Robilant This Earthly Globe

A Venetian Geographer and the Quest to Map the World
Main
ISBN: 978-1-80546-131-9
Verlag: Atlantic Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 272 Seiten

'A dazzling tale, brilliantly told' Peter Frankopan 'A wonderful book' Sunday Telegraph, 5* 'Triumphant' Literary Review DURING THE AGE OF DISCOVERY, in the autumn of 1550, an anonymously authored volume containing a wealth of geographical information new to Europeans was published in Venice under the title Navigationi et Viaggi (Journeys and Navigations). This was closely followed by two further volumes that, when taken together, constituted the largest release of geographical data in history, and could well be considered the birth of modern geography. The editor of these volumes was a little-known public servant in the Venetian government, Giovambattista Ramusio. He gathered a vast array of both popular and closely guarded narratives, from the journals of Marco Polo to detailed reports from the Muslim scholar and diplomat Leo Africanus. In an enthralling narrative, Andrea di Robilant brings to life the man who used all his political skill, along with the help of conniving diplomats and spies, to democratise knowledge and show how the world was much larger than anyone previously imagined.

Andrea di Robilant was born in Italy and educated at Columbia University, where he specialized in international affairs. He is the author of A Venetian Affair, Lucia: A Venetian Life in the Age of Napoleon, Irresistible North: From Venice To Greenland on the Trail of the Zen Brothers, Chasing the Rose and Autumn in Venice. He lives in Rome.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Robilant, Andrea Di

Leseproben

| CHAPTER ONE |

THE EDUCATION OF A GEOGRAPHER

IN THE SPRING OF 1505, AT THE AGE OF TWENTY, GIOVAMBATTISTA RAMUSIO PASSED A RIGOROUS EXAMINATION TO enter the Venetian Chancery and landed a position as junior clerk, with an initial salary of thirty ducats a year.

It was a momentous event not just for Giovambattista but for the entire Ramusio family, which had migrated to the Republic a generation earlier and was still finding its footing in the stratified structure of Venetian society.

The Chancery, located in the Doge’s Palace, was the central administrative body of the state. It was run by an elite corps of officials drawn from the ranks of the an intermediate caste of citizens who were not allowed to rule—that was the exclusive right of the nobility—but were relied upon to manage the sprawling Venetian bureaucracy.

Giovambattista’s new job was the first step toward a prestigious career in government and an affirmation of his family’s loyalty to the Republic.

The Ramusios were originally from Rimini, a fiefdom on the Adriatic coast in what was then the northernmost region of the Papal States. Giovambattista’s father, Paolo Ramusio, emigrated to the Venetian Republic at the age of sixteen to pursue his education. He studied law at the University of Padua, which served as the Republic’s main campus at a time when there was no university in Venice proper. His younger, wilder brother, Girolamo, soon joined him.

Paolo was a brilliant, ambitious student. He obtained his Venetian citizenship and entered the ranks of the magistracy. Girolamo studied medicine and philosophy and wrote clever erotic verse in Latin. When his lover, a prominent Paduan lady, was murdered in mysterious circumstances, he was caught up in the scandal and fled to Syria. He settled in Damascus, studied Arabic and translated parts of Avicenna’s he later moved to Beirut, where, according to a family chronicle, he died around 1484, apparently from indigestion after eating too many apricots.

Paolo, meanwhile, married Tomyris Macachiò, a Venetian who, although not noble herself, was related to several patrician families. Her unusual first name reflected the fashion, in humanistic circles, of naming children after figures of antiquity. Tomyris was the strong-willed queen of the Scythes who defeated Cyrus, King of Persia; according to one narrative, she had his head cut off and wrapped in a human skin filled with the blood of dead soldiers. A rather gruesome woman to some; but Boccaccio, the early Renaissance poet, glorified Queen Tomyris in his popular book

Paolo and Tomyris had two boys and four girls. Giovambattista, the eldest of the children, was born in 1485 in Treviso, forty miles north of Padua, where his father was a provincial magistrate. During the following years Paolo received government assignments in different provincial towns of the Republic. While he moved from post to post, the family stayed in Padua. Tomyris raised the children in a comfortable house in via del Patriarcato. Despite his long absences, Paolo made sure his firstborn received a solid humanistic education, which meant Greek and Latin but also mathematics, physics and natural sciences.

At university, Giovambattista did not study law, like his father, but stuck to humanities in order to prepare for the entry examination at the Chancery. Junior clerks, known as were expected to have a thorough knowledge of history, to write superior prose and to be excellent public speakers. And Venetian authorities felt that those who aspired to such a career were better served by a solid education in literature, history and the classics rather than in the dry intricacies of the law. In Padua, Ramusio studied with some of the great scholars of his time—Latin with Giovanni Calfurnio, Greek with Leonico Tomeo, history with Marco Antonio Sabellico.

