I.
Few of the details of history are more involved, perplexed, or dependent on the revelations of unpublished archives than the delicate intrigues of France for the possession of Pisa. A Mediterranean[Mediterranean] seaport, a link in the precious chain that ran (Marseilles, Genoa, Pisa, Naples) from Provence to Sicily, she was an invaluable supporter of the Angevines in the south; and holding the passes of the Apennines, she was scarcely less necessary to Orleans in Lombardy, glad indeed of an ally among the Tuscan republics, so irreconcilably inimical to the Visconti. But, as we have already seen, the plans of Orleans were liable to suffer from the counter plans of France; and as at Genoa in 1395 so it was at Pisa in 1404.
The great Visconti died in September, 1402; and in the same year Marshal Boucicaut was sent as Governor to Genoa. Boucicaut was an enemy of Milan,[[118]] a hater of the Turk, a man who saw in the Visconti the secret allies of the Sultan, a man who had been a captive at Nicopolis. A pure, devoted, honourable spirit, yet officious, yet impatient:—a restless hero working persistently in a nervous and unquiet fashion the thing that he believed to be the Will of God—Boucicaut is a figure as unusual among the factions and intrigues of fifteenth-century history as Gordon among the small surroundings of to-day. The Marshal was sent to Genoa because that jealous and unaccountable people (“qui n’aime pas qu’on aille leur desbauscher leurs femmes”) would no longer endure his predecessor. They found in him the man they had prayed to have, a sterner master. Boucicaut was as rigid as he was simple: a man soon deceived, but swift and inflexible in the punishment of treachery. His immaculate life, his proved authority, his skill in regulating and organizing commercial traffic, gave him a great position in Northern Italy, made him the man of men there, the central figure, even as before him had been Giangaleazzo Visconti. For one reason, these two men, so unlike in every detail, were alike in the great fact that they were thinkers, men with a mission, inspired by an idea that ruled their lives and to which they subordinated every consideration. The Duke of Milan dreamed of a great United Italian Confederation, of which he should be the head, and of which the Pope should be merely the ornament and crown: his dream was the dream of the Emperor Napoleon III. Boucicaut, a crusader by nature and tradition, above all things a religious spirit, dreamed of ending the Schism, of gaining state after state to the adherence of the true Pope at Avignon, and, pari passu, of extending the dominions of his lord the King of France. The ambition of Boucicaut was all spiritual loyalty and feudal devotion; the ambition of Visconti, stained with crimes, was directed only to self-aggrandizement: different stars were theirs, shining from different poles. But the men who see a star and follow where it leads them, though they go as far apart as Hell and Heaven, have more in common than the mere human bond which ties them to the obscure multitude of their fellows, swaying hither and thither, devoid of purpose, will, or way.
Almost the first act of Boucicaut at Genoa was to write to Florence inviting her to assist him in capturing from the young Visconti (the Serpent-brood) one of the finest cities between Milan and Piedmont. The Florentines shared to the full the distrust of Boucicaut for the children of him whom they had called “the self-dubbed Count of Virtues (Vertus), the veritable Count of Vice.” And they consented to the enterprise, but yet did not pursue it. For, at that moment, they had other work to hand. There was another Visconti than the Lords of Milan and Padua whom they must subdue. They were laying siege to Pisa “e chi la tiene”: her master Gabriel’ Maria Visconti.
At the same moment, as we know, Orleans beyond the Alps was mysteriously advancing southwards; his aim, no less than that of the Florentines, the reduction of Pisa. For through his wife, Valentine Visconti,[[119]] he had, as he considered, a prior claim on Pisa, and indeed on all possessions of the dead Duke not included in the heritage of the two legitimate sons. Gabriel’ Maria, the bastard, supported only by his mother, besieged by the Florentine allies of France, threatened by his brother-in-law the puissant brother of the King of France,—what hope had he? None indeed, save in the disquiet which the news of Orleans’ coming might inspire among his neighbours. For was it only on Pisa intent that so great a lord was advancing on Lombardy? At this moment the young Visconti of Milan were at open war with Boucicaut, and had declared their intention to drive him out of Genoa and to obtain for themselves the rich province of which the French had baulked their father. Did Orleans also remember with rancour that disappointment of ten years ago? Did he intend to join his brothers-in-law of Milan, take Genoa first and Pisa afterwards? It might be; and yet it were difficult to be at once the ally of the Milanese Visconti, and the usurper of their half-brother’s possessions. Was it possible that the King’s brother intended to unite his army to that of the King’s lieutenant, defeat the young Visconti before Genoa, drive them from Lombardy as well as out of Pisa, and make for himself a great territory (Milan, Asti, Pisa) alongside of the French protectorate of Genoa? Boucicaut was an ancient and intimate companion of the Duke of Orleans; it was rumoured that Orleans had frequent interviews with Pope Benedict at Beaucaire; it was possible that the three had come to an understanding.
