audacity, and in his sense of honour and justice, Castruccio resembles
Bartolommeo Colleoni, of Bergamo, who trained under the greatest
_condottiere_ of his age, distinguished himself in many engagements
for the Visconti, and was finally elected general-in-chief of all
the Venetian forces by the Republic of St. Mark, and received his
truncheon of office from the hand of the Doge before the high altar
of San Marco. At Bergamo we see his chapel, built by Amadeo, as a
"monument of the warrior's puissance even in the grave." There also
is the equestrian statue in gilded wood voted by the town of Bergamo,
and, far more noteworthy, the beautiful tomb of his favorite daughter,
Medea. But the great general's rightful monument is in Venice, where
the "finest bronze equestrian statue in Italy, if we except the
Marcus Aurelius of the Capital," was reared in his honour. The second
great equestrian statue in Italy, strange to say, is also that of a
_condottiere_--Erasmo da Narni, better known as Gattamelata, a noble
work of Donatello, erected in the Piazza del Santo at Padua.
[Illustration: _Alinari_
_Giorgione_
MADONNA AND CHILD, WITH TWO SAINTS
PAROCHIAL CHURCH. CASTELFRANCO]
[Illustration: _Hanfstaengl_
_Botticelli_
PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG FLORENTINE ROYAL GALLERY, BERLIN]
It is impossible to compare Castruccio exactly with any other
free-lance of his time. There are _condottieri_ and _condottieri_;
the range is so wide and, defining lines so elastic that in the day
when individuality was more marked than in any other period of the
world's history, it is not strange to find in the same class such
widely differing characters as Francesco Sforza, called the "great
Condottiere," the brave and skillful but humane Carmagnuola, or the
youthful Matteo Costanzo, who, in full armour and bearing the standard
of the cross, figures as San Liberale in Giorgione's celebrated
Castelfranco Madonna and Child. Matteo died young, but had been trained
as _condottiere_ by his father, who gave Giorgione's Madonna to the
Church, as a votive offering in memory of his lamented son. There was
no bronze statue raised in Castruccio's honour, and no portrait of
him is mentioned, though it is said he appears in Benozzo Gozzoli's
Procession of the Magi in the Riccardi Palace, and in Orcagna's Triumph
of Death in the Campo Santo of Pisa. Of his personal appearance,
therefore, we are wholly ignorant, except for the tradition that he
had red hair. Nor are we much more certain of his youth and training.
Machiavelli's romantic account relates that he was a foundling, picked
up in her vineyard by the kindly Dianora Castracane, of Lucca, who
carried the infant home, and, calling her brother, a canon of San
Michele, with whom she shared her house, tried to determine the child's
future. After much discussion it was decided to give him the name of
Castracane and educate him for the Church; but, though quick to learn,
Castruccio had no taste or desire for the cloister; his one thought was
for athletic sports, adventure, and the noble art of war. Playing with
his fellows in the Piazza of San Michele, he attracted the attention of
a nobleman of Lucca, who, when Castruccio was eighteen, adopted him,
trained him to arms, and, upon his death, confided to him the care of
his estates and direction of his only son. His masters in war were the
most notable military leaders of the time, and "Machiavelli goes to the
length of saying that, as a general, he was not inferior to Philip of
Macedon, or Scipio."[9]
The more sober historians hold that Castruccio was a member of the
Interminelli family, who had been exiled in his youth, and gained
much military experience in England when serving under Edward I. All
accounts agree that he was a remarkable man, and one critic writes of
him thus: "Not only as a soldier but as a statesman he was undoubtedly
the foremost man in Italy, and it is not improbable that, had he lived,
he would have subjugated the whole peninsula."
[Illustration: STEMMA OF SERRAVALLE]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 5: Francis A. Hyett, B.A., _Florence_, p. 104.]
[Footnote 6: J. A. Symonds, _Age of Despots_, p. 87.]
[Footnote 7: Francis A. Hyett, B.A., _Florence_, p. 106.]
[Footnote 8: See Symonds' Essay in _Sketches and Studies_, vol. i., p.
173.]
[Footnote 9: Francis A. Hyett, B.A., _Florence_, p. 99.]
PISTOJA
THE "CITY OF CINO"
[Illustration: _Alinari_
_Della Robbia_
MEDICI STEMMA
OSPEDALE DEL CEPPO, PISTOJA]
[Illustration]
PISTOJA, THE "CITY OF CINO"
[Illustration]
A spring day comes suddenly in Val d'Arno when the air is a thought
too warm and over-rich with languorous fragrance from myriad blossoms.
