I.
AFTER the office of Podestà had been permanently established in 1207, its main favourers and promoters, the aristocrats, became more daring, and forming a military organisation, of which the Podestà was the head, took a more active part in all wars abroad. Everything seemed progressing rapidly and well, when the Buondelmonti affair in 1215 caused an outbreak of civil war. Dissension was already lurking among certain of the nobles, and particularly between the Buondelmonti on the one hand, the Uberti and Fifanti on the other, either side numbering many adherents. Accordingly, in the hope of pacifying the dispute, a marriage was arranged between Bundelmonte Buondelmonti and a maiden of the Amidei house. But when all the preliminaries were concluded, the wife of Forese Donati called Buondelmonti to her and said: "Oh! shameful knight, to take to wife a woman of the Uberti and Fifanti. 'Twere better and worthier to choose this bride." So saying, she pointed to her own daughter. Buondelmonti accepted the offer, and, forsaking his betrothed, speedily married the girl. Thereupon the kinsfolk and friends of the deserted maiden assembled in the Amidei palace and vowed to avenge her wrongs. It was then that Mosca Lamberti turned to those charged to execute revenge, saying, "Whoever deals a light blow or wound, may prepare for his own grave." And then, to show that the quarrel was to the death, he added the memorable words: "Once done, 'tis done with" ("Cosa fatta, capo ha"). So bloodshed was ordained.
It was the Easter Day of 1215. The handsome young knight Buondelmonti, elegantly attired and with a wreath on his head, mounted his white horse and crossed from Oltrarno by the old bridge. He had reached the statue of Mars, when he was suddenly attacked. Schiatta degli Uberti hurled him to the ground with a blow from his mace, and the other conspirators quickly fell upon him and severed his veins with their knives. Afterwards the corpse was placed on a bier, the bride supporting the head of her murdered husband, and both carried in procession round the city, to move men to fresh deeds of hatred and revenge.[235] And this was the beginning of the series of internecine wars, from which many chroniclers date the origin of the Guelph and Ghibelline factions in Florence. No modern historian, however, will be apt to attribute so vast an importance to a private feud, nor to believe that a breach of promise to an Amidei maiden could be the real primary cause of the party strife that from the year 1177 had already more than once drenched the city in blood. Even Villani, although considering the Buondelmonti affair to be the origin of the Guelphs and Ghibellines, is careful to add: "Nevertheless, long before this, the noble citizens had split into sects and into the said parties, by reason of the quarrels and disputes between the Church and the Empire."[236] The Buondelmonti catastrophe, with all the private enmities it involved, undoubtedly served to inflame the political passions of two already existent parties, which now, in the days of Frederic II., acquired a political importance of a far wider nature by their connection with the general affairs of Italy. It was only then that the parties in Florence assumed the German appellations of Guelphs and Ghibellines. Also, it is worthy of remark that July, 1215, was the date of the second Frederic's state progress to Aix la Chapelle, to be crowned king of Germany, a fact of some significance, as regards the history of parties in Italy. This may easily explain why the chroniclers should have attributed to the Buondelmonti tragedy, occurring in the same year, the origin of the Guelphs and Ghibellines. The names began then it is true, but the parties were of older date.
Villani's Chronicle (v. 39) now gives a list of the principal Guelph and Ghibelline families, showing that the majority of the older houses was almost invariably Ghibellines, whereas the Guelph party included many "of no great antiquity," but "already beginning to be powerful." Later on, when the Ghibellines are destroyed, we shall find the Guelph nobles merged in the party of the well-to-do burghers (popolo grasso). At present these patricians, being hostile to the Uberti, begin to make advances to newly enriched families, and even to the people, by siding with the Church. Fortunately Pope Innocent III. started a Crusade at this time, and thus many powerful Florentines went to the East and employed their fighting powers in a better cause. At the siege of Damietta, in fact, they distinguished themselves greatly: Bonaguisa dei Bonaguisi the first to scale the walls, planted the banner of the Republic beside the Christian flag. In Giovanni Villani's time this banner was still preserved and held in the greatest honour.
