Part 26

Florence in 1405 was in the very hey-day of her wool trade, but she had no outlet for her tides of commerce, no port from which to ship her goods to Provence or to Barbary. It was not four Pisan castles, but Pisa herself and the mouth of the Arno that she required. At the same time that the Pisans proposed their bargain to the Florentine Ten, that august body had received an ambassador from Gabriel’ Maria Visconti offering to sell them not only Pisa, but also the frontier castles of Sarzana and Librafatto, which, from the fastnesses of the Apennines, guard the plain in which Pisa and Florence lie. It was worth a great price to secure not only a port, but a fortified frontier in case of an invasion from the north. Florence remembered her ancient terrors when she had lain almost at the mercy of the Duke of Milan. She agreed to pay Messer Gabriel’ the sum of four hundred thousand florins for his rights over his revolted signory. They stipulated, however, that Boucicaut must be acquainted with the transaction, and give it his sanction, otherwise no bargain.

When the persuasive Gabriel’ Maria broke the news to his host, at first the Marshal “qui toujours y avoit la dent,” emphatically refused to consent to the alienation of a Royal fief; he even sent to Pisa to acquaint the rebels with the designs of their ex-tyrant, hoping by this means to induce them to declare themselves the subjects of the King. But the Pisans went on shouting “Libertà.” Meanwhile Gabriel’ Maria and the Florentines set the matter before the Marshal in another light. For Messer Gabriel’—a clever person—advised the Florentines to become vassals to the Crown of France for the fief of Pisa. The Florentines fell in with the suggestion, which carried visible weight with the Boucicaut. And the Marshal was left to consider the matter.

The Florentines asked Leghorn as well as Pisa, but Boucicaut was obstinate in his hold on the nearer port. He could not yield Leghorn without grave prejudice to Genoa. But Pisa was his only in name. Could he not keep Leghorn, the substance, and as the price of Pisa, the shadow, exact the fealty of the Florentines to France and to the true Pope? Illuminated by this bright idea Boucicaut proposed the following terms to Florence:

1. The Florentines shall have Pisa and all its lands except the Castle of Leghorn; but they must swear not to interfere with the carrying trade of Genoa, nor to make traffic by sea in any other ships than those of Genoa.

2. A month after the reduction of Pisa the Florentines must declare their adhesion to Pope Benedict XIII., and charge themselves with the conversion of Pisa.

3. If, six months after the said reduction of Pisa, the Elect of Rome still persist in his error, the Florentines, the French, and the Genoese shall all make war on him together.[123]

Footnote 123:

So far I have no documentary evidence for these articles, which are to be found in the “Livre des faicts du Marischal Boucicaut,” part iii. chap. 10. I give them and I believe in them, because in every instance I have found the documents of Archives to confirm or explain the assertions of this particular chronicle; because the articles breathe the very spirit of Boucicaut; and because I think it is to this agreement that the Florentines refer in the letter quoted further on (Spoglio del Carteggio i. ii. fo. 221), under date 15th of August, 1406. The act by which the Florentines constitute themselves vassals of France for Pisa is well known. It is printed in Dumont.

4. That the ratification of King and Council shall be asked for this agreement.

The Florentines agreed, and messengers were despatched to France, where there was great joy in Council at thus receiving two Signories for one. The King confirmed the agreement (it is said) by letters-patent, which were sent to Genoa and Florence. The Ten paid certain sums (as we learn from a later letter), to Gabriel’ Maria, and other moneys to Boucicaut; and then in earnest the Florentines resumed the siege of Pisa.

Famine fought with them and pestilence; yet valiant Pisa proved irreductible. Month after month sped on in fruitless heroism, and a year after the resumption of the siege the Florentines were still indefatigably attacking, the Pisans heroically defending. Then the beleaguered city sent by privy ways a messenger to Ladislas, King of Naples, offering herself to him if he would defend her. The King promised, but did nothing.