Then thirst grows imperious for the uplands, for Tuscan hillsides clad
with chestnut-trees overshadowing uncut grass, through which sweeps
an eager breeze caught from the snow-capped Apennines. On such a day
we recall Pistoja, once seen on our way southward from Bologna, and
ever since haunting our minds like a sweet vision. We had crossed the
watershed which defines the boundary between Emilia and Tuscany,
and were following, by many a curve and loop, the Reno's tortuous
course, when suddenly we sighted, perched loftily upon the spur of
the Apennines, a city's gleaming dome and towers; another turn, and
she was lost; again, from some hill-spanning gallery, or viaduct, we
snatched another entrancing glance, and so, by coy circlings down the
pass, we drew nearer and nearer until the train paused for a moment
without the gates of Pistoja, then carried us on to Florence, twenty
miles away. But we had treasured always in our mind the vision of
that city, with gleaming dome and towers, that keeps her watch at the
northern gate of Tuscany. Short as is the distance between Florence
and Pistoja, there is a marked change in the atmosphere, which acts
as a healthy tonic on the _dolce far niente_ of a Florentine spring.
We enter Pistoja through the Porta Carratica, or Fiorentino, still
emblazoned with the Medici shield, and find ourselves shortly in the
very centre of a pleasant, busy city, its clean, wind-swept streets
broad and well paved, the principal ones following the lines of the
first two mediæval walls, for Pistoja, like Florence, has had three
circles, the last of which, built in the fourteenth century, remains
almost intact. Along this wall are pleasant walks and a boulevard
called the Viale dell'Arcadia, planted with shade-trees and commanding
extensive views. If now your conscience stirs actively to "do" Pistoja
thoroughly, there's a stiff day's work before you. The list of churches
alone is formidable, not counting those which have been diverted from
original purposes. Nearly every church contains something worth seeing:
paintings and sculptures, three celebrated pulpits at least, tombs,
fonts, and Della Robbia reliefs; moreover, there are the libraries
and the famous hospital, or Ospedale del Ceppo--altogether an outlook
beyond words discouraging. It is better to stand about the Piazza del
Duomo, or Cathedral Square, perhaps the most representative one in
Tuscany, the centre for a thousand years of the social, civil, and
religious interests of the town. Here are the cathedral and Bishop's
palace, the Palazzo Pretorio, or Podestà, and the Palazzo Pubblico,
or, in other words, the Court House and City Hall, representing the
ancient warring powers of Church and State. Here they are on their
old battle-field, temporal power jealous of spiritual aggressions.
Even the weather-beaten Torre del Podestà is not wholly committed as a
campanile, but stands off a little from the cathedral, remembering that
it was once the city's watch-tower, its tocsin sounding alarm to Guelf
and Ghibelline, blacks and whites, and all invaders. The bishop was no
insignificant power when the Commune was struggling for independence.
He had his many feudal castles, armed retainers, and vassals; his court
dealt sternly with culprits, and his dungeons, under the palace yonder,
were more feared than those of the Podestà. Not that the City Fathers
were not proud of their powerful bishop and their noble cathedral,
dedicated to St. Zeno, and containing the silver altar of San Jacopo,
patron saint of the city, which drew crowds of pilgrims every year to
worship at the famous shrine. Not a few popes journeyed from Rome to
visit the bishop, and noble visitors of every land, from the Emperor
of the East to Bonaparte, had filled the square with their trains and
followers. But the commune of Pistoja, like many another, had a bitter
struggle to keep her footing, though she began well and very early;
her first municipal statutes, and good ones they were, too, being
framed in 1117, immediately after the death of "the great Countess"
Matilda. It was battle royal for many centuries; but now Church and
Commune live peacefully side by side, forgetful of the stormy past,
except when they turn over their priceless archives, preserved in the
chapter of the cathedral and the Palazzo Pubblico, where one may read
a thousand interesting and thrilling things concerning the history of
Pistoja, of the men who built churches and palaces, and called the
great artists of the Renaissance to come and fill them with paintings
and sculptures, wood-carving, and metal-work. And the city grew so
proud and magnificent that we read of sumptuary laws promulgated to
restrain extravagance of nobles and burghers in the matters of dress,
jewelry, food, and pomp at funerals. The law of 1439 forbade trimmings
of gold and silver brocade, long trains to ladies' dresses, the quality
of sleeve-linings, etc. Unluckily, many of the archives belonging to
the cathedral were destroyed in the fires of 1108 and 1202; hence the
endless discussions as to the city's origin and name. "Etruscan," says
one. "Far from it," says another; "I have found a Roman house, mosaic,
and coins a dozen feet under the pavement of the square, which must
have been the centre of the earliest city." As for its name, some
derive it from two Etruscan words, _pist_ (door) and _oros_ (mountain),
referring to the position of the city at the entrance of a mountain
pass; others get the name from _pistores_ (bakers), the early city
having been celebrated for its excellent ovens.
