Venice

It's 828 AD. Inside the church of Saint Mark in Alexandria, the great port city in Egypt, the air is heavy with incense. Flickering candles throw shadows across carved pillars and faded mosaics, where saints gaze down from the walls. But despite the pious solemnity, right now a daring heist is underway. At the altar, two broad-shouldered sailors from Venice stand with a pair of Coptic priests. At their feet is a long, cloth-wrapped reliquary, almost the length of a man. This fragile bundle is ancient and worn, but immeasurably holy. It contains the mortal remains of Saint Mark the Evangelist, companion, interpreter, and scribe of Saint Peter himself. The Venetians are here to smuggle him to their Lagoon city, far across the Mediterranean. They are doing it with the full complicity of the custodians of this church. These priests know what's at stake. With Alexandria now under Muslim rule, relics are being scattered and churches destroyed. Today they are all trying to ensure this relic will not be desecrated in the same way. But first, they must get it out of the city undetected. With the sacred bundle secured between them, the Venetians move towards the huge church doors. As they creak open, the roar of the city floods in. Outside in the shimmering heat, traders, barter, sailors call across the harbor, camels grunt under loads of spice and grain. The Venetians keep their eyes low and their pace steady, heading towards a nearby hand cart. There, an accomplice waits with a cover of salted pork. Carefully, the relic is secreted at the bottom of the pile and quickly covered with slabs of greasy meat. To the devout, it is a scandalous disguise, but to the smugglers, it is perfect. The Muslim officials checking every cargo will never touch pork. The Venetians wheel the cart cautiously through the market, with every jolt threatening to expose the secret within. The smell of the meat wafts up, thick and clawing in the sun. Up ahead, two customs officers stride across the cobbles, demanding to inspect their lot. One of the Venetians steps forward, lifting the uppermost cuts of meat with deliberate slowness. The guards quickly recoil, muttering in disgust but waving them on. They press through the crowd as quickly as they can, with each turn of the wheels bringing them closer to escape. Reaching the harbor, the Venetians hurry to the water's edge, where their own galley waits. Crew ready to help load the cart, along with its hidden treasure, on board. Once on deck, the relic, still swaddled in pork, is secured in the hold, ready for the journey home. Wasting no time, the crew settle at their posts, oars dip in unison. The sails unfurl, canvas cracking in the wind, and the galley pulls free, leaving Alexandria behind. The Venetian smugglers allow themselves a small, congratulatory smile as they speed across the glittering sea. They have done the unthinkable. The relic of Saint Mark, who brought Christianity to Alexandria, is bound for a new home. And his arrival in Venice will not just sanctify the city, but will also come to define it for centuries to come. Rising from the waters of a shallow, marshy lagoon, and built on wooden piles driven into the shifting mud, it's arguable that Venice should never even have existed. One of the most improbable cities in the world, it began as a place of refuge that grew into a magnificent, powerful republic, commanding trade routes, shaping empires, and dazzling visitors with its wealth and beauty. Over the course of a thousand years, its ships carried spices and silk, its artists reshaped European culture, and its masked revelers embodied libertine decadence. But what difference did a daring relic heist from Alexandria make to Venice's identity? How did this small republic of merchants bend crusaders, emperors, and popes to its will? And how will this place, sometimes known as the Floating City, manage the threats it faces from mass tourism and rising waters? I'm John Hopkins, from the Noiser Podcast Network. This is a short history of Venice. Venice's story begins with an act of desperation. Human barbarian goth and hun invasions sweep across the Roman Empire in the 5th century, frightened communities of Italy's northeastern Veneto region gather what they can and flee into an inhospitable landscape of marsh, mudflats, and small islands known as the Venetian lagoon. And though it's hardly an ideal refuge, their knowledge of its narrow, shallow waterways offers some sanctuary. Thomas Madden is professor of history at St. Louis University and author of Venice A New History. No one with a choice would choose to found a city in the middle of a brackish lagoon that has nothing but water that you can't drink and mud and sand. It's done because there isn't a choice. Yet here, amid the reeds and saltwater, they find safety from invaders who have no idea how to navigate the maze of channels between the islands. But life in the lagoon is hostile, and as soon as the danger passes, the refugees scatter back to their ruined towns to try and rebuild. And yet, each time new raiders descend to plunder their wealth, the townspeople are forced to flee to the safety of the water again. There they establish rough shacks