After a month or so the Pisans smuggled out a second messenger, this time to France, who offered the city to the Duke of Burgundy on the same terms. Mindful of the agreement of last year which assigned Pisa to Florence, Burgundy hesitated; and, perceiving his perplexity, the Pisan envoys “qui assez sçavoient le tour de leur baston,” addressed themselves to certain of the Councillors of Orleans, and promised the city to him; whereupon the said Councillors induced Orleans and Burgundy, enemies as they were, to go hand in hand to the poor bewildered King and beseech him to grant them leave to accept the homage of Pisa. Charles, doubtless, was not quite in his right mind. The deed granting Pisa to Burgundy and Orleans[124] is signed “For the King” by the Count of Tancarville and other princes. An ancient dependence upon Burgundy, a blind affection for Orleans (“rien n’eut refusé à son frère”), united with his perplexed and feeble memory, to obliterate the treaty of last year. The King forgot his new vassals, forgot the Pope, the schemes of Boucicaut, the money that had been paid him by the Florentines on account of the agreement. He granted Pisa to Burgundy and Orleans, who wrote to the Florentines that they must raise the siege at once, and sent to Boucicaut bidding him assist the Pisans.

Footnote 124:

“Arch. Nat.”, Paris, Carton K. 55, No. 11, prèce 8; July 27, 1406: ”Charles par la Grâce de Dieu Roy de France, à nos amés et féaulx gens de nos comptes et trésoriers à Paris et à tous nos aultres justiciers et officiers ou à leur lieutenant, Salut et dilectation!

“Savoir vous faisons que nos très-chers et très-amés frère et cousin les Ducs d’Orléans et de Bourgoigne, nous ont au jour dit fait foy et hommaige lige des ville terre et Seigneurie de Pise et de toutes terres appartenans et appendans quelconque, à eulx appartenir communément. Auquel hommaige nous les avons reçus sauf notre droit et l’autrui. Vous mandons, et à chacuns de vous sicomme à luy appartiendra que, pour cause du dit hommaige à nous faict, vous ne faictes ou souffrey nos ditz frère et cousin ne aulcun d’eulx estre molestez, troublez ou empeschez ès dictes ville terre el seigneurie de Pise ni es terres appartenans et appendans en aucune manière. Mais si pour la dicte cause elles estoient empeschées mettez les leur ou faictes mettre a plaine delivrance. Donné a Paris le 26 jour de Juillet, 1406, et de nostre regne 26. Pour le Roy, le Comte de Tancarville et aultres princes.”

The previous difficulties of Boucicaut had been as nothing compared to this dilemma. How could he refuse his service to the King, his lord and suzerain? How, on the other hand, could he break his plighted word? The vassal and the man of honour struggled together in his breast; and from that long and cruel duel the man of honour emerged triumphant. So Boucicaut refused to desert his Florentine allies, refused to assist the Royal fief of Pisa.

As the Florentines pressed closer and closer round the beleaguered city, the Pisans for the third time contrived to smuggle out a messenger who was to make his way as best he could to Asti (the city of Orleans), and thence to France to beseech the King to send a messenger and reinforcements.[125] But the Pisan envoy was discovered in the Florentine camp, and Capponi, the General, drowned him in the sea.

Footnote 125:

Corio.

So that when the news of his interception came to Paris, it was too late for aught but indignation. “The Florentine merchants had to suffer for it,” says Corio; and Desjardins (in his introduction to the Tuscan Statipassers), expresses his astonishment at the obstacles laid in the way of Florentine trade by Marshal Boucicaut that year. For human nature is not consistent, and though Boucicaut had indignantly refused to desert his allies of Florence, none the less he was wrath at their success, which meant the injury of France.

For on the 10th of October, 1406,[126] a Florentine army marched into Pisa, garrisoned the citadels, established their government, and marched back with many hostages to Florence. Pisa was honourably lost to France.[127] Pisa was lost, and great was the sting and smart of it. Railing and bitter names flung at Boucicaut, detention of the Florentine Ambassadors by Orleans,[128] wrath of the King himself, were each and all wholly unavailing. Florence was the King’s ally and too great a power to be rashly assailed; and Florence was firm in Pisa.