[Illustration: THE LITTLE BROWN BEARS AND THE SHIELD OF PISTOJA]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
PIAZZA DEL DUOMO, PISTOJA]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
_Verrocchio_
STEMMA OF PISTOJA
PALAZZO PUBBLICO. PISTOJA]
[Illustration: Alinari
BRONZE CANDELABRA (15TH CENTURY)]
The Pistoja of to-day is a prosperous and attractive city with good
buildings, fine markets, and many industries; she has been noted from
time immemorial for her skilled work in iron, bronze, and wood, and her
ancient metal-work has been found in Germany and Athens. In her bronze
foundries to-day she not only casts bells and small articles, but many
statues and groups created by Italian artists are cast in Pistoja. The
manufacture of carriages and fine organs is of great importance. The
district has four paper-mills, and of the eleven brass foundries in
the province five are situated at Pistoja, and many skilled workmen
are employed in wood-carving, artistic ironwork, etc. Her trade is
mainly in wine, oil, grain, _paste alimentare_, and cattle. The milk
and butter of Pistoja are considered the best in Tuscany. To appreciate
the varied productions and interests of the district of Pistoja you
must wander about the Piazza del Duomo on market-day when it is
filled with booths offering woolen, linen, and cotton stuffs, bright
kerchiefs, shawls, shoes, and "notions," displayed in picturesque
confusion and colour; a score of red, yellow, and green umbrellas in
one corner, or a line of _contadini_ overcoats of a warm brownish-red
colour, trimmed with tawny fur and lined with green, delight the eye
and are much in demand. Or walk through the Mercato, old as Pistoja
herself, where the ancient well indicates the very centre of the first
city. Here is certainly every object man can want, and the square
blooms daily with all kinds of fresh vegetables and flowers: there
are grains and food of every sort; in the season there are piles of
yellow cocoons on the pavement; bright-faced old women are roasting
chestnuts gathered on the mountain side; pretty baskets of fragrant
wild strawberries are proffered by some handsome young girl, and the
stall of some descendant of the old race of _pistores_ is hung with
rings of sweet, fresh _pane nero_ (brown bread), while various kinds
of cheese and the "best butter" await your choice. The markets for fish
and meat are in different parts of the city.
[Illustration: _Alinari_
HEAD OF THE TRAITOR, FILIPPO TEDICI
PALAZZO PUBBLICO. PISTOJA]
By this time the exhilarating, almost heady, mountain air has created
a ravenous appetite, and we clamour, above all else, for a taste of
the Mercato's tempting products served in appetizing dishes known
only to the true Italian chef. Our wishes may be easily gratified at
the Albergo Globo e Londra, in Piazza Cino, where cooking is good and
native wine excellent. If this luncheon could have been served in
a pleasant garden, the only proper banquet-hall for Italy, nothing
further could be desired; but it is only fair to warn the traveller
who means to sleep in Pistoja that the chambers of the Globo are by no
means tidy or attractive.
[Illustration: _Alinari_
THE CAMPANILE FROM VIA RIPA DEL SALE, PISTOJA]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
THE LOGGIA, OSPEDALE DEL CEPPO, PISTOJA]
Now for a stroll through the quaint old streets with curious and
suggestive names, and a peep into quiet courtyards of palaces deserted
by their noble owners, and given over to modest householders and humble
artisans. At the corner of Via Abbi Pazienza and the Via de' Rossi is
the great palace of the Rossi family, blazoned with many shields of
varied quarterings, and from the corner hangs one of the gruesome black
heads of the traitor Filippo Tedici, like that on the façade of the
Palazzo Pubblico. Many of the oldest streets of Pistoja lead from
the Piazza del Duomo, and their names suggest the life of an earlier
day: Via Orafi (jewelers) was once devoted to goldsmiths' shops and
studios; the Via Stracceria (rags) was so called because clothing
of all sizes, colours, and condition was hung to dry from windows
and other "coigns of vantage;" and the Via Can Bianco was named in
honour of a faithful white dog, whose barking warned his master of the
approach of an enemy. Near the east end of the cathedral we may leave
the square by the Via Ripa del Sale, a narrow street over-arched by a
gallery connecting the Palazzo Pubblico with the duomo, convenient for
the worshipful magistrates when they desired to hear mass. This street
leads us, with often a backward glance at the campanile, to the Via
Filippo Pacini, a broader thoroughfare following the line of the first