built on wooden piles driven deep into the mud, ready as a bolt hole in times of crisis. Slowly the refugees adapt to the harsh conditions, surviving in the isolated lagoon for longer periods by harvesting its scant resources and trading with one another for whatever else they need. For generations, this rhythm continues. The refuge becomes more defined, though still too dispersed to be a true community. But religion binds the islanders in shared ritual, belief, and importantly helps to establish a collective history. According to legend, the beginnings of Venetia, or Venice, date back to 421 AD, when a small church was consecrated at Rialta, the cluster of islets that will eventually become the city's heart. Yet for now, most still return to their ruined towns whenever danger passes, clinging to the hope of rebuilding their lives. That cycle ends in 568 AD when the Lombards arrive. These Germanic tribes seeking land to conquer and settle sweep down into northern Italy. And this time the invaders are here to stay. So once the Lombards are there, the refugees realize that this is the end, they're never going home again. And so they have to make this their new home. And so they settle in all these different islands all throughout the lagoon. The lagoon that we see today, the Venetian lagoon, used to be much larger. Much of it has silted up over the centuries. It used to stretch all along the northern portion of the Adriatic. And there were lots of island towns that developed throughout those centuries. So separate at first, these habitats slowly coalesced to form a new settlement that prizes independence and resilience, cooperation and ingenuity. Initially constructed from timber and reeds, the architecture becomes sturdier over time, with walls solidified with wattle and daub. Goods are ferried in by boat, and with no roads, the waterways act as streets between clusters of stilted houses lifted above the tide. Their precarious existence, along with their almost unique freedom from invasion, informs the Venetians sense of identity. The Venetians always saw themselves because they lived in this lagoon. They were part of Europe, but they were also stood aloof from Europe. They were the only place in Western Europe that had not been conquered by the barbarian invasions, which destroyed the rest of the Roman Empire. And they viewed themselves very much as a kind of a Rome unfallen. Over the next centuries, the settlements knit together into a more cohesive community. But now they need rules, leaders and direction. Nominally, they remain under the shadow of Byzantium, the eastern half of the old Roman Empire, ruled from Constantinople. But this offers both protection and problems. There was a kind of a dual allegiance for them. On the one hand, they were loyal to the emperors in Constantinople. On the other hand, they weren't really in the empire anymore. They were on the frontier of the frontier. There were lots of conflicting kinds of allegiances, but it did mean that they definitely stood apart. It's out of this duality that Venice's unique political system emerges. Counselling Directory, the easy way to find qualified therapists across the UK. Finding the right therapist shouldn't be difficult. Since 2005, over 11 million people across the UK have connected with the support they need. Just pop in your postcode to find someone nearby or choose an online session. Every counsellor is vetted so you know you're in safe hands. It's completely free to search, so head to Counselling Directory. It might just be the best decision you make. Idle money lies in your current account picking crumbs out of its belly button, wondering, should I eat them? But when you start investing with Monzo, your money's always busy. It turns on regular investments, invests your spare change and tops up your stocks and shares, Issa. It even helps you make sense of risk and return. Monzo, the bank that gets your money moving. You could get back less than you invest. Monzo current account required UK residents 18 plus T's and C's apply. In the eighth century, the Venetians decide to elect a doge or a duke to act as head of state and governor affairs. The office of doge is both symbolic and practical. Representing all of the various island enclaves, he projects unity across the lagoon while keeping order. At this stage, there is still no city, just a cluster of villages strung across mud flats and channels, with the capital shifting to wherever each successive doge is from. The production of food and goods in this strange landscape also affects the kind of republic Venice will become. Venice doesn't have fields. They grow very little. They grow a few grapes here and there. They might have some places for a few animals, but it's mostly just for local consumption. But they can't produce food. They have to buy it. The only thing that they do produce is food. They have to buy it. The only thing that they do produce there locally is fish, but it's not very good. The main product they produce in those early years is salt. They have saltworks in which they can evaporate, sea water, and then they can roll the salt and sell that. So they become businessmen right from the beginning, because