The Story of Verona

by Alethea Wiel

hiding-places covered with decorations, and set up with every sign of rejoicing. Peals of bells rang out cheerily, cries of “Marco, Marco,” re-echoed through the streets, fireworks and illuminations lit up the darkness of the winter night, and the French invaders could not contain their surprise over the kindly feeling entertained by the people of Verona for Venice. To mark still further the satisfaction felt by the people over the restoration of the Venetian rule, the beautiful column that stands at the northern end of the Piazza delle Erbe was erected in 1523. It is a magnificent block of white Veronese marble, and the year following the winged lion was placed on the top, that emblem of the wavering Evangelist whom the great Republic took for its Patron and its Saint.

That wary Republic, fully alive to the dangers through which she had passed, was resolved to provide against any which might assail her in the future. The fortifications around Verona were consequently ordered to be put into a condition to meet the modern requirements of war; old fortresses were to be demolished, and new ones put in their stead with bastions, moats, and all the contrivances then considered requisite to render the town impregnable. The old walls were only retained on the side towards the hills, where assaults were considered unlikely, or at the most harmless. It was while these works were in construction that new entrances into the town were voted necessary, and the following were therefore erected, namely—the Porta Nuova (1541-42), that of the Palio (1542-57), Porta Vescovo (1520), Porta S. Zeno (1541-42), and the far less well-built one of S. Giorgio (1525). These works were done by Michele San Micheli, a native of Verona, and one of the greatest architects Italy ever produced. His fame chiefly rests on all buildings connected with military matters, though in other edifices, whether of a religious or a lay nature, his work ranks very high.

An insurrection was set on foot in 1522 to stir up the Veronese against the dominion of Venice, and to restore, in the person of a pretender, the line of the Scaligers. The wars between Francis I. of France and Charles V. of Spain had let loose a great number of restless, turbulent spirits, whose aim was to attain to some position of eminence and honour by the upsetting of the existing forms of government. One of these intriguers, a Spaniard it is supposed, gave himself out as Bartolomeo della Scala, and managed so far as to secure a promise of provisional support from Spain, and from the House of Gonzaga. The Venetian Republic was fully aware of the intrigue. She just waited for the moment when it suited her best to strike, and then she did so effectively. She accepted the offer of a hired assassin to remove the pretender from her path, and when he was soon after poignarded in the streets of Mantua (1529), she clenched matters by condemning the dead man’s son, Brunoro, to be imprisoned for life in the fortress of Famagosta.

For over two centuries no movement of political importance stirred the even tenor of life at Verona. A terrible plague in 1630 swept away more than half the population, and reduced the number of inhabitants, it is said, from over 50,000 to barely 20,000. Another misfortune overtook the town in 1757, when the Adige overflowed its banks (September 2), swept away two arches of the Ponte delle Navi, and wrought untold damage.

Greater and graver disturbances were, however, in store for Verona at the close of the eighteenth century. It was then that, after a sojourn of twenty months, Louis XVIII., under the assumed name of Count de Lille, left the town owing to the political intrigues gathering on all sides, and threatening to involve every state which harboured him. Bonaparte’s victories were now bringing that great general every day nearer to the Veronese district; and after his victory over the Austrians at Borghetto di Valeggio he feigned great indignation against Verona for harbouring the royal fugitive. He announced his intention to possess himself of the town, and the Venetian Republic, now too weak to claim an authority it was unable to exercise, had quietly to acquiesce in Bonaparte’s occupation of Verona on June 1, 1796.

The following digression as to the Comte de Lille’s sojourn in Verona, taken from a “Raccolta ... di Documenti[36] Mediti” belonging to the diplomatic story of the Revolution and Fall of the Venetian Republic may prove of interest here. The Comte de Provence (to give him his real name) had fixed his abode in Verona towards the end of the year 1794, under the incognito of “Comte de Lille.” His mode of life was quiet and private, and though his suite recognised him as Louis XVIII., King of France, he himself avoided every outward semblance of majesty so as not to compromise the Venetian Republic, which had afforded him an asylum and hospitality in its territory. The nobles of Verona took no heed of him; and even the French emigrants in the city abstained from paying their court to him, keeping themselves prudently in the background. The Count was lodged in the palace of the patrician family of the Gazzola, and while there, with the help of his most trusted followers, he set to work to prepare some despatches, which he intended eventually to send to the sovereigns of Europe, in order to ascertain their measures with regard to him. In the meantime he meant to remain quietly at Verona, and there to await the tide of events. Several persons of note came expressly to Verona to greet him, among them being the Count d’Entragues, the Prince of Nassau, and the Spanish Ambassador, the Chevalier de Las Casas. That he had received every courtesy from Venice is evident by a letter that he wrote to Alvise Mocenigo the Venetian envoy, on the expiration of that nobleman’s term of office in Verona, to thank him for the civilities that had been extended to him, and begging him likewise to convey his gratitude to the Doge. This letter bears date June 18, 1795. The Comte de Lille however wrote other letters, which were not altogether of so simple an order. The very next month it was discovered that he had despatched two letters to the King of Sardinia, the first of these being to announce his succession to the throne of France, and written as though he were actually a king; the other in a confidential strain, implored the King of Sardinia to continue his hospitality to the writer’s wife, Marie Josephine of Savoy, Countess of Provence. The King of Sardinia took notice only of the second of these letters, though explaining at the same time that he could take no line of action about it till he knew what would be the conduct of the Allied Courts, especially those of Vienna and London. The Countess of Provence was allowed to stay on at the Royal palace, where but a few Frenchmen went to pay their homage to their so-called queen.

