GENOA. STORY OF THE INSURRECTION OF FIESCO

Such, indeed, was the posture of the emperor’s affairs, that he could not march instantly to the relief of is ally. Soon after the separation of the confederate army, he, in order to ease himself of the burden of maintaining a superfluous number of troops, had dismissed the count of Buren with his Flemings, imagining that the Spaniards and Germans, together with the papal forces, would be fully sufficient to crush any degree of vigor that yet remained among the members of the league. But Paul, growing wise too late, began now to discern the imprudence of that measure from which the more sagacious Venetians had endeavored in vain to dissuade him. The rapid progress of the Imperial arms, and the ease with which they had broken a combination that appeared no less firm than powerful, opened his eyes at length, and made him not only forget at once all the advantages which he had expected from such a complete triumph over heresy, but placed, in the strongest light, his own impolitic conduct, in having contributed towards acquiring for Charles such an immense increase of power, as would enable him, after oppressing the liberties of Germany, to give law with absolute authority to all the states of Italy.

The moment that he perceived his error, he endeavored to correct it. Without giving the emperor any warning of his intention, he ordered Farnese, his grandson, to return instantly to Italy with all the troops under his command, and at the same time recalled the license which he had granted Charles, of appropriating to his own use a large share of the church lands in Spain. He was not destitute of pretences to justify this abrupt desertion of his ally. The term of six months, during which the stipulations in their treaty were to continue in force, was now expired; the league, in opposition to which their alliance had been framed, seemed to be entirely dissipated; Charles, in all his negotiations with the princes and cities which had submitted to his will, had neither consulted the pope, nor had allotted him any part of the conquests which he had made, nor had allowed him any share in the vast contributions which he had raised. He had not even made any provision for the suppression of heresy, or the re-establishment of the catholic religion, which were Paul's chief inducements to bestow the treasures of the church so liberally in carrying on the war. These colors, however specious, did not conceal from the emperor that secret jealousy which was the true motive of the pope's conduct. But as Paul's orders with regard to the march of his troops were no less peremptory than unexpected, it was impossible to prevent their retreat. Charles exclaimed loudly against his treachery, in abandoning him so unseasonably, while he was prosecuting a war undertaken in obedience to the papal injunctions, and from which, if successful, so much honor and advantage would redound to the church. To complaints he added threats and expostulations. But Paul remained inflexible; his troops continued their march towards the ecclesiastical state, and in an elaborate memorial, intended as an apology for his conduct, he discovered new and more manifest symptoms of alienation from the emperor, together with a deep rooted dread of his power. Charles, weakened by the withdrawing of so great a body from his army, which was already much diminished by the number of garrisons that he had been obliged to throw into the towns which had capitulated, found it neces­sary to recruit his forces by new levies, before he could venture to march in person towards Saxony.

The fame and splendor of his success could not have failed of attracting such multitudes of soldiers into his service from all the extensive territories now subject to his authority, as must soon have put him in a condition of taking the field against the elector; but the sudden and violent eruption of a conspiracy at Genoa, as well as the great revolutions which that event, extremely mysterious in its first appearances, seemed to portend, obliged him to avoid entangling himself in new operations in Germany, until he had fully discovered its source and tendency.

The form of government which had been established in Genoa, at the time when Andrew Doria restored liberty to his country, though calculated to obliterate the memory of former dissensions, and received at first with eager approbation, did not after a trial of near twenty years, give universal satisfaction to those turbulent and factious republicans. As the entire administration of affairs was now lodged in a certain number of noble families, many, envying them that pre-eminence, wished for the restitution of a popular government, to which they had been accustomed; and though all reverenced the disinterested virtue of Doria, and admired his talents, not a few were jealous of that ascendant which he had acquired in the councils of the commonwealth. His age, however, his moderation, and his love of liberty, afforded ample security to his countrymen that he would not abuse his power, nor stain the close of his days by attempting to overturn that fabric, which it had been the labor and pride of his life to erect. But the authority and influence which in his hands were innocent, they easily saw would prove destructive, if usurped by any citizen of greater ambition, or less virtue.

