The Story of Verona

The Mediæval Town Series

ASSISI.* By Lina Duff Gordon. [4th Edition.
BRUGES.† By Ernest Gilliat-Smith. [3rd Edition.
BRUSSELS.† By Ernest Gilliat-Smith.
CAIRO.† By Stanley Lane-Poole. [2nd Edition.
CAMBRIDGE.† By Charles W. Stubbs, D.D.
CHARTRES.† By Cecil Headlam.
CONSTANTINOPLE.* By William H. Hutton. [2nd Edition.
DUBLIN.† By D. A. Chart.
EDINBURGH.† By Oliphant Smeaton.
FERRARA.† By Ella Noyes.
FLORENCE.† By Edmund G. Gardner. [8th Edition.
LONDON.† By Henry B. Wheatley. [2nd Edition.
MOSCOW.* By Wirt Gerrare. [2nd Edition.
NUREMBERG.* By Cecil Headlam. [4th Edition.
OXFORD.† By Cecil Headlam.
PARIS.† By Thomas Okey.
PERUGIA.* By Margaret Symonds and Lina Duff Gordon. [5th Edition.
PRAGUE.* By Count Lützow.
ROME.† By Norwood Young. [5th Edition.
ROUEN.† By Theodore A. Cook. [3rd Edition.
SEVILLE.† By Walter M. Gallichan.
SIENA.† By Edmund G. Gardner. [2nd Edition.
TOLEDO.* By Hannah Lynch. [2nd Edition.
VERONA.† By Alethea Wiel. [3rd Edition.
VENICE.† By Thomas Okey.

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The Story of Verona
by Alethea Wiel Illustrated
by Nelly Erichsen and
Helen M. James

London: J. M. Dent & Co.
Aldine House, 29 and 30 Bedford Street
Covent Garden, W.C. 1907

First Edition, July 1902
Second Edition, August 1904
Third Edition, August 1907
All rights reserved

To
My Husband

PREFACE

THE story of Verona is no simple record of a simple town with a continuous rule guiding her fortunes and directing her destinies. Her tale is mingled with that of other nations and languages; and Greek, Ostrogoth, Longobard and Frank have held sway in Verona as well as Etruscan and Roman. The influence of these diverse nationalities has left its trace on the art and history of the city to a marked extent. The architecture alone of Verona is of a nature to demand a long and deep study, and calls for an expert’s hand to do justice to its different developments of variety and beauty. Her school of painting too is a subject that has not yet met with sufficient attention, and that deserves a study which hitherto has been but scantily bestowed upon it. I have tried in a humble and limited way to put before the reader some idea of this school, and to render him familiar with the names and works and methods of the masters of painting with whom he will come most in contact in his wanderings through Verona. Many of their masterpieces are to be found in the grand old churches which form one of the chief features of Verona, and within whose walls it is well to linger if we wish to grasp fully the character of the town and of the men who raised these noble buildings, and who now lie buried in or beside them. The history of Verona is all-absorbing, but I have tried to give it only that prominence which is necessary for such an understanding of the town as will interest the traveller and enable him to enjoy a stay amid surroundings that will not now perhaps seem “foreign” to him.

I have drawn much of my knowledge on the Veronese school of painting from Sir A. Henry Layard’s excellent work, Handbook of Painting. The Italian School; based on the Handbook of Kugler (London: Murray, 1887), which was most kindly lent to me by Lady Layard; and to Mr Selwyn Brinton’s The Renaissance in Italian Art, Part II. (London: Simpkin, 1898). My grateful thanks are also due to Prof. Commendatore Carlo Malagola, Head of the State Archives in Venice, for the loan of books and for help as to the means whereby to arrive at much of the information I required. I am also indebted to Cav. Giuseppe Biadego, Bibliotecario of the Biblioteca Comunale of Verona; and to Cav. Dr Riccardo Galli for help during my stay at Verona. Nor must I omit to say a word in praise of the Hôtel de Londres in that city, where comfort and economy are very happily and successfully blended by a most courteous and diligent landlord. My chief thanks though are due to Cav. Pietro Sgulmero, Vice-Bibliotecario of the Library and Vice-Inspector of the Monuments in Verona, who devoted many a spare hour to introducing me to every part of the town, and in imparting to me all he could of the knowledge he possesses in an eminent degree of the history and legends of his native town. My book owes more to him than I am able to express.

“Few towns,” says Mr Selwyn Brinton, “have an individuality more delightsome than Verona—Verona the Worthy (Verona la Degna) as she was called”—and if I shall succeed in endearing that individuality and making it familiar to the traveller wandering through this “worthy” and glorious city, I shall not have laboured in vain.

Palazzo Soranzo,
Venice, January 1902.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

All the half-tone illustrations are reproductions from photographs by Alinari, Florence.

The Story of Verona

CHAPTER I

Origin and Growth of the City—Verona under the Romans—Goths and Lombards in Verona—The Adige

VERONA is no exception to those great cities of Italy whose origin is wrapt in a background of uncertainty and mystery. A few scattered huts on the hillside, now known as the “Colle di San Pietro,” were probably the beginnings of the town which was soon to spring up on both sides of the Adige—that mighty river that formed then as now such an important feature all round the country through which it flows, and whose waters have carried as great an amount of woe in their train as ever they have of weal. These faint beginnings of a mighty town bore probably some resemblance to the hamlets we now see in Umbria or Tuscany, dotted as they are on the slopes up which they seem to crawl with difficulty, and marking the sites where bastions, castles and strongholds were to stand in after times. For Verona was above all else a fortress. Her existence, as soon as she had assumed the proportions of a town, was essentially a military one, and the character stamped on her in those early days remains untouched to the present hour. It may be said of this beautiful city as of Zion of old: “Walk about Verona, and go round about her, and tell the towers thereof. Mark well her bulwarks. Set up her houses that ye may tell them that come after.” This injunction to chronicle the story of the older city applies equally to the one on the banks of the Adige, and sharpens the desire to do so as faithfully and lovingly as may be.

The position of Verona, its vast military construction, its fortress guarded by three lines of separate forts, its arsenal and barracks, have made it, if not the first, at least one of the first military towns of Italy, and cause an ever-growing longing to investigate as to its origin and that of the people who founded it. That longing however has to be repressed, for all is dark and vague with regard to the early days of Verona. Her historians indeed claim for her an ancestry of fabulous antiquity: some asserting that she existed before Troy came into celebrity; others declaring that she was founded soon after the flood. Veronese writers lose themselves equally in discussions as to the race from whom sprang the inhabitants of their city and province. They devote pages to the subject and consider in turn the probability as to whether Etruscans, Rhetians, Euganeans, Celts, Cimbrians or Gauls were the founders. No satisfactory conclusion is reached. The mystery remains unsolved; and time and thought are alike wasted in attempting to lift a veil which has been inexorably drawn by the Past, and which she defies us to remove. There can be no doubt whatever that Verona dates from very early times, even if it is beyond the knowledge of man to assert when that date exactly was. It may be assumed however that the Etruscans had a part in her foundation, and when we bear in mind that this implies a period embracing the sixth and fifth centuries B.C., the age of the city is carried back indeed to a remote epoch. The supposition most generally accepted among Veronese writers is that their town came into being about the fourth century before the Christian era, and proofs of this are forthcoming to this day in the discoveries made in and around Verona of remains of arms, utensils, vessels, tombs, and so forth, which bear witness to the different peoples who, at one time or another, were living or ruling there, and to the period of their rule. By this means, too, evidence can be found of the dominion of the Barbarians, Gauls, and Cimbrians; and indeed to remoter times still when the age of bronze, and also the neolithic age and the prehistoric age are reached in turn.

The uncertainty as to the Past clings still to the period when Rome stretched forth her conquering arms over the north of Italy. No date can be mentioned accurately as to when Verona became part of the great Republic; nor when, nor by whom the Amphitheatre, and the Theatre, which form her most classic monuments were erected. It may however be assumed that at the beginning of the third century B.C., Verona was subject to Rome. This subjection though was of a voluntary nature, and in no way arose from the right of victory. Verona was doubtless wise in time: she saw how she had everything to gain by throwing in her lot with that of Rome; and by expressing a desire to be under Roman authority and protection forestalled what would inevitably have been brought about by invasion and conquest. That this was so may be safely affirmed by the absence of all documents recording such a conquest, nor is there a chronicle which adds the name of Verona to the list of triumphs gained by any general—a triumph which would not have been omitted had it been made, nor would history have been silent over the conquest had it been there to record. It is probable that some Veronese troops came to the assistance of the Roman legions at the battle of Cannae (216 B.C.), and also that they fought for Rome against the invading forces of the Teutons and Cimbri at the close of the second century. This invasion of the Cimbri presented a danger to Rome greater than was at first imagined, and greater perhaps than any hitherto experienced by the Eternal City. The early chroniclers of Verona maintain that their city bore an important part in staving off the impending danger. They also declare that a large band of the invaders took up their abode in the neighbourhood, enchanted with the soft climate, the delicious wines (those of the Valpolicella being renowned even then), and the charms of the sunny sky of Italy. Here it is said that their descendants dwell to this day, and are still to be identified by the difference of their language, which is neither Italian nor German, though more nearly allied to the latter. The district where this diversity of language is to be found is known as the “XIII Comuni Veronesi,” and the “VII Comuni Vicentini.” Modern writers by no means endorse the Cimbrian legend, and declare that it has no foundation at all. They ascribe other causes to the philological difficulty and explain it away as follows: The proximity of Germany to this part of Italy, they contend, explains the familiarity of the Teuton tongue, together with the intercourse of the two countries and the trading that was carried on between them.

The influence exercised by Rome over Verona was great; and though the chroniclers of the latter city are eager to maintain that she was in no way dependent on Rome, or unduly subjected to her, the fact remains

that she was under the dominion of the Eternal City, and that Roman laws and habits were felt and adopted in the northern town. She was not admitted at once to the full rights and privileges of citizenship, though the “lex Pompeia” was extended to her B.C. 89, which entailed on her the rights of a Latin colony. After the battle of Philippi (B.C. 42; year of Rome 712) the privileges of Roman citizenship were granted to Transpadane Gaul; though when Verona herself was admitted to such rights cannot be affirmed with certainty. There can be however little doubt that this occurred but a short time afterwards, when she was included in the tenth region into which Cæsar Augustus partitioned Italy; a region which was known as that of “Venetia et Histria.” On the architrave of the Porta dei Borsari, when by order of the Emperor Gallienus the city was enclosed afresh by a wall, there was an inscription recording this fact, and proclaiming that Verona was “Colonia Augusta Nova Gallieniana.” This inscription is of the more value as there is nothing beyond it to tell of the relation between Rome and Verona. No mention is made of the latter city in the records concerning the Augustan colonisations; nor is she enumerated in the list of colonies given by Pliny the Elder in his history. Tacitus speaks of her as a colony in the second century, and in the fourth century we read of Pompeius Strabo sending a colony there.

In the early days of the Roman Empire, Verona was a town of much importance; the chief cause that contributed to this importance being without doubt her geographical position. She stood at a spot where several great highways met; and all the chief roads that connected the Empire with its principal towns in the north of Italy and into Germany passed through her streets. The Gallican way (Via Gallica), coming from Brescia and leading through Vicenza to Aquileja (thus ensuring intercourse with the eastern provinces) went through Verona. So too did the Via Postumia coming from Bedriaco. Another road led from Verona to Mantua. Another again led to Bologna. The great road to the north also started from Verona, and carried the communication from Italy into Germany, and right away to the Danubian provinces.

Ruskin[1] has described the position occupied by Verona when speaking of the view over the town as seen from the road going to Illasi. He says, “Now this promontory is one of the sides of the great gate out of Germany into Italy, through which the Goths always entered: cloven up to Innsbruck by the Inn, and down to Verona by the Adige. And by this gate not only the Gothic armies came, but after the Italian nation is formed, the current of northern life enters still into its heart through the mountain artery, as constantly and strongly as the cold waves of the Adige itself.”

A great part was played by Verona at the time of the war between the Vitellians and Flavians. The latter who represented the partisans of Flavius Vespasian, and who aimed at depriving the feeble Emperor Vitellius of his crown, had taken possession of Aquileja, Vicenza, Padua, and Verona. Much fighting took place around Verona, and in the end the Vitellians were defeated, and Vespasian—whose cause had been espoused by the Veronese—became Emperor. During the third century the weakness and decay of the Empire did but gain ground. This demoralisation proceeded chiefly from internal seditions and military revolts. The host sent by Philip the Younger, surnamed “the Arab,” against the Barbarians of Pannonia rebelled, and proclaimed their general Decius Emperor. Philip journeyed from Rome to quell the revolt, but when near Verona he was overcome and slain. In the meanwhile the vigour and audacity of the Barbarians did but increase. The town of Verona was looked upon as one of the keys of Upper Italy, protected as it was by the river Adige and fortified besides by walls and fortifications. Considered as a stronghold, even in the days of Augustus, its renown in that respect was but to gain ground as time went on. The Emperor Gallienus had extended the outer city walls, and in this way had rendered the town almost impregnable against the attacks of the Barbarians. This extension of the walls had been made to include the Amphitheatre, an edifice which might well be of untold advantage to a foe; for unless rescued from its outlying position it could easily be taken and turned into a formidable fort by any enemy of skill and daring. This strengthening of the walls and fortifications of Verona was accomplished none too soon. A vast federation of northern hordes, determined to take advantage of the corruption and feebleness of Rome, crossed the Alps in 268, and aimed at the conquest of Verona. They were met by the Emperor Claudius II. near the Lake of Garda, and overthrown in a great fight, when more than half their numbers were left dead on the field of battle.

In the year 312, Verona was besieged by Constantine, who bore down upon it from the pass of the Mount Cenis. Gibbon[2] gives an account of this event as follows: “From Milan to Rome the Aemilian and Flaminian highways offered an easy march of about four hundred miles; but though Constantine was impatient to encounter the tyrant (Maxentius), he prudently directed his operations against another army of Italians, who, by their strength and position, might either oppose his progress, or, in case of a misfortune, might intercept his retreat. Ruricius Pompeianus, a general distinguished by his valour and ability, had under his command the city of Verona, and all the troops that were stationed in the province of Venetia. As soon as he was informed that Constantine was advancing towards him, he detached a large body of cavalry, which was defeated in an engagement near Brescia, and pursued by the Gallic legions as far as the gates of Verona. The necessity, the importance, and the difficulties of the siege of Verona, immediately presented themselves to the sagacious mind of Constantine. The city was accessible only by a narrow peninsula towards the west, as the other three sides were surrounded by the Adige, a rapid river, which covered the province of Venetia, from whence the besieged derived an inexhaustible supply of men and provisions. It was not without great difficulty, and after several fruitless attempts, that Constantine found means to pass the river at some distance above the city, and in a place where the torrent was less violent. He then encompassed Verona with strong lines, pushed his attacks with prudent vigour, and repelled a desperate sally of Pompeianus. That intrepid general, when he had used every means of defence that the strength of the place or that of the garrison could afford, secretly escaped from Verona, anxious not for his own but for the public safety. With indefatigable diligence he soon collected an army sufficient either to meet Constantine in the field, or to attack him if he obstinately remained within his lines. The emperor, attentive to the motions, and informed of the approach of so formidable an enemy, left a part of his legions to continue the operations of the siege, whilst, at the head of those troops on whose valour and fidelity he more particularly depended, he advanced in person to engage the general of Maxentius. The army of Gaul was drawn up in two lines, according to the practice of war; but their experienced leader, perceiving that the numbers of the Italians far exceeded his own, suddenly changed his dispositions, and, reducing the second, extended the front of this first line to a just proportion with that of the enemy. Such evolutions, which only veteran troops can execute without confusion in a moment of danger, commonly prove decisive: but as this engagement began towards the close of the day, and was contested with great obstinacy during the whole night, there was less room for the conduct of the generals than for the courage of the soldiers. The return of light displayed the victory of Constantine, and a field of carnage covered with many thousands of the vanquished Italians. Their general, Pompeianus, was found among the slain; Verona immediately surrendered at discretion, and the garrison was made prisoners of war.”

Aquileja and Modena surrendered also to the victor, and the path into Italy lay open to Constantine.

For the remaining part of that century Verona remained under the sway of the Emperors of the West, many of whom sojourned there often and willingly, attracted either by the charm of the place, or by the convenience afforded by its central position. Nor is this to be wondered at seeing how it was a very junction for Milan, Aquileja, and Germany in turn, and how it was also provided with all that was needful for the reception and accommodation of its Imperial guests.

In the following century the Veronese territory was invaded anew by Barbarians, the first inroad being that of Alaric and his Visigoths (402); the next that of the Huns under Attila. There can be little doubt that Verona fell before the armies of the “Scourge of God,” but his speedy withdrawal from Italy—at the intercession it is said of St Leo—left the town again free.

The influence exercised by Rome over Verona ever since she had included her among her colonies had been felt not only in the laws and habits adopted by the northern city, but also in the religious creeds and rites practised in her midst. The worship of false gods had flourished there in early times. Eastern deities had had their services and altars, nor was the Augustan worship omitted. That this worship, which represented not only the homage rendered to the person of Cæsar but to the world-power of Rome as well, was celebrated in Verona is evident from the mention made of the “flamen divi Augusti et Romae” as ranking among her religious observances.

