Test Bank for Canadian Entrepreneurship
Test Bank for Canadian Entrepreneurship
4) The primary reason most people start their own business is to:
A) earn large sums of money.
B) build for their family.
C) use their skills/abilities.
D) gain independence.
Answer: D
1
7) The ability to see, conceive, and create new and unique products/services is:
A) risk-taking.
B) product development.
C) locus of control.
D) innovativeness.
Answer: D
10) Profit Magazine found that owners of small- and medium-sized businesses on average worked:
A) 45 hours per week.
B) 60 hours per week.
C) 54 hours per week.
D) 40 hours per week.
Answer: C
11) Even though they own their own businesses, entrepreneurs must still answer to:
A) neighbours.
B) customers and suppliers.
C) their boss.
D) no one.
Answer: B
12) Which of the following is not a primary cause of small business failure?
A) Lack of financial capacity
B) Lack of understanding financial information
C) Incompetence and inexperience
D) Floods and tornados
Answer: D
2
13) The major causes of business failure include:
A) growing too quickly.
B) a manager not holding a business degree.
C) number of competitors.
D) a type of small business.
Answer: A
15) Which of the following is not an external shock that can negatively affect small business success?
A) Downturn in the economy
B) Poorly planned expansion
C) Changes in interest or currency rates
D) Loss of suppliers
Answer: B
16) Specific areas of managerial incompetence contributing to small business failure include:
A) company management does not ask for help.
B) lack of financial skill.
C) poor or non-existent management information systems.
D) all of the answers are correct.
Answer: D
3
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all his harbours. All that he asked in return for these magnificent
concessions was an undertaking that Genoa would arm a squadron of
fifty ships at his expense, if he asked for it. It was expressly stipulated
that this armament should not be employed against Prince William of
Achaia. Genoa performed her part of the bargain by sending a small fleet
to aid the Emperor in the recovery of Constantinople from the Latins; but
it arrived too late to be of any use. Still, Michael VIII took the will for
the deed; he needed Genoese aid for his war against Venice; so he sent an
embassy to ask for more galleys. The Genoese, heedless of papal
thunders against this “unholy alliance,” responded by raising a loan for
the affairs of the Levant[451]; and it was their fleet, allied with the
Greeks, which sustained the defeat off the islet of Spetsopoulo, or Sette
Pozzi, as the Italians called it[452], at the mouth of the Gulf of Nauplia in
1263. But the Emperor soon found that his new allies were a source of
danger rather than of strength; he banished the Genoese of
Constantinople to Eregli on the Sea of Marmara, and made his peace
with their Venetian rivals. In vain Genoa sent Benedetto Zaccaria to
induce him to revoke his decree of expulsion; some years seem to have
elapsed before he allowed the Genoese to return to Galata, and it was not
till 1275 that the formal ratification of the treaty of Nymphæum marked
his complete return to his old policy[453], and that Manuele and
Benedetto Zaccaria became the recipients of his bounty.
The Zaccaria were at this time one of the leading families of Genoa,
whither they had emigrated from the little Ligurian town of Gavi some
two centuries earlier. The grandfather of Manuele and Benedetto, who
derived his territorial designation of “de Castro,” from the district of Sta
Maria di Castello, in which he resided, had held civic office in 1202;
their father Fulcho had been one of the signatories of the treaty of
Nymphæum[454]. Three years before that event Benedetto had been
captured by the Venetians in a battle off Tyre. Three years after it, he was
sent as Genoese ambassador to Michael VIII and, though his mission
was unsuccessful, the Emperor had the opportunity of appreciating his
business-like qualities[455]. Early in 1275, the year when Genoa had
returned to favour at the Imperial Court, the two brothers started from
their native city upon the voyage to Constantinople, which was destined
to bring them fame and fortune—to Manuele, the elder, the grant of the
alum-mines of Phocæa at the north of the Gulf of Smyrna, to Benedetto
the hand of the Emperor’s sister[456]. Phocæa at that time consisted of a
single town, situated to the west of the alum-mountains; but, later on, the
encroachments of the Turks led its Latin lords to build on the sea-shore
at the foot of the mountain a small fortress sufficient to shelter about
fifty workmen, which, with the aid of their Greek neighbours, grew into
the town of New Phocæa, or Foglia Nuova, as the Italians called it. The
annual rent, which Manuele paid to the Emperor, was covered many
times over by the profits of the mines. Alum was indispensable for
dyeing, and Western ships homeward-bound were therefore accustomed
to take a cargo of this useful product at Phocæa[457]. The only serious
competition with the trade was that of the alum which came from the
coasts of the Black Sea, and which was exported to Europe in Genoese
bottoms. A man of business first and a patriot afterwards, Manuele
persuaded the Emperor to ensure him a monopoly of the market by
prohibiting this branch of the Euxine trade—a protective measure, which
led to difficulties with Genoa. He was still actively engaged in business
operations at Phocæa in 1287, but is described as dead in the spring of
the following year[458], after which date the alum-mines of Phocæa
passed to his still more adventurous brother, Benedetto.
While Manuele had been accumulating riches at Phocæa, Benedetto
had gained the reputation of being one of the most daring seamen, as
well as one of the ablest negotiators, of his time. He was instrumental, as
agent of Michael VIII, in stirring up the Sicilian Vespers and so
frustrating the threatened attack of Charles I of Anjou upon the Greek
Empire, and later in that year we find him proposing the marriage of
Michael’s son and the King of Aragon’s daughter[459]. In the following
years he was Genoese Admiral in the Pisan War, and led an expedition to
Tunis; in 1288 he was sent to Tripoli with full powers to transact all the
business of the Republic beyond the seas. After negotiating with both the
claimants to the last of the Crusaders’ Syrian states, he performed the
more useful action of conveying the people of Tripoli to Cyprus, when,
in the following year, that once famous city fell before the Sultan of
Egypt. In Cyprus he concluded with King Henry II a treaty, which gave
so little satisfaction to the home government, that it was speedily
cancelled. More successful was the commercial convention which he
made with Leo III of Armenia, followed by a further agreement with that
monarch’s successor, Hethum II. But his rashness in capturing an
Egyptian ship compelled the Republic to disown him, and in 1291 he
sought employment under a new master, Sancho IV of Castile, as whose
Admiral he defeated the Saracens off the coast of Morocco[460]. From
Spain he betook himself to the court of Philip IV of France, to whom,
with characteristic audacity, he submitted in 1296 a plan for the invasion
of England[461]. During his absence in the West, however, war broke out
between the Genoese and the Venetians, whose Admiral, Ruggiero
Morosini, took Phocæa and seized the huge cauldrons which were used
for the preparation of the alum[462]. But upon his return he speedily
repaired the walls of the city, and ere long the alum-mines yielded more
than ever. Nor was this his only source of revenue, for under his brother
and himself Phocæa had become a name of terror to the Latin pirates of
the Levant, upon whom the famous Tartarin of the Zaccaria ceaselessly
preyed, and who lost their lives, or at least their eyes, if they fell into the
hands of the redoubtable Genoese captains[463]. The sums thus gained
Benedetto devoted in part to his favourite project for the recovery of the
Holy Land, for which he actually equipped several vessels with the aid
of the ladies of his native city—a pious act that won them the praise of
Pope Boniface VIII, who described him as his “old, familiar friend[464].”
