How to Live Like a Doge

How to Live Like a Doge

It wasn't easy being the doge. Called the Serenissimo ("Most Serene"), Venice's head of state led a life that was anything but.

In the 1,100 years of the republic (697-1797), 121 men were elected to lifetime terms as doge through a convoluted process: first, 41 electors, all from noble families, were chosen through drawings and secret votes. Sequestered in the Palazzo Ducale, they deliberated until at least 25 agreed on the selection, a process that took anywhere from a few hours to several months. When a new doge was chosen, cannons sounded from boats in the harbor and the city's bells rang. On Coronation Day, 80 arsenal workers carried the doge through Piazza San Marco, where throngs cheered while pocketing the silver coins he tossed to them.

Severe measures were taken to ensure the doge didn't abuse his office. He wasn't allowed to send notes (not even to his wife). He couldn't accept gifts other than flowers and rosewater. He wasn't allowed to go to theaters and cafés, where he might plot against democracy. And he had to pay his own office bills, though he couldn't engage in money-making activities.

The doge was expected to lead the Venetian fleet into battle; bad health and old age didn't excuse him from the duty. The blind, 90-year-old Enrico Dandolo proudly laid siege to Constantinople in 1203 and 1204, making off with the four horses that now adorn the Basilica. Even the resting place of the doge was dictated by protocol: for much of the history of the republic, doges were mummified and put on display in the Chiesa dei Santi Giovanni e Paolo. But Venetian embalmers weren't as skilled as those of ancient Egypt. After several centuries of unpleasant odors, "symbolic" mummies replaced the real ones, which were interred in family chapels.