 The Conquest of Friuli 207 3 Links between Venice and the Terraferma 213 4 Political Affiliation as a Factor in the Depiction of Territories 222 6 Viewing the Venetian Mainland State from the Mainland 242 1 Two Poems Dedicated to Local Families 242 2 Ubertino Posculo’s Oratio de laudibus Brixiae 245 3 Michele Savonarola’s Praise of Padua 247 4 Silvestro Lando’s Preface to the Statutes of Verona 250 5 A Paduan Pilgrim on His Way to the Holy Land 253 6 Four Poems by Bartolomeo Pagello 254 7 Jacopo Sanguinacci’s Inchoronato regno sopra i regni 257 8 Francesco Corna da Soncino’s Poem on Verona 263 7 Foreign Views of the Venetian State 270 1 ‘Hit is also vnder the domynyon of the Venysyans’: Views of Formal Political Affiliation 270 2 Political and Geographical Affiliation: The Case of Greece 276 3 Conflicting Ideas on Venice and the Venetian State 280 4 Interpreting Venice and Its Dominions in One Common Framework 282 Conclusion: Venice as City, Venice as State 298 Bibliography 303 Index 327

Acknowledgements In the years that have passed since I first started my research on Renaissance descriptions of Venice, the list of people that supported me along my way has become longer and longer. It is with great pleasure that I take the opportunity of thanking them on these pages. This book started its life as a PhD thesis, defended at the European University Institute in Florence. My gratitude goes to my supervisor, Luca Molà, for his advice, suggestions, and continuous support and encouragement, and to my second reader, Antonella Romano, for always being available to give me helpful feedback. I owe special thanks to Filippo de Vivo and Deborah Howard, who not only kindly accepted to be part of my jury, but who have continued to provide me with invaluable suggestions, help, and support in the years that have followed. Since my PhD, my research has benefitted from the stimulating environment of the University of St Andrews, the Centre d’Études Supérieures de la Renaissance in Tours, and the Royal Netherlands Instititute in Rome. The countless conversations that I have had the pleasure of sharing with my colleagues in these institutions have been instrumental in further shaping my research, and I am grateful to all of them. Klazina Botke, Maria Clotilde Camboni, Marco Capponi, John Condren, Nora Epstein, Panagiotis Georgakakis, Shanti Graheli, Bridget Heal, Jan Hillgärtner, Marc Jaffré, Hanna de Lange, Erin Maglaque, Emily Michelson, Andrew Pettegree, Matteo Salonia, Massimo Scandola, Philippe Schmid, Drew Thomas, Wouter Wagemakers, and Arthur der Weduwen even read parts of the book, and offered me invaluable feedback and advice. I am also indebted to the various audiences at seminars, workshops, and conferences in Europe and America, who provided me with insightful remarks and questions. Three anonymous reviewers at Brill read the book and gave me important comments and suggestions, for which I am most grateful. In the years following my PhD it has been a pleasure and a privilege to work with David Fiala, Chiara Lastraioli, Serge Noiret, and Andrew Pettegree. Being a part of their projects has been an extremely valuable experience, and I am grateful for their advice, support, and encouragement over the years. Denise Ardesi, Jozefien de Bock, Estela Bonnaffoux, Maria Chiara Campisi, Thomas Cauvin, Benedetta Cotta, Ferdinand Nicolas Göhde, Yvone Greis, Dario Miccoli, Faustine Migeon, Laura Puccio, Janine Kisba Silga, Jennifer Taylorson, and Giulia Ventrella helped improve my research by supporting me with their advice and suggestions, and made the process of writing the book

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so much more enjoyable. Great thanks also to Marco Capponi, Raffaele Godoli, and Elisa Godoli for their hospitality in Venice and Florence. The research for this book has been financially supported by several institutions: my doctoral research was supported by the Dutch government and the European University Institute, while the University of St Andrews and the Royal Netherlands Institute in Rome have allowed me to do research in important libraries in the years since. I am very grateful for this opportunity. I have had the privilege of working in beautiful libraries across Europe. Their staff members have always been very helpful, but I would like to thank in particular the staff of the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, the Ateneo Veneto, the Biblioteca del Museo Correr (Venice), the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze, the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Villa I Tatti, the Kunsthistorisches Institut Florenz, the Istituto Nazionale di Studi sul Rinascimento, the Università degli Studi di Firenze, the European University Institute (Florence), the Royal Netherlands Institute in Rome, the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (Rome), the Centre d’Études Supérieures de la Renaissance (Tours), and the library of the University of St Andrews. Earlier versions of some parts of this book have appeared elsewhere: parts of chapter 5 were published in ‘Constructing a mainland state in literature: Perceptions of Venice and its Terraferma in Marin Sanudo’s geographical descriptions’ in Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme (2014), an earlier version of chapter 6 was published as ‘Cities dominated by lions: The fifteenth-century Venetian mainland state depicted by inhabitants of the subject cities’ in Viator: Medieval and Renaissance Studies (2015), and parts of chapter 2 are included in ‘Pellegrini stranieri e il commercio veneziano nel Rinascimento’ in Rinascimento fra il Veneto e l’Europa: Questioni, metodi, percorsi, edited by Elisa Gregori (Padova: Cleup, 2018). I thank the editors for granting permission to reproduce these texts. My greatest debt of gratitude is to my friends and family. I would never have been able to finish this book without the continuous support of my friends, spread all over the world. Most of all, I wish to thank my family. No part of the journey that led me to where I am now would have been possible without them. This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandparents.

Figures 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

View of Venice in the margin of Simone Serdini da Siena’s poem 85 Die vorneme stat venedig in the German translation of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s travel account, ca.1467 86 Woodcut in Viazo da Venesia al Sancto Iherusalem, printed by Giustiniano da Rubiera in Bologna in 1500 87 View of Venice in a 1453 manuscript 88 View of Venice, fifteenth or early sixteenth century 90 View of Venice 91 Erhard Reuwich’s woodcut in Bernhard von Breydenbach’s Peregrinatio in terram sanctam (Mainz, 1486) 93 Jacopo de’ Barbari, Venetie MD, printed in 1500 94 First page of In laudem civitatis Venetiarum, probably printed in Venice around 1509 187 View of Verona accompanying Francesco Corna da Soncino’s Fioretto (Verona, 1503) 266

A Note on the Book All translations are my own unless otherwise noted. In transcriptions from manuscripts I have expanded abbreviations, differentiated between u and v, added spaces or apostrophes to separate words, modernised punctuation and capitalisation, and differentiated between i and j where this was necessary to improve legibility. In quotations from early modern printed works I have only expanded abbreviations. For untitled works I have used the first line as title. For rare early printed works, I have provided Universal Short Title Catalogue (USTC) numbers in addition to printer, place, and date of publication. Anonymous works with a generic title, such as In laudem venetorum, are always listed with a full reference in footnotes. The Venetian year began on 1 March; I have adapted dates to the modern style. I have indicated cities and territories in the Stato da Mar with their early modern Italian names, with the exception of places where an English name is nowadays more common, such as Cyprus. The first time I mention a place, I add its present name in brackets.

Introduction Venetia the praiseworthy, formerly full of the dwellings of the nobility, touches on the south Ravenna and the Po, while on the east it enjoys the delightsomeness of the Ionian shore, where the alternating tide now discovers and now conceals the face of the fields by the ebb and flow of its inundation. Here after the manner of waterfowl have you fixed your home. He who was just now on the mainland finds himself on an island, so that you might fancy yourself in the Cyclades, from the sudden alterations in the appearance of the shore. Like them there are seen amid the wide expanse of the waters your scattered homes, not the product of Nature, but cemented by the care of man into a firm foundation. For by a twisted and knotted osier work the earth there collected is turned into a solid mass, and you oppose without fear to the waves of the sea so fragile a bulwark …1

∵ This is how in 537 the Roman official Cassiodorus started his description of Venice, at the time consisting only of small communities on the various islands of the lagoon. From this very early text to the myriad of books that speak about the city in our own day, countless descriptions have been devoted to Venice. And just as historical circumstances changed over the centuries, so too did representations of the lagoon city. Particularly far-reaching transformations of the Venetian state took place in the Renaissance. While Venice prior to this period already had various maritime possessions — the Stato da Mar — between the end of the fourteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century it also came to stand at the head of an extensive territory on the Italian peninsula. By the early sixteenth century this territory extended from Friuli in the east to Bergamo and Crema in the west, and from the Alps in the north to the Polesine in the south. The creation of this mainland state, called the Terraferma or Stato da Terra, brought

1  Cassiodorus, The Letters of Cassiodorus, Being a Condensed Translation of the Variae Epistolae of Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator, trans. Thomas Hodgkin (London: H. Frowde, 1886), 516–17.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004428201_002

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fundamental changes to Venice’s political, economic, social, and cultural realities. How did this affect the narratives that were created in this period about Venice and the mainland territories? This book focuses on the construction of narratives about two very different roles held by Venice in the Renaissance: a very old role, namely that of a city in a clearly circumscribed urban setting, and a very recent one, namely that of the capital of a recently created state on the mainland. It also includes related narratives about the mainland territories in their capacity as part of the Venetian state. The research focuses specifically on the turbulent period when the mainland state was being created, between the end of the War of Chioggia in 1381 and the beginning of the War of the League of Cambrai in 1509. Both the city of Venice and the mainland territories underwent significant transformations during this period. This urges us to analyse the complex processes by which narratives about these geographical spaces were constructed, their transformations over time, and the many factors that influenced their development. Narratives do not exist parallel to reality, but are part of reality. How people define the tangible world around them is just as important as other ways of interacting with that world. Such narratives can be created in many different shapes and forms. This research focuses on geographical descriptions: texts, and passages that are relatively independent within larger texts, that are devoted predominantly to describing certain geographical entities. Such textual representations provide us with a unique look into the often elusive domain of narratives about geographical spaces. These texts are influenced by many different factors and are obviously not direct mirror images of what people think. They are, however, tangible traces of how specific people in specific circumstances choose to define the world around them in writing. An exceptionally large number of geographical descriptions has been handed down to us about Venice and the Venetian state in the Renaissance. My definition of ‘textual representations’ as texts or passages devoted predominantly to describing specific geographical entities leads to a corpus of sources that includes texts such as city praises and travel accounts, but excludes sources like official government regulations. This restriction in terms of content allows for a more detailed analysis of geographical representation. On the other hand, it leads to the inclusion of texts from different literary genres and different periods, by authors from different geographical and social origins. They are also written in different languages, including not only Italian and Latin but also languages not often taken into account in research on this topic, such as German and Dutch. Together, these sources provide a representative selection of geographical descriptions of Venice and the Terraferma from across Western

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Europe. Detailed analysis of these texts makes it possible to examine how diverse factors could affect the construction of narratives. Furthermore, geographical descriptions could be influenced by — and influence, in return — a variety of other written sources, visual depictions, oral traditions, ceremonies, and other media. While keeping a clear focus on textual representations, on several points my research draws on insights from scholarship about these other media in order to place the geographical descriptions in a larger context. 1

Geographical Descriptions, the Myth of Venice, and the Venetian Terraferma

Research on the narratives that were created about the city of Venice and the Venetian Terraferma in the Renaissance offers the possibility to address a series of important issues. It also brings together different strands of research, most notably on geographical descriptions in general, representations of Venice in particular, and relations between Venice and the mainland state. Historiography of each of these three topics has changed considerably over the past decades. Analysis of the descriptions of Venice and the Venetian state can offer significant insights for each of these three research strands, while at the same time drawing on the insights of these strands in return. Representations of geographical spaces, mainly cities, have been handed down to us from various periods in history. These include a large number of medieval and Renaissance descriptions of Italian cities. The first historian to show an interest in them was Ludovico Antonio Muratori (1672–1750), who considered them as interesting sources on the past appearance of specific cities and the customs of their inhabitants. By the end of the nineteenth century many city descriptions were available in scholarly editions, but not much research was done on them. Local researchers with an interest in what their city had looked like in the past sometimes tried to use them to this end, but quickly discovered that the texts were often too subjective for this.2 Scholarly interest in geographical descriptions as a subject in its own right has grown sharply since the mid-twentieth century. In Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter (1948), a pioneer work on the use of topoi in the Middle Ages, Ernst Robert Curtius analysed the topoi that in his view 2  J. K. Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities,” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 48, no. 2 (1966): 308–40; Francesco Novati, “De magnalibus urbis Mediolani,” Bullettino dell’istituto storico italiano 20 (1898): 7–188.

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constituted the classical and medieval city descriptions. Since then, there have been many more publications that focus on the construction of narratives about geographical spaces as a research topic in its own right. Some scholars, for example, have attempted to find a general model used across descriptions of various cities, while others have analysed city descriptions as a way to study how people thought about the concept of the ideal city.3 In addition to such research on the general category of city descriptions, there has been much research on smaller groups of city representations, coming from the same period or with the same city as their subject. Some cities have been at the centre of this type of study more frequently than others. Venice is among the cities that have attracted much attention; this is much less the case for the cities of the Venetian Terraferma. Research on representations of Venice, however, has not very often been connected to research on city representations in general — perhaps precisely because of the existence of a well-rooted historiographical tradition of research on depictions of the lagoon city. Throughout this book I will show that there are multiple points where comparison with the long-standing European tradition of city descriptions can adjust an overly exceptionalist view of descriptions of Venice. While Venice was not the only city to be depicted in text and image, it is among the cities with the largest number of such depictions. For centuries these representations affected historiography by swaying authors towards

3  Attempts to find a general model of city descriptions have been carried out by scholars across different countries; see for example: Ovidio Capitani, “L’immagine urbana nelle fonti narrative altomedievali,” in Imago urbis: L’immagine della città nella storia d’Italia, ed. Francesca Bocchi and Rosa Smurra (Roma: Viella, 2003), 251–70; Carl Joachim Classen, Die Stadt im Spiegel der Descriptiones und Laudes urbium in der antiken und mittelalterlichen Literatur bis zum Ende des zwolften Jahrhunderts (Hildesheim, Zürich, and New York: Georg Olms, 1986); Chiara Frugoni, Una lontana città: Sentimenti e immagini nel Medioevo (Torino: Einaudi, 1983); Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities.” An important early publication that used city descriptions to analyse the concept of the ideal city was: Wolfgang Braunfels, Mittelalterliche Stadtbaukunst in der Toskana (Berlin: Verlag Gebrüder Mann, 1953). Again, this type of research can be found in historiography from many different countries; see for example: Alfred Haverkamp, “‘Heilige Städte’ im hohen Mittelalter,” in Mentalitäten im Mittelalter: Methodische und inhaltliche Probleme, ed. Frantisek Graus (Sigmaringen, 1987), 119–56; Hartmut Kugler, Die Vorstellung der Stadt in der Literatur des deutschen Mittelalters (München and Zürich: Artemis Verlag, 1986); Keith D. Lilley, “Cities of God? Medieval Urban Forms and Their Christian Symbolism,” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers 29, no. 3 (2004): 296–313; Peter Raedts, “The Medieval City as a Holy Place,” in Omnes Circumadstantes: Contributions towards a History of the Role of the People in the Liturgy, ed. Charles Caspers and Marc Schneiders (Kampen: Kok, 1990), 144–54.

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more positive or negative assessments of Venetian history.4 Starting in 1958, however, the depictions also became objects of study themselves. In ‘Nascita di un mito’ Gina Fasoli introduced the term ‘myth of Venice’ to refer to what she saw as a widespread idea of Venice as either an ideal city or the direct opposite: ‘the myth of a magnanimous, heroic, generous, liberal, powerful Venice; the myth of a mean, vile, greedy, tyrannical Venice, foolishly proud in its powerlessness.’5 Her article treats expressions of this idea throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, both in Venice and elsewhere. The concept of the myth and anti-myth of Venice was quickly adopted by other scholars, became the subject of numerous studies in the following decades, and has permeated Venetian historiography ever since. The study of the so-called myth of Venice has encompassed many different approaches. With some exceptions, most studies have concentrated on Western European sources, with an emphasis on Italian sources, and Venetian ones in particular.6 A first line of discussion began already in 1961, when Franco Gaeta argued that the myth of Venice had not come to maturity in the Middle Ages, as Fasoli stated, but as a result of the War of the League of Cambrai.7 This discussion was linked to how the myth was characterised, in particular to whether ideas on Venice’s political system were regarded as its defining aspect.8 Both of these questions — regarding the myth’s defining components, and its time of maturity — continued to be important in historiography for decades. Scholars have also focused on manifestations of the myth of Venice in different

4  Filippo de Vivo, “Quand le passé résiste à ses historiographies: Venise et le XVIIe siècle,” Cahiers du centre de recherches historiques 28–29 (2002): 223–34; Eric R. Dursteler, “A Brief Survey of Histories of Venice,” in A Companion to Venetian History, 1400–1797, ed. Eric R. Dursteler (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013), 1–24; James S. Grubb, “When Myths Lose Power: Four Decades of Venetian Historiography,” The Journal of Modern History 58, no. 1 (1986): 43–94; John Jeffries Martin and Dennis Romano, “Reconsidering Venice,” in Venice Reconsidered: The History and Civilization of an Italian City-State, 1297–1797, ed. John Jeffries Martin and Dennis Romano (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 1–35. 5  ‘il mito di una Venezia magnanima, eroica, generosa, liberale, possente; il mito di una Venezia meschina, vile, avida, tirannica, stoltamente superba nella sua impotenza.’ Gina Fasoli, “Nascita di un mito,” in Studi in onore di Gioacchino Volpe, vol. 1 (Firenze: Sansoni, 1958), 447– 79. Quotation from p. 449. 6  There are exceptions; see for example: Sante Graciotti, ed., Mito e antimito di Venezia nel bacino adriatico (secoli XV–XIX) (Roma: Il calamo, 2001). This collection of articles analyses both Italian and Croatian views on Venice. 7  Franco Gaeta, “Alcune considerazioni sul mito di Venezia,” Bibliothèque d’humanisme et Renaissance 23 (1961): 58–75. 8  See also section 3.1.

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media, such as literature, art, music, and ceremonies.9 The question of to what extent the so-called myth corresponds with ‘reality,’ as gathered from sources considered to give less-coloured views of historical circumstances, has been treated in numerous publications as well.10 In my research I argue against the existence of such a myth of Venice. That is not to say that I disagree with the existence of an exceptionally large number of representations of Venice in the Renaissance, many of which display similar patterns and include similar elements: this is something that cannot be denied by anyone who has read more than a couple of descriptions of Venice. However, rather than speaking about one myth of Venice (with its directly dependent counterpart, the anti-myth), it is more appropriate to speak of multiple, simultaneously existing narratives, which could develop in distinctly different ways and in reaction to distinctly different sets of circumstances. While some scholars have commented on the multifaceted character or mutability of the so-called myth, in general there has remained a clear tendency to regard it as a relatively coherent and static entity. Perhaps this is linked to the attractiveness of the idea of one clearly delineated image, traceable across time and space and influencing virtually every aspect of Venetian society. The actual geographical representations, however, show unmistakably that the situation was more complicated. By continuing to speak about a more or less stable, uniform myth of Venice, and by continuing to debate which elements were 9  Gina Fasoli’s seminal article focused mainly on textual sources. Examples of analyses of representations in art, music, and ceremonies include: Patricia Fortini Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic,” in City-States in Classical Antiquity and Medieval Italy, ed. Anthony Molho, Kurt Raaflaub, and Julia Emlen (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991), 511–48; Iain Fenlon, The Ceremonial City: History, Memory and Myth in Renaissance Venice (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007); Deborah Howard and Henrietta McBurney, eds., The Image of Venice: Fialetti’s View and Sir Henry Wotton (London: Paul Holberton Publishing, 2014); Edward W. Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981); David Rosand, Myths of Venice: The Figuration of a State (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 2001). 10  This question has been addressed as a secondary topic in publications on a wide variety of features of Venetian society, such as politics, economy, and social relations. Additionally, it has been the subject of research devoted specifically to an assessment of such a correspondence between ‘myth’ and ‘reality,’ for example: Felix Gilbert, “Venetian Diplomacy before Pavia: From Reality to Myth,” in The Diversity of History: Essays in Honour of Sir Herbert Butterfield, ed. J. H. Elliott and H. G. Koenigsberger (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1970), 79–116; Gherardo Ortalli, “Terra di San Marco: Tra mito e realtà,” in Venezia e le istituzioni di terraferma (Bergamo: Comune di Bergamo, Assessorato alla cultura, 1988), 9–21; Donald E. Queller, The Venetian Patriciate: Reality versus Myth (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1986).

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the myth’s main characteristics and when it came to maturity, historiography has tended to underestimate the multifaceted nature and constant changes of different views that could simultaneously exist about Venice. My research therefore emphasises the plurality and transformable character of the narratives that were created about Venice in the Renaissance. This has advantages that are immediately clear. By not assuming that depictions of Venice overwhelmingly followed a more or less fixed tradition of earlier depictions, the way is opened for an analysis of the myriad of other factors that could also influence how people in the Renaissance represented Venice and the Venetian state. Many of those factors will become clear throughout this book, such as geographical origin of the author, literary genre, and political circumstances. Furthermore, a focus on a ‘myth’ of Venice has left little space for representations belonging neither to the category of the myth nor that of the anti-myth. Similarly, attempts to identify a ‘mature’ version of the myth have attributed so much importance to one specific phase of how people depicted Venice over time, that elements which were not yet or no longer at the forefront could be overlooked. This book also analyses texts that do not correspond with ideas of a coherent myth or anti-myth, as well as elements that occur only in a limited number of sources: they are still indisputably part of how people could represent Venice. Finally, emphasis on the plurality of simultaneously existing narratives renders the search for a mature phase of the myth both impossible and irrelevant. This, therefore, draws more attention to an analysis of chronological changes. The existence of such multifarious narratives about Renaissance Venice will become clear throughout this book by analysis of an extensive corpus. This also includes, for example, texts written in languages that have generally not been taken into consideration by scholars working on this topic, such as German and Dutch, and works that in this historiographical tradition have too often been overlooked as a literary genre in its entirety, such as poetry. Inclusion of such sources can provide us with important insights into matters such as the dissemination of certain narratives across genres, languages, and geographical areas. Most research on representations of Venice has focused on the city of Venice rather than the Venetian state. In general, much of Venetian historiography is characterised by a tripartite split between research on the lagoon city, the Terraferma, and the Stato da Mar. This book bridges the divide between studies on the city of Venice and the mainland state by analysing descriptions of both and, even more importantly, analysing the impact the formation of the mainland state had on those descriptions. Careful attention will always be paid to how circumstances in the Stato da Mar could influence the situation in the

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Terraferma and the lagoon city. Chapter 7 even looks at both the mainland and the maritime state. The book’s main focus, however, remains firmly on the city of Venice and the Terraferma. This allows for a detailed and thorough analysis of the complex development of geographical narratives in a time of profound political change in the Venetian state. For a long time the internal workings of the regional states of Renaissance Italy did not attract much attention.11 Nineteenth-century historians such as Jean-Charles-Léonard Simonde de Sismondi and Jacob Burckhardt regarded them either as a sign of decline or as a positive development towards the modern state. Historiography was more interested in independent medieval communes; once cities became part of a larger state, they were no longer objects of research. This emphasis, which was linked to the post-Risorgimento focus on finding the medieval origins of the new Italian nation state, changed when Italy’s political circumstances underwent profound transformations in the first decades of the twentieth century. Important research came to be done on the regional states of the Renaissance, such as Federico Chabod’s influential studies of the sixteenth-century Milanese state. Research on the Venetian mainland state lagged behind for some time. This changed with Marino Berengo’s analysis of the eighteenth-century Venetian state in La società veneta alla fine del Settecento (1956), followed a few years later by Angelo Ventura’s Nobiltà e popolo nella società veneta del ‘400 e ‘500 (1964). Since then, the Venetian Terraferma has been the subject of an ever-growing bibliography. Research is hardly ever linked anymore to linear ideas on political decline or modernity, but instead focuses on the wide variety of different 11  On the historiography of the regional states in Renaissance Italy, and the Venetian mainland state in particular, see: Nicholas Davidson, “‘In Dialogue with the Past’: Venetian Research from the 1960s to the 1990s,” Bulletin of the Society for Renaissance Studies 15, no. 1 (1997): 13–24; Elena Fasano Guarini, “Center and Periphery,” in The Origins of the State in Italy, 1300–1600, ed. Julius Kirshner (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 74–96; Joanne M. Ferraro, Family and Public Life in Brescia, 1580–1650: The Foundations of Power in the Venetian State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 1–6; Grubb, “When Myths Lose Power”; James S. Grubb, Firstborn of Venice: Vicenza in the Early Renaissance State (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1988), IX– XV; Michael Knapton, “‘Nobiltà e popolo’ e un trentennio di storiografia veneta,” Nuova rivista storica 82, no. 1 (1998): 167–92; John E. Law, “The Venetian Mainland State in the Fifteenth Century,” in Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 153–74; Martin and Romano, “Reconsidering Venice”; Ivana Pederzani, Venezia e lo “Stado de Terraferma”: Il governo delle comunità nel territorio bergamasco (secc. XV–XVIII) (Milano: Vita e pensiero, 1992); Gian Maria Varanini, Comuni cittadini e stato regionale: Ricerche sulla Terraferma veneta nel Quattrocento (Verona: Libreria Editrice Universitaria, 1992), XXXV–LXVI; Gian Maria Varanini, “La Terraferma veneta nel Quattrocento e le tendenze recenti della storiografia,” Ateneo veneto 197 (2010): 13–63.

Introduction

9

developments of the Venetian mainland state in the Renaissance. Publications have prevailed that centre on specific aspects of the Venetian Terraferma and its relations with Venice rather than offer a broad view of their overall character. In-depth studies have also been carried out on specific parts of the Terraferma, regarding both rural territories and urban centres such as Vicenza, Verona, Brescia, and Padua.12 There has been a clear emphasis on the political, administrative, juridical, fiscal, and economic aspects of the Venetian mainland state. However, while research on such institutionalised characteristics of the Venetian Terraferma is still more current than non-institutionalised aspects such as social and cultural relations, the number of studies on the latter is slowly increasing.13 Those few publications which have addressed how contemporaries depicted Venice and the Terraferma together as a state have mostly only treated the topic briefly. Scholars have usually stated that representations of Venice concerned mainly the city and that, when they did consider Venice’s dominions, they looked at the Stato da Mar. In general, historiography has claimed that the Terraferma never became important for Renaissance representations of Venice, as expressed for example in: Venice as territorial dominion remained the weakest element in the Venetian myth, a sign of the inadequacy of myth as accurate descriptive. It was a subject only slightly less ignored by the mature anti-myth, despite propagandistic allusions to Venetian lust for conquest, illegality of authority, and oppression of subject peoples.14

12  Detailed studies of urban centres include: Stephen D. Bowd, Venice’s Most Loyal City: Civic Identity in Renaissance Brescia (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010); Silvana Collodo, Una società in trasformazione: Padova tra XI e XV secolo (Padova: Antenore, 1990); Ferraro, Family and Public Life in Brescia; Grubb, Firstborn of Venice; John E. Law, Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000); Varanini, Comuni cittadini e stato regionale. 13  Very important for research on the cultural relations between Venice and the Terraferma has been the publication of the ten-volume series Storia della cultura veneta between 1976 and 1986 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza). Examples of more recent publications include: Nicholas Davidson, “‘As Much for Its Culture as for Its Arms’: The Cultural Relations of Venice and Its Dependent Cities, 1400–1700,” in Mediterranean Urban Culture, 1400–1700, ed. Alexander Cowan (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 2000), 197–214, 264–70; Peter Humfrey, ed., Venice and the Veneto (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007). 14  Grubb, “When Myths Lose Power,” 73. See also: Innocenzo Cervelli, Machiavelli e la crisi dello stato veneziano (Napoli: Guida, 1974); Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant: The Horizons of a Myth, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins

10

Introduction

As will become clear in this book, the sources handed down to us show that the matter is more complex. Although Renaissance Venice was not a unitary state — an ideal that did not exist in this era — and although no equivalent of a modern ‘nationalism’ appeared, people nonetheless took the new political reality into account when they constructed narratives about the lagoon city and the mainland territories. Analysis of how various groups could deal with these new political circumstances is essential for our understanding of a variety of issues, not least of which is the formation of regional states in the Renaissance. Chronological generalisation should also be avoided. As will become clear, depictions of the relations between Venice and the mainland territories did not remain the same. Analysis of these changes can provide important insights into the interaction between political transformation — in this case early modern state formation — and representation of geographical spaces. Moreover, people from different backgrounds could have diverging views on Venice and its state. This too will be addressed, as descriptions written by inhabitants of the city of Venice, inhabitants of the mainland territories, and foreigners will be analysed. The general lack of attention to the precise ways in which geographical representations dealt with the recently formed Venetian mainland state is linked to the historiographical tendencies of research on the myth of Venice, in particular the tendency to focus mainly on certain aspects of Venice’s geographical representations. With this, I come to my most important point. Analysis of the geographical descriptions of Venice and the Terraferma during the Renaissance provides important insights not only into the individual research strands of geographical representations in general, representations of Venice in particular, and the formation of the Venetian mainland state. More importantly, it unites these strands, and shows the necessity of doing so. 2

Placing Texts within Literary Contexts

Geographical descriptions can be found in texts from very different periods and regions. They also occur in diverse literary genres. As stated earlier, in this book I adopt a broad definition of geographical descriptions: texts, or relatively independent passages within larger texts, that are devoted predominantly to University Press, 2002), 127, 189; Law, Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance; Varanini, “La Terraferma veneta nel Quattrocento e le tendenze recenti della storiografia,” 45–53.

Introduction

11

describing certain geographical entities. This means that the corpus of sources encompasses a wide variety of texts. While some authors focus predominantly on material aspects of a city or territory, others concentrate on less physical characteristics, such as practices or moral qualities — but in all cases the texts show how the authors choose to define the city or territory in writing. This makes them extremely valuable objects of research to the historian, to be studied as a topic in their own right. These texts are neither objective documentations of a more tangible reality, nor precise reflections of people’s thoughts. Crucially, however, they are testimonies of the narratives people choose to create in writing about the world around them. These narratives are just as much part of reality as other, more tangible aspects of the world. Analysing how people choose to represent the world around them, from texts diverging far from reality to texts giving less coloured views of historical circumstances, is therefore essential if we want to understand any part of history. It is the construction and development of these narratives with which my research is concerned. This book is based on an extensive corpus consisting of about a hundred sources, which range from relatively short texts to works that number hundreds of pages. They come from different periods and languages, and were written by authors with different geographical and social origins. They also belong to a wide variety of genres, from texts devoted in their entirety to describing a certain city or territory, to works that have various functions and that describe cities as well, such as statute prefaces, poems on ongoing wars, and political treatises. The different genres often bring different intentions and different audiences. Some texts were written with the clear purpose of flattering Venetian audiences while others were actually meant to criticise Venice; some were aimed at an audience from the Venetian state while others were meant for a more international or a non-Venetian audience; some were written by people intimately familiar with the Venetian context while others were created after only a relatively brief journey through the Venetian state; and some became well known while others fell almost entirely into obscurity. The inclusion of these diverse texts leads to a representative selection of geographical descriptions of Venice and the Terraferma from across Western Europe. At the same time, the delineation of the selection is defined enough to allow for a detailed analysis of the narratives that were constructed in the descriptions. Throughout the book, careful attention is always paid to the specificities of each source and the broader context in which it should be placed. Individual texts are introduced the first time I use them extensively. Additionally, three particularly important types of literature will be introduced here: laudes civitatum, historical writing, and pilgrims’ accounts.

12

Introduction

2.1 The laudes civitatum from Antiquity to Renaissance A very old literary genre that focused completely on the city is that of the laudes civitatum, also called laudes urbium, panegyrics devoted to singing the praise of a certain city. As will become clear throughout this book, many (elements of) the fifteenth-century descriptions of Venice and the mainland cities should (also) be regarded in the tradition of these texts. The category of the laudes civitatum is not an easy one to define. Scholars have disagreed on matters such as whether there is a difference between praise and description, and whether shorter, non-autonomous texts should also be considered laudes civitatum.15 While keeping in mind that a strict definition of the term is difficult to make and that exceptions can always exist, in this book I use a narrow definition of the laudes civitatum: texts that are completely devoted to the praise of one city and that are not enclosed in a larger text. Given the use of the term as a literary category, I consider it to be irrelevant whether a text describes an actual city or a fictitious one — another point of debate in the discussion on the laudes. The genre of the laudes civitatum goes back to antiquity. Although praises of cities and territories, of which the laudes Italiae and the laudes Romae were particularly popular, did not receive much attention in rhetorical theories, there were still some late antique texts that developed detailed rules for city praises.16 In general they prescribed first treating the city’s site and then its other qualities, not least its importance regarding the arts and sciences.17 Many Latin city descriptions from antiquity, mainly about Rome, were known in the Middle Ages, as well as several treatises on how to write city praises. Some new treatises were written, too, but they were not many; works on how to describe people or nature were more common during the Middle Ages. In general, such theoretical guidelines for city praises do not appear to have been very influential on the writing of the actual texts.18 15  See for example: Classen, Die Stadt im Spiegel der Descriptiones und Laudes urbium; Eugen Giegler, “Das Genos der Laudes urbium im lateinischen Mittelalter: Beiträge zur Topik des Städtelobes und der Stadtschilderung” (Universität Würzburg, 1953), 7–27; Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities,” 311; Kugler, Die Vorstellung der Stadt in der Literatur des deutschen Mittelalters, 32–35; Elisa Occhipinti, “Immagini di città: Le ‘laudes civitatum’ e la rappresentazione dei centri urbani nell’Italia settentrionale,” Società e storia 14 (1991): 25; Giovanna Petti Balbi, Una città e il suo mare: Genova nel Medioevo (Bologna: Clueb, 1991), 23. 16  Ernst Robert Curtius, Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter, 11. Aufl (Tübingen: Francke, 1993), 77–78, 163–68; Kugler, Die Vorstellung der Stadt in der Literatur des deutschen Mittelalters, 26, 30. 17  Curtius, Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter, 166. 18  Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities,” 310–11; P. G. Schmidt, “Mittelalterliches und humanistisches Städtelob,” in Die Rezeption der Antike: Zum Problem der Kontinuität zwi­ schen Mittelalter und Renaissance, ed. A. Buck (Hamburg: Hauswedell, 1981), 119.

Introduction

13

A large number of laudes civitatum has survived to the present day. The oldest post-antique ones come from Italy: Versum de Mediolano civitate (between 739 and 744), followed by texts such as Versus de Verona (between 789 and 805) and De situ urbis Mediolani (probably between the late eighth and the mid-tenth century). The communal era saw the writing of new laudes civi­ tatum. After Mosè del Brolo’s Liber Pergaminus (early twelfth century), important works were written in the second half of the thirteenth and the early fourteenth century on northern Italian cities such as Lodi, Milan, Padua, and Pavia. No laudes civitatum about Venice have been handed down to us from this relatively early period. For Tuscany a first detailed city description cannot be found before the one of Florence in Giovanni Villani’s chronicle (1338–1339), followed shortly afterwards by Florentie urbis et reipublicae descriptio (1339) and some minor descriptions. Rome was treated in the mid-twelfth century in the Mirabilia urbis Romae, an extensive description of the city’s monuments and the legends associated with them.19 This work became very popular across Europe: it has been handed down in many dozens of manuscripts and printed works from the twelfth to the seventeenth century, in multiple languages. The city was also the subject of some other descriptions in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, such as the Graphia aurea urbis Romae and the Narracio de mirabilibus urbis Rome, which, however, did not become as popular as the Mirabilia urbis Romae. No medieval laudes civitatum are known from southern Italy. Outside of Italy we find laudes civitatum from the first half of the eleventh century onwards, including in the Holy Roman Empire, England, and France.20 City praises continued to be written during the Renaissance, both in Italy and elsewhere in Europe. There could of course be differences between city descriptions from different geographical regions, from different periods, or simply between different texts. As a result, there has been much discussion on whether medieval city praises were fundamentally different from Renaissance ones, and if so, where the line between the two should be drawn.21 This debate 19  Sandra Toffolo, “Beschrijvingen van Rome in de middeleeuwen: De ‘Mirabilia urbis Romae,’” Roma aeterna 3, no. 1–2 (2015): 72–81. 20  See for example: Hermann Goldbrunner, “Laudatio urbis: Zu neueren Untersuchungen über das humanistische Städtelob,” Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 63 (1983): 313–28; Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities”; Kugler, Die Vorstellung der Stadt in der Literatur des deutschen Mittelalters; Schmidt, “Mittelalterliches und humanistisches Städtelob.” 21  For instance: Curtius, Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter; Gina Fasoli, “La coscienza civica nelle ‘laudes civitatum,’” in La coscienza cittadina nei comuni italiani del Duecento (Todi: Accademia tudertina, 1972), 11–44; Riccardo Fubini, “La ‘Laudatio Florentinae urbis’ di Leonardo Bruni: Immagine ideale o programma politico?,” in

14

Introduction

often depends on the larger context of research. For instance, scholars who regard the presence of civic self-consciousness as the defining characteristic of the medieval Italian tradition have claimed that the character of the laudes civi­tatum changed in the fourteenth century, when most cities in question were no longer communes.22 On the other hand, historians who focus mainly on which elements are treated in the laudes have stressed a continuous tradition of topoi.23 Once again, a clear definition is not easy to make. For the purposes of this research it suffices to say that by the fifteenth century city descriptions fit into a tradition which had undergone several transformations and which in certain aspects was clearly different, but which still shared characteristics with the medieval tradition. Indeed, there are topoi from this genre that could recur in texts from different periods, from different areas, and with different lengths. For instance, it was common to praise a city’s walls, towers, gates, location, health-giving climate, churches, bell towers, houses, surrounding countryside, and richness of the inhabitants. Texts also often state the city’s superiority to other cities, and compare it with certain other cities, such as Jerusalem and Rome.24 As will become clear throughout this book, these topoi could occur in different literary genres. When it comes to the order in which city descriptions speak about these aspects, it has already been mentioned that late antique rules generally state that city descriptions first have to speak about the city’s site and then about its other qualities. However, in De institutione oratoria — to mention one example — first-century author Quintilianus mentions five elements which should appear in city descriptions: the city’s founder, the achievements of its citizens, Imago urbis: L’immagine della città nella storia d’Italia, ed. Francesca Bocchi and Rosa Smurra (Roma: Viella, 2003), 285–96; Goldbrunner, “Laudatio urbis”; Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities”; Kugler, Die Vorstellung der Stadt in der Literatur des deutschen Mittelalters, 24–25; Francesco Salvestrini, “Descrizioni e ‘laudes’ a Firenze nel secolo XIV: Giovanni Villani, la ‘Florentie Urbis et Reipublice Descriptio,’ Antonio Pucci, Lapo da Castiglionchio, Coluccio Salutati,” in Antica possessione con belli costumi: Due giornate di studio su Lapo da Castiglionchio il Vecchio, ed. Franek Sznura (Firenze: Aska, 2005), 205– 32; Schmidt, “Mittelalterliches und humanistisches Städtelob.” 22  For example: Fasoli, “La coscienza civica nelle ‘laudes civitatum,’” 43–44. 23  For example: Salvestrini, “Descrizioni e ‘laudes’ a Firenze nel secolo XIV.” 24  Schmidt, “Mittelalterliches und humanistisches Städtelob”; Brian Tate, “‘Laus Urbium’: Praise of Two Andalusian Cities in the Mid-Fifteenth Century,” in Medieval Spain: Culture, Conflict, and Coexistence: Studies in Honour of Angus MacKay, ed. Angus MacKay, Roger Collins, and Anthony Goodman (Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 148–59; Paul Zumthor, La misura del mondo: La rappresentazione dello spazio nel Medio Evo, trans. Simonetta Varvaro (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1995), 110.

Introduction

15

its situation and fortifications, its public buildings, and its surroundings.25 A late antique work on rhetoric, entitled De laudibus urbium and handed down to us in an eighth-century Lombard manuscript, gives another structure: first the city’s founder should be mentioned, followed by the city walls and geographical location, the natural resources (the fertility of the fields, the abundance of water), the citizens’ manners and achievements, characteristics acquired in the course of time, and finally famous inhabitants.26 There were also many authors of city descriptions who created their own structure.27 In general, therefore, there are more differences in the order in which topoi are treated than in the presence of those topoi. A few commonalities, however, will become clear in this book. 2.2 Historical Writing in Venice Many authors describing the city of Venice or the mainland cities focus not only on physical aspects but also include passages on aspects such as the city’s history. This is not peculiar to works on these specific cities: it had been a common trait of city descriptions since late antiquity to include points such as the city’s origins. In these cases, the recounting of historical episodes performs the same constitutive role in the formation of narratives about the city as the description of the city’s physical fabric. While this book maintains a primary focus on geographical descriptions, there are therefore many points where it is important to take historical writing into account as well. Two types of historical writing existed in Renaissance Venice, the old tradition of the chronicles and the newer one of humanist writing.28 The chronicle tradition in Venice dates back to at least the eleventh century: the oldest 25  Kugler, Die Vorstellung der Stadt in der Literatur des deutschen Mittelalters, 26–28, 34. 26  Fasoli, “La coscienza civica nelle ‘laudes civitatum,’” 13–14; Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities,” 312. De laudibus urbium probably served as a model — be it freely interpreted — for the eighth-century Versum de Mediolano civitate. An edition of the treatise is included in: Fasoli, “La coscienza civica nelle ‘laudes civitatum,’” 13–14. 27  J. K. Hyde has briefly summarised the structures of over a dozen medieval city descriptions: Hyde, “Medieval Descriptions of Cities.” 28  Patricia Fortini Brown, Venetian Narrative Painting in the Age of Carpaccio (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1988), 87–97; Antonio Carile, “Aspetti della cronachi­ stica veneziana nei secoli XIII e XIV,” in La storiografia veneziana fino al secolo XVI: Aspetti e problemi, ed. Agostino Pertusi (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 1970), 75–126; Eric W. Cochrane, Historians and Historiography in the Italian Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 62–65, 77–86; Franco Gaeta, “Storiografia, coscienza nazionale e politica culturale nella Venezia del Rinascimento,” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. I, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1980), 1–91; Margaret L. King, “The Venetian Intellectual World,” in A

16

Introduction

extant chronicle was written around 1018 by John the Deacon. Until the mid-­ fourteenth century they were written in either Latin or French; subsequently, chronicles in Venetian started to appear. The principal initiative in chronicle writing came from wealthy families, who thus sought to define their family identity within the context of the larger Venetian community. An author, who usually remained anonymous, would copy a chronicle, which could belong to a different family, and would then alter, shorten, or add to it. There would therefore be much homogeneity within the genre. Later generations would continue to add information to the texts. Chronicles were produced in Venice until the second half of the seventeenth century, long after other northern Italian cities had switched to humanist historical writing. In the fifteenth century they were a standard possession of higher-class families. The main differences between chronicles and humanist histories are the latter’s explanatory purpose and attention to form. Humanists were not only supposed to record events but also to discern causes and consequences. Historical writing came to be regarded as something produced by one individual writing in a specific time and place, and not meant to be added to by others. It also came to be considered as literature, with an elegant form. This type of historical writing was not very popular in fifteenth-century Venice due to patrician utilitarian views on humanism. Humanist studies were not supposed to be an end in themselves: they should be useful in teaching young patricians how to rule. As was the case with chronicles, humanist histories remained laudatory and respectful to the established authorities. Furthermore, Venetian humanists were not too much concerned with rhetoric. The traditional form of the chronicles could therefore continue to satisfy the need for historical writing in Venice. This does not mean that there were no humanist histories: several have been handed down to us. Just as in other states, historians in Venice had to beware not to irritate the government and the ruling class. Moreover, there was an official historiography. Throughout the fifteenth century there were attempts to propose to the Venetian government to write a history of the city, either by the authors themselves or by Venetians trying to convince authors to come to their city and undertake this task. Such attempts involved most notably Poggio Bracciolini, Lorenzo Valla, and Flavio Biondo.29 These plans came to nothing. In 1486 Companion to Venetian History, 1400–1797, ed. Eric R. Dursteler (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013), 571–614; Dorit Raines, L’invention du mythe aristocratique: L’image de soi du patriciat vénitien au temps de la Sérénissime, 2 vols. (Venezia: Istituto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti, 2006). 29   Gaeta, “Storiografia, coscienza nazionale e politica culturale nella Venezia del Rinascimento”; Felix Gilbert, “Biondo, Sabellico, and the Beginnings of Venetian Official

Introduction

17

Marcantonio Sabellico (ca.1436–1506), from Lazio, wrote Rerum Venetarum ab urbe condita libri XXXIII. While it is not highly esteemed today, it had much success in its own time.30 It was not commissioned by the Venetian government, but it did receive official recognition when the government granted it copyright, the first known author’s copyright.31 In appreciation of the work, Sabellico was also awarded a lectureship at the school of San Marco. As in other states, it was expected that people holding this type of publicly paid position would also write works enhancing the state’s reputation. Contrary to what much literature has stated, Sabellico was not Venice’s official historiographer. This position was held for the first time in 1516 by Andrea Navagero.32 It would continue to exist for several centuries. Some of the criteria for the position of official historiographer become particularly clear when compared with the writings and career of Venetian patrician Marin Sanudo (1466–1536). He was one of Renaissance Venice’s most prolific writers but never obtained the position of official historiographer, even though he was eager to have it.33 His political ambitions had similarly scant Historiography,” in Florilegium Historiale: Essays Presented to Wallace K. Ferguson, ed. John Gordon Rowe and W. H. Stockdale (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971), 275–93. 30   Present-day historians are generally not very positive about the work. For example, in order to determine the truthfulness of his sources, Sabellico relied on the idea that chronicles speaking about their own times could be believed, that chronicles dealing with earlier times could be accepted as long as they did not conflict with the ancient historians, and that in cases of ancient historians contradicting each other one should look at what appeared to be truer. See: Cochrane, Historians and Historiography in the Italian Renaissance, 83–86; Gaetano Cozzi, “Marin Sanudo il giovane: Dalla cronaca alla storia,” Rivista storica italiana 80, no. 2 (1968): 297–314; Agostino Pertusi, “Gli inizi della storiografia umanistica nel Quattrocento,” in La storiografia veneziana fino al secolo XVI: Aspetti e problemi, ed. Agostino Pertusi (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 1970), 269–332; Francesco Tateo, “Marcantonio Sabellico e la svolta del classicismo quattrocentesco,” in Florence and Venice: Comparisons and Relations, vol. 1: Quattrocento (Firenze: La Nuova Italia, 1979), 45.   This does not mean that Sabellico was not also criticised in his own time. Criticism is known both regarding Sabellico’s work in general and certain works in particular. Gaeta, “Storiografia, coscienza nazionale e politica culturale nella Venezia del Rinascimento”; Francesco Tateo, “Coccio, Marcantonio, detto Marcantonio Sabellico,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 1982. 31  Ruth Chavasse, “The First Known Author’s Copyright, September 1486, in the Context of a Humanist Career,” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library of Manchester 69, no. 1 (1986): 11–37. 32  Chavasse, 25–26; Gaeta, “Storiografia, coscienza nazionale e politica culturale nella Venezia del Rinascimento”; Gilbert, “Biondo, Sabellico, and the Beginnings of Venetian Official Historiography.” 33  In 1531, following Sanudo’s refusal of the government’s order to show his diaries to official historiographer Pietro Bembo, Sanudo was given the position of diarist. This brought

18

Introduction

success: apart from holding some positions of minor importance around the turn of the century, he was rarely elected to office. Today Sanudo is best known for his diaries — fifty-eight volumes in total — but he also wrote numerous other works on a variety of topics. Most of them were written in the vernacular. In his De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, Sanudo stated that he had chosen to write in the vernacular ‘so that learned and unlearned people can read and understand it.’34 Although he also stated that he intended this work for ‘both our patricians and foreigners,’ this choice of language would have limited the audience to those familiar with the Venetian vernacular, that is, mainly people from the Venetian state.35 Even though some of Sanudo’s works, such as De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, circulated in manuscript form, none of them were ever published until several centuries after his death. The elegant Latin histories of humanists such as Sabellico and Pietro Bembo were preferred, not the vernacular chronicles of Sanudo, who was above all interested in providing information, without caring much for transforming it into a coherent and fluent narrative.36 2.3 Travel Accounts of Pilgrims on Their Way to the Holy Land During much of the Middle Ages there were several places from where pilgrims embarked for the Holy Land, particularly Venice, Genoa, Pisa, Ancona, Marseilles, and Montpellier. By the fifteenth century, however, only the Venetians were able to provide a reasonably secure passage.37 The Venetian him only the title and a small sum of money. Bembo used Sanudo’s diaries for his work but did not give him any credit for it. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, “Introduzione,” in De ori­ gine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), XXXIV–XXXV. 34  ‘acciò dotti et indotti la possino leggere et intendere.’ Marin Sanudo, De origine, situ et magi­ stratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), 5. 35  ‘sì da patritii nostri qual da forestieri.’ Sanudo, 5. In section 5.4 it will become clear that with ‘forestieri’ Sanudo means both people from outside the Venetian state, and from outside the city of Venice but within the borders of the state. 36  Angela Caracciolo Aricò, “Marin Sanudo il giovane: Le opere e lo stile,” Studi veneziani 55 (2008): 351–90. 37  On the role of Venice in pilgrimages to the Holy Land in the Renaissance, see in particular: Benjamin Arbel, “Daily Life on Board Venetian Ships: The Evidence of Renaissance Travelogues and Diaries,” in Rapporti mediterranei, pratiche documentarie, presenze ve­ neziane: Le reti economiche e culturali (XIV–XVI secolo), ed. Gherardo Ortalli and Alessio Sopracasa (Venezia: Istituto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti, 2017), 183–219; Eliyahu Ashtor, “Venezia e il pellegrinaggio in Terrasanta nel basso medioevo,” Archivio storico

Introduction

19

dominion over the Stato da Mar guaranteed safe harbours for a large part of the voyage, while the Venetian government regulated various aspects of the travels’ organisation and thereby ensured certain standards of safety. Venice thus became the point of embarkation for most Western European pilgrims, especially for those from Italy, England, the Holy Roman Empire, the Low Countries, and France. Until the second half of the sixteenth century hundreds of pilgrims passed through Venice each year. They often spent several weeks in the lagoon city, waiting for departure and preparing for their journey. Many of their travel accounts therefore also include a description of this city. Pilgrims’ accounts were written dating from the very first pilgrimages to Jerusalem in the fourth century.38 They continued to be written until after the sixteenth century, that is, when pilgrimage had already ceased for some time to be a mass phenomenon. In the late Middle Ages they became more detailed. Authors of these works tended to copy words, phrases, information, or even entire passages from their predecessors. This was partly because one of the purposes of the texts was to act as a guide for future pilgrims: regarding which holy places to visit and indulgences to obtain, but also on matters such as cities italiano 143 (1985): 197–223; Nicole Chareyron, “Venise porte de l’Orient pour les pèlerins du saint voyage à Jérusalem (1350–1550),” Bollettino del centro interuniversitario di ricerche sul viaggio in Italia 18 (1997): 3–23; Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Récits, images et mythes: Venise dans l’iter hiérosolomytain (XIVe–XVe siècles),” Mélanges de l’école française de Rome: Moyen Âge, temps modernes 96, no. 1 (1984): 489–535; Robert C. Davis and Garry R. Marvin, Venice, the Tourist Maze: A Cultural Critique of the World’s Most Touristed City (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004), 13–29; Deborah Howard, “Venice as Gateway to the Holy Land: Pilgrims as Agents of Transmission,” in Architecture and Pilgrimage 1000–1500: Southern Europe and Beyond, ed. Paul Davies, Deborah Howard, and Wendy Pullan (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2013), 87–110; David Jacoby, “Pèlerinage médiéval et sanctuaires de Terre Sainte: La perspective vénitienne,” Ateneo veneto 173 (1986): 27–58; Ugo Tucci, “I servizi marittimi veneziani per il pellegrinaggio in Terrasanta nel Medioevo,” Studi veneziani 9 (1985): 43–66. 38  Palmira Brummett, “Introduction: Genre, Witness, and Time in the ‘Book’ of Travels,” in The “Book” of Travels: Genre, Ethnology, and Pilgrimage, 1250–1700, ed. Palmira Johnson Brummett (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009), 1–35; Franco Cardini, “Viaggiatori medioevali in Terrasanta: A proposito di alcune recenti pubblicazioni italiane,” Rivista storica italiana 80, no. 2 (1968): 332–39; Franco Cardini, In Terrasanta: Pellegrini italiani tra Medioevo e prima età moderna (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2002); Crouzet-Pavan, “Récits, images et mythes”; Jaś Elsner and Joan-Pau Rubiés, “Introduction,” in Voyages and Visions: Towards a Cultural History of Travel, ed. Jaś Elsner and Joan-Pau Rubiés (London: Reaktion books, 1999), 1–56; Ludwig Schmugge, “Pellegrini tedeschi in Italia,” in Comunicazione e mobiltà nel Medioevo: Incontri fra il Sud e il Centro dell’Europa (secoli XI–XIV ), ed. Siegfried de Rachewiltz and Josef Riedmann (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1997), 169–96; Wes Williams, Pilgrimage and Narrative in the French Renaissance: The Undiscovered Country (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998).

20

Introduction

that could be visited, habits of foreign people, and sometimes even foreign currencies. This also meant that authors sometimes included descriptions of places they had not seen themselves in order to make their work more complete. A certain homogeneity therefore exists in these accounts. This is what is often underlined in historiography.39 However, as will become clear in this book, while this may be true for certain parts of the accounts, the homogeneity of the works as a whole should definitely not be exaggerated. Bernhard von Breydenbach’s Peregrinatio in terram sanctam (1485) is a good example of just how interrelated some pilgrims’ accounts could be. Breydenbach brought Erhard Reuwich with him on his journey in order to make illustrations for the book he was planning to publish, thereby making the Peregrinatio in terram sanctam the first printed illustrated travel book, containing twenty-six woodcuts.40 He also asked Martin Roth to add some explanatory parts to the book, while Paul Walther, author of Itinerarium ad Terram Sanctam et ad Sanctam Catharinam, probably collaborated on the work as well. Furthermore, in line with Renaissance literature in general and pilgrims’ accounts in particular, various other sources were used and several parts were copied into the work. In its turn Breydenbach’s work was used by others; for example, some parts were translated and included in the Netherlandish Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele and the English The pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde.41 Breydenbach also had travel companions. One of them was Felix Faber, author of Evagatorium Fratris Felicis — a work which on multiple occasions refers explicitly to various types of literature. Moreover, Faber had already made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 1480. At that occasion he had travelled with other people, several of whom wrote accounts that have been handed down. In short, pilgrims’ accounts are generally part of a large web of relations. Again, however, it is necessary to emphasise that this does not mean that they always express the same ideas. Although the main goal of a pilgrimage was obviously to visit a sacred place, pilgrims could have additional reasons for undertaking their journey, such as a desire for adventure, escape, or political or economic gain. Furthermore, during their journey they would visit other places in addition to the final destination 39  See for example: Brummett, “Introduction: Genre, Witness, and Time in the ‘Book’ of Travels,” 30–32; Cardini, In Terrasanta, 170–73, 184–87; Margaret Wade Labarge, Medieval Travellers: The Rich and Restless (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1982), 73. 40   Gabriella Bartolini, “Saggio introduttivo,” in Peregrinationes: Un viaggiatore del Quattrocento a Gerusalemme e in Egitto, ed. Gabriella Bartolini and Giulio Caporali (Roma: Vecchiarelli, Roma nel Rinascimento, 1999), XIII. 41  William M. Ivins, “A First Edition of Breydenbach’s Itinerary,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 14, no. 10 (1919): 221.

Introduction

21

of their pilgrimage, and there could be many reasons for visiting those places. Factors like these complicate the definition of ‘pilgrims’ accounts.’ For a work such as the one written by the priest Pietro Casola it is clear that we are dealing with a pilgrim’s account. However, this is more problematic for a text like Roberto da Sanseverino’s Felice et divoto ad Terrasancta viagio facto per Roberto de Sancto Severino, which is the result of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land that was undertaken partly to gather information on the Ottomans for Duke Francesco Sforza. Differences in religion can further complicate the definition of this literary category. Mešullam ben Menahem da Volterra went to the Holy Land both for mercantile reasons and to visit holy places, but in his case these places were connected to Judaism, not Christianity. For this research I adopt a broad definition of ‘pilgrims’ accounts,’ thereby further enriching the large variety of sources used in this book. Both Christian and non-Christian pilgrims’ accounts will therefore be used, as well as texts written by people for whom the visit to the holy site was not the only, or even the main reason for undertaking the journey. 3

Constructing a Mainland State

3.1 Enlarging the Dominion The average size of the population of the city of Venice during the fifteenth century is estimated at about 100,000, making it one of the largest cities in Renaissance Europe. Although Venice’s main source of power in the Mediterranean world was not its territorial dominion but its important position in international trade, its territory was not limited to the Venetian lagoon. From the eleventh century onwards, Venice acquired territories along the eastern coast of the Adriatic Sea and in the Eastern Mediterranean, together called the Stato da Mar and mostly comprising places that were useful to Venetian commerce. By the beginning of the sixteenth century the Stato da Mar extended mainly to much of the eastern Adriatic coast, most of the Ionian and Aegean islands, parts of the Peloponnese, Crete, and Cyprus. Administratively, Istria was sometimes considered part of the Stato da Mar and other times part of the Terraferma, although most often the former. For the purposes of this research it will be treated as part of the maritime territories. While keeping in mind that events in Venice’s dominions overseas and on the Italian mainland often influenced each other, in what follows I will focus mainly on Venice’s construction of its mainland state, called the Stato da Terra or Terraferma. These territories were acquired later and in a shorter space of time than the Stato da Mar. By the early sixteenth century the mainland state stretched over

22

Introduction

a large area, with some rural parts but mostly densely populated and including cities that by European Renaissance standards were large.42 For centuries the Venetian dominion on the Italian peninsula had been limited to a strip of land bordering the Venetian lagoon, the Dogado. This changed in 1339, when Venice acquired Treviso and its province as a result of a war against the Della Scala rulers of Verona. However, expansion of the Venetian mainland state took place on a much larger scale after the War of Chioggia (1378–1381). This was the last of the four wars between Venice and Genoa, its main competitor in commerce in the Mediterranean. Although the war ended with the Genoese surrendering, the peace treaty contained several unfavourable conditions for Venice. It did, however, leave Venice as the main power in the eastern Mediterranean sea routes, with its power and territorial dominion steadily growing. Venice then turned its attention towards the Italian mainland. Treviso and its province had been given up as a condition of the peace treaty at the end of the War of Chioggia, but they were recuperated in 1388, together with Conegliano and its territory.43 In the first decades of the fifteenth century this mainland territory was greatly extended. After the death of Duke Giangaleazzo Visconti of Milan in 1402, Venice quickly gained parts of the Milanese state. Vicenza offered itself to Venice in the spring of 1404, followed in June 1405 by Verona, while Padua was conquered in November 1405. The main reason for Venice adding these territories to its dominion was that the Da Carrara of Padua were attempting to enlarge their dominion, which would 42  The construction of the Venetian mainland state has been the subject of an extensive literature. For overviews, see in particular: Gaetano Cozzi and Michael Knapton, Storia della repubblica di Venezia: Dalla guerra di Chioggia alla riconquista della terraferma (Torino: Utet, 1986); Michael Knapton, “Venice and the Terraferma,” in The Italian Renaissance State, ed. Andrea Gamberini and Isabella Lazzarini (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 132–55; Michael Knapton, “The Terraferma State,” in A Companion to Venetian History, 1400–1797, ed. Eric R. Dursteler (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013), 85–124; Law, Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance; Michael Edward Mallett, “La conquista della Terraferma,” in Il Rinascimento, politica e cultura, ed. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci, Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, IV (Roma: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1996), 181–244; Michael Edward Mallett, “Venezia e la poli­ tica italiana: 1454–1530,” in Il Rinascimento, politica e cultura, ed. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci, Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, IV (Roma: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1996), 245–310; Dennis Romano, The Likeness of Venice: A Life of Doge Francesco Foscari, 1373–1457 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007); Corrado Vivanti, “La storia politica e sociale: Dall’avvento delle signorie all’Italia spagnola,” in Dalla caduta dell’Impero Romano al secolo XVIII, vol. I, Storia d’Italia, II (Torino: Einaudi, 1974), 275–427. 43  From 1381 to 1384 they fell under the authority of the duke of Austria, from 1384 to 1388 under the Da Carrara.

Introduction

23

have caused problems for Venice’s trade routes. Indeed, throughout the fifteenth century Venice’s mainland expansion was not the result of a long-term plan, but rather of a process of ad hoc decisions. Rather than a desire to gain territory, jurisdiction, or revenue, the wish to keep trade routes safe was the main motivation for expansion. As will become clear in the rest of this section, throughout the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth centuries territories came under Venetian rule in different ways, including more or less voluntary submission, conquest, purchase, and inheritance. In the second decade of the century Venice became involved in wars with its other neighbours on the mainland, which led to expansion to the north and the east. In 1418 it seized Rovereto. Subsequently, Venice was at war (with one of Friuli’s main feudal lords, Count Tristano Savorgnan, as ally) with Sigismund of Luxembourg, King of Hungary who also held Dalmatia, and the patriarch of Aquileia, who ruled in Friuli and Istria.44 As a result of this war Venice won various territories: Sacile (1419), Cividale, Belluno, Feltre, Udine, Aquileia, Cadore, Marano, and Monfalcone (all of them in 1420). Here as well, Venice’s expansion was mainly driven by the wish to avoid this territory coming under the control of another ruler, in this case Sigismund. Later, in a war with Milan Venice obtained Brescia (1426) and Bergamo (1428). Further acquisitions on the Italian peninsula took place in 1441, when Venice inherited Ravenna from the Da Polenta, which was formally considered part of the Stato da Mar until 1485. In 1446 a new war between Venice and Milan began, which quickly led to the Venetian annexation of several Milanese towns. When Filippo Maria Visconti died in 1447 without an heir, Milan declared itself a free republic, and the Milanese cities Piacenza and Lodi passed voluntarily to Venice. In the following years Francesco Sforza as commander of the Milanese army delivered the Venetians several defeats, which resulted in the loss of Piacenza and Lodi. By now, various Italian powers had become worried about Venice’s expansionism. This led Florence to break the alliance which it had had with Venice since 1425, and instead enter into one with Francesco Sforza, by now duke of Milan. Naples declared war on Venice in 1449, which ended a year later. From 1452 to 1454 Milan and Venice, now allied with Naples, were at war with each other. Finally, in April 1454 the Peace of Lodi was concluded, originally only between Venice and Milan, but quickly joined by Florence, the pope, and Naples. On this occasion Venice received the right of rule over Crema as well as reconfirmation of its authority over Bergamo and Brescia. The Peace of Lodi was the 44  After the death of the emperor in 1410 Sigismund was chosen as his successor, but the official anointment did not take place until 1433.

24

Introduction

beginning of a period not without tensions, but nonetheless of relative peace in the Italian peninsula. The five main Italian powers had arrived at a stalemate, as realisation of the inability to absorb the others forced each state to retain the same position. In the period that followed, Venice’s possessions on the peninsula nevertheless grew when in 1463 Cervia, with its salt pans, was purchased from the Malatesta. Venice also had to deal with problems outside Italy, most notably the First Ottoman-Venetian War (1463–1479), in which Venice lost some parts of the Stato da Mar to the Ottomans. Nonetheless, at least on the Italian peninsula this was a period of relative absence of hostilities for Venice. This ended with the 1482–1484 war with Ferrara, which can be considered the start of the final phase of Venetian mainland expansionism. With this war Duke Ercole d’Este of Ferrara wanted to rid Ferrara of the control Venice had over it, while Venice sought to re-establish control. It also hoped to obtain Ferrara and the Polesine, which would give it a dominant position in the Po Valley, as well as perhaps some rights from Ferrara’s allies, such as Milanese territories. Various Italian powers became involved in the war. Ferrara was supported by, among others, Naples, Milan, and Florence; Venice was supported by Pope Sixtus IV. At the end of 1482 the alliance between Venice and the pope broke down, and Sixtus entered into a new one with Naples, Milan, and Florence. Anti-Venetian propaganda in Italy reached new heights: Venice was called imperialist and a disturber of the peace in Italy.45 Within Venice as well approval of the war was diminishing. In 1484, however, a peace treaty between Ferrara and Venice was concluded. Venice retained its privileges and obtained Rovigo and the Polesine. A few years after the war with Ferrara, in 1487, Venice became involved in a new war, against Archduke Sigismund of Austria, concerning rights to mining and commerce in Trentino. This war ended the same year, without any clear winner or loser. Some years later Venice became involved in the events of the Italian Wars. When in 1494 King Charles VIII of France marched into Italy with an army to assert his claim to the throne of Naples, Venice initially remained neutral. While Charles hoped for help from Venice in his intended war against the Ottomans, this was not the intention of Venice, which did not want to risk either losing its territories and links in the east or seeing its position in the east become inferior to that of the French. Nevertheless, after Charles entered Naples in February 1495, an anti-French league was formed in March of that year, called the Holy League or League of Venice, and consisted of Venice, the pope, the duke of Milan, the king of Spain, and the emperor. After crowning 45  Mallett, “Venezia e la politica italiana,” 262.

Introduction

25

himself king of Naples, Charles returned northwards in May 1495. In July a battle against the league took place: the Battle of Fornovo, which had an uncertain outcome and was claimed by both sides as a victory.46 The troops that Charles had left behind in Naples were defeated in June 1496. Charles’ retreat did not mean that Venice had now reached calmer political waters. In the years that followed it tried to obtain more cities in Puglia, quarreled with Pope Julius II over the possession of various cities in Romagna, lost some parts of the Stato da Mar in the Second Ottoman-Venetian War (1499–1503), and was at war with Florence over the latter’s attempt to reconquer Pisa.47 Important changes in Venice’s Terraferma possessions took place when Venice conquered Cremona and the Ghiara d’Adda in September 1499.48 In 1508 a war with the emperor ended with the Venetian conquest of Gorizia, Trieste, and Fiume (Rijeka). In December 1508, France, the Holy Roman Empire, and Spain united in the League of Cambrai, which aimed to defeat Venice and divide its territory. The league was joined in March by the pope, who excommunicated Venice in April. On 14 May 1509 Venice lost the Battle of Agnadello against the French army, after which almost the entire Venetian Terraferma was lost to the members of the League of Cambrai. Through a succession of victories and setbacks in the next seven and a half years, Venice managed to overcome this major defeat. By July 1509 Venice had already reconquered Padua, followed in October by Vicenza (which was lost again some time afterwards). Peace with Spain was obtained by ceding the cities in Puglia. In February 1510 Venice yielded to the far-reaching conditions

46  In present-day historiography, too, there are contradictions regarding this battle. For instance, Gaetano Cozzi and Michael Knapton state that it was the League that had the advantage, whereas according to Cecilia Ady and David Abulafia it was the French. David Abulafia, ed., The French Descent into Renaissance Italy, 1494–5: Antecedents and Effects (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1995), 23; Cecilia M. Ady, “The Invasions of Italy,” in The Renaissance: 1493–1520, ed. G. R. Potter (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 353; Cozzi and Knapton, Storia della repubblica di Venezia, 78. 47  In 1496 both Milan and Venice, initially encouraged by the pope, sent troops to defend Pisan independence against Florence. Milan withdrew its army the following year, leaving only Venice. By then, Venice was suspected — particularly by Florence — of defending Pisa with the aim of occupying the city itself. However, it may be assumed that Venice’s motivation for continuing the war with Florence remained the original one of preserving Pisa’s independence. Mallett, “Venezia e la politica italiana,” 280. 48  This conquest was a result of an agreement between France and Venice: France wished to capture Milan, and in exchange for collaboration Venice was promised Cremona and the Ghiara d’Adda.

26

Introduction

posed by the pope, which included the renunciation of the Romagnol cities but also resulted in the removal of the Venetians’ excommunication. The pope then founded the anti-French Holy League in 1511, and by the spring of 1512 this had been joined by Venice, Spain, England, the Holy Roman Empire, and the Swiss. After a victory by the French in April 1512, later the same year the league took Milan, which had been conquered by the French in 1499. Alliances changed again some time afterwards. In 1513 France and Venice formed an alliance, which, after several defeats, was victorious over the Swiss in September 1515, resulting in the restitution of Milan to France. In January 1517 a truce was reached between the emperor and Venice. By that time Venice had reconquered the largest part of the territory which in 1509 had been lost to the League of Cambrai, with the exception of its most recent acquisitions and the cities in Romagna and Puglia. However, Venice’s striving for enlarging its territory on the Italian mainland, which had existed until 1509, was gone. By the time of the 1530 Peace of Bologna, which marked the end of this latest phase of the Italian Wars, it had become clear that Venice — although now the only major Italian state not under foreign rule or preponderance — had lost much of its international political weight.49 3.2 Relations between Capital City and Mainland Territories The subject of relations between the various constituents of the Venetian state in the Renaissance is a complex and much debated one.50 It begins with the very term to be used for the territories under Venetian rule. From 1440 the 49  E  lisabeth G. Gleason, “Confronting New Realities: Venice and the Peace of Bologna, 1530,” in Venice Reconsidered: The History and Civilization of an Italian City-State, 1297–1797, ed. John Jeffries Martin and Dennis Romano (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 168–84. 50  For overviews, see: Cozzi and Knapton, Storia della repubblica di Venezia; Davidson, “‘As Much for Its Culture as for Its Arms’”; Fasano Guarini, “Center and Periphery”; Grubb, Firstborn of Venice; Knapton, “Venice and the Terraferma”; Knapton, “The Terraferma State”; Law, Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance; Mallett, “La conquista della Terraferma”; John Jeffries Martin, “The Venetian Territorial State: Constructing Boundaries in the Shadow of Spain,” in Spain in Italy: Politics, Society, and Religion 1500– 1700, ed. Thomas James Dandelet and John A. Marino (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2007), 227–48; Claudio Povolo, “Centro e periferia nella Repubblica di Venezia: Un profilo,” in Origini dello stato: Processi di formazione statale in Italia fra medioevo ed età moderna, ed. Giorgio Chittolini, Anthony Molho, and Pierangelo Schiera (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1994), 207–21; Nicolai Rubinstein, “Italian Reactions to Terraferma Expansion in the Fifteenth Century,” in Renaissance Venice, ed. J. R. Hale (London: Faber, 1973), 197–217; Varanini, Comuni cittadini e stato regionale; Alfredo Viggiano, Governanti e governati: Legittimità del potere ed esercizio dell’autorità sovrana nello stato veneto della prima età moderna (Treviso: Fondazione Benetton, 1993).

Introduction

27

deliberations of the Venetian Senate were divided into series entitled terra and mar, thereby showing clear acknowledgement of the changes that had taken place in the Venetian state in the previous decades. In modern historiography, not only is there generally, as mentioned previously, a division between research on these two parts of the Venetian state, but often even a difference in terminology. While the maritime state is frequently referred to as an empire, this term is hardly ever used for the mainland state, which is characterised more often as a regional state.51 In this book, with its focus on perception, it is important to avoid terms which carry particularly strong connotations on the nature of Venice’s rule over its subject territories. Although neutral terms do not exist, ‘empire’ in particular is charged with connotation, such as Renaissance accusations that Venice was aiming to rule over Italy, and will therefore be avoided. Broadly speaking, Venice governed its possessions on the Italian mainland in the same way as its overseas territories. Pragmatic concessions were made in order to maintain continuity. Venetian patricians were sent for relatively short periods to hold the highest administrative offices, while a certain degree of civil autonomy was maintained. Venetian governors intervened in exceptional cases and in specific sectors, but left the everyday administration of the subject cities largely to local structures.52 The creation of the Venetian mainland state therefore did not lead to a unified state in the modern sense — an aim that did not exist in that era — but with its mixture of unification and division it lasted in relative stability for roughly four centuries, until its downfall in 1797. The conflicts which from time to time arose between Venice and its subjects should not be considered as struggles between, on the one hand, a metropolis eager to install a completely centralised power and, on the other, a subjugated mainland trying to obtain independence, but as an attempt to redefine the rather vaguely delineated distribution of power between them.53 In general, the government of the Venetian mainland state corresponded with the idea of the regional state as defined by Giorgio Chittolini: not as a state as seen in the modern era with features such as a highly centralised government, but as a political system characterised by aspects such as relatively 51  On this discussion about terminology, see also: Grubb, Firstborn of Venice, XV–XVI; Monique O’Connell, “Individuals, Families, and the State in Early Modern Empires: The Case of the Venetian Stato da Mar,” Zgodovinski časopis / Historical Journal of Slovenia 67, no. 1–2 (2013): 8–27. 52  For some of the larger mainland cities, namely Vicenza, Verona, and Bergamo, studies suggest that their judicial autonomy even increased at the expense of the power of the Venetian podestà. Law, “The Venetian Mainland State in the Fifteenth Century,” 172. 53  Grubb, Firstborn of Venice, 178–83.

28

Introduction

limited centralisation and the existence of multiple political bodies within the state itself.54 No constitution existed for the Venetian Terraferma; the closest were the collections of capitula that were drawn up between Venice and a subject city at the latter’s surrender.55 These pacts were only provisionally accepted by Venetian representatives. Moreover, when they were later ratified in Venice, they were rarely accepted in their entirety; points that were not of immediate political and economic concern but that regarded requests for the future (such as no increase in taxation) could be ignored or rejected. Nevertheless, the official recognition of the government made sure that Venetian officials had to respect them and that inhabitants of the Terraferma could defend them. It has been suggested that the capitula laid the basis for a larger autonomy of cities such as Vicenza than they had had under previous rulers, for instance regarding jurisdiction over their contado.56 These pacts were drawn up bilaterally between Venice and individual communities or rural districts, and therefore did not unify the mainland state but, rather, turned it into an accumulation of territories. Borders corresponded on the whole with those prior to the Venetian regime. There were some instances in which we can discern a tendency towards unification of the Terraferma such as new laws being valid for the entire mainland dominion, or subject cities sometimes deciding to send joint embassies to Venice. At the same time, however, old hostilities between cities continued and local statutes remained the same. Venice sometimes raised formerly subordinate towns to an independent status with their own bilateral relations with the capital, thereby augmenting fragmentation of the subject territory. The impact of Venetian authority was not the same everywhere: in territories relatively close to Venice such as the Trevigiano and the Padovano, it was larger than, for example, in Trentino and the Bergamasco. In terms of law, a dual jurisdiction existed. The mainland continued to use its traditional ius comune instead of being forced to take over the law of the capital. This was in contrast with, for example, the Milanese and Florentine states, where the latter was more the case. Nevertheless, elements from the 54  For overviews of Giorgio Chittolini’s approach, see: Giorgio Chittolini, “Alcune consi­ derazioni sulla storia politico-istituzionale del tardo Medioevo: Alle origini degli ‘stati regionali,’” Annali dell’istituto storico italo-germanico in Trento 2 (1976): 401–19; Giorgio Chittolini, “The ‘Private,’ the ‘Public,’ the State,” in The Origins of the State in Italy, 1300– 1600, ed. Julius Kirshner (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 34–61. See also: Fasano Guarini, “Center and Periphery.” 55  Law, “The Venetian Mainland State in the Fifteenth Century,” 164–66. 56  Grubb, Firstborn of Venice, 23–25.

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mainland legal tradition entered into the Venetian tradition and vice versa, among other reasons because of the common training of judicial personnel (for instance at the university of Padua), who came from both Venice and the Terraferma. Mainland administration, both civil and ecclesiastical, was not only carried out by Venetians but also by local nobles. On the other hand, important political positions could only be held by Venetian patricians, and it was almost impossible for people from a subject territory to enter the Venetian patriciate. The type of Venetian citizenship that was granted to the inhabitants of many mainland cities, namely the citizenship de intus, had economic rather than political privileges. There was a similar situation in the subject mainland cities: Venetians were excluded from certain offices and rights. The Terraferma did not become an integrated economic region. Treaties with the previous rulers of the area already provided Venice with various favourable conditions, such as easy access to raw materials for ship-building, and Venice imposed no drastic changes in regulation of production and commerce when mainland territories came under its rule. On the fiscal level, too, Venice’s rule was generally characterised by the maintaining of previously existing taxation in both form and amount, although in the second half of the fifteenth century Venice demanded more taxes from the mainland to finance its wars. In various other fields as well there was interaction between the capital and the various mainland territories. This was not a new phenomenon: throughout Venetian history there had always been links between the lagoon city and both the immediate surroundings and more distant areas on the Italian mainland. For instance, already prior to the creation of Venice’s mainland state Venetian patricians had owned land on the mainland. During the fifteenth century they did so to an increasing degree. There were other types of links during this century, too: for example, many people, such as merchants, artisans, scholars, and artists, moved between the lagoon city and the mainland territories. There was also intermarriage between people from Venice and the Terraferma. Words from the Venetian dialect replaced local ones, and Venetians adopted Terraferma traditions: for instance, Venetian patricians took over mainland leisure activities such as jousts and tournaments, and spent more time in villas on the mainland. The only university in the Venetian state, attracting students from all over Europe, was in Padua. In terms of art and literature, Venetian tastes were influenced by mainland trends and vice versa. Even though Venetians, both in private and public, acted as patrons of the arts, thanks to the presence of local elites the mainland territories continued to express a certain cultural independence. On a cultural level as well, we therefore cannot speak of either complete unification or division of the Terraferma and the lagoon city.

30 4

Introduction

Outline of the Book

This book is divided into two parts, focusing on Venice in its urban setting and on Venice and the Terraferma as a state, while still taking into account those points where ideas about these two roles were connected. Part 1 examines how, in the course of the long fifteenth century, the city of Venice was represented in different ways. These representations did not exist in this precise form for other cities. When viewing the city, different spectators saw different cities. This resulted in the creation of multiple narratives about the lagoon city, which existed alongside each other — multiple Venices, as it were. Four predominant narratives can be distinguished: Venice as an essentially religious city, as a place deriving its glory from its material culture, as the seat of a perfect government, and as a morally exemplary city. Although it should be kept in mind that this division was not always this strict in all geographical descriptions, it is still clear that these narratives should be considered as distinct from each other. Generally, one narrative outshines the others in a geographical description. Moreover, these narratives did not develop in the same way over the course of the fifteenth century, and they were not used in the same way by all literary genres. They should therefore be analysed as individual narratives in their own right. This identification of four main narratives is both a statement on the nature of the variety of Renaissance narratives about the city of Venice, and an analytical tool that helps to bring into focus the precise developments of these narratives, for example concerning chronological changes and differences between literary genres or groups of authors. The four chapters of Part 1 each focus on one of these main narratives, examining how they were constructed and how they developed over time. The plurality and simultaneity of the narratives is reflected in the chapter titles: they express how different people sought to define the same city, but did so with different outcomes. Part 2 focuses on Venice in its capacity of capital of a state on the Italian peninsula, and on the Terraferma territories in their capacity as part of the Venetian state. When the political circumstances of the various constituents of this recently formed state changed, how did this influence the geographical descriptions of the territories involved? Writers do not always refer explicitly to the political framework of the Venetian state in their geographical representations, but that does not mean that the existence of this state did not factor into these descriptions. Similar to the narratives that were created about Venice in its urban setting, Venice and the Terraferma as a state inspired multiple narratives as well. Some authors underline a dichotomy between Venice and the mainland territories, while for others the formation of a mainland state has brought about a clear change in how they define these geographical spaces.

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The very fact that there could be such significant differences in how authors define Venice and the Terraferma shows that these narratives do not simply mirror the more institutionalised characteristics of the Venetian state, nor do they merely take over previously existing views of Venice and the mainland territories. The construction of these narratives is an individual component of the process of early modern state formation, which is just as essential to our understanding of this process as its more institutionalised characteristics. This part of the book is divided into three chapters, which focus on three different groups of authors: inhabitants of the city of Venice, inhabitants of the mainland territories, and foreign pilgrims travelling through these territories. Finally, the book’s conclusion problematises the very division of the book itself: to what extent were Renaissance narratives about Venice as city and Venice as state connected?

part 1 Perceptions of Venice in Its Urban Setting

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chapter 1

Venice, Religious City Renaissance authors characterised the city of Venice in different ways. The idea of Venice as an essentially religious city was an important one. This chapter focuses on a variety of city descriptions, from different literary genres and written by authors from different social and geographical backgrounds. This allows us to better understand how the narrative of Venice as a religious city was constructed and how it developed over time. Several elements were particularly important for this narrative: the idea of God’s intervention in the foundation of Venice and throughout its history, the city’s connections with Saint Mark, the large number of churches and other religious institutions, and the piety of the Venetians. 1

God’s Role in the Foundation of Venice

The foundation of Venice is widely discussed in both fifteenth-century geographical descriptions and historical writings. It had already been a common element in city descriptions for centuries. Descriptions of Venice generally treat it near the beginning, just as many laudes civitatum had been doing for centuries. This shows the importance of not overemphasising the uniqueness of descriptions of Venice in comparison with other cities: in various aspects these texts stand firmly in the tradition of city descriptions, going back to antiquity. Beginning with the oldest known work on Venetian history — the early eleventh-century chronicle of John the Deacon — the city’s origins were a recurring topic in literature for centuries. The story went through many developments over time and was not the same in all texts. As various historians have shown, however, by the fifteenth century there was clearly a prevalent version.1 1  Patricia Fortini Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic,” in City-States in Classical Antiquity and Medieval Italy, ed. Anthony Molho, Kurt Raaflaub, and Julia Emlen (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991), 511–48; Antonio Carile, “Le origini di Venezia nella tradizione storiografica,” in Dalle origini al Trecento, Storia della cultura veneta 1 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1976), 135–66; Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Immagini di un mito,” in Il Rinascimento, politica e cultura, ed. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci, Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, IV (Roma: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1996), 579–601; Mario de Biasi, “Leggenda e storia nelle origini di Venezia,” Ateneo veneto 23 (1985):

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004428201_003

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Most writers traced the origins of Venice back to Troy, a claim that Venice had in common with many other cities, states, and dynasties throughout Europe.2 In this version of the story there were two Venices. The first was founded by the Trojan Antenor after the fall of Troy and stretched from Pannonia to the Adda, with Aquileia as its centre. On 25 March 421, people from this area fled from Attila the Hun to the islands in the lagoon, where they founded the city of Venice, regarded as the second Venice in this historiographical tradition. According to a tradition dating back to the fourteenth-century Paduan author Jacopo Dondi, it was people from Padua who founded Rialto. As will be shown in Part 2, people from the city of Venice and from the Terraferma sometimes treated the idea of Venice having been founded by Paduans in very different ways. The foundation story has many different facets, which could be used to make different points about Venice, as will become clear throughout this book. Authors often emphasise one specific aspect of the story over others, such as the religious aspect. In his Oratio, written in 1421 on the millennial anniversary of the city’s founding, Lorenzo de Monacis even alters the biblical phrase ‘This is the day which the Lord has made’ into ‘This is the city which the Lord has made.’3 While keeping in mind that different views on Venice were sometimes interwoven within the same text, I will focus here on the elements of the city’s founding legend that Renaissance authors used to construct a narrative of Venice as a predominantly religious city: the foundation’s predestination, immediate cause, agents, and date.

77–101; Edward W. Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 65–74; Dorit Raines, L’invention du mythe aristocratique: L’image de soi du patriciat vénitien au temps de la Sérénissime, 2 vols. (Venezia: Istituto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti, 2006). 2  In addition to this Trojan version, which was the prevalent one, there were also theories that the founders of Venice had come from Gaul or Paphlagonia. Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 66. 3  ‘Scito igitur in primis hanc civitatem, quam Deus cordi suo habens suo tempore destinavit, per incredibiles extremitates et difficillimos ingressus ad suam mirabilem originem pervenisse ut dici possit: “Hec est civitas quam fecit Dominus.”’ Lorenzo de Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia (1421),” ed. Mario Poppi, Atti dell’isti­ tuto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti 131 (1972–1973): 486. With this last phrase De Monacis refers to: ‘Haec est dies quam fecit Dominus’ (Psalms 117:24). The Oratio has been handed down to us in a sixteenth-century manuscript, where its full title is: Oratio elegantissima ad serenissimum principem et ducem Venetorum in laude et edificatione alme civitatis Venetiarum Franciscum Foscari nobilem virum per Leonardum Aretinum poetam clarissimum. In contrast with what this title states, it was not written by Leonardo Bruni but by Lorenzo de Monacis.

