he despotisms of the fifteenth century show an altered character. Many
of the less important tyrants, and some of the greater, like the Scala
and the Carrara had disappeared, while the more powerful ones,
aggrandized by conquest, had given to their systems each its
characteristic development. Naples for example received a fresh and
stronger impulse from the new Aragonese dynasty. A striking feature of
this epoch is the attempt of the Condottieri to found independent
dynasties of their own. Facts and the actual relations of things, apart
from traditional estimates, are alone regarded; talent and audacity win
the great prizes. The petty despots, to secure a trustworthy support,
begin to enter the service of the larger States, and become themselves
Condottieri, receiving in return for their services money and immunity
for their misdeeds, if not an increase of territory. All, whether small
or great, must exert themselves more, must act with greater caution and
calculation, and must learn to refrain from too wholesale barbarities;
only so much wrong is permitted by public opinion as is necessary for
the end in view, and this the impartial bystander certainly finds no
fault with. No trace is here visible of that half-religious loyalty by
which the legitimate princes of the West were supported; personal
popularity is the nearest approach we can find to it. Talent and
calculation are the only means of advancement. A character like that of
Charles the Bold, which wore itself out in the passionate pursuit of
impracticable ends, was a riddle to the Italians. 'The Swiss were only
peasants, and if they were all killed, that would be no satisfaction
for the Burgundian nobles who might fall in the war. If the Duke got
possession of all Switzerland without a struggle, his income would not
be 5,000 ducats the greater.' The mediaeval features in the character
of Charles, his chivalrous aspirations and ideals, had long become
unintelligible to the Italians. The diplomatists of the South. when
they saw him strike his officers and yet keep them in his service, when
he maltreated his troops to punish them for a defeat, and then threw
the blame on his counsellors in the presence of the same troops, gave
him up for lost. Louis XI, on the other hand, whose policy surpasses
that of the Italian princes in their own style, and who was an avowed
admirer of Francesco Sforza, must be placed in all that regards culture
and refinement far below these rulers.
Good and evil lie strangely mixed together in the Italian States of the
fifteenth century. The personality of the ruler is so highly developed,
often of such deep significance, and so characteristic of the
conditions and needs of the time, that to form an adequate moral
judgement on it is no easy task.
The foundation of the system was and remained illegitimate, and nothing
could remove the curse which rested upon it. The imperial approval or
investiture made no change in the matter, since the people attached
little weight to the fact that the despot had bought a piece of
parchment somewhere in foreign countries, or from some stranger passing
through his territory. If the Emperor had been good for anything, so
ran the logic of uncritical common sense, he would never have let the
tyrant rise at all. Since the Roman expedition of Charles IV, the
emperors had done nothing more in Italy than sanction a tyranny which
had arisen without their help; they could give it no other practical
authority than what might flow from an imperial charter. The whole
conduct of Charles in Italy was a scandalous political comedy. Matteo
Villani relates how the Visconti escorted him round their territory,
and at last out of it; how he went about like a hawker selling his
wares (privileges, etc.) for money; what a mean appearance he made in
Rome, and how at the end, without even drawing the sword, he returned
with replenished coffers across the Alps. Sigismund came, on the first
occasion at least (1414), with the good intention of persuading John
XXIII to take part in his council; it was on that journey, when Pope
and Emperor were gazing from the lofty tower of Cremona on the panorama
of Lombardy, that their host, the tyrant Gabrino Fondolo, was seized
with the desire to throw them both over. On his second visit Sigismund
came as a mere adventurer; for more than half a year he remained shut
up in Siena, like a debtor in gaol, and only with difficulty, and at a
later period, succeeded in being crowned in Rome. And what can be
thought of Frederick III? His journeys to Italy have the air of
holiday-trips or pleasure-tours made at the expense of those who wanted
him to confirm their prerogatives, or whose vanity is flattered to
entertain an emperor. The latter was the case with Alfonso of Naples,
who paid 150,000 florins for the honour of an imperial visit. At
Ferrara, on his second return from Rome (1469), Frederick spent a whole
day without leaving his chamber, distributing no less than eighty
titles; he created knights, counts, doctors. notaries--counts, indeed,
of different degrees, as, for instance, counts palatine, counts with
the right to create doctors up to the number of five, counts with the
rights to legitimatize bastards, to appoint notaries, and so forth. The
Chancellor, however, expected in return for the patents in question a
gratuity which was thought excessive at Ferrara. The opinion of Borso,
himself created Duke of Modena and Reggio in return for an annual
payment of 4,000 gold florins, when his imperial patron was
distributing titles and diplomas to all the little court, is not
mentioned. The humanists, then the chief spokesmen of the age, were
divided in opinion according to their personal interests, while the
Emperor was greeted by some of them with the conventional acclamations
of the poets of imperial Rome. Poggio confessed that he no longer knew
what the coronation meant: in the old times only the victorious
Imperator was crowned, and then he was crowned with laurel.