This new crusade, indeed, came to nought, but such was the renown
which he and his brother had acquired, that the Turks, by this time
masters of the Asian coast, and occupants of the short-lived Genoese
colony of Smyrna, were deterred from attacking Phocæa, not because of
its natural strength but because of the warlike qualities of its Italian
garrison. Conscious of their own valour and of the weakness of the
Emperor Andronikos II, the Genoese colonists did not hesitate to ask him
to entrust them with the defence of the neighbouring islands, if he were
unable to defend that portion of his Empire himself. They only stipulated
that they should be allowed to defray the cost out of the local revenues,
which would thus be expended on the spot, instead of being transmitted
to Constantinople. Benedetto had good reason for making this offer; for
Chios and Lesbos, once the seats of flourishing Genoese factories under
the rule of the Greek Emperor and his father, had both suffered severely
from the feeble policy of the central government and the attacks of
corsairs. Twice, in 1292 and 1303, the troops first of Roger de Lluria and
then of Roger de Flor had ravaged Mytilene and devastated the famous
mastic-gardens of Chios—the only place in the world where that product
was to be found, while a Turkish raid completed the destruction of that
beautiful island[465].
Andronikos received Benedetto’s proposal with favour, but as he
delayed giving a definite decision, the energetic Genoese, like the man of
action that he was, occupied Chios in 1304 on his own account. The
Emperor, too much engaged with the Turkish peril to undertake the
expulsion of this desperate intruder, wisely recognised accomplished
facts, and agreed to let him have the island for ten years as a fief of the
Empire, free of all tribute, on condition that he flew the Byzantine
standard from the walls and promised to restore his conquest to his
suzerain at the expiration of the lease[466]. Thus, in the fashion of
Oriental diplomacy, both parties were satisfied: the Italian had gained the
substance of power, while the Greek retained the shadow, and might
salve his dignity with the reflexion that the real ruler of Chios hoisted his
colours, owed him allegiance, and was a near kinsman of his own by
marriage.
This first Genoese occupation of Chios lasted only a quarter of a
century; but even in that short time, under the firm and able rule of the
Zaccaria, it recovered its former prosperity. Benedetto refortified the
capital, restored the fallen buildings, heightened the walls, and deepened
the ditch—significant proofs of his intention to stay. Entrusting Phocæa
to the care of his nephew Tedisio, or Ticino, as his deputy, he devoted his
attention to the revival of Chios, which at his death, in 1307, he
bequeathed to his son, Paleologo, first-cousin of the reigning Emperor,
while he left Phocæa to his half-brother, Nicolino, like himself a naval
commander in the Genoese service. This division of the family
possessions led to difficulties. Nicolino arrived at Phocæa and demanded
a full statement of account from his late brother’s manager, Tedisio; the
latter consented, but the uncle and the nephew did not agree about the
figures, and Nicolino withdrew, threatening to return with a larger force,
to turn Tedisio out of his post, convey him to Genoa, and appoint another
governor, Andriolo Cattaneo della Volta, a connexion of the family by
marriage, in his place. Nicolino’s son privately warned his cousin of his
father’s intentions, and advised him to quit Phocæa while there was still
time. At this moment the Catalan Grand Company was at Gallipoli, and
there Tedisio presented himself, begging the chronicler Muntaner to
enroll him in its ranks. The Catalan, moved by his aristocratic
antecedents and personal courage, consented, and soon the fugitive ex-
governor, by glowing accounts of the riches of Phocæa, induced his new
comrades to aid him in capturing the place from his successor. The
Catalans were always ready for plunder, and the alum-city was said to
contain “the richest treasures of the world.” Accordingly, a flotilla was
equipped, which arrived off Phocæa on the night of Easter 1307. Before
daybreak next morning, the assailants had scaled the walls of the castle;
then they sacked the city, whose population of more than 3000 Greeks
was employed in the alum-manufactory. The booty was immense, and
not the least precious portion of it was a piece of the true Cross, encased
in gold and studded with priceless jewels. This relic, said to have been
brought by St John the Evangelist to Ephesus, captured by the Turks
when they took that place, and pawned by them at Phocæa, fell to the lot
of Muntaner[467]. This famous “Cross of the Zaccaria” would seem to
have been restored to that family, and we may conjecture that it was
presented to the cathedral of Genoa, where it now is, by the bastard son
of the last Prince of the Morea[468], when, in 1459, he begged the city of
his ancestors to recommend him to the generosity of Pius II. Emboldened
by this success, Tedisio, with the aid of the Catalans, conquered the
island of Thasos from the Greeks and received his friend Muntaner and
the Infant Ferdinand of Majorca in its castle with splendid hospitality.
Six years later, however, the Byzantine forces recovered this island,
whence the Zaccaria preyed upon Venetian merchantmen[469], and it was
not for more than a century that a Genoese lord once again held his court
in the fortress of Tedisio Zaccaria.
Meanwhile, Paleologo, in Chios, had continued the enlightened policy
of his father, and reaped his reward in the renewed productiveness of the
mastic-plantations. In 1314, when the ten years’ lease of the island
expired, the strong fortifications, which his father had erected, and his
near relationship to the Emperor procured him a renewal for five more
years on the same terms[470]. He did not, however, long enjoy this further
tenure, for in the same year he died, apparently without progeny. As his
uncle, Nicolino, the lord of Phocæa and the next heir, was by this time
also dead, the latter’s sons, Martino and Benedetto II, succeeded their
cousin as joint-rulers of Chios, while Phocæa passed beneath the direct
control of Nicolino’s former governor, Andriolo Cattaneo, always, of
course, subject to the confirmation of the Emperor.
The two brothers, who had thus succeeded to Chios, possessed all the
vigorous qualities of their race. One contemporary writer after another
praises their services to Christendom, and describes the terror with which
they filled the Turks. The Infidels, we are told, were afraid to approach
within twelve miles of Chios, because of the Zaccaria, who always kept a
thousand foot-soldiers, a hundred horsemen, and a couple of galleys
ready for every emergency. Had it not been for the valour of the Genoese
lords of Chios “neither man, nor woman, nor dog, nor cat, nor any live
animal could have remained in any of the neighbouring islands.” Not
only were the brothers “the shield of defence of the Christians,” but they
did all they could to stop the infamous traffic in slaves, carried on by
their fellow-countrymen, the Genoese of Alexandria, whose vessels
passed Chios on the way from the Black Sea ports. Pope John XXII, who
had already allowed Martino to export mastic to Alexandria in return for
his services, was therefore urged to give the Zaccaria the maritime police
of the Archipelago, so that this branch of the slave-trade might be
completely cut off[471]. Sanudo[472], with his accurate knowledge of the
Ægean, remarked that the islands could not have resisted the Turks so
long, had it not been for the Genoese rulers of Chios, Duke Nicolò I of
Naxos, and the Holy House of the Hospital, established since 1309 in
Rhodes, and estimated that the Zaccaria could furnish a galley for the
recovery of the Holy Land. Martino was specially renowned for his
exploits against the Turks. No man, it was said, had ever done braver
deeds at sea than this defender of the Christians and implacable foe of
the Paynim. In one year alone he captured 18 Turkish pirate ships, and at
the end of his reign he had slain or taken more than 10,000 Turks[473].
