_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.