The introduction of Christianity into Verona is placed at a very early date, and one legend declares that no less a person than St Peter appointed the first bishop who was one St Euprepio. This divine, who is also said to have been one of the seventy appointed by our Lord (see St Luke, ch. x., v. i), was indeed the first bishop of Verona, but the date of his episcopate cannot be definitely affirmed, and can only be vaguely spoken of as amongst the earliest bishoprics instituted in Italy. The first bishops of Verona all attained to the rank of saints; the fourth being St Procolo, and the sixth St Lucillo, who took part in 347 at the Council of Sardis. In 380 (or according to Maffei 390) occurred the death of St Zenone, or Zeno, the eighth bishop, a man famous for his learning and saintliness of life, and who according to some traditions “reduxit Veronam ad baptismum.” The writings of St Zeno have come down to the present day, and beside their doctrine and devotion have also some literary merit. It is not known where the services of the early Christians were held in Verona. The so-called grotto of San Nazzaro, of which mention will be made later on,[3] is generally looked upon as the place, and tradition has it that Divine worship was actually celebrated there. The frescoes that adorn the church are of later date than the building, and were probably added when the church was restored in the tenth century, after it had suffered much damage at the hands of the Hungarians.

That Verona possessed a bishop as early as the third century of the Christian era would point to the fact that even at that time the town contained many believers, though the martyrdoms of S. Fermo and S. Rustico in the reign of Diocletian would again demonstrate that at that epoch at all events the pagan world was in the supremacy. St Zeno’s writings on the other hand assume that Christianity was widespread through the city, but this point in common with many others relating to the early days of Verona cannot be affirmed with certainty. The diocese of Verona up to the beginning of the fifth century was subject to the metropolitan jurisdiction of the See of Milan which extended (especially at the time of St Ambrose), over the greater part of the north of Italy, and was known under the Roman administration as the “vicariatus Italiae.” After the death of St Ambrose and when the Imperial Government fixed its seat at Ravenna, Milan declined, its metropolitan jurisdiction was split up, and Verona with other cities in the district passed under the jurisdiction of the patriarchate of Aquileja.

The advantages that accrued to Verona from her geographical position have already been dwelt on. The disadvantages must equally be noted, chief among them being the facility with which her territory could be overrun by the wild and undaunted tribes of the North, who looked upon Italy—the garden of Europe—as the lawful reward for their labours, and who considered the trained cohorts of the Roman legions as foes worthy of their mettle.

Odoacer was the first of these invaders. He bore down upon Italy at the head of a large force of warriors, possessed himself of Rome, where he deposed Augustolo, the last Emperor of the West, and after he had imprisoned him at Ravenna, he caused himself to be proclaimed King of Italy. This was in 476, and there can be little doubt that he held sway in Verona, from whence however he was driven out in a pitched battle by Theodoric, King of the Ostrogoths. Odoacer lost heavily in the fight (489), his soldiers were carried away in the rushing, swirling waters of the Adige, when according to Eunodius “their corpses choked that grandest of rivers.” Odoacer himself withdrew to Ravenna, where he was murdered in 493.

Theodoric, King of the Ostrogoths, is a name and personality associated with song and legend. His love for Verona was great, and though his official residence, so to speak, was at Ravenna, it was at the city beside the Adige that he preferred to dwell. Its strong fortifications, the convenience of its position for repelling any attack from Germany, added no doubt to the attraction felt for Verona by “Dietrich von Bern,” as Theodoric was called in German ballads. Theodoric’s love for Verona took shape in the several buildings which either for beauty or utility he raised in it. Baths, palaces, strongholds, and external walls were built in turn by him, and to him too is due the restoration of the aqueduct. The remains of the great palace that he built for himself on the hill of S. Pietro are still to be seen, and point to a style of architecture that had its origin in Rome. The later years of Theodoric’s life are dimmed (from a Veronese point of view) by the hatred he is said to have shewn towards the Catholics. To this is ascribed among other things his destruction of the oratory of S. Stefano, at that time the Cathedral church of Verona. This deed which coincided with the German legends which easily spread to Verona confirmed the story of the demoniacal chase which was circulated about Theodoric, and which is to be found engraved among the bas-reliefs carved on the façade of S. Zeno. The legend runs as follows: Theodoric on leaving the bath mounts his horse, and followed by his hounds gives chase to a stag. The stag however always manages to escape. The hunter pursues in reckless haste and eagerness, till he finds himself brought to the gates of hell. An allegorical lesson that might have a warning not only for the king of the Ostrogoths, but for all of every class and nation who choose to heed it!

Tradition ascribes to Theodoric at one moment the building of the whole city, at other times the Amphitheatre itself, giving to this latter the name of the “House of Theodoric,” just as in Rome the same name of “House of Theodoric” was once given to Hadrian’s mole. Nor did legends of different sorts cease to be circulated about Theodoric in and around Verona till the fourteenth century.

The Gothic rule began to decline in the days of Totila (543), and wars in different directions around Verona, generally ending in the defeat of the Goths, proved at last their undoing. An invasion of the Greeks was however successfully withstood, though more perhaps by fortune than by skill. The Greeks had actually possessed themselves of Verona, but their greed for booty had made them careless as to securing their conquest, and before they were aware of it they were attacked by the Goths and expelled. An expedition headed by Totila’s chief general Teias against the Emperor Justinian’s forces under Narses was not so successful. Nor did a fresh expedition led by Totila in person fare better. The Roman and Gothic armies met at Brescello on the Po, the Goths were defeated, and Totila was slain. Teias was appointed king in his stead (560), only to die by the hand of Narses two years later, and with him the Gothic rule came to an end in Italy.

Fresh incursions from Germany again followed; but it was not till the year 568 that any permanent rule was established in Verona. That year however saw the Longobards or Lombards, under their king Alboin, pour down from the North and spread over the fertile plain which to this day bears their name. Their rule extended to Verona, where all traces of Gothic and Grecian power disappeared before that of the new-comers.

It was at Verona that the famous banquet took place, when Alboin ordered his wife Rosamund to drink wine out of her father’s skull. Alboin had conquered and killed his father-in-law, Cunimund, king of the Gepedoe, and carried about with him the trophy of his victory in the shape of the dead man’s skull converted into a drinking cup. He had no settled capital in Italy, but, as Theodoric had done before him, he dwelt gladly at Verona. The story of his orgie is a well-known one, though it may be that in his drunken debauchery he was hardly conscious of the sacrilege that he called upon his wife to commit. His brutality was amply avenged. Rosamund caused her husband to be murdered (June 28, 572, or according to Maffei 574) and then fled with Elmicho (who had acted for her as Alboin’s murderer) to Ravenna, taking with her Alsuinda, Alboin’s daughter, and the royal treasure. The fugitives sought the protection of Longinus, the exarch of Constantinople; but soon after they reached Ravenna they were tragically put to death, and Alsuinda together with King Alboin’s treasure was sent to Constantinople. According to the writings of Paul the Deacon, the Lombard historian of the eighth century, the “body of Alboin was buried by the Longobards with tears and great mourning under a staircase adjoining the palace. In our days Gilbert or Giselbert, Duke of Verona, opened the case, drew from it the sword and ornaments, and then with the vanity peculiar to the ignorant, boasted that he had seen Alboin.” The whole story of the banquet, the indignity forced upon Queen Rosamund, the king’s death, and all its sequel is often called in question and doubt thrown on the whole matter. The certainty of it cannot perhaps be asserted definitely, but the legend is a well-established one; and the historian Paul quoted above tells how he saw the fateful goblet, and speaks of the murder, the flight of the wife and of her accomplice, in a way which proves that he at least believed it all.

The Lombards established duchies throughout Italy, and after Alboin’s death we find dukes in Verona, one of whom, Autari, married (cir. 589) the famous Theodolinda, daughter of Garibaldo, king or duke of the Bavarians, who exercised an important influence over the Lombard people, and who after her second marriage with Agilulf, Duke of Turin, converted them from Arianism to the Catholic faith.

In the year said to have been that of the marriage of Theodolinda and Duke Autari, the year A.D. 589, a terrible inundation of the Adige took place in Verona. The part this river played, and for the matter of that still plays, in the history of the town which it bathes and divides is marked. It rises in Lake Ressen in South Tyrol, and after a course of some 190 miles, during which it is joined by a multitude of mountain streams and torrents, it empties itself into the Adriatic. The Adige (in German the Etsch) flows down through the Brenner pass, now enclosed in narrow channels, now spreading out through lakes and wide openings, gathering force and volume, till from small beginnings it becomes the impetuous mass of waters which rushes headlong through Verona. The floods and over-flowings from this river have on several occasions wrought untold damage to the town; and but a few years ago when the spring or autumn rains had fallen in extra abundance, or when the snows were melting after an unusually hard winter, the rumour that “L’Adige ě in pieno” carried dread to all who heard it. This fear is almost entirely set at rest now. Great dykes and walls have been erected; the latter known as “muraglione,” which are calculated to ensure perfect safety to the city, and which certainly have stood more than one test of extraordinary severity.

The inundation alluded to above is the first recorded in history; and one old chronicler asserts that so fearful a deluge had not occurred since the universal one when mankind was destroyed in the days of Noah. The country around Verona was submerged for miles, many inhabitants were drowned, and the number of corpses of beasts, as well as of human beings, floating about in the waste of waters may doubtless be held responsible for the outbreak of a grievous sickness which shortly after visited the city. The month was that of October, and the decay of autumn following close upon a long spell of heat may well have accounted for the pestilence; but the Veronese saw only the wrath of God in the calamities which befell their land and considered themselves as under a curse. This first noted inundation was not only a mark in history, it was also the occasion for a miracle—at least in the eyes of the faithful. The waters which rose to the height of several feet restrained themselves when in the neighbourhood of the church of S. Zeno. Although on a level with the windows they forbore to enter the sacred edifice, though the doors were open and would have admitted them readily had their reverential attitude not kept them outside in an upright position! There were three churches dedicated to S. Zeno in Verona, and it is impossible to say around which of the three the miracle took place. The story relating to it was told to St Gregory I. by one who came from Verona, and is spoken of by him in his Dialogues. Many investigations have been made on the subject, all alike leading to nothing and leaving the locality of the scene unestablished. In the fourteenth century the mystery was still unsolved, for Benvenuto da Imola in his Commentary on Dante was evidently in doubt over this vexed point and records as follows: “Three churches are named after San Zeno at Verona, one on the hill, another by the Adige, but this is only a small oratory or chapel, and I think it is this San Zeno of which St Gregory writes in the Dialogues, that on one occasion the Adige had inundated Verona, but did not enter the windows of the church of San Zeno. The third church is about a javelin cast from the river, and there is no fairer church that I have seen in all Verona.”[4]

The Adige, though famed chiefly for the violence of its ways and habits, has however another side to its character. Its services from a commercial point of view are great. It acts also as a highway whereby to convey heavy bales of goods, and many a raft laden with timber comes floating down its waters, which season the wood at the same time that they carry it to its destination.

CHAPTER II
The Arena

BEFORE leaving too far behind us the days when Roman art and influence held sway in Verona it may be well to pause and study the monument of that past epoch which exists to this day in the shape of the Amphitheatre, and consider carefully its history in all its detail. Great uncertainty exists as to when the Arena was built. Its chroniclers, jealous to claim for it an antiquity beyond the bounds of probability, wish to ascribe it to the Etruscans; but it is Roman as to its architecture, the lettering over the arches is Roman, as is also the manner of numbering the seats of the spectators. Its age must for ever remain a mystery; the only certainty on that point being that it is very great. Some writers declare that it dates from the time of Diocletian only, and ask how is it likely that a mere Roman colony should boast a stone amphitheatre when the capital itself was lacking in such a possession? It may be answered that other towns of less importance than Verona, colonies too of Rome, were provided with arenas, some indeed grander and more elaborate than the Veronese one. It will suffice to mention those of Capua, Lucca, Pozzuoli, and Pola, to show how many existed even before the days of Augustus Cæsar, and that there was nothing strange in Verona also having such a building long before the Colisseum came into being. It probably was erected shortly before Rome became an Empire; and it is interesting to trace the uses to which it was put as the ages rolled on their way, and brought in their train different habits and customs.

The first use for all amphitheatres was only for fights of beasts: elephants, tigers, lions, panthers, bears, even crocodiles being introduced for the purpose of warring among themselves, and proving who was the victor in the struggle for supremacy. These sports gained in extent and luxury (so-called) according to the number and variety of beasts that could be obtained; and the rarer the animal exhibited in the arena, the greater the success of the entertainment. Thus when a hippopotamus and five crocodiles appeared on the scene, the triumph was well-nigh complete! Rhinoceroses and cameleopards were introduced by Julius Cæsar, and skilled hunters on the backs of elephants were set in array to combat against them. These sports were first held in the theatres or in the circuses, but the latter were intended really for horse and chariot races; the theatres for scenic representations. The difficulties both as to seeing and performing experienced in these buildings called for another kind of edifice, and led promptly to the formation of the arenas or amphitheatres of which such beautiful specimens remain to this day showing us even in their ruined or mutilated condition on what grand and colossal lines they were erected. The theatres of Greece and Rome served to give an idea on which the needed building should be erected. A semicircle of steps, spacious and uncovered, would serve to seat the audience, then in order to accommodate more spectators and fill in the space destined for the stage, another semicircle was added, leaving a vacuum in the middle suitable for games, sports, or fights. The first amphitheatres ever built were generally of wood, a material little adapted for this kind of building, and that on more than one occasion came to grief either from fire, or from the collapse of the entire structure. The latter event occurred during the reign of Tiberius Cæsar, when at Fidena, a town of Latium, five miles from Rome, the building subsided, and 20,000 spectators according to Suetonius, 50,000 according to Tacitus, were among the number between killed and wounded.

The Arena of Verona was built of great blocks of stone, in a slightly oblong shape, 168 yards long, and 134 wide, and its arrangements for the coming in and going out of the 20,000 persons whom it could seat were admirable. The outer wall consisted originally of four stories, but of the upper one only a fragment remains, sufficient however to show how the huge curtain or veil (velarium) which covered the whole arena, and protected the spectators from the sun, was arranged and manipulated. The interior is in an excellent state of preservation; and the care lavished on this magnificent ruin ever since the fifteenth century, and continued scrupulously to this day, is beyond all praise. The plan of the building shows that it consisted of an arcade of seventy-two arches, with two tiers of boxes, and another tier with large windows. The exits (vomitori), seventy-four in number, communicated with internal staircases which led up to the steps where the spectators were seated. Nor was the question of class distinctions ignored. Seats of costly marble and highly ornamented were reserved for those of high degree; the knights were allotted places in the centre; the Roman matrons had their special quarters; the crowd was relegated to the upper part.

The first gladiatorial fights witnessed in Verona are said to have been at the beginning of Trajan’s reign. These were either given as public festivals or held by private individuals; and they took place on such occasions as demanded either the celebration of a triumph, or the propitiation of the deities who watched over the dead and guided the departed spirits to the shades of the Blest. One of these latter ceremonies, judging from the letters of the younger Pliny, was celebrated in Verona during the second half of Trajan’s reign. A private citizen named Maximus gave many of these sights in the Arena in honour of his dead wife, though on one occasion the entertainment failed to come off owing to a heavy storm at sea having detained the vessels which should have conveyed some panthers from Africa. Against these and other wild animals different conditions of combatants were engaged: there was a class of gladiators known as “Bestiarii,” who were trained especially for the purpose; prisoners taken in war were also used; and in later times the Christians furnished many a martyr and saint, St Paul himself being of the number and telling us how he had “fought with beasts at Ephesus.”

The spot where the wild animals were confined at Verona is not certain: some writers say that they were kept in subterranean cellars close to the Arena, and introduced through the gates that support the Podium.[5] Others again say, and with a greater show of reason, that they were kept in cages either of wood or iron, which were wheeled up to the Amphitheatre as they were needed. The dress of the “Bestiarii,” who were also called “Hunters of the Arena,” resembled that of the gladiators, and their weapons consisted only of a short dagger and a small shield. They were famed for their dexterity and their cold-bloodedness; and their address lay in avoiding the animal whom they fought, while at the same time teasing, enraging, and finally slaying him.

The Arena was also the scene of many a gladiatorial fight when men only engaged, and several mural tablets in the Museo Lapidario exist to recount the prowess of the boldest “secutore,” or the most skilful “retiarius” or net thrower. One of these latter, a certain “Generoso” by name, fought no less than twenty-seven times in the Arena, while other monuments speak of the different kinds of gladiators who also performed there. The mention of their various callings shows too how every sort of combat was practised, as well as the mixed nature of the fights. These forms of sport however paled after a time, and instead of a fair trial of strength, of beast against beast, or armed men contending for the mastery, it was judged more exciting to see men, and even women and children exposed to the rage and hunger of the animals with no weapon worthy of the name in their hands and no chance of escape from a death of shame and agony. To the honour of Verona it must however be said that the number of such scenes was very limited in their midst, and that the Arena was only on rare occasions put to the purposes which so often disgraced the Colisseum at Rome.