The increased importance of Chios at this period is evidenced by the
coins, which the two brothers minted for their use, sometimes with the
diplomatic legend, “servants of the Emperor[474].” Benedetto II was,
however, eclipsed by the greater glories of Martino. By marriage the
latter became baron of Damala and by purchase[475] lord of Chalandritza
in the Peloponnese, and thus laid the foundations of his family’s fortunes
in the principality of Achaia. He was thereby brought into close relations
with the official hierarchy of the Latin Orient, from which the Zaccaria,
as Genoese traders, had hitherto been excluded. Accordingly, in 1325,
Philip I of Taranto, who, in virtue of his marriage with Catherine of
Valois, was titular Latin Emperor of Constantinople, bestowed upon him
the islands of Lesbos, Samos, Kos, and Chios, which Baldwin II had
reserved for himself and his successors in the treaty of Viterbo in 1267,
—a reservation repeated in 1294—together with those of Ikaria,
Tenedos, Œnoussa, and Marmara, and the high-sounding title of “King
and Despot of Asia Minor,” in return for his promise to furnish 500
horsemen and six galleys a year whenever the “Emperor” came into his
own[476]. The practical benefits of this magnificent diploma were small
—for Martino already ruled in Chios, with which Samos and Kos seem
to have been united under the sway of the Zaccaria, while the other
places mentioned belonged either to the Greeks or the Turks, over whom
the phantom Latin Emperor had no power whatever. Indeed, this
investiture by the titular ruler of Constantinople must have annoyed its
actual sovereign, who had not, however, dared to refuse the renewal of
the lease of Chios, when it again expired in 1319.
But Martino had given hostages to fortune by his connexion with the
Morea. His son, Bartolommeo, was captured by the Catalans of Athens
in one of their campaigns, sent off to the custody of their patron,
Frederick II of Sicily, and only released at the request of Pope John XXII
in 1318. As the husband of the young Marchioness of Boudonitza, he
was mixed up also in the politics of Eubœa and the mainland opposite,
while he is mentioned as joining the other members of his family in their
attacks upon the Turks.
For a time Martino managed to preserve good relations with the Greek
Empire. In 1324, the lease of Chios was again renewed, and in 1327
Venice instructed her officials in the Levant to negotiate a league with
him, the Greek Emperor, and the Knights against the common peril[477].
But by this time the dual system of government in the island had broken
down: Martino’s great successes had led him to desire the sole
management of Chios, and he had accordingly ousted his brother from
all share in the government and struck coins for the island with his own
name alone, as he did for his barony of Damala[478]. His riches had
become such as to arouse the suspicions of the Imperial Government that
he would not long be content to admit himself “the servant of the
Emperor”; the public dues of the island amounted to 120,000 gold pieces
a year, while the Turks paid an annual tribute to its dreaded ruler, in
order to escape his attacks. It happened that, in 1328, when the
quinquennial lease had only another year to run and the usual
negotiations for its renewal should have begun, that Andronikos III, a
warlike and energetic prince, mounted the throne of Constantinople, and
this conjunction of circumstances seemed to the national party in Chios
peculiarly favourable to its reconquest. Accordingly, the leading Greek
of the island, Leon Kalothetos, who was an intimate friend of the new
sovereign’s Prime Minister, John Cantacuzene, sought an interview with
the latter’s mother, whom he interested in his plans. She procured him an
audience of the Emperor and of her son, and they both encouraged him
with presents and promises to support the expedition which they were
ready to undertake. An excuse for hostilities was easily found in the new
fortress which Martino was then engaged in constructing without the
consent of his suzerain. An ultimatum was therefore sent to him ordering
him to desist from his building operations, and to come in person to
Constantinople, if he wished to renew his lease. Martino, as might have
been expected from his character, treated the ultimatum with contempt,
and only hastened on his building. Benedetto, however, took the
opportunity to lodge a complaint against his brother before the Emperor,
claiming 60,000 gold pieces, the present annual amount of his half-share
in the island, which he had inherited but of which the grasping Martino
had deprived him.
In the early autumn of 1329, Andronikos assembled a magnificent
fleet of 105 vessels, including four galleys furnished by Duke Nicolò I of
Naxos, with the ostensible object of attacking the Turks but with the real
intention of subduing the Genoese lord of Chios. Even at this eleventh
hour the Emperor would have been willing to leave him in possession of
the rest of the island, merely placing an Imperial garrison in the new
castle and insisting upon the regular payment of Benedetto’s annuity.
Martino, however, was in no mood for negotiations. He sank the three
galleys which he had in the harbour, forbade his Greek subjects to wear
arms under pain of death, and shut himself up with 800 men behind the
walls, from which there floated defiantly the flag of the Zaccaria, instead
of the customary Imperial standard. But, when he saw that his brother
had handed over a neighbouring fort to the Emperor, and that no reliance
could be placed upon his Greek subjects, he sent messengers begging for
peace. Andronikos repulsed them, saying that the time for compromise
was over, whereupon Martino surrendered. The Chians clamoured for his
execution; but Cantacuzene saved his life, and he was conveyed a
prisoner to Constantinople, while his wife Jacqueline de la Roche, a
connexion of the former ducal house of Athens, was allowed to go free
with her family and all that they could carry. Martino’s adherents were
given their choice of leaving the island with their property, or of entering
the Imperial service, and the majority chose the latter alternative. The
nationalist leaders were rewarded for their devotion by gifts and honours;
the people were relieved from their oppressive public burdens. To
Benedetto the Emperor offered the governorship of Chios with half the
net revenues of the island as his salary—a generous offer which the
Genoese rejected with scorn, asserting that nothing short of absolute
sovereignty over it would satisfy him. If that were refused, he only asked
for three galleys to carry him and his property to Galata. Andronikos
treated him with remarkable forbearance, in order that public opinion
might not accuse an Emperor of having been guilty of meanness, and, on
the proposal of Cantacuzene, convened an assembly of Greeks and of the
Latins who were then in the island—Genoese and Venetian traders, the
Duke of Naxos, the recently appointed Roman Catholic bishop of Chios
and some other Frères Prêcheurs who had arrived—in order that there
might be impartial witnesses of his generosity. Even those of Benedetto’s
own race and creed regarded his obstinate refusal of the Imperial offer
with disapprobation; nor would he even accept a palace and the rank of
Senator at Constantinople with 20,000 gold pieces a year out of the
revenues of Chios; nothing but his three galleys could he be persuaded to
take. His object was soon apparent. Upon his arrival at Galata, he
chartered eight Genoese galleys, which he found lying there, and set out
to reconquer Chios—a task which he considered likely to be easy, as the
Imperial fleet had by that time dispersed. The Chians, however, repulsed
his men with considerable loss, the survivors weighed anchor on the
morrow, and Benedetto II succumbed barely a week later to an attack of
apoplexy, brought on by his rage and disappointment[479].
Martino, after eight years in captivity, was released by the intervention
of Pope Benedict XII and Philip VI of France in 1337, and treated with
favour by the Emperor, who “gave him a command in the army and other
castles,” as some compensation for his losses[480]. In 1343, Clement VI
appointed him captain of the four papal galleys which formed part of the
crusade for the capture of the former Genoese colony of Smyrna from
Omar Beg of Aïdin, the self-styled “Prince of the Morea[481]”—a post
for which his special experience and local knowledge were a particular
recommendation in the eyes of the Pope. Martino desired, however, to
avail himself of this opportunity to reconquer Chios from the Greeks,
and invited the Knights and the Cypriote detachment to join him in this
venture, to which his friend, the Archbishop of Thebes, endeavoured to
force the latter by threats of excommunication. The Pope saw, however,
that this repetition on a smaller scale of the selfish policy of the Fourth
Crusade would have the effect of alienating his Greek allies, and ordered
the Latin Patriarch of Constantinople to forbid the attack[482]. Martino
lived to see Smyrna taken in December, 1344, but on January 17, 1345,
the rashness of the Patriarch, who insisted on holding mass in the old
Metropolitan Church against the advice of the naval authorities, cost him
his life. Omar assaulted the cathedral while service was still going on,
Martino was slain, and his head presented to that redoubtable
chieftain[483]. When, in the following year, the Genoese retook Chios,
and founded their second long domination over it, his descendants did
not profit by the conquest. But his second son, Centurione, retained his
baronies in the Morea, of which the latter’s grandson and namesake was
the last reigning Prince.