city wall, and in two minutes we stand in the little irregular square
of the Ospedale del Ceppo and before the famous Della Robbia frieze,
an experience which, to one of us at least, seems almost a miracle. So
many years Pistoja had been merely a dream city, a name--a curious,
unreal name--standing only for this little piazza, this loggia, and the
brilliant band of varied colour crossing its façade. Those imperfect
guide-books of our youth had merely mentioned as important, this
glazed terra-cotta frieze, wrought, it seemed to us, through some
magic by the members of one family only, the secret of which vanished
from the world forever upon the death, in 1529, of the last true Della
Robbia, the author of this frieze. Tradition added that the formula for
compounding the Della Robbia glaze was supposed to be hidden behind
one of the panels, one of which was afterward found broken, the robber
leaving no trace of the precious parchment. The panel, "Giving Drink
to the Thirsty," was repaired, but not like the others. We can see for
ourselves that it is only painted stucco and of later date. This was a
story to stir youthful imagination to the highest pitch: a mystery, a
secret, a theft--the very stuff that dreams are made of. Italy is full
of traditions; even the origin of this self-same hospital is a pretty
story, as told by a worthy canon of the cathedral, and who would wish
to question it? "The Church of Santa Maria del Ceppo (meaning a dry
root) was built near the little stream Brana about 1277, by the pious
Theodore and his wife Bandinella, who dedicated it to the Assumption,
and placed therein an alms-box for the benefit of the sick and poor.
This chest increased little by little, until it became the present
hospital. The _chiesetta_ (little church) was incorporated in the
large building." Time and the schools have taught us the meretricious
value of traditions, but even stripped of all glamour the Della
Robbia frieze is unique as an architectural feature, and peculiarly
appropriate to the building it adorns. It consists of seven panels,
representing the temporal works of mercy as performed by the good
brothers of the hospital; between them are figures representing the
Virtues: Faith, Hope, Charity, Prudence, and Justice; below appear
medallions of the arms of the city, of the hospital (the sprouting
root), and the Medici shield; also the Annunciation, Visitation, and
Assumption. Of all the panels, the "Sheltering of the Pilgrims," and
the "Healing of the Sick," are considered the finest; the figures of
the brothers in both have evidently been studied from life, especially
that of the physician. More beautiful, however, than any part of
the frieze is Benedetto Buglioni's "Coronation of the Virgin," a
lunette over the chapel door of excellent workmanship, and in simple
colours, white on blue, with crowns of pale yellow. In its modelling
and glaze, its seriousness and grace, it almost rivals Luca della
Robbia's masterpiece in Pistoja, "The Visitation," in the Church of St.
John the Evangelist. If there is a moment to spare we may well slip
round the corner for a peep at the Church and Convent of Santa Maria
delle Grazie, where a calm-faced sister--one of the good Bandinella's
descendants, wearing the pretty wimpled cap of white muslin, designed,
it is said, by some tasteful lady of the Medici family--will show us
their perfect little Renaissance church and its great treasure, the
Lorenzo di Credi Madonna, and also insist gently upon a visit to the
Miraculous Bed where once the Madonna reposed. They will further offer
to exhibit their store of fine vestments and robes, well worth looking
at; but if once we begin looking at churches and vestments there will
be no getting back to Florence for a week. But at least we must take
leave of our hosts, those stately shades of forceful men belonging to
Renaissance Pistoja, who worked and wrought in these streets, whose
prowess and policy, wit and learning, are so vivid in men's minds
to-day. Pistoja entered with characteristic zest into the spirit of the
Renaissance in all its varied aspects; she espoused the new learning,
her libraries were filled with Greek and Latin manuscripts; she was
famed for her able jurists and historians, her singers and poets were
welcome at the proudest courts of Italy. We read that Antonio da
Pistoja was invited by Lodovico il Moro to Milan, "in hope of refining
and polishing the rude Lombard diction," and that the charming and
learned Isabella d'Este, Marchesa of Mantua, wrote to her envoy:
"Find out Messer Tebaldeo (of Pistoja), and beg him to send twenty or
twenty-five sonnets, as well as two or three _capitoli_, which would
give us the greatest possible pleasure."
