Chapter IX: The Maritime Republics in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth (2)

The Venetians alone brought into the field 8830 horse and 8000 foot, the Florentines 6110 of the former and 6000 of the latter at an expense of 4 and 3 florins a month respectively for every soldier of each arm. To oppose them, Filippo had 8550 horse and 8000 foot, his whole revenue amounting to 54,000 florins monthly. Other authors, and among them Cagnola, make the allied armies amount to much larger numbers and by the testimony of all there were full 70,000 of both hosts at Casa al Secco; but Cambi gives the name and following of each particular leader; those of Sforza, Piccinino, Pergola, and Tolentino being by far the most numerous of the private condottieri and equal to any of the sovereign princes.

War then commenced and Filippo withdrew his troops from Romagna; Carmagnola in performance of his promise marched directly on Brescia; by means of a secret understanding with the Avogadori family and other Guelfs all inhabiting one particular quarter of the city and all hating Visconti, he easily excited a revolt, and on the 17th of March, 1426, made such a lodgment there as immediately enabled him to lay close siege to the rest of the town. Brescia, one of the chief cities and most celebrated manufactory of arms in Italy, was then divided into three distinct fortified districts, each commanded by its citadel; and besides them a strong elevated castle which overlooked the whole.

At first Carmagnola was only master of the ground he stood on, but the battle soon began with all the fury of an assault and all the bitterness of civil war until Francesco Sforza, who defended it, was forced to yield and the allies completed their lodgment. As this news spread to Milan and Florence, the whole force of war concentrated round Brescia; Arezzo and Romagna were soon cleared of troops, and reinforcements poured in from every quarter. One continued scene of war and blood, of fire, rape, and robbery attracted the attention of all Italy for eight successive months; so that, to use the words of Cavalcanti, “never was any tavern so deluged with water as this unfortunate city was with blood.” A ditch encompassed it so closely without that no succours could enter to mitigate the general suffering; within, nothing was heard but shrieks, weeping, and lamentation mingled with the shouts of struggling warriors and the clang of arms; with a masterly hand, almost incredible perseverance, and in face of the whole Milanese army led by the greatest captains of the day, did Carmagnola in a few months subdue the three citadels successively, and finally, aided by the Ghibellines themselves, in November, 1426, that almost impregnable castle, the last stronghold of Visconti, submitted to his arms. A well-directed artillery, which under the name of _bombarde_ was now becoming common in sieges, materially assisted him, and the castle at the moment of its surrender is described as exhibiting the appearance of a porcupine from the innumerable arrows that covered its walls, all fixed in the seams of mortar; a fact that does more honour to the zeal than the training of Italian archers and crossbowmen. Thus fell Brescia, as much to the shame of the Milanese commanders as to the glory of Carmagnola, for its capture was admired as one of the greatest military exploits of that age and added a noble territory to the Venetian Republic.

Pope Martin, who in consequence of his alliance with Filippo had from that prince’s necessities recovered not only the papal cities in Romagna but others that never had legally belonged to the church, at last bethought himself of reconciling the belligerent states; and through his exertions and Filippo’s difficulties a general peace was signed at Venice on the 30th of December, 1426, by which Savoy retained possession of all her conquests on the Milanese state; Brescia and its territory remained to Venice; all places captured from Florence were restored and her merchants relieved by Filippo, as lord of Genoa, from the obligation hitherto imposed on them of embarking their English and French goods in Genoese bottoms. Milan was once more bound not to intermeddle with the affairs of Bologna, Romagna, Tuscany, or any state between that city and Rome, while Florence subscribed to the same conditions as regarded Bologna and that part of Romagna not subject to her sway.

To the great satisfaction of Florence this treaty was proclaimed early in 1427. She had up to the 9th of November with little or no advantage expended 2,500,000 florins, and her ordinary war expenses were estimated at about 70,000 a month. Upon this Giovanni Morelli, a cotemporary historian, exclaims: “Make war, promote war, nourish those who foment war; Florence has never been free from war, and never will until the heads of four leading citizens are annually chopped off upon the scaffold.” So true was it, as it would appear, if any credit may be given to cotemporary writers though influenced by the prevalent spirit of faction, that private gain was the great aliment of foreign and domestic war in Florence.

But the ink was scarcely dry on the treaty when Filippo, either repenting of what he had done or pursuing his secret intentions, with the certainty of forever losing Brescia if he executed the treaty, invited Carmagnola in person to take possession of Chiari, a fortified town forming a strong outwork to that city on the road to Milan. Niccolo Tolentino, suspecting treachery, dissuaded his general from doing so notwithstanding orders from the Venetian seigniory, and his counsel was soon justified by information that the detachment sent on this duty was surrounded and cut to pieces within the walls. Visconti followed up this by the equipment of a large flotilla on the Po, the augmentation of his army with disbanded soldiers from the allies, and a sudden renewal of hostilities. The astonished league almost immediately took the field with what troops remained, the general having orders to make fierce war while a strong armament was preparing to meet the enemy afloat and attack all vulnerable points on the left bank of the Po.

The first encounter was at Gottolengo. Carmagnola had assembled his military cars (which in those days were an indispensable portion of all armies for the rapid movements of infantry), and filling them with crossbowmen attempted to surprise the enemy. The Milanese, however, were too experienced for this and mustering their whole force attacked him unexpectedly while in some confusion on his march, and nearly defeated the whole army; Carmagnola, however, rallied his people, and after restoring order began an obstinate contest.