After the restoration of Greek rule in Chios and the appointment of
Kalothetos as Imperial viceroy, Andronikos III had proceeded to
Phocæa. By this time the Genoese had abandoned the old city and had
strongly fortified themselves in the new town, purchasing further
security for their commercial operations by the payment of an annual
tribute of 15,000 pieces of silver and a personal present of 10,000 more
to Saru-Khan, the Turkish ruler of the district. The Emperor, having
placated this personage with the usual Oriental arguments, set out for
Foglia Nuova. Andriolo Cattaneo chanced to be absent at Genoa on
business, and the Genoese garrison of 52 knights and 400 foot-soldiers
was under the command of his uncle, Arrigo Tartaro. The latter wisely
averted annexation by doing homage to the Emperor, and handed the
keys of the newly constructed castle to his Varangian guard. After
spending two nights in the fortress, in order to show that it was his,
Andronikos magnanimously renewed the grant of the place to Andriolo
during good pleasure. But Domenico Cattaneo, who succeeded his father
not long afterwards with the assent of the Emperor, lost, in his attempt to
obtain more, what he already had.
Cattaneo, not content with the riches of Foglia Nuova, coveted the
island of Lesbos, which had belonged for just over a century to the
Greeks, and it seemed in 1333 as if an opportunity of seizing it had
arisen. The increasing power of the Turks, who had by that time taken
Nicæa and Brusa and greatly hindered Greek and Latin trade alike in the
Ægean, led to a coalition against them; but, before attacking the common
enemy, the Knights, Nicolò I of Naxos, and Cattaneo made a treacherous
descent upon Lesbos, and seized the capital of the island. The crafty
Genoese, supported by a number of galleys from his native city,
managed, however, to outwit his weaker allies, and ousted them from all
share in the conquered town, whither he transferred his residence from
Foglia Nuova. Andronikos, after punishing the Genoese of Pera for this
act of treachery on the part of their countrymen, set out to recover
Lesbos. The slowness of the Emperor’s movements, however, enabled
Cattaneo to strengthen the garrison, and Andronikos, leaving one of his
officers to besiege Lesbos, proceeded to invest Foglia with the aid of
Saru-Khan, whose son with other young Turks had been captured and
kept as a hostage by the Genoese garrison. The place, however,
continued for long to resist the attacks of the allies, till at last Cattaneo’s
lieutenant prevailed upon them to raise the siege by restoring the
prisoners to their parents and pledging himself to obtain the surrender of
the city of Mytilene, which still held out, and which the Emperor, fearing
troubles at home, had no time to take. Cattaneo, indeed, repudiated this
part of the arrangement, and bribery was needed to seduce the Latin
mercenaries and thus leave him unsupported. From Lesbos he retired to
Foglia, which the Emperor had consented to allow him to keep on the old
terms; but four years later, while he was absent on a hunting party, the
Greek inhabitants overpowered the small Italian garrison and proclaimed
Andronikos III[484]. Thus ended the first Genoese occupation of Phocæa
and Lesbos—the harbinger of the much longer and more durable
colonisation a few years later. Two gold coins, modelled on the Venetian
ducats, of which the first of them is the earliest known counterfeit, have
survived to preserve the memory of Andriolo and Domenico Cattaneo,
and to testify to the riches of the Foglie under their rule[485].
APPENDIX
I. L P (Foglia).
II. L C ,S I .
III. L L .
IV. L T .
Tedisio Zaccaria. 1307-13.
[Greek Emperors. 1313-c. 1434.]
Dorino I Gattilusio. c. 1434 or ? c. 1419.
? Jacopo Gattilusio. c. 1419.
[Oberto de’ Grimaldi, governor. 1434.]
Francesco III Gattilusio. 1444-c. 1449.
Dorino I ” again. c. 1449.
[Domenico, regent. 1449-55.]
Domenico. 1455. (June 30-October.)
[Turkish: 1455-6; Papal: 1456-9; Turkish: 1459-60; Demetrios
Palaiologos: 1460-6; Venetian: 1466-79; Turkish: 1479-1912;
Greek: 1912- .]
V. L L .
VI. L S .
VII. L I .
VIII. L Æ .
IX. S .
X. F .
Genoese: 1374-1464.
[Banca di San Giorgio: 1447-64; Lusignans: 1464-89; Venetian:
1489-1571; Turkish: 1571-1878; British (under Turkish
suzerainty): 1878-1914; British: 1914- .]
Of the Latin states which existed in Greek lands between the Latin
conquest of Constantinople in 1204 and the fall of the Venetian Republic
in 1797, there were four principal forms. Those states were either
independent kingdoms, such as Cyprus; feudal principalities, of which
that of Achaia is the best example; military outposts, like Rhodes; or
colonies directly governed by the mother-country, of which Crete was
the most conspicuous. But the Genoese administration of Chios differed
from all the other Latin creations in the Levant. It was what we should
call in modern parlance a Chartered Company, which on a smaller scale
anticipated the career of the East India and the British South Africa
Companies in our own history.
The origins of the Latin colonization of Greece are usually to be found
in places and circumstances where we should least expect to find them.
The incident which led to this Genoese occupation of the most fertile
island of the Ægean is to be sought in the history of the smallest of
European principalities—that of Monaco, which in the first half of the
fourteenth century already belonged to the noble Genoese family of
Grimaldi, which still reigns over it. At that time the rock of Monaco and
the picturesque village of Roquebrune (between Monte Carlo and
Mentone) sheltered a number of Genoese nobles, fugitives from their
native city, where one of those revolutions common in the mediæval
republics of Italy had placed the popular party in power. The proximity
and the preparations of these exiles were a menace to Genoa, but the
resources of the republican treasury were too much exhausted to equip a
fleet against them at the cost of the state. Accordingly, an appeal was
made to the patriotism of private citizens, whose expenses were to be
ultimately refunded, and in the meanwhile guaranteed by the possession
of any conquered territory. In response to this appeal, twenty-six of the
people and three nobles of the popular party equipped that number of
galleys, which were placed under the command of Simone Vignoso,
himself one of the twenty-nine privateers. On April 24, 1346, the fleet
set sail; and, at its approach, the outlawed nobles fled to Marseilles,
whence many of them entered the French army and died four months
later fighting at Crécy against our King Edward III.
The immediate object for which the fleet had been fitted out had been
thus accomplished. But it seemed to Vignoso a pity that it should not be
employed, and the Near East offered a tempting field for its activities.
The condition of south-eastern Europe in 1346 might perhaps be
paralleled with its situation in later times. An ancient empire, which
Gladstone described as “more wonderful than anything done by the
Romans,” enthroned on the Bosporos with one brief interval for ten
centuries, was obviously crumbling away, and its ultimate dissolution
was only a question of time. A lad of fourteen, John V Palaiologos, sat
on the throne of the Cæsars, while a woman and a foreigner, the
Empress-mother Anne of Savoy, governed in his name. Against her and
her son the too-powerful Grand Domestic (or, as we should say, prime
minister), John Cantacuzene, whom posterity remembers rather as an
historian than as an Emperor, had raised the standard of revolt. In Asia
Minor Byzantium retained nothing but the suburb of Scutari,
Philadelphia, and the two towns of Phocæa. Independent emirs ruled the
south and centre, the Ottomans the north, whence in seven years they
were to cross into Europe, in eight more to transfer their capital to
Adrianople. Already the European provinces of Byzantium were cut
short by the frontier of the Bulgarian Empire and still more by the rapid
advance of Serbia, then the most powerful state in the Balkan peninsula.
