The Venetians: A New History: from Marco Polo to Casanova (26 page)

The Council of Ten at once ruled against this: not only would it give the lie to the rumour of Rizzo’s suicide, but it might also give him the opportunity to reveal to the watching crowd certain compromising information or even dangerous state secrets. Instead, it was decided that just as he had been detained in circumstances of the utmost secrecy, so he would be executed. At dead of night Rizzo di Marino was led from his cramped cell, devoid of any means of identification: barefoot and clad only in a full-length cloth garment, with a hood over his head. This anonymous figure was hustled into the Armoury and was stood on a wooden bench, with a rope around his neck attached to a beam. The bench was then kicked from beneath his feet and he was left to hang. By now, all others had left the room apart from a single designated witness. Should news of Rizzo’s murder somehow leak out (as was so often the case in clandestine Venice, despite the utmost secrecy), the Council of Ten could deny any knowledge of what had happened, placing all blame on the hapless witness who had been designated to be present at this event, and naming him as Rizzo’s murderer. When Rizzo’s hooded, shrouded cadaver was cut down, it was then sewn into a sack and rowed across the darkness of the lagoon to the island of Murano. Here the monks of San Cristoforo were ordered to bury the unknown body in an unmarked grave within the confines of their enclosed monastery, and were sworn to secrecy. Such meticulous concealment ensured that the larger-than-life figure of Rizzo di Marino simply disappeared from history – to such an extent that even the sixteenth-century Cypriot scholar Flori Buston declared in his celebrated history of the island that, after leaving Egypt
sometime in the late 1480s, nothing was ever again heard of Rizzo di Marino.

Back in late 1488, the fate of the leading figure in this drama had also been decided. Somehow Queen Caterina would also have to cease to exist – though not perhaps in the vicious manner planned for Rizzo. As long as she remained queen, unmarried and of child-bearing age, there remained the possibility that Cyprus would be snatched from Venice’s grasp. She would have to be persuaded to abdicate; this would leave the Venetians as de facto rulers of the island, a situation that Sultan Qaitbay would certainly accept. Cyprus could then to all intents and purposes become part of the Venetian Empire, with direct rule openly imposed from Venice itself. However, what if Queen Caterina chose not to abdicate? Her antipathy towards Venice was now an open secret, yet there was no question of deposing her by force. Sultan Qaitbay would be justified in viewing as an aggressive act any direct action against the ruler of what was, after all, an Egyptian tributary state. Venetian trade to Egypt would then in all likelihood be banned, leaving this lucrative route open to her Italian rivals. At the same time the sultan would also doubtless appeal to Naples, as well as all the other Italian states that continued to resent Venice, to form an alliance to protect him from the expanding Ottomans. Venice would thus at one fell swoop be deprived of her most lucrative trade route and left in a state of dangerous isolation. It was imperative that Queen Caterina was persuaded to abdicate, and as soon as possible.

The Council of Ten decided to despatch an official diplomatic delegation led by the new captain-general, Francesco Priuli. This would travel first to Cyprus to meet Queen Caterina, and then on to Egypt to seek audience with Sultan Qaitbay. Priuli would carry with him a letter (already dictated by the Council of Ten) in which Caterina confessed to the sultan that she felt so threatened by recent events that she had begged the Venetian authorities to allow her to return to her homeland. She wished to abdicate and allow the Republic to take over responsibility for the protection of Cyprus. The Venetians had assured her that they would continue to maintain the island precisely as it had been under her reign, and would of course resume paying the annual tribute of 8,000 ducats which the sultan had so generously suspended for the previous two years. Only after Queen Caterina
had signed this ‘letter’ and abdicated was Priuli to continue on to Egypt to present Sultan Qaitbay with what appeared to be an amicable fait accompli, which he would certainly accept.

When Captain-General Priuli landed in Cyprus on 14 January 1489 he was under no illusions as to the difficulty of his task, and in order to help persuade Queen Caterina to abdicate he had brought along with him her brother, Giorgio Cornaro. Caterina was so overcome with emotion when she first saw Giorgio after so many years that she rushed forward and embraced him. She was under the misapprehension that he had come to Cyprus to protect her. Only when they retired alone to her private chamber did he reveal the true purpose of his visit: to facilitate the plan for her abdication.