The Arena however witnessed the martyrdoms of S. Fermo and S. Rustico, who suffered during the persecutions of Diocletian and Massimianus about the year A.D. 300. Their story is this: Fermo was a nobleman of Bergamo, and an accusation laid against him in high quarters denounced him as a Christian. A quæstor was accordingly sent to take him, and Fermo who offered no resistance was carried off with one Rustico, a humble friend who threw in his lot with him. They were brought to the Emperor, and by him consigned to the keeping of one of his councillors named Anolino. Threats, promises, tortures were employed in vain to induce them to adjure their so-called errors; and it was thereupon decided to bring them into the Arena and delight the inhabitants of Verona with an exhibition. The night before their trial the prisoners were joined by the old and saintly bishop of Verona, St Procolo, who had been wrapt in prayer with the few Christians to whom he ministered outside the town, and who now determined publicly to declare himself a Christian, ready to suffer with his brethren for Christ’s sake. He came into the town, joined Fermo and Rustico, and together they were brought into the Amphitheatre. The councillor, Anolino, on beholding the old man bound, uncondemned, and a willing victim, demanded who he was, and on being told, he refused to accept St Procolo’s self-sacrifice. He would not sanction a death which had not been decreed by the Emperor, and declared that the Bishop had become childish through excess of age. The poor old saint was thereupon driven out of the Arena with hootings and blows, and had no choice but to retire to his flock, lamenting that his name might not be added to those of “the noble army of martyrs.” Fermo and Rustico in the meanwhile were called on to sacrifice to false gods, and their refusal to comply was followed by every kind of torture—one being that they should be roasted alive. The pile was erected, and the victims placed thereon. The flames however seized upon the executioners, and left the saints untouched, according to one legend. Another one though says that a heavy shower of rain fell at the very moment when the fire was about to be kindled, and extinguished it. This may very probably have been the case, and may too account for the power ascribed to these saints of causing rain to fall whenever it is needed. Their names are in any case invoked whenever a lengthened drought prevails, and the response generally obtained ought to convert every sceptic as to the marvellous powers possessed by these godly men. The deliverance from this form of death was declared to be miraculous; their enemies denounced them as magicians, and dragged them off to the banks of the Adige, where they were finally beheaded. This occurred on the 9th of August, and their bodies, rescued by their friends, were eventually buried under the high altar of the magnificent church which bears the name of S. Fermo Maggiore, and which is dedicated to the memory of S. Fermo and S. Rustico.

The practice of gladiatorial fights of all kinds came to an end A.D. 435; and the use of an amphitheatre seemed as though it too had reached its consummation. The invasion of the Goths and Huns brought with it a spirit of destruction as to most public buildings already in existence coupled with a need for walls, towers, and castles that was urgent and peremptory. Theodoric with all his love for Verona had no respect for this its greatest monument, and freely encouraged the removal of stones, architraves, and blocks of marble from the Arena to serve for the bastions, aqueducts, and other buildings with which he enriched the town. Nor did the Amphitheatre fare better at the hands of Berengarius. He allowed its mighty stones to be used whenever a building, private or public, required any massive addition, and the only marvel is that it was not absolutely ruined by the wholesale plunders committed within its walls. Its use in those days was almost exclusively reserved for judicial trials, for appeals to Divine Justice, and for duels and tournaments. It also served as the place for public executions, and for the doing to death of heretics. The largest number who ever suffered for their faith was over a hundred of the sect of the “Paterani,” who were brought from Sirmione in 1276, and were burned at the stake in the Arena, by order of Martino and Alberto della Scala.

Several jousts and tournaments were held here during the reigns of the Scaligers, but the only one deserving of special notice in these pages is the one given in 1382 by Antonio della Scala the illegitimate son of Cansignorio. The reason for this particular tourney was to wipe out a deed of murder, and to obliterate from the minds of the people of Verona the fact that a fratricide and a villain ruled over them. Cansignorio della Scala had laden his soul with the murders of two of his brothers in order to secure the succession to his illegitimate sons Bartolomeo and Antonio. Bartolomeo was beloved by the people, and in all ranks of society his presence was hailed with joy and affection. He was a frequent guest in the house of the Nogarola family whose palace stands not far from the church of Sant’ Anastasia in the narrow street of “The Two Moors” (I due Mori). The daughter of the house, a young and beautiful maiden, aroused the love of the young lord of Verona, who had however a powerful and evidently favoured rival in the person of a noble youth of the family of Malaspina. Antonio della Scala, whose jealousy of his brother was only equalled by his ambition to reign alone, determined to turn this state of things to his own advantage, and compass his brother’s death. On the evening of July 12, 1381, Bartolomeo came home from the chase weary and worn, and attended only by his secretary, one Galvani. They flung themselves to rest unconscious of the presence of some hired assassins in the room who had been concealed there by Antonio’s orders. The murderers but waited till their victims were buried in sleep. They then stole quietly from their recesses and stabbed the weary hunters to death. Bartolomeo received no less than twenty-six wounds in his breast, and the murderers, favoured by the silence and darkness, proceeded to wrap the bodies in two black hooded mantles, and then dragged them to the little square of Sta. Cecilia where they threw them down close beside the Nogarola palace. The news of the murder spread like wildfire through the city, and amid clamours of horror and indignation the name of the assassin was eagerly demanded. Antonio declared that his brother had been foully done to death at the instigation of Malaspina and with the connivance of Nogarola, who had willed in this manner to avenge an outrage committed on his daughter by the murdered man. To give colour to his accusation he then proceeded to order the arrest of Malaspina and Nogarola together with the maiden, and caused them to be put to the torture so as to acknowledge their crime. Not one of the victims confessed. They preferred death to perjury; and the luckless girl succumbed to the agony of the rack sooner than declare herself guilty of a sin which she had never committed. The assertion of such innocence, even unto death, aroused the suspicions of the people, and it was not long before Antonio was denounced as his brother’s murderer. The fratricide was in too secure a position to suffer the vengeance due to him, but the growing indignation and wrath throughout the city made his life far from pleasant, and he deemed it prudent to distract the thoughts of his subjects and to drown ugly facts and recollections in scenes of revelry and feasting. He was betrothed to Samaritana da Polenta, daughter of the lord of Ravenna, and he resolved to make his bride’s reception in Verona the occasion for such merriment as would drive out all remembrance of the past. Troops of gaily mounted cavaliers rode out to meet the bride; others patrolled the town imparting a sense of festivity, and preparing men’s mind for the welcome that all were required to extend to the fair Samaritana. Her beauty is said to have been extraordinary, and when she rode into the city in a robe of dazzling whiteness covered with gems and seated on a magnificent white steed, she was hailed with transports of delight. Courtiers, heralds, pages and trumpeters preceded and followed her, flags waved throughout the city, joyousness pervaded every heart, and the recollection of the corpses wrapped in their grim sere cloths and crying for vengeance seemed to have faded from the memory. For twenty-seven days the revels lasted; and among the jousts which took place in the Arena was one called the “Castle of Love,” a joust much in vogue at that period. It consisted of an erection set up in the middle of the Amphitheatre, and representing a rock which was covered with hangings of costly velvets and silks. The loveliest maidens in Verona stood inside to defend the castle from its besiegers, armed with flowers, sweetmeats, and jets of perfumed waters. The attack was gallantly conducted and gallantly withstood! After several assaults however a host of youths from Vicenza perceived that one side of the rock was left undefended. They rushed forward, and though checked for a moment by a rain of the most exquisite comfits they stormed the breach, gained an entry into the castle and the damsels were vanquished! The rage and jealousy of the other combatants at the success of the Vicentins threatened for a moment to convert this toy war into real and deadly strife; but peace was decreed by the directors of the sports, and a grand feast given by the bride herself became the signal for universal harmony and goodwill. The cost of this banquet and of the other festivities celebrated on this occasion was enormous, and laid the taste for the expenditure and extravagance which now became the rule at the Court of the Scaligers,[6] and proved, according to one old chronicler, “the destruction of Verona.”[7]

For several centuries after the fall of the Scaligers the Amphitheatre was used chiefly for tournaments and feats of arms, though for some time during the fifteenth century it was set apart as the abode of the prostitutes of the town, and stern laws were passed with regard to their inhabiting no other quarter save that alone. Under the Venetian government measures were also taken for the preservation of the Arena, and from that time forward Verona has studiously used all the means in her power to guard with scrupulous devotion this glorious memory of the Past. Some excavations made of late years have led to the discovery that water could be conveyed into it by pipes, so that nautical games and naval displays could also be given when any occasion called for such a pastime. There were also, according to Seneca, some hidden tubes laid in connection with these water-pipes, which spurted odorous water from the base of the Amphitheatre right up to the top. From there they spread like a fine drizzle through the air and were known as “the sweet-scented rains.”

The last joust mentioned in history that took place in the Arena was at the beginning of the eighteenth century, when some tilting at the ring was given in honour of the Elector of Bavaria, afterwards the Emperor Charles VII. The entertainment however failed to please the jaded tastes of that age, and it was decided to introduce bull-fighting into Verona, and degrade the Arena with exhibitions of this all unworthy order. The first bull-fight was held July 21, 1789, and met with immediate approbation. This form of sport, though new at that time in Verona, dates from a very remote epoch. It is said to have been introduced into Italy in the days when Julius Cæsar was dictator, and it was patronised later by Nero. At Verona the taste for it spread quickly, and no foreigner of note or distinction who went there failed to be present at the bull-fight which would be sure to be given in his honour in the Arena. The inscriptions which are studded about in the building, recording many of the events which have taken place there, has one which tells how the Emperor Joseph II. together with several other princes was present at a bull-fight in the month of August 1782. Another tablet records a very different scene that took place earlier in the same year when the Pope Pius VI. on his way from Vienna halted at Verona, and thousands of spectators flocked to the Arena to receive the Papal benediction. Truly the building cannot be accused of having served for nothing, nor of having reserved its walls for one kind of spectacle only! The scene must have been striking, for every corner of the vast edifice was packed, and thousands who could not find admittance overflowed into the Piazza Bră, and awaited there in solemn and respectful silence till the Pontiff raised his hands to invoke a blessing on the expectant multitude.

At the beginning of the following century the Emperor Napoleon I. sent a donation of 30,000 lire (about £1,200) towards the repairs of the Arena, and shortly after he came in person to Verona and expressed his desire to be present at a bull-fight. These fights were conducted chiefly at that time with dogs, whose training required that they should seize the bull by the ear, when the latter was considered vanquished, and the toreadores gave him the Coup de grace. The peril run by the hounds—generally mastiffs—was great. The utmost agility and vigilance was needed on their part to escape being gored by the horns of their adversary, and to seize his ear before he ripped up their sides. On the 16th of July 1805 Napoleon took his seat amid a vast crowd who gazed on the mighty conqueror with mixed feelings and emotions, while he doubtless felt himself to be Cæsar indeed, surrounded by the pageantry and mise en scène befitting his new state. A kind of shelter of a circular form was erected in the middle of the Arena wherein the assistants of the fight could take refuge if the bull became too savage. These assistants were dressed half in white and half in red, and their business was to incense the animal by waving red rags in his face, goading him with prongs and sharp sticks, and other devices tending to aggravate him beyond endurance. On the present occasion a young and vigorous bull was turned loose into the Arena, who came on snorting, tossing the sand from beneath his feet, and showing every symptom of courage and sport. The mastiffs were let loose on to him one by one, but all in turn were overcome, and lay in the sand so many heaps of quivering, mangled flesh. At last a splendid hound, spotted black and white, was let loose, and the public admiration and expectation was centred on the graceful movements and wary gait of the dog. His mode of approach and defence was excellent, and he made more than one attempt to pin his adversary by the ear. But his skill and training were of little avail. His final leap up to the bull’s ear proved fatal; the horn ripped him from end to end, and a groan of disappointment and compassion went up from the crowd as they saw the poor beast stretched on the sand in his death agony. Napoleon’s interest was aroused to such an extent that he shouted out, “Loose two against him,” an order promptly obeyed, but attended with no better fortune. The hounds were again gored to death, and the Emperor shouted anew, “Loose three.” Again the bull was victorious. “Loose them all,” cried Napoleon, and the pack was let loose. The bull surrounded by a host of foes held them at bay for a while, and with bloodshot eye and lashing tail made a gallant stand. But the numbers were more than he could contend with, and bitten, beaten and overcome, he sank upon the floor, yielding only to the inexorable doom of force. The story goes on to say that a general in Napoleon’s suite, and who stood high in the Imperial favour, turned to his master and bade him draw a lesson from the scene which had just been enacted before him. He warned him to beware of any alliance that the European Powers might form against him, adding that singly he might defeat each of them in turn, but that united they might prevail against him. Another writer, describing this scene and alluding to the Emperor’s presence at it, says: “A fine lesson from which he drew no profit.”[8] Napoleon was present again at another bull-fight in the Arena on the 28th of November 1807. When we read that the entertainment only began at 4.30 in the afternoon, we are not surprised to learn that the Emperor left before the end, probably driven away by the gloom of evening falling ere the entertainment was half over. The last bull-fight given in Verona was in 1815, on the occasion of the Archduke John of Austria being proclaimed governor of the “Veneto.” The following year the Emperor Francis I. came with his wife to Verona, but the intention of holding a bull-fight in their honour was changed to horse-racing, the reason being that the failing health of the Empress forbade of her being present at such harrowing scenes. The poor lady indeed died but a few days after in Verona on the 7th of April.

A sight of unprecedented splendour took place in Verona on the occasion of the Congress of Sovereigns that was held there in 1822. The citizens vied with each other in doing honour to the crowned heads assembled within their city walls, and among marks of revelry it was settled to illuminate the whole town, including of course the Arena. This latter part of the programme was carried out by a multitude of small lamps being ranged along the lines of the architecture, and thereby creating an impression of lightness and beauty that was almost magical in its effect. The royal guests consisted of the Emperors of Russia, and Austria, the King of the two Sicilies, the King and Queen of Sardinia, the Archduchess of Parma, the Viceroy, and the Duke of Modena. A tablet in the Arena records this Congress and the festivities held to celebrate it.

Some mention of the game of Pallone—a game peculiar to Italy, and for that reason not unlikely to prove of interest in these pages—may be made here, together with an account of how it was played in the Arena at Verona. The game itself had its origin in Greece; the Romans adopted it in their turn, introducing it into Spain and into the southern parts of Gaul, where specially walled-in spaces were built for it to be played in. At Verona it was originally played near the Ponte dei Rei Figli or Rofiolo, along the wide street known to this day as that of the Via or Caserma Pallone. The “pallone” (a huge kind of football) was over one foot and a half in diameter; it was formed of an internal bladder covered with buckskin, and inflated by means of a tool specially and very accurately made for the purpose. In modern times the players are armed with a kind of wooden bat covered with large, wooden, diamond-shaped teeth, which are so placed as to prevent the “pallone” running up the bat. The handle of this bat is hollowed in such a way as to admit of the fist passing through to grip it firmly. The players, divided in two sets, donned a costume of red and white or red and yellow. At one time all ranks took part in it, and some famous matches took place in the Arena between the champions of Verona and those of the neighbouring cities, some at times coming even from Rome.

The next use for which the Arena served was as a theatre. A small stage was set up in the grand Amphitheatre of old, and strolling companies performed there with unqualified success. Many a good cast too performed there willingly, and it was in the Arena Theatre of Verona that both Adelaide Ristori and Ernesto Rossi made in turn their début. It was then used for representations of acrobatic feats, pantomimes, gymnastics, and such like displays, finishing up with dancings on the tight rope and conjuring tricks.

All thoughts of games and frivolous entertainments were however to vanish for a while from the minds of the Veronese by the turn political events took in the year 1866, and which engrossed all Italy during the whole of that summer. Victor Emanuel II. with the aid of his ally, Napoleon III., Emperor of the French, had conquered Lombardy in 1859, and the peace of Villafranca signed after this conquest had but heightened the expectancy which then animated every patriot’s breast as to the deliverance of the “Veneto.” A new alliance between Victor Emanuel and the King of Prussia in 1866 had led to a declaration of war against Austria, and was quickly followed by the opening of hostilities on the banks of the Mincio. The first engagement of note was at Custozza on June 24 of that same year. The day was one of unrivalled splendour, but also of excessive heat. Since early dawn the inhabitants of Verona had flocked to the Porta Nuova, and listened with feverish anxiety as to what the issue would be of the heavy sounds which roared across the plain from the oft firing guns of the two forces. The dread and strain was not lessened when after mid-day a file of prisoners began to arrive. These were Italian soldiers taken captive by the Austrians, and they were at once lodged in the Arena, now adapted for the time being for military purposes. The grand old Amphitheatre of the Romans had served for many a baser use than that to which it was now put—a prison house for the men who had fought for their country’s freedom! At eventide the wounded were brought in, and though grief over their defeat filled the heart of every citizen of Verona, the whole city was given over to the care of those who had fought so gallantly on that day. Churches and houses were all equally placed at the disposal of the wounded, and no class distinctions held back men, women and children from doing all that in them lay to succour the sufferers, be they friend or foe, victor or vanquished. The victory of Sadowa however more than obliterated the overthrow of Custozza, and the restoration of the “Veneto,” and consequently of Verona, to Italy followed shortly in its train. This was in October of 1866, and in the following month Victor Emanuel came to Verona to present himself in person to his subjects as their king. The monarch’s entry was greeted with cheers and acclamations, and the next day he presented himself in the Arena accompanied by his two sons, Prince Humbert and Prince Amedeus, and escorted by the Bishop of Verona, the Cardinal Marquis of Canossa; and in this historic spot the first king of a united Italy received the homage of the people of Verona. A tablet let into the wall records this visit, and, as on a previous occasion, the amphitheatre was illuminated with its myriads of little lamps.