The heat was excessive, the dust intolerable, the visors of helmets, the eyes and nostrils of the combatants were all choked up so that respiration became almost impossible. The Milanese were supplied with wine and water by the female peasantry, but such was the dust and obscurity that friend and foe seemed alike unknown and many of the allies received refreshment even from the hands of their enemies. Numbers fell from their horses overpowered by heat and dust; the plain was strewed with lances, shields, and wounded men; horses were galloping wildly about the field, some with saddles, some without; others had them turned under their bellies, and many men threw off all their armour to escape suffocation. Piccinino was conspicuous beyond the rest in knightly daring, and his lance’s point was felt throughout the throng; for this battle excepting amongst the infantry seems to have been a confused mass of single combats, more like the _mêlée_ of a tournament than a scientific fight of disciplined soldiers; but the footmen, in firm well-ordered battalions, with lowered spears, charged and withstood the charges of the men-at-arms, killing both them and their horses. When the struggle had lasted some hours and the allies were ready to give way, the marquis of Mantua, hitherto deceived by false reports from a cowardly fugitive, came suddenly up with his followers and dashing forward saved all the cavalry and restored the day. The retreat was simultaneously sounded on both sides; each host had been three times broken, all but the infantry, who seem by their discipline to have preserved the rest.

The ducal forces throughout these two campaigns were smaller in numbers than the allies, but better soldiers and with a greater number of more able commanders; yet they were unsuccessful for want of a common chief, while Carmagnola was implicitly obeyed, and all his advantages were gained by bringing superior numbers against the weakest points of the enemy. To remedy this, Visconti appointed young Carlo Malatesta of Pesaro as his captain-general; a youth of no experience, but whose high rank and family reputation were likely to restrain the continual bickering of the chiefs.

_Victories of Carmagnola_

Meanwhile Carmagnola, angry at the somewhat disgraceful affair of Gottolengo, conceived the idea of surprising Cremona--a thoroughly Guelfic city and disaffected to every Ghibelline authority; with this view he took up a strong position at Sommo close to the town, entrenched and fortified his camp with a thousand war-cars as was his custom, and trusted to those within the city for ultimate success. Filippo, for the above reasons, became alarmed; wherefore, assembling a large force and instantly embarking on the Po, he at once occupied and saved Cremona. A council of war was of opinion that the enemy should be attacked because Cremona secured their own safety in case of defeat, and a victory would almost insure the fall of Mantua. To protect that place the army was encamped in an open space about half a mile wide, contained between the city walls and the surrounding ditch, called _Le Cerchie di Cremona_, the defence of which involved that of the city itself; but as the circuit was large, a continual stream of armed peasantry came pouring in at their prince’s call, ranged under various flags and banners and augmenting the aggregate of both armies to full seventy thousand combatants. The allies were superior in the number of regular troops, the Milanese in experience and discipline, and held themselves fully equal to their antagonists independent of the peasantry; these, however, in the unsettled state of that time and country well knew how to handle their weapons though despised by the condottieri, who represented them to Filippo as useful to fill up ditches and as convenient marks for exhausting the adverse missiles and sparing the regular troops; however, their vast numbers would, it was said, excite fear, “the true harbinger of defeat.”

Battle being resolved on, a corps of light-armed troops was sent forward to begin, but these were quickly driven in on the main body by Taliano Furlano, one of the adverse chiefs who, seeing the Milanese cavalry already formed and the whole country as far as the eye could reach covered with banners, instantly turned to give the alarm. Carmagnola was soon in his saddle and personally directing the defence of a narrow pass protected by a broad and deep ditch, which the enemy would be compelled to win ere his main body could be attacked. This was quickly lined with veteran soldiers and the road within it flanked by a body of eight thousand infantry armed with the spear and crossbow, and posted in an almost impenetrable thicket closely bordering on the public way. This pass was called La Casa-al-Secco, and Agnolo della Pergola first appeared before it with his followers, supported by a crowd of peasantry; the ditch was deep, broad, and well defended, and an increasing shower of arrows galled his people so sorely that he at once resolved to use the rural bands as a means of filling it. Driving the peasant multitude forward, he ordered the regular troops to put every luckless clown to death who turned his face from the enemy; so that these wretches with the spear at their back and the crossbow in front fell like grass under the scythe of the husbandman. But they were more useful in death; by Agnolo’s command both killed and wounded, all who fell, were rolled promiscuously into this universal grave, covered up with mould and buried all together.

Here were to be seen distracted fathers with unsteady hand shovelling clods upon the bodies of dead and wounded sons; sons heaping earth on their fathers’ heads; brothers covering the bloody remains of brothers; uncles, nephews; nephews, uncles--all clotted in this horrid compost! If the wretches turned, a friend’s lance or dart went instantly through their bodies; if they stood, an enemy’s shaft or javelin no less sharply pierced them; alive, they filled the pit with sons and brothers, dead or wounded, with themselves! They worked and died by thousands; even the very soldiers that opposed them at last took pity and aimed their weapons only at armed men. “And as a reward for this,” exclaims Cavalcanti, “God lent us strength and courage.” Nevertheless, so many were thus cruelly sacrificed that the moat was soon filled to the utmost level of its banks with earth and flesh and human blood, and then the knights giving spurs to their steeds dashed proudly over this infernal causeway! It was now that the fight commenced: fresh squadrons poured in on every side and all rushed madly to the combat, for on this bloody spot the day was to be decided. “Here,” says Cavalcanti, “began the fierce and mortal struggle; here every knight led up his followers and did noble deeds of arms; here were the shivered lances flying to pieces in the air, cavaliers lifeless on the ground and all the field bestrewed with dead and dying! Here too was seen young Carlo Malatesta, himself and courser cased complete in mail, and a golden mantle streaming from his shoulders! Whoever has not seen him has not seen the pride of armies! Here was store of blood, and lack of joy and fear and doubt hung hard on every mind! Nothing was heard but the clang of arms, the shock of lances, the tempest of cavalry, and the groans and cries and shouts of either host! The sun was flaming, the suffering dreadful, the thirst intolerable; everything seemed to burn, all conspired against the wish of men, but the Cremonese women brought refreshments to our enemies.”