Seventeen days before Vignoso sailed for the East, the great Serbian
conqueror and lawgiver, Stephen Dushan, one of the most remarkable
figures in mediæval history, was crowned at Skoplje “Emperor of the
Serbs and Greeks” and had proposed to Genoa’s rival, Venice, an
alliance for the conquest of the Byzantine Empire. Greece proper, with
the exception of the Byzantine province in the Morea, was parcelled out
between Latin rulers, while Byzantium had no fleet to protect her
outlying territories. Under these circumstances a commercial Italian
republic might not unnaturally seek to peg out claims in the midst of the
general confusion in the East, where only two years before Smyrna,
formerly a Genoese colony, had been recaptured from the Turks.
Vignoso’s first intention was to protect the Genoese settlements on the
Black Sea against the attacks of the Tartars; but information received at
Negroponte, where he touched on the way, led him to change his plans.
There he found a fleet of Venetian and Rhodian galleys, under the
Dauphin of Vienne, preparing to occupy Chios as a naval base for
operations against the Turks in Asia Minor. Vignoso and his associates
were offered large sums for their co-operation, but their patriotism
rejected the idea of handing over to the rival republic an island which
had belonged to the Genoese family of Zaccaria from 1304 to 1329, and
which as recently as seventeen years earlier had been recovered by the
Greeks. They made all sail for Chios, and offered to assist the islanders
against a Venetian attack, if they would hoist the Genoese flag and admit
a small Genoese garrison. The scornful refusal of the garrison was
followed by the landing of the Genoese; four days sufficed to take the
rest of the island; but the citadel made such a spirited resistance that
three months passed before food gave out and on September 12 the
capitulation was signed. The governor, Kalojanni Cybo, himself of
Genoese extraction, and a member of the well-known Ligurian family
which afterwards produced Pope Innocent VIII, made excellent terms for
himself and his relatives, while the Greeks were to enjoy their former
religious liberties and endowments, their property, and their privileges. A
Genoese governor was to be appointed to administer the island according
to the laws of the Republic, and 200 houses in the citadel were assigned
at once for the use of the Genoese garrison. Vignoso proved by his
example that he meant to keep these promises. He ordered his own son to
be flogged publicly for stealing grapes from a vineyard belonging to one
of the natives, and bequeathed a sum of money for providing poor Chiote
girls with dowries as compensation for any damage that he might have
inflicted upon the islanders.
Vignoso completed the conquest of Chios by the annexation of Old
and New Phocæa, or Foglia Vecchia and Nuova, as the Italians called
them, almost the last Byzantine possessions on the coast of Asia Minor,
and celebrated for their valuable alum-mines, whence English ships used
to obtain materials for dyeing, and of the neighbouring islands of Psara,
or Santa Panagia, Samos, Ikaria, and the Œnoussai[486]. All these places
had belonged to the former Genoese lords of Chios, with whose fortunes
they were now reunited. The two Foglie, with the exception of a brief
Byzantine restoration, remained in Genoese hands till they were
conquered by the Turks in 1455; Foglia Vecchia, after about 1402, being
administered by the Gattilusj of Lesbos, Foglia Nuova being leased to a
member of the maona for life or a term of years. Samos and Psara were
abandoned in 1475 from fear of corsairs, and their inhabitants removed
to Chios, whilst the harbourless Ikaria, where pirates could not land, was
in 1362 granted to the Genoese family of Arangio, which held it with the
title of Count until 1481. In that year it was ceded for greater security to
the knights of Rhodes, and remained united with that island till it too was
conquered by the Turks in 1522. Vignoso desired to add the rich island
of Lesbos and the strategic island of Tenedos, which, as we have been
lately reminded, commands the mouth of the Dardanelles, to his
acquisitions. But his crews had had enough of fighting, and were so
mutinous that he returned to Genoa[487].
The Genoese exchequer was unable to repay to Vignoso and his
partners their expenses, amounting to 203,000 Genoese pounds (£79,170
of our money) or 7000 for each of the twenty-nine galleys, the Genoese
pound being then, according to Desimoni, worth 9 lire 75 centesimi.
Accordingly, by an arrangement made on February 26, 1347, it was
agreed that the Republic should liquidate this liability within twenty
years and thereupon become the direct owner of the conquered places,
which in the meanwhile were to be governed—and the civil and criminal
administration conducted—in her name. The collection of taxes,
however, and the monopoly of the mastic, which was the chief product
of the island, were granted to the twenty-nine associates in the company,
or mahona, as it was called. The origin of this word is uncertain. In
modern Italian maona means a “lighter”; but those vessels of Turkish
invention are not mentioned before 1500. On the other hand, we read of
a maona, or madona (as it is there written), in connexion with a Genoese
expedition to Ceuta in a document of 1236, and it has, therefore, been
suggested that maona is a Ligurian contraction of Madonna, and that
such trading companies were under the protection of Our Lady, whose
image was to be seen on the palace of the Giustiniani at Genoa. At any
rate, the name was applied to other Genoese companies, to the Old and
New maona of Cyprus, founded in 1374 and 1403, and to the maona of
Corsica, founded in 1378. Other derivations are from the Greek word
μονάς (“unit”), the Genoese mobba (“union”), and the Arabic me-unet
(“subsidy”)[488].
This convention with the maonesi[489] was to be valid only as long as
the popular party remained in power at Genoa. The Republic was to be
represented in Chios by a podestà, selected annually out of a list of
twenty Genoese democrats submitted in February by the Doge and his
council to the maonesi; from these twenty the maonesi were to choose
four, and one of these four was then appointed podestà by the Doge and
council. Should the first list of twenty be rejected by the maonesi, a
second list was to be prepared by the home government. The podestà
was to swear to govern according to the regulations of Genoa and the
convention concluded by Vignoso with the Greeks. Twice a year he went
on circuit through the island to hear the complaints of the natives, and no
maonese was allowed to accompany him on those journeys. Another
officer of the Republic was the castellano, or commander of the castle of
Chios, likewise chosen annually, from a list of six names, submitted to
the Duke and his council by the maonesi. This officer was bound to find
security to the amount of 3000 Genoese pounds (£1170) for his
important charge. A podestà and castellano for Foglia Nuova and the
castellano of Foglia Vecchia, who had the powers of a podestà, were
appointed in the same way. These officials were responsible for their
misdeeds to a board of examiners, and the podestà was assisted by six,
afterwards twelve, councillors called gubernatores, elected by the
maonesi or other nominees, in everything except his judicial work, where
their co-operation was at his discretion. Salaries were not high; those of
the podestà of Chios and Foglia Nuova were only 1250 (or £560) and
600 hypérpera (or £268 16s.) respectively; those of the three castellani
ranged from 400 to 500 (or £179 4s. to £224). Out of these sums they
had to keep and clothe a considerable retinue. Local officials called
generically rettori, but familiarly known as codespótæ (“joint lords”) or
protogérontes (“chief elders”) in the eight northern, and as logariastaí
(or “calculators”) in the four southern or mastic districts of Chios, were
appointed by the podestà.
The podestà had the right of coining money, provided that his coins
bore the effigy of the Doge of Genoa and the inscription “Dux
Ianuensium Conradus Rex” in memory of Conrad III, King of the
Romans, who in 1138 had conceded to the Republic the privilege of a
mint on condition that her coins always bore his name[490]. This
condition was not, however, always observed in the Chiote mint. The
maonesi between 1382 and 1415 coined base imitations of the Venetian
zecchini, a practice likewise adopted by Francesco I Gattilusio of Lesbos,
and by Stephen Urosh II of Servia, and which procured for the latter a
place among the evil kings in the Paradiso[491] of Dante. From 1415 the
name and figure of St Laurence, the patron saint of the cathedral at
Genoa, and the initial or name of the Doge began to appear on the Chiote
coins; during the Milanese domination of Genoa two Dukes of Milan,
Filippo Maria Visconti and Galeazzo Maria Sforza, figured on the
currency of the island, and two issued during the French protectorate of
Genoa (1458-61) actually bear the kneeling figure of Charles VII[492].