A citizen of this dangerous character had actually formed such pretensions, and with some prospect of success. Giannetino Doria, whom his grand uncle Andrew destined to be the heir of his private fortune, aimed likewise at being his successor in power. His temper, haughty, insolent, and over­bearing to such a degree as would hardly have been tolerated in one born to reign, was altogether unsupportable in the citizen of a free state. The more sagacious among the Genoese already feared and hated him as the enemy of those liberties for which they were indebted to his uncle. While Andrew himself, blinded by that violent and undiscerning affection which persons in advanced age often contract for the younger members of their family, set no bounds to the indulgence with which he treated him; seeming less solicitous to secure and perpetuate the freedom of the commonwealth, than to aggrandize that undeserving kinsman.

But whatever suspicion of Doria’s designs, or whatever dissatisfaction with the system of administration in the commonwealth, these circumstances might have occasioned, they would have ended, it is probable, in nothing more than murmurings and complaints, if John Lewis Fiesco count of Lavagna, observing this growing disgust, had not been encouraged by it to attempt one of the boldest actions recorded in history. That young nobleman, the richest and most illustrious subject in the republic, possessed in an eminent degree all the qualities which win upon the human heart, which command respect, or secure attachment. He was graceful and majestic in his person; magnificent even to profusion; of a generosity that anticipated the wishes of his friends, and exceeded the expectations of strangers; of an insinuating address, gentle manners, and a flowing affability. But under the appearance of these virtues, which seemed to form him for enjoying and adorning social life, he concealed all the dispositions which mark men out for taking the lead in the most dangerous and dark conspiracies; an insatiable and restless ambition, a courage unacquainted with fear, and a mind that disdained subordination. Such a temper could ill brook that station of inferiority, wherein he was placed in the republic; and as he envied the power which the elder Doria had acquired, he was filled with indignation at the thoughts of its descending, like an hereditary possession, to Giannetino. These various passions, preying with violence on his turbulent and aspiring mind, determined him to attempt overturning that domination to which he could not submit.

As the most effectual method of accomplishing this, he thought at first of forming a connection with Francis, and even proposed it to tie French ambassador at Rome; and after expelling Doria, together with the Imperial faction, by his assistance, he offered to put the republic once more under the protection of that monarch, hoping in return for that service to be entrusted with the principal share in the administration of government. But having communicated his scheme to a few chosen confidants, from whom he kept nothing secret, Verrina, the chief of them, a man of desperate fortune, capable alike of advising and executing the most audacious deeds, remonstrated with earnestness against the folly of exposing himself to the most imminent danger, while he allowed another to reap all the fruits of his success; and exhorted him warmly to aim himself at that pre­eminence in his country, to which he was destined by his illustrious birth, was called by the voice of his fellow-citizens, and would be raised by the zeal of his friends. This discourse opened such great prospects to Fiesco, and so suitable to his genius, that abandoning his own plan, he eagerly adopted that of Verrina. The other persons present, though sensible of the hazardous nature of the undertaking, did not choose to condemn what their patron had so warmly approved. It was instantly resolved, in this dark cabal, to assassinate the two Dorias, as well as the principal persons of their party, to overturn the established system of government, and to place Fiesco on the ducal throne of Genoa. Time, however, and preparations were requisite to ripen such a design for execution; and while he was employed in carrying on these, Fiesco made it his chief care to guard against everything that might betray his secret, or create suspicion. The disguise he assumed, was of all others the most impenetrable.

He seemed to be abandoned entirely to pleasure and dissipation. A perpetual gayety, diversified by the pursuit of all the amusements in which persons of his age and rank are apt to delight, engrossed, in appearance, the whole of his time and thoughts. But amidst this hurry of dissipation, he prosecuted his plan with the most cool attention, neither retarding the design by a timid hesitation, nor precipitating the execution by an excess of impatience. He continued his correspondence with the French ambassador at Rome, though without communicating to him his real intentions, that by his means he might secure the protection of the French arms, if hereafter he should find it necessary to call them in to his aid. He entered into a close confederacy with Farnese duke of Parma, who, being disgusted with the emperor for refusing to grant him the investiture of that duchy, was eager to promote any measure that tended to diminish his influence in Italy, or to ruin a family so implicitly devoted to him as that of Doria. Being sensible that, in a maritime state, the acquisition of naval power was what he ought chiefly to aim at, he purchased four galleys from the pope, who probably was not unacquainted with the design which he had formed, and did not disapprove of it. Under color of fitting up one of these galleys to sail on a cruise against the Turks, he not only assembled a good number of his own vassals, but engaged in his service many bold adventurers, whom the truce between the emperor and Solyman had deprived of their usual occu­pation and subsistence.

