The Conspiracy of Gianluigi Fieschi, or, Genoa in the sixteenth century.
Date: 2015-12-09T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Genoa (Italy) -- History; Fiéschi; Gian Luigi; conte di Lavagna; 1522-1547

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Title: The Conspiracy of Gianluigi Fieschi, or, Genoa in the sixteenth century.

Author: Emanuele Celesia

Translator: David H. Wheeler

Release date: December 9, 2015 [eBook #50656]
Most recently updated: October 22, 2024

Language: English

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THE CONSPIRACY

OF

GIANLUIGI FIESCHI.

Painted by Luca Combiaso—————————Engraved by H. Adlard.

PORTRAIT OF FIESCHI AS S.T GEORGE.

SEE PAGE 195.

SAMPSON LOW, SON & MARSTON, MILTON HOUSE, LUDGATE HILL, 1867

THE CONSPIRACY OF GIANLUIGI FIESCHI,

OR,

GENOA IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

BY

EMANUELE CELESIA.

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN,

BY

DAVID H. WHEELER.

LONDON:

SAMPSON LOW, SON & MARSTON,

MILTON HOUSE, 59, LUDGATE HILL.

1866.

[The Right of Translation is Reserved.]

PREFACE.

It is perhaps matter for just surprise that English literature has been so little enriched during the last quarter of a century by archivic researches in Italy. While these studies have greatly modified the views of Italian historians, it may be safely said that, with few exceptions, English history of Italy remains substantially as it was in 1840. The conspiracy of Gianluigi Fieschi, now presented to the English reading public, is one of those works which strongly mark the progress of historical research in the Italian Peninsula; and though it treats of an episode, that episode is so woven into the great events which surrounded it as to give a vivid picture of the condition of Italy in the sixteenth century. The work has therefore seemed to me to have sufficient historical value to merit translation into our language.

I have been more influenced, however, by a desire to make some of those who read only English acquainted with an Italian author who seems to me entitled to a larger public than his own people. There is no good reason why a greater number of Italian writers should not be favoured with an English dress; and it is probably more the effect of accident than want of merit in Italian writers that their works are much more rare in our tongue than those of French and German authors. The younger historical writers of the time, to which class M. Celesia belongs, have peculiar claims upon our attention, because they are the first truly independent writers of the Peninsula, and their works are the first fruits of liberal institutions and a Free Press. It would be only a first homage to their worth and sincere devotion to liberal principles to translate their best works into our language rather than absorb the substance of them into our own books. This reasoning has induced me to turn aside for a little while from the labour of preparing a history of Genoa to render M. Celesia’s beautiful Italian into an English, which I freely confess to be imperfect in comparison with the original.

The first impression of the general reader may be that this book treats of events so distant in time, and so different in moral scenery, from the political and social conditions in which we live as to afford little or no instruction to us. No history, except that of one’s own country, affords precise forms in which to mould the present; and what are called historical parallels do not really exist, since every series of political events has peculiar elements which make close analogies with any other series impossible. Those who quote events in the history of other times and peoples as containing precise instruction for present national action usually deceive their auditors all the more completely from being deceived themselves. It is only in the abundant matter of general principles that history contains lessons of political wisdom. In this sense the work before the reader is not without valuable instruction. M. Celesia has given us a view of the social and political condition of the masses who have too often been excluded from history because they had been excluded from power in the state.

We see, in fact, some painful scenes of that long tragedy which ended in the disfranchisement of the Italians, in the very period when most other European nations were making the bases of their institutions broader by enlarging the liberties of their peoples; and we see clearly that two vast despotisms—one reposing on a fiction of the continued life of the Roman Empire and the other on a perversion of the principle of Christian Authority—conspiring now together, now against each other, bewildered the intellect and destroyed the political vitality of Italy, gradually reducing her to a mere geographical expression. The people struggled in vain, partly because they struggled blindly, partly because a pernicious error placed them in exceptional conditions by stripping them of a part of their rights avowedly in the interest of humanity at large. So far this struggle was peculiar in form; but at bottom it was a struggle for popular rights, and its disastrous close is here shown to have been due to no fault of the people themselves. It is just here that less than justice has been done to the Italians, and this work well illustrates the stupendous falsehood which slew them.

Our interest in this error might be less if it were dead; but it lives and embarasses the Italians of our own day. We have just been gravely informed by a French statesmen[1] that Rome does not belong to Italy, but to the whole catholic world; and the statement is a key not only to current Italian difficulties but also to the failure of the nation to keep pace with the rest of Europe in the sixteenth century. Then, more than now, other nations conceived themselves to have a mission to preserve institutions which Italy was disposed to condemn and abolish. Then a larger number of Italians than now were bewildered by the legal or historical claim set up for a dead Empire and a Christian Church founded upon force, and in their bewilderment went over to their enemies. But below all this, a brave people struck manful blows for their salvation, and when they fell were suffocated with the terrible doctrine that Italy does not belong to herself. The statement of Count Persigny was and is, in its political significance, when applied to Italian politics, exactly like a declaration that London does not belong to England or Paris to France.

I do not forget that the falsehood has been acted upon as a truth in Italy for some centuries; but political piracy cannot win the moral approval of our times on the plea that it has been practised for a long period. The real effect of the doctrine, whatever be its force from a history made by applying it, is to condemn a whole people to a certain dependence on other nations, to give France, Austria and Spain—or to go back to the sixteenth century, France and the Empire—rights or duties in Italy which must impair the rights of the Italians. A creed which has this fatal element may be pushed to its logical consequence—the assassination of a nation. In the sixteenth century this was done. It was cruel—too cruel to be described—when history accused the fallen of cowardice, incapacity for liberty and superstitious devotion to Rome. From such atrocious slanders, the Italians of the sixteenth century deserve a vindication. M. Celesia has felt this part of his office so warmly that his word may seem those of an advocate rather than of an historian to those who forget the wrongs done to his people in the name of history. But he who fully weighs the injustice against which our author protests will rather wonder at the moderation and critical calmness of the greater part of the book than complain of the glow of honest indignation which lights up some of his periods.

The critical reader will regret that the work is not fortified by more copious references. The truth is that it is not the fashion in Italy to quote authorities, and the citations given were prepared by the author for this edition. I have added a few explanatory foot-notes; but the reader is referred for fuller information regarding events in earlier Genoese history to a forthcoming work on that subject.

D. H. WHEELER.

Genoa, June, 1865.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

THE COUNTS OF LAVAGNA.

The Valley of Entella and Lavagna—The Origin of the Counts of Fieschi—Their Conflicts with the Commune of Genoa—The Treaty of Peace between the Fieschi and Genoa—Civil Contentions—The Riches and Power of the Counts Fieschi—Innocent IV. and Hadrian V.—Cardinal Gianluigi Fieschi—The Fieschi Bishops and Lords of Vercelli and Biella—Famous Fieschi Warriors—Isabella, wife of Lucchino Visconti—St. Catherine—The Arms of the Family—Liberality and munificence of the Fieschi—Gianluigi II.—Sinibaldo, lord of thirty-three walled castles.

CHAPTER II.

THE ITALIAN STATES IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Leo X., and his false glories—Desperate condition of the Italian states in the sixteenth century—Their aversion to the Austrian power—The Sack of Rome—Wars and Plagues—Charles V. and Francis I.—The Despotism of Christian powers causes Italian peoples to desire the yoke of the Turks—The Papal theocracy renews with the empire the compact of Charlemagne.

CHAPTER III.

ANDREA DORIA AND THE REPUBLIC OF GENOA.

The Nobles and the People—Andrea Doria and his first enterprises—How he abandoned France, and went over to the Emperor—Accusations and opinions with regard to his motives—The laws of the Union destroyed the popular, and created the aristocratic Government—The objects of Doria in contrast with those of the Genoese Government and the Italian Republics—The lieutenants of Andrea and his naval forces—Popular movements arrested by bloody vengeance.

CHAPTER IV.

GIANLUIGI FIESCHI.

Maria della Rovere and her children—The natural gifts of Gianluigi—Andrea Doria prevents his marriage with the daughter of Prince Centurione—Gianluigi’s first quarrels with Gianettino Doria—Naval battle of Giralatte and capture of the corsair Torghud Rais—Count Fieschi espouses Eleonora of the Princes of Cybo—The hill of Carignano in the early part of the sixteenth century—Sumptuousness of the Fieschi palace—Gianluigi, Pansa and other distinguished men—Female writers—Eleonora Fieschi and her rhymes.

CHAPTER V.

THE PLOTS OF FIESCHI.

The political ideas of the sixteenth century—The advice of Donato Gianotto to the Italians—Generous aims of Gianluigi Fieschi—His reported plots with Cesare Fregoso disproved—The conspiracy with Pietro Strozzi a fable—Fieschi has secret conferences with Barnaba Adorno, lord of Silvano—Pier Luca Fieschi and his part in the conspiracy of Gianluigi—The Count sends Cagnino Gonzaga to treat with France—The purchase of the Farnesian galleys—Francesco Burlamacchi.

CHAPTER VI.

PAUL THIRD.

He aspires to grandeur for his family—His hostility to the emperor and to Doria—He encourages Gianluigi in his designs against the imperial rule in Genoa—Attempts of Cardinal Trivulzio to induce Fieschi to give Genoa to France—France is induced by the count to relinquish her hopes of obtaining Genoa—Verrina and his spirited counsels—Vengeance of Gianluigi against Giovanni Battista della Torre.

CHAPTER VII.

PREPARATIONS.

Character of the Fieschi family—Gianluigi acquires the friendship of the silk operatives and other plebeians—The Duke of Piacenza selects the count to arbitrate his differences with the Pallavicini—Secret understandings between the count and the duke—Gianluigi puts his castles in a condition for war—Gianettino Doria, to pave the way to supreme power gives Captain Lercaro an order to kill Fieschi—Industry of Verrina—The decisions of history on the merits of Fieschi should be made in view of the political doctrines of the sixteenth century.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SUPPER IN VIALATA.

Bloody propositions attributed to Verrina—The count repulses all treacherous plans—New schemes—The conspirators introduced into the city—Gianluigi pays his respects to Prince Doria—Gianettino removes the suspicions of Giocante and Doria—The supper of Gianluigi—The guests embrace the conspiracy—Eleonora Cybo and her presentiments.

CHAPTER IX.

THE NIGHT OF THE SECOND OF JANUARY.

Measures taken by the Count—Occupation of the gate of the Archi and of San Tommaso—Death of Gianettino Doria—Fieschi did not seek the death of prince Doria—Schemes of Paolo Lavagna—Taking of the arsenal—Fall and death of Gianluigi—Flight of Andrea Doria to Masone—The place where Gianluigi was drowned—The several arsenals of Genoa—The death of Count Fieschi deemed a misfortune by the Italians.

CHAPTER X.

COMPROMISES AND PUNISHMENTS.

Gerolamo Fieschi continues the insurrection in his own name—Consultations at the Ducal palace and fighting at San Siro—The news of the death of Gianluigi discourages the insurgents—Paolo Panza carries to Gerolamo the decree of pardon—Verrina and others set sail for France—The African slaves escape with Doria’s galley—Sack of Doria’s galleys—Return of Andrea and his thirst for vengeance—Decree of condemnation—Scipione Fieschi and his petitions to the Senate—Schemes and intrigues of Doria to get possession of the Fieschi estates—Destruction of the palace in Vialata—Traditions and legends.

CHAPTER XI.

THE CASTLE OF MONTOBBIO.

Count Gerolamo declines propositions of the government—Intrigue of the imperial party and revolutionary tendencies of the populace—The Republic is induced by Andrea Doria to assault Montobbio—The count’s preparations for defence—Verrina and Assereto assigned to the command of the works—Andrea induces the government to decline negotiations with Fieschi—Agostino Spinola closely invests the castle—Mutiny of the mercenaries of the count—He offers to surrender the castle on condition of security for the lives and property of the beseiged—Opposition of Doria to this stipulation—The treason of his mercenaries compels Fieschi to surrender—Doria, notwithstanding the entreaties of the government, treats the defeated Fieschi with great cruelty—Punishment of the Count of Verrina and other accomplices—Raffaele Sacco and his letters—The castle of Montobbio razed to the foundations.

CHAPTER XII.

PIER LUIGI FARNESE.

The ferocity and excesses of Andrea Doria—The benefits which he derived from the fall of the Fieschi—The Farnesi participated in Genoese conspiracies—Schemes of Andrea Doria against the duke of Piacenza—Landi is instigated by Andrea to kill the duke—The assassination of Pierluigi—The assassins and the brief of Paul III.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE NOBLES AND THE PLEBEIANS.

Intrigues of Figuerroa and the nobility—The law of Garibetto—New efforts of Spain to give Genoa the character of a Duchy—The firmness of the senate and Andrea foils the scheme of Don Filippo—The reception of the Spaniards by Doria and by the people—Sad story of a daughter of the Calvi—Don Bernardino Mendozza and his relations with Prince Doria—Baneful influence of the Spanish occupation.

CHAPTER XIV.

PRINCE GIULIO CYBO.

The revolt of Naples—Andrea Doria subdues it—Plots of the exiles against his life—Giulio Cybo seizes the feud of Massa and Carrara—His schemes for revolutionizing the Republic—Conference of the Genoese exiles in Venice—Capture of Cybo—Doria labours to have the emperor condemn Giulio to death—Punishment of Cybo and his accomplices—Letter of Paul Spinola to the Genoese government—Scipione Fieschi and his disputes with the Republic—Maria della Rovere—Eleonora Fieschi; her second marriage and death.

CHAPTER XV.

SIENA, THE FIESCHI AND SAMPIERO.

Ravages of the Barbary Corsairs—Bartolomeo Magiocco and the Duke of Savoy—The conference of Chioggia—Siege of Siena—Doria assassinates Ottobuono Fieschi—Sampiero di Bastelica and his memorable fight with Spanish knights—Revolts in Corsica—Vannina d’Ornano—The Fieschi faction unites with Sampiero—Ferocity of Stefano Doria—Sampiero is betrayed—Pier Luca Fieschi and his career.

CHAPTER XVI.

JACOPO BONFADIO.

Bonfadio executed in prison and his body burned—Errors in regard to the year of his death—The causes of his arrest and punishment—He was not guilty of the vices ascribed to him—The true cause of his ruin was his Annals—The pretence for his condemnation was his Protestant opinions.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE SPANISH DOMINION IN LIGURIA.

The Fieschi at the court of France—Louis XIV. supports their claims—Bad effects of the law of Garibetto—Severe laws against the Plebeians—Death of Andrea Doria—Estimate of his public services—New commotions—Magnanimity of the people—The old nobles make open war on the Republic—Treaty of Casale in 1576—The Spanish power in Italy, particularly in Liguria—Aragonese manners corrupt our people—New taxes and customs—The nobility accepts the fashions, manners and vices of the Spaniards—Change of the character of the Genoese people—Last splendours of Italian genius.

AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION

CATILINE AND FIESCHI COMPARED.—CATILINE’S AIMS OF A GENEROUS CHARACTER.—FIESCHI SOUGHT TO FREE HIS COUNTRY FROM THE SPANISH YOKE.—HISTORY UNJUST TO THE VANQUISHED.—SOURCES OF THIS HISTORY.—MATERIALS FOR THE FUTURE HISTORIAN OF ITALY.

It would be difficult to find in the history of the sixteenth century a name more fiercely assailed than that of Gianluigi Fieschi. From Bonfadio down to the most recent historians, the Count of Lavagna has received the same treatment at the hands of our writers which the learned vulgar are accustomed to give to Catiline. This levity of judgment is a new proof that history is too high a pursuit for servile minds.

The classic invectives of Cicero and the glittering falsehoods of Sallust, both written with masterly eloquence, and their echo taken up by inferior writers have disfigured the manly form of Sergius, and his cause, supported by the most generous and cultivated Romans, has come down to us described as the base plot of abandoned men.

Catiline could not have been base. He was illustrious by birth, well-known for his talents and powerful on account of his numerous dependants and friends. He stood on the last round of the ladder leading to the consulship and was supported by knights and senators; by Antonius Geta, Lentulus, Cethegus and even by Cæsar who was no stranger to the conspiracy. Crassus favoured him, though he afterwards turned informer against the conspirators. Entire colonies and Municipalities supported him. In upper Spain, Gneus Piso, in Mauritania, Publius Sittius Nucerinus and the legions were his partisans; in fine, he was the head of all the reformers of Italy and Gaul.

I do not excuse his violence, his disorderly life and his vices; though we know of these only through his enemies. But his aims were unquestionably high and noble. Roman liberty was buried in his tomb and not even the dagger of Junius Brutus could recall her to life. I hold it incontestable that the movement, far from being a plot of reckless men, was general and spontaneous towards that freedom which Lucius Sylla had extinguished in blood; a movement for which there was crying urgency in Italy, where crowds of slaves were supplanting the Latin races, and throughout the dominions of the Republic. In vain have cunning rhetoricians taught us to execrate the name of the great Roman, the last of the Tribunes. He has left for history a page written with his own blood which is more lasting than all envy. It shows us one who fell dead on the same ground where he steadfastly fought, displaying in his last hour an heroism which is inconsistent with the crimes coupled with his name.

Cicero himself tells us that the friendship of Catiline had such fascinations that he had barely escaped its influence. It may be true that his pallid face, his fierce eyes and his nervous step, now quick, now slow, terrified the publicans and patricians of Rome; but none can believe that he butchered his own son, immolated victims to the silver eagle of Marius, or handed round in nocturnal conventicles a cup full of foaming blood. Catiline was a bad man because he was vanquished; but Salvator Rosa, the soldier and painter of Masaniello, when he drew Catiline as a stern and magnanimous man did not believe him a low plotter, and the great captain of our century declared that he preferred the part of the great Latin conspirator to that of the versatile Tully.

The character of the Count of Lavagna has been depicted in similar colours by servile writers skilful in inventing calumnies. Catiline and Fieschi had the same ambition and a common aim. The former, in his familiar letters to Lentulus which were published in the Senate, declared that no venal ambition led him to make war. He said that his estates were security for his debts and that the liberality and wealth of Orestilla and his daughter would provide for any deficiency. He averred, he was impelled by wrongs and slanders, that he made the cause of the unfortunate his own, because he was defrauded of the fruit of his labours, and, while he was falsely suspected, was forced to see base men taking his place.

The same is true of Fieschi, whose death, Gianettino Doria had sworn. In Genoa, not less than in Rome, a partisan contest between the nobles and the people had lasted for centuries. Here, after the civil conflagrations, as after the scourgings of Rome by Marius and Sylla, liberty gradually expired. In both Republics, the people were bowed down by the insolence of the great. They were deprived of all share in the government, and corrupt ambition had unbounded sway. In Liguria, Andrea Doria had completed the triumph of the party of the nobles and imperialists and the ruin of popular liberty. Though he forbore to assume a princely title, he was a true king in authority, his nephew aspired to regal honours, and every popular right was trampled down by the Spanish power. According to Bonfadio this subjection was too bitter for the great soul of the Count Lavagna long to endure the humiliation. But his enemies wrote, and by a thousand channels circulated, the most incredible things as parts of his designs:—That he attempted by base intrigues to ruin the Republic, that he aimed to seduce it to servitude to his family or to France, to exterminate the Doria family, to lay bloody and felonious hands on the bank of St. George, to put the city to fire and sack. The decrees and official reports of the Republic do not warrant such statements, and a theory more honourable to him is justified by the gentleness of his character, by the Guelph traditions of his house, by the fact that he prevented the murder of Doria, in his palace, and by the conspiracy itself, the fury of which was directed against the ships of Doria, sparing those of the Republic.

It was necessary for Doria that black designs should be attributed to Fieschi, otherwise his fearful vengeance would have been unjustifiable. The slander was profitable also to the Spanish Cæsar, for it took away from his path a powerful family opposed to the Aragonese power in Italy. And as matter of fact, these idle tales, written in Genoa and diffused in France and Spain, were never believed among us. The greater part of the patricians did not credit them for they were Fieschi’s friends and would have saved him if the overbearing spirit of Doria had not imposed his will upon the senate. Such slanders found no credit with the people, who placed their love upon that philanthropic family and perpetuated its memory in national songs.

Catiline and Fieschi intended to awaken in their native lands the love of expiring liberty, and in that aim they had the support of many nobles and of the people. The pride of Roman patricians could bend to an alliance with the people, but they scorned to share their rights with foreign slaves. The Count of Lavagna grasped the hand of the people, but he refused the alliance of France. This fact testifies for both to the honesty of their designs; for to a traitor all paths are good so they but lead to his end.

Catiline, slandered by Cicero upon the rostrum, fulminates in his turn against his detractor, and though he quits Rome unattended, his exit is imposing and momentous. Fieschi, bending to the necessities of his time, found more quiet and secret paths to his end; and when accused by the minister of Cæsar with seeking to foment a revolution, he confronted Andrea Doria with a frankness which eluded the Admiral’s keen vigilance. From the blood of Catiline sprung the dictatorship of Cæsar; from that of Fieschi, the oligarchic government and the Spanish dominion in Genoa.

Doria, becoming the supporter and partisan of Charles V. and Phillip II. prevented Genoa from entering into the league of the Italian Republics against the Spanish yoke. Genoa, united to the enemies of Florence and Siena in the time of those memorable sieges, allied with the enemies of Naples when that people was rising for liberty, the friend of all the enemies of Italy, dates from that period her unfortunate decline. The movement of Fieschi, if he had accepted the alliance of France, might have averted the catastrophe. The French and Republican league might have extirpated the Spanish power in the Peninsula, and saved Italy from forging her own chains. It might have spared Genoa her struggles with the Barbary states, the revolt of the Corsicans, the decline of her commerce with the East and the most disastrous of all her civil tumults.

The Genoese people struggled long against that fatal alliance, cemented with their blood, which Fieschi strove to break. They left no means untried to dissolve it, using now supplication, now the sword and the scaffold. And for more than two centuries, a half subdued populace never grew weary of pouring its indignant complaints into the ear of the nobility. I have compared Catiline and Fieschi. The resemblance has not escaped historians. But their works and discourses have been reported, and judged by their enemies and by the faction which they strove to displace from power. The name of Count Fieschi waits to be rehabilitated by time which cancels great wrongs, impartially dispenses praise and blame, and gives each man that place in the esteem of posterity which his works merit.

From the earliest times our country was lacerated by two hostile factions. There were annalists and writers who recorded and magnified the exploits of those belonging to their party and silently passed over the praiseworthy actions of their political opponents. Procopius and Iornandes represent the two creeds which in their time were contending for the support of the nation. Anastaius is the biographer of the Popes, as Paul Diacono is of the Longobardic kings. In every province there were Malaspini and Dino Compagni, imperialists, fighting against the Guelph and Republican spirit of the three Villani. From the union of these hostile elements come forth the critical historian of the nation—Macchiavelli. But when the Germanic irruption cut the nerves of the Latin traditions, when Charles V. and Andrea Doria reestablished the foreign power in Italy, the Guelph spirit was silenced, the Journal killed, the Chronicle and official falsehoods so misrepresented events as to render history nearly impossible. John Mark Burigozzo, a Lombard shopkeeper, was the last annalist who recorded the sorrows of the people. Then came classic, courtly and salaried historians—history written by the victors. There is need of great caution in reading the verdict of a history written with the sword. “Woe to the vanquished” in history as on the battle-field. Corrupt ages praise successful crimes, and it is only by great effort that after times emancipate themselves from these servile adulations. There is a coward instinct in man which prompts him to applaud force and despise the fallen. The conscientious historian should enter his free protest against such dishonourable acquiescence in forced verdicts. It is time that history should be relieved from the tyranny of eloquent but mendacious tongues, and many powerful ones should be deposed from ill-gotten thrones. It is time to ask of many who have been called heroes what use they made of their swords and how they served Italy, and to concede—the supreme right of misfortune—a tardy tribute of regret to one who fell victim to a high and generous purpose.

What is the verdict recorded against Fieschi?

Among the writers who were his contemporaries stand foremost, Bonfadio, Campanaceo, Sigonio, Capelloni, Foglietta, Mascardi and Casoni. I do not mention foreigners, first among whom are Tuano and the Cardinal de Retz. I omit, too, the modern writers, since they have all followed with the assiduity of copyists the earlier historians, making no effort to study the public archives or even to criticise the text which they copied. Nevertheless, it is important to give the reader some account of the historians of that epoch; since the first duty of one who attempts to describe past events is to employ criticism in its widest sense, and so to separate the true from the false. Nor can this be done without carefully weighing the credibility of authors who have gone this way before us and taking account of the passions which governed them when they wrote.

The first historian of Fieschi was Bonfadio who was employed by the senate to write the annals of the Republic. He was a witness of the events which he described and on the very night of the rising, he went to the senate in company with Giovanni Battista Grimaldi. Yet we can yield him little faith; since, writing at the command of the government, he could not do less than speak harshly of the government’s enemies. He confesses that he had not in his hands the records of the conspirators’ trial. He ignores many facts, and never names the accomplices of Fieschi, scarcely suspecting that there were any. Having a mania for classic imitation, and borne away by the current of his times, he depicts Gianluigi as a man thirsting for base deeds and for blood; so, that if his immortal pages served to render the memory of Fieschi odious at a time when men had little concern for the honour of the vanquished, they are certainly too careless and too partial to satisfy the future. The unfortunate author, who was truthful in all other matters and failed in this only, because it treated of a plot against the powerful Doria, reaped bitter fruits for his great bias against Fieschi.

Not less unjust was Giuseppe Mario Campanaceo, who added to his history of the conspiracy a comparison between it and that of Catiline. “Both,” he says, “sprung from noble stock. Both were crushed under the ruin they plotted for others. In the one, a fierce look, a sanguinary countenance; in the other, a singular beauty and a virginal candour. The Roman was stained with bloody and licentious deeds; the Genoese bore the fame of goodness of heart and grace of manners. The Roman was verging towards age; the Genoese was in the freshness of his youth, yet he surpassed the conspirator of the Tiber as much in deceitfulness as Catiline excelled him in warlike exploits.”

If on minor points the narration of this writer is more accurate, it still bears the seal of the degraded time in which it was written. Though the author professes to have taken great pains to discover the truth, having spent a long time in Genoa for that purpose, it is very easy to see that he did not escape the contagion of party feeling and of the malevolence of the faction then dominant in Liguria. It is not strange, therefore, that he finds a mean and avaricious spirit in Gianluigi, while he describes Gianettino as an illustrious victim, rather, as the most virtuous knight of all Christendom.

Carlo Sigonio, in his life of Andrea Doria, and, among Genoese writers, Oberto Foglietto have treated the matter with elegance of diction but with unblushing plagiarism.

The same may be said of Lorenzo Capelloni, who described the conspiracy of Fieschi in a report to Charles V. He was too devoted to Cæsar, and to Doria, whose life he wrote, not to imitate the others whom we have mentioned in treating the attempt of Fieschi as a plot of like character with that of Cybo which he also described.

Agostino Mascardi, who was more of a rhetorician than an historian, tells us nothing new. Casoni was less devoted to the Spanish power and therefore more humane towards Fieschi, but he adopted without question the opinion professed by the party in power who never opened the archives of the state for the study of the historian.

We therefore conclude that a prudent and impartial criticism forbids us to give full faith to those who have given to Count Fieschi a dishonourable place in history.

In our opinion two qualifications are essential to the historian:—That he be able to collect the most accurate accounts of the facts, and that party spirit do not cloud the serenity of his mind. The writers whom we have mentioned lack these credentials. In fact, after studying the annals of the sixteenth century, we are satisfied that most of them were ignorant of the true causes of events. Sometimes they knew only a part of the facts; sometimes, acting under the influence of personal or political jealousy, they betrayed the truth by silence, by misrepresentation or by additions of what would serve their own purposes or the wishes of their masters.

The reader must judge whether we have truly balanced the account.

We see, from what has been said, that it was impossible Fieschi should have had truthful historians in the provinces ruled by Charles V. It was not to be expected in Genoa, where the supreme authority of the Dorias compelled even the least servile writers to the most skilful management of conscience and speech.

Neither in Tuscany, where the seeds of the Medicean tyranny were already springing up; not in Lombardy, which was the battle-ground of the two opposing factions; not in the kingdom of Naples tossed like a foot-ball from one master to another, but at the moment in the grasp of Cæsar. Finally, not in Rome where the Spanish government, in its war to the death upon the spirit of civil and religious liberty, found a swift accomplice in the Papal court which employed the zeal and devotion of its inquisitors in consigning to the flames both books and their authors. It is enough that no writer in Italy was permitted to answer the blind devotee of Rome, Baronius.

A few noble spirits arose to tell the truth of the Austro-Spanish power; such as Bandello, Ariosto, Boccalini and Tassoni; nevertheless in the period between Charles V. and the middle of the 17th century no true light of history shone on the Peninsula.

Learned and literary men lived in the courts, then the only dispensers of fame, and writers were more valued for their promptness in serving masters than for their mental acquirements. Even the best writers exhausted their ambition in the chase for courtly favour. It is not true that the protection of princes was useful to letters and arts; it only seduced them from the path of duty. Truth was banished from books because it displeased our masters, and history was sure to be smothered if it contained more than panegyric. Spanish wordiness had corrupted liberal studies and Italians were no longer honestly indignant against the oppressors of their country. They descended from employing their imaginations in intellectual creations to pandering to the senses. Literary entertainments, like falcons and buffoons, served for the sport of courtiers, as an instrument of corruption rather than a stimulant to generous pursuits. Intellect being thus prostrated, Fieschi could find no historian courageous enough to clear away the falsehoods that blackened his fame and constrain his calumniators to an honest confession. Cybo, Farnese, and whoever else, following the footsteps of Fieschi, opposed at the price of their lives Spanish influence, shared the historical misfortune of the Count of Lavagna.

It was necessary, then, to rewrite this history and I resolved to attempt the task. There are subjects (and the conspiracy of Fieschi is one of them) which seen from a distance fill us with apprehension, but when we approach and handle them, the alarm which possessed us generally disappears. I approached my subject with honest boldness and having studied it intimately, I have dared to rebel against the common opinion of the learned. If it were necessary to quote all the authorities for a conviction so opposed to the current of corrupted history the list would be too long. I, therefore appeal to the cultivated who will, I hope, bear me witness that very little within the range of the subject has escaped my notice. I ought, however, to remark that the Archives of Madrid and Paris have furnished me with foreign notices of the revolts of Fieschi and his partisans, and that more perfect information has been obtained from the Archives of Genoa, Florence, Parma, Massa and Carrara, and from some codexes and manuscripts which once belonged to Cardinal Adriano Fieschi (the last of the Savignone branch of the Fieschi family) whose heir, Count Alessandro Negri di S. Front, kindly permitted me to consult them at my pleasure. I render him my most hearty thanks. I have drawn other materials from the writings of the sacred college of Padua in favour of the Republic and the pleadings of the famous jurists who sustained the Fieschi party. Many other notices have been taken from private libraries in Genoa, which are at once so numerous and so difficult of access. Some documents very favourable to the cause of Fieschi were recently published by the erudite Bernardo Brea, but the greater part of them were already familiar to me; for the history which I now send to the press was written several years ago—a proof of which is that many extracts from it were then published in the journals. It is hardly worth while to dwell upon the reasons which kept me from publishing the work: The times were not, and are not, propitious to historic studies; yet I am forced in my own despite to bring my manuscript to light, lest I be accused of treading in the footsteps of a great author who has recently removed many a stain from the name of Fieschi and lashed his detractors with the severest condemnation.[2]

A modest cultivator of peaceful studies, I do not fear that any will suspect me of aiming to destroy the reverence due to a great name; or that I shall receive the sentence pronounced by Richelieu, who, on reading the conspiracy of Fieschi written by Cardinal de Retz in his youth, prophesied that the author would develop a turbulent and revolutionary spirit.

My humble condition and the honesty of my intentions render me safe from similar vacticinations. Though in my opinions upon the conspiracy I depart from the paths beaten by other writers, it is not without adequate reasons. I feel that the religion of truth, has had hitherto too few worshippers, that reverence for the unfortunate great of Italy has been long put under ban, and do not hesitate to say that if what I shall dare to write was not unknown by others it was most certainly concealed. What were the aims of Fieschi? What of Andrea Doria? Whither tended the uprising of the people? Who breathed life into the cause of national independence? To these questions, so far as I know, no one has yet made a sufficient answer; and, indeed, how can one write of Fieschi and Doria without investigating their personal motives, prying into the secrets of their hearts? Our historians, copying each other and compressing the tragedy of a century into a few pages, have given us only the conspiracy and the uprising, that is the least philosophic moment. For us, history begins where the strife ends. The designs which animate the combatants do not die with them, and they expand into the most interesting questions. Let the writer who does not feel the greatness of his mission shun these questions, I prefer that the reader shall not believe me a timorous friend of truth.

If once terror chained men’s souls, if great names could not be discussed, to-day, delivered from the febrile excitements of our predecessors, we may freely praise and blame the men and deeds of three centuries ago.

Nor is this all. A general history of Italy remains to be written, and the materials are scattered in the archives of our communes. Italy will write it when she shall have secured independence and a true national unity. In the meantime, mindful of the saying of Vico that, “we ought to seek for minute notices of facts and their antecedents rather than general causes and events, since by an accurate study of the facts themselves it becomes easy to find the causes and to clear up effects which often seem incredible to us,” I have devoted my utmost strength to removing a portion of that veil which covers the name of Fieschi, happy if I am able in this effort to correct some erroneous opinions and to prepare matter for the future historian of the nation.

CHAPTER I.

THE COUNTS OF LAVAGNA.

The Valley of Entella and Lavagna—The Origin of the Counts of Fieschi—Their Conflicts with the Commune of Genoa—The Treaty of Peace between the Fieschi and Genoa—Civil Contentions—The Riches and Power of the Counts Fieschi—Innocent IV. and Hadrian V.—Cardinal Gianluigi Fieschi—The Fieschi Bishops and Lords of Vercelli and Biella—Famous Fieschi Warriors—Isabella, wife of Lucchino Visconti—St. Catherine—The Arms of the Family—Liberality and munificence of the Fieschi—Gianluigi II.—Sinibaldo, lord of thirty-three walled castles.

That portion of Eastern Liguria, where, according to Dante,

“Fra Siestri e Chiavari

S’adima la bella fiumana,”[3]

retains in our day but little resemblance to the ancient seat of the Counts of Lavagna. Instead of forts and castles crowning every gentle elevation, the modern tourist finds a church dedicated to St. Stephen, and his eye wanders over hills, swelling above each other towards the encircling mountains and covered with olive gardens and orchards. The din of arms, the clash of maces and shields, is no longer heard; but instead the ear is saluted with the songs of peaceful burghers whose humble ambition finds content in gathering the fruit of the vines, weaving their nets, and drawing from their famous caves that slate which covers all the roofs of Liguria.

The banks of that stream which our ancestors called Entella, and we moderns Lavagna (from the name of the adjacent commune), have preserved, through the changes of centuries, their wonderful charms. It rises in the humble valley of Fontanabuona, is enriched by numerous tributaries from vales on either hand, and slips quietly into the sea after a course of only twenty-four miles.

Some tell us that in ages which have no authentic history the ancient Libarna was here, and that the name was afterwards corrupted into Lavagna; but our modern geographers do not accept the opinion. It is certain that Lavagna became the seat of a count of that name, who, about the year one thousand of our era, ruled over the contiguous districts of Sestri, Zoagli, Rapallo, Varese, and a great part of Chiavari. From this epoch, for many centuries, the history of the whole region was absorbed in that of the great family who ruled that portion of Liguria. The origin of these Counts is lost in mediaeval darkness. Giustiniani, Prierio, Panza, Sansovino, Betussi, and Ciaccone believe that they came of the stock of the Dukes of Bourgogne or of the Princes of Bavaria, and they affirm that the counts were called Flisci, because they watched over the collection of the imperial taxes. On this point nothing can be said with certainty. For our part, remembering that from the time of Otto the Great four powerful families ruled over all Liguria—that is the Counts of Lavagna and Ventimiglia, and the Marquises of Savona and Malaspina—we are led to believe that the Fieschi, like the Estensi, Pallavicini, Malaspina, and many other powerful houses, had a Longobardic derivation. This belief is supported by the fact that the Counts of Lavagna ruled with Longobardic laws, and drew from that nation, their Christian names as Oberto, Ariberto, Valperto, Rubaldo, Sinibaldo, Tebaldo, and others of like formation, which we find on every page of their family records. The Longobards ruled almost a century and a half in Liguria, and it is probable that many families of that nation founded feuds and took firm root with their estates and castles.

It is certain that the first count of the name clearly mentioned in history was a certain Tedisio, son of Oberto, who ruled the county of Lavagna in 992, and who had previously accompanied King Arduinus through all his campaigns. From him descended, in the right line, Rubaldo, Tedisio II., Rubaldo II., Alberto, and Ruffino. In the will of Ruffino (1177) the name Fieschi occurs for the first time.[4] Then followed Ugone and Tedisio III., brother of Pope Innocent IV. It is not our purpose to speak of their genealogy, but we refer the curious reader to works on that subject.

The Counts of Lavagna, at a very early period, enlarged their jurisdiction by acquiring many surrounding castles and feuds. The growth of their power was so rapid that the Genoese people, in the earliest days of the communal system (1008), found it necessary to put a check on the increasing influence of this family. The Genoese attempted to take possession of the castle of Caloso, the first seat of the Fieschi, and then held by Count San Salvatore. The Fieschi anticipated and foiled the movement by pushing forward their conquests so as to include in their dominions Nei, Panesi, Zerli, and Roccamaggiore. This conflict gave rise to long and indecisive struggles, which did not end until the Genoese army, returning from the Romagna in 1133, marched through Lavagna, dismantled its fortresses, and, to secure the obedience of the Counts, fortified Rivarolo, in the very heart of the country. The Counts rallied from the effects of this staggering blow, and, by dint of extraordinary address and courage, recovered their estates and independence.

When Frederick I. besieged Milan, the Fieschi went to his camp to pay him homage, and the Emperor, by royal decree, dated the 1st of September, 1158, invested Count Rubaldo Fieschi with all the ancient lands and rights of his family.

This patent conferred upon the Counts the following territories and privileges:

The waters of Lavagna and the tolls (pedaggio) for the highways along the sea-shore and the road through the mountains; feudatory rights over the men who held allodial properties in the three plebeian hamlets of Lavagna near the sea, Sestri, and Varese; and finally the wood which has the following boundaries—from the Croce di Lambe to Monte Tomar, thence to the bridge of Varvo, lake Fercia and Selvasola, returning to the point of departure at Croce di Lambe.

The Fieschi were thus rendered independent of the republic, and, about 1170, having made a secret treaty with Obizzo Malaspina and the counts of Da Passano, they invested Rapallo, and put Genoa to such straits that she was forced to ask aid of the marquises of Monferrato, Gavi, and Bosco. The soldiers of the allies under the command of Enrico il Guercio, Marquis of Savona, punished the contumacy and audacity of the Fieschi.

Finally, to compress much into few words, the commune of Genoa, on the 25th of June, 1198, made a treaty with the Counts of Lavagna. The latter bound themselves to content their ambition with the possession of Lavagna, Sestri, and Rivarolo, and the commune conferred many honours and privileges on the counts, especially reaffirming the rights conveyed to the family by the Emperor. The Fieschi further pledged themselves never more to draw sword against the city of Genoa or her allies, the Bishop of Bobbio, and the Lords of Gavi, and to become citizens of Genoa.[5] At the time of this treaty Count Martino was the sole head of the whole family, but after his death they separated into many branches. The principal line retained the name Fieschi; the others were called Scorza, Ravaschieri, Della Torre, Casanova, Secchi, Bianchi, Cogorno, and Pinelli.

It is not our intention to speak further of the junior branches. The treaty with Genoa marks the close of the wars between the commune and the Fieschi, and the beginning of our domestic divisions, which for centuries weakened the republic, and compelled the lover of repose to seek it in voluntary exile. Those who adhered to the empire were called Mascherati, and the opposite faction Rampini, headed by Fieschi. It would be a long work and one outside of our purpose to describe the various changes of fortune through which the Counts of Lavagna passed, tossing up and down in the fury of political strife; but it is noteworthy that they always maintained the character of defenders of popular liberty.

When Galeazzo Sforza was in power, they lived at Rome in exile, and their castles were occupied by ducal garrisons; but after the death (1476) of this tyrant, they rushed to arms, assailed the ducal palace in Genoa, and forced Giovanni Pallavicini, governor under Sforza, to take refuge in the fortress of Castelletto. Having made themselves masters of the city, far from assuming supreme powers, they immediately summoned the great parliament of the citizens who elected eight captains of liberty, six of whom were taken from the people and two from the patricians. Giano Giorgio and Matteo Fieschi were placed at the head of the army; but to defend the city from the threatened invasion a spirit of greater force and audacity was needed. The eyes of the people fell upon Obietto Fieschi, who was at Rome a prisoner of Sixtus IV., the ally of Sforza. He eluded the Pope’s vigilance, put himself at the head of his own vassals, and fought long, until, defeated by the imperial forces under Prospero Adorno, he was forced to take shelter in the castles of his county. The fortresses of Pontremoli, Varese, Torriglia, Savignone, and Montobbio were one after the other wrested from him, and he himself was captured and conducted to Milan, where, becoming involved in a plot against the Duchess Bona, he was detained in prison. His brother, Gianluigi, took his place and kept alive the fire of liberty. He routed Giovanni del Conte and Giovanni Pallavicini, in Rapallo, with terrible slaughter. He afterwards entered into negociations, and ceded Torriglia and Roccatagliata to Prospero Adorno.

But the Sforza government had so outraged the Genoese that popular indignation ran high against it, and Prospero Adorno resolved to free himself from his unfortunate alliance, and, to strengthen his new position, sought and obtained the aid of the counts of Lavagna. The Lombard regency sent a splendidly equipped army of more than sixteen thousand men, to compel the rebels to return to their allegiance; but Gianluigi Fieschi assaulted them in flank and rear with such skill and courage that he put them to complete rout. The enemy took refuge in Savignone and Montobbio, but Fieschi refused to listen to terms of accommodation, stormed those strongholds, recovered his feuds, and retained the prisoners as a ransom for Obietto.

The Fieschi may have been restless partisans and promoters of intestine strife, but they were never tyrants. Their broad lands, from which they drew large revenues and considerable armies, enabled them to make war upon a republic already strong in arms, and to snatch victory from the troops of foreign lords. At this period they held in the duchies of Parma and Piacenza the feuds of Calestano, Vigolone, Pontremoli, Valdettaro, Terzogno, Albere, Tizzano, Balone, and a number of smaller castles; in the territory of Lunigiana—Massa, Carrara, Suvero, Calice, Vepulli, Madrignano, Groppoli, Godano, Caranza, and Brugnato; in Valdibubera they were masters of Varzi, Grimiasco, Torriglia, Cantalupo, Pietra, and Savignone; in Piedmont—Vercelli, Masserano, and Crevacore; in Lombardy—Voghera (which Tortona sold to Percival Fieschi in 1303), and Castiglione di Lodi; in Umbria—Mugnano; in the kingdom of Naples—San Valentino; in Liguria, to say nothing of Lavagna, where they coined money before 1294,[6] they possessed more than a hundred boroughs.

It should be added that most of these possessions came into their power by conquest, purchase, or imperial gift before Innocent and Hadrian ascended to the Pontifical throne. Nicolò Fieschi alone, to pass by others of the family, bought seventy castles in Lunigiana from the bishop of Luni and from the lords of Carpena then very powerful. He ceded a great part of these feuds to the Republic, when he took the leadership of the Guelphs and formed alliance with Naples against the Ubertines (1270). This was the origin of long and bitter contests which finally ended in a treaty of peace and the absolution of Genoa from the interdict hurled against her by Pope Gregory at the instance of Cardinal Fieschi, whose lands the Republic had seized. The convention provided for the cession of a great part of the Cardinal’s feuds to Genoa (1276). We believe there is no other family which counts in its registers two Popes, seventy-two Cardinals and three-hundred Archbishops, Bishops and Patriarchs. Sinibaldo who assumed the tiara in 1242 under the title of Innocent IV, was an illustrious Pontiff. Frederick II, who had found in him when cardinal a warm ally, proved the strength of his hostility when he became Pope. The Emperor shut up the Pope in the castle of Sutri in 1244 and the Genoese sent twenty two galleys to raise the siege and rescue the pontiff. Innocent accompanied his deliverers to Genoa and from here travelled by the mountain road of Varazze to the castle of Stella, of which Jacopo Grillo (an accomplished troubadour) was lord, and remained there for forty days. A fountain from which he was wont to slake his thirst is still called Fontana Del Papa. From Stella he journeyed by way of Acqui to Lyons, where he summoned a general council and excommunicated Frederick, his son Corrado and his followers and partisans the Duke of Bavaria and Ezzelino.

The Emperor to avenge this affront, captured and destroyed the castles of the Fieschi in Liguria. The Pope, to rebuild and secure a home wasted by many invasions, formed the magnificent scheme of surrounding Genoa with walls and converting it into a refuge for the Guelph party. He selected for his own residence the convent of S. Domenico,[7] which had been the church of St. Egidius (having been donated to that patriarch in 1220.) The Ghibellines, learning the Pope’s design, raised a tumult and prevented the erection on that site of the palace which afterwards adorned the summit of Carignano.

Ottobuono, son of Tedisio, followed Innocent in the papal dignity and took the name of Hadrian V. As legate of Urban IV, he had conducted with success some difficult political negotiations. In the Council of Lyons and in his embassies to Germany and Spain, the superiority of his mind had given him a foremost place. When he ascended the pontifical throne, he curbed the insolence of Charles of Anjou who was abusing his office as Senator of Rome. His reign was short, for as Dante sings,

“Un mese e poco piu provò Come pesa il gran manto”[8]

The great Poet condemns him to the circle of the avaricious in Purgatory, perhaps on account of the vast wealth which he amassed while cardinal, the rental of which exceeded a hundred thousand gold marks.

Luca Fieschi, Cardinal of S. Maria Invialata, was still richer. He, like all the rest of his family, wielded the sword as well as made pastoral addresses. The famous Sciarra Colonna, captured by him at Anagni, had bitter experience of his warlike spirit. This cardinal as legate of Clement V in Italy, accompanied Henry VII in his expedition to our Peninsula in 1311. It was through his influence that Brescia and Piacenza were saved from pillage as a punishment for their revolt. After Henry’s coronation in Rome, the cardinal obtained by a decree, issued at Pisa in 1313, the full confirmation of all his ancient feudal rights. In his will, he ordered that, whoever of his heirs should be patron of the church of S. Adriano in Trigoso should build, on the estates of Benedetta De Marini, a church of equal size and beauty with that in Trigoso, and he bequeathed a large amount of property to be spent in its construction. This is the origin of that Gothic church in Vialata whose sides are covered with alternate slabs of black and white marbles. The word Vialata is not derived from the violets which once blossomed over that height, as some tell us, but from the cardinalate of that temple which the vandals of our time have not yet entirely disfigured. The friends of Luca Fieschi erected an honourable monument to him, in the duomo of Genoa, some remains of which are yet visible on a side door of our cathedral.

Giovanni Fieschi, bishop of Vercelli and Guelph leader was also a military chieftain. In 1371, he marched upon Genoa at the head of eight hundred horse to avenge his family who as rebels had been dispossessed of the castle of Roccatagliata by the Republic. He waged a long war with the Visconti. They had robbed him of Vercelli, but he reacquired this feud by subsequent treaty. He obtained from the Pope the temporal sovereignty of that city; and Boniface IX and his successors invested him with Montecapelli, Masserano and Crevacore. After his death, Vercelli passed into the hands of his nephew Gianello, of good fame both as a cardinal and warrior. It was by his influence and that of Giacomo Fieschi, Archbishop of Genoa, that the Republic undertook to rescue Urban IX when he was besieged in Nocera di Puglia. Nor were Guglielmo and Alberto Fieschi without military celebrity. They conquered the kingdom of Naples for their uncle Innocent IV. Not less warlike were Emanuele and Giovanni Fieschi, who as bishops and lords governed Biella in the middle of the fourteenth century. Giovanni, however, had the misfortune to incur the displeasure of his people, was driven from power, and ended his days in prison, 1377. The civil life of Genoa for many centuries was a succession of political revolutions. The leading spirits were always the Fieschi and Grimaldi, Guelphs, and the Spinola and Doria, partisans of the Empire. Carlo Fieschi was certainly a turbulent spirit and a promoter of discord. In order to remove from power the opposite party, he handed the Republic over to Robert of Naples, and Francesco Fieschi attempted to give Genoa to his son-in-law the marquis of Monferrato. Francesco had fought as Guelph general against Opizzino Spinola and the marquis of Monferrato had given him valuable aid in the campaign which he successfully closed by burning Busalla and desolating the Spinola estates.

But Francesco exercised the rights acquired by conquest with a moderation unusual in those times; and he committed the government of the city to sixteen citizens.

For the rest, the Fieschi though sometimes turbulent and dangerous to the peace of the city, never laid violent hands on the liberties of the Republic. Their struggles aimed to emancipate the city from the influence and control of the imperial party, and they always faithfully served those to whom they offered their arms.

It is fitting to enumerate among the heroes of this noble line a Giacomo Fieschi whom St. Louis created a grand marshal of France as a reward for many distinguished services. Innocent IV. invested this Giacomo with the kingdom of Naples and it is probable that Charles V alluded to this fact when, writing to Sinibaldo Fieschi, he declared him descended from the loins of kings. Nor can we omit Giovanni Fieschi who, in 1337 governed the province of Milan and fell bravely in battle; nor Danielo and Luca Fieschi who served as Florentine generals. It was this Luca who in 1406 conquered Pisa.

The Fieschi race is not famous alone for its men; its women have been distinguished for purity of life and force of character, a few, unfortunately, for vicious practices. We pass by Alassina, wife of Moruello Malaspina whom Dante, after having lived in her court, praised for her virtues. We know little else of her career. We pass Virginia, daughter of Ettore Fieschi and wife of the Prince of Piombino, a wise and virtuous matron; and also Jacopina who after the death of her first husband, Nino Scoto, married Obizzo da Este.

Alconata, or according to others Gianetta Fieschi, daughter of Carlo and wife of Pietro de Rossi, lord of Parma, was notorious for lascivious manners, and a still more infamous celebrity attaches to the name of Isabella Fieschi, wife of Lucchino Visconti. The Milanese Chroniclers tell us that Fosca (an epithet given to Isabella) obtained permission from her husband to attend the naval tournament held in Venice at the feast of the ascension in 1347. Magnificent preparations were made in Lodi for the journey of the duchess. She selected for her cortège the flower of the Lombard knights and ladies. It is said that every dame was accompanied by her admirer. Isabella was received at Mantua with distinguished courtesy by Ugolino Gonzaga whom she made happy by her embraces. On her arrival in Venice she abandoned herself to the arms of Doge Dandolo and the most elegant and accomplished gentleman of that republican court. The dames of her cortège, as usually happens, followed the example and imitated the gallantries of their mistress.

The fame of these amours reached Milan, where after the return of the party, the dames one after another confessed their errors. No husband was more deeply wounded than Lucchino, and he resolved to avenge his dishonour in the blood of Fosca. The unscrupulous Genoese dame, on learning the intention of her outraged lord, frustrated it by administering to him, according to tradition, a slow poison. Isabella was the most beautiful woman of her time; she had a numerous family which she confessed on her death bed to have been the fruit of her intrigues with Galeazzo, nephew of Lucchino, who was a brave and accomplished knight.

The daughter of Giacomo Fieschi and Francesca di Negro made ample amends for the licentiousness of these members of her family. We speak of that Catherine whom the church has glorified as a saint. She was beautiful in person, simple in her tastes and pure in her life. From her earliest years she avowed her desire to take the veil; but, constrained by her parents, she married Giuliano Adorno, a man addicted to every species and degree of vice. The virtues and prayers of Catherine, whose pure spirit above all earthly aims looked steadfastly towards heavenly things, were powerful enough to draw him back to the paths of virtue.

She was a miracle of love and wisdom. She wrote learned works, especially a treatise upon Purgatory, which received the encomiums of Cardinal Bellarmino, of the doctors of the Sorbonne and of the first philosophers and critics of that period (1510.)

Her relative and disciple, Tomasina Fieschi, imitated the devotional spirit of the sainted Catherine. Nor was she less charming in person nor less gifted in literary talents; but her manuscripts are unfortunately lost and time has destroyed all but the sweet perfume of her virtues.

In the beginning of the thirteenth century, the counts of Fieschi separated into two branches, that of Savignone of which we do not purpose to write, and that of Torriglia. Both however continued to call themselves counts of Lavagna, in memory of their origin.

At this early period they were followers of the imperial party and they received from Frederic, as his feudatories, the armorial bearing of three azure bars on a silver field. But when Frederic quarrelled with the Holy See the Counts embraced the Papal side and became leaders of the Guelph party. Then they placed the cat (gatto) over their crests in honour of the Bavarian family, head of the Guelph faction in Germany, which probably gave us the name. Later, they wrote under the cat “sedens ago” a symbol, says Federigo, of that wisdom which produces by force of intellect rather than of hand.[9] The Torriglia branch used sometimes to place a dragon upon their helmets; but the cat, as more ancient, was the true armorial bearing of the family.

The Lords of Este and Monferrato, the Gonzaga, Visconti Orsini, Sanseverini, Sanvitali, Caretto, Pallavicini and Rossi took their spouses from the Fieschi family, and received feuds, estates, and burghs as dowries. The most illustrious families of Italy coveted alliance with their blood. Even the counts of Savoy intermarried with them and in this way acquired large possessions in Piedemont. Innocent IV. married his niece Beatrice to count Tomaso of Savoy, and gave as dower the castles of Rivoli and Viana, together with the valley of Sesia. In 1259 count Tomaso was created by Innocent gonfaloniere of the church; and Ottobuono Fieschi liberated from prison in Asti Amedeo, Tomaso and Ludovico, sons of Tomaso.

They were not less generous and distinguished at home. About the year 1286, they erected a large tower and a castle at the gate of Sant’Andrea. In times equally remote, Opizzo Fieschi built for his residence a marble palace on the piazza of the duomo, enriching it with statutes, decorations, and precious vessels. This palace served afterwards for the council chamber of the Podesta, until Boccanegra took possession of it. Innocent IV. was born there. They built several other palaces in the city, which enjoyed full immunity; neither the sheriff nor his officers could cross their thresholds to serve writs or capture those who had taken refuge within them. The greater part of their palaces were destroyed in the rage of civil war. The one which Carlo Fieschi fortified near the church of S. Donato was ruined in 1393, and a year later that of cardinal Giacomo Fieschi, one of the most sumptuous in Italy, shared the same fate.

They did not content themselves with adorning Genoa with palaces. The convents of Servi, S. Leonardo, and S. Francesco bear witness to their public spirit, not to mention the many hospitals, churches, and other public edifices with which they enriched the Eastern Riviera. These public charities were at various times rewarded with dignities and privileges, especially by a decree that the first-born of the count of Lavagna should sit in the council chamber above the elders and next to the Doge. The office of doge, denied by law to the nobles until 1528, the Fieschi, in the height of their power, conferred upon their adherents, and in peaceful times they were by this means masters of the Republic. There is no instance in which a Fieschi, in any revolution, attempted to grasp at supreme power, or lay violent hands on popular liberty.

Gianluigi II. was no exception to this rule. He purchased from Corrado Doria the feud of Loano, and was ambitious of becoming master of Pisa. When the Pisans asked as a favour to be incorporated into the Republic of Genoa, Gianluigi, as a means to his private ambition, discouraged his fellow-citizens from accepting the gift. The Genoese were so enraged at discovering the motives and intrigues of Fieschi, that a year after they excluded the nobles from office, took possession of the Fieschi castles, and elected eight tribunes of the people as heads of the government. Louis XII., instigated by the nobility, punished this plebeian audacity by restoring the Fieschi to their ancient dominions, and assigning them the government of all Eastern Liguria. At that time the king visited Genoa, and lodged in the Fieschi palace in Carignano, where, perhaps in the festal rejoicings, he encountered that Tomasina Spinola, who, according to the chronicles of the period, was so smitten with his personal charms, that she died soon after of her unhappy love.

