Rural Communities in Renaissance Tuscany: Religious Identities and Local Loyalties (EUROPA SACRA) 9782503523378, 2503523374

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R URAL C OMMUNITIES IN R ENAISSANCE T USCANY

EUROPA SACRA Editorial Board under the auspices of Monash University Megan Cassidy-Welch (University of Melbourne) David Garrioch (Monash University) Peter Howard (Monash University) F. W. Kent (Monash University) Constant J. Mews (Monash University) M. Michèle Mulchahey (Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, Toronto) Adriano Prosperi (Scuola Normale di Pisa)

V O LUM E 1

R URAL C OMMUNITIES IN R ENAISSANCE T USCANY Religious Identities and Local Loyalties

by

Cecilia Hewlett

H F

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Hewlett, Cecilia Rural communities in Renaissance Tuscany : religious identities and local loyalties. – (Europa sacra ; 1) 1. Local government – Italy – Tuscany – History – 16th century 2. Tuscany (Italy) – Rural conditions 3. Tuscany (Italy) – Politics and government – 1434–1737 4. Tuscany (Italy) – Religious life and customs 5. Tuscany (Italy) – History – 1434–1737 6. Florence (Italy) – Politics and government – 1421–1737 7. Florence (Italy) – History – 1421–1737 I. Title 945.5'06 ISBN-13: 9782503523378

© 2008, Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2008/0095/112 ISBN: 978-2-503-52337-8 Printed in the E.U. on acid-free paper

C ONTENTS

Acknowledgements

vii

List of Figures

ix

List of Tables

x

List and Abbreviations of Archival Sources

xi

A Note on Sources Introduction

xiii 1

Part I: The Communes and their Government Chapter 1. Florentine Control of the Territories and the Machinery of Local Government

15

Chapter 2. The Pistoian Mountains and Factional Conflict

43

Chapter 3. Gangalandi and Sharecropping in the Traditional Florentine Contado

75

Chapter 4. The Walls of Scarperia

107

Part II: Rural Parish Communities and Florentine Patrons Chapter 5. Religious Institutions in the Countryside

135

Chapter 6. Campanilismo and Religious Identities in Gangalandi, Scarperia, and the Pistoian Mountains

163

Chapter 7. The Miraculous Madonna delle Carceri

197

Appendix 1. Captains of the Pistoian Mountains, 1473–1550

211

Appendix 2. Podestà of Gangalandi, 1473–1550

216

Appendix 3. Vicars of the Mugello, 1473–1550

221

Appendix 4. Gonfalonieri of Scarperia, 1499–1538

226

Index

229

A CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I

began my journey into world of the rural communities of Tuscany when I started research for my doctoral thesis at Monash University in 1999, and I have many people to thank for the support and assistance they have provided me along the way. Bill Kent, who supervised my original dissertation and has guided its development into a monograph, deserves my most heartfelt thanks. He has read and commented on countless drafts, provided me with invaluable advice, and helped me in every way above and beyond the call of duty. I thank him also for a number of references. I am extremely grateful to the School of Historical Studies at Monash University for all the help it has given me over the years. Particular tribute should go to Jane Drakard and Peter Howard, who fostered my love of history and without whose early encouragement I may never have begun this project in the first place. I also owe a debt to the Monash University Centre in Prato, where I completed my doctorate and began working on this book. While my work at the Centre in another context may have hindered the completion of the manuscript, its very existence has been an inspiration. The research on which this book is based was made possible by generous financial support provided by an Australian Postgraduate Award, a Scholarship from the Italian Cultural Institute in Melbourne, and a European University Institute Fellowship. David Rosenthal, Jill Burke, and Caroline Fisher made my time in the Florentine archives an unforgettable experience, and together we discovered the many joys — and occasional pains — associated with archival research. I am grateful to the staff of the archives and libraries where I have worked. And, finally, I wish to thank my family, whose encouragement made it possible for me to begin this project and whose support and patience have resulted in its completion. To Bev, Ken, Rebecca, Adam, Eric, Aladino, Elena, and Mattia. Without my husband Simone it would all have been impossible. The prospect of

viii

Acknowledgements

the imminent arrival of my children, Luca, Alex, and, most recently, Chiara, has been the inspirational force behind my finishing various stages of the dissertation, and now the manuscript. Tuscan contadini by heritage, I dedicate it to them.