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The foundation of the city was predicted to its patron saint, Saint Mark, in an episode known as the praedestinatio. In this way Mark became part of Venetian history already during his lifetime, when he visited north-eastern Italy to convert its residents to Christianity: this was the area of the first Venice on the mainland, and the people living here would later found the city of Venice on the lagoon. When, following his mission in north-eastern Italy, Mark was returning to Rome, during a part of his journey in a boat an angel appeared to him in a dream and told him that this was the place where his body would eventually rest.4 It was on this spot that Venice would later be founded. The angel’s greeting to Mark, ‘Pax tibi Marce, evangelista meus’ (Peace be with you, Mark, my evangelist), are the words which generally appear on the open book held by the lion of Saint Mark in his capacity as emblem of Venice. Through the episode of the praedestinatio, Mark’s remnants, and thereby also his patronage, were assigned to the city of Venice long before it was founded and even before Mark’s death. It thus emphasised how Venice’s destiny was linked with Saint Mark and divine Providence, and how Saint Mark ensured its prosperity. The praedestinatio was added to the Marcan narratives in the mid-thirteenth century. We find it for the first time in Martin da Canal’s Les estoires de Venise (1267–1275), in a prayer to Saint Mark. Oh, precious Saint Mark the Evangelist, when you, beautiful sire, left from Aquileia, placed yourself, dear sire, in the boat, and took your proper seat in Venice. When you went to Saint Peter to pray, the angel of God said to you in a vision: “This is where your body will lie and where your house will be; friars will pray to you with great devotion.”5 4  Iain Fenlon, The Ceremonial City: History, Memory and Myth in Renaissance Venice (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 11–16; Silvio Tramontin, “Realtà e leggenda nei racconti marciani veneti,” Studi veneziani 12 (1970): 35–58. 5  ‘O precïeus saint Marc Evangelistes,   quant vos, biau sire, de Aulee partistes,   en la barche, car sire, vos vos meïstes   e propre leu en Venise preïstes.   Quant a Saint Piere alastes en orison,   li angele Dieu vos dist en visïon:   “Ici posera ton cors et sera ta maison;   li freres vos proia por grant devocïon.”’

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Contemporary visual representations of the praedestinatio, such as a mosaic in the Basilica of San Marco, demonstrate its importance during this period. The legend was among the ones used by the Venetian state to fashion a narrative befitting Venice’s increased political and economic power after the Fourth Crusade.6 However, although the narrative had arisen as a response to a specific historical context, it retained its importance. In the fifteenth century an anonymous chronicler, when speaking about the ninth-century translatio of Mark’s relics, stresses that an angel announced to Mark that he would be the protector and, by the will of God, the ruler and defender of Venice.7 Lorenzo de Monacis sees the episode of the praedestinatio as proof of God’s goodness to predestine such a patron saint to Venice.8 Giorgio Dolfin’s 1458 Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto uses the story to show how God’s hand was visible in Venice’s history even before it was founded. Dolfin (1396–1458) was a member of the Venetian patriciate who held several magistracies during his life and participated in important ceremonies and public events in the city.9 As was the habit of Venetian patrician families, the Dolfin family had a chronicle which contained the history of Venice from its foundation, added to which were comments on their own family history. Giorgio Dolfin’s chronicle has been handed down in an early sixteenth-century manuscript, which also contains some additions by Giorgio’s son Pietro and by the people who copied the work in the early

  Martin da Canal, Les estoires de Venise: Cronaca veneziana in lingua francese dalle origini al 1275, ed. Alberto Limentani (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 1972), 340. On the verse form of this prayer, see: Alberto Limentani, “Introduzione,” in Les estoires de Venise: Cronaca veneziana in lingua francese dalle origini al 1275 (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 1972), CCXCIII–CCC. 6  Fenlon, The Ceremonial City, 11–16; Reinhard Lebe, Mythos Venedig: Geschichte und Legenden aus tausend Jahren (Stuttgart and Leipzig: Hohenheim Verlag, 2003), 82–87. On the other Marcan legends (including the apparitio, which originated in the same period as the praedestinatio), see section 1.3. 7  ‘lo Evangellista misser san Marcho per nostro protetor, al quale fo anonziato per l’angello che quello dovea essere protetor et con la volonta de Dio govonador e deffenssor dela zitade de Venezia …’ Venetian chronicle until 1476 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 51 (=8528), fol. 31r. 8  De Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia,” 493. 9  Angela Caracciolo Aricò, “Introduzione,” in Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, vol. 1 (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2007), 7–15; Antonio Carile, “Dolfin, Giorgio, detto Bagion,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 1991; Chiara Frison, “Fare e scrivere storia a Venezia: I Dolfin ‘dela nobil cità de Venetia,’ protagonisti della vita politica e culturale a Venezia tra fine Medioevo e Rinascimento,” NeMLA Italian Studies 35 (2013): 8–25.

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sixteenth century. It also survives in two manuscripts from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but was not published until the modern period. Dolfin first mentions Saint Mark in the chronicle’s opening chapter, which deals with Venice’s founding. He describes how Mark went to north-eastern Italy and converted many people, and how people from this region later fled to the lagoon to found the city of Venice. The entire praedestinatio is missing here, but Dolfin still deems Mark’s story important enough to include at the beginning of his history, revealing how crucial the link between Saint Mark and Venice is for him. A detailed version of Mark’s mission is found later in the chronicle, this time including the praedestinatio, but it is a statement of Mark’s importance for Venetian history that he is mentioned already in the very first chapter. Following this first chapter, Dolfin details the spread of Christianity, the names of the popes, and several episodes from early Christian history such as the discovery of the Holy Cross. To understand Venetian history, it is necessary in Dolfin’s eyes to start at the founding of Christianity. He thus embeds Venetian history firmly into the framework of the history of mankind’s salvation. Later in the chronicle Dolfin gives a detailed version of Mark’s mission. He now also includes the angel’s words to Mark: And know that in this place faithful Christians will build a marvellous and beautiful city, which will be accepted by God for its merits. And in that time you will be much honoured and invoked by the citizens of that city, who, for love of you, will be guarded and defended.10 Dolfin even makes a comparison with the Holy Land: just as that land was promised by God to the people of Israel, Venice was promised by God to the Venetians because of Saint Mark. Dolfin adds the admonition to the Venetian people to show more gratitude to God than the people of Israel, who lost their promised land and were scattered throughout the earth.11 When, later in his work, Dolfin describes the Venetians’ move from Malamocco to Rialto, he again gives Venice a clear place in God’s plan: it was God himself who established the Venetian state. 10  ‘Et sapi che in questo loco sarà edificada una meravigliosa et bella citade da li fideli chri­ stiani, la qual sarà accepta a Dio per li sui meriti et in quella volta molto sarrai honorado et invochado da i cittadini di quella, i qual per tuo amor saran guardadi et deffexi.’ Giorgio Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, vol. 1 (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2007), 51. This quotation constitutes the second half of the angel’s words. 11  Dolfin, 1:52.

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This was the time and the hour of the promise of the Lord God, and this Doge Beato [brother and co-regent of Doge Obelerio] was he to whom the eternal God granted to bring his Venetian people to the promised place. Because in this place of these islands of Rialto the revelation to the Evangelist Messer Saint Mark had been made and also shown by divine signs given to Messer Saint Magnus in that place, which afterwards has been called the city of Venice. Therefore the Lord God has affirmed and established the state of the Venetians.12 The episode of the praedestinatio occurs not only in fifteenth-century historical writing but also in works focusing primarily on Venice’s physical urban structure. It is described in detail in the travel account of Felix Faber, a Dominican monk from the German town of Ulm who went to the Holy Land in 1480 and again in 1483–1484. Faber tells his readers explicitly how he learned about it. Furthermore, the most eloquent orator of the Venetians, Marcantonio Sabellico, said in a book on Venetian matters, discussing these things very thoroughly and very clearly, that Saint Mark, while he still lived among people and while he spent time in Aquileia …13 Indeed, Faber explicitly refers to Sabellico multiple times throughout his travel account, sometimes even specifying the title of the book: Rerum Venetarum ab urbe condita. In the case of one long passage (a page and a half in the modern edition), Faber even states explicitly that he has copied it from this book.14 Like most pilgrims to the Holy Land, Faber spent some time in Venice during his journey, and it was perhaps during this period that he encountered works such as those of Sabellico. This example of a story’s diffusion across different geographical areas and social groups shows not only how narratives connected 12  ‘questo fo il tempo et l’hora dela promission del Signor Dio, et questo Biado doxe fo collui a cui lo eterno Idio concesse de menar el suo populo venetiano in el loco de promissione, perché in questo loco de queste ixole de Rivo Alto fo facta la revelation a l’evangelista missier san Marcho, et etiam dimostrado per i signali divini dadi a missier san Magno in questo luoco, el qual dapoi è stà chiamado la cità di Venetia. Donde il Signor Idio si ha affirmato et stabilito il Stado de’ Venetiani.’ Dolfin, 1:149. 13  ‘Porro Venetorum disertissimus orator M. Anton. Sabellicus in libro rerum Venetarum altius clariusque de his disserens dicit, quod S. Marcus, dum adhuc viveret in humanis et Aquilejae degeret …’ Felix Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, ed. Konrad Dieterich Hassler, vol. 3 (Stuttgart: Sumtibus societatis litterariae stuttgardiensis, 1849), 418–19. As will be discussed later in this chapter, Faber mentions not only the praedestinatio, but various other Marcan legends as well. 14  Faber, 3:422–23. See for example also: Faber, 3:416, 421, 433, 436.

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with Venice could travel beyond Venetian borders, but also attests to the story’s significance. Faber encountered it probably during his brief stay in the city, and evidently considered it such an important part of Venice’s identity that he wanted to include it in his description of the city. Another aspect of Venice’s founding legend which could be used to construct a narrative of Venice as a religious city, is the foundation’s immediate cause. John the Deacon explained the foundation as a result of the Lombard invasions — a view that was actually close to historical reality. However, in the Chronicon Altinate and the Chronicon Gradense (first redaction around 1081, revised by the end of the twelfth century) the Lombards had been substituted with Attila the Hun, a century earlier. This made the Venetians, who now fled from the pagan Attila instead of the Arian Lombards, appear more Christian.15 Attila was the subject of histories and legends in Italy from the ninth and tenth centuries onwards. In the Veneto, this tradition was particularly popular between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries, with much success in Venice from the mid-fourteenth century onwards.16 During the Renaissance, Attila was considered so important to Venetian history that sometimes even his deeds that did not directly concern Venice were included in Venetian chronicles: stories like the atrocities he had committed in other countries, or his unnatural descent (various authors claim he had been fathered by a dog).17 Of course, these types of stories contributed to an image of Attila as one of history’s worst persecutors of Christians: ‘Attila, who caused pain to Christians,’ in the words of one writer, or ‘the terrible, pagan, Attila,’ as another refers to him.18 This implicitly contributed to an image of the Venetians as a very Christian and freedom-loving people. Like other segments of Venice’s foundation legend, the part about Attila the Hun had various aspects that could be used by authors to emphasise different 15  Patricia Fortini Brown, Venice and Antiquity: The Venetian Sense of the Past (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996), 12–13.   Some authors combine the two groups and speak about ‘le persecucion che Attila Flagelum Dei e li lonbardi dettero in Ittalia.’ This example from: Venetian chronicle (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 541 (=7314), fol. 1r. See also, for example: Venetian chronicle until 1384 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 38 (=8748), fol. 2r. 16  Silvana Collodo, “Attila e le origini di Venezia nella cultura veneta tardomedioevale,” Atti dell’istituto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti 131 (1973): 531–67. 17  For instance: Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fols. 1r–5v; Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:55–88. 18  ‘Atila, ch’a’ Cristian’ dava dolori.’ Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, ed. Marta Ceci (Roma: Zauli, 1995), 5. ‘la furia del pessimo atila pagano.’ Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fol. 7v.

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ideas of Venice. In some texts it is used to underline God’s hand in Venetian history. References to Attila’s common epithet Flagellum Dei, ‘the Scourge of God,’ are often used in this context.19 One anonymous fifteenth-century chronicler writes: ‘The inhabitants of those [cities], wishing to avoid the fury of that Scourge of God, as the Holy Scripture calls him, all went to the beaches of the sea and to the places surrounded by water.’20 In this way Attila serves as an instrument of God to direct the people from the Veneto to their new home in the lagoon. Other stories in which God steers Attila’s behaviour contribute further to this image; for example, some authors include the episode of a divine vision that convinced Attila not to attack Rome but to obey the pope instead.21 Antonio Brognanigo also uses the story of Attila to send a more specific message about current events.22 Brognanigo was a Veronese humanist and teacher, born in the first half of the fifteenth century. One of his works is De divina origine florentissimae Reipublicae Venetorum, a 224-line poem in hexameters. The precise date of its composition is unknown, but since the poem praises Cristoforo Moro as the current doge, we know that it was written sometime between 1462 and 1471, when Moro held that office. The poem interprets Venice’s history predominantly from a religious point of view, as is clear already in the title: ‘About the divine origin of the most flourishing Republic of Venice.’ Following a series of rather typical formulas of praise (‘Queen of the sea with all its sails, and in the possession of a great / dominion of lands, revered by 19  For instance: Venetian chronicle until 1384 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 38 (=8748), fol. 2r; Venetian chronicle until 1476 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 51 (=8528), fol. 16v; Venetian chronicle (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 541 (=7314), fols. 1r, 2r, 4v; Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fols. 7v, 15v; Venetian chronicle until 1478 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 52 (=7604), fol. 87v; Caio Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 304 (=6077), fol. 40v; Bernhard von Breydenbach, Peregrinationes: Un viaggiatore del Quattrocento a Gerusalemme e in Egitto, ed. Gabriella Bartolini and Giulio Caporali (Roma: Vecchiarelli, Roma nel Rinascimento, 1999), fol. [a viii r]; Antonio Brognanigo, “Un poemetto latino inedito del sec. XV sull’ori­ gine di Venezia,” ed. Augusto Mancini, Atti della reale accademia lucchese di scienze, lettere ed arti 31 (1902): 447; Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:75, 78, 88, 98; Marin Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), 10. 20  ‘li habitanti de quelle, vogliando schivare la furia de quelo Flagello de Dio, sicome la sancta scriptura lui chiama, tuti se miseno ali lidi del mare et ali luogi che l’aqua circundasse.’ Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fol. 7v. 21  See for example: Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fols. 4v–5r; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 10–11. 22  He has also been referred to in historiography as Brognoligo or Broianico.

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all peoples, / seat of justice and impregnable stronghold / for Christ and for the saints of Christ, for faithful people, / city fortified only by water, without any city walls …’23), Brognanigo describes Venice’s early history. He depicts a gloomy picture of Attila’s invasions: In the time that Istria felt a terrible calamity and the region of the Venetians was united with marine lagoons, when the barbarous rage of Attila the Hun ravaged the lands (oh, how a great rage shook the scourge of God!), Aquileia, rich in holy places, wept, pitiable, for its recent and unspeakable ruins: weep also did Altino, Padua, and unhappy Concordia, and all their neighbours, whom the impious enemy had struck down.24 This is when the city of Venice comes into being; a pious place, which soon controls the Adriatic Sea. Brognanigo leaves no doubt about the role of the Venetians’ devoutness in this process: ‘The Cross, brought over the sea, and the banner of the sacred Lion / at once expelled the demons from the entire sea.’25 Particularly in the second half of the poem it becomes obvious that Brognanigo has a clear message for his contemporaries: he tries to incite the Venetians against the Ottomans. For this reason Augusto Mancini has suggested that the poem might have been written in 1463 or 1464, when Pope Pius II was trying to organise a crusade against the Ottomans.26 By stressing 23  ‘Velivoli regina maris magnoque potita   Terrarum imperio, populos venerata per omnes,   Iustitiae sedes et inexpugnabile robur   Pro Christo Christique sacris, pro gente fideli,   Urbs liquido firmata solo sine moenibus ullis …’ Brognanigo, “Un poemetto latino inedito del sec. XV sull’origine di Venezia,” 446. 24  ‘Tempore terribilem quo senserat Histria cladem   Et Venetum regio stagnis coniuncta marinis,   Barbarico terras Atilae populante furore   Pannonis (heu quantum vibraverat ira flagellum   Magna dei!), sacris locuples Aquileia recentes   Infandasque suas flebat miseranda ruinas:   Flebat et Altinum, Patavum et Concordia tristis   Finitimique omnes, quos straverat impius hostis.’ Brognanigo, 447. 25  ‘Crux sublata mari et sacri vexilla Leonis   Protinus expellunt cacodaemonas aequore toto.’ Brognanigo, 448. 26  Augusto Mancini, ed., “Un poemetto latino inedito del sec. XV sull’origine di Venezia,” Atti della reale accademia lucchese di scienze, lettere ed arti 31 (1902): 434–37. On humanist crusading literature in the fifteenth century, see: James Hankins, “Renaissance Crusaders:

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throughout the poem that Venice has always defended Christendom and that God has always been on its side in this mission, Brognanigo tries to convince the reader to take up arms against the Ottomans: This villainy as well as sacrilege and detestable monstrosity infests the foundations of God and the fortifications of the Venetian people with pitiless eyes and a profane plague.27 In addition to the praise of Cristoforo Moro that is incorporated in the poem itself, various manuscript versions survive in which dedications to other people have been added — important persons in both Venice and Verona.28 Perhaps Brognanigo sought to use his poem both to gain favour with influential persons and to garner support for a crusade. Another common element in descriptions of Venice’s founding is that the city was founded by Christians. The idea of the double foundation — the settling first on the north-eastern Italian mainland by Trojan fugitives, and only centuries afterwards in the Venetian lagoon — permitted writers to endow Venice with the glory both of descending from the same ancient culture from which Rome also originated (the Trojans), but without the intermediate step of descending from Rome, as well as of being founded not by pagans but by Christians. Various authors depict Venice’s founders as pious Christians by writing that while they fled from Attila to the various islands of the lagoon, they brought their relics with them: ‘bringing with them the glorious bodies of the holy martyrs, which they buried with great honour and reverence and they built a church there …’29 This pious act immediately confers divine protection to their new residence. Giorgio Dolfin’s chronicle states very explicitly that Venice was Humanist Crusade Literature in the Age of Mehmed II,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 49 (1995): 111–207. 27  ‘Hoc scelus atque nefas et detestabile monstrum   Fundamenta dei et Venetae munimina gentis   Infestat torvis oculis et peste prophana.’ Brognanigo, “Un poemetto latino inedito del sec. XV sull’origine di Venezia,” 453. 28  Guglielmo Gorni, “Brognanigo, Antonio,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 1972. 29  ‘portando chon si li chorpi glorioxi delli sancti martori, quelli seppelendo chon grande onore e reverençia, e lla si edefficcha una glexia …’ Venetian chronicle until 1384 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 38 (=8748), fol. 2r. See also, for example: Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fol. 8r; Venetian chronicle until 1476 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 51 (=8528), fols. 16v–17r; Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:45.

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founded by ‘good and true Christians.’ It uses these terms not only when Dolfin describes the city’s founding,30 but already in the chronicle’s opening sentence: ‘In this treatise there is the chronicle of the magnificent and noble city of Venice and of its entire district — a city that was founded by true and good Christians.’31 Another, anonymous, chronicler writes that it was predestined by divine will that Venice ‘should be noble and magnificent as nowadays one sees the said city of Venice, and adorned before God, because it was founded by good and faithful Christians …’32 The same happens not only in chronicles, but in descriptions of the physical aspects of the city as well. For instance, Marin Sanudo’s description of the city (the De situ) includes the Christian foundation in the first phrase.33 This shows once again that the history and the physical fabric of a city were seen as inextricably bound up with each other — a foundation by Christians was still considered to be relevant for the contemporary physical city. This further emphasises that we should not make too strict a distinction between urban descriptions and historical writing. 30  Dolfin, 1:101. 31  ‘In questo tractado si è la cronicha dela magnificha et nobil cità de Venetia et de tutto il suo Destretto, la quale citade è stata edifichata da veri et boni Christiani.’ Dolfin, 1:45. 32  ‘che quella dovesse esser nobel e magnifica, sicome al prexente se vede esere la ditta zita de Venezia, et adorna nel conspeto de Dio, perche la fo hedifichada da boni et fe­ delli christiani …’ Venetian chronicle until 1476 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 51 (=8528), fol. 17r. 33  ‘Questa città de Veniesia, commun domicilio di tutti, terra libera né mai da niuno sub­ iugata come tutte le altre, edificata per Christiani …’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistra­ tibus urbis Venetae, 19.   Sanudo’s De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, written for the largest part in 1493, is divided into three parts. The first part, De origine, deals with Venice’s history. De situ (also called Laus urbis Venetae) is in its turn divided into two parts: the first has the structure of a self-contained description of the city, while the second consists of a collection of lists. The third part, De magistratibus, deals with Venetian magistracies. In 1515 Sanudo wrote a new version of this part. He also added parts to his work up to the year 1530. In this book I usually refer to the original version of 1493. When I speak of Sanudo’s later revisions of and additions to the text, I mention this explicitly.   The title De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae can be found in the opening of the work: ‘Marini Sanuti Leonardi filii patritii Veneti De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae opusculum incipit.’ Sanudo, 8. One of Sanudo’s letters refers to the work as De principio, de situ et magistratibus urbis venetae. It became known, however, under the title De magistratibus. Subsequently the title Cronachetta di Marin Sanudo became current. Since a few decades the title De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae has become the most commonly used. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, “Marin Sanudo il giovane, precursore di Francesco Sansovino,” Lettere italiane 31, no. 3 (1979): 419; Angela Caracciolo Aricò, “Introduzione,” in De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), XLI–XLII.

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The importance of this element of the foundation legend is further attested to by its presence in texts written by foreign visitors. Felix Faber opens his Evagatorium Fratris Felicis with a description of both the location and the founding of the city of Venice — in accordance with the tradition of the laudes civitatum — and distinguishes seven remarkable facets. The second, third, and fourth all concern the outstanding qualities of Venice’s founders. Faber contrasts Venice with specific other cities (a common element in city descriptions throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance): it was built not by tyrants like Nineveh and Babylon but by people fleeing tyranny, not by unworthy people such as in Rome but by important men, and not by pagans like Troy and Athens but by Christians.34 Although only the latter concerns the Venetians’ Christian faith (in keeping with the rest of Faber’s depiction of Venice, which is generally more secular than that of many other pilgrims), it is still important to notice that it is included in the very first part of the description of Venice. In addition to how and why the city was founded, the exact date of Venice’s founding was highly significant as well. According to a tradition dating to at least the twelfth century, the lagoon city was founded on 25 March, the day of the Annunciation, and in many places (though not in Venice) the first day of the calendar year.35 Lorenzo de Monacis writes: In fact, the foundations of this most fortunate city were laid at Rialto on the eighth day before the Calends of April [25 March], [the day] on which the world is believed to have had its beginning, and on which the messenger of human peace, sent from heaven, greeted the Virgin, in the year 421 after the incarnation of the son of that Virgin.36 This connects the foundation of Venice not only with the Annunciation, but also with the creation of the world, giving Venice a place in the long history of the salvation of mankind. 34  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:402–3. 35  Brown, Venice and Antiquity, 38; Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic,” 514; Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 70–72. On the different systems of dating used in Venice, see: Adriano Cappelli, Cronologia, cronografia e calendario perpetuo: Dal principio dell’era cristiana ai nostri giorni, settima edizione riveduta, corretta e ampliata (Milano: Hoepli, 1998), 11. 36  ‘Iacta enim fuerunt in Rivoalto fundamenta huius felicissime civitatis VIII kalendas aprilis, quo mundus creditur habuisse initium, quo nuncius humane pacis ab alto missus Virginem salutavit, anno ab incarnatione filii eiusdem Virginis quadringentesimo vige­ simo primo.’ De Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia,” 483.

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Giorgio Dolfin sees the foundation of Rialto and thereby of the city of Venice on 25 March as evidence that God predestined the city to glory.37 Unlike De Monacis, he makes no explicit remarks on other events that had taken place on the same date, but the Annunciation would undoubtedly have come to the minds of people reading his work. Dolfin points at the constellations on this particular day: God had arranged the celestial bodies in such a way that they would make the newly founded city noble and large. An anonymous fifteenth-century chronicler specifies that the founding took place at noon, when the heavens and planets were arranged in the best possible way.38 Marin Sanudo writes in his city description that there are two different traditions about the date of the foundation: one gives 456 as the foundation year; the other 421, to be exact 25 March. He states that the second view is the correct one and explains what the date signifies: Venice was founded on the same day as the creation of Adam, the Annunciation and Christ’s incarnation, and the crucifixion of Christ.39 Once again, the founding of Venice is placed in a long series of events determined by divine providence to lead mankind to salvation. As several scholars have shown, the connection between Venice and the Annunciation was emphasised not only in written texts but also in visual depictions. References to the Annunciation were present, for instance, in thirteenth-century decorations on the façade of the Basilica of San Marco and in the Hall of the Great Council of the Ducal Palace (1365–1386).40 It appeared in official ceremonies, too: on the day of the Annunciation there was a procession and high mass in San Marco. Already in the thirteenth century Martin da Canal includes a detailed description of a theatrical representation of the Annunciation.41 Through the Annunciation Venice was linked with the Virgin Mary, an association that had existed for centuries. Often Venice — like many other cities — was identified as the city of the Virgin.42 The depiction of the Coronation of the Virgin in the Hall of the Great Council was one of the ways in which the lagoon city tried to appropriate the image of Mary. Venice was also likened to a virgin because it had never been conquered. In the words of the

37  Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:101. 38  Venetian chronicle (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 541 (=7314), fol. 1v. 39  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 11–12. 40  Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic,” 516–18. 41  Da Canal, Les estoires de Venise, 256. 42  Fenlon, The Ceremonial City, 38–45; David Rosand, Myths of Venice: The Figuration of a State (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), 13–46.

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German pilgrim Arnold von Harff: ‘as the virgin is still a maid, so the government is still virgin and was never taken by force.’43 2

Divine Protection throughout History

According to many Renaissance representations of Venice, God not only intervened at the city’s founding, but also throughout its history. Many miracles and instances of God directly steering the course of Venetian history are mentioned in chronicles. The one written by Dolfin can be used as a clear case study for the perception of God’s hand in Venetian history as it appears in historical writing. As shown previously, Dolfin embeds Venetian history into the history of Christendom already in the first chapter of his chronicle. He briefly summarises the history of the city’s founding, then adds: From there they always grew from one time to the other, thanks to divine help, so that they came to have great dignity and power, as one understands today. And in this way from here onwards you will see and hear about the growth of the noble and grand state of the aforesaid Venetians, for whom we pray that the Omnipotent God by his mercy defends and preserves them for the future.44 The very beginning of the chronicle, then, places Venice’s destiny — both past and future — in a clearly religious framework: it is God who decided that Venice should become as worthy and powerful as it is today, and God who will keep it safe in the future. This divine guidance remains a recurrent theme in 43  ‘as die junffer noch maight is, also is die heirschaff noch maigt ind nye oeuerwonnen.’ Arnold von Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff von Cöln durch Italien, Syrien, Aegypten, Arabien, Aethiopien, Nubien, Palästina, die Türkei, Frankreich und Spanien, wie er sie in den Jahren 1496 bis 1499 vollendet, beschrieben und durch Zeichnungen erläutert hat, ed. Eberhard von Groote (Cöln: J. M. Heberle (H. Lempertz), 1860), 48. Translation from: Arnold von Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Knight: From Cologne through Italy, Syria, Egypt, Arabia, Ethiopia, Nubia, Palestine, Turkey, France and Spain, Which He Accomplished in the Years 1496 to 1499, trans. Malcolm Henry Ikin Letts (Nendeln: Kraus Reprint, 1967), 59. 44  ‘Donde i sono andati sempre acresando de tempo in tempo mediante il divin auxilio che sono venuti in grandissima dignitade et potentia come in questo dì la se comprende. Et in questo modo da qui avanti havereti a vedere et intender l’acrescimento del nobel et magno stado deli dicti Venetiani, li quali pregemo che l’onnipotente Idio per sua mise­ ricordia li deffenda et conserva per l’avignir.’ Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:45.

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the rest of the chronicle; for example, Dolfin tells how God protects Venice from the army of Charlemagne and how Venice is able to make peace between Pope Alexander III and Emperor Frederick Barbarossa ‘as divine will allowed.’45 Dolfin often interweaves the idea of God’s intervention in Venetian history with other ideas that contribute towards a predominantly religious view of the city. An example is the account of the Venetians’ participation in an early twelfth-century crusade.46 God’s guidance, Venice’s connection with Saint Mark, and the piety of the Venetians are inextricably bound up with each other. The very fact that the Venetians participate in the crusade is a manifestation of their piety, while their continuous invocation of Christ and Saint Mark further shows this piety and the trust they place in the connection with their patron saint. Both Venice’s powerful connection with their patron saint and God’s intervention in Venetian history are underlined by the victory they obtain. Later in the chronicle Dolfin writes about the founding of the Basilica of Santi Giovanni e Paolo. This starts with a vision by Doge Jacopo Tiepolo: In that place where he would see a beautiful empty terrain, over which he would see some angels incensing with censers, and where many white doves with gold crosses on their heads would appear to him, in that place he should transfer the religion of the Preacher Friars and make their monastery there, because that was the will of God.47 Tiepolo obediently carries this out. Here God guides Venice’s history by providing concrete instructions, while the doge’s prompt obedience demonstrates the Venetians’ piety. The episode also shows the city’s external religious structures as being important to the physical urban fabric as well as a direct consequence of God’s intervention. Even when Dolfin refers to elements from multiple narratives about Venice — not only religious but also material, political, and moral — it is obvious that for him the city’s religious identity clearly outshines the others. We see this, for instance, in the chapter preceding Dolfin’s discussion of the Venetian government. He briefly summarises how Venice, ‘by divine grace,’ has grown from a small beginning into a rich state with a large territory and a good 45  ‘come permesse la divina voluntà.’ Dolfin, 1:150–51, 211. 46  Dolfin, 1:190–94. 47  ‘in quel luoco dove el vederia uno bello terren vacuo, suxo el qual vederia alcuni anzoli che incensava con li turriboli delo incenso, et ancora li parea molte colombe bianche con le croce d’oro in capo, in quel loco lui dovesse far permutar la religion d’i frati predicatori et fatoli il suo monestier, perché cusì era voluntà de Dio.’ Dolfin, 1:246.

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government.48 He discerns the hand of God in the fact that Venice is well governed, promised to Saint Mark, and in possession of many rich churches with a large number of relics. The later growth of Venice’s territory is regarded as a consequence of the devotion which the Venetians display in their churches. This shows a dense interweaving of Venice’s secular riches, external religious structures, political system, and moral values — but all of this is placed under divine guidance in explicit statements.49 Indeed, by making this chapter precede a long and detailed explanation of Venice’s governmental system, Dolfin clearly seems to suggest that this government is only possible under God’s guidance. For him, the city’s essence lies in its religious aspects. A similar religious view on Venice’s history can be found in Lorenzo de Monacis’ Oratio. This work consists for the most part of a treatise on Venetian history. For De Monacis, this history was permeated by divine guidance — not only during its foundation, but afterwards as well. For example, it was God’s will that Venice’s centre should be transferred to Rialto, that it should be endowed with a powerful patron saint, and that it should be victorious in recent wars.50 Geographical descriptions, as well as historical writings such as those of De Monacis and Dolfin, could also include such views. Similar to Jacopo Tiepolo’s divine assignment to build a church for the Dominicans, in Marin Sanudo’s De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae the bishop of Eraclea is told, in seven successive visions, to build seven churches in the recently founded city of Venice.51 Once again we see God intervening concretely in the construction of the city’s urban fabric. In the course of the fifteenth century the narrative of Venice as a predominantly religious city was used less often.52 Instead, that of the city as the seat of a perfect government grew in importance.53 This transformation was very 48  Dolfin, 1:123–24. Quotation from p. 123: ‘mediante la divina gratia.’ 49  See for instance: ‘Et molti altri nobili et richissimi doni et gracie et dignitade li ha concesso il nostro Signor Idio per li meriti de questi santuarij de Dio, i quali per li boni Venetiani sono stà reveridi et, tra le altre gracie, Idio li ha dato vera luce et governo del suo Stado, il qual per divino auxilio è rimasto sempre nel suo primo proposito, onde per mantenerlo per l’avignir et ad acrescimento deli principali suo’ consegli, essi hanno provisto et ordinato per statuto et drieto facto de tempo in tempo tutti quelli zintilhomini che debeno esser deputadi a governar ciascuno officio et rezimenti, sì dentro come di fora, et per le terre sottoposte al suo dogado.’ Dolfin, 1:124. 50  De Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia,” 491, 492, 493, 496. 51  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 15–16. See also, for example: Venetian chronicle (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 541 (=7314), fols. 2r–3v. 52  See also: Crouzet-Pavan, “Immagini di un mito,” 593–97. 53  See chapter 3.

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gradual and throughout the century both narratives could be found. A good example of this change is Poggio Bracciolini’s In laudem rei publicae venetorum, written in 1459. Elements of all four main narratives about the city of Venice occur in this treatise: the city is praised for its material affluence, reli­giosity, moral virtues, and political institutions. It is clear where, for Bracciolini, Venice’s essence lies: in its political system. Nevertheless, it is evidently impossible for him not to refer to a religious view of Venice as well, for instance: The city is governed with such reverence and equity, political power is so evenly distributed to all in office, honours are so equitably granted to the citizens, that the state appears to be preserved in this marvellous concord not by men’s devices but by divine assent, not by an earthly monarchy but by some heavenly kingdom.54 For Bracciolini, the Venetian state functions so well that it can only be ascribed to help from God. He also makes references to Venice’s churches and to the piety of its inhabitants. Traces of the narrative of a religious Venice could, then, still persist when an author’s depiction of the city mainly emphasised a different narrative. 3

Connections to Saint Mark

For centuries cities, dynasties, and kingdoms prided themselves on the special protection of specific saints, and Venice was no exception. The close link between the lagoon city and its patron saint, Saint Mark, was among the elements commonly used by Renaissance authors to construct a narrative of Venice as an essentially religious city. They emphasise this link in various ways: by underlining the role that Mark played in Venice’s history during his lifetime and after his death, and by alluding to his still existing links with the city. Such stories could play both a religious and a political role. Indeed, Mark’s place in these texts was the result of a centuries-long process which had in large part been shaped by political considerations. Before discussing the Renaissance, therefore, I will briefly treat how the various traditions connected to Mark as Venice’s patron saint developed.

54  Poggio Bracciolini, “Poggio Bracciolini, In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. Martin Davies, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 135–45.

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As shown in historiography, the story of Mark’s mission to Aquileia was probably formulated between the sixth and the end of the eighth century.55 In 606 a schism divided the patriarchate of Aquileia into one part which remained under Aquileia and another part (including the islands which would become the city of Venice) which passed to Grado. The story of Saint Mark as the apostolic founder and patron of the Aquileian church made it easier for Aquileia to claim primacy over Grado, and the legend was accepted as evidence of this at the Synod of Mantua in 827. Within a year, however, the city of Venice, which by then had become a strong autonomous power, acquired the relics of Saint Mark, thereby undermining Aquileia’s claim for primacy. By doing so it replaced its original patron saint, Theodore, a Greek warrior saint. Mark quickly came to occupy an important role in Venice’s ritual and ritual spaces. A church to house his remains was planned shortly after their arrival in the city. Venice’s change of patron saint had important consequences for the city’s relation with several powers.56 In this way Venice moved against Aquileia and its Carolingian supporters, since Mark’s presence in the lagoon city sanctioned the transfer of apostolic authority from Aquileia to Venice and Grado — although the rivalry for sole possession of the patriarchal authority would continue for centuries between Aquileia on the one hand, and Venice and Grado on the other. Secondly, the substitution of an eastern saint with one regarded as Italian created an identity for Venice which was independent from its former Byzantine rulers. Furthermore, it helped unite the Venetian towns around a religious centre which stood directly under the control of the doge. It also helped the doge gain spiritual sovereignty over the patriarch of Grado. At the end of the eleventh century Mark also came to be considered lord over Venice.57 This was done both to emphasise Venice’s political independence 55  Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic”; Thomas E. A. Dale, “‘Inventing’ a Sacred Past: Pictorial Narratives of St. Mark the Evangelist in Aquileia and Venice, ca.1000–1300,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 48 (1994): 53–104; De Biasi, “Leggenda e storia nelle origini di Venezia”; Fenlon, The Ceremonial City, 9–47; Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 78–92; Elizabeth Rodini, “Mapping Narrative at the Church of San Marco: A Study in Visual Storying,” Word and Image 14, no. 4 (1998): 387–96; Tramontin, “Realtà e leggenda nei racconti marciani veneti.” 56  Dale, “‘Inventing’ a Sacred Past”; Fenlon, The Ceremonial City, 9–47; Patrick J. Geary, Furta Sacra: Thefts of Relics in the Central Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978), 107–15; Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 78–92; Alberto Rizzi, I leoni di San Marco: Il simbolo della Repubblica Veneta nella scultura e nella pittura (Venezia: Arsenale editrice, 2001), 17–26. 57  Wipertus Rudt de Collenberg, “L’emblema del leone marciano,” in San Marco: Aspetti sto­ rici e agiografici, ed. Antonio Niero (Venezia: Marsilio, 1996), 284–92.

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(Saint Mark, rather than the pope or the emperor, as the source of Venice’s authority) and as another step in the rivalry with Aquileia. Moreover, it ensured that no patrician would be able to turn the rule over the state into an hereditary institution, as the Orseolo family had tried to do. The doge was not lord over Venice, but only the representative of its real lord, Saint Mark, and it was Saint Mark who invested the doge with authority. The link between Mark and Venice was also underlined in a series of legends. The pattern that medieval hagiography followed to describe saints’ afterlives applies to the stories about Mark as well.58 First, there was the martyrdom of the saint (the passio), then the discovery of the relics (the inventio), next came the transferral to another place (the translatio), possibly followed by the consecration of the new resting place (the dedicatio). In the case of Saint Mark, several of these episodes were linked from an early date to politics. I have already shown how this was the case for the translatio, but it also applies to the dedicatio and the shortly preceding event of the apparitio, which here takes the place of the inventio. The very construction of a resting place for Mark’s relics shows an interweaving of civic and religious aspects.59 The church was built on the doge’s initiative, thereby immediately presenting Mark not only as patron saint of Venice, but as a saint connected to Venice’s highest civic authority, too. The place of the Basilica of San Marco next to the Ducal Palace and the square where important ceremonies took place involving both high clergy and high civic authorities, further shows this entwining of religious and civic meaning. Both the episode of the praedestinatio and the apparitio date from the thirteenth century, when Venice’s political and economic power had reached new heights.60 The apparitio occurred in 1094 when, after the exact location of Mark’s relics had been lost in the course of time, the doge ordered the city to fast and pray for three days, whereupon the relics miraculously revealed themselves. This episode emphasised both the bond between Venice and Saint Mark, and Venice’s independence from Byzantium. At the same time, it showed the efficacy of the Venetians’ ritual acts, the doge’s role as intercessor for Venice and its inhabitants, and Mark’s resting place as a place not only of sacred, but of civic authority too. Another legend developed probably in the fourteenth century: the story of how on 25 February 1341 a poor fisherman witnessed three 58  Fenlon, The Ceremonial City, 13–16; Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 86–88; Tramontin, “Realtà e leggenda nei racconti marciani veneti.” 59  Fenlon, The Ceremonial City, 16–17. 60  Fenlon, 16, 30–32; Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 86–88; Rodini, “Mapping Narrative at the Church of San Marco”; Tramontin, “Realtà e leggenda nei racconti marciani veneti.”

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saints, Saint Mark, Saint George, and Saint Nicholas saving Venice from imminent danger. This legend once again emphasised Venetian appropriation of the patronage of Saint Mark, as well as that of Saint George — indicating military power — and Saint Nicholas — indicating control of the seas. In this way, by the fifteenth century the corpus of legends about Mark and his connections with Venice had reached considerable dimensions. The mixture of religious and civic aspects is sometimes reflected in the sources, such as the specification, recurring in multiple texts, that the final resting place of the body of Saint Mark is also the ducal chapel: ‘Note that in the time of the aforesaid [Doge Giustiniano Participazio] the construction started of the church of Messer Saint Mark, and it is called the chapel of the doge.’61 Various authors, however, use these legends to construct an image of the city as a predominantly religious place. One anonymous vernacular chronicle stresses the pious behaviour of the Venetians — from all social classes — which led to the miracle of the apparitio. Not knowing where the body of Saint Mark was, [the doge] gathered the patriarch, the bishops and all the clergy and all the noblemen and the people of Venice. Solemn processions were held and great prayers and great charities, praying to God to show them where the body of the Evangelist Messer Saint Mark was. That precious Messer Saint Mark extended his arm out of that column of the old church going towards the altar of Saint Leonard, so that it was clear to everybody where the body was.62 Besides the ‘great’ Marcan Venetian legends are other stories in the Renais­ sance sources that show Mark’s presence in Venetian history. Giorgio Dolfin tells how the saint’s relics perform many miracles and how Doge Sebastiano Ziani 61  ‘Nota che in tempo de costui fu principia dificar la giesia de messer san Marcho e vien chiamada la capela di doxe.’ Venetian chronicle until 1478 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 52 (=7604), fol. 91r–91v. See also, for example: Venetian chronicle until 1384 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 38 (=8748), fol. 8v; Venetian chronicle (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 541 (=7314), fol. 9r; Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fol. 21r. 62  ‘non sapiando dove fosse el chorpo de san Marco congrega el pattriarcha, veschovi e ttutta la chierexia e ttutti li nobeli homeni e puovolo de Veniexa. Fo fatto de solene procesion e gran horacion e grande elemosine, pregando Dio li demostrase dove fosse el chorpo del vangelista messer san Marco. Quel preciosso messer san Marco destexe el brazo fuora de quella cholona dela giexia vechia andando al alttar de san Lunardo, per modo che a ttutti fo manifesto dove era el chorpo.’ Venetian chronicle (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 541 (=7314), fol. 16r–16v.

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goes to war against Frederick Barbarossa ‘with the help of Messer Saint Mark the Evangelist.’63 While the stories about Mark contain a combination of religious and civic elements, Dolfin uses them mainly to fashion a religious image of Venice. For instance, he continuously mentions God’s intervention in history, such as when he describes the apparitio in a chapter entitled ‘The body of Messer Saint Mark, which is in Venice, was lost, and God miraculously showed it.’64 When speaking about the translatio he states explicitly that this was a way in which God fulfilled his promise to exalt the city.65 Dolfin’s chronicle also contains passages in which the saint’s protection of Venice is entwined with remarks on Venice’s religious structures, the piety of the Venetians, and God’s continuous intervention in Venetian history. The legends about Mark’s intervention in Venetian history were even included in Felix Faber’s travel account. He treats the story of the translatio of Mark’s relics, the temporary departure of Mark from Venice because of a doge’s evil behaviour, Mark’s mission in Aquileia, the praedestinatio, and a slightly different version of the apparitio.66 As seen earlier, some of these stories were borrowed from Sabellico’s works. For the episode about the temporary departure of Mark’s relics from Venice, Faber reveals different sources: All these things about this moving of Saint Mark I did not read in any book, nor did I see writing about them, but I learned them from merchants and through the hearsay of the common people. But in the end I discovered in the library of our brothers in Esslingen an old chronicle, written on parchment, in which the following is held about the moving of the body of Saint Mark …67 Such rare explicit comments on sources show us some of the ways in which stories like this could spread across Europe. The dissemination of Venetian narratives abroad also underlines once again that these stories were considered to be of great relevance for the present-day city, so much so that even a 63  Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:154–55, 208. 64  ‘El corpo de missier san Marcho che è a Venetia era smarito et miraculosamente Idio il mostrò.’ Dolfin, 1:181–82. 65  Dolfin, 1:152–53. 66  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:416–19. 67  ‘Haec omnia de translatione illa S. Marci non legi in aliquo libro nec scriptum vidi, sed a mercatoribus et vulgaribus auditu didici. Sed tandem in libraria nostrorum fratrum in Eslingen reperi antiquam chronicam in pergameno scriptam, in qua sic habetur de translatione corporis S. Marci …’ Faber, 3:418.

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foreign visitor like Faber would notice them and find them important enough to include in his work. Other texts speak of Mark’s ever-continuing protection of Venice and its inhabitants. Some authors link his intercession to Venice’s moral virtues or material affluence, thereby clearly showing how the narratives of Venice as the centre of religion, material culture, and virtues could be interwoven. In his praise of Venice, Giusta mia possa una donna onorando (1425), Niccolò Cieco writes: In you [Venice] justice reigns, mercy, prudence, and if you also keep Mark, your champion saint intercedes for you.68 Others call Mark ‘the Venetian Saint Mark’ and ‘our protector and guardian,’ thereby emphasising his special bond with Venice.69 The connection between Saint Mark and his divinely predestined resting place Venice was symbolised and strengthened by various allegorical representations. A rare way of doing so is found in Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi’s El sommo della condizione di Vinegia (1442): She is called queen of the other lands: beautiful Venice, adorned with honour, whom Saint Mark has taken for his lady.70 68  ‘In te giustizia regna, in te mercede,   in te prudenzia e, se pur manco tieni,   el tuo santo campion per te intercede.’ Niccolò Cieco, “Giusta mia possa una donna onorando,” in Lirici toscani del Quattrocento, ed. Antonio Lanza, vol. 2 (Roma: Bulzoni, 1975), 172.   For ‘manco’ should be read ‘marco.’ See also another manuscript in which this poem has been handed down to us; Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, II.II.40, fol. 99v: ‘in te prudenza e sse pur marcho tieni …’ 69  ‘nostro protector et defensor missier san Marcho evangelista’ and ‘missier san Marcho venetian.’ Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:45, 180. 70  ‘De l’altre terre reina si chiama   Vinegia bella, d’onore adornata,   qual ha presa san Marco per suo dama.   A questo sposo è sì racomandata   che per le’ priega el sommo Creatore   che lla difenda da chi ll’ha odiata   e mantenga tra lor cotanto amore   che tutti a un voler sia sempre uniti

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Venice’s bridegroom Saint Mark prays to God to defend the city and to keep its inhabitants united. The close link of marriage between the saint and the city makes Mark’s intercession with God even stronger. At the same time it places Venice in an exceptionally dependent position: a wife in many respects, including legally, was subordinate to her husband. Guidi must have been well aware of this and its metaphorical implications. In the preceding chapter he even mentions the Venetian ceremony of the marriage of the sea, in which the doge married the sea to establish authority over the maritime trade routes and the territories along the Adriatic.71 Indeed, when Venice is personified as a woman she is normally a virgin, emphasising, as mentioned earlier, Venice’s independence. It is much more common to find Mark represented by the symbol which already for centuries had been associated with the saint and by which a strong link between Mark and Venice was created: the winged lion.72 ‘I am the Lion who consecrated the reign and the laws of the Venetians’ are the words placed in the mouth of the Marcan lion by an anonymous poem of 1469.73 It was such a common representation that texts could refer to Venetian depictions of Mark on objects such as flags, shields, and sails without having to specify what these depictions looked like.74 Because of Venice’s connection with the saint, the winged lion also came to symbolise the city, resulting in two types of lions, both of which can be found in Venice: as symbols of the Evangelist and of Venice.75 Not always is there a clear distinction between the two.   con sincero intelletto e fermo cuore,   e da tal volontà non sian partiti,   per mantenere la lor libertà,   sì che la tirania abian fugiti.’ Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 131. Other references to Saint Mark: p. 24, 30, 128. 71  Guidi, 122–23. For a detailed analysis of this ritual, see: Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 119–34. 72  André Jean-Marc Loechel has noted that according to medieval bestiaries the lion could bring stillborn cubs to life with its breath, thereby referring to the resurrection. This made the image of the lion stronger, also in its capacity as symbol of Saint Mark. André Jean-Marc Loechel, “L’immagine dell’Evangelista e i meccanismi della formulazione del mito urbano,” in San Marco: Aspetti storici e agiografici, ed. Antonio Niero (Venezia: Marsilio, 1996), 479. 73  ‘Sum Leo qui Regnum Venetis et iura sacravi.’ Sub divo Marco, Ven. Marc. Lat. XII 210 (=4689), fol. 76v. 74  For instance: Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:417; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 24, 30; Pero Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 1435–1439, trans. Malcolm Henry Ikin Letts (London: George Routledge and sons, 1926), 165. 75  See also: Rudt de Collenberg, “L’emblema del leone marciano.”

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The winged lion was present throughout Venice in many forms. Renaissance city descriptions clearly deem this important to mention, such as when they speak about the flag on the Bucintoro or the columns close to the Ducal Palace carrying statues of Saint Mark and Saint Theodore.76 Marcantonio Sabellico, for example, includes in his description of the city of Venice: In the space more towards Piazza San Marco, towards the south, there are two very beautiful columns of marvellous height: on one of them there is the figure of Saint Mark, which looks like a winged lion; on the other there is one of the martyr Theodore who strikes a dragon with the lance. To this day the city has had the one and the other as protector, first the martyr and today Saint Mark.77 Although the lion was never a real coat of arms and could therefore be depicted in various ways, it was used as a political symbol.78 This is also evident in the large number of times that Venetians placed Marcan lions somewhere. Alberto Rizzi has identified around sixty columns and pillars, which have survived or have been documented, with the lion of Saint Mark on top, almost all of them in the territories of the Venetian Terraferma.79 That the lion of Saint Mark was not only intended to be, but was also perceived as, a powerful political symbol is clear from the various cases of leonoclasm (destruction 76  For example: Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 123. 77  ‘Nello spazio più addentro nel campo di S. Marco verso mezzogiorno, sono due bellissime colonne di mirabile altezza: sopra l’una è di S. Marco la forma, che un alato Leone rassomiglia, nell’altra di Teodoro martire che con l’asta un Drago percuote. La città fino a questo dì, l’uno et l’altro ha avuto per tutore, il martire primieramente oggi a S. Marco.’ Marcantonio Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città (1502), ed. G. Meneghetti (Venezia: Stamperia già Zanetti, 1957), 31.   Felix Faber is less sure about whom to believe when it comes to the figure on the second column: ‘In platea S. Marci, inter turrim et ecclesiam vel palatium contra mare stant duae columnae insignes marmoreae, politae, utraque unius lapidis: in una columna supra capitellum stat leo magnus, S. Marci imago. In alia stat vir armatus, quem dicunt esse ima­ ginem S. Theodori, primi civitatis patroni. Alii dicunt, esse S. Georgii imaginem.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:421. 78  On the lions of Saint Mark, see in particular: Rizzi, I leoni di San Marco. This contains a thorough study of this symbol and a catalogue of the extant Marcan lions in sculptures and paintings in the territories of the former Venetian Republic.   The most common ways to depict the lion were the leone andante (a winged lion depicted in its entirety, seen from the side, and holding with its front paws the Gospel, a sword, or a nobleman’s shield) and the leone in moleca (‘crab-shaped,’ namely a lion depicted from the waist up and full-faced). Rizzi, 29–72. 79  Rizzi, I leoni di San Marco, 64–72.

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of lions) that occurred over the centuries. As shown by Rizzi, during the War of the League of Cambrai the powers that had united against Venice vented their rage, in different ways, on the statues of the Marcan lion: the French took them to France as trophies, the imperial troops destroyed them and replaced them with double-headed eagles, and the pope brought one from Ravenna to Bologna and put it on display with a chain around its neck. This explains why, in contrast to the territories of the former Stato da Mar, there are so few fifteenth-century lions left in the former Terraferma.80 In other words, the connections between Venice and Saint Mark, which had been used for political goals since the early phases of Venetian history, were still characterised by a strong interweaving of religious and civic meaning in the Renaissance. Saint Mark was even synonymous with the Republic of Venice. Faber writes how, when he and his fellow travellers were leaving a fortress on the border of the Venetian state, a guard shouted ‘Marco, Marco’ to let them know that the territory belonged to Venice.81 It would therefore be improper to regard references to the Marcan lion as belonging only to one narrative about Venice, since most contemporaries would have considered them as belonging to multiple. Because of these many layers of meaning, the lion of Saint Mark could also be used to stress the links between Venice and its dominion. Jacopo Sanguinacci, for instance, uses it as a metaphor for Venetian authority: The great lion holds one paw on the field, the other one on the mountain, the third one on the plain, the fourth one holds on to the sea … At the same time — Sanguinacci writes — its wings cover a large territory.82 Dissemination of the depiction of the winged lion, for instance to Venice’s

80  Rizzi, 74–85. Other instances of leonoclasm occurred after the fall of the Venetian Republic in 1797, and in Dalmatia in 1918–1920, in 1932–1933, and again after 1943. Rizzi, 74–111. 81  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:450. 82  ‘El gran lion un pe tien in sul prato   Laltro nel monte el terzo in piana terra   El quarto al mar saferra   Per modo che la fato un largo uargo.   Se io tazese asai sarebe in chargo   ami: che de dexiri son copioxo   e piu volontoroxo

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subject territories, could in this way emphasise the presence of Venice’s authority and its divine protection.83 4

External Religious Structures

Another common element used to create a narrative of Venice as an essentially religious city is an emphasis on the large quantity of churches and other religious institutions, such as convents. This is an important part of this narrative, so important that it is sometimes the only religious aspect which authors mention, or even the only aspect by which they define the city as a whole. Given the purpose of their journeys, it comes as no surprise that most pilgrims emphasise religious elements in their travel accounts. For most pilgrims Venice is not only the port of departure for the Holy Land, but it is in itself a sacred space.84 They speak of the city’s abundance of relics and churches and often specify in detail which relics they have seen. Even Arnold von Harff’s observation that he has seen a certain relic, the head of Saint James the Less, at Compostela as well as in Venice, does not stop him from praising Venice’s ‘worthy relics’: he simply states that he leaves this type of confusion to God’s judgement.85 The Englishman William Wey, a priest travelling to Jerusalem in 1458 and again in 1462, even regards the relics that can be seen along the road as one of the reasons to go to the Holy Land.86 This does not mean that all pilgrims include the city of Venice in their works; both Mariano di Nanni da Siena and Gaspare di Bartolomeo, for example, mention their six-day stay in    adir quanto cuopre le sue ale.’ Jacopo Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia: Tratte fedelmente dalla rarissima stampa di Treviso (MCCCCLXXIII) (Venezia: Alvisopoli, 1839), 20–21. See also: Sanguinacci, 29.   This poem was written in 1420: see section 6.7.   See also, for example: Niccolò Cieco, “Giusta mia possa una donna onorando,” 170; De Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia,” 494. 83  I will come back to this in Part 2. 84  See also: Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Récits, images et mythes: Venise dans l’iter hiérosolomytain (XIVe–XVe siècles),” Mélanges de l’école française de Rome: Moyen Âge, temps mo­ dernes 96, no. 1 (1984): 489–535; Deborah Howard, Venice and the East: The Impact of the Islamic World on Venetian Architecture 1100–1500 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000), particularly 189–216. 85  ‘wijrdichs heyltoms.’ Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 56. 86  William Wey, The Itineraries of William Wey, Fellow of Eton College, to Jerusalem, A.D. 1458 and A.D. 1462, and to Saint James of Compostelle, A.D. 1456: From the Original Manuscript in the Bodleian Library, ed. Albert Way (London: J. B. Nichols and sons, 1857), 25–26, 52–55. In his travel account Wey describes the pilgrimages he made in 1456 to Compostela and in 1458 and 1462 to the Holy Land. In 1462 he spent more than a month in Venice.

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the city but speak only of the preparations they made for the rest of their journey.87 Evidently not everybody considered Venice holy enough to be described in a work devoted to a sacred journey. Nor do all pilgrims’ descriptions of the lagoon city contain a large variety of religious elements; indeed, almost all emphasis is on churches, relics, and religious institutions. Particularly at the beginning of the period on which this book focuses, pilgrims mainly emphasise Venice’s relics in their city descriptions. The Florentine Lionardo Frescobaldi (pilgrimage in 1384–1385), for example, mentions almost nothing about the city other than its relics.88 And while the French Ogier VIII d’Anglure (pilgrimage in 1395–1396) in the description of his homeward journey includes the Arsenal and Venice’s galleys, the passage on Venice in his outward journey consists almost exclusively of an enumeration of important churches and their relics.89 Ogier is not the only pilgrim who adopts this structure. By including Venice’s churches and relics in the description of the outward journey and the city’s secular aspects in the description of the homeward journey, some pilgrims make it clear that their focus is on religious affairs and on Venice’s religious side. We see this technique also in Felix Faber’s Evagatorium Fratris Felicis, written almost a century after Ogier’s Le saint voyage de Jherusalem. In the account of his outward journey, Faber mentions the Venetian state only very briefly.90 He gives the following explanation: It should be noted that I have described the cities from Innsbruck until here [Treviso], because on the way back I did not come by this road to Innsbruck but by another, as will be told. Beyond this, however, I will not 87  Mariano da Siena and Gaspare di Bartolomeo, Viaggio fatto al Santo Sepolcro, 1431: In appendice Viaggio di Gaspare di Bartolomeo, ed. Paolo Pirillo (Ospedaletto, Pisa: Pacini, 1991), 125–26, 144. 88  Lionardo di Niccolò Frescobaldi, Nel nome di Dio facemmo vela: Viaggio in Oriente di un pellegrino medievale, ed. Gabriella Bartolini and Franco Cardini (Roma: Laterza, 1991), 126–29. 89  Ogier d’Anglure, The Holy Jerusalem Voyage of Ogier VIII, Seigneur d’Anglure, trans. Roland A. Browne (Gainesville: University Presses of Florida, 1975). 90  I refer here to Faber’s second pilgrimage. In his Evagatorium Fratris Felicis Faber describes both the pilgrimage he made in 1480 and the one in 1483–1484, but by far the most attention goes to the second one. The first pilgrimage occupies a mere thirty-seven pages in Hassler’s edition out of a total of approximately 1500 pages. In this part, Faber mentions some particularities of the specific journey — like the threat of the Ottomans, the plague in a certain city, and Faber falling ill — but does not really give descriptions of cities or territories. Felix Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, ed. Konrad Dieterich Hassler, vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Sumtibus societatis litte­ rariae stuttgardiensis, 1843), 24–61.

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describe any city during our outward journey, but I will describe during our way back all places that will have befallen me to go. And therefore I shall save the description of Treviso and the other cities until the way back. In fact, I hurry to Jerusalem, towards which I have firmly turned my face, and I will not rest until I will again see that most illustrious and desirable city.91 The same goes for his description of his stay in Venice on his way to the Holy Land, during which Faber and his fellow pilgrims were forced to wait over a month before they could leave for Jerusalem. Early in the description Faber tells what he proposed to his travel companions about how to spend their time in Venice. Since it is not fitting for a pilgrim to do nothing, and since Venice is surrounded by water and therefore does not offer the possibility to visit gardens or go hunting, it is best to hear Mass each day in a different church and visit the relics present. Faber’s subsequent description of his time in Venice is in keeping with that advice. It is mostly a day-by-day account of which churches the pilgrims visit and which relics they see, sometimes alternating with comments about being weary of Venice and being anxious to go to Jerusalem, or with remarks about the practical preparations for the journey. Here and there are comments about some of their more worldly activities. At the end of this passage, Faber states that he has spoken about the ‘honest and sacred wanderings’ he and the other pilgrims made in Venice, not about the things they visited out of curiosity instead of benefit, even though they also did that frequently.92 It is only on the occasion of Faber’s stay in Venice on his way home that he includes an extensive description of the city, with much more attention to its worldly characteristics.93 Faber’s way of treating Venice in the description of his outward journey therefore contributes to giving the reader a sense of hastening towards Jerusalem. Being a monk, Faber probably considered it his duty to set an example for future pilgrims who might use his work as a guide. Like many other authors of pilgrims’ accounts, he often gives advice to future

91  ‘Notandum quod ab oppido Pontinense usque huc loca descripsi, ideo quia in reversione non veni per illam viam in Pontinum, sed per aliam ut patebit. Ulterius autem nullum locum describam in ingressu, sed in reversione omnia loca, ad quae declinare me contigerit, describam. Et ideo descriptionem Tarvisii, et aliarum civitatum servabo in reditum etc. Festino enim in Jerusalem, ad quam firmavi faciem meam, nec quiescam, donec cla­ rissimam illam et desiderabilem urbem iterato videam.’ Faber, 1:81. 92  Faber, 1:93–107. Quotation from p. 106: ‘honestas et sanctas evagationes.’ 93  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:387–89, 395–437.

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pilgrims in his work, and his account of his stay in Venice shows, in his opinion, what pilgrims should do in this city while travelling to Jerusalem. Other pilgrims, too, clearly sought to convince their readers that they would not have gone to Venice had it not been for the fact that they had to pass through on their way to Jerusalem. Georges Lengherand (who nevertheless makes various comments about Venice’s worldly attractions), a pilgrim from Hainaut, on several occasions includes comments such as: On Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, the 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st day of the said month of May, we stayed all those days in the aforementioned Venice, waiting for the departure of the pilgrim galleys without doing anything else.94 Bernhard von Breydenbach and Johann Meisenheimer use a different technique to convey the importance of Venice’s religious qualities to their readers: they first speak about Venice’s relics and other religious aspects, then about a visit to Padua (emphasising Padua’s relics), and only then do they describe the rest of the city of Venice.95 In such ways, pilgrims throughout the fifteenth century generally try to emphasise the religious aspects of their journeys. Nevertheless, there is a difference between the earlier and the later travellers: during the fifteenth century pilgrims’ descriptions of Venice expand. While earlier pilgrims focus mainly on relics and on the religious institutions containing them, later ones include other religious aspects of the city as well. They generally also treat a larger number of churches, which, according to Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, can be explained by a transformation of forms of devotion in the late Middle Ages: this caused people to search for a greater number of saints to venerate and indulgences to obtain.96 Moreover, the later pilgrims also treat Venice’s secular aspects, like its riches, more often, both when they speak of churches and secular urban structures. 94  ‘Le mardy, merquedy, jeudy, vendredy, samedy et dimence, XVI.e, XVII.e, XVIII.e, XIX.e, XX.e, XXI.e jour dudit mois de may, séjournâmes tous iceulx jour audit Venise actendant le partement des gallées pellerines sans aultre chose faire.’ Georges Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, mayeur de Mons en Haynaut, a Venise, Rome, Jérusalem, Mont Sinaï et Le Kayre, 1485–1486, ed. Denis Charles Godefroy-Ménilglaise (Mons: Masquillier et Dequesne, 1861), 82. 95  Breydenbach, Peregrinationes; Sigmund Feyerabend, ed., “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” in Reyßbuch deß heyligen Lands (Franckfort am Mayn: Feyerabendt, 1584), fols. 30v–47r. 96   Crouzet-Pavan, “Récits, images et mythes,” 505.

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This is connected with the general decrease in the prominence of the narrative of a predominantly religious Venice, mentioned earlier. An example of this attention to multiple aspects comes from the account of the 1495–1496 pilgrimage of Alexander Pfaltzgraf bey Rhein, probably written by Johann Meisenheimer.97 When describing the Basilica of San Marco, it mentions a variety of religious and secular aspects. On Sunday the 26th day of the month of April my G[racious] L[ords] visited the above-mentioned church of Saint Mark. There is the chapel of the duke of Venice, beautiful and rich, because the vaults of that church are all wrought with good gold in mosaic, and there is even, as is being said, the body of Saint Mark. There are also two images painted after the figures of Saint Francis and Saint Dominic, two hundred years before their birth, and many other holy things and exceptional objects.98 The works of Ogier d’Anglure and Bernhard von Breydenbach are clear examples of these chronological changes. Both clearly distinguish between Venice’s churches and relics on the one hand and its secular aspects on the other, and both place the religious elements before the worldly ones. However, while Ogier’s enumeration of Venice’s relics is much longer than his description of the rest of the city, the opposite is true for Breydenbach. Moreover, among the later pilgrims’ accounts we find some works that make no mention of religious aspects at all. The travel account of the Flemish pilgrim Joos van Ghistele, for example, mentions almost nothing about Venice other than the treasure and the bell tower of the Basilica of San Marco, the Ducal Palace, and the Arsenal — that is, the city’s secular riches.99 97  This work is the second text in Sigmund Feyerabend’s collection of pilgrims’ accounts entitled Reyßbuch deß heyligen Lands, printed in Frankfurt in 1584. On this book as a whole, see in particular: Anne Simon, Sigmund Feyerabend’s “Das Reyßbuch deß heyligen Lands”: A Study in Printing and Literary History (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 1998). 98  ‘Auff Sontag deß 26. Tags deß Monats Aprilis / haben meine G. H. besucht die obgenannte Kirch zu S. Marc / da dann ist deß Herzogs von Venedig Capel / hübsch und reich / dann die Gewölbe derselben Kirchen seindt alle mit gutem Gold von Musica gearbeytet / unnd ist daselbst als man sagt / S. Marc Leichnam. Allda stehen auch zwey Bild gemalet nach der Figur S. Francisci und S. Dominici / zwey hundert jar vor irer Geburt / und viel ander heiligthumbs und besonder ding.’ Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 32v. 99  Ambrosius Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, ed. Renaat J. G. A. A. Gaspar (Hilversum: Verloren, 1998), 415–18. Joos van Ghistele (1446–1516), a nobleman from Ghent, made his pilgrimage from the end of 1481 to the middle of 1485. After his return he gave the notes he had made during his journey to Ambrosius Zeebout, who transformed them

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The pilgrims’ accounts — especially the earlier ones — form an exception with their strong emphasis on Venice’s external religious structures, in particular its relics. Among other authors such emphasis is rarer: most Renaissance descriptions define the city by many more features. Nevertheless, churches and religious institutions do form one of the common points in descriptions of Venice, and not only of Venice. Churches not only occupied an important place in the urban fabric and in the daily lives of people, but they had also been, together with relics, a common element in city descriptions for centuries. Authors therefore stood in a long literary tradition when describing Venice’s churches. Moreover, much of a city’s art and riches could be found within its churches, making them a noteworthy feature in every city. In Renaissance descriptions of Venice, churches and religious institutions are so important that they can often be found standing on their own, without references to other religious elements. Furthermore, they are also treated frequently by authors who do not primarily characterise Venice as a religious city. For instance, several pages of Francesco degli Allegri’s poem La summa gloria di Venetia (printed in 1501) are devoted to Venice’s churches, relics, and indulgences.100 The second part of Marin Sanudo’s De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae is an extensive description of the physical fabric of the city. He starts with some general aspects, like the city’s location, cost of houses, methods of into a book. Almost nothing is known about Zeebout. Gaspar has suggested that he may have been a Carmelite, perhaps an ordained priest. Renaat J. G. A. A. Gaspar, “Inleiding,” in Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele (Hilversum: Verloren, 1998), XLIV–XLVIII. See also: István P. Bejczy, “Between Mandeville and Columbus: ‘Tvoyage’ by Joos van Ghistele,” in Travel Fact and Travel Fiction: Studies on Fiction, Literary Tradition, Scholarly Discovery, and Observation in Travel Writing, ed. Zweder von Martels (Leiden, New York, and Köln: Brill, 1994), 85–93. The work was printed for the first time in 1557, with the title Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, oft anders, Texcellent, groot, zeldsaem ende vremd voyage, ghedaen by wylent Edelen ende weerden Heere, Mher Joos van Ghistele. In zynen levene Riddere, Heere van Axele, van Maelstede ende van den Moere, etc. Tanderen tyden vier-mael Voor-Schepene van Ghendt. Tracterende van veelderande wonderlicke ende vremde dijn­ghen, gheobserveerd over d’Zee, in den landen van Sclavonien, Griecken, Turckien, Candien, Rhodes ende Cypers. Voords ooc in den lande van Beloften, Assirien, Arabien, Egypten, Ethyopien, Barbarien, Indien, Perssen, Meden, Caldeen ende Tartarien: met der gheleghenthede der zelver landen ende meer ander plaetsen, Insulen ende Steden, van Europen, Asien ende Affryken, zo in de Prologhe breeder blijckt. The edition used for this research is based on a manuscript from around 1500, which is without title. 100  Francesco degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia con la summa de le sue uictorie, nobi­ lita, paesi, e dignita, et officij, et altre nobilissime illustre cose di sue laude e glorie come ne la presente operetta se contiene: dicta est gloria cronice nove Venetorum (Venetia, 1501), USTC 808820, fols. [a iii v]–[a iv v].

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transportation, and clothing of the inhabitants, followed by detailed descriptions of the individual sestieri. Each one starts with the churches present in the sestiere in question, attesting to the importance of churches as a constitutive element of the city’s single components. After the description of the individual sestieri, Sanudo continues with aspects that are important for the city as a whole.101 He again starts with the churches — the large quantity of churches and religious houses, how the parish priests are elected, the number of Masses, and the office of patriarch. In the many lists that form the second part of De situ, and in those that were added between 1493 and 1530, the first topics to be treated are again parishes, monasteries, convents, relics, indulgences, and other elements belonging to the city’s religious sphere. There is, however, a difference in the importance ascribed to the various elements. When Sanudo describes Venice’s churches in the first part of De situ, he focuses above all on their beauty, decorations and richness, location, names, and activities of the clergy. With one exception (wood of the cross at the church of San Giovanni Evangelista), relics are not mentioned. It is only in the non-narrative parts of the work (the many lists in the second part of De situ and in the later additions to the work) that these are treated. The relics are thus placed on a secondary level of importance in comparison with the many other religious elements. Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi focuses mostly on riches in his description of Venice’s churches. His description of the Basilica of San Marco, for instance, mainly emphasises its gold, silver, precious stones, mosaics, marble, the stories depicted on the inside and outside of the church, the horses’ statues on the façade, and the sculptures. Despite the work’s length, relics are not even mentioned.102 Even texts not particularly aimed at praising Venice often describe its churches. Enea Silvio Piccolomini, Pope Pius II (1405–1464, r.1458–1464), often speaks negatively about Venice in his Commentarii rerum memorabilium (1458–1464): he sees many vices, such as imperialism, manifested throughout its history. His description of the physical city, however, consists of various laudatory comments. He mentions mostly secular aspects, such as riches and commerce, but he also refers to the city’s large quantity of rich and beautiful churches and convents.

101  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 30. 102  There are some aspects of religious life in Venice that are mentioned apart from the churches’ riches, such as the clergy, in chapter 4 and again in chapter 6. However, the emphasis is on riches.

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The famous church of Saint Mark the Evangelist is constructed of marbles from the east, its vaults gilded with what they call “mosaic” work. They say the treasury in this church is filled with rubies, diamonds, and all kinds of precious stones — a hoard greater than any king’s. Not long ago the treasury was robbed by some Greek fellow who used a most ingenious method. In the end he was caught and put to death, though Doge Francesco Foscari advised against it on the grounds that a man as bold as that deserved to live. The gilding on the top of the campanile is said to have cost sixty thousand ducats. The enormous palace of the doge was burned and then rebuilt, as we said above; it is built on marble columns and splendidly decorated. There are other sumptuous and beautiful churches and convents scattered throughout the city, which grows larger with every passing day.103 The churches’ riches referred to by Piccolomini are material — gold, precious stones, marble — not spiritual riches of relics. In Marcantonio Sabellico’s De Venetae urbis situ, libri tres (written before April 1491), translated by Lucio Fauno as Del sito di Venezia città (1544), it becomes clear already in the first pages that Venice is not primarily characterised as a religious place: Sabellico makes general remarks on the city but does not include comments on religious aspects.104 Nevertheless, in the rest of the work he does treat Venice’s churches, convents, relics, and clergy. Churches are mentioned in the context of detailed descriptions of the individual sestieri. Sabellico arranges these descriptions in the order in which one would see the various sites while walking through the city, sometimes even including 103  ‘Beato Marcho evangelistae nobilissima aedes constructa est ex orientali marmore; testudines artificio quod “musaicum” vocant undique deauratae. Hic thesaurum esse asserunt regales opes excedentem, carbunculis, adamantibus et omni gemmarum genere adornatum, quem nostra aetate Graeculus quidam subtili furatus ingenio, tandem captus et ultimo supplicio affectus est, dissuadente duce Francisco Foscari, qui ausum talia servandum esse dicebat. Turris campanariae pinnaculum sexaginta milibus aureis inauratum ferunt. Ducale palatium amplissimum est, quod supra incensum et deinde instauratum diximus, super columnas marmoreas aedificatum, omnibus ornamentis illustre. Sunt et alia templa per urbem sumptu et opere admiranda et religiosorum cenobia.’ Pius II, Commentaries, ed. Margaret Meserve and Marcello Simonetta, vol. II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 132. Translation from: Pius II, II:133. 104  I have based my analysis of this work on Lucio Fauno’s Italian translation. Quotations are also from this translation. Historians have given different dates for the De Venetae urbis situ, libri tres. Paola Modesti has shown that it was completed before the dedicatee, Girolamo Donà, moved to Rome in April 1491. Paola Modesti, “Quasi come in un dipinto: La città e l’architettura nel ‘De situ urbis Venetae’ di Marcantonio Sabellico,” Arte veneta 66 (2009): 17–35.

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detailed directions.105 He states that he mentions the aspects of the urban fabric that appear most remarkable to him, with the exclusion of private buildings.106 Churches and convents are not treated any differently from other buildings. For example, when he speaks about the region around Venice he enumerates ‘in some places vineyards and gardens, in other places salt pans, fishponds, temples, towers, public and private buildings spread out over the lake.’107 Churches simply occupy one place among many other types of buildings that together constitute a territory. Moreover, Sabellico simply mentions if he finds a church or convent remarkable for non-religious elements. Indeed, his attention is attracted by a wide variety of features. He most commonly mentions the decoration of the churches and the convents, their relics, the number and the tasks of the clergy, and the bell towers, but he also includes whatever he considers noteworthy: the presence of a square in front of a church, or the church’s age.108 It is clear from texts like these that religiosity is not how their authors primarily characterise Venice. Nevertheless, in itself their emphasis on the material riches of religious buildings rather than on relics does not necessarily contradict the idea of a predominantly religious Venice. Such rich embellishments were seen as manifestations of piety, which arguably could in part be the viewpoint adopted in many pilgrims’ descriptions. This is also the reason why Venetian confraternities could register the expenses for such embellishments under piae causae.109 Indeed, the confraternities, or scuole, are a clear case of interwoven views on Venice. As stated previously, although the main narratives about Venice show some points of entwinement, in general sources emphasise one over the others. The scuole form a clear exception; they were evidently seen as so multifaceted as to be described in very different ways. I will come back to this in the next chapter. In some texts, churches are clearly seen not just as parts of the city, but as essential to it. This is also evident in Venice’s founding legend. The decisive point in which the city comes into being is when the church of San Giacomo di Rialto is founded. The presence of churches is therefore crucial for the city’s very existence. Indeed, in multiple works — geographical descriptions 105  For example: Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 19. 106  For instance: Sabellico, 14. 107  ‘altrove vignoli, et orti, altrove saline, peschiere, templi, torre, edifici pubblici et privati sparsi per il lago …’ Sabellico, 34. 108  See for instance: Sabellico, 14–16. 109  Patricia Fortini Brown, “Le ‘scuole,’” in Il Rinascimento, società ed economia, ed. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci, Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, V (Roma: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1996), 336.

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as well as historical writings — Venice’s early history is repeatedly marked by the foundation of specifically mentioned churches.110 In this way, the foundations of these churches are among the decisive steps by which Venice and the Venetian people come to maturity. The view of churches as being essential for a city’s very existence is also evident in terminology. Indicating places in medieval Italy as civitates (cities) or as castra, burgi, or terrae did not depend on aspects like the number of inhabitants, but on the presence of an episcopal see. This is yet another reason for the importance placed on religious structures in city descriptions — throughout the fifteenth century, in different literary traditions, and by authors from different geographical areas and social backgrounds — even to the point that sometimes they are mentioned on their own, with hardly any reference to other aspects of Venice. 5

The Piety of the Venetians

Piety is a recurrent virtue in panegyrical writings on Venice and its inhabitants. Many authors underline how it was evident in the Venetians’ actions throughout history, such as their choice to flee to the lagoon rather than be subjected to pagans. This piety is often linked to God’s guidance in Venetian history. Not only were the Venetians helped by God, they also showed that they were worthy of divine intervention by behaving piously. As Philippe de Commynes states: ‘I do believe that God helps them for the reverence which they bring to the service of the church.’111 The Venetians’ piety therefore is both a cause and a consequence of God’s help. The same is true for Saint Mark’s intervention in history. Indeed, authors also link the idea of the piety of the Venetians with other religious aspects. Poggio Bracciolini, for example, includes in his city description: ‘How flourishing our Christian religion is among the Venetians, and how highly valued, is demonstrated by the splendidly decorated churches and basilicas.’112 In this way the abundance of churches in the city is regarded as proof of the pious nature of the inhabitants. 110  See for example: Venetian chronicle (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 541 (=7314), fols. 2v–3v; Flavio Biondo, Northern Italy, ed. Catherine J. Castner, Biondo Flavio’s Italia Illustrata: Text, Translation, and Commentary 1 (Binghamton: Global Academic Publishing, 2005), 146; Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:105–7, 140; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 15–16. 111  Philippe de Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, ed. Samuel Kinser, trans. Isabelle Cazeaux, vol. 2 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1973), 490. 112  Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 143.

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This emphasis on the Venetians’ devotion is not peculiar to the Renaissance. Martin da Canal’s thirteenth-century chronicle Les estoires de Venise, for instance, repeatedly points to the Venetians’ piety in order to justify controversial episodes from Venice’s recent past. In Da Canal’s time, Venice was still under fire for the Fourth Crusade (1202–1204), which the Venetians had used to subject the Christian city of Zara (Zadar) and to conquer Constantinople. In Les estoires de Venise it is depicted as an enterprise in which the pious Venetians continuously and scrupulously obey each of the pope’s orders.113 Several other episodes from Venetian history are also portrayed as consequences of the Venetians’ profound religiosity, orthodoxy, and loyalty to the church.114 In the words of Da Canal, the Venetians ‘are all perfect in the faith in Jesus Christ and obedient to the Holy Church, and they have never transgressed the orders of the Holy Church.’115 In the fifteenth century, Giorgio Dolfin still refers to the Venetians’ participation in crusades to underline their piety.116 He also writes how they have always shed their blood for the faith, and how they fought the Saracens on various occasions.117 Marin Sanudo claims that the Venetians have always fought for the faith in Christ, and explicitly praises their piety on several occasions.118 Given that underlining devout behaviour throughout history is a way in which authors stress the piety of the Venetians, it is logical that the opposite can happen when authors depict the city in a negative light. Piccolomini’s account of Venetian history contains various stories that show Venice’s vices, such as imperialism, greed, arrogance, and hesitancy.119 Although he also speaks of episodes in which the Venetians fought for the Christian religion against the Saracens, he is clearly angered — unsurprisingly, given his position in the church — by moments when Venice was in conflict with the church. ‘If only they had kept their hands off the Church of Rome! But in a republican regime nothing is sacred or holy. A republic is a soulless thing and does not fear the fires of hell.’120 113  Da Canal, Les estoires de Venise, 44–62. 114  See for instance: Da Canal, 20, 114, 174–76, 232–34. 115  ‘trestruit sont parfit a la foi de Jesu Crist et obeissant a sainte Yglise, et que jamés ne trepasserent li comandement de sainte Yglise.’ Da Canal, 2. 116  See for example: Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:190–94. 117  Dolfin, 1:101, 159. 118  See for instance: Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 11, 13, 19. 119  Pius II, Commentaries, II:102–30. 120  ‘atque utinam intactam Romanam Ecclesiam reliquissent! Sed in populari dominatu nihil religiosum, nihil sanctum: res publica inanimis est, neque Gehennae veretur ignem.’

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In other words, the Venetians’ piety is mentioned in a variety of literary genres. It also occurs in Niccolò Cieco’s praise of Venice. In this case, piety takes the shape of loyalty to the church, which the Venetians displayed through their behaviour in the signing of the peace treaty between Pope Alexander III and Emperor Frederick Barbarossa in Venice in 1177. You brought down the red arrogance of Frederick, who dismissed the Vicar of God from his seat and from his power. But what was born from his wicked error? Your privilege and his servitude under the foot of the pastor, who still was pious.121 This story of the Peace of Venice was widespread in the fifteenth century. It is a good case study for how stories about Venice’s past, and the values they emphasised, could be disseminated to people both from Venice and elsewhere. The story went back to historical events. At the Battle of Legnano of 1176 the Lombard League defeated the army of Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. The peace negotiations were held in Venice in 1177, with mediation by Doge Sebastiano Ziani, a more ceremonial than substantive role. The emperor then exempted Venetian merchants from imperial tolls in the Holy Roman Empire, while the pope moved ecclesiastical jurisdiction over Dalmatia to the patriarchate of Grado. In subsequent centuries the story about these events was much expanded and elaborated.122 In the fifteenth century it had become a well-established story in Venice, telling of how Frederick Barbarossa’s expedition to Italy worried Pope Alexander III, who fled in disguise to Venice. He hid himself in a monastery, but when the Venetians discovered who he was, they honoured him, defeated Pius II, II:120. Translation from: Pius II, II:121. With the last remark Piccolomini refers to Matthew 5:22. 121  ‘Tu abbattesti la superba rossa   di Federico, che ‘l vicar di Dio   dismise di sua sede e di sua possa;   ma che ne nacque del suo fallo rio?   la tua franchigia e la sua servitute   sotto ‘l piè del pastor, ch’ancor fu pio.’ Niccolò Cieco, “Giusta mia possa una donna onorando,” 171–72. 122  Patricia Fortini Brown, Venetian Narrative Painting in the Age of Carpaccio (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1988), 37–42; Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic,” 523–27; Andrew Martindale, “The Venetian Sala del Gran Consiglio and Its Fourteenth-Century Decoration,” The Antiquaries Journal 73 (1993): 76–124; Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 103–19.

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the emperor, and reconciled these two great powers. As tokens of gratitude, in the course of these events the pope presented the doge with a series of trionfi, concessions and objects with symbolic meanings. Most of these ducal trionfi had already been in use prior to 1177 — often with a different original meaning — but linking them to the story of the Peace of Venice gave them narrative cohesion and greater political meaning. By the early modern period they had come to symbolise Venice’s piety and loyalty to the church, its jurisdictional autonomy, the doge’s status as an equal to the pope and emperor, the protection of Venice’s military campaigns by Saint Mark, the Venetians’ justice, and the papal recognition and praise of all of these aspects.123 Even when authors do not mention the trionfi, the rest of the story still emphasises a series of values important for Renaissance Venice. There was a variety of ways in which the story of the Peace of Venice was spread. Not only could people learn of it through oral or written accounts, but references were present in various places in Venice and on different occasions. Multiple trionfi were displayed when the doge participated in processions. Several ceremonies were connected with the story, such as the marriage of the sea and the doge’s visit to San Giacomo di Rialto on Maundy Thursday. The plenary indulgence granted to those visiting the Basilica of San Marco on Ascension Day was connected with it as well. The story was also — to mention another example — the subject of paintings and richly illustrated manuscripts.124 All of these types of representations could work together and influence each other, ensuring that audiences from different social and geographical backgrounds could become acquainted with the story. Indeed, references to the story can be found in texts written not only by Venetians but also by travellers from across Europe. City descriptions provide insight into its dissemination. There is a remarkable variety of ways and reasons by which authors bring up the story. Some of them raise the topic when they describe a specific ceremony for which they consider the events of 1177 to be the origin: Girnand von Schwalbach, for instance, mentions it as an explanation for the procession he saw on Saint George’s Day, Pero Tafur sees it as the reason for the ceremonies he witnessed on Ascension Day, while Georges Lengherand brings it up when he explains why in the church of Santa Maria

123  See in particular: Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 103–19. Muir also discusses older readings of the story of the Peace of Venice and the trionfi. 124  Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic,” 523–27; Gina Fasoli, “Nascita di un mito,” in Studi in onore di Gioacchino Volpe, vol. 1 (Firenze: Sansoni, 1958), 473–77; Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice, 103–19.