The riches and power of Gianluigi gave him the title of Great, and his virtues and varied abilities acquired him such consideration that, when after the death of his first wife, Bartolomea della Rovere, he wedded Catherine, sister of the Marquis of Finale, the senate paid homage to his distinguished merit by proclaiming a safe conduct from Corvo to Monaco for all who should attend the espousals. His son, Sinibaldo, did not, like his father, cultivate the friendship of the French. His brother was assassinated by the Fregosi, and to obtain vengeance he used his influence to elevate the Adorni to the place occupied by the Fregosi. When Ottaviano Fregoso returned to power, Sinibaldo retired to his estates, formed an alliance with the Adorni, and marched upon Genoa in 1522. He fought bravely against the French when Cesare Fregoso led them against the city, but he was made prisoner, and only obtained his liberty by the payment of a heavy ransom. Afterwards he united with Andrea Doria to expel the French from Genoa; he captured Savona by storm, and gave powerful aid to Andrea in carrying the Republic over to the Imperial cause. Having lost his brothers, he came to be the sole head of his family, and inherited all the vast possessions and wealth of his father. Charles V. confirmed his titles to his estates. He went as the ambassador of the Republic, to assume the investiture from the emperor of some castles, and spent on the occasion a large sum which he would not permit the Republic to repay.

Sinibaldo united to his feuds Pontremoli, for which he paid twelve thousand gold crowns[10] to Francesco Sforza. His united possessions now embraced thirty-three walled castles, besides innumerable estates and villas on the sides of the Appennines, bounded by Genoa and Sarzana on the sea, and by Tortona, Bobbio, Parma and Piacenza, inland.

He was also master of many other feuds separated from his county. He drew such large revenues from these lands that the Republic had no other citizen of equal wealth, and he lived with a pomp and luxury till then unknown in Italy. His munificent generosity earned him the merited praise of Ariosto, who places him at the fountain of Malagigi,—foremost among those whose lances are wounding the fierce image of avarice.

He died in 1532, leaving Maria della Rovere a widow. She was the niece of Julius II., and bore Sinibaldo a numerous family. He was buried, wrapped in silk cloth of gold, in the vault of his fathers, in our cathedral, and Ugo Partenopeo pronounced his funeral oration.

The eldest son of Sinibaldo was that Gianluigi, whose career we are about to describe. But in order to pronounce a just opinion of his actual character, we believe it important to speak at some length of the condition of Italy and the Republic of Genoa when he appeared on the political stage. A great man is, in our opinion, the expression of a social want; he embodies and expresses the ideas of the times wherein he is born, and therefore is a compendious symbol of the people among whom he lives.

CHAPTER II.

THE ITALIAN STATES IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

Leo X., and his false glories—Desperate condition of the Italian states in the sixteenth century—Their aversion to the Austrian power—The Sack of Rome—Wars and Plagues—Charles V. and Francis I.—The Despotism of Christian powers causes Italian powers to desire the yoke of the Turks—The Papal theocracy renews with the empire the compact of Charlemagne.

The age of Leo X., in painting whose meretricious splendours, our historians have rivalled each other, was one of the most unfortunate in the history of Italy. Let others call the age of Valentine and Charles V. the age of gold; Raphael, Titian, and Michael Angelo cannot make us forget Leyva, Baglioni, and the barbarians who overran Italy, bringing in plague, famine, and intestine war. Swiss and French in Lombardy, French and Spaniards in Naples, Swiss and Germans in Venetia rendered every region desolate and every government despotic. Julius II. spoke falsehood when he boasted that he had expelled the Ultramontanes from Italian soil; he merely drove out one foreigner by the help of another, and the last invaders filled the people with desperate longing for the old oppressors. After his death the Papal dignity was conferred on Leo de’ Medici, whose name has a false lustre in letters and arts.

It was a grave delusion or a sychophantic flattery to attribute to him the impulse that revived liberal studies. The great intellects who flourished under his pontificate had risen to fame before his time. He covered them with wealth and honours out of no sympathy with their pursuits, but to emasculate their independent spirits and stifle the groans of the nation in whose bosom the spirit of independence began to react under the hammer of incessant misfortune.

The manners of Leo were wholly corrupt and his religion atheism. The Lutheran doctrines which spread in his time owed their success to the trade in indulgences, the profits of which he conferred before collection upon his sister Magdalene Cybo, to repay her family for the princely receptions they gave him in Genoa.

The scribblers called him The Great, because they lived upon him, and were only idle ornaments of a luxurious court. He entertained the Romans with feasts and games, because he was a devotee of pleasure, and, according to the saying of the people, wished to enjoy the papacy. But the chases of Corneto and Viterbo, the infamies of Malliana, the suppers of the gods, and the fisheries of Bolsena were paid for with money borrowed at forty per cent. The people of the Romagna, bleeding under his insatiable collectors of revenue, prayed for the Turkish yoke, as a relief from that of the Popes. When it was his plain duty to restore his wasted provinces by permanent peace, he excited new wars, for whose conduct he had neither money, energy, nor talents. History has been strangely generous with Leo. His intrigues, his wrongheaded policy, the fictitious conspiracy of Florence,—for which Macchiavello was beheaded, Braccioli and Capponi killed, and many others imprisoned or banished,—still await a pen sharp enough to cut away his borrowed glories.

At the death of Maximilian of Austria, the electors conferred the empire on Charles V. of Spain, who was already master of the Two Sicilies. The power of Charles threatened the independence of Rome, and Leo formed a league with France, in the audacious hope of expelling the Spaniard from Italy. But he betrayed his ally for a dukedom in the kingdom, conferred on his bastard son Alexander de’ Medici. A war broke out, and the Papal and Imperial troops, led by Prospero Colonna and Marquis Pescara, had already occupied Milan, when the sudden death of Leo cut short his enterprises. His successor was the Flemish Van Trusen, under the title of Hadrian VI. He had never set foot in Italy, and was therefore called a barbarian. The corrupt prelates despised a Pope, under whom absolution cost only a ducat.

Hadrian was unable to continue the war, the Papal treasury having been drained by the prodigality of Leo. Besides the Rovere, Baglioni and Malatesta had seized the Papal dominions. The other states of Italy were not more fortunate than the Papal. Venice had been bleeding to death since the league of Cambray; Florence was under the heel of Julius de’ Medici; the lords of Mantua and Ferrara were in the grasp of a master; the Marquis of Monferrato and the Duke of Savoy were protected by French garrisons; the kingdom of Naples was barbarized and taxed to the verge of ruin by those Spanish hordes who from the poverty of their clothing were called the Bisogni.[11] Charles did not pay his armies a sous, and they had scarcely routed the French under Lautrec when they began a general pillage of Italy. Though the Pope was Charles’ ally the pontificial territory did not escape the common fate. The excesses of Ultramontane lust and avarice bred a terrible pestilence in Florence and in Rome; new wounds for Italy. When the plague had reached its height, the pontiff in an insane fright abolished the sanitary laws on the plea that they were offensive to Heaven and heretical. Thus the pestilence, encountering no obstacles, raged with unchecked violence.

We are told that in these straits, the Romans longing to find a barrier to such a flood of woes, sacrificed a bull with all the pagan ceremonies to the divinities of the ancient Republic. To such a degree had the atheism of the popes taken root among the people!

Julius, of the Medici family, succeeded to Hadrian VI.; but he did not bring peace to Italy. The French, led by Bonnivet made a new attempt to recover Lombardy. Prospero Colonna made them pay dearly for the enterprise; but Francis I. invaded Italy in force, and Milan, desolated by the plague, came into his power. Who at that period cared for the independence of Italy? Venice, Venice alone. In the battle of Pavia, Francis I. was beaten and captured. Venice seeing the knife pointed at her own breast by Imperial hands, proposed to Louisa of Savoy, mother of the captive French king and regent of France, a general league of the enemies of Spain, the mustering of armies and the liberation of the illustrious prisoner. The Pope opposed the scheme and bound himself closer to the emperor whose satellites he paid largely for leaving him in peace. The German leaders divided the money and went on robbing the subjects of the Pope.

In the meantime the treaty of Madrid (1526) released Francis I. from prison and he made haste to violate the stipulations extorted from him by force. He formed an alliance for the liberation of Italy, with the Pope, the Venitians and Francis Sforza. The French monarch proclaimed himself the apostle of liberty for oppressed people and awakened everywhere the spirit of resistance to the Spanish power. A strange delusion that the French monarch sought to enfranchise Italy seized upon the most illustrious men of our Peninsula. The Genoese were especially forward in urging the Pope to abandon the Imperial alliance and join the French league. Foremost among those who shared this delusion was Giammateo Ghiberti of Genoa, chancellor of Clement VII., a knight of stainless honour and a prelate uncontaminated by the moral leprosy which raged in the Roman court.

The choicest spirit in literature and science supported the generous hopes of Ghiberti. Among them was Pietro Bembo who had been secretary to Leo X., Ludovico Canossa, the French ambassador in Venice, and Jacopo Sodoleto, an extraordinary genius whom the amorous overtures of the beautiful Imperia failed to degrade. Sodoleto, a man deeply religious and patriotic had urged Clement to make bold reforms in the bosom of the church. He founded in Rome, with the cöperation of Ghiberti, Bembo, Caraffa and many others, the oratorio of divine love, and he openly professed his belief in the doctrine of justification by faith, a dogma of the evangelical churches.

Around these leaders, the lovers of liberal studies and of their country, began to form a party, which included such men as Valeriano Pierio, Vida, Bini, Blasio, Negri, Navagero and even Berni, who, when he saw that Pope Clement neglected the advice of patriots and clung to Spain, prophesied that the Pope and his shearers would share the ruin of Italy. This awaking to liberty and the increasing aversion of the Italians to the Imperial power, stimulated the Spanish governors to harsher measures. The desertion of their party by the duke of Milan furnished the conquerors with a specious pretext for desolating whole provinces and draining the blood of the people by taxation and subsidies. This unfortunate country saw at that moment a spectacle of unbridled barbarity without parallel in history. The Spanish soldiers were quartered in the houses of the Milanese, and the citizen was treated not as a host but as a prisoner. His feet were tied to a bed, or to a beam; or he was thrown into a cellar, where he would be tormented into surrendering money or lands; or to the gratification of a more vile cupidity. When the unfortunate victim died of grief or, impelled by rage and despair, drowned himself in a well or threw himself from a window, the Bisogni immediately sought another house in which to renew the same barbarities. The Lombard provinces had not even the consolation of human pity. The duke of Urbino, commanding the armies of Venice and Rome, gave them no encouragement to hope. Indeed, he lacked the means for open war or even for skirmishing with the Spanish army. Germany poured down new soldiers. Shall we say soldiers? George Frandesperg marched at the head of fifteen thousand robbers, and swore to put a halter round the neck of the Pope and to pay his legions with the pillage of Italian cities.

Nor were foreigners the only tormentors of the bleeding peninsula. In Rome the Orsini supported the Pope the Colonna were partisans of Cæsar. Cardinal Pompeo collected eight thousand peasants on the Agro Romano and unleashed them against the Vatican. They made a general pillage and their leader compelled the Sultan of Christianity, as he styled the Pope, to break the league he had formed with Venice and France. Deeds were committed which history shrinks from recording. The Ultramontanes, not content with enslaving provinces, slaked their thirst in the blood of the people. The inhumanity of the Germans, the avarice of the Swiss—who even then made merchandise of their fealty—the rapacity of the Aragonese and the licentiousness of the Gauls reached and polluted everything in Italy.

It is true that there was this diversity in their manners, that the Swiss and Germans, despising the restraints of both law and religion, utterly despoiled the vanquished and revelled in every species of brutality; while the French divided the spoils with those to whom they belonged and seduced, instead of violating, the women. As for the Spaniards, words are inadequate to describe the cruelty with which they slaughtered and tore in pieces our conquered populations. Macchiavello has finely contrasted the French and the Spaniards of that time. “The Frenchman is equally prodigal of his own property and that of his neighbour and he robs with small concern whether he is to eat the booty, destroy it or make riot of it with the lawful owner. The spirit of the Spanish plunderer is different; when he robs you do not hope to see a shred of your own again.” Spanish despotism imprinted its bloody hands on the face of every province. Witness the pillage of Rome by the Constable of Bourbon—who perished there, perhaps by the hand of Cellini—for proof that the Goth Alaric and every other barbarian leader were less ferocious than a christian army. The Spanish hordes plundered all the wealth and precious vessels which the devotion of christendom had amassed in the churches of Rome during twelve centuries. The Spanish catholics were worse vandals than the German Lutherans. Whoever escaped the clutches of the one was put to death by the other, or at best only saved himself by paying heavy ransom. In Rome the most venerable things were put to unseemly uses. Drunken soldiers in sacred robes and mitres danced obscene dances in the streets and public squares, and their impious mockeries always ended in bloody saturnalia. The corpses of murdered citizens strewed the streets; and after nine months of this carnival of death, a fierce pestilence broke out to complete the desolation.

The emperor derived no advantage from imprisoning the Pope, wasting his provinces and butchering his people. A pressing want of money induced Charles to restore Julius to his throne, as the same motive had led him to liberate the French king. It seems incredible that the master of Spain, the Netherlands, Sicily, the Lombard provinces and Mexico should have drawn no profit from his vast possessions. The Lutheran movement in Germany, the threats of France, the distrust of the king of England, the secret intrigues of the Pope and the doubtful fidelity of some Italian princes, whom Venice was inciting to revolt, may have conspired to palsy his arms in the very moment of victory.

A little before the sack of Rome, Odo di Foix, lord of Lautrec and general of France avenged the defeat of his sovereign at Pavia by capturing this city and subjecting it to an eight day’s pillage. The edifices were so ruined and the population so thinned that Leandro Alberti writes;—“The sight of it excited compassion.” It is melancholy satisfaction to write, that, of the crowds of foreigners who poured into Italy to plunder and ravage, very few returned to their native lands. The Peninsula became their sepulchre—of the French particularly—who to speak truth, seldom committed those excesses which were common to the Spaniards and Germans. It may be added, too, that it has always been the misfortune of France to make useless conquests in Italy. Her army which, after the destruction of Melfi, advanced to the siege of Naples, counting more than twenty-five thousand men, was so thinned by pestilential fevers that two months afterwards it did not contain four thousand men fit for duty. The frightful plague did not spare Lautrec, and after the treaty of Antwerp only a few skeletons were permitted to set foot on the soil of France. The army which deluged Rome with blood met with a more calamitous fate. Shut up in Naples under the Prince of Orange, governor of that city, it was attacked and mowed down by a pestilence which was at once the consequence and punishment of its insane license. Even Francis Bourbon, count of San Polo, who, the Bisogni having left nothing to plunder, put the villages and hamlets through which he passed to fire and sword, was totally defeated and made prisoner in Landriano (1529) by the ferocious Antonio di Leyva, the scourge of Lombardy.

The kings becoming weary, the people being drained of their blood, the necessity of peace was strongly felt. Charles V., who had no title to greatness, but the extent of his dominions, who was crooked in design and avaricious of spirit, hastened to form an incestuous union with the Pope, and the fruit of their embraces was the slavery of Florence. Cæsar bound himself to immolate the Republic to the vengeance of Clement and put under Papal pay the hordes of assassins who had already desolated the greater part of the Peninsula. The bastard Alexander de’ Medici married a bastard daughter of the emperor; whence the treaty of Cambray by which France delivered Italy, bound hand and foot to Charles Fifth, recovering Bourgogne and his children for the shameful desertion. He ignominiously lost in this treaty the honour which he preserved stainless in his defeat and capture at Pavia. This king had strange contradictions in his character. He promised, with apparent sincerity, liberty to nations and then abandoned them at caprice; he was hated by people whom he overwhelmed with public burdens, but loved by the learned whom he protected and honoured. He offered his hand to the heretics of Germany, and burned under a slow fire the heretics of France. He invited the Turks into Italy and betrayed the Venitians and Florentines; but he kept faith with his bitter enemy, granting Charles V. safe conduct through French territory.

The pontiff being about to crown Charles in Bologna with the Lombard and Imperial diadems, the latter ordered the Italian princes, as his vassals, to pay him homage on that occasion (1530). Alfonso d’Este, Frederick Gonzaga, the dukes of Urbino and Savoy, and the Marquis of Monferrato submitted to him; the Republics of Genoa, Siena and Lucca counted themselves happy in being permitted to retain their old form of government, and Florence which under the influence of Nicolò Capponi had elected Christ for its king, now vainly defended by the brave Ferruccio was forced to humble herself to slavery. That portion of North Italy which in modern language is called Piedmont was involved in equal if not greater disasters. On account of its situation between Austria and France, it was overrun and desolated by barbarian invaders from 1494 to 1559. “We do not believe,” say the commissioners of Henry VIII. of England, “that it is possible to find in all Christendom greater wretchedness than reigns in this country. The best towns are either in ruins or depopulated. There are few districts in which food is to be found. The extensive plain, fifty miles in length, which lies between Vercelli and Pavia, once so fertile in cereals and wines, is reduced to a desert. The fields are uncultivated; except three poor women gathering a few grapes, we saw not the shadow of a human creature. There, they neither sow nor reap; the country sides are growing wild, and the uncultivated vines are returning to their primitive state.”

Charles III., the unfortunate, was ruling over these desolated provinces and his subjects suffered every species of indignity, outrage and despotism. To render matters, if possible, a little worse, Gonzaga urged the Emperor to reduce to a swamp all that wide plain between the Alps and the Po to form a barrier to French invasion of Lombardy.

In fine, there was no city in all Italy which was not conquered and oppressed by foreign armies. Of Genoa I shall speak in its place. It is worth while to mention Nice, where in 1538 Paul III. held the congress at which a truce was concluded between Cæsar and Francis I. Five years afterwards, Francis marched upon and besieged it with the help of the Turks. This siege is memorable in Italian history for the heroic spirit of Segurana, but after the death at the sword’s point of all her bravest defenders, the city was forced to surrender. The citizens abandoned their homes, though they had obtained a promise of immunity for their property from pillage by the soldiery. The Turks kept faith, while the French violated their pledges, thus giving rise to a general desire among Italians to become subject to the Turks, from a conviction that they could no longer endure the weight of their misfortunes. There were writers as Vives, who speaking of Italy, (1529) sought to discourage this sentiment, telling the Italians that the Turks would heap worse miseries upon them. But it is incredible that Soliman could have equalled the endless tortures inflicted by Francis I. and Charles V. Segni says: “More than two hundred thousand persons killed in war, more than a hundred cities and important castles sacked and destroyed, so many thousands of innocent men and women destroyed by pestilence and famine that one cannot number them, matrons debauched, maidens ravished, abominable practices with children, an endless catalogue of crimes against religion and nature committed against each other by christians, all owe their origin to the implacable enmity of two men, who were born and have grown old in eternal hatred to each other. They are not weary of shedding the blood of their fellows; they continue to fight and will fight to the end of their lives.”[12] He proceeds:—“Afflicted peoples cannot do better than pray God to destroy or subject them both to the sway of the grand Turk, so that the world may come under the power of a single monarch, who, though he be a barbarian and an enemy to our laws, may give us a little repose wherein to rear our children to a life, of poverty indeed, but free from the burdens of our miserable existence.”

The people of Germany, always restless under the yoke of ancient Rome, were rising against the Papal power, which had taken the place of the ancient empire. At the voice of Luther laying bare the festering diseases of the Roman court, the learned of Italy were moved. The Pope comprehended that there was no other means of extirpating the seeds of reform which had already sprung up in Italy but to ally himself with catholic Spain: she was in the zenith of her glory. Such captains as Cortes and Pizzaro sailed away with a galley and returned conquerors of a new world. Who better than the compatriots of Torquemada could suffocate in blood the free voices of the disciples of Huss and Wicliffe? From that moment the compact of Charlemagne was renewed between Charles V. and the Roman theocracy, and through it the Spaniards tightened their grasp on Milan, Naples, Palermo and Cagliari, and established their ascendency over the whole Peninsula.

From Charles V. dates our humiliation and slavery. From his time the Peninsula has had no proper history. Its vicissitudes and calamities are only episodes of the great drama enacted by the nations who have fought against each other for our blood. The council of Trent was not an act of national life. It grew out of the philosophic spirit of reform and the scandals of the Roman court, and was initiated by Germany and France while England was separating herself from the catholic church. This celebrated synod shows nothing but the conflict between the church and the empire, between the reformers and the courtiers of Rome struggling to maintain their privileges, between the Popes who fought to maintain their abuses and the secular princes who secretly laboured to shake off the priestly yoke. The Italian people had no part in it. The religious discussions upon divine grace, predestination and justification by faith did not reach us, who were everywhere plotting to recover our independence and freedom.

In fact this is the century of popular conspiracies, which were always strangled by degenerate nobles and foreign armies. It is true that the most illustrious Italians sided with the people and died for their righteous cause; but these were vain struggles. From the day that Lorenzino de’Medici, for whom the Spanish power (which Duke Alexander was consolidating in Italy) was too bitter, formed the design of restoring the Republic and then, bought by promises of lascivious embraces, stifled his own purpose, the spark of liberty took fire and in every city the plebeians rose against their foreign oppressors.

Such, briefly, was the condition of Italy in the early part of the sixteenth century, in which she lost that preëminence and reputation under which she had hitherto flourished. It is necessary to study this period, because it was then that Europe initiated the great work of her civil renovation, while in Italy there was desperate strife between dying liberties and rising tyrannies. Two hostile forces were wrestling together and shaking men’s souls; the regal and foreign dominion supported by the nobles, and the generous pride of citizens making heroic sacrifices to remain a people. Charles V. turned the trembling balance. Only in that age could have risen the company of Jesus, who did not, like the monks, constitute a democracy but an absolute monarchy such as Cæsar was founding on the ruins of our communes. The disciples of Loyola and the nobles were the sole supporters of the Austro-Spanish power, and they showed a common solicitude to strengthen the principles of despotic government.

CHAPTER III.

ANDREA DORIA AND THE REPUBLIC OF GENOA.

The Nobles and the People—Andrea Doria and his first enterprises—How he abandoned France, and went over to the Emperor—Accusations and opinions with regard to his motives—The laws of the Union destroyed the popular, and created the aristocratic Government—The objects of Doria in contrast with those of the Genoese Government and the Italian Republics—The lieutenants of Andrea and his naval forces—Popular movements arrested by bloody vengeance.

We turn with painful recollections from the conditions of Italy to that of the Genoese Republic. Our annals offer us only vicissitudes of intestine divisions and wars, in which, however, there were heroic achievements that have rendered the Republic illustrious.

The history of Liguria is full of the Doria name. There is no modern family which can boast so many examples of heroism as this house, and only the Scipios among the ancients are entitled to equal fame. From the earliest times they were partisans of the empire; while the Fieschi, after Innocent IV. maintained the cause of the people, drawing to that side the powerful family of Grimaldi. The Doria and Spinola formed alliance, and became the leaders of the Ghibellines. From that moment a warm contest arose between these great families, and it did not end until, in 1257, the people elected Guglielmo Boccanegra captain and defender of their liberties. After his death, the hostile nobles renewed their insane discords; but the people, weary of these domestic wars and following the examples of other Italian communes, drove out the nobles, (1340) and created Simon Boccanegra first Doge. The nobles were by law excluded from this highest office, and even from the command of a galley;[13] and not a few illustrious families passed into the ranks of the people by their own election. It is well known that before the reforms of Doria, the so-called nobles were held in less honour than distinguished men of the people, because their rank excluded them from the Dogate and many other offices. The Doria and Spinola came to power in a revolutionary period, and in violation of law. This severe prohibition was afterwards modified, but the office of Doge continued to be a popular prerogative. The principal families of the people were the Adorni and Fregosi, in whose hands the supreme offices remained for several centuries, and these names are conspicuous in our civil conflicts which were so frequent and bitter that in one year the head of the government was four times changed. In these calamitous times—redeemed from disgrace by the three manly figures of Columbus, Julius II., and Andrea Doria,—the Genoese, whose misfortune has ever been to despise servitude and to be incapable of preserving liberty, were compelled to invoke the protection of princes strong enough to curb the ambition of individual citizens. But it was always stipulated that the franchises of the city should not be impaired, nor its laws changed; there was, in fact, no true transfer of power. Whenever we were borne down by foreign arms, it was the work of the nobility conspiring against the people.

Even in the time of Louis XII., when Italy was yielding him a tardy and reluctant obedience, the Genoese rose in rebellion, triumphed over the plots of the nobles, threw down the government of the royal vicar, drove out the army of Cleves, assembled in the Church of St. Maria di Castello, and elected eight tribunes of the people. The nobles were put to flight, the hostile army routed, and supreme power returned to the hands of the people.

The Geonese showed themselves truly great. They drew out of his workshop Paolo da Novi, a silk dyer, and despite his modest refusals elected him Doge. Nor did they err in electing the modest operative to the highest office. “Paolo,” as Foglietta writes, “was a man of honour and integrity, pure from every vice, and proof against all the temptations of the great.” His first and sole study was the glory and unity of the Republic. He, in fact, reconquered some feuds for the state, particularly Monaco, which the Grimaldi had usurped.

In the midst of Paolo’s generous designs, Louis XII., to whom the Geonese nobility had opened the doors of their country, descended upon him with a formidable army. Genoa was converted into a field of battle; every plebeian became a soldier, and the valour of the citizens checked the impetuous advance of the French battalions. But the patriots were overcome by numbers and discipline; Paolo di Novi was betrayed and butchered; the people were reduced to slavery. Rodolfo di Lanoia, to whom Louis committed the government of the city, was constrained to resign his office,—says Foglietta—on account of the boundless avarice and insolence of the nobles who struggled to advance their private interests by ruining the public weal.

As Boccanegra was the father of our popular liberty so Doria was its executioner. He wrested the government from the hands of the people, and committed it to those of the nobles. He momentarily silenced, but did not destroy, the rage of parties. By depressing the populace, he cut the nerves of the Republic; he gave us independence in name, but he destroyed the franchises of the citizens. A great historian has justly said, that the liberties given us by Andrea Doria are ridiculous; the future will accept that as the final decision of history.

Andrea was a soldier from his youth. He learned the rudiments of war from Domenico Doria, who was of his blood and had distinguished himself in the court of Innocent VIII. He served successfully under the Pope, Ferdinando the old of Naples and his son Alfonso II., and sustained the siege of Rocca Guglelma against Gonsalvo di Cordova. Afterwards he fought under Giovanni della Rovere, duke of Urbino, and having been elected tutor of the duke’s son, Francesco Maria, he saved him from the intrigues of Cæsar Borgia, by taking him to Venice and entrusting him to the protection of the Venitian senate.

He allied himself with the party of the Fregosi, who were friends of his house; and when Doge Ottaviano besieged for twenty-two months the fortress of Cape Faro, which was held for the French; he fought single-handed with the brave Emanuel Cavallo, and was slightly wounded in the contest.

But his greatest glory was acquired in naval war. His battles with the Moors and Turks gave him fame and wealth, and after the battle of Pianosa (1519), in which, with six vessels, he conquered thirteen of the enemy’s; capturing several with the famous corsair Gad Ali’ he became the terror of Saracen ships. When the Fregosi were driven from power and their places taken by the Adorni, Doria, disdaining to serve under this family, sold his services to France, and took with him six galleys belonging to the Republic, which he never restored. The motive of this appropriation of public property was his bitter animosity to Spain, whose party the Adorni and the Republic had embraced. This animosity was rendered more violent by the sack of Genoa in 1522 by the Spanish army, a pillage so horrible that when the authors of it, Pescara, Colonna and Sforza, presented themselves to Pope Hadrian humbly asking pardon, the pontiff indignantly repulsed them, crying,—“I cannot, I ought not, I will not forgive you.”

Doria was so incensed that he condemned to chains and the galleys, without hope of redemption, all Spaniards who fell into his hands.

In the year 1527, Pope Clement VIII. was allied with his most Christian Majesty, with the Venitians the Florentines and other governments against the power of Charles. To further the objects of the alliance Francis sent Lautrec into Italy at the head of forty thousand men, and Andrea Doria besieged Genoa with a large force. It is not within our scope to describe how the Republic, through the influence of Cæsar Fregosi and Doria, went over to the party of France. Francis, to gratify the wishes of Andrea, entrusted the government to Teodoro Trivulzio, Antoniotto Adorno, having gracefully retired from the office of Doge.

Doria having been created admiral of France, with a salary of thirty-six thousand crowns, rose to great fame, on account of his victories and those of his lieutenants. Among these victories, that of Filippino Doria in the gulf of Salerno, deserves a brief mention, both because it was won by Italian arms, and because something should be added to the accounts given by other authors. Lautrec, while besieging Naples, desired to blockade the port, so as to prevent the supply of provisions to its defenders, and sent for the galleys of Doria, seven of which were then in Leghorn, under the command of Filippino Doria Count of Sassocorbario and Canosa and Andrea’s cousin.

Naples, surrounded on every side, would have been unable to sustain the siege, and the viceroy, Hugo Moncada, saw the necessity of breaking the enclosing lines by some daring undertaking. He collected six galleys called the Capitana and Gobba, (the property of Fabrizio Giustiniano) one belonging to Sicames, another which was the property of Don Bernardo Vallamarino, the Perpugnana and Calabrese. To these were added ten brigantines and some smaller vessels. The viceroy embarked upon the ships twelve hundred Spaniards clad in mail and commanded by the flower of the officers and barons of the kingdom. Finally, he himself joined the expedition and gave the command of the artillery to Gerolamo da Trani and that of the army to Fabrizio Giustiniano, called the hunchback, a brave Genoese in the pay of Spain. The latter, knowing the courage and skill of the Ligurian mariners advised that the Spanish fleet should avoid a close engagement with Doria; but a contrary opinion prevailed.

Count Filippino was in the waters of Salerno when the report reached him that the imperial fleet had left Naples.

He asked Lautrec to reinforce him with only two hundred infantry. Of the eight vessels under his command, that is, the Capitana, Pellegrina, Donzella, Sirena, Fortuna, Mora, Padrona and Signora, he sent the three last under the command of Nicolò Lomellino out to sea as if they wished to escape, with orders, however, to turn about, and, driving down before the wind, attack the enemy in the rear. Filippino with the remaining five vessels awaited the assault of Moncada, who, trusting to the strength of his fleet and the bravery of his captains, confidently looked for a signal victory. The galley of the viceroy closed with the Capitana, the flag-ship of Doria, who, firing his basilisk, small cannon and falconets, raked the Spanish vessel from prow to poop with such fatal accuracy that forty armed men were killed, among whom were the bravest barons of the kingdom, Leo Tassino, a nobleman of Ferrara, Luigi Cosmano a famous musician, Don Pietro di Cardona and many others. The batteries of Moncada replied but did little damage to the Genoese. The Gobba, the galley of Sicames and that of Don Bernardo were more fortunate. They closed with the Pellegrina and the Donzella and the Spanish soldiers boarded without difficulty. The Perpugnana and the Calabrese cannonaded the Sirena until she was forced to surrender. Doria had now lost three galleys, the Capitana and the Fortuna were in imminent danger of being boarded, not being able to sustain the attacks of six galleys and fifteen smaller vessels whose grappling irons were seizing them on every side. Everything looked propitious for Moncada and victory seemed secure to him, when the three galleys which Doria had sent to sea turned their prows and bore down swiftly before the wind. At close quarters, they poured in a terrible fire which dismasted the Spanish vessels and strewed their decks with the dead. The viceroy himself while standing upon the quarter deck of his vessel with his sword in one hand, and rotella in the other, animating his crews, was wounded in his right arm by an arquebus, his left thigh was broken by a falconet and he fell among his men mowed down under the fire-balls and showers of stones poured in by the Genoese. Having captured the flag-ship of the viceroy, Lomellino assailed the Gobba. Here more than a hundred arquebusiers were killed, Cæsar Fieramosca lost his life and Giustiniano was wounded and lost his galley. Filippino Doria now released from their chains the convicts and the Turkish slaves with a promise of liberty and sent them to recover the Donzella, which they soon accomplished. They attacked the Pellegrina and the Sirena with such fury that the Perpugnana and Calabrese, seeing further defence useless, turned their prows and sailed away seaward. The brigantines were reduced to helpless wrecks and the remainder of the Spanish vessels found it impossible to continue the conflict. The marquis of Vasto and Ascanio Fieramosca, after having displayed a most admirable courage, seeing their galleys reduced to a sinking condition, Gerolamo da Trani killed, their captains wounded, their soldiers shattered and pounded by stones and half consumed by fire, gracefully surrendered to Nicolò Lomellino who was already at close quarters with the Mora. Sicames and Don Bernardo Vallamarino, fighting to the last, were killed and their ships sunk. All the lancers were killed, but their leader Corradino escaped with the galley Perpugnana. The killed amounted to more than a thousand and the prisoners were much more numerous. Among the latter, the ancient chronicles enumerate the marquis Vasto, Ascanio Fieramosca, the Prince of Salerno, the marquis Santa Croce, Fabrizio Giustiniano, and other illustrious barons and famous warriors.

This action was fought on the 28th of April, 1528. It was not long after this signal victory so fatal to the imperial power and counted so honourable to the name of Doria—though it was fought by his lieutenant Filippino—that Andrea changed sides and enlisted under the very power he had conquered.

History has not yet given a satisfactory account of the motives which led Doria, hitherto a violent enemy of Cæsar, to desert the standard of France and offer his sword to Spain. It was a desertion fruitful of numberless misfortunes as we shall show in the progress of this work. It is certain that this change contributed more largely than anything else to alter the fortunes of Italy, and to reduce her to slavery under the empire. It induced both peoples and princes to submit to the Spanish power, Luigi Alamanni, seduced by the influence of Andrea, adopted that policy, though he was one of the warmest friends of liberty, and he attempted to persuade the Florentines to ally themselves with Cæsar. The unfortunate patriot suffered for his delusion. The people hearing the rumour that he advocated such opinions compelled him to seek personal safety in exile from Florence.

Returning to the question, we mention first the reasons put forward by the historians for the justification of Doria. They tell us that France had not paid him according to her promises; that Frances I. took away from him the prince of Orange whom Doria had captured, thus defrauding the Admiral of the twenty thousand ducats of ransom; that the king sought to get possession of the marquises Vasto and Colonna with a like motive; that this monarch granted favours in prejudice of Genoese rights to rebellious Savona; and that a rumour ran of the king’s having given this city in feud to Montmorency.

However, Doria was blamed (according to the testimony of Varchi,) by the greater part of the Italians, and many accused him of desertion and treason. They said that his conduct was not dictated by his resentment at the liberty of Savona, or the slavery of Genoa, which he himself enslaved, but rather by his boundless appetite for wealth and honours. Some affirm that Giovanni Battista Lasagna, whom Doria had sent to Paris to treat for the recovery of Savona, informed him that the king’s council had determined to deprive him, not only of his prisoners, but also of his own life, and that this information led him to enlist under Cæsar. Others, on the contrary, say that the king of France having heard that Doria intended to abandon his service, sent to him Pierfrancesco di Noceto, Count of Pontremoli and his esquire, to dissuade him from that design and to promise payment of the ransom of Orange and other prisoners as well as the Admiral’s personal salary. It is difficult to arrive at the truth when testimony is so conflicting. One fact only is unquestioned: that before the last day of the month of June, the period at which his contract with France would expire, he mounted his galley and repaired to Lerici.

At Lerici, Filippino, having abandoned the blockade of Naples, joined him, and by the good offices of the marquis Vasto he opened negociations with Cæsar and entered into the service of Spain, sending back to Francis the decorations of the order of St. Michael with which that monarch had honoured him. This desertion to the imperial party gave to Charles V. (as Segni has sensibly said) the victory in the Italian strife.[14]

While these events were passing, there were secret and public consultations in Genoa, for the purpose of quieting the political factions, uniting the citizens and organizing the civil government on a better basis. The chief honours of this undertaking belong to Ottaviano Fregoso, who in 1520 was engaged in these efforts, acting with Raphael Ponzoni. For the time these praiseworthy designs were unsuccessful, because Federico Fregoso, archbishop of Salerno and brother of the Doge, opposed the project with all his ingenuity and power,[15] going so far as to drive out from the Cathedral of San Lorenzo those citizens who had assembled to promote concord. The difficult task was resumed in 1528, and, amidst the horrors of a pestilence which was mowing down the population, a union was effected without the coöperation of Doria, though it is now clearly proved that even France counselled the measure. On the 12th of December, Doria, contrary to the general wish of the citizens, including his own relations who were open partisans of France, presented himself before Genoa, landed his mariners and without bloodshed liberated the city from the control of the small French garrison.[16]

It is painful to see this brave Admiral selling his sword now to the Pope, now to Naples, now to France, and finally to Spain! It is painful to see him becoming the ally of foreign oppressors who sought to subdue our peoples and engulf Italy. History must pronounce him more fortunate than great. In truth, most of his undertakings were singularly successful; but his attempts to capture the famous corsair Chisr, better known under the name of Barbarossa, who was governing Algiers for Selim with the title of Begherbeg, were not crowned with success. Indeed, a rumour ran that between these two lords of the main there was a secret contract that they should never meet in pitched battles. It is certain that Doria conducted his war upon his rival with much coldness and rather as a neutral than as an enemy. He permitted the pirate to escape at Prevesa (1539), when he had the power to destroy his fleet.

This failure of Doria left the fierce corsair to spread the terror of his name for many years along the Italian coasts, particularly in the kingdom of Naples, where he had already carried desolation and ruin, devoting to fire and pillage Noceto, Sperlunga and Fondi. He had been attracted thither by the beauty of Giulia Gonzaga, who narrowly escaped his hands by fleeing in her night dress, accompanied only by a single page. The poor page suffered most, for she caused him to be stabbed because he had that night either seen or dared too much.

Doria is also accused of having used every means to excite the Turks against Venice; and this Republic, through his plotting, was assailed in her Greek possessions. Doria, by refusing to unite his forces to those of the Pope and the Venitians, incurred the responsibility for the capture of seven thousand Christians at the siege of Corfu, the pillage of the Ionian Islands and of Dalmatia. Having become a blind devotee of Spain, whose rule in the Peninsula he wished to strengthen, he refused to fight at Prevesa, because the Venitians had declined to receive his Bisogni on board their galleys; or, which amounts to the same thing, in order to let a flood of Turks overwhelm Venice and render her submissive to the yoke of Spain. All parties accused him of having promoted the ruin of Christians by the very means to which they looked for salvation.

As to the history of his policy in Genoa, if it were our office to write the life of Andrea, there is much that deserves to be rendered more clear. It was not a sagacious policy to subject the Republic to Spain at a time when the seeds of civil concord were springing up. It was more foolish to permit a foreign ruler to carry on her government, and despite the entreaties of his relatives to permit Savona to be torn from the body of the Republic.

Nor should it be forgotten that soon after this, he, to promote his own ends, wished to make Genoa a partner in his alienation from France, though his family favoured the union promoted by the amiable Trivulzio and the King of France. Truth requires us, also, to assert that he did not enter the service of Spain with the praiseworthy object of recovering Savona for Genoa. He drove out the French from Genoa in September, 1528, but Savona had been from the first of July reconciled and restored to the Republic, a fact which is proved by a decree of Francis I. soon to be printed.[17] When Guicciardini wrote that, “among the motives attributed to Doria for his change of masters, it was believed that the most probable and the principal one was, not offended pride for having been too highly esteemed or any other personal discontent, but the desire to advance his own greatness under the name of national liberty,” we think the verdict creditable to the first of our Italian historians.

But these accusations cannot deprive Doria of the merit of having refrained from assuming the absolute sovereignty of his country; though we know that the love of liberty in his fellow citizens must have been, sooner or later, fatal to such an ambition. In such an open assault upon popular liberty, he would have found enemies in his own house, as he did, in fact, when he enlisted in the service of Spain. This is proved by the documents which Molini[18] found in the French Archives, and is a conspicuous proof of the profound antipathy of Liguria to Spain. Doria, knowing well the liberal tendencies of his fellow citizens, contrived to get princely authority and power without assuming the name.

The laws of the union shaped by him changed the face of the Republic. His chief reform consisted in removing the middle classes from the public offices by adding new families to the nobility. The gentlemen resented the elevation of plebeians to their side; the lower classes complained; for though the law left them free to ascribe themselves to the nobility, it was soon seen that this law was a new deception. The constitution of Doria was fashioned with aristocratic aims, and if it established equality, it was only among the nobles. The people had neither guaranty nor representation. Leo writes that however wisely the instrument was framed, it failed to establish the rights of the plebeians. This class had no more share in the state than the peasantry of the Riviera, and remained, with its precarious and humble title of citizenship, subject to the nobility.

The law which changed a family into a collection of persons, or Albergo, was more than unjust, it was iniquitous. Those who entered these Alberghi were forced to renounce their own names, however honourable they might be, to extinguish their own memory and that of their ancestors, in order to assume the name of the congregation; so that for example, a Biagio Asereto would be compelled to take the name of a Vivaldi for no other reason than that the latter name was borne by more persons. Many truly illustrious and most honourable houses preferred to remain in the number of the people; and it is related that of two brothers Castelli; one made himself a noble under the title of Grimaldi, while the other remained a man of the people under his christian name Giustiniano.

It can no longer be denied that the laws of 1528 destroyed the government by the people and created that by the nobility. The book of gold was opened every year to eight plebeians of the city and of the Riviera; but this was not enough to silence the just complaints of that portion of the people, who until these reforms had always taken part in public affairs. In 1531, to satisfy the common grievance, forty-seven families, who before had been left forgotten among the lower class, were enrolled among the nobles; the expedient did not at all tend to remove the defects of the constitution. These admissions into the class who held power were controlled by the caprices of a single person or at best only a few. Every year eight senators were appointed to select the eight families for promotion, and in practice each senator selected one from his friends among the people. The gravest abuses grew out of this, and the book of gold was often opened to the most vulgar and degraded plebeians.

Neither moral nor intellectual qualifications, nor even distinguished services rendered to the country, could break down the barrier to the patriciate; but the inscribing of a name often served for the dowers of Senator’s daughters—nay, it was even sold.

The new nobles, in order to increase their numbers and to retain the friendship of the people, inscribed their relatives and friends, however despicable might be their social condition. There was even a greater abuse. The chancellors, who kept the book of gold, inscribed names at their pleasure. In 1560 the names of three families were ordered to be erased, having been entered without authority.

These abuses were never fully abolished until the reforms of 1576 which entirely excluded the people from the public offices.

We have seen that the reforms of Doria, practically placed the government in the hands of the nobles. The newly inscribed were few in number; and things were so arranged that the old patricians always had the control in the administration. This created a new element of discord in the hatred which sprung up between the old and the new nobles. A profound rancour diffused its virus through the body politic, and clanships grew strong and fought hard against each other. Nothing was wanting but names; and names are sometimes a great power, by which to designate the opposing factions. The names were found, and the old nobles were called the Portico of San Luca, and the new, Portico of San Pietro. Both epithets were derived from the places where the hostile factions were accustomed to assemble.

The new men, finding that they could not triumph by weight of numbers in the public councils, resolved to attempt secret ways to their end. They managed so well that in 1545 they secured the election to the Dogate of Giovanni Battista de Fornari.[19] The faction of San Luca raised a great outcry of indignation, but in vain. De Fornari, a new noble, stepped over their heads into the highest office. They remembered the humiliation, and afterwards avenged themselves upon the new Doge.

From what we have said it will be seen that the laws of Andrea, far from restoring the Republic, sowed new seeds of discontent between the nobles, so concordant in their discord, and the people over whom they ruled.

Doria, Admiral of Cæsar, conqueror by the arms of his lieutenants in so many battles, and owner of more than twenty galleys, concentrated all power in the hands of the old nobility, whom he made blindly devoted to his interests. It is no marvel that he directed at pleasure the ship of the Republic. Without the name, he possessed the supremacy and honours of a prince. Men called him the Father of his country and the Restorer of liberty. What we have said shows the nature of the liberties which he gave the State, and they will be further illustrated in the progress of this history. He loved his country; but he spent all his long life in establishing a stable despotism in the room of tumultuous liberty. He loved his country; but obeying the orders which he received weekly from Cæsar, he enslaved that country to Spain. On the contrary, the Republic had always better consulted her interests by standing in a neutral attitude between contending princes.

Ottaviano Sauli gave eminent proof of such political wisdom when the Republic sent him as its envoy to the Duke of Milan, and he brought back and enforced by his advice the counsel of that prince, to keep neutral and resist the influence of Cæsar in Genoa. The government preferred this policy, and in its letters to the English king, to Venice and to Florence, openly avowed that its chief care was to live in freedom; that it knew the advantages of neutrality, and would not bow to the will of others; that its single aim was to strengthen and maintain its integrity and its policy of supporting the independence of the other Italian Republics.[20]

These were generous words, and they were supported by deeds. But Doria willed the supremacy of Spain, and he triumphed. Then Genoa, in the siege of Florence, favoured the enemies of Italy; even threw a lance at Siena; extinguished in blood the revolt of Naples, and, with the arm of Doria, strangled everywhere the voice of national liberty.

From that moment the robust vigour of the Republic began to decrease, and the shadows of old age fell on her. The lifeless forms of the court of Spain took the place of our civil strifes and our heroic achievements abroad.

Doria, though naturally disposed to temperate and modest habits of life, gradually developed the pomp and state of a prince. He lived in Fassolo, in the houses once given to Pietro Fregoso for his brave deeds in Cyprus (1373). Doria called from every part of Italy the most famous architects to embellish this palace. The sculptures of Montorsoli and of Giovanni and Silvio Corsini da Fiesole, the paintings of Pierin del Vaga, Pordenone, Gerolamo da Trevigi, Giulio Romano and Beccafumi rendered this residence famous throughout Italy. Here he was surrounded by his own soldiers, and received, writes Mascardi,[21] not as a simple citizen, but as a proud grandee. The same author ascribes to this luxury of life the origin of the conspiracy of Fieschi; and he approves ostracism by republics of citizens who affect the manners of princes.

These mimicries of royalty gave general dissatisfaction; but the selection of Gianettino di Tommaso as his adopted son and his successor in the dignity of Admiral, was even more unpopular.

We find notices of this young man which represent him to have once, on account of the slender means of his father, kept a shop for the sale of oil. Afterwards he entered the service of Bernardo Invrea, a silk-weaver, and remained with him until, being pursued by the sheriff for some offence, he found it necessary to seek safety on board the galleys of Andrea, to whom he was allied by blood.

Taking up from necessity the profession of arms, Gianettino soon acquired a considerable name for warlike feats marked by enterprise and audacity. He possessed an intrepidity rather singular than rare. He soon became haughty and despotic putting on airs fitter for a Castilian than a Genoese, and decorating himself with a coat of arms as though supreme authority were already in his hands. The prince, instead of correcting these excesses, permitted the arrogant youth to lord it over the plebeians and to indulge his wild caprices at pleasure.

Count Filippino Doria, as we have seen, contributed to the fame of Doria. He was of humble fortune until the Duke of Urbino, as a mark of gratitude for having perilled his life to succour the duke in a single combat, conferred upon him an estate of the Urbino family. Some other members of Doria’s house, who had been schooled under him, gave good proof of their skill and acquired riches and honours which reflected lustre on their master. Such were Francesco Doria di Giovanni; Antonio Doria, marquis of Santo Stefano, Aveto and Ginnosa, and one of the principal generals at the victory of San Quintino; Giovanni Battista Doria, son of Antonio and heir of his valour; Giorgio Doria, and Domenico Doria who having abandoned the cloister was called the Converso.

To these we should add, Andrea Doria d’Alaone; the brothers Cristoforo and Erasmo Opizio, who as lieutenants of Andrea went in 1534 to the aid of Messina; Giorgio di Melchiorre; Imperiale di Bartolomeo, lord of Dolceaqua; Lamba di Alaone; Lazzaro di Andrea; and Scipione di Antonio, all in repute as brave Admirals; and they sailed so many ships and gained so many victories that it seemed as if this family claimed exclusive dominion of the seas.

When Andrea prepared for any enterprise he commanded, in addition to the triremes of the empire, not less than twenty taride or large galleys of his own, manned by his own officers and crews and paid by the emperor at the rate of five hundred broad ducats of gold per month for each vessel. He took with him, also, the ships of the Republic, and those of his relations and of other citizens who chartered their panfili, or vessels of sixty oars, to the emperor of Spain. At the assault of Prevesa the prince commanded, not to speak of square-sailed galleons and caracks, twenty-two triremes whose names we find set down in the chronicles of that period.[22] Antonio Doria, who was only less illustrious in naval warfare than Andrea—though, as Badaero wrote in his report to the Venitian senate, he was so fond of traffic that, when his ships passed from one port to another, they carried so much merchandise that they looked like merchantmen—had six vessels in his division. There were many other Genoese ships in this expedition. Two belonged to Onorato Grimaldi, lord of Monaco; two were the property of the Cicala, and one each of Centurione, Preve, the Gentile and Francesco Costa, not to speak of many others. The Fieschi also sent a vessel, and the Republic furnished twelve.

In fact there was no distinguished family which did not arm a ship, but not one of these houses could rival Doria, not even the Cicala who always kept not less than six galleys in commission. It is worth while to remind the Italians, who are so prone to forget the glory of their ancestors, that Andrea was the first to use armoured ships in battle. In his assault on Tunis, he had in his fleet a galleon called Sant’Anna, to which he was principally indebted for the victory which restored Muley-Hassan to his throne. This ship was the first ever clad with slabs of lead fastened by pivots of bronze. She was built at Nice in 1530, and was equipped by the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. She was manned by three hundred warriors and carried many guns. The solidity of her armour rendered her invulnerable to the enemy’s fire. There were a large chapel and sumptuous saloons under her decks, and what seems more strange, ovens so well arranged that they furnished her crew with fresh bread daily.[23]

The Republic having broken with France, was prostrated under the power of Spain and Doria. The citizens were profoundly indignant at this double servitude. They were prohibited by law, under the severest penalties, from proposing or advocating any change in the new constitution of the Republic; so that many, before the attempt of Fieschi, ardently wished to throw off the yoke and place the country once more under the protection of France. In 1534, Granara and Corsanico went to Marseilles followed by many of the people with the intention of preparing a revolution. The enterprise became known by Doria, and Granara lost his head. Corsanico was captured by Doria, and, without the least form of condemnation, hurled into the sea.

A few months later, Tomaso Sauli who had attempted a similar conspiracy with Cardinal di Agramonte, in Bologna, was condemned and quartered. The exiles excelled all others in their devotion to liberty; and in 1536, led by Cæsar Fregoso and Cagnino Gonzaga, with ten thousand foot and eight hundred horse, they marched to attack Genoa. This is not the place to relate how after a few skirmishes they broke up their camp; it is only to our purpose to add that hundreds of citizens who were suspected of complicity with the exiles lost their heads, while their houses were levelled with the earth.

Not only in Genoa, but throughout Liguria these conspiracies abounded; especially in Chiavari, where the revolt of Fregoso, of which Stradiotto was the leader, had its origin. Blood whenever it was shed, far from quenching the thirst for liberty, begot new advocates for the old supremacy of the people. Soon after, that is in 1539, a pious priest named Valerio Zuccarello, beloved by the people, was accused of revolutionary sympathies and leanings to France. He was subjected to an inquisition and lost his head on the scaffold. The nobility struggled to maintain its power; the people to regain the inheritance of which they had been defrauded. The Republic was passing through such pains as these when Gianluigi Fieschi listened to her complaints and resolved to avenge them.

CHAPTER IV.

GIANLUIGI FIESCHI.

Maria della Rovere and her children.—The natural gifts of Gianluigi.—Andrea Doria prevents his marriage with the daughter of Prince Centurione.—Gianluigi’s first quarrels with Gianettino Doria.—Naval battle of Giralatte and capture of the corsair Torghud Rais—Count Fieschi espouses Eleonora of the Princes of Cybo—The hill of Carignano in the early part of the sixteenth century—Sumptousness of the Fieschi palace—Gianluigi, Pansa and other distinguished men—Female writers—Eleonora Fieschi and her rhymes.

Maria Grasso della Rovere, the spirited niece of Julius II. after the death of Sinibaldo removed from the city to her castles, first to those in Pontremoli and Valditaro where she gave birth to Scipione, and then to Montobbio where she established her residence. In those days our matrons, when their husbands were fighting abroad or when they became widows, took active charge of their estates and, laying aside all elegant recreations, employed their zeal in promoting their family fortunes. From this came the masculine counsels and splendid examples which illustrated their history. Of such was Maria della Rovere, daughter of the Duke of Urbino.

Emancipated from the luxury and pomp of her Genoese life, she applied herself, like a good farmer’s wife, to restore the fortunes of her house and to pay the large debts of Sinibaldo, especially the twelve thousand ducats of gold due to Sforza for the feud of Pontremoli. Her chief care, however, was the education of her children. The eldest of them, Gianluigi, was ten years of age at the death of his father. The others were Gerolamo, Ottobuono, Camilla (who became the wife of Nicolò Doria, illegitimate son of Cardinal Gerolamo), Angela, Caterina, and Scipione, born after his father’s death. There was in addition a Cornelio, who though illegitimate (his mother was a certain Clementina of Torriglia), was much beloved on account of his spirited character. Some report that Sinibaldo had other illegitimate children, and number among them a Giulio and a Claudia, the latter of whom married into the family of the Ravaschieri.

The children were instructed by Paolo Panza, a man of many literary acquirements, who trained them in liberal studies.

The ardent spirit of Gianluigi imbibed less from the gentle instructions of Panza than from the masculine promptings of Maria della Rovere, who, in the fashion of Spartan mothers, exhorted him not to forget the paths by which his ancestors reached fame, contending as Guelphs for the rights of the people. Influenced by such counsels, he grew up into youth, and acquired strength both of body and mind in rough exercises of arms and in the chase. He was so skilful in these arts and in swimming, that the most robust of his rivals could not excel him. His mother taught him to hate the rule of strangers; and he must very early have become an enemy to the Dorias, whom he saw grasping the destinies of the Republic.

When he was eighteen years of age he took charge of his patrimony, which the prudence of his mother and the address of his guardian, Paolo Pansa, had so much improved that it is said to have yielded two hundred thousand crowns of rent. On the fourth of June, 1535, Charles V. confirmed his title to the domains of his ancestors, and continued in him the titles of Vicar-general in Italy, Prince of the empire, Count of the sacred palace, and imperial councillor. Perhaps it was on that occasion that he also received from Cæsar the two thousand gold crowns mentioned by some writers.

On coming to the city from Montobbio, he was honoured with festive receptions by all the nobility; his manners and his gentle courtesy acquired him the love of the best among the people. Bonfadio[24] describes him as beautiful of countenance, skilful in the use of arms and the management of horses, remarkable for the beauty and strength of his body, manly in speech, grateful, obliging and winning to others: in fine his sweetness of character and vivacity of temper completes the picture of an Alcibiades, formed for captivating all hearts. In fact he was called an Alcibiades, and perhaps he was one, the vices included; it is certain that in patriotism he deserved the name. It is said that when, mounted upon a bay saddle-horse, caparisoned with orange-coloured velvet trappings laced in vermillion, and poitrel of silver, he rode through the narrow and crowded streets of Genoa followed by his valets and equerries, the people gathered from every side to do him honour, and he repaid them all with a salute full of winning courtesy. He dressed with the luxury which had come down to him from his illustrious ancestry. A picture, which many believe to be that of Gianluigi, represents him in a black velvet morning gown having the sleeves slashed, as was the fashion of the time; there is a collar about his neck with cannon shaped points, and a chain from which hangs a medallion bearing the motto Gatto. His head is covered with a cap, also of black velvet, surmounted on the left side by a white plume. The limbs are comely and chaste, the air brave and courteous, the hair of a mulberry tint, the hands white with fingers long and clean as those of a virgin, the eyes black and brilliant. Leandro Alberti describes him as a prudent, brave and eloquent young man. Porzio[25] writes that he served not without honour in the wars of Lombardy under the standards of the marquis Vasto. But though fond of glory and successful in arms, he scorned to seek fame in other enterprises while the times forbade him to use his sword for national liberty.

Endowed with such gifts, there was no illustrious family which did not seek his hand for a daughter. Among the beautiful damsels who in every part of Italy were ambitious of the title of Countess of Lavagna, he fixed his eyes upon Ginetta, daughter of Prince Adamo Centurione. In every maidenly grace she was unrivalled. The prince and his wife Oriettina, who loved Gianluigi, were delighted to expouse Gianetta to the most virtuous knight in Genoa. However, difficulties arose which overthrew the project; and as the misfortunes of Fieschi begin from this disappointment, we deem it of importance to touch upon some circumstances which were unknown to, or have been ignored by historians.