F IGURES

Chapter 2 Figure 1, p. 46. Pistoian Mountains Figure 2, p. 54. San Bartolomeo Figure 3, p. 63. View of Calamecca Figure 4, p. 64. View of Crespoli Chapter 3 Figure 5, p. 79. View from Ponte a Signa towards Santa Maria delle Selve Figure 6, p. 80. San Martino a Gangalandi Figure 7, p. 81. View of San Martino a Gangalandi from Santo Stefano a Calcinaia Figure 8, p. 82. Santo Stefano a Calcinaia Chapter 4 Figure 9, p. 114. Streetscape of Scarperia Figure 10, p. 115. Vicar’s Palace, Scarperia Figure 11, p. 116. Parish of Fagna Chapter 6 Figure 12, p. 171. Oratory of the Madonna del Terremoto Figure 13, p. 172. Miraculous image of the Madonna del Terremoto

T ABLES

Chapter 2 Table 1, p. 55. Population of Pistoian Mountains, number of households (1244–1536) Chapter 3 Table 2, p. 96. Gangalandi and Scarperia compared, mezzadria and landownership (1497) Table 3, p. 103. Gangalandi, landownership according to occupation (1497) Chapter 4 Table 4, p. 125. Commune of Scarperia, occupational distribution (1497), Scarperia Table 5, p. 125. Commune of Scarperia, occupational distribution (1497), Sant’ Agata Table 6, p. 125. Commune of Scarperia, occupational distribution (1497), Fagna

L IST AND A BBREVIATIONS OF A RCHIVAL S OURCES

AA CC Reg. Parr. VP VPD

Archivio Arcivescovile Cause Civili Registri Parrocchiali Visite Pastorali Visite Pastorali – Documenti

ASF

Archivio di Stato di Firenze Archivio delle Tratte Archivio Gherardi Piccolomini di Aragona Auditore delle Riformagione Cinque conservatori del contado e distretto fiorentino Compagnia poi Magistrato del Bigallo Corporazione Religiose Soppresse dal Governo Francese Compagnie Religiose Soppresse dal Pietro Leopoldo Carte Strozziane Decima Granducale Decima Repubblicana Mediceo avanti il Principato Miscellanea Medicea Miscellanea Repubblicana Notarile Antecosimiano Nove Conservatori di Ordinanza e di Milizia Otto di Pratica Pratica Segreta di Pistoia e Pontremoli Provvisioni Registri Signori Responsive

Auditore Cinque Comp. Bigallo Corp. Relig. Sopp. CRS CS DG DR MAP Misc. Medicea Misc. Rep. Notarile Nove Otto Pratica Segreta Provv. Signori

xii

Archival Sources

Statuti

Statuti delle comunità autonome e soggette Ufficiali delle Castella

ASPist.

Archivio di Stato di Pistoia Patrimonio Ecclesiastico

ASS Delib.

Archivio Storico del Comune di Scarperia Deliberazione

BNF

Biblioteca Nazionale di Firenze Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli Fondo Magliabechiana

Magli. BRF

Biblioteca Riccardiana, Firenze Fondo Palagi

A N OTE ON S OURCES

A

ll dates have been given in the modern style. For ease of reading, quotations from primary sources and printed texts have been translated into English in the text and the original is quoted in the footnotes. On a number of occasions, again for stylistic reasons, I have paraphrased the original source in English in the text rather than providing a direct translation but have included the full Italian transcription in the footnotes. In quoting from original documents, I have followed the accepted principles of transcription — transcribing what is in the original text, but adding capitalization, punctuation, and word separation according to modern usage. The original language and name and place spellings have been preserved in the footnotes but changed into the modern forms in the text.