With Maximilian I begins not only the general intervention of foreign
nations, but a new imperial policy with regard to Italy. The first step
-- the investiture of Lodovico il Moro with the duchy of Milan and the
exclusion of his unhappy nephew -- was not of a kind to bear good
fruits. According to the modern theory of intervention when two parties
are tearing a country to pieces, a third may step in and take its
share, and on this principle the empire acted. But right and justice
could be involved no longer. When Louis XI was expected in Genoa
(1507), and the imperial eagle was removed from the hall of the ducal
palace and replaced by painted lilies, the historian Senarega asked
what, after all, was the meaning of the eagle which so many revolutions
had spared, and what claims the empire had upon Genoa. No one knew more
about the matter than the old phrase that Genoa was a camera imperii.
In fact, nobody in Italy could give a clear answer to any such
questions. At length when Charles V held Spain and the empire together,
he was able by means of Spanish forces to make good imperial claims:
but it is notorious that what he thereby gained turned to the profit,
not of the empire, but of the Spanish monarchy.
* * *
Closely connected with the political illegitimacy of the dynasties of
the fifteenth century was the public indifference to legitimate birth,
which to foreigners -- for example, to Commines -- appeared so
remarkable. The two things went naturally together. In northern
countries, as in Burgundy, the illegitimate offspring were provided for
by a distinct class of appanages, such as bishoprics and the like: in
Portugal an illegitimate line maintained itself on the throne only by
constant effort; in Italy. on the contrary, there no longer existed a
princely house where even in the direct line of descent, bastards were
not patiently tolerated. The Aragonese monarchs of Naples belonged to
the illegitimate line, Aragon itself falling to the lot of the brother
of Alfonso I. The great Federigo of Urbino was, perhaps, no Montefeltro
at all. When Pius II was on his way to the Congress of Mantua (1459),
eight bastards of the house of Este rode to meet him at Ferrara, among
them the reigning duke Borso himself and two illegitimate sons of his
illegitimate brother and predecessor Lionello. The latter had also had
a lawful wife, herself an illegitimate daughter of Alfonso I of Naples
by an African woman. The bastards were often admitted to the succession
where the lawful children were minors and the dangers of the situation
were pressing; and a rule of seniority became recognized, which took no
account of pure or impure birth. The fitness of the individual, his
worth and capacity, were of more weight than all the laws and usages
which prevailed elsewhere in the West. It was the age, indeed, in which
the sons of the Popes were founding dynasties. In the sixteenth
century, through the influence of foreign ideas and of the counter-reformation
which then began, the whole question was judged more
strictly: Varchi discovers that the succession of the legitimate
children 'is ordered by reason, and is the will of heaven from
eternity.' Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici founded his claim to the
lordship of Florence on the fact that he was perhaps the fruit of a
lawful marriage, and at all events son of a gentlewoman, and not, like
Duke Alessandro, of a servant girl. At this time began those morganatic
marriages of affection which in the fifteenth century, on grounds
either of policy or morality, would have had no meaning at all.
But the highest and the most admired form of illegitimacy in the
fifteenth century was presented by the Condottiere, who whatever may
have been his origin, raised himself to the position of an independent
ruler. At bottom, the occupation of Lower Italy by the Normans in the
eleventh century was of this character. Such attempts now began to keep
the peninsula in a constant ferment.