The Prince Centurione was a firm supporter of the Austro-Spanish rule, and was united to the Dorias. He had fought, as a volunteer and at his own expense, in the wars of Charles in Germany; and his vast wealth procured him favours from the principal monarchs. When the emperor passed through Genoa, his minister asked Doria to lend the royal visitor two hundred thousand crowns, for his enterprise against Algiers. The Genoese responded that he would immediately supply his sovereign with all the money he might need. He presented the money to the emperor and with it a receipt for its payment. The emperor, not wishing to be outdone in generosity, tore the receipt in pieces. Prince Adorno also lent two hundred thousand crowns of gold at one time to Duke Cosimo. He paid eight hundred thousand pieces for the marquisate of Steppa and Pedrera, in Spain, and a large sum to marquis Antonio Malaspina for the estates of Monte di Vai, Bibola and Laula. He bought other castles in the Langhe; and the Venitian ambassadors reported that his rents amounted to a million of ducats.

Memoirs worthy of credit relate that Centurione one day informed Andrea that he had contracted Gianetta in marriage to the first gentleman in Genoa, and named Fieschi; to which Doria answered that no gentleman in Genoa could rank higher than Gianettino, his successor in the admiralty and heir of all his possessions, adding that Centurione ought to renounce Fieschi and give the hand of his daughter to the prince’s nephew. Centurione did not at first consent to break his faith; but the solicitations of Andrea, with whom he did not wish to be at enmity, at length triumphed over his scruples and he espoused Gianetta to Gianettino giving her a dower of seventy thousand gold crowns of the sun.

This violation of plighted faith deeply wounded Gianetta who had set her affections on Gianluigi; and the Princess Oriettina took it so much to heart that she fell sick, and finding herself near death, as a last proof of her devotion to the Fieschi family had that life of St. Catherine written which is still preserved in manuscript in the library of the Genoese studio. This broken contract of marriage was the first spark of that great fire which blazed up between Fieschi and Doria.[26]

The count was gifted with great powers of dissimulation and he did not permit Doria to perceive that he felt the insult. He carried an open face and silently matured his vengeance. He contracted greater familiarity with the new nobles, the old being devoted partisans of Andrea.

The haughty arrogance of Gianettino added new fuel to the fire. This youth forgetful of the humble place from which he had risen, adopted an insolence of tone and a luxury of life which gave general offence. The natural insolence of his character had been greatly increased by a military life and the habit of command.

The control of twenty galleys, the succession as admiral and the proofs of personal courage which he had given raised him above the mass of the citizens;[27] but instead of knightly courtesy he had a scornful and imperious look, and he never entered the city without being attended by a cortège of officers and armed men. He affected in a free land the sumptuous customs of princes.

The people, whom he thrust aside, hated him; the nobles caressed him as a means of getting privileges and honours, but they secretly despised him because he, not content to be their equal, regarded them as subjects. The plebeians murmured; “why such arrogant assumption in a land whose laws forbid despotism! He who refuses to treat you as an equal wishes to make you his slave.[28] See how bravely he drives it towards princely powers?”

Thus the people abhorred Gianettino as its future tyrant, and longed for a favourable moment to strike down the Spanish power and restore the rule of the citizens. The old prince either encouraged or regarded without displeasure, the insolent habits of his heir which were bringing odium upon his house. Gianettino became unboundedly arrogant after his victory over the Corsair Dragut, or Torghud Rais, once governor of Montesche. The annals of Liguria give us but few particulars of this fight, and some modern writers believe that no such battle was ever fought. We have found in old chronicles the materials for correcting the errors and supplying the defects of those who have written upon the subject. This will not lead us beyond the range of our subject; since the honours showered upon Gianettino for this victory stimulated Gianluigi to illustrate his own name by deeds not less worthy of fame, while the pride of the young Admiral grew so high that he insolently treated the count as his inferior.

In the spring of 1539, Prince Doria was with the army in Sicily, and Torghud took advantage of his absence to make a piratical cruise in the Ligurian sea. Andrea, as soon as he received notice of the movement, sent his nephew to oppose the Corsair. The latter had already began his depredations along the coast, and had desolated Capraia, carrying off seven hundred prisoners and a large Genoese galleon. Gianettino, having a fleet of twenty galleys and a frigate commanded by a certain Fra Marco, acted upon his knowledge of the Corsair’s habit of beating up against the wind, and pursued him by the use of his oars. At the same time he sent his lieutenant, Giorgio Doria, with six galleys and the frigate to the bay of Giralatte where he believed the pirate to have run for shelter. His calculations proved to be accurate. Torghud, believing these galleys to be the principal fleet of the Genoese, left two vessels to guard his booty, and sailed to attack Giorgio Doria with nine ships, two of which he had captured from the Venitians at Prevesa.

Hearing the sound of the engagement, Gianettino, who was not far distant, sailed into the waters of Giralatte and joined his lieutenant. The Corsair seeing himself outnumbered, retired from the contest and endeavoured to escape; but Gianettino pursued him so closely that he soon saw flight to be impossible and resolved to sell his life as dearly as possible.

He raised his oars to the sound of trumpet and tymbal, according to Barbary customs and accepted the battle. The numbers and weight of vessels were equal, and both parties had equal enthusiasm, courage and obstinacy. But a cannon ball from a Genoese galley opened the side of the corsair’s flag-ship, and a tempest of fire battered the rest into shapeless wrecks. Some of the pirates flung themselves desperately into the waves, and others turned the prows of their shattered vessels and attempted a new retreat. Among the latter was the terrible pirate Mami Rais de’ Monasteri, in Africa who had once before been a prisoner of Antonio Doria and had been liberated on payment of a ransom. Giorgio pursued him now without success; but with this exception the whole fleet was captured including the two vessels left by Torghud to guard his booty. These last were captured by Count Anguillara who was fighting under Doria’s flag.

The losses of Doria were small, but that of the enemy was terrible, since every one of them who swam to shore was mercilessly put to the sword by the Sicilians. Torghud was made prisoner and the chronicles say that “after having been well flogged he was put in chains.” He offered without avail fifteen thousand ducats for his ransom.

On the 22nd of June 1539, at vespers, Gianettino entered the port of Genoa with the galleys captured from the corsair. The citizens flocked in crowds to welcome the victors and two thousand christians who had been delivered from captivity, and to see the humbled lord of the main.

Torghud managed with such tact that he obtained admission to the presence of the Princess Peretta, and addressed her in proud and threatening terms of reproach for the harsh treatment which he had suffered; but he soon adopted a humbler tone and begged to be sent to Messina, where Andrea Doria still remained with his army. This favour he obtained, and he renewed to Andrea his offer of a heavy ransom, but still without success. A few years after, his countrymen, who valued him highly as a commander, offered new terms, and this time Andrea yielded to the temptation. The commission had not a sufficient sum to pay the ransom, and borrowed it in Genoa from the noble family Sopranis, giving as security the island of Tabarca. Thus Torghud, conquered by Genoese arms and ransomed by Genoese gold, recovered his liberty and renewed his piracies on the seas to the detriment of all Christendom.

It is needless to say that the success of Gianettino aroused a spirit of emulation in Count Lavagna. But he saw that the Dorias, accusing him to Cæsar of revolutionary opinions, had shut him out from honours and official position; and, not wishing to employ his talents in strengthening the Spanish power in Italy, he sought repose for his active spirit in domestic enjoyments.

He married Eleonora, of the family of Prince Cybo, though his mother at first strongly opposed the alliance, preferring for her son a more wealthy and illustrious bride. By this marriage Fieschi came into a certain relationship to Catherine de’ Medici, wife of Henry II.,—Catherine Cybo, duchess of Camerino and aunt of Eleonora, being of the blood of the Medici, and therefore of the queen of France.

The marriage contract was prepared on the 15th of September, 1542 in Milan by Galeazzo Visconti and Gerolamo Bertobio, notaries, in the presence of Francesco Guiducci and Giuseppe Girlandoni, representative of Cardinal Innocent Cybo (the same to whom Philip Strozzi bequeathed his blood to be made into a pudding) and of Lorenzo and Ricciarda Cybo, on the one side, and Paolo Pansa the attorney of Count Fieschi on the other. The dower amounted to hardly nine thousand gold crowns of the sun and two thousand more for the wedding outfit. The Strozzi papers contain an act under date of January 18th 1543 written by Bernardo Usodimare-Granello, scribe of the archepiscopal court of Genoa, by which Count Gianluigi acknowledges that Rev. Ambrogio Calvi, attorney and agent of Cybo, had paid four thousand gold crowns of the sun and deposited five thousand more with the brothers Giuliano and Agostino Salvaghi who had become securities for the dowry. The act further acknowledged the payment of one thousand crowns for jewellery and ornaments and provides that the other should be furnished by Cybo in silver, gold and gems. In the same act, Count Fieschi pledged as security for the dowry the castle of Cariseto and its appurtenances, which he had obtained by purchase, and he promised to obtain the consent of Cæsar to the transfer of the estate within one year from the date of the instrument.

The preparations for the wedding and the festivities connected with the espousals were on a splendid scale. The flower of the Genoese nobility came to congratulate the spouses at their residence in Vialata.

Two powerful families possessed the magnificent hill of Carignano, the Fieschi, and the Sauli. Each family had there a splendid palace. During the minority of Gianluigi, silence had reigned in his, while that of the Sauli had been greatly enlarged and embellished.

The Sauli were new nobles belonging to the popular party, like the Fieschi, Farnari, Promontori and Giustiniani; yet few of the nobility, old or new, equalled them in wealth and gentility of blood. Marcantonio Sauli, a grave priest, whose life Soprani wrote, had splendidly adorned his palace, and there the Genoese ladies were wont to meet for pleasure, and the elders of the city to debate on the affairs of the Republic.

At the marriage of Gianluigi, his palace resumed its ancient gaiety, and the Sauli, surpassed by the Fieschi in magnificence, were filled with envy; and this was the first cause of those differences and rivalries which separated these distinguished families.

Louis XII., who had been the guest of the count’s grandfather, speaking of the sumptuousness of the palace in Vialata, said that it surpassed that of his own. And the palace of Fieschi was in fact a kingly residence. The annalists tell us that the hill of Carignano,[29] on which it stood, was adorned with fifty villas, houses and gardens. The principal of these were the palace of Madonna Marisla, the mother of Cardinal Sauli, those of Nicolò, Giovanni Battista and Giuliano Sauli, and the houses of Pietro Negrone and Rolando Ferrari.

From the summit of this hill you have a commanding view of the city, and of the port crowded with a forest of masts; the villas of Albaro are spread out before you; gardens and palaces cover the slopes of gentle declivities, or are scattered along the sides of the mountains which, swelling skyward, make at once a rampart and a diadem for Genoa. Valleys and slopes of marvellous beauty attract the eye towards the shore line, fringed with orange gardens, of Nervi and Recco, until Portofino, with its wave-washed rocks, closes on that side the charming basin of the gulf; while westward lie the bewitching shores of Voltri, Albissola and Savona, closed in the long prospective by Cape Noli standing boldly in the face of the sea; and throughout the wide horizon the waving surface is white with cities, castles and villages, which are garlanded round with orchards and olive groves, reflecting their verdure in the crystal mirror of the Mediterranean.

In the centre of this smiling scene, roofed with a sky yet more bewitching than the landscape, rose the palace of Count Fieschi, faced with alternate slabs of white and black marble, crowned with two grand towers, and decorated with emblems and statues on its front and sides.

In the Fogliazzi Notarili, which are preserved in the city library, there is an instrument dated March 30th, 1468 executed by Luca and Matteo Fieschi, sons of Daniel and Ginevrina Fieschi, from which we learn that in front of the palace there lay an open lawn extending towards the sea, that the villas and orchards of the estate covered the whole space as far as San Giacomo. On the east, west and south the grounds were bounded by public streets, and on the north lay the farms of Francesco del Monte and of the heir of Oberto Della Rovere. Subsequently to the date of this instrument, Bartolomeo Fieschi added villas and fields to this estate; but on the southern side it suffered some detriment from the opening of stone quarries by the government for which the Doge Battista Fregoso paid damages in 1479.

We also learn, from the records of Bailia della Moneta in the bank of St. George, that sixty citizens having, on the 21st of March, 1484 engaged, to extend the mole of the harbour twenty-five or thirty goe (a goe was ten palms or nine feet) the Doge and the elders authorized the rectors of the commune to quarry stone on private property, and for this purpose some lands were ceded by the same Bartolomeo Fieschi, thus decreasing the extent of his estate southward, though it did not reach the sea before this cession.

Behind the palace, lay a botanical garden which Sinibaldo had enriched with rare species of plants and beautified with little lakes and fountains making it, according to Spotorno, among the first of its kind in Italy.

Sinibaldo employed excellent architects and builders, whose names have not come down to us, to decorate and enrich his home, some time before Paul III., on his return from Nice, lodged here as Fieschi’s guest. The wrath of man, rather than the hand of time, has so completely destroyed these monuments that not even the ruins remain for our admiration. The reader will therefore receive with favour the results of our researches into the true position and boundaries of the Fieschi palace and gardens, which in their time were famed for their outward magnificence and for the sculptures, carved work and pictures within the palace. Of these works of art all but one have perished from the memory of man. This was a painting in the vestibule which treated the fable of the giants hurling thunderbolts at Jupiter and some enterprises of the Fieschi family. We think it just to inform our readers of its origin and character.

The wealthy citizens of Genoa were accustomed, like those of every part of Italy, to adorn their mansions with paintings allusive to the exploits of themselves or their families. For example, history has preserved the memory of an allegory given to Gerolamo Adorno by Paolo Giovio, which was sketched in colours by Titian, and wrought into a rich embroidery by Agnolo di Madonna, a Venitian embroiderer. Giovio, in his brief dialogue, speaks of three emblems which were painted in many places in the Fieschi palace. The bishop of Nocera writes that Sinibaldo and Ottobuono, with whom he was on familiar terms, asked him to execute an allegorical picture, representing the vengeance they had taken for the death of their brother, Count Gerolamo, whom the Fregosi had cruelly murdered. This revenge had removed from among the living the instruments of the deed, Zaccaria Fregoso, Signors Fregosino, Lodovico and Guido Fregosi. With this bloody reprisal the Fieschi satisfied their anger, saying that no Fregoso lived to boast that he had spilled the blood of a Fieschi.

Giovio represented this tragic vengeance by an elephant attacked by a dragon. The latter attempts to wind himself about the legs of his antagonist, so as to pierce his bowels and insert his deadly poison. But the elephant, knowing by instinct the danger to which he is exposed, turns himself round and round until he places a rock or a tree between himself and his enemy. Then he beats the dragon to death. This allegory was interesting, from the fine contrast of the two animals, and the Spanish motto, No vos allabareis—by which Fieschi would say to the Fregosi, “You cannot boast of your crime against our blood.”

Sinibaldo had another allegory executed in the palace of Vialata. He and Ottobuono were forming an alliance with the Adorni and many of their partisans urged them to protract the negotiations, since the army of the king of France was near at hand and Ottaviano Fregoso, supported by his party, had a very firm hold on the government and would be able to make a spirited defence if assailed at that moment.

To this the Fieschi replied that they well knew the time for action, and on this incident they asked Giovio to execute an allegory. The artist remembering what Pliny says of the halcyons who await the spring solstice to make their nests and lay their eggs when the waves are tranquil, painted a calm sea and a serene sky with a nest extending from the prow to the poop of a vessel with the heads of the halcyons raised over the prow and a motto in French—nous savons bien le temps—meaning to say we well know when to make war on our adversaries; and the chronicler adds, they thus foreshadowed their triumph over their rivals.

The Fieschi palace had other allegorical paintings treating various subjects. Some of them described tender love passages in the lives of the Fieschi. In one was told the story of a gentlewoman loved by Sinibaldo. It would seem that she grew jealous and reproached him with want of fidelity, because he mingled much in the company of other dames. Sinibaldo, in order to excuse and justify himself with his mistress, demanded of Giovio an appropriate representation in allegory. The artist represented a mariner’s compass lying on a chart with the needle fixed; overhead a blue sky spangled with golden stars, and underneath the motto, aspicit unam. The sense of this allegory being that, though the heaven is full of beautiful stars, the needle points to one alone, that is, the North star. The offended dame was cured of her jealousy. The allegory was much praised, says Giovio, by many persons, including Fieschi’s secretary, Paolo Panza. We have already said that the elect of the city came to congratulate Gianluigi on his return to Carignano, and that the luxury displayed by him on the occasion of his marriage surpassed all bounds. Some conception of this luxury may be formed when we remember that Genoa was at that time the richest city in Italy, and that its wealth found expression in a prodigality of money so excessive, that Partenopeo in an assembly, at the time Giovanni Battista Sauli entered upon the magistracy, prayed the government to impose restrictions on the waste of the national wealth. In fact, on the 16th of December, 1500, the elders issued a proclamation forbidding wives to spend on their personal attire more than a third part of their dowers, and ordained other sumptuary prohibitions.

The flower of the Genoese youth frequented the Fieschi palace, not merely for amusement and pastime, but they cultivated there letters and polite studies. Liguria had at that period some erudite scholars, who employed themselves in teaching youth the sciences and eloquence. The Fieschi did not rank last in these pursuits; and it had become a family tradition for the sons to cultivate letters, and acquire the doctorate in law. Gianluigi was versed in every branch of learning, and, though it has been written that he never had other books in his hands than the life of Nero and the conspiracy of Catiline, it is certain that he studied the Latin and Italian masters, especially Tacitus and Machiavelli.

Paolo Panza, who wrote the lives of the pontiffs of the Fieschi family, and graceful Latin and Italian verses of such merit that Ariosto compared them to those of Trissino and Molza, lived in the house of Gianluigi, and aided him in his literary pursuits. Through his instructions the young count acquired a love for learning, and was led to open his doors to the most cultivated men of his time. And these were more numerous than might be expected in a city immersed in commerce and maritime enterprises. Braccelli and Antonio Gallo had acquired repute as historians: Giacobo de’ Fornari, as a Greek scholar: Geronimo Palmaro, Bartolomeo Guistiniano, Nicolò da Brignali and Bartolomeo were men of great learning, and Grimaldi Rosso, who reached the dogate in 1535, was equally master of medicine, mathematics, and philosophy.

These noble examples were followed by Nicolò Senarega Gentile, a renowned lawyer, Marcantonio Sauli, and P. Ilarione, who wrote learnedly on the subject of exchanges. We omit Ansaldo Ceba, who was both a warrior and a poet, because he lived somewhat later; but we must mention Emanuele Grimaldi, whose pleasing rhymes were published in 1549; Captain Alessandro Spinola, whose literary merits were eclipsed by his fame in the field, and particularly that obtained at Golletta, where he was the first to mount the hostile ramparts. Among our warrior poets we should not pass by the brave Cesare Fregoso, though he had been killed a few years earlier by the Spaniards. He wrote Latin songs which were highly praised, but have unfortunately been lost. He was a man truly great in everything. Matteo Bandello, who took shelter in his palace, and received from him both protection and honour, bears testimony which is alike honourable to both protector and protected. But it would be beyond our province to enumerate all the learned men of that period.

Perhaps the reader will be pleased to know something of the famous women who surrounded the countess Eleonora. She was herself, instructed in letters, as well as in all those accomplishments which became a lady of her time.

Among her friends were Arcangela di Negra, and also the venerable Battista Vernazza, daughter of the great Ettore, from whose pen we have treatises, songs and epistles.

Among the latter her answer to Doctor Tomaso dal Moro, who had endeavoured to win her to the doctrines of Luther, then being secretly diffused through Liguria, is singularly charming. Bandello mentions with praise an Antonia Scarampi,[30] and we may add Peretta Scarpa-Negrone, whom her contemporaries commend for her skill in poetry, calling her a new Corinna. Livia Spinola has left us good rhymes; Maddalena Pallavicini, wife of the marquis of Ceva, wrote verses which are not without merit, and Placida Pallavicini won the encomiums of Paolo Foglietta. The first rank in the Pallavicini sisterhood is due to Argentina, who became the wife of Guido Rangone, and whose literary accomplishments were the theme of the wisest men of that period.

Gerolamo Ruscelli da Viterbo, a literary man of high repute among his contemporaries, tells us that the greater part of the Genoese gentlewomen cultivated belles-lettres; and in an epistle which he published in 1552, he enumerates among the most rare women of Italy twenty-three of Genoa and six of Savona. He mentions among the first of Genoese ladies, Pellegrina, Lercari, “a virgin not less virtuous than beautiful,” and Nicoletta Centurione-Grimaldi, on whom he lavishes every sort of praise. Among those of Savona he speaks of Leonora Falletti, countess of Melazzo, as one whose happy compositions had stimulated the ambition of many learned men. Among the poetesses of Liguria, are also to be numbered Benedetta Spinola, daughter of Alfonso marquis of Garessio, and wife of Giovanni Battista, prince of the blood of Savoy and lord of Racconigi; Claudia della Rovere, countess of Vinovo in Piedmont; and Caterina Gastodenghi, who enjoyed the praises of Dolce, Parabasco, and many others.

The gentle consort of Count Fieschi held the central place in this circle of cultivated gentlewomen; but unfortunately the rhymes of Eleonora, which gave her so much credit with her contemporaries, are no longer in existence. The few specimens of her talent which remain to us give ample proof of her genius. They were published in Turin in 1573, with the verses of Faustino Tasso, a Venitian, and of three other poetesses, of whom one belonged to her husband’s house, that is, Ortensia Lomellina de’ Fieschi. The others were Nicoletta Celsa and Laura Gabrielli degli Alciati, Eleonora was not inferior to her aunt Caterina, duchess of Camerino, who knew Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, and who found comfort when Paul III. deprived her husband of his possessions, in the friendship of wise men and in philosophical studies.

But the genial studies, the love and charms of his wife, did not enervate the manly spirit of the count. At every step his mother’s voice reproached him for attempting no daring enterprises. From the towers of his palace he saw Genoa lying at his feet and seeming to call him to deliver her. He looked out upon the sea and saw it whitened with the sails of Gianettino, his rival and the expected despot of his native land. A sense of magnanimous indignation warmed his bosom. The son of Sinibaldo, the heir of such an illustrious house, could not endure the sight of his country sitting under the shadow of a foreign power, if not enslaved, certainly not free.

CHAPTER V.

THE PLOTS OF FIESCHI.

The political ideas of the sixteenth century—The advice of Donato Gianotto to the Italians—Generous aims of Gianluigi Fieschi—His reported plots with Cesare Fregoso disproved—The conspiracy with Pietro Strozzi a fable—Fieschi has secret conferences with Barnaba Adorno, lord of Silvano—Pier Luca Fieschi and his part in the conspiracy of Gianluigi—The Count sends Cagnino Gonzaga to treat with France—The purchase of the Farnesian galleys—Francesco Burlamacchi.

According to our belief, a single idea directed the movements of the Peninsula in the first part of the sixteenth century—the thought common to all the people of emancipating the country from that foreign power which was corrupting the national character, literature, and art. Classic and courtly history has found in these stormy years only local and isolated conspiracies; few writers, we might almost say none, have heard, in these risings of peoples crushed under the ambitions of the great, the mighty groan of a dying nation not yet resigned to her terrible fate.

The national Guelph tradition refused to yield place to the new imperial system which was slowly destroying the old charters of the communes. There were generous throbs which showed that the old body politic, though sore wounded, still contained the breath of life; every city of Italy on the verge of the grave rose up with the last strength of an expiring man, protested with blood, and died.

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.

Though writers in the pay of Spain accused him of corrupt ambition, lust of gold and thirst for blood, it is time to render him the tardy justice of saying that no document can be quoted which proves that he cherished such infamous projects—projects alien to his gentle and humane character, to the traditions of his family, and to the spirit of the Guelph party then supported by the most sound and cultivated intellects of Italy.

Sismondi alone, of all historians, seems to us to have comprehended the real object of Fieschi. “Andrea Doria,” he writes, “had restored the name of Republic to his country, but not liberty nor independence. He called to the government a strict aristocracy, of whom Gianettino was the master. He bound the fate of his country to that of Austria, by bonds which humiliated the best part of the Genoese. Fieschi planned his conspiracy in order to deliver the country from the yoke of Spain and the Dorias.”[33]

The events we proceed to describe set the seal of truth upon the words of this illustrious historian.

Some tell us that Gianluigi plotted, so early as 1537, with Cesare Fregoso, to place the Republic in the hands of the French king; for which, Bonfadio adds,[34] he would have lost his head, if Andrea Doria had not saved him from the rigours of the law. This report was set on foot by the marquis Vasto, governor of Milan, who, after the assassination of Cesare Fregoso and Antonio Rancone, the messengers of King Francis to Soliman, endeavoured to justify his treachery by declaring, among other things, that he had found in commentaries of Fregoso, (which he never had in his hands) proofs that Fieschi took part in that plot. But these pretended conspiracies with the King of France are now destroyed by very authoritative testimony. If Bonfadio had remembered that, in 1537, Fieschi was still a lad, he would have hesitated to adopt that slander. It is known, too, that personal enmity existed between the families Fregoso and Fieschi of so bitter a character as to forbid all possibility of common political views and intimate secret negotiations. The memory of the day, when Doge Giano Fregoso and his brother Fregosino, encountering Gerolamo Fieschi, killed him with many blows, was not effaced; nor was it forgotten that the Fieschi retired to their castles to plan their revenge, collected three thousand soldiers and besieged the city from the valley of Bisagno, where the Fregosi were entrenched. A battle was fought, in which the Doge was defeated. The Fieschi entered the city as victors, killed Zaccaria Fregoso, dragged his corpse through the populous streets, and elevated Antoniotto Adorno to the office of Doge. From that day a mortal hatred had divided the two families. This fact alone renders the story of a plot with Fregoso highly improbable.

Bonfadio also accuses Fieschi of having attempted to betray the city to Pietro Strozzi, which, he says, would have been done, if Bernardino di Mendozza had not arrived with a strong body of Bisogni, in good time to overthrow the conspiracy. Some add that the count sent one Sacco, to Strozzi to instigate him to attack Genoa and to act as a guide. The circumstance deserves investigation.

In August, 1544, when the emperor had marched into France, Pietro Strozzi collected an army at Mirandola, with the design of attacking the territories of Milan in concert with Enghein. Aided by Pierluigi Farnese, he had already crossed the Po, and entered the province of Piacenza, where he lay encamped on the slopes of the Ligurian mountains, when, being assailed by Ridolfo Baglione and imperial troops sent from Naples, he was forced to fall back to Serravalle, on the banks of the Scrivia. Here he was overtaken by the prince of Salerno, and forced to accept battle. The fight was at first favourable to Strozzi, but in the end he suffered defeat. There were few killed, because the Italians recognized their brotherhood on the field of battle, threw down their arms and embraced each other. Strozzi took shelter with the remnant of his army in the territory of the Republic. The Fieschi, fearing the rage of a conquered Strozzi, and perhaps an assault upon Montobbio, fled into the city, and remained there until Strozzi evacuated his camp in the Apennines. This shows how completely Bonfadio was in error.[35]

Though, however, the count of Lavagna (then lord of thirty-three castles) had no secret correspondence with Fregoso nor Strozzi, he certainly had political relations with other persons; and this is what remains after eliminating the falsehoods spread abroad by Spain.

Having formed the purpose of deposing the old nobility and restoring the popular government, Fieschi saw that his best policy was to follow the fortunes of the Adorni, whose party his ancestors, and especially his father, had zealously supported. The views of Gianluigi found an echo in the breast of Barnaba Adorno, count of Silvano, of whom we must briefly speak.

Silvano is situated in the Val d’Orba in Monferrato, two miles beyond the Giovi. On the east and west lie the villages of St. Cristoforo, then a feud of the Dorias, of Montaldeo—honored as the birth-place, at a later period, of cardinal Mazzarino—and Mornese, a feud of the Serras; on the south lay Cremolino, possessed by the Dorias; and on the north the castles of Carpineto, and Montaldo, and the city of Alessandria. Nearer and almost contiguous to Silvano stood the castles of Lerma, Tagliolo, Ovada, Rocca Grimaldi, Capriata, and Castelletto Val d’Orba, also feuds of Barnaba Adorno.

Silvano was fortified by two large and strong towers, and was the usual residence of Adorno, who had strong friends and political allies in all the castles and villages around him. He devoted his early years to arms, and, rising to the rank of colonel under Cæsar, he acquired distinction in Provence and in the kingdom of Naples. In the latter he obtained the feud of Caprarica. Weary of the tumults of war, he retired to his home and married Maddalena, daughter of the Doge Antoniotto Adorno. In beauty, this woman was excelled by few persons of her time.

The quiet of Adorno was disturbed by serious quarrels, especially by one with count Paolo Pico of Mirandola, who attacked his lands and put Castelletto to fire and sword. This strife, so bloody in the civil war which it inflamed, was not less spirited before the tribunals of the empire; but it is not our province to enlarge on its many vicissitudes.

Adorno cherished the design of cultivating the popular party, and so raising the declining fortunes of his house, and he soon began to attempt plots against the new order in Genoa.

In this purpose he turned to the count of Lavagna, through the mediation of a Fra Badaracco, and, after many debates, it was resolved to unite their forces for the overthrow of the Dorias. Barnaba was to be elevated to the Dogate, and the count to govern the eastern Riviera as his father had done before him. They further agreed to place the Republic under the protection of France, without prejudice, however, to its liberties, and solely to secure it from the vengeance of Cæsar. Fra Badaracco, in order to find partisans, held conversations with some gentlemen whom he supposed to be dissatisfied with the government of the Dorias. But these persons exposed the matter in the senate: the friar was arrested, and some letters of Barnaba Adorno were found on his person. After having been tortured, Bardaracco was decapitated, having confessed that, besides Adorno, Gianluigi Fieschi and Pietra Paolo Lasagna were concerned in the conspiracy. The senators, not being able to obtain proofs of their guilt, decided not to prosecute the conspirators.

Having thus failed in his first effort, the count sought new paths to his end. He saw that it was necessary to have an understanding with the king of France, as a means of restraining the army which the emperor had in the territories of Milan, and to secure the capture of the fleet of Doria, which was the chief prop of the imperial power. It was plain that these naval and military forces would easily quell any insurrection, unless the troops of France in Piedmont were directed to hold the army of Cæsar in check. Gianluigi was induced to enter into an understanding with France by one of his relatives by blood, of whom we ought briefly to speak, because his name has been almost forgotten in our domestic histories.

A branch of the Fieschi family, expelled from Genoa in 1339, had taken up its residence in Piedmont and acquired there both possessions and honours. A certain Giovanni Fieschi—made bishop of Vercelli by Clement VI., in 1348—gave a share of the temporal government of his diocese to his brother Nicolò, and conferred upon him some lands and castles.

We find in the archives of the court at Turin that the Fieschi ruled in Masserano until 1381, and that Nicolò, Giovanni, and Antonio formed an alliance with count Verde. Some few years later, or in 1394, Lodovico Fieschi, also bishop of Vercelli and cardinal, petitioned Boniface IX. for the repayment of a large sum of money spent by him in maintaining the rights of his church, and he obtained permission to alienate from the jurisdiction of the church the castles of Masserano and Moncrivello, and to confer the feud upon his brother Antonio. This investiture was confirmed by subsequent popes, especially by Julius II.; and Alexander VI. added, in 1498, the feuds of Curino, Brusnengo, Flecchia, and Riva, assigning them to the brothers Innocenzo and Pier Luca.

The first of these had a son named Lodovico, and this Lodovico a daughter named Beatrice, whose hand her father gave to Filiberto Ferrero, a citizen of Biella, adopting him as a son.

The Fieschi possessions in this way passed into the family of Ferrero; and he, having obtained for his son Besso the hand of Camilla, niece of Paul III., secured the investiture of Masserano, then created a Marquisate. Whoever is desirous of learning how these feuds came into the possession of the Ferreri to the exclusion of the male line, and particularly of Gregory and Pier Luca Fieschi, may consult Curzio Giuniore.

This Pier Luca II., lord of Crevacuore, where he had an excellent mint, of whose coinage some specimens are preserved to us, constantly revolved revolutionary projects, as a means of recovering his lost dominions, and urged Count Gianluigi to proclaim himself a partisan of France. It is certain that by the advice of Pier Luca, Gianluigi bought the Farnesian galleys, of which we shall presently speak.

The count received Pier Luca at his house in Vialata with every mark of affection, and lent a willing ear to his suggestions; but fearing that France would wish to reduce Genoa to the condition of a French province, he resolved to ascertain the views of the ministers of that power, and to obtain pledges for the security of popular liberty.

He entrusted this negotiation to Gian Francesco, (called Gagnino) Gonzaga of the family of the dukes of Sabbione, a brave soldier, hostile to the empire. With his uncle Frederick he had fought against Cæsar at Parma, and later as a colonel of the Florentines in the celebrated siege of Florence. Being an open partisan of the French, he was banished from his native land.

Gonzaga presented himself before the French council of state, and reminded the ministers of the many services which the Fieschi family had rendered to the French crown; he showed clearly that the only means of driving the Spaniards from Lombardy, was to destroy the communication with their other Italian states: and the first step to this end would be to remove from power in Genoa the faction of the Dorias. Fieschi, he added, could accomplish this more easily than any other person, and he would attempt the enterprise if France would encourage his efforts, and promise not to lay violent hands on the Republic.

Doria had many enemies in Paris. Though the Chancellor Du Prat was dead and the constable Montmorency was fallen, yet the animosities awakened by Doria in that court were not buried. Delfino still remembered that Doria had taken Genoa from the dominion of France and he meditated vengeance.

The count of San Polo had not forgotten that Andrea caused his defeat and captivity at the battle of Landriano, by informing the Spaniards of the difficulties he was encountering in his retreat. Cardinal Tournon was unable to pardon Doria for throwing many obstacles in his way when he went to Rome to attend the conclave assembled to elect a successor to Clement VIII. Admiral Annebaut hoped to command the army to be sent for the conquest of Lombardy as soon as the revolution should break out in Genoa.

Thus all the ministers, actuated at once by personal and political motives, favoured the plans of Fieschi. Gonzaga was welcomed with delight and obtained a solemn promise that the crown of France would renounce all pretensions to the government of Genoa. He was also empowered to make use of the French troops in Piedmont in garrison at Turin, Moncalieri, Savigliano and Pinerolo; and to select in the port of Toulon such ships as might be adapted to serve the purposes of Fieschi.

This negotiation, securing the coöperation of France without compromising the independence of the country, is highly creditable to Gianluigi and shows the keenness of his political vision which forecast all the dangers and complications of foreign assistance. Perhaps he listened too hopefully to these promises of foreign succour; but if French diplomatists then deceived him, he afterwards showed that he lacked neither courage nor will to undertake his revolution without their coöperation.

France was at that time prodigal of flattery to Italy. She drew from us her luxury, her arts and the embellishments of her life; perhaps also her vices which she repaid to us with usury. She had apparently no schemes for the overthrow of the Italians, and sincerely, though not disinterestedly, sought our emancipation from the Spanish power. We are indebted to her for restraining Cæsar from destroying among us even the name of liberty; and this explains why our Republics, our people and our first intellects were so friendly to France. Whatever secret designs she may have cherished, she promoted popular franchises in Italy. She encouraged agriculture and commerce, and in war for the most part abstained from pillage and carnage, so that the people butchered by the Spaniards cried out, “Would that the French were here to liberate us from these miscreants!”

Some tell us that the Count, besides the aid promised, received an annual sum from France and that he was also salaried by Cæsar. But we have never found any credible testimony for such statements, and the authors seem to have spun them out of their own fancies or received them upon the faith of partisan writers. They should be consigned to that mass of idle rumours or malevolent slanders which we have set aside. Of similar cloth is the fable of the journey of Ottobuono, brother of Gianluigi, to Paris, and also to Rome to ask justice for a grave injury inflicted upon him by Gianettino.

In the mean while, Gianluigi lost no opportunity of making partisans. The times were propitious. The Duke of Piacenza, wishing to restrain the license of the nobles published a proclamation requiring them to reside in the city. This command offended not a few who were feudatories, but not subjects, of the duke. Among these were the Borromeo of Milan, who possessed Guardasone in the province of Parma, and the Fieschi who held Calestano. Gianluigi sent a message to the duke asking that the order might be revoked in his favour. His request was granted, and he went in person, ostensibly to thank the duke and render him homage as his feudatory, but in reality to treat for the purchase of the Farnesian galleys, a measure recommended by Pier Luca as necessary to the contemplated revolution.

To conceal his true intent he wrote to the Senate, on the 28th of September, 1545, that he was in Piacenza to pay homage to the duke, and that he found nuncios coming there from all the Italian provinces. He therefore advised that the Republic should also send a representative. The Senate followed his advice, and charged him with the honourable office.

Although the galleys of which we have spoken had already been asked for by Pietro Strozzi, by Prince Adamo Centurione, and by Cardinal Sauli, for a nephew who had already paid a part of the price, yet the duke, knowing the use Gianluigi intended to make of them, gave him the preference. The purchase was effected on the 23rd of November, 1545. The galleys were named the Capitana, Vittoria, Santa Caterina and Padrona, and had on board, in addition to arms and equipments, three hundred persons condemned for life, one hundred and eighty-five for various terms of years, and one hundred and eighty Turkish and other slaves.

The price amounted to thirty-four thousand gold crowns, to be paid in several instalments; one third on delivery of the vessels, another on Lady day, 1546, and the last one year later. The deferred payments were secured upon the feud of Calestano, with the consent of Gianluigi’s brother Gerolamo, who was lord of that property.[36] The contracting parties were, on one side, Paolo Pietro Guidi, president of the ducal chamber, and Giovanni Battista Liberati, the duke’s treasurer; and the Count of Lavagna on the other. We must not omit, among the conditions of the sale, that three of the galleys were to remain for two years longer in the service of the Apostolic See, Count Fieschi receiving the Papal bonds held by Orazio Farnese.

The low price of the galleys is explained by this condition, in virtue of which they were bound to remain in the port of Civita Vecchia, and the count was obliged to provide for the maintenance and pay of the officers and crews without deriving any advantage from the ownership. Gianluigi assigned the command to Giulio Pojano, who had also commanded them under Orazio Farnese when the emperor undertook the war of Algiers.

We are not able to decide with certainty whether, after this purchase, the count went to Rome, as some affirm. We find however that Duke Pierluigi, having proclaimed a tournament in Piacenza to take place on the 21st of February, 1546, and requested that the ladies of his feudatories should also attend, the countess Eleanora, as well as many others, complied with the invitation and was presented by her husband to the duke, who now treated Gianluigi as his equal.

Duke Farnese announced another tournament for the autumn of the same year, to celebrate the marriage of Faustina Sforza with Muzio Visconti Sforza, marquis of Caravaggio. At this festival the flower of the Italian nobility was gathered together; and in the tournament of the 20th of October, 1546, Nicolò Pusterla and Count Fieschi obtained the highest honours.

It is not known what means the duke intended to employ for carrying out the contemplated revolution. Perhaps both Fieschi and Farnese were yet undecided. It is not impossible (we have strong testimony for the theory) that they waited, with the hope of enlisting on their side one who had even more audacity and strength than themselves, and who would have brought no mean forces into the alliance.

One of those reformers who makes centuries glorious was maturing a scheme of greater scope than that of Fieschi. Francesco Burlamacchi, born of a noble house in Lucca, had conceived the lofty design of revolutionizing, under popular auspices, the Tuscan cities oppressed by Cosimo; allying them to the still surviving republics of Lucca and Siena; embracing in the new nation Perugia, which since 1540 had maintained itself under popular government against the Papacy; taking away from the Apostolic See the temporal power, and restoring the church to the consecrated poverty of the Gospel.

He confided in the popular discontent at domestic and foreign tyranny, and not less in the reformed doctrines which were advocated by the most distinguished Italians, especially by those of Lucca. He proposed his scheme to his friends and sought partisans among the Florentine exiles, the faction of the Strozzi, and even among the German Lutherans who had at their head Phillip Landgrave of Hesse, and Frederick, duke of Saxony. Impatient of delay, he went in person to Venice, then the asylum of the Tuscan and Genoese exiles, and solicited their coöperation. He made an arrangement with Leone Strozzi, prior of Capua, by which the latter agreed to support the enterprize; but Strozzi thought it wiser to procrastinate until the result of the Germanic war should be known.

Burlamacchi, having been created commissary of ordnance at Montagna, resolved to undertake his daring enterprize without waiting longer for foreign aid. He intended to rouse the people to arms, march rapidly upon Pisa—whose fortress, commanded by Vincenzo del Poggio, would be opened to him without bloodshed—to capture Florence, and thence spread the generous fire of liberty over the Peninsula.

The revolution was planned with great prudence and all contingencies were amply provided for. Unfortunately, however, he was obliged in the exercise of his office as Confaloniere of justice to issue a proclamation against one Andrea Pezzini who was cognisant of the conspiracy. This person in order to gratify his malice, revealed the whole scheme to Duke Cosimo. The government of Luca, mortally terrified by the Pope and the emperor, arrested Burlamacchi, in August 1546, and obtained from him by torture a confession of his revolutionary designs. Luca consigned him to the imperial ministers by whom he was beheaded in Milan.

Some confused and scattered papers which we have seen imply that there were messages and interviews between Gianluigi and Burlamacchi, and this corresponds with that which Adriani has written of the Lucchese revolutionist, viz: that he had formed friendship and made allies in every part of Europe. It is then very probable that he sounded Count Fieschi, whose enmity to the Spaniards was well known, as one whose great wealth and numerous dependents would greatly reinforce the revolution. Fieschi was often at his castle in Pontremoli and it would have been easy for the two to hold secret interviews without awakening the least suspicion. It is possible that Fieschi though satisfied of the good faith of France, believed that nothing could be attempted in Italy without her active coöperation or, being a Guelph, disdained to embark in a scheme for the overthrow of the temporal power of the Papacy.

These first plots of Fieschi confute the charge, disproved by other and more direct evidence, made by sacred college of Padua, that he conspired against the government of the Dorias with the sole object of destroying Gianettino who was paying court to the countess of Lavagna.

CHAPTER VI.

PAUL THIRD.

He aspires to grandeur for his family—His hostility to the emperor and to Doria—He encourages Gianluigi in his designs against the imperial rule in Genoa—Attempts of Cardinal Trivulzio to induce Fieschi to give Genoa to France—France is induced by the count to relinquish her hopes of obtaining Genoa—Verrina and his spirited counsels—Vengeance of Gianluigi against Giovanni Battista della Torre.

Alexander Farnese was elevated to the Papal throne under the title of Paul III., not so much for his personal talents as by the influence of his sister Clara whom he rewarded, as tradition reports, by giving her poison.

The old Alexander VI., having by accident made her acquaintance, was inflamed by her charms with an ardent passion, and found means to open his heart to her. The cunning Farnese at once saw the delirium of the gray-headed pontiff and did not yield to his solicitations until he had promised her brother a cardinal’s hat. When the time for making the nomination approached, the Pope was disposed to fulfil his pledge; but he found a spirited resistance in Cæsar Borgia, who having never kept faith with any one was very unwilling that the holy father should abide by his promises. The name of Abbott Farnese was cancelled from the list and another inserted in its place. On the eve of the ordination of the Cardinals, Clara, suspecting what had happened, passed a night with the pontiff and when he, drunken with lust and wine, fell into a profound slumber, she searched his papers and ascertained the truth of her suspicions.

Being an adept in copying and reckless of consequences, she rewrote the list, counterfeiting the Pope’s handwriting, and placed the name of her brother first on the roll. On the morrow, she put on all her seducing charms and detained her paramour in his bed until messengers came to inform him that the concistory was assembled and only waited his presence. Clara had foreseen that, if he were called in haste, he would have no time to look over his papers. In fact, he entered the concistory and gave the list to the secretaries without looking it over. His surprise was great when the name of Farnese was read out; but he preferred silence to the exposure of his senile debaucheries.

It is not our purpose to go over the long career of Farnese. While yet a youth he had been imprisoned in Sant Angelo for counterfeiting a brief, and Alexander VI. would have beheaded him if he had not contrived to escape from prison. We shall not repeat the errors of his contemporary historians, that he united the black act to his astronomical learning, and that he thus, through intercourse with demons, learned many secrets and became skilled in political intrigues. It is enough to say that, on arriving at the pontifical throne, he devoted all his efforts to the aggrandizement of his family; and, not content with obtaining the duchy of Camerino for his bastard son Pierluigi, intrigued to elevate him to the government of Parma and Piacenza, and even raised his eyes to that of Milan.

It was not then a reproach, says Segni,[37] that a Pope had illegitimate children and sought by every means to confer upon them wealth and dignities; on the contrary, the Pontiff who aspired to temporal grandeur was in repute as a man of prudence and sagacity. Paul III. intrigued for a long time with the emperor to acquire the duchy of Milan for Pierluigi, though he well knew that Charles, in occupying Lombardy, had protested that he did not wish to hold it for his own advantage but for that of Italy. In these intentions he was confirmed by the influence of the Venitians, the marquis Vasto and the king of France. The Spanish monarch had already disappointed the ambition of the duke of Orleans, who aspired to the duchy, and he also refused it to Pierluigi. But the Pope, after long intrigues to overcome the scruples of the cardinals, gave his son the investiture of Parma and Piacenza, making them tributary to the church in the sum of nine thousand ducats.

This act created enmity between the Farnesi and the emperor, though Paul III. had furnished the latter with men and money for his war against the Duke of Saxony, sending twelve thousand horse under the command of Ottavio Farnese and Alessandro Vitelli. But the increasing greatness of Charles, throwing into the shade the prerogatives and power of the Papal See, the disappointed hope of a principality and the league of the emperor with England the enemy of the Papacy, rendered Paul a bitter foe of Spain and awakened in him the ambition to crush the imperial power.

Andrea Doria hated the Farnese not less cordially than Charles. He had opposed the advancement of this family for ten years, and had frustrated a proposed league between the Papal See and the empire. He had influenced Charles to refuse the duchy of Milan to Pierluigi, and subsequently to deny Ottavio, son of Pierluigi, the government of Tuscany according to a promise the emperor had made when Ottavio married his illegitimate daughter Margaret, of Austria. Doria urged against the last scheme that if the Farnese were made masters of Tuscany they would become powerful enough to lay hands on the Lombard provinces.

There were still other motives for Andrea’s jealousy of the power of the Farnese family. A member of the Doria house named Imperiale being reduced to extreme poverty had obtained an appointment in the army of Andrea. He distinguished himself in many actions and rose to the highest honours and wealth. But having satisfied his military ambition he became a priest, in which character he was first abbott of San Fruttuoso and afterwards, through the influence of Andrea, bishop of Sagona in Corsica. Wishing, however, to advance his worldly interests he retired into Apulia where he acquired many estates, and was elevated by Andrea to the government of Melfi, in which he largely increased his wealth.

Before his death, remembering the kindness of Doria, he bequeathed to him all his possessions. The Papal nuncio seized upon and sequestrated the estates of the bishop, claiming that they belonged by right to the church. Andrea protested against this insult before the Papal court, but Rome, being at once a party to the cause and the judge of it, decided in its own favour and issued a decree despoiling the admiral of all his rights in the property of his relative. Paul III. fearing the vengeance of the admiral of the empire, deputed his nephew Alexander Farnese to offer, as a compensation for the outrage, the power of nominating a successor to the bishop. Doria disdained to render a vassal’s homage to a Farnese and ordered Gianettino to assail and capture the Papal galleys in the port of Genoa. This capture inflamed the wrath of the pontiff, and as an act of reprisal he arrested some Genoese who were in Rome, threatening to confiscate their goods unless his ships were immediately released. The Senate laid the matter before Andrea, who answered that Gianettino had captured the Papal vessels solely because he was stronger at sea than his adversary. Afterwards, in order to avoid complicating the Republic with his private quarrel, he released the galleys of the pontiff, after having satisfied the Farnese that he did not lack the power but the will to revenge himself.

The Pope was induced by Charles V. to restore to Andrea his defrauded rights; but the Farnese was deeply chagrined and, not being able to strike openly at the emperor’s favourite, sought secret ways of venting his displeasure.

Private ambition, personal mortification and political views united to stimulate the pontiff to humble the emperor, expel the Spaniards and crush the Dorias. As it was obviously vain to oppose Cæsar so long as Genoa, governed by the constitution of Doria, was under the Spanish influence, he naturally fell in with projects which contemplated a revolution in the Republic.

It is certain, says a modern writer, that Paul was skilled in mingling modern passions with the administration of his venerable office. He stood between the old world and the new, and he possessed the spirit of both; and if the election of Clement had not deprived him of the pontificate for ten years (as he often lamented) perhaps the fortunes of Italy, which were not yet desperate, might have been saved by his industry or, at least, would not have suffered total shipwreck.

At that period several Fieschi families were in a flourishing state, among them that of Ettore, of the Savignone line, who had espoused Maria di Gian-Ambrogio Fieschi. From this marriage were born, Francesco, Giacomo, Nicolò, Paride, Gian-Ambrogio, Urbano and Innocenzio. Ettore having given some of his property in Rome to Giacomo and Nicolò, who as priests were stationed in that city, at the death of the first the father found it necessary to make a journey thither.

Having presented himself to the Pope he was graciously received and obtained the bishopric of Savona for his second son.

In their conferences the Pontiff spoke of the past grandeur of the Fieschi family, of the hospitality he had received in the palace in Vialata in the time of Sinibaldo, and expressed surprise that none of the sons of Sinibaldo, whom he knew to be young men of spirit and ambition, had sought honours in the Papal court,—honours which could not be denied to the scions of a noble house, which counted two successors of St. Peter and four hundred mitred heads in its ancestry. He also begged Ettore to inform Fieschi that he entertained the most flattering opinion of their merits, and should be happy to give full proof of his esteem.

On his return to Genoa, Ettore informed Gianluigi of the sentiments of Paul III. and of his nephew the cardinal towards the family, and the count resolved personally to render thanks to the Pontiff. He visited Rome, though dissuaded by Panza, in May, 1546 (as Bonfadio tells us). Some maintain that he went there at other periods, but we find no authentic evidence to support the assertion.

Paul received Gianluigi in the kindest manner, and took pains to show him honour. During their conversations he spoke much of the ancestors of the count as having been the first citizens of Genoa. He lamented that the Dorias had overshadowed the family of Fieschi. Andrea, he said, by his political tact and by refraining from assuming in name the power which he possessed in reality, had rendered his vast influence less obnoxious to his countrymen, but that Gianettino would not imitate this temperate policy nor long delay to place his yoke on the Genoese. Count Fieschi, he added, would be the first one humbled, as being the most dangerous enemy to the empire. He intimated that if Gianluigi had the spirit to oppose the Doria ambition, the support of the Holy See would not be wanting in the hour of trial.

He gave a more positive proof of his willingness to act by proposing that the count should immediately take command of the three galleys included in the Farnese purchase, which still remained in the service of the papal government, in order, said he (and he smiled cunningly), that they may not again be captured by Doria. This conversation, so familiar and hopeful, greatly encouraged Gianluigi and induced him to put his designs into immediate execution.

An event occurred during this visit to Rome which nearly overthrew all these revolutionary schemes. Cardinal Agostino Trivulzio, who, as protector of France, lost no occasion for promoting the policy of that nation, established relations of intimacy with Gianluigi, and undertook to demonstrate that the difficulties of his enterprise were such as to render it necessary to concede to France the government of Genoa. France, he said, would place the count at the head of the local administration, and would give him the command of six galleys, equipped on a war footing and maintained at the expense of the crown, of which he could make such use as seemed best. France would also station a heavy body of troops at Montobbio, to prevent the advance of the Austro-Spanish troops, and make Fieschi captain of a cavalry force with the annual pay of ten thousand crowns.

These new propositions came through Prince Giano Caracciolo, governor-general of Piedmont, and had his seal to their authenticity. They entirely destroyed the previous arrangements made by Gagnino Gonzaga, and contemplated the subjection of the Republic to a foreign power. They did not please Gianluigi, who desired to enlarge the liberties of his country, not to change the masters of the Republic.

Nevertheless, he asked time for consideration, and without making further steps in his design he returned to Genoa. Pondering over the difficulties of his undertaking and the new claims of France, he would probably have relinquished the enterprise, if Gianettino, who, in the tone of one who held the dominion of the waves, complained of the purchase of the Farnese galleys, had not used such bitter and imperious threats as to inflame anew the resentment of the count. The success and malevolence of Gianettino, to whom as to the rising sun all eyes were turned, fortified Gianluigi in his determination to overthrow the expectant tyrant of Genoa.

Fieschi having delayed to respond to Trivulzio, the latter, fearing that the new propositions would discourage the count, sent to him knight Nicolò Foderato of Savona, a relative of Fieschi, to tell him that Francis I. would abide by the agreement made with Gonzaga, adding that he had only to recommend vigilance and prudence in guiding his ship safe into port.

Gianluigi was delighted beyond measure at this favourable turn of affairs. He subscribed the stipulations at once and sent back the messenger with warm thanks for the generosity of the French monarch. Francis really desired above everything to recover his lost dominion over Liguria, but he was persuaded to defer that ambition to a more favourable combination of circumstances.

Fieschi now exposed his plans (in this point all the historians agree and are confirmed by the manuscripts we have seen) to three of his most devoted friends, Raffaele Sacco, Vincenzo Calcagno and Giovanni Battista Verrina. He submitted to them the question whether he should attempt a revolution relying solely on his own forces, or undertake it in alliance with France.

Sacco was born of not obscure lineage in Savona, being descended from a knight of Malta and entitled to the annual gift of a paschal lamb. We find that a branch of the Sacco family living in Genoa had been united to the family of Venti, and not long after, in 1363, to that of the Franchi. Sacco was auditor and judge in the feuds of the count and knew intimately the feelings of his master. He advised that the French arms be accepted—an opinion partly explained by his being of Savona. Your forces, said he, are too weak to oppose those of Doria and the emperor; and though it may be easy to capture the city by a coup de main, it will be impossible to hold it unless you are promptly reënforced by a good body of troops.

Vincenzo Calcagno was beloved by Gianluigi for long and faithful services. After the warmest protestations of his fidelity and obedience as a vassal, he spoke at length of the evils of civil war and foreign intervention which must follow from an attempt to change the government. He enlarged on the difficulties of the enterprise. Doria had twenty galleys. The sea coast and nobility were his. Foreign rule was hateful to the Genoese, but above all that of France. Francis occupied by home politics, embarrassed in Lombardy and in Naples, would not bestow a thought on Genoa if he did not hope to acquire his lost power over her. The nobility are in power and hate revolution, and even the plebeians would oppose a new order of things unless proposed by a noble. The people are unwilling to obey men without high rank, accustomed not to yield even to the nobles without desperate necessity,—and, stimulated by recent events, they would demand full control of the government. But granted that the revolution may succeed, no sooner would the new state be created than the crests of Adorni and Fregoso would be seen in the foreground.

These powerful families, still beloved by the people, would never consent to submit the government to the control of a species of prince—a thing they have for centuries resisted with their blood—so that the efforts of the count will not enhance his personal grandeur, but only promote the interests of rival families; the name of Fieschi will become a reproach, distrusted by the nobles, despised by the people and hated by Cæsar.

Calcagno would have gone on to dissuade the count from the whole scheme if the impetuous Verrina had not interrupted him with impatience and anger.

The family of Verrina was originally of Voltri, and came into the city in 1475. Stefano Verrina had enrolled himself as a noble attached to the company or Albergo of the Franchi. John Baptist Verrina di Vincenzo, a most honourable citizen, was then living in Carignano, though born near the church of San Siro, not far from the count, and was managing his affairs. Party spirit and private animosities rendered him a violent enemy of the old nobles; and he could not digest it that those who had long been excluded from public offices should, through the reforms of Doria, be invested with the entire control of affairs. He had once been rich, but his excessive generosity had wasted his wealth, and he was now supporting the declining fortunes of his family upon the liberality of Fieschi. His intellect was of a high order, his courage that of a hero; his spirit was high and venturous, ever intent on the loftiest designs. He had assumed for a motto—The world belongs to him who will take it.

Verrina demonstrated with great force and eloquence that too much had already been done to leave any pretext for abandoning the enterprise—that retreat was more dangerous than the battle.