And Orleans marched south. And Florence assailed Pisa. So late as April 17, 1404,[[120]] the Florentines believed that by diplomacy, if not by force, they might secure their prey. But in the end of February or the beginning of March the Duke of Orleans turned north in high dudgeon, indignantly marching on Paris. And in April it was commonly known that, on the 4th of that month, Messer Gabriel’ Maria Visconti had been acknowledged a vassal of the Crown of France; he was “homme du Roy” and the King’s men henceforth would support him in Pisa.
Great was the wrath of Orleans, loud the remonstrance of Florence. Orleans had scarcely arrived in Paris before the King transferred to him all the Royal rights to Pisa (as I have already shown the reader in the chapter on Valentine Visconti), and formally disowned the conduct of Boucicaut, forbidding him in future to put any obstacle in the path of his brother. Censured at home, Boucicaut was not less fervently condemned by his allies in Italy. The Signory of Florence addressed a most indignant letter to him,[[121]] accusing him of a dishonest action in seizing from the King’s faithful allies the prey they had hunted so long, now, in their very grasp, to be wrested from them by a friend. “Questa non era honesta cosa.” The Florentines could easily have reduced Pisa, but against the fief of France, their ally, they could do nothing. They withdrew from the siege, protesting and with many murmurs.
What indeed was the motive of Boucicaut? The Florentines with some reason suspected an unseen hand pulling the strings that worked this sudden action; “pensiamo che questo sia proceduto da altri, con velati colori.” But what man save the King, who disowned the business, was strong enough to dare to oppose the will of Orleans? Was Burgundy jealous of those Italian prospects of his rival which freed him from his neighbourhood at home? Or was it possible that the Antipope Benedict, ill-contented with Orleans after their interview at Beaucaire, had privately summoned Boucicaut “ce bon Chrestien” to hold Pisa in the King’s name and not in the name of his too powerful guardian? Mysteries! It is as likely, perhaps more likely, that Boucicaut, ever hot-headed, wilful, and officious, asked no permission save his own to accept this new vassal for the King of France. His brain was fired by the thought of converting Pisa to the true obedience; and he feared that she would fall to heretic Florence ere Orleans could pass the Alps.
Gabriel’ Maria Visconti and his mother were ill at their ease in Pisa. He, an elegant, faithless, persuasive Tiranetto (as the Tuscans called him), was often at the Court of Boucicaut, making various negotiations, among others handing over the Tower and Fort of Leghorn to France.[[122]] Boucicaut was in high spirits notwithstanding his half disgrace; he had persuaded the Genoese to accept the authority of Benedict XII., “the greatest deed,” writes his biographer, “that has been done in Italy these 200 years.” He hoped soon to convert Leghorn and Pisa; and, in time, to induce Italy to renounce the heinous Italian Antipope.
Suddenly his hold over Pisa ominously slackened.
The Pisans cared little for Pope or Antipope; they were fanatic for liberty. They detested Agnese Mantegazza and her bastard with a Tuscan hatred for the Visconti, treacherous alike to God and man. One day in 1405, while Messer Gabriel’ Maria was absent in Genoa, some Florentine soldiers made a raid on Pisa. The citizens, not without reason, suspected their tyrant of selling them to the Florentines,—old neighbours and rivals yet more odious than the Milanese. They rose as one man fighting for death or liberty in the streets. No sooner had they driven back the Florentines than they rushed on the Fortress, surging through the narrow corridors, till, in the heart of the palace, they came on Madonna Agnese. A man raised his harquebuss and shot her through the heart. Her son was absent in Genoa. For the moment the Pisans were quit of the Visconti.