Footnote 126:

“Filza xxii. della Signoria”: see f^o. 283, Spoglio del Carteggio, October 10, 1406, a Florentine army enters Pisa: “La città di Pisa si rende al comune di Firenze: l’esercito vi entra vittorioso nel di senza commettere alcune violenza e prende il possesso di tutte le Fortezze.” On the 14th of October a certain number of Pisans were sent as hostages into Florence; arms of offence and defence were taken from all the Pisans. On the 12th of November a further number of hostages to the amount of one hundred of the Pisan citizens, “dei più atti alle fazioni,” were ordered to be sent into Florence. Civil order was established under the government of a Magistrate and eight Priors.

Footnote 127:

“Spoglio del Carteggio,” i. ii., f^o. 221 (Filza xx. della Signoria), 15th of August, 1406: “Lettera della Signoria responsiva a quella del Re di Francia in commendazione dei Pisani ai quali si annunciava di aver’ data un Signore. _Si lamenta la Signoria di questa procedere dopo che l’acquisto di quella città fatto della Signoria per compta era stato confermato del Re con figlio e già erano state pagate diverse somme a Gabriel’ Maria Visconti e a Giovanni Le Meingre_ (Boucicaut) _Luogotenente Generale della Corona e Governatone di Genova_.” A replica of this is sent to Orleans, Burgundy, and Berry.

Footnote 128:

There are a number of documents concerning this detention of the Florentine Ambassadors to be found: “Signori Cart. Miss.” Reg. 1. Cancelleria 27, f^o. 26 _et seq._, in the Florence Archives, under dates 10th of May, 3rd of June, 25th of June, 11th of July. The letters are too long to publish here, see also “Spoglio del Carteggio,” f^o. 286, for summary of an embassy sent by the Signory to the King of France, Orleans, and Burgundy, in justification of the purchase of Pisa and the siege. The Ambassadors “erano stati spogliati e ritenuti dal Duca d’Orliens, per el che, seguito l’acquisto della detta città, si spedisce ivi Bonaccorso Pitti.” Pitti was to join Alberto degli Albizzi already in France, and, going by Avignon, they were to interview the Antipope, to treat of the union of the Church, to expound to him the policy of the Republic, and to obtain from him commendatory letters to the Court at France. But the Antipope was a less formidable ally than in the days of Clement.

It is curious to observe that the Signory instruct their ambassadors, if they cannot obtain from the King the liberation of the imprisoned Ambassadors, to appeal finally to the Parliament. This is assuming that the Parliament was stronger than the King or even than Orleans—a piece of trans-Alpine provincialism.

Had Orleans lived, he might indeed have undertaken an expedition into Italy. But in the middle of his disappointment he was murdered as we know. Messer Gabriel’ Maria went to Milan, where he lived half a captive,[129] half a traitor for some while; and then took refuge again in Genoa. But in the year 1409 being detected by Boucicaut in a plot of singular treachery against the French, he was ruthlessly beheaded. Three years later, in 1412, after Gabriele’s death that plot succeeded. Boucicaut and the French were expelled from Genoa; and the wars of Burgundy and Armagnac, the woes of Agincourt and the long invasion of the English, for thirty years diverted the French from their endeavours to colonize beyond the Alps.

Footnote 129:

“Archives of Florence: Spoglio del Carteggio universale della Repubblica Fiorentina dell’ anno, 1401-1426,” tome 2, f^o. 273: “Ricuse la Signoria di pagare la rata dovuta a Gabriel’ Maria Visconti, non essendo egli in sua libertà, ma in poter’ del Duca di Milano, che serbava convertire il denaro in suo servigio.” _Vide_ “Filza II de’ Dieci,” f^o. 170. June, 1406.

II.

