THE DESPOTISMS (1250-1350)
Perhaps the quality which strikes us most in this dawn of our Modern
World is its suddenness; Niccolo Pisano gets up, as it were, out of the
ground, Giotto follows Cimabue, Dante is born while Guido Guinicelli is
still a young man. We are amazed and bewildered, and it is not in the
arts alone that the change is so startling. The political structure
shifts with equal quickness, and while we are trying to connect and
coordinate this outburst of art with the democratic triumph of the
communes, the democratic communes disappear under our eyes. At first as
we look we are a little puzzled, for the outward form of the commune
remains unchanged; the _podesta_ is still there, the Great Council and
the inner council are still there, the committees and the sub-committees
superintending and directing the affairs of the commonwealth; but
further observation discloses a lack of spontaneity. The motive power
does not seem the resultant of the debate and argument of numerous
discordant wills, but to proceed from some one definite inner source.
More careful observation shows that these outward committees are but
registering boards that record an inner will, that their members go to
one particular palace to have their minds made up, at first privily, but
soon openly, and at last confessedly and ostentatiously. This is the
regular course. The commune is, as it were, a political chrysalis out of
which a full-blown tyrant bursts. The tyrants were men of capacity, who
gathered the various functions of the government into their own hands,
and by a course of adroitness and fraud, or by a _coup d'etat_, reduced
the city to obedience, and then, after having exercised sovereign rights
during their lives, bequeathed the principality to their heirs. The
reason of their success is plain. It was impossible for trade to
flourish, for property to collect its income, for luxury to enjoy
itself, under the political confusion that attended the democratic
endeavours for self-government. The uncertainty in government, law, and
trade, was too high a price to pay for liberty. Men of property, men of
business, men of pleasure, preferred the comparative stability of a
tyranny.
Before we look at this process in individual states we must eliminate
the exceptions. The kingdom of Sicily under the House of Aragon, and
that of Naples under the House of Anjou, had become, in great measure,
absolute monarchies, for the gifted Emperor Frederick, who was no lover
of democracy, had crushed or circumvented the communal spirit in his
kingdom. The suppression of popular liberties did not result in the
strict enforcement of order in either kingdom, particularly not in
Sicily where feudal anarchy was rampant; but we must leave those
Southerners to their oranges and lemons, to their flowers and azure
skies, to their churches and cloisters, where Romanesque, Byzantine, and
Arab influences met and combined in arch and dome and sculptured
trimming, and go northward to find the main historical current of the
century.
Florence, too, we must except from the tyrannic system, for a democratic
government prevailed there for many years to come, and also Rome, where
the Papacy prevented Colonna and Orsini from establishing a despotism.
Verona shall serve as the paradigm for the despotic form of government.
In this ancient city on the banks of the Adige, where the amphitheatre
of Augustus still stood though the churches built by Theodoric the
Ostrogoth had crumbled away, the spirit of material and intellectual
activity had been busily at work. The stately church of San Zeno
(eleventh century), most beautiful of Romanesque churches, coloured with
the hues of early dawn and rich with bronze doors and sculptured front,
stood proudly apart outside the walls; but within, the cathedral had
been begun, and the great Ghibelline tower already lifted its
crenellated top high over the market-place. Rushing through the city the
headlong Adige turned innumerable mill-wheels, and Veronese girls washed
the clothes of the Capulets and Montagues in its waters. Altogether the
city was a very desirable signory. This fact had been discovered in
Frederick's time, and Ezzelino da Romano, one of the Ghibelline nobles
of the North, had made good his power there and distinguished himself by
his cruelty, for which he is still remembered. On his most satisfactory
death, not long after Frederick's, the Scaligers succeeded to the
dominion of the city (1259). These Scaligers were of the best type of
tyrant, especially Can Grande (1311-1329), the fifth in possession of
the signory, who presents the type in its noblest and most attractive
form. Nevertheless, despite his brilliance, his success and
magnificence, his chief renown is as host to the exiled Dante, who in
gratitude for "my first refuge and first hostelry" dedicated the
"Paradiso" to him, and celebrated his carelessness of hardship and of
gold, and his doughty deeds from which even enemies could not withhold
their praise.
Can Grande, like other despots, had two objects,--to make his signory
secure, and to enlarge it. As he was secure of Verona, he cast his
covetous glances abroad and fixed them on Vicenza, a little town some
thirty miles to the northeast. Vicenza was, so to speak, no longer in
the market, as she had been snapped up by her neighbour, Padua, which
had had the advantage of being less than twenty miles away. But Can
Grande played his cards well, and by help of the Emperor Henry VII, who
appointed him Imperial vicar, got possession of the prize. Padua, a rich
and prosperous Guelf city, with subject towns round about, and a famous
university within, refused to acquiesce in a surrender of Vicenza to a
Ghibelline lord. A long war ensued. The fair fields in the forty miles
between Verona and Padua were laid waste, the poor peasants were dragged
to one city or the other and held for ransom, and the Guelfs in Verona
and the Ghibellines in Padua were persecuted, imprisoned, and tortured.
At last Padua, her signory over, her neighbours lost, her population
fallen away, her citizens fighting among themselves, her nobles
destroying one another in the hope of becoming lords of the city, gave
way and surrendered to Can Grande. Other cities shared Padua's fate, and
Can Grande, by virtue of his conquests as well as of his character,
became one of the chief powers in Italy. Can Grande was brave even to
recklessness, covetous of dominion, steadfast in his political aims,
true to his promises, generous to his enemies. On his death he
bequeathed his signory to his nephew; and his body was buried in the
churchyard of a little Gothic chapel, where stone effigies of armoured
Scaligers on caparisoned steeds surmount Gothic tombs, and the pride of
life and conquest strives to overcrow death.