The whole battle appears to have been concentrated in this pass, so that numbers made but little difference on either side; nevertheless the Milanese chivalry were severely handled by the veterans in the wood, who kept up a continual discharge of arrows on horse and man from the moment the ditch was passed, or else ran in with their lances and speared them. As many died from exhaustion and suffocation as from blows, for the battle was fought early in July and lasted from two hours after sunrise until evening; others it is said expired from the stench of carnage rapidly corrupted by excessive heat. Carmagnola, forced by circumstances into the thickest fight, was unhorsed, and a hard conflict between those who tried to save and those who wished to take him prisoner soon concentrated all the knightly prowess of both armies round his person; he was remounted, and dust and confusion saved him more than once, as they did Niccolo Piccinino, besides other leaders on both sides, from being recognised and captured. The squadrons charged and recharged in dust and darkness; no standards could be seen; the voice alone revealed a friend; and when a retreat was sounded whole troops of cavalry ranged themselves under adverse banners in total ignorance of their own position. One attack was made by a strong detachment upon the baggage and for a while placed the allies in great danger; but being finally repulsed with the loss of five hundred prisoners a retreat was sounded; the captives were equal, yet the victory of Casa-al-Secco was fairly claimed by Carmagnola.

Filippo previous to this battle had endeavoured to balance his ill success by a naval victory; the Venetian armament on the Po had been extremely active, and to check it he placed a strong squadron under the orders of Pacino Eustachio of Pavia with instructions to lose no time in bringing the enemy to action. The latter, commanded by Francesco Bembo, did not shun the encounter, which took place near Brescello; but losing three galleons in the commencement, Bembo, doubtful of consequences, with that rapid and bold decision that marks a superior mind, suddenly discontinued the contest and withdrawing all the crossbowmen from his remaining galleons manned them with the crews of others armed only with spears, swords, spontoons, battle-axes, and short arms of every description. These he placed in the van, while the galleons thus emptied were manned with crossbowmen alone and stationed close in the rear of his first line, with rigid orders under the penalty of death to kill either himself or any other man that should turn from the enemy. He then renewed the attack.

With the Milanese in front, in their rear the levelled crossbows ready to shoot into the first vessel that gave way, and themselves armed only with short weapons, the Venetian sailors were compelled either to fight hand to hand with their enemies or be transfixed without resistance by their own or adverse missiles. The Lombards were thus rendered the less formidable of the two, and the closer the fight the more safety, because free from the arrows of either squadron; thus excited the galleons were resolutely run alongside those of the enemy and lashed there, and the battle became more fierce and obstinate; the Venetian mariners, chiefly Greeks and Slavonians, are described as displaying all the courage, sagacity, and savage fury of those nations.

The scene was appalling; no room for tactics, no hope in flight; man encountered man with the eye and hand of death; the struggle was personal, unrelenting, resolute; a struggle for existence, not for victory; the Venetians, pressed by a double danger, had no other hope; the Greeks of Crete and Negropont with the Slavonian crews performed such deeds as have been rarely equalled and never yet surpassed. Springing with the force of tigers on their prey it many times happened that when the Italian spear had pierced a Slavonian body the wounded man would seize and draw himself forward on the slippery staff until he grappled his enemy, and then both rolled struggling into the stream below. Again, two running each other through at the same moment and sternly following up their thrust would close and wrestle as long as life endured, or fall while yet writhing into the bloody Po; for that great stream, full and broad and ample as it was, became strongly crimsoned. Pacino at last gave way, and with a few as yet ungrappled galleys made good his flight, but left fourteen captured vessels in the hands of Venice.

After the battle of Casa-al-Secco Carmagnola, who as Cavalcanti asserts was now at the head of fifty thousand fighting men, laid siege to Casalmaggiore on the Po and recaptured Bina which Sforza had surprised; he then reduced the former and both armies cautiously manœuvred, narrowly watching each other’s motions until the beginning of October, when the allies were besieging Pompeiano, a town situated about six miles from Brescia on the high-road to Crema. While Malatesta was absent with Filippo, the Milanese captains had so placed their army as to impede the enemy’s progress without risking a general engagement, but when Carlo returned he posted himself between Macalo (now Maclodio) and the allies, with an intention to succour the besieged. The two camps only four miles asunder were separated by what then was an extensive swamp, now a fertile plain; what was then fetid black and stagnant pools full of reeds and thorns, and swarming with snakes and every loathsome reptile, now abounding in corn and vines and mulberries. The high-road from Orci Novi on the Oglio to Pompeiano and Brescia ran like a causeway through this waste and passed by a wooden bridge over a channel of deep water that connected the opposite marshes. Adjoining the swamp and bridge one side of the road was flanked by an extensive wood, so thick and wild and full of savage beasts that both men and domestic cattle shunned it. Just at the bridge-head the road entered a sort of enclosed space or basin of solid earth in the midst of the marshes, a sort of trap from which no army once entered and cut off from the bridge could hope to escape except by the destruction of a superior enemy.