INTRODUCTION

T

I

he territory governed by Florence at the end of the fifteenth century was not extensive by European standards. What it lacked in size it made up for in diversity: 12,000 square kilometres of terrain ranging from the fertile plains of the Mugello to the marshy swamplands of Altopascio, Fucecchio, and the Val d’Arno di Sopra; from the rolling hills surrounding Florence in a semicircular ring to the south-east, to the harsh mountains of the Appennines, Chianti, and the Alpi Apuane. Only a third of this area had been part of Florence’s traditional contado; the remainder had been absorbed or conquered over the course of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, with varying degrees of difficulty. The 2100 separate communities that were scattered throughout the territory were grouped into three hundred parishes. The types of settlements in which these communities lived ranged from minor urban centres to walled castelli, from large farming communities to mill towns, and from fishing villages to mountain hamlets. Inhabiting these settlements, 26,000 households occupied anything from a single room, devoid of any furnishings and hastily constructed in wood or thatch, to extensive farm buildings made of stone, with separate living and cooking areas. With households ranging from single inhabitants to large extended family groupings, a total population of approximately 136,000 individuals engaged in a vast array of different activities. Farmers, shoemakers, ironworkers, potters, fishermen, bakers, shepherds, tailors, innkeepers, artists, builders, teachers, and wet nurses sustained the economy of the Florentine countryside. And yet, more often than not, historians of the period continue to refer to the contado or ‘territory’ of fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Florence as if the entire area and its inhabitants somehow shared a common identity and experience.

2

Introduction

The temptation to group together conceptually the rural inhabitants of the Florentine territory as ‘peasants’ largely stems from the rhetoric of Florentine citizens themselves. Contadini were set apart from the honourable status of cittadini, the walls of Florence shutting out the countryside and acting as a clear boundary of civility. A litany of insults and derogation, often quoted by historians, has set the scene for a definitive split between the city and the countryside. ‘The country villa makes for good beasts but evil men, so frequent it little’, advises Paolo da Certaldo.1 ‘My Lord, Jesus Christ, protect me from the fury and the hands of villagers’ was the litany of the Piovano Arlotto.2 In times of crisis, citizens’ distaste for the base character of rural inhabitants was transformed into fear. During the famines of 1505, Piero Soderini, the Gonfalonier for Life, took the extreme measure of forbidding contadini from entering the city under any circumstances and sent supplies of grain to the Florentine representatives governing the various rural communities for distribution outside of the city.3 In the same year, when Machiavelli proposed that contadini should be used to create a militia to protect the city, there was considerable opposition from leading citizens who feared arming rural inhabitants in case they would turn their weapons against the city.4 In reality, the division between the city and the countryside was much less profound than the documents cited above would have us believe.5 The Florentine government chose its representatives carefully in order to ensure that those sent out into rural areas did not exploit the local population.6 Jacopo Salviati, who had 1

‘“La villa fa buone bestie e cattivi uomini” e però usala poco: sta a la città, e favvi o arte o mercatantia, e capiterai bene’: Paolo da Certaldo, Libro di Buoni Costumi, ed. by Alfredo Schiaffini (Florence: Le Monnier, 1945), pp. 91–92. 2

‘Signore mio Iesu Cristo, guardami da furie e mani di villani’: quoted in Maria S. Mazzi and Sergio Raveggi, Gli uomini e le cose nelle campagne fiorentine del Quattrocento (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1983), p. 23. 3

Humphrey Butters, Governors and Government in Early Sixteenth-Century Florence,1502 – 1519 (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York: Oxford University Press, 1985), p. 97. 4

5

Butters, Governors and Government in Early Sixteenth-Century Florence, pp. 105–06.

This is not to deny the existence of a distinct socio-economic difference between patrician families and rural labourers, but the division was based on occupational and financial differences not dependant on the existence of the city walls. Teodor Shanin argues along similar lines, that by their very characterization as a group, peasants are integrated into the wider community; see the Introduction to Peasants and Peasant Societies, ed. by Teodor Shanin (Oxford: Blackwell, 1971), pp. 1–12. 6

Gene Brucker, The Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977), p. 218. Brucker argues that these controls were introduced in the early part of the fifteenth century as a result of continuing complaints from rural inhabitants.