Revolutionary schemes ought to be executed as soon as formed. The plans of Fieschi had reached such a stage that the only thing left was to bring them to completion, to dare everything, to risk life itself in the struggle. He argued that the enterprise was not difficult; the Doria ships were idle and their crews scattered along the coasts, the garrison of the city was reduced to only two hundred and fifty infantry, many of whom were vassals of the count. The people wanted a change of government; the Senate was sleeping in imaginary security. It was folly to procrastinate the hour for delivering the country from the ambition of Gianettino, when everything was smiling upon their hopes and nothing but their own hesitation foreboded danger.

He said that it was useless to ask the aid of the French, who had been humiliated by the captivity of their king and were getting the worse in their struggle with Charles V., master of all Germany. The very example of Doria proved the nature of French sympathy for Italy. Doria had learned too well that Francis desired to reduce the importance of Genoa by removing Savona from her jurisdiction, and making the latter the capital of Liguria. The count, said he, has the means of full success. Raise the cry of popular liberty, and thousands of swords will be uplifted for the cause. Let Gianluigi dare to proclaim liberty to these oppressed multitudes. Let him dare to announce himself as their liberator. When Cæsar fell, Pompey was not declared a rebel, but the saviour of Rome. Let our master imitate the high example now, when every wind is propitious; France friendly, Rome and Piacenza ready for alliance with us, and the people prompt for action.

The arguments of Verrina overcame the doubts of the count, and he resolved to proceed with the general plan then worked out. He instructed Foderato to communicate to Trivulzio his desire that the original compact with Gonzaga be observed in every particular. In the meantime he came into closer relations with Paul III., by means of the Pontiff’s nephew the cardinal; and to complete all his preparations he resolved to go to Piacenza and confer with the duke.

It is of importance to observe that Fieschi, following the counsels of Verrina, declined the proffer of French troops and galleys. Some paint this friend of the count as a species of demon. They tell us that he wished to murder the nobility and appropriate their goods, because he was overwhelmed with debts, and to raise the count to the office of Doge, or rather to make him the tyrant of Genoa. In truth, we find these fables in all the historians, even in the least passionate and partisan, who seem to have taken no pains to sift testimony, but to have accepted the Spanish slanders without question.

In a city like Genoa, but recently deprived of the popular liberty which she had enjoyed for centuries, the idea of destroying free institutions could not have entered the brain of a sane politician. Neither Verrina nor the count were so short-sighted as to believe that an enterprise which the emperor, with the support of all the nobles, had found impossible could be easily executed by them. The ancient story is repeated in our times. The victors have written the history of the vanquished with the sword.

This seems to us the place to describe an atrocious deed, which shows, on the one hand, the great affection of the count for the members of his family; and, on the other, how deeply he felt injuries and how terribly he avenged them. The tragedy of which we now speak still lives in tradition on the spot where it was enacted. We have drawn the history of it from old documents, which agree in general with the account written by Bandello, who received it from the lips of Catando d’Arimini, an intimate friend of Gianluigi.[38]

We have already stated that Sinibaldo had, besides his legitimate children, a son named Cornelio and a daughter named Claudia. This daughter was beautiful and attractive in person and manners. While yet very young she was married to Simone Ravaschiero di Manfredi. He was a rich and influential citizen of Chiavari and desired a family alliance with the Fieschi, in order to secure their assistance against count Agostino Lando, with whom he was contesting the jurisdiction of a castle in the duchy of Piacenza. The marriage was celebrated with the splendour to which the Fieschi were habituated, and Claudia took up her residence in Chiavari, acquiring through the purity of her life and the charms of her conversation the admiration of all who knew her. Giovanni Battista Della Torre, one of the most high-born and wealthy citizens of the district, paid her such assiduous court that she soon perceived the object of his attentions. She defended herself with dexterity and disappointed the hopes of her admirer. The young man, beside himself with his foolish passion and consuming with amorous fires, studied to find some means of obtaining by stratagem that which had been denied to his love.

He chose the occasion of her husband’s absence in Genoa to adjust his accounts with Gianluigi, and, by bribing a servant, penetrated into the chamber of Claudia and concealed himself under her bed.

The lady was accustomed, when her husband was absent, to require her maid before she retired to rest to examine all the corners and hiding-places of her apartments; and on that evening, as if presaging the danger which was near, ordered the servant to make careful search whether any one was there concealed. The maid looked under the bed, and, seeing a man hidden there, uttered a loud cry, at which Claudia leaped from her couch and ran into her father-in-law’s room. The old man roused his servants, armed them and went to take vengeance on the violater of his domestic dominions. But Della Torre, finding his plot had failed, leaped from a window of considerable height, and, falling, received severe bruises and wounds. Nor would he have escaped, if some neighbours who heard the noise of his fall had not come to his relief and saved him from the fury of Manfredi, by bearing him away to the house of one of them.

On the following morning Manfredi sent swift messengers to inform his son and Gianluigi of what had happened. The count was terribly enraged, but he concealed his anger and waited to know the nature of Della Torre’s wounds and what hope there might be of his recovery. Learning that, though disfigured for life, he would recover from the effects of the fall, he called to him his brother Cornelio and his cousin Simone and said to them: “You know, Cornelio, the outrage which Della Torre has committed against our sister Claudia, and I believe that if you have the spirit which belongs to your blood you will arrange with Simone to take such vengeance as the case requires. I have prepared two galleys, manned by twenty well-armed and brave men each. Set sail. Three hours before dawn you will be in Chiavari. There, without any delay, you will assail the house of Della Torre, and if you tear him into a thousand pieces you will give him that reward which his crime merits. Having accomplished your purpose, take refuge in my castles which are near there and of which I give you the countersigns. Afterwards leave me to provide for everything. Unless you discharge this duty, you, Cornelio, will never come into my presence lest I kill you with my own hands; and you, Simone, will be no longer kinsman nor friend of mine.”

The two promised to execute his commands, and setting sail, they arrived at Chiavari at the hour appointed. Having landed, three of them went to the gates of the town and asked the guardian to admit them. Once within, the three threw out the drawbridge, and the others, who were concealed close at hand, thus marched in, threatening the guardians with death if they raised an alarm.

They made straight for their enemy’s house, broke down the door, rushed into the apartment where Della Torre was sleeping and tore him in pieces.

Having accomplished their vengeance, they retired to the castle of Roccatagliata, where the government did not dare to molest them.

CHAPTER VII.

PREPARATIONS.

Character of the Fieschi family—Gianluigi acquires the friendship of the silk operatives and other plebeians—The Duke of Piacenza selects the count to arbitrate his differences with the Pallavicini—Secret understandings between the count and the duke—Gianluigi puts his castles in a condition for war—Gianettino Doria, to pave the way to supreme power, gives Captain Lercaro an order to kill Fieschi—Industry of Verrina—The decisions of history on the merits of Fieschi should be made in view of the political doctrines of the sixteenth century.

In monarchical states great families usually derive their importance from the head of the nation, who overshadows them all; but in cities ruled by the people, every house has its peculiar position and character. In Genoa, families had features and qualities which had characterized them and given them a distinct history for centuries. The Adorni and Fregosi always loved authority; the Durazzi were distinguished for munificence; the Serra for legal learning; the Pinelli for indomitable energy; the Lomellini for liberality; the Doria and Spinola for military genius. The Fieschi had always maintained and guarded, though with a partisan spirit, the popular franchises.

We find in the annals of this illustrious race a Nicolò and a Percivale, who, as imperial vicars, granted liberty to the Florentines and Luchesi. We find in the long history of their political power in Genoa that the Fieschi never struggled for supreme position as did the Adorni, Fregosi, Spinola, and Doria. Carlo Fieschi, as the chief of the Guelphs, was, in 1318, placed at the head of the government, with Gasparo Grimaldi for colleague, but he never attempted any legislative or constitutional charges for the sake of remaining in office. Bonfadio himself, though their enemy, declares that, though the Fieschi surpassed in power all other families, they never laid hands on popular rights.[39] They were in Genoa what the Capponi were in Florence.

This reputation of the counts of Lavagna rendered it easy for Gianluigi to obtain followers. To cover his true designs, he made no change in his manners or life, carried an open and jovial countenance, and studied more than ever to promote domestic tranquility. His palace was open to all; he was generous with his friends, affable and courteous to every one. He courted the rich with flattery and blandishments, the poor with gifts. His table, spread with regal profusion, was free; and he seemed to have no other cares besides races, the chase and the dance.

He cultivated friendship with the old nobles, but had greater intimacy with the new. The Dorias did not complain of the count’s relations with the new nobility; for, though his house was old and illustrious, its traditions were Guelph, and the new patricians and the leading popular families belonged to that party. In his intercourse with these persons, on whom he relied for assistance, he spoke sneeringly of the reforms of 1528, which had advanced the Portico of San Luca to the highest power, created deep-rooted antipathies, and weakened the Republic. Sometimes he showed a profound passion, and his broken and threatening tone conveyed a meaning beyond the import of his words.

Having won the favour of the rich and distinguished popular families, he cultivated the love of the plebeians. In this, his pleasant and familiar manner secured him great success. He treated them as his equals, and, the true Alcibiades of his time, he adapted himself to their personal characteristics and prejudices. Chronicles tell us that he watched from his towers to see if the chimneys of the poorer classes smoked regularly at the hour for preparing food, and sent provisions whenever this token of a meal was missed on any roof. Such wise generosity acquired him the affection of the people. The foreign wars and the stagnation of trade had impoverished a great part of the citizens, especially the spinners and the silk operatives, then called Tuscans, of whom there were fifteen thousand in Genoa.

The history of the manufacture of silk, through which so many Italian families acquired wealth and rank, has not yet been adequately treated. The history of trades and crafts in the Peninsula would be a useful work, and would show that even in the midst of the fiercest contests of faction, commerce was always held in merited honour and was regulated by few and simple restrictions;—that merchants and artisans had their art-unions or corporations with their own laws, arms and masters, that the trades were thus united in associations as a means of perfecting their products and as a security against fraud. The historian of our manufactures would tell us that in Genoa, before 1432, the trade of silk-weaving had its capitudini, or officers, consisting of two consuls and six councillors, who inspected the quality of the fabrics, provided for their sale, took charge of the profits and decided upon the complaints of the operatives. The government issued many proclamations and made numerous laws to promote the woollen trade; among which those of Doge Pietro Fregoso are remarkable. He forbade the operatives, who lived in the quarter still called Borgo del Lanieri, to leave the walls of the city, or carry elsewhere their tools and skill, under penalty of confiscation of goods and other pains. Some illustrious men were enrolled and matriculated in the art of silk, among them Doge Paolo da Novi; and Gianettino Doria himself, when his father Tomaso fell into poverty, spent his youth among the silk-weavers of our city. The silk operatives venerated the Volto Santo of San Cipriano, a circumstance which explains the extraordinary number of these images which are to be found in Genoa and along the eastern Riviera.

Not less prosperous than the silk manufactures were the corders and beaters of wool, also united into associations. They gave a great impulse to traffic and navigation. The beginnings of our civilization were born of industrial arts. The marines artisans, and tradesmen formed the only army of the Republic when it made war on feudatories and compelled them to swear allegiance to the commune. These brave plebeians—to-day operatives, to-morrow soldiers, not more masters of the shuttle and the oar than of the sword, tempestuous in character but fervent in faith—created in Genoa fruitful industries and immense social power; and though in the fury of faction they sometimes shed blood in the streets of Genoa, they atoned it by giving her, through formidable fleets, the dominion of the seas.

Guglielmo Embriaco, the hero of the first crusade, is the representative of this Genoese thrift and courage. Our armies were nothing more than associations. Such companies subdued the Euxine. The Giustiniani captured Scio, Samos, and other islands, and divided their gains pro rata per man in proportion to the expense which each had borne; the Cattaneo at Phocis, the Gattilusio at Mytilene, and the Zaccaria in Negroponte. Elis and Achaia adopted the same rule. It rarely happened that one who was not inscribed in a trade and to the commune obtained any position as a master-workman. The very nobleman who was a Ghibeline outside the walls became a Guelph when he established his residence in the city; and though from his castles in the passes of the Apennines he might have once plotted to invade us, he had no sooner recorded himself as a citizen than he counted it an honour to guide our fleets and overthrow our enemies. There was at one time a law which forbade the nobles to command even a ship; and many great nobles enrolled themselves with the people to open the path to naval and military authority.

The mark of these Guelph institutions on the people of Genoa was deep and enduring. The Genoese of our day are living proof of their lasting influence. Labour and banking produced immense wealth. The Genoese became the bankers of Europe. In the year 1200 they drew the first bill of exchange.[40] It was drawn on Palermo. They diffused the Arabic system of notation. In 1148 they created, for the conquest of Tortosa, the first public debts which they afterwards consolidated, appropriating the city and port customs to pay the interest. They founded the Bank of St. George, on whose model those of England and Holland were constructed, and they planted colonies everywhere. Along the inhospitable coasts of the Caspian and Aral, in Turchestan and Thibet, the pilgrim was safe in person and property who declared, “I am a Genoese.”

We return from this digression to the thread of our narrative. The long wars had lessened the gains of our trades-people; even the silk operatives were by the want of markets reduced to extremities. In that year, too, food was dear throughout Italy; and the merchants who held grain kept it back from sale in order to raise the price. Gianluigi, wishing to provide for the pressing wants of so many operatives, called to him Sebastiano Granara, consul of the weavers, obtained a list of the most distressed families, and sent them sums of money with a request to keep secret the name of the donor, and to inform him whenever they were again in urgent need.

He frequently requested the artisans and mechanics who were natives of his lands (they were more than two hundred) to come to him in Vialata, where he opened to them his granaries, and otherwise succoured them. By such acts of generosity he acquired the favour of the people, who were ready, as a proverb has it, “to carry water for him in their ears,” and to defend his person at their own peril.

Having by such practices obtained the sympathy of the new nobles and the humble classes who lived by their daily labour, the count began to provide the arms and soldiers which he should need, and, with great tact, availed himself in the exigency of the discords among the neighbouring governments.

Pierluigi Farnese, after having obtained from Paul III. the investiture of Parma and Piacenza, soon found that he had not sufficient forces to maintain his power in these provinces. Gerolamo Pallavicini, marquis of Cortemaggiore, and others of that family to whom the duke had prohibited the trade in salt, raised an armed rebellion. The Rossi, Sanseverino, Pusterla of Milan, and other feudatories, were supporting the insurrection. It was also encouraged by Giovanni del Verme, lord of the Romagna, a personal enemy of the duke, and by Beatrice Trivulzio, who being incensed against Paul III. for conceding the port of the Po in Piacenza to Michelangelo Bonaroti, excavated a new harbour, and deprived the divine architect of his reward.

The duke collected an army, and, as soon as he felt able to contest the field, demanded from some of his enemies the restitution of his dominions in their possession, claiming that these lands and feuds had been ceded to them by his predecessors to the prejudice of the ducal rights. The Pallavicini, who were particularly included in this demand, made such preparations as were possible to secure their own rights and repel all the duke’s attempts at aggression.

The estates of the Pallavicini and Fieschi were separated only by a little stream; and the count seeing a war cloud on the horizon, so near to his own fields, visited his feuds in the summer of 1546, under pretence of watching over his property. He spent some time at Lavagna, Montobbio, and Pontremoli. Here he collected his dependents, formed them into companies, and held musters and reviews. He would have gone farther, if the emperor, fearing that the Pallavicini dispute with Pierluigi would excite a general Italian war, and so distract his attention from his campaign against the Smacalda league in Germany, had not sent peremptory orders to Don Ferrante Gonzaga, who had succeeded to Marquis Vasto in the government of Milan, to pacify the quarrel, threatening the whole weight of the imperial displeasure against any who should refuse his mediation.

The duke was induced to lay down his arms by the shrewd Pontiff, who did not wish an open rupture with Cæsar, and Count Fieschi was chosen by Farnese as arbiter of the rival claims. These two—Farnese and Fieschi—had been on intimate terms some years before, at the time when the former came to Genoa, (1542), in company with Annibal Caro and Appollonio Filareto, his secretaries, to pay homage to the emperor and to ask a congress in the name of the Pope—the congress which took place in Busseto.

Fieschi, mindful of old ties, conducted the negociation with so much dexterity that he obtained from Pallavicini more than the duke had dared to hope. A friendly and familiar correspondence always continued between them, as several letters we have had in our hands prove. Among them there is one of the 3rd of February, 1546—now preserved among the Farnesian papers in Parma—in which the count recommends to the duke a master-workman, Giacomo Merello, “a maker of cannon of rare skill in his profession,” who had a law-suit with another master workman in Parma. In these letters the count acknowledges that he has received many favours from the duke.

In their many interviews in Piacenza, Farnese, who knew what had been said and done at Rome, spoke freely of his hatred towards Cæsar, who had openly favoured the Pallavicini, and who was a constant enemy of the advancement of the Farnese family. He avowed that he was ready to throw himself into any undertaking which should promise him revenge. The count in his turn, enlarged on the enmity between himself and the Dorias, the oppressors of his country, on the plots of Gianettino, already known to him, and finally asked the assistance and support of the duke in his contemplated insurrection. It is needless to say that the duke gave liberal promises of aid in a work which would take away the influence of the Dorias, his hereditary enemies, and doubtless add something to his personal importance and wealth.

Meantime Gianluigi, who could ill tolerate delay, enlisted in his service a large number of men, then just discharged from the ducal army, and distributed them among his most remote castles. Having returned to the city, he kept Farnese advised, by frequent messengers and letters of all his movements and successes. Some of these letters are now passing through the press. In one of these, dated the 17th of April, he complains to the duke that Gianettino had given him an order from Cæsar to send his fourth galley to cruise for pirates; he speaks of plots woven for him by the young admiral, and asks the advice of Farnese.

The Duke advised that his plans be hurried forward, and mentioned, as a special inducement, that Renèe, of France, duchess of Ferrara, had again offered French aid through Pierluigi. But it is certain that the count made no more use of this offer than he had made of others like it.

We find in ancient chronicles a statement which would be greatly to the credit of both Farnese and Fieschi. They had, according to these writers, laid the foundations of a league common to all the Italian princes, the object of which was to remove from the Peninsula every vestige of foreign power; but historical fidelity compels us to say that we have found no document which clearly proves the fact. In July, the count went to Montobbio, drilled his vassals in military exercises, and put his castles in such a state of defence as to be able to resist a long siege. He then went through, one after another, his principal feuds. It is worth our while to touch in passing upon the condition of some of them at the time of which we write.

Passing along the Eastern Riviera from Genoa, the count would first enter into Recco. It was then a large borough with three hundred and seventy-four fires, and he had built in it a superb palace called the Astrego. He drew from this feud select mariners, to man his galleys. He visited Roccatagliata and Cariseto, castles of considerable strength. He added to their defences and supplied them with provisions. We find that he spent some time at the castle of Varzi, on the slope of Penice, formerly one of the principal fortresses of the Malaspini, near Bobbio. He remained longer still in Lavagna. This region, though not then so prosperous as it was before Frederick II., reduced it to a desert, (1245) and levelled the fourteen castles which the counts had built there, was yet a feud of considerable importance, on account of its slate quarries.

The Lavagna property included, to say truth, only a little group of a hundred and thirty-six houses, but the surrounding country was adorned with many burghs, as Centurion, San Salvatore, the earliest seat of the Fieschi family, Cogorno and Brecanecca, forming in all five hundred and seventeen fires and six churches. Besides the valley of Lavagna was full of little estates and burghs, such as Torre, Vignale, Villa Fronte, Aveglio, Cortemiglio, Rimaglio, Pregio, Bausalo and Oneto. Lavagna was the heart of the Fieschi dominion. From this point it was easy to lay hands on the Lombard provinces or to draw thence men and arms. In those days the burgh of Sestri, close by, was one of the most busy points of transit, and was the best station from which to send goods into Lombardy. Merchandise was transported from Sestri to Castiglione, and ten miles only remained to Varese, also the property of the Fieschi. It counted two hundred fires, and was prosperous with the trade of Lombardy. Then, crossing the Apennines, twelve miles of travel brought the merchant to Val di Taro, a burgh of one hundred and fifty houses, which overlooked forty-two villages, subject to Count Fieschi.

Having examined his resources and put his castles in a state of defence, constructing strong outer walls, for those which seemed to him to be weak, under pretence of “fortifying himself against the Duke of Piacenza, who was too fond of his neighbour’s property,” he passed over to Pontremoli.

Leandro Alberti, who visited this noble and luxurious castle about that period, says that it stood near the mouth of the Magra, and at the foot of the Apennines. It was fortified by three fortresses, and numbered eight hundred houses, while its jurisdiction embraced forty-eight contiguous burghs, not to mention the valleys of Volpedo, Rosano, Zeiri, and the hamlets along the banks of the Crania, which counted one thousand and eight hundred fires. Giustiniani says that the lord of Pontremoli could easily put under arms two thousand men.

Gianluigi spent some time here, having conferences with Count Galeotto Mirandola, the Pusterla and Cybo, the marquises of Valdimagra, the Bentivoglio, the Strozzi and others, who were restless under the imperial yoke; and in these negociations he was ably seconded by Catando d’Arimini and by Giulio Pojano, to whom he had assigned the command of his galleys.

The count did not return into the city until the end of autumn. Pierluigi Farnese, to remove all suspicions of the plot, wrote many letters to the Genoese government, and took great care to show his anxiety to render every service or favour in his power. The object of these letters, which may be said to contain little political wisdom, was much more grave and serious than their tone implied. The golden style of Caro, who dictated them, gives them a certain charm; but their highest value lies in showing how skilfully Pierluigi and Fieschi planned and worked to elevate their friends to office under the Doria government, to get the control of public affairs out of the hands of Andrea, and so pave the way to the success of their great insurrection.

One fact is very important. The doctors of the law and the magistrates of the Ruota always possessed large powers in the Republic, and the practical operations of the government depended almost entirely on their counsels. When Fieschi had made such military preparation as seemed sufficient for a revolution, he naturally sought to get the lawyers on his side, as the only class who could organize and maintain the new government. By the aid of the Duke of Piacenza, he contrived to place in the principal offices of the Ruota, and even in the vicarate of the city, men who shared his own political views, and were distinguished for political sagacity and administrative ability. On the 25th of May, 1486, duke Pierluigi wrote to the Doge and Governors that M. Hettore Lusiardo, a gentleman and doctor of Piacenza and a person of great learning, desired to obtain an appointment in the Ruota of the Republic. And he adds, “I am greatly pleased to see my vassals honoured according to their merits, and I cheerfully use my influence to advance them to such positions as they desire. On this occasion I hope your highnesses may lend a favourable ear to my intercession on behalf of Messer Hettore, since in employing this person you will at once gratify me and secure the services of a man worthy of your esteem, as he will show when put to the proof.”

In another letter of December 17th, he renewed the same request: “Writing on another occasion, I have asked your favour for Messer Hettore Lusiardo, one of my Piacentine gentlemen and doctors, and a person of rare personal qualities, who desires a place in the Ruota of your city. Wishing much that he may obtain his request, I repeat my recommendations in the strongest possible terms; and if you can give him such a place as he desires, you will not only serve a person worthy of your confidence and the favour he asks, but also do me a great pleasure.”

In another letter of the 24th of November, we read: “M. Bernardo Alberghetti da Rimini, at whose request I write, is a doctor in law of much learning, long practice, and strict integrity—qualities which I know him to possess, both from the reports of others and from my personal experience, having employed him for many months. He would still be in my service but that I have no employment of moment for him, and he deserves something better than a subordinate position. He wishes to enter into the Ruota of your most noble city as a means of advancement, and hopes that my recommendation may have some value with your Excellencies. I esteem him to be, as I have said, a person of most excellent qualifications, and I doubt not I shall have well served your interests in sending him to you, and I therefore the more boldly pray you for love of me to give him your approval.”

In the same year the official term of the vicar of the city expired, and the office was of such importance that the conspirators exerted themselves to fill it with a person entirely devoted to their interests. On the 13th of September, Farnese wrote: “When Count Fieschi was last in Piacenza, I warmly recommended to him Mr. Camillo Villa, a Piacentine doctor in law, and urged him to ask from your Excellencies in my name the office of vicar in your city for this person. Though I am certain that the count would not fail in doing me this service, and believe that I may rely much upon your courtesy to me, and though I have recently by letter renewed my request to the count, yet I deem it not discourteous, as the time for filling this post draws near, to recommend Mr. Camillo directly to your excellencies. Should you grant my request, you will both secure to your city an officer who will always serve you well and do me a personal kindness.”

It is hardly necessary to say that Farnese obtained from the Senate all these appointments. Secret as were these intrigues, they did not escape the acute eyes of Panza, who inferred that the count was engaged in some conspiracy. He therefore took opportunities for watching his movements and his manners; and finding that the count withdrew from his former familiarity with his old tutor, he was led by his affection to admonish him of the dangers before him. But Gianluigi broke off his reproofs with ill-concealed impatience and answered him with the words of Cato: “If I believed that the shirt I wear knew the secrets of my heart, I would tear it off and give it to the flames.” Then checking his impetuous speech, he added that he would do nothing that should not be worthy of his own fame and that of his ancestry.

Panza was not the only person to suspect the count of some conspiracy against the power of Cæsar. John Vega, ambassador of Spain at Rome, conceived doubts of his fidelity, and set Ferrante Gonzaga to watch his movements.

Gonzaga sent to Prince Andrea his secretary, Maone, with the letters of Vega and other documents which referred to a conspiracy, believed to be forming by Gianluigi.

Andrea rejected the tale as the work of some malignant slanderers, and replied that he knew Fieschi was not a man to conspire against the empire.

Though the purchase of the pontifical galleys was a sharp thorn in the side of Gianettino, who aspired to an exclusive dominion of the seas, yet it was not an act sufficiently singular to awaken the suspicions of the Dorias.

The most wealthy families were accustomed to arm galleys; and the Sauli had negociated for the purchase of these same triremes, intending to use them in their maritime enterprises.

The behaviour of Fieschi contributed still more to remove from the minds of Gianettino and the prince every shadow of suspicion. He frequently visited Andrea and congratulated him that, though more than eighty years of age, he enjoyed vigorous health; and he was so affectionate and obsequious to Gianettino that the young admiral tried to obtain for him a suitable rank in the imperial army. It should not be forgotten, however, that one motive of Gianettino was, to remove Fieschi from Genoa, as the only one likely to make an effective opposition in his personal ambition. It is certain that from the time Vega declared Gianluigi to be engaged in machinations against the empire, Gianettino conspired to remove from his path the only person who could be an obstacle to his own advancement. He only awaited Andrea’s death to put off the slight mask which he had hitherto worn; and in expectation of that event he had entrusted to Captain Lercaro the business of assassinating the count. This was proved by letters of Gianettino which fell into the hands of Fieschi, and were by him shown to many persons; though the writers in the interest of the empire asserted that these documents had been forged by Gianluigi.

About this time a messenger in the confidence of Cæsar brought word to the count that Andrea’s solicitations on behalf of his nephew were about to be successful, and that Gianettino would soon be invested with absolute power, on the same conditions as those by which Casimo II. had ten years before been raised to the government of Florence. This report, whether true or false, was circulated among the friends of the count, and doubly inflamed their resentment. They resolved, in their indignation, not to procrastinate longer the deliverance of the Republic, and to strike down with one blow the ambitious youth who was conspiring for supreme power.

The count’s first step was to recall from Civita-Vecchia the fourth galley under the command of Giacobbe Conte, on pretence of arming it as a privateer, and sending it to cruise against the Barbary commerce in the east. He had two other ships ready to sail in neighbouring ports. With these vessels he was able without exciting suspicion, to bring into the city the troops concealed in his castles. He placed some of them on board his triremes; others were concealed in his own house and those of his fellow-conspirators.

Verrina was the soul of every movement. He knew all the arts of ingratiating himself with the plebeians, and winning their sympathies to the cause of his master. He began to allude in guarded phrases to the necessity of a revolution in the interest of popular government; and at the same time contrived to have many vassals of the count enrolled in the permanent militia of the Republic. Many artisans and mechanics to whom he gave presents, promised him the service of their arms to rescue by force a castle of the count from some Florentine merchants, who, he said, had seized it for debts. He was a man capable of inventing traps and lures for all sorts of birds, and he enrolled no one, whom he believed fitted for the work of the conspiracy, until he had sounded the note best adapted to charm his recruit.

Calcagno, though he had dissuaded the count from drawing the sword, was so overcome by his love for his young master, that he was the most ardent worker in the conspiracy. He was assigned the office of providing arms and provisions for the troops gradually being collected and introduced into the city. Sacco was appointed to maintain order and discipline among these soldiers. Ottobuono, brother of Gianluigi, was sent to the court of France to secure the sympathy of the French monarch for the cause of the approaching revolution.

The Republic was at this moment without a Doge, Giovanni Battista di Fornari having retired from the magistracy. The galleys were idle and without crews, because the season was unpropitious for navigation. There were few of the permanent militia in the city, and these for the most part were devoted to Gianluigi. Giulio Cybo and other marquises of Valdimagra, had a considerable force ready to break into the city at the first opportune moment. The plebeians were ripe for revolution; the Dorias and nobility without the least suspicion. All things seemed propitious.

Such was the condition of Genoa on the eve of the conspiracy. “Strange,” says Cardinal de Retz, “ten thousand persons in Italy were awaiting the outbreak of the insurrection, and there was not one to betray the plot.”[41]

We ought not, in my judgment, to decide upon the merits of this conspiracy according to the views of our own time, in which political movements are discussed on principles of justice, but rather to give the conspirators the benefit of the opinions and politics of their own age. The doctrines of Macchiavelli, on which Gianluigi had formed his principles, aim at the immediate interests of states and derive principles from facts. The theory of Guicciardini is the same. Whoever undertakes to philosophise on the political ideas of the sixteenth century will find that State policy never professed any higher creed than utility, and that those who were ambitious of repute as statesmen were not bound by a public moral sentiment to show the justice of their methods for obtaining desirable ends. Whoever had introduced on the scenes of state craft abstract maxims of morality would have been hissed off as a fool. The creed ran thus:—“Do you wish to free your country? Caress the tyrant and then kill him. Your dagger is sharper than the eyes of his satellites. Audacity and courage are everything. He who falters for an instant is undone. Every means is just which leads to success.”

Gianluigi held these maxims and he could not lay them aside without freeing himself from the age in which he lived. It was natural, therefore, that with his noble intention of destroying the empire of the Dorias he should use every instrument which seemed adapted to his purpose. His heart was bursting with suppressed rage; but his serene look and urbane manners proclaimed him a peaceable and loyal citizen. His nerves were strung with the spirit of revenge, but his frank countenance, affable speech and good humour were those of a mild-mannered and unruffled gentleman. Once only he broke out against his rival with fierce invectives; but ever after he feigned content and put to sleep his adversary’s vigilance while meditating his blow. He knew no other paths to his end than those pointed out by the state craft of his time. Why should he awaken suspicion in the Dorias when all his interests said, “Deceive them”? It is folly to arm an enemy who is delivering himself unarmed into your power. Such, we have said, was the political morality of the speculative minds of that day.

In other respects Fieschi was counted virtuous and honourable and uncorrupted in the bosom of a corrupt society; so that it is very doubtful whether he had a natural son named Paolo Emilio who was afterwards a captain in the pay of France, of which fact we find mention in some memoirs. Fame said of him that he had never punished, even in the slightest manner, any person in his service or vassalage.

He deceived the Dorias and betrayed them against faith; but only for a political object. The high design of overthrowing one who had attempted his assassination and of liberating his country ought, if it cannot absolve him, to moderate the condemnation of posterity. Brutus, too, was a deceiver and he is reputed great.

Whatever be the ideas of those who read in the nineteenth century, it is clear that the statesmen of the sixteenth heartily approved of Fieschi’s work. He was what these times made him. A stranger to the spirit of the classic revolutions of the earlier part of his century, to the ascetic revolts of Savonarola, to the paralytic ardours of Soderini, he drank in with his Guelph principles the dissimulation of Rome. An Italian and a disciple of Macchiavelli, he wished to liberate his country without the aid of foreign arms.

A more favourable time could not have been desired. The outbreak of the conspiracy would terrify Charles who was deep in the German wars; Fieschi would be able to form close alliances with France, England, Denmark and Turkey; he would stir the languid pulses of the Italians and unite together Rome, Venice, Genoa, Parma and Ferrara; Lucca and Siena, yet free, were ready to join the Italian confederacy; Naples and Milan would raise their heads.

Three centuries more of abject servitude were reserved for Italy.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SUPPER IN VIALATA.

Bloody propositions attributed to Verrina—The count repulses all treacherous plans—New schemes—The conspirators introduced into the city—Gianluigi pays his respects to Prince Doria—Gianettino removes the suspicions of Giocante and Doria—The supper of Gianluigi—The guests embrace the conspiracy—Eleonora Cybo and her presentiments.

Everything being now in readiness, the count called together a few of his most trusted partisans to consult upon the time and plan of their uprising.

About this time were celebrated the espousals of Giulio Cybo, prince of Massa and Carrara and brother of Eleonora Fieschi, with Peretta, the sister of Gianettino. Verrina proposed that Gianluigi should give a splendid banquet to the young couple which the Dorias would be obliged to attend; and, that in the midst of the festivities, assassins concealed for the purpose should fall upon and butcher them. We find that Verrina sent a messenger to Milan to make purchases for the banquet and that with these purchases he introduced into the palace some chests filled with ammunition, swords, arquebuses, pikes and halberds.[42] However, the count refused his assent to the proposition as a violation of the laws of hospitality.

If we may believe Sigonio, Verrina formed another not less inhuman project. An ecclesiastic of an illustrious family was about to celebrate his first mass in the church of St. Ambrogio, and the Dorias, Adamo Centurione, his son Marco, Figuerroa and other old nobles were expected to be present. Verrina proposed to follow the example of the Pazzi in Florence and of Olgiato in Milan and to assassinate them while kneeling at the altar; then to rouse the city, take possession of the senatorial palace, crown Fieschi with the diadem of the Doges and put to the edge of the sword all who offered resistance. But this atrocious design against the liberties of the republic is denied by all the historians of the period. Even the writers most partial to the Dorias tell us that Gianluigi rejected the temptation to assassinate Gianettino under the shadow of the crucifix, though he was convinced that he could find no better opportunity of crushing his rival at a single blow.

The count abhorred bloodshed. In fact but little was spilled in all the fierce civil commotions of Genoa. These revolutions resemble wars of adventurers which have no other aim than to capture the enemy. There was no fighting to the death; he who refused to yield the field or broke the lines of his enemy was proclaimed conqueror without more ado. He who got possession of the government palace seldom punished his adversaries beyond confiscation of goods and banishment. Our laws and our history are full of examples. Gianluigi contemplated such a revolution and could not bring himself to approve schemes of corruption and slaughter.

Other propositions were then made. Among these the most prominent was that of awaiting the period for electing a new Doge, that is the fourth of the following January. The entire nobility would then be assembled in the government palace, and a single blow would sever the knot. The plan seemed every way feasible and Gianluigi was disposed to follow it; but it was abandoned because it was found Gianettino would be absent and escape the vengeance of Fieschi. It was at length resolved to make a bolder attempt on Christmas Eve, 1547 (old style.)

Orders were therefore issued on this plan to the corporals in the city and to conspirators in other places, particularly to Gianluca Fieschi, Giulio Cybo and the marquis of Valdimagra. A number of armed men were introduced into the city under cover of the festivities of that day on which the burghers are wont to flock into the city from every direction. Much artifice was employed in bringing in the troops. They entered in small bodies and by different gates, some even by subterranean passages which conducted to the palace of the count. Some wore the habit of mountaineers, others had various disguises. A number were loaded with chains under pretence that they were criminals condemned to serve on the galleys of the count. Some were lodged in the houses of the conspirators, but the greater part in the palace in Vialata and neighbouring houses. Still, the main body of the soldiers was not brought within the walls, but distributed over mount Fasce and contiguous heights, ready to enter the gates so soon as a smoke should rise from the hill of Carignano. Such was the good order and discretion of the conspirators that the Senate had not the faintest suspicion.

Early in the day count Fieschi, mounted upon a spirited jennet, rode through the populous streets. He had never appeared so jovial and composed, his strong will governing his impetuous nature.

We find in some letters of Sacco,[43] of which we shall speak in another place, that a personage whose name is concealed held a conference that day with the count in the palace of Vialata. This person discoursed of the popular dislike for the Doria government, and concluded by saying that the count had only to wish it to become master of Genoa. It is easy to see, that the count brusquely repulsed the insinuation. Sacco believed that this man had been sent by Gianettino to pry into the plans and purposes of Fieschi; but it is now certain that the Dorias were living in entire ignorance of the tempest gathering over their heads. The unknown personage must have been one of the spies whom Figuerroa kept on the trail of all the opponents of the Spanish power in Italy.

Near the close of the day the count visited several families. He went to the Doria palace, where, finding in the vestibule the children of Gianettino with their father, he caressed and kissed them with much tenderness. After some conversation he drew Gianettino aside and begged him to make no opposition to the departure of some of his vessels which were that night to sail for the Levant. He added that if the vessels should discharge some fire-arms in the port, he hoped the admiral would give himself no concern. He also requested Gianettino to interpose his good offices with prince Doria in case the prince should oppose the count’s plan of privateering. This plan was in fact a violation of the treaty between the emperor and the Turks, because the galleys of Fieschi would have sailed from a port over which Doria was, as the admiral of Cæsar, master and guardian. Gianettino, not from any love he bore the count, as a modern writer remarks, but because the favour was of trivial importance, promised to use his influence with the prince if it should become necessary, and gave to his captains the order requested by Fieschi.

Afterwards, Gianluigi went to the apartment of Andrea who was lying in bed suffering from pains and a fever. It happened that the prince was at that moment in conversation with Gomez Suarez Figuerroa, who, having received repeated messages from Gonzaga respecting the conspiracies of Fieschi, had come to speak of the soldiers taken by the count from the duke of Piacenza and other facts wearing an ambitious appearance. But so soon as Andrea saw the count on his threshold, at the sight of the ingenuous and courteous youth whom he loved almost as a son, he bent his head to the ear of the minister and whispered,—“Tell me yourself if it be possible that a base spirit can be concealed under that angelic countenance.”[44]

After a brief conversation the count retired, mounted his superb jennet and rode gracefully along the streets. Figuerroa exhausted all his arts to remove the delusion of Doria but without success.

Shortly after, Andrea was on the verge of making the discovery by other means, but in this case, by combinations of chance, Gianettino was the person to dissipate his apprehensions. Giocante, of the Casa Bianca family, who had once been in the service of the Venitians, had command of the permanent militia.

He had distinguished himself in many actions and especially when fighting with Doria at the head of a large body of Ligurians in favour of France against the Bourbons, he raised the siege of Marseilles. Colonel Giocante had received on this very day several messages informing him that many soldiers of various detachments had left their quarters and taken refuge in the house of Fieschi. Doria being in fact, though not nominally, the head of the republic, Giocante informed him and Adamo Centurione of what had occurred. As soon as he had read the letter, Andrea called Gianettino and ordered him to provide for the emergency; but Gianettino related the conversation he had just held with the count and reasoned that the momentary desertion of a few soldiers, who were probably vassals of the Fieschi and wished to celebrate the day in Vialata, was of no importance. He concluded by saying that Giocante attached consequence to frivolous matters, and so entirely removed the suspicions of the prince.

The restless Verrina was not idle. At nightfall he collected, in the house of Tomaso Assereto, more than thirty gentlemen whose families had but recently been inscribed in the book of gold. Fieschi, after leaving Doria went directly to this place and invited these new noblemen to sup with him that night in Carignano. Arriving there many were surprised to find, in place of festive preparations, the halls filled with arms and armed men, strange faces and the din of warlike preparation. They looked round for the count, but he had gone to confer with Verrina and to learn whether he had visited all the stations and the mustering places of the conspirators, whether the Senate entertained any suspicions or his near neighbours the Sauli had obtained any information of the conspiracy. Verrina assured him that all was prepared and that none of their adversaries suspected their preparations for revolution, and the count joined his guests.

These gentlemen, alarmed at finding the palace a camp rather than a festive hall, gathered about him to learn the cause of these extraordinary sights and sounds. Then the count changing his careless look into one of stern purpose and striking the naked table with his fist, broke out,—“The time so longed for by us, young friends, has at last arrived. Our native land is to-night in our hands to be liberated from the tyranny of the few and restored to a popular government. This is my banquet, these are the festivals to which I have invited you. You will never be invited to a more honourable feast. With the approbation of Cæsar, (and if you wish I will show you the proofs and letters.) Gianettino Doria grown to excessive power and riches has long aspired to tyranny in Genoa. But finding me an obstacle to his designs, because I am not less devoted to the public good and the liberties of the nation than were my ancestors, he employs himself day and night in conspiring against my life. He has often vainly tried poison; now he trusts to the secret dagger. Who of you does not swell with indignation at the insolence of the old nobility, who both in their private life and in the public offices deprive you of honour and hold you in derision? I tell you that more bitter and shameful things are reserved for us. If we suffer so much to-day, what shall we have when the patricians, with Gianettino at their head, shall have drawn to themselves all public authority and reduced us to vassalage? You will become a plebeian herd! Let us then grapple like heroes with evils which overhang me, yourselves and the country. It is my design to kill the ambitious tyrant and Doria himself, to capture their galleys, to occupy the government palace and by destroying a few powerful enemies to restore popular liberty.

“Even though the result of this enterprise were doubtful, I have such confidence in your courage and patriotism, that I believe you would not leave me to encounter the danger alone. But the city is now in our power. Three hundred of my bravest men are with me, the greater part of the soldiers who guard the government palace are my partisans. The keepers of the gates are for us and await a preconcerted signal. A galley rides at anchor in the port armed with a body of men unsurpassed for equipment, strength and courage. One thousand and five hundred artisans are in arms to follow me. Two thousand men from my castles are at the gates. As many more from Piacenza will follow them. We have no enemy before us. The night is serene and everything is propitious. You will not be companions in the battle but spectators of a victory. Give your love to your country; raise your courage, your confidence. The glory and honour of this undertaking are not only yours to share but yours to dispense.”

We have preferred to translate from the Latin of Bonfadio[45] this speech of the count rather than to compose one in the style of rhetoricians. Bonfadio, who was a witness of that revolt, thus clearly displays the object of Fieschi to overthrow Gianettino who aimed to master the republic and to build again the popular government. Still, we are not able to agree with Bonfadio that the count intended to assassinate Andrea; because what we have written tends to prove the contrary, and still more because the murder of the old and decrepit prince would have provoked universal condemnation, and finally because the means of escape were left open to him. It was doubtless for the interests of Bonfadio to receive this fable and incorporate it in his history, to justify Doria’s sanguinary vengeance.

The words of Gianluigi powerfully moved his guests. They enthusiastically offered to share the perils of the enterprise. Two, Giovanni Battista Cattaneo-Bava and Giovanni Battista Giustiniano, alone refused to take arms; not because they dissented from the views of Fieschi, but because they trembled at the sight of muskets and sabres. Some of their companions drew their daggers and wished to assassinate the cowards on the spot; but Gianluigi interposed and contented himself with confining them under guard to prevent their revealing the conspiracy. This is a new proof of the count’s unwillingness to shed blood.

Fieschi then placed, one by one, under the eyes of his companions the letters of Pierluigi, of cardinal Farnese and of others, which clearly showed that Gianettino aspired to royal state and, as if already mounted to a throne, was planning the death of the count. A cry of indignation burst from the whole company and all swore to liberate the country and the count from the plots of the common enemy.

Fieschi then visited his wife whom he found immersed in the most profound sorrow. The military preparation, the clang of arms and the crowd filling the palace had too clearly revealed to her that a bloody enterprise was on foot. He tried to console her, told her for the first time the long history of his conspiracy and assured her that no danger lay before him. But Eleonora strove to change his audacious purpose. She kissed him, she hung upon his neck and exhausted her affectionate acts to bend his resolute will. Pansa entered at that moment and he, too, tried to divert him from the undertaking; but with no better success than the countess Eleonora. Fieschi embraced his beloved spouse whose tears moved his heart to profound pity; but his preparations were made, and if he had wished it there was no place for retreat. When the stern voice of Verrina called him from her arms, the tears disappeared in an instant from his eye-lashes; the husband vanished and only the conspirator remained. Eleonora fell lifeless into the arms of Pansa.

The count returned to the hall, ordered a frugal meal and then distributed the arquebuses, pikes, spears, swords and coats of mail. There was a story that at that moment the soot of the chimney caught fire and that the cries of the countess filled the heart of the count with painful forebodings. There were other fables; that a flock of birds rising from the garden below flew off to the left, that during the day his horse stumbled and nearly threw him from his saddle, that a dog bayed long and mournfully, that setting his foot carelessly on the threshold of his palace as he went out he nearly fell down. They tell us that Calcagno, who was at his side at this moment, said to him that according to the ancients sinister presages usually foretold success, and then the count recovered his spirits and drawing his sword said:—“Let us go,” leading the way to the street.

Thus far we have in these fables only the mania for classic imitation which bewildered the historians of Gianluigi, and led them to underrate his courage. Now come the calumnies. We are told that the count ordered that whosoever moved from the ranks or hesitated should be run through; that being asked on the way by a noble, who wished to save some friend, whether all the nobility were to be butchered, he answered that all should be slain beginning from his own nearest relatives. It is clear that these romancers destroyed all confidence in their veracity by such exaggeration.

To disprove their partial statements it is only necessary to say that Gianluigi himself had prevented the assassination of the two nobles who had refused to follow him. He forbade an attack on the palace of Prince Doria, and would not even consent that Sebastiano Lercaro should be killed, though he knew that this person had accepted the commission of Gianettino to assassinate himself.

Having drawn up his ranks and exhorted the men to prefer a glorious death to preserving their lives by cowardice, he sent off one hundred and fifty infantry to occupy the Borgo de’ Lanieiri, and marched down the descent of San Leonardo followed by the gentlemen and by the select part of his troops. The hour was about midnight.

CHAPTER IX.

THE NIGHT OF THE SECOND OF JANUARY.

Measures taken by the Count—Occupation of the gate of the Archi and of San Tommaso—Death of Gianettino Doria—Fieschi did not seek the death of prince Doria—Schemes of Paolo Lavagna—Taking of the arsenal—Fall and death of Gianluigi—Flight of Andrea Doria to Masone—The place where Gianluigi was drowned—The several arsenals of Genoa—The death of Count Fieschi deemed a misfortune by the Italians.

Halting for a moment at the foot of the hill, near the ancient houses of the Frangipani, the count sent his brother Cornelio to capture and hold the gate of the Archi in order to secure a way of retreat to his castles in case the enterprise should fail. He directed his brothers Ottobuono and Gerolamo, who had just returned from the court of France, to hold themselves and their men in readiness to attack the gate of San Tommaso at a preconcerted signal. The capture of that strong place being an affair of moment, Calcagno was ordered to support the attacking party with the main body of the troops. These were the movements in the city. As for the harbour, Verrina had orders to work his galley outside of the Mandraccio and up to the gates of the arsenal, thus laying siege to the ships of Doria. Then Tommaso Assereto, who, as an officer under Andrea, had the countersigns, was to enter the arsenal, by fraud or force, on the land side. The great stress of the enterprise lay in taking these ships of Doria, because they constituted the emperor’s naval force and were able to command the Mediterranean. Therefore, to make sure work at this point, the count sent orders to Scipione Borgognino, one of his vassals and a brave soldier, to embark the flower of the troops upon some floats which had been prepared and to storm the arsenal on the sea side, and having gained the inside to open the gates unless Assereto had already forced them.

The count reserved to himself no particular command, but was at liberty to fly to the point of greatest need. He entered the city through the gates of St. Andrea, passed down the streets of Prione and San Donato, gained the piazza of Salvaghi and advancing to the bridge of Cattanei, now destroyed, waited near Marinella until Verrina should inform him with a discharge from a bombard that the attack on the arsenal was began.

He intended, having occupied the arsenal and mounted crews on the galleys of Doria, to unite the various corps distributed through the city and move to the assault of the Doge’s palace, the taking of which would crown the enterprise with complete success. He employed a subtle artifice to secure the death of Gianettino. It was reasonably apprehended that the young admiral, awakened by the din which would necessarily be made in the harbour and arsenal, would take refuge in a galley which always rode at anchor under the prince’s palace. To exclude this mode of flight, a large number of floats heavily laden were placed, some days before, in front of this ship so as to render it impossible to move her. Finally, it was agreed and ordered that the cry used to arouse the plebeians and win their stout arms to the cause of Fieschi should be:—“The people and liberty.”

This was the general plan of insurrection. At first every movement was successful. Cornelio occupied the gate of the Archi with but little bloodshed; but the fortress of San Tommaso proved a serious obstacle to the conspirators. Captain Sebastiano Lercaro and his brother were in command there. Both had the reputation of being valiant soldiers, and they were thoroughly devoted to the Dorias to whom they owed their rank in the permanent militia. As soon as they saw a large body of men moving against them and heard the air ring with the name of Fieschi, they prepared for a vigorous defence.

Captain Lercaro, who, according to rumour, had accepted a commission to assassinate Fieschi, knew well that his own life and that of his masters’ depended upon a successful resistance, and he exerted himself with such spirit and prowess that he several times repulsed the assailants with serious loss. But Gerolamo and Ottobuono returned to the assault with undiminished courage, and Calcagno came to their succour with reinforcements. The conflict now became too unequal. Many of the soldiers of the government were killed and wounded, others threw down their arms, while some turned their swords against those of their companions who still faced the enemy.

Lercaro, seeing himself well-nigh abandoned and his brother stretched at his feet by a blow from a halberd, surrendered to the Fieschi. Manfredo Centurione, Vincenzo Promontorio, Vaccari and some other officers and soldiers followed his example.

The palace of Prince Andrea stood within a stone’s throw of the gate of San Tommaso which the Fieschi had now occupied. Gianettino, awakened by the din of arms and fearing that there was a mutiny on his galleys, determined to go immediately to the arsenal. His consort in vain urged him with tears not to set foot outside the palace, as though she too had sad presage of her destiny. In vain Andrea united his prayers to those of his wife. “This, said the prince, is not a mutiny or quarrel among our crews. It is the roar of battle.” A relentless destiny drew the young admiral on to his fate. Still believing that it was some disturbance among his own crews, he set forth for San Tommaso to obtain troops to quell the disorder. He had only a page as an escort. The flicker of his own lamp revealed him to his enemies, and rejoicing at their good fortune they permitted him to approach and fall into their net. Arriving at the walls, he demanded in his usual imperious tone that the door be opened. At that moment, pierced by many pikes, he fell in a pool of his own blood. It is now known that the first and fatal blow was dealt by Agostino Bigelotti da Barga, a soldier of the government.

Gerolamo Fieschi now began to fortify his position. Gianettino, the expected tyrant of Genoa, being dead, it was no longer desirable to assail the Doria palace. The decrepit Andrea was not obnoxious to their rage. He was in error or spoke falsely who wrote that Fieschi desired the death of Prince Doria that he might plunder the splendid carvings, sculptures and furniture of the Doria palace. The government itself by the mouth of the lawyers of Padua, affirmed that Fieschi did not wish to assault that house or to vent his wrath against the prince, towards whom he felt no personal grudge. This is the most splendid testimony that Gianluigi did not aspire to power but to liberate the Republic. And if those who undertook to transmit to posterity the memory of these events had studied the official documents, they could not have distorted history by such grave errors. It is noteworthy, too, that the name of France was not uttered on that fatal night.

Count Gerolamo left his brother Ottobuono to guard the gates and marched through the principal streets to arouse the people for the national cause. The word liberty, rung in the ears of people but yesterday despoiled of rights which they had enjoyed for centuries, produced a marvellous effect in the deep midnight silence. New crowds crying, “Gatto and liberty” gathered around the Fieschi standard. The very women who, when the first uproar called their husbands and brothers into the streets, clung to them with tears, when they heard the name of Fieschi hushed their sobs and uttered cries of joy. Such was the power of that name. The night was now dark; the confusion and the terror became indescribable. The shouts of the populace and the blare of the trumpets filled the old nobles with mortal dismay, and closing their massive doors they did not venture to set foot in the streets.

Suarez Figuerroa, the minister of Cæsar, who had foreseen the conspiracy, though he had not believed the outbreak so near, was seized with a mortal fright, and wandered half insane through the streets in search of a way of escape from the city. Paolo Lasagna encountered him and dissipated his personal fears by assuring him that however the conflict might end, the character which the minister of Cæsar bore would perfectly protect him from harm, and conducted him to the ducal palace. Lasagna, though he was not opposed, being a new noble, to the movement on foot, yet being a follower of the Adorni party, he thought the occasion propitious for the restoration of his friends to power. Therefore collecting some of his political sympathisers, he conferred with them, and they decided to wait until the balance should incline in favour of one or other of the contending parties. If the attempt of the Fieschi should be crushed, they would do nothing. But if it should triumph, then they would unite with the Spinola party and rouse the city with the cry of Barnaba Adorno. For the present, they would watch the course of the storm and see whom it destroyed.

As we have said, the Ducal office was at that time vacant, and Nicolò Franco was administering the government. Besides Lasagna and Figuerroa, there were collected about him in the palace Cardinal Gerolamo Doria and Prince Adamo Centurione who had taken refuge there at the first sounds of revolution. On receiving intelligence of the assault on the gate of San Tommaso, they sent to reinforce it Bonifacio Lomellini, Cristoforo Pallavicini and Antonio Calvi with fifty men of the Ducal guard. The reinforcement had hardly reached the street Fossatello when it was surrounded and badly handled. The survivors with difficulty gained the Centurione palace and took shelter there. Francesco Grimaldi, Domenico Doria and some other nobles had taken refuge in this palace. They reproached the fugitive soldiers with their cowardice and offered to lead them against the enemy. Though but few in number they advanced boldly against the revolutionists at San Tommaso; but Calcagno made a vigorous sortie and routed them, killing some and capturing others.

The count’s enterprise was moving with full sails. Tommaso Assereto, who was appointed to carry the arsenal by a coup de main, arrived at the door and giving the countersign was about to enter without bloodshed, when his enthusiastic men sprang from under cover to enter with him and the garrison rushing to arms repulsed them with serious loss. The first attempt having failed, they went to the count who was awaiting the result of the attack in the street of Maruffi near the piazza San Pancrazio. He was fretting wrathfully because his ears had not yet been saluted by the bombard as arranged with Verrina. At the news of the repulse, he broke into imprecations upon their cowardice, and ordered Scipione Borgognino to embark at once on the floats and attack the arsenal by sea, while he in person led the attack by land. To assail a strong fortress with boats is a very perilous undertaking and it would not have been attempted but for the fierce ardour of Borgognino who, though not seconded by the galley of Verrina, determined to risk the assault.

Unfortunately the galley of Verrina was stationed in that part of the port which is called the Mandraccio, and when he attempted to work her towards the arsenal, she struck full on a sand bank under water, and held so firmly that their utmost efforts could not get her afloat. This was the cause of Verrina’s unexpected delay. At length, however, by superhuman exertion and enthusiasm they succeeded in lifting her off the bar and, with three other frigates, which had that same night arrived in port (as we read in the report of the Republic to Ceva Doria) moved forward to the assistance of Borgognino. The latter had overcome every resistance and driven the defenders from every defensible part of the works, and the count, hearing the roar of the battle within, assailed the gates at the moment Borgognino, beating down all opposition, rushed into the arsenal and ran to open it to his leader.

A more complete success could not have been hoped for by the conspirators. Of all their attacks that of Assereto only had failed, and that chiefly because the disaster of the galley had prevented a simultaneous assault by sea and land.

The night was dismal; the sea stormy; the cries of the Doria slaves, the clanking of their chains and the disorder of the assailants rendered the arsenal a scene of indescribable confusion. The count, seeing the necessity of preventing revolt among the galley slaves who were breaking their chains, with his natural audacity threw himself on board the galley in which the greatest disorder reigned, manned it with his own men and gave the command of it to some of his most trusted followers. Order was soon restored and he resolved to go into the city. He attempted to pass from the Capitana to the Padrona which was moored by the side of the former. But the shock of a float suddenly striking against them drove the vessels apart and the frail and imperfectly fastened bridge which connected them fell, carrying him with it down into the sea. With him fell the hopes of the revolutionists. Though the count was an able swimmer, he could not save himself on account of being encumbered with arms, and in the darkness and confusion no aid was rendered him.