Niccolo Tolentino, a leader of great influence, having examined this ground, advised Carmagnola to occupy the position while he and his friend Bernardino with a strong division of the army concealed themselves in the wood on the other side of the bridge and awaited Carlo’s advance, who it was supposed would run headlong into the trap. This suggestion was followed; the ambuscade was posted in the wood that night, and the other troops were under arms at daylight. Carlo Malatesta on the other hand, whether for the reasons mentioned by Corio or a wilful determination to fight, was on his march by dawn of day; he soon crossed the bridge and entered the trap with loud shouts of “_Viva il Duca! Viva il Duca!_” Carmagnola had marshalled his army in the shape of a crescent and slowly retired before him, but still deepening his centre as if fearful of the encounter. When he heard that all had entered, he exclaimed, “They are caught,” and from a rising ground shortly addressed his people before the battle.

The instant that the enemy’s rear was well over the bridge and engaged with their antagonists, Bernardino darted like lightning from the wood and seized it at the head of a thousand horse; he was rapidly followed by Tolentino with a much larger force, but leaving the latter to defend the bridge he snatched up a heavy and well pointed lance, and with two hundred men-at-arms dashed deep into the Milanese rear with loud cries and great confusion. The two horns of the crescent then rapidly closed in; Carmagnola charged in front; the crossbows played unceasingly from every thicket; “_San Marco_,” “_Duca_,” and “_Marzocco_” resounded through the field. “The shouts of men, the neighing of horses, the shock of lances, the tempest of swords was so great,” says Cavalcanti, “that the loudest thunder might have rolled above unheeded. The wild beasts fled in terror through the woods and in these infernal swamps many swarms of serpents were seen rustling through the reeds at the unwonted uproar! O reader, think how cruel must have been this conflict when so many animals, enemies to our nature, fled in so wild affright! All was terror and distraction; Niccolo held steadily to the bridge; many were driven into the marshes or dragged by their stirrups through them; the flights of arrows were sometimes so dense as to obscure the sun, and this deadly archery did infinite mischief; the air itself seemed changed and terrified, and this great multitude was full of groaning, blood, and death!” Every hope of victory at length vanished and the Milanese broke, surrendered, and fled in all directions. Carlo Malatesta and eight thousand prisoners laid down their arms, but, strange to say, almost all were then or subsequently permitted to escape by Carmagnola; and this first sowed the seeds of Venetian jealousy.

Guido Torelli, Piccinino, and Francesco Sforza escaped, and by the next morning all but four hundred prisoners had obtained their liberty; this produced strong remonstrances from the Venetian commissaries, upon which Carmagnola sent for the remaining captives and said to them, “Since my soldiers have given your comrades their liberty I will not be behind them in generosity; depart, you also are free.” This battle was the climax of Carmagnola’s glory: whether he was unwilling to reduce his old patron too low, or was secretly influenced by the desire of peace and the recovery of his wife and children who were in Visconti’s hands, or by less honourable motives, seems uncertain; but his subsequent efforts were insignificant. There is no doubt, says Poggio, that he could that day have destroyed Filippo, if he had retained the prisoners who were the flower of that prince’s army; but according to the custom of modern soldiers they remained as lookers-on, intent only on dividing the booty, and let the men-at-arms go free.

None of this was lost on the Venetians; but not a reproach was heard, not a sentence uttered, no sign of displeasure reached his ear; he could still be useful, was adding bit by bit to their conquests, and as yet in too formidable a position to be struck; on the contrary, as was their usual custom when meditating the sacrifice of a victim, more deference was shown him, more respect paid him; but he was not forgotten.

_Death of Frescobaldi; the War Ended and Renewed_

[Sidenote: [1427-1428 A.D.]]

The liberated army of Milan was soon remounted, equipped, and in the field; for most of these battles involved the waste of more money than blood, as dead men paid no ransoms; and Visconti had ample resources. He nevertheless became alarmed at his actual position, and sought new strength by rousing the emperor Sigismund against Venice, by marrying his daughter Maria to the duke of Savoy, and by stirring up the poor remnants of the Carrara and La Scala families to agitate Padua and Verona. He met these difficulties with an able head and a bold countenance, but was in fact a strange character and differing according to cotemporary writers from all other men. No stability, no confidence, no belief, no firmness of purpose; mutable as the wind, no regard to promises, unsteady in his friendships, and prone to sudden antipathies against those who were apparently his dearest friends; cunning, sagacious, vain of his own judgment, despising that of others; whimsically pacific and warlike by turns; fond of a solitary life, he was rarely visible but governed through his ministers and temporary favourites, and thence no doubt proceeded many of his worst misfortunes.