Introduction

3

served a term as governor of Montepulciano, wrote in his diary, ‘I won the benevolence of that district because I governed them very gently’.7 A large proportion of Florentine citizens had rural origins, having migrated to the city in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, and many of these citizens maintained extensive ties in these rural zones.8 Lorenzo de’ Medici himself, writing as advocate for a local confraternity in San Casciano, began his letter ‘The bearer of this letter comes from the community and confraternity of San Casciano, for which I have the greatest affection, not least because of its vicinity [to me]’.9 The Florentine territory was also small enough to ensure that information was carried swiftly around the countryside, and even some of the more remote zones received regular updates about the latest occurrences in the urban centre. This network of communication meant that contadini were well informed as to the latest political changes, as well as social and cultural movements.10 They engaged with emerging urban spiritual cults and were some of the strongest supporters of the Dominican friar Savonarola, who came to exert great political as well as spiritual influence towards the end of the fifteenth century.11 Urban citizens often chose to patronize rural ecclesiastical institutions, and rural communities had the same level of participation in lay confraternities as their urban counterparts.12 While the Florentine political system was clearly a much more complex affair, the principles of government were fundamentally the same for the two groups. Despite being subject to Florentine domination, the rural system of government was based on the model of a free commune: each

7 8

Quoted in Brucker, Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, p. 220.

Johan Plesner argues that the ‘conquest’ of the contado by urban citizens was in fact little more than rural inhabitants moving into the city and becoming cittadini while the land itself remained in the same hands. See his monograph, L’emigrazione dalla campagna alla città libera di Firenze nel XIII secolo (Florence: Francesco Papafava, 1979), pp. 105–51. 9

‘Di questa sarà apportatore uno del commune et certa compagnia di San Casciano, a’quali, come voi potete intendere, io porto grandissima affectione et per la vicinità et per altro’: ASF, MAP, Filza 51, fol. 462. 10 This will be discussed in more detail in later chapters. Possible channels of communication were numerous: local fairs and markets, travelling pilgrims and merchants, urban citizens visiting country properties, Florentine officials stationed in the countryside, peasant ambassadors making regular trips to Florence, peasant farmers transporting products to the centre, rural pilgrimages to Florentine religious sites, etc. 11 Lorenzo Polizzotto, The Elect Nation: The Savonarolan Movement in Florence, 1494–1545 (Oxford: Clarendon Press; New York; Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 117. 12

See Chapters 5 and 6.

4

Introduction

community elected its own representative council and regularly rotated office holders.13 Economically, there was even less to distinguish between the city and countryside; not only were the two areas mutually dependent, but the economies of rural communities themselves resembled mini cities.14 In his study of urban Europe, Alexander Cowan identified the following five economic factors as defining features of urban settlements: a centre of exchange, the presence of artisans, occupational diversity, links with other centres of exchange, and influence over hinterlands.15 And yet, as will become apparent in later chapters, many of these factors could be applied to a large proportion of the rural settlements that made up the Florentine territory. The city depended on the agricultural products of the countryside as well as on the artisanal and mercantile activities of the various minor urban centres and rural communities. The inhabitants of the countryside played an essential role in the production of iron, building materials, silk, wool, and leather, all of which were fundamental to the Florentine economy. Moreover they not only traded these goods with the city of Florence, but also set up networks of exchange throughout the territory.

II Until recent decades, the countryside of Florence was barely considered a topic of serious study. Outside the realm of antiquarian historians, the only other group who examined the contado in any detail were specialists in agrarian history, interested in methods of production and cultivation.16 Their work was almost 13

See Chapter 1. See also Marvin Becker, ‘The Florentine Territorial State and Civic Humanism in the Early Renaissance’, in Florentine Studies: Politics and Society in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Nicolai Rubinstein (London: Faber, 1968), pp. 109–39 (pp. 112–14), for a discussion of the triumph of communal law over feudal rights. 14

Enrico Fiumi, ‘Sui rapporti economici tra città e contado nell’età comunale’, Archivio Storico Italiano, 114 (1956), 18–68; and Giorgio Chittolini, ‘“Quasi-città”: Borghi e terre in area lombarda nel tardo medioevo’, Società e storia, 47 (1990), 3–26. 15

16

Alexander Cowan, Urban Europe 1500–1700 (London: Arnold, 1998), pp. 192–93.