their life depends on it. That dependence shapes everything. Where other parts of medieval Europe develop feudalism, rooted in land ownership and military aristocracy, power in Venice lies with the shipowners and merchants, whose survival depends on the lagoon and the sea beyond. With a doge chosen primarily for his commercial skill, the city learns to constantly find balance between larger powers. Though officially governed by Constantinople, the empire is stretched thin and distracted by crises closer to home. That leaves Venice to act independently when it suits, with the doge extracting privileges from Byzantine emperors, bargaining with popes in Rome and charting his own course between the two. By the beginning of the ninth century, Venice is acting as a republic in all but name, with its strength firmly running in the city. With its strength firmly rooted in the sea and the trade on offer. But for all their autonomy, the Venetians are not beyond danger. On the mainland, the Franks are rising, a powerful dynasty of Germanic origin that now dominates much of western and central Europe. Their greatest ruler, Charlemagne, has formed the Carolingian Empire and been crowned emperor in Rome, reviving the idea of a western empire. And in 810, Charlemagne's son, Pepin, king of Italy, turns his eye on the lagoon. Charlemagne conquered most of central Europe and was extremely successful. But here's this little lagoon that he doesn't have control over. And so Pepin invades as he goes right along the Lido and conquers Malamoco. And it looks like this is the end of Venice. But the Venetians end up fleeing over the center of the lagoon, the hardest place to get to. Rivo Alto, High Banks, what we today call Rialto. And once they defeat Pepin, that becomes the new capital. So what we think of as Venice is a result of that. But even with the takeover avoided, independence for the Venetians is never only about politics. It is also about faith. At this stage, the church in Venice is being led from the Patriarchate of Grado, a small island just outside the lagoon. But its authority is continually contested by the older and more powerful Patriarchate of Aquileia on the mainland. But the problem is the Patriarch of Aquileia is Frankish. And the Venetians see this as essentially the Franks getting control of their church. In other words, getting what they couldn't get by warfare. And they are strongly opposed to this. To make matters worse, Aquileia claims religious superiority. Because their first bishop was a disciple of Saint Mark himself. And then in 827, the Pope ruled against the Venetians and said, no more Patriarch of Grado, you're under Aquileia. And so that meant that this was a crisis. The crisis gives new urgency to Venice's quest for independence. And that requires a dramatic piece of one-upmanship. If Aquileia can boast a disciple of Saint Mark, Venice will have to go one better. They will have to get Saint Mark himself. Which is why a small group of merchants head off to Alexandria to secure his vestigial remains and smuggle them back to the city. And smuggle them back to Venice under a blanket of pork. And once the relic is safely in Venice, they conveniently recall a prophecy that ties Saint Mark to them for good. They told the story that Saint Mark during his life was on his way to Aquileia. Now there was no Venice back then. It was the first century. But he sailed through the lagoon. And he spent the night at Rialto, right there. And while he was sleeping, an angel came down and said, Peace to you, Mark, my evangelist, your body will rest here. So it was prophesied that he would come back. The prophecy allows the Venetians to finally unite the disparate islands of the lagoon, each one with its own church and its own saint, under one gloriously divine protector. If you walk around Venice today, you'll walk by church after church after church, because those used to all be islands. But now, after bringing the body of Saint Mark, Venice became one urban center. And the patron saint of that center, ultimately their whole republic, was Saint Mark. With their patron saint enthroned and their independence more secure, the Venetians can now assemble their lagoon into the shape of a city. But how do you build a city on water? The solution is both simple and ingenious. Taking inspiration from their predecessors, builders now drive thousands of tightly packed wooden piles, hewn from the alpine forests, deep into the mud, creating solid platforms on which to raise better homes and churches. Submerged in the dense mud without air, the wood will harden rather than rot, fossilizing over time to form the invisible stone support network that still underpins Venice today. Rialto, that safer, higher ground, now becomes the permanent seat of power and the beating heart of the emerging city. The wooden Rialto bridge that spans the grand canal binds the islands together, and the waterway itself becomes a lifeline. Markets flourish along its banks, while goods stream in from the Adriatic, carried on proud Venetian galleys. Now they have very close connections with Constantinople and with the Byzantine Empire, because they're still part of it during