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della Carità there is Mass on the evening before Easter.125 Francesco degli Allegri links the story to a description of the ducal trionfi during processions in general.126 Other authors speak about it in different parts of their city descriptions, like the doge’s authority and dignity, the church where the pope was found, or the four horse statues on the Basilica of San Marco (placed there, in this version of the story, by the Venetians out of respect for the emperor’s oath to turn the basilica into a stable for horses).127 Some chronicles spend many pages telling the story in great detail.128 However, a recurrent way in which authors bring up the story of the Peace of Venice is in the context of the paintings in the Hall of the Great Council. The Milanese pilgrim Pietro Casola (pilgrimage in 1494), for instance, writes: Furthermore, in the said palace [the Ducal Palace] I saw, among the other worthy things, a very long hall. Its walls are painted with much adornment. And there is painted the story of how Frederick Barbarossa drove away Pope Alexander IV [sic], and how he fled to Venice in disguise, and how he was recognised in a monastery called the Monastery della Carità. And that whole story has been made so richly and with such naturalness in the figures that I believe that little could be added.129

125  Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 46–47; Girnand von Schwalbach, “Girnand von Schwalbach, ‘Reise zum Heiligen Grab’ (1440),” in Fünf Palästina-Pilgerberichte aus dem 15. Jahrhundert, ed. Randall Herz, Dietrich Huschenbett, and Frank Sczesny (Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag, 1998), 111; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 156, 159–62. 126  Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fols. [b iv r]-c r. 127  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 125–26; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 42–44; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 14. 128  See for example: Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:206–14. 129  ‘Ho da poi veduto in dicto palacio, ultra le altre cose digne, una sala molto longa; le parieti sue sono dipincte molto ornatamente: egli è depinta la istoria como Federico Barbarossa caciò papa Alexandro Quarto e fugite a Venezia travestuto e como fu cognito in uno mo­nasterio, chiamato el monasterio de la Caritate. E tuta quela istoria è facta tanto rica e na­turale de figure, che credo se li possa poco adiungere.’ Pietro Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, ed. Anna Paoletti (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2001), 85. See also, for example: Santo Brasca and Gabriele Capodilista, Viaggio in Terrasanta di Santo Brasca (1480), con l’Itinerario di Gabriele Capodilista (1458), ed. Anna Laura Momigliano Lepschy (Milano: Longanesi, 1966), 48; Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 34r; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 10; Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 80; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 31–32; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 162.

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The story had already been depicted in the Ducal Palace in the early fourteenth century in the chapel of San Nicolò. Between 1365 and 1419 the same story was depicted a second time in the same palace, in a great narrative cycle in a place where it would be seen by many people: the Hall of the Great Council. This was in keeping with a larger European tradition of decorating audience halls with depictions of great historical and legendary deeds.130 Considering how the story underlines Venice’s piety, importance, and independence, it is not difficult to understand why the Venetian government would want to depict it in the centre of political authority — not once but twice, of which one time in the largest hall. It showed very clearly to the members of Venice’s largest political organ the glory of the state they were serving. The conscious policy of the Venetian government to emphasise the story was not limited to this. Highly placed foreign visitors were given a tour of the city, thereby showing clearly which image Venice’s political authorities tried to propagate for foreigners. The tour included a visit to the Hall of the Great Council.131 Moreover, every year on Ascension Day the hall was open to the public, drawing many spectators: when the day of the solemn Ascension is present, in which entry is permitted to all, no hour of the day is left in which the place is not filled with a countless abundance of people from different places of origin.132 Judging from the city descriptions, the paintings had the desired effect of acquainting or reminding a large variety of people of the story. Most authors who mention the story of the Peace of Venice do so when describing the paintings 130  Parts of these depictions were replaced in the last decades of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century. Together with what was left of the original paintings they were destroyed in a fire in 1577. Brown, Venetian Narrative Painting in the Age of Carpaccio, 37–42; Martindale, “The Venetian Sala del Gran Consiglio and Its Fourteenth-Century Decoration”; Wolfgang Wolters, Storia e politica nei dipinti di Palazzo Ducale: Aspetti dell’autocelebrazione della Repubblica di Venezia nel Cinquecento, trans. Benedetta Heinemann Campana (Venezia: Arsenale editrice, 1987), 162–78. 131  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 59. I will come back to the sites shown to important foreign visitors in the next chapter. 132  ‘quum adest solemnis Ascensionis dies, quo omnibus ingressus licet, nulla supersit diei hora, qua locus innumerabili diversarum patriarum hominum copia non repleatur.’ Michele Savonarola, “Commentariolus de laudibus Patavii,” in Rerum italicarum scriptores: Ab anno aerae Christianae quingentesimo ad millesimumquingentesimum, quorum potissima pars nunc primum in lucem prodit ex Ambrosianae, Estensis, aliarumque insignium bibliothecarum codicibus, ed. Ludovico Antonio Muratori, reprint of the ed.: Mediolanum: Typ. Societatis Palatinae, 1738, vol. XXIV (Sala Bolognese: Forni, 1982), col. 1169.

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in the Hall of the Great Council. Even those who refer to it in other contexts often also mention that this story can be seen in this hall, suggesting how important the paintings were for the story’s widespread dissemination.133 The sixteenth-century account of Jan Govertz, a priest from the province of Holland who travelled to Jerusalem in 1525, provides us with a clear example of how interaction between different media could take place. Govertz visited the Ducal Palace, and his account contains a detailed description of the building, including the Hall of the Great Council and its paintings: ‘a history which the Venetians have put there for eternal memory and, rightfully, for its eternal glory.’134 Govertz and his fellow travellers were accompanied by tolomazi, guides who assisted foreign pilgrims during their stay in Venice, who explained the story briefly. This made Govertz so curious about a more detailed version that his innkeeper gave him an Italian booklet about the story. While nothing is specified about the booklet, the ease with which the innkeeper showed it to his guest brings to mind a cheap printed pamphlet (indeed, many different pamphlets about the story of Frederick Barbarossa and Pope Alexander have been handed down to us, printed in multiple cities and multiple languages). Govertz translated it from Italian to Dutch and — warning the reader about the shortcomings of his translation — included it in his travel account.135 We see, therefore, a remarkably explicit example of how a story could circulate across different languages, among people from different geographical origins and social backgrounds, stimulated by both the Venetian government and multiple local residents, and across different media: in Govertz’ case visual representations, oral transmission, and literature; in other cases this could also include other references, for instance in ceremonies. This underlines the importance of keeping in mind other sources when analysing geographical descriptions. Not only did they work towards the same goal, but they could, and did, influence each other. The idea of the Venetians as a pious people was an important part of the narrative of Venice as a religious city. It is also a point where the different narratives about the city sometimes can be densely interwoven. Piety can figure among the moral virtues attributed to the Venetians; for instance, when Guidi, in the last chapter of his El sommo della condizione di Vinegia speaks about the 133  See for example the works of Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi, Arnold von Harff, Georges Lengherand, and Pero Tafur. 134  ‘Welcke historie die Veneetiaenen daer geseth hebben tot een ewighe memorie ende wel terecht tot een eewyghe glorie van haer.’ Jan Govertz, Reysen na Jerusalem ende Jordaan, ed. Renaat J. G. A. A. Gaspar (s.l., 2016), fol. 41r. 135  Govertz, fols. 41r–46r.

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virtues of Venice’s inhabitants such as loyalty to the city, justice, moderation, charity, and humility, faith is listed among them.136 Furthermore, together with several other virtues, piety is sometimes regarded as helping Venice gain material affluence and political stability. Felix Faber, for example, praises Venice for its large number of churches and divine worship, and goes on to say that, as Aristotle stated in his Ethics, religion is a condition for good and praiseworthy richness.137 The account of the Peace of Venice is a clear example of such entwinement of ideas on Venice: it underlines values from all main Renaissance narratives about the city. The presence of such interweaving, however, does not mean that one of the narratives about the city could not dominate the others. For instance, in Bernhard von Breydenbach’s Peregrinatio in terram sanctam, Venice is praised for its moral values, its material affluence, and its religiosity. For Breydenbach, this religious side manifests itself as an abundance of relics and piety of the inhabitants. In his eyes, this piety also permeates several other aspects of the city. His description of Venice starts with its history, then proceeds with its territories, the large number of ships, armed people, and artisans, the good government in subject territories, Venice’s superior power in the current war with Ferrara, and then he enumerates the Venetians’ many virtues. Their great devoutness receives much emphasis. Moreover, it is seen as the reason for the just government over their dominions, for their actions against pirates and sects, and for their great deeds in general, which give glory to Christendom.138 Here Breydenbach’s description of Venice ends, thereby emphasising this final point of Venice’s piety. A large series of texts, from a variety of literary genres, written by authors from different geographical and social backgrounds, characterise the city of Venice as a predominantly religious place. This chapter has analysed the construction and development of this narrative — a narrative so important that it was also adopted by many foreign visitors, particularly pilgrims. The city’s history and physical fabric are sometimes inextricably interwoven in the texts. This underlines the importance of not making too strict a separation between city descriptions and historical writing. In various respects geographical descriptions and historical writing also stood in the same tradition, connected with

136  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 128. 137  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:416. 138  Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. b r.

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the centuries-old tradition of the laudes civitatum. Although over the course of the fifteenth century the narrative of Venice as an essentially religious city became less prominent, it remained one of the main ways in which authors defined the city during this period. Indeed, parts of this narrative could persist when an author characterised the city in a different way, and could be combined with different views of the city.

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Venice, Centre of Material Culture While the idea of Venice as a religious city was an old one, it was by no means the only one that existed during the Renaissance. Many authors created a narrative of a city that derived its glory mainly from what can loosely be called its material culture. In order to do so, they focused in particular on the city’s location, urban structure, richness, commerce, industry, and art and scholarship. At the same time, they used their description of Venice’s material assets to address a large number of additional points about the city. A variety of factors influenced the way they shaped their representations of the city, as will become clear throughout this chapter. 1

A City Situated ‘in the Stormy Fury of the Sea’

An appropriate element with which to start this chapter is Venice’s location, as this was generally treated in the first part of the descriptions of the city. It is mentioned in the majority of the geographical descriptions in the Renaissance.1 Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan has shown how an image of a city dominating the waters surrounding it, suspended between earth and water, existed more in literary tradition than in historical reality. The land on which Venice was built was actually created for a large part out of the water by men, and the relation between land and water was constantly changing.2 Renaissance texts do not mention this relative instability, but instead describe Venice as a solid mass of land surrounded by sea. The exceptional site — a city built completely on small islands, connected to the mainland only in 1846 — is today still one of Venice’s most famous characteristics. Nevertheless, this should not lead us to assume that wonder over the city’s location was the only reason that so many Renaissance sources mention it. In late antiquity, rules about city praises already prescribed to mention 1  Exceptions to this can be found especially among pilgrims’ accounts. As shown in the previous chapter, pilgrims often place much emphasis on Venice’s external religious elements, which sometimes even leads them to omit the city’s location entirely. 2  Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Toward an Ecological Understanding of the Myth of Venice,” in Venice Reconsidered: The History and Civilization of an Italian City-State, 1297–1797, ed. John Jeffries Martin and Dennis Romano (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 39–64.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004428201_004

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the city’s site, and this element remained a topos in city descriptions during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.3 The similarity between the genre of the laudes civitatum and the fifteenth-century descriptions of Venice becomes clear also when we look at where authors mention the city’s site: often during the first part of their work, just as several theoretical works on city descriptions prescribed. Moreover, Renaissance authors could follow not only centuries-old theories, but also practical examples: in many medieval city descriptions the location is treated at the beginning, or at least in the first part of the text. This tradition was also known in Venice, as we can see for instance in Martin da Canal’s thirteenth-century chronicle Les estoires de Venise, which also places the city’s site in the beginning.4 Therefore, instead of explaining the initial position that city descriptions often give to Venice’s location only by an appeal to an inherent exceptionality, it is likely that literary tradition played a large part in this as well. The city’s location on the sea is seldom mentioned on its own. Marin Sanudo, for example, states in the beginning of his De situ: This [city] stands between the fluctuating waves of the sea, in the middle of the summit of the open sea, almost like a queen, restraining its great force. It is situated on the salt waters and built there, because first there were lagoons, and then, wanting to expand it, it was necessary to reclaim land in order to build palaces and houses. These are built daily, constructed on the water: the foundations are laid with great ingenuity on poles in the water. Every day the waters rise and fall; indeed, it [the city] remains dry when the water is very low and one almost cannot go by boat where one wishes in times of dryness. [The city] is almost seven miles in circumference, it does not have any walls around the city, nor gates which are locked at night, nor are there guards as other cities have for fear of enemies, because it is so very safe at the moment that nobody can hurt or frighten it.5

3  See Introduction. 4  Martin da Canal, Les estoires de Venise: Cronaca veneziana in lingua francese dalle origini al 1275, ed. Alberto Limentani (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 1972), 4. 5  ‘Questa tra le fluttuose onde del mar sta in mezo il vertice del pelago quasi come regina, mantiene il suo grande impeto, è situada sopra le acque salse et ivi fabricata però che era prima lacuni, et poi, volendola sgrandir, è sta’ necessario atterar per il fabricar delli palazzi et case che cotidie si fabricano, che batteno sora l’acqua; et si fa sora palli con grande inzegno le fondamente in acqua, et ogni zorno cresse et discresce le acque; adeo riman secho che l’acqua è molto bassa, et quasi non si puol andar per barca dove si voria, a tempi de’ secchi. È di circuito

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He connects the location of Venice with various characteristics: it is evidence of the ingenuity of the Venetians, and at the same time it is mentioned in combination with the city’s size and lack of walls and gates. Here, again, there is a continuity with the long-standing tradition of city descriptions, in which a city’s site and fortifications were often mentioned alongside each other. In fact, other authors also first mention Venice’s location on the sea and then continue to say that instead of walls it is surrounded by water.6 The Spanish pilgrim Pero Tafur (pilgrimage in 1435–1439) speaks about this characteristic in detail and even calls the city ‘the finest fortress in the world.’7 In this way authors transform something that according to the centuries-old tradition of city descriptions would be a negative characteristic for Venice — a lack of fortifications — into a positive one: the sea surrounding Venice makes this city such a safe place that, in contrast with other cities, it does not need artificial defences such as walls, gates, and guards. Felix Faber mentions a different reason for why Venice does not need walls — every house is so well fortified that the city as a whole is protected by a multitude of fortifications — but this, too, shows the importance of city walls in definitions of a city in this era.8 In the beginning of his Del sito di Venezia città, Marcantonio Sabellico sets forth how a city’s location is decisive for whether that city will be able to construct a well-governed dominion. He mentions several historical cases to prove this theory. When he comes to Venice, he states:

quasi mia sette, non ha muraglie niuna attorno la città, né porte che la notte si serrano, né si fa custodia come le altre cittade per paura de’ nemici, per esser al presente cusì segurissima che niun vi può offenderla né farli paura …’ Marin Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), 19. 6  For instance: Poggio Bracciolini, “Poggio Bracciolini, In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. Martin Davies, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 139; Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, ed. Marta Ceci (Roma: Zauli, 1995), 5, 7; Pius II, Commentaries, ed. Margaret Meserve and Marcello Simonetta, vol. II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 132; Pier Paolo Vergerio, “Pier Paolo Vergerio, The Venetian Republic: Selections,” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. Ronald G. Witt, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 119. 7  Pero Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 1435–1439, trans. Malcolm Henry Ikin Letts (London: George Routledge and sons, 1926), 163–64. 8  Felix Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, ed. Konrad Dieterich Hassler, vol. 3 (Stuttgart: Sumtibus societatis litterariae stuttgardiensis, 1849), 403.

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The magnificent and marvellous place of the city of Venice could promise not only this apex of state, to which it has arrived, to those first founders from the beginning, but also stable, perpetual, and durable dominion to the descendants.9 In addition to political stability and dominion, Sabellico connects the position of the lagoon city to various other elements, such as a healthy climate.10 Praise of a city’s climate was another topos from the tradition of city descriptions. However, even the combination of a desire to praise Venice and the existence of the tradition of laudes civitatum was not always strong enough to make authors praise Venice’s climate.11 For example, although Pier Paolo Vergerio says that the salt vapours of Venice’s climate inhibit superfluous humidity and are therefore very suitable for old people, he also says that the air in the city is thick and calls the climate intemperate, making it difficult to breathe in summer, with outgoing tides leaving an odour offensive to those unaccustomed to it.12 Tafur as well refers to ‘infected air’ in the city, but gives credit to the Venetians’ ingenuity for resolving this problem by having fires, burning perfumes, and carrying scents and spices with them.13 Just as in the case of Venice’s lack of fortifications, some authors in this way sought to transform an element which, according to a long tradition of city descriptions should be unfavourable, into a favourable one. By underlining that Venice’s location is different from other cities and that it has the sea surrounding it instead of fortifications, various texts create an image of distinctness and superiority. According to Francesco degli Allegri, the city’s unique location is proof of divine favour.14 The Milanese pilgrim Pietro 9  ‘Il stupendo et mirabile sito della Veneziana città non solamente questa sommità di Stato ove ella è venuta, a quei primi edificatori da principio poteva promettere, ma a discendenti eziando stabile, perpetuo et durevole imperio.’ Marcantonio Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città (1502), ed. G. Meneghetti (Venezia: Stamperia già Zanetti, 1957), 10. 10  Sabellico, 10–11. Bernardo Giustinian claimed the same thing. Patricia H. Labalme, Bernardo Giustiniani: A Venetian of the Quattrocento (Roma: Edizioni di storia e lette­ ratura, 1969), 279. 11  On the relation between man and nature in Venice and the Venetian lagoon in the Renaissance, see: Crouzet-Pavan, “Toward an Ecological Understanding of the Myth of Venice.” 12  Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 120. 13  Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 167–68. 14  Francesco degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia con la summa de le sue uictorie, nobi­ lita, paesi, e dignita, et officij, et altre nobilissime illustre cose di sue laude e glorie come ne la presente operetta se contiene: dicta est gloria cronice nove Venetorum (Venetia, 1501), USTC 808820, fol. [a iii v].

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Casola states that ‘there is no city to which Venice, city founded on the sea, can be compared.’15 He adds that, notwithstanding its position on the water, the city is well kept and clean, thereby immediately refuting possible negative consequences of this location.16 Another pilgrim, Felix Faber, also sees Venice’s location as a reason for its elevation above all other cities: I say that the first commendation of the city of Venice is its extraordinary place, foundation, and the way it is built. In fact, other cities that happen to be seen in the various ends of the world are called famous and glorious, but admirable only this one, for which the good-will of heaven was favourable so that the nature itself of things has given over. Because the other ones have been founded with workmanship and labour of men, which can be called the human way, with foundations laid in the earth, but this one, in the stormy fury of the sea and in the middle of the whirls of the open sea, raised its head like a queen among the other cities. It has the sea for a floor, the strait for a wall, the heavens for a roof, the waters of the open sea for paved and regal streets by which one comes to it [the city], and there is no entrance if not by water. In the city itself as well, in whatever place, one comes from the only slightly remote land to the waters.17 Venice’s position is also used to underline other aspects: divine help, ingenuity of the inhabitants, natural defences in the form of the surrounding sea. The same metaphor used by Faber — Venice’s location as a reason to compare the city with a queen — can also be found in other works, thereby once again stating Venice’s elevated position among other cities.18 15  ‘A me pare non li sii una citade a chi si possa comparare Venezia, citade fondata supra el mare …’ Pietro Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, ed. Anna Paoletti (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2001), 84. 16  This is also mentioned by Sabellico. Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 10. 17  ‘Dico primam commendationem civitatis Venetianae esse ex ejus mirabili situ, fundatione et aedificatione. Nam aliae civitates, quas per varias orbis terrarum oras aspexisse contigit, celebres gloriosaque vocantur, haec autem admiranda una est, cui tamen coelestis adspiravit favor, ut ipsa rerum natura cesserit, cum caeterae mortalium ingenio, opibus, manibus, quod humanitus dici potest, jactis humi fundamentis conditae sint, haec intra fluctuosos maris impetus et medios pelagi vertices quasi regina inter alias caput extulit urbes habetque pro pavimento mare, pro muro fretum, pro tecto coelum, pro stratis et regiis viis, quibus in eam venitur, pelagi aquas, nec est in eam introitus, nisi per aquas, et in ipsa urbe in quocumque loco, modica terra remota, venitur ad aquas.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:400. 18  See for instance: Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 19.

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Without losing sight of this book’s main interest — geographical descriptions — it is nevertheless important to keep in mind that there was an interaction between city representations in texts and images. Indeed, contemporaries sometimes refer to the similar roles played by textual and visual city depictions. In the introduction to his Del sito di Venezia città, Marcantonio Sabellico writes: those who will see Venice for some time, and who will perhaps read my writings, will have to confirm as with one mouth that I have not only described this city’s site but that, as in a painting, I have expressed its true image.19 Conversely, in the sixteenth century a painting of Venice in Jacopo Salviati’s possession is listed in an inventory as containing ‘the description of Venice.’20 Texts are likened to images and vice versa. Remarks like these are reminders that in various aspects contemporaries would not have regarded visual city representations as fundamentally different from textual ones, and that the two types could influence each other. In fact, the same emphasis on Venice as a city on the sea that we have seen in descriptions can also be found in various visual representations. A manuscript currently in Florence, Conventi soppressi 122 in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, combines text and image.21 This codex, dating from the first half of the fifteenth century and consisting of 266 folia, contains a very large selection of vernacular poems, most of them copied by the same hand.22 Several are by Simone Serdini da Siena, also called Il Saviozzo (ca.1360–1419/1420). One of these is about Venice: a long praise that focuses mainly on the city’s moral

19  ‘quelli, che Venezia per alcun tempo vedranno, et forse leggeranno i miei scritti, con una bocca debbano affermare, che io non solamente abbia descritto di questa città il sito, ma come in una tavola, la vera immagine di lei avere espresso.’ Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 10. 20   ‘Un quadro simile vecchio dentrovi la descrizzione di Venezia.’ Antonio Fazzini, “Collezionismo privato nella Firenze del Cinquecento: L’ ‘appartamento nuovo’ di Jacopo di Alamanno Salviati,” Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Serie 3 23, no. 1 (1993): 203. I am grateful to Klazina Botke for this reference. 21  I am indebted to Maria Clotilde Camboni for drawing my attention to this manuscript and to the depiction of Venice that it contains. A detailed analysis of the manuscript as a whole can be found in several of her publications, in particular: Maria Clotilde Camboni, “Un manoscritto miscellaneo di rime e prose volgari: Firenze, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Conventi soppressi 122” (Università degli Studi di Pisa, 2004). 22  Mostra di codici romanzi delle biblioteche fiorentine (Firenze: Sansoni, 1957), 12–13.

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virtues.23 Although this poem has been handed down in multiple manuscripts, in this codex the text is accompanied by a small drawing of Venice (figure 1), made either by the person responsible for copying the poem or somebody who decided later to add a little visual representation of the city.24 It represents an early example of a view of the Piazzetta, seen from the basin of San Marco. It clearly shows the Ducal Palace, the bell tower, and the two pillars of the Piazzetta. In the forefront two or three smaller houses are standing directly on the water of the basin of San Marco, which extends all the way in front of the buildings. On the left a figure observes the scene. This remarkable drawing, which has remained almost entirely unstudied in historiography, is placed in the margin directly underneath the first part of Serdini’s poem. The poem does not actually mention the Piazzetta — or, for that matter, any specific spaces within the city — but instead focuses predominantly on Venice’s abstract moral qualities. Nevertheless, it is obvious that the drawing was meant to go together with the poem’s subject. Indeed, this is not the only place in the codex where text and image match; the codex contains a wealth of detailed small drawings — often more than one on the same page — which in many cases illustrate the contents of the poems they accompany. There are more depictions that clearly show or even emphasise Venice’s location on water, such as the representations of Venice accompanying different editions of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s Libro d’oltramare, an account of a pilgrimage made in 1346–1350: a German manuscript illustration from around 1467, a woodcut in a work printed in Bologna in 1500, an image in an Italian manu­ script from 1453, and an image in an Italian manuscript that can be dated to the fifteenth or early sixteenth century (figures 2–5).25 They all depict Venice 23  On this poem, see in particular section 4.3. 24  Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Conventi soppressi 122, fols. 61r–62v. Depiction of Venice on fol. 61r. 25  The German manuscript of around 1467 — now London, British Library, Egerton 1900 — contains 147 miniatures. It was said to describe a journey to the Holy Land made in 1465 by Gabriel Muffel from Nuremberg, but in reality it is a German translation of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s book. On this manuscript, including an edition of the text, see in particular: C. D. M. Cossar, The German translation of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s ‘Libro d’oltra­mare’ (Göppingen: Kümmerle, 1985). In 1500 an Italian version was printed by Giustiniano da Rubiera in Bologna, as an anonymous work entitled Viazo da Venesia al Sancto Iherusalem. The 1453 manuscript — Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Panciatichi 78 — includes the date on the title page, mentioned by the scribe. Finally, the undated Italian manuscript — New York Public Library, Spencer 62 — was unknown to scholars of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s Libro d’oltramare until Kathryn Blair Moore drew attention to it. See in particular: Kathryn Blair Moore, “The Disappearance of an Author and the Emergence of a Genre: Niccolò da Poggibonsi and Pilgrimage Guidebooks between Manuscript and Print,” Renaissance Quarterly 66, no. 2 (2013): 357–411. The catalogue of

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View of Venice in the margin of Simone Serdini da Siena’s poem. Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Conventi Soppressi 122, fol. 61r Courtesy of the Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali e per il turismo / Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Florence

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Die vorneme stat venedig in the German translation of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s travel account, ca.1467. London, British Library, Egerton 1900, fol. 4r Courtesy of the British Library Board

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Woodcut in Viazo da Venesia al Sancto Iherusalem, printed by Giustiniano da Rubiera in Bologna in 1500. Biblioteca Queriniana, Brescia Courtesy of the Associazione Bibliofili Bresciani ‘Bernardino Misinta’

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View of Venice in a 1453 manuscript. Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Panciatichi 78, fol. 1v Courtesy of the Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali e per il turismo / Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence

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as a group of freestanding buildings, in the middle of the water, without any land surrounding them. A few boats — very large in the 1467 version — sail between the buildings. The German manuscript illustration does not show any bridges connecting the houses, and the Italian 1453 manuscript shows only tentative outlines of one. Similar to the drawing accompanying Serdini’s poem, in all four images the absence of any streets, gardens, or simply non-occupied land underlines the idea of Venice as an entirely urbanised space floating on the sea. Only the undated Italian manuscript includes one small uncultivated island. All four images are based on an earlier one, which is included in a manuscript in the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale in Florence (II.IV.101). The manu­ script contains the oldest surviving copy of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s travel account. Kathryn Blair Moore has argued that it is possible that this manuscript was made shortly after Niccolò da Poggibonsi returned to Italy in 1350, perhaps even by Niccolò himself.26 One of the drawings in this manuscript depicts the city of Venice (figure 6), but has never before attracted close attention, nor has its importance for our knowledge of depictions of Venice been recognised.27 Indeed, not many images of the city are known from this early period.28 The the New York Public Library, where this manuscript is held, dates it to the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century; Moore has suggested the second half of the fifteenth century. 26  Moore has shown convincingly that the images of the Holy Land contained in the undated manuscript, the manuscripts from 1453 and 1467, and the printed work from 1500 are based on the ones contained in II.IV.101. Her analysis focuses on the depictions of the Holy Land, not on the one of Venice. Kathryn Blair Moore, The Architecture of the Christian Holy Land: Reception from Late Antiquity through the Renaissance (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017); Moore, “The Disappearance of an Author and the Emergence of a Genre.” II.IV.101 is undated; library catalogues and bibliographies since the late eighteenth century have dated it sometimes to the fourteenth, other times to the fifteenth century. Moore is the only scholar who has published about this manuscript at length. For her hypothesis on its date, see in particular: Kathryn Blair Moore, “Seeing through Text: The Visualization of Holy Land Architecture in Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s ‘Libro d’Oltramare,’ 14th–15th Centuries,” Word and Image 25, no. 4 (2009): 402–15; Moore, “The Disappearance of an Author and the Emergence of a Genre.” 27  Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, II.IV.101, fol. 1v. 28  See in particular: Giorgio Bellavitis, “L’evoluzione della struttura urbanistica di Venezia attraverso i secoli: I primi documenti cartografici,” Bollettino del centro internazionale di studi di architettura Andrea Palladio 18 (1976): 225–39; Giorgio Bellavitis and Giandomenico Romanelli, Venezia, Le città nella storia d’Italia (Roma: Laterza, 1985); Giocondo Cassini, Piante e vedute prospettiche di Venezia (1479–1855) (Venezia: Stamperia di Venezia, 1982); Ennio Concina, “‘In description con pentura’: Note sulla rappresentazione urbana e sulla cartografia nella Venezia del Trecento,” in Venezia e Venezie: Descrizioni, interpretazioni, immagini, ed. Fabrizio Borin and Filippo Pedrocco (Padova: Il poligrafo, 2003), 15–21; Cesare de Seta, Ritratti di città: Dal Rinascimento al secolo XVIII (Torino: Einaudi, 2011);

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View of Venice, fifteenth or early sixteenth century. New York Public Library, Spencer 62, fols. 1v–2r Courtesy of the New York Public Library

oldest extant map of Venice is the one made by Fra Paolino around 1330. If we exclude maps and portolan charts and look only at city views, the drawing of Venice in II.IV.101, following Moore’s hypothesis about the dating of this manu­ script, predates all previously known views of the city. It is a pen drawing accompanying Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s description of Venice, made in the same pen as the text. The city is represented as a collection of buildings — houses, churches, a bell tower, and a few open spaces — in Deborah Howard, “Venice: Reality and Representation,” in The Image of Venice: Fialetti’s View and Sir Henry Wotton, ed. Deborah Howard and Henrietta McBurney (London: Paul Holberton Publishing, 2014), 26–39; Giuliana Mazzi, “La cartografia per il mito: Le imma­ gini di Venezia nel Cinquecento,” in Architettura e utopia nella Venezia del Cinquecento, ed. Lionello Puppi (Milano: Electa, 1980), 50–58; Juergen Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s View of Venice: Map Making, City Views, and Moralized Geography before the Year 1500,” The Art Bulletin 60, no. 3 (1978): 425–74.   Fra Paolino’s map was published for the first time in 1781 by Tommaso Temanza, who argued that it was a fourteenth-century copy of a twelfth-century original. Although this has been disproven convincingly by Giorgio Bellavitis in his 1976 article, some publications still use this date.

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View of Venice. Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, II.IV.101, fol. 1v Courtesy of the Ministero per i beni e le attività culturali e per il turismo / Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Florence

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the middle of the sea, connected by three bridges, with boats sailing between them. Without going into too much detail on the similarities and differences between the city views, suffice it to say that, whether directly or indirectly, all four of the aforementioned depictions of Venice are clearly based on the one in II.IV.101: all elements of the image are present and arranged in a similar layout. Indeed, the outlines of certain parts of the drawing in II.IV.101, specifically the building on the bottom left and the two boats, are traced by small pinpricks in the paper. This technique, called pricking and pouncing, was used to copy images: powder was sifted through the pinpricks onto another surface, thereby transferring the outlines of the image. The presence of these pinpricks is a strong indication that the depiction of Venice in II.IV.101 was copied onto at least one other surface. In all of the aforementioned images only a limited number of buildings can be seen. Erhard Reuwich’s woodcut for Bernhard von Breydenbach’s Peregrinatio in terram sanctam (figure 7) shows a more detailed view. The city is filled with many different types of buildings, canals, streets, open places, boats, and people. However, the idea of a highly urbanised space in the middle of water is similar to the previous depictions. As a final example, when speaking of views of Venice, Jacopo de’ Barbari’s famous Venetie MD (figure 8), made in 1497–1500 and measuring 2.82 metres in length and 1.35 metres in height, cannot be left out.29 The woodcut was published by Anton Kolb. It was intended for an international audience — probably a rich one, considering the work’s price — but it enjoyed success within the city of Venice as well. Indeed, the unusually large number of extant prints points to the contemporary recognition of the work. It probably had the official sanction, or even encouragement, of the Venetian government.30 This representation presents a view from a higher point than the previously mentioned depictions. Here, Venice is shown as a compact city surrounded on all sides by a large ring of water — an encompassing function that in the case of other cities was performed by city walls. 29  Jacopo de’ Barbari’s view of Venice has been the subject of an extensive literature. See in particular: Corrado Balistreri Trincanato et al., eds., Venezia città mirabile: Guida alla veduta prospettica di Jacopo de’ Barbari (Verona: Cierre edizioni, 2009); Bellavitis, “L’evoluzione della struttura urbanistica di Venezia attraverso i secoli: I primi documenti cartografici”; Bellavitis and Romanelli, Venezia; Deborah Howard, “Venice as a Dolphin: Further Investigations into Jacopo de’ Barbari’s View,” Artibus et Historiae 18, no. 35 (1997): 101–11; Giandomenico Romanelli, Susanna Biadene, and Camillo Tonini, eds., A volo d’uccello: Jacopo de’ Barbari e le rappresentazioni di città nell’Europa del Rinascimento (Venezia: Arsenale editrice, 1999); Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s View of Venice.” 30  Howard, “Venice as a Dolphin,” 102–3; David Landau and Peter Parshall, The Renaissance Print, 1470–1550 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1994), 43–46.

figure 7

Erhard Reuwich’s woodcut in Bernhard von Breydenbach’s Peregrinatio in terram sanctam (Mainz, 1486). Cambridge, Trinity College Library, Grylls 2.173 Courtesy of the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge

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figure 8

Jacopo de’ Barbari, Venetie MD, printed in 1500. Woodcut on six sheets of paper. Minneapolis Institute of Art, The John R. Van Derlip Fund, 2010.88 Photo: Minneapolis Institute of Art

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Urban Structure

As we have seen, Renaissance texts frequently link comments on Venice’s location to comments on the absence of city walls and gates. This is often followed by the city’s infrastructure, general division, shape, and urbanisation. The German pilgrim Arnold von Harff describes Venice’s infrastructure as follows: [Venice] lies in the middle of the salt sea, without walls, and with many tidal canals flowing from the sea, so that in almost every street or house there is water flowing behind or in front, so that it is necessary to have little boats, called barks, in order to go from one house, from one street, or from one church to another, and I was told as a fact that the barks at Venice number more than fifty thousand.31 Many Renaissance texts mention the Venetian canals, thereby stressing the city’s exceptionality. Several of these texts also use the canals as a framework to speak of the subdivision of the city. Vergerio, Sanudo, Sabellico, and Faber all set forth how the city is divided in two by the Grand Canal. Sabellico and Sanudo further specify that there are three sestieri on each side.32 Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi first draws the reader’s attention to the Grand Canal, then to the more than two hundred canals and rii, the types of houses to which these canals lead, the streets, and finally the division of the city into sestieri. After a brief description of the sestieri, Guidi mentions how they in turn are divided into rii, canals, and contrade. To this image he adds some remarks on the large number of inhabitants and the lack of city walls and gates. Moreover, 31  ‘[Venedich] lijcht mytz in dem gesaltzen mer, sunder muyre, myt vil ebbender vleyssen vss deme mer dar durch gaende, so dat wael in yeder straisse ader huyss vuer aff hynden wasser hayt louffen, dar vmb dat gar vil kleyner schyff dae moyssen sijn, barcken genant, van eyme huyss, van eyner straessen, van eyner kirchen zo der anderen zo varen, as man mir in der waerheyt saichte dat der barcken weren bynnen Venedich me dan vunfftzich dusent.’ Arnold von Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff von Cöln durch Italien, Syrien, Aegypten, Arabien, Aethiopien, Nubien, Palästina, die Türkei, Frankreich und Spanien, wie er sie in den Jahren 1496 bis 1499 vollendet, beschrieben und durch Zeichnungen erläutert hat, ed. Eberhard von Groote (Cöln: J. M. Heberle (H. Lempertz), 1860), 46. Translation from: Arnold von Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Knight: From Cologne through Italy, Syria, Egypt, Arabia, Ethiopia, Nubia, Palestine, Turkey, France and Spain, Which He Accomplished in the Years 1496 to 1499, trans. Malcolm Henry Ikin Letts (Nendeln: Kraus Reprint, 1967), 57. 32  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:402; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 11–12; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 19, 22; Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 119.

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he links the Grand Canal with his main topic of interest, namely commerce: he explains how the canal is always filled with ships transporting goods, how people trade on its fondamente, how the adjacent houses can serve to bring in merchandise, and how at its beginning there are salt depots and customs.33 Both Guidi and Sanudo, furthermore, speak of the large number of rich and beautiful houses present in Venice, starting with those adjacent to the Grand Canal before continuing with the others.34 The presence of canals brought with it that of boats, which are often part of descriptions of the city as well. Although they do not agree on the precise number, the Renaissance city descriptions — written by both Venetians and foreigners — regard the very large number of boats as something extraordinary. Guidi, who throughout his poem often specifies the quantities of objects, states that there are over six thousand boats in the city which can be hired to transport people, while Commynes thinks that there are thirty thousand.35 Johann Meisenheimer even speaks of more than forty thousand boats, ‘which do nothing else than take people from one house or street to another, and from one church to another. And by this about forty thousand men support themselves.’36 Sanudo simply states that there are so many boats that it is impossible to count them.37 Through such remarks on Venice’s position, lack of city walls, and remarkable infrastructure, an image of otherness is created: a strange town, in the middle of the sea, where people move in boats along canals. Casola does not just include a reference to the city’s boats, but also specifies that ‘whoever does not want to endure the fatigue [of going on foot] can go by water, and is entreated to do so, and for little money, not even what he would spend elsewhere for going by horse.’38 Sanudo provides us with a series of de33  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 31–32, 41–42, 57–58. 34  Guidi, 31–32, 41–42; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 19–20. 35  Philippe de Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, ed. Samuel Kinser, trans. Isabelle Cazeaux, vol. 2 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1973), 489; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 40. See also: Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 46. 36  ‘unnd als man meinen gnädigen Herren zugesagt hat / findet man deselbst mehr denn vierzig tausendt kleine Schiff / die nichts anders thun denn Leute führen / von einem Hauß oder Gassen zu dem andern / unnd von einer Kirchen zu der andern. Unnd damit ernehren sich bey vierzig tausendt Mann.’ Sigmund Feyerabend, ed., “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” in Reyßbuch deß heyligen Lands (Franckfort am Mayn: Feyerabendt, 1584), fol. 34r. 37  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 20. See also: Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 98. 38  ‘chi anche non vole durare la fatica pò per aqua, e pregato e con poca spexa e manco che non farebbe altroe andare a cavalo.’ Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 84.

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tails, such as the boats’ colours, by whom and how they are rowed, the function, shape, colour, and material of their covering, the number of passengers they can carry, and how much they cost.39 He also mentions briefly that people in Venice can move both by foot and by boat. Just like Casola, Sanudo compares Venice’s boats to horses in other cities, though he reaches a different conclusion: according to him the boats are costlier. In this way, Sanudo underlines above all Venice’s otherness, but also points out that, if one wished to compare this city to others, Venice would still be superior. The mode of transportation available in other cities (going by foot) is also available to Venetians, but they even have an alternative (going by boat), and in this exceptional means of transport they show that they are richer. Caio Caloria, also called Ponzio, links Venice’s canals also to something else: in the evening the whole city is filled with gondolas and ‘you will see women singing music / playing a thousand instruments on the water.’40 Caloria, probably originally from Messina, studied law in Padua from 1479 to 1488 and subsequently spent two years in Venice.41 He then returned to Sicily, where he wrote a poem in praise of Venice, In honorem Venetorum. The poem, which he dedicated to one of his friends from Venice, Paolo Pisani, did not have a large circulation; it has been handed down to us in only one manuscript and has never been published. In it, Caloria mentions many topics that are common in descriptions of Venice and that could be inspired by a combination of other city representations and personal experience, but also a few that occur less frequently and that probably go back to his own experiences as a young man in the city. In this way ideas about Venice could find their way across Europe, in this case to the very south of Italy. When describing Venice’s canals and boats, Caloria speaks of music. Although singing and playing music on the canals was a common pastime in early modern Venice, it is a rare topic in fifteenth-century descriptions of the city.42 Caloria’s poem does mention it, speaking also about young lovers who sing and play instruments such as viols, clavichords, and flutes. 39  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 20–21. 40  ‘Vederai donne musica cantando,   mille instrumenti sonando per aqua.’ Caio Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 304 (=6077), fol. 36v. 41  Enrico Pispisa, “Caloria, Caio, detto Ponzio,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 1973; Vittorio Rossi, “Caio Caloria Ponzio e la poesia volgare letteraria in Sicilia nel secolo XV,” Archivio storico siciliano 18 (1893): 237–75. 42  On the Venetian pastime of singing and playing music on the canals, see: Iain Fenlon, The Ceremonial City: History, Memory and Myth in Renaissance Venice (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 205–6.

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Multiple texts depict Venice as superior not only in its exceptional characteristics but in its more common ones too. We see this, for example, in the references to the city’s high degree of urbanisation. Tafur writes that ‘the houses are built very close together,’43 while Sabellico states that if somebody would look at the city from a high point ‘it would seem to him an image of land full of towers in the middle of the ocean.’44 This is visually expressed in the five city views accompanying the different versions of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s travel account, treated earlier (figures 2–6). With the exception of the small uncultivated island in one of the images, the depictions show Venice as an almost completely urbanised city. Something else that can be seen in these depictions is Venice as segmented space: there are several small groups of buildings, rather than one city. This is also the case in various geographical descriptions, where authors marvel over the fact that Venice is not one unbroken piece of land, but consists of many small islands, which are all completely built upon. According to Faber this explains why in Latin the name of Venice is plural: ‘because they are more cities in one.’45 Casola makes the same comment on Venice resembling several cities combined into one, and sees the city’s large size as a reason for this.46 Venice’s large population is another point generally mentioned together with aspects of urban structure — mentioned by both Venetians and foreigners, and throughout the entire fifteenth century. Several authors simply write that the city is very populous,47 while Marin Sanudo does not explicitly marvel

43  Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 163. 44  ‘Onde avviene che se alcuno di sopra d’alcuna piu alta vedetta contemplasse la città, un’immagine della terra de Torri piena in mezzo l’oceano mare gli parrebbe vedere.’ Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 11. 45  ‘Unde non solum usus grammaticorum privavit nomen illius urbis singulari numero, sicut contigit civitati Athenarum, sed etiam realis habitudo illius urbis ostendit, eam carere singulari numero, ut non dicamus Venetia, Venetiae, sed Venetiae, Venetiarum, cum sint plures civitates unius civitatis.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:402. 46  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 84. See also: Pius II, Commentaries, 2007, II:130. 47  See for instance: Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 46; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 46; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 163. Antonio da Crema mentions it too, although not together with urban structure: Antonio da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 1486, ed. Gabriele Nori (Ospedaletto, Pisa: Pacini, 1996), 36.

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at the size of the population, but does inflate it to 150,000.48 Francesco degli Allegri even claims that there are a million people living in the city.49 For Felix Faber, the extraordinarily large number of inhabitants constitutes the second of thirteen elements that bring glory to Venice.50 Even the shape of the city could be used to make a statement on Venice’s superiority. According to Sabellico, if one were able to look at the city from a high point, it would become clear that it is rather round, provided that one included the Giudecca and excluded three parts where the city expands outside a circular form.51 By insisting that Venice is shaped like a circle — considered already for centuries to be the most beautiful shape of all, symbolising for example original perfection, wholeness, eternity, fulfilment, and even God — Sabellico again tries to underline the city’s superiority.52 To return to what we started this section with — Venice’s infrastructure — we see once again that not only aspects peculiar to Venice are mentioned, such as canals, but also aspects occurring in other cities too: streets and squares. Casola, to mention an example, writes: The said city, even though it is in the water, as I have said, has so many beautiful squares, starting with that of San Marco, that they would suffice for any large city on the mainland. They are so long and spacious that it is a marvel. I have watched the said city and I have reflected that it is so well organised and ordered that, however much it rains, there is never any mud.53

48  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 21. 49  Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [d iii r]. Pero Tafur speaks of 70,000 inhabitants, excluding serving people and foreigners. Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 163. 50  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:399, 403–4. 51  Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 11. 52  Deborah Howard has argued that in Jacopo de’ Barbari’s Venetie MD the distortions at the left side (severe compression at the join of the two left sheets of the woodcut) were made deliberately by De’ Barbari in order to give the city the shape of a dolphin. This would allude to Venice’s protection by Neptune, Mercury, and Venus, and associate the city with fortune, speed, musical harmony, and the Christian resurrection of the soul. Howard, “Venice as a Dolphin.” 53  ‘Ha dicta citade, per esser in aqua como è dicto, tante belle piaze, comenzando a Santo Marco, che bastarebbeno ad ogni grande citade posto in terra firma; sono longhe e spa­ tiose che è una maraviglia. Ho veduto dicta citade e considerata, che è talmente disposita e ben ordinata che, piova quanto si voglia, mai non non ci è fanga.’ Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 87. See also Casola, 84.

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The cleanliness of the city is also mentioned by other authors,54 as is the fact that pavements are made of brick — a luxury compared to unpaved roads.55 We see that for these authors Venice should not only be praised for the presence of certain features that were unique, thus emphasising Venice’s otherness, but also for the admirability of more general urban characteristics, such as its infrastructure. 3 Wealth The strong economic position of Venice in the Renaissance is reflected in the city descriptions of this period. It is an important element when authors construct a narrative of Venice as a centre of outstanding material culture. Indeed, it is almost a constant factor in city descriptions, both by Venetians and foreigners. When Anselmo Adorno gives brief characterisations of various Italian cities — Milan is populous and large, Florence beautiful, Naples refined or noble, Ravenna ancient, and Genoa proud, magnanimous, and strong — Venice is included as rich and admirable.56 Flavio Biondo divides his description of Italy, Italia illustrata, according to region, but the city of Venice is treated as though it were a region in itself: he explains that one of the reasons for this is that its riches are comparable to that of an entire region.57 When richness is mentioned in the city descriptions, some aspects are particularly emphasised: original richness, buildings, clothing, and ceremonies. These aspects rarely stand alone. Authors often link them to a range of values, 54  See for example: Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 167. 55  Pius II, Commentaries, 2007, II:132; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 32; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 167. 56  Anselmo Adorno, Itinéraire d’Anselme Adorno en Terre Sainte (1470–1471), ed. Jacques Heers and Georgette de Groër (Paris: Éditions du Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1978), 50. 57  Flavio Biondo, Northern Italy, ed. Catherine J. Castner, Biondo Flavio’s Italia Illustrata: Text, Translation, and Commentary 1 (Binghamton: Global Academic Publishing, 2005), 146.   Biondo started working on the Italia illustrata in 1447 or 1448. In order to forestall being plagiarised he hastily finished a first manuscript version in 1453, but afterwards he continued to correct and add to the work. Biondo died in 1463; the work was printed for the first time in 1474. Catherine J. Castner, “Introduction,” in Northern Italy, ed. Catherine J. Castner, Biondo Flavio’s Italia Illustrata: Text, Translation, and Commentary 1 (Binghamton: Global Academic Publishing, 2005), XXI–XXIII; Eric W. Cochrane, Historians and Historiography in the Italian Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981), 40; Jeffrey A. White, “Introduction,” in Italy Illuminated, ed. Jeffrey A. White, vol. 1 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), X.

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such as equality, austerity, respect for impersonal political offices, and traditionalism, which offers the opportunity to analyse a number of issues. 3.1 Original Richness When speaking about Venice’s early history, Vergerio calls the early Venetians fishermen and sailors, living in isolated houses, without commenting on their wealth.58 Breydenbach writes that it is miraculous, difficult to believe, and praiseworthy that Venice, the most famous and powerful city of the world, has grown ‘from the tiny huts and small dwellings of fishermen.’59 According to Guidi, who emphasises commerce throughout his work, Venice’s early inhabitants lived in fragile dwellings made of straw, reeds, and planks, subsequently earning their wealth by trading.60 In general, however, rather than speaking about humble origins, Renaissance literature underlines original richness: the idea that Venice had been rich from its beginnings. This idea had entered Venetian historiography in the thirteenth century, when Martin da Canal mentioned it. As a result of the Fourth Crusade, Venice had become the capital of a large dominion and this had consequences for historical writing; humble wooden huts were no longer regarded as fitting for such an important city.61 The theme of Venice’s original wealth can also be found in historical writing from the Renaissance. Already in the first chapter of his Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto, Giorgio Dolfin sets forth how people moved to the lagoon ‘with their wealth and holy things’ and how they built their houses and churches.62 In line with the emphasis on Venice’s religious side present throughout Dolfin’s chronicle, we see a stress on Venice’s immediate sanctity — but there is immediate richness too. Dolfin’s fellow Venetian, 58  Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 118. 59  ‘ex parvulis piscatorum tuguriis et mansiunculis.’ Bernhard von Breydenbach, Peregrinationes: Un viaggiatore del Quattrocento a Gerusalemme e in Egitto, ed. Gabriella Bartolini and Giulio Caporali (Roma: Vecchiarelli, Roma nel Rinascimento, 1999), fol. [a viii r]– [a viii v]. 60  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 5–6. On the idea of the early Venetians as merchants, see also section 2.4. 61  Patricia Fortini Brown, “The Self-Definition of the Venetian Republic,” in City-States in Classical Antiquity and Medieval Italy, ed. Anthony Molho, Kurt Raaflaub, and Julia Emlen (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991), 514; Antonio Carile, “Le origini di Venezia nella tradizione storiografica,” in Dalle origini al Trecento, Storia della cultura veneta 1 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1976), 135–66. 62  ‘cun le sue richeze e cose sante.’ Giorgio Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, vol. 1 (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2007), 45. See also, for example: Venetian chronicle until 1478 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 52 (=7604), fol. 4r.

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Sanudo, states in the beginning of his De situ that Venice was founded ‘not by shepherds like Rome, but by powerful and rich people.’63 In this case the emphasis on the long history of Venice’s affluence is linked to superiority over one particular city, Rome. Comparisons with certain other cities, such as Jerusalem and Rome, were a common element in city descriptions, both during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.64 Indeed, in various descriptions, and regarding various characteristics of Venice, we find such comparisons. The importance of the idea that Venice had been rich from its origins is also shown in the explicit attempts of Venice’s adversaries to refute it. The Florentine Benedetto Dei (1418–1492), writing around 1472, compares the three noble ancestries of the Florentines with the three lowly ones of the Venetians. He underlines the Venetians’ poor origins as fishermen and refutes the idea that it was noble to descend from Antenor. We are from three honourable bloodlines: one-third Roman, one-third French, and one-third Fiesolan. Therefore, compare that with yourselves, who come from three ancestries: first you are Slavs, then you are Paduans, from that traitorous blood of Antenor, and for the other third you are fishermen from Malamocco and Chioggia.65 Moreover, the wide distribution and strength of this image of original richness becomes clear from its use by foreigners, even to the point that some travellers passing briefly through Venice would notice it and find it important 63  ‘non da pastori come Roma, ma da populi potenti et ricchi …’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 19. In the beginning of De origine he says roughly the same: ‘et havé principio (…) non da pastori come Roma, ma da nobeli et potenti come diremo di sotto.’ Sanudo, 8. Later he describes indeed how people fleeing for Attila brought their treasure with them. Sanudo, 10.   Another example is Flavio Biondo, who describes in detail how Venice was founded by powerful and wealthy men from various cities of the north-eastern Italian mainland. Biondo, Northern Italy, 146. 64  P. G. Schmidt, “Mittelalterliches und humanistisches Städtelob,” in Die Rezeption der Antike: Zum Problem der Kontinuität zwischen Mittelalter und Renaissance, ed. A. Buck (Hamburg: Hauswedell, 1981), 119–28; Paul Zumthor, La misura del mondo: La rappresentazione dello spazio nel Medio Evo, trans. Simonetta Varvaro (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1995), 110. See also Introduction. 65  ‘no’ siàno di tre sanghui onorevoli: una terza parte Romani e terza parte Franzesi e terza parte Fiesolani: sicchè fate paraone fra voi medesimi che siete di tre istirppe: prima vo’ siete Ischiavoni, l’altra vo’ siete Padovani, di quel sanghue traditoracco d’Antenore, e l’altra terza parte vo’ siete peschatori da Malamocho e da Chioza.’ Benedetto Dei, “Un frammento inedito della Cronaca di Benedetto Dei,” ed. Giustiniano degli Azzi, Archivio storico italiano 110 (1952): 108.

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enough to include in their work. The account of the Flemish nobleman Joos van Ghistele contains a description of Venice that focuses mainly on the bell tower and the treasure of the Basilica of San Marco, the Ducal Palace, and the Arsenal. Notwithstanding this small range of topics discussed, Van Ghistele does include the following remark: ‘It is said there that all old structures that are in Venice — which are many — have almost all come from Troy and have been brought from there, like columns, marble stones, and other things.’66 In this way the idea of Venice’s original wealth is combined with that of the city’s Trojan origins, thereby creating a very strong link between Venice and Troy: not only the Venetians, but even the physical structure of the city itself originates from Trojan civilisation. Anselmo Adorno refers to the same idea. When he speaks about the gymnasium of Athens, he says that its ruins have embellished the city of Genoa, ‘just as the ruins of Troy have enhanced the beauty of Venice.’67 It is possible that he based this on the mid-fourteenth-century account of the German pilgrim Ludolf von Sudheim (an account that was widely diffused and translated into several languages), who had made the same comment on Genoa and Venice being built with material from Athens and Troy respectively.68 In Felix Faber’s travel account, too, the city of Venice is described as having been partly built from Trojan material.69 According to this version, a poor fisherman and his wife Nesa were the first people to live at the site of present-day Venice, before the time of the Trojans. The location became known as Nesia. After the fall of Troy, one of the Trojan princes, Venetus, settled in Nesia and renamed it Venetia. When the city grew, the inhabitants sailed to the destroyed city of Troy, and from its ruins they removed marble columns, polished boards, and sculpted stones, and sea-shells, put this on ships and took it to Venice, and they built that city from ruins of the most noble Troy.70 66  ‘Men seit daer dat alle de oude gheveerten binnen Venegen zijnde, diere vele es, zijn meest alle commen van Troyen ende daer ghebrocht, als colummen, marbersteenen ende ander dijnc.’ Ambrosius Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, ed. Renaat J. G. A. A. Gaspar (Hilversum: Verloren, 1998), 418. 67  ‘In qua felix gignasium Athenarum sita erat; cujus ruina Januam in multis adornavit, veluti Troye ruina Venecias in pulchritudine juvit.’ Adorno, Itinéraire d’Anselme Adorno en Terre Sainte, 154. 68  Quoted by Heers and De Groer in: Adorno, 154–55. 69  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:400–401. 70  ‘et de ruinis ejus columnas marmoreas, tabulas politas et sculptas petras et conchas levaverint et navibus impositas Venetias duxerint, eamque urbem de ruinis nobilissimae Trojae suscitaverunt.’ Faber, 3:401.

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While these comments about Troy’s ruins being physically integrated into the city of Venice were made by foreigners, this does not mean that a similar story could not have existed in Venice. It seems unlikely that such a narrative would have circulated in different parts of Europe but remain unknown in Venice, which was not only the object of the story but also the place where most pilgrims went to embark for the Holy Land. Indeed, in addition to being copied from the travel accounts of other pilgrims, this type of story could very well have been exchanged in Venice. The idea that parts of the city of Venice had been brought from other places would not have seemed strange to people familiar with the city, since this was an actual practice. A famous example is the embellishment of the Basilica of San Marco with Byzantine spolia after the Fourth Crusade. Patricia Fortini Brown has treated this type of incorporation of material from other places into the city of Venice, for instance from Aquileia, Ravenna, Constantinople, and various islands of the Eastern Mediterranean.71 She has shown that this practice should be viewed as a way to compensate for Venice’s lack of a classical past. She has also argued that by the fifteenth century this practice, which she describes as ‘inverse cultural imperialism,’ was regarded in chronicles as a guarantor of excellence. Indeed, Giorgio Dolfin writes about restructurings of the Basilica of San Marco that took place after the late eleventh-century apparitio: And that time the Venetians decided to exalt that church of Saint Mark, which was continuously being worked on, to adorn it with the most magnificent columns that they could find, and they sent [people] to search for them in the entire world …72 From the comments of Van Ghistele, Adorno, Sudheim, and Faber it becomes clear that the same technique of appropriation of physical remnants from the past could also be applied to a legendary past, namely Venice’s Trojan origins. In these cases, there is an interaction between invented narratives 71  Patricia Fortini Brown, Venice and Antiquity: The Venetian Sense of the Past (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996); Patricia Fortini Brown, “Acquiring a Classical Past: Historical Appropriation in Renaissance Venice,” in Antiquity and Its Interpreters, ed. Alina Payne, Ann Kuttner, and Rebekah Smick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 27–39. 72  ‘Et in questa volta li Venetiani se deliberò per magnifichar quella giexia de San Marcho, che tuttavia se lavorava, de adornarla dele più magnifiche collone che potesseno trovar, et mandone cerchando per tutto il mondo …’ Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:182.

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and actual existing techniques of appropriation of remnants from other cities. References to the alleged integration of Troy’s ruins into the city of Venice probably lent more importance to Venice’s old structures. In their turn, the presence of actual old structures in the city probably reinforced the idea of a distant, wealthy, and Trojan past, making it appear more tangible. In fact, the Trojan past was not the only past for which such statements were made. Both Enrico Dandolo (who wrote his chronicle between 1360 and 1362) and Lorenzo de Monacis claimed that the fugitives from the mainland brought construction material with them when they founded the ‘second’ Venice.73 This underlines a continuity between the first and second Venice. It also, once again, combines the phenomenon of the integration of physical remnants of other cities with stories about a distant past. 3.2 Buildings As we saw earlier, Joos van Ghistele is mainly concerned with Venice’s tangible richness. In contrast with other pilgrims, particularly those from the early fifteenth century, he does not even seem to be particularly interested in Venice’s relics; for example, the only aspect of the Basilica of San Marco he describes is its rich treasure. This is an extreme example of what we have seen in the previous chapter, namely that towards the end of the fifteenth century pilgrims increasingly speak of Venice’s riches. These riches were manifested, among other things, in the churches, and many Renaissance city descriptions indeed speak of the churches’ gold, silver, gems, marble, and mosaics.74 The four brass horse statues on the Basilica of San Marco also generated admiration.75 It is not strange that authors express so much amazement at the rich Venetian churches, in particular the Basilica of San Marco, and especially the basilica’s treasure. Churches occupied an important place in the definition of cities, the urban fabric, and the daily lives of the inhabitants in general, and this was no different for Venice.76 Moreover, the 73  Carile, “Le origini di Venezia nella tradizione storiografica,” 160–61, 164. 74  See for instance: Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, fol. 37r–37v; Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [a iv r]; Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:491–92; Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fols. 32v, 34v; Georges Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, mayeur de Mons en Haynaut, a Venise, Rome, Jérusalem, Mont Sinaï et Le Kayre, 1485–1486, ed. Denis Charles Godefroy-Ménilglaise (Mons: Masquillier et Dequesne, 1861), 33; Pius II, Commentaries, 2007, II:132; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 159, 164. 75   For example: Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 33; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 164. 76  See also section 1.4.

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Venetian government brought highly placed visitors to see the basilica and its treasure. Significant in this context is one of Sanudo’s lists, entitled ‘These are the notable things that are shown to lords in Venice.’77 By explicitly enumerating what the Venetian government wanted visitors to see, it shows us which image the political authorities tried to propagate towards foreign countries. According to this list, foreign lords were first welcomed by the doge and the Signoria in the Bucintoro and brought to their accommodation, usually the house of the duke of Ferrara on the Grand Canal. They were brought to an audience with the Signoria in the Sala del Collegio, and then shown the Ducal Palace, the Basilica, square, and treasure of San Marco, the Mercerie, shops, Rialto, the Arsenal, the singing of nuns at Santa Maria delle Vergini or San Zaccaria, ‘Murano, where glass is made,’ a regatta of men or women, the Hall of the Great Council and the Great Council itself, if they wanted the bell tower of San Marco, plus anything else the guests desired to see. In this list a religious image of Venice is almost absent in favour of an image of Venice as a rich, worldly power. For instance, not many churches are shown and no tour of Venice’s relics is given. It thus becomes clear that the image which many pilgrims, particularly the early fifteenth-century ones, constructed of Venice in their works — that is, as a foreshadowing of their holy destination — did not correspond with the one that the Venetian government in this way was trying to fashion. At the same time, however, we have to keep in mind that the visitors Sanudo is speaking about — visitors so important that Venice’s main political authorities themselves would sail out with the Bucintoro to greet them — were people of high political standing, who had to be convinced of Venice’s power for reasons of international relations. Foreign visitors, by the way, were not blind to the purpose of this display of Venice’s wealth. During the 1469 visit of Emperor Frederick III to Venice, a Milanese author wrote that Venice’s best merchandise was displayed ‘to signify to [the emperor] and those who are with him, as well as those who are watching, that they are rich, powerful, and that they are great lords, and they spare no efforts to make them realise this.’78

77  ‘Queste sono le cosse notabile si mostrano a’ Signori in Veniexia.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 59. 78   Quoted in: Patricia Fortini Brown, “Measured Friendship, Calculated Pomp: The Ceremonial Welcomes of the Venetian Republic,” in “All the World’s a Stage …” Art and Pageantry in the Renaissance and Baroque, ed. Barbara Wisch and Susan Scott Munshower, vol. 1. Triumphal Celebrations and the Rituals of Statecraft (University Park: Department of Art History, the Pennsylvania State University, 1990), 150.

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If we compare Sanudo’s list with the description of Venice made by Philippe de Commynes, we find many points of agreement. Commynes (ca.1447–1511) was a diplomat for the courts of Burgundy and France. During the French invasion of Italy in 1494 he acted as ambassador for France to Venice, and in that capacity was shown around the city by members of the Venetian ruling class. In his description of Venice he marvels at the position of the city, the number of boats, the number of churches, his sumptuous reception, the richness of the houses, the Ducal Palace, the Basilica of San Marco and particularly its treasure, the Arsenal, and some aspects of Venetian politics.79 We see, then, that Sanudo’s list indeed enumerated what was shown to foreign visitors, but also that this guided tour had the desired effect, namely impressing them with Venice’s worldly excellence.80 The richness of the buildings of the scuole, Venice’s lay religious confraternities, is also underlined in various Renaissance city descriptions. Many facets of the scuole were visible in Venetian society, such as their role in religious offices, their display of material wealth, and their charitable works. I have already underlined that, although most descriptions of Venice clearly emphasise one aspect of the city over others, there are moments where the main narratives existing in the Renaissance about Venice can be interwoven. This is particularly the case with the scuole. They evidently presented such a mixture of aspects that they could be perceived and described in very different ways.81 Guidi’s long description, for instance, focuses almost entirely on their charitable works.82 Sanudo does not mention the scuole in the narrative part of his work but includes them among many lists of religious elements, thereby underlining their religious aspect.83 Sabellico focuses mainly on the beautiful and rich structures built by the confraternities — something that is in line with the rest of his Del sito di Venezia città, which mainly describes the city’s tangible

79  Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:489–93. 80  An exception is when Commynes at first extensively praises the treasure of the Basilica of San Marco, but then concludes that it is less impressive than its reputation, since it does not contain gold and silver in cash. Commynes, 2:492. 81  On the report which the Milanese ambassador in Venice wrote in 1497 on Venetian pious and charitable institutions (containing also an edition of the text itself), see: Reinhold C. Mueller, “A Foreigner’s View of Poor Relief in Late Quattrocento Venice,” in Pauvres et riches: Société et culture du Moyen Age aux temps modernes: Mélanges offerts à Bronislaw Geremek (Warszawa: Wydawn Nauk PWN, 1992), 55–63. 82  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 49–57. 83  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 43. Vergerio also underlines the religious aspect of the scuole, describing them as associations set up for religious aims, which meet often to perform sacred devotions. Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 122.

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aspects.84 He even remarks that the building of one of the scuole houses works of famous painters which are placed there not so much for religious purposes but rather for ornamentation, thereby showing the importance of the material wealth of the scuole for how he sees them.85 Faber is apparently more at ease with the multifaceted nature of the confraternities, mentioning various characteristics: their devotion to the saints, their beautiful buildings, and their charitable works. Nevertheless, it is clear (unsurprisingly, given the pious aim of both his journey and his travel account) that he still regards them predominantly from a religious point of view: he treats them in a chapter on Venice’s churches.86 As well as rich churches and assembly houses of the scuole, our Renaissance city descriptions also turn their attention to rich buildings in general. Sanudo even takes the Venetians’ current method of building as a way to compare them with the ancient Romans: ‘Therefore, the Venetians can be compared to the Romans, who made such excellent buildings, on account of the structures which they are building at the moment, both the public and the private ones.’87 With his tendency to include many details in his works, Sanudo furthermore gives the general prices of houses in Venice, emphasising how expensive, grandly set out, and beautiful they are.88 Other authors are not this precise, but nevertheless underline the wealth of Venetian houses. Guidi admires the houses in Venice for their beauty, expensiveness, and presence of gardens, which allow people to live there not only in winter but in summer as well.89 Sabellico also praises them for having their own wells, and states that if it were not for sumptuary legislation, the houses would be covered with gold.90 Enea Silvio Piccolomini writes that the entire city is built of brick — already a relatively luxurious material — but that if the Venetian empire continues to flourish, it will soon be made of marble.91 This remark underlines again that an often negative view of Venice — as mentioned earlier, Piccolomini sees many vices in Venice in his Commentarii — does not necessarily have to be paired 84  Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 14–17, 24, 30, 32. 85  Sabellico, 15. 86  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:428–29. 87  ‘Ergo se puol equiparar Venetiani a’ Romani che faceano sì eccellenti edificii per le fabriche, al presente fanno sì le publiche come le private.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et ma­ gistratibus urbis Venetae, 31. 88  Sanudo, 19–20. 89  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 41–43. 90  Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 32. 91  Pius II, Commentaries, 2007, II:132. Another example is: Da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 35.

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with a negative depiction of the physical city: Piccolomini describes this in laudatory terms. Indeed, also more in general, in the fifteenth century descriptions of the physical city are predominantly positive. That does not mean that there are no negative descriptions of this aspect; Benedetto Dei, for instance, writes in his attack on Venice that Florence has more goods, more income, a greater population, and more animals than Venice.92 Such comments, however, are markedly exceeded by the laudatory descriptions of the city’s material characteristics in this period. Most of the texts praising the private buildings in Venice speak in general terms, without naming specific examples. While this is understandable for the interiors of most private buildings — which, after all, were not accessible to everybody — we also find an absence of references to specific private buildings when it comes to their exteriors. An exception to this is Pietro Casola’s description, which mentions first the high prices of palaces in Venice in general, and then the palace of the Sforza family, still under construction, which would certainly be very magnificent when finished.93 The reason why Casola, probably a member of the Milanese high clergy with access to the ducal court, would praise the palace of the rulers of Milan is not difficult to imagine. Another exception is Marin Sanudo, who mentions two specific palaces.94 However, what he mainly emphasises is the collectivity of Venice’s richness: all houses in Venice are expensive, and these two only exemplify this. By referring to the collective costliness of buildings in Venice instead of exceptional palaces of specific individuals, the equality of Venetian society — mentioned often in Renaissance representations of Venice — is highlighted. The only specific residence that recurs in multiple sources is the Ducal Palace. Just as specific churches could be praised without imperilling the ideal of equality — after all, this did not underline the generosity of specific patrons but the honour rendered to God — praising this specific palace did not honour a specific doge but the impersonal political office of doge and the many other offices that had their seats in this building. Many descriptions, written by both Venetians and foreigners, include a part on the Ducal Palace. Seats of government had to display the power of the state, and it is therefore logical that this palace attracted the attention of both Venetians and foreigners. This was even actively promoted by the Venetian government, as becomes clear from 92  Dei, “Un frammento inedito della Cronaca di Benedetto Dei,” 108–10. 93  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 87. 94  The two houses are those of Zorzi Corner and the late Francesco Foscari. Sanudo states explicitly that there are ‘assa’ altre che longo saria raccontar.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 19–20.

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Sanudo’s list of sites shown to foreign guests: highly placed visitors did not only go to this palace because of their business with Venice’s political authorities, but also because they were shown its aesthetic aspects.95 The Ducal Palace underwent a series of changes over the course of time, and this is reflected in our fifteenth-century texts, which describe it at different stages of its rebuilding process. Indeed, some refer to the palace’s newness, or state that it is still being renovated.96 Georges Lengherand explains the renovations by saying that notwithstanding its richness and magnificence, the building is still not rich enough for the Venetians’ liking.97 Some aspects of the Ducal Palace attract the attention of foreign visitors because of their peculiarity — for example, Harff and Lengherand comment on the presence of columns between which public executions are carried out98 — but it is particularly the building’s richness that keeps recurring in Renaissance descriptions. Authors express admiration for the expensive materials: Francesco Filelfo, writing between 1440 and 1445, speaks of the palace’s gold and marble when he describes how to reach the upper floors.99 Francesco degli Allegri is particularly impressed by the many paintings in the palace, the only aspect of the building that he mentions.100 Other authors refer to the sculptures and paintings on the inside and outside of the palace,101 with 95  Sanudo, 59. Compare for example with Commynes’ description of his visit to the Ducal Palace: Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:490–91. 96  See for instance: Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 86–87; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 32; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 31. 97  Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 35. 98  They speak of different columns, though: Lengherand mentions two red columns, while Harff refers both to the so-called Pillars of Acre (name not used by him) and to two marble columns standing in the courtyard. Lengherand, 35; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 44, 45. The pillars between which people were executed were the ones standing in the Piazzetta. Deborah Howard has argued that this use associated them with the virtue of justice, and therefore linked them to the two great columns outside the biblical palace of Solomon. Deborah Howard, Venice and the East: The Impact of the Islamic World on Venetian Architecture 1100–1500 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000), 180. On the association between Venice and Solomon, see also section 3.5. 99  Francesco Filelfo, “Hecatosticha decima,” in Satyrae, ed. Silvia Fiaschi, vol. I. Decadi I–V (Roma: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 2005), 261.   Casola, who on several occasions adds some critical notes, here as well makes a comment that diverges from his general praise on the Ducal Palace: he criticises the decision not to extend the palace over the canal next to it, which he describes as a decision rising from avarice. Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 84–87. 100  Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [a iii v]. 101   For example: Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 85–86; Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 34r; Guidi, El sommo della

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one theme coming back in various texts: the depictions of the Peace of Venice of 1177.102 Writers also mention certain rooms, adding how beautiful and rich they are, and specifying by which magistrates they are used. Being a centre of government, the Ducal Palace contained fewer objects than private houses. Still, it is worth noting that only a few texts mention any­ thing about objects in the palace, such as a throne for the doge in the Hall of the Great Council, a collection of arms left by foreigners, and crocodile skins sent by the sultan of Egypt.103 Van Ghistele, whose concern with richness has already been mentioned, is an exception in that he specifically mentions various objects present in the ‘beautiful, rich hall in which the duke has both feasts and meals,’ such as tapestry, dishes, pots, and mugs.104 3.3 Clothing and Jewellery For Renaissance authors, the richness of Venice is also evident in clothing and jewellery. Various authors, both Venetian and foreign, include descriptions. Arnold von Harff depicts his observations not only in words but also in images: among the many drawings included in his travel account there are a few that portray Venetian noblemen and noblewomen.105 As with so many other elements of the representations of Venice, authors attach various values to clothing. This is, of course, not peculiar to Venice, nor to this period: we only need to look at the existence of sumptuary legislation to be reminded of this. When authors include the Venetians’ clothing in their city descriptions, the predominant theme is its expensiveness. They refer to this as a positive point and mention it either explicitly106 or by listing expensive materials such as condizione di Vinegia, 10–11; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 45; Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, 416. 102  On the importance of these depictions for the dissemination of the story of the Peace of Venice, see section 1.5. 103  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 85–86; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 11; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 44; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 165. 104  ‘een schoone, rijckelicke sale in de welcke de hertoghe ten zelven tijde feeste ende maeltijt hilt.’ Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, 416. 105  Although the original version of Harff’s account has not been handed down to us, several extant fifteenth- and sixteenth-century manuscripts contain these drawings. On the various manuscripts containing Harff’s text, see: Volker Honemann, “Zur Überlieferung der Reisebeschreibung Arnolds von Harff,” Zeitschrift für deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 107, no. 2 (1978): 165–78. 106  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 37; Jacopo Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia: Tratte fedelmente dalla rarissima stampa di Treviso (MCCCCLXXIII) (Venezia: Alvisopoli, 1839), 52–53; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 21.

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jewels, silk, and fur: ‘many are their gems and their treasures.’107 Sometimes they even write down the high prices paid for certain clothes and jewels.108 However, the majority of authors writing about the richness of Venetian dress refer mainly to the women’s garments.109 By referring to either male or female clothing, authors are able to point out different characteristics of the Venetians. Female clothing is used mainly to show how wealthy the Venetians are: they can afford to spend thousands of ducats on the appearance of their wives and daughters. On the other hand, we also find some hints of disapproval, both morally and aesthetically: Venetian women do not cover themselves sufficiently, wear make-up which at night runs and makes their faces ugly, wear their hair in a way which makes them resemble men,110 and evoke pity because of their very high shoes.111 Several writers expressing this type of disapproval are pilgrims, which undoubtedly contributes to their explicit negative comments: they want to give pious examples to their readers, not underline female beauty. Casola even states explicitly that the habit of Venetian women not to cover their shoulders displeases him because he is a priest. Indeed, he includes the remark that he does not want to speak too long about Venetian women — although this remark comes at the end of one of the most detailed descriptions of Venetian women that has been handed down to us from an early modern pilgrim.112 107  ‘tante sum le gieme e le richezie.’ Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, fol. 40r. See also: Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [E ii v]; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 37–40; Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 47; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 33; Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 52–53; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 21. 108  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 38; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 53–54; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 21. 109  See for instance: Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, fol. 40r; Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [E ii v]; Da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 34; Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 34v; Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 47; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 33; Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 52–53. There are a few authors who speak about the expensiveness of male clothing: see for instance Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 39–40; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 21. 110  A 1480 decree prohibited this habit. By wearing their hair in a masculine way, women would conceal their sex and attempt to please men by pretending to be men themselves, which was considered a form of sodomy. The decree therefore prescribed precisely what hairstyle women should adopt. See also: Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Police des mœurs, société et politique à Venise à la fin du Moyen Age,” Revue historique 264, no. 2 (536) (1980): 272–73. 111  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 100–102; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 54; Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 47. 112  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 100–102.

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Sanudo refers to the necessity of sumptuary legislation to curb female vanity: for the most part they wear silk, and they used to wear gold cloth. However, because of a decree passed in the Senate they cannot do so, and if it were not for the provisions made by our Signoria about their tastes and their desires to adorn themselves both with jewels and with other things, and if it were not for the regulations put in place, they would do very big things.113 Earlier in his book he mentioned male clothes for the fact that they are mainly austerely black and that all patricians and citizens wear more or less the same clothing.114 In this way he succeeds in showing multiple things. While, according to him, Venetian women, who are not permitted to govern anyway, are incapable of controlling themselves, at the same time this forms an occasion for Venetian men to show how well they govern (by promulgating sumptuary laws), how rich they are (by being capable of buying beautiful dresses and jewellery for their wives and daughters), and how full of self-control they are (by not needing sumptuary laws themselves). This manner of, on the one hand, praising the riches of women’s clothing while simultaneously speaking of sumptuary laws and, on the other hand, commending the men’s style of dressing without referring to a necessity for these laws, can also be found in other accounts.115 There are both Venetians and non-Venetians who write that the men’s vestiary customs are shared by everybody, thereby underlining equality in Venetian society. Jacopo Sanguinacci links this to wealth: not the wealthy dressing humbly, but the poor being able to dress affluently makes it impossible to distinguish between social classes.116 ‘As if they were all bishops,’ as Felix Faber puts it, who contrasts the Venetian style of dressing with that of the Germans.117 Caio Caloria writes that because of the way Venetians dress one might bow one’s head before a blacksmith, mistaking him for a patrician.118 Casola compares the Venetians’ preference for 113  ‘ut plurimum vanno vestite di seta, et zà solevano portar oro; ma per parte presa nel Senato non poleno, et se non fosse che per la nostra Signoria è provisto a’ loro appettiti et desiderii in adornarse sì di zoie come di altro — et vien messo ordeni — farebbe cosse grandissime.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 21. 114  Sanudo, 21. 115  For instance: Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 33. 116  Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 52. 117  ‘ac si omnes episcopi.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:407. 118  Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, fol. 39v.

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traditional clothing with the Milanese’s taste for new fashions. He praises the clothes worn by Venetian men because they have remained the same throughout time, inspire confidence, and look serious. He also stresses that men from all social classes wear clothes in the same style. The Milanese do the same, except that if from one moment to the next a lark came from the end of the earth and brought some new fashion in clothing, everybody, or the majority, those who can afford it and those who cannot, would want to follow that fashion, so that one cannot distinguish a Milanese from a Spaniard.119 This same Casola, who is so full of praise for the austerity, dignity, and traditionalism of the Venetian male clothing, criticises female dress on various grounds. Carole Collier Frick has treated a similar phenomenon with regard to Florence. In an analysis of a series of frescoes, she has shown that the young unmarried women of Florentine families are portrayed in luxurious clothing to display their families’ wealth, while the men are depicted dressed alike in conservative garments to show their moral elevation and evoke republican traditions.120 A comparable mechanism is at work in the fifteenth-century descriptions of Venetian clothing. While generally illustrating the richness of the Venetian inhabitants, the descriptions of dress are also employed to underline values such as traditionalism, austerity, equality, good government, and self-control, with the distinction between male and female clothes making it possible to point out even contradictory merits of Venetian society. 3.4 Ceremonies Images of Venice were constructed and disseminated not only in textual and visual representations, but also in ceremonies. In the pioneer work Civic ritual in Renaissance Venice, Edward Muir examined this aspect of Venetian society, 119  ‘El simile fano li Milanesi, excepto che se al venesse una lodola dal capo del mondo, de l’una ora a l’altra, e portasse qualche nova fogia de vestire. Tuti, o la maiore parte, quili che posseno e quili che non posseno, voleno sequitare fogie, ita che non se po’ cognoscere uno Milanese da uno spagnolo.’ Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 100. See also, for example: Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. b r; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 33. 120  Carole Collier Frick, Dressing Renaissance Florence: Families, Fortunes, and Fine Clothing (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 201–19. See also Martha C. Howell, Commerce before Capitalism in Europe, 1300–1600 (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 208–60, in particular 237.

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arguing that the ritualisation of politics and society was an important reason for Venice’s internal stability.121 Ceremonies displayed Venice’s power, wealth, and values to local residents and foreign visitors alike. Various fifteenth-century pilgrims write about the ceremonies they witnessed while waiting to depart for the Holy Land. Pilgrims visited the city at roughly the same time of the year. The Venetian galleys that specialised in taking pilgrims to the Holy Land departed twice a year, in late spring and early fall, and after the 1450s mostly only in the spring. This required pilgrims to sometimes spend relatively long periods of time in Venice before they could proceed with their journey. While they were waiting, some important feasts generally took place: the feast of Saint Mark, Ascension Day (also called the Sensa), and Corpus Christi. Special arrangements were made around these three feasts, such as public entertainment and a fair lasting fifteen days. During the course of the fifteenth century, the pilgrims’ galleys increasingly left just after the feast of Corpus Christi. This meant that the waiting pilgrims witnessed various ceremonies, and we find numerous descriptions in travel accounts. Faber sees the ‘solemn and pompous celebration of spectacles’ even as one of the thirteen elements bringing glory to Venice.122 The pilgrims themselves played an increasingly prominent part in the ceremonies, mainly during Corpus Christi: they were paired with Venetian nobles and included in the large procession across Piazza San Marco, at the end of which they were personally greeted by the doge at the Ducal Palace. Many of their accounts refer to these ceremonies and to the pilgrims’ own role in the procession in particular.123 Johann Meisenheimer writes about the partic121  Edward W. Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981). 122  ‘solemnis et pomposa celebratio spectaculorum.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:432. 123  For example: Girnand von Schwalbach, “Girnand von Schwalbach, ‘Reise zum Heiligen Grab’ (1440),” in Fünf Palästina-Pilgerberichte aus dem 15. Jahrhundert, ed. Randall Herz, Dietrich Huschenbett, and Frank Sczesny (Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag, 1998), 111–13; Richard Guylforde, The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde to the Holy Land, A.D. 1506, ed. Henry Ellis (London: Printed for the Camden Society, 1851), 8–9; Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 44–46, 78–80; Felix Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, ed. Konrad Dieterich Hassler, vol. 1 (Stuttgart: Sumtibus societatis litterariae stuttgardiensis, 1843), 98–99, 105–6; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:432–33; Da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 33–34; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 156–62; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 47–48, 51–53, 56–57; Roberto da Sanseverino, Felice et divoto ad Terrasancta viagio facto per Roberto de Sancto Severino (1458–1459), ed. Mario Cavaglià and Alda Rossebastiano (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 1999), 93–95; Michele da Figline, Da Figline a Gerusalemme: Viaggio del prete Michele in

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ipation of his lord, Alexander Pfaltzgraf bey Rhein, in the 1495 procession of Corpus Christi. He emphasises equality between all participants in the ceremony, higher and lower class, Venetian and foreigner. My G[racious] L[ords] and also all other pilgrims participated in the procession as well, and the Venetian lords gave each pilgrim a white candle like the other pilgrims, as their graces during this time did not publicly present themselves differently from the other pilgrims.124 The pilgrims mainly underline the grandeur of the various ceremonies. The author(s) of the account of Richard Guylforde’s 1506 pilgrimage to the Holy Land includes detailed descriptions of Venice’s ceremonies.125 The festivities of the Sensa, for example, are depicted as follows: The rychesse, the sumptuous buyldynge, the relygyous houses, and the stablysshynge of their justyces and councylles, with all other thynge that maketh a cytie glorious, surmounteth in Venyse aboue all places that euer I sawe. And specyally at .ij. festis wherat we were present. The one was upon the Ascension daye, whiche daye the Duke, with a greate tryumphe and solempnyte, with all the Seygnyoury, went in their Archa triumphali, which is in maner of a Galye of a straunge facyon and wonder stately, Egitto e in Terrasanta (1489–1490): Con il testo originale del viaggio di ser Michele, ed. Marina Montesano (Roma: Viella, 2010), 47; William Wey, The Itineraries of William Wey, Fellow of Eton College, to Jerusalem, A.D. 1458 and A.D. 1462, and to Saint James of Compostelle, A.D. 1456: From the Original Manuscript in the Bodleian Library, ed. Albert Way (London: J. B. Nichols and sons, 1857), 84; Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 102–9. 124  ‘Meine G. H. unnd auch alle die andere Pilgram seindt auch in der Proceß gangen / unnd hat die Herrschafft von Venedig einen jeden Pilgram ein weiß Wachßliecht auch geben als andern Pilgram / dann ire Gnaden sich auch der zeit nit weiter dann andere Pilgram offentlich zuerkennen geben haben.’ Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 35r. The same author also includes long descriptions of other feasts in Venice: Feyerabend, fols. 32v, 34v. 125  Richard Guylforde, an Englishman from a high social class and with many connections, made his pilgrimage in 1506. After his death in the Holy Land, five months after setting out on his pilgrimage, the travel account was finished by his anonymous chaplain. Scholars disagree on whether Guylforde’s chaplain was the sole author of the work, or that he might have been collaborating with Guylforde from the start, or have written it on Guylforde’s behalf. Ronald Bedford, Lloyd Davis, and Philippa Kelly, Early Modern English Lives: Autobiography and Self-Representation, 1500–1660 (Aldershot and Burlington: Ashgate, 2007), 67–68; Julia Boffey, “Middle English Lives,” in The Cambridge History of Medieval English Literature, ed. David Wallace (Cambridge University Press, 2002), 616; Henry Ellis, “Introduction,” in The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde to the Holy Land, A.D. 1506 (London: Printed for the Camden Society, 1851), V–XVI.

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etc.; and so rowed out into the see with assystence of their patriarche, and there spoused the see with a rynge. The spousall wordes be, “In signum veri perpetuique Domini.” And therwith the Duke lete fall the rynge in to the see. The processe and cerimonyes wherof were to longe to wryte, etc.126 Casola writes that he has never seen such obedience during ceremonies as in Venice and that the chalice of the Eucharist is very beautiful and the largest he has ever seen. He also writes, however, that Mass in his hometown of Milan is more solemn and impressive and with more clergy.127 Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi was from Florence and lived there during the first decades of his life, but he spent the rest of his life in Venice and wrote El sommo della condizione di Vinegia after living in Venice for at least fifteen years.128 When it comes to the city’s ceremonial display, he shows the same admiration as most pilgrims. He mentions various ceremonies, specifying, for example, the order in which people walk in processions and what they carry with them, and praises the ‘great magnificence and majesty’ of these rituals.129 Sabellico, on the other hand, does state that Venice ‘for its divine offices and solemn ceremonies is second to no one in the world,’ but he does not include any descriptions of ceremonies in his Del sito di Venezia città.130 Sanudo also devotes less text to Venice’s ceremonies than Guidi and most pilgrims. Apparently, this aspect of the Venetian authorities’ conscious construction of a certain image of the city had more effect on foreigners than on this Venetian inhabitant, who was probably accustomed from an early age to this display of wealth and power. In his prose description of the city in De situ, Sanudo mentions only that there are Masses and religious offices in the Basilica of San Marco every day, and refers to some activities that take place when important foreign guests visit the city: the Mercerie are adorned, and the doge and the Signoria go to meet their guest in the Bucintoro and bring him via the Grand Canal to the palace of the duke of Ferrara.131 He includes more detailed information on ceremonies in the lists that form the second part of De situ, after the prose description; he enumerates, for example, the various holidays that are celebrated, 126  Guylforde, The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde, 8. 127  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 102–9. 128  We know that in 1427 Guidi was already living in Venice. El sommo della condizione di Vinegia is dated 1442. Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, XII. 129  Guidi, 121–23. Quotation from p. 122: ‘gran magnificenza e maestà.’ 130  ‘per divini ufficii et solenni cerimonie a niuna che sia al mondo essere seconda.’ Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 32. 131  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 22–24.

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the order of the people that walk in the processions, and the objects carried.132 He does, therefore, value these ceremonies and their richness, but not enough to describe them in his main text. It is characteristic of the lists in Sanudo’s De origine, situ et magistratibus that they are sorted roughly according to topic. It is therefore meaningful that the lists about the city’s ceremonies and the list of ‘notable things that are shown to lords in Venice’133 are situated in the same part of the text. Just as guests were taken to places which the Venetian authorities considered most impressive, so, too, were ceremonies a way to impress visitors with the city’s power and richness. Indeed, some parts of the ceremonial welcome offered to important visitors are included in the list of notable things shown to foreign lords. The dates of feasts such as Ascension Day and Corpus Christi did not depend on the visit of a guest,134 but a solemn reception and a regatta were part of what was shown to important visitors. Although most pilgrims would not have been considered important enough for this type of welcome, their remarks on the grandeur of Venice’s ceremonies do show that the city’s ceremonial display had the intended effect. 4 Commerce 4.1 A City with the Whole World in Its Possession Given the crucial importance of commerce for Venice’s history, it is logical that references to Venice’s merchandise are not peculiar to the Renaissance. Already the very first description of Venice handed down to us, written by the Roman official Cassiodorus in 537, deals with the transportation of goods across the lagoons. In this letter Cassiodorus negotiates with ‘the tribunes of the maritime population’ about the transportation of merchandise from Istria to Ravenna.135 Martin da Canal’s thirteenth-century chronicle, to mention another example, states that ‘the merchandise flows through that noble city like water from fountains.’136 In a similar way, the majority of Renaissance descrip132  Sanudo, 49–50, 52–59. See also Sanudo, 173–76. 133  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 59. 134  There were some instances, however, in which feasts were postponed in order to allow highly placed guests to see them. Brown, “Measured Friendship, Calculated Pomp,” 148. 135  Cassiodorus, The Letters of Cassiodorus, Being a Condensed Translation of the Variae Epistolae of Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator, trans. Thomas Hodgkin (London: H. Frowde, 1886), 515–18. 136  ‘les marchandies i corent par cele noble cité, con fait l’eive des fontaines.’ Da Canal, Les estoires de Venise, 4.

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tions, both those written by Venetians and by foreigners, express wonder about this aspect of the city. Pero Tafur states that the Venetians bring so many goods to their city ‘that the whole world seems to be in their possession.’137 In Felix Faber’s list of thirteen points of glory for Venice, no fewer than two are devoted to merchandise: ‘abundance of all things’ and ‘goods.’138 All this merchandise made the Venetian merchants so rich that there were stories about the government secretly having a subterranean workplace where copper was turned into gold.139 Our Renaissance city descriptions praise merchandise in Venice not only for its quantity, but also for its quality and variety.140 Many authors provide examples of different available products. Marin Sanudo, for instance, evidently attaches so much importance to the variety of goods for sale in Venice that he includes a list of fifty-six types of fresh fish for sale in his description of the city.141 At the same time, although the sources are generally full of praise for the merchandise available in Venice, this does not mean that critical comments never occur. We find Sanudo mentioning the lack of drinking-water (a persistent problem throughout Venetian history) as a negative point, while Casola complains about the bad quality of the meat and fish sold in Venice, and states that fresh water can only be acquired with difficulty and expense.142 Goods that are simply considered out of the ordinary — such as women’s artificial hair — are included in the descriptions too.143 Although authors mention local merchandise as well, they often underline that goods are brought from distant lands.144 Pier Paolo Vergerio even refers to Venice as ‘the 137  Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 172. 138  ‘abundantia omnium rerum’ and ‘merces.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:431–32. 139  Faber, 3:432. 140  See for instance: Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 87–90; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:431; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 17, 32–35; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 24, 27–28; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 166; Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 120. 141  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 61. Some other examples: Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 17, 23–24; Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 120. 142  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 34–35; Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 89–90. 143  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 101. 144  The pilgrims’ emphasis on the quantity, quality, variety, richness, distant origins, and overall exceptionality of the goods for sale in Venice is in contrast with what they actually bought: predominantly basic items which they needed for their long journey. See: Sandra Toffolo, “Pellegrini stranieri e il commercio veneziano nel Rinascimento,” in Rinascimento

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emporium of the entire world.’145 In Inchoronato regno sopra i regni, Jacopo Sanguinacci includes an extensive enumeration of types of merchandise, its great quantities, and the Italian regions and distant countries from which it comes. He speaks of foreign merchants and foreigners in general who have come to Venice and work here now, thereby creating an image of Venice as a place deriving much value from its links to the rest of the world. Commerce is one of the two main topics of the poem, emphasising its importance for Sanguinacci’s view of Venice.146 An example of a description of Venetian commerce comes from the account of Antonio da Crema’s 1486 pilgrimage: Of what is produced on land and at sea, or what is created through human art and ingenuity, or what is given or granted by the Eternal Creator, I believe that it can be found in this place, and generally in such quantity that it is a marvellous thing. A very large population and people from every language are present there. From every place ships full of provisions converge there. One finds himself astounded by everything, seeing there the best and most beautiful food in the world, and nothing being harvested.147 Various texts that are generally not very positive about Venice also refer to its commerce, showing how important this aspect is in both laudatory and derogatory descriptions. Benedetto Dei, for example, seeks to prove Florence’s commercial superiority over Venice: We are much more powerful in commerce than you, because your Signoria does not operate in any other place than Alexandria, for spices, cotton, and wax. These are things that we Florentines obtain more easily fra il Veneto e l’Europa: Questioni, metodi, percorsi, ed. Elisa Gregori (Padova: Cleup, 2018), 263–84. 145  Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 120. Some other examples: Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:431– 32; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 23, 32–35, 131; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 26; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 166, 172. 146  Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 35–51. The other great theme in the poem is Venice’s dominion. See section 6.7. 147  ‘De quanto è produtto da la terra, dal mare, over componuto per arte e ingegno humano, over date sive concesse dal Creator eterno credo io se ritrova in questo loco: e tanta quantità generalmente, che è cosa miranda. Quivi è grandissimo populo e gente de ogni idio­ ­ma. Quivi da ogni parte fluisse navigli de victualie carchi. Stupefatto al tutto se ritrova l’homo vedendo quivi li meglori e più belli cibi del mondo, e nulla se li racogle.’ Da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 35–36.

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than you through Bursa, and in exchange we provide fabrics and cloth, while you provide gold ducats.148 In some descriptions, commerce is even the main focus of the text. Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi was a merchant himself, which explains why such large parts of El sommo della condizione di Vinegia are devoted to commerce.149 The enumerations of tax revenues from trading activities that he includes in his poem also betray his mercantile background. Arnold von Harff was not a merchant but a pilgrim travelling to the Holy Land. He did, however, have links to the world of commerce: he was travelling with German merchants and while he was in Venice he could therefore stay in the Fondaco dei Tedeschi. During his stay and through his contacts with merchants he apparently accumulated so much information that he wanted to give this priority in his description of the city: he opens the description with the Fondaco dei Tedeschi, Rialto, and some other aspects of commerce.150 Not all pilgrims are this eager to include commerce in their descriptions of the lagoon city. Some of them apparently consider commerce too secular to include in their works, with their emphasis on pious behaviour and the intention of edifying their readers. At the same time, many pilgrims do not hide their interest in other aspects of Venice’s material culture; for example, the general richness of the city and the Arsenal appear more frequently in their accounts. Maybe this had to do with commerce’s close link to banking, a controversial topic: there was much discussion on which types of exchange transactions should be considered usury and therefore condemned.151 Perhaps some pilgrims did not want to treat a topic that could be associated with such condemnable practices. Emphasis on Venice’s commercial position can also be found in various visual representations of the city. Juergen Schulz has shown how Jacopo de’ Barbari’s famous depiction of the city (figure 8) should be interpreted as the material manifestation of Venice’s trading and maritime power. The figure of 148  ‘no’ siàno assai più potenti in sulla merchantìa che non siete voi perchè la Signoria vostra non à e non fà in altro paese che in Alessandria pe’lle spezierìe e pei chotoni e ciere, le qua’ chose no’ fiorentini l’abiàno più abile di voi pe’ lla via di Bursia, e dìano pell’inchontro panni e drappi, e voi date dè duchatazi d’oro.’ Dei, “Un frammento inedito della Cronaca di Benedetto Dei,” 109. 149  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 13–25, 31–35, 41–42, 109–10, 131. 150  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 41. 151  Ceri Sullivan, The Rhetoric of Credit: Merchants in Early Modern Writing (Madison: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2002), 44–70; Juliann M. Vitullo and Diane Wolfthal, eds., Money, Morality, and Culture in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010).

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Mercury, god of commerce, above the city, is encircled by the text ‘I Mercury shine favourably on this above all other emporia,’ while Neptune, god of the seas, carries the text ‘I Neptune reside here, smoothing the waters at this port.’152 In combination with the title ‘Venetie’ this brings a clear message: Venice is protected by Mercury and Neptune.153 The heads of the eight winds associate the city with trade, navigation, and Mercury as well.154 Some depictions emphasise Venice’s commercial role without such explicit indications as deities. Reuwich’s city view, for example, shows a large number of ships in the foreground of the cityscape (figure 7). And similar to Petrarch’s comment that a ship on the Riva degli Schiavoni was larger than a house and that it was like a mountain floating on the sea,155 the size of the ships exceeds that of the houses in the depiction in the 1467 German translation of Niccolò da Poggibonsi’s travel account (figure 2). Of course, in these depictions different types of boats mingle: as shown earlier, the number of ships in Venice attracted much attention, whether they were meant for commerce, war, or transportation. Sometimes, however, we can see that we are dealing with ships with a commercial function; for instance, in Reuwich’s city view, various ships in the foreground — which are therefore given more prominence — are being unloaded or prepared for their voyage. 4.2 Spaces of Commerce Commerce was concentrated in various points in Venice. Renaissance city descriptions often pay special attention to several of them: in particular Rialto, Piazza San Marco, the Mercerie, the warehouses, and the galleys. In various cases the government influenced the physical structure of these spaces and how they were presented to foreigners in order to convey a certain message, a strategy that, judging by the laudatory descriptions from this period, worked well. This governmental intervention can be found both in spaces where a high number of commercial activities was concentrated in one specific area, such as Rialto and Piazza San Marco, and in spaces of commerce that were more spread out over the city, most importantly the Mercerie and the warehouses. While the latter type is perceived as distinct by Venetian inhabitants, foreign visitors do not mention them, but instead praise the general abundance of merchandise in the city. It is a logical phenomenon that visitors do not understand 152  ‘Mercurius pre ceteris huic fauste emporiis illustro’ and ‘Aequora tuens portu resideo hic Neptunus.’ Translations from: Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s View of Venice,” 468. 153  Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s View of Venice.” 154  Howard, “Venice as a Dolphin,” 108–9. 155  Francesco Petrarca, Res seniles: Libri I–IV, ed. Silvia Rizzo, Opere 2, Lettere (Firenze: Le lettere, 2006), 156.

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the general structures of a city as fully as inhabitants do. By also manipulating the perception of the spaces that were less conspicuous to visitors — for example by physically altering the structures, placing them at strategic points, and taking foreigners to see them — the government was able to reinforce the foreigners’ idea that Venice was completely filled with merchandise. Rialto — the geographical core of the city, site of its legendary founding, and centre of its commerce — is a clear example of the Venetian government actively seeking to create a certain image of Venice, in this case that of a great commercial city. Among other things, various magistracies were located here and the government took measures to regulate the area and construct or renovate buildings and the bridge.156 Rialto was also included in Sanudo’s list of places shown to highly placed guests, thus giving us a clear idea of what the government wanted visitors to see.157 The importance of Rialto in combination with this governmental intervention led to numerous descriptions of this area in the Renaissance. It is called ‘the richest place in the entire world’158 and the site where the wealth of Venice lies.159 Authors describe the types and great quantity of merchandise, the way that commerce is carried out, the high prices of the shops in this place, and the beauty of the place itself.160 The exceptionally great accumulation of goods, money, beautiful constructions, and well-maintained order, further stimulated by the Venetian government, impressed both Venetian inhabitants and foreigners. The sources are more divided about the public brothel area at Rialto. Prostitution was legalised in 1358, when the Great Council decided that it was a necessary evil and attempted with laws to control it and at the same time protect the prostitutes. An area of public brothels was therefore established at

156  See in particular: Donatella Calabi and Paolo Morachiello, Rialto: Le fabbriche e il ponte, 1514–1591 (Torino: Einaudi, 1987), 5–40; Roberto Cessi and Annibale Alberti, Rialto: L’isola, il ponte, il mercato (Bologna: Nicola Zanichelli, 1934); Ennio Concina, Venezia nell’età moder­na: Struttura e funzioni (Venezia: Marsilio, 1989); Richard J. Goy, Building Renaissance Venice: Patrons, Architects and Builders c.1430–1500 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2006), 39–55. 157  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 59. 158  ‘di tutto il mondo la più ricchissima parte.’ Sanudo, 25. 159  ‘man wylt sagen, dat der schatz van Venedich hie lijge off desem platz.’ Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 41. 160  See for instance: Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:431; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 15; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 41; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 25–27.

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Rialto.161 Sanudo and Sabellico briefly mention this area and seem to regard it simply as one of the manifestations of good order at Rialto.162 However, many authors were less convinced of the value of legalised prostitution: they do not say anything about it in their works.163 Given the pious aims of both their journeys and their travel accounts, it can hardly be surprising that most pilgrims omit the topic. Felix Faber does mention the prostitutes and brothels, but only to say that no Venetian ever goes there.164 Piccolomini’s position in the church and Commynes’ political mission make it equally understandable why they do not speak of it. Other times, however, it is not clear why authors avoid the topic. For example, Guidi, resident in Venice and speaking at length of Venice’s commercial spaces such as Rialto, does not seem to have adopted the opinion shared by the Venetian government and by people like Sanudo and Sabellico: he does not mention prostitution even though he does refer, for instance, to base people gambling at Rialto.165 On the other hand, the Florentine Benedetto Dei does not include prostitution among his many accusations directed at the Venetian Republic — apparently he was not very scandalised by it. The controversial nature of this aspect of Venice is therefore reflected in the sources. While the descriptions of Rialto agree on its wealth, beauty, and order, opinions differ on what exactly is considered a manifestation of these virtues. Regarding various aspects of the city the Venetian government was able to manipulate the image they wanted to project for foreign visitors, but there were some points where the viewpoints of some visitors differed from those of the government. Nevertheless, foreigners generally give positive descriptions of Rialto: they simply leave out what they consider objectionable, such as crime

161  P  aula C. Clarke, “The Business of Prostitution in Early Renaissance Venice,” Renaissance Quarterly 68, no. 2 (2015): 419–64; Crouzet-Pavan, “Police des mœurs, société et politique à Venise à la fin du Moyen Age.” 162  Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 18; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 28. 163  In later centuries Venice’s reputation would change, and the city would often be associated with prostitution. See: Iain Gordon Brown, “Water, Windows, and Women: The Significance of Venice for Scots in the Age of the Grand Tour,” Eighteenth-Century Life 30, no. 3 (2006): 1–50; John Eglin, Venice Transfigured: The Myth of Venice in British Culture, 1660–1797 (New York and London: Palgrave, 2001); Bruce Redford, Venice and the Grand Tour (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996); Rosemary Sweet, Cities and the Grand Tour: The British in Italy, c.1690–1820 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 199–235. On Venice’s later reputation for vice, see section 4.1. 164  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:407–8. 165  Guidi’s description of Rialto: Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 15–25.

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and prostitution, thus still contributing to the preservation of the image of Rialto as one of Venice’s most marvellous places. Another space of commerce that we often find in city descriptions is Piazza San Marco, which also had an economic function in addition to being the civic and religious focal point of the city. At various moments during the medieval and early modern period, the Venetian government intervened in the physical organisation of the space, driven by the same desire to embellish the main civic, religious, commercial, and military points of the city that also led to the renovation of Rialto and the Arsenal.166 In the case of Piazza San Marco, governmental intervention affected, among other points, both the permanent commercial structures and the organisation of markets. The square was the site of temporary markets, such as the general weekly one, but also the fair that took place around Ascension Day. There were foreigners who came to this fair to sell their goods, but it consisted mainly of fine Venetian craftmanship. The best local products that Venice had to offer were displayed on this square to both the city’s inhabitants and the foreign visitors who had come to see the celebrations of the feast of the Sensa or to wait for the departure of their galley to the Holy Land. Both Venetians and foreigners mention the commerce that took place on Piazza San Marco, describing its stalls, shops, and regular markets.167 The luxury products of the annual fair of the Sensa apparently paled into insignificance beside the general abundance of merchandise in the city. With some exceptions, such as Johann Meisenheimer and Felix Faber, most pilgrims describing the feast of the Sensa do not include the fair.168 For example, several of them describe the feast in detail but leave out the fair, while others speak of commerce at Piazza San Marco but not in combination with the Sensa.169 166  Iain Fenlon, Piazza San Marco (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009); Deborah Howard, The Architectural History of Venice, revised and enlarged ed. (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2002), 151–52, 169–80; Manfredo Tafuri, “‘Renovatio urbis Venetiarum’: Il problema storiografico,” in “Renovatio urbis”: Venezia nell’età di Andrea Gritti (1523–1538), ed. Manfredo Tafuri (Roma: Officina edizioni, 1984), 9–55. 167  For example: Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 88–90; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:431; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 13–14; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 31; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 25. 168  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:433; Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 34v. 169  For instance, Richard Guylforde, Pietro Casola, Pero Tafur, and Arnold von Harff do not mention the fair, even though they describe the feast of the Sensa at length. Tafur and Casola do describe the commercial activities at Piazza San Marco, but not in combination

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Apparently, they considered the ceremonies of this day and commerce as two distinct things. One could even wonder if they were aware that the large quantity of merchandise they observed on the square during their stay was smaller throughout the rest of the year. The accounts of foreign visitors generally sketch an image of an entire city overflowing with merchandise, with two focal points, Rialto and Piazza San Marco. In the words of Felix Faber, after he has marvelled at the large quantity of vegetables for sale in Piazza San Marco: ‘Likewise for fish, poultry, meat, fruit, and other things, all of which is always found for sale without interruption in almost all streets and squares, but particularly at San Marco and at the bridge and the square of Rialto.’170 Other markets, such as the one of San Polo, are mentioned only by Venetian inhabitants, who still do not describe them in much detail.171 In contrast with those other markets, the squares of Rialto and San Marco were the places where commercial importance, architectural magnificence, the presence of civic offices, religious significance (in the case of Piazza San Marco), and governmental intervention in the types of merchandise (in the case of Rialto), came together. This led to foreign visitors focusing predominantly on these two specific places when describing Venice’s commerce. The rest of the city, on the other hand, is generally described as full of merchandise in general. For example, the Mercerie — the paved streets, lined with shops, that connected Rialto and Piazza San Marco — are omitted from most pilgrims’ accounts. They were among the spaces shown to highly placed foreign visitors. On those occasions the shops were even specially adorned.172 Nevertheless, foreigners hardly ever mention this space.173 While Ennio with the feast of Ascension: Tafur refers explicitly to the weekly market, while in the case of Casola it is clear from the types of goods he mentions — bread and fish, for instance — that he is not speaking of this temporary fair, which contained more luxurious products. Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 88–89; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 164. 170  ‘Sic de piscibus, avibus, carnibus, fructibus et caeteris, quae omnia indefectibiliter semper venalia reperiuntur paene in omnibus vicis et plateis, singulariter tamen apud S. Marcum et in ponte et platea Rivoalti.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:431. 171  See for instance Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 16; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 25, 54. 172  Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 29; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 24, 59. 173  An exception is Felix Faber, who briefly remarks that he walked to Piazza San Marco ‘per vicos mercatorum,’ presumably the Mercerie. Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1843, 1:86.

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Concina has shown in detail that there was an extraordinary concentration of shops in the area of the Mercerie, non-Venetian authors tend to simply consider the entire city as filled with merchandise.174 Rialto and Piazza San Marco are generally the only two points which stand out for them. The government’s strategy to impress visitors with the wealth of the city’s commercial goods was effective, then, even to the point that these visitors do not write, or perhaps do not even notice, that this is particularly the case in the Mercerie. This is different for people living in the city. Guidi speaks at length of the ‘beautiful paved street’ full of shops, beginning at Piazza San Marco, and we find descriptions in the works of Sanudo and Sabellico, too.175 Caio Caloria, who had lived many years in Padua and Venice, also mentions it.176 Jacopo de’ Barbari’s Venetie MD (figure 8) places emphasis on the Mercerie as well: they are more or less in the centre of the work, emphasised further by their position on the vertical line that could be drawn between the figures of Mercury and Neptune. The same phenomenon can be found concerning warehouses. They were situated at various points, both along the edges of the city and alongside the Grand Canal.177 Their positions depended on a variety of factors, such as the provenance, type, and destination of the goods they contained. Foreigners would see several of them, in particular the ones for wheat next to the Mint and those for salt at the Punta della Trinità, since this was where visitors first entered the city. Moreover, they would see them when they went to visit the Basilica of San Marco or when they watched or participated in the processions in the Piazza. This was another case where the government intervened in the physical organisation of the space, for example through the construction of warehouses and the promulgation of ordinances on the circulation of ships.178 Regarding the warehouses close to the basin of San Marco, this created a sight meant to convince people simultaneously of the city’s richness (as displayed in the 174  Concina, Venezia nell’età moderna. See in particular map nr. 2, which shows the density of shops per area of the city. 175  ‘una bella via amatonata.’ Description of the Mercerie in Guidi: Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 14–15. See also: Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 24; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 29. 176  Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, fol. 41r–41v. 177  Ennio Concina, Fondaci: Architettura, arte e mercatura tra Levante, Venezia e Alemagna (Venezia: Marsilio, 1997); Concina, Venezia nell’età moderna. 178  Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Sopra le acque salse”: Espaces, pouvoir et société à Venise à la fin du Moyen Âge (Roma: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1992), 182–84; Howard, Venice and the East, 126–31.

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various warehouses), political excellence (as shown in the Ducal Palace), and religious prominence (as seen in the Basilica of San Marco). As in the case of the Mercerie, most foreigners hardly mention the warehouses, while people living in Venice do include them in their city descriptions. Sanudo links his comment on specific public warehouses to Venice’s good government, which organises storage to avoid shortages.179 Descriptions of Venice’s warehouses — both the private and the public ones — can also be found in the works of Sabellico and Guidi.180 The Fondaco dei Tedeschi — both storage for goods and the place where German merchants had to lodge — is often the only warehouse mentioned by foreign authors. For some people, such as Arnold von Harff and Felix Faber, this was also the place where they stayed or where they were in contact with merchants from their home country, which partly explains the attention they pay to it in their works.181 However, some non-German pilgrims also describe it. Pietro Casola, for example, was brought here, presumably by the merchants that he knew in Venice, and probably as a result of this he writes about it in his travel account.182 Other foreign pilgrims probably write about the Fondaco because it had functions other than storage; in fact, several authors do not refer to its storage facilities at all. Both Venetian and foreign authors mention it to Venice’s credit as yet another clear example of the city’s good organisation in commerce, its richness (manifested in the well-set-up and beautifully decorated building and, in particular, the tax income from German merchants), and its abundance in merchandise.183 In general, however, foreigners simply do not deem warehouses important enough to mention separately. The prominent location of several warehouses at the basin of San Marco gave a first impression to arriving foreign visitors of an entire city overflowing with merchandise, without realising that these storage facilities were located in specific points. In this way the visitors’ unfamiliarity with the city’s general structure stimulated a perception of the city 179  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 34. Sanudo also speaks of the warehouses on p.25–26. 180  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 22–23, 41–42; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 17, 27. 181  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:432; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 41. 182  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 88. 183  Casola, 88; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:432; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 23–25, 110; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 41; Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 36; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 29; Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 50; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 24.

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that corresponded with what the government wanted to emphasise. People living in Venice had a better eye for the exceptionality of these concentrations of goods. Finally, another space of commerce that we often find in the city descriptions are the galleys. These obviously had more than one role. The texts generally make a clear distinction between on the one hand the Arsenal, and on the other hand the ships and their function regarding commerce and, in the case of the pilgrims’ accounts, transportation to the Holy Land. When we look at the large number of ships in Renaissance Venice, it is not difficult to understand why the geographical descriptions speak of them. Governmental interventions in the port area (the area of the Arsenal and the basin of San Marco), such as changes in the physical structures and attempts to improve public order,184 further attracted attention to the zone where these ships were located. Foreigners’ attention was already drawn to this area, since this was where they disembarked. Moreover, pilgrims had a particular interest in the galleys as this was the main reason they were in Venice. They had come to embark for the Holy Land and were in the city to await departure, which could be put off day after day for weeks until the captain decided it was a good time to leave. Arnold von Harff, for example, speaks about the galleys of Venice in conjunction with his preparations for his own voyage.185 When speaking about the galleys, the geographical descriptions do not actually describe the ships; instead, they focus on their large quantity, their far destinations, and the rich merchandise which they carry.186 The depiction of galleys and smaller ships is also an important way in which artists allude to Venice’s commercial role and richness. The bad conditions which can often be found in the surroundings of ports, such as poverty and prostitution,187 are not mentioned. Sanudo, as always well informed and eager to provide his readers with detailed information, also speaks about the passing of the galleys through customs and the way the responsibility of the ships is allocated.188 This connects commerce with a well-ordered and just government. 184  Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant: The Horizons of a Myth, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 139–45. 185  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 57. 186  Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. [a viii v]; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:431–32; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 23, 31–35; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 57; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 29; Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 46–50; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 26. 187  See also: Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant, 146. 188  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 26–27, 29–30.

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4.3 Practices of Commerce Commerce evidently exerted such an attraction that not only its material manifestations were mentioned in geographical descriptions, but also its methods. This gave authors the opportunity to show not only how well-functioning it was, but also to connect it with several moral virtues. The dignity of trade was sometimes defended explicitly. The idea that the Venetians had become rich only in the course of time, by trade, could be used by Venice’s adversaries as an insult, since in other parts of Italy commerce was not considered an appropriate activity for noblemen. This is why both Lauro Quirini and Paolo Morosini maintain that — in contrast with other professions — trade is not incompatible with the nobility of the Venetian patriciate.189 Several Renaissance authors use the mercantile activities of the early Venetians as an implicit argument for this viewpoint. In doing so, they sometimes even diverge from the tradition of emphasising Venice’s original richness in favour of a view of later economic prosperity thanks to trade. The practice of commerce is thus linked to the outstanding moral virtues of the first Venetians: if this virtuous people traded, it must be a virtuous activity. Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi clearly presents the early Venetians as merchants. His concern with commerce leads him to leave aside the tradition of the original richness of the Venetians: the first inhabitants of Venice he mentions are fishermen, living in humble huts, who in the course of generations rise to prosperity thanks to their commerce with many different peoples.190 Therefore, present-day Venetians are not rich simply because they inherited their wealth, but because they have always been involved in trade. Another example is Sanudo. Although on various occasions he stresses the original richness of the Venetians, he also maintains that already from the beginning they engaged in commerce. ‘And it should be known that the Venetians, in the same way as they were merchants in the beginning, continue to do so every year …’191 The marvellous state in which Venice now finds itself has been achieved through trade: In conclusion about the site of Venice, which is a marvellous thing which should be believed if it cannot be seen, and which has reached this 189  Angelo Ventura, “Scrittori politici e scritture di governo,” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. III, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza, 1981), 529–30. 190  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 5–6. 191  ‘Et è da saper che Venitiani, cussì come sono stati nel principio mercadanti, cussì ogni anno segueno …’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 26.

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great state only through commerce by navigating to various parts of the world …192 At another point, when speaking about the early history of the city, Sanudo includes trading in a list of the virtues of the first Venetians.193 In this way the virtuousness of the first Venetians reflects on the practice of commerce and vice versa. The 537 letter of Cassiodorus praises the virtues of the Venetians as well.194 The combination of the moral qualities of the early Venetians and their mercantile activities was therefore not new in the fifteenth century; indeed, Sanudo states that he read the letter of Cassiodorus in the fourteenth-century chronicle of Benintendi Ravignani.195 A strong link between the early history of the lagoon city and trade already existed, since the commercial heart of the city — Rialto — was also where, according to legend, the city had been founded. The Venetian authorities sought to emphasise this by trying to safeguard the venerability of this place. For example, the square of San Giacomo — the exact place of the legendary founding — could only be used for certain types of transactions.196 In 1497 the Council of Ten even compared Rialto to a ‘sacred precinct.’197 A mappamundi in a central loggia depicted the distant countries with which Venetian merchants traded. The venerability of Venice’s foundation and of its commerce were therefore simultaneously underlined by physically transforming this place in a display of beautiful urban structures and merchandise. One practice linked to commerce that various Renaissance authors deem worthy of description, is banking. Close by the square [of Rialto] sit the money-changers who have charge of the merchants’ cash, which they keep with the money-changers so that they may have less money to handle. When a merchant buys from

192  ‘Concludendo del sito di Veniexia, ch’è cossa mirabile da creder si la non si vede, et solum venuta in tanto stato per le mercadantie fatte col navigar in diversse parte del mondo …’ Sanudo, 35. 193  Sanudo, 13. 194  Cassiodorus, The Letters of Cassiodorus, 515–18. 195  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 13. 196  Goy, Building Renaissance Venice: Patrons, Architects and Builders c.1430–1500, 39–43; Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant, 151, 158–59; Dennis Romano, Markets and Marketplaces in Medieval Italy c.1100 to c.1440 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2015), 156– 57, 217–18. 197  Quoted in: Howard, Venice and the East, 113.

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another he refers him to the bankers, so that little money passes between the merchants.198 Sanudo as well dwells on how money is handled in commerce at Rialto.199 Such explanations on banking are placed in the same part of the work where commerce is treated, thereby contributing to an image of Venetian commerce as prosperous, prominent, and well-functioning. While mentioning the banking methods used for trade, Tafur praises the speed and honesty with which Venetians deal with bills of exchange.200 Other writers praise Venetian merchants for their honesty, composed behaviour, fair prices, punctuality, and dedication — such dedication that, according to Casola, it might explain the bad quality of meat in Venice: people are so absorbed in commerce that they do not care what they eat.201 The fair prices connect commerce with good government: Sanudo describes how the government regulates the prices in order to make sure that they do not get too high.202 Tafur explains how the government sells certain types of food at very low prices to foreigners and poor people, so that no one goes hungry.203 In this way commerce could be linked to Venice’s moral and political virtues. 5 Industry 5.1 The Arsenal Although Venice also possessed private shipyards, the Arsenal — Europe’s largest industrial complex until the eighteenth century — was the main place of production of ships.204 It did not fail to impress onlookers. It is a relatively 198  ‘dae hart vmb den platz sittzen die wesseler ind die der koufflude gelt vnder henden hauen, die it dar inne gelaicht hauen, off dat man de myn darff tzellen. as eyn kouffman dem anderen aeff hait gegolden, dat oeuerwijst eyn dem anderen in den bencken, so dat wenich geltz dae vnder den kouffluden ouer getzalt wyrt.’ Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 41. Translation from: Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Knight, 51. 199  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 25–26. Some other examples: Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 19; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 18; Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 51; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 32–33. 200  Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 32–33. 201  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 89; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 41; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 18; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 25, 28; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 166, 171. 202  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 28. 203  Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 166. 204  See in particular: Ennio Concina, L’Arsenale della Repubblica di Venezia (Milano: Electa, 1984); Robert C. Davis, Shipbuilders of the Venetian Arsenal: Workers and Workplace in the Preindustrial City (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1991); Frederic

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stable element in the descriptions of Venice: mentioned by Venetians and foreigners, visitors with secular interests and pilgrims, and throughout the entire period examined here.205 There were several aspects which authors, judging from their descriptions, admired the most. One of these is the great quantity and quality of artillery and ships. The Arsenal’s industriousness is also praised: the large number of people working there and the many different trades. The orderliness and efficiency of the production is another recurrent theme. One example comes from Tafur: And as one enters the gate there is a great street on either hand with the sea in the middle, and on one side are windows opening out of the houses of the arsenal, and the same on the other side, and out came a galley towed by a boat, and from the windows they handed out to them, from one the cordage, from another the bread, from another the arms, and from another the balistas and mortars, and so from all sides everything which was required, and when the galley had reached the end of the street all the men required were on board, together with the complement of oars, and she was equipped from end to end. In this manner there came out ten galleys, fully armed, between the hours of three and nine.206 In short, the Arsenal is praised for the accumulation of industrial activities and everything necessary for industry. The functions of ships built here, particularly those related to commerce, are generally treated in other parts of the city descriptions than those about the Arsenal. Nonetheless, it seems obvious Chapin Lane, Venetian Ships and Shipbuilders of the Renaissance (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992). 205  See for instance: Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, fol. 37v; Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fols. [d iii v]–[d iv r]; Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 139; Santo Brasca and Gabriele Capodilista, Viaggio in Terrasanta di Santo Brasca (1480), con l’Itinera­ rio di Gabriele Capodilista (1458), ed. Anna Laura Momigliano Lepschy (Milano: Longanesi, 1966), 22; Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. [a viii v]; Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 96–97; Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:492; Da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 35; Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 34v; Michele da Figline, Da Figline a Gerusalemme, 47; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 59–71; Guylforde, The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde, 7–8; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 48–51; Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, 36; Ogier d’Anglure, The Holy Jerusalem Voyage of Ogier VIII, Seigneur d’Anglure, trans. Roland A. Browne (Gainesville: University Presses of Florida, 1975), 79–80; Pius II, Commentaries, 2007, II:132; Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 25; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 33–34; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 169–70; Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 121; Wey, The Itineraries of William Wey, 85; Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, 416–18. 206  Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 170.

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that the important place given almost always to the Arsenal is linked with the fascination which authors showed for ships, be it for their function as a means of local transport for people, mercantile use, war use, or sacred destination. The Arsenal is included in Sanudo’s list of sights shown by the Venetian government to important foreign visitors. Commynes indeed mentions being taken there by Venetian authorities. The visit clearly had the intended effect on him: he calls the Venetian fleet ‘more beautiful than anything in the rest of the world today.’207 The reason why this diplomat for France — who, moreover, was in Venice in the middle of the French invasion — would be interested in the state of Venice’s fleet and its military potential is not hard to imagine. The Venetian government, for its part, also had a clear interest in presenting foreign visitors with an impressive view of the space which was so central to their military and mercantile strength. Similar to how the government intervened in other areas of the city, both in terms of the physical organisation of space and the presentation of these spaces to visitors — as happened in places such as Rialto and Piazza San Marco — it also intervened in the construction of the Arsenal. For instance, between 1457/1458 and 1460 the Porta Magna was built, the Arsenal’s main land entrance. Ralph Lieberman has argued that the use of classical Roman and Byzantine elements, and the fact that the gate is incorporated in a wall, were meant to give the impression that Venice was older than it in fact was.208 This is a concern that we have seen already elsewhere in Venetian society and literature, for example in the references to Venice’s alleged Trojan origins. In the specific case of the Porta Magna, the illusion of a long and impressive history is linked to the city’s mercantile and military power, collectively represented by the Arsenal. The main area of the Arsenal itself also underwent major changes between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries, as first the Arsenale Nuovo and then the Arsenale Nuovissimo were constructed. Some authors refer specifically to the magnificence of these new structures.209 Other authors describe the new structures without distinguishing them explicitly. Nevertheless, also before the restructurings of the second half of the fifteenth century, authors express their amazement about the Arsenal. The only clear chronological change in 207  Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:492. 208  Ralph Lieberman, “Real Architecture, Imaginary History: The Arsenale Gate as Venetian Mythology,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 54 (1991): 117–26. 209  See, for instance: Brasca and Capodilista, Viaggio in Terrasanta di Santo Brasca (1480), con l’Itinerario di Gabriele Capodilista (1458), 49; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 49; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 34; Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, 417.

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how fifteenth-century city descriptions speak about this complex comes from pilgrims. The Arsenal is one of the secular places mentioned most often by them. It is also present relatively early, as shown for example in the references made by the late fourteenth-century pilgrim Ogier d’Anglure. Nevertheless, these pilgrims, especially the ‘early’ ones, do not always seem at ease about the inclusion of such a secular sight in the accounts of their sacred journeys. Ogier describes the Arsenal in the section of his account concerning his homeward journey, thereby setting it apart from his sacred Jerusalem journey, whereas the relics of Venice were worthy of being included already in the account of his outbound journey. Moreover, he mentions the destinations of the Venetian galleys, starting with those bound for the Holy Land. He thus makes it clear that it is his religious concerns which make him pay attention to the Arsenal.210 The English pilgrim William Wey also makes it clear that he sees the Arsenal from a pious point of view. And in the city they have a place of large size where they construct the galleys for the defence of our faith, where I saw eighty galleys that had been constructed and that were being built. Below that place they also have large buildings full of every type of arms, organised with various types of arms for the defence of our faith.211 The idea of the Venetians as a pious people made it easy to link the production of war galleys in the Arsenal to the defence of the Christian faith, a topical subject because of the wars with the Ottomans, thus justifying the presence of the Arsenal’s description in a work concerning a pilgrimage. Pero Tafur, who had made his pilgrimage some decades earlier, adopts the same line of reasoning: If the Venetians desired to show their strength, the enemies of the Faith in those parts would not, in my opinion, have a single ship at sea, still less on the coast, nor would they dare to match themselves against such a powerful enemy.212 Towards the end of the fifteenth century pilgrims no longer bother to include this type of justification for their concern with the Arsenal. In this way, the 210  Ogier d’Anglure, The Holy Jerusalem Voyage of Ogier VIII, 79–80. 211  ‘Et habent in civitate locum magne latitudinis ubi faciunt galeas ad defensionem fidei nostre, ubi vidi octoginta galeas factas et fiendas; eciam infra illum locum habent de omni genere armorum domos grandes repletas diversis generibus armorum ad defensionem fidei nostre ordinatas.’ Wey, The Itineraries of William Wey, 85. 212  Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 170.

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decreasing significance of the narrative of Venice as religious space, seen in the previous chapter, could go hand in hand with a growing interest in other views of the city. 5.2 Murano’s Glass Industry Our Renaissance city descriptions mention the production of glass at the island of Murano as well. They mainly concentrate on the beauty and expensiveness of the glass. Pietro Casola praises the many colours in which it is made, and mentions in particular a ‘noble and very subtly worked’ glass chalice costing ten ducats. He also mentions that he did not dare to touch it lest it fall out of his hands.213 This fragility is something that frightens Felix Faber too, who tells two detailed anecdotes about this characteristic, and says that if glass were unbreakable, it would be more expensive than gold. He speaks from experience: he went to Murano with some merchants who bought glass products there, and he and the merchants spent the rest of the day packing up the glass so it would not break on the way back.214 Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi stresses the great quantity of glass being produced.215 According to Sabellico, the invention of something so similar to crystal is a clear demonstration of human ingenuity, shown also in the large number of colours and shapes in which it is wrought. The enumeration of the ‘chalices, small jugs, mugs, cups, and instruments of any sort, and necklaces, and everything the human eye can take delight in’ produced on Murano therefore becomes a tribute to the ingenuity of the Venetians.216 In Casola’s description as well, comments on glass production are linked to virtues ascribed to the Venetian workmen, in this case their continuous diligence,217 while Faber praises the ‘most subtle skill’ with which they work.218 However, even though the glass industry could be used as an opportunity to include praise of the Venetian people, this opportunity is rarely seized. Several geographical descriptions do not mention the industry at all, and those that do say often very little. It is not uncommon to find a ‘description’ consisting 213  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 98–99. Quotation from p. 99: ‘nobile e molto subtilmente lavorato.’ 214  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1849, 3:395–96. 215  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 97. 216  ‘Quivi calici, boccalette, tazze, bicchieri et d’ogni maniera instrumenti et collane et tutto ciò che gli occhi umani può dilettare …’ Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 39. 217  Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 98. 218  ‘in quibus arte subtilissima instrumenta vitrea multiformia fiunt …’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 1843, 1:97.

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only of: ‘Whyles we were at Venyse we went also (…) to Moryan, where they make glasse.’219 Even Sanudo, normally conspicuous for his long and detailed descriptions, does not really treat the subject in his De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, except for remarking that there are so many glass windows, produced at Murano, that in every contrada there is a glazier’s shop.220 In part, this has to do with the existence of rules aimed at keeping glass production a secret.221 Over the centuries the Venetian government intervened multiple times in the glass industry, for example by concentrating it on the island of Murano and by attempting to create a Venetian monopoly: from the late thirteenth century onwards, efforts were made to limit the practice of the trade to members of the guild, inhabitants of the city of Venice and Murano, or sometimes only to inhabitants of Murano.222 An obvious result of this was that most fifteenth-century city descriptions do not comment on the production process.223 This does not explain, however, why relatively few texts describe the final products of this industry, which were not secret at all but could be found everywhere in Venice. Indeed, they even occur on Sanudo’s list of what the Venetian authorities showed to foreign visitors. Still, Commynes, to mention an example, does not refer to it at all, although on various other points his description of the city corresponds with Sanudo’s list.

219  Guylforde, The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde, 9. Some other examples: Brasca and Capodilista, Viaggio in Terrasanta di Santo Brasca (1480), con l’Itinerario di Gabriele Capodilista (1458), 50; Bertrandon de la Broquière, Le Voyage d’Outremer de Bertrandon de la Broquière, ed. Charles Henri Auguste Schefer (Paris: E. Leroux, 1892), 6. 220  ‘et sono tanti li veri che li maistri continuamente conza, et mette in opera — i quali si fanno a Muran, come dirò di sotto — che per ogni contra’ vi è una bottega de verieni.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 20. Contrary to what he says here, Sanudo does not come back to the glass industry anymore. 221  Murano fell under the Dogado and was separated administratively from the city of Venice since 1271. It is unlikely, however, that this could be the reason for authors not including Murano’s glass industry in their descriptions of Venice. For instance, Sanudo, who does not dwell very long on the subject of the glass production, does mention many churches on Murano. 222  Salvatore Ciriacono, “Industria e artigianato,” in Il Rinascimento, società ed economia, ed. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci, Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, V (Roma: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1996), 569–76; Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant, 175–76. 223  An exception is Arnold von Harff, who mentions it very briefly: ‘item in desem steetgen wonen ijdtliche gelaismecher die vss geschmoltzer esschen eyn gelass blaessen as romer ind andere gar koestliche oeuergulde geleyser …’ Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 55.

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Chronology can offer a further explanation. Descriptions of Venice hardly ever include Murano’s glass prior to the mid-fifteenth century.224 From the middle of the century onwards it is referred to more often. This coincides with important changes in the glass industry. In the second half of the fifteenth century important changes in its production techniques, organisation, and distribution took place, and for the next two centuries artistic and technological trends from Venice dominated the international market.225 It is likely that this had an effect on the inclusion of glass in descriptions of the city. However, it is clear that this happened only slowly. Venice’s glass industry existed and had a relatively wide distribution of its products long before the second half of the fifteenth century. Nevertheless, even the government’s attempt to promote this aspect of the city by showing it to visitors did not always result in foreigners including it in their descriptions. 5.3 An Industrial Venice? Many more industrial activities existed in Venice, organised in guilds. Sanudo speaks about this explicitly: he includes lists of the crafts located in certain streets in his De situ.226 Given Sanudo’s tendency, visible in his entire oeuvre, to give extensive, precise, and detailed information, this need not surprise us. Being a Venetian resident, he also had both greater interest and opportunity to gather this information. Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi refers explicitly to Venice’s industrial activities as well.227 He mentions them in their capacity as producing merchandise for sale in Venice, which, in combination with the fact that he was a merchant, explains their presence in his work. However, apart from these two authors, who both had specific reasons for their references to crafts, Venice’s industry — with the exception of the activities at the Arsenal and Murano — is hardly ever mentioned in fifteenth-century city descriptions. This is true notwithstanding the many references to the city’s merchandise. Geographical descriptions focus almost exclusively on the 224  Some exceptions are Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi, writing in 1442, and Bertrandon de la Broquière, who made his pilgrimage in 1432. La Broquière, Le Voyage d’Outremer de Bertrandon de la Broquière, 6; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 97. 225  W. Patrick McCray, Glassmaking in Renaissance Venice: The Fragile Craft (Aldershot and Brookfield: Ashgate, 1999); Francesca Trivellato, “Murano Glass, Continuity and Transformation (1400–1800),” in At the Centre of the Old World: Trade and Manufacturing in Venice and the Venetian Mainland, 1400–1800, ed. Paola Lanaro (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2006), 143–84. 226  ‘Qui faremo mentione delle arte che hanno ruga in uno, et prima’ and ‘Le rive.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 54. In the lists added later we again find ‘Rughe delle arte in Rialto e altro’ and ‘Queste sono le Rive.’ Sanudo, 163. 227  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 14–19.

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quantity of goods for sale within the city rather than on how they are produced. Indeed, as shown in the previous section, merchandise is often praised because it came from distant countries. Wares produced in Venice evidently did not fit the picture of Venice as a great commercial city. ‘The common pursuit of everyone is trade,’ as Vergerio puts it.228 Sanguinacci, who exceptionally refers to production in Venice, mentions foreigners who have moved to Venice and now work there, thereby still valuing locally produced goods for their ‘foreign’ origins.229 In reality, some of the items mentioned in the praises of Venice’s richness were produced in the city, something the sources do not mention. Likewise, commerce in Venice did not only consist of long-distance trade but also of the sale of local products. To complicate matters further, merchandise in Venice could also be the result of a combination of import and local elaboration. Nonetheless, the idea of the city of Venice owing its wealth not only to commerce but also to industry did not become part of Renaissance images of Venice, neither in the representations of foreigners nor Venetians. The narratives existing about Venice throughout the centuries are characterised by flexibility. On several occasions they were adapted, as shown throughout this book, due to factors like changing propagandist needs, literary trends, and historical circumstances. Although industry during this epoch was not Venice’s main economic support and although guilds had less impact on politics than in some other Italian cities, industry’s place in the Venetian economy did not remain the same throughout the fifteenth century. Similar to what we have seen regarding glass production, other sectors of industry changed as well. New trades arose and new techniques were employed, with the result that at the beginning of the sixteenth century the city had a strong industrial side.230 This was, for instance, the case with wool production, which grew considerably throughout the second half of the fifteenth century and particularly in the sixteenth century.231 Silk manufacture was another branch of industry that changed significantly during the second half of the fifteenth and during the sixteenth century. The number of silk looms rose substantially and Venetian 228  Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 120. 229  Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 35–36. 230  For overviews of these changes, see: Ciriacono, “Industria e artigianato”; Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant, 165–82; Luciano Pezzolo, “The Venetian Economy,” in A Companion to Venetian History, 1400–1797, ed. Eric R. Dursteler (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013), 255–89. 231  Andrea Mozzato, “The Production of Woollens in Fifteenth- and Sixteenth-Century Venice,” in At the Centre of the Old World: Trade and Manufacturing in Venice and the Venetian Mainland, 1400–1800, ed. Paola Lanaro (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2006), 73–107.

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silks were increasingly sold throughout Europe and the Levant.232 A third example is the printing press, introduced in Venice in 1469 and rapidly transforming the city into Europe’s leading centre of printing.233 We can therefore pose the question of why the narrative of Venice as centre of material culture did not really come to include industry, not even when after the middle of the fifteenth century several industrial activities increased in importance. Firstly, we need to consider the pace at which the formation of images took place. Similar to how the sources deal with Venice’s glass industry, apparently there was not much hurry to include the rapidly changing trades such as production of wool, silk, and printed works in the depictions of the city. To mention an example: in 1420 Sanguinacci includes a short remark on Tuscans living in Venice and producing silk, and in 1492 Sabellico mentions some places in Venice connected with silk.234 Other than these two examples, the silk industry does not seem to attract much attention in fifteenth-century city descriptions. Although the narrative of a ‘material’ Venice retained importance for various literary genres throughout the entire period, when it came to industry authors evidently did not adapt this narrative to the changing historical situation within the first decades after these changes had begun to take place. Research on the perception of the industrial side of Venice in the sixteenth century could shed more light on the adaptation of images of Venice to the developments in industry. As always, the dissemination of an image in representations interacted closely with the conscious manipulation of that image, in this case being conducted by the Venetian government. Looking at Sanudo’s list of sights shown to foreign visitors, we see that the Arsenal and Murano are the only two spaces of industrial activity included in the list. Indeed, in Commynes’ city description, the Arsenal is the only space of industrial activity included. However, Sanudo and Commynes wrote their texts at the end of the fifteenth century, when it would not have been inconceivable that visitors might have been interested in, say, Venice’s many printers. These were not activities overseen by the state, 232  Luca Molà, The Silk Industry of Renaissance Venice (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000). 233  Neil Harris, “The Italian Renaissance Book: Catalogues, Censuses and Survival,” in The Book Triumphant: Print in Transition in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, ed. Malcolm Walsby and Graeme Kemp (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2011), 26–56; Neil Harris, “Ombre della storia del libro italiano,” in The Books of Venice / Il libro veneziano, ed. Lisa Pon and Craig Kallendorf (Venezia and New Castle: Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, La Musa Talìa, Oak Knoll Press, 2008), 455–516; Martin Lowry, The World of Aldus Manutius: Business and Scholarship in Renaissance Venice (Oxford: Blackwell, 1979). 234  See for example: Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 17; Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 36.

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as was the case at the Arsenal, but then again, neither was the glass industry at Murano, which was nevertheless proudly shown to foreigners. The combination of these factors — lack of purposeful stimulation of an image of an industrial Venice, slow adaptation of city representations to the changing role of Venice’s industrial activities, and the prevalence of prior existing ideas about Venice as centre of material culture — led to industry not being very prominent in Renaissance city descriptions. 6

Art and Scholarship

In the fourteenth century, Paolo de Bernardo described Venice as a city ‘most flourishing indeed in many respects, but otherwise completely opposed to studies … Believe me, in my own country — I say it unwillingly — nothing is less appreciated than the study of literature.’235 In the fifteenth century Venice was still not one of Italy’s leading centres for scholarship and art. The inclusion of these two topics within a chapter on Venice’s material culture is not self-evident. Present-day conceptions of what constitutes art and scholarship do not coincide with early modern ideas. Furthermore, there are several points where these aspects overlap with other narratives about the city: knowledge had links with the moral value of wisdom, to mention one example. Also within the idea of Venice as a centre of material glory, art and scholarly pursuits could be interwoven with other elements. Works of art, for instance, could be praised as manifestations of wealth without necessarily valuing them for their aesthetic worth. The choice to include art and scholarship in a chapter concerning the idea of Venice as a centre of material culture stems from how those topics are treated in the early modern geographical descriptions: generally in combination with other elements that clearly contribute to a narrative of Venice as praiseworthy for its material assets, such as clothing and buildings. This clearly shows that the authors of fifteenth-century descriptions of Venice consider artistic and scholarly production to be predominantly part of the city’s material glory. Without going too deeply into the details of Venice’s scholarly and artistic production during the Renaissance, it is important to call to mind some of the changes that took place in the course of the fifteenth century.236 Humanist 235  Quoted in: Labalme, Bernardo Giustiniani, 11. 236  Felix Gilbert, “Humanism in Venice,” in Florence and Venice: Comparisons and Relations, vol. 1: Quattrocento (Firenze: La Nuova Italia, 1979), 13–26; Paul F. Grendler, Schooling in Renaissance Italy: Literacy and Learning, 1300–1600 (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins

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scholarship advanced relatively slowly in Venice. Nevertheless, in the course of the fifteenth century humanism, particularly Latin rhetoric, was pursued by an increasing number of Venetians. The study of Greek also advanced. Although the city would not have a university until the modern era, the government-funded schools of Rialto and San Marco, established in 1408 and the 1440s respectively, provided lectures in various subjects. Scholarship became even more important when the printing press, introduced in Venice in 1469, transformed the city into the world’s printing capital by the end of the century. Such developments in the importance and visibility of scholarly pursuits in Venice provide us with a similar opportunity as in the previous section, namely to examine how narratives about the lagoon city were adapted, and how quickly. First, it should be said that nowhere in the fifteenth century did scholarship and art really come to occupy a prominent place in the narratives about Venice; even at the end of the century there are still many geographical representations that do not treat any cultural expressions. Faber’s extensive description of Venice, to mention an example, does not refer to it once. Poggio Bracciolini even regards the limited education of young Venetians as an admirable asset.237 Nonetheless, there is a clear increase in how often authors speak about art and scholarship and how much text they dedicate to it. There are some city descriptions from a relatively early stage that dedicate considerable space to art and scholarship. For example, at the end of the first half of the fifteenth century Guidi writes about Venice’s poetry, grammar, rhetoric, philosophy, logic, music, astronomy, arithmetic, and geometry.238 Biondo and Piccolomini, both writing at the beginning of the second half of the fifteenth century, praise famous learned inhabitants of Venice.239 Foreign pilUniversity Press, 1989); Harris, “The Italian Renaissance Book”; Harris, “Ombre della storia del libro italiano”; Margaret L. King, “The Venetian Intellectual World,” in A Companion to Venetian History, 1400–1797, ed. Eric R. Dursteler (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013), 571– 614; Margaret L. King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986); Lowry, The World of Aldus Manutius: Business and Scholarship in Renaissance Venice; Manlio Pastore Stocchi, “Scuola e cultura umanistica fra due secoli,” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. I, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1980), 93–121; James Bruce Ross, “Venetian Schools and Teachers Fourteenth to Early Sixteenth Century: A Survey and a Study of Giovanni Battista Egnazio,” Renaissance Quarterly 29, no. 4 (1976): 521–66. 237  Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 142. 238  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 128–29. 239  Biondo, Northern Italy, 160–64; Pius II, Commentaries, ed. Margaret Meserve and Marcello Simonetta, vol. I (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), 132.

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grims sometimes include references to culture as well. William Wey refers to the publicly paid lecturers of the schools of Rialto and San Marco, while Arnold von Harff speaks of the great art with which the Peace of Venice is depicted in the Hall of the Great Council.240 Pietro Casola expresses his appreciation for a statue he saw in the church of Sant’Antonio: in the said church there is a very admirable thing: a Christ placed in Our Lady’s lap, taken off of the cross, with the Marys on the side, and Saint John, Joseph of Arimathea, and Nicodemus. It is sculpted with so much art and genius that, leaving aside the figure of Christ, all the others seem more alive the closer you come to them.241 It is clear that he does not praise the statue for the pious considerations that it raises or for the richness of its material, but for its aesthetic worth. Sanudo and Sabellico include yet more references to scholarly pursuits and art. Sabellico praises the aesthetic value of the paintings in the Scuola Grande di Santa Maria della Carità — ‘placed not so much for religion as for ornamentation’242 — and describes the school of Rialto and several libraries.243 Sanudo includes lists of lecturers in his De origine, situ et magistratibus, but also dedicates much text to scholarly pursuits within the main part of De situ: he praises the schools of Rialto and San Marco, the college of physicians at San Luca, and the many private teachers working in the city.244 Explicit comparisons with other states, a recurrent theme in city descriptions, are used to underline Venice’s superiority in learning: And it can well be said — as somebody does — that our Republic has followed the Romans in being as powerful in arms as in virtue and learning.

240  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 44; Wey, The Itineraries of William Wey, 90. 241  ‘in dicta giesia egli una cosa molto piena de admiratione: uno Cristo posto in grembo de la Nostra Dona, tolto da la croce, con le Marie a lato, Santo Johanne, Joseph Arimathia e Nicodemo, sculpite con tanta arte e ingenio che, lassando la figura de Cristo, tute le altre quanto più ve li aproximi tanto più pareno vive.’ Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, 92. 242  ‘accostasi alla Chiesa, nobilissima stanza con notevole Collegio della città. Veggonsi quivi tavole di famosi pittori non tanto a religione, che ad ornamento d’intorno poste.’ Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 15.   Another example is a work of art in the church of San Martino. Sabellico, 25. 243  Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città, 17, 24, 25. 244  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 28–29, 235–36.

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Therefore this other person says: “Greece was learned and also powerful in arms; now the Venetians are learned, now the Lion is armed.”245 .

Sanudo also praises Venice for its painting, specifically the excellent and famous paintings of Gentile and Giovanni Bellini. To prove this, he tells how an Ottoman sultan had his portrait painted by Gentile Bellini.246 Just as was the case with industry, then, we see how changes in historical circumstances were followed by an adaptation of city descriptions. Although in both cases it took some decades before the texts really started adapting to these changes, in the case of artistic and scholarly production the texts followed relatively fast and dedicated considerable space to it, more than had been the case with industry. Piccolomini, for instance, does not mention anybody other than scholars when treating illustrious Venetians, while Flavio Biondo states explicitly in his list of Venice’s famous inhabitants that he has ‘allotted the foremost rank in this list to learning and literature.’247 William Wey’s comments on the Venetian schools are based on his visit to the city in 1462, when the school of San Marco had only been established in the 1440s. A first reason for this relatively fast adaptation lies in the fact that the people writing city descriptions were learned men, who would naturally be interested in, and acquainted with, literature and scholarship. For instance, one of the poems of Giovanni Aurelio Augurelli, probably written in the 1470s or 1480s,248 is a sonnet in praise of Venice. According to this poem, Venice — even though the Senate had kept it in a glorious state for many years — only truly achieved glory with the arrival of Petrarch.249 It is not difficult to image why for Augurelli, a poet himself, the presence of one of Italy’s most celebrated poets would make such a big difference in his perception of the lagoon city. Furthermore, several comparatively early references to Venetian scholarship, such as the abovementioned examples of Biondo, Piccolomini, Guidi, and Wey, come from authors who were originally not from Venice. It is possible 245  ‘et si puol ben dir questo — come dice colui — che, poi Romani, questa nostra Republica ha seguitato quelli, sì in arme potentissimi sono, qual in virtute et dottrina, et però dice quell’altro: “Gretia docta fuit, nec non potentior armis / Nunc Veneti docti; nunc tenet arma Leo.”’ Sanudo, 31. 246  Sanudo, 31. 247  ‘Quantum autem ad doctrinam litterasque attinet, quibus hoc in catalogo primas partes tribuimus.’ Biondo, Northern Italy, 162. Translation from: Biondo, 163. 248  Alessia di Dio, “Giovanni Aurelio Augurelli,” in Atlante dei canzonieri in volgare del Quattrocento, ed. Andrea Comboni and Tiziano Zanato (Firenze: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2017), 77. 249  Giovanni Aurelio Augurello, Un maestro del Quattrocento (Giovanni Aurelio Augurello), ed. G. Pavanello (Venezia: Tipografia Emiliana, 1905), 223.

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that, like these men, some authors included learning partly because they were familiar with the situation elsewhere and sought to apply their ideas on this to Venice. Guidi, for instance, clearly has scholarly institutions elsewhere in mind when he lists disciplines in Venice: out of the nine mentioned by him, seven make up the trivium and quadrivium, traditionally taught at medieval universities.250 The fact that there was no university in the city of Venice shows that he must have been thinking of universities elsewhere. The interest in scholarly pursuits of Venetian residents such as Sanudo and Sabellico, too, might have been stimulated by contact with scholarship outside the lagoon city. For example, with the acquisition of Padua in 1405 the Venetian state came into possession of a university. Even if they do not often refer to this specific university,251 such a development might have made them more disposed to describe scholarly pursuits in their own city. Literary tradition was a strong influence as well. This underlines once again that we should be careful not to ascribe excessive uniqueness to Renaissance descriptions of Venice: they display similarities both to earlier texts and to texts dealing with other geographical areas. Already in late antiquity there were treatises on city praises that prescribed the inclusion of references to the cultivation of arts and sciences. During the Middle Ages this had been transformed into references to ecclesiastical topics, such as martyrs, saints, and theo­logians, but Renaissance city descriptions again included learned men like philosophers, theologians, and poets, in the category of famous inhabitants.252 It is likely that people such as Biondo, writing geographical descriptions, knew the tradition of the laudes civitatum. Piccolomini’s description of Venice even corresponds largely with the order prescribed by De laudibus urbium, an eighth-century Lombard manuscript which was a copy of a late antique text. This treatise states that a written city praise should speak of the founder, city walls and geographical position, fertility of the fields, abundance of water, habits of the inhabitants, characteristics acquired in the course of time, and famous people from this city.253 Piccolomini speaks of Venice’s history, location, infrastructure, commerce (replacing agriculture as the city’s source of wealth), richness, defences, and

250  Guidi does not use the terms trivium and quadrivium. 251  See chapter 5. 252  Ernst Robert Curtius, Europäische Literatur und lateinisches Mittelalter, 11. Aufl (Tübingen: Francke, 1993), 166; Schmidt, “Mittelalterliches und humanistisches Städtelob,” 124. 253  Gina Fasoli, “La coscienza civica nelle ‘laudes civitatum,’” in La coscienza cittadina nei comuni italiani del Duecento (Todi: Accademia tudertina, 1972), 13–14. About this treatise, see also Introduction.

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famous inhabitants.254 In this case, the inhabitants referred to are exclusively learned men. Without implying that he knew this specific treatise, it seems fair to assume that Piccolomini, a learned and travelled man, would have been familiar with the existence of the tradition of laudes civitatum and of treatises concerning them. In contrast with industry, then, when changing historical circumstances made it possible for authors, who were probably already disposed to speak about this element, to praise Venice for its culture, a way to do so was quickly found in the tradition of the laudes civitatum. An additional reason for the rather swift inclusion of art and scholarship in the narratives about Venice was their versatility: they lent themselves to being linked to other elements. Works of art could be praised at the same time for their aesthetic value, religious meaning, and the affluence expressed in their possession. Knowledge, to mention another example, was not considered an end in itself during the Renaissance, but as something which had value only when coupled with virtue. Various authors in this period regarded wisdom and reason as divine gifts, and wrote about the limits and difficulties of human knowledge.255 In Guidi’s El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, the very concrete enumeration of arts taught in Venice is part of a praise of the city’s more abstract moral virtues.256 Philippe de Commynes links knowledge of history to wisdom in actions: since the Venetians are well acquainted with Livy — having both his history and his bones in Padua — they avoid the political mistakes that the Romans made.257 This shows how different views on the city could be interwoven. This chapter has analysed the construction and development of one of the main narratives existing in the Renaissance about the city of Venice: that of a city predominantly characterised by an exceptional material culture. To do so, I have focused on a large number of city descriptions. I have also compared them with a series of visual representations made during the same period, emphasising similarities and mutual influence between these two types of representations. Authors of geographical descriptions stressed Venice’s material assets by referring both to elements that could only be found in Venice and to elements that were also present in other cities, but in both cases these elements were mentioned for the purpose of fashioning an image of Venice as a 254  Pius II, Commentaries, 2007, II:130–32. 255  Michael Hattaway, “Paradoxes of Solomon: Learning in the English Renaissance,” Journal of the History of Ideas 29, no. 4 (1968): 499–530; Joseph T. McCullen, “Dr Faustus and Renaissance Learning,” The Modern Language Review 51, no. 1 (1956): 6–16. 256  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 128–29. 257  Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:493.

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city superior to other ones. It has become clear that governmental intervention was an important factor in how this material side of Venice was perceived: for example, by intervening in the physical organisation of space, staging ceremonies, and taking important visitors to see certain sights. Comparison with city descriptions show that these interventions generally had the desired effect. Another important factor that influenced how Renaissance texts could shape a certain view of the lagoon city was the existence of specific literary traditions such as the laudes civitatum. Perception of certain aspects of the city could also change when these aspects themselves underwent changes. Nevertheless, city descriptions did not merely mirror these transformations, as a comparison of the descriptions of Venice’s industry and of its art and scholarship has made clear. Although both elements changed significantly during the course of the century, other factors also affected how authors reacted to them. This emphasises the importance of analysing the large number of factors that were continuously at play when authors sought to create a certain narrative about the lagoon city.

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Venice, Seat of an Ideal Government Narratives about Venice’s religion and material culture remained important throughout the fifteenth century. However, over the course of this period another narrative about Venice in its urban setting became more prominent, too: Venice as the seat of a perfect government. This chapter looks at the various reasons which have been given in historiography to account for this development. Following this, it analyses the main elements that constituted the idea of Venice as an ideal system of government, using a selection of sources representative in terms of chronology, geographical origin, and literary genre: not only political treatises, but also texts that are less frequently considered when analysing reflections on Venice’s political system, such as poetry.1 The diffusion of these elements among very diverse types of texts testifies to their strength. 1

The Development of a Political Narrative of Venice

Within a few years of the publication of Gina Fasoli’s seminal article on what she called ‘the myth of Venice,’ a different voice arose concerning when this myth came to maturity: in his 1961 article Franco Gaeta regarded the War of the League of Cambrai as decisive for this.2 This difference in opinion, continued by other scholars, was linked to different characterisations of the ‘myth,’ namely whether the political system was regarded as the crucial component of Venice’s image. For instance, even though Fasoli stated that in the sixteenth century an increasing emphasis on Venice’s good government could be found, 1  I use Margaret King’s definition of treatises: ‘any independent prose work of at least the length of a long essay that is not a dialogue, a history or biography, or a translation of or commentary upon another text.’ Margaret L. King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 162. For an extensive discussion of political treatises about Venice, see in particular: Franco Gaeta, “Alcune considerazioni sul mito di Venezia,” Bibliothèque d’humanisme et Renaissance 23 (1961): 58–75; Franco Gaeta, “L’idea di Venezia,” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. III, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza, 1981), 565–641; Angelo Ventura, “Scrittori politici e scritture di governo,” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. III, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza, 1981), 513–63. 2  Gina Fasoli, “Nascita di un mito,” in Studi in onore di Gioacchino Volpe, vol. 1 (Firenze: Sansoni, 1958), 447–79; Gaeta, “Alcune considerazioni sul mito di Venezia.” See also Introduction.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004428201_005

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she still maintained that the myth had reached maturity by the middle of the fourteenth century. This was linked with her view of the myth of Venice as mystical rather than political. The moment of this increase in attention for Venice’s political system has been the subject of historiographical debate, too. Although Fasoli and Gaeta had differing opinions on what this development meant for what they regarded as the myth of Venice — Fasoli considered it as the end of the myth as such, while Gaeta saw it as its fulfilment — in their 1958 and 1961 publications they nonetheless agreed on when this shift took place: the sixteenth century or, more precisely, the period after the War of the League of Cambrai. This view was adopted by several other historians.3 In 1975, however, David Robey and John Law argued that the sixteenth-century texts merely gave extensive and systematic form to concepts that had much older origins: they pointed to the description of Venice written by the thirteenth- and fourteenth-century author Henry of Rimini as an early example of a text that regards the lagoon city as a place of ideal government.4 This idea was fully adopted by some scholars.5 Others, though acknowledging the existence of earlier texts that focused on Venice’s political side, continued to maintain that this aspect only took definitive shape much later. In a 1981 article, for example, Gaeta now also discussed fourteenth- and fifteenth-century authors (among them Henry of Rimini), but still saw a much later maturity of a political myth: with De magistratibus et republica Venetorum, written by Gasparo Contarini between 1524 and 1534.6 Still others have regarded the fifteenth century as the period in which Venice’s political system was truly mythicised.7 3  For example: William J. Bouwsma, Venice and the Defense of Republican Liberty: Renaissance Values in the Age of the Counter Reformation (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1968). See also: David Robey and John E. Law, “The Venetian Myth and the ‘De Republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” Rinascimento: Rivista dell’istituto nazionale di studi sul Rinascimento, seconda serie, 15 (1975): 6–8. 4  The precise date of this work is unknown. According to Robey and Law the terminus post quem can be considered 1268; the terminus ante quem sometime not long after 1297. Gaeta dates the work to the early fourteenth century. Gaeta, “L’idea di Venezia,” 567; Robey and Law, “The Venetian Myth and the ‘De Republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” 11. An edition of the work can be found in: David Robey and John E. Law, eds., “The Venetian myth and the ‘De republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” Rinascimento: Rivista dell’istituto nazionale di studi sul Rinascimento, seconda serie, 15 (1975): 54–56. 5  See for example: Quentin Skinner, Visions of Politics, vol. 2: Renaissance virtues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 32–35. 6  Gaeta, “L’idea di Venezia.” 7  For example: Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Immagini di un mito,” in Il Rinascimento, politica e cultura, ed. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci, Storia di Venezia: Dalle origini alla caduta della Serenissima, IV (Roma: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1996), 579–601; Felix Gilbert,

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It is not my intention to search for a ‘mature’ version of a ‘myth’ of Venice, nor to establish in which period it reached ‘maturity’ — a question that is not only impossible to answer, but that by its very nature does injustice to the multiple and flexible narratives that were constructed about Venice and the continuous transformations they underwent. What we can say, however, is that from a certain period onwards, authors started to pay more attention to Venice’s political side in their descriptions. At least from the early fourteenth century onwards there undeniably was a continuous tradition of texts discussing Venice’s political system, which built on earlier material and, at the same time, provided a basis for future texts. This is sometimes stated explicitly by the authors themselves, like Felix Faber: After all, Saint Thomas Aquinas of the Order of Preachers highly praises the Venetian government in book 4, chapter 8, chapter 2 of his works. Bartholdus does this as well in book 17 of De proprietatibus rerum, and Henry of Rimini in his treatise on the four virtues. Leonardo da Udine also praises it most beautifully in his sermon about Saint Mark, Antoninus in his chronicles, Jacobus Philippi in the supplement to his chronicles, and all other learned and wise people.8 Various reasons have been given in historiography for the increase in attention paid to Venice’s political aspects. Several historians have argued convincingly that the changing political situation in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was (at least partly) responsible for this.9 Venice’s fifteenth-century acquisition of a large territory on the Italian mainland and the hostile reactions of other Italian states stimulated discussion on the nature of the government “The Venetian Constitution in Florentine Political Thought,” in Florentine Studies: Politics and Society in Renaissance Florence, ed. Nicolai Rubinstein (London: Faber and Faber, 1968), 463–500. 8  ‘Sanctus enim Thomas de Aquino, ordinis Praedicatorum, operum libro 4. C. 8. C. 2 multum commendat Venetorum regimen. Et Bartholdus de proprietatibus rerum Lib. 17. Et Heinricus de Armino in Tract. de quatuor virtutibus et Leonhardus de Utino in sermone de S. Marco pulcherrime commendat, et Antoninus in Chronicis, et Jacobus Philippi in supplemento Chronicarum, et omnes alii docti et prudentes.’ Felix Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, ed. Konrad Dieterich Hassler, vol. 3 (Stuttgart: Sumtibus societatis litterariae stuttgardiensis, 1849), 404–5. 9  See for example: Crouzet-Pavan, “Immagini di un mito,” 594–96; Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant: The Horizons of a Myth, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 184–91; Gaeta, “Alcune considerazioni sul mito di Venezia,” 63–64; Robey and Law, “The Venetian Myth and the ‘De Republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” 14.

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responsible for this expansion. At the same time, in Italy’s other great republican state — Florence — the success against the Visconti led authors to write about the Florentine political system, which in turn inspired Venetian reflections on their own republic. Moreover, Florence’s political crisis at the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century made Venice’s political situation seem flourishing in comparison. Venice’s emergence from the War of the League of Cambrai with its political system and territory (almost) intact provided material for further praise of this system of government. Some other reasons have been given which, while not sufficient to explain why authors started paying more attention to Venice’s political situation in the first place, probably contributed to this increase in attention.10 The ruling class’s encouragement of a favourable view of Venetian politics, which was in their own interest, was undoubtedly a factor in its success. Similarly, the invention of the printing press, which enabled the diffusion of a certain image of Venice on a much larger scale, the emulation of the political treatises that were being written about Milan and Florence, and the humanists’ association of Venice with classical models of republicanism, contributed further to the increase in attention to Venice’s political system. 2

Elements of a Political Venice

Some Renaissance authors are very explicit in their praise of a general well-functioning of the Venetian government.11 Philippe de Commynes sees a clear reason for this: the Venetians avoid making the same political mistakes as the Romans because they are well acquainted with those mistakes through Livy, ‘for they have his history and also his bones in their palace at Padua.’12 At 10  Gilbert, “The Venetian Constitution in Florentine Political Thought”; Robey and Law, “The Venetian Myth and the ‘De Republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio.” 11   See for example: Bernhard von Breydenbach, Peregrinationes: Un viaggiatore del Quattrocento a Gerusalemme e in Egitto, ed. Gabriella Bartolini and Giulio Caporali (Roma: Vecchiarelli, Roma nel Rinascimento, 1999), fols. [a viii v]-b r; Bertrandon de la Broquière, Le Voyage d’Outremer de Bertrandon de la Broquière, ed. Charles Henri Auguste Schefer (Paris: E. Leroux, 1892), 6–7; Philippe de Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, ed. Samuel Kinser, trans. Isabelle Cazeaux, vol. 2 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1973), 490, 492; Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, ed. Marta Ceci (Roma: Zauli, 1995), 127; Jacopo Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia: Tratte fedelmente dalla rarissima stampa di Treviso (MCCCCLXXIII) (Venezia: Alvisopoli, 1839), 17; Pero Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 1435–1439, trans. Malcolm Henry Ikin Letts (London: George Routledge and sons, 1926), 172. 12  Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:492–93.

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other times they convey such a view of a thriving political system more implicitly. Giorgio Dolfin’s enumeration of Venice’s many magistracies in his chronicle, Marin Sanudo’s detailed account of its magistrates and political system in De magistratibus, and Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi’s long description — in verse, no less — of the various political offices and procedures like the ducal election, leave the reader with an image of well-functioning political machinery.13 While Dolfin’s, Sanudo’s, and Guidi’s descriptions of Venetian magistracies had some circulation in manuscript form but were never printed until the modern era, this was different for Marcantonio Sabellico’s De Venetis magistratibus.14 As in the case of the rest of Sabellico’s and Sanudo’s oeuvres, this difference in success probably had more to do with form and language than with content.15 De Venetis magistratibus describes in detail the various magistracies of the Venetian Republic, treating their historical origins as well as their individual tasks.16 ‘No musical harmony answers as much to itself in every respect as the diligent administration of our city does,’ Sabellico declares at the beginning of his overview of magistracies.17 The treatise was published in 1488 or 1489 and dedicated to Doge Agostino Barbarigo. Sabellico wrote it a few years after moving to Venice and being awarded a lectureship at the school of San Marco — a position that he received in appreciation for his Rerum Venetarum ab urbe condita libri XXXIII and that brought with it the expectation that he would write other works to enhance Venice’s reputation.18 The detailed description of 13  Giorgio Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, vol. 1 (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2007), 124–37; Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 8–10, 101–20; Marin Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), 80–145, 263–312. 14  Dolfin’s chronicle, Guidi’s El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, and Sanudo’s De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae have each been handed down to us in three manuscripts. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, “Introduzione,” in Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, vol. 1 (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2007), 12; Angela Caracciolo Aricò, “Introduzione,” in De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), XVIII, XXXIX–XL; Marta Ceci, ed., El sommo della condizione di Vinegia (Roma: Zauli, 1995), 135. 15  See Introduction. 16  Marcantonio Sabellico, “De Venetis magistratibus,” in Opera (Venetiis: per Albertinum de Lisona Vercellensem, 1502), fols. 94v–104v. 17  ‘Nulla in musicis armonia tam sibi ex omni parte respondet: quam nostrae civitatis diligens administratio …’ Sabellico, fol. 94v. 18  See Introduction.

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the Venetian government’s inner workings in De Venetis magistratibus should indeed be considered one of the works with which Sabellico aimed to please the ruling class. It proved popular enough to be printed in multiple editions, outside of Italy as well as in Venice, either as a separate treatise or as part of Sabellico’s collected works. Several Renaissance texts contain this type of enumeration of Venetian magistracies, but it is still more common to find references to broader ideas about Venice’s politics. Such ideas are generally discussed in order to create an image of Venice as the seat of an ideal government. One such element is the longevity of Venice’s political system. Poggio Bracciolini emphasises this explicitly in his praise of Venice, written in the late 1450s: The virtues of this city, then, are rightly thought to surpass by far all others. The most conclusive proof is the fact that for seven hundred years and more, down to our own day, the Venetians have persisted with the same customs and institutions based on the laws, the doge, and magistrates — something which has never occurred in any other republic.19 At the time, Bracciolini was considering leaving Florence and settling in Venice, which could explain his effusive praise for the city.20 However, we also encounter this idea in texts written by authors who did not have any clear ties to Venice, like Felix Faber’s travel account.21 Moreover, it is sometimes explicitly denied by authors giving a derogatory view of Venice — the notion was evidently too well established to simply pass over. The Florentine merchant Benedetto Dei (1418–1492), a faithful supporter of the Medici family, includes in his chronicle a letter to the Venetians, written in response to a Venetian letter (not handed down to us) that attacked Cosimo de’ Medici and Florentine merchants. Among other points, Dei writes that the Venetians maintain that they have not changed their system of government for a thousand years, but I, Benedetto Dei, will prove the contrary. I say, and I will always say and maintain, that the city of Venice has undergone more changes and innovations and bloodshed than the four most belligerent and warlike cities in Italy, namely Genoa, Bologna, Perugia, and Città di Castello, 19  Poggio Bracciolini, “Poggio Bracciolini, In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. Martin Davies, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 138–39. See also p.144. 20  Gilbert, “The Venetian Constitution in Florentine Political Thought,” 472. 21  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:404–11.

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which, put all four together, would not amount to a quarter of your city of Venice.22 He then continues with a long account of conspiracies, changes in governmental systems, and mutilations and executions of their rulers and highly placed people carried out by the Venetians.23 The same happens in the Commentarii written by Enea Silvio Piccolomini, who was hostile to republics in general.24 He first states: ‘The Venetians have had many forms of government,’ and then provides an overview of Venetian history full of murdered doges, changes in political systems, violence, and conspiracies.25 On another occasion Benedetto Dei speaks of all the blood that has been shed among the Venetians and ‘the great things and the very great wrongs and injustices which you have done to each other …’26 Again, he presents the opposite view of an element that keeps recurring in the sources: the unanimity of the ruling class. ‘There are no factions, no sedition, no trace of dissension,’ as phrased by George of Trebizond.27 Many other texts include the same point.28 The divisions that did exist within the patriciate during this period did not affect how most sources speak about the concord of the Venetian ruling class. While the division between rich and poor patricians, or the one between families tracing their origins prior to the year 800 and families dating from after that caused relatively few problems, the division between giovani and vecchi 22  ‘ma io Benedetto Dei vi proverrò il chontrario; e dicho e dirò e rafermerò senpre che la città di Vinegia à ffatto più mutamenti e più novità e più sanghue che non ànno fatto le quattro città che ssono in Italia le più armigiere e le più marziale, e cioè Gienova e Bolognia e Perugia e Città di Chastello che, rachozandole tut’a quattro insieme, non agionterebono a la quarta parte de la vostra città di Vinegia.’ Benedetto Dei, “Un frammento inedito della Cronaca di Benedetto Dei,” ed. Giustiniano degli Azzi, Archivio storico italiano 110 (1952): 110. 23  Dei, 110–12. 24  Bouwsma, Venice and the Defense of Republican Liberty, 47. See also section 1.5. 25  Pius II, Commentaries, ed. Margaret Meserve and Marcello Simonetta, vol. II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 106–14. Quotation from p. 106: ‘Forma regiminis apud Venetos multiplex fuit.’ Translation from: Pius II, II:107. 26  ‘le gran chose e i grandissimi torti e ‘ngiurie che vo’ faciesti l’uno chontro l’altro …’ Dei, “Un frammento inedito della Cronaca di Benedetto Dei,” 110–11. Quotation from p. 111. 27  George of Trebizond, “George of Trebizond, Preface to His Translation of Plato’s ‘Laws,’” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. John Monfasani, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 132. 28  See for instance: Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 138, 140–42; Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:492–93; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:408. On the notion of unanimity in general in Venetian humanist culture, see: King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance, 92–205.

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was somewhat more problematic.29 Not surprisingly, the authors who praise Venice omit such divisions from their descriptions. Piccolomini does go against the idea of the Venetians’ unanimity but, rather than speaking of differences in political opinions among the Venetians of his own time, he refers mainly to much more drastic cases of discord: people overthrowing the doge. Almost all of his examples date from the distant past, and each example stands on its own rather than being indicative of larger divisions.30 Like the existence of divisions among the ruling class, there were other aspects of the practical functioning of Venetian politics that usually did not find their way into descriptions of Venice’s political system. The role of cittadini and popolo, for example, was generally left out as well. Although they could not form part of the Great Council, they could and did express their opinions about Venetian politics, which the patricians could not afford to ignore entirely. They therefore did influence Venetian politics.31 However, in the descriptions of the functioning of politics they usually have no agency — if they are mentioned at all — and are depicted rather as passive subjects. Philippe de Commynes even states explicitly that one of the reasons why the Venetian government functions so well is that ‘the people have no influence and are not consulted in any matter and all the office-holders are gentlemen except for their secretaries.’32 The notion that everybody, including the doge, is subordinate to the law, occurs in a variety of texts: ‘They realise that they are the guardians, and not the masters, of the laws,’ as Bracciolini puts it.33 We also find this idea in the political treatises of the Venetian authors Lauro Quirini, Domenico Morosini, and Gasparo Contarini.34 Piccolomini mentions this point too but — unsurprisingly, given his generally negative opinion about Venice — he regards it as a negative characteristic.35 Several pilgrims, from different parts of Europe, who had nothing to gain by praising this aspect, also deem it important enough to include in their travel accounts.36 This shows us how important the idea had become. Philippe de Commynes phrases it in a way that would probably be logical for somebody used to monarchy and easier to understand for his 29  Robert Finlay, Politics in Renaissance Venice (London: Benn, 1980). 30  Pius II, Commentaries, II:106–14. A contemporary event that Piccolomini does mention is the deposition of Doge Francesco Foscari: Pius II, II:114. 31  See for example: Finlay, Politics in Renaissance Venice. 32  Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:493. 33  Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 140. 34  See: Ventura, “Scrittori politici e scritture di governo,” 524–26. 35  Pius II, Commentaries, II:120. 36  See for example: Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. b r; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:405–6; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 171.

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audience (which, given that the work is written in French, would in any case not be intended to be primarily from Italy): he likens the doge to a king whose power is limited by the law. And I presented my letters to the doge, who presides at all their councils; he is honoured as a king for life and all the letters are addressed to him, but he cannot act entirely on his own. However, this one has much authority and more than any prince of theirs ever had.37 At the same time, Commynes is aware that the amount of ducal power could vary from one doge to the next; in fact Agostino Barbarigo, of whom Commynes speaks in this passage, did indeed have relatively much power.38 This is the type of insight into Venetian politics that is logical to find in the writings of a diplomat but that is rarer in other descriptions. Some other important constituents of the idea of Venice as the seat of an ideal political system are the secrecy of the government in its acts (meant to keep an appearance of internal harmony), its incorruptibility, everybody’s concern for the common good, the safety provided by the government, and the idea that Venice does not start wars or, if it does, only to achieve peace.39 Explicit comments on Venice’s non-imperialist nature can also be found, as well as their counterpart: texts accusing Venice of precisely this. I will come back to this in Part 2. Various historians have shown how the idea of Venice as an example of an ideal state existed in republican thought across Europe well into the eigh­ teenth century.40 Venetian treatises on politics circulated throughout Europe 37  Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:490. 38  Finlay, Politics in Renaissance Venice, 111–12. 39  See for example: Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 136, 141, 142, 143; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:409; Pietro Lazzaroni, “Ein Gedicht des Humanisten Petrus Lazaronus über die Verfassung Venedigs,” ed. Thomas Haye, Humanistica Lovaniensia: Journal of Neo-Latin Studies 49 (2000): 43; Simone Serdini, “Canzone in laude della città di Venezia,” in Rime, ed. Emilio Pasquini (Bologna: Commissione per i testi di lingua, 1965), 59; Trebizond, “Preface to His Translation of Plato’s ‘Laws,’” 132. 40  See in particular: Bouwsma, Venice and the Defense of Republican Liberty, 625–28; William J. Bouwsma, “Venice and the Political Education of Europe,” in Renaissance Venice, ed. J. R. Hale (London: Faber, 1973), 445–66; John Eglin, Venice Transfigured: The Myth of Venice in British Culture, 1660–1797 (New York and London: Palgrave, 2001); Gilbert, “The Venetian Constitution in Florentine Political Thought”; Eco O. G. Haitsma Mulier, The Myth of Venice and Dutch Republican Thought in the Seventeenth Century (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1980); Karol Koranyi, “La costituzione di Venezia nel pensiero politico della Polonia,” in Italia, Venezia e Polonia tra umanesimo e Rinascimento, ed. Mieczysław

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in the early modern period, both in the original language — printed either in Venice or elsewhere — and translated into various other languages. They were even brought to the New World.41 Additionally, non-Venetian authors could include references to Venice’s political system in order to draw comparisons with their own state. 3

The Ideal of a Mixed Constitution

One important element of the idea of Venice as the seat of an ideal government is closely connected to the different theories existing in the Middle Ages and Renaissance on forms of government. Around the mid-thirteenth century, Aristotle’s Politics was rediscovered.42 An influential notion from this work was its categorisation of types of government: not only monarchy, the type which had previously been considered the only legitimate form, but also aristocracy, popular rule, and a mixture of these three. From the rediscovery of this work onwards, more discussion on the best type of regime became possible. A mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and popular rule could now be considered as a legitimate, or even the best, form of government. Humanists started quoting Plato as a second classical authority for this. Some authors regarded Venice as the perfect example of this mixed constitution, with the doge embodying the monarchical element, the Senate the aristocratic one, and the Great Council the popular one. Henry of Rimini’s work is an early example of this.43 It describes the ideal state as a system in which the people elect wise men to form a government, who in turn choose a ruler who has supreme authority. Henry then states: ‘Among all the polities which have Brahmer (Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy imienia Ossolińskich, 1967), 206–14; J. G. A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton and London: Princeton University Press, 1975). 41  Bouwsma, “Venice and the Political Education of Europe,” 451. 42  James M. Blythe, Ideal Government and the Mixed Constitution in the Middle Ages (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992); Nicolai Rubinstein, “Political Theories in the Renaissance,” in The Renaissance: Essays in Interpretation, ed. André Chastel (London and New York: Methuen, 1982), 153–200; Quentin Skinner, “Political Philosophy,” in The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy, ed. Charles B. Schmitt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 389–452. 43  Robey and Law, “The Venetian myth and the ‘De republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” 54–56. Angelo Ventura has argued that the idea of Venice as the embodiment of the mixed state was probably more widespread at this time, even if we do not have any other extant texts from this period other than this one. Ventura, “Scrittori politici e scritture di governo,” 535.

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existed in our times among the Christian people, the polity of the Venetian people seems to approach this mixed rule.’44 This is followed by a discussion on how the Venetian government is constituted. An early fifteenth-century example is Pier Paolo Vergerio who, in his De republica Veneta (probably written between 1400 and 1403), regards Venice as an aristocracy that also contains elements of the other two types of government.45 In the mid-fifteenth century George of Trebizond, in the preface to his translation of Plato’s Laws, goes further: he views Venice as the realisation of the ideal of the mixed constitution as described in Plato’s work on Sparta’s government.46 There are also examples of authors from outside Venice and from outside humanist circles who adopted this idea, demonstrating its widespread dissemination. Felix Faber, for instance, first explains that three types of government can be found in Aristotle’s Politics, and then argues that Venice possesses characteristics of each of these types. He also refers to several authors who have praised Venice’s system of government. Moreover, he states that Venice’s political system does not only correspond with what philosophers have written, but also with prophets: Moses made the people choose wise men to rule over them, while Moses himself ruled together with these wise men and took care of the more important matters. Faber sees this reflected in Venice.47 Throughout the Renaissance, different views on ideal government coexisted. As shown by Felix Gilbert and Angelo Ventura, some authors did not regard the mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and popular rule as the best system of government but nonetheless viewed Venice as the realisation of the system which they, following classical authors, considered best. According to Francesco Patrizi’s De institutione reipublicae libri IX (which Patrizi started writing after 1457 and finished between 1465 and 1471), a mixture of popular rule and oligarchy is the perfect system of government, with Venice as example. Francesco Negri, author of De moderanda Venetorum aristocratia (1493– 1494), prefers aristocracy and regards Venice as its embodiment.48 Poggio Bracciolini refers to Cicero’s statements that aristocracy is the best possible 44  ‘Inter omnes politias que nostris temporibus in populo Christiano fuerunt politia gentis Venetorum ad hoc regimen mixtum videtur appropinquare.’ Robey and Law, “The Venetian myth and the ‘De republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” 54. 45  Pier Paolo Vergerio, “Pier Paolo Vergerio, The Venetian Republic: Selections,” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. Ronald G. Witt, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 117–27. 46  Trebizond, “Preface to His Translation of Plato’s ‘Laws.’” 47  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:404–5. 48  Gilbert, “The Venetian Constitution in Florentine Political Thought,” 470–71; Ventura, “Scrittori politici e scritture di governo,” 544–45.

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form of government and then states that Venice is the only real aristocracy that has ever existed.49 In De Venetis magistratibus, Marcantonio Sabellico sees Venice as the perfect example of an aristocracy, just as Plato had described: ‘This is that aristocracy which the divine Plato believed was never praised sufficiently, under which free cities with large populations always prospered, as nowadays does ours here.’50 4

The Concept of Liberty

An anonymous fifteenth-century chronicler claims that one of the possible explanations for the name ‘Venice’ has to do with its liberty: One can say that ‘Venetians,’ that is, ‘Venice’ [has] its name from the aforesaid verb venis and zio zias, which stands for ‘calling,’ because it calls all nations to live in it, where everybody lives in liberty …51 The Renaissance concept of liberty, which had an essential place in republicanism, had a double meaning.52 Firstly, the term could refer to a state without an earthly superior authority. Renaissance authors saw evidence for this in Venice’s origin story: both the first and the second Venice were seen as having been founded by free people — first the Trojans and then the inhabitants of north-eastern Italy — who had preferred to flee rather than be subjugated. Indeed, this was seen as conferring onto the Venetians (and onto other people claiming the Trojans as their ancestors) the same love of freedom and hate for subjection and barbarism. Both geographical descriptions and historical texts state that from its foundation onwards Venice had always remained free. Lorenzo de Monacis, for instance, gives many examples of great cities of the past that lost their independence, and contrasts this with Venice, ‘which, born free and founded only under the Christian faith, has reached a thousand years

49  Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 136. 50  ‘Haec est Aristocratia illa quam Divinus Plato nunquam satis laudatam credidit: qua liberae civitates amplissimi populi semper floruere: ut hodie hic noster.’ Sabellico, “De Venetis magistratibus,” fol. 94v. 51  ‘se pol dir che veneziani, zoe Venesia, la sua denominacion dal predito verbo venis et zio zias, che sta per chiamare, per che la chiama tute le nacion ad abitar in esa dove ognuno vive con libertade …’ Venetian chronicle until 1478 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 52 (=7604), fol. 3r. 52  See for example: Bouwsma, Venice and the Defense of Republican Liberty, 11–17.

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with intact dominion and with undefeated liberty.’53 David Robey and John Law have shown an early example of this theme in an anonymous letter to King Louis of Hungary in 1380.54 The importance of the idea of the centuries-old independence of Venice is confirmed once again not only by its presence in sources, but also by its explicit denial by Venice’s opponents. These argued for instance that, far from having always been free, the Venetians had originally been subject to the Byzantine Empire and had gained their independence only by secession.55 Secondly, a state was free when it was ruled by a representation of its own citizens. Again, there are Renaissance authors who claimed that this was the case for Venice. George of Trebizond links this to classical theories of government: Plato thinks that the liberty of a city will be neither stable nor permanent unless it bears a resemblance to three seemingly praiseworthy types of city: the city governed by a single ruler, the city governed by an elite or aristocracy, and the city governed by the people. But Plato said this in a way which only the Venetians understood and the truth of which only they were able to confirm in actual practice.56 This second meaning of liberty is sometimes explicitly denied as well, for instance when Piccolomini attacks both meanings of ‘Venetian liberty’ in the phrase: ‘Here we must say a little about Venice’s claims to independence, for the state has not always been free and even now cannot properly be called free, as it labours under the harsh and oppressive rule of a handful of citizens.’57 53  Lorenzo de Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia (1421),” ed. Mario Poppi, Atti dell’istituto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti 131 (1972–1973): 484–85. Quotation from p. 484: ‘Quum Venetiarum igitur civitas libera nata et sub christiana fide fundata sola ad chiliadem illibata dominatione et invicta libertate pervenerit, tanto affluentius referende sunt gratie, cantande laudes dandaque gloria Deo, quanto ipsam supra alias divinorum beneficiorum perfusiori largitate donavit.’ See also p. 490, 496. 54  Edition in: Robey and Law, “The Venetian Myth and the ‘De Republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” 58–59. Some other examples are discussed in: Gaeta, “L’idea di Venezia,” 587–88; Patricia H. Labalme, Bernardo Giustiniani: A Venetian of the Quattrocento (Roma: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 1969), 279–82; Ventura, “Scrittori politici e scritture di governo,” 523. 55  Pius II, Commentaries, II:114–18. 56  Trebizond, “Preface to His Translation of Plato’s ‘Laws,’” 129. 57  ‘Cur autem civitas liberam sese asserat, paucis referendum est; quae nec semper li­ bera fuit, neque, si ratio vera spectetur, nunc libera dici potest, quae duro et intractabili paucorum civium servitio premitur.’ Pius II, Commentaries, II:114. Translation from: Pius II, II:115.

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Politics and Morality

The way in which Piccolomini links a judgement of certain political characteristics of Venice to one of its moral characteristics can be found in other texts as well. In fact, the narrative of Venice as the seat of ideal government could intersect on various points with other narratives. For instance, politics was often linked to religion — something not peculiar to Venice, but no less relevant to mention.58 To give an example, in his De bene instituta re publica (commenced in 1497 and left unfinished at the author’s death in 1509) Domenico Morosini considers the piety of rulers as indispensable, so that God would not abandon the state and its inhabitants. This corresponded with the general conviction of the Venetian ruling class.59 In addition to piety, ideas on politics could also be interwoven with morality in general. Piccolomini’s comment on the bad qualities of the Venetian rulers, for instance, finds counterparts in the many texts that state explicitly that the Venetians impartially elect only the best citizens to office, in particular to the office of doge. The descriptions of those ‘best citizens’ contain many characteristics that were also moral virtues for individuals, such as wisdom and incorruptibility. The French pilgrim Bertrandon de la Broquière writes: [Venice] is governed very wisely, because no one can be a member of the council, nor hold any office, unless he is a noble and born in the city. There is a duke, and when he dies they elect from among themselves the person whom they consider to be the wisest and to show most zeal for the common good. He always has with him six notable men from among the oldest members of the council.60 According to Poggio Bracciolini: ‘All of them strive to become men of such high moral character in the eyes of their fellows that they will get more votes than the other candidates.’61 58  See also: Bouwsma, Venice and the Defense of Republican Liberty, 27–41, 71–83; Innocenzo Cervelli, Machiavelli e la crisi dello stato veneziano (Napoli: Guida, 1974), 11–20; King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance, 188–89. 59  Gaetano Cozzi, “Domenico Morosini e il ‘De bene instituta re publica,’” Studi veneziani 12 (1970): 455–56. 60  ‘… laquelle se gouverne moult saigement, car nul ne peust y estre du conseille ny avoir quelque office s’il n’est gentilhomme et natif de la ville. Il y a ung duc; et quant il meurt, ilz en eslisent un d’entre eulx, celluy qui leur samble estre le plus saige et qui a plus à cueur le bien commun. Il y a tousiours en sa compaignie six notables hommes des plus anciens du conseille.’ La Broquière, Le Voyage d’Outremer de Bertrandon de la Broquière, 6–7. 61  Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 141.

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Another important quality with which the Venetian government was endowed, according to many sources, was charity: taking good care of the poor and of foreigners.62 Other common points are wisdom, good treatment of prisoners, and mercy in justice — although on this point the opposite, severity, can also be found.63 Bernhard von Breydenbach mentions several qualities in a row: for example, he praises the Venetian Senate by referring to the wonderful and incredible foresight of many forefathers about punishment, the cautious prudence, the impartial justice, the very serious judgements, the very balanced institutions, the very sacred laws, the very prudent decrees of the people …64 Justice, one of the four cardinal virtues, was commonly attributed to the Venetian government as well — a claim that was made by more cities throughout Italy.65 George of Trebizond, for example, refers to the Venetian Republic as ‘the dwelling place of justice,’ while Felix Faber cites a Bible verse about this virtue and connects it with a description of the justice of the Venetian state.66 Moreover, justice could be emphasised not only for the Venetian Republic as 62   See for example: Ad dominium venetum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 123v; Bracciolini, 143; Niccolò Cieco, “Giusta mia possa una donna onorando,” in Lirici toscani del Quattrocento, ed. Antonio Lanza, vol. 2 (Roma: Bulzoni, 1975), 171–72; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:409; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 166. 63   For instance: Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 142; Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. b r; La Broquière, Le Voyage d’Outremer de Bertrandon de la Broquière, 6–7; Commynes, The Memoirs of Philippe de Commynes, 2:490; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:407, 409–11; Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 169. 64  ‘tantorum patrum miram et incredibilem pene providentiam occulatissimam circumspectionem iusticiam equissimam gravissimas censuras instituta libratissima leges sa­ cratissimas cautissima plebiscita …’ Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. b r. 65  On the symbol of justice in cities throughout Italy, see also: Eugenio Garin, Science and Civic Life in the Italian Renaissance, trans. Peter Munz (Gloucester: Peter Smith, 1978), 38. 66  Trebizond, “Preface to His Translation of Plato’s ‘Laws,’” 132; Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:407–9. Some other examples: Venetian chronicle until 1478 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 52 (=7604), fol. 4r; Caio Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 304 (=6077), fols. 38v–39r; Francesco degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia con la summa de le sue uictorie, nobi­ lita, paesi, e dignita, et officij, et altre nobilissime illustre cose di sue laude e glorie come ne la presente operetta se contiene: dicta est gloria cronice nove Venetorum (Venetia, 1501), USTC 808820, fols. [b v], [E v]; Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 136–37, 140–42, 144; Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. b r; Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:139–40; Guidi, El sommo della condizione

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a whole but also for individual people in the republic’s service. In one anonymous poem included in a late fifteenth-century collection of poems, Justice herself endorses a specific captain in Venetian service, even going so far as to say that in some cases he has surpassed the famous Roman hero Scipio Africanus. Justice speaks: I am she who through my great value gave laws to the good people of Rome. Now here I stand with this great lord whom you have made your captain. At times in fame, triumph, and honour he surpassed Africanus Major. Therefore, my high and sublime Venice, hold him dear and keep him in high regard.67 We also find visual expressions of this link between Venice and justice. For instance, a sculpted group on one of the columns of the Ducal Palace represents the Judgement of Solomon: this palace, then, was to be considered a palace of Solomon.68 Similarly, there are examples of art that present ambivalent figures who could connect Justice, the Virgin Mary, and Venice, or who could simultaneously personify both Justice and Venice.69 There were also Venetian processions where people represented the virtue of justice.70 In the same way as has already been shown at other points throughout this book, such expressions of di Vinegia, 128, 131; Lazzaroni, “Ein Gedicht des Humanisten Petrus Lazaronus über die Verfassung Venedigs,” 42, 44, 47; Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 54. 67  ‘Justicia loquitur:   Io son colei che pel mio gran valore   che legie diedi al bon popul romano.   Or qui me sto cum questo alto signore   qual fatto havete vostro capitano.   Za mai di fama di triumpho e honore   supero lui el Magior Affricano.   Si che Vinesia mia alta e sublima,   tien costui caro e fatone gran stima.’ Justicia loquitur, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 66v. 68  Deborah Howard, Venice and the East: The Impact of the Islamic World on Venetian Architecture 1100–1500 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000), 180–83; David Rosand, Myths of Venice: The Figuration of a State (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), 97–100. 69  Rosand, Myths of Venice, 19–36. 70  Cozzi, “Domenico Morosini e il ‘De bene instituta re publica,’” 453.

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the same idea in different media undoubtedly reinforced the existence of that idea and made people across society aware of it. Even texts consisting mainly of a long list of magistracies could stress moral values. This is the case in Pietro Lazzaroni’s De clarissimis magistratibus venetis, a 274-line poem in hexameters. It praises a variety of aspects, like Venice’s dominion, fleet, and location. Most of the text, however, is devoted to the city’s government. It treats individual, specifically mentioned magistracies, but the descriptions focus less on the specific tasks of each magistracy and more on general virtues, such as reason, justice, and incorruptibility. The only known contemporary copy is a manuscript in the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana in Venice.71 It opens with a dedicatory letter by Pietro Lazzaroni to the doge and the Venetian Senate, suggesting that it was written by or at least transcribed on the order of Lazzaroni himself. The doge in question was probably Agostino Barbarigo, which dates the manuscript to the period 1486–1501.72 Lazzaroni was a humanist from the Valtellina. He first taught grammar and rhetoric in Chiari, and from 1480 he taught rhetoric at the university of Pavia. Throughout his life he dedicated works to a variety of people, including the pope, the bishop of Trento, the French king (during the Italian Wars), and the rulers of Milan, Mantua, and Montferrat.73 De clarissimis magistratibus venetis was evidently an attempt to ingratiate himself with a different ruler, the Venetian government. Although it is unknown how the manuscript was received, it is obvious that it was meant as a precious gift. It is an illuminated manuscript, on vellum, with sumptuous margins, and with on almost every page initials in colour and containing gold leaf. Such a manuscript would have sent a clear message, not only about Lazzaroni’s wish to please the Venetian authorities with an appealing gift, but it would also have emphasised Lazzaroni’s positive depiction of the city’s political system, whose praiseworthy characteristics made it deserving of such a beautiful manuscript. Many sources, then, present an interweaving of moral virtues intended for individuals, and political virtues intended for governments. That is not to say that ideas on morality did not also constitute a separate narrative about Venice, as will become clear in the next chapter. However, there are certain texts where 71  Pietro Lazzaroni, De clarissimis magistratibus venetis, Ven. Marc. Lat. X 240 (=3370), fols. 24r–32r. An edition of the text can be found in: Thomas Haye, “Ein Gedicht des Humanisten Petrus Lazaronus über die Verfassung Venedigs,” Humanistica Lovaniensia: Journal of Neo-Latin Studies 49 (2000): 31–54. This does not include the prose text in the lower margins of the manuscript, which was clearly written at the same time as the rest of the text and should be considered part of it. 72  Flavio Santi, “Lazzaroni, Pietro,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 2005. 73  Santi.

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political and moral qualities are highly intertwined. This is in keeping with Renaissance theories on politics and morality. Political theory was traditionally regarded as an addition to, or even a part of, ethics.74 A tripartite division of moral philosophy into moral, economic, and political values was known for centuries and was used also by most authors during the Renaissance.75 In the specific case of works on Venetian politics as well, several historians have pointed out the existence of a link between politics, morality, and sometimes religion, focusing mainly on political treatises. For instance, Margaret King has shown how the Venetian humanist Giovanni Caldiera (ca.1400-ca.1474) placed republican values over personal ones by linking them to religious symbols: in his De praestantia venetae politiae, each of the three theological virtues is associated with a certain republican characteristic.76 A person could only be virtuous if he was also virtuous towards the republic — a strong intertwining, therefore, between republicanism and morality. This book was part of a series of three, dealing with ethics, economics, and politics respectively: the three parts of moral philosophy. This immediately shows how for Caldiera politics in general and the Venetian political system in particular are closely linked with moral philosophy. We see the same phenomenon in the work of Henry of Rimini, discussed previously. His description of Venice, of which the first part deals with its political system, forms part of a treatise on the four cardinal virtues, more specifically the part on justice.77 A similar interweaving of politics, morality, and sometimes religion occurs in the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century political treatises written by Ermolao Barbaro, Lauro Quirini, and Gasparo Contarini.78 74  Paul Oskar Kristeller, “The Moral Thought of Renaissance Humanism,” in Renaissance Thought and the Arts, expanded ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 30. 75  Margaret L. King, “Personal, Domestic, and Republican Values in the Moral Philosophy of Giovanni Caldiera,” Renaissance Quarterly 28, no. 4 (1975): 535–74; Jill Kraye, “Moral Philosophy,” in The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy, ed. Charles B. Schmitt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 303–86. 76  King, “Personal, Domestic, and Republican Values in the Moral Philosophy of Giovanni Caldiera.” 77  Robey and Law, “The Venetian myth and the ‘De republica Veneta’ of Pier Paolo Vergerio,” 54–56. 78  See: Vittorio Conti, “The Mechanisation of Virtue: Republican Rituals in Italian Political Thought in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” in Republicanism: A Shared European Heritage, ed. Martin van Gelderen and Quentin Skinner, vol. 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 73–83; Gaeta, “L’idea di Venezia”; Aldo Mazzacane, “Lo stato e il dominio nei giuristi veneti durante il ‘secolo della terraferma,’” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. I, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1980), 577–650.

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However, there were many more literary genres than just political treatises in which such a connection between politics and morality can be found. For instance, at one point in his chronicle, Giorgio Dolfin describes how the Venetian people living in the first settlement of the Venetian lagoon, Eraclea or Cittanova, decide to form a government: And thus it was done and decided, by means of a general council, that each of its territories and places should have a rettore and podestà who would fear God and love justice. He would always have to defend the common good, with the liberty of punishing malefactors and granting favours to the good people, so that the whole province should always live in holy concord and union, and that the state would grow from good to better.79 In a similar passage another, anonymous, chronicler emphasises the Venetians’ high moral standards after the creation of a government: those in the province, having their rettori and podestà, lived in peace and concord and unity, and they always looked at the general good. The province grew in dominion and in honour, and they [those in the province] in multitude of people and in great riches, always taking care to hold their honour dearer than anything else.80 Francesco degli Allegri’s long poem La summa gloria di Venetia includes several pages about the various magistracies in Venice. They are mentioned individually but, rather than describing their concrete tasks, Degli Allegri focuses on their moral qualities: justice, wisdom, protection of widows, unmarried girls, orphans, and poor people, and virtue in general.81 Indeed, such an interweaving 79  ‘Et cussì fo facto et determinato, per uno suo zeneral conseglio, che ogni sua terra et luogo havesse uno rector et podestade che temesse Idio et amasse la iustitia, el qual havesse sempre a defender el ben comune cun libertade de punir li malfactori et far gratia a li boni, a chaxon che tutta la sua provincia dovesse sempre viver in santa concordia et union, et de crescer el suo stado di ben in meglio.’ Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 1:138–39. 80  ‘quelli della provençia, abiando suo retori e podestadi, vivando in paxe e in chonchordia, in unitade e vardando senpre al zeneral benne, e achressando la provençia in stado e in onore, e lloro in moltitudine de persone e in gran richeçe, abiando senpre respeto de avere plui charo loro honore che ogni altra chossa.’ Venetian chronicle until 1384 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 38 (=8748), fol. 3r–3v. 81  Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fols. b ii r–[b iv r].

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of morality and politics was not bound to factors like geographical origin: in Felix Faber’s travel account a discussion of Venice’s virtues is placed within the chapter ‘On Venice’s long-lasting government,’ thereby showing clearly how for this author the two were highly intertwined.82 Furthermore, certain literary genres have generally been overlooked in historiography on political thought. This is particularly the case for poetry — very often overlooked, moreover, also more in general in research on representations of Venice. Research on poetry tends not to focus on poems with political references, while research on politics tends to omit poetry.83 Taking this genre into consideration — a genre that, as will become clear in the next chapter, generally paid much attention to Venice’s moral virtues — provides us with an excellent opportunity to analyse the interweaving of politics and morality in genres other than political treatises. This shows that, just as it could be difficult for some authors to think of politics without also thinking of morality, the reverse could be true, too. There are indeed some poems that focus primarily on morality in Venice but that also include comments on government. For instance, the anonymous author of the 1495 poem Chi vuol veder in terra un real stato characterises Venice as a proper state, a just domination, a holy flock, an uncontaminated and true law.84 This emphasises a strong connection between politics, morality, and in this case also religion. Simone Serdini da Siena’s praise of Venice is another poem which focuses primarily on moral virtues, but in which the author evidently is reminded various times of Venice’s political system:

82  ‘De diuturno Venetorum regimine.’ Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:404–11. 83  For example, Manlio Dazzi, who has edited various volumes of Venetian poetry, even states explicitly that he hardly ever regards poetry on politics as poetry proper. Manlio Dazzi, ed., Il fiore della lirica veneziana, vol. I: Dal Duecento al Cinquecento (Venezia: Neri Pozza, 1956), 24. On Dazzi’s criteria for his selection of poems, see pp. 12–14. 84  ‘un real stato,   un iusto dominar, un sancto grege,   una incontaminata e vera lege.’ Chi vuol veder in terra un real stato, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 44v.

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Just lady [Venice], where reason and law are, not Babylonians, barbarians, or tyrants, but Fabricii, Trajans, and the good Cato: here virtues are rewarded and deceit receives its torture, and here rule is not by tyranny, but by reason.85 Niccolò Cieco’s poem in praise of Venice focuses for the most part on moral virtues. When the author mentions unanimity, this leads him to consider the topic of the longevity of the Venetian government too.86 A similar transition can be found in Jacopo Sanguinacci’s Inchoronato regno sopra i regni: a stanza on Venice being full of virtues is immediately followed by one on its good government.87 We see, then, that the interweaving of politics and morality was so strong that even in texts where the narrative of Venice as a morally outstanding city was exceptionally prominent, reflections on moral virtues could lead to reflections on the political system. Not only was the Venetian government to be praised because it was morally exemplary, but according to certain authors Venice’s moral qualities were also praiseworthy because of their connection to Venice’s politics. This chapter has shown that, in large part in reaction to the political changes that took place over the course of the long fifteenth century, in the period under analysis here the narrative of Venice as seat of an ideal system of government gained importance. Authors constructed this narrative by discussing a large number of elements, which can be found in city descriptions belonging 85  ‘Iusta madonna, ov’è ragione e legge,   non Babiloni, barbari o tiranni,   ma Fabrizii, Traiani e ‘l bon Catone:   qui le virtute han premio e qui gli inganni   hanno il supplicio loro, e qui si regge   non come a tirannia, ma con ragione.’   Serdini, “Canzone in laude della città di Venezia,” 59. See also: Serdini, 60–61. 86  ‘Ma l’union tua, ch’è d’un cuor mille insieme,   è quella che t’onora e pregia tanto   che ‘l cristiano e ‘l pagan t’invidia e teme.   Cerca simile a te che si dia vanto   regger mill’anni uno stato sincero,   né macularsi mai tanto né quanto.’ Niccolò Cieco, “Giusta mia possa una donna onorando,” 170. 87  Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 17.

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to a great variety of literary genres and written by authors from across Europe. On several points the idea of a predominantly political Venice was entwined with some of the other ideas about Venice in its urban setting that are discussed in this book. In multiple sources reflections on politics and on morality, in particular, were interwoven. That does not mean that the idea of Venice as a morally exemplary city was only an additional dimension to other narratives about the city: indeed, there are many texts that describe Venice as characterised essentially by moral virtues. This is the subject of the next chapter.

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Venice, Morally Exemplary City ‘The city is decorated with every virtue,’ Caio Caloria wrote in the late fifteenth century about Venice.1 He was not alone in expressing this view. The idea of Venice as a morally exemplary city was one of the main narratives in Renaissance descriptions of Venice. A spatial dimension is missing here: morality is not located in the physical city, but is linked with Venice on a more abstract level. This narrative was relatively often connected with other narratives about the city. Nevertheless, because of its prominence in certain sources, or even in certain types of literature in general, it is necessary to study it in its own right. This chapter analyses the construction of this narrative in texts written by people from a variety of geographical and social backgrounds. Special attention is paid to poetry, a genre where morality features exceptionally prominently, but, as always, other types of literature are analysed as well. 1

‘It Presses Every Gathered Virtue to Its Bosom’

References to moral virtues are a very common element in Renaissance descriptions of Venice. In many texts this was undoubtedly one of the ways in which an author sought to flatter a pro-Venetian audience. It was not peculiar to Renaissance Venice, nor to geographical descriptions; praise of virtues can be found in texts about states and rulers throughout time and space. Nevertheless, even texts that were motivated perhaps less by authors’ own observations about Venice than by a desire to ingratiate themselves with their audience or by imitation of a larger tradition are still important for our understanding of the way that people constructed narratives about Venice. The idea of Venice as an exceptionally moral city can be found in texts from various periods, literary genres, and authors from different backgrounds. Some Renaissance authors link Venice’s moral qualities explicitly to classical philosophers. Poggio Bracciolini, for example, compares Venetian justice to what Aristotle wrote about it, and links his praise of the Venetians’ virtue of

1  ‘D’ogni virtu la terra decorata.’ Caio Caloria, In honorem Venetorum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 304 (=6077), fol. 35v.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004428201_006

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decorum to Cicero’s writings.2 However, there are no systematic references to specific theories of moral philosophy. In fact, Renaissance humanists tended to use notions, examples, and sentences from classical philosophers belonging to different schools of thought in an eclectic manner.3 There was also a tendency to harmonise the views of various classical authors in search of a common wisdom. This is the case in the descriptions of Venice too, where we find allusions to moral philosophies, but no attempts to insert a description of the city’s virtues in a specific philosophical system. Similarly, although several of the four cardinal virtues and the three theological virtues occur frequently in these descriptions, they are not named as such, nor are they systematically mentioned together.4 Various authors combine remarks on Venice’s moral virtues with other parts of their city descriptions. Indeed, as becomes clear throughout this book, authors could use descriptions of more concrete aspects of Venice, like its buildings or clothing, to make statements on moral virtues. The narrative of Venice as a morally superior city can be considered the one which, in comparison with the other three main narratives discussed in Part 1 of this book, is most often connected to the others. Nevertheless, there are texts in which Venice’s moral virtues are all grouped together in a distinct part of the text or in which they even form the entirety of its contents. For this reason it is necessary to distinguish the narrative as a separate one. Like Caio Caloria, seen earlier, several authors simply include a remark that Venice possesses all virtues. The anonymous author of the 1495 poem Un iusto sceptro e in ciel, un altro e in terra writes that Venice ‘presses every gathered virtue to its bosom.’5 According to Francesco Filelfo: ‘All things yield to virtue

2  Poggio Bracciolini, “Poggio Bracciolini, In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. Martin Davies, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 142, 144. 3  Paul Oskar Kristeller, “The Moral Thought of Renaissance Humanism,” in Renaissance Thought and the Arts, expanded ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 37–39. 4  One exception is Francesco degli Allegri, whose long poem in ottava rima about Venice includes several pages in which Venice is praised for its excellence in all four cardinal and three theological virtues. Francesco degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia con la summa de le sue uictorie, nobilita, paesi, e dignita, et officij, et altre nobilissime illustre cose di sue laude e glorie come ne la presente operetta se contiene: dicta est gloria cronice nove Venetorum (Venetia, 1501), USTC 808820, fols. [E v]–[E ii v]. 5  ‘in grembo ogni virtu racolta serra.’ Un iusto sceptro e in ciel, un altro e in terra, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 44v.

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there, every place and all hospitality is closed to vice.’6 Niccolò Cieco’s poem in praise of Venice, to give another example, describes Venice as ‘strengthening every virtuous act’ and as a ‘unique mother and friend of virtue.’7 Other texts are more specific and explicitly attribute many different moral virtues to Venice and to the Venetians. Among the most frequently mentioned ones — in sources written throughout the long fifteenth century, in different languages, by authors from different geographical backgrounds, and in various literary genres — are moderation, unanimity, justice, prudence, piety, protection of the weak, and benignity. Wisdom, love of peace, respect for foreigners, diligence, courage, loyalty, lack of greed, good manners, and perseverance are commonly found as well. Some of these are connected with each other. A few of them are not only moral virtues, intended for individuals, but could also be political virtues, intended for governments — as seen in the previous chapter, in several texts ideas on morality and politics are interwoven. Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi devotes a part of his work to praising many virtues of the Venetians, such as their forgiveness, honesty, humility, love for peace, charity, justice, prudence, reluctance to displease anybody, temperance, and you will find all of them benign, with sweet blood and with a human desire to help you as much as you will wish.8

6  ‘Omnia cedunt   illic virtuti, vitio locus omnis et omne   clauditur hospitium.’ Francesco Filelfo, “Hecatosticha decima,” in Satyrae, ed. Silvia Fiaschi, vol. I. Decadi I–V (Roma: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 2005), 260. 7  ‘fortificando ogni atto virtuoso,’ ‘Singular di virtù madre ed amica.’ Niccolò Cieco, “Giusta mia possa una donna onorando,” in Lirici toscani del Quattrocento, ed. Antonio Lanza, vol. 2 (Roma: Bulzoni, 1975), 169. Some other examples: Jacopo Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia: Tratte fedelmente dalla rarissima stampa di Treviso (MCCCCLXXIII) (Venezia: Alvisopoli, 1839), 17; Simone Serdini, “Canzone in laude della città di Venezia,” in Rime, ed. Emilio Pasquini (Bologna: Commissione per i testi di lingua, 1965), 58; George of Trebizond, “George of Trebizond, Preface to His Translation of Plato’s ‘Laws,’” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. John Monfasani, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 129. 8  Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, ed. Marta Ceci (Roma: Zauli, 1995), 126–31. Quotation from p. 128:   ‘Benigni tutti sì li troverai,   con dolce sangue e d’un volere umani,   di lor servigi quanti ti vorrai.’

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Bernhard von Breydenbach writes that even if he had a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths, and an iron voice, he still could not list all the virtues that the Venetians possess. He gives a long description of many of these qualities, but concludes that even Cicero himself, with all his eloquence, would not be able to discuss all of them.9 Felix Faber, to mention another example, speaks of a series of virtues shown by the Venetians, such as strictness of their children’s education, and moderation in food and drink. He states that in general ‘they do not have inhuman and enormous crimes, and they are thoroughly unfamiliar with similar customs.’10 In later centuries Venice’s reputation would change, and vice, rather than virtue, would become important for how some people saw Venice. During the eighteenth century, for instance, British travellers of the Grand Tour generally associated Venice with prostitution, gambling, and other forms of licence and libertinism.11 This was not yet the case in fifteenth-century city descriptions, where references to moral virtues are very common.12 However, that does not mean that vices are never mentioned. Unsurprisingly, we find some references to vices in texts written by authors who are mostly negative about Venice, but they occasionally even occur in generally positive texts. For example, both Marin Sanudo and Marcantonio Sabellico include some comments that point to certain Venetian vices — although these comments are infrequent, not very explicit, and greatly exceeded by all the virtues mentioned in the same texts. Both authors praise the austerity of the earlier Venetians and contrast it with the sumptuousness of their own time: the church is old, and to its left side, in a somewhat higher place, there is an old sepulchre, which used to belong to three families together, but it 9   Bernhard von Breydenbach, Peregrinationes: Un viaggiatore del Quattrocento a Gerusalemme e in Egitto, ed. Gabriella Bartolini and Giulio Caporali (Roma: Vecchiarelli, Roma nel Rinascimento, 1999), fol. b r. 10  In particular: Felix Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, ed. Konrad Dieterich Hassler, vol. 3 (Stuttgart: Sumtibus societatis litterariae stuttgardiensis, 1849), 407–8. Quotation from p. 408: ‘inhumana et enormia crimina non habent et a convicinorum moribus sunt penitus alieni.’ 11  Iain Gordon Brown, “Water, Windows, and Women: The Significance of Venice for Scots in the Age of the Grand Tour,” Eighteenth-Century Life 30, no. 3 (2006): 1–50; John Eglin, Venice Transfigured: The Myth of Venice in British Culture, 1660–1797 (New York and London: Palgrave, 2001); Bruce Redford, Venice and the Grand Tour (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996); Rosemary Sweet, Cities and the Grand Tour: The British in Italy, c.1690–1820 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 199–235. 12  On (the small number of) references to prostitution in fifteenth-century geographical descriptions of Venice, see section 2.4.2.

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is narrow in a way that the bodies only just fit. This place led me to think of how much parsimony there was in the city in the past, so that several families were happy in a sepulchre of five and a third feet.13 This goes against the frequently mentioned idea that the Venetians are a virtuous people because of their moderation. Given the many different theories that existed in the Renaissance on what constituted morally good behaviour, it is not surprising to see texts contradicting each other. For instance, not only do ideas on the Venetians’ moderation differ from Sabellico’s and Sanudo’s view on a certain sumptuousness in the present, but this very sumptuousness is even regarded as a virtue by Pier Paolo Vergerio.14 Concerning clemency, the same phenomenon can be found. Sanudo praises the Venetians for possessing this virtue.15 So does the anonymous author of Chi vuol veder in terra un real stato: Look at the Lion, welcome in heaven and on earth, who weighs everything and who corrects with reason. Look at his judgement, and see how he rules. He imparts pity with justice to the ungrateful.16

13  ‘la Chiesa è antica, alla cui sinistra in luogo alquanto più alto, è un antico sepolcro, che fu per addietro a tre famiglie comune, ma stretto in guisa che appena vi stanno i corpi; il qual luogo mi mosse a considerare, quanta fosse nei passati tempi nella città la parsimonia, nella quale più famiglie di sepolcro di cinque piedi et un terzo, fossero contente addentro.’ Marcantonio Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città (1502), ed. G. Meneghetti (Venezia: Stamperia già Zanetti, 1957), 25.   In Sanudo: ‘Et fo grand’accrescimento della città de Venetia questi talle, sì di loro persone come robbe et per li edificii che continui si fabricava, non come al presente con tanta pompa et tanta signoria, quale è li nostri pallazzi, ma case facevano de legno al meglio potevano. Non curavano sontuosità ma utilità et attendevano a far denari et lassar fama di loro per la nova città habitavano.’ Marin Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), 16. 14  Pier Paolo Vergerio, “Pier Paolo Vergerio, The Venetian Republic: Selections,” in Cambridge Translations of Renaissance Philosophical Texts, ed. Jill Kraye, trans. Ronald G. Witt, vol. II (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 120. 15  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 19. 16  ‘Veda il Leon, in ciel e in terra grato,   ch’el tuto pesa e cum ragion correge.   Veda il iudicio e veda come il rege.   Pietade con iustitia fa al’ingrato.’ Chi vuol veder in terra un real stato, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 44v.

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One anonymous fifteenth-century chronicler even sees the Venetians’ inclination for forgiveness as a possible explanation for the name ‘Venice’: it would derive from the Latin venia, ‘forgiveness.’17 Enea Silvio Piccolomini also considers clemency a virtue, but states that the Venetians do not have it: ‘They are an uncompromising nation and enforce their laws with stringency.’18 Breydenbach, too, believes that the Venetians are not a clement people, but regards their ‘very severe judgements’ as a positive asset.19 At times, such differences of opinion on what constitutes virtuous behaviour occur even within the same text. Several authors praise the Venetians for their respect for tradition.20 Vergerio is one of them; however, within a few paragraphs he completely contradicts himself: he first states that ‘the youth of the city is well mannered and fond of foreign habits and fashions’ and then that ‘although they sail to the ends of the earth, these people seem ignorant of foreign customs.’21 Although, therefore, many texts agree on the idea of the Venetians being a very virtuous people, not always is there consensus on the nature of those virtues. There are no substantial differences between how Venetian morality is treated in texts written by Venetians or by people from elsewhere. As seen throughout this book, ideas about the lagoon city could be circulated across different media and in different languages. While this dissemination sometimes went hand in hand with important changes in content, in other cases these ideas spread without many significant transformations. Morality belongs to the latter category. While there are, as seen, differences in how texts deal with Venice’s virtues, these do not seem to have sprung from differences in geographical background. This is most probably linked to both the strength of the narrative of Venice as a morally exemplary city, and the familiarity that many foreign visitors already had with ideas on morality: they could apply broader ideas on virtue to the lagoon city.

17  Venetian chronicle until 1478 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 52 (=7604), fol. 3v. 18  ‘Praerigidum genus hominum et suarum legum observantissimum.’ Pius II, Commentaries, ed. Margaret Meserve and Marcello Simonetta, vol. II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 120. Translation from: Pius II, II:121. 19  ‘gravissimas censuras.’ Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. b r. 20  For instance: Bracciolini, “In Praise of the Venetian Republic,” 139, 141; Pietro Casola, Viaggio a Gerusalemme di Pietro Casola, ed. Anna Paoletti (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2001), 99–100; Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 27. 21  Vergerio, “The Venetian Republic: Selections,” 120, 121.

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A Moral Venice from Its Foundation

The story of Venice’s foundation is used by various Renaissance sources as a way to address the city’s abstract moral virtues. George of Trebizond, for example, states that the early Venetians were ‘of truly extraordinary natural ability, learning, and practical experience, endowed with every kind of virtue.’22 In some cases authors even adopt the idea of Venice as a morally exemplary city as the main way of framing their account of the city’s founding legend. The poem In laudem Venetorum (second half of the fifteenth century), for example, praises the origins of Venice in comparison with those of Rome.23 According to its anonymous author, Venice was noble from its earliest beginnings, possessing characteristics such as virtue, simplicity, love, harmony, peace, one faith, and humility. This way of grouping multiple, explicitly mentioned moral qualities in accounts of Venice’s foundation can be found in various other texts as well. The story of the double foundation of Venice was sometimes considered as having consequences for the moral excellence of the present-day Venetians. For instance, Breydenbach proffers the Venetians’ descent from the Trojans — in contrast with the shepherds from whom the Romans descend — as the explanation for why in his own time they are so often ‘noble, assiduous, and famous.’24 He subsequently links the foundation history of Venice with several more moral virtues, such as concord and unanimity. The lifestyle of the early Venetians could be used to address various virtues as well, such as harmony and peacefulness. The sixth-century letter of Cassiodorus was one source of inspiration for this. According to this description, the Venetian settlement was characterised by equality, moderation, and the absence of envy.25 This text was known in the fifteenth century and could even be cited in order to lend more credibility to one’s statements, as done by Marin Sanudo when he writes about the virtuous life of the early Venetians. Sanudo’s account follows the general lines of the story of Venice’s early history as it existed in the Renaissance. In doing so it implicitly displays a range of 22  Trebizond, “Preface to His Translation of Plato’s ‘Laws,’” 130. 23  In laudem Venetorum, Ven. Marc. Lat. XIV 267 (=4344), fol. 6r. The codex in which this poem is included contains a variety of texts, all transcribed by Marin Sanudo. He included the same poem about the origins of Venice also in another collection, this time with the title In laudem urbis venetie: Ven. Marc. Lat. XII 210 (=4689), fol. 11r. 24  ‘nobilium industriorum et clarorum.’ Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. [a viii r]. 25  Cassiodorus, The Letters of Cassiodorus, Being a Condensed Translation of the Variae Epistolae of Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator, trans. Thomas Hodgkin (London: H. Frowde, 1886), 515–18.

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moral virtues, but Sanudo also refers to the Venetians’ virtues more explicitly; for example, the first Paduan settlers are described as ‘worthy men, and illustrious, rich, and religious.’26 In this case, Venice’s moral qualities are mixed with some of the narratives that have been discussed in previous chapters: religion and wealth. Another passage, however, is devoted almost entirely to the praise of the moral qualities of the early Venetians: These inhabitants (…) were not arrogant and they did not value riches, even though they were rich, but piety and innocence. They did not dress ornately, nor did they search honour, but assembled and elected for the good of the commune they entered the government. There were no differences [between them], and in his letter Cassiodorus writes the following: “Poverty lives there with wealth in equality”…27 Sanudo also praises specific Venetians from this early period of history for their virtues, like Saint Magnus of Oderzo.28 Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi’s El sommo della condizione di Vinegia is another example of a text using Venice’s founding story to address the city’s moral qualities. The early history of the city is treated immediately in the first chapter of this long poem. Every step of Venice’s foundation and early history is linked explicitly to moral virtues. Among the first inhabitants of the city there is great benevolence, thanks to their ingenuity they become merchants, they go through many troubles and spend much money in order to maintain their liberty, and the rest of their history is characterised by kindness, nobility, and other virtues as well.29

26  ‘homeni degni et illustri, ricchi, et religiosi.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 11. 27  ‘Questi habitanti (…) non erano superbi né stimavano ricchezza, benché ricchi fosseno, ma pietà, et innocenza; non vestivano ornatamente né cercavano honore, ma coacti et electi per ben del Commun intravano al governo; non era differentia alcuna, et scrive Cassiodoro in la sua epistola questo: “Paupertas ibi cum divítibus sub aequalitate vivit”…’ Sanudo, 13. 28  For example: ‘Magno preditto, vescovo di Heraclia, eletto dalli habitanti per la santa et mirabil vita facea, a tutti grata — perché era consolator di quelli che nei loro affanni con lui s’andavano a confortare, et deva opportuno rimedio — et havé per revelatione come dovesse vegnir in li lacuni dell’isola de Rialto, dove era comenzata una città in aqua a fabricar, chiamata Venetia, et ivi dovesse far edificar sette ghiesie.’ Sanudo, 15. 29  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 5–7.

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Morality and Poetry

Several types of literature dealt explicitly with moral philosophy in the Renaissance: mainly treatises, dialogues, and later essays; more marginally, orations, letters, and collections of sentences, proverbs, and commonplaces. However, the topic was also treated in other genres. For example, moral instruction was even considered to be one of the main tasks of poets in the Renaissance.30 Orators and authors of prose included ideas on ethics in their works as well, and historical and biographical texts were also believed to have the task of teaching moral lessons. Indeed, explicit remarks on Venice’s moral qualities can be found in a variety of literary genres, as seen in the sources discussed throughout this chapter. That does not mean, however, that all of these genres gave equal weight to the topic: some types of literature include references to morality more frequently than others. This again underlines the necessity of regarding the narrative of Venice as an exemplary moral city as a distinct one, not merely as an additional dimension to other narratives. For example, writers could choose to describe certain elements of Venice without adding the moral qualities that others often associated with them. This indicates clearly that this moral side of the city was not seen as so interwoven with its other sides that it could not be distinguished. The idea of Venice as a morally exemplary place is particularly prominent in a large number of poems. Indeed, many texts discussed throughout this chapter are poems.31 Although for several of them the author and intended audience are unknown, it seems likely that various of these anonymous poems, considering how they praise Venice, were dedicated to influential people in the city in the hopes of gaining some reward. In addition, they could also have been disseminated orally, as poetry lent itself particularly well to this. In this case as well Venice would have been a logical place for public performance or for reciting in smaller company, given the poems’ topic. It thus would have been possible for a larger audience to be exposed to the themes of these poems. 30  Kristeller, “The Moral Thought of Renaissance Humanism”; Robert Matz, “Theories and Philosophies of Poetry,” in A Companion to Renaissance Poetry, ed. Catherine Bates (Hoboken: Wiley, 2018), 154–65. Indeed, Margaret King has argued that poetry written by Venetian humanists was characterised by a tendency toward two major themes: morality and religion. For a general overview of themes in Venice’s humanist literary production, see: Margaret L. King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 161–205. On poetry in particular, see p. 171–172. 31  A good point of reference concerning poetry on Venice is still: Antonio Medin, La storia della repubblica di Venezia nella poesia (Milano: Hoepli, 1904).

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The praise of Venice written by Simone Serdini da Siena is an example. Throughout his lifetime Serdini spent time at different Italian courts and wrote laudatory poems for various rulers. His praise of Venice — undoubtedly another poem written in order to gain favour with members of the ruling class — focuses almost entirely on abstract moral qualities without linking them to concrete examples. In the ninety-two lines of the poem, Venice is simply praised as the place where many virtues, such as prudence, moderation, benignity, temperateness, purity, justice, reason, and kindness can be found.32 Interestingly, one of the manuscripts in which this poem has been handed down to us, Conventi soppressi 122 in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, does pair this praise of Venice’s abstract moral qualities with a much more concrete depiction of the city: indeed, this is the manuscript from the first half of the fifteenth century that contains the drawing of Venice discussed in chapter 2 (figure 1). Another poet, Niccolò Cieco, praises Venice extensively in his Giusta mia possa una donna onorando. This blind singer from Florence or Arezzo composed poems in praise of various persons and cities, among which is this one about Venice in 1425. Although not certain, it is possible that he was in Venice around the time that he composed the poem.33 When the poem is not listing generic formulas of praise (‘gem of beautiful Italy, unique heart / the most divine and the most worthy of Europe …’) most of its 166 lines are concerned with Venice’s moral virtues: concord, temperance, good counsel, justice, prudence, honouring old traditions, and providing refuge to those who are lost, to name but a few.34 Ad dominium venetum, a sonnet written in 1495, combines Venice’s moral virtues with its politics, something that, as seen in the previous chapter, was not uncommon during this period and had to do with the close connection of Renaissance theories on ethics and politics. However, that does not mean that texts could not emphasise one of the two more than the other, and this poem is a clear example of that: even though it is written in praise of the Venetian Senate, it does not go into any specific political aspects, but refers more to the personal moral qualities of its members. It opens with:

32  Serdini, “Canzone in laude della città di Venezia.” 33  Irene Tani, “Niccolò cieco,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 2013, http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/niccolo-cieco_(Dizionario-Biografico)/. 34  Niccolò Cieco, “Giusta mia possa una donna onorando,” 169–72. Quotation from p. 170:   ‘gemma d’Italia bella, unico core,   d’Europa la più diva e la più degna’

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Solemn Senate, in which clearly can be seen immense justice and the highest merit, unquestionable faith and a tender heart.35 Similarly, the much-praised virtue of unanimity is not mentioned with regard to taking political decisions, but is described as having ‘made of your hearts a solid wall / rooted in true faith and love.’36 The entire poem focuses in this way on abstract moral virtues. In fact, such a strong emphasis on Venice’s moral qualities can be found in a relatively large number of poems. Indeed, of all the sources that speak of Venice’s moral virtues, poems are generally the ones to treat it most extensively. We even find poems devoted in their entirety to this topic.37 This is in keeping with what was stated previously about the function of Renaissance poetry: it was generally seen as providing moral instruction by showing audiences examples of virtue and vice. In many poems — like the examples mentioned above — it is likely that poets were in fact casting Venice and its inhabitants in a role of moral example, undoubtedly much to the pleasure of pro-Venetian audiences. This once again underlines the necessity of analysing Renaissance representations of Venice also in relation to the literary genres in which they were rooted. Moreover, it again shows the importance of taking into consideration texts from a variety of backgrounds when analysing the construction of narratives about Venice in the Renaissance. The relatively limited attention devoted to poetry in studies on representations of Venice has led, among other things, to insufficient attention being given to the narrative of the city as morally exemplary. From the end of the fifteenth century there was a rapid increase in the number of poems about one specific subject: the Italian Wars. Poems about current wars had already existed in Italy throughout the fifteenth century — examples 35  ‘Grave senato, in cui chiaro si vede   iustitia immensa et summo alto valore,   indubitata fede e un dolce core.’ Ad dominium venetum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 123v.   The author of the poem refers to himself as ‘il Bernardo vostro.’ Antonio Medin has suggested that this might be Bernardino Corso. Medin, La storia della repubblica di Venezia nella poesia, 497. 36  ‘facto de cor de vostri un saldo muro   in vera fede et amor radicato.’ Ad dominium venetum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 123v. 37  Some further examples: Chi vuol veder in terra un real stato, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 44v; Un iusto sceptro e in ciel, un altro e in terra, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 44v.

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in the case of Venice include poetry about the wars with the Da Carrara and the Visconti — but the Italian Wars led to a true proliferation of such poems.38 The advent of the printing press allowed for the circulation of large numbers of inexpensive printed poems and collections of poems regarding the events of the ongoing wars. Additionally, the texts continued to circulate in manuscript form. Some of these poems focus on the specific events of the wars, for example narrating specific battles. Others do not mention specific events, but write more generally in reaction to the wars, for instance about the states involved in them. Many of them contain descriptions of or comments on Venice. In laudem Venetorum, written in 1497, emphasises Venetian loyalty and strength during the Italian Wars. The author is Pietro Mochi, originally from Siena but at the end of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century mainly active in Venice, where we know that at least in 1517–1518 he taught in a school.39 In laudem Venetorum might well have been written both in the hopes of receiving some sort of reward from influential Venetians and to be performed for a larger audience in urban public spaces. Using a mixture of metaphors, the sonnet presents a dialogue with Italy about the invasion. The ill-advised actions of some Italian states have made it possible for the French rooster (a pun on the double meaning of the word gallo) to spread his wings, and Venice is the only state still loyal to Italy. In the final sestet Italy expresses the hope that the Venetian lion will be able to stop the advancement of the French. She declares that a new Camillus is already coming forth from Venice, referring to the Roman hero Marcus Furius Camillus, who was famous for having defeated the Gauls (yet another meaning of Galli).

38  Armando Balduino, “Le esperienze della poesia volgare,” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. I, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1980), in particular 332–337; Luca degl’Innocenti, “Paladins and Captains: Chivalric Clichés and Political Persuasion in Early Modern Italian War Poems,” in Interactions between Orality and Writing in Early Modern Italian Culture, ed. Luca degl’Innocenti, Brian Richardson, and Chiara Sbordoni (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 31–47; Massimo Rospocher, “Songs of War: Historical and Literary Narratives of the ‘Horrendous Italian Wars’ (1494–1559),” in Narrating War: Early Modern and Contemporary Perspectives, ed. Marco Mondini and Massimo Rospocher (Bologna and Berlin: Il Mulino, Duncker, Humblot, 2013), 79–97; Rosa Salzberg, Ephemeral City: Cheap Print and Urban Culture in Renaissance Venice (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2014), 104–10. 39  Paola Medioli Masotti, “Un ‘praeceptor’ a Venezia fra Quattro e Cinquecento: Pietro Mochi senese,” Lettere italiane 26, no. 4 (1974): 484–95.

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Italy, how are you? In great danger, and from head to toe I don’t have an honest member except for that glorious and divine Venetian empire, to which I always firmly cling. Who is the cause of this evil? The bad counsel of rulers of my area. What do they bring about? The flight of the bold and proud rooster [galo] who labours to bring me under his claw. But I hope that in the end his wings will be cut off by the gaze of the lion, at whose signal the world trembles and his fame rises to heaven. Look, from him a good Camillus rises who uses against the French [gali] so much his strength that he already unfolds the banner of victory.40 This poem was copied by the hand of Marin Sanudo in a codex dating from the last decade of the fifteenth century and containing a large collection of poems about the events in Italy during that period. This also shows that, however much the invention of print allowed for the circulation of large numbers of cheap printed poems about the current wars, this did not eclipse their existence in manuscript form. The codex is a good case study of the way in which the idea of Venice as morally exceptional could be used in this type of literature which became so important from the late fifteenth century onwards. 40  ‘Italia, come stai? In gran periglio,   ne ho dal capo al pie membro sinciero   se non quel glorioso e divo impero   veneto, al qual ognor ferma me apiglio.   Del mal chi e cagione? Il mal consiglio   de principanti del mio hemispero.   Che danno? Il volo el galo ardito e fero   a far che vengi sotto il suo artiglio.   Ma spero al fine a lui sien tronche l’ale   per el sguardo del lion, di cui lo squilo   il mondo trema et suo fama al ciel sale.   Ecco surger da lui un bon Camilo   che contra i gali si sua forzia vale    che di victoria gia spiega il vexilo.’ Pietro Mochi, In laudem venetorum, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 126v.

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While some poems focus on other aspects of Venice, others emphasise its morality, linking comments on specific enemies or battles with remarks on Venice’s moral virtues. The codex contains 279 poems in total, written in Latin and vernacular. They were written by a variety of authors, some of them mentioned by name while most remain anonymous. It is unknown whether Sanudo ever intended or attempted to publish them, but only some of them have been handed down to us in other versions: for example, one of them is also included in Sanudo’s diaries, another one in a book printed in Brescia in 1499, and two others can be found in a manuscript currently in Berlin.41 Most of them, however, survive only in this codex. This does not necessarily mean that people were uninterested in these poems: it is probable, especially given the topical nature of their contents, that they circulated orally, or that other versions were thrown away once people felt that their topicality had diminished. Poems such as these were likely to reach an audience of people from various social classes. When they were performed in public spaces they would have been heard by rich and poor, and Venetians and foreigners alike. Additionally, as in the case of many other laudatory poems, it is possible that some of them were originally dedicated, or intended to be dedicated, to powerful people. Most of the poems in the codex concern the Italian Wars. Some of them praise the French, while the majority express hope for an Italian victory or call for concord among the Italians. A recurring theme is Venice as Italy’s hope against the French, while the other Italian states have been overrun or, worse, are even the ones responsible for Italy’s troubles. Many poems urge Venice to go into action. Andrea de’ Micheli does not speak of concrete events from the war, but instead focuses on a series of more abstract moral virtues. He praises Venice’s peace-loving and loyal character, and underlines that what is pleasing to good people is pleasing also to Venice. ‘Others look for war and he only for peace / He is very displeased by betrayal.’42 Another author wrote a sonnet in 1495, probably in reaction to the Battle of Fornovo where an army of the recently formed Holy League, largely consisting of Venetian troops, had dealt a blow to the French army. The poem states that in a short period of time the 41  Most poems have remained unpublished also in the modern era. A list of all titles contained in the codex can be found in: Alessandro d’Ancona and Antonio Medin, “Rime storiche del sec. XV,” Bullettino dell’istituto storico italiano 6 (1888): 17–35. On this codex, see also: Vittorio Rossi, Poesie storiche sulla spedizione di Carlo VIII in Italia (Venezia: Visentini, 1887). 42  ‘Altri cerchano guerra e lui sol paze,   a lui molto dispiace i tradimenti.’ Andrea de’ Micheli, Responsio, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 74v.

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French had won Tuscany, Rome, Naples, and a large part of Italy, but Venice has stopped them. The final two tercets declare triumphantly: Everyone, therefore, should learn from this example that if Mark the Evangelist does not wish it no lord will defeat my Italy. Charles, king of the French, who rapidly had led the whole of Italy into trouble, is tamed by the Evangelist in a short time.43 Still another anonymous sonnet, probably written in the same year and in reaction to the same battle, describes France as full of pride, evil intentions, and wrongdoing, with the justice and reason of Saint Mark driving the French out of Italy.44 In short, throughout these poems on the Italian Wars, authors sometimes remain silent about Venetian moral qualities, but other times link the political-military events of their time emphatically to ideas on Venice’s elevated morality. The example of these poems also shows clearly that praise on the virtues of Venice and the Venetians could have different functions, which could affect texts in various ways and to various degrees. Authors could speak of morality to flatter potential patrons, to hearten a Venetian audience in uncertain times (during the Italian Wars a general Venetian audience would probably have liked to hear how Venice would doubtlessly solve all of Italy’s problems), to warn Venice’s enemies not to go against this outstanding state — or all of the above. It would not be long after the events referred to in Sanudo’s collection of poems that Venice came to stand at the centre of another large-scale international conflict, the War of the League of Cambrai. And similar to how the political uncertainties of the period of the French invasion had led to a multitude of poems being written with messages to Venice’s subjects or to its enemies, the events of this new phase of the Italian Wars also stimulated the production of new texts. A quarto pamphlet entitled In laudem civitatis Venetiarum serves as 43  ‘Empari adunque ogniun a questo exempio   che, non vollendo Marco Evangelista,   alcun signor non vince Italia mia.   Carlo de Galli re, che in breve vista   haveva Italia tuta posta in guai,    el Vangielista il doma in picol tempo.’ Se la Toschana in breve spacio e Roma, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 55v. 44  Per non esser deli altri mancho tardo, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 56r.

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a second case study. After the poems transcribed by Marin Sanudo, gathered probably after Sanudo had seen them somewhere in written form or heard them on the streets, this pamphlet offers an example of a printed collection of poems. As will become clear, the overall rhetoric and the general themes addressed are not very different from those in Sanudo’s collection. The pamphlet contains thirty-seven vernacular poems, most of which were written in the beginning phases of the turbulent period of the War of the League of Cambrai.45 Although the pamphlet falls just outside the chronological boundaries of this research, in a period of profound changes for Venice on many levels, it can serve as an example of the continued importance of the idea of Venice as morally exemplary. The four-leaf pamphlet does not indicate the author(s), printer, place or year of publication, but it can be assumed that it was printed in Venice around 1509 and that most of the poems were also written in that year.46 The poems are full of references to the period around the Battle of Agnadello. Multiple poems speak of Venice’s enemies, who have come to steal and destroy, and they admonish Venice’s subjects to stay loyal to their ruler. Belongings, daughters, and wives; you cannot call them “ours” under a tyrant but [say] “Long live Saint Mark” and they will be yours.47 The texts address different groups, like individually mentioned cities of the mainland state, which are urged to remain loyal to Venice, and other Italian states, which are reproached for bringing misery upon their own heads by calling foreign powers to the peninsula. God, according to several poems, will 45  In laudem civitatis Venetiarum [Venezia, ca.1509], USTC 762312. 46  A poem about the antiquity of Venice states that Venice’s history started ‘mille ottanta e vn anno’ ago: fol. [4v]. This probably indicates that this poem was written in 1502, as the most commonly held foundation date was 421. However, most other poems were clearly written later, as they obviously refer to the events in the period around Agnadello. It is likely that the pamphlet was printed in the beginning phases of the War of the League of Cambrai. Indeed, both Edit16 and the catalogue of the British Library (one of the only two known libraries that hold copies of this pamphlet, together with the Università degli Studi di Firenze) infer 1509 as date. Some poems appear also in other collections: see also Krystina Stermole, “Venetian Art and the War of the League of Cambrai (1509–17)” (Queen’s University, 2007), 69. 47  ‘Roba figlie e molieri   Sotto vn tyran dir non potete nostre   Pero viua san Marcho e seran vostre.’ In laudem civitatis Venetiarum [Venezia, ca.1509], USTC 762312, fol. [2r].

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protect and avenge the Venetian state, and if Venice is under divine protection, then not even the combined states of the world could harm it. The texts incite Venice to take action against its enemies. There is also a reference to Andrea Gritti, who played an important role in Venice’s attempts to regain its mainland territories after the Battle of Agnadello. Multiple poems make an appeal to the idea of Italy uniting against foreign enemies, urging Italians to side with Saint Mark in the fight against foreign powers who have come to reduce Italy to servitude. ‘What business do Germany, Spain, and France have among us?’48 In the midst of all these references to a specific political context, the poems also contain a large number of more general comments. They praise Venice’s virtues, such as piety, love of peace and freedom, clemency, and wisdom. To some extent these are generic laudatory formulas, which could be used to praise anybody, but they also show the continuous importance of the idea of Venice as morally exemplary. This is also the case for the only woodcut in the pamphlet, on the first page (figure 9). It shows the doge, wearing the corno, sitting on a throne, and holding a banner with the lion of Saint Mark. He is flanked by personifications of Justice, Prudence, Temperance, and Fortitude: the four cardinal virtues, carrying their attributes. Although the poems refer to Venice’s virtues on multiple occasions, they do not specifically speak of the cardinal virtues. Probably the printer had simply chosen the woodcut as a generic, easily understandable image of Venice as a virtuous state. It might very well have been used in other printed works as well. The presence of such an image on the first page was probably meant to motivate people to buy a copy. Such a copy would have been relatively cheap. Pamphlets like these were already not very expensive, but during this period printed songs about the War of the League of Cambrai could be very cheap indeed.49 The poems would have lent themselves well to both reading and performing orally. There are even some comments in the text itself that suggest this. The last page includes the comment that the author has ‘written and sung’ and that he now sends his sonnets out into the world.50 Print and oral performance were often intertwined during this period.51 This would likely have been the case for the texts in this pamphlet as well. Parts could have been performed 48  ‘Ch ha far fra noi germania spagna e galia.’ In laudem civitatis Venetiarum [Venezia, ca.1509], USTC 762312, fol. [3v]. 49  Salzberg, Ephemeral City, 20. 50  In laudem civitatis Venetiarum [Venezia, ca.1509], USTC 762312, fol. [4v]. 51  Massimo Rospocher, “‘In Vituperium Status Veneti’: The Case of Niccolò Zoppino,” The Italianist 34, no. 3 (2014): 349–61; Massimo Rospocher and Rosa Salzberg, “An Evanescent Public Sphere: Voices, Spaces, and Publics in Venice during the Italian Wars,” in Beyond the

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First page of In laudem civitatis Venetiarum, probably printed in Venice around 1509 Courtesy of the Università degli Studi di Firenze, Biblioteca Umanistica

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in public spaces in Venice and other cities, with copies of the printed text being sold afterwards, or people could have bought a copy in a bookshop or on the street and read it afterwards to their family and friends. This means that texts like these would have been able to circulate widely, among a large proportion of the population. Given its message, the Venetian government would undoubtedly have been pleased with this.52 However, the development of views on Venice in the turbulent period following the Battle of Agnadello is a subject for other research. A large variety of virtues can be found in Renaissance descriptions of Venice — and a number of vices as well, occasionally even in texts written by people who generally aim to praise the city. This chapter has analysed the construction of the narrative of Venice as a morally exemplary city. It has shown that in some texts this narrative is the main way of framing the description of the city. This is particularly the case in a relatively large number of poems. A series of poems has been analysed in order to shed light on the ways that authors could construct a view of Venice as a city that was predominantly characterised by an elevated morality. This also shows how the lack of attention to poetry in research on representations of Venice has led to this narrative of a ‘moral Venice’ not being given enough attention and often being considered merely an additional dimension to other ideas on the city. In general, the four chapters of Part 1 show clearly that we need to adjust our ideas on the representations that were created about the city of Venice during the Renaissance. A greater variety of narratives existed than generally acknowledged in historiography, with more changes taking place in the development of these narratives over time. Moreover, a vast number of factors influenced the construction and transformation of these multifarious narratives. When in the course of the long fifteenth century the city of Venice came to stand at the head of a large state on the Italian peninsula, geographical descriptions had to take this new reality into account. How they did this precisely is the subject of Part 2. Public Sphere: Opinions, Publics, Spaces in Early Modern Europe, ed. Massimo Rospocher (Bologna and Berlin: Il Mulino, Duncker, Humblot, 2012), 93–114; Salzberg, Ephemeral City. 52  For a case where the Venetian authorities punished a printer and street singer for selling anti-Venetian works during the War of the League of Cambrai, see: Rospocher, “In Vituperium Status Veneti.”

part 2 Perceptions of Venice and the Terraferma as a State

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Venetian Views on Venice and the Terraferma as a State In the course of the long fifteenth century Venice went from being a city with various possessions overseas but with only limited territory on the Italian peninsula, to being also the capital of one of Italy’s great regional states. How did geographical descriptions represent the city of Venice in its capacity as capital of a state, and the mainland territories in that of part of the Venetian state? This chapter focuses on geographical descriptions written by people from the Venetian milieu. I use this term loosely. Renaissance Venice was characterised by continuous movement, exchange, and interaction of people, objects, and ideas. A selection of texts written by authors from Venice will therefore always depend to a certain extent on artificial delineation. Nevertheless, it is useful here to see what type of geographical narratives would have circulated within the city of Venice and would have appealed to a predominantly Venetian audience. This chapter therefore includes authors like Giorgio Dolfin, a Venetian patrician living in Venice, but also people like Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi and Francesco degli Allegri, neither of whom were originally from Venice, but who were living there and writing primarily for a Venetian audience. By concentrating on a series of themes — justification for territorial expansion, perception of the links between Venice and the Terraferma, and the impact of political affiliation on geographical representations — this chapter analyses in detail the construction and development of Venetian narratives about Venice and the Terraferma as a state, during the period in which this state was being created. 1

Justifications for Mainland Expansion

Geographical descriptions are not primarily, and often also not explicitly, concerned with attempts at justifying or criticising wars or territorial expansion. Indeed, fifteenth-century geographical descriptions of Venice and the Terraferma as a state, written by Venetians, do not contain direct references to specific theories that existed in this period on the decision to wage war — the

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ius ad bellum — or how to conduct war — the ius in bello.1 That does not mean, however, that they do not convey ideas on these topics. Official state documents have received more attention than geographical descriptions in analyses of justifications for or criticisms of Venice’s mainland expansion. Historians have shown that in contemporary state papers and chronicles, Venice’s early fifteenth-century mainland acquisitions were not perceived as a significant change of policy, either in Venice or elsewhere.2 Nor were they regarded in the first half of the century as manifestations of a Venetian aspiration to gain rule over Italy, as Nicolai Rubinstein has shown in detail.3 In Florence, for instance, the fear existed in the first half of the century that the duke of Milan was trying to create an Italian kingdom, but Venice’s expansion into eastern Lombardy was not seen in that light, since it did not constitute a danger to Florence and since acquisition of neighbouring city-states (often justified by pointing at a need for protection) had been considered a legitimate aspiration for communes for a long time. It was not until the second half of the fifteenth century that the idea that Venice wanted to rule over the whole of Italy developed in Italian politics.4 In negotiations and interactions with other states or with newly subjected territories the Venetian state responded to this accusation by justifying its mainland conquests in various ways; it stated, for example, that the subject areas had put themselves spontaneously under Venetian rule, which created 1  On which theories were prevalent in the fifteenth century, see: Alex J. Bellamy, Just Wars: From Cicero to Iraq (Cambridge and Malden: Polity, 2006); J. R. Hale, War and Society in Renaissance Europe, 1450–1620 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, in association with Fontana, 1985), 22–45; Paola Pugliatti, Shakespeare and the Just War Tradition (Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate, 2010), 9–52. 2  James S. Grubb, Firstborn of Venice: Vicenza in the Early Renaissance State (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1988), 6–8; John E. Law, “Relations between Venice and the Provinces of the Mainland,” in Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 77–85; Nicolai Rubinstein, “Italian Reactions to Terraferma Expansion in the Fifteenth Century,” in Renaissance Venice, ed. J. R. Hale (London: Faber, 1973), 197–217. 3  Rubinstein, “Italian Reactions to Terraferma Expansion in the Fifteenth Century.” 4  John Law stresses the conflict over Friuli in the first half of the fifteenth century as the period in which an anti-Venetian sentiment originated. Nicolai Rubinstein differentiates between anti-Venetian feelings, which were the result of Venetian Terraferma policy, and the idea that it was Venice’s ultimate goal to rule over Italy. This latter idea, according to Rubinstein, developed in the second half of the century as a result of diplomatic action and propaganda: it was formulated first in Sforza propaganda and later taken over in other Italian states.   John E. Law, “Venetian Rule in the Patria del Friuli in the Early Fifteenth Century: Problems of Justification,” in Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 1–22; Rubinstein, “Italian Reactions to Terraferma Expansion in the Fifteenth Century.”

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an image of Venice as a relatively tolerant authority, or it appealed to right of conquest, which constituted a stronger assertion of sovereignty.5 My research focuses on a different type of sources: not on official state documents but on geographical descriptions and historical writings about Venice and the Terraferma as a state. These sources have received less attention in historiography. When they have attracted attention in studies of justifications for or criticism of Venice’s mainland expansion, scholars have emphasised their appeal throughout the fifteenth century to voluntary submission of the subject territories and liberation from tyranny.6 However, the sources show more variation, particularly in the first decades of the century. They have in common that there do not appear to be any Venetian texts from this period that depict Venice’s territorial expansion as unjustifiable, but other than that, sources present this expansion in different ways. This section is structured as a chronological series of case studies. Since there are important differences in the formation of a narrative about Friuli and about the rest of the Terraferma, this section will focus only on the latter, while Friuli will be treated in the next section. The Venetian Lorenzo de Monacis (ca.1351–1428) was chancellor of Crete from 1389 until his death.7 He also wrote various literary works, one of which was his Oratio, written in 1421 on the occasion of the thousand-year anniversary of the founding of Venice and dedicated to Doge Tommaso Mocenigo. Its 5  Michael Knapton, “Venice and the Terraferma,” in The Italian Renaissance State, ed. Andrea Gamberini and Isabella Lazzarini (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 144–47; Law, “Relations between Venice and the Provinces of the Mainland”; Law, “Venetian Rule in the Patria del Friuli”; John E. Law, “Verona and the Venetian State in the Fifteenth Century,” in Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 9–22; Antonio Menniti Ippolito, “Le dedizioni e lo stato regionale: Osservazioni sul caso veneto,” Archivio veneto 117 (1986): 5–30; Gherardo Ortalli, “Entrar nel Dominio: Le dedizioni delle città alla Repubblica Serenissima,” in Società, economia, istituzioni: Elementi per la conoscenza della Repubblica Veneta, vol. 1: Istituzioni ed economia (Verona: Cierre edizioni, 2002), 49–62; Rubinstein, “Italian Reactions to Terraferma Expansion in the Fifteenth Century”; Alfredo Viggiano, Governanti e governati: Legittimità del potere ed esercizio dell’autorità sovrana nello stato veneto della prima età moderna (Treviso: Fondazione Benetton, 1993), 3–50. 6  Élisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant: The Horizons of a Myth, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002), 127–28; Monique O’Connell, “Voluntary Submission and the Ideology of Venetian Empire,” I Tatti Studies in the Italian Renaissance 20, no. 1 (2017): 9–39. 7  Mario Poppi, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia (1421),” Atti dell’istituto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti 131 (1972–1973): 463–97; Mario Poppi, “Ricerche sulla vita e cultura del notaio e cronista Lorenzo de Monacis, cancelliere cretese (ca.1351–1428),” Studi veneziani 9 (1967): 153–86; Giorgio Ravegnani, “De Monacis, Lorenzo,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 1990.

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popularity is demonstrated by its use and quotation throughout the fifteenth century. De Monacis also used it himself in his chronicle of Venetian history, which he wrote from 1421 until his death. The Oratio describes various stages of Venice’s history, but omits a large part: instead, De Monacis refers explicitly to his works on Venetian history for this part. The text also omits mention of the largest part of Venice’s mainland expansion. It does, however, show a clear line of reasoning regarding Venice’s overseas acquisitions. This is sometimes stated very explicitly: Because of these marvellous deeds [liberating the Adriatic Sea from pirates], in a short time the fame of the Venetians was spread widely, so that suppressed cities took refuge with them as with the chosen vindicators of crimes and as with the public defenders of harassed innocence in order to request their power to help, and many [cities] came under Venetian power not with free, but with begging surrender. And it happened that this sign of Saint Mark, which the Venetians in the shape of a winged lion brought over the entire world as a terror to evil people, appeared to the good truly not just as the shape of an image, but as a certain sign of public safety and freedom. Why, therefore, is it extraordinary if, because of these divine works, the rule of Venice has reached the Adriatic Sea, and if almost the entire world calls this sea, having given up its old name, the Venetian sea and the gulf of the Venetians?8 De Monacis presents Venice’s expansion as the result of territories voluntarily subjecting themselves in order to be protected by Venice. Coming under Venetian rule is even depicted as a sort of freedom. About two decades later, Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi included a long description of Venice’s subject territories in his El sommo della condizione di Vinegia. Although Guidi was originally from Florence, at the time that he wrote this poem he had been living in the lagoon city for at least fifteen years. He would 8  ‘His magnificis rebus brevi tempore fama Venetorum tam late diffunditur, ut ad eos tanquam ad destinatos vindices scelerum et publicos vexate innocentie defensores ad poscendam opem oppresse civitates confugerent, multeque sub potestatem Venetam nedum gratuita sed supplici deditione venirent. Successitque ut illud insigne sancti Marci quod in forma leonis alati Veneti toto orbe circumferunt pessimis hominibus terror, bonis vero non tam imaginis figura, quam signum quoddam publice salutis et libertatis appareat. Quid mirum igitur si his divinis laboribus accessit Venetis Adriatici maris imperium et si universus pene orbis hoc mare, deposito veteri nomine, Venetum mare et culphum Venetorum appelletur?’ Lorenzo de Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia (1421),” ed. Mario Poppi, Atti dell’istituto veneto di scienze, lettere ed arti 131 (1972–1973): 494.

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therefore have been very familiar with Venice and with the viewpoint that the Venetian higher classes generally preferred to disseminate. Considering his explicit statement that he wrote his poem in gratitude to Venice and the Venetians, it is likely that he adapted it to what he thought would be appreciated in his new city of residence. When Guidi speaks about the Venetian state he describes how several territories have come under Venetian rule. For the city of Vicenza, for example, Venice’s peaceful rule is emphasised.9 Regarding Sebenico (Šibenik) — part of the Stato da Mar, but described with regard to its Venetian rule in similar ways to Terraferma cities such as Vicenza — Guidi writes: But since they changed government — because they are subject to the Venetians — everyone is happy with this rule.10 Statements like these serve as retroactive justifications for the transition to Venetian rule. Guidi does not explicitly justify this transition regarding the moment it actually took place, but considers its aftermath as proof of its rightfulness: the cities’ current prosperity justifies their becoming subject to Venice. Vicenza, in reality, had come under Venetian rule much more peacefully than Sebenico, but Guidi uses a similar narrative for both of them. This emphasises that state formation and the creation of narratives about that state were processes that, although not entirely independent from each other, did have their own internal dynamics. Indeed, narratives about the state could develop very differently from the more institutionalised characteristics of state formation. The description of Padua contains similar references to the good influence of Venice’s rule. Of the city of Padua and of the Padovano they [the Venetians] have acquired the land with their strength and with swords in their hands. And if my mind is not mistaken here, there are more strong castles, with more territory, which they have won by the force of war. 9  Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, ed. Marta Ceci (Roma: Zauli, 1995), 72. 10  ‘Ma po’ che’ebon mutato regimento, ché sono sottoposti a’ Viniziani,   è di tal signoria ciascun contento.’ Guidi, 79.

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And now the Paduans are all fat with great possessions, since they were subjected to the Venetians, because previously they were unhappy with that Da Carrara, who kept them very tight, and so squeezed in money that they wore nothing but giornee and farsetti: now they have reached such a good harbour that they wear clothes of silk and wool, and that they are not so hurt in their purses now.11 We find the same type of reference to the positive consequences of Venice’s rule here. However, there is also an explicit comment on the way Padua had come under Venetian rule: it was conquered with force and violence. This type of blunt reference to the violent nature of some of Venice’s mainland acquisitions can be found in other places as well. For instance, Guidi speaks of various fortresses which Venice had ‘acquired by the force of war,’ because they had sided with the Genoese.12 In general, therefore, Guidi is consistent in his desire to justify Venice’s rule over its territories, but not in how he does it. He does not attempt to adapt these changes in power to one overarching narrative. Instead, sometimes he refers to the positive effects of Venice’s rule and depicts Venice as a benign state to which cities come voluntarily in order to have protection, while at other times he speaks more bluntly of the violent nature 11  ‘Di Padoa la città e ‘l Padovano hanno costoro acquistato tal terra co lor possanza e colle spade in mano. E se lla mente mia qui non erra, son più castelle forti, con più passi, che hanno vinto per forza di guerra. E ora e Padovan’ son tutti grassi di grand’avere, po’ che fûr soggetti a’ Viniziani, ché prima eran lassi da quel da Carara, che molto stretti e’ gli teneva, di danar’ sì munti che non vestivan che giorne’ e farsetti: sì ch’a buon porto e’ son or sì giunti che veston panni di seta e di lana,   ch’alle lor borse non son or sì punti.’ Guidi, 72. 12  ‘è più castelli che sono infra terra, che son sotto Vinegia, a non fallare, c’hanno acquistato per forza di guerra, perché si dierono agli Genovesi   che furon con galie in questa serra.’ Guidi, 75.

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of the conquests and describes Venice as a state which rules over territories simply because it has conquered them with the force of war. These differences do not always reflect the reality of how territories had actually come under Venetian rule. Moving forward in time, Giorgio Dolfin’s chronicle of Venice (1458) can be used as an example of historical writing.13 In many cases, Dolfin presents Venice as not imperialist, as when he depicts territorial acquisitions as instances of voluntary subjection by the subject lands themselves: ‘by agreement, and with the will and assent of the entire common people, having great festivities and joyfulness …’14 Venice also comes into possession of new territory by other, equally justified ways. For example, Venice inherits four fortresses on Veronese territory, while another castle is offered for sale to Venice by a lord in need of money.15 Venice’s benevolent rule also comes to the forefront. When the Palazzo della Ragione in Padua is destroyed in a fire, for instance, ambassadors are sent to Venice to ask for help in the rebuilding, and to this the Signoria [of Venice] gracefully and willingly decided with the Consiglio dei Pregadi [the Senate] to help the said Commune to rebuild the said palace, in honour of that Signoria and of the city of Padua …16 Nevertheless, the chronicle also contains instances where Dolfin presents the justifiability of Venice’s mainland acquisitions differently. The description of Padua’s coming under Venetian rule is a case in point. In this account, Venetian soldiers place ladders against the city walls during the night, climb over them, kill the guards, and open the gates to the rest of the army.17 The city is conquered, whereupon the Paduan citizens decide to send envoys to Venice to offer it to the government, ‘and they were accepted benignly by the Signoria, and they received good and worthy favours of concessions and many 13  On Giorgio Dolfin’s chronicle, see in particular section 1.1. 14  ‘de accordo et con volontà et assentimento de tutto il populo menudo, fazando de gran feste et allegreze …’ Quotation comes from the episode of the acquisition of Verona. Giorgio Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, vol. 2 (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2009), 134. 15  Dolfin, 2:149, 212. 16  ‘et a questo la Signoria gratiosamente et voluntiera deliberò con el Conseglio de Pregadi de sovegnir la ditta Comunità per reffar el ditto pallazo per honor de quella Signoria e dela cità de Padoa …’ Dolfin, 2:206–7. 17  Dolfin, 2:135–37.

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jurisdictions.’18 The lord of Padua, Francesco da Carrara, receives a different treatment: having been offered an agreement earlier but having refused it, this time he does not receive any mercy from the Venetian government even though he asks for it. ‘The aforesaid Messer Francesco da Carrara and his sons Jacopo and Francesco III came to their ends and to their deaths in the prison of Venice, as they had deserved.’19 Even though, then, the Venetian government is depicted as doing only what is right — it is merciful to those who deserve it — Dolfin’s image of the conquest of Padua does not entirely fit the narrative of Venice as a completely benevolent state. No justification is offered as to why Venice wants to conquer the city in the first place, and the violent nature of the conquest itself is not hidden from the reader. Paolo Morosini (1406-ca.1482) presents a more uniform view of the legitimacy of Venice’s territorial expansion in his Lettera a Ciccho Simonetta. Morosini was a Venetian patrician who held various magistracies throughout his life.20 He also wrote several works in which his position on Venice’s territorial expansion becomes clear: De rebus ac forma reipublicae venetae, Defensio venetorum ad Europae principes contra obtrectatores, and Lettera a Ciccho Simonetta. I will concentrate here on the Lettera, which was written on the order of the Venetian Senate and which can therefore be used to analyse how the ruling class in this period preferred to justify Venice’s mainland expansion towards other Italian states. It is addressed to Cicco Simonetta in his capacity as chancellor to Duke Galeazzo Maria Sforza of Milan, which dates the work to the period between 1466 and 1476. The Lettera clearly presents Venice as not seeking territorial enlargements and as a benevolent ruler once territories had nevertheless come under its rule. At the beginning of the text, Paolo Morosini explicitly declares what the goal of the text is: some people claim that Venice wants to rule over Italy and the entire world, but Morosini will show that this is not true. He states that he could use examples from the distant past to prove this, but that he will limit himself to the more recent past.21 Indeed, not only concrete examples, but also 18  ‘et quelli fo aceptadi benignamente da la Signoria et folli fatte de belle et degne gratie de concession et molte jurisdition.’ Dolfin, 2:136. 19  ‘El sopraditto missier Francescho da Charrara et soi fioli Jacomo et Francescho terzo feceno la sua fine e la sua morte in le prexon di Venetia, sì come loro li havea meritado.’ Dolfin, 2:136. 20  Gino Benzoni, “Morosini, Paolo,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 2012, http://www. treccani.it/enciclopedia/paolo-morosini_(Dizionario-Biografico)/; Margaret L. King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 132–40. 21  Paolo Morosini and Giovanni Cornaro, Memoria storica intorno alla Repubblica di Venezia, scritta da Paolo Morosini e da Giovanni Cornaro, per la prima volta pubblicata nell’ingresso

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explicit statements keep reminding the reader that Venice has never acquired new lands because of hunger for power, but only for very justified reasons. ‘The [Venetian] Senate loved peace more than any enlargement of empire,’ as Morosini puts it at one point.22 Elsewhere he goes even further: the Venetians cannot in any way be accused of ambition; since, I would almost say, there has not been a republic, nor a prince, nor a king, even if one would number all of them from the beginning of the world to the present day, who has, like us, both renounced many and such beautiful provinces, and taken up arms so many times for the saving of friends and neighbours.23 Sometimes Morosini even attempts to lend further weight to his statements by appealing to eyewitnesses or official documents that can be consulted.24 The reader is provided in the Lettera with one instance after the other of Venice being very actively non-imperialist: it goes to great lengths to avoid any appearance of imperialism. One example — out of many — is the passage on Venice’s victories over Ferrara, Verona, and Padua in the beginning of the fifteenth century.25 At this point in the text Morosini has already described various instances of evil behaviour of the Paduan ruler Francesco da Carrara, to which Venice, nevertheless, had responded forgivingly. Da Carrara now succeeds in stirring up Niccolò d’Este, ruler of Ferrara, against Venice, even though Niccolò’s life had often been threatened by Da Carrara and saved by Venice. A war is fought between Niccolò d’Este and Venice. The latter wins, but

di S. E. Messer Alvise Pisani, cavaliere, alla dignità di Procuratore di San Marco, ed. Anton Giovanni Bonicelli (Venezia: Palese, 1796), I–III. After Paolo Morosini had written his Lettera in vernacular, Giovanni Cornaro translated it into Latin in the early sixteenth century and added a part on the period from the War of Ferrara until his own time. At the end of the eighteenth century Anton Giovanni Bonicelli translated the entire work from Latin to Italian and published it, stating that for stylistic reasons he preferred this over publishing Morosini’s original Italian. For this research I have used Bonicelli’s version. 22  ‘il Senato amava più la pace, che qualunque accrescimento d’impero …’ Morosini and Cornaro, XXXIV. 23  ‘i Veneziani non possono per verun conto essere accusati di ambizione; giacchè, quasi direi, non vi fu Repubblica, non Principe, non Re, quand’anche si volesse annoverarli tutti dal principio del mondo a quest’età, i quali abbiano, come noi, e ricusate tante e sì belle provincie, e prese sì spesse volte l’armi a salvezza degli amici e vicini.’ Morosini and Cornaro, LIII. 24  Morosini and Cornaro, XXXVII, VI. 25  Morosini and Cornaro, XII–XV.

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the Senate, remembering its old friendship with his [Niccolò’s] father Alberto, and desirous to make it further known that — far from any feeling of ambition — it preferred peace to war and mercy to victory, instantly recalled its troops from Ferrara; and Niccolò remained again tranquil in his dominion.26 Afterwards, Venice conquers Verona and Padua. Motivated by a similar desire to make it clear that it has no imperialist ambitions, the Venetian Signoria at first wants to give Verona to Niccolò d’Este. When several senators then remember that he had waged war against them, they decide not to, and keep Verona under Venetian rule. Another example is when Guglielmo di Lizzana declares himself an enemy of Venice.27 Venice conquers the castle of Lizzana, but generously decides to give it back to Guglielmo. Neither he nor his son, however, ever shows up, and Venice subsequently decides to destroy the fortress in order to avoid giving the impression that the war was intended to gain possession of the castle. Morosini, then, provides several reasons to account for Venice’s territorial enlargements. At various points, active non-imperialism is coupled with an appeal to self-defence. This is the case in Morosini’s account of Venice’s first acquisition of Treviso, in 1339. According to this account, when Alberto and Mastino della Scala start a war against Venice, the Venetian state at first tries to make them change their minds, but when unsuccessful, it defeats them in war. With the purpose of preventing similar problems in the future, Venice takes much territory away from these rulers, but in order not to appear ambitious for land, gives it away to other states. Treviso becomes independent, but after six years the city government voluntarily asks for permission to come under Venetian rule. Venice does not want the subjection of this city, but instead promises to always help it in the future in case of need. Only when the government of Treviso insists — Morosini describes the sadness of the citizens when they hear the news of the rejection of their submission, and the Trevisan ambassadors’ tears in front of the Venetian government — does Venice agree to become ruler over Treviso.28 A comparison with the actual course of events emphasises even more the lengths to which Morosini goes in order to construct a non-imperialist image 26  ‘Il Senato ricordandosi dell’antica amicizia sua per Alberto di lui padre, e desideroso di far maggiormente conoscere che lontano da qualunque sentimento di ambizione, preferiva la pace alla guerra, e la clemenza alla vittoria, richiamò sul momento le truppe da Ferrara; e Niccolò restossi di nuovo tranquillo nel suo dominio.’ Morosini and Cornaro, XIV. 27  Morosini and Cornaro, LI–LII. 28  Morosini and Cornaro, III–VI.

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of the Venetian state. In Morosini’s account, the story of Treviso continues with Francesco da Carrara being ungrateful for the many favours received from Venice and breaking the peace between them. A treaty is proposed, on the condition that Venice renounces Treviso. Venice, however, wants to hold onto its principles: rather than leaving Treviso without protection or in the enemy’s hands, it therefore gives it to the duke of Austria, friend of Venice and known to have enough force to protect it.29 In reality, the transfer of Treviso and the Trevigiano from Venice to the duke of Austria was one of the conditions of the 1381 peace treaty following the War of Chioggia. This is quite a difference from Morosini’s presentation. Morosini presents yet another justification for Venice’s territorial expansion when he describes the lord of Cesena offering Cervia and his possessions in Romagna to Venice. Venice accepts only Cervia, which Morosini describes as not a very appealing city. It does this not in order to expand the Venetian dominion, but to stop the smuggling of salt in this territory.30 We see here a combination of territories being offered voluntarily, Venice declining several of them, and Venice extending its dominion with the aim of improving the conditions of the new lands. Ravenna as well, according to Morosini’s Lettera, was far less important than any other city which Venice could have had, but was acquired out of necessity; it was governed so badly that Venice had to take it over in order to have some peace. As further justification, Morosini notes how the father of Ravenna’s present ruler had stated in his will that, in case of absence of heirs, the city should pass to Venice.31 The acquisition of Vicenza presents another case of multiple, interwoven justifications for mainland expansion. The city is offered voluntarily by the city government itself in order to gain protection from the Da Carrara, Venice decides to accept it in order to prevent the enemy from gaining more force and to avoid losing Venetian territory, and the acquisition of Vicenza is merely the recovery of a part of the ‘old Venice.’32 I will come back to this last point later in this chapter. When it comes to the wars conducted in the Eastern Mediterranean, Morosini uses other justifications. In contrast to what some of Venice’s opponents claim, Venice, writes Morosini, did not wage war against the Turks in order to become ruler over the Morea, but for love of the Christian faith. Morosini reminds his readers of some previous wars of the Venetians against 29  Morosini and Cornaro, VI–VII. 30  Morosini and Cornaro, XL. 31  Morosini and Cornaro, XXXIX–XL. 32  Morosini and Cornaro, IX–XII.

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the Turks. He also states that Venice could have acquired the Morea through spontaneous offers, and therefore would not have needed wars.33 With this he reacts to the accusation that Venice was not doing enough against the threat of the Ottomans, which various states were accusing each other of in the years following the fall of Constantinople in 1453.34 The existence of these accusations is relevant in order to understand the way Morosini presents Venice’s expansion on the Italian peninsula. If Morosini could convince his audience that Venice had no imperialist ambitions at all and that it had not commenced the wars in the east in order to enlarge its dominion, it would seem more credible that they had done so in order to stop the Ottomans. Another Venetian writer, Marin Sanudo, wrote several geographical descriptions. Like most of his writings, they were written in the vernacular. I will focus here on two long descriptions of the city of Venice and the Venetian state, both of which contain various justifications for Venetian mainland expansion. The first text, Itinerarium Marini Sanuti Leonardi filij patricij Veneti cum syndicis terre firme, is a description of the mainland state.35 It was written after the then seventeen-year-old Sanudo in 1483 accompanied the three Venetian auditori nuovi (one of whom was his cousin) on a six-month tour through the Terraferma to inspect the exercise of justice and to hear the complaints of the people.36 It was most probably written with a Venetian audience in mind. Moreover, given that the work originated from a tour made by Venetian officials, it is unlikely that the views expressed in it are very distant from those generally held by the Venetian ruling class. The tour of Sanudo and the auditori nuovi took place while Venice was at war with Ferrara. The Itinerarium is not an explicitly apologetic text seeking to justify Venice’s position in the war. Sanudo even includes a few references to violent or cruel behaviour by the Venetian army.37 He also does not speak about the city of Ferrara in purely negative terms; he calls it beautiful, rich,

33  Morosini and Cornaro, XLVI–XLVIII. 34  See also King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance, 132. 35  Two versions of the work, both autographs, have been handed down to us, one older than the other. There are several differences between the two; for example, the older version covers only the first part of the tour, and contains more comments on personal experience. Both versions are included in Gian Maria Varanini’s edition: Marin Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, ed. Gian Maria Varanini (Roma: Viella, 2014). Here I refer to the later version. 36  On the office of the auditori nuovi, see: Michael Knapton and John E. Law, “Marin Sanudo e la Terraferma,” in Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, ed. Gian Maria Varanini (Roma: Viella, 2014), 30–37. 37  For instance: Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 222, 236, 290.

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kind, and says that the Este family has many wise members.38 His account of the history of Ferrara shows that Venice’s claims on the city are older than those of the Este family, but does not emphasise the legitimacy of Venice’s claims more strongly than this. Only when his account reaches the present does Sanudo state that the ruling Este, ‘this thankless person,’ is ‘the enemy of all.’39 Nonetheless, the Itinerarium contains some passages that show how Sanudo justifies the Venetian acquisition of mainland territory. An example is the intermittent use of the word ‘tyrant’ to refer to Ferrara’s rulers and former rulers of cities now under Venetian rule.40 Sanudo was certainly not the first person to use this word in order to convey ideas on the rightfulness of a ruler’s dominion: people had been writing on how to define and deal with a tyrannical ruler for many centuries.41 By branding former rulers of conquered territories as tyrants, Sanudo gives Venice the right, or even the duty, to overthrow their reigns. Particularly heavy use of the word is made in the description of Verona, when the reign of the former tyrannical rulers of the city is placed in sharp contrast with current Venetian rule: [Verona] was the capital and the seat of the king of the Marca Trevigiana, and at the time of the tyrant lords Della Scala it held sway over this, Padua, Treviso, Vicenza, Feltre, Belluno, Brescia, Parma, Reggio, and Lucca; but the tyrant Ezzelino da Romano subjected it in 1250, and after that it suffered under various tyrants and podestà. After that ten years under Mastino I della Scala, then under his successors, then under Giangaleazzo Visconti, and then Francesco da Carrara conquered it, and it was thus subjugated with great calamities and intolerable harm. But then, having in 1404 [sic] come under Venetian rule, for its benefit and freedom, in a marvellous way it has grown and has become rich, and it improves day by day.42 38  Similarly, Sanudo includes the following description of Sermide, ruled by the marquis of Mantua, Ferrara’s ally: ‘di là è Sermene, castello de Federico de Gonzaga marchese di Mantoa, bellissimo a veder.’ Sanudo, 236. 39  ‘et questo ingrato nunc regna, nemiho di tuti.’ Sanudo, 230. 40  As in: Sanudo, 143, 178, 200, 354. 41  Mario Turchetti, Tyrannie et tyrannicide de l’Antiquité à nos jours (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2001). On the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries in particular: pp. 291– 332. Some Italian humanists in the service of signori broke down the distinction between monarchy and tyranny, focusing on virtuous exercise of power rather than legitimacy of its origins. James Hankins, “Humanism and the Origins of Modern Political Thought,” in The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Humanism, ed. Jill Kraye (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 128. 42  ‘Et era capo et sedia dil re dela Marca Trivisana, et nel tempo deli signori tyrani dela Scala dominava questa, Padoa, Terviso, Vicenza, Feltre, Cividal de Bellune, Brexa, Parma, Rezo

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Such references to the improvement cities have made since they have come under Venetian rule are another way in which Sanudo tries to convince his readers of the justifiability of the Venetian conquests on the Italian mainland.43 Connected with this are the comments in which he praises the practice of auditori nuovi travelling through the Terraferma as proof of Venice’s benevolence and good rule over its subject territories.44 He also writes about the appreciation of the inhabitants of the Terraferma for this system.45 Similarly, in De magistratibus Sanudo presents the role of the auditori nuovi as an example of the good functioning of the Venetian government.46 Furthermore, Sanudo implicitly seeks to defend the enlargement of Venetian rule by pointing out cities that had voluntarily placed themselves under Venetian protection.47 In some cases he also states that a recently conquered area had been part of the Venetian territory before, so as to underline that Venice’s claims on this area had not emerged from nowhere.48 In short, the ways in which Sanudo attempts to justify Venice’s mainland expansion are characterised by a relatively benign attitude instead of stressing Venice’s sovereignty: territorial enlargements are presented not so much as conquests, but rather as liberations from tyrannical rulers and a path towards prosperity. A final case study in this section is Francesco degli Allegri’s La summa gloria di Venetia con la summa de le sue victorie, nobilita, paesi, e dignita, e officij, e altre nobilissime illustre cose di sue laude e glorie come ne la presente operetta se contiene: dicta est gloria cronice nove Venetorum, an Italian-language poem

et Luca: ma Ecelino de Romano tyran del anno MCCL la subiugò, et dapoi varii tyrani et potestà patì. Dapoi diece anni Mastino primo dala Scala, poi li suo’ menori, et Zuan Galeazo viceconte; demum Francesco de Karara la prese, et alor servite con gran calamità et intolerabille dano. Sed demum del MCCCC4 et venuta soto l’imperio veneto, per suo benificio et libertà in mirabille è venuta in cressimento et opulenta, e di giorno in giorno melgio si rinova.’ Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 336–38. 43  See for example also: Sanudo, 270, 282. 44  Sanudo, 150–56. 45  Sanudo, 354. 46  Both in the older and in the newer version of this text. Marin Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero, La città di Venetia (1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò, nuova ed. ampliata (Venezia: Centro di studi medievali e rinascimentali “E. A. Cicogna,” 2011), 118–19, 281. 47  See for instance: Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 356. 48  For example: ‘Già del MCCCCX Bernardo Venerio de Iacomo fiol fu qui pretore, perché questo Polexene altre volte fu veneto …’ Sanudo, 206. The Polesine was one of the main territories at stake during the Ferrara war. It had been under Venetian rule from 1395 to 1438 as security for a loan to the Este.

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printed in Venice in 1501.49 With twenty leaves, it is a relatively long pamphlet. The first page shows a woodcut of a leone andante: a generic image, which uses a symbol that would have been widely recognised and that would have been added to stimulate people to buy a copy. This type of pamphlet would have been affordable for a large part of society, which, in combination with oral performance, meant that the poem had the potential to circulate among a large number of people.50 Degli Allegri provides a good example of the interactions that took place between the city of Venice and the mainland territories. Although little is known about him, we do know that he was originally from Verona but living in Venice when he wrote La summa gloria di Venetia, and that the work received a privilege from the Venetian government in March 1501 to prevent it from being printed or sold by others. Indeed, there was continuous exchange of ideas, people, and material objects between Venice, the Venetian territories, and other parts of the world, which shaped how people viewed the space around them. Since La summa gloria di Venetia was written by somebody living in Venice, printed in Venice, and probably predominantly meant for a Venetian audience, for the purposes of this research it will be treated in this chapter. The poem, in ottava rima, praises Venice for a variety of reasons. It also contains a long section on the Venetian state.51 Degli Allegri starts by stating that Venice is in possession of the most beautiful lands in Italy and elsewhere, and now that they are voluntarily under Venice’s just rule, everyone lives in peace, without factions or hatred. These ideas are in keeping with several we have seen earlier, particularly in texts from later in the century. He then speaks about the individual subject territories, including some references to the legitimacy of Venice’s territorial acquisitions. For instance, Degli Allegri refers to Venice’s conquest of several cities in Puglia:

49  Francesco degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia con la summa de le sue uictorie, nobi­ lita, paesi, e dignita, et officij, et altre nobilissime illustre cose di sue laude e glorie come ne la presente operetta se contiene: dicta est gloria cronice nove Venetorum (Venetia, 1501), USTC 808820. On Francesco degli Allegri, see: Barbara Mazza, “Un tassello del ‘mito’ di Venezia: Due cinquecentine di Francesco de’ Allegris,” Antichità viva 17 (1978): 53–57; Alessandro Scarsella, “Allegri, Francesco,” in Dizionario dei tipografi e degli editori italiani: Il Cinquecento, ed. Marco Menato, Ennio Sandal, and Giuseppina Zappella, vol. 1 (Milano: Editrice bibliografica, 1997), 21–22. 50  See also section 4.3. 51  Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fols. c ii r–[c iv r].

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new glory is restored in you for having taken away that noble border from the great fury of the French people.52 The conquest is presented as a victory over an invading foreign army, thereby implicitly justifying it. When speaking about Cyprus, which had officially come under Venetian rule only twelve years earlier when Caterina Corner abdicated in favour of Venice, Degli Allegri adds the comment that it had come under Venetian authority ‘for love.’53 The detailed description of the Venetian state is also linked to recent political events in another way: it directly follows several pages in which Degli Allegri speaks about a series of wars.54 They are treated in chronological order, starting with the conflict between Pope Alexander III and Emperor Frederick Barbarossa that led to the Peace of Venice, and then continuing with more recent wars like the War of Chioggia, the War of Ferrara, and Charles VIII’s Italian invasion. In each case Venice is portrayed as standing on the side of right: it helps the unjustly attacked pope, punishes Genoa for its pride, merely defends itself when Ferrara attacks, and aids the whole of Italy against France. Venice therefore every time, with God’s help, obtains victory. When the poem was printed, in 1501, Venice was going through a turbulent period. It was in the middle of the Second Ottoman-Venetian War (1499–1503) in the Eastern Mediterranean, and had only recently been involved in wars in various parts of the Italian peninsula. It had just lost some parts of the Stato da Mar to the Ottomans, while it had gained some territories on the Italian peninsula. It was facing growing hostility from foreign powers for its territorial expansion. Additionally, Western European powers had been criticising it already for decades for its position towards the Ottomans, whether for its lack of action against and even signing treaties with them after the fall of Constantinople, or for its policies during the Ottoman wars later in the century. It seems highly unlikely that people reading or hearing La summa gloria di Venetia would not have thought about these circumstances as well. Degli Allegri’s emphasis on Venice’s just behaviour in past wars therefore suggests to the audience that its current politics, whether regarding its actions on the Italian peninsula or in the Eastern Mediterranean, are also justified. 52  ‘noua gloria in te renfrescha Per hauer trato quel nobel comphino Dala gran furia di gente francesca’ Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [c iii r]. 53  ‘cipro gran regno in sta carta Delqual sei incoronata per amore’ Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [c iii v]. 54  Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fols. [b iv v]–c ii r.

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The series of sources discussed in this section present divergent views on the justifiability of Venice’s mainland expansion. Nevertheless, a clear chronological development can be discerned. In the first decades of mainland expansion, Venice is sometimes represented as a state which rules over certain territories simply because it conquered them, while other times attempts are made to justify the change in rule by emphasising voluntary submission followed by beneficent rule. Apparently during these first decades, people in Venice did not see a problem in acknowledging the bloody wars by which Venice had conquered certain parts of their dominion. This will become even clearer in the next section. In later decades this inconsistency made way for a more or less consistent pattern of representation of Venetian territorial expansion as having been desired by the subject cities themselves, as liberation from tyranny, and/or as a path to prosperity. While it is true that later in the century the memory of the early fifteenth-century expansion had become more distant, Venice was still enlarging its mainland territory in other places, yet now we no longer find references to violence. Apparently, in the early phases of expansion Venetian authors really did not see a problem in bluntly speaking of violent acquisitions of territory. Only later in the century did it become clear that it was probably safer to stress the peacefulness and beneficial influence of current Venetian rule, rather than its violent origins: foreign hostility towards Venice was growing during this period and Venice was accused of imperialism, as we see for instance throughout Enea Silvio Piccolomini’s overview of Venetian history.55 Furthermore, the examples of Paolo Morosini and Francesco degli Allegri show how events in the west and east cannot be separated: accusations concerning Venice’s behaviour in the east also had an influence on the pre­ sentation of its actions in the west and vice versa. 2

The Conquest of Friuli

The Venetian state was made up of a large number of dominions, which had come under Venetian rule in very different ways and which were governed equally divergently. Descriptions of these territories and of their links with Venice did not simply mirror these more institutionalised aspects; rather, the creation of these texts was a process with its own internal dynamics. Indeed, as shown throughout this chapter, Venetian authors could apply similar ideas about justifiability of acquisition to multiple parts of the Venetian mainland 55  Pius II, Commentaries, ed. Margaret Meserve and Marcello Simonetta, vol. II (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 100–130.

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state, even if in reality there were many differences between them, or, on the contrary, they could apply different ideas to the same territory. On the other hand, this does not mean that such ideas were created without taking into account the political-military situation at all. This becomes particularly clear when we look at the sources used in the previous section, but this time with a focus on Friuli. This area, bordered on two sides by mountains, had passes that Venice sought to control for both military and commercial reasons.56 In contrast to other parts of the Venetian mainland state, Friuli had not been a city-state before it came under Venetian rule but a feudal principality, under the secular rule of the patriarch of Aquileia. Internally it was very divided, which was one of the reasons why Venice had been able to conquer it. The main internal division was between Cividale on the one hand, and Udine and the Savorgnan family on the other, with open hostilities beginning in the 1380s. Various international powers became involved in the struggle, among them Venice, which took the side of Udine and the Savorgnan. In the meantime, hostility between Venice and Sigismund of Luxembourg was growing, and Cividale and Udine took different sides in this. At the end of 1411 the imperial armies conquered Udine. In 1413 a five-year peace treaty was signed between Venice and Sigismund, but when this ended in 1418, Venice invaded Friuli. As a result of the following war, by 1420 the largest part of Friuli had come under Venetian rule. The position previously held by the patriarch was filled by a Venetian luogotenente. In general, Venice did not greatly intensify its intervention in Friulan affairs following the conquest. In his Oratio, Lorenzo de Monacis does not treat Venetian history from the transfer of the ducal seat to Rialto onwards. The very recent acquisition of Friuli is an exception. In keeping with his providentialist view of Venetian history, De Monacis sees this event as wished for by God.57 He describes how this region had always created problems for Venice, even though Venice took such good care of its neighbours, for instance by freeing the Adriatic Sea from pirates. For example, he writes that Friuli damaged the dignity of the patriarchate of Grado and incited against Venice the cities that had been saved from the Slavs and that had subjected themselves voluntarily to Venice to obtain 56  G  . G. Corbanese, Il Friuli, Trieste e l’Istria: Dalla preistoria alla caduta del patriarcato d’Aquileia: Grande atlante storico-cronologico comparato (Udine: Del Bianco, 1983), 217–40; Gian Carlo Menis, Storia del Friuli: Dalle origini alla caduta dello stato patriarcale (1420) (Udine: Società filologica friulana, 1969), 242–50; Edward W. Muir, Mad Blood Stirring: Vendetta in Renaissance Italy, Reader’s ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), 13–28. 57  De Monacis, “Un’orazione del cronista Lorenzo de Monacis per il millenario di Venezia,” 495–96. On De Monacis’ view of God’s hand in Venetian history, see chapter 1.

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its protection. The Venetian Republic, therefore, did not have any choice but to subjugate Friuli. It is obvious that De Monacis justifies the acquisition of Friuli with very different arguments than that of other parts of the Venetian state. The very fact that he omits the largest part of Venetian history but does include the war with Friuli is significant as well: it clearly sets Friuli apart from the rest of the mainland dominions. The war with Friuli had ended not long before De Monacis wrote his Oratio. Evidently he did not see any problems in acknowledging the wars that had given rise to Venetian rule in Friuli. Perhaps he even took pride in this recent territorial expansion or wanted to warn possible future enemies of Venice. When Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi speaks about Friuli in his El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, he mentions the good rule exercised by Venice, exceeding everyone in might, honour, and clemency. However, about the Friulans he states that there are many evil people among them who are still loyal to the patriarch, and he warns them to show obedience to the Venetians.58 Compared to various other mainland dominions, Guidi treats Friuli with much hostility. Giorgio Dolfin’s Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto contains a mixture of benevolent governance, cities offering themselves voluntarily to Venice, and blunt descriptions of violent conquests. The Friulan places of Brugnera and Porcia, to mention an example, are offered to (and accepted by) Venice by their own lord, without Dolfin mentioning an immediate occasion for this.59 Other cities, however, are conquered by Venice with much violence. An example is Aviano. Dolfin describes how the Venetian army, having acquired Sacile, moves towards this place. When the people of Aviano knew that the army was moving towards them, they said that they wanted to surrender, on the condition of saving their belongings and lives. Our people did not want to accept, so that in the future, in case the Hungarians would come, they [the people of Aviano] would not accept them, but instead they [our people] wanted to ruin it [the city]. And immediately our army went to Aviano, fought it, obtained it by force, plundered everything, stole entirely the great quantity of grain that was inside, and cast a fire inside. And the other day they obtained Caneva, out of its own will, not wanting to be plundered or sacked.60 58  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 73. 59  Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 2:198. 60  ‘sapiando quelli d’Avian che ‘l campo dovea andar verso de lori, disseno che loro se voleano render, salvo lo haver e le persone, e li nostri non li volse rezever, aciochè per l’avignir, vegnando li Ongari, loro non ge dovesse dar acetto, ma volevalo ruinar, e subitamente el

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The reason given here to explain Venice’s attitude towards Aviano could be called anticipatory self-defence: Venice is not actually in danger, but fears that it will be in the future. The fact remains, however, that the actions of the Venetian army here are not in line with the narrative of benevolence and non-imperialism which we have seen multiple times in the previous section. A city seeks to surrender, but Venice does not accept — not because it does not desire to rule over the city, but because it wishes to plunder the entire city before establishing rule. Caneva offers itself to Venice, but only because it does not want to suffer Aviano’s fate. In other cases, Dolfin does not even provide the justification given in the case of Aviano. He describes for instance how Tristano Savorgnan marches with an army to Udine. Upon seeing this army, the patriarch does not dare to leave the safety of the city, whereupon Savorgnan starts to destroy and plunder the territory. Various other Friulan cities subsequently receive the same treatment.61 This lack of justification is linked in part with the literary genre to which Dolfin’s text belongs. Chronicles, in contrast with humanist historical writing, were not very concerned with discerning causes and consequences, but more with simply recording events.62 At one point, for instance, Dolfin describes how Friulan envoys go to Venice to ask to be placed under Venetian rule. Dolfin does not provide any opinions, explicit explanations, or comments on the effects of this event, but simply proceeds in the very next sentence to record a fire in the city which damaged a church.63 The lack of interest in discerning causal relations partially accounts for Dolfin’s inconsistency in characterising Venetian territorial acquisitions, with different representations sometimes alternating at a great pace.64 The acquisitions are sometimes described as violent conquests, while at other times, as seen in the previous section, voluntary surrender, rightful inheritance or purchase, or Venice’s benevolent rule are given as justifications. However, if we distinguish between Dolfin’s accounts of the acquisitions of Friuli and of the rest of the mainland state, it becomes clear that there are fewer inconsistencies than it would seem at first. In the case of Friuli, justified nostro campo andò ad Avian e combattello et havelo per forza et haveno ogni cossa a sachomano e là dentro era gran quantità de biava, la quale i robò tutta e cazò fuogo dentro, e l’altro zorno li have Caneva de sua voluntade non volendosse lassar robar né metter a sachomano.’ Dolfin, 2:203. 61  Dolfin, 2:196. 62  See Introduction. 63  Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 2:200. 64  A clear example of this can be found in: Dolfin, 2:205.

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territorial acquisitions are mentioned, sometimes in combination with references to violent conquest, as in: And at present that Signoria [of Venice] has acquired the patria del Friuli by spending much money and shedding much blood, but the Signoria wishes to send a governor to Udine, who has to rule and govern in civil and criminal law, in honour of the Signoria, and for the good and peaceful state of the patria [del Friuli]…65 This includes references both to bloody conquest and good rule afterwards. Nevertheless, in general in the case of Friuli Dolfin includes more plain references to the violent nature of the conquest, with hardly any attention to justifications for this. Paolo Morosini’s chapter on Venice’s acquisition of Friuli in his Lettera a Ciccho Simonetta is relatively short. He describes how the patriarch of Aquileia, lord over Friuli, had insulted the Venetians at various times by setting the Hungarians against them. The Venetians won a victory against him but instead of taking advantage of this, they proved their usual generosity by leaving ‘an honourable part’ of the territory to the patriarch.66 This account fits into Morosini’s general narrative of a non-imperialist Venice merely defending itself and even being disproportionately generous towards people who had attempted to harm it. The relative brevity of the passage leads one to suspect that Morosini does not wish to draw too much attention to it: perhaps he considered the topic of the conquest of Friuli as too controversial. Marin Sanudo’s descriptions of Friuli, like his representations of the rest of the Terraferma, do not contain blunt acknowledgements of violent conquest. Neither his Itinerarium nor his Descriptione de la patria de Friul (1502–1503), a geographical description devoted entirely to Friuli, provide explicit justifications of Venetian rule over the territory. Instead, this rule is simply mentioned as a more or less self-explanatory fact, with various references to its advantageous consequences.67 65  ‘Et al prexente quella Signoria ha aquistada quella patria del Friul con grandissima spexa e spander de sangue, ma che la Signoria vol mandar uno suo governador in Udene, el quale habia a rezer e governar in civil e criminal per honor de quella Signoria et per ben e pacificho stado dela patria [e delli].’ Dolfin, 2:214. As noted also by the editor, the rest of the sentence seems missing. A likely ending could be: ‘the patria and its inhabitants.’ 66  Morosini and Cornaro, Memoria storica intorno alla Repubblica di Venezia, XX. 67  This is even more the case in the Descriptione de la patria de Friul than in the Itinerarium. I will come back to this in section 5.4.

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While Sanudo never succeeded in getting his work published or receiving recognition from the government, his contemporary Marcantonio Sabellico had great success with his works and was even rewarded for them by the Venetian government.68 Although Sabellico was not a Venetian, the fact that his works were embraced by the Venetian ruling class makes it important to analyse them in the context of this chapter, as they show what was evidently appreciated by Venice’s higher social classes. Among Sabellico’s works is a geographical-historical description of Friuli, entitled De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii, libri sex. While it probably already circulated in manuscript earlier, in 1482 Sabellico presented it to Udine’s city council, which was pleased with the work and decided that ‘for the glory of the city and the whole patria’ the city should pay for its publication.69 In the last two books of the text, some of Sabellico’s ideas on Venice’s rule over Friuli emerge. The fifth book narrates how Venice intervened in the wars fought in the region of Aquileia and succeeded in restoring peace.70 The sixth and last book describes Venice fighting the Turks on Friulan territory.71 This part, then, shows the reader not only the simple fact of political affiliation between the lagoon city and Friuli, but also Venice’s protective qualities. Instead of the violent origins of Venice’s rule over Friuli it is its present-day positive effects that are underlined. As we saw in the previous section, over time inconsistency concerning justifications for Venice’s expansion towards most of the Terraferma made place for a more or less consistent pattern of emphasis on Venice’s good rule. We find a similar chronological development in the descriptions of Friuli: alternation between blunt acknowledgement of violent conquest and a narrative of peaceful change of government followed by benevolent rule makes place for more consistent emphasis on the latter. However, there is an important difference. 68  See Introduction. 69  Ruth Chavasse, “The First Known Author’s Copyright, September 1486, in the Context of a Humanist Career,” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library of Manchester 69, no. 1 (1986): 11–37. Quotation from p. 17. 70  Marcantonio Sabellico, “De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii, libri sex,” in Quartus tomus ope­ rum Marci Antonii Coccii Sabellici, qui, quid contineat, sequens indicat pagina, M. Antonii Coccii Sabellici Opera omnia, ab infinitis quibus scatebant mendis, repurgata et castigata: cum supplemento Rapsodiae historiarum ab orbe condito, ad haec usque tempora, pulcherrimo ac diligentissimo, in tomos quatuor digesta: qui, quid contineant, aduersa pagina indicabit: atque haec omnia per Caelium Secundum Curionem, non sine magno labore iudicioque confecta. Auctores, quorum è monumentis haec sumpta sunt, statim à praefatione ordine dispositi, leguntur. Item, index operum omnium copiosissimus, quem statim argumenta singulorum primi tomi librorum sequuntur: reliqua uerò suis locis disposita sunt 4 (Basileae: per Ioannem Heruagium, 1560), cols. 232–241. 71  Sabellico, cols. 241–248.

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In the case of Friuli, in the early phases of Venice’s mainland expansion there is a much more aggressive attitude and the emergence of a consistent line of justification takes place later. In both this and the previous section it has become clear that the development of narratives about the justifiability of expansion is not a direct reflection of the actual course of events. Indeed, violence and wars later in the fifteenth century generally do not lead to the type of blunt acknowledgement of violence that we find earlier in the century. Moreover, it would have been possible for early fifteenth-century writers to present the political-military events of their time in a different light: after all, there are many instances of historical texts doing precisely that. On the other hand, it is clear that the creation of such narratives is not completely detached from reality either. Descriptions of Venice’s rule over Friuli make this particularly obvious. The violent nature of the conquest of Friuli in comparison with the more peaceful surrenders of cities like Vicenza can account for the difference in how texts portray the acquisition of Friuli versus the rest of the Terraferma. 3

Links between Venice and the Terraferma

Justifications for Venice’s mainland expansion in fifteenth-century geographical descriptions are linked in large part with perceptions of the newly forged links between capital city and subject territories. At various times authors include explicit statements about the political affiliation of certain territories with Venice: ‘Badia Polesine, a place which used to belong to the marquis of Ferrara, and which in the current war was taken and guarded by the Venetians in 1482 on the first day of September …’72 Comments like these refer to a formal political link: they simply state the fact of territories being part of the Venetian state. In addition to such formal remarks, however, the texts also implicitly convey ideas on the nature of these links. Just as there are multiple ways in which authors could explain Venice’s mainland expansion, so, too, are there various ways of depicting the connections between Venice and the mainland territories.

72  ‘L’Abbadia, locco olim dil marchese de Farrara, et nela presente guera preso et custodito da Veneti del MoCCCCLXXXII adì primo septembrio …’ Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 202. Remarks on the presence of Venetian governors in subject cities have the same effect; see for example: ‘Era castelan Francesco Orsini venitiano con 8 ducati al mexe et page 25.’ Sanudo, 266.

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As seen previously, some geographical descriptions — particularly those concerning Friuli, but also some that discuss other parts of the Terraferma — stress the violent nature of a territory’s transition to Venetian rule. This emphasises Venice’s strength and creates a hierarchical relationship, with Venice as the higher entity and the mainland territories as the lower. In fact, this is true for all representations of the links between capital city and dominion discussed in this chapter: they are characterised by a notion of hierarchy. As will become clear in the next chapter, this is different with certain authors from the Terraferma, who portray Venice and the mainland cities as equals or even depict their city as superior to Venice. Emphasis on the power of the Venetian state was important not only as a message about Venice’s subject territories, but also in a larger international context, for instance concerning the Ottoman wars or Venice’s power struggle with the other Italian states. The idea is summarised explicitly in a poem written in March or April 1498, Se ‘l Gallo hara da l’astuto dragone.73 It is one of the many poems about the events in Italy at the end of the fifteenth century which Marin Sanudo gathered in a codex, discussed in chapter 4. Nothing is known about the poem’s author, a certain Bernardino Corso, but its pro-Venetian contents and its inclusion in a codex put together by a Venetian patrician indicate that at least to some degree the text resonated with a Venetian audience. The poem is directed against the French. It describes how, if the French will again cause trouble to Italy, one will see the powerful lion moving, who frightens the entire universe by destroying fields and shattering walls, who will astonish Mars with admiration.74 Corso ends the poem with a clear message, addressed directly to the French: ‘My little Gaul [galeto], for the good of France / peace is safer than the lance.’75

73  Bernardino Corso, Se ‘l Gallo hara da l’astuto dragone, Ven. Marc. It. IX 363 (=7386), fol. 126r. The indication of the date as either March or April 1498 was added to the poem by Marin Sanudo himself. 74  ‘Muover vedrassi il posente leone, che a tutto l’universo fa paura con romper campi e frachasar di mura, che Marte stupira d’amiratione.’ Corso, Se ‘l Gallo hara da l’astuto dragone. 75  ‘Galeto mio, che per il ben di Franza, piu sicura e la pace che la lanza.’ Corso, Se ‘l Gallo hara da l’astuto dragone.

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In this case, the warning about the strength with which Venice, if necessary, can strike, is linked to the French invasion and possibly also to the succession of Louis XII to the French throne in April 1498. Se ‘l Gallo hara da l’astuto dra­ gone therefore constitutes not just a general warning, but a very specific one, aimed at a specific state. However, it is unlikely that contemporaries, when they came across such a depiction of a militarily superior and potentially dangerous Venice, would not have thought about other contexts as well, including the ongoing struggle for power between the Italian states, the wars with the Ottomans, and Venice’s attitude towards its subject territories. Other texts refer to Venice’s strength but also to its beneficial influence on the mainland: they depict Venice as a state which can take firm action if necessary, but which is generally mild and benevolent. For example, Giorgio Dolfin describes the various ceremonies with which Udine comes under Venetian rule in 1420.76 A solemn procession is organised, people from both sides of the war forgive each other by kissing each other on the mouth, Udine receives many good jurisdictions, and the whole of Friuli remains in peace and harmony. However, this entire description is preceded by a clear statement on why Udine decides to capitulate: ‘The city of Udine saw that they could not hold against the strength and the power of the Signoria of Venice …’77 This creates an image of Venice both as a just and benevolent ruler, as well as a nearly unbeatable power. There are also texts that go even further: they leave out any implicit or explicit threats of violence and instead focus all of their attention on a depiction of Venice as a mild and benevolent state. We find this for example in Marin Sanudo’s geographical descriptions. Conditions of subject cities often improve thanks to the capital: a beneficial influence from a higher entity to a lower one, where the latter can also remain passive. This relationship could be illustrated by an inscription which Sanudo saw in Rovereto and reproduces in his Itinerarium: ‘Sleep safe all; the winged Lion himself, always watchful, oh citizens, will guard this city.’78 In the rest of Sanudo’s Itinerarium we find an image of the Venetian mainland state as an internally harmonious place, in good economic condition, with Venice as the caring capital, spending much time and money on the welfare of its subject territories — for example by sending auditori nuovi, reconstructing beautiful buildings after fires, and spending money 76  Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 2:208–9. 77  ‘La cità de Udene, vedando non se poter tignir contra le forze et potentia dela Signoria di Venetia …’ Dolfin, 2:208. 78  ‘Securi dormite omnes; custodiet urbem pervigil hanc, cives, aliger ipse Leo.’ Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 330.

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on the university of Padua79 — and with the subject cities loyal to Venice in gratitude for this good care. This corresponds with the few comments on the Terraferma in the De origine, situ et magistratibus.80 At the same time, authors present the existence of the Venetian mainland state as affecting not only the Terraferma, but the city of Venice as well. Venice’s benevolence towards its subject territories also reflects on the capital city, whose good government is emphasised. Furthermore, Venice’s rule over extensive territory provides it with riches, power, and prestige. In Sanudo’s Itinerarium, for example, Venice’s military power is underlined by descriptions of fortifications and by the drawings that are present in both autograph manuscript versions of the work: almost all of them represent castles. In Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi’s El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, the wealth present in the subject territories contributes to Venice’s riches. Guidi even includes explicit remarks on tax revenues from Venice’s subject territories; for example, Lepanto ‘gives to the Venetians such a large income’ of ten thousand gold ducats from its fish market and its many peasants.81 Giorgio Dolfin refers to protection by Venice and voluntary submission, but also explicitly to the material value of the subject territories for Venice when he describes how in 1422 the lord of the Morea offered his territory to Venice, which should look after it and keep it with people, infantry, knights, and crossbowmen, so that it would not fall into the hands of the Albanians, Turks, and infidels. And [he said] that the aforementioned king despot would remain in his principality and with his title, and that the said places would be very useful and fruitful to the Signoria of Venice and to its state.82 Since this type of explicit, or even too thinly veiled implicit, references to any material gain that Venice might obtain from its subject territories could lead to 79  Sanudo, 142, 156, 168, 172–74. See also section 5.1. 80  See for example: Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 28–29. 81  ‘e’ rende a’ Vinizian’ sì grande entrata d’una peschiera ed ha molti villani, che a volerne fare gran derrata diecimilia ducati di buon oro e’ dànno a’ Vinizian’ questa brigata.’ Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 82. 82  ‘la qual essa dovesse guardar e conservar con zente et homini de pè e da chavallo e balle­ strieri a caxon che quella non vignisse a le man de’ Albanesi e de’ Turchi [de’ Turchi] et infideli, et che ‘l ditto re Despoti romagnisse nel suo principado et con suo titolo, e sariano li ditti luogi molti utili e fructiferi a la Signoria de Venetia et al suo Stado …’ Dolfin, Cronicha dela nobil cità de Venetia et dela sua provintia et destretto: Origini-1458, 2:217.

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unwelcome accusations of imperialism, we also find explicit negations. Paolo Morosini narrates that while the Venetian Senate was debating about whether to accept Vicenza as a subject city, the Vicentine ambassadors marvelled that they deliberated for such a long time about accepting the surrender of a city which because of the noble character of its citizens, the riches, and the fertile and delightful territory would voluntarily be desired by many other princes. When Venice finally decides to accept the city, Morosini once again specifies that this was not for ‘lust for a larger dominion.’83 The acquisition of a mainland state was also seen as contributing to the glory of the city of Venice by giving it more connections with antiquity, through the classical pasts of its subject cities.84 Sanudo, for instance, often refers to traces of this classical past in his Itinerarium: he mentions classical authors who have written about the mainland territories, describes ruins from antiquity, and copies classical inscriptions which he found during his journey, to mention some examples. Nonetheless, this classical past still belongs essentially to the Terraferma. It is now associated with the city of Venice through a political connection, but the general perception remains that of two separate entities.85 It should be noted that Venice already had a link with antiquity through the story of its double foundation.86 For this aspect, the actual acquisition of 83  ‘Mentre si continuavano questi dibattimenti, gli ambasciatori Vicentini maravigliavansi che sì lungamente si bilanciasse ad accogliere la dedizione di una città, che per il nobile carattere de’ suoi cittadini, per le ricchezze, per il territorio fertile e delizioso, sarebbe­si volontariamente desiderata da moltissimi altri Principi; e supplicavano il Senato a deci­ dersi, se volesse accettarla per se, o abbandonarla al Carrarese. Trionfò l’opinione di quelli, i quali non già per brama di maggior dominio, ma perchè il comune crudelissimo nemico non prendesse nuovo vigore, volevan che la si ricevesse.’ Morosini and Cornaro, Memoria storica intorno alla Repubblica di Venezia, XII. 84  See also section 2.3.1. 85  Patricia Fortini Brown has argued that in Sanudo’s Itinerarium the classical past of the mainland was seen as reflecting on the city of Venice: according to her, we see here, through Sanudo’s observations, a process of incorporation of this classical past into Venice’s own history. Although this is true to a certain degree, the term ‘incorporation’ is, in my view, too strong for the link which was formed between the Terraferma on the one hand and the city of Venice on the other. Patricia Fortini Brown, “Acquiring a Classical Past: Historical Appropriation in Renaissance Venice,” in Antiquity and Its Interpreters, ed. Alina Payne, Ann Kuttner, and Rebekah Smick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 27–39. See also: Patricia Fortini Brown, Venice and Antiquity: The Venetian Sense of the Past (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996). 86  See section 1.1.

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the Terraferma in the fifteenth century brought about a reinforcement of a concept with older roots, not the realisation of a completely new concept. In the version of Venice’s foundation legend which was dominant in the fifteenth century, there are strong links between the lagoon city and the northeast of the Italian mainland: the population of the city would be made up of people from the mainland, the buildings would have been constructed by these same people, and the name of the city of Venice would derive from the previously existing region Venetia. In short, according to this story the north-eastern part of the Italian peninsula was already connected with Venice long before it would ever become part of the Venetian state. An anonymous fifteenth-­century Venetian chronicle, for example, includes the following: The state of Venice, which first was the one discussed in the old histories, was founded by Antenor. This was a short time after the destruction of gracious Troy, which was 4206 years after the creation of the world. This aforementioned province had its beginning from the borders of Pannonia (…) until the Adda, which is between Brescia and Milan.87 Later, the chronicle treats the founding of the lagoon city in the time of Attila the Hun, and again underlines the link between the first and second Venice when it refers to the inhabitants of the newly founded city: ‘this people and inhabitants had their first beginning from the aforementioned first Venice.’88 Of course, the legend of the double foundation of Venice existed already centuries before the creation of the Venetian mainland state. One could, however, ask to what extent this legend took on a new meaning or topicality in the fifteenth century — was it used to justify the Venetian conquest of the Terraferma?89 There are a few examples of writers doing just this. At the very beginning of his Lettera a Ciccho Simonetta, Paolo Morosini mentions ‘in which ways and by which means the Venetians in such short time had acquired almost 87  ‘Le stado doe Venesie, la quale prima se fo quela de la quale se rasona in le historie antique, de la quale fo suo principio Anthenor. Et questo fo pocho da poi la destrution de la graziosa Troya, la quale destrution fo da poi la creation del mondo anni quatro millia dosenti sei. Et questa cotal provincia have suo comenzamento dale confine de Panonia (…) fine ad Ada chi he tra Bresa et Milan.’ Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fols. 6v–7r. 88  ‘el quale populo et zente have suo primo principio da parte dela prima Venesia antidicta.’ Venetian chronicle until 1418 (fifteenth century), Ven. Marc. It. VII 559 (=7888), fol. 7r. 89  On the use of the story of the Peace of Venice in 1177 as justification for Venice’s dominion in the Adriatic in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, see: Filippo de Vivo, “Historical Justifications of Venetian Power in the Adriatic,” Journal of the History of Ideas 64, no. 2 (2003): 159–76.

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the entire stretch of the old Venice …’90 Later, this idea is used explicitly to justify Venice’s mainland expansion: Venetian senators refer to ‘the conquest of the old Venice’ as an argument for accepting Vicenza as a subject territory.91 In the sixteenth century, to mention another example, Gasparo Contarini, in his De magistratibus et republica Venetorum, states that with the conquest of the Terraferma the Venetians merely took back what their ancestors had lost by moving to the lagoon.92 Most authors treated in this chapter, however, do not make such an appeal to the legend of the double foundation in order to justify mainland expansion. This absence is significant. The legend could have given rise to a portrayal of a more equal relation between Venice and the mainland, or at least between Venice and Padua. This is in fact precisely what happens sometimes in descriptions by authors from the Terraferma, as will become clear in the next chapter. By omitting it, Venetian authors reinforce a notion of hierarchy in their depictions of Venice and the Terraferma. Guidi, for instance, sees fishermen fleeing from Attila the Hun as the first Venetians, thereby focusing on the second foundation of Venice.93 In Sanudo’s De origine, situ et magistratibus the double foundation of Venice is not even mentioned again after De origine. At the beginning of De situ Sanudo writes that the city of Venice was built by Christians.94 This means that here he is thinking about the second foundation of Venice. And when in Sanudo’s later additions to the text two short lists are included, one enumerating cities founded before the coming of Christ and the other cities founded afterwards, Venice forms part of the second list, with the date 421.95 Here as well, then, Sanudo has let go of the myth of the double 90  ‘per quali vie, e con quali mezzi avessero i Veneziani in sì breve tempo acquistato quasi tutto il tratto dell’antica Venezia …’ Morosini and Cornaro, Memoria storica intorno alla Repubblica di Venezia, II. 91  ‘Alla loro comparsa ed istanza si divisero i pareri de’Senatori, come suol accadere, qualor si tratta d’importanti e difficili affari. Sostenevano gli uni, che non si avesse a disprezzar una tale offerta, e gli altri che si dovesse assolutamente ricusarla: i primi eran di avviso che dietro le costumanze de’maggiori si sfuggisse la Terraferma e la conquista dell’antica Venezia.’ Morosini and Cornaro, XI. 92  Lester J. Libby, “Venetian History and Political Thought after 1509,” Studies in the Renaissance 20 (1973): 25. 93  Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 5. 94  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 19. 95  The cities founded before Christ are Troy, Ravenna, and Rome; the ones founded afterwards are Constantinople and Venice. Sanudo, 234. The list of cities founded before Christ contains the name of a fourth city, which due to a hole in the manuscript is illegible. Venice, Biblioteca del Museo Correr, Cicogna 970, p. 76. It appears to have started with the letter ‘S’ and is therefore unlikely to have been the name of Padua. Either way, the name ‘Venice’ is connected with the year 421 and therefore only with the lagoon city.

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foundation of Venice, focusing exclusively on the lagoon city when he speaks of Venice. In the Itinerarium there is a very short reference to this myth when Sanudo in the introductory poem calls Padua ‘our root.’96 This is not elaborated further, nor does Sanudo come back to it in the description of Padua. In the fourth book of his De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii Marcantonio Sabellico treats the barbarian invasions that were considered the reason for the founding of the city of Venice. This perception of a link between the city and the mainland leads Sabellico to speak of the lagoon city. His introduction of this city, ‘born because of divine Providence’,97 includes: For if we admire (…) the fame, the glory, the riches, and the power which Aquileia, Concordia, Altino, and the entire region of Venetia then had, what can we compare to the splendour, wealth, and dominion of the one city of Venice?98 Venice’s extensive dominion is immediately emphasised as one of the main characteristics and one of the main reasons for the glory of the city of Venice. Later, Sabellico is even more explicit: Venice is ‘a city born to rule.’99 However, in the rest of the sentence it becomes clear what he means by Venice’s dominion: many territories in Dalmatia, Greece, and further east to the Tanais.100 His strong emphasis on Venice’s subject territory seems to concern only the Stato da Mar. He does, however, mention the Terraferma on another occasion. Between the two just quoted comments on Venice’s dominion, Sabellico narrates how the Hun invasion caused people from the mainland to flee to the lagoon, where the inhabitants of each mainland city occupied their own island: the people from Aquileia went to Grado, those from Padua to Rialto, etcetera. The link between the mainland and the lagoon city thus becomes very clear. This link, though, is an implicit one. Sabellico never states explicitly that this territory now forms part of the Venetian state.

96  ‘nela cita sì bella et sì felice pria vivon che Antenor troiano edificò, et fu de noi radice.’ Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 141. 97  ‘divina quadam providentia nasci visa est.’ Sabellico, “De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii, libri sex,” col. 224. 98   ‘Nam, si nomen, gloriam, divitias, potentiam, suspicimus (…) quid Aquileia, quid Concordia, quid Altinum, quid universa Venetia tunc habuit, quod cum unius Venetiarum urbis splendore, opulentia et imperio comparare possimus?’ Sabellico, col. 224. 99  ‘Verùm civitas libero iure et ad imperandum nata …’ Sabellico, col. 225. 100  Sabellico, cols. 225–226.

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In Sabellico’s description of the city of Venice, Del sito di Venezia città, there are some instances as well that make it clear that the city of Venice and the north-eastern part of the Italian peninsula are linked. The last part of this work treats the lagoon islands and the bordering coast. Early on in this part Sabellico quite explicitly — more explicitly than in De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii — emphasises the link between the city of Venice and the region from which the first inhabitants of Venice moved to the lagoon. The borders of the ancient Venice were as we showed in the Histories; the Adda, the Alps, the Po, and the coasts of the Adriatic Sea until Aquileia. But after the Venetians had been chased away from the mainland by barbarians, they had the aforesaid borders by confederation.101 Two links are mentioned here: the foundation of the city of Venice by the inhabitants of this area, and the alliances they entered into afterwards. A third, obvious link would have been Venice’s current rule over this territory. Indeed, the territory mentioned by Sabellico corresponds almost entirely with the area which at the beginning of the 1490s was either already conquered or coveted by Venice. As in the case of this last example, Sabellico omits some obvious possible connections between Venice and the Terraferma on other occasions as well. For instance, in the rest of this last part of the Del sito di Venezia città he describes only the lagoon islands and the cities close to the mainland — in a word, the Dogado. Almost at the end of the book he writes: The Venetian state regained these borders, after the ancient Venetians had been chased away by Huns and Lombards from the land which they, thanks to warfare, had possessed for many eras.102 This is a very explicit comment which at the same time both provides a relatively strong link between Dogado and lagoon city — already the inclusion of the former in a description of the latter is telling in this respect — and justifies this link, by stating that the Venetians merely took back what the Huns 101  ‘Furono dell’antica Venezia i confini come nelle istorie mostrammo, Ada, le Alpi, il Pò et i liti del mare Adriano fino ad Aquileia. Ma veneziani da barbari di terra ferma cacciati, questi confini che ho detto per confederazione ebbero.’ Marcantonio Sabellico, Del sito di Venezia città (1502), ed. G. Meneghetti (Venezia: Stamperia già Zanetti, 1957), 34. 102  ‘Ebbe per addietro il veneziano stato questi confini, essendo elli da Unni et Longobardi, di quella terra cacciati, la quale gli antichi veneziani per virtù di guerra molte età aveano posseduta.’ Sabellico, 42.

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and Lombards had taken from their ancestors. The same link and the same justification could have been used for Venice’s possession of the mainland territory as well. In his final, general praise of Venice Sabellico returns very briefly to Venice’s subject territories, saying that they now stretch from the Adda to the sea of Pamphylia. With this he refers to both the Terraferma and the Stato da Mar.103 Sabellico clearly sees the possession of a large state as one of the constituents of Venice’s glory. He does, therefore, have an opinion on Venice’s dominion and on its importance, but he does not deem it necessary to spend much time on it in his work. 4

Political Affiliation as a Factor in the Depiction of Territories

Relatively few descriptions of the Terraferma have been handed down to us — far fewer, for instance, than of the city of Venice. This is already highly significant in itself. It shows the relatively scarce interest for the former. Moreover, it is telling that Venetian residents focused mainly on texts concerning their own city, while leaving the description of (parts of) the subject territories to the inhabitants of the latter: this points at a general differentiation between lagoon city and mainland state in contemporary views. As shown throughout this book, narratives about Venice and the Venetian state were constructed and disseminated across a variety of media. This includes visual city depictions. The geographical descriptions that form the focus of this book were influenced by, and in their turn also influenced, the visual depictions that were created in the same period.104 It is therefore important to point out that, just as there are only few fifteenth-century descriptions of the Venetian Terraferma as a whole, there are also not many visual representations. This is true not only for direct depictions of the mainland territories, but also for more indirect references. We see this, for example, in Jacopo de’ Barbari’s view of Venice (figure 8) — a work which, as mentioned earlier in this book, enjoyed success both within Venice and elsewhere, and which was probably looked upon favourably by the Venetian government as well. The Italian mainland, dominated by Venice, is visible in the distance, but the woodcut’s emphasis is clearly on the city of Venice and its trading and maritime power.105 The two deities present are Mercury and Neptune, thereby referring to commerce and maritime power. When De’ Barbari made Venetie MD, Venice’s dominion 103  Sabellico, 43. 104  See in particular section 2.1. 105  See also section 2.4.

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over the Italian mainland was already very extensive, but a deity representing this territorial rule is missing. The presence of such a reference would not have been inconceivable: for instance, Jacopo Sansovino’s large statues of Mars and Neptune, commissioned in 1554 and installed in 1567, at the Scala dei Giganti at the Ducal Palace symbolise Venice’s territorial and maritime power.106 By omitting such a reference, Jacopo de’ Barbari’s view keeps the focus firmly on Venice’s role in commerce, navigation, naval connections, and maritime dominion. The contemporary success and the government’s sanction or even encouragement of De’ Barbari’s Venetie MD suggest that for the Venetian higher classes inclusion of the mainland state was not seen as indispensable in representations of Venice. Such a general idea of dichotomy between lagoon city and mainland state is what has mainly been emphasised in historiography.107 However, while true to a certain degree, this is not the whole picture. Indeed, later in this section we will see authors who incorporate the Terraferma in their definition of Venice. Furthermore, it is important to underline that depictions of the city of Venice and the state did not merely follow an unchanging ‘myth of Venice’ or mirror the institutionalised aspects of the Venetian mainland state, which were characterised by a certain dichotomy. The depictions were influenced by a wide variety of factors. This section analyses the importance of political affiliation for the definition of the constituents of the Venetian state in a series of geographical representations, written at different moments of the long fifteenth century. A closer look at a series of texts will show both that there was more variation in narratives about Venice and the Terraferma as a state than generally assumed in historiography, and that these narratives could change over time. When descriptions of the city of Venice also contain a description of the Venetian state, this is important in itself. An example is Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi’s long poem on Venice. Its full title is El sommo della condizione e stato e principio della città di Vinegia e di suo tenitoro, and the description of the lagoon city does indeed include a long description of Venice’s subject territories. Guidi evidently considers the Venetian state essential for a definition of the city. While describing the subject territories, at various times he mentions Venice’s rule over a certain city, for instance: ‘Not the value of a needle is left / in the entire land of which I have spoken to you / which does not belong to Venice,’ ‘And they are lords over the entire region of Garda,’ ‘And they are also 106  Iain Fenlon, The Ceremonial City: History, Memory and Myth in Renaissance Venice (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 141. 107  See Introduction.

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uncontested lords / of such a noble city as Verona / with the entire Veronese.’108 Such repeated affirmation of political affiliation clearly shows how for Guidi the possession of extensive territories constitutes an essential part of Venice and a source of its glory. Nevertheless, the poem also contains various remarks that show a clear dichotomy between Venice and its subject territories. This is particularly the case for the Stato da Mar. When dealing with Crete and its previous rulers, Guidi writes: But little loyalty did they have towards the ducal Signoria of Venice, because they had evil wishes towards it. Therefore that Signoria despises very much those barons, and they rebelled, as is the custom of the men of Greece: therefore it was better that they were removed from that dominion and that it was filled with Venetians of many families.109 Guidi highlights the evil practices of the subjects, and dichotomy between ruling and ruled people — originating from, and therefore justified by, the evil character of the subjects, which thus also creates a hierarchy between the two groups.

108  ‘Non v’è rimaso el valere d’un ago en tutto que paese ch’i’ t’ho detto che non sia di Vinegia.’ ‘E’ son signor’ di tutta Gardigiana.’ ‘E anche son signor’ sanza contese di sì nobil città com’è Verona   con tutto el tenitor del veronese.’ All three examples from Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 71. 109  ‘Ma poca fedeltà costor tenea alla dogal signoria di Vinegia, perché avén contro a lor la voglia rea, sicché tal Signoria molto dispregia quelli baroni, e sonsi ribellati, com’è usanza degli uomin di Gregia: sì che convenne ch’e’ fussin cacciati di cotal signoria e fosse ripiena   di Viniziani di molti casati.’ Guidi, 93.

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In Modon (Methoni), to mention another example, only ‘proper Venetians’ are allowed to stay in the castle, while others may stay in the burgus.110 Lack of knowledge on who could stay in which part of Modon makes it unclear to which people Guidi refers with ‘proper Venetians,’ but it shows in any case that he deems it important to set Venetians apart from other groups.111 In Negroponte, according to Guidi, there are no foreigners, except for people from the countryside and Venetians.112 Here, on the one hand Venetians are set apart from foreigners, but on the other a clear distinction is made between locals and Venetians. Furthermore, Guidi writes that in Crete sons of Venetian magistrates sometimes marry local women.113 Though the action in itself points to interaction between the Venetian rulers and the local population, the fact that Guidi deems this striking enough to include in his work is an indication of a conception of dichotomy between the two groups. Earlier in this chapter I have shown how Guidi considers Venice’s good rule over Friuli as transpiring despite the ‘evil’ Friulans. This very clearly sets the Friulan subjects apart from their Venetian rulers. In keeping with how Friuli generally occupied an exceptional place in Venetian narratives about legitimacy of mainland expansion, Guidi’s statements on Friuli are an exception. In the rest of Guidi’s description of the Terraferma we do not find such strong or explicit affirmation of otherness. Indeed, in general Guidi’s El sommo della condizione di Vinegia is an example of a geographical description that attri­ butes much importance to the state for the definition of the city, by repeatedly mentioning the political affiliation between Venice and its subject territories, and by incorporating an extensive description of the state into that of the city. Some decades after Guidi, in the final two decades of the century Marcantonio Sabellico wrote geographical descriptions of both the city of Venice and a part of its state. Considering the success that Sabellico’s work generally enjoyed with Venice’s higher social classes, his writings show us 110  ‘‘N questo castello non vi può albergare alcun che non sia proprio viniziano,   ma sì ne’ borghi può ben abitare.’ Guidi, 86. 111  Ruth Gertwagen has mentioned that Felix Faber stayed in a place similar to the Venetian Fondaco dei Tedeschi, while other pilgrims perhaps stayed in monasteries. Jewish visitors stayed in the burgus, which is also where the hospital was located. It is unclear where other groups were accommodated. Ruth Gertwagen, “Venetian Modon and Its Port, 1358–1500,” in Mediterranean Urban Culture, 1400–1700, ed. Alexander Cowan (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 2000), 147–48. 112  ‘non v’usa dentro alcun forestieri, se non suo paesani o Viniziani,   ma d’altre genti non tien volentieri.’ Guidi, El sommo della condizione di Vinegia, 89. 113  Guidi, 93–94.

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something about the views that the Venetian elite apparently preferred to see and to have disseminated. For instance, De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii was dedicated to a former governor of Udine, contains strategic references to various important families, and had the approval of the Udinese city council.114 Unlike Sabellico’s Rerum Venetarum ab urbe condita, this work also received praise from Sabellico’s fellow humanist Giorgio Merula. Del sito di Venezia città was dedicated to a member of the Venetian patriciate as well. Both Del sito di Venezia città and De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii include references to the city of Venice within the description of the mainland dominions and vice versa. However, no consistent or clearly worked-out view on the relations between them can be found. Venice’s role as head of a large state provides the city with glory — something which is the case more for the Stato da Mar than for the Terraferma — and an opportunity to show its good government, but otherwise the lagoon city and the subject mainland territory generally remain two distinct entities. In De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii Sabellico speaks about ‘the country of Aquileia.’115 When he gives indications of this territory’s borders — the Adriatic Sea in the south, Istria in the east, the Alps in the north, and the territory of Belluno in the west — it is clear that almost this entire area was part of the Venetian state while he was writing.116 Sabellico does not mention this in this geographical part, thereby making it clear that the subject of this book is the region of Aquileia for its own sake, not because it is a part of the Venetian dominion. There are some moments when the existence of links between Venice and the Terraferma becomes somewhat clearer. As shown previously in this chapter, Sabellico mentions Venice’s dominion — specifically, the maritime state — as one of its important characteristics. He also speaks of the flight of the mainland peoples to the Venetian lagoon as a result of the barbarian invasions and, in the last part of the work, refers to Venice’s political rule over this territory and the protection provided. The work also contains comments that are flattering to Venetian magistrates, such as when Venice is mentioned for resolving civil wars, but on the whole Venice’s rule over Friuli is not emphasised very strongly. Venice’s role does become larger towards the end of the book, when in Sabellico’s chronological account Friuli is conquered by the Venetian Republic. This is not as self-evident as it might seem. Indeed, it constitutes a clear difference with the earlier part of the work, where Friuli was treated as 114  See Chavasse, “The First Known Author’s Copyright.” 115  ‘Aquileiensis patriae.’ Sabellico, “De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii, libri sex,” col. 203. 116  Sabellico, col. 204.

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an almost completely self-contained region, in spite of the presence of various moments where comparison with contemporary sources would lead one to expect references to certain links between Venice and the mainland. A clear example is already the fact that in the first book, where Sabellico introduces the topic of his work, the region’s current political affiliation is not mentioned. It is even clearer when in the third book, on the Hun invasions, Sabellico speaks of a story that was much employed in Venetian literature and visual arts: the mission of Saint Mark.117 He devotes a considerable amount of text to Mark going to the region of Aquileia, converting the people, and returning to Rome, but leaves out the part of the praedestinatio. Considering the literary tradition the work stood in, it would almost have been logical for Sabellico to include a reference to the city of Venice at this point. The fact that he does not, shows that he mentions the story only for its relevance to the church of Aquileia. Furthermore, previously in this chapter I have shown how early on in Del sito di Venezia città Sabellico writes about the inhabitants of the mainland founding the city of Venice and establishing alliances between them afterwards, but not about Venice’s current rule over the mainland. Even when he justifies Venice’s government over the Dogado by stating that this territory was previously Venetian, he does not use the same line of reasoning for the Terraferma. Only later does he refer to the dominion as essential to Venice’s glory. In short, neither De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii nor Del sito di Venezia città presents a very clear point of view on the importance of the mainland territories for Venice. There are several references to it, but they are not very consistent, and therefore do not seem to have sprung from a desire to either explicitly emphasise or ignore Venice’s status as head of an extensive dominion. Apparently Sabellico did not think that the higher classes for whom he intended his works would be too concerned with an emphasis on a link between capital and subject mainland territories. Marin Sanudo wrote various works on the city of Venice, the Venetian mainland state as a whole, and Friuli. This provides us with a unique opportunity to make a detailed case study of how a Venetian patrician could shape images of the relations between lagoon city and Terraferma and transform them over time. The same author wrote not one, but several geographical descriptions, which, moreover, are very extensive (particularly the Itinerarium and De ori­ gine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae number hundreds of pages in modern editions) and date from different stages of a particularly turbulent period in Venetian history. 117  Sabellico, cols. 217–218. See on this story chapter 1.

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In both the Itinerarium and De origine, situ et magistratibus Sanudo generally treats the lagoon city and the rest of the Venetian state as two entities that, though linked, are virtually separate. Such an image of differentiation is constructed in various ways. To start with a rather obvious example, concerning Sanudo’s use of certain terms: in De origine, situ et magistratibus, the name ‘Venice’ stands exclusively for the lagoon city.118 The Venetian state beyond the lagoon is denoted with the word ‘outside’ (fuora). Sanudo uses this word for instance to delineate the authority of a few magistracies in De magistratibus. About the auditori nuovi, to mention an example, he says that usually once every two years119 ‘they go outside to the Terraferma and Istria as sindaci,’ he refers to their journey through the Terraferma as the period ‘when they are outside,’ and says that they ‘suspend the judges outside in the same way as happens in this city.’120 By excluding in this way everything outside the Venetian lagoon, Sanudo depicts the city of Venice as an entity which in many respects is self-contained, while creating a sense of otherness for the Terraferma. In the Itinerarium as well a distinction between Venice and the Venetian Terraferma becomes clear from the use of certain words. This is, for instance, the case with the words Venitiani (and its variants in spelling) or Veneti (interchangeable with ‘Venitiani’ in this work), in contrast with citizens of the Venetian Terraferma. Sanudo makes various references to ‘our Venetians’ living in the Terraferma, even if practically the entire territory he visited was part of the Venetian state.121 An example can be found when he speaks of Treviso. This was the first city of the Terraferma to have come under Venetian 118  For example: ‘tutte le sententie fatte sì in Venetia come di fuora in terre et luoghi nostri,’ ‘Venexia è in aqua e non ha aqua,’ and a subdivision of churches on the Giudecca, ‘in Isola,’ on Murano, and ‘in Veniexia.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 118, 34, 40. 119  In reality the auditori nuovi were supposed to make their tour once every year. In practice sometimes several years passed before they did this. Grubb, Firstborn of Venice, 142–43. 120  ‘vanno fuora in Terraferma et per l’Histria in Sinichado,’ ‘quando sono fuora,’ ‘suspende li giudicii sì fuora come in questa Terra …’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 118–19. Other examples include: Sanudo, 118, 105. 121  For instance: ‘Et mìa 3 luntan de qui è la villa di Noventa, adornata de caxe de Venitiani nostri,’ ‘demum fate mìa cinque se trova il castello di Bovolenta ch’è pur soto Piove, villa bella, adornato di molte caxe d’i venitiani,’ and ‘Questa villa di Noventa è bellissima, piena di caxe di muro de Veneti nostri, zoè di Hironimo Malipiero, di Piero Vituri, di Chimento Thealdini, de Troylo Malipiero et fiol, di Martin Pisanelo et ha una bela chiesiuola; la caxa di Nicolò Bafo, di Antonio Marzelo, di Iacomo Gusoni, di Zuan da Rio, et di quelli da Bruolo.’ Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 180, 184, 380. On Venetian-owned villas in the Terraferma, including the ones mentioned in Sanudo’s Itinerarium, see: James S. Grubb, “Villa and Landscape in the Venetian State,” in Europa e Italia: Studi in onore di Giorgio Chittolini (Firenze: Firenze University Press, 2011), 207–22.

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rule — something which Sanudo himself acknowledges122 — yet also in this case a distinction is made between, for example, ‘Sir Bartolomeo Malombra da Puovolo, one of our Venetians’ and ‘the doctor and knight Agostino da Onigo, citizen of Treviso.’123 The way Sanudo characterises these two men is not based on where they live, as the former lived in Treviso and the latter close to Asolo. It is also not completely based on citizenship. During the first half of the fifteenth century the type of Venetian citizenship called de intus had been granted to the citizens of several cities of the Venetian Terraferma, namely Vicenza, Verona, Padua, Treviso, Feltre, Belluno, Brescia, and Crema.124 Being a citizen of Treviso in 1483, then, also implied possessing Venetian citizenship de intus. This is not how Sanudo describes Agostino da Onigo, however. Although existing geographical and legal differentiations were undoubtedly also a factor, the distinction which Sanudo makes between the two men is based on a fundamental perception of dichotomy between mainland and capital city. Furthermore, the mere fact that Sanudo deems it necessary to give this type of description is significant. He does this not once but several times: he clearly considers the presence in the Terraferma of inhabitants of the city of Venice and of their houses as important enough to merit repeated mention. This differentiation between people coming from the city of Venice and from subject cities on the mainland, which was evidently essential in Sanudo’s perception of the Venetian state, creates a view of small, clearly demarcated units of ‘Venetian-ness’ on the Terraferma, which is thus depicted as the ‘other.’ The distinctions made in Sanudo’s works are in part a reflection of the division which existed between capital city Venice and subject mainland territories in various institutionalised characteristics of the early modern Venetian state. At the same time, however, they form an individual component of the construction of the Venetian mainland state. In a few points in De origine, situ et magistratibus the Terraferma is presented as one entity when the Stato da Mar is not. For example, a list written 122  Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 386. 123  ‘ser Bortolamio Malombra da Puovolo venitiam nostro’ and ‘Agustin da Unigo dotor e chavalier, citadino trivixan.’ Sanudo, 386, 390. 124  Gaetano Cozzi and Michael Knapton, Storia della repubblica di Venezia: Dalla guerra di Chioggia alla riconquista della terraferma (Torino: Utet, 1986), 133–40; Grubb, Firstborn of Venice, 173; Luca Molà and Reinhold C. Mueller, “Essere straniero a Venezia nel tardo Medioevo: Accoglienza e rifiuto nei privilegi di cittadinanza e nelle sentenze criminali,” in Le migrazioni in Europa, secc. XIII–XVIII, ed. Simonetta Cavaciocchi (Firenze: Le Monnier, 1994), 839–51; Reinhold C. Mueller, Immigrazione e cittadinanza nella Venezia medievale (Roma: Viella, 2010).

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at the beginning of the 1510s enumerates bishops and archbishops in Venetian cities. The cities of the Dogado and the Stato da Mar fall directly under the main list, while the Terraferma cities are grouped into a subsection (the only one in this list) entitled ‘Terra Ferma.’125 A similar structure is used in a list of magistracies in Sanudo’s 1515 version of De magistratibus: the parts of mainland state fall under the category ‘In Terra Ferma,’ while the maritime ones are listed individually in the main list rather than indicated together as Stato da Mar.126 Sanudo was familiar with the division of the Venetian dominions into two parts and even refers to it in De origine, situ et magistratibus.127 It is unclear why he does not use the category ‘Stato da Mar’ in the lists where he does use ‘Terraferma.’ Perhaps he simply knew the Terraferma better — after all, he had been on an extensive tour through this area and had written a separate book about it — and was therefore used to seeing it as one distinct area. Suffice it to say that this is another way in which Sanudo makes a distinction between the city of Venice and the rest of the Venetian state. Throughout De origine, situ et magistratibus Sanudo brings up the subject territories in general, and the Terraferma in particular, almost exclusively if that is necessary in order to describe something in the lagoon city. In De ma­ gistratibus, for example, magistrates with authority over something in the subject territories are mentioned only if they have authority over something in the lagoon city too, or if they at least have their seat there.128 Coins in use in the dominions are discussed only when Sanudo describes the money produced in the mint, which was situated close to the Ducal Palace.129 125  Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 214–15. Not all cities on this list were still part of the Venetian state at this moment. I will come back to this point later. 126  Sanudo, 297–304. 127  Both in his 1493 version and in the 1515 one Sanudo writes that the auditori nuovi deal with appeals ‘sì di Mar come di Terra …’, thereby referring to the Stato da Mar and the Terraferma (from which the auditori nuovi did indeed treat appeals). Sanudo, 118. The manuscript does not use the capital letters employed in Angela Caracciolo Aricò’s edition. Venice, Biblioteca del Museo Correr, Cicogna 969, fol. 59r. See also Sanudo’s 1515 version of De magistratibus: ‘Aldeno le apelation di tutti Rectori di le terre nostre da Mar e da Terra.’ Sanudo, 281. 128  See for example: Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 105, 109, 117–19, 132–33. It is only in the second part of De situ that Venetian magistrates residing outside the city of Venice and having authority only over matters outside the Venetian lagoon are listed. Not only does this show that Sanudo makes a distinction between these two groups of magistrates, but the enumeration of magistrates outside Venice is also much more concise, since it only lists the names of the functions and gives no explanations. 129  Sanudo, 60–61. There were different coins in use in the Venetian territories — different in both names and value — but they were coined in the Venetian mint. Cozzi and Knapton, Storia della repubblica di Venezia, 341.

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Another example is the way Sanudo speaks about the schools in Venice. He mentions the school of Rialto, the type of lectures, and the people who teach here, and then says: This worthy institution the Venetians wanted to have in their city, so that whoever wants to learn virtues and become very learned can do so here in Venice, without going to study in Padua, where there is such an excellent university, full of students from all over the world, and maintained at great expense to our Signoria.130 He then goes on to mention other types of education available in Venice. The reference to the university of Padua is very brief: it is not even explicitly stated that Padua was under Venetian authority, although Sanudo’s intended ­readers — who would have been interested enough in Venice to be reading about it, and acquainted enough with it to be reading in the Venetian ­vernacular — undoubtedly would have known this. The reference serves to emphasise the quality of the Venetian schools, and the brief remark that the university is maintained by Venice is the only link mentioned between the university of Padua and Venice. Sanudo makes a similar remark in the Itinerarium, when he describes Padua: he calls its university the most celebrated institution in Italy, attracting many students from all over the world, and supported at great expense by Venice.131 In reality, the university of Padua was the only university in the Venetian state, and in the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the Senate attempted several times to make it illegal for people from the Venetian Republic to obtain their degrees elsewhere.132 Although the Venetian government did supervise university administration and select staff, this does not mean that cultural influences between Venice and the subject cities in the Terraferma were only in one direction.133 Many Terraferma cities had a thriving cultural life of their 130  ‘Questo degno instituto voleno Venitiani haver in la sua Terra, che chi vole imparar virtute et farsi dottissimi, senza andar a studiar a Padoa, dove è il Studio sì eccellentissimo, pieno de scolari di tutte le parte del mondo, et di gran spesa alla Signoria nostra, si possi far qui a Veniexia.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 28–29. 131  Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 172–74. There is also a very short remark in the introductory poem to this work, when Sanudo writes about Padua: ‘Quivi è ‘l Gimnasio de tuti soprano.’ Sanudo, 142. 132  Nicholas Davidson, “‘As Much for Its Culture as for Its Arms’: The Cultural Relations of Venice and Its Dependent Cities, 1400–1700,” in Mediterranean Urban Culture, 1400– 1700, ed. Alexander Cowan (Exeter: University of Exeter Press, 2000), 197–214, 264–70; Paul F. Grendler, “The University of Padua 1405–1600: A Success Story,” History of Higher Education Annual 10 (1990): 7–18. 133  See also Introduction.

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own. Regarding Padua, Nicholas Davidson has even stated that ‘in many areas of cultural activity, Padua led the way.’134 Nevertheless, the university of Padua — located in a city which had been part of the Venetian dominion for almost nine decades, and which played an important role in the legendary founding of Venice — is mentioned in De origine, situ et magistratibus only in order to give the reader an idea of the quality of the Venetian schools, and to demonstrate how generous and caring the Venetian government is. This is emphasised in the Itinerarium as well. In this way Marin Sanudo once again creates a clear distinction between the city of Venice and its mainland territory. Both the Itinerarium and the De origine, situ et magistratibus were written during a period in which the hostility of foreign powers towards Venice already existed, but had not yet reached the level which in the first decade of the sixteenth century would lead to the formation of the League of Cambrai. The fact that in 1502–1503 Sanudo wrote a new description of the Terraferma — this time of only a part — and that between 1493 and 1530 he continued to add information to his description of the city of Venice, provides us with the possibility of analysing the development over time of his representations of the mainland state. The Descriptione de la patria de Friul, written in 1502–1503, speaks only about Friuli, and, compared to the Itinerarium’s dozens of chapters, with its twenty-eight pages in the modern edition it is a relatively short work.135 It places more emphasis on political affiliation than the Itinerarium. For example, Marano is described both in the Itinerarium and the Descriptione, but, while the former focuses more on the villages and waters in the countryside, in the latter Marano’s status as city subject to Venice is set forth much more explicitly.136 Some of the territories described in the Descriptione are not part

134  Davidson, “‘As Much for Its Culture as for Its Arms,’” 212. 135  Marin Sanudo, Descrizione della patria del Friuli di Marino Sanuto, fatta l’anno MDII– MDIII ed ora per la prima volta pubblicata, ed. Leonardo Manin (Venezia: Tip. di Pietro Naratovich, 1853). 136  The full description of Marano in the Itinerarium reads: ‘Di Monfalcon a Maran è mìa 20, dove erra podestà Antonio da Canal; et di qui fino in Aquileia è mìa 9. Et prima si trova Aviam, Piers, Fiumicello et San Zilio; si passa tre aque a guazo: la Mondina, l’Izonzo, et una altra il nome dila qual ignoro.’ Sanudo, Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, 438. In the Descriptione de la patria de Friul this is: ‘Circha miglia XX bone distante da Udene quasi su la marina e sito el castel de Marano castello assai decente et secondo castello da mare assai richo et populato et ha porto in mare per alcuni canalli che vano per quelle valle salmastre. In questo la nostra Illustrissima Signoria che ne e domina manda podesta et rectore uno suo venetiano patricio.’ Sanudo, Descrizione della patria del Friuli, 28.

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of the Venetian state,137 but most of them obviously are, as since 1420 almost the whole of Friuli was under Venetian rule. This emphasis on political dominion can already be seen at the very beginning of the work. The text opens with a short description of Friuli’s geographical position and a brief comment about its early history. It then continues to state that it is now ruled by the most invincible and always venerable state of the Venetians, who, according to the indisputable law of their illustrious Senate, for its [Friuli’s] government every sixteen months send one of the first of their patricians, the title of his rank being luogotenente of the patria [del Friuli]. And he has his seat and residence in the beautiful and kind city of Udine, where as lord he administers the innate Venetian justice and does justice to all the inhabitants of Friuli who appeal to his very just tribunal.138 Almost the first point the reader learns about Friuli is that it belongs to the Venetian state and that Venice governs it very well. The book’s ending is in keeping with this: Sanudo concludes his description with an enumeration of the income the Venetian state has from Friuli, and then states that all of this money is used for the government of Friuli.139 He thereby emphasises the absence of any selfish reasons the Venetian Republic could have had for annexing Friuli. In the rest of the work as well, Venetian dominion over a city is mentioned many times. Often this is done without attaching any explicit judgements of this rule, such as: ‘To this [city] our Most Illustrious Signoria, which is lord over it, sends one of its noblemen as lord of the castle.’140 Other times Sanudo uses phrases such as the following:

137  An example is Pordenone, which Sanudo describes, among other points, as a ‘grosso e richo castello del seren.mo et inclyto Imperatore.’ Sanudo, Descrizione della patria del Friuli, 30. 138  ‘invictissimo et sempre augusto stato de Veniciani gli quali segondo le irrefragabile leze de lynclito lor senato ogni XVI mesi mandano al governo de quella uno degli primarii soi patricii il titulo dela dignità dil quale e luogo tenente de la patria et fa il segio et residentia sua ne la bella et zentil terra de Udene la dove come signore la innata justicia veniciana ministra et fa ragione a tuti gli foro juliani incoli che al justissimo suo Tribunale se apellano.’ Sanudo, 15–16. 139  Sanudo, 42–43. 140  ‘In questa la nostra Illustrissima Signoria che ne e signora manda un suo zentilhomo per castellano.’ Sanudo, 25.

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it is a place and under the jurisdiction of our Most Illustrious Signoria, which according to its praiseworthy custom every sixteen months sends one of its noble Venetians here as podestà and rettore, who administers justice in civil and criminal [cases] for all the inhabitants who are subject to him.141 Once, he even states: About twenty miles from Udine and seven from Gorizia, our Most Illustrious Signoria, which knows what to do for the aim and protection, not only of the Patria del Friuli but also of the whole of Italy, has constructed a beautiful and strong citadel …142 The changes that had occurred in Venice’s political situation in the two decades between the writing of the Itinerarium and the Descriptione de la patria de Friul form an explanation for this larger emphasis on political dominion. Compared with the Itinerarium, in the Descriptione Sanudo brings up the Venetian government more often. Even if he does not always link this rule to statements about its legitimacy, the mere number of times that he mentions it seems to point to a heightened sensibility of this rule due to the foreign powers at this time calling its justifiability into question. At the same time, the Venetian Republic had also been criticised for decades about its position towards the Ottomans. Especially the somewhat aggressive comment about Venice knowing what is best for the whole of Italy can hardly be dissociated from the increasing hostility of foreign powers toward Venice during this period. This specific comment refers to the fortress of Gradisca, constructed by Venice in 1479 as protection against the Ottomans, who had been raiding Friuli already for about a decade at that moment.143 Moreover, the fortress had again played a role when, at the beginning of the Second Ottoman-Venetian War, in 1499, the Ottomans had again raided Friuli. This was only a few years before 141  ‘e logo e jurisdictione de la nostra Illustrissima Signoria la quale segondo la laudevole sua usanza ogni XVI mexi li manda per podesta et rectore uno de suoi nobeli venetiani che fa in civile et criminale raxone a tuti gli habitanti sui subditi.’ Sanudo, 30. 142  ‘Cercha miglia XX luntano da Udene et da Goritia 7 la nostra Ill.ma Signoria che conosce cio fare al proposito et tutella non solum dela patria del frioli ma etiam de tuta italia ha fabricata una bella et forte Citadella …’ Sanudo, 23–24. 143  Maria Pia Pedani, “Turkish Raids in Friuli at the End of the Fifteenth Century,” in Acta Viennensia Ottomanica, ed. Markus Kohbach, Gisela Prochaska-Eisl, and Claudia Romer (Wien: Institut für Orientalistik, 1999), 287–91; Claudio Visintini, Gradisca: Analisi della fortezza veneta (Trieste: Riva, 1985), 17–18.

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Sanudo wrote his Descriptione and would still have been fresh in the memory of his readers. Sanudo’s reference to these events serves both as a clear reminder of Venice’s rule over this area and as justification for it. The comment on the fortress of Gradisca is therefore an example of how different factors could lead to a Venetian patrician writing a geographical description that underlined, much more than in his previous works, the links between Venice and its subject mainland territory. Reminding readers of the raids into Friuli and stating that Venice has been protecting the whole of Italy against the Ottomans would have served as a defence against decades-long foreign accusations directed at Venice of both expansionism towards the Italian mainland and inaction towards the Ottomans. Moreover, such a reassurance about the existence and value of territories under Venetian rule would probably not have been unwelcome to an intended Venetian audience: in the very years that the Descriptione was written, Venice was involved in the Second Ottoman-Venetian War and had already lost several of its maritime possessions. Drawing attention to a territory that was still under Venetian rule would therefore probably have appealed to Venetians. In short, the scarcity of explicit references to the political acts leading to Venice’s still growing dominion on the Italian mainland — both in the Descriptione and the Itinerarium — does not mean that Sanudo’s writing about Venice’s rule over this territory stayed the same. Even though in the Descriptione de la patria de Friul no links other than formal political affiliation can be found, Sanudo now clearly finds it necessary to emphasise this link more strongly. He even deems it essential to represent mainland territories as linked to Venice when they had come under another ruler. After Sanudo finished the De origine, situ et magistratibus in 1493, he kept adding information until 1530: that is, during the period in which Venice was involved in the wars against Charles VIII and his successors, fought against various powers in and outside Italy, lost almost the entire Terraferma to the League of Cambrai, and regained the largest part of it. Already from the late fourteenth century onwards, opinions among the Venetian higher class had been divided on whether Venice should acquire territory on the mainland.144 After 1509 as well opinions differed on the value of the Terraferma for the Venetian state. In contrast with the image given by early sixteenth-century Venetian historical writing, not all Venetian patricians were convinced of the necessity of reconquering the

144  John E. Law, “The Venetian Mainland State in the Fifteenth Century,” in Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 158–59.

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Terraferma; some of them would even have preferred to abandon this territory, considered by them as a useless and dangerous burden to the republic.145 Marin Sanudo was not one of these people, as we can tell from the fact that he offered the Venetian government his services for the reconquest of the Terraferma.146 In De origine, situ et magistratibus he mentions the Terraferma a few times in texts written between 1509 and 1517. A few years after the Battle of Agnadello he drew up a list entitled ‘Names of the bishops and archbishops who in the year 1512 are living in the cities of the dominion of our Signoria.’147 This list contains a section entitled ‘Terra Ferma.’ This includes the names of nine cities: not only Padua, which by that time had indeed been reconquered by Venice, but also, for example, Cremona, which was no longer a part of the Venetian state — regarded, then, still as under Venetian rule. A few years later, in his 1515 version of De magistratibus, Sanudo made a list of magistracies which presented a somewhat different version.148 One section of this list is entitled ‘In Terra Ferma,’ subdivided into the different regions of the Terraferma. After this, Sanudo makes a list of magistracies that no longer exist.149 This contains not only magistracies that have been changed — as in the case of Monfalcone, where the castellano had been replaced by a podestà — but also entire regions with all of their magistracies, such as Romagna and Cremona, which do not appear in the first list with still existing magistracies. Just as shown earlier in the analysis of Sanudo’s Descriptione de la patria de Friul, it is clear, therefore, that the absence of explicit references to the political and military circumstances of the time does not entail an absence of opinion on how strongly certain territories were linked to Venice. In these additions to De origine, situ et magistratibus we see that Sanudo’s way of writing about the Terraferma changed during the period 1509–1517. He was obviously well acquainted with the crisis the Venetian Republic found itself in, and it seems that in these years he did not know how to choose between a patriotic conviction that the loss of the Terraferma would only be temporary, wishful thinking regarding the reconquering of this territory, and the desire to give 145  L ester J. Libby, “The Reconquest of Padua in 1509 According to the Diary of Girolamo Priuli,” Renaissance Quarterly 28, no. 3 (1975): 323–31; Libby, “Venetian History and Political Thought after 1509.” 146  Robert Finlay, Politics in Renaissance Venice (London: Benn, 1980), 251–80. 147  ‘Nomi delli vescovi e arzivescovi sonno ne l’anno 1512 vivi in le terre del Dominio della Signoria nostra.’ Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, 214–15. The list does not include a reference to a month, meaning that it is unclear whether Sanudo is speaking of 1512 or 1513. Either way, the list refers to the period a few years after the Battle of Agnadello, during the War of the League of Cambrai. 148  Sanudo, 297–304. 149  ‘Rezimenti si feva.’ Sanudo, 304–8.

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accurate information (which we see throughout Sanudo’s entire oeuvre) about the existence of specific magistracies. Either way, he clearly still deemed it necessary for his definition of Venice to include the mainland territories in his post-Agnadello lists of Venetian magistracies, whether as still belonging to the Venetian state or lost. Just as in the rest of De origine, situ et magistratibus and in Sanudo’s other works discussed, he sees the city of Venice as one entity, and the Terraferma as another, which are and remain linked to each other. In the Descriptione and the later additions to the De origine, situ et magistratibus we see therefore how Sanudo’s representation of the links between Venice and the mainland changes over the last decades of the fifteenth and the first decades of the sixteenth centuries. The increasingly hostile attitude of foreign powers towards Venice, in combination with Venice’s involvement in wars in the Eastern Mediterranean, probably caused a heightened awareness in Sanudo of Venice’s rule over the Terraferma, leading him to stress this rule and sometimes attempt to justify it more in his Descriptione than had been the case in the Itinerarium. Later still, in the additions to and the new version of De origine, situ et magistratibus we can observe how Sanudo’s perception of the mainland adjusted slowly to the changing political circumstances: after the loss of this territory — in some cases definitively — it took Sanudo various years to adapt his view of the Venetian state to the new situation. Nevertheless, he still regarded the Terraferma as having enough links with Venice to include it in his lists written during the War of the League of Cambrai. In light of the accusations and hostility of foreign powers towards Venice, he apparently deemed it safer to stress the links between Venice and its subject territories more. This manner of reasoning is in keeping with Sanudo’s references to links between the two in their early history, discussed previously in this chapter. Roughly during the period that Sanudo wrote his Descriptione de la patria de Friul, Francesco degli Allegri wrote La summa gloria di Venetia. As seen earlier, this poem contains a long section in which Degli Allegri lauds Venice for its separate subject cities and territories. He praises them individually (be it often quite formulaically), for their individual assets, but at the same time states repeatedly that they now contribute to the glory of Venice. Padua, for example, is praised in particular for its university, while Degli Allegri at the same time emphasises its value for the Venetian state: You [Venice] can celebrate Padua, worthy to be subject to your banner, with that beautiful university which many esteem highly. You see many graduates — masses and masses — who exalt your great insignia.

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Few similar ones can be found along the coast. Glory you are given by that happy state, by having come under your extensive state.150 Degli Allegri first speaks about the territories of the Terraferma — including recently acquired ones, like Cremona and the Ghiara d’Adda — and then goes on to speak about the Stato da Mar, before finally returning to the Dogado. The presence of such a long part on the subject territories clearly shows how essential they were for Degli Allegri’s definition of Venice. Roughly the same amount of space is devoted to the Terraferma as to the Stato da Mar, but the placement of the description of the former — at the start of the part on the state, immediately after Degli Allegri’s praise of the value of the subject territories in general — draws attention in particular to the value of the mainland. Following this description of the state, Venice herself responds. ‘How can I celebrate (…) that which the dragon [the Ottoman] has devoured from me?’151 She then refers to formerly Venetian territories that had only recently been conquered by the Ottomans, such as Lepanto (Navpaktos), Modon, and Coron (Koroni), and says that she is still afraid. The poet reassures Venice at length: Venice has always been helped by God, and will also receive divine aid now. The roar of the lion will make every power of land and sea tremble. You will make the dragon retreat.152 He also reminds Venice of the victory that she had recently won over the Ottomans at Cephalonia (a rare Venetian success in the Second OttomanVenetian War).

150  ‘Gloriare ti poi di patauia degna Essere posta sotto a tua bandiera Con quel bel studio che tanti si adegna Vedi tanti doctori aschiera aschiera Magnificare la tua grande insegna Poche de simel ne troui in riuera Gloria ti dona tal stato iocondo: Adesser posta al stato tuo prophondo.’ Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [c ii v]. 151  ‘Come mi posso gloriar (…) Di quel chel draco si mha diuorata.’ Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [c iv r]. 152  ‘El rugito de lo leon faran tremare: Ogni potentia da terra e da mare Farai el draco arieto lui ritrare.’ Degli Allegri, La summa gloria di Venetia, fol. [c iv v].

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The various wars in which Venice was involved in the years around the writing of La summa gloria di Venetia also left a mark on some other parts of the description of the state. Earlier in this chapter I have already shown how Degli Allegri includes references to Venice’s good rule over its state, the legitimacy of its territorial expansion, and the just wars in which it has been involved throughout its history. The description of the state even starts by stating that the subject territories have come voluntarily under Venetian rule and that this rule has led to peace and justice. Furthermore, the very fact that Degli Allegri first speaks about Venice’s past wars, then immediately proceeds to a long description of its subject territories, and in the end speaks explicitly about the danger that Venice’s maritime possessions are currently in, suggests that he saw all of this as linked. The poem therefore expresses several ideas about the Venetian state, for different audiences. It shows that, despite the recent territorial losses in the Eastern Mediterranean, Venice still has a glorious state, and, moreover, will soon obtain victory over the Ottomans since God is on its side. Especially in the turbulent period when the poem was written, this was a message that probably particularly a Venetian audience would have liked to hear. The more prominent placement of the description of the Terraferma over that of the Stato da Mar is connected with this: it seeks to reassure readers by celebrating Venice’s possessions at a time when they were increasing on the mainland, rather than focusing on an area where they had recently diminished.153 At the same time, it indicates that Venice has never been involved in an unjust war, and that there is therefore no reason to dispute its current territorial dominions: a message that could have been meant for Venetians and non-Venetians alike, but that in the light of growing foreign hostility about Venetian expansion was perhaps written particularly with the latter in mind. In this way, La summa gloria di Venetia conveys messages for both an internal and an external audience. While the contents of the work would most probably have appealed mainly to an audience within the Venetian state, this does not mean that it could never have reached a non-Venetian audience. This type of pamphlet — cheap, light, easy to carry, written in a language understood by people across the Italian peninsula and even many outside of Italy — could have been taken outside of Venice. We could wonder how keen people outside of Venice would have been to read such an extensive praise of Venice in a climate that, less than eight years later, would lead to the formation of the

153  A similar point is made in: Krystina Stermole, “Venetian Art and the War of the League of Cambrai (1509–17)” (Queen’s University, 2007), 168–70.

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anti-Venetian League of Cambrai. However, it is also not impossible that this could have been at the back of Degli Allegri’s mind when he wrote his poem. Similar to what we have seen in Sanudo’s geographical descriptions — particularly the later ones — we therefore see an emphasis in Degli Allegri’s poem on the value of the subject territories for the author’s definition of Venice, at a time when international powers were contesting the legitimacy of Venice’s territorial expansion, and when the very possession of the territories was being threatened by various wars. This brings us back to the first two sections of this chapter: justification for mainland expansion. Reaction to growing foreign hostility against Venice was one of the factors that shaped how Venetian authors depicted Venice and the Venetian Terraferma as a state, whether that hostility concerned Venice’s actions on the Italian peninsula or in the Eastern Mediterranean. At the same time, these depictions were also influenced by other factors. Indeed, the sources treated in this chapter suggest a chronological development in the importance of the mainland territories for the definition of Venice. Overall, the fifteenth-century Venetian geographical descriptions convey a sense of dichotomy between lagoon city and mainland state — something that becomes clear not only from the contents of the texts that treat the Venetian state, but also from the limited number of texts with this subject. This remains true for the entire period discussed here. However, the sources do suggest to some degree a decrease in assertion of otherness of the mainland state over time. There are clearly traces of appropriation of the Terraferma for how authors define Venice, and increasing stress on the mainland territories’ belonging to the Venetian state. The change over time in how authors justify the mainland acquisitions — the gradual formation of a narrative of voluntary submission and benevolent rule rather than violent conquest, as seen in the chapter’s first two sections — is in keeping with this. We see therefore more variation in the sources than generally given credit for in historiography. The Terraferma did constitute one of the factors taken into consideration by authors when they wrote their geographical descriptions of Venice. Even when they chose to depict a certain dichotomy between lagoon city and mainland territories, the very fact that other contemporary authors could choose to represent more unity between the two means that such a depiction of less differentiation was not outside the realm of possibility for Renaissance narratives about Venice. Moreover, it means that representations of Venice and the Venetian state were not simply created by following an immutable tradition of a ‘myth of Venice’ or by mirroring the state’s institutionalised characteristics. This last point has become particularly clear by analysing the transformations over time in Sanudo’s works. While Sanudo clearly reacted

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in his works to the changing political circumstances, the way he reacted was not a direct reflection of these circumstances, but a process influenced by a variety of factors. This chapter has focused on a series of geographical descriptions of Venice and the Terraferma as a state, written by people from the Venetian milieu. While each section has focused on a different theme, it has become clear that these themes are tightly interwoven. The chronological development of justifications for Venice’s territorial expansion, for example, is linked to a variety of factors, such as realisation of the possible danger — in light of growing foreign hostility towards Venice — in stressing too much the sometimes violent beginnings of Venetian rule, and a general process of decreasing assertion of otherness of the mainland state. Similar to what we have seen throughout the book, there was both more variation and more transformation in the narratives that were constructed about Venice and the Venetian state than generally given credit for in historiography. Although these narratives were created partly in reaction to the Venetian state’s institutionalised characteristics, they were not mere reflections of them. Likewise, while they were not created without taking previously existing views of Venice into consideration, and could incorporate parts of those views, they did not simply take them over entirely or without adaptations. The processes by which contemporaries constructed narratives of the newly formed Venetian state are an individual and vital constituent of how this state was being created, with their own internal dynamics. Insight into these processes is just as essential to our understanding of early modern state formation as more institutional aspects, and deserves to be studied as a topic in its own right.

chapter 6

Viewing the Venetian Mainland State from the Mainland The Venetian mainland state stretched over an extensive territory. Internal differences — in political, economic, social, and cultural aspects — were many. This chapter analyses a selection of geographical descriptions of the Venetian mainland territories, written by inhabitants of these territories, and representative in terms of literary genre, geographical origin, and time period. I focus mainly on four important cities: Verona, Vicenza, Brescia, and Padua, while parts of the mainland state that were much divergent from the rest — most notably Friuli — are given less attention. A description of the Terraferma as a whole is also treated. It is important to emphasise that, as mentioned also in the previous chapter, the number of geographical representations of the Terraferma in this period is much smaller than that of the city of Venice. This is even more the case when we focus solely on representations created by inhabitants of the Terraferma. As a result of this relative scarcity of descriptions this chapter is not divided thematically, like the rest of the book, but presented as a series of case studies. Through these case studies the chapter analyses in detail how inhabitants of the Terraferma could construct narratives about the Venetian-ruled mainland territories and their relations with the city of Venice in the first century of Venetian rule. 1

Two Poems Dedicated to Local Families

In laude di Verona is a poem that does precisely what the title promises: it provides a praise of the city of Verona. Although its author is unknown, according to Umberto Marchesini it is clear from the dialect that he was Veronese.1 Various comments in the text indicate that it was most probably written not earlier than 1468 and not later than 1518.2 In any case, it speaks of Verona at a time when it had already been part of the Venetian state for a long time. The poem’s fifty-seven lines praise Verona for a variety of elements, which were 1  Umberto Marchesini, ed., “Una poesia del secolo XV in lode di Verona,” Nuovo archivio veneto 5, no. 2 (1895): 313. 2  Marchesini, 313–14.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004428201_008

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also part of the tradition of the laudes civitatum: examples include the city’s virtues, climate, position, churches, river, city walls, buildings, women, and abundance of goods. There are no references at all to Verona being subject to another political entity; the only political relation to which the author refers is that between Verona and the villages in the Veronese district that are listed. This creates an image of Verona as an autonomous entity at the head of its own subject territory. Indeed, such an idea is apparent already in the very first lines of the poem: Verona, be delighted, because you are so large that you spread your wing over mountain and plain, and because among mortal men your glory, praise, and name are spread.3 The laudes civitatum were a genre devoted to cities, not states. The choice for this genre was therefore well suited to the author’s view of Verona as self-­ contained city. At the same time, the existence of a clear traditional pattern for the laudes might then have reinforced the poem’s urban focus. Before looking at this poem’s intended audience, let me pass briefly to another poem in which a similar view is conveyed of a subject mainland city without references to it being under another city’s rule: Ad magnificum domi­ num Ioannem Portensem equitem splendidissimum, an anonymous praise of Vicenza, written between 1487 and 1495. The poem opens with the ninth muse, Thalia, appearing to the unspecified first-person narrator, and subsequently the largest part of the text is a quotation of a speech by this muse. One reference after another to classical antiquity follows. For example, Vicenza, ‘surpassing with divine glory the other distinguished Latin cities of the Italian land’,4 is devoted to the sacred cult of Vesta, and in religious matters it is celebrated more than Numa and the ancient Sabines. Following a praise on the city in general, the largest part of the poem consists of acclaim of renowned individual inhabitants of Vicenza — along with the exhortation to the new generation to follow their example — who are often compared to famous people from antiquity. 3  ‘Verona, godi poi che sei sì grande Che per monte e piano batti l’ale, E poi che fra li homini mortali   La gloria lode e tuo nome si spande.’ Marchesini, 317. 4  ‘Ausoniae (…) terrae insignes reliquas divina laude Latinas   exsuperans urbes …’ Cecilia Salmistraro, ed., “I carmi umanistici sulla famiglia Da Porto nel cod. Bertoliano G. 24.2.39,” Odeo olimpico 17–18 (1981–1982): 126.

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Rather than being placed in a framework of political affiliation with Venice, the author therefore places Vicenza in a classical context: the only link mentioned to another geographical entity is that Vicenza makes part of ‘the Latin land.’5 Just as was the case with In laude di Verona, here, too, the form of the poem and its contents influence one other. The classical framework in which the city is placed hinders the insertion of Vicenza in a Venetian context, as this had only indirect links with classical antiquity. At the same time the depiction of Vicenza as a city without links to other cities probably contributes to the choice of this particular form. Furthermore, both the anonymous poem about Verona and the one about Vicenza were dedicated to local families. Together with thirteen other poems, Ad magnificum dominum Ioannem Portensem is dedicated to the family Da Porto from Vicenza, more specifically to Giovanni da Porto. Although the author is unknown, we do know that he was born in the Da Porto household, but was not living there anymore when he wrote these poems. It is likely that he wrote them in gratitude for protection.6 In fact, Ad magnificum dominum Ioannem Portensem includes two members of the Da Porto family (one of whom is the Giovanni from the title) in the list of famous Vicentines.7 Other poems from this codex praise members of the Da Porto family as well. Sometimes praise of the family is even a poem’s main subject.8 Although In laude di Verona is less explicit about such a link with a prominent local family, here as well it is probable that the poem was dedicated to (a member of) a local family: in this case most likely the Sambonifacio family of Verona, as the text addresses a certain ‘Julio conte,’ who could be Giulio di Sambonifacio.9 These links with the local elite are an important factor in how the cities in question were depicted. Regardless of the power they actually held, they would have liked to be flattered by hearing how much power they held in a powerful city. In these two poems the city is therefore defined unambiguously. As a result of the interconnecting reasons of portrayal of subject mainland cities as self-contained entities, dedication of the poem to a local family, and traditional patterns of certain literary genres, the city’s links with Venice are not mentioned. Rather, the city is presented as having hardly any relations with other cities at all. 5  ‘decus Latiae Vincentia terrae.’ Salmistraro, 128. For example also: ‘Vincentia, (…) celebri Latias de (…) virtute per urbes …’ Salmistraro, 126. 6  Salmistraro, “I carmi umanistici sulla famiglia Da Porto,” 116–17. 7  Salmistraro, 130. 8  For example in Ad dominum Federicum Portensem moribus et litteris praeditum. Salmistraro, 136–42. 9  Marchesini, “Una poesia del secolo XV in lode di Verona,” 313–14. Three references to this ‘Julio’ on: Marchesini, 318, 321.

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Ubertino Posculo’s Oratio de laudibus Brixiae

There are cases where authors go even further, to the point of almost distorting history in order to depict a city as an independent entity. The Oratio de laudibus Brixiae is a case in point. It was written by Ubertino Posculo (ca.1430– 1507/1508), who grew up in Brescia and who studied in Brescia, Ferrara, and Constantinople respectively.10 He presented the work to the city government of Brescia in 1458. It is divided into six parts, which praise Brescia because of its climate, origins, the position and the fertility of the countryside, the activities of the Brescian inhabitants, the position and the beautiful elements of the city, and the inhabitants’ virtues — in short, elements that fit in the tradition of the laudes civitatum and that generally do not show that Brescia was part of a larger political unit. What is different from the two poems mentioned earlier is the great lengths to which Posculo goes in order to give an image of Brescia as an autonomous city. This becomes very clear in the two accounts given by Posculo of the siege of Brescia in 1438–1440. This siege, by Milanese commander Niccolò Piccinino, was part of the wars between Venice and Milan that had started again in 1436.11 Piccinino’s threat to Brescia was regarded by speakers in the Venetian Senate as a great danger to the Venetian mainland state.12 From the side of Brescia, when its inhabitants in 1440 were suffering famine, they sent requests for supplies to Venice from which it becomes clear that they saw the resistance of their city as reason for the salvation of the Venetian mainland state.13 Contemporaries from both 10  Enrico Bisanti, “Presentazione,” in Elogio di Brescia, ed. Enrico Bisanti (Brescia: Ateneo di scienze, lettere ed arti, 2002), 5–10; Enrico Valseriati, “Ubertino Posculo tra Brescia e Costantinopoli,” in Profili di umanisti bresciani, ed. Carla Maria Monti (Travagliato: Torre d’Ercole, 2012), 163–230; Enrico Valseriati, “Posculo, Ubertino,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 2016. 11  On the 1438–1440 siege of Brescia, see: Frederic Chapin Lane, Venice, a Maritime Republic (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973), 230–31; Michael Edward Mallett, Mercenaries and Their Masters: Warfare in Renaissance Italy (London: The Bodley Head, 1974), 187–88; Michael Edward Mallett and J. R. Hale, The Military Organization of a Renaissance State: Venice, c.1400 to 1617 (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 33–43; Dennis Romano, The Likeness of Venice: A Life of Doge Francesco Foscari, 1373–1457 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 140–42, 154–59; G. Soranzo, “L’ultima campagna del Gattamelata al servizio della Repubblica Veneta (luglio 1438-gennaio 1440),” Archivio veneto 60–61 (1957): 79–114; Giovanni Treccani degli Alfieri, ed., La dominazione veneta (1426–1575), Storia di Brescia, II (Brescia: Morcelliana, 1963). 12  Gordon Griffiths, The Justification of Florentine Foreign Policy Offered by Leonardo Bruni in His Public Letters (1428–1444), Based on Documents from the Florentine and Venetian Archives (Roma: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1999), 112. 13  Treccani degli Alfieri, La dominazione veneta, 70.

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Brescia and Venice therefore did indeed see the fate of the city as essential for that of the rest of the Terraferma, and Brescia also did indeed play an important role in the events of 1438–1440. Posculo, however, goes even further than that. He tells how in the war between Milan and Venice Brescia was under siege, and how the fate of Brescia would have been decisive also for that of the other cities. According to Posculo, in the end the Venetian supremacy in Italy was saved thanks to the courage and loyalty of the Brescian people.14 The precise relation between Brescia and Venice is never specified. Of course, contemporaries reading the Oratio would have known that Brescia was part of Venice’s mainland state, but this is not made clear in Posculo’s text. Here, the events of 1438–1440 are depicted as something in which Milan’s primary goal was to capture Brescia. Bergamo, Verona, Vicenza, Padua, and Treviso would then have followed Brescia’s behaviour, without Posculo explaining why this would have been the case. In the end — writes Posculo — Venice succeeded in liberating Brescia. Posculo also compares this resistance of Brescia’s with that of Saguntum, besieged by Hannibal but faithful to the alliance with Rome and eager not to become subjected to Carthage, and with that of Jerusalem, which did not surrender when it was besieged by Titus. Jerusalem’s status is not specified, while the relation between Saguntum and Rome is explicitly called an alliance, that is, between equals. In a later part of the work a similar depiction of Brescia’s status can be seen. Posculo tells the reader that the history of Brescia shows its virtues, and that from each of the three epochs of Brescia’s history he will give one example.15 In the Second Punic War Brescia was the only city to remain loyal to Rome instead of siding with Hannibal, in the dispute between Emperor Barbarossa and Pope Alexander III it was the only city to withstand the imperial forces, and in the recent war of Milan against Brescia the latter, on its own, obtained victory, remaining loyal to Venice, and thereby also saving Bergamo, Verona, Vicenza, Padua, and Treviso. In the first two cases Posculo depicts Brescia as an independent city, whose resistance proves to be decisive for the fate of other political entities as well. He presents the third case in a similar light: again, Brescia is depicted as a city whose resistance for some unspecified reason is crucial for Venice and other cities in the Veneto, rather than a city that was part of a larger state. At another point in the Oratio, Posculo praises the loyalty of Asola and

14  Ubertino Posculo, Elogio di Brescia, trans. Enrico Bisanti (Brescia: Ateneo di scienze, lettere ed arti, 2002), 23–25. 15  Posculo, 63–66.

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other cities to Brescia in the war with Milan, thereby giving the impression of Brescia as an independent actor in the war, at the top of a certain hierarchy.16 In short, Posculo depicts the siege as an affair between Milan and Brescia, with the other cities of the Veneto simply waiting for the outcome without specifying that they were part of the same state, and he makes historical comparisons mostly with politically independent cities who show their loyalty to an alliance, not to a state to which they were subject. In these ways he not only omits to speak of Brescia’s subjected position, but even goes to considerable lengths to portray Brescia as an independent entity. As in the poems discussed earlier, the audience of the work is very important here too. Posculo presented his Oratio to Brescian magistrates; he explicitly addresses them both at the beginning and at certain points throughout the text.17 In fact, it has been argued that he wrote the work in order to help him set up a school.18 The Brescian magistrates would most probably not have liked to hear emphasis on their authority being subject to another government. Indeed, Posculo does not mention the city’s higher political authority: his description of magistracies in Brescia includes only local magistrates and omits both the two Venetian rettori in Brescia and the government in Venice, thereby giving the impression of a city without any other political entities making decisions about it.19 3

Michele Savonarola’s Praise of Padua

A more ambiguous case is the Libellus de magnificis ornamentis regiae civitatis Paduae, a long and detailed praise of Padua, written by the physician Michele Savonarola (1384–1468). Savonarola was born in Padua and was professor at the university here from 1434 until 1440, when he moved to Ferrara to become a physician at the Este court. He wrote works on medicine and various other subjects. His Libellus was written in 1446–1447, when he had already left Padua.20 He dedicated it to Fra Antonio di Sant’Arcangelo, about whom not 16  Posculo, 33. 17  See for instance: Posculo, 43. 18  Stephen D. Bowd, Venice’s Most Loyal City: Civic Identity in Renaissance Brescia (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010), 35; Enrico Valseriati, “Il rapporto della ‘De laudibus Brixiae oratio’ di Ubertino Posculo con le ‘laudes civitatum,’” Civiltà bresciana 20, no. 4 (2011): 9. 19  Posculo, Elogio di Brescia, 46–48. 20  Arturo Castiglioni and Nicolai Rubinstein, “Savonarola, Michele,” in Enciclopedia ita­ liana di scienze, lettere ed arti (Roma: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1949); Arnaldo Segarizzi, “Prefazione,” in Rerum italicarum scriptores: Raccolta degli storici italiani dal Cinquecento al Millecinquecento, ed. Giosuè Carducci and Vittorio Fiorini, nuova ed.

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much is known, but in the first sentence of the text he reveals that he had been doubting whether to dedicate it to him or to the bishop of Padua (who in any case would certainly have appreciated reading a praise of the city). A large part of this work presents Padua as a city without links to other cities, but there are also some clear examples of Savonarola adapting his depiction of the city as a result of its coming under Venetian rule. The Libellus offers a long praise of the city. Once again, we find many familiar elements from the tradition of the laudes civitatum, such as the city’s position, outstanding quality of the four elements, many churches, relics, founder and famous inhabitants, virtues of the citizens, famous people buried here, beautiful buildings, city walls (which are compared to those of Jerusalem), bridges, city gates, towers, water, harbour, mills, squares, markets, goods, university, surrounding countryside, and natural baths. In this way Savonarola depicts Padua as praiseworthy because of the city itself and its surrounding countryside, rather than speaking about its current political status. Venice is mentioned mainly towards the end of the Libellus. Savonarola writes how Padua possesses so many goods that other cities use them as well.21 For instance, it has such an abundance of fish that it can feed not only its own people, but also Venice and Vicenza.22 Very quickly Savonarola limits himself to one example only: Venice. He provides many examples of Paduan goods being transported to Venice, such as: What about wood, by which also Venice is warm? Or will I be silent about the types of birds and about the abundance of four-footed animals, which, exported thus to Venice, are all converted into gold for Padua?23 In this way he portrays Venice as dependent of Padua rather than the other way around. Apparently it was impossible for Savonarola to depict Padua completely without any links with Venice — but the awareness of the existence riveduta ampliata e corretta, vol. XXIV / XV: Libellus de ornamentis Padue Michaelis Savonarole (Città di Castello: Lapi, 1902), V–X. 21  Michele Savonarola, “Commentariolus de laudibus Patavii,” in Rerum italicarum scrip­ tores: Ab anno aerae Christianae quingentesimo ad millesimumquingentesimum, quo­ rum potissima pars nunc primum in lucem prodit ex Ambrosianae, Estensis, aliarumque insignium bibliothecarum codicibus, ed. Ludovico Antonio Muratori, reprint of the ed.: Mediolanum: Typ. Societatis Palatinae, 1738, vol. XXIV (Sala Bolognese: Forni, 1982), cols. 1183–1184. 22  Savonarola, col. 1183. 23  ‘Quid de lignis, quibus et ipsae calent Venetiae? Tacebo ne avium genera, et quadrupedum copiam, quae omnia sic Venetiis exportata in aurum Patavis convertuntur?’ Savonarola, col. 1183.

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of these links leads him to actively seek to emphasise Padua having the upper hand. Savonarola further elaborates this idea in the following part of his book. Padua is to be praised because it brought forth such a glorious and famous daughter. Because when fishermen lived on Rialto and brought sea-fish for sale to Padua, which was then very abounding in people and very powerful, they did not hesitate to, for their protection and for a sort of good care, subject themselves to the sweet yoke of the Paduans.24 In this way Savonarola refers to Venice’s link with Padua through its ­foundation — a link which, as shown in the previous chapter, was not often referred to by Venetian authors. In the text of this Paduan author, however, it is very strongly emphasised. Rather than discerning a ‘Venetian-ness’ in the Terraferma, Savonarola almost sees a ‘Paduan-ness’ in Venice. Afterwards — Savonarola continues — Padua sent consuls to Venice to govern it, which the Venetians apparently were not able to do themselves. The help now given by Venice to Padua would in itself be comparable to an idea that we have seen multiple times in the previous chapter: the positive effects of Venice’s benevolent rule being used as retroactive justification for its territorial expansion. In Savonarola’s work, however, this help is presented simply as Venice aiding her mother in her old age, like paying back a service. ‘And you, flourishing city of Venice, may you want to and may you be indebted to be the walking stick of your so very old mother in her old age, as our nature asks and as divine things order.’25 In general, then, Savonarola depicts the city of Padua as a self-contained entity, comparable with the works treated earlier in this chapter. When he does mention a link between Padua and Venice, he argues that Padua is actually the greater entity, the one to have given birth to Venice in the first place and to continue to provide it with goods. The insistence with which he underlines repeatedly that it is Venice to owe gratitude and support to Padua, shows that in his perception the link with Venice is an inextricable part of how he defines Padua: so very inextricable indeed that he cannot simply pass over it, but 24  ‘Nam quum Rivum Altum Piscatores quidam inhabitarent, Paduaeque tunc populosae nimis ac potentissimae pisces maritimos venales conducerent, ad eorum tutamen, adque bene videndi formam, sub suavi jugo Patavorum se subjicere non dubitarunt.’ Savonarola, col. 1184. 25  ‘Et tu Civitas Veneta virescens, ut natura nostra petit, et divina praecipiunt, tuae sic decrepitae matris baculus senectutis esse velis et debes.’ Savonarola, col. 1184.

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evidently deems it absolutely necessary to negate any hints of Padua being inferior to its ruler. Several historians have addressed the question of whether there was any local patriotism in Padua during this period.26 In 1435 and 1439, for instance, some years before Savonarola wrote his Libellus, there were some failed conspiracies that sought to restore communal power. One of the 1439 conspirators was even Savonarola’s brother, indicating at the very least that the writer would have been familiar with the existence of sentiments of local patriotism. However, this does not automatically mean that his text was an expression of anti-Venetian feelings. As shown throughout this book, although geographical descriptions did not come into existence in a political vacuum, we should also be careful not to assume that they directly and exclusively mirrored circumstances such as the institutionalised characteristics and the political events of the Venetian mainland state. Among other things, they need to be placed in a literary context as well. Indeed, more texts than just Savonarola’s Libellus, and from more cities than just Padua, described their geographical spaces in a similar manner, without the occurrence of similar conspiracies. Many different, interwoven reasons were responsible for how authors constructed narratives about territories. 4

Silvestro Lando’s Preface to the Statutes of Verona

A very obvious reason for why authors could stress a link between Venice and (parts of) the Terraferma was if their intended audience was (also) a Venetian one. This is the case in the preface to the statutes of Verona, written in 1450 by the chancellor Silvestro Lando (d.1483). Lando held positions in the Veronese government from 1437 onwards and maybe even earlier, until his death. He was

26  For example, Lionello Puppi has argued that in general the Paduans resigned themselves to their role as subjects of the Venetian Republic, and that the 1430s conspiracies were not representative of the larger Paduan society. Silvana Collodo has claimed that these conspiracies and texts such as Savonarola’s Libellus may seem examples of a certain form of civic patriotism in reaction to being subject to Venice, but that in reality there are other reasons for them: in the case of Savonarola’s work, Collodo has argued that it contains no hostility towards Venice but towards certain parts of the Paduan elite. Silvana Collodo, Una società in trasformazione: Padova tra XI e XV secolo (Padova: Antenore, 1990), LXXI– LXXVIII; Lionello Puppi, “Dall’avvento della Serenissima alla Repubblica,” in Padova: Ritratto di una città, ed. Sergio Bettini, Giovanni Lorenzoni, and Lionello Puppi (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1973), 84–85.

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also among the people revising the statutes themselves.27 The Prooemium’s function as accompaniment to official city statutes means that the text is of a different nature than most other sources discussed here, but the text is useful to see what type of attitude from the subject territories’ governments could be seen as pleasing to the local and Venetian governments. Moreover, the Prooemium was clearly regarded by contemporaries as having value also independent of the statutes: it was circulated on its own. For example, Marin Sanudo copied part of it into a codex which also contained one of the versions of his own Itinerarium.28 The obligation to obey Verona’s statutes did not change when the city came under Venetian authority in 1405.29 Indeed, until the new edition of 1451, the statutes of 1393 remained valid. In 1414 Verona asked Venice for permission to draw up new statutes that would fit the new political situation. When the new edition was finally sent to Venice in 1450, the Senate approved it and reserved the right to alter it. Nevertheless, the historian John Law has referred to these statutes as ‘predominantly a Veronese creation.’ For instance, the committee responsible for drawing them up was almost entirely Veronese. The Veronese councils also protested against the clause that stated that Venice could alter the statutes, although this was either not brought before the Venetian government or not granted. A few chapters of the statutes recognise the existence of Venetian legislation. Nonetheless, John Law generally states that ‘Venetian legislation which was not accepted by the councils of Verona was not regarded as statute, and that the legislation of the higher authority did not automatically become the statute of the subject city.’30 In the Prooemium, Lando praises various aspects of Verona that were topoi from the tradition of the laudes civitatum, such as the origin, geographical position, buildings, relics, surrounding territory, and excellent inhabitants. The city is also compared to Jerusalem, a common characteristic of laudes civitatum in general.31 In this part, then, Lando depicts Verona as a self-contained entity. 27  Rino Avesani, Verona nel Quattrocento: La civiltà delle lettere, Verona e il suo territorio, IV. 2 (Verona: Istituto per gli studi storici veronesi, 1984), 99; Giorgio Cencetti et al., Il notariato veronese attraverso i secoli: Catalogo della mostra in Castelvecchio (maggio 1966) (Verona: Collegio notarile di Verona, 1966), 149–51. 28  Gian Maria Varanini, “Nota ai testi: La probabile datazione della redazione padovana dell’Itinerario e le sue relazioni con la prima redazione marciana,” in Itinerario per la Terraferma veneziana, ed. Gian Maria Varanini (Roma: Viella, 2014), 109, 115. 29  John E. Law, “Verona and the Venetian State in the Fifteenth Century,” in Venice and the Veneto in the Early Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 9–22. 30  Law, 17. 31  Verona was often compared to Jerusalem and even called ‘Verona minor Hierusalem’ — something that has been pointed out by various historians; see for instance: Avesani,

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As can be expected from a preface to city statutes, Verona’s laws are a subject of praise too. According to Lando, however, the city did not always have good rulers, but this is different now that it is under Venetian rule. He then places Verona in a Venetian framework, thereby providing a strong affirmation of subject status. The Venetian rule to which Verona, according to Lando, has brought itself spontaneously, is regarded as having many advantages for Verona. Being under Venetian authority is even called a new type of freedom.32 These ideas are the same as some of the arguments that, as seen in the previous chapter, were also used by various Venetian authors — particularly in the later part of the fifteenth century — in order to justify Venice’s mainland expansion. Given that the statutes were sent to the Venetian Senate to be approved, the presence of references to Venice cannot be called very surprising. On the other hand, the official nature of the text would not necessarily have had to lead to such affirmation of the links between the Terraferma and Venice: the statutes themselves, as well as the capitula drawn up at the occasion of Verona’s coming under Venetian rule, are characterised by John Law as suggestive more of a relationship between ‘two separate authorities linked by treaty’ than one ‘between elements within a unified state.’33 Lando’s preface does show us how members of local governments could describe the political link between Venice and its subject territories. Lando depicts the connection between Verona and Venice even as such a close link that he goes beyond merely mentioning it. Within this text about Verona, he also refers to Venice alone. He clearly sees the two as so bound up with each other that speaking of one can lead to speaking also of the other, and that praising one means praising the other as well. In this case, he first commends Venice for being free already for a thousand years, and then for taking care of Verona.34 Praise of Venice is therefore inserted in this Prooemium Verona nel Quattrocento, 99–100; Gian Paolo Marchi, “Forma Veronae: L’immagine della città nella letteratura medioevale e umanistica,” in Ritratto di Verona: Lineamenti di una storia urbanistica, ed. Lionello Puppi (Verona: Banca popolare di Verona, 1978), 3–12. However, comparison of a city with Jerusalem was also simply a common characteristic of laudes civitatum in general. 32  Silvestro Lando, “Prooemium,” in Statutorum magnificae civitatis Veronae libri quinque, una cum privilegiis. In hoc volumine comprehensi. Cui adjecit tomus alter Sereniss. Ven. Dom. decreta, nec non ejusdem civitatis Consilii partes continens; ac tandem complures syndicales terminationes tum pro regulando Foro, tum pro bono regimine civitatis numquam ante hac impressas. Addito nunc primum indice locupletissimo a Jo. Paulo Cominio jampridem con­ cinnato. Tomus primus (Venetiis: apud Leonardum Tivanum sumptibus societatis, 1747), [8–12]. 33  Law, “Verona and the Venetian State in the Fifteenth Century.” Quotations from p. 15. 34  Lando, “Prooemium,” [8–12].

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because it reinforces the laudatory image of Verona, by having such a powerful and good protector. Therefore, although Lando’s depiction of Verona is still based on local elements that were already current in the tradition of the laudes civitatum, Verona’s link with Venice has become another indispensable element. 5

A Paduan Pilgrim on His Way to the Holy Land

The most obvious reasons for why Lando depicts both Verona and Venice as having undergone fundamental changes now that their political circumstances have altered — that is, the official nature and the audience of his text — cannot always account for such a view. An example of this comes from Gabriele Capodilista, a pilgrim from Padua who went to the Holy Land in 1458 and during his journey travelled through a large part of the Venetian state. Given the travel account’s use of the vernacular, most (though not all) of Capodilista’s possible readers would have come from the Italian peninsula, including but certainly not limited to Venice. In this pilgrim’s account we find a variety of ways to indicate territories, such as their geographical position, political affiliation, or distance from other places. Capodilista describes himself as a ‘Paduan knight’ and his fellow travellers as ‘Paduan noblemen,’ while he also writes about meeting various ‘Venetian patricians.’35 This clear distinction according to people’s home towns disappears on some other occasions in the work: various places (parts of the Venetian Stato da Mar) are characterised as ‘subject to our most illustrious Signoria,’ or ‘subject to our most illustrious Signoria of Venice.’36 The use of the word ‘our’ creates a connection between Capodilista’s own town, the capital city of Venice, and the territories in question here. For Capodilista there was no contradiction in this double identification of himself, namely both as a Paduan who was clearly distinct from the Venetians he met on his journey, and as an inhabitant of the Venetian state who therefore speaks of a connection to other parts of the same state.

35  ‘io Gabriel Capodelista cavalier padoano,’ ‘gentilhomeni padoani,’ ‘patritio veneto,’ ‘patricio venetiano,’ ‘gentilhomo venetiano.’ Santo Brasca and Gabriele Capodilista, Viaggio in Terrasanta di Santo Brasca (1480), con l’Itinerario di Gabriele Capodilista (1458), ed. Anna Laura Momigliano Lepschy (Milano: Longanesi, 1966), 164, 165, 165, 175, 178. 36  ‘sotoposta a la nostra illustrissima Signoria,’ ‘sotoposta a la nostra illustrissima Signoria de Vinezia.’ Brasca and Capodilista, 166, 169–70. These examples refer to Istria and Cattaro (Kotor).

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Four Poems by Bartolomeo Pagello

The humanist Bartolomeo Pagello was born in Vicenza between 1446 and 1448.37 He spent most of his life living and working in his home town. In addition to his literary activities, at various points in his life he held political office in Vicenza’s local government. He was also charged on several occasions with the task of representing Vicenza’s interests in Venice, particularly during the War of the League of Cambrai. During the same period he lived in Venice. The last mention of him alive dates from 1525, and he probably died around 1526 in Vicenza. Various types of works have been handed down to us, including letters and poems, which deal with a variety of topics. I will look at four of his poems. While we know for at least some of his works that they were written for specific individuals, none of the poems treated here have a dedicatee, nor did Pagello ever want to publish any of his works. The intended audience is therefore not very clear. We also do not know precisely when they were written. The poems show an interest in classical antiquity; for instance, Pagello places many subjects in a classical framework, uses classical names for present-day topography, and refers to classical deities. I have shown earlier how a similar attitude in Ad magnificum dominum Ioannem Portensem equitem splendidissimum was connected with the author’s representation of Vicenza as a city without links to Venice. In Pagello’s works this is not always the case. De laudibus Vicentiae is a praise in sixty-four lines on Vicenza and the nature around it.38 It is one of the poems in which Pagello often refers to classical antiquity. At this moment in time Vicenza was, and had been for a long time, under Venetian rule, but this is not mentioned anywhere in the poem. The framing of the poem in a classical context and its focus on Pagello’s own home town could at first sight seem to be an explanation for this depiction of Vicenza as a relatively self-contained entity. However, a similar type of representation with no references to current Venetian rule is also given in the six-line poem on

37  Barbara Marx, Bartolomeo Pagello: Epistolae familiares (1464–1525): Materialien zur Vicentiner Kulturgeschichte des 15. Jahrhunderts und kritische Edition des Briefwechsels (Padova: Antenore, 1978); Achille Olivieri, “Pagello, Bartolomeo,” in Dizionario biografico degli italiani, 2014, http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/bartolomeo-pagello_(DizionarioBiografico)/; Fr. Zordan, “Dei codici,” in Poesie inedite di Bartolomeo Pagello, celebre uma­ nista, ed. Fr. Zordan (Tortona: Tipografia Adriano Rossi, 1894), 17–82. 38  Bartolomeo Pagello, “De laudibus Vicentiae,” in Poesie inedite di Bartolomeo Pagello, cele­ bre umanista, ed. Fr. Zordan (Tortona: Tipografia Adriano Rossi, 1894), 159–61.

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Sirmione, In laudem Sirmionis peninsulae lacus Benaci.39 Again, Pagello places the town he is describing in an entirely classical framework: for instance, he praises it because of its classical past and refers to it as the dwelling place of the nymphs and home of the Muses. It is unknown why Pagello wrote about Sirmione in the first place. He could have been motivated by a desire to follow Catullus, who had written a praise of Sirmione and had spoken of a property he owned in the area. This would be in keeping with Pagello’s interest in classical antiquity — indeed, it was almost certainly at Pagello’s suggestion, or perhaps even commission, that the Vicentine Giovanni da Rena printed a work by Catullus in 1481.40 Another possibility is that the fact that both Sirmione and Pagello’s own city Vicenza were under Venetian rule had created a certain interest of Pagello in this town. It is also possible that Pagello simply wrote the poem for somebody from Sirmione. Lack of further knowledge on the poem makes it difficult to draw conclusions. Pagello also wrote a poem about Venice in general, Scripturus res Venetum ad amores suos redit. The first lines read: I was about to speak of the matters of the Venetians, to speak also of their facts of arms, their dominion on land, and their dominion on sea, the sea blocked so often by so many fleets, and so many towns taken on the shores of Syria.41 Venice is instantly depicted as a powerful state with large territorial possessions and a great fleet. Following this, Pagello states that many places — mentioned by name — have come under Venetian authority. Many other aspects of Venice are praised, too, such as the beautiful buildings in the lagoon city, its magistracies, its inhabitants, and its military enterprises, such as the transportation of ships over the mountains to Lake Garda, and the wars with the Turks. Significant here is that for Pagello, Venice’s extensive dominion clearly 39  Bartolomeo Pagello, “In laudem Sirmionis peninsulae lacus Benaci,” in Poesie inedite di Bartolomeo Pagello, celebre umanista, ed. Fr. Zordan (Tortona: Tipografia Adriano Rossi, 1894), 172. 40  Angelo Colla, “Tipografi, editori e librai,” in L’età della Repubblica Veneta (1404–1797), vol. 2, Storia di Vicenza 3 (Vicenza, 1990), 115–16. 41  ‘Res Venetum dicturus eram, dicturus et arma, Imperium terris, imperiumque mari, Obstructum toties tam multis classibus aequor,   Captaque tot Syriis oppida littoribus.’ Bartolomeo Pagello, “Scripturus res Venetum ad amores suos redit,” in Poesie inedite di Bartolomeo Pagello, celebre umanista, ed. Fr. Zordan (Tortona: Tipografia Adriano Rossi, 1894), 96.

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constitutes both a reason for praise — even to the point of mentioning it completely at the poem’s beginning — and an essential part of how he defines Venice. The territorial expansion of the lagoon city has brought about a clear alteration in what Pagello sees as fundamental for Venice. A poem which already in its title explicitly mentions Venice’s mainland expansion, is De Cremonae aliorumque oppidorum Veneto imperio accessione (‘On the coming of Cremona and other towns to Venetian rule’). Cremona became part of the Venetian state in 1499, which makes this a poem of which we have at least a terminus post quem regarding when it was written. Moreover, Venice’s rule over Cremona ended in 1509 (except for a period of a few months during the War of the League of Cambrai), meaning that the poem was probably written before this moment. In it Pagello, an inhabitant of the subject Venetian city Vicenza, speaks about the transition of other cities to Venetian rule and regards this as a positive event. The full text reads: You came at last under Venetian laws, Cremona, oh, what a happy day for you, always to be celebrated! Lions shine as new signs from high towers and as awe-inspiring signs widely on both land and sea. A more bountiful fruitfulness of the field fertilises the year with crops, Eridanus [the river Po] rejoices with applauses of waves. Work prouder than usual with your course, Adda, and hasten happily together with the Po to the Adriatic. Towns are held under the happy authority of Venice, the left bank of the Adriatic Sea is under your rule.42 This poem does something similar to Pagello’s first two texts mentioned here, namely speaking about the nature of a certain city, while using various classical names. However, the places mentioned are firmly placed in the framework of 42  ‘Venisti tandem Venetum sub jura, Cremona, O quam laeta tibi haec semper agenda dies! Turribus ex altis fulgent nova signa leones, Et terra et late signa verenda mari. Largius uber agri foecundat frugibus annum, Undarum exultat plausibus Eridanus. Labere jam solito jactantior, Abdua, cursu, Cumque Pado propera laetus in Adriacum. Oppida felici Venetum ditione tenentur,   Iure sub Adriaco ripa sinistra tua est.’ Bartolomeo Pagello, “De Cremonae aliorumque oppidorum Veneto imperio accessione,” in Poesie inedite di Bartolomeo Pagello, celebre umanista, ed. Fr. Zordan (Tortona: Tipografia Adriano Rossi, 1894), 230.

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the Venetian Terraferma. At the beginning and end Pagello refers explicitly to Venice’s territorial expansion, but he even regards the nature mentioned in the central section as having changed by coming under Venetian rule. The countryside of the cities — so important in Pagello’s poems — and the political affiliation with Venice are so strongly interwoven in the author’s representation that he can go back and forth between the two aspects in the course of just a short poem. It is clear that there is a large difference between these poems regarding the author’s depiction of the links between Venice and the Terraferma. In the last two poems Venice’s mainland acquisitions have brought about clear alterations in how Pagello describes the territories in question, while this is not the case in the first two. Too much information regarding these poems of Pagello’s is missing in order to provide more than just possible explanations for this difference. Nevertheless, the mere fact that there are such important differences within the works of just one author shows clearly that depiction of the Venetian Terraferma was not simply a direct reflection of the institutionalised characteristics of this state, nor something defined by a stable ‘myth of Venice,’ but a process that had its own internal dynamics. 7

Jacopo Sanguinacci’s Inchoronato regno sopra i regni

Most texts treated so far describe only one part of the Terraferma. This is similar to how the Venetian territories also in their institutional aspects and political practice did not become a centralised state. Nonetheless, that does not mean that there are no geographical descriptions at all that treat the mainland state in its entirety. An example is Jacopo Sanguinacci’s Inchoronato regno sopra i regni, written in 1420.43 It is one of the few extant descriptions of the Terraferma as a whole from the early stages of the Venetian mainland expansion. This very 43  The poem is without title; I use the first line as its title. The title Triumphus in laudibus civitatis Venetiarum has also been given to the work. In the poem itself the author states that he finished the work on 22 May 1420 (p. 56). However, a manuscript containing the work states that the poem was written in 1435 and that it was dedicated to Doge Francesco Foscari, who became doge only in 1423. Scholars have been divided about which date to adopt: the year 1420 is adopted by the 1839 editor of the poem (to date the only edition) and by Antonio Medin, while Armando Balduino gives the year 1435. Armando Balduino, “Le esperienze della poesia volgare,” in Dal primo Quattrocento al concilio di Trento, ed. Girolamo Arnaldi and Manlio Pastore Stocchi, vol. I, Storia della cultura veneta 3 (Vicenza: Neri Pozza, 1980), 300; Antonio Medin, La storia della repubblica di Venezia nella poesia (Milano: Hoepli, 1904); Jacopo Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia: Tratte fedelmente dalla rarissima stampa di Treviso (MCCCCLXXIII) (Venezia: Alvisopoli, 1839).

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absence of a large number of descriptions of the Terraferma from this period is significant in itself. It shows that the construction of the Venetian mainland state led only rarely to people deeming it essential to depict the territories involved as being connected amongst themselves. Jacopo Sanguinacci (b. ca.1400; last reference to him alive dating from 1442) was from Padua. During his life he wrote for different rulers; for example, from 1434 onwards he spent some time at the Este court in Ferrara. Given that he wrote a part of his oeuvre with the motivation to gain something from it, it seems likely that his long poem on Venice and the Venetian territories, Inchoronato regno sopra i regni, was meant to please some influential people in Venice and thereby elevate his own status. The beginning of Inchoronato regno sopra i regni includes some comments on the Venetian state in general, but relatively fast the narrative zooms in on Venice’s subject territories. Sanguinacci presents an extensive description of the dominion; both the Stato da Mar and the Terraferma. After this, he gives an equally long account of the foreigners and the foreign merchandise present in the city of Venice. Only the poem’s last part is devoted to matters limited more to the lagoon city: the clothing of the inhabitants, the beauty of the women, and the justice. The work ends with an enumeration of the political powers that praise Venice. The poem, then, presents the city of Venice as having value mainly in relation to the external world: the city is represented almost exclusively in its capacity as capital of an extensive dominion and as international trade centre. As shown in chapter 2, commerce was a strong element in the narrative of the city of Venice as centre of material culture. However, it is not commerce but Venice’s subject territories that are treated first in Inchoronato regno sopra i regni. They therefore receive much emphasis in Sanguinacci’s definition of Venice. The extensiveness of the subject territories is also how Sanguinacci substantiates the comparison — very popular in this period — between Venice on the one hand and Troy and Rome on the other.44

   When looking at Sanguinacci’s description of the Venetian mainland state, it is clear that this corresponds to the situation of 1420, not 1435: for example, Brescia and Bergamo, which came under Venetian rule in 1426 and 1428 respectively, are not included. Vittorio Rossi has shown that, since Feltre is included while Udine is not, the poem was probably written between 9 May and 4 June 1420. Vittorio Rossi, “Jacopo d’Albizzotto Guidi ed il suo inedito poema su Venezia,” Nuovo archivio veneto 5, no. 2 (1893): 412–13. It can therefore be assumed that the date given in the text of the poem is the correct one. The dedication to Doge Francesco Foscari could be a later copy with a new dedication. 44  Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 19–20.

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An important reason for this large value ascribed to Venice’s dominions is of an economic nature. Sanguinacci often lists in detail what is grown in the territories under Venetian rule and which products Venice gains from them. To a certain extent these territories are also appreciated because of their military value to Venice, as shown by the description of various fortresses on the Terraferma. Prestige and, connected with this, a certain importance on the international political scene are also deemed valuable consequences by Sanguinacci of the acquisition of a dominion, as can be deduced from passages from the beginning of the poem. The very fact that the poem opens with this, is significant as well. For example: Venice free, crown of the world, lady over the sea, the plain, and the mountain, let everyone mirror himself in your image and he will see the effect.45 Venice, mistress of a territory so large that it extends over various types of landscape, should be looked upon by the entire world as a model. Sanguinacci treats Venice’s subject territories by dividing them according to region: for the Stato da Mar we find mention of regions such as Albania and Dalmatia, for the Terraferma regions such as the Vicentino and Veronese. This division corresponded with the political subdivision of the Venetian state, in which many cities retained control over their contado.46 That this type of continuing division of the Venetian territorial state, instead of political unification of the territories, did not stand in the way of inhabitants of one part of the Venetian state feeling to some degree connected with those of another part, can be inferred from some other works of Sanguinacci’s. This Paduan author also produced some poems in which he addressed or praised other parts of the Venetian Terraferma and their condottieri. For instance, in 1439 he wrote Inclita dona intrepida e pudica, addressed to Brescia, at the time under siege: a city with which he had no link other than that both this city and his own were under Venetian rule.47 Given Sanguinacci’s tendency to write works dedicated to a variety of political rulers, we should not make too much out of this. At the same time, it should also not be overlooked. Already his view of the 45  ‘Ueniexia francha del mondo chorona dona del mare del pian e del monte  hognun in la tua fronte   se spechi euedera lefeto.’ Sanguinacci, 17. 46  See Introduction. 47  Balduino, “Le esperienze della poesia volgare,” 300–301.

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Terraferma as a territory united enough to be treated in a communal description in Inchoronato regno sopra i regni is telling in this respect. In combination with the fact that this description is part of a poem which also depicts the city of Venice, it clearly shows that an association with both the city of Venice and the state is essential for Sanguinacci’s definition of the territories constituting this state. In his description of Venice’s subject territories, Sanguinacci describes first the Dogado, followed by the Stato da Mar. After this, he proceeds with: Now, continuing with my story, I will tell you about the cities of the mainland which have been taken by war, and which have submitted themselves for love.48 He then continues with a description of the Terraferma, in this way clearly separating the maritime and the mainland state. Moreover, he also separates them by presenting them in different ways. In the stanza just quoted, Sanguinacci mentions two different ways in which Venice has obtained territory on the Terraferma: either by war or by voluntary surrender. In the case of the Stato da Mar, Sanguinacci was never this explicit on how it had come under Venetian authority. At the beginning of the poem he had said in general that territories choosing to come under Venetian rule are happy, because they now receive support from Venice.49 However, for the Stato da Mar he does not return to how they come under Venetian rule, while he does do this for the Terraferma, and also underlines it. This, therefore, emphasises that the Terraferma had not always been under Venice’s sway, while the maritime state comes across as something of which it is so logical that it is part of the Venetian state, that this does not need to be explained at length. Inchoronato regno sopra i regni was written in the first decades of Venice’s expansion on the Italian mainland. While Sanguinacci was born too late to remember anything of his home town before it came under Venetian rule, he would have known many people who did, and, moreover, he would have been aware of the Venetian expansion in other parts of the Italian peninsula. This can explain why he would perceive the Terraferma as less ‘intrinsically’ 48  ‘Or seguitando pur linstoria mia io ue diro delle zita de terra che anno prexo per guerra   e tal sono soto posti per amore.’ Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 26. 49  Sanguinacci, 17.

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Venetian than the Stato da Mar, and why he therefore deemed it necessary to explain how it had come under Venetian rule. In any case, the transformations in the political circumstances of both the city of Venice and the mainland cities have clearly affected how Sanguinacci characterises these cities. What we see here is an example of an author still not quite sure what to make of the only recently changed, and still changing, political situation of the northeast of the Italian peninsula. This uncertainty of Sanguinacci’s on how to present Venice’s ongoing expansion on the Italian mainland becomes clear in other parts of his work as well. Sanguinacci is inconsistent in the presentation of both the nature of the relationship between capital and subject territory, and, connected with this, the legitimacy of the territorial expansion. Relatively early in Inchoronato regno sopra i regni Venetian expansion is presented as voluntary surrender of the dominion. Happy are those who want to be subject to you, because you keep them safe in their haven, because you are the comfort of everyone who is troubled and who comes back to you. (…) From this everyone should learn how its good rule is kept in such a way that everyone is very content if he is subject to it.50 This act is seen as territories coming under Venetian protection, and as such is considered a moral virtue for Venice. Indeed, a stanza on Venice’s moral qualities is inserted between the two passages on Venetian rule, thereby making it clear that for the author these matters are connected.51 Later, Sanguinacci states that Venice only wages war when it is attacked, in order to defend itself, 50  ‘Beati cholor che a te uol star suzeto per che tu li tien seguri in nel suo porto  poche sei conforto dogni afanato che a te se ritorna.  (…) Hognun da questa conuien che impari come se oserva el suo bon rezimento tal: che zaschun e contento   asai se tien soto lei posto.’ Sanguinacci, 17. 51  On how Sanguinacci links Venice’s politics and moral virtues, see section 3.5.

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but never begins a war.52 For most of the Terraferma, then, Sanguinacci’s ideas are in line with what I have shown in the previous chapter regarding Venetian geographical descriptions from the first decades of the fifteenth century: usage of ideas both on conquest through war and on benevolent rule. However, when Sanguinacci comes to speak of Friuli, this attitude changes. He bluntly states that ‘the whole of Friuli has been made our servant’ — use of the word ‘our’ indicating Sanguinacci’s identification with Venice. He speaks of Friulan arrogance and says that it almost makes him indignant to speak of them, and that he will therefore only say that crazy people always damage themselves with their madness.53 There are no references to Venetian protection, liberation from tyranny, centuries-old Venetian claims on this territory, or warfare born from self-defence. Instead, the text shows a relatively aggressive attitude, with barely any attempts to justify Venice’s acquisition of Friuli other than the Friulans apparently having behaved in an arrogant manner. These viewpoints found in Inchoronato regno sopra i regni are comparable to what we have seen in the previous chapter, particularly in texts from the first decades of the fifteenth century. For most of Venice’s mainland possessions, Sanguinacci speaks both of conquest through war, and voluntary submission followed by benevolent rule. For Friuli, however, this latter narrative is missing; instead, he bluntly refers to the violence through which this region came under Venetian rule. The Venetian conquest of Friuli (1418–1420) would not have been far in the memory of people reading or hearing the poem. Sanguinacci’s explicit statement that he wrote it in 1420 would have stimulated this recollection even further. As shown in the previous chapter, unlike the more or less consistent pattern of referring to voluntary dedication and benevolent rule later in the fifteenth century, in the early stages of Venetian mainland expansion Venetian authors did not always see a problem in bluntly referring to violent acquisitions of territory, especially when it came to Friuli. Sanguinacci’s poem is in keeping with this: he clearly does not see harm in including references to mainland expansion through war, reminding readers of the Venetian conquest of Friuli, omitting justifications for Venice’s aggressive attitude in the 52  Sanguinacci, Quartine in lode di Venezia, 22–23. 53  ‘E con so onta e con so dano e male tutol Freul e fato nostri serui ben che zia i fosse prroterui iam conuegnuti star della dal segno. Pero de lor parlar quaxi me sdegno ma pur te contero parte del fato tu sai che sempre el mato   mai non paziza se non con suo dano.’ Sanguinacci, 31.

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war, and presenting the relation between Venice and Friuli as a very hierarchical one, comparable to that between master and servant. 8

Francesco Corna da Soncino’s Poem on Verona

Some decades after Sanguinacci’s Inchoronato regno sopra i regni, another long poem was written about (a part of) the Venetian Terraferma: Fioretto de le antiche croniche de Verona e de tutti i soi confini e de le reliquie che se trovano dentro in ditta citade, a poem about Verona in 256 octaves.54 The author was Francesco Corna da Soncino, a blacksmith who was originally from Soncino, in the territory of Cremona, and who moved to Verona between 1465 and 1473. He is mentioned as being dead in a text from 1488. He wrote the Fioretto in December 1477. Three versions of the work have been handed down to us, all of them written by Corna himself after 1477. Among the differences between the versions are, for example, some added references to people who died after 1477.55 The work was written in the vernacular, meaning that — while it might also have circulated outside of Italy — it would probably primarily have been meant for an Italian audience. Moreover, given its exclusive focus on Verona and the Veronese, it is likely that its readers were supposed to be from Verona; readers who would recognise, appreciate, and take pride in such a detailed description of this territory. Perhaps Corna, being an immigrant, wished to strengthen his status in the city by attempting to please the higher classes. Considering also that the oldest extant version (dated 1503) of the author’s latest redaction was printed in Verona, and that the work was popular enough to be handed down to us in various manuscript and printed versions, we can cautiously assume that the Fioretto was primarily meant for a local audience and that its general ideas were in line with the views predominant in Verona. This does not exclude the possibility that Corna could have had in mind a non-Veronese audience, 54  Various titles are known for this work. Here I adopt the title of the 1503 printed book on which Gian Paolo Marchi’s edition is based. Gian Paolo Marchi, “Introduzione,” in Fioretto de le antiche croniche de Verona e de tutti i soi confini e de le reliquie che se trovano dentro in ditta citade (Verona: Valdonega, 1973), XXXVIII.   On Corna and his Fioretto see also: Rino Avesani, “In laudem civitatis Veronae,” Studi storici veronesi Luigi Simeoni 26–27 (1976–1977): 184–88; Marchi, “Introduzione”; Franco Sartori, “Un fabbro umanista del ’400: Francesco Corna da Soncino e la storia di Verona antica,” in Il territorio di Verona in età romana (Verona, 1973), 691–733. 55  I have used Marchi’s edition, based on the oldest extant version (printed in Verona by Lucantonio Fiorentino and Bernardino Misinta in 1503) of the author’s latest redaction, written not before 1485. Marchi, “Introduzione,” XIX–XXXVIII.

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too. For example, as shown by the existence of Venetian descriptions of the Terraferma, people living in the city of Venice could also be interested in reading a praise of what was now part of their state. The poem commends many aspects of Verona that were common elements in city praises, such as the geographical position of the city, the abundance of goods in the towns of Verona’s dominion and the fertility of the terrain, the good climate, fortifications, churches and relics, beautiful buildings in the city, and famous inhabitants. Some aspects specific to Verona are mentioned as well, like the Arena. Corna also tells the history of Verona, mentioning its various rulers. He praises the Della Scala extensively (their good government, the enlargement of the Veronese territory under their rule, the buildings they constructed), but he then states that even among them the evil habit of discord existed, resulting in Verona passing to Visconti rule. He deals with the subsequent turbulent period in just a few sentences, after which he passes on to Verona coming under Venetian rule: And when it pleased the pure and clear Word, in the year fourteen hundred and four and a half, on the blessed day of Saint John the Baptist [24 June 1405] — I am not lying — this queen with her distinguished appearance drew herself near to our Lady Venice, as I hear, as if to a stable pillar, giving to her her royal crown resplendent and beautiful with noble gems, with rich stones of great value, that is walls and towers and great castles, and the palaces that were inside and outside. And always she stands with her as a sister, giving her help, support, and favour, and never did she leave her company, obedient to her more than a daughter.56 56  ‘E quando piacque al Verbo puro e netto, de li anni che fu mille e quattrocento e quattro e mezo, il zorno benedeto di San Zuan Battista, ch’io non mento, questa regina col suo chiaro aspeto a madona Venezia, come i’ sento, sì se acostò come a ferma colona,

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In short, the largest part of the Fioretto presents Verona from a local point of view, without paying much attention to its links with other cities or states. As already mentioned regarding other works, the similarity with the genre of the laudes civitatum is related to this in various ways. When speaking of the period prior to coming under Venetian rule, Corna emphasises Verona’s importance. However, he does not hide the city’s current position as subject to Venice. At first, he presents this relationship as Verona coming voluntarily to Venice in order to obtain protection — an idea similar to what can be found in many other texts, written both by Venetians and inhabitants of the Terraferma, as seen earlier. This then changes: Verona stands by Venice ‘as a sister,’ offering help. This puts the two cities in an equal relationship, as siblings, in which Verona’s support is indispensable to Venice’s well-being. Therefore, although Verona is depicted in a relatively self-contained manner, its link with Venice is not hidden the way this was the case, for instance, with Ubertino Posculo’s Oratio de laudibus Brixiae. This becomes even clearer when we take the city view that accompanied the text into consideration. The version of the Fioretto on which this research is based, printed by Lucantonio Fiorentino and Bernardino Misinta in Verona in 1503, a few decades after Corna wrote the original text, contains three woodcuts, among which is a city view (figure 10). This offers us the possibility to make a brief comparison with a visual geographical representation. The image displays the name ‘Verrona’ flanked by two coats of arms, thereby explicitly telling the reader which city this is. Furthermore, a few recognisable buildings can be seen: most notably Castel San Pietro on the right, the Torre dei Lamberti, and the Torre del Gardello. Most buildings in the view are houses, which could be depicted in this way for any city. Verona’s Arena falls outside the view and is not visible. Instead, the woodcut shows a limited section of the city, dominated by two high towers on which two Marcan lions can clearly be seen.57 donando a lei la sua regal corona de nobel gemme relucente e bella, de riche pietre de grande valore, cioè mura e torre e le grandi castella, e li palazi ch’era dentro e fuore; e sempre sta con lei come sorella, dandoli aiuto, sussidio e favore, né mai non se partì da la sua scola,    sego obediente più che sua filiola.’ Francesco Corna, Fioretto de le antiche croniche de Verona e de tutti i soi confini e de le reliquie che se trovano dentro in ditta citade, ed. Gian Paolo Marchi (Verona: Valdonega, 1973), 12–13. 57  It is unknown whether these depictions on the towers actually existed.

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figure 10 View of Verona accompanying Francesco Corna da Soncino’s Fioretto (Verona, 1503) Courtesy of the Bibliothèque nationale de France

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City views in printed books of this period are known to not always be in keeping with the specificities of cities. They could follow a general model rather than represent a specific city; famously, city views could even be reused to represent different cities. A high degree of caution is therefore necessary in drawing conclusions from the city view in the Fioretto. Indeed, in 1516 the same woodcut was used to represent the Sicilian town of Mazara del Vallo in another book, changing only the name and not even the coats of arms.58 However, in the case of the view in the Fioretto it is clear from the few recognisable buildings that the maker did try to specifically depict the city of Verona, not just any general city. In fact, the Fioretto’s woodcut of the fountain on Piazza delle Erbe is clearly recognisable too. Some important points can therefore be made. The first regards the choice not to depict the part of the city containing the Arena, nevertheless an important symbol of Verona. The creator of the woodcuts in the Fioretto was familiar with its existence and had ideas on how to depict it, as demonstrated by the fact that one of the other two woodcuts in the book has this building as its subject.59 Instead, he chose to leave this important symbol out of the city view, leading to my second point: the importance given to the Marcan lions. In this way, Verona’s subjection to Venice is singled out as its main distinctive characteristic. Verona is principally defined as a city under Venetian rule. There is therefore a clear difference between the text and the city view that accompanied the printed version of Corna’s Fioretto. The former presents Verona mainly as a self-contained entity, but does refer on some occasions to its current subjection to Venice, while the latter presents Verona as a city whose predominant feature is its rule by Venice. This shows once again that the representation of Venetian territories did not simply and exclusively follow certain literary traditions or mirror political circumstances, but had its own dynamics. This has also been shown by the other texts that have been treated in this chapter. The mere existence of fundamental differences in how authors wrote about the Terraferma and its relation with the city of Venice shows that the creation of these descriptions was a complicated process, influenced by a variety of factors. In general, it is important to keep in mind that not many descriptions of the mainland state as a whole were made by its inhabitants. Moreover, 58   Marco Girardi, Alberto Perini, and Marcus Perini, Antiche stampe di Verona dal Quattrocento al Novecento (Verona: Cierre edizioni, 2010), 21. 59  Corna, Fioretto, 56. The woodcut depicting the Arena does not correspond with the building at all: for example, the number of floors is incorrect. What is important here, however, is that the creator of these woodcuts clearly had an idea on how to depict it.

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many people — though not all — write about their own city or about the city of their work’s intended audience. This is similar to what we have seen in the previous chapter, and, like we have seen in that chapter, it indicates that in most cases the formation of the Venetian state did not lead to a perception of more unity between this state’s constituents. However, just as in the previous chapter, there are more nuances to this issue, and these nuances provide us with crucial additions to our knowledge concerning the formation of the early modern Venetian state. Indeed, the authors treated throughout this chapter show different approaches when it comes to how important the realities of the formation of the Venetian mainland state are to their descriptions of the territories involved. In some cases a city’s political affiliation with Venice is an essential part of how a writer defines that city, while in other cases an author can go to great lengths to hide the city’s subject status. A case such as Michele Savonarola’s Libellus has shown how the depiction of a city as an independent entity could come about in a framework of conscious negation of a possible superiority of Venice. Furthermore, this case has also shown that the idea of local pride simply ‘outliving’ political changes does not seem valid. When authors describe cities of the Venetian Terraferma, they do have the cities’ political status in mind, and actively choose whether to show this in their descriptions. If they decide to depict a city as a self-contained entity, this is a conscious choice, just as when they choose not to. The mere fact that some authors do and others do not depict the changed political affiliation as affecting how they define the geographical spaces involved, is in itself already evidence of this. This logically also goes against the idea that descriptions of the Venetian mainland territories and their relations with the capital city would just be continuations of the urban-focused laudes civitatum, mere consequences of a stable ‘myth of Venice,’ or simply reflections of the more institutionalised aspects of the Venetian state. Other factors, therefore, have to be identified as well. This chapter has analysed several such factors, including dedication of the text to certain families or magistrates, use of the literary pattern of the laudes civitatum, or a humanist wish to place a city in a classical framework. The conclusions of this chapter are in keeping with what we have already seen throughout the book. The construction of narratives about Venice and the Venetian state was a complex process, influenced by a large variety of factors. This chapter has focused on a representative selection of sources, written by inhabitants of the mainland state at different moments of the long fifteenth century, belonging to different literary genres, and with different parts of the Terraferma as subject. Analysis of these texts has shown in detail how

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narratives about Venice and the Terraferma could be constructed. Multiple narratives, often even contradicting each other, could exist simultaneously: both regarding the legitimacy of the creation of the Venetian state and regarding the importance of that state for the definition of the territories involved. The existence of such a variety of narratives will again be confirmed in the next chapter, when we look at geographical descriptions written by foreign onlookers.

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Foreign Views of the Venetian State Not only inhabitants of the lagoon city and the Terraferma wrote about the Venetian state, but foreign visitors as well. This chapter focuses on a specific group of foreign travellers, coming from different countries, social backgrounds, and periods, but having in common the reason for their journey: they were pilgrims on their way to the Holy Land. During their journey they did not only spend time in the city of Venice, but also much time travelling through Venetian dominions — both the mainland and the maritime ones. Their accounts therefore provide us with the rare opportunity to make comparisons between descriptions of the various parts of the Venetian state within the same text. Of course, the situation of the Stato da Mar differed in many aspects from that of the Terraferma: not least of which its greater religious and cultural diversity and the manner of its acquisition by Venice, which started earlier than that of the Terraferma and took place over a longer period of time. As a result, particularly in matters such as the construction of narratives, Venice’s diverse possessions cannot be equated. This chapter continuously takes these differences between the Terraferma and the Stato da Mar into consideration, while at the same time seizing the unique opportunity to compare the descriptions of these various parts. This final chapter of the book therefore opens up the geographical scope of the research to the Venetian state as a whole, although the main focus remains on the mainland state. It uses a wide range of pilgrims’ accounts, from different parts of Europe, written in different languages, by authors from different backgrounds, and from across the long fifteenth century. As will become clear, there are significant differences in how they describe the Venetian state — more specifically, to what extent the formation of the Venetian state influences their geographical descriptions of the territories involved. 1

‘Hit is also vnder the domynyon of the Venysyans’: Views of Formal Political Affiliation

For some pilgrims, the construction of the Venetian state visibly affects how they describe the territories involved, as will become clear later in this chapter. However, this is not always the case, as we see in various Renaissance pilgrims’ accounts. This can come about in several ways. One way is to regard political

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2020 | doi:10.1163/9789004428201_009

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affiliation as a mere formal link. The large majority of the pilgrims’ accounts have the habit of mentioning a city’s higher authority, the geographical region of which it is part, and the precise distance from the previous city. Although they do not all include these details in the same place, most accounts include them quite consistently. In the account of Richard Guylforde’s pilgrimage, for instance, the author speaks of Lesina (Hvar): ‘Hit is also vnder the domynyon of the Venysyans. This cyte is an .c. myle from Jarre [Zara], and in the countrey of Dalmacia.’1 Gaspare di Bartolomeo (pilgrimage in 1431) lists just four things about Curzola (Korčula): the only refreshment they could find was fish, it is located in Slavonia, it belongs to the Venetians, and it is two hundred miles distant from Zara (Zadar).2 As in these examples, pilgrims’ accounts often speak of rather sharp demarcations for political and geographical affiliation. We also find comments on precise borders, such as: ‘Here ends the rule of Bologna, and the Florentine dominion is reached.’3 In many cases such a brief reference to formal political rule is the only way that the texts link a city to the authority to which it was subject. One could compare this with the attachment of a political ‘name tag’ to this city. A change in a city’s political affiliation, in such cases, does not have many other consequences in the travel accounts other than the attachment of a new ‘name tag.’ William Wey even mentions no political links at all throughout his descriptions of the places he passed through during his pilgrimage, but collects all this information in separate chapters such as ‘About the lands and dominions of the Venetians from Venice to the Holy Land’ and ‘Here follows about other places on the way to the Holy Land.’4 He clearly does not consider the political affiliation of a city essential enough to be mentioned in the city description 1  Richard Guylforde, The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde to the Holy Land, A.D. 1506, ed. Henry Ellis (London: Printed for the Camden Society, 1851), 10. 2  Mariano da Siena and Gaspare di Bartolomeo, Viaggio fatto al Santo Sepolcro, 1431: In appendice Viaggio di Gaspare di Bartolomeo, ed. Paolo Pirillo (Ospedaletto, Pisa: Pacini, 1991), 145. 3  ‘Dae endet sich der Bononeser heirschafft ind heyfft dae an der Florentijner lant.’ Arnold von Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff von Cöln durch Italien, Syrien, Aegypten, Arabien, Aethiopien, Nubien, Palästina, die Türkei, Frankreich und Spanien, wie er sie in den Jahren 1496 bis 1499 vollendet, beschrieben und durch Zeichnungen erläutert hat, ed. Eberhard von Groote (Cöln: J. M. Heberle (H. Lempertz), 1860), 11. Translation from: Arnold von Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Knight: From Cologne through Italy, Syria, Egypt, Arabia, Ethiopia, Nubia, Palestine, Turkey, France and Spain, Which He Accomplished in the Years 1496 to 1499, trans. Malcolm Henry Ikin Letts (Nendeln: Kraus Reprint, 1967), 12. 4  ‘De terris et dominiis Venetorum a Venecia ad Terram Sanctam’ and ‘Sequitur de aliis locis per viam ad Terram Sanctam.’ William Wey, The Itineraries of William Wey, Fellow of Eton College, to Jerusalem, A.D. 1458 and A.D. 1462, and to Saint James of Compostelle, A.D. 1456: From the Original Manuscript in the Bodleian Library, ed. Albert Way (London: J. B. Nichols and sons, 1857), 117–19.

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itself, but as something which is sufficiently detached to be treated in a completely different section. There are more pilgrims who include lists of cities that they have visited, often divided into various categories like higher political authorities, geographical regions, and dioceses. However, they are not even always consistent in how they classify these cities. Arnold von Harff’s enumeration of visited places, for example, is subdivided into larger areas such as kingdoms, dioceses, and regions.5 Verona and Venice, both visited by Harff more than once, each appear twice, in two different categories. On his way to Jerusalem Harff mentions the category Venecianer (Venetian), but this contains only four cities: Cervia, Ravenna, Chioggia, and Venice. He leaves out numerous other cities that in reality were under Venetian rule as well — both from the Terraferma and the Stato da Mar — and places them in various other categories. Padua, Vicenza, and Peschiera, for instance, are listed under Lombardy, Zara under Slavonia, Corfu under Albania, and Crete under Greece. In the list of cities which Harff visited on his homeward journey, some of this changes. The category ‘Venetian’ is not mentioned anymore, and even the city of Venice itself now forms part of a different category — one that was part of the Venetian state rather than the other way round: ‘Istria, province.’ Harff’s references to specific political and geographical areas evidently do not indicate a perception of very strictly defined borders. Even when pilgrims speak of clearly delineated political and geographical entities, it therefore does not always mean that this plays a prominent role in their characterisations of cities. Some pilgrims do not even seem to be aware of the political affiliation of the territories through which they are travelling. We see this, for instance, in Antonio da Crema’s description of the stop which his galley makes at Ragusa (Dubrovnik). Upon arrival the pilgrims (Da Crema does not specify whether he includes himself in this group) want to disembark immediately in order to go to Mass, not considering the possibility that the city might not be under Venetian rule. It is the galley master who has to tell them that, in contrast with the cities where they have been before, they first have to ask the rulers for permission to go ashore.6 Perhaps it was precisely in order to allow future pilgrims to avoid this type of mistake that we find such regular references to political

5  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 251–59. The Italian peninsula is divided into ‘Weltsche lande,’ ‘Lumbardien,’ ‘Vrau Venis berch,’ ‘Ein hertzochdum van Orbin,’ ‘Venecianer,’ ‘Hertzochtum Meylaen,’ and ‘Pemont eyn Graeffschafft.’ 6  Antonio da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 1486, ed. Gabriele Nori (Ospedaletto, Pisa: Pacini, 1996), 42.

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affiliation in the pilgrims’ accounts; after all, these books were usually written at least partly as guides for others. The Florentine Alessandro di Filippo Rinuccini displays more awareness of political authority and even of the nuances of political power, in this case concerning Venetian rule. In the year of his pilgrimage, 1474, Cyprus was going through a turbulent period. King James II had died the previous year, leaving behind his widow, the Venetian noblewoman Caterina Corner, who was pregnant at the time of his death. In the power struggles that followed, Caterina was restored to the throne by Venetian intervention. When her son, James III, died at the end of August 1474, there were again conspiracies for the throne, which Venice thwarted. The Venetian government then gradually usurped power over the island, until it forced Caterina to abdicate and became the official ruler in 1489. The ship on which Rinuccini was travelling was at Cyprus from 31 August until 6 September 1474, that is, exactly after the death of the infant king. When Rinuccini writes about the political situation of the island, he states that the fourteen-month-old king has just passed away. And because there was nobody else left from the royal line, the queen came to succeed in government. And since she is of the Venetian nation, she keeps Venetian rettori and governors there, who govern and rule the entire kingdom, so that one can say that this kingdom is subjugated and subject to the signoria and dominion of Venice …7 Rinuccini shows a more nuanced view of political affiliation than the rigid demarcations expressed in some of the remarks that we have seen earlier. Official political subjection is not necessary for Rinuccini to regard Cyprus as being de facto under Venetian authority. The hybridity of the rule which Venice exercised over its subject territories — multiple, even contradictory forms of political organisation existed for different parts of the dominion — is also perceived by a foreign onlooker here. The marked difference in how two Italian 7  The entire passage reads: ‘Da Rody si navicha più oltre miglia trecento et truovasi l’ysola di Cypri, la quale ysola à re, il quale era restato uno fanciullo piccholino, succedendo nel reame dopo la morte del padre. Ma il giorno che noi arrivamo in detta ysola, che fu a dì xxxj d’aghosto, l’anno Domini 1474, essendo detto fanciullino re di mesi xiiijo, passoe dal reame terreno al reame di vita etterna et, non vi restando altri della linea reghale, la regina venne a succedere nel ghoverno et, essendo vinitiana per natione, vi tiene rectori et ghovernatori vi­nitiani, i quali ghovernano et reghono tutto il reame, in modo che.ssi può dire che detto reame sia suggetto et subdito alla signioria et dominio viniziano …’ Alessandro di Filippo Rinuccini, Sanctissimo peregrinaggio del Sancto Sepolcro, 1474: In appendice Itinerario di Pierantonio Buondelmonti, ed. Andrea Calamai (Ospedaletto, Pisa: Pacini, 1993), 133.

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pilgrims perceive political borders, the Mantuan Antonio da Crema and the Florentine Rinuccini, also shows that the geographical backgrounds of pilgrims cannot solely account for their differences in description of territories. Another Italian pilgrim visiting Cyprus in the period between the death of King James II and the official rule of Venice — Alessandro Ariosto, travelling in 1476–1479 — also speaks of Venice’s exercise of power over this island, but in contrast with Rinuccini he sees this as clearly delineated: ‘Cyprus in truth is under the rule of the Venetians.’8 The same goes for Mešullam ben Menahem da Volterra (in Italian called Buonaventura di Emanuele), who visited Cyprus in 1481 and states that it is under Venetian sovereignty.9 Joos van Ghistele passed through Cyprus during his pilgrimage as well. Although he undertook his journey in 1481–1485, the travel account was written later, and it can therefore not be excluded that at the time of writing Cyprus was already formally under Venetian rule. The text describes the change of power over the island as an unambiguous event taking place immediately after the death of James III: Item, at the time when the aforesaid [the pilgrims] were there in the country, King James had very recently passed away from the world, but the queen was then still living there with her son the young king, who was brought to Venice shortly afterwards. Once there, he became ill and died, at which point the kingdom of Cyprus came into the hands of the Venetians.10 This type of remark is more in line with the general characteristics of pilgrims’ accounts, which normally describe political and geographical areas as clearly demarcated. In the case of Alessandro di Filippo Rinuccini, his clear awareness of the political situation is connected with his personal experience: he was in Cyprus precisely when important political changes were taking place. There are more cases for which this is likely. Roberto da Sanseverino describes how near 8  ‘Cyprus vero et sub Venetorum imperio.’ Alessandro Ariosto, Itinerarium (1476–1479), ed. Fabio Uliana (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 2007), 33. 9  Meshullam ben Menachem da Volterra, Viaggio in terra d’Israele, trans. Alessandra Veronese (Rimini: Luise, 1989), 88. 10  ‘Item ten tijden doen de voorseyde daer int land waren, zo was de conijnc Jacop zeere cortelinghe overleden der weerelt, maer de coninghinne woonde doen als noch daer met haren zone den jonghen coonijnc, die corts daer naer te Venegien ghevoert wart; daer zijnde wart ziec ende starf, bijden welken tconincrijc van Cypers ghecommen es inden handen vanden Veneetsianen.’ Ambrosius Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, ed. Renaat J. G. A. A. Gaspar (Hilversum: Verloren, 1998), 277.

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Durazzo (Durrës, under Venetian rule since 1392) a ship with Venetian guards comes from the port of Durazzo to greet the pilgrims’ galley, and they exchange the latest news.11 Such interaction is probably one of the factors explaining why political affiliation of territories is described clearly in this travel account. In this specific case, Sanseverino’s background and mission undoubtedly also contributed to this. He was a nobleman and condottiero who went to Jerusalem in 1458–1459, just some years after the fall of Constantinople and in a general atmosphere of fear of the Ottomans in Europe. He undertook his journey to the Holy Land not only for pious reasons, but also to gather information on the Ottomans for Duke Francesco Sforza. Ogier d’Anglure — travelling in 1395–1396, when the political division of the northeast of the Italian peninsula was still very different from what it would become in some decades time — describes having to show letters of safe conduct, obtain passes, or pay taxes every time he reaches the dominion of a different ruler between Pavia and Venice.12 Johann Meisenheimer even refers to several types of personal experiences with higher political authorities of territories. For instance, when their group of travellers first enter Venetian territory in the vicinity of Carpanè, they have to pay a two Kreuzer toll for every person and his horse.13 Moreover, the pilgrims are clearly aware of how to use political authorities to their own advantage. When the galley captain in Venice keeps postponing the departure of their galley, several pilgrims complain to the doge himself and Venetian magistrates, who order the captain to delay no longer.14 Meisenheimer also tells how, upon their arrival in the harbour of Jaffa, the galley captain sends servants to Ramla to inform the authorities of their arrival. The pilgrims spend nine days waiting on the ship for their return. They then go ashore, where everyone has to declare their name and their father’s name so that they can be recorded. A quarrel arises with the magistrate responsible for this process when he demands to receive a part of the merchandise present on the galley and imprisons one of the crew members when they do not comply. The galley captain goes to complain to the rulers of Jerusalem and Ramla, who decide the matter in his favour.15 Such personal experiences with 11  Roberto da Sanseverino, Felice et divoto ad Terrasancta viagio facto per Roberto de Sancto Severino (1458–1459), ed. Mario Cavaglià and Alda Rossebastiano (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 1999), 110–11. 12  Ogier d’Anglure, The Holy Jerusalem Voyage of Ogier VIII, Seigneur d’Anglure, trans. Roland A. Browne (Gainesville: University Presses of Florida, 1975), 15. 13  Sigmund Feyerabend, ed., “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” in Reyßbuch deß heyligen Lands (Franckfort am Mayn: Feyerabendt, 1584), fol. 32r. 14  Feyerabend, fol. 35r. 15  Feyerabend, fols. 38r–38v.

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the practicalities of entering new territories and dealing with different rulers undoubtedly made pilgrims more aware of the political affiliation of the territories through which they were travelling. 2

Political and Geographical Affiliation: The Case of Greece

Most pilgrims’ accounts refer not only to political but also geographical affiliation. Bertrandon de la Broquière, for instance, includes a brief description of Mount Cenis and adds: ‘This mountain separates the countries of France and Italy’ — a reference to geographical rather than political entities.16 Like the rather formal references to political affiliation, seen previously, such comments on geographical affiliation could take the shape of mere formal remarks, without attaching to them many consequences in how an author describes a certain city or territory. In some cases, however, there are authors who do not stop at such a formal mention of geographical affiliation; because of the geographical connection, they describe the places as linked to others located in the same geographical entity. This is particularly the case for Greece, an area which was under different sovereignties but which for many people in Europe had a series of clear ideas associated with it. This probably made people — particularly if they only spent a short time there — more inclined to regard it as one entity.17 We see this, for example, in Antonio da Crema’s travel account. Da Crema ponders that Greece, which in antiquity was so important, has now been reduced to fragmentation under other states’ jurisdictions (which, given that Da Crema undertook his pilgrimage in 1486, is probably also a lament on the fall of Constantinople). He 16  ‘Et quant j’eus passé grant pays de montaignes, je vins au pié de la plus grande et de la plus haulte de toutes que on nomme le mont Senys (…). Ceste montaigne depart les pays de France et de Itallie.’ Bertrandon de la Broquière, Le Voyage d’Outremer de Bertrandon de la Broquière, ed. Charles Henri Auguste Schefer (Paris: E. Leroux, 1892), 2–3. 17  On how the inhabitants of the Greek territories under Venetian authority viewed Europe, see: Anastassia Papadia-Lala, “‘Europe’ in the Venetian-Ruled Greek Territories (13th to 18th Centuries): Perceptions and Realities,” in Die Griechen und Europa: Außen- und Innensichten im Wandel der Zeit, ed. Harald Heppner and Olga Katsiardi-Hering (Wien, Köln, and Weimar: Böhlau, 1998), 9–30. The same author has recently published an article in which she analyses the various terms used by Venetians to refer to Greeks within and outside the territories ruled by Venice: Anastassia Papadia-Lala, “Οι Greci στον ελληνοβενετικό κόσμο (13ος–18ος αι.): Ο λόγος των πολλαπλών εξουσιών,” in Έλλην,’ ‘Ρωμηός,’ ‘Γραικός’:Συλλογικοί προσδιορισμοί και ταυτότητες, ed. Olga Katsiardi-Hering et al. (Αθήνα: Ευρασία, 2018), 166–79. I am grateful to Panagiotis Georgakakis for drawing my attention to this article and for translating parts of it for me.

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regards the Greeks’ religion as an explanation for this: among other evil deeds, they have worshipped false gods, do not believe completely in God’s laws, and do not obey the pope.18 For Da Crema, then, Greece is bound together by both its former pagan religion and its present Orthodox faith. However, when he speaks of Greece as one geographical entity, he does not refer only to Orthodox Christians: the region’s unity concerns all of its inhabitants. Many people in Western Europe who had never been to Greece would, in contrast with some other foreign regions, probably still be familiar with it. This would especially be the case for people of a higher social class, which applied to the majority of Jerusalem pilgrims. First of all, knowledge of classical history and literature would have given them at least some ideas about Greece, even if these did not always correspond much to reality. Indeed, multiple pilgrims refer to events and people from Greek mythology when they describe certain cities and territories. For example, they identify specific locations as the place of Peleus and Thetis’ wedding feast, the island from where Paris took Helen of Troy, the birthplace of Venus, or the place where the Golden Fleece was kept.19 Another pilgrim speaks of the mountain where Jupiter lived and is buried (probably Mount Juktas) with the same matter-of-factness that he uses elsewhere to refer to relics and lives of Christian saints.20 In this way, ideas on Greece’s classical past contribute to a perception of a clearly distinct geographical entity. Incidentally, the discernment of traces of classical Greece in the present-day Greek areas did not mean that people from Western Europe 18  ‘Et io, considerando questo imperio [la Gretia] già essere stato apreso li antiqui di tanta excelsa fama e lo studio de ogni arte e disciplina litterale e quello da cui tutto il mondo piglava le lege, alzai la mente a Dio dicendo: “Qual homo, qual signore, quale imperio e qual senato debesse mai possare ne la confidentia di fortuna, che questa Gretia, quala fu, in tanta discipatione è reducta; e non ha iuridico capo alcuno, anci è dispersa e sottoposta a le altrui lege? Questa è quella, o omnipotente Idio, che mai non ti volse conoscere, ma li homini peccatori e scelerati volse adorare et a quelli sacrificare e solemni templi, delubri e phani edificare. Questa è quella che a l’idolatria condusse Roma, Toscana e tutto il mondo, faciendo ricorso cum pregi a Iove, a Iuno, ad Apollo, a Baccho, a Venus, a Minerva et a molti altri de trista vita e mali costumi. Questa è quella genitrice de innumerabili mendaci e fabulanti. Questa è quella che non crede perfectamente ne la tua lege. Questa è quella che non rende obedientia al tuo vicario e sacerdote eterno.”’ Da Crema, Itinerario al Santo Sepolcro, 46. 19  Santo Brasca and Gabriele Capodilista, Viaggio in Terrasanta di Santo Brasca (1480), con l’Itinerario di Gabriele Capodilista (1458), ed. Anna Laura Momigliano Lepschy (Milano: Longanesi, 1966), 61; Felix Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, ed. Konrad Dieterich Hassler, vol. 3 (Stuttgart: Sumtibus socie­ tatis litterariae stuttgardiensis, 1849), 218–24; Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 68; Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, 361. 20  Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 37r.

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saw contemporary Greeks automatically as descendants of the ancient Greeks. This did happen on occasion, but historians have shown that it was more common to regard Byzantium as the end of the glory of ancient Greece.21 The Ottoman conquest of Constantinople in 1453 caused an important change in western views of Greece. Early modern authors balanced on the one hand views on an idealised classical Greek past and on the other hand ideas about a decline of Ottoman-held Greece.22 It also affected how people viewed the Orthodox faith. In the High Middle Ages, the Latins had not considered the Greeks in a positive light. After the fall of Constantinople, however, there were also people who felt guilty about not helping those whom they now saw as fellow Christians who had come under the yoke of an Islamic power.23 In fifteenth-century pilgrims’ accounts, religion is one of the factors shaping perceptions of Greece. Although the Eastern Mediterranean in reality had a large number of religions existing alongside each other,24 some pilgrims, like Antonio da Crema in the aforementioned passage, see the Orthodox faith as the factor binding the whole geographical region together. Arnold von Harff lists many differences between the Roman church and the Orthodox faith, and makes no secret of his disapproval of the latter: ‘through arrogance they are not willing to submit themselves to the Roman church.’ He also speaks about the different ways that Greeks and Turks keep their beards, the past existence of the empire which the Greeks had at Constantinople, and the Greek alphabet and language.25 Indeed, the pilgrims’ accounts also include references to other aspects binding Greece together, such as language. When describing Crete, which had been under Venetian rule since 1211, the author of the account of Richard Guylforde’s 21  Olga Augustinos, French Odysseys: Greece in French Travel Literature from the Renaissance to the Romantic Era (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 6. 22  On Western European views of Greece in the sixteenth and seventeenth century, see: Augustinos, French Odysseys; Alison Findlay and Vassiliki Markidou, eds., Shakespeare and Greece (London and New York: Bloomsbury Arden Shakespeare, 2018); Efterpi Mitsi, Greece in Early English Travel Writing, 1596–1682 (Palgrave Macmillan, 2017); Lucy Pollard, The Quest for Classical Greece: Early Modern Travel to the Greek World (London and New York: I. B. Tauris, 2015). 23  James Hankins, “Renaissance Crusaders: Humanist Crusade Literature in the Age of Mehmed II,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 49 (1995): 114, 132–34. 24  Catherine Holmes, “‘Shared Worlds’: Religious Identities — A Question of Evidence,” in Byzantines, Latins, and Turks in the Eastern Mediterranean World after 1150, ed. Jonathan Harris, Catherine Holmes, and Eugenia Russell (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 31–60. 25  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 73–76. Quotation from p. 74: ‘wie wael sij ijetzunt neit der roemscher kirchen durch yere hoeffaert vnderworffen wyllen sijn.’ Translation from: Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Knight, 89.

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pilgrimage writes: ‘They speke all Greke, excepte the Venycyans, that be lordes and gouernours there.’26 In reality, for several aspects of Cretan society a considerable level of integration existed between Greeks and Venetians in this period, and the Greek language was widely used by Venetians.27 In this travel account, however, the only role attributed to the Venetians is that of a superimposed class of governors who do not even speak the language of the region. We thus again see geographical unity, this time manifested in linguistic unity, overshadowing political affiliation. In short, when we consider how the formation of the Venetian state influenced the description of the territories involved, we see that in the case of Venice’s Greek dominions there was a major variable at play. Aspects such as classical history and literature, religion, and language made people more inclined to consider Greece as one geographical entity. Perception of shared characteristics between components of a geographical entity of course does not have to be incompatible with a view of political affiliation affecting how an author views cities belonging to the same political unit. Indeed, this is clear from the very fact that most pilgrims record both geographical and political affiliation. Nevertheless, such emphasis on geographical unity can place the relevance of belonging to a specific political structure on a secondary level of importance. Greece was under multiple political authorities and, moreover, even the Greek dominions that were under the same ruler were not necessarily governed in the same way (as was the case with Venice’s Greek territories). By underlining an inherent unity of Greece as a geographical area, these facts could be rendered less pertinent in how authors defined the territory. Later in this chapter it will become clear that there are also cases where coming under 26  Guylforde, The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde, 13–14. 27  There were spheres — mainly the religious one — where the differences between Greeks and Latins remained very important, but in various other aspects of Cretan society much interaction took place. For example, Greek merchants were widely accepted in the Venetian trade system, in terms of everyday life there was much exchange, and intermarriage between Greeks and Venetians occurred often (even though the Venetian state officially discouraged or forbade this). On the use of the Greek language by Latins in Crete, Maria Georgopoulou writes (p. 258): ‘By the mid-fourteenth century the realities of such a world demanded knowledge of both Latin and Greek in order to take full advantage of the possibilities offered by local and international trade, with Greek taking the upper hand. (…) Apparently Greek became even more widely used in the following centuries.’ See: Benjamin Arbel, “Venice’s Maritime Empire in the Early Modern Period,” in A Companion to Venetian History, 1400–1797, ed. Eric R. Dursteler (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2013), 125–253; Maria Georgopoulou, Venice’s Mediterranean Colonies: Architecture and Urbanism (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001), particularly 255–264; Monique O’Connell, Men of Empire: Power and Negotiation in Venice’s Maritime State (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009).

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Venetian rule did, on the contrary, affect how authors could describe Greek territories. 3

Conflicting Ideas on Venice and the Venetian State

Authors are not always consistent in whether they describe the territories that make up the Venetian state as being influenced by the formation of this state. When it comes to descriptions of different parts of the state, this is understandable to a certain degree: Venice exercised widely divergent types of rule over its vast dominions. It is therefore not entirely surprising if an author regards the impact of Venice’s rule on, say, Treviso differently than Cyprus. At the same time, however, as has been demonstrated throughout this book, geographical depictions of territories do not necessarily have to correspond with what we know about these territories from other types of sources. The construction of narratives about a territory depended on a large variety of factors, of which correspondence with that territory’s more institutionalised aspects was only one possibility. This becomes particularly clear when an author is inconsistent about his depiction of the same area, something that would be inexplicable if the depiction was merely a direct reflection of the institutionalised aspects of that area as we know them from other types of sources. We see this, for example, in Arnold von Harff’s travel account. The work contains an extensive description of the city of Venice. This also includes the Venetian state, listed as a series of regions. Harff’s list starts with the mainland territories, thereby emphasising these more than the maritime ones.28 After this, Harff speaks of the wise governance by Venetian patricians over these dominions. The possession of extensive territories is, then, treated as one of the assets to the city of Venice, something which both in itself enlarges Venice’s glory and gives it the chance to show its good government. At least in part, the acquisition of a dominion has affected the way Harff describes the city. When later in his text Harff describes the Arsenal and its arms, he states: Further that in every town under their [the Venetians’] dominion was more artillery than we saw there, since in his [a Venetian gentleman’s] opinion Venice did not need so much, as she had only to arm the ships.29 28  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 46–47. 29  ‘want in eyn yeckliche stat die sij zo regieren hetten were me geschutz dan wir yetzunt dae segen, as hee vermeynt dat sij es dae zo Venedich nyet en bedurffden, dan alleyn

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He again refers to a link between Venice and its dominion, while also again pointing to Venice’s good government which provides protection to its subjects. Later Harff describes a ritual which he witnessed the Thursday before Lent, where an ox and twelve pigs were killed at Piazza San Marco.30 He also notes the origins of the ritual: the patriarch of Friuli was an enemy of the Venetians and challenged them (Harff does not specify how, but in any case it was not Venice who started the war), whereupon Venice mobilised an army and seized Friuli. Although the Venetians had planned to execute the patriarch, because of the pleas of other lords they gave up this plan and contented themselves with an annual tribute. Harff specifies that it was a nobleman — presumably Venetian — who provided him with this explanation. Indeed, the ceremony was one of the ways in which the Venetian government attempted to project a certain image of itself, in this case alluding to its might, justice, and forgiveness.31 Given that Harff includes the story unquestioningly in his travel account, the ritual clearly had the desired effect on this foreign visitor. The story does not concern fifteenth-century mainland expansion but a twelfth-century event (although Harff never specifies this), but it does contribute to Harff’s overall picture of Venice’s continuous good rule. When Arnold von Harff travelled from Rome to Venice, and later from Venice overland to Compostela, he naturally also passed through parts of the Venetian mainland state. There is, however, a significant difference between his description of the city of Venice and some of his descriptions of Terraferma cities. In his description of Padua, Harff describes how Venice came into possession of this city: the Venetians called the lord of Padua to Venice with the promise of safe conduct, and then beheaded him. Following this, Harff mentions a castle in Padua in which the Venetians held the queen of Cyprus and her sons prisoners, while they poisoned the king, thus obtaining dominion over Cyprus.32 Harff speaks here of Marietta of Patras, mistress of the late King John II and mother of the late James II. She was never queen of Cyprus, nor did she pretend to be. In 1476 she and her three grandchildren, the illegitimate children of James II, were brought first to Venice and then to Padua. The story

off die schyff.’ Harff, 49. Translation from: Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Knight, 60. 30  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 51–53. On this ritual, see: Iain Fenlon, The Ceremonial City: History, Memory and Myth in Renaissance Venice (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007), 110–11, 185–86; Edward W. Muir, Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 160–64. 31  On the use and perception of ceremonies in Venice, see also section 2.3.4. 32  Harff, Die Pilgerfahrt des Ritters Arnold von Harff, 214.

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that the Venetians had poisoned James II was current, but probably unfounded.33 Harff, then, had not completely understood the actual course of events, but that does not make his version of the story any less relevant for his view of the relation between Venice and its subject territories. These examples from Harff’s descriptions of the city of Venice and of its subject cities demonstrate various points. All cases concern the links between the lagoon city and its subject territories. In the description of the city of Venice its capacity as head of a state is regarded as an essential characteristic, and in the description of Padua Venice’s rule is underlined as well. However, in the former description Harff praises Venice’s good government over its dominions and its role as a just international peacemaker, while in the latter description he depicts Venice as a devious conqueror. He evidently does not feel the need to construct a consistent narrative about Venice and its dominions, or in any case he does not feel the need to use the same narrative for his descriptions of the lagoon city and of the Terraferma cities, suggesting that he probably saw Venice and its dominions mainly as essentially distinct entities. 4

Interpreting Venice and Its Dominions in One Common Framework

In contrast with cases where political affiliation does not fundamentally change pilgrims’ descriptions of Venice and its subject territories, there are also travel accounts in which the construction of the Venetian state does have an impact on the way the authors describe the territories involved: we find clear traces of one component of the political structure influencing the representation of another one. To a certain extent it may seem logical that foreigners will dwell less on particularities and divisions within a state than people who are part of that state. Nevertheless, there is a significant difference between ignoring particularities and describing the constituents of a state differently because of their political affiliation. Both tendencies can be found in the Renaissance pilgrims’ accounts: ranging from, as seen earlier, pilgrims who are not even aware of the political boundaries of the land through which they are travelling, to pilgrims who depict reciprocal influence or even a certain unity between Venice and its various subject territories. 33  Harff, The Pilgrimage of Arnold von Harff, Knight; George Francis Hill, The Frankish Period, 1432–1571, A History of Cyprus 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1940); Gaetano Cozzi and Michael Knapton, Storia della repubblica di Venezia: Dalla guerra di Chioggia alla riconquista della terraferma (Torino: Utet, 1986).

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One way in which the formation of the Venetian state affected certain pilgrims’ geographical descriptions was by presenting the subject territories as an asset for Venice’s glory. We find this in multiple works. For instance, in the account of Richard Guylforde’s pilgrimage, two fortifications in Corfu are described as the strongest ones the Venetians have.34 In fact, when pilgrims go beyond mentioning mere formal political affiliation, their views on the Venetian state are generally positive. There are only very rare cases of pilgrims saying something that shows Venice in a bad light. A rare example comes from an anonymous travel account written in Rhine Franconian (pilgrimage in 1441–1442). When speaking about Ragusa — the only Dalmatian city not under Venetian rule — the author states: ‘it is a big thorn in the Venetians’ side, because it has great riches and possesses gold, ore, and silver.’35 He then tells how, because of this wealth, Venice has tried unsuccessfully to conquer Ragusa in the past. While these are not explicitly negative comments, they also do not fit the idea, which we find with some other pilgrims, that Venice does not acquire territories because of a desire for wealth or power. A second author, Johann Meisenheimer, mentions political affiliation of cities and territories on many points in his travel account, often without attaching any consequences to it. For example, he lists several facts about Zara: it is located in Slavonia, it is an archbishopric, it is about three hundred miles distant from Parenzo (Poreč), and it used to belong to the king of Hungary but now is part of the Venetian state.36 This change in political affiliation does not seem to affect the rest of his description of the city. On another occasion, however, he does include a reference to the consequences of Venetian rule. When he speaks about Crete, he praises its fertility and says that agriculture is reputed to have been invented here. He then adds:

34  Guylforde, The Pylgrymage of Sir Richard Guylforde, 11. 35  ‘eß ist den Fenediger eyn grosßer dorn in augen, wan es vermag grosße richtum vnd hat vmb sich gold, ertz vnd silber.’ Randall Herz, Dietrich Huschenbett, and Frank Sczesny, eds., “Rheinfränkischer Anonymus, ‘Fahrt zum Heiligen Grab’ (1441–1442),” in Fünf Palästina-Pilgerberichte aus dem 15. Jahrhundert (Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag, 1998), 151.   This idea of Venice trying to come into possession of Ragusa and its riches is in keeping with what many people in Ragusa thought about Venice. On Ragusan views of Venice and vice versa, see: Lovro Kunčević, “The Ragusan Image of Venice and the Venetian Image of Ragusa in the Early Modern Period,” in Practices of Coexistence: Constructions of the Other in Early Modern Perceptions, ed. Marianna D. Birnbaum and Marcell Sebők (Budapest and New York: Central European University Press, 2017), 143–76. 36  Feyerabend, “Beschreibung der Meerfahrt zum heyligen Grab,” fol. 35v.

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the Venetians, who rule over this island, do not want the farmers to breed or have horses, mules, or donkeys to work the field, because they worry that the farmers become too rich and would therefore like to drive away the Venetians or their magistrates …37 As in the case of the anonymous Rhine Franconian pilgrim, this passage is not explicitly negative about the Venetians, but, again, it also does not fit the notion of Venice as a just state which only wants what is best for its subjects. Overall, this type of comment is very rare. Explicit anti-Venetian statements, like the accusations of imperialism that can be found in some other types of sources in this period (though, as shown throughout this book, not very often in geographical descriptions), do not really seem to have a place in the pilgrims’ accounts. In part this has to do with the genre; they are accounts of a pious journey, intended to edify the readers and give advice to future pilgrims, not to provide discussions of current political events. On the other hand, multiple pilgrims seem to have no problem including explicitly pro-Venetian statements in their accounts. Another possible reason for this scarcity of negative comments on Venice’s rule might lie in the source of the pilgrims’ information. On many occasions throughout this book it has become clear how geographical descriptions could be influenced by a variety of written sources, oral traditions, visual depictions, ceremonies, and other media. Pilgrims’ accounts were no exception. Different parts of their accounts were influenced by different combinations of sources, including their own observations, other pilgrims’ accounts, other types of literature, news exchanged with people from other ships, and conversations with local inhabitants, other travellers, and people aboard the galley.38 Particularly when pilgrims were only very briefly in a certain place, or when they did not even put in to shore but only passed by a city, their information on those places would in all probability be based more on what they had learned from other sources. Pilgrims sometimes refer explicitly to such exchanges of information, as when Ogier d’Anglure writes about Bosnia: ‘there are very bad Christians, 37  ‘die Venediger / die uber dieselbe Insel herrschen / wollen nicht leiden / daß ire Bawren / Pferde / Maulesel oder Esel ziehen oder halten / das Feld zu arbeyten / darumb daß sie zweiffeln ire Bawren würden zu reich / und möchten dardurch die Venediger oder ire Amptleute vertreiben …’ Feyerabend, fol. 37r. 38  See for example the different types of sources from which Jan Govertz learned about the Peace of Venice (section 1.5), the various texts to which Felix Faber refers when he speaks about Venice’s political system (sections 3.1 and 3.3), the nobleman who explained a government-staged Venetian ceremony to Arnold von Harff (section 7.3), and various other cases treated throughout this book.

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according to what we were told …’39 Some of them even go as far as mentioning the specific people who told them something or the specific books from which they copied information. We can perhaps speculate that one important source of oral information, at least concerning the territories between Venice and the Holy Land, must have been the Venetians aboard the galleys. As shown in chapter 5, although Venetian views on their state were far from uniform, explicitly negative representations were rare. While en route to Jerusalem, the many weeks spent on the galley must have provided ample occasion for exchange of information about the territories that were passed by. When it came to these areas, explicitly anti-Venetian sources were probably less common as source material for pilgrims than the orally expressed views of the Venetians aboard the galleys. This could partly explain the general absence in pilgrims’ accounts of negative views of Venetian rule over these territories. Additionally, anti-Ottoman sentiment might have left some pilgrims more positively inclined toward Venetian rule in the Eastern Mediterranean, since this meant at least that these territories were not under Ottoman rule. For example, Joos van Ghistele — who clearly had at least some knowledge about the Venetians’ role in the Eastern Mediterranean, since he explains how often they send new magistrates to their subject territories — writes that Negroponte used to belong to the Venetians but is now in the hands of the Turks, ‘which is lamentable, because it is one of the best places of the entire archipelago.’40 Factors like these might explain, at least partly, the presence of pro-Venetian comments in certain pilgrims’ accounts. Multiple pilgrims include more than just brief references to the existence of the Venetian state, mentioning it on several occasions or speaking about it more at length. An example is Felix Faber’s Evagatorium Fratris Felicis. The Venetian dominions clearly influence the way the city of Venice is described. When Faber speaks of his journey home on his second pilgrimage, he includes an extensive description of the city of Venice.41 He starts with some general words of praise, and then divides his description into thirteen characteristics that grace Venice: its position and extraordinary founding, the large population, the well-ordered and long-existing government, the large dominion, the diffusion of divine cult, the large number of relics, the precious treasures, the presence of everything necessary for living, the trade, the magnificent feasts, 39  Ogier d’Anglure, The Holy Jerusalem Voyage of Ogier VIII, 78–79. 40  ‘dat claghelic es, want het een vanden besten plaetsen van alden Arsipelego es.’ Zeebout, Tvoyage van Mher Joos van Ghistele, 384. Explanation on how frequently Venice sends new magistrates to its subject territories: Zeebout, 386. 41  Faber, Fratris Felicis Fabri evagatorium in Terrae Sanctae, Arabiae et Egypti peregrinationem, 3:387–89, 395–437.

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the maturity and prudence of the senators, the large number of diets and chapters, and the city’s many privileges. The extensiveness of Venice’s dominion is among these elements; already the fourth one. This emphasises the value of the dominion for the definition of Venice. The acquisition of territory has brought about a fundamental alteration in how the city is described, and the dominion is now regarded as one of the city’s essential elements. Faber does not attach the same value to all parts of the Venetian state; he strongly emphasises the Stato da Mar, while almost completely overlooking the Terraferma. He asks, for example: Which city in the entire world, which community, which king can be found who has extended their borders so much as this city of Venice, whose dominion stretches out today until the borders of the Germans, the Hungarians, the Turks, the Saracens, the barbarians, the Sicilians, and the Italians, and which touches the ends of Europe, Asia, and Africa? Their dominion includes Friuli, the patriarchate of Aquileia, Istria, Dalmatia, Slavonia, Croatia, a part of Albania, of Illyria, of Greece, of Venice, and of Italy.42 Faber’s attention turns from the city of Venice immediately to the east, quickly mentioning the Terraferma territories situated to the northeast of the city and then continuing further towards the east, coming back to the Italian peninsula only at the end. Neither the Terraferma nor the Stato da Mar is perceived as one entity — Faber simply mentions many different regions — but it is clear that emphasis lies on Venice’s territories overseas. Following this, Faber provides examples of how Venice gained various dominions: all fairly, namely by inheritance, money, just war, or spontaneous offering by the cities themselves. All examples concern the Stato da Mar.43 42  The entire passage reads: ‘Quaenam civitas in toto orbe, quae communitas, quis rex invenitur terminos suos tantum ampliasse, sicut haec Venetiarum urbs, cujus potestas hodie Germanorum fines attingit et Ungarorum, Turcorum, Sarracenorum, Barbarorum, Siculorum et Italorum; et Europae, Asiae et Africae terminos tangit? Includit domi­ nium eorum Forum Julium, Aquilejae patriarchatum, Histriam, Dalmatiam, Sclavoniam, Croatiam, Albaniae partem, Illyrici, Graeciae, Venetiae, Italiae. Et in medio illarum provinciarum est mare latissimum cum insulis suis, regnis et regionibus, quod totum paene ad eos spectat. Et faciendo crucem per eorum dominium ponitur pes crucis in occidente ad principatum archiducum Austriae in Alpibus, cujus magnam obtinent partem, et protrahitur haec pars crucis in longum a montanis per mare secando aquilonem et meridiem usque in orientem, sistitque in Syria, cui Cyprus connumeratur, quae hodie eorum est. Deinde trahendo transversam crucis partem a terminis Pannonum sive Ungarorum usque ad mare Adriaticum et Siciliam in australem plagam.’ Faber, 3:411. 43  Faber, 3:411–12.

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Venice’s concern with the east rather than the west is stated even more explicitly when Faber tells how Charlemagne granted Venice the right to be under the authority of neither the western nor the eastern empire, and how this was later reconfirmed by Frederick I. Venice was therefore free to choose to which empire it preferred to adhere. And because the eastern sea and the regions of the east were more advantageous for the Venetian Republic than the land of the west and the regions of the Roman Empire, for this reason they adhered to the empire of Constantinople, until the time that the Ottoman Turk invaded the empire of the east and seized Constantinople. Nevertheless, they allied themselves with him [the Ottoman Turk] with certain pacts, for the subsistence of their republic, in order to have free use of the sea, and in a way that there was not any prejudice against the western empire.44 Thus, after expressing the value of the Eastern Mediterranean for Venice in regard to political dominion, Faber now also states the higher value of the east over the west in terms of trade and political alliances to protect this trade. Nevertheless, Faber still regards the mainland dominion as valuable for Venice because of the glory it brings to the capital. There are various ways in which Faber implicitly justifies the ways in which it was acquired. For example, on his way back from Venice, Faber passed through Treviso. In his description of the city he also speaks about its history, referring to the tyranny of the former rulers and the voluntary dedication of the city. It bore many calamities under the yoke of various tyrants, at a certain time it was also under the house of the dukes of Austria, but in the end it brought itself to the Venetians, who today govern here.45 Faber does something similar in his description of Padua: he speaks about the former, foul rulers of the city, and adds how Venice reconstructed a famous

44  ‘Et quia mare orientale et orientis regiones reipublicae magis utiles erant Venetis, quam terra occidentalis et regiones Romani imperii, ideo adhaeserunt imperio Constantinopolitano usque ad id tempus, quo Turcus Othomannus imperium orientis invasit et Constantinopolim cepit, ei tamen sub certis pactibus foederati sunt pro subsistentia reipublicae eorum ad usum maris liberum habendum, et nequaquam ad praejudicium occidentis imperii.’ Faber, 3:415. 45  ‘Haec multas sustinuit calamitates sub jugo diversorum tyrannorum, quae etiam quondam sub domo ducum Austriae fuit, tandem autem se ad Venetos contulit, qui hodie ibi dominantur.’ Faber, 3:440.

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building that was destroyed in a fire, thereby underlining Venice’s good rule.46 In his description of Treviso he mentions a statue of the lion of Saint Mark, placed in a ridiculing way with its tail up and its rear end directed towards the coat of arms of Treviso’s former rulers.47 During his journey Faber was, then, well aware that Treviso was under the rule of Venice, and was therefore able to understand the message the two sculptures conveyed. In short, there are multiple ways in which the existence of the Venetian state affects Faber’s description of the territories involved. This includes some comments on Terraferma cities being linked to Venice in antiquity and currently being positively influenced by Venice’s beneficial rule. However, it mainly changes how Faber describes the city of Venice: it is enriched by its additional role as capital of a large state. There are also travel accounts in which we clearly find traces of a perception of reciprocal influence between capital city and subject territories, and even accounts in which the two are interpreted in the light of one common framework. We see this, for example, in the description of a part of the Stato da Mar in the account of the Milanese Santo Brasca (pilgrimage in 1480). When, in his itinerary, he comes to speak of Crete, he does not make the usual comments on matters such as political and geographical affiliation or distance to other places, but he does describe the city of Candia (Heraklion). According to Brasca it is large and beautiful, even its villages are large, it possesses beautiful churches, is located in the plain, has a beautiful harbour, and in antiquity was the seat of King Minos. The only other remark which Brasca makes is that ‘it is governed almost like Venice, namely by a duke, a capitano, and two councillors.’48 Ever since the early thirteenth century Crete’s government was indeed modelled on that of Venice. Several institutions and magistracies even had names similar to Venetian ones. At the head of the island stood a duke, who was appointed for two years. Additionally, government consisted of the capitano of Candia, two councillors, and two camerlenghi. The Senate and the Great Council of Candia dealt with diplomatic and administrative matters. What is striking in Brasca’s account is not so much that this traveller, after a stay of four days, is able to provide some general characteristics of the Cretan government, but that he perceives a strong similarity to the Venetian one, and evidently finds it impossible to speak of the former without also referring to the latter. His perception of a 46  Faber, 3:391. 47  Faber, 3:440–41. 48  ‘et governasi quasi como Venetia, videlicet per uno duce, uno capitaneo et dui de consiglio.’ Brasca and Capodilista, Viaggio in Terrasanta di Santo Brasca (1480), con l’Itinerario di Gabriele Capodilista (1458), 62.

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certain degree of administrative unity leads him to interpret specific aspects of Crete in terms of its political affiliation with Venice. A certain perception of administrative and legal unity within the Venetian Republic can also be found in a text written some decades earlier: Pero Tafur’s travel account. This pilgrim sees Venice’s recent expansion on the Italian mainland as a good development for the Venetians because it gives them the possibility to ‘refresh themselves’ and to have a place to go to in case of an epidemic in the lagoon city.49 Furthermore, he sees the just government of the subject territories as a valuable asset for Venice: ‘Thus the provinces and the city are well controlled, and if a man be in any territory of theirs, although at the ends of the earth, yet it seems as if he were in Venice itself.’50 This is only a brief comment, which has to do more with legal rights than with changes in how somebody describes a territory. Nevertheless, it shows something of a perception of administrative unity that would later lead for example to Brasca evidently finding it necessary to describe Cretan government in terms of its affiliation to Venice. Compared to Venice’s territories in the Eastern Mediterranean, Istria was much closer to the city of Venice, both geographically and culturally. Parenzo, part of this area, came under Venetian rule in 1267, when it gave itself to Venice in order to prevent coming under the authority of the counts of Gorizia. The Jewish traveller Mešullam ben Menahem da Volterra, who went to Jerusalem in 1481, left a short description of this city. Throughout his entire travel account Mešullam provides information on the Jewish communities of certain cities: for instance, he records the names of the Jewish people he meets during his travels. In his description of Parenzo he writes: ‘there live no Jews, but all, or the majority, are Venetians.’51 When seeking words to describe the non-­Jewish inhabitants of Parenzo, Mešullam chooses not to use words referring, for example, to their religion, but uses the word ‘Venetians.’ While it is true that there was for instance a higher degree of cultural unity between Venice and Istria than between Venice and the subject territories further east, Mešullam’s comment is still significant. In order to characterise Parenzo, he apparently finds it necessary to refer to Venice, thereby firmly placing Parenzo in a Venetian framework. In contrast with, to mention an example, Marin Sanudo’s use of the term ‘Venetians’ exclusively to refer to people from the lagoon city, Mešullam 49  Pero Tafur, Travels and Adventures, 1435–1439, trans. Malcolm Henry Ikin Letts (London: George Routledge and sons, 1926), 168. 50  Tafur, 172. 51  ‘non vi abitano ebrei, ma tutti o la maggioranza sono veneziani.’ Meshullam ben Menachem da Volterra, Viaggio in terra d’Israele, 96. The original text is written in Hebrew; I have used a modern Italian translation. The word ‘veneziani’ is also Italian in the original.

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chooses to use this word also to refer to people under Venetian rule outside the lagoon.52 We find an example further westwards in the account of the journey made in 1486–1487 by Georges Lengherand. His perception of the cities of the Venetian Terraferma is much influenced by the fact that they are subject to a higher authority, more specifically to Venice. Lengherand’s description of the city of Venice does not lay much emphasis on its capacity as capital of an extensive state: it describes aspects such as the Basilica of San Marco, Piazza San Marco, the Ducal Palace, churches and their relics, the trade, and some ceremonies witnessed by Lengherand. This is different in the descriptions of some cities of the Terraferma. The passage about Vicenza makes this particularly clear. This description, about half a page long in the modern edition, starts by praising, among other aspects, the beautiful buildings that are used by the city’s rulers and those that are under construction.53 Lengherand ends his city description with: The said city shows that it is rich and very powerful, and, judging from the administration which I saw there, it seems that it is ruled in a grand way and by people of great renown, because Brescia, Verona, and Vicenza develop and grow very much, and are governed in a lordly manner. The coats of arms of the Signoria of the aforementioned Venice are placed and are present in a magnificent way in all the places of that city where its officers are present, even on belfries, clocks, houses in the city, palaces, castles, and other places.54 Just as we saw earlier with Felix Faber, Lengherand is speaking here of the winged lion of Saint Mark, noticing the large quantity. The change in political situation, instead of leading only to what we could compare with the attachment of a new political ‘name tag’ to a city, is linked here to a change in the physical fabric of the city. Vicenza has really changed by coming under 52  On Marin Sanudo’s use of the term ‘Venetians,’ see section 5.4. 53  Georges Lengherand, Voyage de Georges Lengherand, mayeur de Mons en Haynaut, a Venise, Rome, Jérusalem, Mont Sinaï et Le Kayre, 1485–1486, ed. Denis Charles GodefroyMénilglaise (Mons: Masquillier et Dequesne, 1861), 30. 54  ‘Ladicte ville monstre d’estre riche et bien puissante; et semble à la conduicte que j’ay veu qu’elles soyent grandement gouvernées et par gens de grand fachon; car Bresse, Véronne, et Vicence se font et augmentent fort, et seignourieusement sont gouvernées. Les armes de la seign.ie dudit Venise sont magnificquement mises et assizes par tous les lieux d’icelle ville où les officiers d’icelle hantent, mesmes sur beffroiz, qadrans, maisons de villes, pallaix, chasteaux et autres lieux.’ Lengherand, 30.

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Venetian rule. It is seen as a subjected city which is governed well by the capital of the state, and its physical appearance is altered. Moreover, because of its political affiliation it is now associated with Brescia and Verona. In the description of Padua as well, Lengherand makes a comparison with Brescia, Verona, and Vicenza, which ‘are all under the Signoria of the said Venetians.’55 The existence of a Venetian mainland state has, therefore, had effects on the way Lengherand perceives this territory. For him, a new geographical reality has come into being: individual cities visited by him form one unit, bound together by the good Venetian rule and the presence of physical demonstrations of this rule, namely the statues of the Marcan lion. Reinforcing this relatively strong emphasis on a certain unity within the Venetian state, and probably even partly causing it, is a passage in the description of Lengherand’s return journey. Lengherand tells how, after leaving Treviso, a magistrate confiscated his and the other pilgrims’ luggage in a town called Castelnuovo. He describes in detail how he and his fellow travellers returned to Venice and brought their case before the Venetian government, which decided in the pilgrims’ favour and ordered to give their luggage back and reimburse them for their expenses.56 This personal experience with Venice’s administration in the Terraferma may have been among the causes of Lengherand’s relatively strong emphasis on the links between Venice and the mainland state. Bernard von Breydenbach’s Peregrinatio in terram sanctam is another clear example of a work in which certain aspects of the Venetian dominions — both the mainland and the maritime territories — are interpreted in terms of their political affiliation with Venice. After an enumeration of the relics in Venice and Padua, Breydenbach describes the city of Venice.57 The title of this description is ‘A laudatory oration on the city and the dominion of the Venetians,’ which already lays a rather strong emphasis on the Venetian dominion outside the lagoon.58 This can also been seen throughout the description. After expressing his great admiration for Venice, Breydenbach gives a short overview of the history of the city, in which he follows the same outlines that 55  ‘Il y a tant de beaux et grans hostelz parmi la ville que c’est belle chose, et me semble que c’est plus grand chose de la ville de Padua que de nulles des villes de Bresse, Véronne ne Vicence; et est tout de la seignourie desdicts Venissiens.’ Lengherand, 32. 56  Lengherand, 192–96. 57   Bernhard von Breydenbach, Peregrinationes: Un viaggiatore del Quattrocento a Gerusalemme e in Egitto, ed. Gabriella Bartolini and Giulio Caporali (Roma: Vecchiarelli, Roma nel Rinascimento, 1999), fols. [a viii r]–b r. 58  ‘Sequitur oratio commendaticia ciuitatis et dominationis venetiarum.’ Breydenbach, fol. [a viii r].

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most Venetian historical writing used in order to stress, among other points, Venice’s antiquity. He then states: And [Venice] has risen to such height that it is not just one of the most known, famous, and mighty cities of the entire world, but that it is the main one, second probably to no other. Oh! over how much space (for let the power of its marvellous dominion be a little clearer and better known) does it extend and widen its wings far and wide over vast expanses of earth and sea, until where fate allows.59 This is the beginning of a passage in which he praises various cities and parts of the Venetian Terraferma, thereby paying much attention to Venice’s territorial possessions. Prior to his description of the lagoon city, Breydenbach had not said anything about his journey until this point: he had claimed that a description thereof would be useless for Germans, who, after all, were well acquainted with that part. Nevertheless, in this description of the city of Venice, Breydenbach mentions individual characteristics of various Terraferma cities: for instance, he notes Padua’s antiquity, its proximity to the river Po, its archiepiscopal seat and ancient and famous university, and Lake Garda’s strong and beautiful castles, in particular Peschiera and the island of Sirmione, where caves and underground refuges had in the past been used for defence during wars. It is significant that Breydenbach first announces that he will not describe the Terraferma cities during his journey, but then does so later in his description of the city of Venice. He knows these cities well enough to describe them individually, instead of just mentioning the entire Venetian dominion as one large entity, serving as an additional asset for Venice; however, he decides to include these individual descriptions in his discussion of the lagoon city. This indicates that he really regards the Terraferma cities as parts of the city of Venice and that he thinks they should therefore be mentioned in the description of this city, instead of depicting them as separate entities with their being ruled by Venice only as a formality. This is different from most other pilgrims’ accounts, which generally, when describing the various subject Venetian cities, do so in the context of their journey through them. Another link between 59  ‘Inque tantum conscendit fastigium, vt inter notissimas, famosissimas, et potentissimas in orbe vniuerso ciuitates, non modo vna, sed praecipua extet nulli fortasse secunda. Eya (vt pauloplus ipsius fiat cognitu euidentior mire dominationis potentia) quelonge quelate sue olim potestatis alas per immensos terre marisque tractus. Dum id fata sinunt iam tum tenduque fouetque.’ Breydenbach, fol. [a viii v].

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Venice and its subject cities becomes clear in Breydenbach’s comment that Padua was born together with Venice, a reference to Venice’s founding legend.60 The description of the Terraferma is followed by one of the Stato da Mar, thereby placing more emphasis on the former. At the same time, by describing both the Terraferma and the Stato da Mar in the same place, more specifically within a description of the city of Venice, Breydenbach shows a perception of a new unit which has come into being for him, consisting of the city of Venice and both its mainland and maritime dominions. Breydenbach then narrates about various other aspects of the city of Venice, such as its large quantity of ships. Good government in subject territories is mentioned twice. The final part of the Peregrinatio in terram sanctam shows another clear example of how political affiliation has fundamentally changed Breydenbach’s perception of Venice’s subject territories. After the description of the journey, two further parts are added: a list of Saracen words with their translations, and a discussion of some historical events.61 Breydenbach includes these events in order to incite people to a crusade against the Turks and the Saracens, and has therefore chosen four events which, according to him, illustrate the cruelty of the Turks towards the Christians. One of these is the conquest of Negroponte, which was under Venetian rule, by the Ottomans in 1470. The beginning of the account reads as follows: The city of Negroponte was very faithful and powerful, famous for its Christian name and its faith, since long subject to the reign of Venice; a very populous city, industrious, rich in all goods, filled with excellent citizens, protected with much care from land and sea, endowed with an extremely safe harbour, and surrounded, finally, by solid walls, towers, and fortifications, so that it was widely believed to be impregnable. (…) That the Turks have always been enemies of the most illustrious Venetians, both because of their sincere faith in Christ and also because they were extremely jealous of their power, is something that cannot be doubted by anyone who has read or heard how between them in every place incurable dissent has existed from both parts and that wars with clamour of battles and bloody clashes have often dauntlessly been fought. The Turk, therefore, was infected at the same time by a ferocious hatred against

60  Breydenbach, fol. [a viii v]. 61  It is possible that these parts on history were not written by Breydenbach but by Martin Roth by order of Breydenbach. Either way, it can be assumed that the view emerging from the text represents Breydenbach’s view.

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those Venetians, the strategic position of the noble and very rich city of Chalcis [Negroponte] at Euboea, and the desire for riches and fame.62 Breydenbach sees various reasons for why the Ottomans attacked Negroponte: not only the city’s wealth, but also the Ottomans’ long-standing hatred for the Venetians because of their faith and power.63 Here, then, we see that for Breydenbach the political affiliation with Venice has become such an essential part of how he defines Negroponte that it is among the reasons he sees for why the Ottomans wanted to conquer the city. As stated previously, the various parts of Venice’s dominions cannot be equated in such complicated matters as the construction of narratives. In this case, however, the way Breydenbach speaks about the Stato da Mar in the final part of his book is in keeping with the general idea we saw earlier in his mentioning of the dominion in his description of the city of Venice. For Breydenbach, the construction of a Venetian state has altered various aspects of how he defines both the lagoon city and the now subject territories. In the description of the city of Venice the dominion, more specifically the Terraferma, is the first element mentioned after the relics and history, thereby being given emphasis. With its richness, the antiquity of some parts, and the just way it is governed, it is among the constituents of Venice’s glory and fundamental for the definition of the lagoon city. Moreover, the way Breydenbach perceives the now subject territories is altered too. Both mainland and maritime state are interpreted within the framework of their political affiliation with Venice (in the case of Padua, linked with Venice also through the foundation legend). The cities on the north-eastern Italian peninsula have become for Breydenbach one new geographical unit which in various ways is inextricably linked to the city of Venice, and which is mentioned not because of its own value but because of these links with Venice.

62  ‘[F]idelis quidem et prepotens vrbs Nigropontensis christiane nominis titutulo, fideque insignis, ab olim venetiane ditioni et potentatui subiecta, ciuitas profecto opido populosa, negociosa, sed et rerum omnium opulentissima, ciuiumque optimorum refertissima, terraque et mari diligentissime munita, portu praesertim tutissimo de mari gaudens, denique muris et menibus et turribus firmissimis vndique cinta et circumsepta, ita vt prorsus inexpugnabilis omnium opinione crederet. (…) Clarissimis quidem venetis semper ab olim turcos opido fuisse infestos, tum ob eorum in christum fidem sinceram, tum etiam maximum eorum cui inuidebant potentiam, nemo qui grauissima inter eos hinc inde habita discidia, bella vltro citroque fortiter gesta, guerrarum strepitus et cruentos sepe congressus legit vel audit dubitare potest. Hinc itaque et hostili odio in ipsos venetos turcus infectus, et nobilis atque perdiuitis vrbis Calcidis euboie situs oportunitate, opibus quoque et celebritatis gloria allectus.’ Breydenbach, Peregrinationes, fol. p iii r. 63  On Breydenbach’s perception of Venetian piety, see section 1.5.

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A comparison of the sources treated throughout this chapter shows various points. First, it is evident that there are significant differences in how foreign pilgrims describe Venice and the Venetian state — both between texts and within texts. While some pilgrims merely mention formal affiliation, others emphasise geographical unity to a point that political association is placed on a secondary level of importance, and for still others, it is clear that political changes have influenced the way they describe a territory. Pilgrims’ accounts are often regarded in historiography as characterised by convention.64 While this may be true for some parts of the accounts, it is definitely not the case everywhere; an analysis of the way they speak of the Venetian state already shows this very clearly. When searching for an explanation for these differences in how pilgrims view the Venetian state, the pilgrims’ backgrounds come to mind as a possible answer. Though they all had the same goal for their journey, these travellers came from different regions, political contexts, social backgrounds, and positions inside or outside the church, to mention just some aspects. It would seem possible, for instance, that people from more distant regions would perceive fewer internal differences within a foreign state, or that people would project the political structures of their own territories onto the foreign countries they visited. However, it has become clear that this is not the case. The differences in the backgrounds of the Mantuan Antonio da Crema and the Milanese Santo Brasca, for example, are not so great as to account for their different perceptions of the Venetian state. The only clear tendency in the way pilgrims speak about the Venetian state is chronological: towards the end of the century there are more cases in which the formation of the Venetian state affects how pilgrims depict the territories involved. More authors seek to understand the territories they visited, or at least aspects thereof, in terms of the Venetian state. They depict a relatively strong link between the various constituents of that state, with many consequences for these constituents. Not only are these territories bound together by certain institutionalised characteristics, such as sharing the same highest authorities, but this political affiliation has become an essential part of the geographical descriptions of the territories. 64  See for instance: Palmira Brummett, “Introduction: Genre, Witness, and Time in the ‘Book’ of Travels,” in The “Book” of Travels: Genre, Ethnology, and Pilgrimage, 1250–1700, ed. Palmira Johnson Brummett (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2009), 30–32; Franco Cardini, In Terrasanta: Pellegrini italiani tra Medioevo e prima età moderna (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2002), 170–73, 184–87; Margaret Wade Labarge, Medieval Travellers: The Rich and Restless (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1982), 73. See also Introduction.

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Before making assumptions about this, two important reservations should be made. Firstly, given the smaller size of the Venetian dominions earlier in the fifteenth century, to a certain extent it is logical that older pilgrims’ accounts do not refer as often to possible links between capital and subject territories. On the other hand, also before the final decades of the fifteenth century the Venetian state had already assumed large dimensions. Secondly, this period is also the time from which most pilgrims’ accounts have been handed down to us. The relatively large number of accounts during this period that interpret Venice and its dominions in the light of one common framework might therefore be connected with the larger quantity of texts from this time. Again, however, the near absence of earlier works that adopt this line of reasoning suggests that this is not the only explanation. Several interlocking reasons exist for this chronological development. In part it suggests a general chronological process of increasingly regarding Venice and its subject territories in the framework of one Venetian state, a process of which we have also seen traces in chapter 5. Furthermore, this was the period in which both Venetian expansionism towards the Italian mainland and the hostility of foreign powers towards Venice were growing. This led to increased discussion within foreign states of Venice’s politics. Venice’s position towards the Ottomans was a topic of discussion too, whether it was its perceived passivity after the fall of Constantinople or its actions during the Ottoman wars later in the century. News and ideas about political events could be circulated quickly and over long distances, for example through oral reports, government pronouncements, and private correspondence. Very soon after the introduction of the printing press, this new medium was used as well to spread information and comment on recent events. An event such as the fall of Negroponte — seen earlier in Breydenbach’s account — could in these ways quickly become the subject of many different texts, belonging to different literary genres.65 Knowledge of such events and ideas would have led various pilgrims to have a heightened awareness of the existence of the Venetian state and its borders; however, it would probably not have led to the same degree of familiarity with certain narratives about this state that the state’s inhabitants possessed. Although these foreign travellers were not always unaware of the Venetian narratives concerning their state — as becomes clear, for instance, from Felix Faber’s explicit references to Marcantonio Sabellico’s works66 — it 65   See: Margaret Meserve, “News from Negroponte: Politics, Popular Opinion, and Information Exchange in the First Decade of the Italian Press,” Renaissance Quarterly 59, no. 2 (2006): 440–80. 66  See section 1.1.

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nevertheless seems plausible that on the whole they would have been less acquainted with the existence of ideas of dichotomy as expressed in various geographical descriptions by inhabitants of the Venetian state. Combined with the pilgrims’ awareness of the current enlargement of the Venetian state, this would explain the relatively large number of cases towards the end of the century in which lagoon city and subject territory are described in the light of one Venetian state. Foreign pilgrims — relative outsiders, often from distant countries, who spent only short periods of time in the various Venetian territories — provide us with a unique opportunity to analyse geographical descriptions of the various constituents of the Venetian state within the same texts. While historiography often tends to underline homogeneity in pilgrims’ accounts, this chapter has shown that there are more differences between the texts than generally assumed. In the same way as has become clear throughout this book, there is a variety of ways in which these pilgrims depict Venice as a state. For some authors, political affiliation is almost a formality in their descriptions of individual cities and territories. Others differentiate implicitly between dominating city and dominated territories, for example by emphasising geographical regional unity. Still others interpret aspects of Venice’s dominions in terms of their political affiliation with Venice: in these cases, the political link is seen as fundamentally altering something in how these onlookers define the territories involved. This is the case for both Terraferma and Stato da Mar, which forms a clear contrast with the historiography which has generally argued that the Terraferma was ignored in the formation of images concerning Venice. This chapter has also shown that, as time went by, there were more pilgrims for whom the construction of the Venetian state had a significant impact on their descriptions of the territories. It has argued that this was due to a link between, on the one hand, the political construction of the Venetian state and certain aspects of Venice’s foreign politics and, on the other hand, the representations of the territories involved. In keeping with the rest of the book, the chapter emphasises the existence of multiple, sometimes even contradictory narratives that were created about the Venetian state. Although the state was made up of diverse parts, which were governed in divergent ways, the differences in how pilgrims describe the Venetian state do not run parallel to these differences in institutionalised characteristics. This once again underlines that, while construction of narratives about territories was not independent from a state’s institutionalised aspects, it definitely also did not simply mirror these aspects. The creation of these narratives was a process with its own internal dynamics.

Conclusion: Venice as City, Venice as  State 14 May 1509 saw one of the great critical moments in Venetian history. Close to Agnadello, in the Ghiara d’Adda, the Venetian army was defeated by the French. Consequences were swift and profound. By the end of the month almost all of Venice’s extensive mainland territories had been divided among France, the Holy Roman Empire, Spain, and the pope. Although in the course of the ensuing War of the League of Cambrai Venice managed to regain almost all of its mainland territories, its striving to enlarge these territories was gone. From many points of view the creation of this mainland state — one of Italy’s great regional states of the Renaissance, constructed in little over a century — had been remarkable. It had caused far-reaching transformations in Venice’s political, social, economic, and cultural realities. States, however, are constructed in the minds of people just as much as in their more tangible aspects. This book has analysed how people in the Renaissance defined the city of Venice and the Venetian Terraferma during this particularly turbulent period in history when these territories were undergoing fundamental changes. It has traced how narratives about these geographical spaces were constructed and how countless factors influenced their development over time. From Caio Caloria in Sicily to Joos van Ghistele in the Low Countries, from the blacksmith Francesco Corna da Soncino to Pope Pius II, from the cheap pamphlets whose contents could circulate among all levels of society to Pietro Lazzaroni’s poem which survives only in the precious manuscript in which it was offered to the Venetian government, an immense variety of geographical descriptions of Venice and the Venetian Terraferma has been handed down to us. A recurrent theme of this book has been the emphasis on the presence of multiple narratives, which could exist alongside one another and which developed in different ways. The concept of one myth of Venice does not do justice to this variety of narratives. I have focused on four predominant narratives that existed about the city of Venice during the Renaissance. This sharp division has served both as a statement on the plurality of images of Venice and as an analytical tool to examine the precise ways in which people constructed depictions that underlined one side of Venice in particular. This approach has highlighted many different factors that could affect how people chose to define the city in writing, and how tendencies could change over time. However, I have also referred to points where these narratives could be interwoven. Regarding depictions of Venice and the Terraferma in the framework of the Venetian mainland state, a similar phenomenon has become clear: representations of these areas are far less

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uniform than generally stated in historiography. There could be differences between groups of writers, within groups, and even within the works of single authors. There were also transformations over time. In both cases, such wide variation in representations shows that the construction of narratives cannot simply be attributed to a few narrow factors such as mirroring the more institutionalised characteristics of a state, or following a tradition of pre-existing descriptions of Venice or urban-focused laudes civitatum. It is clear that writers (non-Venetian ones as well as Venetians) did base their texts to some degree on other texts and on geographical representations in other media, and that many similarities exist. However, such a presence of a strong tradition of geographical representations is simply not the only, or sometimes not even the predominant factor that affected how geographical representations were created. I have highlighted many different factors that influenced how authors defined Venice and the Venetian Terraferma in the Renaissance — ranging from governmental intervention to reactions on events in the Stato da Mar, from intended audience to a desire to defend Venice against foreign accusations of imperialism, and many more. These factors also interacted with each other in various ways. With such a wide range of influences on how people defined geographical spaces, it is no wonder that the resulting descriptions do not all conform to the same image of Venice and the Terraferma. Nonetheless, writers moved within the boundaries of what was deemed plausible by the society in which they lived; the possibilities for representing Venice and the Venetian state were not limitless. It is with this range of what was considered possible that this book has been concerned. Once we do not focus anymore on the idea of a relatively coherent and stable ‘myth’ of Venice, it becomes clear that it is necessary to analyse not only the elements that are immediately at the forefront in most geographical representations, but also the ones that are not always prominent. All of these representations were still a product of society and influenced society in turn. This focus means that the question if and how people took the existence of the Venetian state into account in their descriptions of the lagoon city and the mainland territories becomes an essential part both of our understanding of geographical representation and of early modern state formation. This book has focused first on the representations of Venice in its urban setting and then on those of Venice and the Terraferma in the framework of the mainland state. This conclusion problematises this very division. To what extent were writers in the Renaissance able, and inclined, to separate these roles in their geographical descriptions? It has become clear that in many representations there was a differentiation between lagoon city and mainland

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territories, and between the mainland territories among themselves. Moreover, the difference in number of representations alone shows that Venice as an urban centre held a greater attraction for contemporaries than Venice in its capacity as capital of a regional state. Although there was also a certain dichotomy in the more institutionalised characteristics of the state, this does not mean that the descriptions merely reflected this. They were a reaction to many different aspects, of which the state’s institutionalised characteristics were only one, but not a direct reflection or imitation of them. This becomes clear already from the very fact that there are significant differences between the descriptions. Indeed, there are various texts in which the formation of the mainland state did bring about a fundamental alteration in the definition of Venice and the various mainland territories. This goes for texts written by inhabitants of the city of Venice, inhabitants of the mainland territories, and foreigners alike. The very fact that some authors could choose to represent more unity between Venice and the Terraferma, and between the mainland territories amongst themselves, shows that this type of description was not outside the realm of possibility for Renaissance narratives about Venice. Some people, for example, incorporated a description of the Terraferma into that of the city of Venice, or gave the Marcan lion a prominent place in textual or visual representations of mainland cities. After Venice had lost certain parts of the Terraferma during the War of the League of Cambrai, Marin Sanudo still deemed it important to mention them in his description of Venice. In some cases, a chronological development is visible: for instance, when speaking of the Terraferma, Venetian authors in the course of the fifteenth century increasingly underlined the peacefulness and beneficial influence of current Venetian rule rather than its sometimes violent beginnings. Over time, more pilgrims stressed the framework of the Venetian state when they described the city of Venice or the territories under Venetian rule. Such representations of the city of Venice and the Venetian mainland territories in a common framework did not contradict the images of Venice in its urban setting, but could coexist with them, also within the same sources. Somebody like Gabriele Capodilista, for instance, could define himself both as a Paduan and as an inhabitant of the Venetian state who therefore spoke of a connection to other parts of this state. Furthermore, not only were the mainland territories and the city of Venice sometimes defined in the framework of the Venetian state, but there were also many cases where the construction of narratives about these geographical spaces was affected more indirectly by the formation of the state. Mechanisms which were used to fashion an image of Venice in one of its roles could also come to be used to create images concerning a different role. In this respect as well, the formation of the mainland state influenced the construction of

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representations concerning the urban centre, just as representations of Venice as capital of a mainland state were not created out of nothing. For example, the acquisition of a city with a university — Padua — was possibly among the reasons why writers from the lagoon city in the course of the long fifteenth century came to devote more attention to scholarly pursuits in their descriptions of the city of Venice, even if they seldom referred to the university itself. In other points as well, narratives about the Venetian state could influence those about the lagoon city. Venice’s role as a capital was among the factors that caused the already existing idea of Venice as the seat of good government to grow increasingly important. In its turn, this idea about Venice as political city came to be applied to representations of Venice as capital of a mainland state. In other places as well, the existence of ideas concerning Venice as urban centre influenced how its new role as capital of a mainland state was represented. For instance, it was through the interweaving of several narratives that the symbol of the Marcan lion could be used as an instrument by which Venice and its dominion were linked. Centuries-old ideas on God’s role in the history of the lagoon city and on the piety of the city’s inhabitants could also come to be applied to Venice’s role as capital: they now came to be considered explanations for its territorial enlargement. In other words, even when people described Venice as a city in a circumscribed urban setting without referring explicitly to its role as capital of a mainland state or vice versa, the descriptions were often still built on one another. People could appropriate elements from the descriptions of one role in order to create depictions of another role, even without explicitly referring to that other role. A good example of how this could be done is Venice’s foundation legend. This story had existed already for centuries, but during the Renaissance people did not simply take it over uncritically. Their specific use of it demonstrates how people went about creating and transforming certain narratives. Indeed, the foundation legend has come up in every chapter of this book. Some authors used it to describe Venice fundamentally as a city in a clearly delineated urban setting. They emphasised God’s intervention, Venice’s original richness, centuries-old independence, or long-existing moral virtues in order to define Venice as an essentially religious, material, political, or moral city. When Venice came to stand at the head of a state on the mainland, the story was used again, this time as an element in descriptions of Venice as state. Many Venetian writers did not refer to the idea of their city being founded by Paduans, in order to portray Venice as superior to the mainland, but on some occasions the story was used as a justification for Venice’s mainland expansion. Michele Savonarola, from Padua, used the foundation legend to refer to the strong links between his own city and Venice, but depicted Padua as the more important one in this

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relation. A foreign visitor like Bernard von Breydenbach saw the foundation legend as one of the reasons why Venice and its subject city Padua were linked. Detailed analysis of geographical descriptions of Venice and the Venetian Terraferma therefore reveals narratives with a remarkable variety and a remarkable ability to change, which cannot just be found in explicit expressions but also in the more implicit ways in which people dealt with Venice’s multiple roles. It is the existence of these multifarious narratives that explains that representations of Venice as a city in a circumscribed urban setting and as a capital of a mainland state did not have to be in conflict, but that they could exist alongside each other, and that the processes by which they were created could affect each other. Early modern states were constructed not only in political, economic, social, and cultural forms, but in the minds of people too. This construction of narratives about Venice and the mainland territories — whether writers chose to depict them explicitly in the framework of the Venetian state or not — is an individual constituent of the process of state formation, with its own internal dynamics. Such narratives were not regarded by contemporaries as set apart from the circumstances that inspired them. This influence went both ways. Narratives were created in part as a reaction to those circumstances. Similarly, on numerous occasions authors sought to influence the world around them with those narratives: many geographical descriptions were meant at least partly to steer the Venetian state or its inhabitants in a certain direction during wars or otherwise complicated times. Even if is often hard to trace the concrete results of such attempts, it is still crucial to study geographical descriptions and states’ more tangible aspects in connection with each other. Also when not explicitly addressing the different roles of Venice, people still took them into account when forming a view of the world around them. The impact of state formation on the construction of narratives concerning the spaces involved is, then, broader than only the cases where people discuss this explicitly. This shows that it is not only important to study geographical representation and state formation together, but that it is necessary to do so.

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Index Adda 36, 218, 221–222, 256 Ad dominium venetum 179–180 Ad magnificum dominum Ioannem Portensem 243–244 Adorno, Anselmo 100, 103–104 Agnadello, Battle of 25, 185–186, 298 Alexander III, pope. See Venice, Peace of Alexander Pfaltzgraf bey Rhein 64, 116. See also Meisenheimer, Johann Alps 1, 221, 226 Altino 43, 220 Annunciation 46–47 Antenor 36, 102, 218 Aquileia 23, 36–37, 40, 43, 52–53, 55, 208, 211–212, 220–221, 226 Ariosto, Alessandro 274 Aristotle 76, 157–158, 170 Arsenal 61, 64, 103, 106–107, 125, 129, 132–136, 140, 280 Arsenale Nuovo and Arsenale Nuovissimo 134 Porta Magna 134 art and scholarship, descriptions of 141–146, 231 Ascension Day 72, 74, 115–117, 125. See also marriage of the sea Asola 246 Attila the Hun 36, 41–44, 218–222 auditori nuovi 202, 204, 215, 228 Augurelli, Giovanni Aurelio 144 Austria 22n43, 24, 201, 287 Aviano 209–210 banking 121, 131–132 Barbarigo, Agostino, doge 156 Barbaro, Ermolao 165 Basilica of San Marco 38, 47, 53–54, 64, 66–67, 72–73, 103–107, 117, 128, 290 Basilica of Santi Giovanni e Paolo 49 basin of San Marco 84, 127–128 Bellini, Gentile and Giovanni 144 Belluno 23, 226, 229 Bembo, Pietro 17n33, 18 Berengo, Marino 8 Bergamo 1, 13, 23, 27n52

Biondo, Flavio 16, 100, 102n63, 142, 144–145 boats. See under ships Bologna, Peace of 26 Bracciolini, Poggio 16, 51, 69, 142, 153, 155, 158, 161, 170 Brasca, Santo 288–289 Brescia 23, 229, 245–247, 259, 290–291 Breydenbach, Bernhard von 20, 63–64, 76, 92, 101, 162, 173, 175–176, 291–294 Brognanigo, Antonio 42–44 Brown, Patricia Fortini 104, 217n85 Brugnera 209 Bucintoro 106, 117 buildings 105–111, 243, 248, 251, 255, 264. See also churches as topos 14–15 houses in Venice 79–80, 95–96, 107–109 villas in the Terraferma 29, 228–229 Burckhardt, Jacob 8 Byzantine Empire 278, 287 as former ruler of Venice 52–53, 160 Cadore 23 Caldiera, Giovanni 165 Caloria, Caio 97, 113, 127, 170 canals 92, 95–97 Caneva 209–210 capitula 28, 252 Capodilista, Gabriele 253 Casola, Pietro 21, 73, 81–82, 96, 98–99, 109, 110n99, 112–114, 117, 119, 128, 132, 136, 143 Cassiodorus 1, 118, 131, 176–177 Cenis, Mount 276 Cephalonia 238 ceremonies 3, 6, 47, 54, 72, 114–118, 163, 281, 290 Cervia 24, 201 Chabod, Federico 8 Charlemagne 49, 287 Charles VIII, king of France 24–25 Chioggia, War of 2, 22, 201, 206 Chittolini, Giorgio 27–28 Chi vuol veder in terra un real stato 167, 174 Chronicon Altinate 41 Chronicon Gradense 41

328 churches 69, 243, 248, 264 as topos 14, 65 in Venice 49–51, 60–69, 105–107, 290. See also individual churches Cicero 158, 171 cittadini 113, 155 de intus 29, 229 city walls 243, 248, 264, 293 as topos 14–15, 145 Venice’s lack of 43, 79–82, 92, 95–96 Cividale 23, 208 climate 81, 243, 245, 264 as topos 14 clothing and jewellery 111–114, 258 Collodo, Silvana 250n commerce 23, 96, 118–133, 138–139, 222–223, 248–249, 258, 285, 290 early Venetians as merchants 101, 130, 177 Commynes, Philippe de 69, 96, 107, 124, 134, 140, 146, 151, 155–156 Concina, Ennio 126–127 Concordia 43, 220 Conegliano 22 confraternities. See scuole Constantinople, fall of 202, 206, 276, 278, 287, 296 constitution, mixed 157–158 contado 28, 259 Contarini, Gasparo 149, 155, 165, 219 Corfu 283 Corna, Francesco 263–267 Corner, Caterina 206, 273 Coron 238 Corpus Christi 115–116 Corso, Bernardino 214 countryside 245, 248, 251, 254, 256–257, 264 as topos 14–15 Crema 1, 23, 229 Cremona 25, 236, 238, 256 Crete 224–225, 278–279, 283–284, 288–289 Crouzet-Pavan, Élisabeth 63, 78 crusades 43–44, 49, 293 Fourth Crusade 38, 70, 101, 104 Curtius, Ernst Robert 3 Curzola 271 Cyprus 206, 273–274, 281

Index Da Canal, Martin 37, 47, 70, 79, 101, 118 Da Carrara family 22, 196, 198–199, 201 Da Crema, Antonio 120, 272, 276–277 Dalmatia 23, 71, 220 Dandolo, Enrico 105 Da Porto family 244 Davidson, Nicolas 232 De’ Barbari, Jacopo 92, 94, 99n52, 121–122, 127, 222–223 Degli Allegri, Francesco 65, 73, 81, 99, 110, 166, 171n4, 204–207, 237–240 Dei, Benedetto 102, 109, 120–121, 124, 153–154 De laudibus urbium 15, 145 Della Scala family 22, 200, 264 De’ Micheli, Andrea 183 De Monacis, Lorenzo 36, 38, 46, 50, 105, 159–160, 193–194, 208–209 Dogado 22, 221, 227, 230, 260 doge 152–155, 157, 161, 186. See also individual doges authority of 52–53, 72–73, 109, 155–156 role in ceremonies 53–54, 57, 72, 106, 115–117 Dolfin, Giorgio 38–40, 44–45, 47–50, 54–55, 70, 101, 104, 152, 166, 197–198, 209–211, 215–216 Dondi, Jacopo 36 Ducal Palace 64, 67, 84, 103, 106–107, 109–111, 128, 290 Hall of the Great Council 47, 73–75, 106, 111, 143 chapel of San Nicolò 74 Scala dei Giganti 223 England 13, 26 Este family 24, 199–200, 203 Faber, Felix 20, 40, 46, 55, 58n77, 59, 61–63, 76, 80, 82, 95, 98–99, 103–104, 108, 113, 115, 119, 124–126, 128, 136, 150, 153, 158, 162, 167, 173, 285–288, 296 Fasoli, Gina 5, 148–149 Feltre 23, 229 Ferrara 199–200, 202–203 War of 24, 76, 202, 204n48, 206, 213 Filelfo, Francesco 110, 171 Fiume 25

329

Index Florence 13, 23–25, 151, 192 comparisons with 109, 120–121 Fondaco dei Tedeschi 121, 128 Fornovo, Battle of 25, 183 Foscari, Francesco, doge 67, 155n30 France 13, 24–26, 59, 181–184, 186, 206, 214–215, 298 Frederick Barbarossa, emperor. See Venice, Peace of Frescobaldi, Lionardo 61 Frick, Carole Collier 114 Friuli 1, 23, 192n4, 207–215, 225–226, 232–235, 262–263, 281 Gaeta, Franco 5, 148–149 galleys. See under ships Garda, Lake 223, 255, 292 Gaspare di Bartolomeo 60, 271 gates 248 as topos 14 Venice’s lack of 79–81, 95 Genoa 18 wars with 22, 206. See also Chioggia, War of George, Saint 54 feast of 72 Ghiara d’Adda 25, 238 Ghistele, Joos van 20, 64, 103–105, 111, 274, 285 Gilbert, Felix 158 Giustinian, Bernardo 81n10 glass 106, 136–138, 140–141 Gorizia 25 Govertz, Jan 75 Gradisca 234–235 Grado 52, 71, 208, 220 Grand Canal 95–96 Grand Tour 173 Great Council 106, 155, 157 Greece 144, 220, 276–280 Gritti, Andrea 186 Guidi, Jacopo d’Albizzotto 56–57, 66, 75–76, 95–96, 101, 107–108, 117, 121, 124, 127–128, 130, 136, 138, 142, 144–146, 152, 172, 177, 194–197, 209, 216, 219, 223–225 guilds 138–139 Guylforde, Richard 20, 116–117, 271, 278–279, 283

Harff, Arnold von 48, 60, 95, 110–111, 121, 128–129, 137n223, 143, 272, 278, 280–282 Henry of Rimini 149–150, 157, 165 Holy League of 1495 24, 183 of 1511 26 Holy Roman Empire 13, 24–26, 59, 186, 208, 298 houses. See under buildings Howard, Deborah 99n52, 110n98 industry 138–141 In laude di Verona 242–244 In laudem civitatis Venetiarum 184–188 In laudem Venetorum 176 Istria 21, 23, 43, 226, 228, 272, 289 Italian Wars 24–26, 180–188, 206, 214–215. See also League of Cambrai, War of Jaffa 275 Jerusalem 275 as destination of pilgrimage 18–21, 62–63 comparisons with 14, 102, 246, 248, 251, 252n31 jewellery. See clothing and jewellery John the Deacon 16, 35, 41 Julius II, pope 25 Justicia loquitur 163 King, Margaret 165 La Broquière, Bertrandon de 161, 276 lagoon 1, 36, 39, 43–44, 79, 118, 220–221 Lando, Silvestro 250–253 laudes civitatum 12–15, 35, 46, 78–81, 145–146, 243, 245, 248, 251, 253, 264–265 Law, John 149, 160, 192n4, 251–252 Lazzaroni, Pietro 164 League of Cambrai, War of 2, 5, 25–26, 59, 148, 151, 184–188, 236–237 League of Venice. See Holy League: of 1495 Lengherand, Georges 63, 72, 110, 290–291 Lepanto 216, 238 Lesina 271 Lieberman, Ralph 134 Lizzana 200

330 location of a city 243, 245, 248, 251, 264 as topos 14–15, 78–80, 145 of Venice 46, 78–94, 96, 107, 285 Lodi 23 Peace of 23–24 Lombards 41, 221–222 Louis XII, king of France 215 magistracies 45n33, 152–153, 164, 166, 230, 236–237, 247, 255, 285, 288. See also individual magistracies Magnus, Saint 40 Malamocco 39 Mancini, Augusto 43 Mantua, Synod of 52 Marano 23, 232 Marchesini, Umberto 242 Mariano di Nanni da Siena 60 markets 125–126, 248 Mark, Saint 49–60, 69, 72, 184, 227 feast of 115 lion of 37, 43, 57–60, 186, 194, 205, 256, 265, 267, 288, 290–291 praedestinatio 37–41, 53–55, 227 relics of 38, 52–55 marriage of the sea 57, 72, 116–117. See also Ascension Day Mary (Virgin) 47, 163. See also Annunciation Meisenheimer, Johann 63–64, 96, 115–116, 125, 275, 283 Mercerie 106, 117, 122, 126–127 Mešullam ben Menahem da Volterra 21, 274, 289 Milan 13, 22–26, 151, 192, 245–247 Mochi, Pietro 181–182 Modon 225, 238 Monfalcone 23 Moore, Kathryn Blair 89–90 Morea 201–202, 216 Morosini, Domenico 155, 161 Morosini, Paolo 130, 198–202, 207, 211, 217–219 Muir, Edward 114–115 Murano. See glass Muratori, Ludovico Antonio 3 music 6, 97 Naples 23–25, 184 Navagero, Andrea 17

Index Negri, Francesco 158 Negroponte 225, 285, 293–294, 296 Niccolò Cieco 56, 71, 168, 172, 179 Niccolò da Poggibonsi 84, 86–92, 98, 122 Nicholas, Saint 54 official historiography 16–17 Ogier d’Anglure 61, 64, 135, 275, 284–285 Ottomans 21, 24–25, 43–44, 135, 201–202, 206, 212, 214–215, 234–235, 255, 275, 278, 285, 287, 293–294, 296. See also Constantinople, fall of First Ottoman-Venetian War 24 Second Ottoman-Venetian War 25, 206, 234–235, 238–239 Padua 22, 25, 43, 195–200, 229, 237–238, 247–250, 253, 281–282, 287–288, 291–293. See also under relics role in Venice’s early history 36, 177, 219–220, 249, 293 university of 29, 145, 215–216, 231–232, 237, 248, 292 Pagello, Bartolomeo 254–257 Pannonia 36, 218 Paolino, Fra 90 Parenzo 289 patricians 16, 27, 29, 38, 53, 111, 113, 115, 130, 155, 235 divisions among 154–155 Patrizi, Francesco 158 Petrarch 122, 144 Piacenza 23 Piazza San Marco 58, 106, 115, 122, 125–127, 290 Piazzetta 58, 84, 110n98 Piccinino, Niccolò 245 Piccolomini, Enea Silvio 43, 66–67, 70, 108, 124, 142, 144–146, 154–155, 160, 175, 207 Pisa 18, 25 Pius II, pope. See Piccolomini, Enea Silvio Plato 157–160 Po 1, 221, 256 Polesine 1, 24, 204n48 popolo 155 Porcia 209 port area 129 Posculo, Ubertino 245–247 printing press 151, 181, 186, 188, 296 in Venice140–142

Index processions. See ceremonies prostitution 123–125, 173 Puglia 25–26, 205–206 Puppi, Lionello 250n Quintilianus 14–15 Quirini, Lauro 130, 155, 165 Ragusa 272, 283 Ravenna 1, 23, 201 relics 264 in Padua 63, 248, 291 in Venice 50, 60–68, 285, 290–291 Reuwich, Erhard 20, 92–93, 122 Rialto 106, 121–127, 131 role in Venice’s early history 36, 39–40, 46, 50, 131, 220, 249 richness as topos 14 of Venice 50–51, 56, 100–118, 177, 285 Rinuccini, Alessandro di Filippo 273–274 Rizzi, Alberto 58 Robey, David 149, 160 Romagna 25–26, 201, 236 Rome 13 comparisons with 14, 46, 102, 176, 258 Rossi, Vittorio 258n43 Rovereto 23, 215 Rovigo 24 Rubinstein, Nicolai 192 Sabellico, Marcantonio 17–18, 40, 212, 225–226 Del sito di Venezia città 58, 67–68, 80–81, 83, 95, 99, 107–108, 117, 124, 127–128, 136, 140, 143, 173–174, 221–222, 226–227 De Venetis magistratibus 152–153, 159 De vetustate Aquileiae et Foriiulii 212, 220, 226–227 Sacile 23 Sambonifacio family 244 San Giacomo di Rialto, church of 68 Sanguinacci, Jacopo 59, 113, 120, 139–140, 168, 257–263 Sanseverino, Roberto da 21, 274–275 Santa Maria della Carità church of 72–73 Scuola Grande di 143 Sant’Antonio, church of 143

331 Sanudo, Marin 17–18, 182–185 De origine, situ et magistratibus 18, 45, 47, 50, 65–66, 70, 79–80, 95–99, 102, 106–109, 113, 117–119, 123–124, 127–132, 134, 137–138, 140, 143–144, 152, 173–174, 176–177, 204, 216, 219–220, 227–232, 235–237 Descriptione de la patria de Friul 211, 227, 232–235, 237 Itinerarium 202–204, 211, 215–217, 220, 227–229, 231–232 Savonarola, Michele 247–250 Savorgnan family 23, 208, 210 scholarship. See art and scholarship, descriptions of Schulz, Juergen 121–122 Schwalbach, Girnand von 72 scuole 68, 107–108 Sebenico 195 Senate 27, 157, 162, 179–180, 198–200, 217, 231, 233, 245, 251–252 Sensa. See Ascension Day Serdini, Simone 83–85, 167–168, 179 Sermide 203n38 sestieri 66–67, 95 Sforza family 21, 23, 192n4, 275 ships 76, 89, 92, 96, 107, 120, 122, 127, 129, 132–134, 255, 293 boats as transportation in Venice 79, 95–97 galleys 61, 115, 122, 125, 129, 133–135, 275 Sigismund of Luxembourg 23, 208 silk 139–140 Sirmione 255, 292 Sismondi, Jean-Charles-Léonard Simonde de 8 Sixtus IV, pope 24 Solomon 110n98, 163 Spain 24–26, 186, 298 Stato da Mar 1, 19, 21, 24–25, 194, 206, 220, 222, 224–226, 229–230, 235, 238–239, 253, 259–260, 270, 272, 286, 293–294 historiography 7, 9 terminology 26–27 streets in Venice 95, 99–100 Sudheim, Ludolf von 103–104 Swiss 26 Tafur, Pero 72, 80–81, 98, 99n49, 119–120, 132–133, 135, 289

332 Theodore, Saint 52, 58 Tiepolo, Jacopo, doge 49 towers 68, 98, 248, 256, 264–265, 293 as topos 14 bell towers 14, 68, 90 of San Marco  64, 84, 103, 106 Trebizond, George of 154, 158, 160, 162, 176 Trentino 24 Treviso 22, 200–201, 228–229, 287–288 Trieste 25 trionfi 72–73 Troy and Trojans 36, 44, 46, 103–105, 159, 176, 258 Udine 23, 208, 210–212, 215, 226, 233 Un iusto sceptro e in ciel, un altro e in terra 171 university. See under Padua Valla, Lorenzo 16 Venice, Peace of 71–76, 111, 206

Index Ventura, Angelo 8, 157n43, 158 Vergerio, Pier Paolo 81, 95, 101, 107n83, 119–120, 139, 158, 174–175 Verona 13, 22, 27n52, 197, 199–200, 203, 224, 229, 242–243, 250–253, 263–267, 272, 290–291 Arena 264–265, 267 Vicenza 22, 25, 27n52, 195, 201, 217, 219, 229, 243–244, 254, 290–291 villas in the Terraferma. See under buildings Visconti family 22, 23, 151, 264 warehouses 96, 122, 127–129 wealth. See richness Wey, William 60, 135, 143–144, 271 wool 139–140 Zara 70, 283 Zeebout, Ambrosius 64n99–65n99. See also Ghistele, Joos van