Owing to the presence of the Venetian delegation listening at the door as Giorgio attempted to persuade his sister, there remains a detailed report of their conversation, which was later included in a diplomatic despatch back to Venice. The conversation was emotional and continued for some time, raging back and forth; yet its salient points are easily outlined. In his attempt to win her over to the Venetian plan, Giorgio opened by appealing to his sister’s patriotism. But Caterina had now been sole ruling monarch of Cyprus for sixteen years, since the murder of her beloved husband, and for very obvious reasons now regarded herself as Cypriot rather than Venetian. She declared that she had no intention of abdicating voluntarily, and pleaded with her brother, ‘Are not my lords of Venice content to have their island when I am dead, that they would deprive me thus of what my husband left me?’ Giorgio persisted: if she abdicated, the Venetians had promised to reward her with a far less dangerous domain of her own. She would be granted her own large estate on the mainland, where she could hold court free from constraint; she could live in tranquillity and happiness, just as she wished, under the full protection of her country, which would reward her with a generous stipend commensurate with the magisterial services she had undertaken. Indeed, she would be able to live like a queen as she had never been able to live before. Yet still Caterina remained adamant.

It was at this point that Giorgio was forced to confront his sister with the ugly reality of the situation – for her, for Cyprus and even for himself.
The waters around the coast were filled with Venetian ships, which would not hesitate to take over the island. And there was worse. With tears in his eyes, Giorgio pleaded with Caterina: the very honour of the Cornaro family was at stake. If she did not abdicate, the authorities had threatened that their ancient and noble family would be ruined. Her beloved father would be disgraced, and the entire family deprived not only of its wealth, but also its status and good name. A tradition of honour that had been built up over the centuries – one that included not only a doge but also many other holders of the highest offices in the city – would vanish from Venetian society. The power of the Council of Ten had now grown to such an extent that it was quite capable of enforcing such a decision, which would be to all extents and purposes incontestable. Venice may have remained a republic in name, but this was becoming increasingly limited to a ‘democratic’ oligarchy, which spoke through the voice of the Council of Ten. Caterina, queen though she may have been, was well aware of this and certainly understood the truth of her brother’s warning. This was no bluff.

Caterina may now have regarded herself as a Cypriot rather than a Venetian, but she still remained a Cornaro. She loved her family, especially her father Marco, who had voyaged to see her in Cyprus during her time of virtual imprisonment. After all he had done to try and help her, she could not have borne to see him disgraced. She heard out her brother Giorgio’s arguments. Then, raising her voice so that those she knew had their ears pressed to the door of her chamber could hear her clearly, she replied to her brother, ‘If this is your opinion, then I respect it. This is also my opinion, and I will follow your advice.’

Caterina dutifully signed the letter of abdication that had been dictated back in Venice by the Council of Ten, whereupon the Lusignan flag that had flown from Famagusta Castle more or less continuously for nearly 300 years was formally lowered.
*
In its place the crimson flag with the golden
lion of San Marco was run up to a fanfare and a barrage of cannon – a ceremony that was to be repeated throughout the island. Caterina’s letter was then conveyed by Captain-General Priuli to Sultan Qaitbay in Egypt, where he accepted its contents without demur. The formality of Venice being officially recognised as ruler of his vassal state was now complete.

The Venetians were well aware of the way the local population viewed what had happened. In an attempt to alleviate their unpopularity (and yet at the same time reinforce the finality of what had taken place), they sent ex-Queen Caterina on a carefully staged and monitored tour of the island, so that she could take leave of her subjects. The gathered crowds listened in sadness as their former queen read out the speech that had been prepared for her, reassuring them that their fate now lay in safe hands.

On 14 March 1489, Caterina took ship at Famagusta to sail for Venice. The shore was lined by a vast crowd of her former subjects, and many are said to have waded into the sea to bid her farewell. Just over two months later, probably having put in at Rhodes, Caterina’s galley and her protective flotilla arrived at the Lido on 5 June, where she was greeted with an armada fit for a queen and escorted aboard the
Bucintoro
by no less than Doge Barbarigo himself.