their early centuries. And so they can sail to Constantinople, which is a massive city. So there's an enormous amount of trade that goes on there. They can buy low and come back and sell high. And so these merchant runs become crucial to them. Ties with Constantinople give the Venetian merchants access to routes and privileges that those from other cities can only dream of. And the profits from this commerce are plowed right back into developing the city. More bridges are built to link the islands. Modest wooden homes give way to sturdier brick palaces along the canals. Each one a declaration of the ambition and wealth of Venice's merchant elites. There are workshops too, most famously on the island of Murano, where Venetian craftsmen turn glass into both an art form and a prized export. And at the heart of all this development is the Church of San Marco, one of Venice's first great stone buildings, constructed beside the Doge's palace to house the relics of Saint Mark. Though humble by later standards, it's already a strong symbol that this proto-republic now sees itself as permanent, powerful, and divinely favored. Stone by stone, Venice secures its foundations. But its future lies with the sea, where its merchants are known for their shrewdness and success. The stage is set for expansion. In the 11th century, Italy is still centuries away from unification. The peninsula is divided into rival city-states, like Genoa and Pisa, and powerful regional players, like the Norman Kingdom of Sicily in the south and the Lombards further north, all of whom are competing for wealth and influence. By now, Venice has developed from a wealthy merchant city into a maritime powerhouse. Its fleets crisscross the Adriatic and the wider Mediterranean, carrying salt, glassware, and fine textiles, while importing spices, silks, and precious goods from the east. But transporting such valuable cargo over water is not without its risks. For centuries, Venice has relied on the Byzantine Empire for some measure of protection, especially at sea. But as the old powers now fade, Venice must step in. The Byzantine Empire becomes much smaller, and doesn't have the ability any longer to police the Adriatic. And the Venetians, who are now utterly reliant on trade, very reluctantly come to the conclusion that they're going to have to take over some of that operation of at least keeping the Adriatic safe. And so they need to start producing war galleys to patrol the Adriatic. To protect its wealth, Venice builds and maintains a formidable navy. Merchant convoys sail under armed escort to fend off pirates, defend their routes against rival city-states, and avert threats from those bigger regional powers. Venice is soon strong enough to take almost sole responsibility for keeping the seas around them safe. And once they start doing that, really the Adriatic is theirs. In fact, they start referring to the Adriatic as the Sea of Venice. And that means that if you're doing business somewhere, if you're a merchant, and you pick up something in Alexandria, and then you come into the Adriatic planning to stop at another Italian port, once Venice has firm control over the Adriatic, they require you to unload in Venice. So you don't get a choice as to where you're going anymore. You're told by the authorities that if you enter RC, you're going to Venice. Either that or pay the taxes, pay a Venetian tax on the goods that you have, then you can go wherever you want. Otherwise, you're going to have to unload in Venice. Formerly, Venice still acknowledges Byzantine authority, but its power now rests on its own strength. And soon that strength will be tested on a far greater stage, as Europe is swept into an age of holy war, intended to reclaim Jerusalem and the Holy Land in the name of Christ. These campaigns, soon to be known as the Crusades, will join kings and knights, merchants and sailors, all bound for the East. For the armies involved, getting to the Holy Land is half the battle. Most Crusaders march overland, gathering from across Western Europe and traveling east through what is now Germany, Hungary and down through the Balkans, before crossing into Asia Minor and on toward Jerusalem. But sea routes are just as vital. To move men, horses and supplies quickly across the Mediterranean to the Levant, the coastal lands of modern-day Syria, Lebanon and Israel, you need ships. And no one is better placed to provide them than Venice. Venice certainly was an early adopter in the Crusades. The first Crusade is called by Pope Urban II in 1095, and there's an enormous amount of enthusiasm in Western Europe for the first Crusade. Venice puts together the largest single fleet for the first Crusade, but because it's so big, it takes them longer to put it together. So by the time they actually sail out of Venice, the Crusade is basically over with. But they still sail, the Doge leads them to the Holy Land, and they help the new king of Jerusalem to conquer Beirut and some of the other areas along there. Whilst still bound by religion, Venice does not join these holy wars out of piety alone. Every voyage is a contract, and every transport deal is a fresh chance for profit. Ferriing Crusaders