A slight check before Genoa, more important from the heroic death of Tommaso Frescobaldi than from any other injury, in some degree damped the joy of Florence for this recent victory. Frescobaldi had distinguished himself as Florentine commissary in the Aretine district by an able and vigorous conduct under very trying difficulties and a total neglect of him by the government; nevertheless he perseveringly withstood the Milanese forces until the siege of Brescia relieved him. Indignant at this treatment he personally and boldly reproached the Ten of War with their conduct, and in no measured terms. Niccolo d’Uzzano tried to soothe him and was respectfully heard; but Vieri Guadagni so impatiently rated him as to be told by Tommaso that nothing but his high official dignity was a protection from personal chastisement. Niccolo, who fully appreciated the worth of Frescobaldi, reproved Vieri for his intemperance, and that citizen was soon after sent as commissary to conduct the war against Genoa, where, for a while, his vigour and ability were no less conspicuous than before. At last Fregoso and the Florentines were defeated in an attempt to enter Genoa; and Tommaso, who fought to the last, after all were routed was wounded and made prisoner. The governor, a stern and cruel man, promised him life, liberty, and reward if he would divulge his government’s secrets and say who within the city of Genoa were in league with Campo Fregoso, but the alternative of death and torture if he refused. To this Frescobaldi firmly answered: “Obizzino, if for my silence on the subject of state secrets thou wilt put me to death, abandon all hope of knowing those things that duty to my country and constancy of purpose, even did I know them, would prevent my revealing; and, as I have no hope of mercy from thee, so thou needst not expect any disclosures from me, for even if I were informed I would not tell thee.” He was instantly put to the torture, his wounds broke out afresh in the agony, but he died without uttering a syllable. A noble example for his living descendants!

[Sidenote: [1428-1430 A.D.]]

Florence now wished earnestly for peace because she could no longer expect to gain anything by war, and a continually augmenting expense was exhausting her resources; the more equal action of the Catasto promoted this wish because the rich and great now bore the principal burden. They again argued, and rightly too, that if war continued, Filippo must lose his state, which Venice, not Florence, would gain by the very conditions of the league, and thence with augmented power become more formidable than Visconti himself, for there would then be none but Florence to oppose her. Naples, ruled by a weak, licentious woman, was distracted; the pontiff would not move; the emperor would be shut out by Venice, who held the keys of Italy, and France was far too distant; better, it was once more repeated, to have an unenduring enemy than an everlasting and powerful neighbour. Venice had now acquired a taste for Italian conquest, and the petty acquisitions of Carmagnola were still adding to her territory; but her suspicions were awake and she finally consented to treat, while Visconti was really anxious for peace in consequence of his recent overthrow. The sincerity of all parties soon produced its effects and the cardinal of Santa Croce at last restored tranquillity by accomplishing the signature of a treaty at Ferrara about the middle of April, 1428, after nearly five years of constant hostilities. The cost of this long and ruinous war, according to Cavalcanti, amounted to 3,500,000 florins--according to Macchiavelli, 3,050,000.

The Florentines gained nothing by it but a heavy debt and the institution of the Catasto; the Venetians, in addition to Brescia, gained part of the Cremonese state with Bergamo and its territory as far as the Adda, which now became their western boundary. Thus, says Cavalcanti, by the operation of wicked citizens our people were loaded with poverty, the Venetians with riches and territory; and pride and covetousness was the cause of all.

But the peace was not for long. The Florentines attacked Lucca; Piccinino came to its aid, and the general war recommenced. No less than fourteen towns revolted in favour of Piccinino during one night, all sending their keys, and generally imprisoning the Florentine authorities; yet amidst the sharp oppression and barbarity of the time, it is refreshing to find that some of the latter were spared in consequence of their just government, and, with their families, carried safe across the frontier by the revolted people; but such exceptions only prove the general rigour of Florentine sway.

[Sidenote: [1430-1431 A.D.]]

In this state of things Micheletto Attendolo of Cotignolo, a nephew of Sforza, was made captain of the Florentine army, to which some spirit was soon after restored by an advantage gained at Colle against Count Alberigo da Barbiano, Piccinino’s successor by Bernardino degli Ubaldini and also by the gallant behaviour of Ramondo Mannelli and Papi Tedaldi, which cast still greater credit on the Florentine arms. Stung with a late defeat on the Po, where they were completely routed by a Genoese admiral, the Venetians sent a squadron to the Tuscan coast and Riviera of Genoa to revenge this injury; they however seem to have been shy of coming to a general engagement until the Florentines, tired of such harassing inactivity, fitted out two galleys under the above officers and either forced or shamed them into an attack on the Genoese squadron. Principally by their own daring courage the latter were completely beaten near Portofino, and their admiral Francesco Spinola and eight galleys captured. But long ere this Niccolo Piccinino had ridden triumphant over most of the Florentine territory, capturing or destroying town after town from Pontremoli to the gates of Arezzo, which would also have fallen had he not unaccountably stopped to besiege the little fortress of Gargonza on his march. This unchecked career of victory riveted his favour with Filippo Visconti, while it raised the jealousy of Niccolo Tolentino, who was fed by that prince on promises alone; wherefore the latter quitted Milan in disgust and engaged with the Florentines, who lent him to the pontiff with two thousand followers, and the consequence of this defection was Piccinino’s recall to defend Lombardy now threatened by the league. Pope Martin V’s decease in February, 1431, brought joy to Florence which during all his reign he had never ceased to hate, and the election of Gabriel Condelmieri, cardinal of Siena and a Venetian, who assumed the pontificate as Eugenius IV, was scarcely less satisfactory. His first measure was an attempt to restore tranquillity; but this was done with so decided a leaning towards Florence as to disgust the Sienese, Visconti, and all her numerous enemies.

War therefore became certain, and the league between Florence and Venice was more closely riveted; but Siena, in concert with Genoa, both of whom had long been favouring Lucca and were encouraged by Piccinino, soon broke into open war; she commenced hostilities under Visconti’s general Alberigo, and by means of Genoa seduced the seignior of Piombino, a recent ward of the Florentines, to take up arms against them.

The incursions of these neighbours in Val d’Ambra increased Florentine difficulties, and an attempt was made to engage Francesco Sforza; but true to his own interest he was bought off by the promise of Visconti’s infant daughter Bianca in marriage.