The news of the revolt of Pisa flew swiftly to Genoa. The bereaved Tiranetto dispossessed and orphaned, repaired to Boucicaut as to the Lieutenant of his liege-lord, the King of France, asking aid because, as the Chronicle reminds us, “seigneur doibt au besoing secourir son vassal qui le requiert à son aide.”
Boucicaut was dismayed at this first result of his new acquisition. To reduce Pisa by arms would be a ruinous affair. The Marshal comforted as best he could the vassal of his master, and promised to go and reason with the rebels. Forth, therefore, he went from Genoa to a very beautiful place called Porto Venere, in the neighbourhood of Pisa. There a deputation of the insurgents awaited him, and for a long while he harangued them as to the virtues of the dead Madonna Agnese and the merits of the kind and amiable young man whom they had banished.
The Pisans listened respectfully while “moult leur dict de belles paroles,” but when the sermon was over they replied that never should Messer Gabriel’ be their lord again, rather would every man of them be hewn in pieces; but, they went on to say, the Marshal Boucicaut himself should be welcomed and honoured by all the citizens of Pisa, if he would accept her as his fief. “Never,” cried the Marshal, “could I draw such a profit from a friend’s misfortune” (“car ce n’est mie l’usaige des François d’user de tels tours”). And he fell again to praising Messer Gabriel’, but all in vain, for the last word of the Pisans was that, if the Marshal himself would not accept the city for his own, then they prayed him to meet them at Leghorn another day, and there they would give themselves directly to the King of France, accepting a French governor for their waiter, even as the Genoese had done ten years before.
Boucicaut went home, sore perplexed between his duty to his liege and his duty to his vassal. He had gone to Porto Venere to plead the cause of Gabriel’ Maria: and he had supplanted the young man, as it seemed. On the other hand, since it was clear that the Pisans would never re-admit their Tiranetto, and since the city was the fief of France, how could he honourably forbid them to give themselves entirely to their lawful suzerain? And the vision grew in him of a great Mediterranean State, French, supporting French interests in the East—a terror to the Saracens and the men of Barbary, a lamp of Christendom, faithful to the True Obedience, reclaimed for ever from the heresy of the Elect of Rome.
Arrived in Genoa he sent for Messer Gabriel’, and told him the case; “de quoy feult moult dolent Messire Gabriel,” who doubtless wished that he had sent to Porto Venere, a spokesman less eloquent and less engaging. But Boucicaut persuaded him that since he could not hope to leave the city for himself, ’twas better to entrust it to the King of France—who would recompense so generous a vassal with lands as good elsewhere—than to let it fall into the power of an enemy or a neighbour. Gabriel’ Maria agreed—as he must perforce agree—and Boucicaut set out again to meet the rebels at Leghorn.
But the Pisans had never meant to give themselves another master. To gain time, they had played with Boucicaut and had flattered his weak side. They said that on second thoughts they preferred that, before they gave themselves to the King of France, the men of Messer Gabriel’, who were still in the strong places of Pisa, should be expelled the city, and a garrison of French and Genoese sent thither in their stead. The request appeared the less unreasonable as Gabriel’ Maria was himself the King’s vassal, and the Pisans might suspect that their mutual suzerain would only confirm the power of the rejected Tiranetto. Boucicaut agreed, returned to Genoa, and arranged for the exchange of garrisons.
This done the Pisans sent to say the Fortress needed revictualling. Boucicaut, eager to ingratiate his new subjects, despatched his nephew, some gentlemen of his household, with many gentlemen and citizens of Genoa; and a great galley heaped with provisions. The ship sailed down the coast and up the Arno into Pisa; at the quay the embassy descended. They were immediately overpowered by an ambush of Pisans, who seized upon the welcome cargo of the ship, and carried off the crew and the passengers into a dark and villainous prison, using their sufferings as a means to extract higher ransom from the King’s Lieutenant.
Thus amply provisioned at Boucicaut’s expense, the Pisans began to feel secure of liberty. They sent to Florence, offering her four of their castles if she would help them to regain Leghorn, where at the moment Boucicaut and Gabriel’ Maria were esconced, and to revenge themselves on both these men. But the Florentines returned a dilatory answer, for they were, in truth, pursuing a more fruitful negotiation.
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]]
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.
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.
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,[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.
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.