The next occasion on which the Arena was in requisition was in 1872 when a fair was held in it for charitable purposes, and it was made to assume the appearance of an Alpine village. Forests and Swiss châlets were dotted here and there on its broad steps, booths and bright pagodas brought their note of colour into the midst of the solemn stone-work, and the locality that is said to have suggested to Dante the plan for some regions of his Inferno was transformed into a laughing hamlet, fitted only for merriment and brightness. In one spot were to be found light and good refreshments; in another the houses of Romeo and Juliet appeared unexpectedly on the scene; lower down the wheel of fortune offered its allurements to those who chose to make trial of its seductions; and humour, goodwill and hilarity held sway amid surroundings that certainly had never thought originally of harbouring such elements. The centre of the Arena was laid out as a garden. In the middle gurgled a fountain of wine, while round the podium a sale was carried on of the choicest wines from the Valpolicella and the Valpantena. The success of this Fancy Fair, which was held for the benefit of the Home for Children, was so great in every way that it was determined to repeat it at the end of Carnival the following year. It was accordingly done so, with the sole difference that in the centre instead of the Fountain of Wine was a most finished reproduction of the Arco de’ Gavi, remodelled exactly as to size and proportions.[9]

Another weird and lovely effect obtained in the Arena was on one occasion when the citizens had all been bidden to be present at a concert given in the venerable building. Each person on arrival was presented with a small candle which they were requested to light at a given signal. The effect of these thousands of little lights starting into life as the shades of night fell, and that too from every part of the building, was very beautiful and striking, and reflected great credit on the mind which had planned so original and novel a style of illumination.

Hare and stag-hunting were also tried in the Arena, but the spot was not suited for those forms of sport, which did not besides commend themselves to the people of Verona, and they were at once abandoned. Pigeon shooting was also tried here, but that too was soon given up.

The interest aroused by aeronauts and their endeavours to travel through space had appealed in early days to the Veronese. The first efforts in such directions had been made in 1782, and the first ascent made from the Arena was nine years later. The most successful one however was in 1886, when the Marchese Pindemonte, one Signor Galletti, and the Frenchman Blondeau who directed the operations rose from within the Arena on the 6th of September and surveyed the town and country around from aerial heights. The Arena viewed from a great elevation presented, they said, the appearance of a small ribbed basin speckled with black spots, the houses beside it looked like so many dice, the belfries like small chimneys.

A new phase of gymnastic life was afterwards represented in the Arena in the shape of velocipede races, together with athletic displays, horse shows, races, and exhibitions of skill on horseback. “Buffalo Bill” also gave proof of his prowess within the Arena, and he and his Indian cowboys delighted their Veronese audience with the agility shown by themselves and by their ponies.

Thus the old walls of the Arena of Verona have looked down on scenes as varied in their nature as the ages that have witnessed them. The spirit that called such edifices into being, has certainly passed away taking with it much of the cruelty, the power, the intolerance of those days, but leaving at the same time less stamina, less endurance of soul, and less strength of character.

CHAPTER III
The Middle Ages.—Ezzelino da Romano

THE power of the Lombards, after lasting for over two centuries in Italy was now tottering to its fall, and about to give way to that of the Franks in the northern part at least of the Peninsula. The Popes seeing to their dismay that the long-bearded invaders far from confining themselves to their northern conquests were planning to add to their possessions in the South, called in the aid of the Franks. Pepin I. then King of France, answered readily to the summons; and after his death his son Charlemagne was only too glad to retain a foothold in the land where he meant to establish his dynasty. Desiderius, at that time King of the Lombards, saw clearly the danger threatening his realm. To propitiate the French monarch and bind him to his cause he gave him his daughter Desideria in marriage, little foreseeing how such a step was but to aggravate his difficulties. Desideria was repudiated shortly after her marriage, and came back to her father’s house an injured, outraged woman. Desiderius swore to be revenged, though he had to conceal his intentions, and outwardly appear subservient. He sought to raise up foes against Charlemagne, who to avert the threatened sedition marched at the head of an army into Lombardy. Desiderius was defeated at Le Chiuse di Susa, and forced to fly to Pavia. At the same time his son Adelchi, whom he had associated with him on the throne, withdrew to Verona, which he fortified—a fact that proves how even at that date the town was a stronghold and able to endure a siege. It was at once beleaguered by the Franks and compelled to open its gates to them while Adelchi had to retire and seek shelter and help at Constantinople.

The changes brought about at Verona under the Carlovingian rule were many. Counts were appointed in the place of the dukes who had held sway till then; and Verona was converted from a duchy into a county, though as far as transpires the extent of territory belonging to the new condition remained unaltered. Charlemagne was in Rome in the year 781 when Pope Adrian I. baptised his two sons, Pepin and Louis, and afterwards anointed them kings. Their father’s intention had been to appoint the eldest son, Pepin, King of Italy, and leave his French kingdom to Louis the second son. Pepin, as other monarchs had done before him, loved to dwell at Verona, though fate willed it, that he should die and be buried at Milan (810). The legends relating to the Carlovingian period in Verona have left a visible form in the statues of Roland and Oliver which adorn the façade of the Duomo, where the two paladins stand as though to guard the beautiful entrance to the Cathedral. Many fables are circulated as to Pepin, around whose memory a halo of love and respect has arisen which is not wholly dimmed to this day. His tomb was said to be outside the church of S. Zeno, resting between it and the church of S. Procolo; and the seat of justice where he sat and administered the affairs of state, was pointed out among the excavations on the Colle di San Pietro. There is however nothing but tradition whereon to base either of these assertions,

though the people cling to them as tokens that their loved monarch lived and died in their midst.

The years that followed Pepin’s death and wherein the Carlovingian kings extended their sway over Italy, brought no events of moment to Verona. A new line of rulers came in after the Carlovingian monarchs in the person of Berengarius I., Duke of Friuli, and his successors. This Berengarius overcame his competitor Guido, Duke of Spoleto (886) and reigned in North Italy till the year 923. The close of Berengarius’s life is tragic and pathetic in the extreme. He had retired to Verona after a defeat which he had sustained at the hands of Rudolph, Duke of Burgundy. A conspiracy was here set on foot to murder him, headed by one Flambert, a noble of Verona, who stood high in King Berengarius’s favour, and whose son had been held at the font by the king in person. Berengarius was apprised of the plot, and sent for Flambert to warn him in his turn. He reminded him of the love which existed between them; of the favours he had heaped on him, he pointed out to him the enormity of his crime, and the small gain that could accrue to him therefrom. At last taking a gold cup he gave it to him bidding him keep it as a pledge of the goodwill henceforward to exist between them, and reminding him that he, the king, was also his son’s godfather. The same night Berengarius, to show that no trace of suspicion lurked in his mind, slept without guards, and instead of staying even within his fortified palace he caused his bed to be placed in an arbour in the garden. The next morning, as he was about to betake himself to church, Flambert, followed by some armed men, came to meet him, and making as though he would embrace him, stabbed him to death. No cause has come to light to explain the reason that prompted so foul a treachery, and the fact that Flambert was executed by the order of Milo, Count of Verona, who rushed to avenge the king, carries with it very little satisfaction.

Berengarius was succeeded in turn by Rudolph, Duke of Burgundy; then by Hugh, Duke of Provence, and his son Lothair; afterwards by Berengarius II. and his son Adalbert. These rulers were for the most part also marquises of Tuscany, and their connection with Verona did not affect her history to any great or stirring extent. Their power came to an end with Berengarius II. who was overthrown by Otho I. of Saxony, Emperor of Germany, and for a while German supremacy was paramount throughout the land. During that time a series of counts and marquises filled the office of chief magistrate in Verona. They acted, it is true, as vassals of the Emperor, but occasionally they shewed a spirit of independence and insubordination that cannot always have been reassuring to their feudal lord.

Verona was often the gathering place for Councils and Diets; and a noted one took place there in June 983, under the presidency of Otho II., when warriors, prelates, and men of letters flocked to the town from Saxony, Franconia, Suabia, Bavaria, Lorraine, and from many parts of Italy as well. The Duke of Bohemia sent his representative, nor were ladies excluded from the assembly, for not only was Otho’s wife there, the beautiful Greek Theophania, daughter of the Emperor of the East, but also his mother Adelaide of Burgundy, the widow of Otho the Great. The diet was held in order to consider the ever vexed question of the sovereignty of the kingdom of Italy, and the Emperor was successful in procuring the unanimous nomination of his son Otho as future king of the Peninsula as well as of Germany.

No incident of importance disturbed the history of

Verona now for some time. Her intercourse with Germany kept her trade and interests active beyond the limits of ordinary existence, without at the same time involving her in wars and dissensions over the rights and powers to be adjudged to the monarchs whether of France or of Germany, or to their rivals and foes the Popes of Rome. This state of things however came to an end when the struggle between Henry IV. and Gregory VII. blazed forth in all its violence; and men and cities were forced to take sides with either the Pope or the Emperor. Verona threw in her lot with Henry IV. Two bishops of Verona in turn subscribed to edicts published against Hildebrand, and Henry was supported anew by the town when he passed through it to wage war upon the Countess Matilda of Tuscany. Even when the Lombard cities forsook the Emperor Verona remained faithful to him, foreseeing that only in this way could religious peace be maintained, and anxious at the same time to put an end to feudalism, and to compass the introduction of the Free Communes by her own severance from the Empire.

The adhesion of the Veronese to the Imperial cause did not blind them however to their religious duties, and though no abundance of documents exists to record their prowess, there is sufficient evidence to show that the people of Verona took their share in more than one crusade, and that on two occasions their Bishops went with them.

In the meanwhile the power of the Italian Communes was working its way to the fore, establishing its principles, and binding one town after another to its cause. It failed though in laying that substratum of unity that where so many were involved could alone ensure strength; and though ignorant of its action it was gradually preparing the way for the incoming of the “signori” or tyrants who were to domineer over each town of importance throughout the Peninsula. The arrival of Frederick Barbarossa in Italy in 1154 was to test to the utmost the new power of the Communes. Verona, and many another city besides, had at first intended to stand by the Emperor, and “maintain the Imperial crown and all its honour in Italy.” But such a course was rendered impossible by the Emperor’s own action. His cruelty towards Milan, his ambition, his rapaciousness, convinced every inhabitant south of the Alps that they had in him an enemy of no mean order, and that every effort was praiseworthy which sought to expel him from their midst. The Veronese were eager to give evidence of their readiness to aid in so laudable an effort, and the following incident will serve to show how keen they were to hasten Frederick’s departure out of Italy by fair means or foul. The story though is told only by German writers. Some native historians indeed question the narrative. They maintain that the events related never took place, and seek to exculpate their fellow-citizens from a charge of treachery over an act which, if it occurred, may be considered as that of desperate men bent on freeing their land from an invader and his forces. The Emperor Frederick Barbarossa had made one successful descent upon Italy; he had been to Rome to be crowned, and was then forced to return to Germany, his soldiers being weary of a longer absence from their homes. His way back led through Verona, “where,” according to Otto von Frisingen (a contemporary chronicler and a cousin of the Emperor’s), “it not being customary for the Veronese to grant a passage through their city to the Imperial arms, it was decided to build a bridge for them outside the town. On Frederick’s arrival in their midst, with an army which had laid waste all Italy, the Veronese flattered themselves that the work of avenging the whole of Lombardy lay in their hands. The bridge of boats built above the city was designed for vengeance, and was a trap rather than a bridge—the boats being tied together in such guise as only just to withstand the force of the current. Huge beams of timber were in the meanwhile to be floated down the river, which beating against the bridge were to break it at the moment when the Imperialists would cross it. The plot failed through a miscalculation as to time. The Imperial troops had hastened their march so as to escape from the bands of peasants who were known to be arming against them, and crossed the bridge in safety. The timber launched for their destruction arrived only to work havoc among their foes, for it broke up the bridge, and separated a great number of Veronese who had followed on the track of the Germans from their friends; and the Imperialists falling on them put them all to the sword. The Emperor was not strong enough at that moment to avenge the intended insult; he had no choice but to continue his journey, which he did crossing the mountains into Bavaria by the way of Trent and Botzen.”

This at least is the account given by the Imperial biographer; while the Veronese writers say that there is another side to the story, and that no treachery was intended. Be that as it may it certainly did not tend to improve the feeling entertained by the Emperor towards the people of Verona, while it confirmed on their side the advisability of protecting themselves as strongly as they could against the Imperial power and vengeance. For this intent they joined the League then forming in Lombardy (1164), which had for its object to arm against the common foe and fight till they had vanquished him. The League was warmly

supported by Pope Alexander III., and subscribed to by the towns of Verona, Padua, Vicenza, and the cities of the Marches. This federation was soon afterwards joined by Venice, and aroused such anxiety in Frederick’s mind that he hurried into Italy, collected as formidable an army as he could get together at Pavia, and determined to lay waste the country round Verona. The allies obtained a great triumph at Vigasio, in the Veronese territory, when the Emperor without striking a blow retired from before his foes, after having stood looking them in the face for five whole days. The League gathered fresh strength from this graceless retreat. More towns threw in their lot with the Guelph faction, and Frederick’s cause losing ground daily was finally overthrown on May 29, 1176, at the battle of Legnano. The peace signed after this great fight at Venice was witnessed by Bishop Ognibene of Verona, and the chief magnates of the city, among whom were the Podestă Turrisendo; Sauro di San Bonifacio, Count of Verona; two of the Avogadri family, and the Judge Cozone. The peace was signed actually at Chioggia in July, and soon after the Veronese delegates returned to their city where they were received with honours and rejoicings. Their return coincided with the completion of the basilica of S. Zeno “in pure, simple, most beautiful Romanesque style, the most perfect work of art of Veronese mediævalism.”[10] An inscription tells how the works were finished in 1178, and records that in the same year in which the campanile was completed “peace was restored between the Church and the Emperor.”

Peace was however far from being the general order throughout the land. Civil and intestinal wars were rife on every side; and each town of any size or weight was split up into two factions which held either for the Pope or Emperor, or occasionally for its own cause exclusively, regardless of any interest outside the walls.

In the factions that raged between private families in Verona that of the Montecchi and Cappelletti has obtained a renown as lasting as Time itself, noticed as it is by no meaner writers than Dante and Shakespeare. The Montecchi, as head of the Ghibelline faction in the town, were also in constant strife with many other of their neighbours, especially those who belonged to the opposite faction. A contest of more than ordinary violence occurred on May 16, 1206, when the family of San Bonifacio were at the head of the Guelph party. After a fierce encounter the Montecchi were worsted and expelled from the city. Their rivals, in order to strengthen their cause, appointed Azzo VI., Marquis of Este, to be Podestă of Verona. This Azzo had formerly belonged to the Ghibelline cause, but thought it more to his advantage to change his politics and side with the Guelphs. The Montecchi though defeated were not disheartened. They allied themselves with Bonifacio d’Este, the uncle of Azzo, and his enemy from private as well as public reasons, and, their ranks swelled by Ghibelline partisans, they returned in force to reinstate themselves once more in their native city. This was in the month of August of the same year. Azzo was seated in his council chamber when his foes burst in upon him. He barely escaped with his life, and had to retire from Verona leaving all he possessed behind him. Help however came to him from Mantua and from his own followers in Verona, and he likewise returned to the charge. The struggle lasted for over a month; each tower and stronghold held by the two factions changing hands constantly during that time. The Ghibelline faction was however the weaker one; and though they knew their cause to be hopeless they resolved to make a final and steady resistance in the only castle that yet remained to them. No hope of mercy or of pardon deceived or encouraged these desperate men. On the night of Saturday, September 8th, they awaited the on-coming of the foe, who were equally determined on their side to bring matters to an end. The attack was so well directed, the number of assailants so overwhelming, the besieged had to surrender, and were either put to the sword or taken captive. The castle was dismantled and burnt; the prisoners were sent to different dungeons; and the civil strife in the town was brought to a close for the time being. Peace however was not the normal condition of those days, and this example, cited from an old document which has come to light in recent years, is only given to show the nature and duration of these civil dissensions in a mediæval town.

The towns were not however blind to their own interests in so far as it behoved them to unite against the Emperor of Germany and prevent his gaining such a foothold in Italy as to jeopardise their liberties. The Lombard League, which had originally been formed against Frederick Barbarossa was renewed against his grandson Frederick II. in 1226 for a period of twenty-five years; and in it the cities of Lombardy swore to stand by one another, to preserve each other’s rights, and to maintain mutual peace. The question of peace exercised the minds of all men in Italy at that moment absorbingly. The Pope preached it from Rome in the hopes of furthering the cause of the Crusades; the towns advocated it from motives of commerce and industry; the nobles stood in need of it for the quieting of those feuds and rivalries which were fast draining their resources and undermining the life-blood of their families. In Verona the plea for peace was advocated by a powerful Dominican preacher, Fra Giovanni of Vicenza, a member of the noble family of Schio. He met with an enthusiastic reception, for he was armed not only with the Pope’s protection, but also with a purity of intention and zeal for his mission which furthered his cause immeasurably. He convoked a great assembly on the plain of Paquara, three miles outside Verona on the banks of the Adige; and on August 28, 1233, no less than 400,000 people flocked to hear him preach, and to renounce their rivalries and enmities at his bidding. “The whole population of Verona, Mantua, Brescia, Padua and Vicenza,” says Sismondi, “was gathered on the plain of Paquara, and the citizens of each of these Republics collected round their magistrates and their carroccios (war-chariots). The inhabitants of Treviso, Venice, Ferrara, Modena, Reggio, Parma and Bologna were also there, ranged round their standards; the bishops of Verona, Brescia, Mantua, Bologna, Modena, Reggio, Treviso, Vicenza, Padua, the Patriarch of Aquileja, the Marquis of Este, the lords of Romano, and all those of the Veneto were there too at the head of their vassals.”[11]

The scene must have been a striking one, and unparalleled till then in the annals of history. Fra Giovanni ascended a pulpit in the midst of this vast concourse and harangued the crowd. He took for his text the words, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you,” and commanded his audience to forgive each other their offences and to follow after peace. His injunctions were obeyed. Peace became for the moment the universal law; the factions between the families of Este and da Romano were laid aside; Guelphs consorted with Ghibellines, and foes who a few days previously had met only to stab and outrage one another now exchanged the kiss of peace and swore to remain friends.