becomes big business, and with each campaign, Venice tightens its grip on the trade routes that connect Europe to the riches of the East. With the conquest of Jerusalem, it meant that it was now safe for Christian pilgrims to go to the holy sites. And so you would go to an Italian port, and buy passage. So Venice does a very good business in transporting people from Venice to the Holy Land. But the course of holy war never did run smooth. At the end of the 12th century, Jerusalem is once more in Muslim hands under Saladin, and Pope Innocent III wants it back. So he calls for a fourth Crusade, a huge affair which involves the Roman Empire, a huge affair which involves vast numbers of French knights taking the cross. Venice's Great Council, the assembly of its leading families among whom power is concentrated, enters into a massive contract with the French to supply ships, men, and provisions for their effort. But when the French arrive in 1202, their numbers fall way short, and they can't pay the bill. The Venetians, who have spent four tombs outfitting the fleet, are left frustrated and out of pocket. Desperate to cover their costs, the Crusaders agree to a deal with the Byzantine Prince who promises gold and aid if they can help him onto the throne of Constantinople. The Crusaders agree, and successfully install him as emperor in 1203. But his promises of riches and support quickly collapse, leaving the Crusade in tatters. By the spring of the next year, the double-crossed knights finally turn their fury on Constantinople itself. It's April 1204. Outside the city of Constantinople, the air is thick with smoke. Days of skirmishes have scarred the walls and set whole quarters ablaze, and still the city smolders. From inside the walls, bells toll frantically, sounding a desperate alarm. The sound carries out to the golden horn, the vast harbor that curves beneath Constantinople's northern walls, where the Crusaders' fleet now rocks. Behind their gilded prows, their decks are crammed with fighters ready for battle. One such soldier, a strong young man in gleaming armor, hefts a grappling hook in one hand, a sword in the other, as the vessels close in on the sea walls. He turns to the blind old doge of Venice Enrico Dandolo. Now, 90, he still leads the fight, and as the prows now bump against the stone wall, he bellows the order to attack. From their decks, soldiers raise ladders and throw grappling hooks. Storming the defenses, the young soldier throws his own hook high, feeling it bite the top of the wall. Arrows his down from above, striking armor around him as he starts to climb. Though some men fall, screaming into the water, the young fighter now holds himself over the parapet. He is immediately set upon by the city's defenders, and has no choice but to put his deadly weapons to use. Now, he joins the wave of attackers pouring through the streets. The city fills with armored men. Doors are hacked down, treasures plundered from homes. The young soldier, with his own hull gripped tight, watches as the great doors of the higher Sophia Cathedral are breached. Inside, the terrified citizens stand crowded together, clutching up to the ground. The crowd is together, clutching icons, praying and begging for compassion. But this young man, like the hordes of other crusaders, is on the warpath. He was promised gold, supplies, and support for the march to Jerusalem. Instead, he is starving, unpaid, and failed by his leaders. So instead of acknowledging these frightened civilians as allies, he sees them only as liars and enemies. And as the cathedral's golden icons and treasures are torn away, and its marble floors spattered with blood, he sees not sacrilege, but justice. When the battle is done, Constantinople, the bastion of the East and the ally of Venice, has fallen. Not to Muslim armies, but to fellow Christians. And in the smoke and the ruin, the crusaders seize their prize, while Venice, almost by accident, gains the wealth of an empire. Once the crusade had conquered Constantinople, Venice was certainly going to try their best to profit from it. The doge of Venice at the time, Enrico Gondolo, he was in his 90s and blind, and he still went on the crusade. And he lived through the whole crusade. It was massively important. He was in all the councils with the barons, telling them what he thought they should do. The sack of Constantinople leaves Venice staggeringly enriched. The Venetians carry home relics, jewels, and art, much of which finds its way into their churches and palaces. They also secure land in Constantinople itself, with vast quarters of the city placed under Venetian control, along with a larger share of Byzantine lands. But at home, not everyone rejoices. The raiding of a Christian city by fellow Christians unsettles Europe, and with the heart of Byzantium broken, its protection also vanishes. Suddenly, all of the islands, ports, and coastal strongholds that had once answered to Constantinople are up for grabs. Rival city-states like Genoa and Pisa waste no time lunging for key outposts across the sea, forcing Venice to do the same to hold under power. Chief among these is Crete, claimed as a tactical jewel to anchor Venetian control in the eastern Mediterranean. It's really the conquest of Crete that turns Venice from being a maritime republic into being a maritime empire. Now they have to administer a state that is over the seas. Now they get a lot more territory in the Adriatic as well, but Crete is crucially important. Soon, Venice's lion banner flies over ports, islands, and fortresses across the Adriatic, the Aegean, and into the Black Sea. And with these new colonies securing its sea lanes and defending its choke points, Venice stakes its claim as the unrivaled maritime power of the Mediterranean. By the 13th century, Venice has reached its peak. Known as La Serenissima, the most serene republic, it is the richest and most stable state in Europe. Its navy dominates the waters, and its merchants can be found everywhere from the cloth markets of Flanders in northern Europe to the spice ports of Alexandria in Egypt. Meanwhile, its chief rival, Genoa, on the northwest coast of Italy, struggles to match its reach. In this age of expansion, one Venetian will carry its name further than anyone before. In 1271, Marco Polo departs from the harbor with his father and uncle. After years of traveling, they reach the court of Kubla Khan in China, the heart of the Mongol Empire. There, Polo encounters cities larger than any in Europe, the strange miracle of paper money, and black stones we now call coal. A quarter of a century later, when he returns to Venice, his tales astonish Europe. Marco Polo went on this amazing trip to the Far East, lived there for decades, and became crucial in the Khan's government, and then eventually returned to Venice with riches, glory, and with lots of stories, which he told all the time. You would think that the Venetians would have really played him up, but they didn't really at all. In fact, as far as Venice was concerned, they thought he had just made it up. In fact, he kept talking about how big everything was and how giant everything was. Their nickname for him was Il Milione. It means, like, Mr. Millions. That's all you're doing is talking about millions, and the millions of this, millions of that. His adventures are chronicled as the travels of Marco Polo, and offer a glimpse of far Cathay. And since such marvels flow back through Venice first, it becomes known as the city that brought the East alive in the Western mind. But while his stories astonish with tales of distant lands, Venice has plenty to wow the senses closer to home. While the rest of Christendom marks the rhythms of the year with familiar traditions, in Venice, the ceremonies get a unique spin. The short season of revelry before Lent, for example, becomes carnival, a weeks-long festival of masks, music, gambling, and theater, where the city transforms itself into a stage, and everyone from nobles to commoners plays a part. And that is not the only Christian ritual to get the Venetian treatment. Probably among the most famous of the uniquely Venetian ones was the rituals on the Feast of the Ascension. After the regular religious rituals and the masses were done, they would have a massive procession of boats, in which the doge would come out in his dookal galley, and that everyone would sail out the lagoon to the mouth of the Adriatic. There, the doge would take a golden ring and would throw it into the Adriatic, and would say, with this ring, I espouse thee. So it was the marrying of Venice to the sea, because the sea was everything for them. The sea certainly brings them wealth and prosperity, and by the 15th century, that wealth fuels a cultural rebirth, as in Venice, the emerging Renaissance takes dazzling form. The movement that rekindles interest in art, literature, and science begins in Florence, but the Venetians are quick to embrace it. On Murano, glass makers perfect dazzling new techniques, creating crystal clear glass enameled goblets, and mirrors fine enough to grace the courts of Europe. The city's printing presses turn Venice into a hub of knowledge, producing books on philosophy, law, science, and poetry, and spreading them across the continent at unprecedented speed. Part of the reason why Venice becomes kind of a hub for art, printing, glass making, has to do with just the amount of concentrated wealth that's in the city, and this is in part also because Venice is inventing the basic tools of the modern capital age, deposit banking, insurance, stock markets, double entry bookkeeping, or audits, and things of that sort. They're inventing all these things, and as a result, becoming wealthier. And because in Venice, unlike the rest of Western Europe, status is bought rather than inherited, well-to-do families can flaunt their prominence by commissioning works from the great Renaissance masters, luring painters from Florence and beyond to work in their city. A lot of the Venetian art is done in churches, but also really big one is the scuole, which are basically confraternities of men who are competing against other confraternities. And they want their buildings to look the most beautiful. This competition brings about another invention, painting on canvas. In Venice, frescoes painted directly onto walls can't survive the damp salt air. So artists adapt by working instead on enormous pieces of fabric stretched over frames. Venice's art is a very unique and unique piece that is sacred and civic spaces fill with masterpieces, while architects and engineers reshape its skyline with domes, campaniles, and bridges that blend beauty with utility until the city itself becomes a work of art. And beneath its beautiful skin, Venice is cosmopolitan, tolerant, and curious. Here, east meets west in thought as well as trade. Greek scholars, Jewish merchants, and travelers from the Muslim world all add their voices to the mix. Ideas circulate freely, underpinned by lavish ritual and ceremony. Yet even as the city shines, the tides are beginning to turn. The first blow to Venice's dominion comes when Portugal's Vasco de Gama finally establishes a sea route around Africa. Leading directly to the spice markets of India. This is bad because if they can go straight to the markets, they can buy these goods that Venetians trade in, peppers, clothes, things of that sort. They can buy them for next to nothing, and they can bring them back now. It's a long way, but it doesn't matter. The markup is so high once they return. You can bring 10 vessels, go around Africa, go to India, come back, it might take you more than a year. You can lose nine of those vessels and still come out ahead. Way ahead. Spain too finds a new path to wealth. Hoping to reach the spice islands by sailing west, explorer Christopher Columbus instead stumbles on the Americas, where the silver mines make Spain incredibly wealthy. With its role as Europe's middle man now easily bypassed, Venice's monopoly is broken. Meanwhile, military defeats against the Ottoman Empire, weaken its colonies in the Eastern Mediterranean too. And just as its fortunes falter abroad, disaster strikes at home. Venice always had a plague problem, at least from the first Black Death in 1379. Every time a ship docks, there's like a rat exchange, rats get off, and rats would get on with the fleas that carried the disease, and then they would sail to Venice and they would get off in Venice, and then the fleas would jump and bite humans, and then the humans would get the plague, and then it would spread from there. By the late 16th century, Venice learns to quarantine the sick on a lagoon island, Lasaretto Vecchio. Suspected cases are confined therefore Quaranta Giorni, or 40 days, long enough to get better or die. It's a system that gives us the word quarantine. Even so, outbreaks continue. The epidemic of 1630 alone wipes out nearly a third of the city's population. But plague is only one symptom of a deeper malaise. Venice's world is changing, and to compensate for fading maritime power, leaders look inland, expanding into northern Italy, where Verona and other great cities are drawn into the Venetian orbit. Unfortunately, these territories are hard to defend, especially for an empire unaccustomed to fighting on land, and many Venetians see this shift as a mistake. But the sea is no longer profitable either. The world is getting bigger, and Venice, once a thriving crossroads, is being left behind. By the 18th century, the city is still a glittering jewel, but its political system has ossified, and its military power has dwindled to almost nothing. But that famous carnival before Lent, with its masked balls and Libertine reputation, is now what makes it legendary across Europe. Wealthy travelers stop here to marvel at the canals, to commission paintings of themselves gliding in gondolas, and to sample the city's notorious pleasures. What Venice had was just plain old decadence. Venice had prostitutes like crazy. Prostitution was practiced all across the city, and you've had all levels of prostitutes, from the lowest levels to the highest courtesans. Gambling in the casinos, or ridotti, and music in the many opera houses, all feed the city's reputation for extravagance and spectacle. Even Vivaldi, ostensibly writing his music for a charity for orphaned girls, also composes for tourists eager to be dazzled. As Venice loses its political and mercantile heft, theatricality and indulgence become its last true inheritance. THE PEOPLE OF THE DORSEY It's February 1797. In a darkened palazzo, a young Venetian nobleman sits alone. Once his family's future was secure, bound to the fate of the Doge's palace, now with Napoleon's armies tearing through northern Italy, the Republic trembles. Tonight, though, is for forgetting all of that. On the table before him lies a traditional volto, a plain white mask, ghost-like and anonymous. Here, in Venice, masks are more than costume. They erase rank and identity, letting courtesans mingle with senators, merchants with nobles, priests with gamblers. Behind them, anyone can be anyone. He places the mask over his face, studies his reflection in the dark glass of the window, and ties the ribbon tight. Stepping outside is swallowed by the atmosphere of Carnival. The canals glitter with lantern light, rippling gold across black water. Gondolas glide past, heavy with masked passengers. The sounds of violins and harpsichords blend with the laughter of crowds spilling into the piazzas. His velvet cloak brushes cold marble as he weaves through the flock of revelers. All around him, the city whirls in a dream of color and sound. He passes a ridota where dice tumble and fortunes vanish in a breath. Courtesans in feathered masks lean close to their patrons. Jewels sparkling, voices sweet with wine. From an opera house nearby, applause erupts as the singing ends. The air is thick with perfume and smoke from the fireworks. The young man pauses on the edge of the square, gazing at the spectacle. Venice is no longer the proud republic of his forebears. Yet here, in Carnival, it feels as though the city could still be reborn. But no amount of revelry can hide the truth. By 1797, the republic has run out of time. Napoleon Bonaparte marches through northern Italy, defeating Austria and redrawing the map of Europe. Venice, officially neutral, is too weak to defend itself. When skirmishes break out between French troops and Venetian militias, Napoleon seizes on them as proof of treachery, accusing the city of conspiring with Austria. It is the pretext he needs to strike. This time, there is no sanctuary in the lagoon. Venice is defenseless before Napoleon's cannons, and the doge is forced to abdicate. And so, on May 12, 1797, the last doge convened the Great Council, the oldest republican body in existence, and brought before it the resolution to end the republic of Venice. And they voted in favor, and so the republic died. I think it's always amazing that this republic remains so strong that after so long, it literally voted itself out of existence, right at the end. Sainsbury's Good Food for All of Us Selected products, LD Price Match, not in Ni. Nectar prices require Nectar account. Terms at www.sainsbury.co.uk slash LDPriceMatch and netto.com slash prices terms. So you want to start a business? You might think you need a team of people and fancy tech skills, but you don't. You just need GoDaddy Arrow. I'm Walton Goggins, and as an actor, I'm an expert in looking like I know what I'm doing. GoDaddy Arrow uses AI to create everything you need to grow a business. It'll make you a unique logo. It'll create a custom website. It'll write social posts for you and even set you up with a social media calendar. Get started at godaddy.com slash arrow. That's godaddy.com slash A-I-R-O. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. The United States of America is the home of the United States of America. Yet the city finds a new life as a cultural capital and a magnet for visitors. And in 1979, the Italian government reinstate the dormant carnival in a drive to revive the city's culture and heritage. But while its 119 interconnected islands were once home to over 100,000 residents, modern Venice struggles to hold on to its people. Tourism drives property prices beyond the reach of most Venetians, pushing families to the mainland, while the grandest Palazzi are snapped up by the wealthy elite among its visitors. Nowadays, it's less than 50,000, around 40,000 or so who actually live in Venice. And when you consider that on any given day, particularly around Carnival, you can have 50, 60, 70,000 tourists in the city. So the tourists literally outnumber the people in the city. And Venetians have debated for a long time about this, you know, is it even a city anymore? Or is it just a theme park? And we're all the workers in the theme park. In recent years, that tension has sharpened. Venetians have protested against the crush of mass tourism and the environmental strain of giant cruise ships. In 2024, the city became the first in the world to introduce a so-called tourist tax, aimed at limiting numbers and helping to preserve the fragile lagoon. For some locals, it's a necessary safeguard. For others, a reminder that their city is at risk of becoming a museum of itself, frozen in time to look as it did in the 16th century. And the city also faces the far greater threat of the waters themselves. Venice is slowly sinking, even as sea levels rise. Floods that were once rare now swamp the city several times each winter, and climate scientists warn that without drastic action, large parts of Venice could be uninhabitable within a century. To stave off disaster, engineers have built a barrier of flood gates designed to hold back the highest tides. It has already saved the city on several occasions, though critics question how long such defenses can last against the relentless rise of the sea. And yet, despite the fragility of its foundations, Venice endures as a place of survival and reinvention, as dazzling and improbable as the day it first rose from the lagoon. Venice is unique and it's beautiful, and everyone has an image of it in their mind. And so of course it's natural that everyone, if they can, they want to see it, experience it for themselves. I would say that the average tourist probably doesn't know that this is the birthplace of modern capitalism, that the world that we know of is largely possible because the innovations from this city, and that's okay. It's a beautiful place and it should be experienced on that level as well. Hi listeners, we'll be taking a short break over the festive season. Short history of will be back in the new year with brand new weekly episodes. Happy holidays!