Finally, from 1483 small pieces bear the initials of the podestà. The
financial affairs of the company were entrusted to two officials known as
massarj, who were obliged to send in annual accounts to the Genoese
Audit Office. Lastly, Chios was to be a free port for Genoese ships,
which were to stop a day there on the voyage to Greece or between
Greece and Syria, but no Genoese outlaws were to be harboured there.
Thus, while the nominal suzerainty was vested in the home government,
the real usufruct belonged to the company, especially as the former was
never able to clear off its liabilities to the latter.
The members of the maona soon began to tire of their bargain and to
sell their shares. Vignoso died, most of his partners resided at Genoa, and
only eleven years after the constitution of the original company the
island was in the possession of eight associates, of whom one alone,
Lanfranco Drizzacorne, had been a member of the old maona. These
persons, being mainly absentees, had farmed out the revenues to another
company, formed in 1349 for the extraction of mastic, and consisting of
twelve individuals under the direction of Pasquale Forneto and Giovanni
Oliverio. Difficulties arose between the eight partners and their lessees;
the Republic intervened, and, by the good offices of the Doge of Genoa,
Simone Boccanegra, a fresh arrangement[493] was made on March 8,
1362. The island was farmed out for twelve years to the twelve persons
above mentioned or their heirs, who collectively formed an “inn” (or
albergo), and, abandoning their family names, called themselves both
collectively and individually the Giustiniani—a name assumed three
years earlier by the members of the old maona, and perhaps derived from
the palace where their office was. One of the twelve partners, Gabriele
Adorno, alone declined to merge that illustrious name in a common
designation. The members of this new maona were to enjoy the revenues
of the island in equal shares; but the Republic reserved to herself the
right of purchasing Chios before February 26, 1367, the date fixed by the
previous arrangement for the liquidation of her original debt of 203,000
Genoese pounds; if that date were allowed to pass without such payment,
the Republic could not exercise the right of purchase for three years
more; if no payment were made by February 26, 1374, that right would
be forfeited altogether. No member of the new company could sell his
twelfth or any fraction of it (for each twelfth was divided into three parts
called caratti grossi and each of these three was subsequently subdivided
into eight shares, making 288 caratti piccoli in all) to any of his partners,
but, with the consent of the Doge, he might substitute a fresh partner in
his place, provided always that the number of the partners remained
twelve and that they belonged to the popular party at Genoa. The number
was not, however, strictly maintained. Thus, while at first the partners
were twelve, viz. Nicolò de Caneto, Giovanni Campi, Francesco
Arangio, Nicolò di S. Teodoro, Gabriele Adorno, Paolo Banca, Tommaso
Longo, Andriolo Campi, Raffaelle di Forneto, Lucchino Negro, Pietro
Oliverio, and Francesco Garibaldi, there was soon added a thirteenth in
the person of Pietro di S. Teodoro, whose share, however, only consisted
of two caratti grossi, or sixteen caratti piccoli, that is to say, two-thirds
of the share of each of the other members. In the very next year some of
the partners retired to Genoa, selling their shares, and thus two entire
twelfths came into the possession of the same individual, Pietro
Recanelli, who had succeeded Vignoso as the leading spirit of the
company. Later on, the shares became subdivided to such an extent that
at the date of the Turkish conquest more than 600 persons held fractions
of them. The shareholders were entitled not only to their dividends but
also to a proportionate share of the local offices, of which two or three
were attached to each share, but no shareholder could hold the more
important for two consecutive years.
When the term for the purchase of the island by the Genoese Republic
drew near, her treasury, exhausted by the war arising out of her quarrels
with the Venetians in Cyprus, was unable to liquidate its debt to the
company of 203,000 Genoese pounds, at that time (owing to the change
in the value of the pound) equivalent to 152,250. Anxious not to forfeit
her right of purchase, the Republic paid to the company collectively this
sum, which she had first borrowed from the chief members of it in their
individual capacity as bankers. By this financial juggle she became
possessed of Chios; but, in order to pay the interest on her new loan, she
let the island for twenty years more to the maonesi, who were to deduct
from its revenues the amount of the interest and remit the balance,
calculated at 2000 gold florins, to the Genoese exchequer. Seven years’
balance was to be paid in advance. But such was the financial distress of
Genoa that the government in 1380 was obliged to mortgage this annual
balance to the bank of St George for 100,000 Genoese pounds. The
company then came to the aid of the mother-country, and voluntarily
offered to furnish a loan of 25,000 Genoese pounds. In return, the
Republic, by a convention of June 28, 1385, renewed the lease of Chios,
which would otherwise have expired in 1394, till 1418. Five years before
the latter date it was again renewed, in return for a fresh loan of 18,000
Genoese pounds, till 1447; again, in 1436, in consideration of a further
loan of 25,000, it was prolonged till 1476, when it was extended to 1507
and then till 1509. Then, at last, the Republic not only resolved to pay off
the maonesi, but even raised the money for the purpose; but the
shareholders protested that 152,250 Genoese pounds were no longer
sufficient in view of the altered value of the pound (then worth only 3
lire 73 c.) and the large sums which they had advanced. Payment was
accordingly postponed till 1513, when it was decided to leave the island
in the hands of the Giustiniani till 1542, with some modifications of their
charter. In 1528, however, it was finally agreed to lease Chios to them in
perpetuity, in return for an annual rent of 2500 Genoese pounds. At that
time most of the shareholders were enrolled in the Golden Book of
Genoa.
Such were the arrangements between the company and the mother-
country, arrangements which worked so well that in 220 years there was
only one revolt against her, when Marshal Boucicault occupied Genoa
for the King of France. Considering their contract thereby annulled, the
Giustiniani deposed the podestà and on December 21, 1408, proclaimed
their independence. Venice allowed them to buy provisions and arms; but
in June, 1409, a Genoese force under Corrado Doria forced them to
yield[494]. Let us now look at their relations with foreign powers. Of
these, three were at one time or another a menace to their existence—the
Greek Empire, Venice, and the Turks. Both Anne of Savoy[495] and
Cantacuzene demanded the restoration of Chios from the Republic,
which replied that no official orders had been given for its capture and
the government could assume no responsibility for the acts of a private
company, nor could it dislodge the latter without great expense; at some
future date, however, when circumstances were more favourable, it
would undoubtedly be possible to restore it to the Emperor. The latter
was not satisfied with this reply, but bade the Genoese envoys, who were
sent to pacify him, fix a definite date for the evacuation of Chios. It was
then agreed between him and the Republic that the maonesi should retain
the city of Chios, and enjoy its revenues, for ten years, on condition that
they paid an annual tribute of 12,000 gold pieces to the Emperor, hoisted
his flag, mentioned his name in their public prayers, and received their
metropolitan from the church of Constantinople. The rest of the island,
including the other forts, was to belong to the Emperor, and to be
governed by an Imperial official, who was to decide all disputes between
the Greeks, while those between a Greek and a Latin were to be referred
to the two Byzantine and Genoese authorities sitting together. At the end
of the ten years, calculated from Cantacuzene’s occupation of
Constantinople, the Genoese were to evacuate Chios altogether. Vignoso
and his co-partners, however, declined to be bound by an arrangement
made between the Emperor and the Republic, whereupon Cybo
attempted to restore Greek rule, and perished in the attempt. The two
Foglie were, however, temporarily reoccupied[496], but the Greek peril
ceased when the Emperor John V Palaiologos in 1363 granted Chios to
Pietro Recanelli and his colleagues in return for an annual payment of
500 hypérpera (or £224)[497]. Eight years earlier the position of the
maona had been strengthened by the same Emperor’s gift of Lesbos as
his sister’s dowry to another Genoese, Francesco Gattilusio, whose
family, as time went on, ruled also over Thasos, Lemnos, Samothrace,
Imbros, and the town of Ænos on the mainland, in 1913 the Turkish
frontier in Europe. In 1440 John VI renewed the charter of 1363.