Among the most important of these studies are Fiumi, ‘Sui rapporti economici’, pp. 18–68; Giovanni Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi: Ricerche sulla società italiana del basso Medioevo (Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1974); Elio Conti, La formazione della struttura agraria moderna nel contado fiorentino, 3 vols (Rome: Instituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1965); Philip Jones, ‘From Manor to Mezzadria: A Tuscan Case-Study in the Medieval Origins of Modern Agrarian

Introduction

5

completely disconnected from the complex social and political changes of the cultural movement we know as the Renaissance, and their peasants were, it seemed, largely oblivious to what was going on only a few kilometres away.17 These historians were interested in the socio-economic transformation of the countryside that had occurred as a result of the Black Death and the diffusion of the sharecropping system, and they saw the study of individual communities to be of little importance outside of these themes. Their work, by definition, widened the conceptual gulf existing between the city and the countryside in scholarly discourse, as did their conclusions. In the majority of these studies, which predominately rely on demographic data and sharecropping contracts, the peasantry emerged as an increasingly disenfranchised and marginalized social group.18 The mainly Anglophone generation of Nicolai Rubinstein, and then Gene Brucker, focused with admirable clarity on the city and civic life, demonstrating that politics was, in essence, about social forces. From this tradition, almost by default, social historians have gone some way towards reuniting the urban and the rural worlds, through their examination of the family structure and social networks of the leading Florentine families. They have discovered that urban citizens were perhaps not as cut off from their rural ties as had previously been thought, but instead had enduring ties to villages of origin, forged real relationships with their labourers and wet nurses, and even had distant relatives in the country who were remembered in their wills.19 In recent decades, the study of the Florentine

Society’, in Florentine Studies, ed. by Rubinstein, pp. 193–241; Plesner, L’emigrazione dalla campagna; Giuliano Pinto, La Toscana nel tardo medioevo: Ambiente, economia rurale, società (Florence: Sansoni, 1982); and Pinto, Toscana medievale: Paesaggi e realtà sociali (Florence: Le Lettere, 1993).

17 Samuel Cohn has recently tackled this gap in scholarship, examining the taxation policy of Florence over the countryside in regard to particular political events and concluding that while changes in the political regime of Florence appeared to have little impact on the contado in the context of economic and demographic trends, other political factors such as war, patronage, and taxation did impact on peasant well-being. See his essay ‘Demography and the Politics of Fiscality’, in Florentine Tuscany: Structures and Practices of Power, ed. by William Connell and Andrea Zorzi (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 183–207. 18

Exceptions to this interpretation include David Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia: The Social History of an Italian Town, 1200–1430 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967), and to an extent Fiumi, ‘Sui rapporti economici’, who argues that the countryside was not being exploited to the extent that some would claim. 19

See particularly Francis W. Kent, Household and Lineage in Renaissance Florence: The Family Life of the Capponi, Ginori and Rucellai (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977), pp. 233–38; Kent, ‘“Be Rather Loved than Feared”: Class Relations in Fifteenth Century Florence’, in Society