It was possible for a Condottiere to obtain the lordship of a district
even without usurpation, in the case when his employer, through want of
money or troops, provided for him in this way; under any circumstances
the Condottiere, even when he dismissed for the time the greater part
of his forces, needed a safe place where he could establish his winter
quarters, and lay up his stores and provisions. The first example of a
captain thus portioned is John Hawkwood, who was invested by Gregory XI
with the lordship of Bagnacavallo and Cotignola. When with Alberigo da
Barbiano Italian armies and leaders appeared upon the scene, the
chances of founding a principality, or of increasing one already
acquired, became more frequent. The first great bacchanalian outbreak
of military ambition took place in the duchy of Milan after the death
of Giangaleazzo (1402). The policy of his two sons was chiefly aimed at
the destruction of the new despotisms founded by the Condottieri; and
from the greatest of them, Facino Cane, the house of Visconti
inherited, together with his widow, a long list of cities, and 400,000
golden florins, not to speak of the soldiers of her first husband whom
Beatrice di Tenda brought with her. From henceforth that thoroughly
immoral relation between the governments and their Condottieri, which
is characteristic of the fifteenth century, became more and more
common. An old story--one of those which are true and not true,
everywhere and nowhere--describes it as follows: The citizens of a
certain town (Siena seems to be meant) had once an officer in their
service who had freed them from foreign aggression; daily they took
counsel how to recompense him, and concluded that no reward in their
power was great enough, not even if they made him lord of the city. At
last one of them rose and said, 'Let us kill him and then worship him
as our patron saint.' And so they did, following the example set the
Roman senate with Romulus. In fact the Condottieri had reason to fear
none so much as their employers: if they were successful, they became
dangerous, and were put out of the way like Roberto Malatesta just
after the victory he had won for Sixtus IV (1482); if they failed, the
vengeance of the Venetians on Carmagnola showed to what risks they were
exposed (1432). It is characteristic of the moral aspect of the
situation that the Condottieri had often to give their wives and
children as hostages, and notwithstanding this, neither felt nor
inspired confidence. They must have been heroes of abnegation, natures
like Belisarius himself, not to be cankered by hatred and bitterness;
only the most perfect goodness could save them from the most monstrous
iniquity. No wonder then if we find them full of contempt for all
sacred things, cruel and treacher- ous to their fellows men who cared
nothing whether or no they died under the ban of the Church. At the
same time, and through the force of the same conditions, the genius and
capacity of many among them attained the highest conceivable
development, and won for them the admiring devotion of their followers;
their armies are the first in modern history in which the personal
credit of the leader is the one moving power. A brilliant example is
shown in the life of Francesco Sforza; no prejudice of birth could
prevent him from winning and turning to account when he needed it a
boundless devotion from each individual with whom he had to deal; it
happened more than once that his enemies laid down their arms at the
sight of him, greeting him reverently with uncovered heads, each
honoring in him 'the common father of the men-at-arms.' The race of the
Sforza has this special interest that from the very beginning of its
history we seem able to trace its endeavors after the crown. The
foundation of its fortune lay in the remarkable fruitfulness of the
family; Francesco's father, Jacopo, himself a celebrated man, had
twenty brothers and sisters, all brought up roughly at Cotignola, near
Faenza, amid the perils of one of the endless Romagnole 'vendette'
between their own house and that of the Pasolini. The family dwelling
was a mere arsenal and fortress; the mother and daughters were as
warlike as their kinsmen. In his thirtieth year Jacopo ran away and
fled to Panicale to the Papal Condottiere Boldrino -- the man who even
in death continued to lead his troops, the word of order being given
from the bannered tent in which the embalmed body lay, till at last a
fit leader was found to succeed him. Jacopo, when he had at length made
himself a name in the service of different Condottieri, sent for his
relations, and obtained through them the same advantages that a prince
derives from a numerous dynasty. It was these relations who kept the
army together when he lay a captive in the Castel dell'Uovo at Naples;
his sister took the royal envoys prisoners with her own hands, and
saved him by this reprisal from death. It was an indication of the
breadth and the range of his plans that in monetary affairs Jacopo was
thoroughly trustworthy: even in his defeats he consequently found
credit with the bankers. He habitually protected the peasants against
the license of his troops, and reluctantly destroyed or injured a
conquered city. He gave his well-known mistress, Lucia, the mother of
Francesco, in marriage to another, in order to be free for a princely
alliance. Even the marriages of his relations were arranged on a
definite plan. He kept clear of the impious and profligate life of his
contemporaries, and brought up his son Francesco to the three rules:
'Let other men's wives alone; strike none of your followers, or, if you
do, send the injured man far away; don't ride a hard-mouthed horse, or
one that drops his shoe.' But his chief source of influence lay in the
qualities, if not of a great general, at least of a great soldier. His
frame was powerful, and developed by every kind of exercise; his
peasant's face and frank manners won general popularity; his memory was
marvelous, and after the lapse of years could recall the names of his
followers, the number of their horses, and the amount of their pay. His
education was purely Italian: he devoted his leisure to the study of
history, and had Greek and Latin authors translated for his use.
