Mrs. G. Gretton

The House of Savoy—Its warlike princes—The Green Count—Prostration of Piedmont—Persecution of the Vaudois—The Island of Sardinia—Genoa added to Piedmont—The constitution of 1848—War with Austria—Victor Emmanuel.

I shall not even take up one of the very few pages left at my disposal by any descriptions of the royal palace, the armoury, the churches, the houses of parliament, and the various other sights of Turin; neither do I purpose indulging in any further feminine gossip respecting its domestic manners. I will rather close these sketches of Italian life and contemporary history with a brief account of the rise and development of the Sardinian monarchy, which has proved the nucleus of Italian independence.

The founder of the House of Savoy, the oldest reigning house in Europe, was Beroldo, a powerful vassal of the King of Burgundy, who in the year 1000 was invested with the fief of Maurienne, in Savoy, in the possession of which he was succeeded by his eldest son, Umberto the White-handed; so named, it is recorded, from the unspotted honour and integrity of all his dealings.

It is good for a family, whether royal or otherwise, to have the example of such an ancestor to emulate; and accordingly, we find his successors, in an age when the code of Chivalry embodied all the virtues deemed essential to the well-being of society, proving themselves good knights and true, and spreading the fame of their prowess far beyond the narrow limits of their territories. By his marriage with Adelaide of Susa, a powerful and gifted princess, who brought as her dowry a considerable portion of the most fertile parts of Piedmont, the Count Oddone, fourth of his line, established a footing on the Italian side of the Alps, which secured Turin, Susa, Pignerol, and the valleys since so famous as the abode of the Waldenses, together with the title of Marquis of Italy to his descendants.

Among the most warlike of these princes, we find Amadeus III., who died in the Second Crusade, and Amadeus V., celebrated as the deliverer of Rhodes; while the names of two others are too singularly interwoven with English history to pass unnoticed. Of these, the first was the Comte Pierre, uncle by marriage to our Henry III., who frequently visited England, was loaded with favours, and created Earl of Richmond by that monarch;—the Palace of the Savoy being, moreover, expressly built for his residence.

His son, Thomas I., enjoyed the same favour, which no doubt contributed to increase the discontent expressed by the English at their king's partiality for foreigners, and the expenses he incurred in entertaining them. One of the flattering distinctions paid to the Count of Savoy we should, however, in this age consider no wasteful superfluity—the streets of London, we are expressly told, having been swept in honour of his arrival. Both these princes possessed a great reputation for sagacity and moderation, especially the Comte Pierre, who was chosen as arbitrator in a quarrel between Henry and his prelates; and on another occasion negotiated peace between France and England.

But the hero of the House of Savoy, on whose fame the chronicles of the period love to dwell—whose daring and achievements, too, would require the genius of a Scott to have depicted—is Amadeus VI., commonly known as the Comte Vert, one of the most renowned princes of the fourteenth century.

He first displayed his address in arms at a solemn tournament held at ChambÉry, the capital of Savoy, when he was but fourteen years of age, and presented himself in the lists arrayed in green armour, surrounded by esquires and pages similarly equipped. It was to commemorate his success on this occasion, when he obtained the suffrages of the assembled flower of European Chivalry, that Amadeus adopted green as his especial colour, from which his surname of the Comte Vert was derived.

The great event of this reign was the expedition in aid of John PalÆologus, Emperor of the East, who, being sorely pressed by Amurath at the head of his fierce Ottomans, implored the assistance of Christendom to prop his tottering throne. His kinsman, the Count of Savoy, promptly responded to this appeal; and causing a large fleet of galleys to be fitted out at Venice, repaired thither, across Italy, with a large force of knights, men-at-arms, archers, and slingers. A contemporary writer relates how, the day of departure having arrived, “the noble count, followed by his princes and barons, walking two and two, attired in surcoats of green velvet, richly embroidered, proceeded to the place of embarkation. Bands of music, going before, filled the air with harmony; while the people of Venice, thronging to behold this goodly spectacle, broke forth into shouts of 'Savoia! Savoia!' amidst which, and prolonged flourishes of trumpets, the Comte Vert put to sea, 1366 A.D.”

