Thenceforth, for centuries Florence gloriously flourished, while the fame of Pisa dwindled to a mere proverb, an old tale but half believed. First she lost her supremacy, then her wealth, then her renown, and at last her independence. A family of despots arose in her midst. Soon she was to regret this comparative liberty, for in 1397 Giangaleazzo Visconti conquered the city, and left it, on his death in 1402, to his mistress, Agnese Mantegazza, and to their son, Gabriello Maria Visconti. But Messer Gabriel’ Maria was not strong enough to keep Pisa single handed against his envious neighbours of Florence, Genoa, and Lucca; so on April 15, 1404, he agreed to hold the city as a fief of France.
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Few of the details of history are more involved, perplexed, or dependent on the revelations of unpublished archives than the delicate intrigues of France for the possession of Pisa.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.