The good prelate proceeds to illustrate this truth by quaintly comparing the different forms of government to three keys, one of gold, one of silver, the third of wood; though the material of these, he observes, is very differently estimated, one is in reality as good as another, provided it does its office, that of opening. The first capitano surnamed Boccanera, owed his election to the mob, whom he had gained by flattery, and whom he persuaded to be no longer governed by tyrannical podestas; his election was for ten years; a council of thirty-two elders was elected to aid, or, rather, to obey him; a judge, two secretaries, and twelve lictors were constantly to await his orders; and a knight and fifty archers were appointed his body-guard. A man with powers so ample was sure to become a tyrant; and we accordingly find that in the second year of his administration a conspiracy was formed to depose him. This time he triumphed; but when half his term was expired, a confederacy of the nobles, aided by the populace, compelled him to retire into private life.
A Lombard Ambassador
Into the endless domestic quarrels of the Guelfs and Ghibellines at Genoa and Pisa, and the consequent alliances—alliances of momentary duration—contracted in both cities with the emperor, the pope, or the king of Naples, we cannot enter; and if we could, nobody would thank us for the wearisome detail. As in Lombardy, the nobles were often banished, and as often recalled. The year 1282 is more famous in the annals of both republics, as the origin of a ruinous war between them. Pisa, with her sovereignty over Corsica, Elba, and the greater part of Sardinia; with her immense commerce, her establishments in Spain, Asia, and Greece, her revenues and stores, had little to gain and much to lose, by contending with a poor and perhaps braver power. If Genoa had less wealth, she had equal enterprise, an equal thirst for gain, and equal ambition. Where so much rivalry existed, it would easily degenerate into discord; and petty acts of offence were followed by general hostilities. In one of their expeditions the fleet of the Pisans was almost destroyed by a tempest; a second, by the enemy; a third, after a bloody conflict off the isle of Meloria, was all but annihilated, and the loss in killed was five thousand, in prisoners eleven thousand. These prisoners the victors refused to ransom and for a reason truly Italian—that the retention of so many husbands in captivity would prevent their wives from renewing the population, and that Pisa must in consequence decline. This infernal policy succeeded; when, after sixteen years’ warfare, peace was made, scarcely a thousand remained to be restored to their country.
But Pisa had other enemies; all the cities of Tuscany, with Florence at their head, entered into an alliance with Genoa to crush the falling republic, which had rendered itself so obnoxious by its Ghibelline spirit. In this emergency, convinced how feeble must be the divided efforts of its municipal magistrates, Pisa subjected itself to the authority of an able and valiant noble, Ugolino della Gheradesca, who dissipated the formidable confederacy, and, by some sacrifice of territory, procured peace. Not less distracted was the internal state of the republic, now the Ghibellines, now the Guelfs being called by the populace to usurp the chief authority. Though the Genoese had less domestic liberty, since they were more frequently under the control of some one tyrant, they were in general much more tranquil. In 1312 they submitted to the emperor Henry of Luxemburg, but evidently with the resolution of throwing off the yoke the moment he repassed the Alps; while the submission of the Pisans was sincere. Two years afterwards the capitano or dictator of the latter reduced Lucca, and humbled the Florentines; but such was his own tyranny that the people expelled him. His fate is that of all the petty rulers of Italy; yet, though after this expulsion the forms of a republic were frequently restored, the spirit was gone; there was no patriotism, no enlightened notions of social duties; violence and anarchy triumphed, until the citizens, preferring the tyranny of one to that of many, again created or recalled a dictator. The war of the Pisans with Aragon for the recovery of Sardinia was even more disastrous than that with the Genoese. It ended in the loss of that important island, which had formed a considerable source of their resources.
The evils, indeed, were partly counterbalanced by the conquest of Lucca, which had sometimes proved a troublesome neighbour; but nothing could restore them to their ancient wealth or power, so long as they were menaced by so many rival states, especially those of Tuscany, and so long as they were distracted by never-ceasing domestic broils. In fact, at one time, their existence depended only on the imperial support; at another, on the dissensions or misfortunes of their enemies.
[1284-1369 A.D.]
The little republic of Genoa, which, in imitation of Venice, had forsaken its podestas, abbots, elders, and captains for a doge and senate—but a senate much less aristocratic than that of the ocean queen, was scarcely more enviable, though doubtless more secure. This republic, too, had its pretensions to Sardinia, and consequently a perpetual enemy in the Aragonese kings. Often vanquished, it implored the protection of the king of Naples or the duke of Milan, according as policy or inclination dictated. It had, however, a better defence in its natural position, in the barren rocks which skirted it to the north and east, and in the valour of its sailors; and when, as was sometimes the case, its protectors became its masters, the foreign garrison, being cut off from supplies both by sea and land, was soon compelled to surrender.
But Pisa had no such defence; and in 1369 she had the mortification to see the republic of Lucca restored to independence by the emperor Charles IV. On this occasion the Lucchese remodelled their constitution; they retained their anziani, or elders, with a gonfalonier at their head; both, however, in the fear of absolute sway, they renewed every two months. Ten anziani, with the gonfalonier, formed the seigniory, or executive government, and were assisted by a council of thirty-six, called boni homines, and elected every six months. Over these was the college of 180 members, who were annually elected.[b]
[1339-1458 A.D.]