This is the history of his death according to the writers of the time, with the addition that the count and Gianettino perished in the same moment. But as the water in the arsenal was not deep and the count’s strength and skill as a swimmer must have enabled him to save himself in spite of his armour, we are inclined to adopt the opinion of Campanaceo that he struck his temples against the bridge in falling and either fell senseless into the waves, or was so weakened by the blow as to be unable to make any exertion. In fact, when the corpse was taken from the water the head was found to have suffered a severe contusion.

Meanwhile, Prince Doria seeing that Gianettino did not return and hearing the cries and tumult among the galleys, despatched messenger after messenger to learn the occasion of the unwonted uproar. Captain Luigi Giulia at length brought him word that the Fieschi were in arms and the city ringing with their name. The old admiral fumed with vexation that his decrepitude forbade him to mingle in the fray. He was induced by the tears of Princess Peretta and the entreaties of his servants to send his wife into the adjacent convent of the Canonici Regolari di San Teodoro and the widow of Gianettino with her children into the monastery of Gesu and Maria. Then mounting on horseback, escorted by Giulia, Count Filippino and four servants, he rode to Sestri whence he went upon a small oared bark to Voltri, and thence sent information of the revolution to the duke of Florence and Gonzaga in Milan, who were the only zealous partisans of the imperial cause in Italy. He was then placed in a palanquin and carried to the castle of Masone, a feud of Adamo Centurione, fifteen miles distant from Genoa in the heights of the mountains. In this painful journey, he read upon the faces of his attendants the fate of Gianettino and wept bitter tears, over it, but his grief was partly soothed by the hope of immolating the whole Fieschi family to his terrible vengeance.

The first part of this conspiracy thus ended in a great misfortune; but it saved the Republic by Gianettino’s death. There can be no doubt that, had he survived he would have gratified his own lust of dominion and fulfilled the wishes of Cæsar, who desired to divide Italy into principalities subject to himself and founded on the ruins of the republics averse to his empire.

The body of Gianettino was buried in the subterranean chapel of San Matteo which is now adorned with the monument of Andrea, a beautiful work of Montorsoli.

A brief episode will be permitted us here on the place in the harbour where Gianluigi was drowned. It is necessary to confute the error of those who tell us it occurred in the station of Mandraccio. The mistake arose from the confusion of various arsenals whose true position has been lost in the great changes wrought by time. The first arsenal of which we shall speak was nothing more than a small basin near the piazza Molo, protected in 1276 by a strip of land covered with heavy stones and palissades. Then galleys were built there. At an earlier period ships were constructed along the Borgo di Pre, then outside the walls, particularly in front of the commandery of St. John and near the basin of St. Limbania.

It is difficult to comprehend how the Genoese, without any tolerable dockyards, were able in so short a time to put to sea the memorable fleets which sailed for Palestine, and the two sent against Pisa in 1120 and 1126. The first Pisan expedition numbered eighty galleys, four large ships, thirty-five gatti, twenty-eight calabi and other small craft manned by twenty-two thousand combatants; and the second counted eighty triremes and forty-three boats. We have credible testimony that the Genoese equipped, in seven years, six hundred and twenty-seven triremes; and in 1295, in less than a month, they put to sea two hundred galleys and other ships of which one hundred and five were entirely new, and embarked on them thirty-five thousand warriors, eight thousand of whom were dressed in silk and purple. The founder of the arsenal of which we speak was a certain Oliverio a cistercense monk of the Badia of St. Andrea in Sestri. He constructed two roads on that strip of land, of which we have made mention, leading down to the gate of the Molo, where there was already a bridge of large stones on which rose a light-house for the convenience of mariners. In the same year, Marin Boccanegra raised a high wall around the Borgo di Molo which was then outside of the piazza of that name. This wall ran from the church of Our Lady of Grace along the shore to the tower of the light-house, then, turning, it passed behind San Marco and in front of Bordigotto famous in popular legends for its fountain of blood and here Boccanegra excavated the little port which was called Mandraccio. Here was moored the galley of Fieschi, and the shallowness of the water rendered it difficult to work her out into the harbour. We find in fact that though the excavations of Boccanegra are described as very deep, yet that there was not sufficient water in any part of the Mandraccio to float heavy galleys. Some years after the attempt of Fieschi, that is in 1575, that part of the port which lies between the Ponte Cattanei and the little mole of Mandraccio then called the Goletta was dried under the direction of the Sicilian engineer Anastasio, and the rocks lying at the bottom of it were broken up and excavated for the distance of twenty palms.

To enlarge this arsenal and protect it from the fury of the waves, Boccanegra commanded, in 1283 the colossal structure of the Molo extending it one hundred and fifteen cubits into the sea. On the opposite side of the arsenal, rose the Ponte Cattanei, called by the name of the family who built it, and there was a passage by an easy stair to the Ponte di Mercanzia which led to the Portofranco and the Custom House. The latter occupied the ground floor of the bank of St. George, a palace which was adorned in 1262 with some marbles taken from the palace of the Venitians in Constantinople. To the right of the bank stood, and still stands, the Ponte Reale and next it those of Spinola, Legna and Calvi. In the vicinity of this last, the third arsenal was begun in the period of which we write, and behind it a fourth was afterwards constructed.

The third arsenal, situated between the church of S. Fede and S. Antonio, was built in 1282 and ten thousand marks of the booty taken in Pisa in 1215 were appropriated for its construction. It was afterwards doubled in size and half of it was appropriated to the wine trade and the collection of duties on the same. The other part was used as a station for galleys.

Gianluigi on the night of the 2nd of January, passed from the street of Maruffi by way of Sottoripa to that part of the arsenal which was used for the trade in wine, and the gate of that part was opened by his men. From this gate he passed into the back part of the arsenal, where the Doria galleys lay, and there he was drowned and buried in the muddy bottom of the dock. He could not have met his fate in the fourth arsenal, which is the one existing in our day, because it was then unoccupied. Though begun in 1457 the works had fallen into ruin from the want of skill in the builders, and, they were not reconstructed until 1596.

The news of Fieschi’s death was received by the liberal spirits of Italy as a national misfortune. Matteo Bandello a month after the event wrote:—“He was a young man of great heart and excellent speech; his literary studies and the instructions of the learned and virtuous Paolo Panza had given him a maturity of judgment wonderful for his years. There is no learned man of Italy or France who had not commended him for his rare virtues, his intellectual gifts and the greatness of soul which led him though so young to combine everything with admirable prudence for freeing his country from the Spanish yoke.”[46]

Nor ought we to omit that opinion which, according to the same author, was expressed by Catando d’Arimini who lived on intimate terms with the count. Catando said:—“In a conference held at Montebrano by the Fregosi, you, my masters, justly commended Gian Aloise Fieschi, for he truly deserved your praise. But I think that the most of you honoured his memory with your good opinion on the basis of the current estimate of his great virtues and singular mental accomplishments. But if you had known him as familiarly as I, the day would be too short to express your admiration. If I wished to recount to you all his merits, it would be easy to begin but impossible to finish my discourse. I shall omit then his birth which opened for him the paths to honour, his boyhood which impressed all the Genoese with boundless expectation of his future, the prematurely ripened intelligence which he used in winning the love of the people and the good will of the nobility, so that the people adored him and the nobles admired and esteemed him. I forbear to enlarge on the repute which he had among the peasants of the Eastern Riviera and in the mountains towards Parma and Piacenza; on the fact that his vassals never complained of the slightest injustice, and that he was so liberal when they were in want that they adored him as a Providence, and that his neighbours had the highest respect for his wisdom. I pass by his affection for his brothers whom he wished to be honoured as himself, that he loved and aided his friends with fraternal warmth and avenged injuries with a prompt hand.” The orator concluded by saying that the most distinguished proof of Fieschi’s greatness was that he attempted great enterprises. We shall not dwell on the people’s grief over the death of Gianluigi. It kept alive his memory in national songs and mariner’s hymns, which are so full of patriotic fervour that they deserve to be collected and preserved. To justify this opinion, we give two stanzas of a popular song preserved in a codex of Beriana the subject of which is the death of the count, the sorrow felt by the Genoese at his loss and their high estimate of his merits.

E se l’alto e magnanimo desìre

La fallace fortuna fece vano,
Non vi si può imputar, non si può dire
Che v’abbi offeso alcun valore umano;
Che per voler nel mondo voi ferire
Non era in terra così ardita mano:
Ma un elemento solo ebbe per sorte
Di farsene sepolcro e darvi morte.

A gran pianto e dolor restiamo noi

Che seguitiam vostre vestigie in terra:
Perchè rimasti siamo senza voi
Che padre erate agli nomini di guerra,
Come se senza i chiari raggi suoi
Lasciasse il sole in tenebre la terra;
Chi sarà senza voi mai piu giocondo?
Spento il vostro valor fu oscuro il mondo.

CHAPTER X.

COMPROMISES AND PUNISHMENTS.

Gerolamo Fieschi continues the insurrection in his own name.—Consultations at the Ducal palace and fighting at San Siro.—The news of the death of Gianluigi discourages the insurgents.—Paolo Panza carries to Gerolamo the decree of pardon.—Verrina and others set sail for France.—The African slaves escape with Doria’s galley.—Sack of Doria’s galleys.—Return of Andrea and his thirst for vengeance.—Decree of condemnation.—Scipione Fieschi and his petitions to the Senate.—Schemes and intrigues of Doria to get possession of the Fieschi estates.—Destruction of the palace in Vialata.—Traditions and legends.

When Verrina had secured possession of the arsenal he landed and marched to meet the count; but, learning that Gianluigi had entered the palace on the opposite side, he halted his men and awaited the orders of his master. He could find no trace of the count from the moment he had gone on board the Capitana, and after some delay he went to that vessel and finding her bridge broken began to suspect what had happened. His courage did not fail him. He immediately ordered the waters to be searched all around the galley, and having satisfied himself of the fate of his master would not allow the body to be taken up lest the sight of it should discourage his men. He left the arsenal in the charge of Tommaso Assereto and marched into the city, sending the diver who had found the body to report their great calamity to Gerolamo Fieschi. At the same time he requested an interview with Gerolamo in order to devise means to conduct their enterprise without the inspiration of its master spirit.

Gerolamo Fieschi, though full of audacity had not a hundreth part of his brother’s talents. Seeing that the death of Gianluigi had invested him with the headship of the family, he relied on the fidelity of his vassals and fellow-conspirators, and resolved to prosecute the revolution in his own name. But, overburdened by grief and weighty thoughts, he suffered Verrina’s messenger to depart without any adequate answer. This neglect lost him the powerful support of Verrina’s genius and threw the weight of the undertaking upon himself, a youth with no training or talent for so great an enterprise. He gathered about him a select body of militia and marched towards the Ducal palace, hoping to crown the conspiracy by a single blow.

As we have said some Senators were assembled in this palace; and among them was the historian Bonfadio in company with Giovanni Battista Grimaldi.

A consultation was held after the news of the failure at San Tommaso, and it was determined to cease offering armed resistance to the conspirators and to endeavour to restore peace by friendly negotiations. Some persons offered to be the bearers of a peaceful message to the count; these were Gerolamo Fieschi and Benedetto Fiesco-Canevari, both of the Savignone branch of the family; but leaving the Ducal palace they did not again return thither.

Cardinal Gerolamo Doria and senators G. B. Lercaro and Bernardo Interiano-Castagna were then commissioned to carry to the count a request in the name of the Republic to desist from his violent proceedings and make known the object of his movement. But the commissioners having walked a short distance outside of the chancel, seeing arms and crowds of people, were terrified and turned back. At the moment, the guard of the palace, not seeing the senators, fired on the crowd wounding some persons and killing Francesco Rizzo an honoured citizen. The senators regained the hall, and a new deputation was appointed consisting of Agostino Lomellini, Giovanni Imperiale-Baliano, Ansaldo Giustiniani and Ambrogio Spinola, citizens of the highest rank and reputation. This deputation went in search of the count; but near the church of San Siro, they found the streets thronged with insurgents, and a combat occurred between the guard acting as escort for the senators and the people. It was a confused nocturnal battle and the soldiers were repulsed and fell back with the deputation.

In that midnight skirmish, Lomellini, after barely escaping death, was taken prisoner and conducted to San Tommaso; but he had the good fortune to make his escape during the same night. The brave Giustiniani alone refused to yield or fly and demanded permission to pass on, as a peace messenger, to the quarters of Count Fieschi. He was led to the presence of Gerolamo and inquired for the Count of Lavagna. Gerolamo brusquely informed him that there was no longer any Count Fieschi but himself, and added that until the Ducal palace was delivered to his forces it would be a waste of words to make propositions. He would talk of peace after the surrender of the government into the hands of his partisans. With these words, Giustiniani was dismissed and the troops ordered to collect in the piazza of San Lorenzo and in front of the adjacent palace.

Giustiniani, justly inferred from Gerolamo’s incautious speech that the rumour of the death of Gianluigi had good foundation, and that the conspiracy, having lost its able leader, would be easily crushed under the management of a young man without reputation or the support of popular affection. He returned to the palace in haste, informed the senator that Gianluigi was dead, and encouraged them to a spirited resistance.

The government recovered its confidence, sent heralds to proclaim with the sound of the trumpet the death of Gianluigi and ordered the nobles to arm their servants and dependents. These last orders were unnecessary. So soon as the trumpeters announced the fate of the great leader, the multitudes of plebeians were seized with terror, the lines of the troops thinned rapidly and the squares and streets began to be deserted.

The artisans and mechanics, particularly, who were not attached to Gerolamo by the memory of kindness or by the affection of vassals had no longer a cause to maintain and they retired in despair to their homes. It was almost day break. The best and most liberty-loving citizens felt that the enterprise had fallen into the waves with Gianluigi, and fearing to be seen in arms when the day dawned and thus to expose themselves to the vengeance of the patricians, made haste to abandon the field of victory. Many others who had stood ready to throw themselves into the ranks of the victors now sought the security of their own houses. All seemed to accept the unhappy fate of Fieschi as the judgment of God against the revolution. Uncertainty, panic and fright filled all breasts. The vassals of the count stood fast from loyalty to their lord, and the soldiers who had deserted the standards of the Republic were firm from desperation. A few others heroic by nature, among them the strong armed and stout hearted Gerolamo d’Urbino, did not tremble or hesitate but resolved to meet every danger with steadfast courage.

The government learned all these things by means of messengers and spies who circulated among the insurgents, and it was proposed to attack the forces yet remaining under the standard of Gerolamo. However, the more prudent part—taking account of the limited number of their troops, the uncertainty of their fidelity, the ferocity of the conspirators in whom desperation would increase animosity and courage and that much blood must be shed in such a contest—thought it more wise to pursue a policy of compromise and conciliation.

It happened that just then Paolo Panza appeared before the senate to protest his entire innocence of any part in the conspiracy which had been planned and executed under his very eyes, and the fathers knowing his temperate and conciliatory spirit appointed him with Nicolò Doria as a commission to ask peace.

Panza was authorized to offer pardon to Gerolamo and all the other conspirators and insurgents on condition of their retiring from the city. The count was at first irresolute. He had not pushed his attack at once upon the palace and was now falling back and fortifying himself at the gate of the Archi. The authority of his preceptor finally prevailed over his ambition and animosity, and he promised to withdraw his men from the city. The act of pardon was written and subscribed by Ambrogio Senarega chancellor of the senate and ran as follow:—

“The illustrious Signoria and magnificent procurators of the most serene Republic of Genoa, considering that when sudden tumults occur in Republics nothing more conduces to the preservation of the state and the weal of the citizens than to destroy quickly both the causes and the means of such disorders, which grow more violent by being protracted; and Count Gio. Ludovico Fieschi having during the past night, when no one suspected his design, taken possession of two of the city gates as means for carrying on an insurrection against our authority; and this movement having created a tumult in our midst and many citizens having taken up arms in favour of the count to the great detriment of public order; and an attack having been made during this night upon the galleys of Prince Doria and most of the said galleys having been seized and disarmed and Signor Gianettino their captain killed; for these and many other persuasive and conclusive reasons believing it their duty to omit no means for restoring tranquility, and that the best way of making peace is to obtain possession of the gates without further bloodshed and to remove the insurgents outside the walls of the city; and being informed that these ends may be gained by granting a general pardon: Therefore in virtue of these our letters of grace, pardon and remission, granted under due form of ballot, the illustrious Signoria and magnificent procurators, supported by the will of a great part of the citizens who have come to this palace in the confusion of the night in order to aid in preserving the Republic, do herewith pardon free and absolve the said count Gerolamo Fieschi and all his brothers, together with every other citizen or inhabitant of this city or its jurisdiction and every foreigner of whatever rank quality or condition, for any and every crime, offence or license which they have committed in the rebellion raised this night by the said count, in taking the city gates, attacking the galleys and whatever else they have said or done with or without arms to give aid and comfort to this said plot, conspiracy or insurrection. And we declare that in whatever manner they may have been concerned in this conspiracy and whatever crimes, including high treason, they may have committed, none of them, either collectively or singly, shall be liable to question or trial, to confiscation of goods or personal harm. We intend that this pardon shall be universal and embrace every offence whatever, committed in executing the designs of the said Count Fieschi and we grant herewith the most complete pardon, remission and absolution.”

Count Gerolamo, trusting to the good faith of the Republic, spent a brief hour in Carignano and then set out with his followers for Montobbio, not wishing to depart from Italy lest the Dorias should assail his feuds. Ottobuono, Cornelio, Verrina, Sacco, Calcagno and other leaders of the conspiracy took a more prudent course and set sail on their galley for France. Mindful that a government rarely or never pardons treason, they removed themselves from its reach and took with them the prisoners they had captured at San Tommaso. When they arrived off the mouth of the Varo they set the captives at liberty; among them were Sebastiano Lercaro, Manfredi Centurione and Vincenzo Vaccari. By releasing these prisoners they deprived themselves of a guarranty which might have saved their lives at a later period. These conspirators were not the only persons who sailed from the port that morning.

The convicts and Turkish captives on board the Doria galleys had broken their chains and they resolved to avail themselves of the universal confusion to make their escape. The ships of Prince Doria, Antonio Doria and some other private persons were lying dismantled in the harbour. In the fury of the tumult the galleys of Andrea were plundered by the plebeians and by the slaves, and the latter collected with their booty on board the Capitana which had escaped the fury of the sack. There was a good reason for this exception.

This galley, formerly called the Temperanza, had been a Venitian vessel and the men of Barbary had captured her and four other triremes in 1539, near Corfu in the waters of Paxo, taking prisoner at the same time the Commandant Francesco Gritti.

Dragut Rais was so pleased with the sailing qualities and rich equipment of the Capitana that he made her his flag-ship. Gianettino Doria captured her in the engagement in which the corsair himself fell into our hands. On the night of the second of January the African prisoners to the number of three hundred or more threw themselves on board this galley, as a piece of their own property, and sailed out to sea. Though two galleons of Bernardino Mendozza, which were anchored in another part of the harbour and so escaped the pillage, were sent in chase at early dawn, the fugitives made good their flight and after a long voyage arrived safely in Algiers.

The Doria fleet suffered grave damages in that night pillage, the furniture and rigging being reduced to a mass of ruins. These disorders originated with the liberated slaves, and the bad example was followed by the convicts who afterwards carried confusion and alarm into the city. Many of the lowest class of the people penetrated into the foundries and shipyards of Doria, and what they could not carry away they threw into the sea. During the following days, the convicts were hunted out in every quarter of the city and taken back to their oars, and some of the equipments of the ships were recovered by the zealous efforts of Adamo Centurione whose pecuniary interests were united to those of Doria.

It is worth while to observe that the storm of this conspiracy broke over the ships of Andrea. The government issued a proclamation that whoever should have taken or should find anything belonging to the galleys of the prince, as arquebuses, pikes, halberds, visors, helmets, corselets, axes or any other arms or tool belonging to these vessels, should within three days consign them to the justices in the Riviera, or to the agents of Doria in Genoa, or deposit them in the churches of San Vito and Annunziata.

Our historians have neglected to describe one of the galleys of Doria which was a wonderful specimen of Genoese naval architecture. She was built by Doria in 1539 for the personal use of Charles V. in his expedition to Tunis, and surpassed all other galleys by fifteen palms in length and four palms in breadth[47]. She bore three standards of crimson damask, each twenty-three palms in length and beautifully embroidered in gold. The one in the midst had in the centre a star with golden rays and appropriate inscriptions; that at the stern bore the figure of an angel and the one on the prow a shield, a helmet and a sword. Besides, there were three flags at the poop also of damask and thirty palms in length, and another banner of white damask was embroidered with chalices, pontifical keys and red crosses, with fitting inscriptions. There were two flags of red damask bearing the imperial columns and the device—plus ultra—invented by the Milanese Marliano, physician to Charles V. and an excellent mathematician. The vessel also had twenty-four other flags of yellow damask and appropriate devices. The saloon was adorned with beautiful arabesques in blue and gold, and the sides were tapestried with cloth of gold and silver, hung so as to represent pavillioned domes. The castle on the poop was covered with exquisite carvings and there were two carpets for the deck, one of scarlet cloth for daily use and another, for state occasions, of crimson velvet and brocade of gold. The crew wore satin jackets. The gun carriages, rigging and other furniture were all in the most perfect style and finish of the naval art of that period. The slaves and convicts ruined all these splendid equipments and furniture.

After this pillage, prisoners of war and other slaves were treated with greater severity. For, though up to this period the young men served at the oar, yet many of the Mamalukes, as the Barbary prisoners were called in Genoa, had some privileges from the government and their servitude was not of a strict and painful character. Some of them had the permission to engage in minute traffic within the city and had their markets in the piazza of the arsenal and the Piano of St. Andrea. There they shaved and trimmed the beards of the citizens, and none could equal them in this art. They traded in coffee, sugar, brandy, pipes, tobacco and game. They practised small frauds in their trade and some of them grew rich, while many were able to buy themselves out of bondage. These privileges were now taken away from them, and were not restored until many years after. In this way the rigours of slavery were increased among us, though the system was restricted to the “infidels” who were either bought in Egypt or captured in war. It is true that a law of the Republic forbade the buying and selling of slaves in the land of the Sultan; but this provision was evaded by shipping the captives to Caffa where the Grand Turk sent agents for the traffic. Our statutes by enacting grave penalties against slave-stealers, held slaves to be the absolute property of their masters; and in 1588 it was ruled that in a case of shipwreck the loss should be distributed pro rata counting all sorts of merchandise “including male and female slaves, horses and other animals.”

The government hastened to inform the emperor and Ferrante Gonzaga of the insurrection. The latter sent Cavalier Cicogna on a mission to the senate and he himself at the head of a strong force advanced to Voghera to watch the movements of the Fieschi at Montobbio. All the Italian princes friendly to the empire congratulated the Republic on its escape from the conspiracy. Cardinal Cibo, who sent as his messenger Ercole de Bucchi, the Duke of Florence, by his legate Jacopo de’ Medici, and the ten conservators of liberty of Siena, by M. Nicodemo, offered their services and assistance to the government in case of need.

We find also a letter of Giulio Cybo, Marquis of Massa, in which he declares that he has collected troops at Borghetto to march to the assistance of the Republic; but it became known afterwards that these troops had been massed to aid the Fieschi insurrection. They did not pertain alone to the Marquis of Massa, but also to Gasparo di Fosnuovo and other feudatories. We shall presently speak of the congratulations sent by the Pope and Pierluigi Farnese.

The government pledged itself to universal amnesty; we shall now see how it kept faith. Encouraged by the departure of the Fieschi, the senate despatched Benedetto Centurione and Domenico Doria to escort Andrea back to the city and to condole with him for the loss of Gianettino. This last was a piece of hypocrisy, for they secretly rejoiced over their deliverance from the rising tyrant. Andrea returned on the sixth of January and was received with regal pomp. We learn from old documents that the wrathful old man cloaked his vengeance under the mantle of patriotic zeal, and, assembling the fathers on the very day of his return, told them in well-rounded phrases that the amnesty, having been granted under the pressure of necessity and without the free choice of the senate, ought not to be observed. It was, he said, of bad example and precedent to treat with rebels; in a free country the voice of pity and affection ought to be unheeded and the rigour of the law steadfastly administered. It was needful, to save the Republic from the perils which still impended, to make terrible examples. The senate should make haste to prove to Cæsar its zeal by punishing the outrages perpetrated against ships under his flag; those only deserved pardon whose participation in the conspiracy had been forced or the effect of momentary passion. The Fieschi as enemies of the emperor and rebels against the Republic ought to be condemned to death and their goods confiscated. In no other way could the senate meet the wishes of Cæsar and prove their zeal for the public safety.

Those who did not agree with these sentiments of vengeance rather than justice did not dare to lift their voices against the will of Doria. The senate referred the question to a commission of jurists, who rather than incur the enmity of Doria, devoted themselves to find a justification for breach of faith and a decree of blood. They reported:—“The act of pardon is not binding because it was conceded in a rebellion with the sword at the throat of the nation; and because it was not granted in a regular session of the senate but by a number of them casually met and having no power under the laws to make decrees and issue amnesties.” They further declared that Doria as the representative of Cæsar could proceed against the rebels, because neither he nor his master had given any promise of pardon. This opinion was chiefly invented by Bernardo Ottobuono who exhausted much subtle argument to procure the condemnation of the Fieschi. His dialectic and legal skill was at that time in great repute among the partisans of Spain; now history stirs his forgotten pleadings, only to put a note of infamy before his name. The senate, having heard the complacent judgment of its legal advisers, took up the filthy burden and hastened to be rid of it by condemning the Fieschi. It is a new proof that Prince Doria possessed an absolute power over the Republic. But this solicitude for vengeance has crowned his name with an eternal reproach.

The act of pardon was revoked; the Fieschi and the soldiers who had deserted the standards of the senate, particularly Gerolamo d’Urbino, were declared guilty of high treason. The decree of condemnation bore the date of the 12th of February. We report it in full because, though rather an act of wrath than of justice, it serves to acquit Gianluigi of many crimes of which he was afterwards accused.

“The illustrious Doge and magnificent Governors and Procurators of the most serene Republic of Genoa.

“Every state is governed by two things which are divine principles, reward and punishment, the first encouraging the good to honest living and love of country and the second withholding the bad from treason and insurrection. If the reward of well-doing be taken away the motives for patriotism cease to exist and if criminals are not punished the ill-disposed are encouraged to continuance in disobedience when new occasions are presented them. Iterated crimes are the most dangerous, since they always increase in magnitude and peril, and small beginnings of treason threaten the safety of Republics.

“On the night before the third of January in this present year, Gianluigi Fieschi having secretly assembled armed men and concealed them in his house, corrupted and enticed some soldiers in the pay of the Republic, and with his brothers Gerolamo, Ottobuono and Cornelio and other partners in his guilt, issued forth armed, assailed and killed many of the guards, seized the gates of the city and cruelly assassinated Gianettino, lieutenant of Prince Doria, Captain General of the emperor on the seas; then, uttering seditious cries, they incited the people to take up arms against the Republic, and induced some of them to break into the arsenal where lay the unprotected galleys of the said Prince Doria, the defender of Christianity, and to pillage the said vessels and liberate their slaves and convicts.

“Not content with these crimes, the conspirators turned their arms against the commissioners of the senate, and demanded that this Ducal palace should be surrendered into their hands, threatening death to such as should resist their will. Having been admonished to lay down their arms and cease to disturb the public peace, they refused to obey until they obtained grace and pardon for themselves and their accomplices, which condition the senate accepted, believing it the most speedy remedy for the disorders of the afflicted city, and the best means of saving public liberty. The said conspirators then departed from the city, not because of the pardon given by the senate, but because Gianluigi Fieschi had perished in the sea, many of their followers had deserted them and the troops of the Republic had recovered one of the gates of the city.

“These facts show the heinousness of the crime attempted against the state and what weighty evils were devised to its hurt, and furthermore that the Republic is still in peril from the consequences of the pardon extorted by force and without foundation in justice, equity or religion. The authors of these acts of treason must not escape the reward of their crimes.

“Therefore, we the illustrious Doge and magnificent governors of the most serene Republic of Genoa, having taken our vote in due form of law, do declare and condemn as traitors, rebels and enemies of the state, the late Gianluigi Fieschi and his brothers Gerolamo, Ottobuono and Cornelio, and we banish them perpetually from the dominions of Genoa and confiscate all their property for the use of the state. We further order that the Fieschi palace in Vialata be razed to the ground and we give authority to the rectors of the city to destroy also all other houses belonging to the Fieschi family, if they shall deem it of public utility.

“We further declare and condemn as public enemies and traitors with the same penalties Raffaello Sacco of Savona, doctor in law and auditor of the said Gianluigi Fieschi, Vincenzo Calcagno, servant of Fieschi, and Giacobo Conte, son of the late physician of that name (who was an Hebrew) and captain of a galley of the said Gianluigi. We decree also that the houses of the said persons be reduced to ruins.

“We further declare and condemn as rebels and enemies of the Republic Giovanni Battista De Franchi—Verrina, Scipione dal Carretto of Savona, Domenico Bacigalupo, Gerolamo Garaventa and Desiderio Cambialanza; and we confiscate their goods and authorize the illustrious rectors to destroy their houses if they shall believe such destruction for the good of the Republic.

“We also confiscate the goods of Battista son of the late Pantaleo Imperiale-Baliano, Geronimo, son of the late Vincenzo Usudimare, of Gerolamo De Magiolo son of Martino, of Fiesco Botto and Lazzaro De Caprile, and we banish each of them for fifty years. These persons are ordered to depart forthwith from the city and the territories of the Republic and to remain abroad under peril of death.

“We also declare rebels and banish the undernamed persons for the periods following their names, varying according to the degree of their guilt: Francesco Pinello of Gavi for eight years; Francesco Curlo, Bernardo Celesia, Tommaso de Assereto called Verze, Gerolamo Marrigliano, called Garaventino and Gerolamo Fregoso, son of the late Antonio, for fifty years each; Battista Giustiniano son of the late Baldassaro, Paolo Geronimo Fieschi, Francesco Badaracchi and Pantaleo Badaracchi called Tallone—brothers and butchers in Suziglia, for ten years each; Gerolamo del Fiesco son of the late Gio. Giorgio for ten years; Francesco Marrigliano, son of the late Biaggio, barber in Bisagno, and Andrea di Savignone for five years each; Nicolò of Valdetaro, Giovanni Battista Retiliaro and Benedetto Botto for ten years each. All the said persons will be required to leave the territories of the Republic within fifteen days and to remain beyond the frontiers for the periods assigned them severally under peril of death.

“Whereas the laws of the Republic forbid citizens to hold commerce with banished persons under heavy penalties, to prevent any from incurring these penalties through ignorance, we ordain that no citizen whatever shall hold any intercourse or have any correspondence by messengers or by letters with the said rebels and exiles, particularly that no one shall go or send any message to Montobbio under the penalties contained in the laws. And let every citizen be wary of his conduct, for they who shall be guilty will be severely punished.”

Many have written that Scipione Fieschi was also involved in the condemnation of his brothers; but the documents above given prove the contrary. This youth was hardly eighteen years of age and was pursuing legal studies in Bologna according to the custom of Genoese noblemen. We find in the list of the doctors in law of 1390 the names of Doria, Spinola, Salvago, Imperiali, Dinegro, Grilli and Montaldi, and, as we have shown, the Fieschi were conspicuous in legal learning. From a very early period they had studied law in Bologna. The registers of illustrious pupils from 1260 to 1300 contains the names of several Fieschi who attended the lectures of the distinguished jurists of that school, chief of whom was Jacopo d’ Albenga. About 1348, Emanuel Fieschi, in order to facilitate the studies of his family in that city, founded there a perpetual college, and endowed it with a liberal income. His nephew Papiniano added largely to the endowment.

When Scipione heard of the events of Genoa, he removed to Valdetaro, and from this feud of his family wrote to the senate, on the 17th of January, as follows:—

“When I heard of the insurrection in my native city I was more dead than alive; and if the shedding of my blood or giving my life could repair the misfortune, your excellencies may be sure I would not shrink from the sacrifice. I have an intense sorrow of heart that one of my house should have attempted revolution, and especially a revolt against the authority of that prince who has always protected and benefited our family and to whom I hope always to be a good servant. Being most innocent in this conspiracy, I pray your excellencies to receive and hold me as a good son of the Republic. Such I am and hope always to remain, ever willing to expose my life to any peril for the public good. I pray you not to abandon me as a member of my brother’s family, to have compassion on my misfortune and not to permit that the fault of another shall prejudice me or bring me evil. With a heart disturbed and pained by these events beyond my power to describe, I kiss your hands and recommend myself to your clemency.”

We shall hereafter see how the senate was affected by his pathetic appeal, and how it accepted him as a son.

Doria, indefatigable in the pursuit of revenge, instituted search for the corpse of Gianluigi. Few believed he was dead, and Doria feared that he had escaped into France and was preparing to let loose a new tempest upon the government.

After four days of search, the corpse was found by a diver named Pallino. Doria wished to vent his wrath and awe the people by suspending the body before the gates of the arsenal; but he did not dare to run the risk of a new popular outbreak. The body was therefore returned to its grave in the waves. Two months after Doria caused it to be fished up again, weighted with a mass of stones, carried out and launched into the deep sea.

The vacancy in the office of Doge, created by the resignation of Giovanni Battista di Fornari, was filled by the election of Bendetto Gentile. Fearing that the confederates of Fieschi might renew their insurrection and that it might break out in the very hall of the senate, the new Doge forbade the wearing of arms in the Ducal palace. At the same time he sent Ceva Doria as a legate to Cæsar in Germany (the brothers Luca and Giovanni Battista Grimaldi were already at that court for other business) to inform the emperor fully of the perils from which Genoa had escaped and to assure him of her constant devotion. Ceva Doria had secret instructions to ask the consent of Cæsar to the absorption of the Fieschi estates by the Republic. The request particularly regarded Varese, Roccatagliata and Montobbio, in the last of which Count Gerolamo was fortified. Ceva Doria was instructed to manage the matter with much dexterity. He was to represent that Varese and Roccatagliata belonged by ancient rights to the Republic and that Montobbio was a cause of incessant irritation and frequent danger to the city; that the Republic would be gratified if the emperor should wish to honour and reward his faithful servant Figueroa with some feud; that they had already occupied Roccatagliata, Varese and Calice and that Ferrante Gonzaga had protested, but that Domenico Doria, the commissioner of the Republic, had satisfied the imperial governor that the occupation was necessary to protect these feuds from the Lords of Lando. Ceva Doria was also instructed to devise a plan for securing the imperial approval to the confiscation of the castles of Torriglia and San Stefano.

When Prince Doria learned of these negotiations with the emperor, not wishing that the rich estates of his enemy should go into other hands than his own he sent Francesco Grimaldi to the emperor to oppose the wishes of the senate and to obtain the best of the Fieschi feuds for himself. He did in the end obtain the greater part of this property, as we shall hereafter show. Antonio Doria also prayed the Spanish monarch to permit him to occupy Santo Stefano, he having bought the Malaspina claims upon the feud. Antonio at the same time besought the senate to preserve strict secrecy in this negotiation lest the prince should be offended on hearing of the intrigue. Ceva Doria complained strongly of this disagreement between the envoy of the Republic and that of Andrea; particularly that Grimaldi preserved a surly and reserved manner and refused to communicate anything of importance to his colleague.

The emperor sent Don Rodrigo Mendozza to the senate to report his satisfaction at the escape of the Republic from such grave perils. He also sent letters to Andrea containing solemn assurances that he would repair the losses sustained by the prince. At the same time he ordered Don Ferrante Gonzaga to proceed to the punishment of the Fieschi without a moment’s delay. The crime for which the imperial governor was required to proceed against them was that, being vassals of the empire, they had assailed the emperor’s galleys and admirals. Gonzaga wrote to the senate and to Doria on the subject, but his proceedings did not have any result because Andrea and the senate had already decreed the utter extermination of the Fieschi. Cæsar did not, however, content himself with this, and, on the 27th of October, 1547, he proclaimed the Fieschi as rebels and divested them of all their feuds, which he gave to Andrea to be held for the children of Gianettino. The cession included Montobbio, Varese, Roccatagliata, Valdetaro, Pontremoli and Santo Stefano. This first decree did not take full effect, because the Republic had some of the castles in its power, especially Pontremoli where the inhabitants had anticipated Gonzaga and surrendered to Gasparo Di Fornari who occupied it for the Republic.

Doria was not content with obtaining the greater part of the Fieschi feuds. He insisted upon the destruction of the sumptuous palace in Vialata and it was razed to the foundations. The work of demolition was conducted with such angry haste that a great part of the walls fell into the gardens of Ambrogio Gazella and the Republic paid for the removal of the rubbish. A slab of infamy was affixed to a wall near the ruins bearing a decree that nothing should ever be built upon the ground where a citizen had conspired against his country. The inscription no longer exists. The tables now in Vialata refer to rights of private property. Merciful time has cancelled the records of infamy against Gianluigi, though he has preserved them against the names of Vacchero, Raggio, Della Torre and Balbi.[48] The stone (as we find in a decree of 1715) was torn down, not by order of the Doge but by unknown hands, about 1712, perhaps by some of Gianluigi’s relatives.

Ancient tradition tells us that the marbles of the Fieschi palace were employed to embellish that of the Spinola which was erected on the ruins of the tower of the Luccoli. It is that edifice faced with alternate black and white marbles which stands on the piazza Fontane Morose. We know not whether the tradition be true, but it is certain that the statues in the palace of Spinola pertain to the family of its owners. The stones and marbles of Vialata were bought at auction by one Antonio Roderio and were scattered. The sculptures and other ornaments of the magnificent fountain which adorned the garden shared the same fate. They were the work of Giovanni Maria di Pasalo who, not having been entirely paid for his work by Fieschi, received some compensation from the Republic. The government took possession of the furniture and precious vessels which the palace contained not excepting the silver service which according to a memoir of Count Gianluigi Mario to the king of France (preserved in Beriana) was valued at one hundred thousand crowns.

Nothing remains of the splendid residence of the counts but a narrow subterranean passage whose architecture is of the fifteenth century. The walls are brick and it is covered with slate. Time and damp have nearly destroyed it. A branch of it once extended to the sea where the battery of Cava was afterwards erected, but not a vestige of this part now remains. The principal passage led to the valley of Bisagno, outside the gate of the Archi, and served for a means of retreat from the city in times of revolution. It is probable that this passage furnished Gianluigi with the means of introducing into the city, a few days before the insurrection, the armed men from his castles.

The imperial party were not content with the ruins of the Fieschi palace, but wished to destroy all the monuments of the family’s greatness. Two houses fronting the cathedral were appropriated for the debts of Fieschi and thus escaped ruin. The very churches were not spared. The arms surmounted by a cardinal’s hat which Lorenzo Fieschi had placed in Santo Stefano in 1499 when Donato Benci, a Florentine sculptor and architect, executed some works in that church, were now removed. Throughout the Eastern Riviera, the Doria faction glutted their vengeance upon the dwellings and castles of the Fieschi. In Chiavari they publicly tore down and threw into the sea an inscription which attributed the foundation of the church of St. Giovanni to Bardone Fieschi.

Nor were the Dorias alone in hastening the destruction of the Fieschi palace. The Sauli whose quarrel with the Fieschi we have mentioned, had seen with envious eyes the erection of a palace in their neighbourhood which outshone the splendour of their own, and they were ambitious of being sole masters of the hill of Carignano. There were other stimulants to vengeance. Popular legends tell us (and we count legends more valuable than the breath which scatters them) that the Sauli family attended divine service in the church of the Fieschi in Vialata. One day Bendinelli Sauli, in a friendly manner asked the Fieschi to delay the service a little in order that his people might be present. The Fieschi responded:—“If you wish to hear mass at your pleasure, build a church of your own.” Sauli remembered the discourteous speech and, in 1481, bequeathed two hundred and fifty shares in the bank of St. George to be left at interest for sixty years and then expended in erecting a magnificent church and two hospitals in Carignano.

The descendants of Bendinello, stimulated by old and new antipathies, were gratified witnesses of the destruction of the mansion of their rivals, and near it they erected the church which commemorated the bequest of their ancestor. As soon as the palace of the Fieschi was destroyed, Galeazzo Alessi was called to Genoa and in 1552 he commenced the church of Carignano. The superb basilica cost the Sauli a hundred thousand gold crowns. It would be a perfect monument to their wealth and public spirit, if the front were not disfigured by some statues of inferior workmanship. They embellished their vengeance by a beautiful christian charity which survives the antipathies out of which it grew. Stefano Sauli, a descendant of Bendinello, bequeathed another large legacy to construct the massive bridge which conducts to the church and unites the two hills.

But public and private wrath did not fully attain their end. A beautiful picture of Gianluigi and portraits of Verrina and Sacco escaped the vandalism of their enemies. In the dark and narrow chapel of the cathedral near the tomb of the Fieschi family, there is a picture painted by Luca Cambiaso representing the protectors of Genoa, St. John the Baptist, St. Lawrence and St. George. In the face of the last saint you have the features of Gianluigi, and tradition tell us that the others are Sacco and Verrina.

It did not occur to Andrea Doria, when he was destroying every trace of his rival, that the love of friends would entrust the image of the dead to the holy guardianship of the altar.

CHAPTER XI.

THE CASTLE OF MONTOBBIO.

Count Gerolamo declines propositions of the governments—Intrigues of the imperial party and revolutionary tendencies of the populace—The Republic is induced by Andrea Doria to assault Montobbio—The count’s preparations for defence—Verrina and Assereto assigned to the command of the works—Andrea induces the government to decline negotiations with Fieschi—Agostino Spinola closely invests the castle—Mutiny of the mercenaries of the count—He offers to surrender the castle on condition of security for the lives and property of the beseiged—Opposition of Doria to this stipulation—The treason of his mercenaries compels Fieschi to surrender—Doria, notwithstanding the entreaties of the government, treats the defeated Fieschi with great cruelty—Punishment of the Count of Verrina and other accomplices—Raffaele Sacco and his letters—The castle of Montobbio razed to the foundations.

The castle of Montobbio was a beautiful and strong fortification, situated ten miles from Genoa, occupying the brow of a mountain, and looking down on a deep valley closed round with spurs of the Apennines. The Beriana papers assert that it once belonged to an Obizzo di Montobbio who sold it, in 1232, to Ansaldo Di Mari. We find no record of the transfer to the Fieschi family. The torrent of Scrivia on the south, and the wooded heights encircling it on every side, render the position naturally impregnable. The rough crests afford no convenient positions for placing batteries so as to enfilade the redoubts or batter the walls. In fact, it often held large armies in check.

Gianluigi had greatly increased its power of resistance by employing in his works the science of fortifications which was just then invented. The use of bastions with angles dates from that period. Giuliano da San Gallo employed them in the fortress of Pisa and Andrea Bergauni at Nice. The count repaired the curtains and the walls, increasing the width to fifteen feet, sloped their sides and constructed new bastions. Portions of the walls which had been damaged by time were repaired, and new videttes and towers were erected on the flanks. The residence of the Count was situated on a mass of wall which commanded the whole rock and was protected against both internal and external assault.

The senate saw at once that the obstinacy of the count rendered their task a very difficult one; and as the place was deemed impregnable to assault they set about plans for obtaining it by other means. They first sent Paolo Pansa to Montobbio to offer Gerolamo fifty thousand gold crowns of the sun to surrender the castle; but Fieschi, naturally distrustful of men who had already violated their solemn pledges of amnesty, refused to negotiate, replying to Pansa that he held Montobbio in the name of the king of France and would defend it to the last extremity.

The news of the Fieschi movement had alarmed all the friends of the Spanish power. They anticipated that the rebellion would aid France to diffuse general discontent in Italy, and their fears were strengthened by the connection of the conspiracy with French intrigues and movements. When therefore Fieschi declared that he would hold Montobbio for France, his enemies did not for a moment doubt that the French king would accept a castle so conveniently placed for kindling revolutionary fires in Genoa. There was therefore a general concert of action among the adherents of the empire to crush out the spark which otherwise might wrap all Italy in flames. Cosimo collected his forces in Pisa and put them under the command of Vitelli. He also ordered the immediate return of Stefano Colonna from Rome, put him at the head of the Ducal cavalry, and prepared to risk his own person in the imperial cause. Gonzaga sent a large force to the frontiers of Bobbio under the command of Ludovico Vistarino. Even the cardinal of Trento sent to Gonzaga to enquire on what point he should precipitate six thousand men whom he had collected to aid in crushing the Fieschi. Cæsar ordered Andrea to invest Montobbio without a moment’s delay, offering to furnish the men and money for the siege and empowered the admiral to cede Montobbio, Cariseto and Varese to the Republic.

The French were not the only enemies before whom Spain trembled. The adherents of Fieschi in Genoa, threatened a new outbreak. A rumour ran that Gianluigi was not dead, but had gone to Provence to collect men and arms, and the fable found such support in the popular affection for him that it required a long time to dissipate the delusion. The plebeians were expecting him to come to their deliverance and were on the alert to second his first assault on the common enemy. Indeed, one night a cry was raised for the Adorni (the name was synonymous with popular liberty) and the people rushed to arms to the great fright of the Dorias. The prince knew the popular faith in Gianluigi and had lacked the courage to gibbet his body, according to the custom with traitors, lest it should raise a popular tempest. Bonfadio, though the instrument of the Doria faction, admits this to have been Doria’s motive for refraining from putting this seal of treason on his enemy. The same historian tells us that there was a constant peril of a new rising, and that to prevent it the city guards were increased and eight citizens appointed to suggest to the senate the most effectual means of quieting the people and such additional laws as would meet the exigencies of the occasion.

Andrea, stimulated by the messages of the emperor and by his desire to avenge the blood of Gianettino through the extermination of the Fieschi, made incessant appeals to the government for the Storming of Montobbio. The senate yielded to these solicitations and also empowered Andrea (this we learn from many documents) to undertake the operation at his own charge and in the name of the emperor. Agostino Spinola was ordered to mass his troops and closely invest the castle. This soldier and scholar had followed the imperial fortunes since 1536 when Barnaba Visconti, Bagone and Fregoso attempted to revolutionize Genoa. After the expulsion of the French, he held a considerable corps of infantry against Novi where Origa Gambaro, widow of Pietro Fregosi, a woman of intrepid character, maintained the war with the aid of French troops. The valour of Spinola overcame all obstacles. He opposed courage to courage, treachery to treachery; and having allied himself with the Cavanna faction in Novi, he defeated and destroyed the French army and their leader Belforte, and thus restored Novi and Ovada to the Republic.

In the beginning of April 1547, he collected a considerable body of men and began to make approaches to the castle of Montobbio. To prevent the introduction of troops and supplies into the fortress he ordered Lamba Doria, Bernardo Lomellini and Gabriele Moneglia to seize the passes of the Apennines and keep close guard on the frontier. Gonzaga rendered valuable aid in these operations. He sent captain Oriola with a company of Spanish infantry to Torriglia with orders to assist the Genoese generals in divising means to approach Montobbio.

Though the roads were rocky and broken, Spinola brought up many guns by the way of the Gioghi and along the Scrivia, which is formed by the confluence of the Laccio and Pantemina under the heights of Montobbio. Flippo Doria, who had already acquired distinction in naval warfare, was assigned to the command of the artillery. Andrea required that Francesco and Domenico Doria should have command of a body of two thousand infantry. The commissaries of the Republic were Cristoforo Grimaldo Rosso, and Leonardo Cattaneo, with Domenico De Franchi, and Domenico Doria for substitutes.

Count Gerolamo did not lose courage at the sight of these formidable preparations to assail his stronghold, but applied himself diligently to increasing his means of resistance. He fortified the approaches, repaired the curtains, videttes and battlements, and added new bastions and other works of defence. He had already collected a large body of mercenaries and to cover Montobbio had garrisoned Cariseto and Varese. He asked vainly for the assistance of the French troops in Mirandola, and then turned his attention to negotiations with Pierluigi Farnese. This duke pretended loyalty to the empire, but he secretly furnished men and supplies, permitted his vassals in the mountains to enlist under the standards of Fieschi and instigated the people of Valnura and Trebbia to obstruct the passes in front of the imperial troops.

Gerolamo, knowing the worth of Verrina’s advice and courage and the intrepidity of Assereto and the band of heroes who had taken refuge in Marseilles, sent many messengers to urge them to share with him the peril and glory of the siege. These refugees had sent Ottobuono and Cornelio Fieschi to the court of France to plead their cause, and the king had received them with marks of favour and promised to restore their fallen fortunes. The assurances were reiterated frequently, but the French monarch took no steps to prove his sincerity. Verrina and Assereto grew weary of the tedious delay and accepted the invitation of Gerolamo without awaiting the return of the Fieschi, preferring the risk of battle to begging for aid which was always promised but never given. They crossed Piedmont and found means to enter Montobbio. Gerolamo received them with joy and committed the defence to their hands. Later, Ottobuono came to Mirandola and Verrina and Vicenzo Varese went there to aid him in urging the French commander to assist in the defence of the castle. They solicited in vain. This refusal of France to succour Gerolamo is a new proof that Gianluigi had not agreed to deliver Genoa into the hands of the French monarch. Francis was prodigal of promises, but he left the Fieschi to encounter the forces of the empire alone.

Spinola planted batteries on a height now called Costa Rotta near Granara, a village to the west of the castle; but though he bombarded the citadel for forty days he was not able to gain one inch of ground, while the fire of the fortress mowed down the flower of his troops and daily explosions of his own guns added to the loss of life. Besides, the inclemency of the season and incessant rains prevented the formation of lines of circumvallation. The besieged were greatly encouraged, and the soldiers of the Republic proportionately demoralized, by these circumstances. On the tenth of May the podestà of Recco was ordered to send to Montobbio as a reinforcement to the besiegers all the men of that commune between the ages of seventeen and sixty years.

On the contrary, Paolo Moneglia and Manfredo Centurione had obtained possession of Varese, with little loss of life, through the treachery of its commandant, Giulio Landi, who surrendered it hoping to obtain the investiture of the feud. But this success by no means compensated for the losses under the walls of Montobbio. The castle of Cariseto opposed a vigorous resistance to the troops of the Republic. The people of that feud destroyed the roads, constructed fortifications and closed up the passes which led to the place. Boniforte Garofolo succeeded at length in forcing a path across the rugged summits of the surrounding hills and stormed the out-lying defences. The attack began at dawn of the 14th of April. The besieged flocked to the parapets, loop-holes and barbicans, and with their musquetry and cannon held the assailants at bay. The battle lasted the entire day. On the morrow, the Genoese artillery shattered a large tower which fell burying a considerable part of the defenders under its ruins. This misfortune discouraged the rest and they offered to make a conditional surrender of the place. Garofolo demanded a surrender at discretion, and the garrison insisted upon security for their lives and property. Gian Francesco Niselli, a friend of Fieschi and Pierluigi Farnese, was by accident in the place at the time of the assault, and he, seeing the hopelessness of the defence, sent messengers to Count Paolo Scotti requesting him to obtain the permission of Farnese for the retreat of the garrison into the territory of Piacenza. The duke readily consented, and the peasants and soldiers effected their retreat in the following night. They lit up fires on the side of the place which the enemy held and retired over broken and difficult foot-paths through the mountains.

The duke had been deeply affected at the death of Gianluigi; but to avoid a rupture with the empire he had sent Ottavio Bajardi to Ferrante Gonzaga, offering his troops and even his own person to the imperial cause. But he at the same time contrived to have the Pope secure him immunity from imperial demands. He sent Agostino Landi, count of Compiano, to congratulate Doria on his escape from the perils which had overhung his house and sent back to him a great number of fugitive slaves, belonging to the Doria galleys, who had taken refuge in the mountains of Piacenza. He afterwards sent Salvatore Pocino to the emperor to deny charges of complicity with Gianluigi. The emperor knew all the facts and received the envoy with great coldness; but the duke’s son who was in the imperial service pleaded more successfully for his father.

Meanwhile, the large imperial army, which had been massed in Varese to support the siege of Montobbio, kept the duke in constant apprehension that it might be destined to punish him for his treachery. These fears were strengthened by the fact that Gonzaga had added to Vistarino and Oriola five other captains, Sebastiano Picenardi, Lodovico da Borgo, Pier Francesco Trecco, Osio Casale and Gianfrancesco Ali, with considerable bodies of troops and strict orders to levy new recruits in Monticello and Castelvetro, feuds of the duke. To provide for the danger, Farnese, who had Cornelio Fieschi under his protection, reorganized the army of twelve thousand infantry which he had collected in January at Cortemaggiore, sent commissaries to forbid enrolment of imperial troops in his feuds, fortified the castles in his jurisdiction, placed six hundred infantry at Borgo, a greater number at Bardi and ordered Francesco Clerici commanding at Compiano to be on the alert and in constant readiness for battle. Shortly after he instructed his commissioner in Venice to ask the consent of that Republic to his drawing eight thousand arquebuses from Brescia. He was allowed to draw only five thousand. These operations led to reciprocal suspicions, rancours and threats between Farnese and the imperial captains, and Gonzaga, to prevent an open outbreak, recalled Vistarino from Bobbio.

This measure relieved Farnese from his present peril and he resolved to take advantage of the siege of Montobbio to get possession, in advance of the imperial troops, of some feuds of the Fieschi. He seized Calestano, and then sent Gianantonio Torti with a strong force to occupy Valditaro. As the Fieschi had some imperial vassals in these feuds, Farnese informed Gonzaga that he wished to hold them for the interests and rights of the empire. He did not wait for an answer, but hurried his troops into the feuds. His designs upon Valditaro were thwarted by Scipione and Cornelio Fieschi, who threw themselves into it with about one thousand of their vassals and shut the gates in the faces of the Ducal forces. He called Scipione to himself in Piacenza and persuaded him that the forces of his family were too weak to contend with the empire. Scipione consented that the duke should occupy the castle in the interest of his family. He returned to his vassals and persuaded them to enlist in the service of Farnese, who sent his agent, doctor Giovanni Landemaria, to take possession in his name. The acts of the notary Bartolomeo Bosoni clearly prove these facts.

Gonzaga was enraged at this stratagem of Farnese; and in fact the occupation was of short duration. On the death of Farnese, Valditaro was created a principate by the emperor and passed to Agostino Landi whose ancestors had once held it. The inhabitants always retained their love for the Fieschi house, and remembered long the mild government of their old masters. They several times conspired to restore Scipione who was born among them. In 1552, Gonzaga, incensed at these movements, instigated Landi to dismantle the forts and towers lest they should afford a place of refuge for the Fieschi.

More than ten thousand balls had been thrown at Montobbio; but the Fieschi, safe in their defences, laughed at the rage of the assailants and their own fire often seriously damaged the enemy. The people of the surrounding country scarcely concealed their sympathy for the besieged and furnished the castle with meat and provisions of every kind. The commissioners of the Republic complained of this and said that the inhabitants of Bargagli, Stroppa and other villages never brought even an egg to the camp of the Genoese, while they gave liberal supplies to the enemy. Spinola, despairing of success in the siege, united with the commissaries in urging the government to attempt a new negotiation.

At this time Doria learned of the death of king Francis, and this event removed all apprehension that the French would relieve Montobbio and attack the Spanish power in Italy. The recent victory of the emperor over Frederick of Saxony at Elbe stimulated Andrea to a more enthusiastic support of the imperial cause and to make a vigorous opposition to the proposals of accommodation which the senate assembled to discuss. He declaimed wrathfully against the shameful cowardice of making terms with traitors and declared that the Fieschi could hope nothing from France, because the new king Henry II. could not, if he wished it, devote any attention in the first month of his reign to the petty concerns of Montobbio and its handful of defenders. Though the majority of the senate favoured a treaty with Gerolamo, the powerful will of Doria prevailed and new troops were sent to Spinola. The prince sent to the duke of Florence for bombardiers, munitions and other military material of which there was a scarcity in the army of Genoa. The duke furnished these and a considerable force of infantry under Paolo da Castello; Ferrante Gonzaga sent two companies of four hundred arquebusiers, Filippo Doria was ordered by Andrea to make new surveys of the heights around Montobbio and to endeavour to place his artillery in better positions, and this general moved his guns to the less elevated height called Olmeto in our time and renewed the attack.