6

Introduction

countryside, as a field in its own right, has gained a new lease on life, and historians have begun to look more carefully at the wider context of the transformations of the Florentine republic during the fifteenth century. Beginning in the 1960s with Marvin Becker’s examination of the territorial nature of the Florentine state, focus was shifted from the study of the Renaissance as a purely urban phenomenon to an examination of it as one in which the territorial expansion of the city played a fundamental role in the city’s character.20 In the decades following Becker’s work other Anglo-American historians took up the theme and, while not all agreeing with Becker’s analysis of the nature of Florence’s territoriality, have traced the changes occurring in Florentine policy which saw the city increasingly moving towards the construction of a ‘state’, with all the economic, military, and administrative mechanisms that this process involved.21 While the majority of these scholars were primarily concerned with the ways in which these changes affected the dominant culture of the city, historians more recently have turned to an examination of the very nature of territoriality, looking specifically at the ways in which Florence governed its territories. They have concluded, for the most part, that rather than a highly centralized territorial and the Individual in Renaissance Florence, ed. by William Connell (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2002), pp. 13–50; Dale V. Kent and Francis W. Kent, Neighbours and Neighbourhood in Renaissance Florence: The District of the Red Lion in the Fifteenth Century (Locust Valley, NY: J. J. Augustin, 1982); and their ‘Messer Manno Temperani and his Country Cousins: Two Vignettes of Florentine Society in the Fifteenth Century’, Rinascimento, 23 (1983), 237–60; Amanda Lillie, Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century: An Architectural and Social History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), and her more detailed PhD thesis, ‘Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century: A Study of the Strozzi and Sassetti Country Properties’ (Courtauld Institute of Art, University of London, 1986); and more recently her ‘Memory of Place: Luogo and Lineage in the Fifteenth-Century Florentine Countryside’, in Art, Memory, and Family in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Giovanni Ciappelli and Patricia Rubin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 195–214. 20

21

Becker, ‘Florentine Territorial State’, pp. 109–39.

See particularly Elena Guarini, ‘Gli statuti delle città soggette a Firenze tra 1400 e 1500: riforme locali e interventi centrali’, in Statuti, città, territori in Italia e Germania tra medioevo ed età moderna, ed. by Giorgio Chittolini and Dietmar Willoweit (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1991), pp. 69–124; and Guarini, Lo stato mediceo di Cosimo I (Florence: Sansoni, 1973); Guidalbaldo Guidi, Il governo della città-repubblica di Firenze del primo Quattrocento, vol. III: Il contado e distretto (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1982); Lauro Martines, Lawyers and Statecraft in Renaissance Florence (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968); Anthony Molho, Florentine Public Finances in the Early Renaissance, 1400–1433 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971); and Andrea Zorzi, L’amministrazione della giustizia penale nella repubblica fiorentina (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1988).

Introduction

7

state, Florence worked within pre-existing structures, thereby creating what William Connell has identified in one of the most recent collections of essays on the theme as a ‘regional’ state.22 Thus, instead of attempting to create a single centralized system of control, Florence chose to govern by placing its own representatives in various strategic points throughout the countryside, in order to oversee, rather than directly control, rural communities. Without engaging directly with the debate as to the ‘territorial’ or ‘regional’ nature of the Florentine government’s administration of its dominion, the following analysis inevitably addresses these themes. Rather than focusing on the mechanisms of institutional control, this book privileges the rural experience of Florentine government, tracing changes in the internal structure of specific rural communities and their relationship with the central government, from the later years of Lorenzo de’ Medici’s domination of the republic at the end of the fifteenth century until the institution of the Duchy by the mid-sixteenth century. The motivations for this approach are twofold: firstly because, despite the recent increase of scholarship in the area, the lived experience of rural communities has been largely neglected, and secondly because Florence made certain decisions as to the nature of its administrative control of the territories in reaction to the nature of the communities that made up the territories. Policies regarding the government of rural communities were not created in a vacuum, and without a clear picture as to the shape of these communities, their internal loyalties, and sense of identity, it is difficult to understand why Florence chose to govern in the way it did. Urban history has long dominated our understanding of Renaissance and early-modern Europe, and Florentine historiography is no exception here, but there does seem to be a growing recognition amongst urban historians of the need to examine cities in their particular context. Urban centres may have had a proportionately greater influence on the direction in which Europe was moving politically and culturally, but the nature of these centres and the values which they upheld were just as much a product of the relationships forged with rural neighbours as those developed with neighbouring city-states.