The Florentine conquest was the beginning of ninety years of slavery for Pisa—a terrible slavery, heavy with exaggerated imports, bitter with the tolerated plunder of private Florentines, humiliating with continual espionage. Ruin fell upon the lovely city; and as the waters of the sea crept slowly back over the reclaimed Maremma, they sapped the foundations of her fairest palaces. Malaria and decay went hand in hand along the streets; though round the ruined town, the only whole thing there, the strong forts of Florence, proclaimed the wealth and power of the oppressor. It was not that the Florentines were avaricious; they spent abundantly and lavishly on fortifications and garrisons for their soldiers; on a university in Pisa for their sons; and they paid the most imaginative of living Florentine painters to put his frescoes on the walls of the Pisan Campo Santo. But they spent their money in the Master’s way, declaring and sustaining the glory of Florence rather than alleviating the miseries of Pisa. And the Pisans themselves were unable either to supply the omissions of Florence, or to direct and advise a more efficient expenditure. They had descended into a nation of poor artizans, for all their ancient trades were now forbidden to them. Florence had secured the first place for her own manufactures, by absolutely prohibiting the wool-weaving, silk-spinning, ship-building, in which the Pisans had for so many centuries excelled. Moreover no Pisan might barter merchandise by land or sea. Restricted to the commonest handicrafts, they lost the resource of wealth; deprived of public office, denied the most ordinary civil rights, they sank into a mute and long-enduring slavery, secretly nourishing a spark of flame in their rebellious hearts.

Pisa was the Ireland of Florence, captive and yet unvanquished. Ever ready to revolt, never for an hour forgetful of her antique superiority. By means of the many exiles that Florence expelled from home, she kept continually in touch with the enemies of Florence. Men expelled for private crimes—the meanest of the Pisans—turned patriots in exile and dedicated the best of their souls to the service of an unhappy country. The Florentines, prosperous and successful, were divided among themselves into half-a-dozen different factions; and patriotism for them meant largely a pious self-satisfaction dashed with party principles. But the magic of an unfortunate glory, the pathos that hangs over the place of one’s birth when it has once been great and is fallen into ruin—this personal and omnipotent sentiment inspired every rank and every kind of Pisan. There was none of them that would have shrunk from any heroism, or (as it seemed to the Florentines) from any treachery, in order to reinstate his country in her ancient grandeur.

It was with Venice and with Milan that the Pisans held especial practice. It mattered little to them that at heart these two powers were deadly enemies; that ever since the death of Filippo Maria Visconti the Venetians had been plotting with Orleans to destroy the house of Sforza; that Lodovico il Moro left no chance unchallenged to limit the pretensions of his Adriatic rival. The Pisans were of neither party; their one political tenet was hatred of their conquerors, and (as a little later they declared) of the two, they preferred the Devil to the Florentines.

Such patience as theirs, ceaselessly labouring underground, never wearied, militant but not aggressive, does not fail to meet an opportunity. At last a favourable chance was offered to the Pisans. The King of France who in 1483 had disregarded the invitation of the Venetians, accepted, ten years later, the persuasions of Lodovico of Milan; and in the autumn of 1494, the armies of Charles VIII. poured into Italy.

It had been the custom of the Florentines, in times of war and danger, to call the heads of every Pisan household into Florence, as hostages for the good behaviour of their families and fellow citizens.

But in the autumn of 1494, Piero de’ Medici who forgot everything, who had forgotten to garrison his frontier, forgot to call the Pisan hostages to Florence, although the French were steadily advancing on Tuscany and the Pisans eager to rebel. Every Pisan household was intact at home on that memorable 30th of October when, in the snowy camp of the French outside Sarzana, Piero de’ Medici handed to the King of France the keys of the Tuscan fortresses. It was of course provided that Charles should restore the cities to the Florentines on his return from Naples: but many things might happen in those troublous times that would outweigh the value of an oath. In the advent of King Charles, the Pisans found the opportunity, so long, so patiently, so ardently desired; and the French army and the hope of liberty entered the unhappy city hand in hand.

III.

It was the 8th of November, and a Sunday evening towards sunset, when the army of Charles VIII. arrived in Pisa. The slanting rays of the autumn sun lit up a brilliant spectacle, bathed in the soft aërial richness of the miraculously warm St. Martin’s summer which, in 1494, succeeded to the rigours of the earlier months. Tired with their march across the wintry Apennines, the foreign soldiers found in Pisa a city full of friends. Tables were laid in the streets where all might sup on wine and meat and enjoy the hospitality of the city. Under foot the branches of pine and boughs of autumn roses exhaled their fresh aroma; and the ruined walls of the cracked and damp-stained palaces were hidden by the great squares of pale-crimson silk, gold brocade, and Turkey carpets that were hung from every window.