Gallipoli, a stronghold of the Turks, who thus closely menaced the safety of the imperial capital, was the first object of attack; and being carried by assault, the white cross of Savoy was displayed upon its walls. From thence proceeding to Constantinople, the count learned the disastrous intelligence that the emperor was a prisoner in the hands of the Bulgarians. Determined to effect his deliverance, he at once passed the Bosphorus, entered the Black Sea, and landed on the shores of Bulgaria. Mesembria was taken by storm; and Varna, an opulent and strongly fortified city, was obliged to capitulate. These rapid victories compelled the enemy to sue for peace, of which the liberation of the emperor was the first condition.

Returning in triumph to Constantinople with the monarch whom his prowess had set free, Amadeus seems to have experienced the proverbial thanklessness of the PalÆologi; for, as the chronicler pithily remarks, “it was reserved for Italy, by her magnificent reception of the Comte Vert, to atone to him for the ingratitude of the Greeks.”

A still more remarkable evidence of the estimation in which Amadeus was held, is given by the fact of his being elected, a few years later, to decide on the conflicting claims of the rival republics of Genoa and Venice, between whom many sovereign princes, even the supreme pontiff himself, had ineffectually attempted to mediate. On an appointed day, the envoys of the contending States appeared before the Count of Savoy at Turin, and set forth their respective grievances, which he duly weighed and pondered over; then himself drawing up solemn articles of peace, they were sworn to and signed in his presence.

In the reign following that of the renowned Green Count, Nice, and a portion of the western shores of the Mediterranean, became incorporated with Piedmont and Savoy, by a nobler triumph than that of conquest, having petitioned to be united to the dominions of the House of Savoy, as a guarantee of just and paternal government.

The life of Amadeus VIII., who flourished contemporarily with our Henry VI. and the disastrous Wars of the Roses, is another romance, which in the days when that style of composition was popular, would have furnished materials for half a dozen historical novels. After considerably extending his possessions in Piedmont, he received from the Emperor Sigismund of Germany—which country exercised a sort of suzerainship over Italy, that, with the single exception of the kingdom of Sardinia, Austria retained up till 1859—the title of Duke, in lieu of Count of Savoy. Renowned for his wisdom, courage, and political foresight, Amadeus, when still in the meridian of his glory, abdicated, and with six of his former companions-in-arms and trusty counsellors, retired to the hermitage of Ripaille, near the lake of Geneva. The asceticism here practised does not appear to have been very severe, since faire Ripaille has passed into a proverb in Switzerland, to indicate good cheer and easy living; but be this as it may, the duke was some years afterwards summoned from his retirement, having been elected pope under the title of Felix V.

For nearly a century following, the prosperity of the duchy was overcast; feeble princes, alternating with feebler regencies and their attendant evils, held the reins of government, and Piedmont became the arena on which the French and Imperialists contended. The Dukes of Savoy, alternately forced into alliance with Francis I. of France and the Emperor Charles V., the position of their territories rendering it impossible for them to preserve neutrality, lost equally from friend and foe. Far from being able to follow up the cherished policy of their family, and as the reward of their allegiance obtain “a few leaves of that artichoke Lombardy,” to the possession of which they had ever aspired, they saw themselves gradually stripped of their ancestral dominions, till a single town in Piedmont was all that remained in their hands.

The singular firmness and energy of character which distinguishes these Highlanders of Italy, as they are termed, seems but to have gained strength from these vicissitudes. In the reign of Duke Emmanuel Philibert, “the Iron-headed,” we find the House of Savoy restored to more than its pristine lustre, and reinstated in its former possessions, with the single exception of Geneva, which in the general turmoil had succeeded in establishing its independence. At a later period this prince, to strengthen his position in Italy, exchanged with Henri Quatre, Bourg en Bresse, Val Romey, and Bugey in Savoy, against the Marquisate of Saluzzo, adjoining Pignerol, at the foot of the Alps. This province had long been in possession of the French, and its transfer to Piedmont, though purchased by a sacrifice as respected extent of territory, was looked upon as a great step towards national independence, and the adoption of a clearly-defined Italian policy.