The preacher’s injunctions to forgive injuries were not observed by him himself when an excess of enthusiasm had raised him to the office of chief magistrate of Verona. He ordered the execution of sixty men and women belonging to the most respectable families of the town, whom he condemned as heretics, and who were all burnt alive.

The success obtained by Fra Giovanni at the assembly at Paquara proved his undoing. He became proud and ambitious; he aimed at becoming a ruler in those towns where he had preached peace and goodwill, and after a period of war, rebellion and imprisonment he retired to Bologna, shorn of all glory and leaving Lombardy a prey to insurrection and strife.

Verona was no exception to this condition of affairs. Her state was torn by rival factions, the one headed by the Counts of San Bonifacio; the other by the Montecchi (or Monticoli), the latter of whom Shakespeare has immortalized for us under the name of Montague. Their faction was supported on more than one occasion by Ezzelino da Romano, who finally succeeded in making himself lord of Verona, and who was thus the first of the tyrants to oust the power of the Communes and introduce that of the “Signori” in their stead. Ezzelino has left perhaps the most unenviable record among all the bloodthirsty tyrants of the Middle Ages. The Florentine historian Villani says of him that “he was the cruellest and most redoubtable tyrant that ever existed among Christians. By his might and tyranny he lorded it for a long time ... over the March of Treviso, and the town of Padua, and a great part of Lombardy. He made away with a fearful part of the citizens of Padua, and blinded a great number, ever of the best and noblest among them, taking away their possessions and sending them adrift to beg through the world. And many others by divers torments and martyrdoms he put to death, and in one hour caused 11,000 Paduans to be burnt.”

Nor has modern criticism passed a milder judgment on Ezzelino. Symonds speaking of him in his history of The Renaissance in Italy, says: “Ezzelino, a small, pale, wiry man with terror in his face and enthusiasm for evil in his heart, lived a foe to luxury, cold to the pathos of children, dead to the enchantment of women. His one passion was the greed of power, heightened by the lust for blood. Originally a noble of the Veronese Marches, he founded his illegal authority upon the captaincy of the Imperial party delegated to him by Frederic. Verona, Vicenza, Padua, Feltre and Belluno made him their captain in the Ghibelline interest, conferring upon him judicial as well as military supremacy. How he fearfully abused his power, how a crusade was preached against him,[12] and how he died in silence like a boar at bay, rending from his wounds the dressings that his foes had placed to keep him alive are notorious matters of history.... Ezzelino made himself terrible not merely by executions and imprisonments, but also by mutilations and torments. When he captured Friola he caused the population, of all ages, sexes, and occupations, to be deprived of their eyes, noses, and legs, and to be cast forth to the mercy of the elements. On another occasion he walled up a family of princes in a castle and left them to die of famine. Wealth, eminence, and beauty attracted his displeasure no less than insubordination or disobedience. Nor was he less crafty than cruel. Sons betrayed their fathers, friends their comrades under the fallacious safeguard of his promises. A gigantic instance of his scheming was the coup-de-main by which he succeeded in entrapping 11,000 Paduan soldiers, only 200 of whom escaped the miseries of his prisons. Thus by his absolute contempt of law, his inordinate cruelty, his prolonged massacres, and his infliction of plagues upon whole peoples, Ezzelino established the ideal in Italy of a tyrant marching to his end by any means whatever.”[13]

He must indeed ever rank as one of the most inhuman and brutal of monsters as far as bloodthirstiness and cruelty are concerned, but not even his bitterest foes can deny his talents as a warrior, his indomitable pluck, his energy, his presence of mind, no matter how great a difficulty encountered him, and his resource in the hour of danger. No defeat daunted him; no failure depressed him. He would originate some way out of a dilemma however inextricable it might seem; and in spite of overwhelming conditions he was never at his wits’ ends for an expedient. He succeeded in making himself recognised as lord of the towns of Verona, Vicenza, Padua, Feltre, Belluno, and Trent; and no Imperial league was formed in the North of Italy which did not include him as one of its most powerful members. In May 1238 his marriage with Selvaggia, a natural daughter of the Emperor Frederick II., was celebrated at S. Zeno at Verona; and a month later on the green in front of the same church Ezzelino and the Podestă of Verona, Bonaccorso del Palŭ, swore fealty to the Emperor and to his son Conrad. Their oath was received by Pier della Vigna, the Emperor’s famous chancellor, who according to Dante, “held both the keys of the heart of Frederick.”[14]

Ezzelino made as short work of his foes in Verona as in other towns. Their houses were thrown down; their persons tortured and killed. The house of San Bonifacio fared badly at his hands: the castle was dismantled (1243) and stands to this day in ruins; and most of the partisans of that noble house shared grimly in the discomfiture of their chief. After a successful career of thirty-three years Ezzelino’s star began to wane. His enemies—and he had many—resolved to make head against the designs he was now beginning to formulate against Milan, and opposed his forces on the Adda. He was defeated and taken to Soncino, where he died October 1, 1259, tearing open, it is said, his wounds with his own hands, preferring death rather than to see the overthrow of his schemes. The legends and fables which are circulated round Ezzelino are numerous and fantastic. Some have insisted that he was the child of the devil, no human mind and intellect being capable of committing the horrors and bloodthirsty deeds which he is said to have perpetrated. Dante places him in Hell in the “Bolgia” among the “tyrants who delighted in blood and gave themselves thereto.”[15]

The death of Ezzelino da Romano marks a change in Italian politics. The power of the Communes was henceforward to disappear entirely, and that of the “Signori” to come to the fore. In Verona the news of Ezzelino’s death, far from rousing the citizens to rejoicings over their restored liberty, awoke in them only the desire to re-establish the dignity and power of the Podestă so that in the hands of a chief magistrate their rights should be respected. Their choice fell upon Mastino della Scala, the son of one Jacopino della Scala, whose name first appears among those who formed a covenant with the people of Cremona in 1254.

The mention of the Scaligers brings with it the period of Verona’s greatest prosperity. The art, the literature, the romance of the city centres round the years in which the della Scalas reigned as lords of Verona, and in which they brought the town to a degree of prominence and splendour and importance which she had never reached before and to which she never attained again. The cruelties of Ezzelino da Romano were instrumental in bringing the della Scala family into notice. No less than three persons of that name had been put to death by Ezzelino, who were supposed to be some relations, even if not very near ones, of the new Podestă. The efforts made by some writers to claim an old and exalted lineage for the Scaligers has not been crowned with much success. One legend, based however on no very trustworthy

foundation, says that they sprang from a man of poor, nay vile condition, of the name of Jacopo Fico, who made ladders and sold them, and that from this the family took its name. The most generally accepted idea is though that Mastino della Scala, the first of the name who sprang into notability and who may be considered as the founder of the family, was a man of modest origin, and whose line in life was of a commercial nature. His position was a prominent one during Ezzelino’s reign of oppression and bloodshed; and that the tyrant had shown him some regard implies in itself that Mastino had known how to merit it. He was an absolute Ghibelline as to politics, a warrior ever ready to serve his country, and a worthy ancestor of the great men who followed him. Cipolla meanwhile bids us observe that neither as Podestă, nor as Captain was he lord of Verona in the literal sense of the words; he was only the first of the citizens, and never more than that.

CHAPTER IV
The Scaligers

THE rule of Mastino I. in Verona was marked by the endeavours he made to assuage the factions in the town, and to conciliate by a policy of pardon and goodwill those nobles whose politics and actions were opposed to his own. He recalled Lodovico di San Bonificio, the head of the Guelph party, and regardless of the fact that this deed excited much opposition, and provoked an attempt on his life, he followed it up by a grant of fresh pardons to Turrisendo dei Turrisendi, Pulcinella delle Carceri, and Cosimo da Lendinara, other Guelph leaders. These nobles repaid Mastino’s magnanimity by organizing a rebellion to restore Guelph influence in Verona. The plot however failed; and Mastino, seeing the uselessness of showing mercy to those who had repaid him in so sorry a way, put many of the conspirators to death, and exiled the Count of San Bonificio anew.

In 1262 by the “unanimous wish” of the populace Mastino was elected “Captain of the People”; an election which proved his popularity among the lower classes of the town irrespective of that felt for him by the patricians and upper classes. Mastino was moreover successful in an expedition he organized against Trent; he also reduced Piacenza to his rule; and gained over Cremona to the Ghibelline faction. He espoused the cause of Conradin, the last of the Hohenstauffens, and received the luckless youth at Verona in 1267 when on his way to claim the throne of Sicily. After a stay of two months Conradin left Verona, being accompanied to Pavia by Frederick of Austria and Mastino della Scala. The boy-king appointed Mastino “Podestă,” or Rector of Pavia, and at the end of March 1268, he started on the fatal expedition to Sicily which cost him both his kingdom and his life.

Mastino returned to Verona to find fresh disorders and tumults in the city; and wars and fightings ensued when Bocca della Scala, one of his brothers, was killed. After much strife an important point was gained in the submission of the town of Mantua; a town that for years had headed every rise of the Guelph party, and shown the keenest animosity against Verona. This was in 1274, and Alberto della Scala, another brother of Mastino’s and who was to succeed him as lord of Verona and in carrying on the dynasty, was sent at once to Mantua as “Podestă.”

Three years later, on October 26, 1277, Mastino della Scala was treacherously murdered together with Antonio Nogarola who happened to be with him at the moment. No reason has been discovered for the cause of this murder. Some accounts declare that Mastino fell a victim to a conspiracy planned against him by the families of Scaramelli and Pigozzi; others that he was striving to make peace between two inimical parties who stabbed him in return for his good offices. It has even been hinted that his brother Alberto was the real author of the assassination, but no conclusive evidence exists to countenance so foul an accusation. The scene of the murder was close to Mastino’s own house, in a courtyard known as the “Volto Barbaro,” not as most writers assert from the “barbarous” act here committed, but from its being the quarter inhabited by the family of the Barbaro who had their dwelling-place in that spot.[16]

Mastino’s murder was fully avenged. Alberto hastened from Mantua, and passed sentence of death or of exile on those assassins who had escaped the summary justice meted out to them by the mob at the moment of the murder. Alberto was formally installed in his brother’s stead, and became more powerful than his predecessor, being in fact absolute lord of Verona, and able to establish the succession firmly in his dynasty. Nor was his state confined to the limits which had bounded it in the days of Mastino. Besides confirming his rule over the Trentino, Alberto became lord of Riva, Castel d’Arco, Reggio, and Parma. Este and Vicenza voluntarily recognised him as their chief, and he also added Feltre and Belluno to his possessions. Thus an extensive territory owned the dominion of the Scaligers and the capital of this newly-formed principality was Verona. Alberto’s rule was a wise one, and to some extent a peaceful one too. There were occasional wars with many of the neighbouring towns, but none of such duration or importance as to hinder the development of art, or prevent Alberto from enlarging and beautifying the town and adding to the number of its fine edifices. “He beautified Verona with buildings,” says a modern writer, “with bridges, fortified it with new walls, and in the spring of 1301 laid the first stone of the ‘Casa dei Mercanti.’ ”[17]

Alberto was ambitious for his family, and determined to unite them by marriage with some of the princely families of Italy. His daughter Constance became the bride of Obizzo d’Este, the powerful leader of the Guelphs in Northern Italy; but the union brought more position than peace with it. Alberto allied himself soon after with Padua and Vicenza, rivals of the House of Este; and war was the consequence. The war was successful for the allies, and its conclusion was celebrated by a “curia” of a truly princely nature. A “curia” was the word in those days to signify an entertainment given to commemorate any event of moment brought to a satisfactory issue. The “curia” on this occasion was held on St Martin’s day (Nov. 11), when Alberto della Scala began by conferring the honour of knighthood on some of the Nogarola, and Castelbarco family, as well as on his own sons. Bartolomeo, the eldest, was raised to this rank, as was also the youngest Francesco, afterwards so famous as Cangrande, who can then have been only about three years old. The gifts presented by the lord of Verona were not only costly but numerous, and as the condition of the donor was judged by the abundance and value of his presents, any parsimony on that head had to be avoided as certain to prove fatal to his renown. Alberto at this festival gave no less than 1500 pairs of garments, lined with fox or lamb skin, of divers colours such as scarlet, purple, deep red, green, yellow. Soon after this Alberto’s eldest son, Bartolomeo, married Constance, the daughter of Conrad IV., and grand-daughter of Frederick II.

Another “curia” was held in 1298, when Alberto’s second son, Alboino, was made a knight at the same time that his marriage was celebrated with Constance, the daughter of Matteo Visconti, lord of Milan. The encomiums pronounced on Alberto della Scala, who died September 3, 1301, by a contemporary Veronese historian are unbounded, and declare him to have been: “Sublime in soul, perfect in his ways, foreseeing in council, pious, merciful, sagacious”;[18] and that he ardently desired all that made for the welfare of his people and of his city. In fact, according to this chronicler every virtue abounded in Alberto, who apart from his merits ranks also as the first absolute ruler of the house of the Scaligers.

He was followed by his son Bartolomeo who, according to the writer just quoted, ruled over Verona, “thinking ever of governing his people in perpetual peace.” If such were indeed his object he was not always able to attain it, for several wars were waged in his reign, always though as heretofore with neighbouring towns and states. Bartolomeo della Scala may be said to have acquired more renown from literature than from history. He not only welcomed Dante to his court during the exile of the great Florentine, but his bearing towards him was ever such as to elicit from his guest expressions of praise and gratitude, tributes which the poet did not bestow readily or where he was not fully persuaded that they were deserved. In the seventeenth canto of the Paradiso, Dante puts into the mouth of his prophetic ancestor Cacciaguida the following lines which refer to Bartolomeo della Scala, and further on to Bartolomeo’s brother Cangrande:—

“Lo primo tuo rifugio e il primo ostello
Sarà la cortesia del gran Lombardo,
Che in sulla scala porta il santo uccello,
Che in te avrà sì benigno riguardo
Che dal fare e del chieder, tra voi due,
Fia prima quel che tra gli altri è più tardo.
Con lui vedrai colui che impresso fue
Nascondo sì da questa stella forte,
Che notabili fien l’opere sue.”[19]

Nor did the literary interest attaching to Bartolomeo cease with Dante. His name is also associated with the story of Romeo and Juliet; and it is supposed that the tragedy of the two lovers, immortalised for all time by Shakespeare, took place at this epoch. There is no historical foundation for the tale of “the star-cross’d lovers,” but Shakespeare has willed that it should be “in fair Verona where we lay our scene,” and since a date must be determined why should it not be that which tradition has assigned to the reign of Bartolomeo?

Sufficient glory centres round Bartolomeo della Scala through Dante and Shakespeare to make the fact that he is not considered a great ruler or warrior somewhat beside the mark. He gained moreover the love of his people, of the lower classes especially, and Saraina says that when he died “it was not the great folk or the nobility who accompanied him to his grave, but the poor of the town in tears.”

He was followed by his brother Alboino, a good man, but feeble, and whose anti-Ghibelline tendencies may perhaps explain Dante’s contempt for him (see Convito, iv. 16). Commerce though flourished under Alboino, and special treaties were concluded with Venice, who saw how advantageous it would be for her to have friendly relations with a town whose position could insure such handy means of transport as those offered by the navigation adown the Adige. It is perhaps needless to add that the Queen of the Adriatic knew how to draw up the treaty in such a way as to be the chief gainer in the transaction and to secure for herself greater concessions than those granted to the Veronese.