Venice was a more obstinate rival. The war which broke out between
the two Republics in 1350 involved Chios, for a defeated Genoese
squadron took refuge there. But Vignoso, with his usual energy, fitted out
a flotilla, sailed to Negroponte, captured the castle of Karystos, ravaged
Keos, and hung the keys of Chalkis as a trophy over the castle-gate of
Chios—a humiliation avenged by the despatch of a Venetian squadron
which carried off many of the islanders[498]. During the struggle of the
two Italian commonwealths for the possession of Tenedos (granted to
Genoa by Andronikos IV in 1376), Foglia Vecchia was attacked and the
suburbs of Chios laid in ashes. For a time the common danger from the
Turks united the Venetians and the Genoese company; but in 1431-2 a
Venetian fleet bombarded the town. The captain of the Venetian foot-
soldiers, who bore the appropriate name of Scaramuccia, was killed
while laying a mine, and the admiral, Mocenigo, contented himself with
ravaging the mastic-gardens. On his return home he was condemned to
ten months’ imprisonment in the Pozzi, while his Genoese rival, Spinola,
carried off the keys of Karystos to adorn the castle of Chios, where they
were still visible in the sixteenth century[499].
There remained the most serious of all enemies—the Turks. Murad I,
who died in 1389, had already levied tribute from Chios[500];
Mohammed I in 1415 fixed this sum at 4000 gold ducats, while the
lessee of Foglia Nuova paid 20,000 out of the profits of the alum mines.
By this system of Danegeld the maonesi kept on fairly good terms with
the Turks till the capture of Constantinople. The active part taken in its
defence by one of the Giustiniani, whose name will ever be connected
with that of the heroic Constantine XI, exasperated Mohammed II
against Chios, whither the chalices and furniture from the Genoese
churches of Pera were removed, and many of the survivors fled for
safety. An increase of the tribute to 6000 ducats was accepted[501]. But in
1455 the Turks sent two fleets to Chios under the pretext of collecting a
debt for alum, alleged to have been supplied to the maona by Francesco
Drapperio, former lessee of Foglia Nuova, and then established at
Pera[502]. These expeditions cost the company Foglia Nuova, but it
gained a further respite by the payment of a lump sum of 30,000 gold
pieces and the increase of the annual tribute to 10,000 ducats. In vain it
appealed to Genoa and to the Pope; in vain on April 7, 1456, the
Republic wrote to our King Henry VI[503], then struggling against the
Yorkists, for assistance, reminding him that there had been few wars
against the infidels in which the most Christian Kings of England had not
borne a great part of the toils and dangers. The extinction of the Lesbian
principality of the Gattilusj in 1462, the taking of Caffa in 1475, the
capture of the Venetian colony of Negroponte by the Turks in 1479, were
signs of what was in store for Chios, now completely isolated. The
maonesi in vain wrote to Genoa, threatening to abandon the island, if
help were not forthcoming, and offered to cede it to her altogether. “We
cannot put our hands,” so ran their letter, “on 100 ducats; we owe
10,000. The Genoese mercenaries sent us were very bad. Send us none
from the district between Rapallo and Voltri, for they quarrel daily, steal
by day and night, and pay too much attention to the Greek ladies,” whose
charms were the theme of every visitor to the island[504]. The only means
of maintaining independence was to pay tribute punctually and to
propitiate any persons who might be influential at the Porte, notably the
French ambassadors, two of whom visited Chios in 1537 and 1550.
Finally, in 1558 Genoa disavowed all connexion with the island, and
instructed her representative at Constantinople to repudiate her
sovereignty over it[505].
Then came the final catastrophe. The company was no longer able to
provide the annual tribute, which had risen to 14,000 gold pieces, and to
give the usual presents, valued at 2000 ducats, of scarlet cloth to the
Turkish viziers, “a race of men full of rapacity and avarice,” as De Thou
called them. It was accused of having betrayed the Turkish plans against
Malta to the knights and thus helping to stultify the siege of that island in
1565; while the fugitive slaves who found refuge in Chios were a
constant source of difficulties. One of them was the property of the grand
vizier; the podestà, Vincenzo Giustiniani, called upon either to give him
up or pay compensation, confided the latter to an emissary, who
absconded with the money. Thereupon Pialì Pasha, a Hungarian
renegade in the Turkish service, appeared off Chios with a fleet of from
80 to 300 sail on Easter Monday, April 15, 1566. The pasha told the
Chiotes that he would not land, as he did not wish to disturb the Easter
ceremonies. Next day he entered the harbour and demanded the tribute.
After having landed and studied the strategic position, he invited the
podestà and the twelve “governors” on board to confer with him, and
clapped them into irons. On April 17, as an inscription[506] in the chief
mosque, then a church, still tells us, he took the town, and the flag of St
George with the red cross gave way to the crescent almost without
resistance.
The fall of Genoese rule was ennobled by the heroism of the bishop,
Timoteo Giustiniani, who bade a renegade kill him rather than profane
the mass, and by the martyrdom of eighteen boys, who died rather than
embrace Islâm—a scene depicted by Carlone in the chapel of the Ducal
Palace at Genoa[507]. The other boys between the ages of twelve and
sixteen were enrolled in the corps of janissaries, while the leading
maonesi were exiled to Caffa, whence some of them, thanks to the
intervention of the French ambassador, returned to Chios or Genoa[508].
In vain they demanded from the home government compensation for the
loss of their island. As late as 1805 their descendants were still trying to
recover a sum of money, deposited with the bank of St George, and in
1815 the bank ceased to exist and with it the last faint hope of
repayment. There were, however, some lucky exceptions to these
misfortunes. Thus Vincenzo Negri Giustiniani, who was a child of two at
the date of the Turkish conquest, came to Rome, was created by Pope
Paul V in 1605 first marquess of Bassano, and in 1610 built the Palazzo
Giustiniani, now the seat of the Italian Freemasons and of the Prussian
Historical Institute. Professor Kehr, the director of that body, informs
me, however, that there is no trace there of the Chiote inscription of
1522, which is said to have been removed thither[509]. On the other hand,
although the Turks destroyed many churches, Chios still abounds with
Latin monuments[510], in which the arms of the Giustiniani—a castle of
three towers, surmounted after 1413 by the imperial eagle granted by the
Emperor Sigismund[511]—are conspicuous. It may be of interest to
mention that when in 1912, an Italian attack upon Chios was
contemplated, orders were issued to spare the historical monuments of
Chios. That island, however, with the exception of a brief Venetian
occupation in 1694-5, remained Turkish till November 24, 1912, when a
Greek force landed and on the following day easily captured the capital,
which thus, for the first time since 1346, passed from under foreign
domination.