In 1218 Florence resumed hostilities in the contado, and by 1220 had subdued various castles and domains, and exacted oaths of fealty from all defeated foes. But immediately afterwards a far graver war broke out with Pisa. The jealousy of the two rival republics was always on the increase, and for some time past each had struggled against the other for absolute commercial supremacy in Tuscany. Pisa commanded the sea, Florence the mainland, therefore each city required the other's help. Hence, in spite of repeated agreements and treaties, their mutual jealousy remained undiminished. The Florentines adhered steadfastly to the Church; the Pisans to the Empire. Things had gradually become inflamed to so high a pitch that the smallest trifle was enough to excite war, or rather to provoke the endless series of wars destined to change the character of the Tuscan factions.
In fact, the first pretext for strife, at least as related by Villani (vi. 2), is futile to the point of utter absurdity. Many ambassadors attended the coronation of the Emperor Frederic II. in Rome (1220), and among them, says the chronicler, were those of Pisa and Florence, who had long eyed one another with distrust. It chanced that one of the Florentine ambassadors, while feasting with a cardinal, begged the gift of a certain very beautiful dog, and his host promised to grant it. The next day the cardinal entertained the Pisans, and one of them, happening to make the same request, the animal was promised likewise to him. But the Florentine, being the first to send for the dog, he actually obtained it. This led to quarrels and violence, not only on the part of the ambassadors and their trains, but also between all the Pisans and Florentines in Rome at the time. We can hardly assign any historical value to this tale; but it shows that the amount of ill-feeling between the rival states rendered any trifle a sufficient pretext for bloodshed. The real fact, even according to the testimony of Sanzanome, is that Pisans and Florentines came to blows in Rome. The Pisans were the assailants, but had the worst of the bout. There was great wrath in Pisa at the news of the riot, and as a speedy reprisal all Florentine merchandise in the town was made confiscate. Florence then seems to have done her utmost to avoid open war, but to no purpose. Preparations went on for some time on either side, and then in 1222, when war had burst forth between the Lucchese and Pisans, the Florentines profited by the opportunity to attack the latter near Castel del Bosco, defeated them, and, according to the chroniclers, carried off thirteen hundred prisoners. Other attacks ensued, and various small castles were captured between this time and 1228, when we see the Florentines engaged in more serious strife with the Pistoians, and reducing them to accept their terms. It is in 1228 that we find the first mention of the Carroccio on a Florentine battle-field.[237] The Milanese had been the first to use the Carroccio, but in course of time, and with slight modifications, the custom had been adopted by the other Italian cities, who, with increasing wars and larger forces, recognised the need of a rallying point in their midst. The Carroccio was a chariot drawn by oxen with scarlet trappings and surmounted by two lofty poles bearing the great banner of the Republic, swinging its red and white folds on high. Behind, on a smaller car, came the bell, called the Martinella, to ring out military orders. For some time before a war was proclaimed the Martinella was attached to the door of Sta Maria in the New Market, and rung there to warn both citizens and enemies to make ready for action. The Carroccio was always surrounded by a guard of picked men; its surrender was considered as the final defeat and humiliation of the army.
Another prolonged and sanguinary conflict with Sienna was undertaken and resumed almost yearly from 1227 to 1235. The Siennese suffered severe losses, but were able to seize Montepulciano, demolish its towers and ramparts, and do some damage to Montalcino, which had joined alliance with the Florentines. The latter, however, not only devastated the Siennese contado time after time, and captured a large number of prisoners, but also besieged the hostile capital, and although failing to win it, pressed close enough to the walls to hurl donkeys over them with catapults, to prove their contempt for the town. Finally, through the mediation of the Pope, peace was concluded very advantageously for Florence. The Siennese had to forfeit a large sum of money for the rebuilding of the walls and towers of Montepulciano, were sworn to leave that territory for ever unmolested, and likewise compelled to repair the castle of Montalcino, at the pleasure of the Florentines, who still retained their hold on Poggibonsi.