The monotony which might have attached to Alboino’s reign was relieved by his associating his brother Cangrande with him as joint ruler in Verona. This youngest son of Alberto I. was the greatest of the Scaligers, and certainly one of the greatest princes of his age. The legends that surround his life are unending and “seize on him,” says Biadego, “as an infant; they follow him as a child, they environ him in his bold and lucky career as a warrior, and they accompany him to his glorious tomb.”[20] The same writer tells how his mother bare him without any of the pains of child-birth, though the first sound that the new-born babe uttered reverberated through the palace. When still a child, he goes on to say, his father took him to see a great pile of gold, when the lad performed an act expressive of disdain on the heap to mark his contempt for riches. His impulsiveness in the moment of peril, his indifference to danger, and his gift of attaching his followers to him made him a keen and successful soldier; while his readiness to receive and welcome men of letters and of genius, stamp him as a prince fond of learning and of the fine arts. “The story of his conquests” (to quote again from Biadego) “is noted; his personal valour, his skill as a leader, made him in a few years lord of Feltre, of Vicenza, of Cividale, of Belluno, of Monselice, of Bassano, of Padua, and of Treviso. The rapidity of his movements, his boldness, and above all his lust of glory were all gifts possessed by Cangrande, and celebrated by his contemporaries. Nor, say they, was he wanting in defects. He was violent with the Veronese and Vicentins in order to wring money from them; he obtained the Vicariat of Verona by purchase; nor was he free from vices. Such are the accusations brought by Ferreto of Vicenza, who, however, praises him in that he never showed himself by nature bloodthirsty. And in fact under his rule Vicenza and Padua improved; he treated his prisoner Giacomo da Carrara kindly and honourably; Albertino Mussato ... was often visited in prison by his victor, who knew how to honour his genius and the integrity of his character. Let us agree hereupon: Cangrande was a man of his times, but his great virtues redeem his small vices and place him above the princes of his day.”[21]

He was also very religious; he founded the church of Sta. Maria della Scala, and together with Guglielmo del Castelbarco he gave largely to the church of S. Fermo Maggiore. His praises too were sung by Boccaccio, who pronounced him to be “one of the most noted and magnificent lords who was known in Italy since the time of Frederick II.,”[22] while the Guelph historian Villani declares him to be “the greatest tyrant and the richest and most puissant prince that has been in Lombardy since Ezzelino da Romano.”[23]

At the coronation of Louis V. of Bavaria, Cangrande was present with 2,000 knights and 500 foot soldiers, all armed; and he spent more on the occasion than the Emperor and the Visconti put together. The festivals he held after the conquest of Padua lasted a month, when tournaments were held, and jugglers and minstrels were present from all parts of Europe. Cangrande was also a sportsman, and it is recorded that he kept no less than 300 hawks. Music, singers and troubadours found favour with him; a table was kept ever spread for all who flocked to it; theologians, astrologers, philosophers, met with a ready welcome from him, as did also travellers from distant lands who came probably on errands of commerce. As has been said Cangrande was a patron of learning and of the arts. Giotto came to Verona at his invitation, and though nothing remains of his labours it is known that several frescoes painted by him at one time adorned the palace of the Scaligers. The following extract taken from the Comento Storico of Arrivabene, gives a good and graphic account of Cangrande’s court at that time:[24] “Cangrande gathered around him those distinguished personages whom unfortunate reverses had driven from their country; but he also kept in his pay buffoons and musicians, and other merry persons, who were more caressed by the courtiers than the men famous for their deeds and learning. One of the guests was Sagacio Muzzio Gazzata, the historian of Reggio, who has left us an account of the treatment which the illustrious and unfortunate exiles received. Various

apartments were assigned to them in the palace, designated by various symbols; a Triumph for the warriors; Groves of the Muses for the poets; Mercury for the artists; Paradise for the preachers; and for all, inconstant Fortune. Cangrande likewise received at his court his illustrious prisoners of war: Giacomo da Carrara, Vanne Scornazano, Albertino Mussato, and many others. All had their private attendants, and a table equally well served. At times Cangrande invited some of them to his own table, particularly Dante, and Guido di Castel di Reggio, exiled from his country with the friends of liberty, and who for his simplicity was called “the simple Lombard.”

Verona became in this way the home for every exile of note or of worth who sought to it, and hospitality and courtesy were, as has been seen, extended freely to all. Petrarch alludes to this when he speaks of Cangrande as “the consoler of the houseless and the afflicted,” and he then goes on to dilate on what may have been some of the causes which led to the estrangement between Dante and the lord of Verona, and that brought about for a time a coldness between Cangrande and his haughty client. “When banished from his country he (Dante) resided at the court of Cangrande, where the afflicted universally found consolation and an asylum. He at first was held in much honour by Cane, but afterwards he by degrees fell out of favour, and day by day less pleased that lord. Actors and parasites of every description used to be collected together at the same banquet; one of these, most impudent in his words and in his obscene gestures, obtained much importance and favour with many. Cane, suspecting that Dante disliked this, called the man before him, and, having greatly praised him to our poet, said: ‘I wonder how it is that this silly fellow should know how to please all, and that thou canst not, who art said to be so wise.’ Dante answered: ‘Thou wouldest not wonder if thou knewest that friendship is founded on similarity of habits and disposition.’ It is also related that at his table, which was too indiscriminately hospitable, where buffoons sat down with Dante, and where jests passed which must have been repulsive to every person of refinement, but disgraceful when uttered by the superior in rank to his inferior, a boy was once concealed under the table, who, collecting the bones that were thrown there by the guests, according to the custom of those times, heaped them up at Dante’s feet. When the tables were removed, the great heap appearing, Cane pretended to show great astonishment and said: ‘Certainly Dante is a great devourer of meat.’ To which Dante readily replied, ‘My Lord, you would not have seen so many bones had I been a dog.’ ”

Other noble refugees who found an asylum at Verona were Uguccione della Faggiuola, lord of Pisa and Lucca, who died at Vicenza while in Cangrande’s service and was honourably buried in Verona; Spinetta Malaspina, and Fazio degli Uberti.

The importance and position occupied by Cangrande in the world of letters and amongst men of note must not however make us forgetful as to the part he played as a politician. Tradition saw in him the rightful heir of Imperial ideas; and many a writer has made it clear (at least from his own point of view) that in the “Veltro” prophecy Dante intended this lord of Verona, and that it was he who was to be the “Veltro” (Greyhound) whose reign was to bring widespread good to Italy. (Inf. I. 101.) The controversy on that point, as is well known, has lasted for centuries, and is by no means ended yet.

Nor is this Dante’s only allusion to Cangrande—assuming, that is to say, that he is indeed the “Veltro” of the first Canto of the Inferno. There is a fresh allusion to this lord of Verona in the thirty-third Canto of the Purgatorio, V. 43, which, according to Scartazzini, refers without doubt to Cangrande. The passage is one of those mystic allusions which have puzzled the great poet’s commentators in all ages, and whose enigma is yet unsolved. Dante says how that—

“Verily I see, and hence narrate it,
The stars already near to bring the time,
From every hindrance safe, and every bar,
Within which a Five-hundred, Ten, and Five,
One sent from God, shall slay the thievish woman
And that same giant who is sinning with her.”[25]

“To decipher the number given by Dante,” says Mr Vernon,[26] “one ought to know whether he was thinking of the symbolic value of the Latin letters, or only thinking of the letters themselves, D.X.V., which transposed, give the word D.V.X., i.e. a leader or captain.” Whichever way one takes it, the passage evidently implies the hope that a personage would shortly appear, who would reform the Church, and re-establish the Imperial authority. It is also clear from the context that Dante is pointing to some well-known contemporary personage, on whom he could found his hopes. Scartazzini feels assured, moreover, that if this passage is compared with the prophecy of the Veltro (Inf. I. 100-102), it will be distinctly proved by evidence that the D.X.V. and the Veltro are one and the same person. Again, the context proves that the person foretold by Dante can only be a captain, or secular leader, and not by any means a pope or a churchman. Let us look at history. On the 16th December 1318, Cangrande della Scala, lord of Verona, was elected by the congregation of the Ghibelline Chiefs, as Captain of the League against the power of the Guelfs. It was then he actually received the standard of the Eagle, as the Leader in Italy of all the followers of the Empire. And (according to Scartazzini), it was just at the end of 1318 and at the beginning of 1319, that Dante was putting the last finishing touches to the Cantica of the Purgatorio. Hence Scartazzini feels quite clear that it was Cangrande della Scala who is the D.V.X. foretold by Dante. Giuseppe Picci (I luoghi più oscuri e controversi della Divina Commedia, page 158 et seq.), observes: “If we write down the name and qualifications of Cangrande as Kan Grande de Scala Signore de Verona,” and compute numerically the initials and propositions, we have the following result:—

“All things therefore concur in making it intelligible and probable that the D.V.X. is Cangrande della Scala—an opinion adopted by the majority of ancient commentators.”

This is not the place to enlarge on the question, but the fact that Cangrande is considered by many Dante scholars to have been present twice over in the poet’s mind as the ideal ruler of a united Empire in Italy shows how high he ranks in the opinion of thoughtful men.

There is a legend that Cangrande was among the princes present at the deathbed of Henry VII. at Buonconvento (1313), and that the dying monarch confided his empire to “lo Scaligero,” “Constituens vicarium—Fidelem commissarium—Canem de Verona.”

Cane tried in vain to repudiate this charge, but overcome by the pressure put on him by the other princes ... admittit—Augusti desiderium.[27]

Cangrande did not accompany Henry VII. on his progress through Italy beyond Genoa, nor was he present at his death. The legend is therefore historically impossible; “although under a mythical form,” says Cipolla, “it places before us the unbiassed judgment that the Ghibellines had of the life and character of Cangrande della Scala.”[28]

It was on this expedition into Italy that the Emperor conferred the office of Vicar Imperial in Verona on the Scaliger brothers, an office that owing to the death of Alboino soon after (1311) was held and exercised by Cangrande alone. On the death of Henry of Luxemburg (1313) the hopes of the Ghibellines in Italy centred round the lord of Verona; and his hopes again were set on forming a large state in the Peninsular free from suzerain lord or Emperor, and holding in his own hands the destinies of the greater part of Italy. With this object in view he asked leave of the new Emperor, Louis of Bavaria, to build a bridge over the Po at Ostiglia whereby to facilitate communication and commerce from Italy into Germany. The leave was granted, but the bridge was never built.

This scheme of Cangrande’s is dwelt on by all his biographers without however arousing at the same time any accusations of ambition against the Scaliger. And this is as it should be. Cangrande’s views for his country’s good were of too pure and lofty a nature to be prompted by personal ambition. The greatness of soul which Dante recognised in him, and which in spite of small differences between them made the poet rank him ever as a friend, rose to visions of grandeur for his country’s weal which had in them nothing sordid or self-seeking. His desire to rule over the state which in his mind’s eye foreshadowed the glory of Italy was but natural, and was altogether void of any touch of self-aggrandizement. Who indeed but he could have carried out the schemes which were in his mind? Or how could another execute the designs which had originated in his brain, and that his brain alone could cope with successfully? Before however these visionary glories could take shape Cangrande died. His end came quickly and unexpectedly at Treviso on the 22nd July 1329, when he was only about thirty-eight years of age,[29] and at the very height of his glory. It is supposed that his death was brought about by an illness caused by the heat, and the fatigue consequent on his unending labours. He died, entrusting his friend and brother-in-law Bailardino Nogarola with the care and education of his two nephews Mastino and Alberto, the sons of his brother Alboino, he himself having no legitimate heirs. His body was taken to Verona, and buried in the beautiful tomb erected for him outside the church of Sta. Maria Antica, close beside the parcel of ground which forms the cemetery of the Scaliger family. Cipolla speaking of this greatest of the della Scala family says: “more fortunate than Uguccione (della Faggiuola) who lost in a moment all that he had gained, less fortunate than Matteo Visconti, who left to his valiant sons a state firmly established, Cangrande, by daily and continual wars acquired an extensive lordship, but one without stability; based only on the valour of him who formed its head. The Scaliger power disappeared rapidly in a few years after it had been founded.” And again a little further on the same writer says of Cangrande: “On the field of battle brave and almost reckless as to his person, he exposed himself to every danger; he was his own general in all his warfares; though eager to rule he was faithful to his promises, and persevering in political aims. He was humane, even at times generous to the conquered; and a Paduan chronicler tells us how from having been a hard foe to the Paduans, he was as their father when he had conquered them. He coveted glory as well as dominion; and while other lords had not yet learned to hold in esteem the gifts of learning, he—not from political motives alone—received those who, through factions, had been forced to abandon their countries, and opened with splendour his palace to Dante, to Giotto, to Ferreto of Vicenza, to Sagacio Muzzio Gazzata, to Albertino Mussato. In his gilded halls he entertained with princely hospitality poets, theologians, musicians. The exile Alighieri, who had already visited Verona when Bartolomeo was lord thereof, returned under Cangrande, and although he went away thinking how

... sa di sale—
Lo pane altrui, e come è duro calle
Lo scendere e il salir per l’altrui scale, ...

he preserved all the same an ever grateful memory of the “magnifico e vittorioso signore di Verona,” to whom he dedicated the third of his Canticles”[30] (i.e. the Paradiso).

The character of Cangrande is an extremely attractive one. His valour, his consideration for his foes, his hospitality to all who needed it, his patronage of art and learning, make him not only an admirable but a loveable figure. Nor should his labours for the good of his people and for his native town be forgotten. He revised the Statutes that Mastino I. had caused to be compiled for the government of Verona, and added another book to the five which already existed. His love of building—a love shared by well-nigh every member of his house—took shape in a fresh circuit of walls, which he caused to be erected round the city in 1324, when wars and wranglings throughout the greater part of Lombardy made the outlook threatening for Verona, and persuaded Cangrande of the advisability of protecting his city from any possible invasion. His early death must ever be deplored; and there can be no doubt that had it not been for that catastrophe many of his schemes for the greatness of Italy would have been effected, and the state of the country for one or two successive centuries materially altered. The chief stain on his memory is the share he had in the murder of Passerino Bonaccolsi, lord of Mantua (1327), from which not even his warmest panegyrists can entirely exonerate him. It can only be pleaded that considering the times in which he lived, and the habits and customs of his contemporaries, he was remarkably

free from the crime—only too common in those days—of murdering every suspected foe, and that with this one exception his hands were never dyed with the blood of his neighbours.

Ruskin sums up Cangrande’s doings in the following words: “He fortified Verona against the Germans; dug the great moat out of its rocks; built its wall and towers; established his court of royal and thoughtful hospitality; became the chief Ghibelline Captain in Lombardy, and the receiver of noble exiles from all other states; possessed himself by hard fighting of Vicenza also, then of Padua; then, either by strength or subtlety, of Feltre, Belluno, Bassano; and died at thirty-seven—of eating apples when he was too hot—in the year 1329.”[31]

The successors of Cangrande were men of a different and entirely inferior order. Mastino, the elder of his two nephews, had certainly much of his uncle’s ambition; but he had none of his greatness and loftiness of mind, still less of his talents and intellect. Alberto cared only for a life of pleasure, and was but too ready to leave the cares of office and government to his brother, provided he might follow his vicious, frivolous existence undisturbed. Verona at that moment was at the very apogee of her glory. Cangrande’s victories over the neighbouring towns were bringing in rich interest as to money and position; and the Florentine historian Villani, writing of the Scaligers, says: “The rents which accrued to them from those ten towns and from their castles were more than 700,000 florins of gold, which no other Christian king possesses, unless it be the King of France. Apart from the following and the friendship of the Ghibellines, never were there tyrants in Italy possessed of such power.”

The ten towns alluded to were Verona, Padua, Vicenza, Treviso, Brescia, Feltre, Belluno, Parma, Modena, and Lucca, and had Mastino but been contented with this ample heritage, his dominion would in all probability have been more firmly established. His craving to add to his state, and convert it into a united kingdom, led however to the downfall of his house. The jealousy of one or two powerful neighbours was aroused; and a sense of the danger about to spread from Verona and envelop the North of Italy became patent to all. The Florentines and the Venetians were the first to stir in the matter, and to unite against the common foe. Florence was not only afraid of an invasion of the Veronese troops, but she also wished to regain possession of Lucca, which had been wrested from her at a very inopportune moment. The Venetians had a grievance, and that a serious one, though of a different nature, against Mastino. He had built a salt factory between Padua and Chioggia, where every Venetian vessel as it passed along the Brenta was called on to pay a tax. The Venetians were not disposed to accept quietly an affront offered them on territory which they considered as strictly their own, and they at once put in a claim for redress. No notice being taken of this appeal, Venice gladly threw in her lot with Florence, and the league between the two Republics was soon after joined by the houses of Este, Visconti, and Gonzago. The league was further strengthened in a strange and unexpected way by Marsilio da Carrara’s desire to unite himself with the other allies against the lord of Verona. This son of the former lords of Padua was keen to expel the Scaligers from his native town, where Alberto della Scala had been appointed governor by his brother Mastino. Alberto, as has been said, lived only for pleasure. He had outraged the wife of Ubertino da Carrara, Marsilio’s cousin, but, far from imagining that such an insult could rankle in the husband’s mind, he placed blind confidence in him and in Marsilio, never dreaming that they were determined to avenge the outrage which he for one had so completely forgotten. Marsilio was well aware of the enmity felt towards the della Scalas at Venice, and determined to turn it to his own account. Chance also favoured him. Mastino sent him on an errand to Venice, where the legend goes that one night at supper sitting next to the Doge, Francesco Dandolo, Mastino whispered to him, “I wish to speak to you.” Upon this the Doge dropped his napkin, and both men bent down to pick it up. “What will you give to him who gives Padua to you?” asked Marsilio. “The lordship thereof,” was the reply; and when the two heads reappeared above the board the bargain was struck, and the league which was to end in Mastino’s overthrow was formed.

Marsilio returned to Padua, and set to work at once to put his schemes into execution. Mastino’s fears were aroused, and hints of what was brewing found their way to his ears. Again and again he wrote to Alberto warning him against the Carraresi, and bidding him be on his guard. Alberto gave no heed; and Mastino finally wrote a letter ordering him to arrest them and arrange for their execution. This letter arrived with instructions that it was to be given into no hands save Alberto’s; but he, absorbed at the moment in a game of chess, handed it to Marsilio, and bade him read it. Marsilio did so, and in answer to Alberto’s queries as to its contents, replied that it was only a request from Mastino to send him some more falcons. He then left the room, sent directions to the allied force under the ill-fated and peerless Pietro de’ Rossi to march upon Padua when he would admit them through one of the gates into the city. These directions were all successfully carried out. Padua was lost to the Scaligers; Alberto was sent as a prisoner to Venice, and Mastino’s power received a shock from which it never recovered. He had presently to cede Belluno to Charles, King of Bohemia, who had also joined the league against him; and shortly afterwards that monarch possessed himself of Feltre, Cividale, and the Cadere as well. Brescia and Bergamo surrendered to the Visconti; and in December 1338 Mastino was glad to make peace with the allies and content himself with a state reduced to the four towns of Verona, Vicenza, Parma, and Lucca. It was not long however before the two latter cities were also wrested from him.

