His tragic history was over, and the enthusiasm with which he was first received had become a thing to be lightly dwelt upon when the historian wrote; but it is easy to see the furious and strong personal feeling of the man, injured and longing for revenge, the heart torn with the serpent's tooth of ingratitude, the bitterness of love turned into hate. So strong was the impression made by these hoarse and thrilling accents of reality, that the doubters were moved to certainty, and almost all pronounced for the war. At the risk of over-prolonging this report of the Venetian cabinet council and its proceedings, we are tempted to quote a portion of the speech of the Doge – such a speech as might have been addressed with much advantage to imperial councils nearer home. The Doge was Francesco Foscari, afterwards more sadly known to fame, but then newly elected and in the full fervour of popularity – a prince, says the chronicler, "beside his admirable wisdom in great and worthy undertakings, of great courage, prontissimo, and the natural enemy of all tyrants." The insight, not without a touch of humour, of the opening of this address is very worthy of remark.
"There are two things in a republic, noble fathers, which by name and effect are sweet and gentle, but which are often the occasion of much trouble to the great and noble city – these are peace and economy. For there are dangers both distant and under our eyes, which either we do not see, or seeing them, being too much devoted to saving money, or to peace, esteem them little, so that almost always we are drawn into very evident peril before we will consider the appalling name of war, or come to manifest harm to avoid the odious name of expense. This fact, by which much harm and ruin has been done in our times, and which has also been recorded for us by our predecessors, is now set before us in an example not less useful than clear in the misfortunes of the Florentines, who, when they saw the power of Philip increasing, might many times have restrained it, and had many occasions of so doing, but would not, in order to avoid the great expense. But now it has come to pass that the money which they acquired in peace and repose must be spent uselessly; and what is more to be lamented, they can neither attain peace save at the cost of their freedom, nor put an end to their expenditure. I say, then, that such dangers ought to be considered, and being considered, ought to be provided for by courage and counsel. To guide a republic is like guiding a ship at sea. I ask if any captain, the sea being quiet and the wind favourable, ceases to steer the ship, or gives himself up to sleep and repose without thinking of the dangers that may arise, without keeping in order the sails, the masts, the cordage, or taking into consideration the sudden changes to which the sea is subject, the season of the year, by what wind and in what part of the sea lies his course, what depth of water and what rocks she may encounter? If these precautions are neglected, and he is assailed by sudden misfortune, does he not deserve to lose his ship, and with it everything? A similar misfortune has happened to the Florentines, as it will happen to others who do not take precautions against dangers to the republic, and while they can, do not provide a rapid remedy. The Florentines (not to have recourse to another example) might have repressed and overcome the power of Philip when it was growing, if they had taken the trouble to use these opportunities. But by negligence, or rather by avarice, they refrained from doing so. And now it has come about that, beaten in war, with the loss of their forces, they are in danger of losing their liberty. And to make it worse, they are condemned everywhere, and instead of being called industrious are called vile, and held in good repute by none; instead of prudent are called fools; and instead of getting credit
