Cyprus, the Cape Route to India, the French Invasions, and the League of Cambrai

“The gods have done it as to all they do
Destine destruction, that from thence may rise
A poem to instruct posterities.”
— Chapman’s Homer

Venice at the Height of Power — Or So It Seemed

To Italian and European statesmen, Venice at the death of Doge Francesco Foscari appeared mightier than ever. Yet, in truth, the Republic had already passed the zenith of its power. The arc of Venetian destiny was bending downward.

For over a century, Venetian consuls had warned the Signory of the growing danger in the East. Pope after pope urged Christian princes to abandon their fratricidal quarrels and unite against the Ottoman threat. In the pauses between Christian rivalries, one could hear — like the dull beat of distant drums — the steady march of the advancing infidel armies, heralding the doom of empires.

Yet no European state, least of all Venice, grasped the full meaning of this portent.

Early Conflicts with the Turks

In 1416, Venice dispatched a fleet to chastise the Sultan for violations of treaty rights. The commander reported that the Turks “fought like dragons”, but by the grace of God and Saint Mark, they were utterly routed. A captured Emir assured him that the Turks would never again dare challenge Venetian mastery at sea.

History, however, had other plans.

In 1438, the Greek Emperor himself came to Venice, begging for aid against the enemy of Christendom. His pleas were repeated in 1452, but Europe’s princes were too consumed by their own rivalries to listen. Within a year, the scimitar of the Turk was red with Christian blood at Constantinople.

Venice adapted as she always had: she accepted reality and secured her commercial privileges through treaty with the Sultan.

The Crescent Near the Adriatic

By 1463, news arrived that the Turks had conquered the Morea and Epirus, and that the crescent now flew over the Castle of Argos, alarmingly close to the Adriatic. Venice could no longer ignore the Papal call.

Friar Michael of Milan preached the crusade in St Mark’s Square, while a great iron chest was placed in the basilica to collect offerings. The new Doge, Cristoforo Moro, addressed the Great Council and, in a surge of zeal, offered to lead the crusade himself.

The vote passed overwhelmingly.

Yet Moro, pious but frail, soon pleaded age and infirmity. He was sharply rebuked by Vettor Cappello, who urged him to think less of his own skin and more of the honour and survival of the Republic.

A Crusade That Never Was

Pope Pius II arrived at Ancona with the Sacred College to organize the crusade. Hungary joined the league, and the Duke of Burgundy promised to participate in person. Envoys were sent throughout Christendom.

On July 30, 1464, three hours before sunset — a moment chosen by astrologers — the Venetian fleet set sail, led by the Doge himself aboard a newly built galley bearing his name.

But fate intervened.

Scarcely had Moro landed at Ancona when the Pope died. The crusade collapsed. The Doge returned to Venice, and the Republic was left to face the Turks alone.

Defeat, Refugees, and Ruin

Despite Venetian bravery on sea and land, the State was weakened by wars in Lombardy. In 1470, Venice lost the vital island of Negroponte. The shock was devastating.

Members of the Collegio, stunned by the calamity, crossed St Mark’s Square in silence, their faces downcast — as if listening for the rustle of the avenging Furies’ wings.

In 1471, panic-stricken refugees from Istria and Friuli flooded into Venice, camping beneath the arcades of the ducal palace. A Turkish army of 20,000 men had ravaged the mainland as far as Udine.

Venice’s resources were exhausted.

Loans vanished. Appeals to the Pope failed. Not a single Italian state came to her aid.

The Price of Power

The grim warnings of Doge Tomaso Mocenigo proved true:

National wrongdoing brings national sorrow.

Venice was now reaping the bitter harvest of decades of territorial ambition and wars against Genoa. At the Congress of Carisano (1466), Galeazzo Sforza, Duke of Milan, warned the Venetian secretary:

“You possess the fairest State in Italy, yet are not satisfied.
All Italy fears you. The states have united not from love, but from necessity.
They will not rest until they have clipped your wings.”

Capitulation and Consequences

After years of devastation, Venice finally yielded in 1479. She ceded Scutari, Stalimene, and territories in the Morea, paid an indemnity of 200,000 ducats, and agreed to an annual tribute of 10,000 ducats for her trading privileges.

During this period, the last vestiges of popular government disappeared. The ancient title “Communitas Venetiarum” was formally replaced by “The Signoria.”

Between 1471 and 1479, no fewer than four Doges succeeded one another — a sign of deep instability.

Italy Turns on Venice

No sooner had peace been concluded in the East than war erupted in Italy. A dispute over saltworks, customs duties on the Po, and the arrest of a priest ignited a new conflict.

By 1482, the peninsula was in flames.

States that had watched Venice bleed for sixteen years now accused her of treachery. The Pope himself joined the league against her, threatening excommunication. Venice defied Rome, silenced her Patriarch, and appealed to a future Church council.

The Dangerous French Solution

Cornered and desperate, Venice committed a fateful act: she invited France into Italian affairs.

The French king was encouraged to assert his claim to Naples, and the Duke of Orléans to Milan. The intervention of the French monarchy shattered the league. Peace followed, and the Treaty of Bagnolo (1484) granted Venice Rovigo and the Polesine.

Bells rang for three days. The city rejoiced.

But the price was high.

France was now a permanent player in Italian politics.

The League of Cambrai was one step closer.

History rarely announces decline with thunder. More often, it arrives quietly — disguised as victory.