A Federal Merchant Marine: A Lesson From History

SHALL we have a Federal Merchant Marine? President Wilson is still persistent in the matter. With his customary directness and forcefulness of manner he calls our attention, whenever an occasion offers, to the perfectly patent and well-known fact that, in years past, ‘we have stunted and hindered the development of our Merchant Marine. And now,’he says, ‘when we want ships, we have not got them.’

As everybody knows, the markets of the world are empty and waiting, in many instances, for the goods which we hold in great abundance. We, however, who are eager to supply the goods, have no means of getting them to the places where they are wanted. A great trade is waiting to be built up, and we lack the means of transportation. The remedy is clear — as clear as the opportunity is great. It is suggested that the government should ‘open these gates of trade, and open them wide: open them before it is altogether profitable to open them, or altogether reasonable to ask private capital to open them at a venture.’

Conservative America — and America is often strangely and signally conservative — views the proposition with alarm. It seems an unprecedented step to take, and one which the Federal government can not enter upon with safety. Individual initiative would be endangered, we are told, and such an extension of governmental authority and enterprise is vehemently opposed. It is spoken of as ’a rash expedient that has only failure written on it.’ We are told that the United States ‘proposes to put the Federal government into competition with the enterprise of private owners — and, of course, to drive them off the seas. We should then,’ it is asserted, ‘have a delightful state of socialism.’

At such a time we need all the light which can be gained. It may be interesting, therefore, to turn back to the past, and to consider the long and rich experience with a government merchant marine which is supplied us by another great Republic. I refer to the famous Republic of Venice which, for many centuries, pursued the radical and far-reaching policy which is now suggested for America. The problem which now confronts the United States confronted Venice in the Middle Ages, and the way in which the problem was carefully worked out, to the extraordinary prosperity of Venice and, apparently, to the satisfaction of Venetian men of business, is not without its permanent value and suggestive elements.

It is well to remember at the outset that no modern state — not even Germany — is so carefully and thoroughly organized or so scientifically managed as was that proud and prosperous Republic whose feet were securely planted in the Adriatic, and whose long and powerful arms reached out in all directions. Moreover, in no department of her government were greater skill and care exerted than in the wise development of her commerce.

It is well to remember, too, in the days of our somewhat callow youth as a country, that the Venetian Republic lived for more than a thousand years, while, for nearly half that time, she was the commercial sovereign of the world. In prosperity, in naval supremacy and financial capacity, she knew no rival. To be a ‘Merchant of Venice’ was a synonym for successful enterprise and bold as well as wide and wise adventure. This business supremacy, however, was not attained by the method of unregulated competition, nor yet by enormous combinations of capital. It resulted from a happy combination of law with liberty, of government — or state—control with individual initiative.

The ‘Big Business’ of Venice was her commerce. And this was natural enough, since commerce came to be the first necessity of life for those peoples who had fled before the armies of Alaric and Attila. Escaping to the islands in the long lagoons of the northern Adriatic, these fugitives had built their homes upon the oozing banks of tidal mud. With a tenacity that told upon the characters of their remote descendants, they clung heroically to the lowlying, scattered islands of which neither Goth nor Hun envied them the possession. They could live, however, only by entering into trade with the people of the mainland, exchanging in the first place salt and fish and other products of the sea for meat and milk and vegetables from the shore. Before long it came to be apparent that the very amphibious character of Venice had supplied her inhabitants with a peculiar and distinct advantage in the way of trade. ‘On the edge of the sea, at the foot of the mountains, within easy reach of numerous rivers, Venice had every facility at hand for the importation, the exportation, and the transmission of merchandise with different parts of the world.’

The trade which began with the mainland, as a matter of self-preservation, and which was carried on at first by means of rafts and boats and shallow barges, gradually grew and reached out toward the South and East. Venetian merchants who made a beginning by sending barges up the Brenta to Padua, and along the waters of the Piave to Belluno, were soon found establishing relations with Southern Italy and Sicily, with Dalmatia, Corfu, and the isles and ports of Greece. ‘The Adriatic,’ says Mr. Sedgwick in his fascinating study of Italy in the Thirteenth Century, ‘was the “path of gold” down which Venetian galleys sailed on their way round the Peloponnesus, through the Ægean Sea to Constantinople.’