To cope with him and Piccinino, Carmagnola, notwithstanding his strange conduct in the late war, was again placed at the head of the Venetian armies, and he advanced into the Cremonese state, but was defeated with great loss in a most terrible and bloody battle by Sforza on the 6th of June, 1431, at Soncino on the banks of the river Po.

_The Great Naval Battle on the Po_

A flotilla consisting of one hundred vessels of all descriptions was equipped on the Po, and, under Niccolo Trevigiano, moved straight on Cremona; Visconti had also prepared his squadron under the command of the Genoese admiral Grimaldi, or, as some say, Pacino Eustachio of Pavia, who had formerly suffered a defeat--probably both were employed; but Venice was too quick, and excelled the Milanese fleet in numbers, size, and equipment, so that for some time they had command of the river. The hostile armaments ultimately met at Bina, near Cremona, and fought until night parted them, with the loss of seven Milanese galleys. Sforza and Piccinino, who had manned the squadron from their troops and feared an attack from Carmagnola during the next day’s fight, deceived the Venetian general by means of some pretended deserters who reported that they were preparing to attack him in the heat of the naval battle. Whether Carmagnola were really deceived, or, as the Venetians thought, had come unwillingly to war, is still unsettled; but he acted as if he were, and not only remained under arms all day but refused any succour to the admiral. Sforza and Piccinino on the contrary reinforced the fleet with almost all their troops, and next day, towards the end of June, the most obstinate naval battle then on record was the consequence.

The Venetian galleys took a position with their bows to the stream, and all chained together the better to resist it; the Milanese, less in number but crowded with men, bore gallantly down on their antagonists; both fleets were glittering with steel and rough with pikes and lances. The adverse admirals had a national hatred then far from extinct; the two Milanese generals served personally on board, inspiriting their troops as if on the field of battle; the defect of a weaker line of vessels was compensated by a stronger personal force on the side of Milan, while on that of Venice the last day’s success animated every breast to new and more daring courage.

Thus prepared, the fight began, and the struggle was long and fierce; but Grimaldi observed that the Po had risen during the night, and at that season was unlikely to remain so; he therefore watched its fall, and cheering his men to a little longer struggle seconded by the efforts of both generals, looked anxiously for the grounding of the large Venetian galleys, while his own lighter craft would still be afloat and able to attack them. All turned out fortunate; the stream began to fall, the water shoaled rapidly; the Venetians felt their galleys take the ground, and turning all their attention to this accident exposed themselves to the whole fury of Grimaldi who renewed the assault with double vigour. Sforza and Piccinino fought like private men; the latter was severely wounded in the neck and lamed for life, but all dashed boldly on to victory while the Venetians struggled for existence: their admiral’s galley at last struck, he himself escaping; but this was a signal of defeat, and Grimaldi remained the conqueror. About twenty-nine galleons and eight thousand prisoners were captured; the number of dead must have been immense, but is not recorded, and Venice was furious; yet the government looked in profound silence on Carmagnola with all the mystery of its nature; no reproach, not an outward sign was suffered to awaken his apprehensions; but a squadron immediately sailed to vindicate national honour on the Tuscan and Genoese coasts, the result of which has been already narrated.

On some erroneous suspicion of the Sienese, Count Alberigo was arrested and sent prisoner to Milan where the duke absolved him; but Bernardino, who had quitted the Florentines, succeeded and waged destructive war against them, while Micheletto remained so idle and indifferent, particularly in purposely neglecting a fair occasion of surprising Lucca, that Niccolo Tolentino was ordered to supersede him. This general had some immediate success, but receiving undue praise was imprudently tempted to attack Bernardino at a place called the Capanne in Val d’Elsa, where, at the moment of defeat, Micheletto came generously up to his rescue and routed the enemy with great slaughter.

_The Revolt of Pisa; The Cruel Ruse of Baldaccio_

This raised the public spirits; but meanwhile the whole rural population of Pisa revolted, and elected ten persons of a superior class with authority to govern and tax them for all the purposes of war, resolving to strike for Visconti while his forces were engaged in regular hostilities; besides which a strong body of rustic youth were completely armed and fought under their countryman Count Antonio da Pontedera, the most active of Visconti’s partisans. Thus in addition to foreign war an extensively organised rebellion pervaded the whole Pisan state, and these untrained clowns battled with such valour and bitterness as shows the excessive and universal detestation of Florentine rule, for no justly governed though conquered people would have fought so rancorously. “Like mad dogs, their bite is mortal,” said the men-at-arms: “we have not to grapple with village clowns, but with demons of hell.” Wherefore none of them were bold enough to meet this furious peasantry on equal terms; “unless,” says Cavalcanti, “it were those who loved rather the requiem of death than the pleasures of this world.”

Giovanni Fiesco, lord of Pontremoli, feeling the awkward position of his states, which were alternately the prey of both parties, now sold that town to Visconti; the war then became universal, malignant, destructive, and attended with far more than common horrors; there was no present mercy, and a dismal prospect for the future: famine stalked with withering footsteps over all the land; fear and suspicion lurked in every eye; and town and country, hamlet and village, castle and cottage, were promiscuously overwhelmed in one vast flood of unutterable woe.

The condition of Pisa was lamentable: Giuliano di Guccio was the Florentine captain or governor; Giuliano de’ Ricci the archbishop; both of them men of stern, determined, and implacable natures, and the city was pining from want. In this state, and probably fearful of a siege, Guccio issued a hard command, “which for him was extreme cruelty and for others tears.”