Early in August of this same year a slight Royalist movement was known to be on foot, and the suspicions of M. Lallement, the French Plenipotentiary from Paris in Verona, began to be aroused. The Venetian Government shared the uneasiness clearly shown by the Frenchman at the state of affairs, the more so, as they were strangely, not to say nervously anxious, to maintain scrupulously the terms of armed neutrality on which they stood with regard to other nations. Their uneasiness was in no way lessened at M. Lallement’s objection to the residence in Verona of His Royal Highness the Count of Provence, whom the French journalists styled derisively “the King of Verona.” In the meantime the French army was preparing to invade Italy, a measure that was frustrated for a short while by the opposition offered to such a step by the joint action of the Piedmontese and Austrian forces. The Venetian Government all this time remained passive, making no preparation to meet the on-coming danger, and careful only not to infringe the neutrality to which they considered themselves exclusively bound. This attitude of theirs, and their apathy as to the suspected plots on behalf of the Comte de Lille at Verona, provoked the indignation of the French powers in Paris. A ministerial note was addressed to Alvise Querini, the Venetian ambassador in the French capital, to remonstrate. It dwelt on the harmony to be desired and maintained between the two Republics, a harmony however that could not tolerate “so crying a scandal as that of the residence in Verona of Louis Stanislaus Saverio, the so-called Louis XVIII., who proclaimed himself, and acted as King of France.” It further stated that “since Louis Stanislaus Saverio had not feared to compromise the Venetian Republic in behaving while in Venetian territory as King of France, he had forfeited all claim to the asylum which he had obtained ... and the Minister of Public Affairs asked that he should be deprived thereof throughout all the states of the Venetian territory.” A string of complaints followed this verbose note, together with a remark couched in a truly ironical spirit, as to the improbability of the French Republic allowing so indiscreet a guest to be tolerated any longer, and the sad dilemma in which the Venetian Government must doubtless find itself. The agitation subsequent on the publication of this despatch in Venice was great. The “Savii,” urged by M. Lallement to send a prompt answer, invoked the assistance of the Inquisitors of State, and they again despatched their secretary Giuseppe Gradenigo to Verona, while the Count d’Entragues sent a special messenger to inform the Comte de Lille of the turn things were taking. The Marchese Carlotti was deputed to present himself to the Royal exile, and break to him that the Venetian Government could not but carry out the injunctions laid on them by the French rulers. The luckless Count could offer no opposition to this law of the strongest, but he made an effort to maintain the dignity of the House of Bourbon, and claimed the right to erase his family’s name from the “Libro d’Oro” of Venice, and to take back the suit of armour presented of old by Henry IV. to the Republic. He wrote to the Russian ambassador in Venice, complaining of the treatment he had received at the hands of the Venetians, and entrusting him with a power of attorney to execute his commission as to the Libro d’Oro and the suit of armour. His letter ran as follows:—“Louis, by the Grace of God, King of France and of Navarre to Monsieur Mordino, Privy Councillor to H.M. the Emperor of all the Russias, and his Minister Plenipotentiary to the Republic of Venice, Chevalier of the Order of Vladimir, greeting.

“The Senate of Venice having notified in an offensive manner that the asylum which We had elected to choose ceased from this instant, and that they expected Us to leave Verona in the shortest possible time, We have replied in these terms to the Marquis Carlotti, charged to deliver this commission directly to Us:—I shall depart, but I exact two indispensable conditions:—1st, that the Libro d’Oro, where the name of my family is inscribed, be brought to me, that I may with my own hand erase it therefrom; 2nd, that the suit of armour be restored to me which was given by my ancestor Henry IV. as a token of friendship to the Republic of Venice. The lawful impatience which We have to withdraw from the Venetian states determines Us to empower you on Our part to execute the fulfilment of these two conditions, to cancel the name of Our family from the Libro d’Oro, and to receive in custody the suit of armour of our ancestor Henry IV. of glorious memory.