All this, as I have said, was natural and inevitable if any growth was to be secured. Hence, as Mr. Thayer has written in his Short History of the City of the Sea, ‘Commerce, next to selfpreservation, was the chief concern of Venice’; and he quotes da Canale to the effect that ‘Merchandise flows through the city like the water of the fountains.’

Ruskin, as we might expect, is still more emphatic on the point. ‘Venice stands, from first to last,’ he says, ’like a naked statue; her coldness impenetrable; her exertion only aroused by the touch of a single spring. That spring was her commercial interest — this the one motive of all her important political acts or enduring national animosities. She could forgive insults to her honor, but never rivalship in her commerce; she calculated the glory of her conquests by their value, and estimated their justice by their facility.’

I have called for the testimony of these writers because it proves how centrally and vitally important to Venice became her shipping interests and her trade by sea. What her coal-mines are to England, her glacial streams to Switzerland, her natural resources and giant railways to the United States, that — and even more than that — her ships and commerce were to Venice. Without them her prosperity would have faded suddenly away and her chief advantage in the world would have ceased to be.

We go on, therefore, to inquire how the Venetian government stood related to this central and supreme business interest; how individual rights and private incentive were encouraged, while nearly everything was carefully and minutely regulated by the State. We shall discover an example of semisocialistic organization, and probably the only instance known to history in which a merchant marine was the property of the State, and a navy was utilized for purposes of trade. It is possible to trace with more or less precision how this came about; the steps that, one by one, led up to it are reasonably clear.

We have seen how commerce first began in Venice; how, at the outset a physical necessity, it was later fostered and developed by geographical conditions. It remains to consider now how man allied himself to nature, and how government reached out to confirm advantages conferred originally by geography.

As early as the eighth century, the protection and greater security of her budding commerce began to be considered by Venice. The seas were peopled with pirates. Corsairs cruised at large. In order, therefore, that Venetian merchants might have some protection and be able to pursue their business with a certain measure of security, the government equipped and sent out fleets to suppress these robbers and rovers of the sea. But the task was difficult. The pirates could not be exterminated. They sprang up in the wake of the returning fleets. Before the Venetian warships were comfortably anchored off the Piazzetta the work of piracy had begun again. The deep and narrow bays, the rocky headlands, and the many islands of the Adriatic, — of which we read so much at present, — afforded the freebooters convenient hiding-places and numerous spots of refuge. As a measure of precaution, therefore, and to ensure protection against these pestering pirates, the government decreed that merchant ships should always sail in squadrons, and with these squadrons the State sent several fighting galleys to act as convoys.

For better protection, also, it was soon decreed that merchant vessels should themselves be armed and fitted to resist attack. Before long, therefore, it came about that trading expeditions were made up of three kinds of vessels. In the first place, there were merchant vessels pure and simple. After these came the trading galleys, partly armed; and finally, the government sent fighting galleys to protect the little fleet.

But this arrangement soon led to the necessity for further legislation. If the State engaged to send vessels from the arsenal to protect Venetian traders, it must have some say as to where the traders went. Thus it came about that the government gradually established the routes of trade, and announced at what times it would send its galleys to protect the merchant vessels. Nor was this all. If the State was going to the trouble and expense of protecting these merchant ships, it was good policy to see to it that the ships were worth protecting, and, what is more, that they could be depended upon to do something to defend themselves. It was not long, therefore, before the State began to prescribe very definitely in regard to the character, dimensions and equipment of all the ships that flew the banner of St. Mark. Private shipyards were inspected and no Venetian was permitted to build a vessel for the mercantile business except in accordance with certain rigid specifications. Each ship that was designed for the foreign trade had to be of a certain length and draught, with equipment for a certain amount of cargo, and with definite and carefully calculated facilities for defense. The Naval Statutes even went so far as to prescribe the length of the anchors, the quality of the cordage, and the number of the crew. Romanin tells us that the Nautical Statutes, first published in 1172, provided that every vessel with a capacity for two hundred thousand pounds of cargo should have a crew of twenty men, which was increased by one man for every ten thousand pounds. It seems that the ’load-line’ was indicated by a cross painted or cut upon the vessel’s side. Government inspectors were on hand to see that no vessel left port carrying more than her proper amount of cargo. An indication of how carefully everything was regulated is found in the fact that it was permitted to load entirely new vessels somewhat ‘above the line, but to a diminishing extent each year for the first three years.’