These concessions and humiliations exasperated Mastino past all bearing. He became suspicious and irascible, a prey to doubts and fears, and in August of that same year in a fit of ungovernable fury he transfixed Bishop Bartolomeo della Scala with his own sword. This murder brought down on him the thunders of the Church. He was excommunicated by Pope Benedict XI., and it was not till after much negotiation and the payment of a fine that the ban was removed. There is a legend in Verona that after the murder of the Bishop and the Papal excommunication Mastino II. never shewed his face again even to his faithful and beloved wife Taddea da Carrara. This legend may arise from the fact that the equestrian statue over his tomb is represented with the visor drawn—a proof, it is said, of the desire he had to veil himself from every eye, and to prevent everyone, even after death, from gazing on his features.

Before Mastino’s death two brilliant marriages took place in his family; the first being that of his daughter Caterina with Barnabŏ Visconti, the heir to the duchy of Milan. The bride’s name, originally Caterina, was changed to Beatrice, to denote her worth and

merits; and then on account of her queenly bearing it was turned again to Regina.[32] The other marriage was that of Cangrande II., Mastino’s eldest son, with Elizabeth, daughter of Louis of Bavaria. Mastino lived but a short time after these marriages. He died in 1351, leaving three legitimate sons: Cangrande II., Cansignorio, and Paolo Alboino. His brother Alberto did not survive him long. He gave over the cares of office absolutely to his three nephews, and died in the month of September of the following year.

Cangrande II. who now succeeded to the chief power was neither a great nor a good man. He was nicknamed “Canis rabidus,” though who gave him the name, or why it was given, has not come to light. He loaded his people with taxes, and made his rule so unpopular that a rebellion raised against him by his natural brother, Fregnano, met with ready support from Cangrande’s subjects and almost proved his undoing. Cangrande had gone from Verona to Botzen to confer with his brother-in-law the Margrave of Brandenburg, leaving the town in the charge of Fregnano and Azzone di Correggio. Fregnano roused the citizens to revolt; the Gonzagos of Mantua—to whom every rebuff given to the Scaligers meant a gain to them—joined the rebels; and it is generally supposed that Barnabŏ Visconti, lord of Milan, was not as opposed to the rising as in his capacity of a loyal brother-in-law he ought to have been. Fregnano, according to Giovanni Villani, was “beloved by the people of Verona and Vicenza,” and his cause was warmly espoused by the great mass of the populace. Cangrande however retraced his steps as soon as he heard of the rebellion; he entered Verona with haste, and at once attacked and defeated Fregnano, who fell fighting at the head of his troops on the Ponte delle Navi.

The danger was averted, but Cangrande’s confidence in his so-called allies of Milan and Mantua was destroyed for ever. His plans for insuring his personal safety at all events against any further peril took shape in the erection of the “Old Castle,” the Castel Vecchio, which he now caused to be built beside the Adige, adding to it that fine bridge which spans the river, and across which he could receive aid from Germany whenever he required it. The building took three years to complete, and when it was finished Cangrande removed into it and passed the rest of his life there. He also introduced a special bodyguard of soldiers from Brandenburg, who have left traces of their sojourn in Verona in the shape of the little church of St Peter Martyr, said to have been founded by these Knights of Brandenburg.

Cangrande II., who was neither loved nor respected by his people, died a violent death on December 14, 1339, being put to death by his brother Cansignorio, who slew him with his own hand. Cangrande left three sons: Tebaldo, Guglielmo, and Fregnano, none of whom reigned as lords of Verona, and of whom history has no stirring deeds to relate.

Cansignorio was proclaimed lord of Verona and Vicenza together with his younger brother Paolo Alboino. The latter however was never admitted to any share in the government; and after a few years Cansignorio, fearing the young man’s ever-increasing popularity in Verona, caused him to be imprisoned. Opinions as to the character of Cansignorio are not invariably unanimous. Some writers, among them our

own Ruskin, have been carried away by a fictitious glamour concerning this last legitimate ruler of the Scaligers which facts and history cannot altogether support. Others see in him only a fratricide, stained whenever it suited his purpose with the blood of his brothers, with no redeeming virtues save that of an interested solicitude for the welfare of his people and for his native town. As usual in such judgments, there is doubtless a good deal of truth on both sides, though few, perhaps, can be found to agree altogether with Ruskin, who speaks of him as “a prince who had in every way beautified and cared for the city; and among other minor gifts, bestowed on it one by which it profits to this day, the fountain of the great Square. He was deeply religious; meditated constantly on his death, and believed that he should be entirely happy in the next world if only he were assured of the prosperity and secure reign of his children in this one.”[33]

Cansignorio, in common with all the princes of his house, had an insatiable love of building, and many an edifice in Verona bears witness to his taste and munificence in this respect. The greatest proof of it is to be seen in the magnificent tomb which he caused to be erected for himself during his lifetime, and of which mention will in time be made. He also embellished and improved the town in every possible way, spending with a lavish hand, and with a recklessness which almost savoured of extravagance. He rebuilt the Ponte delle Navi; he laid out the public gardens near his palace; he added to the frescoes in his own house; and the many statues and adornments that he caused to be set up in Verona gained for the town the surname of “Marmorina.” The greatest public benefit he ever conferred was that mentioned by Ruskin of bringing drinkable water into the city. This he did by means of leaden pipes laid down to the Piazza delle Erbe, where the beautiful fountain in the middle stands as a record to this day of the good deed wrought for the city by Cansignorio della Scala. He also did all that lay in his power to alleviate the sufferings of his people, when from the years 1369 to 1371 they were stricken with famine; and in many ways he shewed himself a wise and considerate ruler.

His love for his two natural sons however blinded him as to all sense of right and wrong; and his eagerness to secure the succession for them after his death made him absolutely unscrupulous, and a murderer. These sons, Bartolomeo and Antonio, were Cansignorio’s only children, but their illegitimacy barred their right to reign after their father, and made Paolo Alboino, Cansignorio’s youngest brother, the rightful heir. Cansignorio however was determined that his sons, and they only, should be lords of Verona when he died. Though still a young man—he was not yet thirty-six—he knew that his end was approaching, and he laid his plans accordingly. A few years previously, as has been said, he had imprisoned Paolo Alboino at Peschiera. The unfortunate youth, who was much beloved by the people, was now put to death at the instigation of his brother, it is generally supposed, though some writers lay the murder at the door of Cansignorio’s sons. The most honourable and exalted of the citizens were then called on to take the oath of allegiance to Bartolomeo and Antonio; the youths were entrusted to the care of Cansignorio’s most faithful councillors and friends; and on October 19, 1375, this last great lord of Verona died.

Bartolomeo and Antonio reigned for a few years conjointly. Bartolomeo, the elder, and who was generally acknowledged as the best of the two, was treacherously

murdered July 12, 1381, and his brother was declared to be the murderer.[34] As sole ruler of Verona Antonio strove to protect himself from the perils which were fast gathering up against him from the lords of Milan and of Padua. He entered into an alliance with Venice, little foreseeing that the great maritime republic had no idea of protecting him, but dreamt only of increasing those possessions on the mainland which it was now her ambition to add to her dominions. The doom of the Scaligers was sealed. Antonio had alienated the two friends, Guglielmo Bevilacqua and Giacomo del Verme, whose wisdom and prowess in the council-chamber or on the battle-field could yet have upheld his power. His extravagance, joined to that of his wife, Samaritana da Polenta, was hastening to exhaust a failing exchequer; the power of the Visconti, and of the Carraresi was every day assuming proportions of a threatening and overwhelming nature; and help was nowhere to be looked for nor obtained. Antonio endeavoured to restore his fallen fortunes by resorting to arms, and more than one important engagement took place between his forces and those of Padua under the famous English condottiere John Hawkwood, and Giovanni d’Azzo. The Veronese troops were commanded first by Cortesia Serego, and after the first defeat when he was taken prisoner, Guglielmo degli Ordelaffi and Ostasia da Polenta were appointed as generals. They met with no better fate: the armies of Verona were again routed, and Antonio without a friend to stand by him or advise him, stole secretly away from Verona the night of the 18th November 1387, handing his town over to the ambassador of Wenceslaus, king of the Romans. Verona was apportioned to the duchy of Milan, and the day after Antonio’s flight the banner of the Visconti waved over the town. Antonio fled to Venice, but he did not give up all hope of returning to Verona and resuming his sway there. The following year he opened negotiations with Carlo Visconti, a son of Barnabŏ’s, and he also essayed to gain the Pope Urban VI. over to his cause. He died though before any of these dealings could be concluded (August 1388) leaving his wife and family in such straits that they had no choice but to accept the bounty that the Venetian Republic vouchsafed to bestow upon them. Antonio left one only son, Can Francesco, who died in 1392, only four years after his father, and in him the male line of the Scaligers came to an end.

Several years later an effort was made to restore the rule of the della Scalas in the person of Guglielmo, one of the illegitimate sons of Cangrande II. The plot however failed; Guglielmo died a few days after he had been proclaimed lord of Verona, and the hopes of restoring the dynasty of the Scaligers were at an end for ever. Their rule had lasted for one hundred and twenty-eight years, and it certainly comprised the brightest, most stirring period in the annals of the town of Verona.

CHAPTER V
From the Fall of the Scaligers to the Present Day

THE head of the house of Visconti at the moment when Verona was added to the duchy of Milan was Gian Galeazzo, one of the most treacherous and ambitious tyrants of his age. In the league formed between him, the Republic of Venice, and the Carraresi of Padua, it had been arranged that Verona should be ceded to the Visconti, and Vicenza to Padua. This compact was now carried out, though Gian Galeazzo by guile and force soon after wrested Vicenza from its destined owner. At Verona the princely system of building carried on so grandly by the Scaligers was still maintained. The fortifications already existing round the town were renewed; the castles of S. Pietro and S. Felice (this latter sometimes known as Castelnuovo) were erected by order of the lord of Milan, who doubtless hoped in this way to ingratiate himself with the Veronese besides providing for his own safety. Gian Galeazzo did not however win the love of his new subjects, who, though they had hated Antonio della Scala, hated still more the man who had stepped into his rights and usurped all the power of the Scaligers. The lord of Padua, as was natural, had also little cause to love the Visconti, who had failed in keeping his engagements towards him and tricked him out of his right to possess Vicenza. A plot was organised to reinstate Can Francesco, Antonio della Scala’s only son in his father’s rights; and da Carrara and his son lent their services on the understanding that in case of success Vicenza should be restored to them. The plot failed however and Ugolotto Biancardo, who governed Verona in the Visconti’s name, ordered the town to be given over to fire and the sword, and for three whole days a hideous pillage went on.

Can Francesco died in 1394, and no further revolts for the restoration of the Scaliger dynasty disturbed the rest of Gian Galeazzo’s reign. His life however was not a long one, he died aged only fifty-five years on September 3, 1402, leaving his sons too young to administer his vast and scattered states and appointing his widow, Catherine Visconti (who was also his cousin), regent of the duchy.

The confusion that ensued on the duke’s death spread throughout the greater part of Italy, and raised the hopes of those lords who had been dispossessed by him of their states to regain their own again. Each one in turn thought the moment had come for this purpose, and that no time should be lost in bringing about so laudable an object. The Carraresi thought it advisable for them to further the cause of the della Scalas, and help them to regain the lordship of Verona, seeing that in such an act many advantages would accrue to them. Francesco di Carrara consequently persuaded Nicolŏ III. of Este to unite with him in advancing the claims of Guglielmo the illegitimate son of Cangrande II., on Verona, and for a short while success attended their schemes. The attention of the Visconti party was exclusively absorbed by affairs in Lombardy; the allies were free to march upon Verona, where the inhabitants greeted Guglielmo with enthusiasm, and shouts of “Scala, Scala,” echoing throughout the town proved what a hold the once loved dynasty still had on the hearts of the citizens. Guglielmo was however a dying man when he entered Verona; weariness and disease had almost done their work on his exhausted frame, excitement and emotion doubtless did the rest. He died the very day after his joyful entry into the home of his ancestors, leaving two sons, Brunoro and Antonio, who for a few days remained in Verona under the delusion that they would succeed to the honours which had seemed to be within their father’s very grasp. Guglielmo’s death has been laid at Francesco da Carrara’s door, but there is no evidence to prove this accusation, though the fact that the Carraresi seized on the persons of Guglielmo’s sons and carried them off prisoners, does not altogether help to lighten the charge. Francesco da Carrara was then proclaimed lord of Verona, though his enmity with Venice ought to have made him wary as to the acquisition of power and territory which he knew were coveted by her. The great Republic, ever since she had become possessed of Treviso, had watched with a jealous eye any increase of dominion on the part of her neighbours. In an ill-advised moment for herself, she coveted property on the mainland, forgetful that her strength and wealth sprang from the sea, and in that quarter only should she have concentrated all her energies. The proclamation of the Carraresi as lords of Verona filled the Venetians with envy, and determined them to secure so fair a possession for themselves. They despatched an army under Jacopo del Verme into the Veronese territory, but the first engagements were won by the troops of Jacopo da Carrara, Francesco’s son. This was early in 1405, and in the spring the fighting began again. The Veronese however were tired of this condition of things: they were not anxious to own the house of Carrara as their lords; and they willingly consented to place themselves under the Venetian rule. Verona accordingly passed under the dominion of Venice, and the act testifying to this surrender was signed, June 22, 1405.

The Venetian yoke cannot be said to have pressed heavily on Verona. Her independence, it is true, no longer existed, but the blessing of peace was hers; the conditions as to the forms of government were honourably maintained, and though Venice studied the preservation of the city for her own advantage more than for that of the inhabitants, this self-interest did not fail to benefit all concerned. The Republic of St Mark busied itself with the completion of the walls and fortresses which the Visconti had begun; and also made good the damage done to those buildings in the past days of insurrection and pillage.

A slight demonstration in favour of the Scaligers took place early in the fifteenth century when Brunoro, the son of Guglielmo della Scala, prevailed on the Emperor Sigismund (with whom he was a great favourite) to plead for him with Venice, and obtain some at least of his ancestral rights in Verona. The Venetian Republic refused however to listen to this appeal, and Brunoro aware of the hopelessness of his cause dedicated himself entirely to the service of the Emperor, and died at Vienna, November 21, 1434, without leaving any lawful issue.

The wars waged by Venice against Filippo Maria Visconti, Duke of Milan, brought reflected suffering upon Verona; and the honour—as far as it went—of receiving such famous generals as Francesco Sforza, and Gattamelata was poor compensation for the sums of money the town had to give the “condottieri” of the Republic in order that they might keep their troops from pillaging the city.

The effects of the League of Cambray were also fraught with momentous issues for Verona. This league, formed with the object of compassing the overthrow of Venice, was supported by most of the crowned heads of Europe. The jealousy aroused by the “insatiable cupidity,” the ambition, and the prosperity of Venice was felt principally by the King of France, the Emperor of Germany, and the Pope. In the distribution that these potentates had made of the Venetian territories on the mainland Verona was allotted to Germany; and Maximilian I., who was then Emperor, had already formed visions of an extended empire into Italy, of which he had settled that Verona was to be the capital. The condition of Venice was indeed critical. The combination of forces destined to crush her was colossal, and she was in need of all her statecraft and ingenuity to avert a catastrophe that seemed bound to overwhelm her. She took a desperate resolution which has in turn been ascribed to the subtlest heights of diplomacy, and to the very depths of despair and terror. She released all her subjects on the mainland from their oath of allegiance, setting them free to meet the emergency of the moment in the way they judged most expedient, and absolving them from any after reproach of infidelity should they elect to bow to the on-coming storm. Up till now Verona had always stood loyally by Venice in her warfares and struggles with other states, but the present danger was of a kind involving risks which she would not and could not run. The upper classes had not become enamoured of Venetian rule, and the remembrance of the Scaligers had left its hold fondly in their hearts. The populace on the other hand were wholly Venetian in their thoughts and affections, but they were not strong enough to maintain their opinions unaided, and had to succumb to the inevitable. Their attitude however to the Venetian forces, when after their defeat at Ghiarraddada they presented themselves discomfited and weary outside the gates of Verona was hardly that of subjects who had lived for years under a just and liberal rule. A modern writer,[35] himself a Veronese and an ardent patriot, admits that not only should they have allowed the armies of their countrymen to find shelter within the walls, but they should gladly and courageously have shared with them in the discomforts and chances of a siege. The population, as we have seen, was divided: one part holding for the Venetians, the other for the Imperial cause. To this latter faction known as that of the Marani, from the name of their leader and captain, the famous painter Falconetto belonged. He himself lived in the neighbourhood of S. Zeno, and he persuaded a large number of the inhabitants of that district to side with him. One reason of this strong feeling for the Imperialist cause is to be found in the traditions of Veronese history. Verona was essentially a Ghibelline city; her brightest era was associated with Ghibelline rulers; she was the metropolis in Italy of the Emperors of Germany, the capital of their vicars, and when the days of her splendour were over, then, and then only, had she become a provincial town of the Republic of Venice. Her sympathies were for the Empire as opposed to the Republic, and at a solemn meeting convened on May 30, 1509, in the church of St Anastasia—when the entire population was present—the Emperor Maximilian was unanimously accepted as sovereign lord of Verona.