[Illustration: _Alinari_
_Della Robbia School_
COAT OF ARMS OF THE HOSPITAL, PISTOJA]
No more typical family can be found, perhaps, than the Forteguerri of
Siena and Pistoja, which was noted for its brave and learned sons and
daughters, and beloved and honoured for devotion to their country,
for their benevolence, learning, and poetic genius. As early as 1179
we find a Forteguerra as consul of Pistoja; in the fifteenth century
Cardinal Forteguerra was not only conspicuous in the Church, but
a constant friend and benefactor to his native city, founding and
endowing a college and library. His grateful city erected a monument to
his memory in the Piazza del Duomo, and called Verrocchio to design and
carve a fitting tomb in the cathedral; but the work was not concluded
by the master's hand, nor in accordance with his clay model, which we
see to-day in the South Kensington Museum; and looking at the tomb,
evidently the work of many diverse hands, one can but wish that the
good Cardinal might have at Pistoja at least a replica of the one, by
Mino da Fiesole, in the Church of St. Cecilia, Rome. Besides Cardinal
Niccolò, there was more than one bishop, many jurists and historians
in the Forteguerri family, and no less than six poets. The fifteenth
Forteguerra, of the Pistoja branch, was another Niccolò (1674-1735),
a well-known and cultured church-man at the court of Pope Clement
XI, and author of a long, satirical poem, "The Ricciardetto," besides
verses called "_capitoli_," and various translations from the Latin.
This Niccolò was evidently conversant with Roman society, and a close
observer of men and politics; he shows himself, also, at the age of
fifty, a good lover, not only singing his lady's praise in verse, but
sending her frequent vivacious and friendly letters, half in jest,
but often dangerously near earnest affection; and the name of some
Arcadian maiden of his muse, some Daphne or Phyllis, thinly conceals
the identity of the noble young Roman lady, Marianna Cenci Bolognetti.
It appears that the women of the family Forteguerri were also brave
and talented; at least, we have a record of one of the Siena branch,
when in 1554 the city was besieged by the Spaniards and almost spent
with famine; when the best men of Siena were losing courage, "women
of gentle birth, leaders of society, worked at the defences, side
by side with artisans and common soldiers. All the Sienese ladies
divided themselves into three companies; the first was led by Signorina
Forteguerra, who wore a violet uniform, as did those who followed her;
... these three squadrons were composed of 3,000 ladies of the upper
and middle classes. They bore pikes and spades, panniers and hurdles;
as they went to their work on the fortifications, these brave women
sang a song composed by one of that numerous choir of poetesses who
sang the swan song of their own country." This Signorina Forteguerra is
the one whom the English diarist, Hoby, mentions. "Most of the women
of Siena," he says, "are well learned and write excellentlie well in
prose and verse: among whom Laodomia Forteguerra and Virginia Salvi did
excell for good wittes."
[Illustration: _Alinari_
_Giovanni della Robbia (?)_
HEALING OF THE SICK
(DETAIL OF FRIEZE), OSPEDALE DEL CEPPO, PISTOJA]
Pistoja is called the "City of Cino" because of her famous lawyer-poet,
Guittoncino (always called by the fond diminutive "Cino"), of the
noble house of Sinibuldi, which had given Pistoja one bishop and many
gonfaloniers. Though belonging to the thirteenth century, his noble
character, his ability as a jurist, the pure and graceful style of his
"Comments on the Codices," his faultless letters and verse--above all,
his friendships and love story--have kept his memory fresh. He enjoys
even to-day a certain fame in Italy, and all the world is supposed to
know his charming sonnets, addressed to his friends, among whom were
Dante and Petrarch, and to the lady Selvaggia dei Vergiolesi. His
monument in the cathedral, erected by the Commune, is by Cellino di
Nese, and is the first of the "monuments of the professors," a class of
work characteristic of the coming period; it shows Cino lecturing on
law to his pupils, among whom are Baldus, commentator on Civil Law,
and the "idle Petrarch;" there appears also a draped female figure,
which may personify poetry, or Roman Law, or, as some will have it, the
fair lady of Cino's devotion, Selvaggia dei Vergiolesi; unsentimental
critics, however, are inclined to think that the figure is that of
the Madonna, and was once a part of a relief of the Annunciation.
Selvaggia's family was Ghibelline, and, banished from Pistoja in 1305,
retired to their strong castle, where the beautiful Selvaggia died at
the age of twenty, after which Cino became a wanderer in foreign lands:
he crossed the Alps and took up his abode in Paris, where he pursued
his studies for some time. Cino's letters to Selvaggia and to his
other friends, in which he sang his love and suffering, are exquisite
in their purity and elegance of diction, and place him among the great
makers of the Italian language. To Dante he wrote an ode condoling with
him upon the death of Beatrice in tender and musical lines. He died in
his native city of Pistoja at the age of sixty-six, upon which Petrarch
composed his celebrated lament, beginning:
"Weep, women, and may love weep with you;
Weep, lovers of all countries,
* * * * *
For our ever gentle Master, Cino,
Is now gone far from us."
* * * * *