It is easy to see, of course, why the State should have come to regulate in this careful way the nature, dimensions and equipment of the ships. In the first place, since the vessels sailed together, it was highly desirable that everything possible should be done to keep them together. More particularly, in stress of weather it was eminently advantageous to have vessels that would behave alike. An added reason, however, lay in the practice of sending out to the various trading ports certain state officials, known as consuls, whose business it was to promote and provide for the commercial interests of the Republic. Among other things these consuls were expected to keep on hand a supply of ships’ findings — such as anchors, oars, cordage, rudders, yards, masts, shrouds, and the like. If the ships were all of uniform construction it can be seen how vastly easier it would be to keep in store the right supplies than in case they were of different designs and builds. When a ship lost a mast, or carried away her rudder, the consul at Tripoli, or Alexandria, or Antwerp, would have on hand a rudder, or a mast, of the proper size and this could be shipped without delay as soon as port was reached. Moreover, it must not be forgotten that these ships were all built so as to be convertible, without much difficulty, into men-ofwar. In the event of sudden need they could be, and often were, employed for national defense; just as Great Britain when this war broke out, controlled by virtue of her subsidies the fleet of swift Cunarders and added them to her navy.

But this was far from all that Venice did in the line of regulation and control. The way had been prepared for still another step which was the most radical and interesting of all. If the government could supervise the private shipyards and decree that no vessel should be built for trade except along certain lines and in accordance with a standardized design, why might it not go just one step further and build for itself and own these vessels which were to engage in trade? History does not tell us whether or not there was opposition to the step. It may be that the State was accused of interference with affairs of private business. But the Great Council did not listen to objections of the kind, — even if it heard them, — and by the middle of the fourteenth century we find merchant galleys which were the property of the government sailing on the appointed routes of trade.

These ships were built at the State arsenal. When they had been fully fitted out and armed, a public crier announced in the streets and squares that certain galleys were ready for the expedition to Alexandria, Corinth, Constantinople, or elsewhere. It was proclaimed in the name of the Doge and the Senate that these vessels would be put up at auction and leased to the highest bidder. The nobles who were privileged to bid — for the ships were let out to none but members of the higher classes — then came together and bargained for portions of the fleet. Merchants rented these government ships much as people nowadays lease a house or rent a car on a railway — the State, however, being the landlord or grantor. Manufacturers or traders put their merchandise on board, sometimes shipping themselves, sometimes sending representatives to look after their property. Great nobles, or large mercantile companies, often needed several ships; and by a curious survival of ancient privilege the lessee of each vessel was required to take, as a kind of supercargo, eight younger representatives of poor, but noble, families. These young noblemen were paid a nominal wage, and were allowed to ship a specified amount of merchandise without paying any freight.

The merchandise carried by the fleet was disposed of at the various ports where the vessels touched, other goods being taken on board and brought back for sale in Venice or else for further shipment. It appears that the person hiring a government vessel superintended the lading of her and sometimes took command himself. The State, on its side, appointed a representative, or official guardian, for every ship, his duty being to look after the property of the government and see that it came back to the arsenal in good condition when the voyage was ended. This official was obliged to be on board from the time that the lading of the ship began until the last item of cargo was discharged; it being his business, also, to see that the crew had their stipulated rations of bread, meat, and wine, and to keep the ship’s accounts. In the event of shipwreck, the ‘sailors were bound to attend to the salvage, with all diligence, for the space of fifteen days, when the gains would be five per cent. Every ship had to have, besides, two scribes who were pledged to keep an exact entry of the quality, quantity, weight and measure of the ship’s freight.’

