A History of Venice

John Julius Norwich

London: Penguin, 2003 [1977]. ISBN: 0-141-01383-4. Pp. 673, index, biblio

Mr Norwich offers what is perhaps the most exhaustive narrative history of the Serenissima Republica Veneta that can still be accessible to a determined interested layman without compromising too much in terms of quality but also without overwhelming in tedious detail. The Venetian Republic existed for about a millennium and any one-volume account that can dedicate no more than half a page per year on average is bound to be missing in certain respects. With some regret I have to report that Mr Norwich has left out too much of intense interest to this reader while retaining quite a bit that should have ended on the cutting floor if I may be allowed to use a film metaphor.

Mr Norwich's history is essentially a political chronicle where much attention is paid to both domestic and foreign policy but in which the view is strictly top-down. While this is no "great men" history so favored in the 19th century (for there were no great men in Venice, at least according to Norwich), it is still a narrative in which the oligarchy gets to tell its side of the story and where the nameless multitudes remain just that: nameless. Since the republic never experienced a popular revolt (a remarkable feat in itself if you ask me), no ordinary person gets a chance to appear on the stage exclusively reserved for the members of families whose names were inscribed in the Libro d'Oro, the Golden Book, that determined eligibility to participate in civic government. It is as if the Venetian aristocracy managed to perpetuate itself in history just as they did in their rule.

Those seeking to understand how city dwellers lived, worked, and died, how they coped with the periodic outbreaks of plague, with land wars waged by their leaders, and with the threats of invasions that never quite came, one would have to look elsewhere. Even worse, Mr Norwich essentially gives short shrift to cultural history as well. Artists and architects appear only when a Doge dies or the government commissions some work or tomb for a Doge who just died. Although Mr Norwich is obviously quite enamored with the city and just about every palazzo or chapel is fit for inclusion in the book, all we get is a reference to so-and-so building that was constructed on such-and-such occasion that can still be found at this-and-that address even though it was substantially modified by philistines who have essentially ruined what used to be a masterpiece. I don't think Mr Norwich ever met a modification he approved of. And despite all of this, there is absolutely no sense of how Venice contributed to the arts (or even architecture). There is no Titian or Tintoretto, no Bellini or Bassano, it is as if the Venetian school did not exist.

At least for what it does, Mr Norwich's book is as good as it gets. He spends quite a bit of time developing the complicated jigsaw that Italian politics was for most of the period, and in this gives an excellent sense of how Venice fit in it (or rather didn't). The republic's unique position on the peninsula as a nominal part of the Byzantine Empire determined for the most part its strange aloofness from the upheavals on the mainland. Her commercial orientation toward the East also set her apart in that unlike the most Christian princes in other European states, she found immense profits in trading with the infidel. However, this was both her strength and her weakness, for Venice often found herself bearing the brunt of attack when the Turk grew rapacious and attempted to extend the domain of the Ottoman Empire further West. The nominal suzerainty of the Emperor in Constantinople did not prevent Venice from cheerleading the sacking of the great city in the infamous Fourth Crusade although I am a bit conflicted about the outcome for Constantinople was probably doomed in the long run anyway and now we can at least marvel at the horses of St Mark, among other things.

The astonishing arrogance and resilience of the republic are the highlights of her entire history. Numerous times Venice would defy Popes (suffering excommunications and interdicts), Emperors, Kings, Sultans, and commercial rivals like the perennial opponent Genoa, and at some points she would see entire civilized Europe ranged against her (in the League of Cambrai). She would lose her wars almost as often as she would win them. She would suffer crushing defeats and be nearly depopulated by the plague. And yet she would be back wheeling and dealing within a few years, she would raise more money and more men, she would assert her religious autonomy, and she would make her presence felt yet again. Perhaps no other state in European history has shown such lust for life and such ability to reconstitute itself after a disaster.

Mr Norwich attributes most of that uncanny ability to the abysmally intricate constitution of the republic with an electoral system that must have befuddled its citizens almost as much as it disenfranchised them (pp. 182-84), which probably explains why they never saw fit to rebel: nobody ever figured out they had lost their liberties (pp. 282-84). Okay, maybe it also had to do something with prosperity and the notorious secret police. It is somewhat amazing that the government of Venice, exclusive and oligarchic as it was, never degenerated into a despotism so common to other states during the period. In fact, the Venetians seem to have been almost paranoid about the possibility of the Doge trying to seize power or establish a dynasty. Of course, the fact that one Doge, Marino Faliero, tried just that did nothing to allay their fears. And yet, the system described on p. 166 in loving detail that makes it no less confusing seems overly elaborate, its goal perhaps to obfuscate the road to the supreme office so much that it would be impossible to manipulate elections. And even then they were not content, so they tinkered with the powers of the Doge until they were trimmed so much he became a figurehead rather than a leader.

Yet even Mr Norwich must see that this romantic take on the political system leaves gaping holes large enough to drive an alternative explanation the size of a Venetian galley. On one hand, he gushes about Venice's "apparently unshakable political system which, even after the most severe economic or military reverses, ensured her a resilience and power of recovery that [her enemies] could never hope to match" (p. 359). But on the other, her is forced to admit that "the absence of any party structure as such meant that there was no controlled outlet for the rivalries, the clashes of personalities and opinions, that are an inevitable and necessary part of a healthy political organism" (p. 389). But it is difficult to have it both ways: insisting that the system gave the republic stability and vitality while simultaneously maintaining that it was incapable of containing tensions except under normal circumstances because it is especially during the hard times of strife and privation that the system was supposed to deliver its benefits while being incapable of stopping internal discord and domestic bloodshed. I have no answer to this puzzle but neither does Mr Norwich. This is what we call a "venue for future research."

All in all, this book is remarkably good read even if it is plodding at times. The narrative generally picks up for war or some conspiracy or some delicious bit of gossip (like the notorious affair of Bianca Cappello with Francesco de' Medici, the future Grand Duke of Florence). Mr Norwich is also persuasive in debunking the myth of Lepanto as the decisive battle that was crucial in bottling up the Ottoman Empire by denying it control of the Mediterranean. While it is true that it was a great victory, it is not at all clear that it was of long-term strategic significance, certainly not to the degree usually ascribed to it. In fact, Venice did not regain Crete and the fall of Crete was still in the future as was Spain's loss of Tunis. A useful corrective to keep in mind when reading the triumphalist accounts by, say, Victor Davis Hanson (whose writings I enjoy inordinately, by the way).

An altogether nice package with the plentiful (black and white) illustrations, A History of Venice is certainly worth reading. Now where are the cultural and social history companion volumes?

December 9, 2006