Researching my novel The Echoes of Love wasn’t remotely a chore for me, it was a pleasure, especially when it came to reading up on Italian legends. Venetian history, in particular, is so colourful, with fascinating characters who really embody the infamous Italian passion.

Passion, of course, can lead to wonderful, inspirational, respected works – take, for example, the creations of the Venetians Canaletto, Tiepolo, Veronese and Palladio. But passion can also lead to less positive results. Famous Venetian Casanova, for example, for all his passion ultimately died alone and unloved. And then there was the passion of Bajamonte Tiepolo…

Tiepolo was a nobleman who lived in fourteenth century Venice. You would expect, given that he was descended from a line of Venetian Doges, that he would be all set for the Dukedom. But Tiepolo had other ideas – revolutionary ideas. He wanted to overthrow the Doge of the time and take over the city.

So, on 15 June 1310, during the Feast of Saint Vitus, Tiepolo made his move. But his plan lacked popular support, and Tiepolo and his small group of followers were confronted by the Doge’s men near St Mark’s Square. According to legend, when his standard bearer was struck dead by a stone thrown by a woman from a window above, Tiepolo turned tail and ran. Certainly, the invading force backed off – and burned down the Rialto Bridge as they did so.

But in Venice, outrunning the Doge was impossible. Tiepolo surrendered. He was banished and his palace was razed to the ground. Then, in its place, the city erected a ‘column of infamy’ on which was inscribed: This land belonged to Bajamonte and now for his iniquitous betrayal, this has been placed to frighten others, and to show these words to everyone forever.

Tiepolo’s reaction? Not to quietly live out his days in exile, it seems – that passion of his would not let him be at peace! He sent a man to break up the column. But his man was caught in the act and punished severely (he lost a hand and his eyes), and the column was repaired. Tiepolo had enough sense not to push the Venetian officials further, at least!

You may think that this Venetian’s passion had led to naught but the disfigurement of a man. But in fact Tiepolo did bring change to Venice – just not in the manner he had planned. From the thwarted Tiepolo conspiracy there grew a desire for a new form of governance for the city, and as a direct result of Tiepolo’s act the Council of Ten, which governed Venice until  1797, was formed. Tiepolo had failed in his quest to be dictator of Venice, but had unwittingly succeeded in bringing democracy, in some form, to the city.

And what of Tiepolo’s ‘column of infamy’? It was removed in the eighteenth century and passed from collector to collector, and it is now housed in storage for the Fondazione Musei Civici di Venezia. The Venice in Peril organisation is campaigning to have the column re-erected in Sant’Agostin, where it lay originally, where it can live up to its creator’s vision that it serve as a memorial to the people of Venice ‘forever’. A memorial of the repercussions of mounting an uprising? Perhaps. A memorial of the passion of the people of Venice in fighting for their city as they see fit? Certainly.