A visit to the Doge’s Palace is an opportunity to discover the power centre of the Serenissima for a period of almost a thousand years, from 810 to 1797. Its rooms, one more beautiful than the other, housed the committees formed by local patricians as well as diplomats of international standing, merchants and notables of various kinds; the paintings and artefacts we see hanging there were directed at them. In particular, the Great Council Room and the Scrutiny Room feature paintings of naval battles in the Mediterranean and beyond. This begs the question: did these battles happen in exactly the way they were painted? Can we consider them historical documents or are they works of propaganda, albeit of a high standard?

It is not easy to give an unequivocal answer for several reasons

First of all, the episodes shown usually really happened, but the paintings were made years – if not centuries – later; therefore their depiction depended on the client’s objectives, certainly on the artist’s skill and also on the political context of alliances and enmities of the time in which they were commissioned and made.

Apart from this, while each painter retained a degree of freedom of interpretation, he also received guidelines to which he had to adhere. Finally, the medium itself played a significant role: for example, very large canvases led artists to focus on grandiose compositions. We will turn to practice with two examples: The Capture of Constantinople by the Crusaders in 1204 by Jacopo Palma the Younger ( c. 1582, 575×625 cm, Great Council Hall) and, in the next article, The Battle of Lepanto by Andrea Michieli known as Il Vicentino (c. 1587, 520×1390 cm, Scrutiny Hall). Both were commissioned after thefire of 1577 that destroyed parts of the palazzo and forced the Republic to restore it.

Reading the work

The Taking of Palma was part of a cycle dedicated to the Fourth Crusade, a multilateral military adventure originally aimed at reconquering the Holy Sepulchre; it turned into a military occupation of the capital of the Byzantine Empire. Indeed, from the very beginning in 1202 , the Franco-Venetian expedition suffered a series of misfortunes.

Against the pope’s wishes, the crusaders conquered Zadar and while stationed there came into contact with a member of the Byzantine royal family, Alexis, who claimed to be the only true heir. He asked for and received help to remove the supposed usurper, Alexis III, and in return offered money, military support and even the reunification of the Orthodox and Catholic churches.

Having run out of funds, the crusaders accepted the proposal and carried out a coup d’état, so that in July 1203 Alexis IV was crowned emperor. However, he did not keep his promises. Tensions exploded when a further Alexis, obviously Alexis V, seized power and rejected any form of compliance with the conditions listed by his predecessor; as a result, theFranco-Venetian army conquered the city from the sea and, for years to come, Constantinople remained in Latin hands.

The 1203 coup d’état and the Latin conquest of Constantinople

Therefore, the purpose of the above pictorial cycle was to highlight the Venetian role in one of the most dastardly deeds in its history. To this end, two senators, Jacopo Marcello and Jacopo Contarini, an expert in military affairs, were chosen to take care of the painting together with a non-professional historical consultant, Girolamo Bardi, who drew up the iconographic programme for the artists based on the primary sources available at the time.

Worth noting is the fact that the cycle, in its entirety, is appreciated for its internal coherence: this element would confirm that the artists involved followed the guidelines received very carefully.

Narrative coherence and executive discipline of the artistic project

La Presa depicts the moment when the French and Venetians launched theattack on Constantinople on 12 April 1204. Notice how theimage is organised along two diagonals: one follows the walls of the city, the other runs along the ships in the foreground; this stratagem gives a strong sense of movement and dynamism, further reinforced by the large number of fighters depicted. The chromatic contrast between the dark red, characteristic of the Venetian flag, and the blue, the background colour of Philip II’s royal standard, is evident; at least one blue flag is clearly visible on the left. This is no coincidence: as Wolfgang Wolters has pointed out, the period in which the cycle was commissioned coincided with a phase of intense relations between Venice and France, especially as the latter was considering a possible rapprochement with the Ottomans in an anti-Habsburg function. The theme of the Fourth Crusade may therefore have been chosen to remind the observer that this successful military cooperation was a thing of the past, but could be repeated in the present; for Venice, in fact, aFranco-Ottoman alliance would have been disastrous.