This bombardment produced no better results than the first one and the siege must have failed had not fortune opened a new and easier road to victory. A general order forbade any person not in the army to approach within two miles of the bastions under penalty of death. One day a soldier of the garrison dressed as a mountaineer was arrested in the act of examining the works of the besiegers, and on his person were found letters of Gerolamo to his brother Ottobuono. In these letters the count declared that he could not continue the defence for more than three months as his military supplies were insufficient for a longer period, and he urged Ottobuono to secure the immediate aid of France. Spinola was greatly encouraged by this discovery of the weakness of his adversary. He detained the soldier for some days and then, having seduced him by splendid promises, sent him back to Montobbio with a false letter of Ottobuono, in which the writer informed the count of the death of king Francis and declared that the only hope of the besieged was in an accommodation with the senate.

This intelligence greatly dispirited the garrison, in whom the want of supplies and the obstinate courage of the besiegers were beginning to produce apprehension. But desperation lent them new strength and they made several bold sorties which seriously damaged the enemy. To the want of supplies, a new and more dangerous evil was soon added. The mercenaries collected by Fieschi in the neighbouring feuds, being poorly fed and receiving no pay, began to murmur and finally refused to expose themselves to further peril. The count found that his own life was threatened by these rebellious soldiers, and in letters written on the 20th of March to Gian Maria Manara in Valditaro he asked ten faithful men to serve as a guard of his own person. Manara was a physician by profession and had so much influence with the Fieschi that they had left him to govern at pleasure the whole valley of the Taro. He furnished the men and obtained other reënforcements from captain Mengo da Montedoglio who commanded in Valditaro for Farnese. Gerolamo also sent a messenger to Cardinal Farnese to ask asylum in the church of that prelate in case he should be reduced to extremities. In this he was successful, and the cardinal also wrote to the Duke of Piacenza to give Gerolamo all possible aid.

During the first days of May the siege was prosecuted with increased vigour. The artillery of Filippo Doria poured a storm of shot into the castle, the walls fell down in large pieces and the outer curtains were ruined. There were many indications that the resistance could not long continue. Still, the subordinates of Gerolamo restored during the night the damage caused by the Ligurian and Florentine guns during the day and there was no sign of discouragement in the intrepid leaders. But the mercenaries continued to murmur and to refuse obedience to the commanders, complaining of their privations and demanding their wages. The count saw that it was necessary to surrender. Gerolamo Garaventa and Tommaso Assereto went to the camp of Spinola and offered to yield the place but on terms which the victors would not accept.

The Genoese general resolved to make a final assault upon the work. He sent trumpeters to proclaim that all who wished to save their lives must come within his lines; all who resisted the assault would be put to the sword. But though they had been many days in great privation, only two of the soldiers of Fieschi obeyed the summons. The assault was begun with great fury and, added to the discontent of the mercenaries, convinced Fieschi that he must surrender at once. He offered Spinola the castle on condition that the lives and goods of the defenders should be respected.

The senate met in Genoa to consider this proposition and the debate shows that the Fieschi had many sympathizers in the senate and that Andrea Doria was the real master of the Republic. After two days of discussion the senate resolved to accept the offers of Fieschi.The count, who knew how little value the pledges of the government really possessed, asked to be secured against the vengeance of Andrea Doria. The senate promised to secure the assent of Andrea to the negotiation and applied to him for the purpose. But the prince, who knew that Gerolamo was now in his power, refused his coöperation and the senate had not the courage to maintain their position.

The garrison at Montobbio were greatly distressed by this attitude of Doria. All means of obtaining provisions were cut off, and they must soon be reduced by starvation. Still, they held a bold front to the enemy and resolved to die fighting rather than surrender at discretion. But the mercenaries broke into open rebellion and the more desperate, after demanding their pay on the instant, seized a tower which had hitherto defied all the enemy’s guns and surrendered it to the soldiers of the Republic. The count and his faithful soldiers were obliged to take shelter in a wing of the fortress. The treason of the adventurers (which is spoken of not only in inedited documents but also by Adriani) took away all hope from the defenders. They resolved to imitate the garrison of Cariseto and retire by night over the rugged and almost inaccessible heights in their rear. But Vicenzo Calcagno reminded them that the count, who was corpulent of body, would not be able to make so fatiguing a march over wild mountain paths and that the troops of Doria held all the passes behind them. Assereto and some others resolved to risk the journey and set out; but after a fatiguing march over toilsome foot-paths they were surrounded and forced to surrender. The count who still hoped that the Republic would make good its promises yielded the castle to Spinola, who entered it with flying banners on the morning of the 11th of June.

Spinola, as a faithful servant of Andrea, ordered his Corsicans as soon as he had taken possession of the works to execute Calcagno, Manara and some other partisans of the count suspected of having participated in the murder of Gianettino. Domenico Doria, il Converso, also made some executions. The rest, including the mercenaries, were held as prisoners of war. But these last only were permitted to depart on parole. Count Gerolamo, Verrina and Assereto were reserved for public execution in the city and were treated with great inhumanity.

At the news of the surrender of Montobbio, the senate again assembled. Most of the senators held that one of the first families of Italy, bound by relationship to the most illustrious houses, ought not to be plunged into deeper calamity. They plead with Doria. The Fieschi had been sufficiently punished by the confiscation of their property, the destruction of their houses and the death of Gianluigi. Why vent unchristian rage on the heads of Gerolamo and his brothers? They were unfortunate young men to whom the plots of their brother had been unknown. Gianluigi had suddenly precipitated them into rebellion and they deserved pardon for their almost involuntary share in the conspiracy. Let Doria open his great heart to more generous, to more magnanimous counsels. Let him imitate the example of Cæsar who would not condemn to death the Saxon whom he had conquered in battle.

Doria was deaf to these appeals of the senators. He refused all compromises. The Fieschi and their companions must die. The writers in the Doria interest do not disguise this fact. Mascardi says:—

“Those who favoured clemency were in the majority. They urged that forbearance was a necessary quality in governments, that the violence of Gianluigi mitigated the guilt of his confederates and that the youth of his brothers ought to extenuate their offence. Andrea Doria was greatly displeased to see the Republic so basely betrayed, and going into the senate he spoke with so much force and authority that the unfortunate men were condemned to death.”

In the monastery of St. Andrea della Porta lived a sister of the Fieschi named Suor Angela Catterina. She imitated the example of the two pious women in her family, of whom we have elsewhere spoken, and she was held in high esteem. As soon as she heard of the condemnation of her brother, Gerolamo, she made the most earnest supplications to the government on his behalf.

“I could not,” said the afflicted sister, “abandon a brother in such a terrible calamity. That God, whom human judges ought to imitate, is compassionate as well as just with sinners. Senators should remember that Gerolamo was drawn into the conspiracy of his brother without any previous knowledge of his intentions, and, that he himself has never plotted against the Republic, that he surrendered Montobbio with the confident expectation that the senate would spare his life. The senate should keep faith and pardon this son of Sinibaldo one of the warmest advocates and defenders of the union and liberty of the country. Let them remember what Christ said: ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy;’ almost beside myself with grief and more dead than alive, I fall at the feet of the prince and conjure him by the mercy of Christ to pardon my poor brother.” It was in vain. She was encouraged to hope, but the pardon never came. The senate had not the courage to take the victim out of the hands of Doria.

The populace was still agitated and full of seditious plans. Though a deep mystery enveloped the action of the government, the people suspected the vindictive intention of Doria and threatened revolt. This led the government to transfer the execution from Genoa to Montobbio. Two priests were at once despatched to the castle, Gian Maria Paulocio, one of the officers of the Ruota, and Tommaso Doria, to examine the prisoners and report their defence to the senate.

Soon after the Podesta for criminal cases was also sent, under decree of the 4th of July. This was Polidamante del Majno a man of considerable talents. The count, Verrina and other leaders were subjected to the rope torture, a useless barbarity because they were already condemned to death. Polidamante tried every means to escape this painful office, and we learn from some letters of his to the senate that he had protested against being commissioned for the examination.

The Republic had begun by declaring the Fieschi guilty of high treason and denying them trial or defence. He subsequently wrote to the senate: “If your excellencies do not make some change, I shall be in a very painful position and people may justly think that I prosecute this unfortunate affair (maladetta causa) with personal motives. You know how I laboured to relieve myself from this duty. Therefore I beseech you to relieve me at once from my present embarrassment by declaring clearly that we may admit new testimony, or by revoking your second decree, and proceeding logically by carrying out your first executive mandate.” The senate solved the difficulty by ordering the punishment of the prisoners without trial. The common soldiers were pardoned. Some of the conspirators were condemned to the halter, others to the oar.

The sentence was executed on the 23rd of July. Desiderio Cangialanza was the first to mount the scaffold and he was followed by some whose names history has not preserved. It was too busy with laudations of Doria and invectives against the fallen. Gerolamo, Verrina and Assereto, being patricians, were beheaded in the chapel of San Rocco at the foot of the fortress. Servile as was the age it was forced to admire the heroic bearing of Verrina whose character was cast in the old Roman mould. He was twice tortured, but he would not utter a word about the secrets of the conspiracy. The night preceeding his execution he spoke with serenity of the doctrines to which he had given his faith, and encouraged his companions to meet their last hour with courageous composure. He went to the scaffold with the step rather of a conqueror than of a criminal.

The sentence of death embraced the exiles Ottobuono and Cornelio, and, what is more iniquitous, the youthful Scipione and his descendants to the fifth generation were banished. Some writers have maintained that Sacco was also executed at Montobbio. But though the documents relating to the treaty with Gerolamo are few and it is apparent that many have been surreptitiously removed from the public archives, yet we have been so fortunate as to find some letters of Sacco himself which entirely invalidate this statement. Another person has already printed some of them. His correspondence with Luigi Ferrero of Savona, in February, show that he was then in Turin on his way back from France.

In Turin he was befriended by presidents Catto and Birago. The latter concealed him in one of his own houses on the banks of the Po. He had friends, kept up party affiliations, and hoped that the recent death of the English monarch would occasion a war in Italy. In other letters, addressed to his wife Alessandra, he alludes to his hope of French interference and expresses an intention of returning to that court. He gives her advice for the management of domestic affairs and recommends her to Nicolò Doria, Antonio De Fornari and Giovanni Gerolamo Salvago. There is a letter to count Gerolamo Fieschi in which he asks a hundred crowns and letters of recommendations to the king of France, Delfino, the admiral and the cardinals Tornone and Ferrara. He exhorts the count to be diligent in furnishing his fortresses and to put on a bold front in order to discourage his enemies and inspirit his friends. The records of the trial show that the Ferrero gave these letters to the senate. The most important of these epistles is the one written in July to Pietro Francesco Grimaldi Robio, doctor of the college of judges, in which he exculpates himself from the charge made by Verrina of having been the first instigator of the conspiracy. He shows that Verrina had been the beginning, middle and end of the plot. He says that if Calcagno were alive, he would fully exculpate him from the accusations; but as this person was dead it only remained for him to recite all the facts of the conspiracy. This history he says will show him to have been innocent. His only fault was that he had been born in Savona. Had he been a Genoese he would have communicated his first knowledge of the plot to the senate and thus escaped condemnation, or be as lightly punished as many of his present accusers. He admits that he concealed the conspiracy but asks: “Ought I to have denounced the count, my master and exposed him to death and infamy? If this silence is a fault, I do not hesitate to accept the responsibility of it, I have already written to the Doge and I repeat, that if the senate will send to Turin a person in whom they have confidence I will recite the whole story of the plot. I do not say this to beg pardon for what I have done, but to disprove unjust charges heaped upon my name.” These are the customary phrases of informers.

These papers show that Sacco was not involved in the condemnation of his accomplices. For the rest, we are not permitted to know what was the nature of his revelations, because the most important papers of this trial are wanting. We believe, however, that some mutilated documents refer to this matter. We learn from them that a certain Filippo di Graveggia carried letters under the saddle of a mule to Parma, Bologna and other cities.

Having restored order, the government informed its friends of the taking of Montobbio, especially Duke Cosimo whose aid had been so valuable to the besiegers. But there were ominous signs of discontent in all classes of the people in every part of the Republic. The government sent Tommaso Spinola and Antonio Doria to Henry II. to condole with him on the death of his father and congratulate him on his accession to the throne; but the more important part of their business was to spy out the movements of the Fieschi and to render them obnoxious at the court where the name was held in such high esteem.

The fortress of Montobbio shared the fate of the palace in Vialata. The government, in concert with Doria and Figueroa, decreed on the 11th of June that it should be levelled with the earth, “so that,” said the proclamation, “no evidence may remain that any fortification has ever existed there.” Even the brow of the mountain was ordered to be thrown into the valley so that no castle could ever be erected on the site. Whoever should attempt to build there was declared a rebel and his goods confiscated to the state.

Prince Doria assumed the charge of this demolition, but the expense was borne by the Republic. Giovanni Bozzo, podestà of Montobbio, reported on the 10th of August that Paolo di Mirandola had excavated three mines under the castle, one on the East side seventy-six palms in length with openings at the two sides; the second, on the South, ran twenty palms into the mountain from the bank of the stream, the third, on the West side where the principal battery had stood, penetrated a distance of ten palms. Mirandola, he reports, declared that the mines must be extended as the castle had the strength of steel. The explosion of these mines blew the whole work to the ground reducing it at once to a total ruin.

In our time even the face of nature is changed. Wild weeds grow on that slope where gardens once bloomed. The daffodils which breathe their perfume over the place are the only witnesses to ancient culture. A beautiful lake which lay at the foot of the castle has disappeared. It probably covered a spot to which tradition gives the name Lago della Signora.

CHAPTER XII.

PIER LUIGI FARNESE.

The ferocity and excesses of Andrea Doria—The benefits which he derived from the fall of the Fieschi—The Farnesi participated in Genoese conspiracies—Schemes of Andrea against the duke of Piacenza—Landi is instigated by Andrea to kill the duke—The assassination of Pierluigi—The assassins and the brief of Paul III.

The office of historian becomes a painful one when we are required to describe some of the actions of Andrea Doria, actions which throw a shade over his fame, and take away a part of his laurels from the greatest admiral of Italy. It is a work of simple devotion to truth to show that Andrea maintained the Spanish power in the Peninsula, and that he overstepped all bounds in his rage against the defeated Fieschi. Sismondi says that the prince in destroying his enemies to avenge Gianettino went to lengths of ferocity unworthy of a great man.

He had applied to himself that saying of Lorenzo di Medici: “While there are Gatti in Genoa the Republic will never have peace, and perhaps on this account found it easier to obtain Medicean aid in exterminating these Gatti.” At all events he gave himself no rest while the work of destruction remained incomplete. He embraced in his scheme of vengeance the Strozzi and their allies.

The activity of Andrea was wonderful. Wherever he had representatives, public or private, thither flew his messages and messengers. He neglected nothing at home or abroad. Politics, arms, arts, commerce—he had his eye on everything—on the exiles especially. Aided by Cosimo, he set an assassin named Bastiano da Finale to dodge the steps of Piero Strozzi who was marching to Siena. He employed seven assassins to murder Ottobuono, Scipione and Cornelio Fieschi. We learn from Venitian letters preserved in the Tuscan archives that one of these wretches accompanied by two companions went several times to Venice to assassinate the brothers of Gianluigi. This correspondence relates that this assassin was artfully banished from Genoa as a popular conspirator, as a means of giving him access to the Genoese exiles, though he was secretly recommended by Doria to the ambassador of the emperor. Doria would have better provided for his fame if, content with depriving the Fieschi of the means of revolution, he had declined the services of bravos and refused the price of blood so lavishly offered by the emperor.

After the capture of Montobbio, Doria, under orders from Cæsar invested the Republic (February 29th, 1548) with the feuds of that place, of Varese and Roccatagliata. Cristoforo Lercaro had already occupied the last in the name of Genoa. The cession was made to appear as a gift, though the Republic already possessed the right of eminent domain over Roccatagliata and the valley of Neirone. The governor of Milan held fast to Pontremoli, in order, as Doria advised, to keep that strong post then the key of the Lombard provinces, in imperial hands. Gonzaga also occupied Loano, Carrega, Grondona, Borbagia, San Stefano d’Aveto, Calice, Veppo and other castles, a part of which Charles (June 19th 1548) gave in feud to various partisans of the empire. This was not imperial munificence, but king-craft and a device to strengthen the Spanish power in Liguria. Andrea obtained some wealthy feuds, among them Torriglia, (which was erected into a marquisate) Carrega, Garbagna, Grondona and ten other castles. San Stefano d’Aveto was ceded to Antonio Doria who was hiring four galleys to the empire. Ettore Fieschi, of the Savignone branch, received some feuds as a reward for not having shared in the conspiracy of his relatives. The castle of Castelano was ceded to the Duke of Parma. Agostino Landi retained the burgh of Valditaro. This Landi had promised to assassinate Pierluigi Farnese whom Doria had condemned to death for his secret intrigues with Gianluigi. It is worth our while to clear up the history of this part of Andrea’s vengeance.

The cities of Parma and Piacenza, having been detached from the duchy of Milan and put into the hands of the Holy See, were ceded by Paul III. to his natural son Pier Luigi Farnese who had been legitimated in 1501 by Julius II. To secure his son in this new duchy, the Pope supported Charles in the German war and in his expedition to Tunis, where, aided by Doria the emperor restored the inhuman Muley-Hassan to the throne which he mounted by the assassination of his twenty-two brothers. The alliance of Farnese with the empire was cemented by the marriage of Pierluigi’s son, Ottavio, with Margaret a natural daughter of Cæsar and widow of Alessandro de Medici. Francis Sforza died and the duchy of Milan reverted to the empire giving rise to a war with France. The Pope thought to gain profit for Pier Luigi out of this contest for the duchy by securing him the investiture, and Cæsar, at the conference of Busseto, promised to grant the pontiff’s request. The emperor did not keep his pledge and the Pope began to abandon the imperial cause. He reproached Charles with the fact that certain prelates devoted to the empire had proposed in the council of Trent innovations on the rights of the Papal See, and expressed his discontent with the mild, treatment of the partisans of Luther in Germany. He went further and began to intrigue, in 1547, for a league with France against Charles.

Francis I. at the moment when he was most zealously engaged in uniting England, Germany and Italy against Spain was stricken by death at Rambouillet after a twenty years’ conflict with the increasing power of Charles Fifth. The emperor now saw himself without a rival and hastened to take advantage of the occasion. He renewed hostilities against the Duke of Saxony, though his army had been thinned by the withdrawal of the Papal troops. It is not our purpose to recount the story of this Germanic war. Charles conducted it to a successful termination because the affairs of Italy no longer distracted his attention. But his victories over the league of Smacalda increased the suspicions and fears of Paul III. who saw that if Charles was successful in Germany he would be master at the council of Trent. It was no secret that the emperor designed to take that occasion for avenging himself on the Pope for sympathy with the Fieschi and France. The Roman court was too jealous of its prerogatives not to be alarmed at the prospect of having its power limited by an ambitious monarch favourably disposed towards the policy of the German reformers. It was thought necessary to remove the seat of the council to some city nearer to Rome and more under Papal influence, where Charles could not intrigue nor display his arms with so much effect.

Fortune favoured the Pope. Some of the assembled prelates fell sick and the physicians, especially Fracastoro who was employed by Rome for the business, reported that a fierce contagion had broken out in the city. Many of the prelates abandoned Trent in great haste and the council was removed to Bologna. The cardinals and bishops of the imperial faction remained in Trent by express order of Charles. The remainder, thirty-four in number, accompanied the Papal legates. There were mutual recriminations and the very council assembled to destroy scism was menaced with a scism in its own bosom.

Cæsar made angry appeals and intrigued adroitly to secure the reassembling of the Synod in Trent. The Pope refused, and Charles avenged himself by that decree of Interim, in which he declared that until the council should be reconvoked in Trent every one was at liberty to think as he pleased in matters of religion. The decree occasioned great scandal in the church.

“It was believed,” says Varchi, “that the emperor wished to restore the Papacy to the simplicity and poverty of times when prelates did not meddle with temporal government but contented themselves with their spiritual functions. The gross abuses and vile practices of the Roman court had awakened in many an ardent desire for such a reform.” This gave bitterness to the enmity between the Pope and Charles. The pontiff directed his hostilities especially against the two imperial ministers in Italy, Anotonio Leyva and Andrea Doria. On the death of the first, the whole weight of Papal displeasure fell on the head of the latter, who earlier in life had received from Rome a consecrated sword and hat for his victories over the Turks. We have elsewhere shown how the opposition of Doria to the growth of the Farnese family and his other acts hostile to Paul III. had led the latter to favour the Fieschi conspiracy against Doria and Spain. Some deny that Paul favoured the conspirators and adduced the testimony of Don Appollonio Filareto, secretary to Pier Luigi Farnese. This secretary, though confined for three years as a prisoner in Milan and put to torture, steadfastly denied that the French knew of the plans of Fieschi. But this is contradicted both by the current opinion of that time and by authentic and credible documents extant. Charles was so certain of the complicity of the Pope with Fieschi, that when Paul sent Camillo Orsino to Madrid to complain to the emperor of the murder of his son Pier Luigi and ask the restitution of Piacenza to the Apostolic See, he boldly charged the pontiff with this crime.

As soon as Andrea learned through the ministers of Cæsar that Paul had been concerned in the Fieschi movement, and that Pier Luigi had given material aid to Gianluigi he was inflamed with an ardent desire to punish old and new treacheries by a signal act of vengeance. From that hour, Farnese was condemned to the fate of the Fieschi. Moreover, in gratifying his own passion for revenge, Andrea was furthering the schemes of Charles. He launched himself into the matter with the ardour of youth.

The news that Charles was suffering from a mortal sickness filled Doria with apprehension of wide-spread conspiracy against Spain in case of the emperor’s death. Pier Luigi, in fact, as soon as he received the same intelligence, began to raise troops, fortify castles and enlist able commanders among whom were Bartolomeo Villachiara, Sforza Santa Fiore, Sforza Pallavicino and Alessandro Tommasoni da Terni. He collected arms everywhere. We find in old documents that he bought at one time four thousand arquebuses, for a gold crown each, from the celebrated Venturino del Chino, armourer of Gordone in Valtrompia. Bonfadio tells us that these military preparations awakened grave suspicions in the neighbouring cities of the empire who feared that these arms were to be used against themselves. The fear of revolution was widely diffused. Doria could not be an idle witness of this drawing of swords in places so near, especially after the share of Farnese in the Fieschi plot. He had then two motives for prompt action; to secure the safety of the empire and to avenge the blood of Gianettino.

Pier Luigi has been traduced by the malice of writers in the Spanish interest. It is true that Cellini declares him avaricious, and many historians affirm that he was intemperate and a votary of licentious pleasures. Even Aretino admonished him to husband more carefully the strength of his manhood. But the fable of Varchi that he ravished Cosimo Gheri, bishop of Fano, though repeated in our days has no longer any supporters. It is now beyond question that the story began with Pier Paolo Vergerio, a malignant slanderer of Farnese. The slander was refuted at the time by Bishop Della Casa in the time of Vergerio, and later by Ammiani, Poggiali, Morandi, Cardinal Quirino and Apostolo Zeno, not to mention many others. Pier Luigi was great by rank and by nature. He restrained the arrogance of his nobles and had studied much to elevate his people to an equality with their lords. He was supported in these plans by the distinguished literary men who served as his secretaries; Claudio Tolomei, Giovanni Battista Pico, David Spilimbergo, Gandolfo Porrino, Giovanni Paccini, Gottifredi, Rainerio, Zuccardi, Tebalducci, Apollonio and Caro. The last after the death of his master was pursued by assassins and with great difficulty saved his life by fleeing into the province of Cremona.

This open friendship of Farnese for the people, at a time when the lords were everywhere practising great severity, added to the hatred of the imperial agents and whetted their desire for vengeance. There was still another cause of quarrel. The port of the Po at Piacenza had been ceded by Paul III. to the divine Bonarotti (taking away certain rights upon it from the Pusterla and Trivulzio) and Bonarotti had rented it to Francesco Durante, and the nobles taking the sides of the defrauded parties resolved to wreak their vengeance on the pontiff’s son. A conspiracy was formed at the head of which were Giovanni Anguissola, Camillo and Gerolamo Pallavicini and Giovanni Confaloniere. But the soul of the plot was count Agostino Landi, the same person who informed the government at Lucca of the conspiracy of Pietro Fatinelli, and thus betrayed him to death.

Andrea opened his heart to Landi and showed him the golden promises of Cæsar. Casoni relates this and he founded it upon irrefragible proofs which he had in his hands. He adds that the prince pledged to Landi the hand of the sister of Gianettino for his son with a wealthy dowry. This marriage afterwards took place. It was important that, after the assassination of the duke, the duchy of Piacenza should revert to the empire, and to secure this result Doria intrigued with Gerolamo Pallavicino, Marquis of Cortemaggiore and Busseto, whose mother and wife had been held in captivity by Farnese and who was therefore anxious to punish the affront. The conspirators in Piacenza at first really intended to establish a popular government; but Doria adroitly induced them to communicate with Gonzaga. It was not difficult then to secure the subjection of Piacenza to the empire.

A warm animosity burned between Gonzaga and the duke on account of the priorship of Barletta which Gonzaga had obtained for his son to the exclusion of Horace Farnese. Gonzaga made many attempts upon the life of Pier Luigi. Annibal Caro, who in July, 1547 was sent by the latter to Milan informed his master of these plots; but the duke had no presentiment of his imminent peril. The efforts of Gonzaga, however, all failed, and with the knowledge of Charles, he sent captain Federico Gazzino to order the conspirators to proceed with their work.

On the tenth of December 1547 Giovanni Anguissola went to the castle which Farnese had erected to command the city and demanded instant speech of the duke on matters of pressing urgency. Having entered, Anguissola and his friend Giovanni Valentino threw themselves upon the duke and killed him with stabs in his face and breast. On leaving the apartment, the assassin killed a priest and a servant who were rushing in to ascertain the occasion of the duke’s cries, struck down a German lancer who threw himself before him and ran to rejoin his fellow conspirators, who, led by Confaloniere immediately overpowered the garrison of the citadel. Others, headed by Landi and the Pallavicini brothers, attacked and soon captured the castle with but little loss of life. Some mercenaries fleeing from the citadel spread a report that the Spaniards had attacked the castle; and the plebians, to whom the very name Spaniards was odious, rose in arms, gathered around Tommasoni da Terni, captain of the city militia, and marched to the citadel to recover it by storm.

The battle could not have been long or doubtful; for only thirty-seven conspirators were in possession of the fortress. But they invented an expedient which served them in the stead of force. They hung the corpse of the duke to the wall and afterwards threw it into the moat. The sight destroyed the hopes of the people. The conspirators found means to increase the number of their adherents and to occupy the city. Captain Ruschino arrived before the gates, according to a previous understanding, at the head of a considerable body of infantry and shortly after the castellan of Cremona arrived with reinforcements. These were followed by Gonzaga himself who took possession in the name of Cæsar. The vengeance of Doria was complete.

The Venitians were greatly grieved by these events; indeed, all the governments in Italy which were unfriendly to the Spanish power were alarmed at its success. The nobles of Piacenza regretted too late that they had changed masters without gaining their liberties. Gonzaga had promised to destroy the citadel, but he increased its strength and it remained for three centuries.

Piacenza was never restored to the Farnese in spite of that spirited discourse which Casa wrote to Cæsar and which we find in his works. The Pope in full concistory asked an account from the emperor of the assassination of his son and the seizure of Piacenza, and demanded the punishment of Gonzaga. But the emperor pleased with his success, paid no attention either to the threats of the Pope or the appeals of his son-in-law and Margaret. Gonzaga was not even content with Piacenza but attempted to grasp Parma also. He moved an army against it, but the valour of Camillo Orsino rendered his efforts fruitless. To secure his grandson against Spanish treachery, Paul kept him near his own person in Rome, until Ottavio, weary of living in privacy put himself into the power of the ministers of Charles and returned to Parma. The old pontiff, pricked to the heart by the death of his son and the fruitlessness of his appeals to other governments against Spain, soon ended his days in bitterness and sorrow (1549).

Though the assassins of Farnese obtained rewards from the emperor they were long the objects of atrocious persecutions from Rome. Anguissola was created governor of Como; but he sought refuge from many assassins who dodged his steps in the Pliniana villa which he had constructed. Beleseur, French ambassador, having encountered him in the Grisons tried to pierce him in the very palace of the bishop with the dagger of papal vengance. A certain Rinaldo Rondinello, of the mountains of Cesena, long followed him in the mantle of a friar; and when this assassin was punished, many others rose up to take his place, until Anguissola seeing himself the object of universal scorn and the mark of every stiletto terminated his miserable life in sorrow and remorse. Gerolamo Pallavicini who with his brother Alessando and others was an accomplice in that crime was making the campaign in Flanders in 1552, in company with his relatives. Eight masked men one day assailed him, killed all his relatives and left him stretched upon the earth with five severe wounds. However, he recovered and retired to his castle of Castiglione di Lodi, which he had obtained from the Fieschi. He made a vow to marry the first woman whom he should meet. Fate was propitious and Gerolamina Virotelli, the daughter of a mountaineer and a woman of more than womanly prudence, made the evening of his life cheerful. Count Landi died in remorse and bequeathed a rich legacy to the heir of the murdered Farnese Gonzaga, too, died miserably. Some assassins, Corsican soldiers of Ottavio Farnese, several times attempted to kill him; but it was reserved for the Genoese to avenge on him the death of the Fieschi and Farnese, and his other crimes. Tommaso Marini and Ottobuono Giustiniani obtained a decree from Charles, that Gonzaga be subjected to an examination for the robberies with which he was charged. The emperor acquitted him, but removed him from the governorship of Milan and the disgrace so wounded him that he died of his grief.

These acts of vengeance were followed by others of a fierce character. In these, Andrea Doria was the instructor. At the death of Pier Luigi nothing remained for him but to punish the Pope for his complicity with the Count of Lavagna; but the elevation of Paul and the sanctity of his office put him out of the reach of personal violence. Other arms than daggers must be employed, and fortune put them into the hands of Doria. We must here premise that after the death of Gianluigi, the Pope, to suppress the rumour that he was accessory to the conspiracy, sent Andrea a brief, condoling with him for the death of Gianettino. The fierce Genoese, who well knew the arts of Roman wolves, swallowed his resentiment and was silent until the time arrived to settle his account with the successor of St. Peter. As soon as he learned through Cristoforo Lercaro Di Salvo, captain of Chiavari, that Pier Luigi was dead, he took that same brief, changed only the names and sent it back to the author as his letter of condolence for the death of the pontiff’s son. The injury was great; but the punishment was terrible.

These punishments and assassinations did not restore order and confidence. The blood which had been spilled fertilized the soil for a new harvest of disaster and suffering.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE NOBLES AND THE PLEBEIANS.

Intrigues of Figuerroa and the nobility—The law of Garibetto—New efforts of Spain to give Genoa the character of a Duchy—The firmness of the senate and Andrea foils the scheme of Don Filippo—The reception of the Spaniards by Doria and by the people—Sad story of a daughter of the Calvi—Don Bernardino Mendozza and his relations with Prince Doria—Baneful influence of the Spanish occupation.

Charles V. had long cherished the design of rendering the entire Peninsula subject to his authority. He was master of the Sicilies and the Milanese and controlled Tuscany through the servility of Cosimo; and if he were able to complete the conquest of Genoa, it would be easy to expel the French army from Piedmont where Henry II. was preparing to renew the war in Italy. It is true that the emperor through the senate and Doria actually directed Genoese affairs; but dependence on the will and favour of individuals did not seem to Charles either a dignified or durable means of power. The conspiracy of Fieschi had been crushed; but it had left discontents behind it and a new outbreak was possible at every hour. Besides, Charles thirsted to be complete master of a city which was in his view, and in fact, the connecting link between the kingdoms of Spain and his Lombard provinces.

Figuerroa, knowing the wishes of his master, opened his views to the old nobles who were his intimates and drew them over to his wishes. He terrified them by setting forth the prospect of new conspiracies and the popular affection for Gianluigi which was still strong in the city. He told them that Andrea was too decrepit to combat these approaching perils and that prudence counselled adequate provisions to suppress revolt. Figuerroa found in the minds of the old nobles, morbidly sensitive to the least breath of popular commotion, complacent acquiescence, and he induced some of the faction of San Luca to address a petition to the emperor in Germany, in which they exaggerated the Fieschi movement, showed the uncertain faith of many of the Italian princes and the danger of general revolt and concluded by requesting that the security of Genoa be provided for by a Spanish garrison and a more stable form of government.

The emperor answered the appeal by sending Nicolò Perenoto, lord of Granveille and imperial councillor, with some engineers, to construct a fortress on the hill of Pietra Minuta as a rein on the Genoese populace. This fortification garrisoned by a strong Spanish force would have secured the imperial power and stifled all attempts at revolution. But Andrea, who wished to rule Genoa himself, vehemently opposed the erection of a fortress to be occupied by imperial troops. The prince desired to be the sole imperial representative in Genoa and to keep the Spanish crown in a state of dependence upon his loyalty. He therefore resisted the innovation with all his power, and boldly told Granveille that he must lay aside the project. When the imperial minister informed him of the petition sent by the Genoese nobility to the emperor, the old man called to him the persons chiefly concerned in that business, reproached them spiritedly for the weakness they had shown in falling into an imperial trap, and induced them to recant their approval of this scheme of national humiliation.

But Granveille still hoped to win Doria’s consent to the wishes of the emperor, and he frequently sent his engineers to Pietra Minuta for the purpose of defining the position of the new citadel. The people saw these surveys, and they one day broke into tumult, rushed to the place and would have killed Granveille and his engineers if the senate had not forseen the danger and stationed troops so as to prevent access to the hill. The emperor was now convinced that he could only carry out his plans by an open war both with Andrea and the people; and he therefore wrote to the prince that he would renounce a project which seemed so distasteful to his admiral.

Doria on his side pledged himself to reform the government and give it such a direction as to put it out of the power of a few persons to reëstablish the popular constitution. He accordingly instituted the provision called Garibetto which entirely excluded popular families from political power and gave rise to many civil disorders and finally to intestine war. It completed the alienation of the masses from the nobility and destroyed the vital force of the Republic. But the plebeians, the more they were depressed, burned the more for liberty. The spirit of revolution sometimes slumbered but was never entirely extinguished. The opposition of Doria and the threatening attitude of the populace deterred the Spaniards and the greater part of the old nobles from carrying out their scheme of building a fortress to overawe the people. But though Charles bent to the will of our people in that project, he secured through the prince a more oligarchic form of government and removed the new nobles from power. This success and the increasing subservience of Doria inspired Charles with new hope that he might get Genoa entirely in his power as a first step to the complete control of the Peninsula. He renewed his efforts with more shrewdness and contrived a scheme for taking the populace by surprise and lulling to sleep the vigilance of the old admiral.

A conference was held in Piacenza by the Duke of Alba, Gonzaga, an envoy of Cosimo, and Tomaso de’ Marini a Genoese knight. It was agreed that when Doria had sailed to Spain, to escort the Archduke Maximilian, Gonzaga should enter the city with a large body of imperial troops and Cosimo should support the movement with some regiments of infantry. The pretext for this military concentration was afforded by the fact that the Prince Don Phillip, called into Germany by his father, would return with Doria to Genoa and Cosimo and Gonzaga would go thither to pay him homage.

Having made these arrangements, the Duke of Alba sailed with Doria for Spain (July, 1548) in order to prepare other parts of the conspiracy. But the Genoese fortunately received information of the plot. The Pope, who, since the death of his son, distrusted the emperor more than ever, having heard of the conference in Piacenza, instructed Carlo Orsino, governor of Piacenza, to ascertain what had been done by the conspirators. Orsino laboured so well that he penetrated the mystery. Some incautious words of Gonzaga put him on the scent of the movement and enabled him to inform the Pope of the nature of the emperor’s plans. Paul communicated this intelligence to Leonardo Strata, a Genoese noble living in Rome, and Strata immediately wrote to the senate. The scheme was so bold and unexpected that the senators were at first disposed to distrust the report. But their doubts were soon removed. Gonzaga soon after sent a messenger to notify the government that Don Phillip would soon arrive in Genoa, and to ask quarters in the city for two thousand cavalry and as many arquebusiers. At the same time, Cosimo wrote asking permission to pay homage to the prince in Genoa and to bring as an escort, to protect him against the plots of Genoese exiles, two regiments of cavalry and two of infantry. Andrea also wrote from Rosas (October 19th, 1548) a letter to the Doge, which, as an eloquent proof of his servility to Spain, we give entire:—

“I send with this galley Don Michele de Velasco and with him three quarter-masters whom His Highness the prince desires to have forwarded in advance of himself, for reasons which you will more fully learn from his ambassador, Figuerroa. Their mission as you will learn is to prepare lodgings for this court. It seems expedient for me to write you these few words, as a citizen, praying you to give me pleasure by issuing orders that these quarter-masters be allowed to accompany Don Michele, and assigning them without delay all the lodgings which may be necessary.

“Receive them with such marks of esteem as you are accustomed to give when the honour of princes and the glory of the city are concerned, in order that His Majesty and this Illustrious Prince, his son, may know that, not only in this, but in matters of much greater moment, you are delighted to render him service. For, besides the general repute which your excellencies will gain by such a course of conduct, the favour of His Majesty and His Highness will be much greater towards you, and their love for the Republic will be increased so that they will the more cheerfully aid her in the hour of need, as hitherto. Your Excellencies should remember that we have no other light or support but the great goodness of His Majesty which permits us to live within his kingdoms without any sense of subjection, and that for this reason alone the whole city ought to do spontaneously whatever is required in these circumstances, and all the more that in these matters which require small sacrifices we shall gain large favour and induce His Majesty to grant us privileges of greater importance. I know well that our citizens will interpose obstacles as they are accustomed to do in such emergencies; but your Excellencies, knowing the convenience and importance of the matter, will strive to remove all difficulties, compel all to preserve order and obedience and punish whoever makes opposition in such a way as to render them a warning and example to all the rest. I have nothing more to add on this subject; for I am sure that you, as wise men, will carefully reflect on the duty we owe the emperor, and voluntarily and cheerfully give those orders that are required; the more that the stay of the prince will be only for a few days, and small as the favour will be, His Majesty will reckon it a great one and always remember your good will and that of the city towards Himself. His Highness will also be gratified for your prompt good service and all his suite will leave you greatly pleased by your hospitality. M. Domenico Doria, the bearer of this letter, will speak more fully of this concernment to your Excellencies, to whom I commend me with affectionate solicitude.”

These simultaneous requests removed the doubts of the senators. They showed an admirable firmness in refusing quarters for the soldiers of Gonzaga and Medici. Gonzaga renewed his request and the senate replied that if he appeared at the gates with more than twenty horses he would find them shut in his face. He came with three hundred infantry and two companies of cavalry, but he was obliged to quarter himself outside of the walls, in Sestri. Cosimo, seeing the firmness of the senate, relinquished the design of coming. But no one dared resist Doria, and his Spaniards were received in the city.

While these events were transpiring Don Phillip sailed out of Spain with a fleet of fifty-eight galleys, of which nineteen belonged to Prince Doria and six to Antonio Doria, two to the prince of Monaco and two to Visconte Cicala. There were forty other vessels of which six were Genoese. Don Phillip took passage on board the admiral’s galley, a vessel wonderful for her size, construction and equipment. The designs of the embellishments were made by Pierino del Vaga, and executed by Carota and Tasso, Florentine artists. The standards were painted by Vaga. The gilding, the satins and the rich brocades rendered the vessel a marvel of beauty. The young prince, astonished by this magnificence, was prodigal of honours and marks of affection to Andrea, hoping to captivate the old man and secure his coöperation in the plot against the Republic. As they neared our coasts, Phillip inquired of the admiral where he would be quartered in Genoa. The admiral responded that he hoped to have that honour for his palace in Fassiolo, where the emperor had been his guest. The young Prince showed dissatisfaction at the response and rejoined that he wished to reside in the Ducal palace. “That,” replied Andrea “Is not in my power. Your Highness may ask it of the senate, though I am of opinion that those who live there will not willingly evacuate it.” These frank words enraged Phillip, and his wrath was yet more inflamed immediately after by letters of Gonzaga which reported that their plan could not be put into execution. The young prince broke out into angry imprecations; but his preceptor, the Duke of Alba conjured him to conceal his displeasure lest the suspicions of the Genoese should be increased, and Phillip constrained himself to a complacent reception of the messengers of the Republic.

He landed at Savona and was entertained by Benedetta Spinola, a beautiful and courteous widow. After a brief stay he proceeded to Genoa. The princess Peretta received him in the Doria palace with the highest honour. The Doge and the senators, the Genoese cardinals Doria and Cybo, Lord Bishop Matera, envoy of the Pope, and the ministers of other nations went to pay him homage.

We shall not dwell on the sumptuous reception of Phillip by the nobility, or the splendour which Doria displayed with his open court and princely banquets for the Spanish barons. The luxury of the decorations, the richness of the furniture, the splendour of the carpets and service of every kind and the wealth sunk in the banquets of that palace were then the marvel of Italy. Don Phillip and his suite were filled with admiration by the magnificence of their reception.

The Genoese populace did not participate in these festivities. They could ill brook these servile attentions towards those who were conspiring, not merely to deprive them of political power, but to take away the independence of the Republic; and, looking on with ill-concealed rage, they were more than once on the brink of revolution. On the 3rd of December at midnight, the people rose at the cry of “Ammazza, Ammazza”—kill them, kill them—and rushed to attack fifty of the Bisogni who were in a tavern of the mole; and they would have despatched the Spaniards, if Colonel Spinola had not arrived on the ground with a strong body of infantry in time to quell the tumult. But the rage of the populace continued. Don Phillip had requested the city police to arrest a certain Don Antonio d’Arze, a Spaniard guilty of homicide. After the arrest, he sent eighty Spanish arquebusiers to conduct the criminal from the prison on board a galley. Near the Ducal palace, this body of Spaniards met the city guard. The Bisogni had their matches lit, and the guard, believing that the imperial troops came to assault the palace, prepared to make a desperate resistance, and in fact drove the Spaniards back by force. Many of the latter were wounded and some lost their lives. In a twinkling, the rumour ran that the Spaniards had attacked the Ducal palace; the people collected in crowds and would have put the Spaniards to the edge of the sword if the Doge and two governors of the palace had not mingled in the crowd and soothed the irritation. Prince Doria himself was carried in a palanquin through the most populous quarters, and besought the people to lay aside their hostile intentions. The populace was held in subjection by force and supplications; but the Spaniards lost no time in returning on board their ships, and Don Phillip departed dissimulating his animosity against the city.

We must here speak of an incident which occurred while Don Phillip was the guest of the city; though Bandello places it some years earlier.

In one of the many descents of the Turkish corsair upon the Riviera, they had captured a Genoese girl about ten years of age, belonging, says the chronicle, to the illustrious family of the Calvi. Being of remarkable beauty she was sold by the pirates at a high price to a merchant who carried her into Spain. Here she grew more beautiful with years and inspired a son of the Duke of Alba with an ardent passion which he found means to satisfy. When Don Phillip came into Italy, the young man was obliged to accompany the cortège; but not wishing to leave the young woman, he took her on board one of the vessels and brought her to Genoa. Annina had never forgotten her parents and her native city; and as soon as she landed, she induced her pages by rich presents to find her lodgings on the piazza Maruffi, near the palace of Stefano Fieschi and in the residence of the Calvi. Annina entered her father’s house with joy, and, seizing a moment when her lover was occupied with Don Phillip, she dismissed her domestics and revealed herself to her parents. The embracings, the tears, the transports of tenderness, cannot be described. But the noble girl broke off these demonstrations of affection. “It is time that I think of my liberation. Though loaded with ornaments, I have been hitherto only a slave, and I owe it to my dignity and my blood to atone in the shadow of the altar for my dishonourable though forced manner of life. Take me to a convent before my master learns that I belong to you, and put me in a cell where none may ever hear my name pronounced.” Her parents approved her choice and at once sent her to a monastery near the city, where she was received under another name. She had scarcely departed when the knight came to find his mistress, and, inquiring for her, he read in the silence of the pages that she had fled. He was at the first moment about to wreak his anger on these servants; but he restrained himself and demanded of the Calvi the restoration of the girl. An angry contention arose which raised a tumult in that part of the city. In a few moments the piazza was full of men of both nations. Among the first to enter the house of Calvi to succour the Genoese was Giovanni Lavagna, allied by blood to the Fieschi. He was one of the most reckless warriors of his time. Encountering the Spanish knight at the head of the staircase surrounded by armed men and threatening the bystanders, he demanded the cause of his discourteous manners. Alba replied:—

“It does not concern thee, white moor and traitor that thou art!”

Lavagna was not accustomed to receive abuse with patience, and he angrily retorted:—

“Moorish Jew, thou liest in the throat!” and drawing his sword, threw himself upon the Spaniard. The fight was of brief duration. Despite the assistance of his companions, the knight was pierced to the heart. The Spaniards descended into the piazza and came to blows with the populace, who killed some and put the others to flight. Lavagna fearing the vengeance of Phillip took refuge in the province of Piacenza.

Don Phillip did not relinquish the hope of reducing Genoa to the condition of a province, and he was encouraged by Gonzaga, Figuerroa and the Duke of Alba. The plan of the new fortress was again taken up. The partisans of Spain reasoned that the popular hostility to Spain constantly threatened the city with revolution and that so stubborn a people needed a strong rein. It was reasonable enough they said that Doria, when he was in the full vigour of life, should have opposed the erection of the citadel, but now when he was old and infirm almost to decrepitude he ought no longer to resist the will of Cæsar.

Charles sent to Genoa a certain Sigismondi Fransino with instructions to confer with Doria and Centurione and endeavour to gain their consent to the fortification. Some engineers also came secretly, for the purpose of selecting the most convenient site. They renounced the plan of fortifying Pietra Minuta and recommended that the fortress of Castelletto should be restored. Doria hearing of this new plan and wishing to finish once for all with these projects for the humiliation of Genoa, sent Adamo Centurione into Flanders to confer with Cæsar and convince him that there was imminent peril of losing the Republic altogether unless these schemes were renounced. Charles made the most formal pledges that he would put a stop to the intrigue and never again raise the question. The advice of Don Bernardino Mendozza probably had more weight with Charles than the remonstrances of Centurione. Mendozza was a man of infinite cunning and dexterity in politics. He pointed out to his sovereign the excessive devotion of the Genoese to the acquisition of wealth, and advised him to employ every artifice to get their money into the imperial treasury in the form of loans secured upon lands, privileges, feuds and jurisdictions in Sicily, Naples and Spain. “Thus,” said the adroit politician, “you will bind the Genoese to the fortunes of your kingdom by a voluntary chain; since when their riches are in your hands they will be naturally inclined to increase and maintain your power. This hold upon their affections will be worth more than any fortress.”

This shrewd advice was followed; every inducement was held out to the wealthy nobles to place their money in the hands of the emperor, with such securities and guarantees as would infallibly induce other citizens to follow the example and bind themselves with their fortunes to Spain. By this expedient Charles seemed to leave the Genoese their independence, but he really made them tributary to his crown, Phillip II. pursued this policy with even greater assiduity and it became hereditary in the Spanish princes. It was in fact for two centuries the political science by which the court of Spain regulated the affairs of Italy; and the people found themselves insensibly bound, without their own action, to the interests and policy of that crown. It must be said that some give a different version of the affair of the citadel. Writers of weight tell us that, even in this, Doria was subservient to Charles; but we cannot believe it possible. His steadfast resistance to that scheme is more consistent with the greatness and fame of the illustrious admiral; and, though he was a vehement partisan of the imperial cause, he could not have wished to become, like Cosimo, its slave. When the Medici gave up to imperial troops the fortresses of Florence and Leghorn, he found himself in the hands of a master, and never digested the retort of Venice, who refused to treat with him “because he was, in his own house, the servant of another man.”

We think the truth to be that when Doria saw the unanimity of the people in opposing the erection of a citadel, he wisely resolved to support his fellow-citizens, and the people are entitled to the chief praise for the failure of that scheme. They were not yet corrupted by the servility of the nobility, and might have renewed the examples of their ancient valour and prevented the foreign power from striking root in the Republic. They lost no opportunity of manifesting their profound dislike of Spain, as Doge Lercaro himself testifies. When Charles gave to Cosimo the government of Piombino, then in the hands of the Appiani, the Genoese rose up in arms and demanded of the senate that galleys be despatched to Elba to expel the Florentines and Spaniards. This time, too, it was Doria who held back the arms of the people.

It is easy to see that the new ties between Genoa and Spain were the principal occasion of our decline. Doria, by breaking the French alliance and persecuting the men of Barbary (instead of courting their alliance after the example of Venice) hastened our fall. Our commerce gradually declined. French and Barbary fleets roved over our seas and destroyed our marine. The city was put to great straits, and longed in vain for the only remedy for its maladies, the alliance of France to open up the commerce of the East. Fieschi, who had courted these benefits, was remembered the more sadly as disasters multiplied upon the Republic.

The government comprehended that some important and energetic measures must be taken to restore our fortunes; and, after mature reflection, the senate resolved to attempt the recovery of our Eastern trade. The only remnant of our extensive possessions in the Levant was the island of Scio, which was still held by the family of the Giustiniani. In 1558, Giovanni Di Franchi and Nicolò Grillo were sent to Constantinople, with eight vessels bearing costly presents for the Sultan and his principal ministers, to ask a renewal of trade and treaties of amity and commerce such as the Porte maintained with the Venitians.

The Porte was disposed to accept our trade and friendship, but the king of France raised objections which destroyed the hopes of Genoa. He showed the Porte that the Genoese were the fast allies of Spain, and could not remain neutral between Spaniards and Turks; that all the maritime enterprises of Charles to the damage of the Turks had been conducted with Genoese fleets; that Doria the greatest of the enemies of Turkey and the admiral of Spain, lived in Genoa and ruled it at his caprice; that, in fine, the Porte could not safely listen to the proposals of the Genoese unless they declared themselves enemies of Spain. These arguments changed the purpose of Soliman, and he sent the Ligurian ambassadors home without giving them audience. The Republic lost hope of reacquiring that commerce with the East which had once enabled it to triumph over Pisa and Venice.

Such were the consequences of our fatal bondage to the empire. The people, guided by infallible instincts, showed in this matter more wisdom than their rulers. If we had shaken off the imperial embraces, we might have obtained from the Turks all those privileges which the Venitians had acquired a few years before; nor should we have had rivals to contest our gains. The French were falling into civil commotions which turned their attention from commercial enterprises. The English seldom showed themselves in our seas. The Dutch had not yet thrown off the yoke at which they were fretting, and the Venitians soon after, becoming as inimical as the Spaniards to the Turkish power, were excluded from Eastern markets. The Levant, still rich in silk fabrics, might have been a fountain of vast wealth for Genoese merchants.

CHAPTER XIV.

PRINCE GIULIO CYBO.

The revolt of Naples—Andrea Doria subdues it—Plots of the exiles against his life—Giulio Cybo seizes the feud of Massa and Carrara—His schemes for revolutionizing the Republic—Conference of the Genoese exiles in Venice—Capture of Cybo—Doria labours to have the emperor condemn Giulio to death—Punishment of Cybo and his accomplices—Letter of Paul Spinola to the Genoese government—Scipione Fieschi and his disputes with the Republic—Maria della Rovere—Eleonora Fieschi; her second marriage and death.

Andrea Doria had finally extinguished in Genoa the popular conspiracies for liberty, and on the ruins of the Guelph Fieschi house had firmly planted the Spanish tyranny. Still, in every corner of the Peninsula, the people, not yet corrupted by the servility of the great, cherished the memory of better days, and scarcely concealed their antipathy to Spain. The sword of Doria—which is still sacriligiously suspended over the high altar of the church of San Matteo—was once more stained with the blood of the people.

Don Pietro di Toledo, a man of integrity, but haughty and devoted to Rome, was very solicitous to introduce the Spanish inquisition into Naples in order to wash out in blood the stains of heresy. Orchine da Siena, Lorenzo Romano, Montalcino and Vermiglio were preaching the doctrines of Luther and Zuingle and secretly diffusing the works of Melancthon and Erasmus. The people learned the intentions of Toledo, and rose almost to a man, protesting against inquisitors and martyrdoms. Their protests yielded no fruit and they seized their arms, deposed the foreign governors and created new magistrates, promising, however, to maintain their devotion to the empire. Toledo issued a proclamation that he would proceed to the trial and punishment of Tommaso Aniello of Sorrento and Cesare Mormile, who were reputed the leaders of the sedition. The two rebels came before the judges with such a mass of followers, that the court counted it better policy to honour rather than punish them. But the viceroy, determined to terrify Naples, barbarously butchered Gianluigi Capuano, Fabrizio d’Alessandro and Antonio Villamarino, and threatened capital punishment against any who should remove the bloody corpses.

This exasperated but did not awe the populace. They made common cause with the barons, sent deputies to the emperor and signed a truce with Toledo until the imperial answer should be known. The truce was worse than war. The Bisogni, who had taken refuge in the castles, not only destroyed the surrounding houses, but in their frequent sorties killed all who fell into their hands, and the populace retorted by killing the Spanish prisoners whom they had captured.

Toledo saw that he was too weak to make head against the enraged populace, who were already investing the forts and citadels held by his troops, and sent for Doria to deliver him from his embarrassment. Andrea was ill prepared for so grave an undertaking. His galleys were damaged and without crews; for besides the Barbary slaves who fled in that fatal night of the Fieschi, the convicts had first sacked the ships and then taken refuge in the Apennines. But the admiral entered on the project of aiding Toledo with unwonted zeal. He obtained money from Prince Centurione, enlisted new crews and officers, and soon had a fleet ready to sail. The galleys were sent off under his lieutenants Marco Centurione, son of Adamo, and Antonio Doria. Thanks to these ships of Doria, Toledo suppressed the revolt in Naples, took capital vengeance on the leaders and punished the people with heavy taxation. Yet it has been said that the emperor pardoned the rebels! History spoke falsehood. Still, this stormy protest of the people saved Naples from the inquisition. The masses well knew the real object of Toledo. He sought less to crush heresy than to exterminate the spirit of liberty.

The Neapolitans were a few years later silent witnesses of fierce religious persecution. The inquisition employed such zeal, that to mention Montalto alone, two thousand persons were butchered and nearly an equal number condemned to death in eleven days. Tradition says that the executioner cut them down in the streets, like so many goats. While, through the assistance of Doria, the Spanish power took firm root in Italy and crushed the spirit of popular liberty, (I hope that none will believe my respect for the truth dictated by antipathy towards the great admiral) not a few daring spirits still struggled to emancipate the nation and to destroy the prop on which the emperor leaned. The times were sanguinary; blood was washed out with blood. The partisans of Fieschi raging for vengeance often attempted to assassinate Andrea; and the obstacles in their way only increased their fury. In August, 1547, four men of Valditaro, to whom Galeotto of Mirandola added eight of his bandits, were sent to Genoa for the purpose of assassinating Doria while he should be coming out of his palace. It was intended that a conspiracy organized in the city should seize the moment for proclaiming a popular government and maintaining it by force of arms. Galeotto promised to lead the enterprise in person. He was a terrible man, and his partisans believed that no enterprise could miscarry which had at its head so practiced a conspirator and assassin. The histories relate of him that when the Count Gianfrancesco, a literary man of note, had been restored to the government of Mirandola by the officers of Julius II., Galeotto, in a night of October, 1533, scaled the fortress with forty companions, killed the count who was kneeling before the crucifix, his uncle and his son Alberto, and then shutting up the dependents of the count in the prison of the fortress took possession of the government of Mirandola. Charles V. condemned him to death for this horrid crime; but Galeotto defended himself alike against the arms and the treachery of Leyva, and finally surrendered the castle to Henry of France for a large compensation.

With such men, the conspiracy did not seem likely to fail of its principal object. However, the assassins could not find in Genoa safe hiding for studying the habits of Andrea. Besides, the cunning old man was on the alert for such plots, and never left his house except under a strong escort of his faithful dependents. The assassins found it necessary to save their own lives by a precipitate flight.

A second attempt at his assassination came to the knowledge of Doria. Cornelio Bentivoglio, aided by the exiles, especially the Fieschi, armed a galley with two hundred men and all necessary equipments, with the design of entering the port by night and attacking the palace of Doria. At the same time the exiles assisted by Pier Luigi Farnese were expected to attack the city on the East side. On this occasion, also, the leader had a reputation which promised success. Bentivoglio was an audacious and fierce young man, who, having been expelled from the government of Bologna by his father Costanzo, entered the military service of France and obtained considerable repute in the art of war. Perhaps the prince would have fallen under this conspiracy, if his own counterplot against the Duke of Piacenza had not broken up the plans of Bentivoglio.

