Palermo protested in her hero Giovanni Squarcialupo whose death consecrated her cause; she renewed her life in the patriotism of the Abbattelli, who could not turn back her destiny. Naples was lit up with insurrection. Milan, always foremost in magnanimous enterprises, raised her head, when Morone incited the marquis of Pescara against the emperor, and that nobleman first promised to lead the revolution and then betrayed it to the tyrant. Perugia in vain set up the banner of the Republic; Florence fought, Siena renewed the memory of Saguntum, and Lucca burned audacious fires of civil and religious liberty. There was scarcely a city or village which did not recall its Latin traditions, and combat the monarchical power which was descending like a tempest on the whole nation.
The blood which was poured out like water did not profit our cause. Some died in battle, some lost their heads on the block, and others preferred banishment to being witnesses of the national degradation. Hospitable Venice, who alone was clean from the Spanish leprosy, opened her doors to the fugitive patriots, and they, having broken their swords, continued to protest with their pens. Italian statesmen had good reason to struggle against the growing importance of the house of Hapsburgh, whose only enemy was France then barely escaped out of her contests with feudalism and with the English.
Donato Gianotti, the successor of Machiavelli, as secretary of the Florentine Republic, wrote a wonderful address to Paul III., in which he urged that Genoa should be redeemed from the hands of the Dorias and Spaniards, and the republic and principalities bound in alliance with France, as necessary measures for the defence of national liberty. The object of this discourse, so rich in political wisdom, was to warn the Italians of the danger of neglecting their own interests.
“They cannot,” he says, “secure their safety except by making preparations to take up arms against that power which can only secure itself in its possessions by enslaving all Italy.”[31] Gianotti urged the importance of tempting the confederates of the emperor, and, if possible, enlisting them in the national cause, and adds: “The State of Genoa under the authority of Andrea Doria, ought to be reconciled to the King of France; and I do not believe the Genoese would be disinclined to it, for their sympathies are for France, and they know the advantages to a Republic of independence and the free use of their political power. It was useful to the Genoese, at the moment, to follow the influence of Doria and, ceasing to be French, to become imperialists, as a step towards liberty; but at present it would not be less useful to them to unite, without altering the form of their state, with the other governments of the Peninsula.”
Gianotti expressed the hope that the Pope’s authority might induce Doria to risk his fortunes with those of Italy, and he thinks there could not be obstacles on the part of the French monarch, because political prudence would counsel him to ally himself with Genoa, without seeking to govern her as a subject province: “rather,” he adds, “the French king should refuse to govern Genoa, as such power would involve most embarrassments for himself. The French king should make allies of the Genoese, solely in order to detach them from his enemies.” He makes a similar suggestion to all the Italian states, especially Siena and Florence, “who for common interests ought to make common cause.” He argues that such a policy would free these states from that dependence on the empire, which some believed necessary to their existence, and would give them the repute of being able to live without leaning on foreign support. He advocates the policy which adjusts itself to the conveniences and changes of the times, and enforces this reasoning by the conduct and aims of the Emperor which left the Italians no hope but in war. He advises that arms and munitions both of offence and defence be acquired with as much haste as possible; that friendship be cultivated with foreign powers. “Peace,” he concludes, “may be more fatal than war, for the former must in the end subject us to despotism, while war may fortify our present liberties and restore those of which we have been defrauded.”[32]
This apparent digression upon the discourse of the Florentine statesman is very much to our purpose, and that his counsels were warmly welcomed by the Count Lavagna is manifest, for his scheme is moulded upon Gianotti’s plan. The Florentine laid down three rules of policy,—That our provinces, especially Genoa, break with the Emperor; that they form alliance with France—not to put themselves in her power, but to keep her from becoming their enemy,—and that, without seeking material aid from France, all the Republics should make vigorous preparation for war against the empire.
On these principles Fieschi constructed his too-much calumniated plot. Those who have written about it, without studying the character of the times, rather as romancers than historians, have transmitted us a fable that he sought the supreme control of the Republic; but he sought no other end than to bring back the government to its ancient principles. Revolution in Genoa never aimed at enslaving the people. In those centuries we had foreign generals and ministers among us, but never absolute rulers; and if these ministers attempted tyranny, they paid for their audacity with their blood, like Opizzino d’Alzate, or were expelled, like Trivulzio and others.
Gianluigi was not so short-sighted as not to know the temper of the Genoese, or to forget the lesson of then recent examples. He sought not to usurp the government and become the oppressor of the people, but to confer on his native land the blessings of its ancient order.