In 1539, the constant fear of Spanish conspiracies—fuelled by the gold of the New World—led Venice to establish permanently the Il Supremo Terribile Tribunale: the Tribunal of the Three State Inquisitors.

Among the many state officials and council members were numerous patricians whose fortunes had declined with the fall of commerce. Financial desperation made them particularly vulnerable to corruption. The need was felt for a body smaller, faster, and more decisive than the Council of Ten.

The Structure of the Tribunal

Of the Tre Inquisitori di Stato, two were appointed by the Council of Ten and one by the Doge’s Privy Council. The latter sat in the centre, dressed in red, and was known as the rosso. The other two, clothed in black, sat on either side and were called the negri.

Their term of office lasted one year, though re-election was permitted. Service was compulsory, under penalty of a fine of 500 ducats. Their authority was delegated by the Ten as circumstances required, and although the Ten reserved the right to revise their judgments, these decisions were also published before the Great Council.

Unanimity was required. If the three inquisitors failed to agree, the case was referred back to the Ten.

Strictly worded regulations were intended to prevent abuses: secret denunciations were controlled, and safeguards were in place against the corruption or incompetence of spies. Arrests were typically made at night. Suspects were examined in secrecy, and torture—unhappily common throughout Europe at the time—was employed according to contemporary legal norms.

Witnesses were questioned privately by the Secretary or by a ducal notary.

The speed and secrecy with which the tribunal operated were terrifying. Few were brave enough not to tremble when an officer laid a hand on their shoulder and uttered the formula:

“Their Excellencies would like to see you.”

Power, Abuse, and Popular Support

Throughout the sixteenth century, the Council of Ten and its committees became the dominant force in Venetian government. In 1582, however, the right to summon the Zonta was abolished. Deprived of their power to associate freely with other councils or to control spending, the Ten gradually returned to their former position.

The tribunals were not free from guilt. They committed crimes, made grave errors, and occasionally abused their authority. The murder of the Carrara family was a national sin; the execution of Foscarini a tragic blunder.

Yet they remained popular. They resisted every attempt to dismantle them and were widely viewed as a bulwark against treason. They shielded the people from noble arrogance, upheld equality before the law, and acted as stern guardians of public morals.

Their strongest defence lies in a simple fact: they endured until the fall of the Republic itself.

The Myth of the Venetian Prisons

Historians have often cast undeserved infamy upon the Council of Ten when describing the prisons under their control: the infamous Pozzi and Piombi—the “wells” and the “leads”.

Vivid and terrifying images have been painted: prisoners roasting in furnace-like cells beneath lead roofs, or languishing in lightless dungeons below canal level, forced to stare at the instruments of their own torture.

The reality, however, was far less dramatic.

The Pozzi were scarcely underground, and the Piombi were not directly beneath the leaded roof. From its earliest construction under Angelo Participazio, and later restoration by Sebastiano Ziani, the Ducal Palace had always included prisons. These remained in use until the new prison beyond the Bridge of Sighs was completed in 1606.

With the exception of the Torreselle—tower prisons, one of which was demolished in 1532—the old prisons occupied the eastern wing of the palace, between the inner courtyard and the Rio del Palazzo. Later they extended southward toward the Molo.

They were located on the ground floor, divided into two levels of cells. Some windows opened onto the public courtyard, and at one time prisoners could even converse with passers-by. The name Pozzi was not applied to them until the seventeenth century.

After the new prison was built across the canal, the old cells were reserved for more dangerous inmates. When the Republic fell in 1797, only four prisoners were found there—men who, by all accounts, fully deserved their fate.

A Reputation for Humanity

Venice enjoyed a unique reputation for humane treatment of prisoners. Zanotto, whose monograph remains authoritative, cites the testimony of Friar Felice Fabri, who visited Venice in the mid-fifteenth century and was struck by the Republic’s mercy.

In 1443, the Great Council appointed an advocate specifically to defend poor prisoners held in detention; a second was added in 1553. Although torture was used, as throughout Christian Europe, Venice distinguished itself by appointing a surgeon to assess whether a prisoner was physically able to endure it.

In 1564, the Ten ordered the establishment of an infirmary for sick prisoners. Cleanliness, disinfection of cells, and the quality and quantity of food and wine were carefully supervised.

The Piombi: Comfort by Comparison

In 1591, the Senate allowed the Ten to use rooms above the Sala de’ Capi to house detainees in brighter, more comfortable, and better-ventilated conditions than those reserved for the condemned. These rooms became known as the Piombi, as they lay just beneath the lead-covered roof.

Between the ceiling—made of double layers of larch planks—and the roof itself was a wide air space. The cells measured roughly twelve by fourteen feet, with a height of six to eight feet, and were lined with larch panelling.

They were lit from a corridor, ventilated through door openings, and allowed freedoms rare for the age: prisoners could dress as they wished, receive visitors, and walk along the corridor.

Saints, Doges, and Prosperity

Gradenigo died before the papal ban was lifted and was quietly buried at Murano. His intended successor, the senator Stefano Giustiniani, declined the office and retired to the monastery of San Giorgio.

According to the chroniclers, while the electors debated anxiously, a venerable old man was seen passing the palace on his daily round of charity, followed by a servant carrying bread. This was taken as a favourable omen. Venice urgently needed reconciliation with the Pope, and Zorzi il Santo—George the Saint—was considered an ideal mediator.

Persuaded to accept the role, he occupied the ducal throne for ten months and succeeded in easing the interdict, which was fully lifted during the following reign.

Trade, Art, and Dante

George’s successor, Giovanni Soranza, inherited serious difficulties. Zara, supported by Hungarians and Croats, rebelled once more and was subdued only after heavy loss of men and money.

Yet Soranza’s sixteen and a half years in office coincided with a period of great prosperity. Venetian trade expanded eastward and westward, supported by diplomacy and bold enterprise. The arts flourished, and refugees from Lucca founded a silk industry that became highly profitable.

They were governed by their own magistrates, the Provisores Sirici, based in the Corte della Seda near Marco Polo’s former house. The city grew more splendid, and Soranza enjoyed the popularity that naturally attends a reign of abundance.

It was during his rule, in August 1321, that Dante Alighieri came to Venice as ambassador of Guido Novello da Polenta of Ravenna. Having completed his mission, he returned home only to die days later, struck down by a fever contracted on the journey.