It will thus be seen how immense an amount of responsibility was assumed by the government. It even supplied the merchant with clerks and bookkeepers who kept a tally of his goods. In addition to all this, inasmuch as the ships never sailed singly, but always in squadrons, a commander or fleet captain was appointed — at first by the Great Council but later by the Senate. Under him were the padroni, all of whom were nobles, next in importance being the master, to whom were referred all nautical as well as mercantile matters. That there was liability to ‘graft’ in those days is made evident by the fact that the fleet captain was forbidden from the first to have any pecuniary interest in the ships or cargo of his squadron. He was held responsible for the safety of the squadron as a whole, and was obliged to give bond before he took command. Here, therefore, was a very intimate relationship and a carefully worked-out adjustment between government ownership and individual enterprise. The ships were the property of the State; but the cargo was the merchant’s, and government officials were not permitted to have any interest in it. The adjustment went so far as to arrange a kind of mutual liability for losses in case of shipwreck. This was necessary, of course, inasmuch as all nautical matters were taken out of the hands of individual merchants.

One final point remains to be touched upon. I have hinted at it already and, of course, it follows naturally from all that has been said. The State began very early to prescribe, in part, the routes of trade, and it was not long before it regulated them entirely. The exact dates and lengths of the various voyages, with the different ports of call, were carefully arranged, and merchants leased the State ships for specified trips. The routes of trade were all government routes; at every port on the regulation routes were stationed government officials whose business it was to safeguard the rights of their fellow citizens.

The fleets of galleys had fixed times for starting on the various trips, and their regularity in arriving at the various ports of call was such that bankers dated their loans by them. At least, so it was in Dalmatia; for we read: ‘Pour les affaires traitées à Lazarro, les échéances avaient pour termes l’arrivée des galères.’

When there were signs of war, or when the ambassadors or consuls who were stationed in different parts of the world gave notice of suspicious movements, the sailings were suspended for a time, or else a whole fleet of fighting galleys was sent as escort for the merchant ships. These government voyages reached far and often occupied several months. One fleet went round by Greece, passed through the Hellespont, and penetrated the Black Sea. Another sailed off to the South and East, calling at the ports of Syria and Egypt, where connections were established with the Red Sea and goods were received that had come from India. Another, the Flanders fleet, which took the longest voyage, sailed for Tripoli and Tangiers, touched at points in Spain, passed through the Straits of Gibraltar, coasted Portugal, called at various French ports, put in at Southampton or Dartmouth, and went north as far as Antwerp or Bruges, where Venetian merchants had large warehouses.

By the fourteenth century there seem to have been seven of these government mercantile expeditions each year. The fleet which visited Catalonia set sail between the fifteenth and twentieth of January; the Flanders fleet got away somewhere between the eighth and twenty-fifth of April; the galleys to Roumania and Trebizond set out between July eighth and twentieth; those to Alexandria between the eighth and twenty-fifth of September. An account has come down to us from a German priest, named Breydenbach, who made a pilgrimage to Palestine in 1483. He came home by way of Egypt and took passage on a Venetian scqadron which had been sent to Alexandria. The squadron, it appears from his narrative, was composed of four well-armed galleys loaded with valuable merchandise. This Alexandrian squadron was joined by the Syrian fleet as well as by the fleet from Tarifa, and, much to the delight of the wandering parson, the commander of the three fleets, together with the patrons of the various galleys, organized a fête at sea.

Something of all this is familiar to us from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice. Shakespeare makes Shy lock say of Antonio; ‘He hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies : I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad.'