The story of the Scaligers must be continued somewhat further, for they
exhibit the phenomenon, so frequent in Northern Italy at this time, of a
despotism that begins in vigour, continues in energy and success, and
then dies down under degenerate heirs to go out at last like a candle.
Can Grande's nephew, Mastino (1329-51),--the family had a fondness for
canine appellations. Great Dog and Mastiff,--began his career with
ability and courage; he conquered Brescia to the west, halfway to Milan,
and Parma, which lies beyond Mantua. These particular acts of aggression
helped his ruin, for Milan and Mantua took alarm and joined a league
against him. But that was not till later. In the days of his prosperity
Mastino was very magnificent. Soldiers, horse and foot, attended him;
his palace was thronged with lords, gentlemen, and buffoons; his stables
were full of chargers and palfreys, his bird-sheds of falcons. At his
court there were innumerable fashionable devices for driving care away,
dancing, singing, jousting; everything was luxurious; men and furniture
were decked with embroidery, cloth of gold, cloth from France, and cloth
from Tartary. When Mastino rode forth all Verona rushed to the windows;
when he was angry all Verona trembled. He was a dark-skinned, bearded
man, with heavy features and a great belly; in later life he ate
grossly, and sank into dissipation. Seldom on a Friday or Saturday, or
even in Lent, would he refrain from meat; and he did not care a rap for
excommunication. He became arrogant and vainglorious. His dissipation
and lack of piety, however, were less direct causes of his fall than his
ambition; he coveted, rumour said, a kingdom of Lombardy or even of all
Italy. But at last he overreached himself in dealing with the
Florentines. They wished to get possession of Lucca, and he undertook to
buy it for them,--it was a fourteenth-century custom to sell a
city,--but when he got possession of Lucca he kept it for himself. The
Florentines declared war, and induced all his rival despots, the
Visconti of Milan, the Gonzaga of Mantua, the Estensi of Ferrara, to
join a league against him. Venice also joined, being indignant with the
Scaligers for levying tolls upon merchandise that went up the Po, and
for interference with the Venetian monopoly of salt. The league was
victorious and forced the Scaligers to hard terms. Venice took the towns
near her, thus acquiring her first territory on the Italian mainland;
the great Paduan family, the Carrara, took back Padua; the Visconti of
Milan took Brescia (1338). The Scaligers were shorn of their power, and
from this time on the house dwindled; assassinations of brother by
brother darkened its close, and at the end of the century it lost Verona
and all.
What the Scaligers did at Verona other great families were doing
elsewhere. The Gonzaga established themselves in Mantua, the Estensi in
Ferrara, the Bentivogli in Bologna, the da Polenta in Ravenna, the
Malatesta in Rimini, the Montefeltri in Urbino, the Baglioni in Perugia,
and greatest of all the Visconti in Milan. The city of Milan has so
important a place in the history of Italy, that we must pause over the
Visconti. This family succeeded in dispossessing its rivals and in
becoming masters of the city in 1295, about the time that the oligarchy
was clinching its hold on Venice, and the democracy becoming all
powerful in Florence. In fact, one may accept this date as the point at
which Florence, Venice, and Milan start on their upward careers towards
becoming three of the six chief divisions of Italy. Convenience has its
rights, and it is eminently convenient to start the Renaissance,
politically as well as intellectually, in this eager, passionate last
quarter of the thirteenth century.
The Visconti, however, were not firm in their seats till the gallant
Henry VII, Dante's hope, came down into Italy to revive the Empire. We
have seen that Henry did not revive the Empire, but he did strengthen
Can Grande, his loyal lieutenant in Verona, and also the Visconti, his
loyal friends in Milan. It is pathetic, even now, to think of that
high-aspiring Henry, with his noble, old-fashioned ideas concerning the
Roman Empire and universal brotherhood under the shelter of the Roman
eagle, and of the great Dante fastening all his hopes on those same
old-fashioned ideas, while the crafty lords of Milan and Verona,
laughing in their sleeves, professed the most devout Imperial creed and
feathered their own nests. On the Emperor's death (1313) the Visconti
were firmly seated. The signory descended from one generation to the
next. Their sway was extended over the cities round about, until it
included most of Lombardy. Ambition, growing by what it fed on, aimed at
the cities of Pisa, Bologna, and Genoa. Such plans aroused both jealousy
and fear. The ambition of the Visconti to take Pisa alarmed Florence,
who had marked Pisa as her own; that to take Bologna stirred the
absentee Popes, who went through the old forms of excommunication,
interdict, and crusade; but Genoa, crippled by her wars with Venice,
rent asunder by internal factions, wearily gave herself to Milan, in the
vain hope of winning peace and security. In spite of checks here and
there, the state of Milan became more and more powerful, and the signory
of the Visconti by far the greatest of the tyrannies in Italy.
There were, of course, many men who attempted to become despots and
failed; and others who succeeded for their lifetimes, but were not able
to make their signories so strong as to become family possessions to be
enjoyed by their heirs after them. Of the latter kind one must be
mentioned. In Lucca Castruccio Castracane (died 1328), a very brilliant
politician and soldier, became so powerful that he reduced to subjection
much of the country round and nearly succeeded in conquering Florence,
with whom he was long at war. Like other successful tyrants he called
himself a Ghibelline, and drew what advantage he could from his
profession of faith, but really only aimed to acquire a principality for
himself. He died in the prime of life (to the great relief of the
Florentines), and left so brilliant a reputation for the qualities which
achieve success by fair means or foul, that two centuries later
Machiavelli held him up as an example for princes to follow.