“E sol risuona,
E Maddalena intuona
La valle, il colle, il monte, il prato il bosco
Di questo lido Tosco,
E’l Ciel, l’Aria, e la Terra e l’Onda piena
Cosmo, Cosmo risponde, e Maddalena.”
After this the Princes retired by the corridor to the Palazzo Pitti, the Archduchess graciously inviting the ladies present to follow her as far as the gallery, where a long row of tables were laden with delicate sugarplums and confectionery. What they could not eat or carry away was seized by the populace which streamed in; the Princes watched with great amusement the demolition of all that rare food, and then withdrew to their rooms.
Cosimo II. and his Austrian wife only used the old palace occasionally for receptions and banquets. Their son, that morose bigot Cosimo III., when he lost all hope of seeing any descendants from his two sons, proclaimed his daughter Anna Maria Luisa, married to the Elector Palatine, heiress to the throne in the great hall. His proclamation was, however, futile, and in 1723 his son Giovan Gastone solemnly received the Infante Don Carlos at the door of the Palazzo Vecchio as heir to the throne. Austria, however, interfered, and Francesco of Lorraine was proclaimed as future Grand Duke of Tuscany. In 1737 his representative received the oath of allegiance, and two years later the Grand Duke visited Florence, and splendid festivities were given in his honour. But the Florentines were very sore at his departure for Vienna after a short visit, and still sorer at the invasion of Lorrainers and Austrians, who filled so many of the Government posts. In 1745 Francesco II. became Emperor of Austria, and his second son Pietro Leopoldo succeeded to the Grand Duchy. Zoby, in his History of Tuscany, describes how the Senate of the Forty-eight, the Council of the Two Hundred and the principal magistrates of Florence, assembled in the great hall of the Palazzo Vecchio, where a throne had been placed for the Grand Duke. The late Emperor’s will, leaving Tuscany to his second son, was read aloud, and at the same time the renunciation by the Emperor Joseph to any claims thereon. But Joseph died, and once more a Tuscan Grand Duke became Emperor of Austria, to the sorrow of his Italian subjects, who had learned to appreciate Pietro Leopoldo at his proper value. His second son, Ferdinando, became Grand Duke, and in 1791 a fair was held in the Piazza, the Loggia de’ Lanzi was turned into a garden illuminated with many lamps, and a magnificent pavilion was erected in front of the old palace for the Court. Eight years later Ferdinando III. with his wife and four children were driven out of Florence by General Gaulthier in the name Of the Directoire. A Tree of Liberty was set up in the middle of the Piazza della Signoria, newly christened della Libertà, and the French flag was hoisted on the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio. Giovanni da Bologna’s fine statue of Cosimo III. was about to be destroyed and melted down for the benefit of the poor, but was saved by the presence of mind of the President of the Buon Governo and of the advocate Paolini, who remonstrated with the mob, which had already tied ropes round the horse to pull it down, saying that it was a pity to destroy the effigy of despotism which now witnessed the restoration of liberty in Florence. The Marquess Gino Capponi gives a vivid account of the behaviour of the French soldiers in his Ricordi. He saw them depart, and was in the Piazza when, after months of silence, the great bell once more rang out at midday and all present sank on their knees at the beloved sound.
The old palace saw one ruler after another pass through its great hall like puppets. Ferdinando III. returned for some months, but was soon driven out again by the French. Then Tuscany for a few years became the Kingdom of Etruria, only to be merged in the French Empire in 1808, and the following year Napoleon I. again created a Grand Duchy of Tuscany, and gave it to his sister Elise Baciocchi, who was already Duchess of Lucca and Princess of Piombino.
The roof of the Palazzo Vecchio had for some time been in a bad state, and the municipal architect, G. del Rosso, was charged to survey the whole building. In 1809 the work began. The reservoir for rain water made by Michelozzi had become useless, and was only an additional weight on the columns of the courtyard, so it was done away with, the cornice was renewed, and windows, which had been arbitrarily pierced here and there, were closed and the ancient ones restored. Del Rosso was forced to whitewash the walls of the courtyard, decorated with the golden lilies of Anjou on a blue ground—an emblem utterly distasteful to the new ruler. The stucco ornaments of the columns, and the frescoes in the vaults and round the courtyard had suffered terribly, and were carefully renovated, but those of the Austrian towns are now once more almost invisible. In order to avoid the incessant passage of the soldiers through the courtyard to their guardroom, del Rosso was ordered to make an entrance from the outside, and this necessitated the destruction of the old ringhiera, so intimately connected with the history of Florence. Part of it had already disappeared when Ammannati set up his huge, ugly fountain at the northern angle—il Biancone the Florentines call it—still it was with unwilling hands that del Rosso levelled what remained and made the platform, the steps and the door immediately under the balcony. The ancient Marzocco, which had lost all semblance of a lion, was removed, and on its beautiful base was put the one by Donatello (replaced by a copy in 1885). It was at this time that the Alberghettino was discovered in the tower.