All the women, and their young and innocent children, without distinction, were sternly driven from the town and their own homes. “This unjust command was obeyed by the wretched victims, whose bitter cries drew tears of pity even from the depths of the earth. Alas, what a sight to behold these poor defenceless women and their nurslings thus cast forth: some with an infant on each arm and on the back behind, other little creatures clinging to their mothers’ skirts, naked and barefoot; and thus they hastened along tripping and weeping with the pain of their tender feet, and crying out with streaming eyes and uplifted faces, ‘Where are we going to, mother?’ and making all beholders weep to hear their sobbing voices and infantile questions, while the wretched women answered, ‘We are going where our own evil fortune and the cruelty of perverse men are sending us. O earth! Why art thou so hard-hearted as to sustain a life which compared to death is sharpness? O profound abyss, send forth thy messengers and let them drag us to thy dark recesses, for thy bowels are sweeter than honey when placed beside the bitterness of man! From some of us they have torn our husbands, from some brothers, from others fathers; and now they cast us out desolate among strange contending people, and we know not where to go! O God, provide for thy creatures and punish us according to our sins, proportion the punishment to the crime, and vouchsafe that support which will give us patience to bear this unmitigated woe.’” Uttering such lamentations they wandered towards Genoa but finally spread in all directions, and settled particularly about Porto Venere and Pontremoli.

[Sidenote: [1431-1432 A.D.]]

The archbishop also had his share of this and other cruelties of a similar nature; the times made people hard, but it becomes a priest’s duty to try and soften them rather than ride by night, as this prelate is described in the memoirs of his own family, on a powerful war-horse, armed cap-à-pie, patrolling the streets to watch over the public tranquillity; and if any wretch came under his suspicion in these nocturnal rounds a waxen taper was instantly lighted and death and confiscation of property, or else exile, submitted to his choice before it had finished burning.

But the soldiers outdid even the priests. Baldaccio d’Anghiari was one of those favourite generals of the Florentines that rendered war more terrible by his natural or acquired ferocity. “He called homicide boldness and resolution; the want of audacity he described as fearfulness at alarming and doubtful things; fidelity was in his mind to be always subservient to the cause he advocated, and sheer brutality was designated as virtuous audacity. By such maxims he was led, and led others after him with wonderful fortune to the most perilous achievements, and he often put to death the enemies of Florence with his own hand, leaving others to linger away a life which he had made worse than death itself.” This man, thus described by a contemporary, took Collegioli, and in a sally that he made from that place captured, amongst a crowd of prisoners, one named Guasparri da Lucignano, who in person exactly resembled himself; it gave rise to a strange notion which he hastened to realise thus.

Next morning Guasparri was attired in Baldaccio’s garments while his men were ordered to give the Milanese war cry “_Duca! Duca!_” as if in open mutiny, and follow it up by murdering the prisoner, whose bloody and disfigured corpse was thrown from a tower into the ditch below. The remaining prisoners were then set free and the body shown to them as Baldaccio’s, against whom the troops affected to have mutinied; they were ordered to disperse without delay and spread the news of this wicked man’s death through the country, telling how the mutineers held the castle in the duke’s name and waited for assistance. The story soon got abroad and the Pisans in multitudes, armed and unarmed, crowded to see the joyful spectacle, when suddenly the true Baldaccio appeared with his troops, surrounded them, and sent them all prisoners to Florence.

Such atrocities, committed, not only without remorse or necessity, but as it would seem for mere military pastime, gave the wars of this epoch a character of barbarous vindictiveness and horror that was calculated to lay a heavy load on the consciences of their authors; and if Cosmo de’ Medici were really the fomenter of the Lucchese War, all his good acts and good qualities were but a sorry exchange for the mass of human suffering that his ambition inflicted and entailed upon his country. That he could have prevented it there is no doubt had he only seconded Niccolo da Uzzano; that he, on the contrary, strongly advocated and supported it is equally certain; and that it was unjust and void of political necessity can scarcely be questioned. Wherefore, putting aside all minor accusations, he must stand convicted of advocating and fostering an unjust and unnecessary war, waged with unusual horror, atrocious in its character, and destructive in its consequences.

_The Fall of Carmagnola_

The Venetians, from their incipient discontent at Carmagnola’s conduct after the victory of Macalo, had become deeply suspicious of his fidelity since the naval action near Cremona (1432), and this was further strengthened by his conduct at Cremona itself. His own troops had scaled the walls and taken a gate of that city, where they defended themselves for two whole days, vainly expecting assistance from Carmagnola who was near at hand; at length exhausted with fatigue they could hold out no longer and were all cut to pieces. He afterwards allowed Piccinino to capture two fortified towns successively, under his very eyes and without an effort to save them; so that, whether treacherous or not, Venice had good cause for doubt and dissatisfaction. Carmagnola’s military movements are said to have been always slow and well considered; nor was he in the habit of permitting inclination to overcome reason; but the Venetian commissaries attached to his army never ceased to urge him on with all the confidence of ignorance; he, who was beyond measure proud and never restrained his tongue, answered them in the manner of Hawkwood to Andrea Vettori: “Go and prepare your broad cloths and leave me to command the army.” “Foolish people,” said Carmagnola, “are you going to teach one that was born in battles and nourished in blood? Go, mount your senseless horses and visit the Caspian, then talk to me of its wonders, and in such things I will place implicit faith; but be now content to trust my experience, for I am not less expert on land than you are at sea. You Venetians are rich in enterprise and prosperity, and if you deem me faithless, why then, deprive me of office and I will seek my own fortune.” The Venetians were both nettled and alarmed at this reproof, particularly at the hint of seeking his own fortune, which indicated an intention of returning to the duke, or, what would have been equally bad, attaching himself to the emperor who was already in Italy.