An evil phase in the history of Piedmont is the persecution of the Waldenses or Vaudois. Established in their sub-alpine valleys and fastnesses from a very remote period, these sturdy champions of primitive Christianity were a constant source of umbrage to the papal see, who incited the princes of Savoy, as loyal servants of the Church, to extirpate such foul heresy from their States. One of the most terrible of the ruthless crusades to which they were subjected was that in 1655, made familiar to most of us by Milton's noble hymn, “Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints,” and Cromwell's energetic remonstrance with the court of Turin in their behalf. It was not till the end of the seventeenth century that the sword of persecution was finally sheathed, although considerable restrictions still continued to be imposed upon the Vaudois, who were, nevertheless, remarkable for their faithful allegiance to their sovereign, and for their courage and hardihood as soldiers. The constitution of 1848 finally secured them the right to exercise their worship in any part of the Sardinian dominions; and placed them on perfect equality with the Catholic population. A Waldensian, Signor Malan, sits in the Chamber of Deputies.

Little anticipating the tolerance their successors would one day exhibit, the heresy, no less than the independence of Geneva, was a grievous thorn in the flesh to the Dukes of Savoy, who could not easily forego their former right to its dominion; and in 1602, a formidable expedition was secretly organized against it by Charles Emmanuel I., with the concurrence of the courts of Rome, Paris, and Madrid. Three hundred volunteers from the main body of the army had actually, in the dead of the night, succeeded in scaling the walls, when the premature explosion of a petard, designed to force open the city-gates, gave the alarm. The inhabitants, some hastily armed, others half-clad as they sprang from their slumbers, rushed into the streets, and drove back the invaders with great loss. Finding their retreat cut off by the destruction of the ladders by which they had ascended, the few survivors flung themselves from the ramparts into the ditch, and carried the intelligence of their defeat to the Duke of Savoy, who was advancing to reap the enjoyment of the triumph he already deemed secure. The Escalade, as it is termed, is justly celebrated in the annals of Geneva, which, six months after, concluded a treaty with Savoy, on terms as flattering to herself as they were mortifying to the duke, who said in his last illness “that those rebels of Geneva weighed like lead upon his stomach.”

The opening of the eighteenth century again beheld Piedmont the theatre of bloody wars, in consequence of the disputed succession to the crown of Spain. The duke sided with the imperial party, which England also supported, and saw his States overrun by the French, who for some time held possession of Turin. The siege and recapture of his capital—in which Victor Amadeus II. was aided by his cousin, the celebrated Prince Eugene, Marlborough's colleague—was the turning point in his fortunes. The latter part of his reign was marked with signal prosperity. Invested with the title of King of Sardinia, the island of that name having been transferred from the possession of Spain, and bestowed on him as some compensation for his losses and sacrifices in the war, he devoted himself to the embellishment of Turin, the formation of a standing army, and the restoration of the finances of the State, leaving behind him a reputation for indomitable energy and perseverance, on which the historians of Piedmont dwell with pardonable pride.

His successor steadily pursued his policy, and obtained some part of the Milanese territory—a few more leaves of the artichoke, towards which, like every enterprising prince of his line, his political views were constantly directed.

The outbreak of the first French Revolution again threatened the House of Savoy with destruction. Almost simultaneously, in 1792, the territory of Nice, and the whole of Savoy, were invaded, and occupied by the troops of the Directory; a few years later, Piedmont was incorporated into the French dominions, and Sardinia was all that remained to Charles Emmanuel IV., who, in 1796, succeeded to what he bitterly designated as “a veritable crown of thorns.”

From this utter prostration, this dynasty, with that singular rebound observable in its annals, was recalled in 1814 to its continental possessions, with the addition of Genoa, who reluctantly saw herself degraded from her independent position as a republic, to form part of a kingdom which had long excited her jealousy and apprehension.

Between this period and 1848 the history of Piedmont offers little of interest. The quiet development of its internal resources, the accumulating wealth of its exchequer, the minute care bestowed on its army, being less conspicuous to a general observer, than the severity of its police, the rigour with which all political freedom of speech or writing was proscribed, and the especial protection which the Jesuits enjoyed. As before remarked, the Sardinian Government was looked upon as one of the most despotic of Europe, and its king as the most priest-ridden of princes.