It was a vessel, probably, of the Flanders fleet that was first reported wrecked, and marked the beginning of all the woes that followed. Salarino is made to say that he has it from a Frenchman how, —

Later the rumor is confirmed and the news is spread from the Rialto that ‘Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas, — the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, as they say.’ Still later the news comes of ‘an argosy cast away coming from Tripolis.’

And so disasters follow one another, until it seems that all his ventures, one by one, have failed.

not a single ‘hit.’ Among them all not one escaped ‘the dreadful touch of merchant-marring rocks.’

Of course the natural supposition is — and always has been — that all these vessels were Antonio’s private property. The fact that he was ruined by his losses, unable to pay his debts, and thus the helpless victim of Shylock, to whom he owed three thousand ducats, would appear to confirm this supposition. In all probability, however, at least some of the ships were the property of the State. Salarino called the one that met her end upon the Goodwin Sands, ‘a vessel of the country,'—

So far as Antonio’s bankruptcy is concerned, the loss of the merchandise he had on board, — the ‘spices and the silks’ that we are told about, — this alone would have been sufficient to bring about his ruin. On the other hand, his losses may have come from the fact that all of these were private ventures, and that he had not taken advantage of government protection. For the State did not forbid the dispatch of private vessels built on standardized lines: it offered protection only against just such disasters as Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice may have brought upon himself.

The question of Antonio’s losses brings us to a consideration of financial matters. The importance of the general commercial undertakings in which the government came to be involved may be inferred from the fact that these armed mercantile fleets — ‘le flotte armate in mercanzia’ — sailed and returned each year laden with merchandise estimated at over forty million lire. The exact equivalent of that sum cannot be accurately determined at the present time; but the profits were, undoubtedly, enormous. In any event, for many hundred years Venice was the leading trading nation of the world. At the end of the fourteenth century, when she was at the apex of her worldly power, the number of ships enrolled upon her register is given as thirty-three hundred. There were sixteen thousand men employed at the arsenal, and the roll of sailors numbered thirty-eight thousand, or about onethird of the native population of the city. In other words, the ‘Business’ was a ‘ Big ’ one, and these

state-built, state-owned, and statecommanded, were a very profitable venture. In 1421, the Doge, Thomas Mocenigo, could say with just pride to the Venetians, ‘You are the channel of all wealth: you supply the whole world: the universe is concerned in your prosperity: all the gold in the world arrives at your door.’

In the whole matter, however, the thing of real importance and genuine significance is the close and careful partnership between the State and the individual citizen. It was a case of Socialism on the sea: but it was a phase of Socialism which left ample room for individual rights, and was careful not to discourage personal incentive. And in this respect it was typical of the Venetian idea of government in general. As some one has suggested, the Republic of Venice might be ‘compared to a joint-stock company. The Board of Directors was the Senate; the citizens of Venice the shareholders.’

The government, in other words, was highly centralized. It was not only firm, but far-reaching — including many things which nowadays are left to private management. As to whether the agents of the government performed their duties well, resisting the temptations to bribery, which must have been numerous — we do not know. We do know, however, — and this is a thing of vastly more importance, — that the government maritime policy of Venice was enormously successful. The policy of renting ships for commercial voyages and ventures yielded such rich profit that the Venetian navy was almost self-supporting. Moreover, the efficiency of the navy was tremendously increased. A great part of Venetian maritime supremacy was due to the fact that her merchant marine was part of her navy and that her men-of-war were also merchantmen. Her ordinary seamen were sailors of the fleet. When the State went to war her men and ships were ready; and no sooner was peace restored than her fleet resumed the task of amassing wealth.

Such an arrangement makes us feel the stupendous folly of our modern system. For nowadays ‘ civilized ’ nations build battleships at enormous cost which have no use except in time of war. In contrast we cannot but admire the scientific policy that Venice so carefully worked out. And if we cannot imitate her and divert our ‘Dreadnaughts’ into channels of productive trade, at least we may learn a lesson in regard to a federal merchant marine. We may learn that a State has rights as well as duties, and that rigid and farreaching regulation is not incompatible with individual enterprise and successful development and growth.