22

The most recent and comprehensive treatment of this theme can be found in the collection of essays edited by Connell and Zorzi, Florentine Tuscany. For Connell’s discussion of the nature of the state see particularly pp. 1–5 and pp. 333–45. Gene Brucker provides an overview of the evolution of Florentine historiography towards examinations of the regional state in ‘Florence Redux’, in Beyond Florence: The Contours of Medieval and Early Modern Italy, ed. by Paula Findlen, Michelle Fontaine, and Duane Osheim (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2003), pp. 5–12.

8

Introduction

III If the definitive separation of rural and urban cultures was indeed an imaginary separation, all the more was the uniform identity of the thousands of rural communities that fell into the administrative boundaries of the Florentine territory. Just because inhabitants of rural communities shared the legal status of contadini, this did not mean that individuals living in the rich fertile land on the outskirts of the city of Florence would feel a closer affinity to the rough mountain communities on the frontiers of the Florentine territory than they almost certainly did for those Florentine artisans and labourers with whom they would have had almost daily contact. Similarly, it is highly unlikely that any Florentine citizen would not have made a distinction between a sharecropping labourer, with no property of his own, and a wealthy, office-holding artisan living in one of many minor centres scattered throughout the territory. Lack of familiarity with the shape of small individual rural communities — their economies, social structures, loyalties, and political goals — has resulted in a tendency for historians to ignore the differences between them, or rather to merely pass over those differences as inconsequential, in the examination of the important issue of the nature of the territorial state. However, if the relationship between Florence and its territory is to be understood, these issues of regional differences must be recognized as playing a fundamental role in the formation of the territory. The Florentine government did not treat the entire region as a unified community. In turn, each rural community, regardless of its size and strategic importance, had its own unique concept of its identity and position in the wider community and responded to Florentine government accordingly. In order to come to a more detailed understanding of the complex dynamic of power relationships between Florence and its contado, it is necessary to examine the political, social, and liturgical practices of even the most humble inhabitants of the countryside as well as the relationships they formed within their immediate villages and with neighbouring communes. This book attempts to do just that: to look in detail at a small but, in a number of ways, representative sample of the minor communities that together made up the bulk of the thousands of settlements that populated the Tuscan landscape and to examine their experience of the changes in power structures occurring during the Florentine passage from republic to duchy. This approach is not an attempt to construct a micro-history of each community, but aims to draw into mainstream historical discourse what has been evident to antiquarian historians for centuries: that each individual rural community had its own distinct identity and unique role within the Florentine territory.

9

Introduction

IV This book focuses on the experience of individual rural communities: their internal structures, their local histories, their interactions with neighbouring communities, and how these factors impacted on the relationships that they developed with the city of Florence. It revolves around three communities in the Florentine territory, chosen as case studies as much for me as by me, in response to the nature and scope of the primary sources that have survived the intervening centuries. In the interests of clarity, I have divided the study into two parts. Part I introduces the various administrative controls put in place by the Florentine government and examines how local rural councils and individuals negotiated these structures. Part II focuses on diocesan and parish structures: the tensions that existed between government and ecclesiastical structures and the impact that these tensions had on the spirituality of rural communities. This division between the administrative and ecclesiastical structures of the Florentine territory is admittedly a somewhat artificial one. The two are fundamentally interrelated and codependent, and my intention has been to build a cumulative picture of the rural experience rather than privilege one over the other. Each section begins with a general chapter examining the mechanisms put in place to administer the territory before turning to an examination of the specific case-studies, in this wider context. As much of the detailed work about how the various levels of Florentine government functioned has already been done, the particular magistracies responsible for the administration of the territory are discussed in terms of their direct impact on rural communities rather than their administrative structure.23 The case studies then look at the practical implications of these structures on a number of individual communities and how their internal structure influenced the relationships forged with Florence. The methodological approach taken — an integration of demographic, socioeconomic, political, and religious factors — has evolved hand-in-hand with my exploration of the surviving sources. Beginning with an examination of the more traditional sources of the statutes and regulations that governed rural communes, as is so often the case in archival research, one question led to another and before I knew it I found myself catapulted into parish, convent, and confraternal records. 23 For comprehensive descriptions of administrative structures, see Guarini, Lo stato mediceo, Guidi, Il governo, and Zorzi, L’amministrazione. For ecclesiastical structures, see Roberto Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere nel Toscana del Quattrocento (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1987) and George Dameron, Episcopal Power and Florentine Society, 1000–1320 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991).