We may now ask ourselves whether the rule of the company was
successful. Financially, it certainly was. Even in its latter days, when
heavy loans had been contracted with the bank of St George and the
Turkish tribute was 14,000 gold ducats, a dividend of 2000 ducats was
paid on each of the thirteen original shares; while in its best times the
small caratto, originally worth some 30 Genoese pounds, was quoted at
4930. Chios during the middle ages was one of the most frequented
marts of the Levant, while the alum of Foglia Nuova (which, as long as
that factory remained Genoese, covered the annual rent to Genoa) and
the mastic of the island (in which a part of the Turkish tribute was paid)
were two valuable sources of revenue. The production of mastic was
carefully organised. The company leased to each hamlet a certain area of
plantation, and the lessees once a year handed in a certain weight of
mastic in proportion to the number of the trees. If it were a good year and
the yield were greater, they received a fixed price per pound for the
excess quantity delivered; but if they failed to deliver the stipulated
amount, they had to pay twice that sum[512]. In order to keep up prices in
years of over-production, all the mastic over a certain amount was either
warehoused or burned. Special officials divided the net profit accruing
from its sale among the shareholders; no private person might sell it to
foreigners; and thefts or smuggling of the precious gum, if committed on
a small scale, cost the delinquent an ear, his nose, or both; if on a large
scale, brought him to the gallows. Another curious source of revenue
was the tax on widows[513]. The latter must have had ample opportunities
of avoiding the penalty, for the courtesy and beauty of the Chiote ladies
was the theme of every traveller. Indeed, one impressionable
Frenchman[514] proclaimed Chios to be “the most agreeable residence”
with which he was acquainted, while another visitor[515] declared their
natural charm, the elegance of their attire, and the attraction of their
gestures and conversation to be such “that they might rather be judged to
be nymphs or goddesses than mortal women or maids.” He then, greatly
daring, attempts a detailed description of their costume, upon which I
shall not venture. Nor were amusements lacking. The inhabitants were
musical; they were wont to dance by the Skaramangkou torrent; the chief
religious feasts were kept in state; and Cyriacus of Ancona[516] was a
witness of the festivities which accompanied the carnival in what
Bartolomeo dalli Sonetti[517], another traveller of the fifteenth century,
called the first island of the Archipelago.
There was more intellectual life at Chios than in some of the Latin
settlements in the Levant; indeed, the two Genoese colonies of Chios and
Lesbos stood higher in that respect than most of the Venetian factories.
The list of authors during the period of the maona is considerable.
Among them we may specially notice Leonardo Giustiniani, archbishop
of Lesbos, but a native of Chios, and author of a curious treatise, De vera
nobilitate, intended as a reply to the book De nobilitate of the celebrated
scholar, Poggio Bracciolini. But the chief value of the literary divine for
us at the present day is the graphic account which he has left us in two
letters, addressed respectively to Popes Nicholas V and Pius II, of the
Turkish conquest of Constantinople in 1453 and of Lesbos in 1462—
accounts of the greatest historical interest, because their author was an
eyewitness of what he described. In Gerolamo Garibaldi Giustiniani,
born in Chios in 1544, the island found an historian, who wrote in
French a work entitled La Description et Histoire de l’Isle de Scios, ou
Chios; Vincenzo Banca Giustiniani, another Latin Chiote, edited the
works of St Thomas Aquinas; while Alessandro Rocca Giustiniani
translated portions of Aristotle and Hippocrates. But the most curious
local literary figure of the period was Andriolo Banca Giustiniani (1385-
1456), who sang in Italian verse the Venetian siege of Chios[518] of 1431.
The poet was a man of taste and had the means to satisfy it; he
constructed near the so-called “School of Homer” (who, according to
Thucydides, was a native of Chios) an “Homeric villa” in a forest of
pines near a crystal well, where he was visited by the well-known
antiquary and traveller, Cyriacus of Ancona, his frequent
correspondent[519]. This elegant Chiote accumulated a library of 2000
manuscripts, and for him Ambrogio Traversari of Florence translated
into Latin the treatise on the Immortality of the Soul by the fifth-century
philosopher, Æneas of Gaza. His son, in 1474, entertained at his villa a
greater even than the archæologist of Ancona, then, however, only a
modest ship’s captain, the future discoverer of America, Christopher
Columbus. The culture, however, of the Giustiniani seems to have been
mainly Latin—a fact explained by their practice of sending their sons to
be educated at Genoa, Pavia, Padua, or Bologna; and it was from Italy
that they summoned the architects to build their palaces “of divers kinds
of marbles, with great porticoes and magnificent galleries,” and their
villas, of which there were more than 100 in the last century of their rule.
It was only just before the Turkish conquest that they thought of
founding a university[520].
But we must also look at the picture from another point of view—that
of the governed. The judgment of Finlay that the rule of the company
was “the least oppressive government in the Levant” seems by the light
of later research to need qualification. If we are to take as our standard
the happiness of the people as a whole, then of all the Latin
establishments in the Levant Lesbos comes first. But for that there were
special reasons. The first Gattilusio came to Lesbos not as a foreign
conqueror, but as brother-in-law of the Greek Emperor; he soon spoke
the language of his subjects; his successors wrote in Greek, and as time
went on the family became hellenized. But a company is apt to be
deficient on the human side; and this would seem to have been the weak
point of the maona. Quite early in its career a conspiracy of the Greeks
was discovered, which led to the permanent expulsion of the
metropolitan and the substitution in his place of a vicar, called Δίκαιος
(or “the Just”), elected by the company and confirmed by the patriarch.
Moreover, the dominant church, whose bishops were usually Pallavicini
or Giustiniani, was partly supported by tithes, which the members of the
other creed had also to pay, and which they paid so reluctantly that in
1480 the bishop was glad to abandon all claims to tithe and all the church
property to the company[521] in return for a fixed stipend. Moreover, we
are told that certain Latins seized property belonging to Νέα Μονή, “one
of the most beautiful churches of the Archipelago,” as it was called[522].
To these ecclesiastical disadvantages was added social inferiority. The
native nobles, or archontes, sixty in number, although their privileges
had been guaranteed at the conquest and although instructions were
subsequently given to see that that pledge was respected, ranked not only
below the Giustiniani, who formed the apex of the social scale, but
below the Genoese bourgeoisie also, from which they suffered most.
They lived apart in the old town (much as the Catholics still do at Syra);
and if they sold their property and left the island, they forfeited to the
company one-quarter of the proceeds of such sale.
Worse still was the position of the Greek peasantry, who were
practically serfs, forbidden to emigrate without permission and passports.
Liable to perform military service even out of the island, they had to
undertake in time of peace various forced labours, of which the lightest
was to act as beaters once a year for their masters during the partridge
season. So many of them sought to escape from Chios that a local
shibboleth was invented for their identification, and they were obliged to
pronounce the word fragela (a sort of white bread), which became
frangela in the mouth of a native. Still, the Greeks were consulted at
least formally before a new tax was imposed; a Greek noble sat in the
commercial court and on the commission of public works, and during the
administration of Marshal Boucicault in 1409 and down to 1417 four out
of the six councillors who assisted the podestà were Greeks. In later
times when there was a Turkish element in the population—for after
1484 the Turks paid no dues—the company provided the salary of the
Turkish kâdi. Cases were tried in a palace known as the Δικαιότατο
(“Most Just”), and a “column of justice” hard by served for the
punishment of the guilty. A great hardship was the cost of appeals to the
ducal council in Genoa—the counterpart of our judicial committee of the
privy council. Worst treated of all classes were the Jews, forced to wear a
yellow bonnet, to live in their ghetto, which was hermetically closed at
Easter, to present a white banner with the red cross of St George to the
podestà once a year, and to make sport for the Genoese at religious
festivals[523]. Such, briefly, was the Genoese administration of Chios—
an episode which may serve to remind us how very modern in some
ways were the methods of Italian mediæval commonwealths.