But the Fieschi party did not lay down their arms or relinquish their hopes of vengeance. They enlisted Prince Giulio Cybo among others in their cause. This nobleman having taken up and continued the conspiracy of Fieschi, to whom he was allied, deserves a place in our history. The arms of Cybo and Fieschi were the same; the former used more unworthy means than the latter, but both ended their lives in misfortune consecrated by patriotism.

The family of the Cybo was of very ancient, perhaps of, Byzantine origin. They possessed in the tenth century islands and walled towns. In 1188, Ermes Cybo subscribed the treaty of peace between the Pisans and Ligurians. We find in old manuscripts that, in 1261, they had palaces in the via del Campo. A Guglielmo Cybo, who died in 1311, built the magnificent church of St. Francis in Casteletto and there was erected the marble sepulchre of himself and his family. This Guglielmo rendered important services to the Republic for which he obtained the privilege of adding to his arms the device of the Republic.[49] The family produced many other distinguished men, among whom may be mentioned Innocent VIII. In his youth, this pontiff became the father of a son named Francesco who was governor of Rome during the pontificate of Innocent and married Maddalena de’ Medici sister of Leo X. In the year 1500, Lorenzo Cybo was born of this marriage in St. Pierdarena, a suburb of Genoa. Lorenzo devoted himself to arms, and in the Milan war, carried the fortress of Monza by assault. The cardinal Innocent Cybo, his elder brother, ceded him the county of Ferentillo and he also governed Vetralla, Giano and Montegiove. Desirous of enlarging his estates, he married Ricciarda daughter and heiress of Alberico Malaspina, Marquis of Massa and Carrara and widow of Count Scipione Fieschi who died in 1520.

Ricciarda bore Lorenzo several children, one of whom was Eleonora wife of Gianluigi Fieschi. There were besides, Isabella, who married Vitaliano Visconti Borromeo, Giulio and Alberico. Giulio, whose career we shall briefly recount, was born in Rome in 1525, and was educated in the court of Charles V. where the beauty of his person and the sprightliness of his intellect acquired him the admiration of the Spanish courtiers.

The mother of Giulio, who was in possession of Massa and Carrara, formed the resolution of transferring the feud to the younger brother, Alberico. Giulio went to Rome and in vain employed entreaty and threats to change her purpose. He then resolved to take by force of arms a property which he believed his own. In 1545, when Ricciarda and Cardinal Cybo were in Carrara, he attacked the castle of that place at the head of fifty men and endeavoured to capture his mother. She fled into the tower and foiled his design. She punished with severity some vassals who had aided Giulio, and returned to Rome where she ceded the feud to Alberico. This increased the exasperation of Giulio who renewed his hostile purposes with greater energy. Cosimo furnished him some peasant bands of Pietrasanta, and Gianettino Doria supported him with his fleet. In September, 1546, the disinherited count appeared before Massa with one thousand infantry and one hundred cavalry. His partisans in the town, especially the brothers Moretto and Bernardino Venturini, seized the gate of St. Giacomo and opened it to Giulio, who was recognized by the people as their rightful master. The fortress was still held by Pietro Gassani; but Gianettino Doria arrived with his galleys, landed artillery and forced him to surrender to Paolo di Castello. The fortresses of Moneta and Lavenza were also given up to the partisans of Giulio, who, grateful for the assistance of Gianettino, espoused his sister Peretta. But his reign was of short duration. Ricciarda appealed to Charles V., who ordered Gonzaga to have the fortress consigned to Cardinal Cybo. Giulio refused, Cosimo turned against him, captured him at Agnano, and the young count did not obtain his liberty until he had ceded the castle (8th March, 1547) which was occupied by Spanish troops until Ricciarda returned to it two years later.

It is probable that Giulio had at this time some intrigues with the French court. The emperor had declared against him, and he was desirous of obtaining the support of France by ceding the fortress of Massa. The partisans of Spain were alarmed at the prospect of having a French garrison so near to Genoa, and Andrea Doria assisted in forcing Giulio to relinquish his hold on his father’s domains.

The young count, full of bitterness for the treatment he had received, went to Gonzaga in Piacenza (the latter was called to Piacenza by the assassination of Pier Luigi Farnese) and remonstrated against being deprived of his inheritance. He received no encouragement from Spain, who refused to restore the Castle of Massa, and went to Parma and conferred with Ottavio Farnese who was also soured against the imperial agents for old and new acts of hostility. He then returned to Rome and negotiated with his mother, who agreed to recognize him as Lord of Massa and Carrara for forty thousand gold crowns of the sun. He borrowed twenty thousand gold crowns upon interest, and pledged the twenty thousand crowns of the dower of Peretta for the rest. He applied to Andrea Doria for the dower of his wife; but the prince, having suspicions of Giulio’s complicity with Fieschi, refused to pay over the money and neither personal entreaty nor the influence of friends could induce the prince to satisfy the just demands of Giulio and Peretta. He alleged that the damages he had suffered in the Fieschi sedition had rendered it impossible for him to pay so considerable a sum, and wished to charge Giulio with the expenses of Gianettino’s expedition of Massa.

The chronicle of Venturini, which we consult, disproves the statements of those who wrote history without the aid of documents, and renders it clear that Andrea debited Cybo with all the expenses incurred while the galleys lay on the coast of Massa, of which he had preserved a minute account rather as a merchant and usurer than as a Prince.

Cybo was thus deprived of the means of satisfying his mother and recovering his paternal inheritance; and he conspired with the king of France, Duke Ottavio and Signor Mortier to deal a great blow against the Spanish power, beginningwith Genoa where the Dorias constituted the prop of Spain. He held many consultations with the Cardinal of Belais, the exiles Cornelio Fieschi, Paolo Spinola and others. The confederates fixed on the following plan:—The movement should be begun in Genoa where the Fieschi had warm friends and the Spaniards were detested. Ottobuono Fieschi, who though living in Venice had devoted dependents, should furnish five hundred infantry and Spinola should introduce into the city and conceal in his house one hundred men of the valleys; Giulio would send from Massa upon barks a body of men ostensibly to be enrolled at Milan in the imperial regiment which he commanded. They believed that Doria would have no suspicion on account of the close alliance of Cybo with his family, and that all obstacles would be easily overcome. Some persons were placed by intrigue in the service of Andrea and Centurione, with instructions to assassinate them at a preconcerted signal. It was believed that the death of those two and a few other partisans of Spain would open an easy path to the overthrow of the imperial power in Genoa.

Venice was at that period the asylum of all those patriots whom domestic and foreign tyranny had driven into exile. In the shadow of the lion of St. Mark, Donato Gianotti wrote his weighty prose and that wonderful discourse to Paul III. of which we have spoken. There lived Carnesecchi, Gino Capponi, Vico de’ Nobili, the Strozzi, Varchi, the good Nardi and Lorenzino de’ Medici. The latter meditated there that defence of his which has no comparison in our literature. Bartolomeo Cavalcanti, a man of great talents and eloquence, disgusted with the government of Cosimo, had voluntarily joined the exiles. There were also many Genoese who had been expelled from home for complicity with party broils. Thither went Cybo, Gaspare Venturini, Paolo Spinola and captain Alessandro Tomasi of Siena, captain Paolo da Castiglione, who was to have been of the party, pretended to be ill at the moment of setting out and remained in Rome to betray the conspirators to the ministers of Spain.

On Christmas Eve, Cybo collected his partisans in the house of Gaspare Fiesco-Botto. There were present besides the exiles already mentioned, the Fieschi brothers, Ottaviano Zino and Count Galeotto di Mirandola. Cybo spoke warmly of the revolution which he was planning. He declared that he wished to free the country from the yoke of Spain and restore to its bosom the virtuous exiles whom he saw around him, whose only crime was an ardent love of country. He desired to continue the revolution begun by his unfortunate friend and relative the Count Gianluigi, and to avenge his untimely fate. Fortune had crushed that rising too soon to permit him to reënforce Fieschi with the troops he had collected at Borghetto and ordered to move on Genoa. He had afterwards pretended to support the Doria party only from motives of convenience. But he would now throw aside the mask and proclaim them to be traitors who had bound the Republic and delivered her to the Spanish tyranny. Everything promised success to the new rising; the arms were collected, all hearts burning for action and the Dorias unprepared to encounter the popular storm. Cæsar himself was in no condition to resist the sudden uprising of an indignant people, leagued to sweep Italy clean of his barbarian hordes. The exiles were greatly moved by these bold words, and swore to participate in the struggle for emancipation. But Cosimo was watching Giulio; and Gonzaga and Doria, to whom Castiglione had revealed everything, had their eyes on all the conspirators. The informer paid dearly for his treachery. Venturini tells us that he himself (perhaps with the connivance of Prince Alberico) killed the traitor with his own hand.

The conspirators, true to their promises, abandoned hospitable Venice and went to the posts assigned them by Cybo. Ottaviano Zino returned to Genoa, and, while studying to seem idle, laboured incessantly to prepare the populace for revolt. Paolo Spinola was sent to Garfagnana, once subject to the Fieschi, where he hoped to find ardent partisans. Others on similar missions travelled to other places. Cybo, who had supreme command, obtained through the aid of Montachino a dependent of Scipione Fieschi, three thousand gold crowns. The French agents gave him countersigns for the Governor of Mondovi, Candele, who was instructed to support the movement with two thousand infantry. He then travelled through Ferrara and Parma to Pontremoli. The governor of that feud, Pietro Dureta, encountered him at the ford of the Magra and attacked him. Cybo drew his sword and raised the cry of Gatto hoping to raise the vassals of Fieschi; but he was struck in the head by a halberd, received a wound in his right hand and fell lifeless to the ground. He was sent to Milan under a strong guard and Nicolò Secco was appointed to prepare the process against him. The letters of the Fieschi which were found on his person left no room to doubt his guilt. Some tell us that he was several times tortured and confessed that Farnese, Maffei, Ghisa and the Pope himself were accomplices in the plot, and that the Fieschi and Farnese were its instigators. The emperor did not wish to execute Cybo; and we find evidence in documents of the period that even the bloodthirsty Gonzaga made every exertion to save him. On the other hand Graneville and Doria laboured with all their power to secure his punishment. In fact, so soon as Doria heard of this plot, committed rather in intention than act and excusable by the youth of the conspirator, “the prince (I use the words of Porzio) inflamed to wrath by the offence and full of vengeful animosity, disregarded the double tie which bound him to the young man, and made incessant appeals to Cæsar for the blood of his relative.”

Many Italian and foreign princes asked grace for the prisoner, and the emperor was at first undecided; but severity triumphed over mercy—Doria desired vengeance and he obtained it. The victim met his fate with manly intrepidity. He was beheaded and his body exposed between two wax candles in the public square. Nearly all the historians are in error regarding the time of his execution. The chronicle of Venturini declares that it occurred on the 18th of May, 1548. He was scarcely twenty years of age. Porzio says:—“His courage and military capacity inspired all who knew him with the conviction that, if he had not perished in boyhood, he would have become one of the first captains of his age. He made a single mistake: that of endeavouring to expel one foreigner with another—to drive out the Spaniards in order to establish the French in Italy.”

Zino was not more fortunate in Genoa. His friends urged him to flee from the city; but he, wrapped in false security, refused to follow their advice. He was arrested and his mangled limbs were found one morning on the piazza of the Ducal palace. Other accomplices lost their property by confiscation or fell in other countries under the dagger of assassins employed by Doria, to whom none could deny the right of inflicting punishment at his own pleasure. He made free use of this privilege of his position. It is certain that he was implicated in the assassination of Luciano Grimaldi, Lord of Monaco, whom Bartolomeo Doria Marquis of Dolceacqua killed with thirty-two stabs. Andrea bequeathed this form of justice to his successor. So far as we know, no one has ever been able to explain why Giovanni Andrea Doria imprisoned his secretary Antonio Ricciardi da Loano, whom Spotorno calls one of the brightest intellects of Liguria. The unhappy victim after being buried for a long time in a dungeon, without being able to soothe his angry master or ever learn the cause of his punishment, became desperate and committed suicide by dashing out his brains against the walls of his cell.

We do not know the fate of Paolo Spinola who was declared a rebel and fled to Venice. There is in the Genoese archives a letter from him written the 6th of April, 1548 to the Genoese government. It paints in vivid colours the triple slavery of Genoa to Charles V., Doria, and the bank of St. George which, having lands and jurisdiction of a peculiar character, was a state within the state.

Spinola writes:—

“Your Excellencies having made a public proclamation, calling upon me to render before you an account of my conduct within the term of one month under pain of being declared a rebel, and this proclamation having only at this moment come to my knowledge, I am constrained to ask you as just persons—which I suppose you to be—to extend the time and give me proper space for presenting myself before you, placing me in fact in the same position I would occupy if the summons bore the present date. And, as I know that all cities have malignant citizens and Genoa above all others, (there being many among you who are opposed to your peace and liberty) so that poor people are no longer free except in name and your Excellencies can give no real security to property and persons, it is necessary that men ask better guarantees than those of the government from the persons who are masters of our liberties. Andrea Doria being the chief of these our masters, prince both in name and fact, and having more power than your Excellencies, and I knowing him to be a mortal enemy of my family, I pray you if you grant my first prayer to hear also the second, which is that you furnish me a safe conduct of the said Andrea Doria promising me freedom from all molestation, direct or indirect, on his part that of any persons dependent upon him. Furthermore, for as much as the emperor, to your shame and mine, takes more thought for the concerns of your city than for his subject provinces, being in name our friend but in fact our master and lord, and since I must pass through his dominions to reach your city, I also ask the safe conduct of Don Ferrante, the imperial lieutenant general in Italy, in the same terms as the former. Further, having learned that the administration of the bank of St. George has, contrary to all right and precedent, added its authority to your summons, I ask that the said administration send me a safe conduct of like tenor with the others above requested. So soon as I receive these several safe conducts, I shall feel myself secure against the malevolence of individuals, and will immediately place myself in your hands and abide your just judgment.”

We have esteemed it our duty to give the letter of the illustrious exile. We leave comment and criticism to other pens.

Among those condemned for contumacy to decapitation and confiscation of goods was Scipione Fieschi. The sentence pronounced against him gave rise to a legal cause which has no equal either in its duration or the fame of the jurists who conducted it. Rolando a Valle was the advocate of Fieschi, and the claims of the Republic were maintained by Giovanni Cefalo, Tiberio Sigiano, Nervio, Menocchio and the college of Padua. The case was contested with singular pertinacity, and most princes were interested for one or the other party.

Scipione after the death of Gianluigi, not being able to return to Loano which was bequeathed to him by his father, because the Dorias had seized the feud, took refuge in Valditaro and there, as we have seen, induced the people to put themselves into the hands of Pier Luigi Farnese. He afterwards visited Rome, where the Pope received him privately and treated him with great affection. At a subsequent period he was the guest of Giulio Cybo in Massa and the two were warm friends.

When Cybo was arrested Scipione saw that it was necessary that he exculpate himself before Cæsar, and he asked an imperial audience through Francesco Barca, but the request was not granted. On the contrary, when the emperor learned that Scipione was charged, in the Cybo process, with being one of the chief accomplices he ordered Suarez, by decree of March 14th, 1550, to institute proceedings against him. He was cited to appear in Genoa for trial and obtained a safe conduct; but afterwards he remembered the breach of faith with Gerolamo and declined to appear. The case against him was conducted by Giovanni Giacomo Cybo-Peirano, and after the death of this advocate, it was carried on by his son. Doria himself employed an advocate to watch the progress of the trial and hasten its completion. In the meantime Scipione passed into France and entered the service of Henry II. He did not however take up a permanent residence there, the jurists of Padua having advised him to reside alternately at Rome, Venice and Mirandola. We know that he was accused of receiving and favouring exiles from Genoa, of capturing Spanish ships with his own galleys, of condemning the prisoners to the oar and plundering the works of art which these vessels were transporting to the empress Augusta. The archives of Spain are full of accusations of similar character; but they are the fictions of informers.

Figuerroa gave his decision on the 28th of January, 1552, but for some reason it was not confirmed by the emperor, and this gave Scipione strong hopes of being reinstated in his father’s domains. But Doria and the Republic employed influences which overcame the imperial scruples and Ferdinand confirmed the sentence on the 12th of April, 1559, in such terms as to destroy all the hopes of Fieschi.

Nevertheless, in the treaty of Castel Cambrese, Phillip II. who had succeeded to the crown of Spain, stipulated with Henry II. of France, that all those who had been punished with confiscation for aiding either crown should be reinstated in their property, particularly mentioning Ottaviano Fregoso and Count Scipione and declaring them as fully restored to their rights as though they were parties to the treaty. Phillip further pledged himself to secure the restoration to Scipione of those feuds which had been seized by the empire or the Republic. The Spanish monarch issued his decree to the senate of Milan ordering the surrender of Pontremoli to Fieschi; but it was not carried into effect. The senate held that the condemnation was a just punishment for a double treason committed both by Scipione and his brothers and refused to obey the imperial decree. The queen of France who had a high esteem for the young Scipione interceded for him, and Ferdinand moved by her powerful entreaties on the 13th of July, 1552, invested the count with Varese, Montobbio and Roccatagliata; at the same time he signed some other decrees in his favour. These various decrees gave rise to the controversy before the tribunals, with Scipione on one side, and the Republic and the possessors of the feuds on the other. The count maintained the nullity of his condemnation, while the Republic insisted on its legality and maintained that Scipione had lost all claims to the property confiscated for his treason, and that the decrees of the emperor were without force or validity. Finally, on the 2nd of August, 1574, the emperor Maximilian gave his decision against the claims of Scipione and absolved the Republic, Antonio and Pagano Doria, Ettore Fieschi (of the Savignone branch) and Count Claudio Landi, who were in possession of the lands and castles of the Fieschi.

We shall speak of Ottobuono Fieschi in another place. It is enough to say here that, after the fall of Montobbio and the union of Valditaro with Piacenza, he went to the court of Farnese, where he lived for some time. He afterwards went to Mirandola under an escort of ducal cavalry, and waited there for brighter days. Maria della Rovere shut herself up in the castle of Calestano. The governor of Parma requested her in the name of the duke to leave that residence, in order to relieve Pier Luigi from the charge of sustaining herself and sons. The suspicions of the imperial party respecting the duke were about this time turned into certainty. Cesare della Nave, of Bologna, a man of good education who had been created ducal commissary in Valditaro, divulged the fact that Manara had been instructed by Pier Luigi to render all possible assistance to Gerolamo at Montobbio. Maria then went to Rome, and afterwards spent some time in Parma, where she dictated her will on the 23rd of October, 1553. She bequeathed all her property to her daughter Camilla, wife of Nicolò Doria who afterwards as we shall see took up the conspiracy of Gianluigi. Maria lived for several years after the date of her will. The registers of the notary Antonio Roccatagliata show that Camilla only entered upon the inheritance of her mother on the 26th of September, 1561.

As for Panza, we find in some old manuscripts, for which we are indebted to the courtesy of the learned Baron Giacomo Baratta, that about 1550, he was archpriest in the parochial church of Rapallo. Probably the preceptor of Gianluigi, after the destruction of his master’s family, retired to some spot secluded from political tumults and ended his days in the practice of those virtues which adorned his previous life.

The memory of Eleonora wife of Gianluigi has been blackened by recent accusations. After the death of her husband, beside herself with grief she threw herself into the arms of her mother. The Strozzi papers contain a petition addressed by her to Charles V. in which she sets forth that her dower was secured upon the feud of Cariseto, and prays that the emperor may command Gonzaga to deliver it to her with all its appurtenances in satisfaction of her claims against the estate of Gianluigi Fieschi. Perhaps she did not obtain her request; for we learn from confused notices that she did not recover her dower for some years after when she invested it in the bank of St. George.

Some years after Gianluigi’s death, she married Chiappino Vitelli. Her husband was the son of that Nicolò who was killed by Braccolini for stabbing his own wife, Gentilina, while she lay in bed beside him. Chiappino was a brave soldier and a captain of some repute. He was a friend of Cosimo, followed the fortunes of the empire and received for his warlike virtues the investiture of Cetona with the title of marquis. He distinguished himself in the affair of Pignone with the Moors, in the liberation of Malta from the siege of the Turks, in Flanders and in Holland. Phillip II. gave him the principal charge of the last named war. He was at this time of monstrous obesity, and having received several wounds had to be carried in a palanquin to visit his trenches. While making the round of his work the Bisogni, who fretted at being commanded by an Italian, threw him down into the foss, (1575). On receiving intelligence of his death, Eleonora gave up her life to pious duties, and entered the convent of the Murate in Florence, a foundation noted for the illustrious women who fled to it for peace, some of whom were members of her own family.

We find evidence that she lived in the same cell which had sheltered Caterina Sforza Riario—the heroic mother of the heroic Giovanni of the black bands—until new were constructed for her at her own expense. She ended her days here in 1594, and Alberico I., prince of Massa and Carrara caused her mortal remains to be placed, with an appropriate inscription, beside those of her aunt Catterina, widow of Gio. Maria Varano Duke of Camerino, who with a courage more than manly sustained the siege of her castles by Mattia Varano.

The name of Eleonora was rendered immortal not only by her love of letters, but also by her splendid charities, of which the Monte di Pietà of Massa is a living monument.

CHAPTER XV.

SIENA, THE FIESCHI AND SAMPIERO.

Ravages of the Barbary Corsairs—Bartolomeo Magiocco and the Duke of Savoy—The conference of Chioggia—Siege of Siena—Doria assassinates Ottobuono Fieschi—Sampiero di Bastelica and his memorable fight with Spanish knights—Revolts in Corsica—Vannina d’Ornano—The Fieschi faction unites with Sampiero—Ferocity of Stefano Doria—Sampiero is betrayed—Pier Luca Fieschi and his career.

The cause of the empire vacillated in Germany, and the defeat of Chiusa followed the rout at Lorene. Charles barely escaped the grasp of the elector of Saxony, and retreated ill in mind and worse in body to Villach in Carinthia. The Duke of Alba and Doria put forth extraordinary exertions to provide him with money and reënforcements, and Doria’s solicitude for the empire brought new calamities upon the Republic. When his ships were absent in the imperial service, Dragut landed at Rapallo, (July 6th, 1550) sacked the town, killed women and children and carried off the flower of the population. A young peasant named Bartolomeo Magiocco, having with difficulty escaped from the town, bethought him of the peril of his betrothed, rushed through the crowds of pirates, entered the house where she lay asleep, took her up in his strong arms and bore her safely through a shower of Mussulman bullets to the top of Mount Allegro. Other pirates infested our waters, and our towns were so often pillaged that the inhabitants fled into the mountains and left the coasts deserted and uncultivated. There was not a hamlet which escaped pillage. The Duke of Savoy Emanuele Filiberto while fortifying Mont Albano, Sant Opizio and Villafranca came near falling into the hands of the Africans. A renegade Calabrian, named Occhiali, hearing that the duke was in Villafranca, landed the crews of several galleys at night, surrounded the ducal residence, and awakened its master with the roar of arms. Emanuele escaped by a secret passage unknown to the assailants. The victor of San Quintino could ill digest it that he had been compelled to turn his back on a pirate. He collected around him his pages and esquires, and the first peasants whom he met, and assailed the Moors. They responded with such vigour as to drive back his little band and he himself, after fighting long with obstinate courage, was disarmed and captured; but two Savoyard gentlemen set him at liberty at the price of their own captivity. Occhiali returned to his ships loaded with booty and prisoners. We learn from the chronicle of Miolo that the lords of Morseleto, Gusinengo and Berra and the castellano of Valperga lost their lives in this battle, while among the prisoners were seventy-five of the first gentlemen of Savoy.

The duke mortified at his failure and particularly that two gentlemen who had risked their lives for him should remain in the hands of the Corsairs, was forced to offer as a ransom two thousand gold crowns of the sun. The pirate required that, besides the payment of this sum, the Duchess of Savoy should visit him and permit him to do homage by kissing her hand. “This,” said he, “will render me famous throughout Europe.” Strange union of African barbarity with the chivalry of the middle ages! The Count of Savoy was not willing that the duchess should humble herself in the presence of this renegade stained with the most horrid crimes; but the prince felt deeply the misfortune of his faithful courtiers and resorted to an artifice which secured their liberation without humiliating the princess. A woman having the general appearance of the duchess was clothed in her robes, taken on board the moorish galley and with great pomp presented to the pirate, who fell on his knees, kissed her hand with knightly grace, released the captives and sailed back to Africa the happiest rover of the main.

While Charles was struggling with adverse fortune in Germany and the Turkish fleets were desolating the coasts of Italy, Ferrante Sanseverino, Prince of Salerno, formed a league with the Duke of Somma and endeavoured to deliver Naples from the Spanish yoke. A conference was held with the legates of France at Chioggia in which all those who hated the Aragonese power participated. There were the Cardinals of Ferrara and Tornone, Termes, Selves, the Count of Mirandola, Cornelio Bentivoglio, Giulio Veri, and in fine nearly all the exiles. The Cardinal of Tornone and Termes discouraged the Neapolitan revolution, and the confederates turned their attention to Siena. Venice, as in most occasions stood neutral. But Siena, irritated by recent wrongs inflicted by imperial ministers, took part in the conference and Count Pitigliano abandoned the standards of Cæsar and promised to carry the city over to the side of France. As we have said France was to most Italians the symbol of our independence, and whether or not she wished us well she made copious promises, “according,” writes Macchiavelli, “to the habit of that nation.”

Siena expelled Don Diego Urtado di Mendozza with his Spanish garrison and established a free government; but the emperor at once despatched the Marquis of Marignano to punish the rebellion, and France sent Pietro Strozzi to make a diversion in favour of the city.

On the 16th of June, 1554, the Duke of Florence wrote to the government of Genoa:—

“Your Excellencies will have learned that Pietro Strozzi, with about four thousand infantry and three hundred horse, is advancing to unite with the troops of Mirandola and then to penetrate into Tuscany and make a diversion in favour of Siena. Being resolved to make a spirited resistance, I have sent the Marquis of Marignano with about two thousand infantry and seven hundred horse from my army, who will encamp to-night at Pescia and advance to-morrow to fight the enemy at the first good opportunity. I write to your Excellencies, as faithful allies, to give you an account of our proceeding and to ask you to add to our troops, for this emergency the one thousand Germans who are stationed at Spezia, sending them forward direct to Pietra Santa or embarking them for Leghorn, as shall seem to you most expeditious. I promise you that as soon as this affair shall be terminated, your troops shall be returned to you with any part of my own that you may need. I earnestly entreat your instant coöperation in this matter, which, as you will see, concerns our common interest and safety. Above all act promptly for celerity is everything, as we are on the brink of an engagement with the enemy.”

The Republic, forgetful of the generous sympathy of Siena in its own straits and the solidarity of the two peoples, granted the request of Cosimo and hastened to prop the declining fortunes of Spain.

Siena was defended by the bravest Italians of that period. Of many illustrious names it will suffice to cite only those of Cornelio Bentivoglio, who succeeded Termes in the supreme command, his brothers Giovanni and Antongaliazzo—the first of whom was killed at the battle of Marciano and the second taken prisoner—the Orsini, Giovanni Vitelli, Adriano, Baglioni, Don Carlo Caraffa, Count Muzio da Tolentino, Lionetto da Todi, an Avogardo, a Martinengo, Sampiero di Bastelica and the Genoese Aurelio Fregoso—once a captain in the French service—and Ottobuono Fieschi. Some other Genoese fought on the side of Spain, against the brave city, among whom besides Doria (of whom we shall speak presently) were Alberico Cybo Malaspina, who commanded the troops of the Holy See. Phillip II. afterwards rewarded him for this service by creating him prince of the empire and of Massa and Carrara.

The defence of Siena is one of the most brilliant episodes of Italian history. The very women, led by Laudomia Forteguerri and Faustina Piccolomini emulated the valour of ancient times. But it was all fruitless. Leone Strozzi was killed at Piombino, Pietro his brother was routed at Marciano, and the city, deprived of reënforcements by Doria, who beat off the French fleet, was forced to yield. The remnant of the defenders, reduced from forty thousand inhabitants to six thousand, repaired to Montalcino where they set up their fallen Republic.

The she-wolf of Siena had fallen into the jaws of the Florentine lion, but the French troops under the command of Flaminio Orsino, Pietro Strozzi, Port’ Ercole, Orbetello and Talamone remained to be vanquished, and the Count Marignano moved upon them with a strong army. Andrea Doria supplied provisions and artillery and his forty galleys prevented the reënforcement or retreat of the French by sea. Marignano carried the fortress of Sant’Ippolito by storm, and successively the castles of Avvoltojo and Stronco fell into his hands. Chiappino Vitelli, captain in the pay of Orsino, distinguished himself greatly at Stronco. Strozzi found his position untenable and retired with Orsino to Montalto, a castle belonging to the Farnese, situated near the sea. This retreat discouraged the friends of Siena and all the towns which had favoured them surrendered to the imperials. At Avvoltojo, Ottobuono Fieschi was taken prisoner and delivered to Andrea Doria. Neither his own great age, nor the memory of his bloody vengeance against the Fieschi family, softened the spirit of the admiral. It is enough to make one’s heart bleed to think that he who had often spared the lives of Turkish pirates, who treated the inhuman Barbarossa with courtesy and released Dragut from his chains, ordered Ottobuono to be brought to him enclosed in a sack and barbarously butchered before his eyes.

The murder of this brave warrior, captured while fighting for national independence, deepened the resentment in the Genoese already exasperated by the sanguinary vengeance taken against the Fieschi and the perversion of the Republic. Nor was Genoa alone in opposing the Doria government; the Ligurians generally shared the feeling of the capital and the Corsicans, suffering under the despotism of our nobles, began to show signs of revolt.

Fregoso and Sampiero shared the perils of Ottobuono in the siege of Siena. Aurelio Fregoso and Fieschi had laid aside their hereditary enmity at Mirandola and set out together for the seat of war. Eleonora, widow of Gianluigi, had sealed this new friendship by giving in marriage to Fregoso her sister-in-law Lucrezia Vitelli. Aurelio was a soldier of great merit and was afterwards honoured for his valour. Siena enrolled him among her citizens, Francesco Maria, Duke of Urbino, invested him with the feud of St. Agata, and Cosimo himself treated him as an intimate friend.

Sampiero, Fregoso’s companion in the vicissitudes of a stormy career, was the most formidable soldier and captain of his time. The example of the Fieschi whom he had known in Rome, Mirandola, Siena and France, led him to draw his sword against the Genoese government; and therefore we may be permitted to touch upon the overthrow of his family in a struggle which dyed his native rocks with Genoese blood.

Sampiero was born in humble fortune at Bastelica (whence his surname), and having studied the military art in his youth left his native island and went to Rome. Here, none excelled him in strength and courage. There is a tradition that an Orsini wished to deprive him of this honour and for the purpose challenged him to a joust with a wild bull. The young and reckless Samperio accepted the contest and cut down his ferocious antagonist. He served successively the Florentines against Pisa and the king of France. In the latter service his exploits in Catalonia and Provence raised him to high reputation. The famous defiance of Barletta is far less entitled to fame than his great duel at the battle of Perpignano; but what great Italian writer has preserved the memory of that deed?

On the evening of the tenth of October 1542, five hundred Spanish knights issued from Perpignano with flying colours, and challenged the besieging army to fight them man for man. Sampiero heard the defiance and collected about him some of his bravest knights, among whom were Pecchia da Borgo, Francesco da Verona, Ceccone da San Zenese, Bartolomeo da Fano and other Italians to the number of fifty. He led this little band to the tent of Delfino the French general, and obtained permission to put his fifty against the five hundred Spaniards. The French barons were astonished at his audacity, but Sampiero without waiting to hear their objections dashed down upon the Spaniards with such impetuosity as to hurl them backward at the first shock. In endeavouring to retire the vanquished knights broke their ranks and fell into a confusion which enabled the victors to kill many and capture a larger number without the loss of a man.

After this victory, which would be memorable in any age, the Italians returned to their tents, where the Marshal of France received them with great honour, the flower of his knights greeting them with trumpets and acclamations. Delfino received them one by one and gave them rich presents—especially Sampiero, to whom he gave a rich gold chain.

The fame which he had acquired obscured the memory of his humble birth, and he was counted worthy to espouse Vannina, daughter and heir of Francesco, Marquis of Ornano. He served afterwards in the French army of Piedmont and Paul III. received him at his court with every mark of affection, when after the death of Pier Luigi he was collecting men and captains to avenge the assassination.

The Genoese, suspecting intrigues between the Fieschi and the Pope, seized Sampiero and he only recovered his liberty after urgent solicitations of France in his behalf. This imprisonment filled him with indignation and he resolved to revolutionize Corsica. He landed in the island, under the protection of French and Turkish fleets, at the head of a fine body of Italian soldiers and in a few days wrested it from the Genoese, who had lost the affection of the people by extortion and robberies under the name of imposts collected by bands of thieves called tax and excise officers. The Genoese government again erred by refusing friendly offers made by France. Termes, before moving to the support of the Corsicans, prayed the Republic to ally itself with France on terms which would preserve its independence, and he pledged himself in this case to suppress revolt in Corsica. The influence of Doria was powerful enough to secure the rejection of this proposition, and though he was eighty-six years of age he, with Agostino Spinola for colleague, undertook to crush the rebellion. Both parties fought with equal valour; but the siege of Siena called Doria from the Island to the coast of Tuscany, and Termes had not a sufficient force to conquer the Ligurian power in Corsica.

At that time, Count Scipione Fieschi lived in the court of Catherine de’ Medici, regent of the kingdom of France. The Republic sent there Tobia Pallavicini and Gerolamo Lomellini, under pretence of promoting amicable relations with that crown, but in reality to intrigue against the Fieschi. But Catherine who had induced Henry II. to insert in the treaty of Castel Cambrese stipulations in favour of the family, had not changed sympathies and, instead of yielding to the influence of the Genoese ambassadors, opened negotiations for the restoration of Scipione to his ancestral rights.

Finding the Republic utterly averse to her wishes, she conceived a strong animosity against it, and supported the movements of the Fieschi and other exiles with a vigour which must have produced great results, if the peace with Spain and the Huguenot war had not recalled all her attention to home affairs.

Sampiero was one of the warmest friends both of the Fieschi and the Queen regent, and discontented with peace he incessantly stimulated the exiles to some noble enterprise. Leaving his wife in Marseilles, he visited the courts of Italy and Navarre, and even sailed into Africa to solicit the coöperation of the Turks. He visited the court of Soliman, who, struck with his valour, loaded him with presents and dismissed him with flattering promises.

The Republic was on the alert and took measures to thwart the schemes of the exiles. Poison and daggers had failed, and the Dorias invented another expedient. Sampiero returning from the East learned that his wife Vannina, under the influence of priest Michelangelo Ombrone and Agostino Bacigalupo, had sailed for Genoa. These messengers had been suborned by the Genoese government to decoy Vannina into Genoa under pretence that she might recover the confiscated feud of Ornano and obtain her husband’s pardon, for whose head the Senate had offered a reward of five thousand crowns.

This news inflamed Sampiero with the greater wrath that it was likely to create the belief that she went there by his advice and so to injure his fellow exiles. He lamented his misfortune to Pier Giovanni da Calvese, who had been the companion of his journey into the East, and Calvese informed him that he had known the fact for some days, but had concealed it lest he should share the fate of Florio da Corte, whom Sampiero had killed.

Sampiero was so angry that he ran his companion through and left him dead on the spot. On arriving at Marseilles, he learned that the Queen had sent Antonio San Fiorenzo in chase of Vannina, and that she had been overtaken at Antibo and confined in the castle of Zaisi near Aix. Sampiero started at once for the castle with the intention of taking his wife under his own care, but the Count of Provence fearing that he would do her mischief left her to choose her own course. The magnanimous woman did not hesitate a moment to put herself entirely in the power of her husband.

He was mortally wounded by the suspicion of the Corsicans that her voyage to Genoa had been a treachery of his own, and he had no means of exculpating himself but by taking vengeance for the crime on the person of the offender. But he loved Vannina passionately and for some days patriotism and affection contended for the mastery in his bosom. But Vannina knew his perplexity, and came to his relief by imploring death at his hands. She gathered about her the servants of her household and her younger son Antonfrancesco (Alfonso was in the French court) and addressing her husband in passionate terms, she said: “kneel before me, and show to these persons that you still love me, that I am worthy of you. Call me donna, Madonna.” Sampiero comprehended her thought and fell at her feet covering her hands with tears and kisses. Then they entered into a private apartment, and what passed between them there is known only to God. The servants heard sighs, sobs, kisses; then a shriek followed by a deep silence. Sampiero mounted his horse and rode swiftly to Paris. By killing Vannina he satisfied the Corsicans of his fidelity, and more, that no affection could withhold him from punishing the guilty.

The hatred of Sampiero to the government of Genoa was doubled by the part it had played in this tragedy of his domestic life. He obtained the permission of the French Queen to undertake the war of Corsica, and formed friendship among the Genoese exiles who shared his views, “especially,” says Osino, “with a Gerolamo Fieschi and Cornelio Fregoso. The latter used every argument and artifice to entice Cosimo to favour the enterprise and even attempt it in his own name and interest.” Cosimo temporized; and Sampiero, little accustomed to count up obstacles or enemies, passed into Corsica with only two ships and a few companions. One asked him:—“In case your ships should be lost, in what could you trust for safety?” Sampiero replied: “I trust only to my sword.”

He seized the castle of Istria, routed the Genoese at Corte, and Terra del Commune, opened its gates to his little band. It would be long to recount all the battles which he fought against trained troops, always winning victories. The battles of Vescovado and Pietra di Caccia kindled a general revolution in the island. In the last, the Genoese killed were more than three hundred, and they lost many more as prisoners. Among the latter Sampiero found a Giovanni Battista Fieschi (of the Savignone branch) and, instead of treating him as a conquered enemy, entertained him with friendly courtesy in memory of kindness done him by the Fieschi in France. In fact the Fieschi had never refused him any favour; and when he sent Leonardo da Corte and Anton Padovano da Brando to Paris, in quest of aid, Scipione Fieschi had induced the Queen to give twelve thousand crowns and some troops.

The Fieschi favoured Sampiero because they believed trouble abroad would render revolution easier at home. The energy and valour of this warrior would have given the Republic infinite trouble, if treachery had not interrupted the progress of his brilliant vengeance. Though the forces of the senate in Corsica were large and had been reënforced by German and Spanish infantry, they seemed powerless before the revolution. Two causes rendered them impotent; the desperate ardour of the islanders goaded to madness by the agents of the Bank of St. George, and the absence of the popular element in the Genoese administration. A people unaccustomed to arms, removed from all share in the government, and jealously watched by a dominant oligarchy, is not apt to rush enthusiastically upon death in defence of the power of a few patricians. Finding the war going constantly against them, the senators resolved to send into Corsica Stefano Doria, Lord of Dolceaqua, and they expected him to sink the rebellion in a deluge of fire. He was indeed a man of extraordinary military talents, and his ferocity was still greater. Charles V. prized his soldierly qualities, and Phillip II. created him colonel and knight of St. James of Campostella. Emanuele Filiberto, also, of whom he was a feudatory, covered him with honours, made him councillor and captain-general, and entrusted him with the defence of Nice against the Turks. He acquired distinction in the battles of Ceresole and Cuneo, and this induced the Republic to select him for the Corsican war.

He accepted the appointment with great confidence, and swore to exterminate the whole Corsican people. He said:—“when the Athenians captured the city of Melas, after a siege of seven months, they butchered all the inhabitants over fourteen years of age and repopulated the island. The Corsicans merit a like punishment, and we should imitate the example. Such vigour prepared the Athenians for the conquest of the Pelopenesus, Greece, Africa, Sicily and Italy; and only by exterminating their enemies did they acquire glory for their arms. I know it will be said that such severity violates the rights of peoples and the laws of humanity; but why listen to such follies? I only ask that they shall be made to fear us, and, in comparison with the applause of Genoa, I despise the judgment of posterity to which the simple appeal.”

On these principles, Doria burned and devastated half the island, but he did not conquer Sampiero. The conspirator in brief pauses of the battle, assembled the people in Bozio and laid the foundations of a Republic in the fashion of that of Sambucuccio di Alando. Doria was recalled; Vivaldi and Defornari who followed him accomplished nothing of moment.

The senate, despairing of victory in war, resorted to plots against the life of Sampiero. He was riding one day with his son Alfonso towards the castle of Rocca, when Raffaele Giustiniani, assailed him with a band of horsemen. Among the assailants, were some Corsicans who had deserted Sampiero, particularly Ercole da Istria and three brothers Ornano. They attacked him in a disadvantageous position in the valley of Cavro; but Sampiero told his son to save himself by flight and plunged into the thick of his enemies. He prostrated Gian Antonio Ornano with the fire of his arquebus, and was grappling with his enemies when he was killed by a musket ball in the shoulder. It was believed that Vittolo, his esquire, corrupted by the Genoese general, fired the fatal shot. His death did not dishearten the Corsicans; they fought two years longer under Alfonso, then only seventeen years of age. But finally both parties grew tired of the war and terms of accommodation were settled. The exiles now lost all hope of recovering their country.

Though the Fieschi and their partisans were dead and Count Scipione disinherited, it is not probable that Andrea Doria forgot that Pier Luca Fieschi had advised Gianluigi to form an alliance with France; but perhaps others anticipated him in that part of his vengeance. We have seen that Paul III., having given his niece in marriage to Ferrero, invested him with the Marquisate of Masserano which belonged to Fieschi. The latter, indignant at this robbery, ceased to pay the annual tribute to the Pope for Crevacuore. Paul, for this, and, says the papal brief, “Also for falsifying money in his unlawful mints and other crimes,” condemned him, deprived him of his feud and gave it also to Ferrero. But neither the sentence, papal briefs or excommunications sufficed to expel Pier Luca from his castle, which he afterwards sold to the Duke of Savoy, (1548.) The duke took an oath that neither he nor his descendants would cede the whole or any part of the county of Fieschi to Ferrero or any person of his race. Gregory XIII. absolved him from this oath, and in spite of Pier Luca the feud reverted to Basso Ferrero and Clement XVII. erected it into a principate.

We do not know how Pier Luca died; but the manuscripts we consult speak of his end as miserable. Almost all the Fieschi patrimony in Piedmont fell into the power of the Ferrero, who treated their subjects with a severity which strikingly contrasted with the paternal government of their old masters and led to many seditions and revolts. Urban VIII., moved by the loud complaints of the people, deprived Prince Filiberto, son of Basso, of his entire state, and his son, also named Basso, was only permitted to assume the government through the interposition of Duke Feria and Victor Amedeus II. We have before us a letter of the latter, dated January 23rd, 1632, urging the people of Crevacuore to accept Basso “who is not responsible for the faults of his brother and father.” But the new Basso was no better than the old. Alexander VII. removed him from the government and ordered the destruction of the two fortresses of Masserano and Crevacuore. Here we pause; for the history of these feuds is no longer within the range of our subject.

The Doria and imperial faction did not rest while one of the Fieschi conspirators breathed the vital air. Even Giulio Pojano, who commanded the galleys of Gianluigi, fell into snares set for him by that party. He was accused of plotting against the life of Fulvia da Coreggio, wife of Count Lodovico Mirandola, arrested by her orders and strangled in prison.

CHAPTER XVI.

JACOPO BONFADIO.

Bonfadio executed in prison and his body burned—Errors in regard to the year of his death—The causes of his arrest and punishment—He was not guilty of the vices ascribed to him—The true cause of his ruin was his Annals—The pretence for his condemnation was his Protestant opinions.

A Painful episode of literary history is closely connected with the Fieschi conspiracy, and it has not yet been fully described. If that Bonfadio, with whose name the reader of these pages has grown familiar, the Bonfadio who was condemned for infamous crimes to an infamous punishment, was indeed an innocent man, the fact is one of great importance. We are able to add something to the history of this foreign[50] writer of Ligurian story whose fate illustrates that maxim which affirms:—The causes of great events are always imperfectly known; because those who are close at hand know only so much as persons whose interests require concealment of the truth choose to tell; and those who are distant interpret facts by passion, interest, caprice or previously formed opinions.

Genoa was the first Italian commune in which history was written by persons whom the government appointed for that purpose. As early as 1157, the great Caffaro wrote the annals of his country for that period in which he had been a witness of her acts, and read them to the elders, who ordered that his writings should be deposited in the archives of the city and commissioned the chancellor of the commune to continue the history. This was done down to 1264, and special additions were subsequently made embracing a period of thirty years. The increasing rudeness of the times, civil commotions in the city and frequent changes in the form and personnel of the government, arrested the progress of the annals near the close of the thirteenth century. Paolo Partenopeo revived the work in 1528. The senate appointed him to read rhetoric, especially the works of Aristotle on government, “because,” says Partenopeo, “politics should be publicly taught in a free city.” He wrote the annals of Genoa, and Bonfadio succeeded him in the same office.

Bonfadio was born in Gorzano, near Brescia, and led a life of vicissitudes and suffering. He was secretary to Cardinal Bari in Rome and afterwards served Cardinal Ghinucci. Beset with many misfortunes, which are unconnected with our subject, he wandered to Naples, Venice and elsewhere, and finally through Count Martinengo was invited to Genoa as a public reader of Aristotle. In Genoa his fate seemed to change, and he wrote cheerfully of his pleasant sojourn and especially of the gentle dames of our city. “It seems to me,” he says, “that even the Turkish female slaves entitle Genoa to be called the city of love.”

He lived long with Stefano Pinelli and was on terms of intimacy with Azzolino Sauli. G. B. Grimaldi, Domenico Grillo, Cipriano Pallavicini and other young men of high birth and studious tastes. His reputation in all branches of learning induced the senate to give him the coveted office of public annalist from the year 1528. He entered on it with pleasure and completed his task in a brief period; and though he laments that the eagerness of the senate to see the work did not give him time to clothe his narration with such a diction as becomes history, yet in beauty of style and skill in arrangement few Italian[51] histories can be compared with it. We must regret that the work only comes down to the year 1550, in which he met his unfortunate death. In that year he was torn from his studies and his friends and condemned to the flames; and though many gentlemen laboured with the greatest earnestness to save him, on the 19th of July he was beheaded in prison (this his friends secured as a favour) and his body was committed to the flames. We find the record in the books of the condemned kept by the Compagnia della Misericordia.

Casoni erred, therefore, in stating that he was executed in 1582, as also Tuano who fixes it in 1560, in which he is followed by Konning and Bayle. Nor less inaccurate are Pagano Paganini, Cesare Caporale, Chevalier Marini, Scipione Ammirato and Crescimbeni who tell us that he died by fire, since his body was only burned after death.

We know that the Biblioteca Civica of Genoa contains some rhymes of an ascetic character which are usually attributed to Bonfadio, at the end of which a marginal note says that he died in prison July 20th, 1561. This raised doubts about the year of his death and some have argued that he was not beheaded at all but died a natural death. A little experience in reading ancient manuscripts will enable any one to see at a glance that this note belongs to a period much later than the sixteenth century. Nor can that record by an unknown amanuensis be compared for authenticity with the catalogue of the condemned kept by the Compagnia della Misericordia. We pass over the rhymes. Except a few sprightly lines, they show the devoted ardour of a monk rather than the philosophic penetration and chaste diction of Jacopo.

The cause of his severe punishment was from the beginning involved in obscurity, and the lapse of centuries has seemed to increase rather than dissipate the darkness. He has been accused of dishonourable and illicit love and of having disclosed state secrets. Others tell us that powerful rivals in love caused his ruin, and still others that he had incurred the enmity of powerful families who instigated his arrest and condemnation. His biographers give us no light; rather they increase the confusion. But the opinion has prevailed that he was executed for illicit amours. The writers who maintained this opinion were of no great weight, and it is time to show the inconclusiveness of their judgment.

The statutes of Genoa attached the penalty of death to the crimes of Attic venery, heresy and witchcraft, for one of which Bonfadio must have been punished. No one accuses him of the last two. Tuano, who is quoted among those who charge him with lustful crimes, says nothing clearly but only that “Bonfadio was punished for an offence which it is prudent to conceal” (ob rem tacendam). But, besides that many things are better concealed, it is important to remember that Tuano, who did not even know the year in which Bonfadio was executed is a suspected authority in Italian affairs. Paolo Manuzio leaves us in equal uncertainty; in his golden Latin song he says that Bonfadio perished for a crime over which the sword of justice could not slumber, but he does not define the singular offence which he also says would not tarnish the glory of his name. The only one of his contemporaries who openly accuses him is the base Marini, whose verses, worshipped both by princes and the populace, invested falsehood with the appearance of truth. Cardano took up the tale and no one has yet destroyed the basis of the calumny. The judicious and impartial critic knows how little value is to be attached to any statement by Cardano; nor can a verse of the author of the Adonis be accepted as a guide for the opinions of posterity, especially since Garuffi has so severely criticized him for traducing the memory of so great a writer as Bonfadio.

One must know little of the low morals of an age which put a price upon sin and absolved offences before they were committed, to doubt that the vice with which Bonfadio is charged prevailed to a fearful extent.

Genoa, though she had the forms of a Republic, was no better than the rest of Italy. Let us admit then, for a moment, that Bonfadio fell into the common sin. It was neither so new nor scandalous to the senate as to have led to his death by fire. Such a charge was in the sixteenth century little less than ridiculous. We have gone over many volumes of the criminal Ruota of the time, and, though we have studied diligently, we find not a single case of severe punishment for that crime. Whether no cases are found because proofs of such beastly crimes are difficult to find, or because the vice was universal, is hard to decide. We find that a Francesco Spinola called the Caboga, who was brutally addicted to the vice was, not burned, but sent to the frontiers a few years after the death of Bonfadio. Though in 1479, a master workman in coral, who had violated a girl in Albaro was quartered with red hot irons, the severe sentence was not for the rape, but because he had afterwards killed his victim. It is not probable then that the government was severe against so common a crime, or would have condemned to the flames for it a man of such talent and position as Bonfadio. Had this been his only offence, his numerous friends in the senate would have encountered little difficulty in saving his life. Andrea Doria so lauded in Bonfadio’s immortal pages, who controlled all the affairs of the Republic, whose will was mightier than law, would have saved him from death. We must therefore believe that the blow which felled him came from a higher hand than Genoese law, from a hand with which it was idle to contend. This conclusion will help us to find elsewhere the true cause of his condemnation.

The most credible authorities of the time tell us that he was innocent of these vices, and they add that he suffered for secret reasons of state. Some even among these writers seem to have been borne down by current opinion and doubt if he were not guilty, but they add that it was only the pretext for his punishment. Such is the opinion of Giammatteo Toscano who wrote indignant verses against the Genoese for the murder of Jacopo. Caporali declared Bonfadio innocent. Ottavio Cossi and Ghilini tell us that having offended in his writings some very exalted persons, he was accused of infamous ardours. It is probably true that he incurred the enmity of illustrious families whose names were blackened in his history; Zilioli confirms this theory when he says that Bonfadio’s history was mortal to its author. Boccalini states the case with much greater clearness, blaming the pen of Bonfadio for having impeached the honour of great houses, adding that an historian should imitate vine-dressers and gardeners: that is to say, should speak only in the full maturity of events, when the great who had done evil are dead and their children incapable of vengeance. He enforces his theory by the example of Tacitus who preferred violating the laws of history to running risk of personal danger. In expressing these cowardly sentiments (an historian ought to tell the truth and to throw down his pen when that becomes impossible) Boccalini did not express his true opinions, and he was afterwards run through by the Spanish ambassador in Venice for writing freely against Spain.

Laying aside as untenable the opinion of Marini and Cardano, we agree with those who deny that Bonfadio had fallen so low, and we find support in the testimony of Ortensio Landi, a contemporary of our author and a man of great talents, who fell into disgrace at Rome for evangelical opinions. He tells us that Bonfadio was condemned on false testimony; and this was the belief of the learned of that period. There is in fact nothing to support the theory that he was guilty except the assertions of writers of little reputation for truth in other matters, who were, indeed, only servile retailers of calumnies which their authors wished perpetuated beyond the tomb. The nature of the penalty, the secrecy of the trial and the position of the accused were calculated to impress the popular mind with the belief in a crime against nature—a crime which famous examples, especially that of Brunetto Latini, showed to be the vice of literary men and public teachers of youth. There is, besides, in man an instinct which finds guilt where the axe falls. The public and the historians forgot one fact, Bonfadio read his lectures in a church and his auditors were not young boys. He says that he had “many aged listeners and more merchants than Students.”

The true cause of his condemnation must be sought in his Annals. He probably blamed pretty freely some persons who expected great praise. This opinion is adopted by Teissier among foreign writers, and in Italy by Fontanini and Mazzucchelli besides those already mentioned.

A careful reading of Scipione Ammirato will show that he really does not differ from these writers. “He was punished,” says Ammirato, “for teaching political principles contrary to those of his time and place,” although Bonfadio supported the Doria and Spanish party and opposed those who fought for more liberal government.

We must now enquire what persons offended by the bias of Bonfadio were sufficiently powerful to satiate their vengeance in his blood?

The times were unpropitious to literary freedom. Offences of the pen were punished by the dagger or by banishment. Boccalini was assassinated in Venice; Sarpi fell under a stiletto aimed by Rome. Oberto Foglietta was banished from Genoa, and if the government could have put hands on him he might have gone to the scaffold. Every independent writer was the target of powerful malevolence. So fell Bonfadio. In describing the conspiracy of Gianluigi Fieschi, he used unmeasured terms of reproach against that noble family and praised beyond all limit the Dorias and the Spanish government. His treatment of the Fieschi, whose fate nearly all lamented and who still had powerful friends in the Senate, provoked the vengeance of the partisans of Gianluigi and popular liberty and also of those nobles who were hostile to Doria and Spain. All other attempts to avenge the dead had failed, and they turned fiercely upon the historian who had outraged the memory of the vanquished. They charged him with a crime which must be punished by fire and secured his condemnation.

Nor did the rage of his enemies cease with his death; for they made every exertion to prevent the publication of his Annals; and, though the times were quiet and the Doria interest clamoured for the publication, their enemies kept the work locked up in the public archives. It was not published until 1586, (in Pavia by Gerolamo Bartoli) that is thirty-six years after the death of its author. Though Bayle and Papadopoli assert that Bonfadio himself published it, this statement must be put down among the numerous errors of his biographers.

We have seen what was the probable reason for the attack of Bonfadio’s enemies; it remains to investigate the pretext which they put forth, since the charge of Attic venery cannot be entertained. Two other crimes were punished among us by fire; and as there is no ground for supposing him accused of witchcraft or magic, we are forced to conclude that he was charged with holding the new religious doctrines which were then striking root in Italy. This opinion, so diverse from that hitherto held, may seem bold and we will briefly consider its probability.

It is well known that the revival of letters paved the way for religious reform. It is known, too, that Italy, seeing herself deprived of political liberty, turned her attention to religious freedom as the foundation of free institutions. In fact, the reformers among us sought mainly to restore democracy to the church. The first accents of religious liberty were heard on the banks of the Verbano and the teachers were Bernardino Ochino da Siena and Pietro Martire. Lucca, Pisa, Vicenza and Modena embraced the new doctrines, and Ferrara received as a guest in 1535, Calvin, the friend of Renata.

In the court of this duchess, were found the most distinguished of the reformers, among whom were Celio Secondo Curione and the beautiful Olimpia Morato, a miracle of virtue and wisdom. The religious community of Naples contained no less illustrious disciples all of whom belonged to the highest families of the land. Some maintain that Vittoria Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara, was of the number; Giulia Gonzaga and Isabella Manriquez certainly were; the latter found an asylum among the Lutherans. It is believed that Princess Lavinia della Rovere, of the house of Urbino, and Margaret of Savoy, wife of Emanuel Filiberto, embraced the new doctrines.

In those days the most cultivated Italians professed the boldest doctrines. Vasari tells us that Leonardo da Vinci had formed such heretical opinions that he accepted no religion whatever. Castelvetro, accused of heresy, with great difficulty escaped the grasp of the inquisition. Bishop Pietro Paolo Vergerio and his brother Giovanni Battista, whose condemnation was written by the same pen which drew the fatal capitulation of Forno; Guglielmo Grattarolo, Gerolamo Zanchi a canon of the Lateran, Giovanni Montalcino, the Sozzini of Siena, the brothers Scipio and Alberico Gentile and many other distinguished literary men held the views of the reformers. Paul III., appalled by the rapid progress of the new ideas, with his bull of April 1543, established the tribunal of the Inquisition in every city, Venice did not wish to suffer it; but Rome strangled Giulio Ghirlanda and Francesco di Rovigo, and all the reformers (among them are mentioned Trissino, Flaminio, Soranzo and Bembo) were forced to flee into exile.