The procession that accompanied Caterina in the
Bucintoro
to the city was unprecedented in splendour, even in Venetian history. The blue-grey waters of the lagoon were filled with galleys, gondolas, merchantmen and craft of all kinds, while crowds lined the quaysides. Caterina was seated beside the doge on the raised poop deck at the stern of the
Bucintoro
and, according to some reports, her throne was elevated even higher than that of the doge himself, on account of her royal status. The Republic of Venice was welcoming its queen. The hypocrisy of the Venetian authorities, along with the unwitting collaboration of the citizenry, had now reached its apotheosis. In a special ceremony conducted at San Marco, Caterina Cornaro formally handed over the golden crown of Cyprus for the guardianship of the Republic. Despite being browbeaten and forced to abdicate, she was informed by the authorities that she would still be allowed to remain Queen of Cyprus, Jerusalem and Armenia and should continue to use this as her title. At the same time she would be granted by the
Republic of Venice her own private kingdom, the small hill town of Asolo, together with its surrounding territory of mulberry groves, vineyards and wooded hills, which lay just thirty miles north-west of Venice itself, in the hinterland known as the Veneto. She would also be granted sufficient funds to maintain herself in a manner befitting the royalty of a small kingdom. On her arrival there she was greeted rapturously by all her 4,000 subjects.

Queen Caterina immediately made plans for a palace to be built for her, called significantly
Il Barco
(the ship), as if she were still on a voyage that might one day carry her back across the sea to Cyprus. Here she would maintain her own court, which she staffed according to her own particular taste, with the entourage that had been allowed to follow her into exile from Cyprus. These included her favourite personal female attendant, a black former slave who originated from Nubia; the pet parrots that so amused her; a small collection of monkeys; some peacocks; and her dwarf jester, who knew how to amuse and enliven her during her not-infrequent periods of depression. Yet Caterina’s court was more than just a whimsical collection of exotica; it also reflected the considerable intellectual powers that she had continued to develop since her education in Venice. She had also cultivated a wide variety of cultural interests. Indeed, the court of Queen Caterina at Asolo was soon gaining such a reputation that it began attracting artists, philosophers and poets of the newly burgeoning Renaissance, which was now beginning to spread throughout Italy.

Despite the political difficulties posed by Caterina’s persistent widespread popularity amongst the people of the Republic (and its far-flung empire in Cyprus), she was permitted to visit Venice, but only on special occasions. Thus she kept in contact with her family, especially her favourite brother Giorgio, who as a reward for persuading his sister to abdicate had been awarded by the doge with the highly prestigious honour of being made a
Cavaliemto di Stola d’Oro
(Knight of the Golden Sash). The Council of Ten also personally invited Queen Caterina to Venice during the severe winter of 1491, when the Grand Canal froze hard and a jousting contest was held in her honour. This was evidently a covert experiment that proved satisfactory to the Council of Ten, for Caterina was later asked to preside as hostess over the festivities when Eleanor, Duchess of Ferrara, arrived on a state visit. Ferrara may have had a duke and duchess, but Venice could
trump them with a queen. Yet, as ever with the Council of Ten, there was more than met the eye here: Queen Caterina’s presence was much more than civil one-upmanship. Eleanor of Aragon was the daughter of King Ferrante I of Naples, who still harboured dynastic ambitions with regard to Cyprus, and Venice wished to make it clear that the island still had a queen, whom they could produce as the official monarch. Such doublethink was now very much a part of Venetian power diplomacy.

Caterina was still only in her mid-thirties, and wished to forget the tragedies that had befallen her; likewise, she was determined to put behind her the grim atmosphere of her court in Cyprus, its air poisoned by suspicion and competing interests. At Asolo she ensured that her court was staffed with handsome courtiers and beautiful young ladies-in-waiting. In the evenings, poets and musicians performed amidst the fragrant palace gardens, whose layout and planting she had personally supervised. The Venetian scholar and poet Pietro Bembo was particularly attracted to Asolo. Twenty-nine years old in 1499 and at the height of his imaginative powers, he thrived amidst this cultural ambience. He would go on to become one of the most distinguished intellectuals of his age, and one of his finest works would be
Gli Asolani
(The People of Asolano), a philosophical discourse on love between three young beaux and three girls, set in the gardens of
Il Barco
. This was written in the manner and style of Petrarch, and was intended to evoke the atmosphere of the years he had spent visiting this idyllic spot. Indeed, such was the popularity of
Gli Asolani
that it even gave rise to a new verb in the Italian language:
asolare
, meaning ‘to enjoy oneself in a pleasant aimless fashion’. It was this work that also led the great Jacob Burckhardt to compare the court depicted by ‘Pietro Bembo at the castle of Asolo’ with ‘the ideal society’.