Even the example of Pius IX. did not at first produce any perceptible results; and for more than a year after the famous amnesty to the Romans not a change in the existing system at Turin foreshadowed the coming reforms.

The year 1848 is memorable for Piedmont. At its opening came the royal gift, the long yearned-for Constitution, embodying alike the freedom of the press, religious toleration, parliamentary institutions, a political amnesty, the formation of the National Guard, and the removal of numerous legal and administrative abuses.

Austria's suspicions were aroused, and she remonstrated. But in vain. The time had come; the mask of years was thrown aside, and Charles Albert stood forth the avowed champion of Italian unity and independence. Three men to whom Italy is under lasting obligations, Gioberti, Count Balbo, and the Marquis Massimo d'Azeglio, by their writings had introduced an unwonted unity of action and moderation of aims amongst their countrymen. They taught them to substitute for the republican theories, which had been the bane of Italian patriots, those aspirations for constitutional monarchy, and for deliverance from the yoke of Austria, which in Charles Albert found their impersonation and their instrument. Everywhere hailed with enthusiasm as the appointed regenerator of Italy, the fulfilment of the destinies of his house now seemed within his grasp; and the poetical veneration he had always borne to the memory of his ancestor the Green Count, whose device, “J'attends mon astre,” he had long before adopted, acquired greater force and significance.

At the invitation of the insurgent Milanese, he threw down the gauntlet against Austria, and with his two gallant sons, the Dukes of Savoy and Genoa, marched at the head of his army into Lombardy. But he was not suffered to reap where he had sown. To Charles Albert it was only given to lay the foundation of the edifice his son is raising to such loftiness. When, after two disastrous campaigns, and witnessing the total overthrow of his forces on the bloody field of Novara in March, 1849, he died in self-imposed exile at Oporto, there was little in the aspect of affairs in Piedmont to give grounds for sanguine previsions for the future.

Dangers of no ordinary description hung over the kingdom he had resigned; or, to speak more correctly, the institutions he had inaugurated. The situation of the young king might well be termed desperate. A victorious enemy on his borders, a shattered army, an exhausted treasury, his clergy and nobility disaffected to the new order of things; to crown all, absolutism triumphant all over Italy, and the certainty that Austria was only watching for a pretext for a fresh invasion. It needed but for him to have annulled his father's concessions, to propitiate a large number of his subjects, disarm the hostility of his powerful neighbour and her satellites, and possess himself of those privileges of which his predecessor had stripped the crown. It will be registered in the grateful hearts of millions yet unborn, that Victor Emmanuel was proof alike to warnings, entreaties, and blandishments. Through evil and good report, kinglike and manfully did he uphold the constitution to which he had sworn, till he met his reward in the wondrous confidence and enthusiasm of which he is now the object.

It is not a sudden impulse, this love of the Italians for Victor Emmanuel. On the contrary, when he mounted the throne, so great was the universal hatred for kings, generated by the perfidy of their own princes, that few reposed belief in his assurances. It was only when he was seen firmly contending with Rome against her encroachments and intolerance; throwing open his States to the political refugee without regard to his opinions, equally sheltering constitutionalist or republican; unflinching in maintaining the liberty of the press and the dignity of the country, despite the menaces of Austria, and ever eager in promoting national prosperity and enterprise; that the prejudice against monarchy was overcome, and the Italians, from Venice to Etna, bestowed upon him the surname of the “RÈ galantuomo.”

To the influence of Azeglio and Cavour, one or other of whom has rarely been absent from his councils since his accession, much is no doubt due; but while fully acknowledging their obligations to the patriotism, courage, and intrepidity of these ministers, as well as to the host of eminent men they have gathered round them from all parts of the peninsula, the Italians never forget to give the chief glory to Victor Emmanuel. Without his stedfast adherence to the Constitution, as to a trust bequeathed him by his father, Italy would not now be looking forward to assuming her place among the nations.

THE END.