Paolo also introduced his son to the star-studded circle of humanists gravitating around Aldus Manutius, a publisher who ran a flourishing press in Venice that specialized in Greek and Latin classics. In time, Aldus would have a decisive influence on Giovambattista, teaching him how to edit old manuscripts and publish fine-quality books.

Paolo used his connections to get his son onto a fast track at the Chancery, and very quickly Alvise Mocenigo, an influential senator and a strong supporter of Aldus’s publishing house, took Giovambattista on as his personal aide.

Young Ramusio had barely settled into his new position when his new boss was picked to lead a tricky diplomatic mission to the court of Louis XII, the King of France. And so, in early October, Giovambattista bid farewell to his family and joined Mocenigo on the monthlong journey to Blois, the royal residence in the Loire valley.

It was a golden opportunity for a junior clerk to immerse himself in the complexities of European politics and witness firsthand an experienced diplomat like Mocenigo try to defuse a threatening set of circumstances.

FALCONS FOR THE KING

Venice’s expansion in northern Italy had alienated its powerful neighbors. To the north, Emperor Maximilian of Austria eyed with increasing appetite the rich plains of the Po valley and was planning an invasion. To the west, Louis XII had already conquered the Duchy of Milan and was looking to consolidate his dominions in Italy. To the south, the fiery new pope, Julius II, angered by Venice’s encroachments along the border with the Papal States, was itching to teach the Republic a lesson.

Venice had a long tradition of playing foreign powers against one another to hold on to its provinces on the mainland. But this balancing act was becoming harder to maintain as French and Austrian ambitions in Italy firmed up. And if France and Austria moved together with the backing of the Pope, Venice would find itself surrounded by enemies. The consequences would be catastrophic.

The Venetians saw Louis XII as the key player—neither Emperor Maximilian nor the Pope was likely to move against Venice without the support of France. Mocenigo’s brief was to gain the French monarch’s goodwill while keeping alive the rivalry between France and Austria.

It turned out Louis XII was in no rush to meet the Venetian delegation when it arrived in Blois in early November. Mocenigo found a friendlier ear in Philippe de Commynes, a veteran diplomat brought out of retirement to help formulate France’s Italian policy. Humanist, memoirist, lover of Italian culture and a keen expert in Italian politics, de Commynes had many friends in Venice, where he had served as French ambassador a decade earlier. He enjoyed dropping by Mocenigo’s quarters to banter and reminisce.

De Commynes’s influence at court was not what it had been. Still, he was able to mollify Louis XII, who finally received the Venetian ambassador. An awkward moment occurred when Mocenigo began to read his prepared speech in Latin: the king stopped him in his tracks and ordered him to read in his own language, explaining that he was curious “to hear someone speak in Italian.”

Was it a friendly remark or a chilling allusion to the king’s plans for expansion in Italy?

After a moment of confusion, Mocenigo recovered his poise; but as he wrote in his report, a certain apprehension lingered.

The Venetian envoy was left to wait for the next summons. But a sudden, unexpected rapprochement between France and Spain shook the court and forced Mocenigo to take a back seat. Only two years before, Louis XII and King Ferdinand of Spain had gone to war over the Kingdom of Naples. But after the recent death of his wife, Queen Isabella, Ferdinand was now proposing to strengthen the ties between the two erstwhile enemies by taking a wife of French royal blood. Louis XII, realizing he could gain leverage over Austria, offered Ferdinand the hand of his niece Germaine de Foix.

Mocenigo saw the advantage of this plan: it foreshadowed a distancing of France from Austria, and therefore a possible weakening of the anti-Venetian front. Eager to have another interview with Louis XII, he urged de Commynes to speed things up. “Give him falcons” was de Commynes’s friendly advice—the king loved falconry and owned more than three hundred specimens, including the rare white falcon from Greenland. But Louis XII, bedridden with acute chest pains and high fevers, was in no mood for falcons. His condition worsened and, by the end of the year, vigils were held across France. “It is said here that he will not live long,” a worried Mocenigo reported back to Venice.

Louis XII was given last rites. His death was likely to encourage the aggressive impulses of Emperor Maximilian, who made no mystery of his desire to move swiftly against Venice and “rob it of its gold.” But after a gloomy winter the king recovered and by the early spring of 1506 he was out of danger.

During his convalescence, Louis XII softened toward the Venetians. In April, Mocenigo and his young aide Ramusio were invited to follow the king to Tours, another place of residence of the House of Orleans. The court settled there until midsummer.

Louis XII was a popular king, often referred to as the “Father of the People.” He had brought an end to the internal wars that had wracked the country during the reign of his predecessors and had presided over a long period of economic growth. But while all was relatively well at home, he was consumed by his ambitions abroad. Now that relations with Spain were on a surer footing, Louis XII let...