While Fiesco was taking these important steps, he preserved so admirably his usual appearance of being devoted entirely to pleasure and amusement, and paid court with such artful address to the two Dorias, as imposed not only on the generous and unsuspicious mind of Andrew, but deceived Giannetino, who, conscious of his own criminal intentions, was more apt to distrust the designs of others. So many instruments being now prepared, nothing now remained but to strike the blow. Various consultations were held by Fiesco with his confidants, in order to settle the manner of doing it with the greatest certainty and effect. At first, they proposed to murder the Dorias and their chief adherents, during the celebration of high mass in the principal church; but, as Andrew was often absent from religious solemnities on account of his great age, that design was laid aside. It was then concerted that Fiesco should invite the uncle and nephew, with all their friends whom he had marked out as victims, to his house; where it would be easy to cut them off at once without danger or resistance; but as Giannetino was obliged to leave the town on the day which they had chosen, it became necessary likewise to alter this plan. They at last determined to attempt by open force, what they found difficult to effect by stratagem, and fixed on the night between the second and third of January, for the execution of their enterprise. The time was chosen with great propriety; for as the doge of the former year was to quit his office, according to custom, on the first of the month, and his successor could not be elected sooner than the fourth, the republic remained during that interval in a sort of anarchy, and Fiesco might with less violence take possession of the vacant dignity.

The morning of that day Fiesco employed in visiting his friends, passing some hours among them with a spirit as gay and unembarrassed as at other times. Towards evening, he paid court to the Dorias with his usual marks of respect, and surveying their countenance and behavior with the attention natural in his situation, was happy to observe the perfect security in which they remained, without the least foresight or dread of that storm which had been so long a gathering, and was now ready to burst over their heads. From their palace he hastened to his own, which stood by itself in the middle of a large court, surrounded by a high wall. The gates had been set open in the morning, and all persons, without distinction, were allowed to enter, but strong guards posted within the court suffered no one to return. Verrina, meanwhile, and a few persons trusted with the secret of the conspiracy, after conducting Fiesco’s vassals, as well as the crews of his galleys, into the palace in small bodies, with as little noise as possible, dispersed themselves through the city, and, in the name of their patron, invited to an entertainment the principal citizens whom they knew to be disgusted with the administration of the Dorias, and to have inclination as well as courage to attempt a change in the government. Of the vast number of persons who now filled the palace, a few only knew for what purpose they were assembled; the rest, astonished at finding, instead of the preparations for a feast, a court crowded with armed men, and apartments filled with the instruments of war, gazed on each other with a mixture of curiosity, impatience, and terror.

While their minds were in this state of suspense and agitation, Fiesco appeared. With a look full of alacrity and confidence, he addressed himself to the persons of chief distinction, telling them, that they were not now called to partake of the pleasure of an entertainment, but to join in a deed of valor, which would lead them to liberty and immortal renown. He set before their eyes the exorbitant as well as intolerable authority of the elder Doria, which the ambition of Giannetino, and the partiality of the emperor to a family more devoted to him than to their country, was about to enlarge and to render perpetual. “This unrighteous dominion”, continued he, “You have it now in your power to subvert, and to establish the freedom of your country on a firm basis. The tyrants must be cut off. I have taken the most effectual measures for this purpose. My associates are numerous. I can depend on allies and protectors if necessary. Happily, the tyrants are as secure as I have been provident. Their insolent contempt of their countrymen has banished the suspicion and timidity which usually render the guilty quick-sighted to discern, as well as sagacious to guard against the vengeance which they deserve. They will now feel the blow, before they suspect any hostile hand to be nigh. Let us then sally forth, that we may deliver our country by one generous effort, almost unaccompanied with danger, and certain of success”.  These words, uttered with that irresistible fervor which animates the mind when roused by great objects, made the desired impression on the audience. Fiesco’s vassals, ready to execute whatever their master should command, received his discourse with a murmur of applause. To many, whose fortunes were desperate, the license and confusion of an insurrection afforded an agreeable prospect. Those of higher rank and more virtuous sentiments, durst not discover the surprise or horror with which they were struck at the proposal of an enterprise no less unexpected than atrocious; as each of them imagined the other to be in the secret of the conspiracy, and saw himself surrounded by persons who waited only a signal from their leader to per­petrate the greatest crime. With one voice then all applauded, or feigned to applaud, the undertaking.