The Venetian governors and commandants withdrew quietly and without uttering one word of protest, and in October of the same year the Bishop of Trent (George of Neudeck) entered the town in his capacity of Imperial lieutenant. The Emperor himself arrived in Verona a day or two after, in full pomp and state, under a panoply of cloth of gold, his raiment being of the same costly material and his appearance, according to the Venetian chronicler, Sanudo, being that of a “Cæsar of the days of old.”

He at once issued a Proclamation, which is a quaint bit of reading, now full of loving words and phrases, now reminding his new subjects of the vileness of their former masters, and insidiously hinting that they had better remember their duty and allegiance to the Cæsar of to-day. This Imperial decree also congratulates the Veronese on their good fortune in having escaped from “the intolerable servitude and the cruel tyranny of the Venetians.” It holds out the happiness that is in store for them, the first they will enjoy under the shadow of the Just and Puissant Lord who they now obey. They are not to be deluded nor deceived, but must persevere in the faith and devotion and observance towards this Liege Lord. If they will but confide absolutely in him they shall be embraced with that benignity, favour, and grace with which that same Lord embraces all his faithful subjects ever ready as he is to succour them, to load them with increase, honour, and comfort. To prove still more his goodwill to the town, the Emperor restored the mint which had fallen into disuse since the days of the Carraresi, and went so far as to cause some coins to be struck with the proud motto, “Verona Civitas Metropolis.” How these flattering and caressing promises were to be kept Time soon showed! The town was reduced to the state of a vast and disorderly barrack. German, French, Spanish, Italian soldiers, without discipline, without pay, rampaged through the streets bent only on booty, and reckless as to their way of securing it. Many a house and shop, the abode till then of quiet citizens and honest burghers, was ruthlessly sacked and ruined, and many a one who, rightly or wrongly, was suspected of favouring the Venetian party, was wantonly murdered in the streets without more ado. Money was also exacted on all sides in order to furnish the vast sums needed for the expenses of the war, and, as the writer above quoted justly remarks, the luckless city was indeed the “civitas metropolis” of every public and private misfortune. The internal divisions became daily more accentuated under this condition of things. The aristocracy upheld the authority of the Emperor in the hope that by so doing they would augment their own; the lower classes in the meanwhile sighed for the quiet they had enjoyed under the Venetian Republic. Nor were these divisions and tumults the only trials that overtook Verona at that time, for a terrible pestilence fell on the city in the years 1511 and 1512, filling up the cup of woe that seemed already full to overflowing. Another burden was however about to be added to those that had gone before. In 1516 the Venetians besieged the town, assisted by the French, who but a few years previously had been their deadliest foes, but were now their allies and friends. The treaty of Brussels at the close of the year fortunately put an end to the siege, and Verona was soon after restored to Venice. A series of forms had to be gone through before the transfer was effected. Verona was handed over first to Spain, then passed on to the French general Lautrec, who received it in the name of his master Francis I., and from him again it was restored to Venice. The act of restitution was accompanied by a great religious function in the Cathedral: high mass was celebrated, and a general pardon was proclaimed on the part of the Signory of Venice to all at Verona. It is strange to read how that here and there some stone lions of St Mark, which had been stowed away during Maximilian’s reign in Verona, were now brought out from their

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.

“L.S. Given at Verona under Our sign and ordinary seal the 20th April, year of grace 1796, and of Our reign the first.—Louis.”

These conditions of the would-be King of France could not however be complied with. The reply to his demand was only arrived at after a long correspondence had been carried on between the Venetian Republic and the Court of St Petersburg, and was altogether unfavourable to the Count’s wishes. The name of the Bourbons, it said, could not be erased from the Libro d’Oro without causing dire offence to the sovereigns of Spain, Naples, and Parma, all of whom belonged to the family of the Bourbons, nor for the same reason could the armour presented by Henry IV. to Venice, and jealously guarded by her, be now given back. Thus Venice gained her point on all sides. The Count of Lille was banished from the territory of the Republic, and on the 15th April 1796, at three o’clock in the afternoon, he wended his way from Verona to seek in the direction of the Tyrol for the shelter and safety that were no longer to be afforded him beside the banks of the Adige, and where for twenty months he had enjoyed a calm, if not a real home. Nor did Venice forego her possession of the princely gift bestowed on her by Henry of Navarre. That suit of armour is to be seen to this day at the arsenal at Venice, though the sword which belonged to it was stolen in 1797, and not the least clue exists as to where it is now to be found. To return however to Verona.

The occupation of the town by the French was of short duration, for the Austrian troops under General Wurmser swept down on the valley of the Adige the very next month, and entered the town the 30th of July. Their stay however was also brief. The French returned as conquerors on August 8, and the victories of Arcole and Rivole confirmed them in their possession. They were not beloved by the people of Verona, of whom the greater part considered themselves still subject to Venice, and resented the military occupation foisted on them by Napoleon. What brought matters to a climax is unknown, but on the evening of April 17, the first shot was fired, and the Veronese rose up in arms against the French. A very wholesale massacre ensued, though the assertion that the inhabitants of Verona spared none of their foes, and even fired on the hospitals, slaughtering both sick and wounded in their fury, is probably an exaggeration. Fighting, firing, cannonading, the ringing of bells to call to arms went on for three whole days. French troops came hurrying in to the defence of the French, who poured a ceaseless rain of bullets on to the town from the forts, till the Veronese had no choice but to surrender. The Venetian authorities commenced the negotiations for ceding the town, and on April 27 the French again took possession of Verona without—and to their honour be it said—this time insulting the vanquished or abusing of their victory. The “Pâques Véronaises,” the Veronese Vespers, as this rising and massacre has been styled, may be considered in a twofold light. It may either be looked upon as the only effort made to uphold the dying power of Venice; or it may be reckoned as a useless waste of blood and treasure. It certainly did not tend to conciliate the French towards the inhabitants of Verona; and it gave Bonaparte an excuse for avenging the blood of his soldiers—an excuse he was not the man to forget. Heavy taxes were laid on the city; citizens of renown and high degree were executed; and wherever tyranny and oppression were possible they were indulged in freely.

The French yoke became so obnoxious that when in 1798 the town was handed over to the Austrians it seemed to the Veronese as though a stroke of good fortune had befallen them. The Austrian possession this time lasted till the peace of Luneville, early in 1800, when the city was divided between the French and Austrians, the French retaining the half on the right bank of the Adige, the Austrians reserving that on the left bank. This condition of affairs lasted till 1805, when the whole town was declared to be French, and when Napoleon caused himself to be proclaimed king of Italy, appointing Eugène de Beauharnais as his viceroy. In 1814 Verona again changed hands, being placed once more under the Austrian dominion, after Napoleon was fallen from his high estate, and when the might and determination of England had stopped him from enslaving and oppressing the greater part of Europe.

For many years Verona belonged to Austria. The Lombard-Veneto kingdom, ruled over by the Archduke Rainer, brought outward peace to the country from which it took its name, though the longing to expel the foreigner and create a united and independent kingdom of Italy was growing and developing in the heart of every true patriot throughout the Peninsula. This longing took shape in 1848, when the war of independence was begun. The hopes of freedom and unification centred round Charles Albert and the small kingdom of Piedmont, and at the outset fortune smiled on the gallant undertaking. The Austrians however were not to be driven lightly out of the country; they reconquered Milan; possessed themselves anew of the “Veneto”; and inflicted a severe defeat on the Piedmontese army at Novara (March 23, 1849). No sooner were they firmly established again in Verona than they set to work to restore the fortifications and build new ones all around and about the town. They converted it into a fortress of the very first rank, and made certain that from the great quadrilateral—formed of Verona, Mantua, Legnano, and Peschiera—they had a base of operations which would render them impregnable against any attack. And indeed it seemed as though Austrian rule was fixed for all time in the North of Italy. Plots and intrigues, it is true, were constantly being formed, but they collapsed without accomplishing their aim, and were never sufficiently serious to unsettle the ruling powers.

It was not till the year 1859 that the patriotic hopes which had dawned more than eleven years previously began again to see the light, though the perfect day was not to be reached even then. Napoleon III., Emperor of the French, did all that in him lay at that period to help his ally Victor Emanuel II. to the possession of his entire realm. The peace of Villafranca, however, put to flight the hopes that Solferino and S. Martino had formed, and though a part of the Veronese territory was restored to Italy, the town itself and much of the province remained subject to Austria. This state of things lasted till 1866, when the Prussians became the allies of Italy, and the Austrians were finally driven out of the Peninsula. The great battle of Sadowa, resulting in the peace of Vienna (October 3, 1866), settled definitely the vexed question as to the rights of ownership, and on the 16th of the same month the Italian army entered Verona in triumph. Far different must have been the feelings with which the Austrians quitted it. True, the town did not stand on their native soil, nor was the language spoken therein their mother tongue. But years of possession had endeared it to them; they had guarded it with unceasing love and care; they had made it one of the finest fortresses of Europe. Now all was to be changed. They must hand it over to the young and newly-formed kingdom of Italy, and who could assure them that all would be well with the town in other and inexperienced hands? Time alone was to furnish the answer.

On November 18th, 1866, King Victor Emanuel II. and his sons Humbert and Amedeus of Savoy came to Verona. The day following they were present at a great concourse of people held in the amphitheatre. An enthusiastic welcome awaited them; the national joy burst spontaneously from thousands of spectators, proving the affection of the Veronese for their rightful princes, and convincing the king and his children of the love and loyalty that existed for them in the grand old city of Verona la Degna.

CHAPTER VI
Men of Letters—School of Painting

A LOVE of letters and a regard for men of learning has ever been a marked characteristic throughout the history of Verona, and stamped the early and after days of her existence with a special and distinctive note.

The first name on a long and honoured roll is that of Valerius Catullus, who was born at Verona about B.C. 84. As all classical students know he owned a villa at Sirmione, where the ruins of an old mansion are pointed out as the abode of the “tenderest of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago”—the poet who might well be called the Heine of his age.

The province of Verona claims Cornelius Nepos as one of her sons, though the actual town in which he was born has never been satisfactorily determined. Cornelius Nepos was the contemporary and friend of Catullus, who addressed some of his poems to him, and together they passed most of their lives in Rome, where Cicero formed one of their circle.

Æmilius Macer, a well-known poet and philosopher, the friend of Virgil and of Ovid, was also a Veronese. There is a work in verse “treating of the virtues of herbs and of the qualities and instincts of reptiles and birds,” by one Macer, but opinions are divided as to whether the author hailed from Verona or was another writer of the same name.

During the Augustan age in which the above named

authors lived, Verona also claimed among her citizens the celebrated architect Vitruvius Cerdone; a claim not always, nor very generally, recognised. His statue however stands among those of her greatest men outside the Palazzo del Consiglio, and perpetuates the fame of the man who designed the once glorious Arco de’ Gavi, that arch which formed one of Verona’s greatest monuments up till 1805, when it was wantonly taken down. Other writers who were natives of Verona, or of the surrounding province, were Pomponius Secundus (a writer of tragedies, and who, in his capacity of Veronese consul at Rome, gave a great supper to the Emperor Titus, when according to Pliny who was one of the guests, some wine one hundred and sixty years old was drunk); Cassius or Catius Severus; Pliny the Elder, the famous naturalist whose misplaced zeal led him to meet with his death by too close and too curious an investigation of the eruption of Vesuvius, A.D. 81. Pliny the younger, though born at Como, may almost rank as a Veronese. His mother was the elder Pliny’s sister, his uncle looked upon him and loved him as his own son, and much of his time was spent at or near Verona.

Verona too was early endowed with a University, or as it was termed in those days, a “Cathedral School.” The great impetus given by Charlemagne to public instruction in Italy is one of the traits which redounds most to his honour, and Verona which had always been considered as a spot where learning had met with encouragement, was one of the first towns to profit by the French monarch’s generosity. Indeed it is declared that she has done more for Italy with regard to learning than ever Greece or Athens did. This assertion can easily be believed when we read that only nine years after Charlemagne’s death an Imperial decree ordained that a public school or college should be founded there, a decree that was endorsed by the Emperor Louis XI. in 824. A bull of Pope Benedict XI. in 1339 sanctions this “University,” or more properly, public school, and confirms to it the right of conferring degrees in law, in medicine, and in the arts.

A goodly list could be given of several other writers, many of them bishops and men of saintly lives, whose erudition added to the fame of Verona and spread her renown as a centre of learning into ever-widening circles. Nor were minstrels and troubadours excluded from the list, especially at the beginning of the twelfth century. We read of singers known in the history of minstrelsy, such as Hugues de St Cyr, Pietro Villems, and Sordello, all coming to Verona and finding a welcome there.

All names however pale before that of Dante Alighieri, who, though in no sense a Veronese, found here a haven in his day of adversity and exile, and whose acknowledgment of the hospitality accorded him is of world-wide renown. The causes that brought Dante to Verona have been much discussed. It may be that the strong Ghibelline feelings which predominated in the city made the Florentine exile certain of being understood there—at least as far as his political sentiments were concerned. The renown too possessed by Verona as to the encouragement given within her walls to learning and men of letters may have attracted him. Or more probably still, the knowledge that at the court of the Scaligers he would find not a welcome only, but also a home where his talents would be recognised and appreciated, may have induced him to come to Verona. This last hypothesis may to some extent be borne out by the opening words of the “epistola” written by Dante to Cangrande della Scala at the time he dedicated the Paradiso to him. This letter, whose authenticity has given rise to much discussion, but which in these latter times is generally accepted as being his, begins by saying: “I heard the praise of your celebrated magnificence; I came to Verona to assure myself of the same. There I saw your magnanimous doings; I saw, I experienced your benefactions; and while I had at first believed that the fame of them was superior to the deeds, I became convinced that the deeds were superior to the fame.”

Dante’s choice of Verona was a wise one; and he found there a reception and a refuge that must have soothed to some extent the angry wounded susceptibilities of that “spirito sdegnoso.”

The first of the princely house of della Scala to receive Dante was Bartolomeo, who, though he is not mentioned by name by the poet, was without doubt the “grand Lombard” spoken of by Dante’s ancestor Cacciaguida in Paradiso, canto xvii. 70. For Bartolomeo and Cangrande della Scala Dante has only words of praise; but some other members of their family come in for the full force of the poet’s wrath, and he speaks in scathing terms of Alberto and Alboino, the former the predecessor, the latter the successor of Bartolomeo. Nor is he less bitter against an illegitimate son of Alberto della Scala, whom his father had made abbot of S. Zeno, and who exercised that office from 1291 to 1314. Speaking of this deformed priest he says,

“ ... in his whole body, sick
And worse in mind, and who was evil born”

( ... mal del corpo intero—E della mente peggio, e che mal nacque. Purg. xviii. 124, etc.), and how his father “with one foot in the grave” (con un piè dentro la fossa) had “put him in the place of the true pastor” (ha posto in loco di suo pastor vero).

The reason of Dante’s dislike for Alboino, who he must have known intimately, has never come to light. The man’s want of energy, his indifference as to the Ghibelline cause, his inefficiency as a warrior, may perhaps have aroused that contempt for him which Dante expresses most openly in the Convito, iv. 16. Cangrande on the other hand calls forth his admiration; and that Dante dedicated to him the last part of the Divine Comedy is proof enough of the esteem and affection in which he held him. Another proof too is forthcoming in the fact adduced by Boccaccio and Giovanni Querini that Dante was wont to send the cantos of the Paradiso as he wrote them, and before submitting them to any other eye, to the lord of Verona. The poet recognises too the renown of Cangrande’s deeds by putting into the mouth of Cacciaguida the prophecy as to “how notable his works shall be” (che notabile fien l’opere sue); words so concise and so forcible in their depth and truth that they are introduced in the epitaph above Cangrande’s tomb in a Latin form.

“Little is known for certain of Dante’s actual residence in Verona,” says Cipolla; though he quotes from Ampère’s Voyage Dantesque to show the favourable impression that the town made on this pilgrim not generally prone to be satisfied, nor minded to refrain from a sharp and unfriendly criticism. “Here at last is an Italian city of which Dante has said nothing injurious. She owes this almost unique exception to the hospitality which she offered him.”

Dante alludes several times to the town itself in his writings. He speaks so graphically of the game of the Palio (Inf. xv. 121) as to make one fancy he must have witnessed it in person. It has been said that his idea of the “bolgie” of the Inferno came to him from the shape of the arena at Verona, and that standing on the summit of that vast building he conceived the notion of creating his Hell on the same lines as those presented before his eyes. Whether this is really so or not cannot be definitely affirmed, but it is certain that no other poet has mapped out an Inferno on the same lines as that of Dante, while the form he has given it resembles very closely that of the amphitheatre of Verona.

Other memories than those which spoke to him only of the town were also present to Dante’s mind when he was writing his great poem. The country in the heart of the valley of the Adige is depicted by him at the opening of the twelfth canto of the Inferno; and the surroundings of the Lake of Garda are spoken of equally in the Inferno at canto XX. 64, etc.

It was at Verona that the remarks as to Dante’s powers of visiting the Infernal regions first arose. As his “melancholy, pensive” form walked silently through the streets and byeways of the city, the women of the lower classes pointed him out one to another as “he who went to Hell and returned when he listed, and brought news up above of those who were there below.” It may be that such unsolicited fame would bring a smile to the solemn, set features, and prove more acceptable than the applause vouchsafed by Cangrande’s herd of courtiers.