Francesco, his still more famous son, set his mind from the first on
founding a powerful State, and through brilliant generalship and a
faithlessness which hesitated at nothing, got possession of the great
city of Milan (1450).
His example was contagious. Aeneas Sylvius wrote about this time: 'In
our change-loving Italy, where nothing stands firm, and where no
ancient dynasty exists, a servant can easily become a king.' One man in
particular, who styles himself 'the man of fortune,' filled the
imagination of the whole country: Giacomo Piccinino, the son of
Niccolo;. It was a burning question of the day if he, too, would
succeed in founding a princely house. The greater States had an obvious
interest in hindering it, and even Francesco Sforza thought it would be
all the better if the list of self-made sovereigns were not enlarged.
But the troops and captains sent against him, at the time, for
instance, when he was aiming at the lordship of Siena, recognized their
interest in supporting him: 'If it were all over with him, we should
have to go back and plough our fields.' Even while besieging him at
Orbetello, they supplied him with provisions: and he got out of his
straits with honour. But at last fate overtook him. All Italy was
betting on the result, when (1465) after a visit to Sforza at Milan, he
went to King Ferrante at Naples. In spite of the pledges given, and of
his high connections, he was murdered in the Castel Nuovo. Even the
Condottieri who had obtained their dominions by inheritance, never felt
themselves safe. When Roberto Malatesta and Federigo of Urbino died on
the same day (1482), the one at Rome, the other at Bologna, it was
found that each had recommended his State to the care of the other.
Against a class of men who themselves stuck at nothing, everything was
held to be permissible. Francesco Sforza, when quite young, had married
a rich Calabrian heiress, Polissella Ruffo, Countess of Montalto, who
bore him a daughter; an aunt poisoned both mother and child, and seized
the inheritance.
From the death of Piccinino onwards, the foundations of new States by
the Condottieri became a scandal not to be tolerated. The four great
Powers, Naples, Milan, the Papacy, and Venice, formed among themselves
a political equilibrium which refused to allow of any disturbance. In
the States of the Church, which swarmed with petty tyrants, who in part
were, or had been, Condottieri, the nephews of the Popes, since the
time of Sixtus IV, monopolized the right to all such undertakings. But
at the first sign of a political crisis, the soldiers of fortune
appeared again upon the scene. Under the wretched administration of
Innocent VIII it was near happening that a certain Boccalino, who had
formerly served in the Burgundian army, gave himself and the town of
Osimo, of which he was master, up to the Turkish forces; fortunately,
through the intervention of Lorenzo the Magnificent, he proved willing
to be paid off, and took himself away. In the year 1495, when the wars
of Charles VIII had turned Italy upside down, the Condottiere Vidovero,
of Brescia, made trial of his strength; he had already seized the town
of Cesena and murdered many of the nobles and the burghers; but the
citadel held out, and he was forced to withdraw. He then, at the head
of a band lent him by another scoundrel, Pandolfo Malatesta of Rimini,
son of the Roberto already spoken of, and Venetian Condottiere, wrested
the town of Castelnuovo from the Archbishop of Ravenna. The Venetians,
fearing that worse would follow, and urged also by the Pope, ordered
Pandolfo, 'with the kindest intentions,' to take an opportunity of
arresting his good friend: the arrest was made, though 'with great
regret,' whereupon the order came to bring the prisoner to the gallows.
Pandolfo was considerate enough to strangle him in prison, and then
show his corpse to the people. The last notable example of such
usurpers is the famous Castellan of Musso, who during the confusion in
the Milanese territory which followed the battle of Pavia (1525),
improvised a sovereignty on the Lake of Como.