Along these altered streets, embellished for the festival, a train of priests, in stole and chasuble, carrying their holiest relics, went out to meet the King. But this, the arranged and official feature of his reception, faded, on the event, into absolute unimportance. All took place at first as had been designed. The great motley travel-stained crowd of the French army came trampling down the boughs of pine and roses; the priests met the soldiers; and finally the King came riding on his great black horse, Savoy, under the blue-silk canopy sustained by the nobles of Pisa: but when the people caught sight of this little young man, with the large head, bright eyes, thin legs, high shoulders, and quaint amiable air of elfin ugliness, then they forgot the dignity of an official reception. This was the King of France! This was the all-potent power which, at different moments of history had stretched its invited and benevolent ægis over Asti, Genoa, Savona, nay, even over Naples and haughty Florence, to shelter them from the cruelty of a tyrannic neighbour. But instead of the dread magnificent symbolic monarch they had expected to behold, lo, a benevolent, rather grotesque little youth, with the most shining and enthusiastic eyes, a kind ugly face, engaging rather timid manners, and a total lack of that anti-human splendour which these enslaved republicans had expected in a king. A great wave of love, of anticipated gratitude swept through the hearts of all these people: he was, he must be, their hero, their deliverer. It was with tears of passion streaming down their cheeks that men, women, even little children, rushed into the ranks of the astonished soldiery, seeing round each weather-beaten face the shimmer of an aureole, pressing, hurrying, thronging towards the King—crying all together in their sobbing voices “Libertate, Libertate!” while such as could master a word or two of French, stammered in their soft lisping Pisan accent, an appeal in the language of his distant country: “Liberté, liberté, cher Sire!” There was no affectation in this outburst of enthusiasm, nay, almost of idolatry. Any man who was stronger than Florence was a possible hero to the Pisans. The great motley army of Charles proved his force, and in the rugged amiable faces of master and of men the Pisans recognized the faculty of sympathy.

The Pisans had been to some extent prepared to find this virtue in the French by the correspondence of the Pisan exiles with Lodovico of Milan, whose trump-card was to secure if possible the liberation of Pisa by the French, and then, after their return to France, to offer himself as protector to the abandoned city. This plan was so well-contrived that, if only the first impulse were given, the machine must go on of itself; for the Pisans would certainly accept their liberty, if the French could be moved to grant it them; and, equally certainly, the French, after their return to France, could not afford to hold Pisa against not only Florence, but Milan, Venice, Genoa, and Lucca, who would none of them submit to hand a Mediterranean port to Charles. Lodovico was convinced that the Pisans would prefer the untried yoke of Milan to the hated bonds of Florence. The great thing was to give the first impulse.

To this end the Duke of Milan, when he had quitted the French camp the previous Tuesday, had left behind him Galeazzo di San Severino, the brilliant young husband of his natural daughter. Galeazzo had instructions to do his utmost in every way to induce the French to protect the Pisans in a rebellion against Florence. He did not waste so excellent an opportunity. No sooner were Charles and his nobles in the Medici palace and the uncouth French soldiers housed like sons and brothers in the homes of Pisa, than the adroit young San Severinesco called a private council of the chief Pisan nobles. He advised them, as a son of Milan, and as a friend and well-wisher of their own, to throw themselves at once and utterly upon the generosity of France. This was a tempting counsel; yet there were some, and among them the warlike Giulio della Rovere, Cardinal of Saint Peter ad Vincula, that were for patience. “What shall we do when France has left the city?” they asked of one another. “Milan will protect you!” cried Messer Galeazzo, with a burst of inspiring confidence.

The Pisans hesitated only for a moment. From Venice or from Milan they had always hoped to gain their liberty at last, or at the least a change of masters. France, backed by Milan, seemed the most desirable deliverer: the ancient suzerain of the city supported by its latest friend. It was difficult at that moment to imagine a stronger conjunction in Italy; for in 1494 Charles was spoken of as the second Charlemagne, and no one ventured to set a bound to the triumphs of Lodovico of Milan. “All that he desires,” the Venetian secretary was writing almost at this very time, “all that he desires, Fortune has conceded him, and all his plans come true.” For France and Milan to protect Pisa against the rest of Italy in 1494, was as if Russia and a stronger Servia to-day were to join their forces to secure Bulgaria against the anger of the other Balkan States.