At what time they first began to entertain the idea of putting him to death does not appear, but Cavalcanti asserts that it was continually in debate and the secret closely kept for eight months by an assembly of two hundred senators without a suspicion getting abroad or a word being divulged on the subject. Finally his fate was decreed and in a manner congenial to the time and country.[m] The incidents of its consummation are too suggestive not to be given in some detail.

On the 28th of March, Foscari, in concert with all the members of the privy council, proposed, at a meeting of the college, “that the pregadi be dissolved, and that the Ten do take the matter into their own hands.” The three chiefs of the Ten proposed as an amendment, that “this body be not dissolved until the present business be out of hand.” But, on a division, the first motion was carried by a majority of two, and the dissolution was decreed, the decemvirs resolving to deal with the matter before them “circumspectly, but vigorously.” In consideration of the gravity of the question, the tribunal demanded the assistance of a giunta of twenty senators; and these supplemental members, with the doge and the privy council, raised the number to seven and thirty. When the organisation of the conclave was nearly complete, a technical irregularity having been discovered, the whole process was cancelled; and the point, having been again submitted with all the previous forms, was again solemnly confirmed. The senate was charged, upon pain of forfeiture of goods and heads, to abstain from divulging any of these transactions, and to keep the decemviral decree of the 28th a profound secret.

On the following day, Giovanni da Impero, secretary of the Ten, a person of discreet character, and, according to the historian Sanuto, “with a face as pale as a ghost,” was furnished with the ensuing written instructions:

GIOVANNI:

We, Marco Barbarigo, Lorenzo Capello, and Lorenzo Donato,
chiefs of the council of Ten, and Tommaso Michieli and
Francesco Loredano, _avogadors_ of the commune, with our
council of Ten, command thee to repair forthwith to Brescia,
to Count Carmagnola, our captain-general, to whom, after the
customary salutations, you will say, that it being now full
time that something should be done for the honour and glory of
our state, various plans have suggested themselves to us for a
summer campaign. Much difference of opinion existing, and the
count enjoying peculiarly intimate conversance with Lombardy on
either side of the Po, we recommend and pray him to come here
so soon as may be, to consult with us and the lord of Mantua;
and if he consent to come accordingly, you will ascertain and
appraise us on what day he may be expected. But should he
decline to comply, you will with the utmost secrecy communicate
to our captains at Brescia and to our proveditor-general our
resolution to have the said Count Carmagnola arrested; and
you will concert with them the best means for carrying out
this our will, and for securing his person in our fortress of
Brescia. We also desire that, when the count himself shall
have been safely lodged, the countess his wife be similarly
detained, and that all documents, money, and other property,
be seized, and an inventory thereof taken. Above all, we wish
and charge thee, before seeking an interview with the count,
to disclose confidentially to the authorities at Brescia and
to the proveditor-general the nature of these presents (since
we ourselves have not communicated with them), enjoining them,
under pain of their goods and heads, in case the count be
contumacious, to execute our behests.

On the 30th, in consequence of an afterthought that Carmagnola might penetrate the plans of the seigniory, and endeavour to escape, the necessary orders were forwarded to the governors and captains of the republic to second Da Impero, and if the general fled to any spot within their jurisdiction, to detain him till further notice; and a circular, superscribed by the doge, was sent to all the officers serving immediately under Carmagnola, bidding them not be surprised at these proceedings, assuring them of the earnest good-will of the government, and soliciting their implicit obedience to the directions, which they might receive through the authorities at Brescia and the proveditor-general, Francesco Garzoni, Cornaro’s successor.

Having arrived at his destination, secretary Da Impero closeted himself in the first instance with the podesta of Brescia and the proveditor-general, and afterward proceeded to the quarters of the count at or near Tercera. “After the customary salutations,” he presented his credentials, which were as follows:

TO THE MAGNIFICENT COUNT CARMAGNOLA, Captain-General:

The prudent and circumspect person Giovanni da Impero, our
secretary, has been charged by us (_i.e._, the Ten) to speak
about certain matters to your magnificence, wherefore be
pleased to repose in him the faith you would give to ourselves.

Carmagnola, too glad to have an excuse for quitting camp, blindly fell into the snare, and immediately started with the secretary of the Ten for Venice. At Padua, he was received with military honours by the local authorities; and he passed one night there, sharing the bed of Federigo Contarini, captain of Padua, “his very good friend.” On the 7th of April he reached the capital. A deputation of eight nobles was in waiting to receive him. At the entrance of the palace, Da Impero vanished, and the personal followers of the count were turned back with an announcement that “their master will dine with the doge, and will come home after dinner.” But his other companions remained, and ushered him into the hall of St. Mark’s.

As he passed through, the general observed that the doors closed behind him. He at once inquired where the doge was, declaring his wish to have an audience, “as he had much to say to his serenity.”

Leonardo Mocenigo, one of the sages of the council, stepped up to him and told him that Foscari, having had an accident in descending the staircase, was confined to his room, and could not receive him till the morrow.

Carmagnola then turned, with a gesture of impatience, on his heel, and prepared to retrace his steps, remarking: “The hour is late, and it is time for me to go home.”

When he arrived at the corridor which led to the Orba prison, however, one of the nobles in attendance gently arrested his progress with, “This way, my lord.”

“But that is not the right way,” retorted the count hurriedly.