Many noble men fell in Rome; Fannio Aonio Paleario and the Venitian Algieri. The church was saved by sword and fire; and the ecclesiastical writers agree with us in this:—It was the Inquisition that extirpated the new doctrines in Italy; without this intervention of force, the intellectual character of the Italians, the well-known licentiousness of the Popes, the habit of our poets to sport at friars and nuns, and the denial by our republics of infallibility to the Apostolic See, must have combined to promote the complete triumph of the religious reform.

The church always had great power in Genoa. As early as 1253, the friars of San Domenico executed a Master Luco as a heresiarch and confiscated his goods. The church grew so arrogant that three years later, Fra Anselmo, chief inquisitor, demanded that certain rules of his should be incorporated among the statutes of the Republic. The consuls refused to gratify him and the inquisitor excommunicated the city and its district. The government sent ambassadors to the Pope without success; it was forced to humble itself and register on its statute books laws dictated by a priest. In 1459, a decree of the Republic granted every facility and privilege to the father inquisitors.

The bull of Paul III. inflamed our inquisitors with extraordinary zeal. The partisans of the new creed were increasing rapidly, and the fathers resolved to convert or exterminate them. Among the heretics, to say nothing of laics, was Cardinal Federico Fregoso whose books on the psalms had been entered in the index. The prior of San Matteo was accused of heresy in Bonfadio’s time and cited to appear before the inquisition in Rome, in spite of the friendship and protection of Doria and the government. It has never been clearly proved that Bonfadio shared the views of the reformers, but everything conspires to the support of that theory. However that may be, his opinions were certainly such as to afford his enemies a pretext for the accusation. He hated the priests and spoke and wrote bitterly against them. His letters, which give him the first place in that branch of Italian literature, show that he was opposed to all religious orders and particularly the regular clergy called Theatine, who reciprocated the sentiment and spoke of his death as a judgment of God. His annals and the freedom of his speech made him many other enemies in Genoa, but though they were powerful he despised them. Carnesecchi warned him that one of them had established himself near his person and exhorted him to be cautious. Bonfadio replied:—“The man of whom you write to me from the Roman court always disliked me.... His eyebrows are shorn, and he never laughs; wherefore I doubt that He who can do all things is able to make the man good. He has done an evil work, but it was his own proper work, and if he has poisoned the fruits of my labours that was inevitable, because he bears a serpent in his bosom.” The serpent uncoiled himself and Bonfadio was undone. It was not difficult for his enemies to fasten upon him the charge of heresy, adducing as proofs his intimacy with wicked or heretical men whom Rome had already doomed. Among the first-class was Nicolò Franco, of Benevento, who perished on the scaffold in Rome, prophesying the same fate for Pietro Aretina whom that age, after loading him with honours and riches, blasphemously called divine. Among the second class, that is those whom the church accused of heresy, were the Martinengo, who all belonged to the party of reform. We may mention Ortensia Martinengo, countess of Barco; Celso Martinengo, whose letters to Angelo Castiglione carmelite of Genoa (written for the purpose of converting Angelo to the new party) are extant; Count Ulisse Martinengo who went to Antwerp as the minister of the Italian church there when Gerolamo Zanchi declined the appointment. Bonfadio was even more intimate with Lord Bishop Carnesecchi who embraced the views of Luther in the school of Vermiglio and Ochino in Italy and of Melancthon in France. Carnesecchi was executed in Rome in precisely the same mode as Bonfadio in Genoa.

Bonfadio writing to Carnesecchi praises his divine talents and adds:—“As the Romans preserve the statue which fell from heaven, so may God preserve you for the edification of many and put off to a distant day the fading of one of the first lights of Tuscan virtue. May God enable you to be happy and live with that cheerfulness which characterized you when we were together in Naples.”

He was also very intimate with Giovanni Valdes a Catalan, who was among the first advocates of Luther’s opinions. After the death of Valdes, he wrote:—“Whither shall we turn, now that Valdes is no more? This is a great loss for us and for Europe; for Valdes was one of the rarest men in Europe. His writings on the epistles of St. Paul and the psalms of David are abundant proof of his ability. He was without controversy a complete man in deed, word and counsel. His little spark of soul kept alive his weak and emaciated body; his great part, that pure intellect, as if outside of his frame, was continually uplifted to the contemplation of truth and divine things.”

These words make it highly probable that Bonfadio held the doctrines of the man he so highly esteemed, and show us that this friendship for the enemies of Rome afforded sufficient ground for a charge of heresy. This will seem very credible, when we remember that a canon of the inquisition declared that the smallest evidences were sufficient for conviction of heresy; a nod, suspicion or common report, especially in the case of a man of letters, of whom Paleario wrote that the inquisition was sicam districtam in literatos (a dagger drawn against literary men.)

We conclude then that the religious views of Bonfadio and his friendship with the reformers gave his enemies the arms with which they slew him. The court of Rome had its hands in the business, and by the same act avenged its political friends, the Fieschi, and punished a friend of the reformation. The records of Bonfadio’s trial were never seen, and there is no proof that the criminal Ruota of Genoa condemned him. This is a new proof that the whole transaction was the secret work of the agents of the inquisition. The records of such a trial were not required to be filed in the archives of the state. Nor is this all; the agents of Rome had the right to conduct the trial without the participation of the civil power, whose duty was to render a blind obedience to the orders of the religious tribunal. This explains why the Dorias who had unlimited power over the government, were powerless to save Bonfadio, when he was charged with holding the opinions of the reformers, among whom we are disposed to number him, accepting the authority of Gerdesio a contemporary whose statement to that effect was not contradicted in his time.

Whatever views our readers may entertain of the merits of the contest between the Fieschi and Doria, it is certain that the cruelties of the latter provoked reprisals by the friends of the former, and Bonfadio the illustrious but partial historian of the conspiracy, was one of the most conspicuous victims. As Bonfadio succeeded Partenopeo in the office of public instruction, Giammatteo followed Bonfadio. The Jesuits enticed him, two years after his election, into their fraternity and they intrigued with such success that the instructors of our youth were chosen from their number, and men of genius were no longer employed by the Republic.

It is true that Tasso was invited to Genoa with the offer of a liberal salary; but it was the work of private citizens not of the government. Torquato received the call with pleasure but he did not accept the office. In 1614, Lucilio Vanini, the Italian Spinosa, opened public schools among us. He pursued the system of Bonfadio with such success that many young men were affected with heretical views and the teacher was forced to seek his personal safety in exile. He took refuge in France; but he was discovered and perished in the flames. Unfortunately his doctrines had taken root among us. To omit many, the painter Cesare Conte, the friend of Cambiaso, Chiabrera and Paolo Foglietta, was arrested in 1632, by the sacred office and ended his days in the dungeon of the ducal palace.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE SPANISH DOMINION IN LIGURIA.

The Fieschi at the court of France—Louis XIV supports their claims—Bad effects of the law of Garibetto—Severe laws against the Plebeians—Death of Andrea Doria—Estimate of his public services—New commotions—Magnanimity of the people—The old nobles make open war on the Republic—Treaty of Casale in 1576—The Spanish power in Italy, particularly in Liguria—Aragonese manners corrupt our people—New taxes and customs—The nobility accepts the fashions, manners and vices of the Spaniards—Change of the character of the Genoese people—Last splendours of Italian genius.

It is not our purpose to follow Count Scipione in his wanderings; we shall only speak of so much of his exile as is necessary to the narration of the last of the Fieschi drama. He married Alfonsina, daughter of Robert Strozzi and Maddalena de’ Medici, and obtained many marks of esteem from the royal house of France, whom he and Strozzi served. Elizabeth, wife of Charles IX., treated him with the same familiarity as Catherine de’ Medici. He distinguished himself at the siege of Rochelle, and Henry III. knighted him in the order of Saint Esprit.

Scipione left a son, Francesco, Count of Lavagna and Bressuire, who fell at the head of his troops in the siege of Monte Albano (1621), and from whose marriage with Anna Le Veneur a noble family was born. The eldest, Charles Leo, married Gillona de Harcourt, (1643), who bore him Gianluigi Mario, a name which the Genoese Republic never forgot. Louis XIV. took him under his protection, and demanded of the Republic the restoration to Mario of his ancestral domains. The Senate refused, and he sent a formidable fleet, commanded by Segnalai (1684), who bombarded the city, and ruined churches, monuments and palaces. Innocent XI. interposed without effect; the fierce monarch required that the Doge and four senators should supplicate mercy in Paris; that the Republic should disarm its galleys and pay a hundred thousand crowns to Count Fieschi. The Republic abandoned by Spain, was forced to accept these conditions, and Louis on his part promised no longer to support the pretentions of the Fieschi. Count Gianluigi Mario died in 1708, without offspring, and the counts of Lavagna in the line of primogeniture ended with him.

We have spoken in another place of the addition to our statutes of the law called in derision, Garibetto,[52] the effect of which was to exclude the new nobles and the men of the people from political power.

The artifice was this: The old and new nobles in equal numbers filled the public offices, and, the latter being the more numerous class, the individuals of it held the highest office less frequently than the individuals of the old nobility. The rule was distasteful for many reasons: it was not made in a lawful way, but imposed by the authority of Andrea Doria, when many of the nobles themselves (says Doge Lercaro) were opposed to the measure; and it was contrary to the wishes of the vast majority that a few patricians should have almost exclusive claims upon the Dogate.

The people were little pleased that they were now totally excluded from that office, to which formerly they alone were eligible, while the plebeians[53] fretted at the insolence of the patricians and Spanish gentlemen among us.

There were new conspiracies. The spies of the emperor learned that a Fra Clemente of the order of St. Francis had brought back from France some schemes for a revolution and Suarez communicated the information to the Senate. The friar was arrested at Ceva and, having been tortured, he declared that De Fornari was intriguing with the king of France to promote a revolution in Genoa. De Fornari, the same who had been elected Doge against the wish of the old nobles, and who was therefore very obnoxious to that party and idolized by the people, was captured and confined in Antwerp.

Such movements led the Senate to distrust the people more than ever and to deprive them of the right to bear arms. In fact, when Agostino Pinelli was Doge, Italian troops were no longer trusted with the custody of the ducal palace; but the Republic enlisted Swiss, German and Trentine mercenaries. Giocante Della Casa Bianca who had commanded the guard for twenty-five years, gave up his sword to a German adventurer and accepted a subordinate position.

Besides, though the plebeians did not revolt or renew the conspiracies of Fieschi and Cybo, the Senate endeavoured to ruin all those who were pronounced friends of the ancient popular system. Oberto Foglietta having published in Rome, where he resided (1556), two books on the Genoese Republic, in which he exalted the popular citizens over the patricians, declaring that the first had served the country with greater fidelity than the second, the government declared him guilty of felony and punished him with banishment and confiscation of goods. Many years after, Giovanni Andrea Doria, to whom he dedicated his eulogies of illustrious Ligurians, procured the revocation of the sentence. While the Senate banished Foglietta, it praised to the skies the ignoble treatise of Pellegro Grimaldi, who, though a Republican, taught us to beg the favour of princes, and the logic of Lovenzo Capelloni, who, adhering consistently to the party of the victors, declared that the Holy See owed its fame to the house of Borgia.

On the 25th of November, 1560, Andrea Doria died, having lived almost one hundred and one years. The nobles called him the father of his country; but Cosimo, the old, was equally flattered. The plebeians with more sense surnamed Andrea Good Fortune, because except in a very few cases, his plans were always successful. He was the first admiral of his time and conquered everybody but himself; sad proof of which are the misfortunes of Fieschi, Farnese, Cybo and a long list of exalted names. He bore arms against his country, to dissolve, he said, its alliance with France; but the act was equally in his own interest after he had deserted the French service.

If he emancipated us from France, he took away the popular franchises and established the Spanish tyranny. He did not wish the office of Doge; but being the minister of Charles V. in Italy and the lord of the Main, it did not become him to descend to an office of less rank. The magnanimity of his own heart and the temper of his fellow citizens alike forbade him to assume the supreme power of a prince in Genoa. That was probably destined in his mind for Gianettino, and only the Fieschi conspiracy saved us from that fate. If Doria had wielded his sword and shed his blood for Italy as he did for foreign masters, he might perhaps have saved us three centuries of humiliation. Foglietta proposed to him a more generous service; to despoil himself of galleys, giving them or selling them to the Republic—an example which other citizens would imitate—so that Genoa, having fifty ships in her service, could hold French and Spaniards at bay and use the seas for her commerce. Such a course would have given Andrea the glory of Ottaviano Fregoso, who by destroying the forts of the Faro, showed that he loved his country better than his personal dignity and interest. But the Republic saw in her waters a fleet which belonged to her sons, while she lacked ships to protect her coasts from the pirates of Barbary. The splendid scheme of Foglietta came to nothing; Andrea spent his life in keeping the seas open for French and Spaniards and in maintaining foreign powers. He preserved to Genoa the name of independence, but it was a mockery. Though he put on our necks the yoke of Spain, he was great and strong enough to be the only minister and agent of that power.

A great soldier in the service of the enemies of Italy, he stripped the Republic of her popular power, founded an oligarchy on the ruins of liberty and closed the glorious epopee of Genoese conquests in an endless succession of domestic conspiracies and political contentions. Such is our estimate of Andrea. We believe that now that the angry passions which his actions evoked have ceased to glow, the sentence of history should be written with impassable justice. After his death, the Fieschi party again took courage. They attempted to remove the old nobles from power and in 1560 (writes Doge Lercaro) conferences were openly held in many places, especially in the house of Basadonne, so that it was necessary to refer the matter to the Senate. Finally, the nobles of San Pietro, headed by Matteo Senarega, a man of much legal learning and political experience whom the arrogance of Doge Gianotto Lomellini had driven from the secretaryship of state, resolved to renew the Fieschi movement, humble the patricians and destroy the Spanish power. The contest began in the election of Doge, each party wishing to elect one of their own number, and they came to blows. The Porch of St. Luca was supported by its large army of vassals, by the arms of Spain and by the galleys of Prince Giovanni Andrea Doria. The porch of St. Pietro had the support of the populace who hoped to regain their old place in the political system of the Republic. In the midst of the quarrel (1572) Galeazzo Fregoso arrived with two large triremes, and after an enthusiastic reception by the people announced that the king of France would give support to the popular cause.

Scipione Fieschi also repaired two ships in order to support the revolution. But both found an invincible repugnance in the people to a revolution supported by foreign arms, and relinquished the enterprise. The people trusting in their own stout arms, revolted under the leadership of Sebastiano Ceronio, Ambrosio Ceresa and Bartolomeo Montobbio, sons of the people. However, the life and soul of the insurrection was Bartolomeo Coronato, who though noble by birth, patriotically espoused the popular cause. They occupied the city, closed the streets with barricades and shut up the patricians in their houses. These movements lasted for a month, the deputies of the people demanding that the laws of 1547 be abolished and the most worthy of the citizens inscribed in the book of gold. The Doge trembled at the audacious demand and the Senate saw no escape from its perplexity until Giovanni Battista Lercaro entered the hall and said:—“Since you have not been able to save the country from its peril and are ignorant of the art of governing, yield your places to better men. Elevated to your offices by the spirit of faction and personal interest, you are unfit to rule.”

These words of Lercaro, a man of great dignity and a noble of the porch of San Luca, frightened the Senate who promptly declared their willingness to follow his advice. But the plebeians always generous to their own hurt, answered:—“We have not taken arms for political power. We only want the law of Garibetto revoked.” Whereupon the Senate took fresh courage, annulled the odious law, added three hundred families to the nobility, abolished an unpopular excise duty upon wine and raised the daily wages of the weavers three soldi. The populace were satisfied and returned to their daily duties, while the nobles of San Pietro who had feared a popular tempest managed the movement with so much address that they obtained complete control of the state.

But the noblemen of San Luca, as indignant after, as pusillanimous before the peril, refused to recognize the new laws and, abandoning the city, retired first to their castles and afterwards collected at Finale, then in the power of Spain. Here they declared open war against the Republic, and failing to obtain assent to their demands by the mediation of princes and even of the Pope, they invoked foreign arms to desolate the country. A powerful fleet commanded by John of Austria, brother of king Phillip, sailed into our waters. The old nobles, knowing the hatred of our people to Spain, required that the expedition should sail under Ligurian colours; but this did not secure the success of the enterprise. Meanwhile Giovanni Andrea Doria, heir of the political opinions of his Grandfather as well as his riches and rank, stormed the castles of Spezia, Porto Venere, Chiavari, Sestri and Rapallo; and without listening to proposals of peace proceeded to the conquest of the western Riviera, capturing Noli and Pietra.

The nobility, whose remittances from Spain came in very slowly, was reduced to such extremities as to be unable to continue the war. Giacomo Durazzo was Doge. Prospero Fattinanti took his place and a compromise was effected through the ambassadors of the Pope, the emperor and the king of Spain assembled in Casale in 1576. The accord of the two parties of the nobility excluded the people from all political power. The plebeians were enraged at this new betrayal of their cause, and Matteo Senarega who had laboured so hard to promote popular rights, prophesied that the bondage of the plebeians would be eternal. He wrote:—“He who is oppressed by a prince yields to necessity and to destiny, with the consolation that a change of masters may lighten his burdens; but he who sinks under the despotism of a few, assuming the name of a Republic, loses his disgust at the tyranny in the sound of a word and under a sweet delusion wears his chains for ever.”

The old and new nobles now intrigued with such success as to destroy the spirit of popular liberty; and Coronato, whom Lercaro though of the opposite faction praises so highly, lost his head on the scaffold. On the other hand, Prince Giovanni Andrea Doria, who had dyed his sword so often in the blood of his fellow citizens, was called, “Preserver of the liberties of his country.” To this day he holds that rank in history; but our history must be re-written.

We have seen that the reforms of Andrea destroyed the popular constitution, placed all political power in the hands of the patricians, and opened the doors of the Republic to Spanish supremacy. When the city of Finale, exasperated by the lust and avarice of Alfonso Del Caretto, shook off his yoke, the dispossessed lord appealed as an imperial vassal to the Diet of Augusta; and the emperor, far from favouring the Republic, which had taken part in the fall of Alfonso, decided that the marquis should be restored to his feud, compelled Genoa to pay him for the damage he had suffered. The Republic clamoured against the sentence, it is true; but when a few years later Gabrielle Della Cueva, duke of Albuquerque, and governor of Milan, garrisoned Finale, Genoa had not courage to oppose the measure, and suffered a foreign power to intrench itself in the very heart of Liguria. At the death of Marquis Francesco (1598), the line of Carretto became extinct, and the Senate allowed Finale to pass into the possession of Spain, who, not content with this, assassinated Ercole Grimaldi, in order to become master of the principate of Monaco, (1614.)

Conquests and wars were finished, and Genoa had scarcely strength to keep down domestic revolt, and resist the aggressions of immediate neighbours. The greater part of the conspiracies which for almost a century disturbed the dreams of our masters, had no other object than to restore the popular constitution. The free systems were falling throughout the Peninsula. The people hoped when the council of Trent was opened that it would not only correct the gross abuses of the Papal court, but restore the church itself to its ancient democratic forms. But when the council closed, it was found that no innovation had been effected, that a few vices had been forbidden; but the Church remained a monarchy, as Gregory VII. and Innocent III. had left it. Not content with this, the Papacy, with its famous bull In cœna domini (1567), endeavoured to attach all the powers of the world to its triumphal car. The fall of the communes was complete, and the Latin principle was strangled by the monarchial and foreign element.

The Italian states, for the most part subject to foreign powers, were changing into monarchies. Italy was a province of Spain; and yet so detestable was that power that Navagero tells us, Paul IV. never spoke of the emperor or the Spaniards without calling them “heretics, robbers, accursed of God, children of Moors and Jews, offscouring of the earth,” and bewailing the fate of Italy compelled to serve such vile masters. Spain left such fierce antipathies behind her that the interjection “Cursed be Spain,” came down to our times. A wise Pope, Sixtus V., who tried to oppose the imperial power, died by poison (1590). For two centuries, the decrees which regulated Italian politics came from Madrid. Naples and Milan groaned in chains; the lords of Mantua, Ferrara, and Parma, gloried in their shameful bondage. Venice herself purchased peace by ignoble sacrifices. Of Rome I do not speak. That she was badly governed, witness the incessant revolts of her people, the conspiracy of Benedetto Accolti, and the obsequies of Paul IV.

Emanuele Filiberto, who won for Austria the battles of San Quintino and Gravelines, consolidated with his victories the foreign dominion; and, educated in the school of Phillip II., he extinguished liberty in Savoy by abolishing his states general, and bathed his valleys with the blood of the Vaudois. The Republics of central Italy saw their last days in the same terrible period; Florence was in the grasp of Cosimo, Pistoia under the guns of a fortress; Arezzo paid with her liberties for favouring the imperial army; Lucca bought with money and the blood of Burlamacchi a short reprieve; Siena more generous than all others fought to the last extremity and perished, like Saguntum, among her own ruins. Thus while in the middle of the sixteenth century the great nations were consolidated which now control Europe, Italy was dying and dying by the fault of her own sons. The treaty of Castel Cambrese recognized and sealed the foreign dominion.

From that moment, the love of letters ceased to be a worship. The form was polished; but the spirit was stifled. Our most illustrious artists, forced to live upon the patronage of foreign princes, preferred the security of servile ease to the dignity and modesty of true art. The money of the great seduced them to abandon truth and the people without whom genius is neither great nor productive. Pleasure for courtiers was their only aim. The country was dying, but no voice sang the hymn of death; no one gave history those pages of heroism which save the dignity of vanquished nations. On the contrary, Giovio with unblushing brow eulogized his golden pen; Casa sang in honour of the Charles V. whom he had once satirized. Alamanni apologized to the emperor for his famous verse saying that it is the poet’s office to lie, and Cellini himself could write:—“I work for pay.”

In this general decline, the ideas of Fieschi did not utterly die. Some generous souls continued to protest. Let it suffice to cite Tassoni and Campanella, the last of whom in his conspiracy against Spain was supported not only by many barons but also by the Visir Cicala, a Calabrian renegade (though of Ligurian descent) who promised to land Turks in the kingdom. Nor would we forget that some of our nobles in Genoa tried to tear up the poisonous plant which had taken root in the Republic; as, for example, Agostino and Francesco, Pallavicini, Nicolò Doria, who married a sister of Gianluigi Fieschi, and Agostino Vignolo who during the Piedmontese wars intrigued with lord bishop Brissac to aid the French arms.

But the Spanish government, which was destroying letters and arts, struck its roots more deeply every day and we reached such depths of degradation, we tremble in writing it, that the Senate issued a decree in the Spanish language and consented that it should be used in lectures and sermons. The plebeians, groaning under a double slavery, sometimes appealed to Spain against the arrogant despotism of the patricians; but the appeal reacted against the petitioners and Doctor Ligalupo, a man of much learning and great virtue, was imprisoned for life.

In the reports of the Venitian ambassadors to the Senate, the condition of Genoa is described in a few fit words; Badoero writes:—“They hate the Spanish nation as strongly as possible and matters stand thus:—the people see only France; those in power see only Spain, and none seem to think of the common weal.”

With the loss of liberty our manners became dissolute. Courtesans were held in honour. Imperia in Rome. Tullia in Venice were courted by men of genius. Catarina da S. Celso, Vanozza, Borgia and Bianca Capello married into illustrious houses. To speak of Liguria alone, a brief of Pope Clement VII. to the archbishop of Genoa and the prior of S. Teodoro, exhorts these prelates to unite with the government in reforming the cloisters, because the nuns have become utterly dissolute from contact with every sort of persons. The Genoese nuns had infamous repute throughout Italy. Bandello says:—They go where they please and when they return to the cloister say to the abbess “Mother, by your permission, we have been to divert ourselves.” It seems that subterranean passages were opened between the cloisters of nuns and friars. In our times, when the convent of S. Brigida was torn down, in the open walls were found skeletons of children who had been buried there as soon as born. Cardinal Bembo justly said that “all human vices and crimes were perpetrated in the cloisters under cover of a diabolical hypocrisy.”

On the fourth of September 1551, another brief on the corrupt morals of the convents was issued by Julius III., but it produced no effect. Gregory XIII., in a third brief of the first of July, 1583, made a new attempt to correct the gross immoralities of the cloister and the fruitlessness of his efforts is shown by the fact that he issued another soon after. The Aragonese license, penetrating the palace and the sanctuary, corrupted everything exalted or sacred; and then gradually diffused itself among the people, who had hitherto been so virtuous that the magistracy of Virtue, instituted in 1512, had no occasion to make regulations in regard to popular morals.

Before the Fieschi insurrection extraordinary imposts and forced loans were unknown. The customs were collected on principles of equity. It was wonderful to see the finances in healthful equilibrium, while the strife of faction raged so fiercely. The city added a fleet and an army to its forces at the cost of only four hundred and seventeen thousand lire, and the entire income of the government was only four hundred and thirty-five thousand lire. Love of country and not private interest ruled the hearts of the citizens; public services were either gratuitous or very slightly paid. In 1461, the annual pay of the Doge was less than twelve thousand lire, with three thousand more for office and secret expenses; that of the commander of the city guards was only four thousand lire; and other salaries were in proportion.

But purity of manners disappeared when the foreign power was consolidated, and the mechanism of the State was altered to suit the character of our masters. To pervert the plebeians, the Senate established the lottery (the first in Italy) in 1550, under the name of Borse della Ventura and it was so profitable to the treasury that an impost of sixty-thousand lire was collected from it, and the sum was increased year by year until it reached three hundred and sixty thousand.

Genoa, like Venice, committed the great error of oppressing her dependencies with heavy imposts instead of treating them with generous liberality. As early as 1539, a tax of four denari was levied on every pint of wine and it soon after increased to eight soldi on each mezzarola. Later, that is in 1588, the duty on salt was raised to a crown per mina. Three per cent. was imposed on incomes, and a tax was levied on fruits, and also on paper of which a large amount was exported to foreign countries. These taxes were light in comparison with the murderous taxation of our times, but they were none the less annoying to citizens unused to the visits of tax-gatherers. It had not been customary to drain the money of the poor, but the rich paid in proportion to their splendid fortunes or new columns were opened in the bank of St. George.

The governors of this bank, seeing the Republic restricted to a few families and the Ottoman power becoming master of the seas, wisely returned to the state (1562) Corsica, the cities of Ventimiglia and Sarzana, with its strong castles, the burgh of Levanto and the populous valley of Teico.

Our rich citizens lent their fortunes at high interest to the government of Spain; but the industries which had been the life of the people gradually declined.

In the first years of the century, Liguria was in its most flourishing condition. The smallest hamlets had profitable industries and trade. On the Western Riviera, Taggia was famous for its Muscatelle wines which Alberti says were not inferior to those of Candia and Cyprus. The trade in them was very active. Oneglia was prosperous, and Diana sometimes produced twenty thousand barrels of oil in a single year. Albenga, though its air was unwholesome (whence the proverb of the time,) “Albenga piana, se fosse sana si domanderebbe stella Diana,” was rich in the produce of its fruitful soil. There was universal movement, industry, wealth. But it was of short duration; the new system of government dried up all the fountains of our riches. In 1597, Genoa was reduced to sixty-one thousand inhabitants; Savona which had once counted thirty-six thousand citizens, in 1560 numbered only fourteen thousand, and in 1625, the number had fallen to eight thousand. The decrease was in this proportion throughout the Republic. Campanella had good cause to say to Genoa:—“Leave your markets, your gains, your barren glories! Blush for the riches of your citizens which contrast so terribly with the misery of the Republic.”

The foreign influence slowly killed the manly virtues of the Genoese. Italy no longer existed. We had a corrupt people in a corrupt state. All care was given to externals; every free thought was a crime; we were vile and called our vileness love of peace, and our indolence, moderation; religion had become a superstition, and the rites of the church merely a ladder to worldly preferment. Luxury and parade were unparalleled; but poverty was seen through the pompous vestments. The first born was rich, but his brothers were usurers or celibates in the cloisters. In their vanity and degradation, the great forgot that they had a country. Trade seemed ignominious to our princes and nobles, and they believed that their names at the foot of a bill of exchange would make a bad figure in history. This beggared many families to whom false pride closed the paths by which their fathers had become great. Knightly virtues disappeared; noble blood alone opened the paths to eminence, and this was carried to such extremes that our patricians refused to have for archbishop Belmosto, only because his name was not in the book of gold. They were at once proud and ridiculous. In 1576, a Nicolò Doria became Doge and first took the title of Serenissimo and severe penalties forbade even the notaries to call other persons than nobles—however illustrious and wealthy they might be—by the title Magnifico. The notarial profession[54] itself was pronounced in certain cases ignoble and mechanical. In the smaller towns the same folly prevailed. In Ventimiglia and Finale, there were streets, porches and walks to which the plebeians were not admitted. Genoa was only a shadow, a pretence of a Republic.

Our wars and intestine struggles, our magnanimous enterprises abroad, were succeeded by a servile tranquility. Our masters preferred their gilded saloons to the dust of honourable fields; they lent their money at usurious interest, and got titles and degrading premiums for their baseness. There were, it is true, some naval engagements, but there were no real wars. And this was the supreme misfortune; for long peace wastes the strength of peoples and destroys both the habit and the courage of noble enterprises. There lingered among us arts, letters, wealth and trade; but the manly virtues were extinct.

The foreign leprosy gradually changed the character of our plebeians; they began to tremble before the powerful from whom they were separated by an immense interval. The two classes had nothing in common but vices and the habit of servility. Universal corruption produced great crimes and long catalogues of malefactors were often published. Nor was this in Liguria alone; all the provinces of the Peninsula were involved in a common demoralization. Assassins and robbers collected, not merely in bands, but in armies, and desolated the country and even the cities. They were led by trained warriors such as Alfonso Piccolomini, Corsietto del Sambuco—who ventured to the very gates of Rome—and Marco Sciarra who in Calabria took the title of king. Let no one suppose that the numerous altars, crucifixes and images of Mary prove the piety of our ancestors. They are witnesses for quite the contrary; in the midst of innumerable crimes perpetrated in open day, these religious emblems protected the citizen from the knife of the assassin who was too superstitious to smite him at the foot of the altar.

Religion was then only a superstition and a terror. A multitude of books appeared full of the wildest vagaries that fanaticism ever produced. For example, there were the prophecies of S. Brigida threatening the city with destruction! and through such follies the cunning generation of men, who live upon hypocrisy, mystery and the dead, amassed large fortunes. Their instructions were idle speculations and appeals to human fears. In those days, patrician and jesuit intrigues collected their followers in a little church situated in the Corsa del Diavolo and bound themselves by an oath to support for public offices only those of their own faction. An opposite faction organized, and from their standard—a black crucifix—were called Moro delle Fucine. This was the origin of those pagan saturnalia which survive in our times under the name of Casaccie.

Duplicity, fraud and treachery took the place of frank and fearless honesty. Entire towns were infected with these vices like a species of leprosy. The inhabitants of Borsonasca acquired a wide reputation for shrewd frauds and deceptions. They understood every sleight of hand, learned foreign tongues and imitated them with admirable skill; they had cunning artifices for getting other people’s purses, and they travelled in every country in Europe. Though born in the woods, they entered boldly the palaces of nobles and even of princes, dressed as physicians, merchants, bishops and cardinals. They sold charms, medicines, false titles and privileges with such perfect art that they often acquired extravagant wealth and high rank.[55]

Italy, sore wounded, did not die at once. Latin virtue and civilization were so tenacious of life, that whereas nations usually grow barbarous with the loss of liberty, Italy, trodden by foreign and domestic tyrannies, preserved a remnant of her culture, and, though barren of political genius, adorned her sunset with the splendours of science and art.

It was then that speculative philosophy achieved its greatest triumphs among us. Pomponaceo, Telesio, Cardano, Bruno and Campanella, precursors of Cartheusius and Bacon, opened new roads for the progress of the sciences. Strange, too, but true, when Italy was perishing, she produced her greatest soldiers—soldiers who led every other people but their own to victory. The age of our prostration and servitude produced Trivulzio, Medici, Gonzaga, Farnese, Colonna, Doria, Spinola, Strozzi, and Orsini.

But Genoa, perhaps the last to die, was the first to rise; the day came when, purified by suffering, she found strength to avenge in a tempestuous uprising of her people the shame of her long humiliation.[56]

INDEX.

Abbatelli, the, conspirators in Palermo, 87

Adorno, Antoniotto, retires from the Dogate in 1527, 43;
raised to the Dogate by the Fieschi, 92

——, Barnaba, Lord of Silvano, 94, 165

——, Maddalena, Countess of Silvano, 95

——, Prospero, conquers the Fieschi in 1476, 7

Alba, Duke of, sails with Doria to Spain, 246, 250, 281

Albenga, Jacopo di, distinguished jurist, 195

Alberti, Leandro, quoted, 30, 67, 136, 332

Alcibiades, Fieschi compared to, 66, 127

Alessi, Galeazzo, architect of the church of Carignano, 202

Alexander VI., Pope, 97, 107, 108

—— VII., Pope, 298

Anguissola Giovanni, 236, 237, 239;
his death, 240

Ariosto, Lodovico, praises the verses of Panza, 82

Aristotle taught in Genoa by public lectures, 300

Assereto, Tommaso, co-conspirator of Fieschi, 154, 160, 166, 168, 193, 209, 218;
executed by the government, 220, 223

Balbi, inscription to his infamy, in a rear wall of the Ducal palace, 199

Bandello, Matteo, quoted, 83, 121, 173, 252, 329

Barbarossa, Barbary corsair, 50, 287

Bastelica, Sampiero, Corsican revolutionist, 285, 287-98

Bavaria, princes of, 2, 10

Belcœur, French ambassador in the Grisons, 239

Belmosto, Archbishop of Genoa, 333

Boccanegra, Guglielmo, Captain of the People, 38, 41

——, Maria, 171

——, Simone, first Doge of Genoa, 39

Bona, Duchess, 7

Bonfadio, historian, 25, 66, 91, 92, 93, 113, 126, 156, 177, 207, 234, 299

Boniface IX., pope, 12, 97

Bonnivet, French general, invades Italy, 25

Borgia, Cæsar, intrigues of, 41-2, 106

Borgognino, Scipione, storms the arsenal of Doria, 161, 167

Borganasca, village in the Apennines, craftiness of its people, 336

Bourbon, Constable of, 29

Bourbons, the, 153

Bourgogne, Dukes of, 2

Braccialina, Gentilina, murdered by her husband, 279

Braculli, historian, 82

Brutus, Gianluigi Fieschi compared with, 146

Burlamacchi, Francesco, his revolutionary schemes, 104

Caffaro, first Genoese annalist, 299

Calcagno, Vincenzo, co-conspirator of Fieschi, his origin and character, 116;
at first opposed the conspiracy, 117;
his part in it, 143, 158;
supports the attack on S. Tommaso, 160, 162, 166;
sails with other conspirators to Marseilles, 183;
condemned to banishment, 192;
killed by Spinola after the surrender of Montobbio, 220

Calvi, Annina, touching history of, 252

——, Antonio, 166

Calvin, guest of the Duchess of Ferrara, 309

Cambiaso, Luca, painter, 202, 315

Campanaceo, historian, 25, 169

Campanella, writer and conspirator of Spain, 328, 333, 336

Capello, Bianca, famous courtesan, 329

Capelloni, Lorenzo, historian, 26, 319

Capponi, family of, in Florence, 126, 268

Capuano, Gianluigi, victim of Toledo in Naples, 260

Caracciolo, Giano, Governor-General of Piedmont, 115

Caraffa, an Italian reformer, 27

Cardano, Italian author, 303, 306, 336

Caretto, Marquis of, 16, 325

Carnesecchi, writer of the sixteenth century, 268, 312, 313

Caro, Annibale, author, 132, 137, 236, 237

Casoni, Genoese annalist, 27, 236, 301

Castelvetro, Lodovico, reformer, 309

Castiglione, 269, 270, 312

Catando d’Arimini, friend of Fieschi, 137, 174

Catilini, Fieschi compared with, 17, 23

Cato quoted by Fieschi, 140

Cellini, Benvenuto, artist, 29, 235, 328

Centurione, Prince Adamo, 67;
promises his daughter in marriage to Fieschi, 68, 101, 149, 153, 166, 185, 254, 261

——, Benedetto, 188

——, Gianetta, daughter of Prince Adamo, 67;
espoused to Gianettino Doria, 69

——, Grimaldi Nicoletta, authoress, 84

——, Manfredo, 183, 211

Charlemagne, 35

Charles III. of Savoy, 33

—— V., Emperor, 20;
his election, 24;
great only in the extent of his dominions, 31;
the humiliation of Italy dates from his reign, 36;
his acquisition of Milan, 109, 111, 119, 146, 185, 230, 231, 234, 237, 242, 245, 254, 262, 266, 279, 281, 283, 328

—— IX. of France, 322

Clement V., Pope, 11

—— VI., Pope, 96

—— VII., Pope, 26, 32, 329

—— VIII., Pope, 43, 99, 297

Colonna, Roman patricians, 28, 42

——, Stefano, 206

——, Vittoria, supposed to have been a Protestant, 309

Columbus, Christopher, 39

Conspiracies prevalence of, 36

Conte, Giacobbe, commander of Fieschi’s galleys, 142, 192

Coreggio, Fulvia, Countess of Mirandola, 298

Corsairs, Turkish and Barbary, 282, 283

Cosimo, Duke, 68, 104, 105, 169, 187, 206, 226, 229, 245, 265, 269, 284, 293

Cybo, Cardinal, 74, 187, 250, 264, 265

——, Caterina, Duchess of Camerino, 74, 85, 280

——, Eleonora, her marriage with Count Fieschi, 74, 265;
her literary accomplishments, 85;
her second marriage, 279;
retires to a convent, 280

——, Prince Giulio, 144, 148, 150, 188;
his conspiracy and misfortunes, 263 et seq.

——, Maddalena, received the profit of the sale of indulgences, 23

——, Ricciarda, 74, 264, 265, 266

Dandolo, Francesco, Doge of Venice, 14

Della Casabianca, Giocante, suspects the plot of Fieschi, 153, 318

—— Rovere, Bartolomea, 19

—— Rovere, Francesco Maria, 41, 59

—— Rovere, Maria, mother of Count Fieschi, 20;
masculine vigour of her character, 64, 65;
her last days, 278

—— Torre, Giovanni Battista, his passion for a sister of Fieschi, 121;
attempts violence to gain his end, 122;
killed by the Fieschi, 124

Di Negro, Arcangela, her character and literary accomplishments, 15, 83, 194

Doria, Andrea, 19;
account of his family and services, 38 et seq.;
his desertion of the French standard, 47;
his relations with the Barbary pirates, 50;
his vengeance against the Fieschi, 188;
quenches revolt in Naples, 261;
his death, and estimate of his character, 41, 228, 317

——, Antonio, 59, 197, 226, 230, 261, 277

——, Ceva, 167, 196, 198

——, Domenico, 41, 69, 166, 188, 197, 209, 220, 248

——, Filippino, 43, 44, 59, 169

—— Francesco, 59, 209

—— Cardinal Gerolamo, 65, 166, 178

—— Gianettino, adopted son of Andrea, his early life, 58;
ostentation and insolence, 69;
naval successes, 70-1;
captures the Pope’s vessels in Genoa, 111;
his death, 163

—— Giorgio, 59, 71

—— Giovanni Andrea, 191, 272, 319, 325

—— Lamba, 208

—— Nicolò, 328, 333

—— Pagonio, 277

—— Princess Peretta, 148, 169, 250, 266

—— Tommaso, 128, 222

Dragut (Torghud Rais), Barbary pirate, conquered and taken by Gianettino Doria, 71;
flogged after capture, 73;
released by Andrea Doria, 73, 287;

Genoese bankers lend him the ransom money, 73;
pillages Rapallo, 281

Emanuele Filiberto of Savoy, his narrow escape from the pirate Occhiali, 282, 295, 309, 327

Embriaco, Guglielmo, hero of the first crusade, 129

Erasmus, reformer, 260

Farnese, Alessandro, 107, 111

—— Cardinal, 157, 217, 271

—— Clara, mistress of Pope Alexander VI., 107

—— Orazio, 102, 103, 214, 237

—— Ottavio, 109, 212, 231, 239, 267

—— Pierluigi, Duke of Piacenza, 93, 209, 230;
enters into the Fieschi conspiracy, 101;
his disputes with feudatories, 131;
conspiracy instigated against him by Doria, 233;
murdered by Giovanni Anguissola, 237, 263, 275, 337

Ferrara, Cardinal of, 225, 283

Ferrero, Besso, 97, 297

Fieschi, Adriano, Cardinal, 9

—— Angela Caterina, 65, 221

—— Antonio, 96

—— Bardoni, 201

—— Bartolomeo, 77, 78

—— Beatrice, 17, 97

—— Camilla, 65, 278

—— Carlo, 12, 17, 126

—— Claudia, 65;
insulted by Della Torre, 122

—— Cornelio, brother of Gianluigi, 65;
kills Della Torre, 124;
captures the gate of the Archi, 160;
retires into France, 183, 191, 209, 214, 224, 229, 268

—— Danielo, 13, 77

—— Emanuel, 195

—— Ettore, 14, 112, 230, 277

—— Francesco, 13, 112, 316

—— Gerolamo, brother of Gianluigi, 65, 92, 102, 160, 162;
attempts to carry on the revolution, 177;
treats with the Senate, 177;
retires to Montobbio, 183;
defends Montobbio against Genoa, 205;
is executed as a traitor, 220, 223

—— Giacomo, 12, 13, 17, 112

—— Gianluigi, compared with Catilnie, xvii.-xxiii.;
his family, 8, 9, 13, 38;
his character and early life, 19, 65 et seq., 145;
his tragic death, 168;
estimation in which he was held in Italy, 173-5

—— Innocenzo, 97, 112

—— Lorenzo, 201

—— Luca, Cardinal and General, 11, 13

—— Ortensia Lomellina de, poetess, 85

—— Ottobuono, brother of Gianluigi, 65, 80, 101, 132, 143, 160, 162, 181, 183, 189, 209, 216, 224, 229, 268, 277-8, 285;
executed by order of Doria, 287

—— Ottobuono (Pope Hadrian V.), 10, 17

—— Scipione, brother of Gianluigi, 64, 65;
writes to the Senate for pardon, 195, 214, 224, 229;
his litigation against Genoa, 274, 290

—— Sinibaldo, father of Gianluigi, 13, 64, 78

—— Sinibaldo (Pope Innocent IV.), 9, 13

Figuerroa, Gomez Suarez, Spanish minister in Genoa, 149, 152, 165, 197, 226, 243, 276, 318

Finale, Marquises of, 19

Foderato, Nicolò, 115, 120

Foglietta, Oberto, Genoese historian, xxvi., 40, 41, 307, 319, 320

Fornari, Antonio de, 225

—— Francesco de, 296, 318

Forteguerra, Laudomia, Sienese heroine, 286

Francis I. of France, 25, 26, 34, 43, 115, 210, 215, 231

Fregosi, family of, hostile to the Fieschi, 19, 79, 92;
its power in Genoa, 39;
driven from power by the Adorni, 42

Fregoso, Aurelio, 285, 287

—— Cesare, 19, 43, 62, 83, 91, 208

—— Cornelio, 293

—— Frederico, 49, 311

—— Galeazzo, 322

—— Giano, Doge, 92

—— Ottaviano, 19, 49, 80, 276, 320

—— Pietro, 208

Gad Ali, Barbary pirate, 42

Gianotti, Donato, 88, 268

Giovio, Paolo, 79, 80, 328

Giustiniani, family of the, 75, 129, 257

—— historian of Genoa, 2, 137

—— Ansaldo, 178

—— Fabrizio, 44, 46

—— Giovanni Battista, 157, 193

Gonzaga, Cagnino, 62, 98, 115, 152

—— Ferrante, Spanish governor of Lombardy, 132, 140, 169, 187, 197, 198, 206, 212, 216, 230, 237, 238, 240, 245, 266, 321

—— Giulia, her escape from the corsair Barbarossa, 50;
embraced reformed opinions, 309

Gregory VII., Pope, 326

—— XIII., Pope, 297, 330

Grimaldi, family of the, 12, 38, 40, 54, 60, 82, 272

—— Ercole, 325

—— Francesco, 166, 197

—— Giovanni Battista, 177, 196, 301

Guercio, Enrico il, 5

Guicciardini, the historian, 52, 144

Harcourt, Gillona di, 316

Henry II. of France, 74, 215, 242, 262, 276

—— III. of France, 316

—— VII. of France, 11

—— VIII. of England, report of his ambassadors on the state of Lombardy, 33

Huss, 35

Imperiali, family of the, 110, 178, 193, 194

Innocent III., Pope, 326

—— IV., Pope, 17

—— VIII., Pope, 264

—— XI., Pope, 317

Julius II., Pope, 39, 97, 230, 262

—— III., Pope, 330

Laudi, Agostino, 121, 212, 214, 230 236, 240

Lasagna, Pier Paolo, 96, 165

Lautrec, Odo, 30, 43

Lavagna, Counts of, 1-21

Leo X., Pope, false praises of, 22;
not the Reviver of Letters, 23

Lercaro, Cristoforo, 229, 241

—— Doge, 256, 317, 321, 324

—— Sebastiano, 159, 162, 183

Leyva, Antonio, 31, 233, 262

Lomellini, Agostino, 178

—— Bernardo, 208

—— Gerolamo, 290

—— Nicolò, 44

Louis XII. of France, 18, 40, 76

—— XIV. of France, 317

Luther, Martin, 35, 259, 312, 313

Macchiavelli, Nicolò, 24, 29, 82, 88, 144, 146, 284

Malaspina, family of the, 3, 14, 68, 264, 285

Mami Rais, pirate, 72

Manufactures, prosperity of, in Genoa, 128

Marini, Tommaso, 240, 245, 301, 303

Mario, Gianluigi, 200

Martinengo, family of the, 312

Martire, Pietro, reformer, 309

Mascardi, Agostino, xxvii., 58, 221

Medici family, 24, 25, 32, 36, 248, 256, 264, 337

—— Giulio, 24

—— Lorenzino, 36, 268

Melanchthon, reformer, 259, 313

Mendoza, Bernardino, 92, 184, 254

Mendoza, Don Diego, 284

—— Don Rodrigo, 198

Michelangelo, artist, 22

Mirandola, Galeotto, 137, 262, 269, 283

—— Paolo, 227

Monaco, Lords of, 249

Moncada, Hugo, 43-4

Monferrato, Marquises of, 5, 13, 16, 25, 32

Montorsoli, artists, 58, 170

Morato, Olimpia, embraced reform, 309

Nardi, Jacopo, historian, 268

Navagero, 27, 326

Occhiali, pirate, his singular treaty with the Duke of Savoy, 283

Ochino, Bernardino da Siena, reformer, 259, 309, 313

Olgiato, Milanese conspirator, 149

Orange, Prince of, 31

Ornano, Vannina, wife of Sampiero, 289;
attempts to go to Genoa, 291;
her tragic death, 293

Orsini, family of the, 28, 234, 246, 285, 337

Paleario, Aonio, reformer, 310, 314

Pallavicini family, 16-17, 84, 132, 166, 290, 301, 328

—— Camillo, 236, 238

—— Gerolamo, 131, 236, 238, 240

—— Maddalena, 84

—— Placida, 84

—— Tobia, 290

Panza, Paolo, tutor of Gianluigi Fieschi, 2, 65, 74, 82, 113, 140, 158, 173, 180, 205, 278

Partenopeo, Ugo, author, 20, 300, 315

Paul III., Pope, 34, 78, 85, 88;
shameful manner of his elevation, 107;
his character and ambition, 110;
his enmity to Doria, 111;
encourages the Fieschi conspiracy, 114, 120, 230, 232, 234;
his brief to Andrea Doria on the death of Giannettino, 239;
the revenge of Doria, 240, 241, 289, 310, 311

—— IV., Pope, 326, 327

Perenoto, Nicolò, 243

Pescara, Marquises of, 24, 42, 87

Philip, Landgrave of Hesse, 104

—— II. of Spain, 245, 249, 255, 276, 279, 286, 295, 327

Piccolomini, Faustina, Sienese heroine, 286

Pojano, Giulio, 103, 137, 298

Pompanaceo, author, 336

Ponzio, Camillo, author, 67, 153, 271, 272

Renée, Duchess of Ferrara, 134, 309

Retz, Cardinal, 144

Romano, Giulio, 58

Sacco, Raffaele, fellow conspirator with Fieschi, 93, 116, 143, 151, 183, 192, 202, 224

Salvaghi family, 75, 194, 225

Sauli family, 75, 76, 140, 201

—— Azzolino, 301

—— Marcantonio, 75, 82

—— Stefano, 202

—— Tommaso, 62

Savonarola, Gerolamo, 146

Savoy, Dukes of, 25, 32, 297, 309

Scarampi, Antonia, literary lady, 83

Sciarra, Marco, brigand chief, 335

Segni, author, 34, 109

Sforza family, 6, 7, 26, 103, 231, 280

Sicames, 44

Siena, brave defence of, 286

Sigonio, Carlo, author, xxvi., 149

Sismondi, historian, 90, 228

Sixtus IV., Pope, 7

—— V., Pope, 326

Soderini, Pietro, 146

Sodoleto, Jacopo, 27

Soliman, Sultan, 34, 92, 258, 291

Sopranis, 73, 75

Spinola family, 12, 38, 39, 125, 126, 165, 172, 194, 337

—— Agostino, 207, 290

—— Benedetta, poetess, 84, 250

—— Livia, poetess, 84

—— Paolo, 268, 269, 270, 273

—— Tommaso, 226

Spinosa, 315

Strozzi family, 104, 137, 228, 268, 279, 337

—— Alfonsina, wife of Scipione Fieschi, 316

—— Leone, 286

—— Pietro, 92, 101, 229, 284, 286

—— Roberto, 316

Tacitus, 82, 305

Tassino, Leone, 45

Tassoni, Alessandro, 328

Tasso, Faustino, 85, 249

—— Torquato, 315

Telesio, 336

Toledo, Don Pietro, 259

Torghud Rais (Dragut), pirate, 71, 73, 281

Tornone, Cardinal of, 99, 225, 283

Trissino, 82, 310

Trivulzio family, 90, 131, 236, 337

—— Agostino, 114, 120

—— Teodoro, 43

Tuano, author, 301, 303

Urban VIII., Pope, 297

Urbino, Dukes of, 28, 32, 59, 64, 287

Usodimare, Gerolamo, 193

Vaccari, Vincenzo, 183

Vaga, Pierino, artist, 58, 249

Valdimagra, Marquises of, 137, 144, 150

Varchi, Benedetto, 48, 233, 235, 268

Vasto, Del, Marquises, 46, 49, 67, 91, 109, 132

Vega, Giovanni, 140

Vergerio, Pier Paolo, 235, 309

Verrina, co-conspirator of Fieschi, 116, 143, 148, 154, 158, 160, 183, 193, 202, 209, 220, 223, 225

Vinci, Leonardo da, 309

Visconti family, 14, 74, 208

Vistarino, Lodovico, 206, 212

Vitelli, Allessandro, 109, 206

—— Chiappino, 279, 286

—— Giovanni, 285

—— Lucrezia, 287

Wicliffe, reformer, 35

Women, literary, in Genoa, 83

Zaccaria family, 129

Zanchi, Gerolamo, 310, 312

Zeno, Apostolo, 235

Zino, Ottaviano, 269, 272

Zuingle, 259

END.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] I refer to the letter of Count Persigny on the Roman questio

[2] The author alludes to Guerrazzi’s life of Andrea Doria.—Translator.

[3] Purgatorio, Canto XIX.

[4] Federico Federici, Della famiglia Fieschi, p. 2.

[5] Et quod obedissent Comuni Genuæ, et sponderent in Genua habitaturos.—Archives of Genoa.

[6] Federico Federici, Della famiglia Fieschi, p. 7.

[7] Paolo Panza, Vito d’Innocenzo IV.

[8] Dante, Purgatorio, Canto XIX.

[9] Federici, Della famiglia Fieschi.

[10] The gold crown referred to was worth about eleven francs.

[11] Bernardo Segni. Istorie Fiorentine. Lib II.

[12] Istorie Florentine, Lib. XI.

[13] Oberto Foglietta. Discorso sul governo, Popolare di Genova, p. 35.

[14] Istorie Florentine, Lib. II.

[15] Oberto Foglietta. Discorso, etc., p. 156.

[16] Molini. Documenti di Storia Italiana, vol. ii., p. 54.

[17] Bernabo Brea. Documenti sulla congiura del Fiesco.

[18] Molini. Documenti di Storia Italiana, Vol. ii., p. 60.

[19] A pun was circulated by the wits to the effect that henceforth only that kind of bread would go to the oven. Casoni, Annali. Fornari, root Forno, an oven.—Translator.

[20] Archives of Genoa.

[21] Conguira di Luigi Fieschi. Naples, 1836, p. 5.

[22] Guazzo. Istorie. Venice, 1545, p. 329.

[23] Jacomin Basio. Dell’Istoria della sacra religione di S. Giovanni Gierosolimitano. Parte III. Lib. VIII, p. 150.

[24] Annali di Geneva. Capslago, p. 135.

[25] Dell’Istoria d’Italia dell’anno, 1547, p. 24.

[26] Casoni. Annali della Republica di Genova, Lib. V. p. 250.

[27] Casoni. Annali, etc. Lib V. p. 158.

[28] Porzio ut sopra, p. 206.

[29] See Giustiniani, annali di Genova.

[30] Novelle, passim.

[31] The reader will hardly fail to notice the identity of this language with that used by Cavour in 1859. See Hilton’s Brigandage in South Italy. Vol. ii, p. 7.

[32] Discorso delle cose d’Italia e Papa Paolo III.

[33] Storia della liberta in Italià, Milano, tomo II., p. 122.

[34] Annali, p. 136.

[35] Annali, p. 138.

[36] Scarabelli, Guida di monumenti artistici di Piacenza. Lodi, p. 83.

[37] Istorie Fiorentine, Lib. XI.

[38] Bandello, Novelle. Parte II., xxxviii.

[39] Annali, p. 135.

[40] See Canale. Storia di Genova, vol. ii., p. 167. Edition of Le Monnier.

[41] Congiura del Conte Fieschi.

[42] Archives of Genoa.

[43] Archives of Genoa.

[44] Porzio. Dell’Istoria. etc. p. 218.

[45] Bonfadio, anali p. 152.

[46] Bandello, Novelli. Parte II, XXXVIII.

[47] The palm referred to is equal to ten inches.

[48] The curious tourist will find on a rear wall of the Ducal palace in Genoa two marble slabs bearing inscriptions to the infamy of Della Torre and Balbi.—Translator.

[49] Documents in the archives of Massa and Carrara.

[50] Bonfadio, though Italian, was not Genoese—Translator.

[51] The annals of Bonfadio were written in Latin—Translator.

[52] A Genoese word, derived from Garbo, polished, courteous, polite,—usually applied to manners.—Translator.

[53] This is enumerative of three classes, the nobles, the people, and the plebeians; is common in Italian histories.—Translator.

[54] Notaries still constitute professional class in Genoa.—Translator.

[55] I find an euphemism current in Genoa which confirms the text. A doubt respecting a man’s honesty is expressed thus: “He is of Borsonasca.”—Translator.

[56] The author refers to the expulsion of the Austrians in 1746, of which revolution he has also written the history.—Translator.

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Table of Contents

- THE CONSPIRACY OF GIANLUIGI FIESCHI,

- PREFACE.

- CONTENTS.

- AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION

- CHAPTER I.

- CHAPTER II.

- CHAPTER III.

- CHAPTER IV.

- CHAPTER V.

- CHAPTER VI.

- CHAPTER VII.

- CHAPTER VIII.

- CHAPTER IX.

- CHAPTER X.

- CHAPTER XI.

- CHAPTER XII.

- CHAPTER XIII.

- CHAPTER XIV.

- CHAPTER XV.

- CHAPTER XVI.

- CHAPTER XVII.

- INDEX.

- FOOTNOTES:

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE