On this date in 1355, Marino Faliero* was escorted to the spot where he had been crowned Doge of Venice scant months before. There, he was ceremoniously relieved of his robes of state … and then his head.
Some fog surrounds the day’s proceedings, product not only of time but of the Doge’s executioners’ damnatio memoriae upon their victim. What was written was circumspect; even Faliero‘s portrait in the great hall of the Doge’s Palace was veiled.
What is known — or at any rate, was admitted by the elderly first citizen — is that the ruler attempted a coup against the overweening power of Venice’s great families.
The putsch was supposed to occur on April 15, with the bell of St. Mark’s Cathedral tolling on a fabricated hue and cry. In the tumult, the Doge’s supporters meant to cut down the nobles who flexed the real political muscle in the maritime republic and consolidate ducal power.
Why?
The salacious version has the old goat in a tiff with a noble, who made fun of his May-December marriage —
Marino Faliero of the beautiful wife,
Others enjoy her while he maintains her
A tribunal of fellow-nobles let the rascal off with a slap on the wrist.
Power being what it is, and princes and nobilities being born for conflict with one another across the centuries in Europe, one may as well discern a straightforward political intent — heightened, perhaps, by the then-dire state of Venice’s naval contest with Genoa.
Downright Byronic under either scenario … and Byron wrote a play about Faliero. The doomed ruler gives throat to quite a magnificent curse upon his city, with all the foresight of Byron’s half-millennium of hindsight:
I perish, but not unavenged; far ages
Float up from the abyss of time to be,
And show these eyes, before they close, the doom
Of this proud city, and I leave my curse
On her and hers for ever! —…
— She shall be bought
And sold, and be an appanage to those
Who shall despise her! — She shall stoop to be
A province for an empire, petty town
In lieu of capital, with slaves for senates,
Beggars for nobles, panders for a people!…
Amidst thy many murders, think of mine!
Thou den of drunkards with the blood of princes!
Gehenna of the waters! thou sea Sodom!
Thus I devote thee to the infernal gods!
Thee and thy serpent seed!
[Here the Doge turns, and addresses the executioner.]
Slave, do thine office!
Strike as I struck the foe! Strike as I would
Have struck those tyrants! Strike deep as my curse!
Strike — and but once!
This sort of thing knocking about among litterateurs in the 19th century practically guarantees an opera.
* Or simply “Marin Falier”, in the Venetian dialect.
On this day..
- 1918: Bolo Pasha
- 1802: John Beatson and William Whalley, mail robbers
- 1922: Cemal Azmi, the butcher of Trabzon
- 1792: Three cadavers, to test the first guillotine
- 316 BCE: Olympias, mother of Alexander the Great
- 1635: Elizabeth Evans, "Canonbury Besse"
- 1954: Lucretiu Patrascanu, purged Romanian
- 1680: John Marketman, jealous chirurgeon
- 1689: William Bew, flatterer
- 1457: The Wallachian boyars
- 1222: An apostate deacon
- 1975: Long Boret, on Day One
In 1172 Doge Vitale Michiel was assasinated by and unknown assailant (I won’t go into the reason but highly recommend looking it up as it’s a fascinating story). The murderer caught and executed and his home raised to the ground with an order not to ever build where it used to stand. (Which they didn’t until fairly recently). But here we have Marino Faliero who tried to overthrow the regime and murder not one but many of the nobles. He’s beheaded on the spot he was crowned Doge and then condemned to damnatio memoriae and is the one portrait you won’t see in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio (Doge’s Palace) as it’s ‘blacked out’. Was his house destroyed? Not at all. In fact it stands today and is one of the oldest structures in Venice. Well. we can understand that. If they pulled down all the houses of those who harboured ill intend toward the government there would be a lot less to see today. What I ponder is why the Basilica Dei Santi Giovanni e Paolo (which was completed in 1430 – Faliero was executed in 1355) has a funerary monument in his honour. Along with 24 other Doges and people of note. I read somewhere that he had even been buried in an unmarked grave after is body was mutilated. At what point did the Venetians feel that Faliero should be afforded such an honour? Here’s my theory. The church took decades to build so I reckon the builders had already factored in a funerary monument to Faliero and when he messed up they thought “bugger it, it’s in the plans, lets carry on with it anyway”.Excuse my flippancy – if anyone has an explanation please share it. I really would love to understand it.
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oh well, at least the Doges left a marvellous palace to look at…