Fiesco having thus fixed and encouraged his associates, before he gave them his last orders, he hastened for a moment to the apartment of his wife, a lady of the noble house of Cibo, whom he loved with tender affection, and whose beauty and virtue rendered her worthy of his love. The noise of the armed men who crowded the court and palace, having long before this reached her ears, she concluded some hazardous enterprise to be in hand, and she trembled fur her husband. He found her in all the anguish of uncertainty and fear; and, as it was now impossible to keep his design concealed, he informed her of what he had undertaken. The prospect of a scene so full of horror as well as danger, completed her agony; and foreboding immediately in her mind the fatal issue of it, she endeavored, by her tears, her entreaties, and her despair, to divert him from his purpose. Fiesco, after trying in vain to soothe and to inspire her with hope, broke from a situation into which an excess of tenderness had unwarily seduced him, though it could not shake his resolution. “Farewell”, he cried, as he quitted the apartment, “you shall either never see me more, or you shall behold tomorrow everything in Genoa subject to your power”.

As soon as he rejoined his companions, he allotted each his proper station: some were appointed to assault and seize the different gates of the city; some to make themselves masters of the principal streets or places of strength. Fiesco reserved for himself the attack of the harbor, where Doria’s galleys were laid up, as the post of chief importance, and of greatest danger. It was now midnight, and the citizens slept in the security of peace, when this band of conspirators, numerous, desperate, and well-armed, rushed out to execute their plan. They surprised some of the gates, without meeting with any resistance. They got possession of others after a sharp conflict with the soldiers on guard. Verrina, with the galley which had been fitted out against the Turks, blocked up the mouth of the Darsena or little harbor where Doria’s fleet lay. All possibility of escape being cut off by this precaution, when Fiesco attempted to enter the galleys from the shore, to which they were made fast, they were in no condition to make resistance, as they were not only unrigged and disarmed, but had no crew on board, except the slaves chained to the oar. Every quarter of the city was now filled with noise and tumult, all the streets resounding with the cry of Fiesco and Liberty. At that name, so popular and beloved, many of the lower rank took arms and joined the conspirators. The nobles and partisans of the aristocracy, astonished or affrighted, shut the gates of their houses, and thought of nothing but of securing them from pillage. At last the noise excited by this scene or violence and confusion, reached the palace of Doria; Giannetino started immediately from his bed, and, imagining that it was occasioned by some mutiny among the sailors, rushed out with a few attendants, and hurried towards the harbor. The gate of St. Thomas, through which he had to pass, was already in the possession of the who, the moment he appeared, fell upon him with the utmost fury, and murdered him on the spot. The same must have been the fate of the elder Doria, if Jerome de Fiesco had executed his brother’s plan, and had proceeded immediately to attack him in his palace ; but he, from the sordid consideration of preventing its being plundered amidst the confusion, having forbid his followers to advance, Andrew got intelligence of his nephew’s death, as well as of his own danger; and, mounting on horseback, saved himself by flight. Amidst this general consternation, a few senators had the courage to assemble in the palace of the republic. At first, some of the most daring, among them attempted to rally the scattered soldiers, and to attack a body of the conspirators; but being repulsed with loss, all agreed that nothing now remained but to treat with the party which seemed to be irresistible. Deputies were accordingly sent to learn of Fiesco what were the concessions with which he would be satisfied, or rather to submit to whatever terms he should please to prescribe.