Composition, colour and political message

Interestingly, several components of the painting follow the medieval sources rather closely. First of all, the smoke rising in the sky recalls the fires set by the attackers, an element explicitly mentioned in contemporary chronicles. Furthermore, in the upper left-hand corner, some infantry soldiers hoist the Venetian flag, a circumstance specifically reported by Geoffrey of Villehardouin, whose Conquest of Constantinople (early 13th century) was well known at the time: the humanist Giovanni Battista Ramusio had translated it into the vernacular before the painting was commissioned. In addition, two horn players can be seen, one visible in the lower left-hand corner and the other on the galley behind the main ship; giving the assault signal with the horn was a common practice among crusaders, as attested by the Translatio Symonensis of 1205. More uncertain, however, is the question of the ship in the foreground. It appears to be a terzarolo galley, i.e. a low, flat galley with a single sail and three banks of long oars; according to some scholars, this type was already in use due to its speed and manoeuvrability, while others consider it too modern, arguing that shorter ships with two rows of oarsmen were more common at the time. In any case, the scene as a whole exhibits an uncommon theatricality.

Historical sources and degree of iconographic reliability

Other details, however, are surprising. According to Martin da Canal ‘s The Histories of Venice (1267), Venetians used to attack city walls using ladders placed on paired boats; here, by contrast, the ladders are resting directly against the wharf, which is also very narrow. Moreover, the ships would probably have appeared black, due to the pitch that covered the hulls; the dark red instead responds to a need for national recognition. Also curious is the presence of the horses, particularly those placed near thearch: they appear in an unlikely position, perpendicular to the wall and with thewater behind them. Palma, not being a specialist in war scenes, may have drawn inspiration from famous 16th century battles, such as Leonardo ‘s Anghiari or Titian‘s Cadore, without worrying too much about logical consistency. As for the figure of Enrico Dandolo, who incites the infantry near theship’s mast, it should be interpreted with caution: the Serenissima tended to avoid the cult of personality and in fact his presence is relatively discreet; however, for a man over 95 years old, the scene seems hardly plausible. Finally, the absence of the enemy, who is almost invisible, is striking: the defence of the city is ignored, despite the fact that Niceta Coniata – whose work had been translated and published in Venice years before Palma’s painting – described it as heroic and reckless. The defeated, however, matter little or nothing in this context.

Discards from tradition and symbolic construction

Further studies are awaited in order to clarify the geopolitical implications of the painting and, above all, the reasons for the choices made by Palma, an artist of undoubted value but not particularly original, who followed in the wake of Veronese and Jacopo da Bassano. The elements of theatricality and the ability to control chaos recall Tintoretto ‘s The Rape of Helen (c. 1578-79, 186×307 cm, Museo del Prado, Madrid), which in fact depicts a battle between the Venetians and the Ottomans in a different form, or perhaps even more so Tintoretto ‘s Battle of Lepanto (1573), a large canvass that was destroyed in thefire mentioned above. Palma was probably familiar with this work, as he was working in the same rooms at the time it was on display in the palace; however, on his sources of inspiration it is not possible to go beyond speculation.

Artistic models and interpretative limits

To sum up, Palma succeeds in creating a credible and visually striking scene, probably sticking to the guidelines he received – an element on which it is not possible to be more precise due to the scarcity of primary sources. What is clear, however, is that the objective was not historiographic, but propagandistic. In the years in which the Venetian Republic had to choose between pursuing peaceful agreements with its neighbours or opting for so-called gunboat diplomacy, the glorification of its military past in the Sala del Gran Consiglio – frequented by the merchant patriciate and thus an ideal showcase – pushed towards the second option. This was especially true of the line to be taken against the Ottomans, since some senators advocated a policy of armed containment, while others believed that a general peace agreement in the Mediterranean would better protect international trade, perhaps more valuable than possessions such as Cyprus.

A certain malice towards the French is also evident, even though the ousting of theByzantine emperor had almost exclusively benefited Venice: from 1204, in fact, the Republic gained a unique position of favour in the Levant. By the end of the 16th century, the Venetian interest had turned into an attempt to keep the French away from the Ottomans – or, better still, to involve them in more or less extensive arrangements. In conclusion, it is clear thatstate art is never neutral: pressure groups need to convey their messages to their target audiences to support their causes. Whether it is paintings, posters or social media clips, it makes little difference: what matters is to find appropriate means and content to persuade when necessary. It was true then, and it is still true today.

END PART 1