But by this time Fiesco, with whom they were empowered to negotiate, was no more. Just as he was about to leave the harbor, where everything had succeeded to his wish, that he might join his victorious companions, he heard some extraordinary uproar on board the admiral galley. Alarmed at the noise, and fearing that the slaves might break their chains, and overpower his associates, he ran thither; but the plank which reached from the shore to the vessel happening to overturn, he fell into the sea, whilst he hurried forward too precipitately. Being loaded with heavy armour, he sunk to the bottom, and perished in the very moment when he must have taken full possession of everything that his ambitious heart could desire. Verrina was the first who discovered this fatal accident, and foreseeing, at once, all its consequences, concealed it with the utmost industry from everyone but a few leaders of the conspiracy. Nor was it difficult, amidst the darkness and confusion of the night, to have kept it secret, until a treaty with the senators should have put the city in the power of the conspirators. All their hopes of this were disconcerted by the imprudence of Jerome Fiesco, who, when the deputies of the senate inquired for his brother, the count of Lavagna, that they might make their proposals to him, replied, with a childish vanity, “I am now the only person to whom that title belongs, and with me you must treat”. These words discovered as well to his friends as to his enemies what had happened, and made the impression which might have been expected upon both. The deputies, encouraged by this event, the only one which could occasion such a sudden revolution as might turn to their advantage, assumed instantly, with admirable presence of mind, a new tone, suitable to the change in their circumstances, and made high demands. While they endeavored to gain time by protracting the negotiation, the rest of the senators were busy in assembling their partisans, and in forming a body capable of defending the palace of the republic. On the other hand, the conspirators, astonished at the death of a man whom they adored and trusted, and placing no confidence in Jerome, a giddy youth, felt their courage die away, and their arms fall from their hands. That profound and amazing secrecy with which the conspiracy had been concerted, and which had contributed hitherto so much to its success, proved now the chief cause of its miscarriage. The leader was gone; the greater part of those who acted under him, knew not his confidants, and were strangers to the object at which he aimed. There was no person among them whose authority or abilities entitled him to assume Fiesco’s place, or to finish his plan; after having lost the spirit which animated it, life and activity deserted the whole body. Many of the conspirators withdrew to their houses, hoping that amidst the darkness of the night they had passed unobserved, and might remain unknown. Others sought for safety by a timely retreat; and, before break of day, most of them fled with precipitation from a city, which but a few hours before, was ready to acknowledge them as masters.

Next morning everything was quiet in Genoa; not an enemy was to be seen; few marks of the violence of the former night appeared, the conspirators having conducted their enterprise with more noise than bloodshed, and gamed all their advantages by surprise, rather than by force of arms. Towards evening, Andrew Doria returned to the city, being met by all the inhabitants, who received him with acclamations of joy. Though the disgrace as well as danger of the preceding night were fresh in his mind, and the mangled body of his kinsman still before his eyes, such was his moderation as well as magnanimity, that the decree issued by the senate against the conspirators, did not exceed that just measure of severity which was requisite for the support of government, and was dictated neither by the violence of resentment, nor the rancor of revenge.

After taking the necessary precautions for preventing the flame which was now so happily extinguished, from breaking out anew, the first care of the senate was to send an ambassador to the emperor, to give him a particular detail of what had happened, and to beg his assistance towards the reduction of Montobbio, a strong fort on the hereditary estate of the Fiesci, in which Jerome had shut himself up. Charles was no less alarmed than astonished at an event so strange and unexpected. He could not believe that Fiesco, how bold or adventurous soever, durst have attempted such an enterprise, but on foreign suggestion, and from the hope of foreign aid. Being informed that the duke of Parma was well acquainted with the plan of the conspirators, he immediately supposed that the pope could not be ignorant of a measure, which his son had countenanced. Proceeding from this to a farther conjecture, which Paul’s cautious maxims of policy in other instances rendered extremely probable, he concluded that the French king must have known and approved of the design; and he began to apprehend that this spark might again kindle the flame of war which had raged so long in Italy. As he had drained his Italian territories of troops on account of the German war, he was altogether unprovided for resisting any hostile attack in that country; and on the first appearance of danger, he must have detached thither the greatest part of his forces for its defence. In this situation of affairs, it would have been altogether imprudent in the emperor to have advanced in person against the elector, until he should learn with some degree of certainty whether such a scene were not about to open in Italy, as might put it out of his power to keep the field with an army sufficient to oppose him.