10

Introduction

From these sources, almost unexpectedly, individuals began to emerge, and alongside them the distinct flavour of each community. A desire to understand more about these people, their daily occupations and wealth (or lack of it), drew me into the tax records, and here came the great surprise: despite the lack of distinguishing surnames, the scale of the communities and the thoroughness with which records were kept meant that it was sometimes possible to identify individuals and their families. This was a revelation in the face of a historiography that often implies that Florence was surrounded by an indistinguishable peasant mass. Instead, communities with quite distinct social compositions, sustained by often complex economies, gradually emerged. The first community, or rather group of communities, to emerge is made up of the towns of Cutigliano, Crespoli, Calamecca, and Lanciuole, located high in the Pistoiese mountains. Known for their violent and lawless tendencies, these communities provide a fascinating contrast to the image created by historians of the disenfranchised peasant. These communities experienced a troubled relationship with Florence, not least because of Florence’s extended struggle for control over the city of Pistoia and its intervention in the factional battles that ravaged the city and countryside. Villages were isolated, located on mountain peaks in the midst of dense forests. Their altitude was not suitable for the cultivation of vines, olives, or wheat, and instead their inhabitants relied on the more solitary pursuits of raising cattle and the felling of trees for the production of charcoal. The inhabitants were known for their fierce factional loyalties, and not surprisingly, Florentine citizens tended to venture into these areas only when it was unavoidable. Parish or village loyalties were weak and communal records sparsely kept. The second case-study, Gangalandi, borders on the commune of Lastra a Signa, and is located to the south-west of Florence. While little known today, in the fifteenth century it was commonly regarded as being one of the most fertile areas of the Florentine territory. If there ever was an area in the Florentine countryside that could be considered a ‘typical’ rural community this would be it, at least on first glance. The lower and middle hills, where the commune was located, were part of Florence’s traditional hinterland. They had not been newly conquered, nor did they have any particularly strong rivalries with any other communities in the area. The standard crops of grapes, olives, and grains were abundant and, as a result, Florentine landholders were common in the area. Parish and communal structures functioned in relative harmony, and records of these were kept meticulously. By all accounts, Gangalandi was not extraordinary in any sense and yet its inhabitants did not resemble the traditional ‘peasant’ any more than did the mountain men of Pistoia.

Introduction

11

Brought into being by the Florentine government in the 1300s in order to strengthen the security of the Mugello, the final case study, Scarperia, was an artificial settlement on a number of levels. The town was constructed according to precise architectural plans, designed in response to its specific purpose. The town’s population was drawn from surrounding villages, many of which had been under the control of the feudal Ubaldini. Despite their lack of ties to one another or to the New Town, the inhabitants of Scarperia were thrown together within the confines of a walled town. Complicating matters further, many of them had no prior experience of a republican or territorial government, nor knowledge of how to administer a communal government of their own. These factors significantly contributed to the path Scarperia was to follow over the course of the subsequent centuries. By choosing case studies that are so dramatically different from one another in almost every respect, I am clearly exaggerating the differences that existed across the thousands of rural communities making up the Florentine territory. While it must be acknowledged that the differences that existed between rural communities may not always have been as great as those that are apparent between these case studies, I would be equally wary of presenting them as entirely representative of the area in which they are located. They may have shared certain characteristics with other communities in their zone of the countryside, but their particular situations and local histories were often very different. Here I will borrow Elena Guarini’s description of the Florentine territory, not framed in terms of centre and periphery, but as overlapping ‘geographies of power’.24 Examined in contrast to one another, the three case studies of Gangalandi, Scarperia, and the Pistoiese become the vehicle by which the fluid nature of social and political ties is examined. The more closely these communities are examined, the more unrecognizable the traditional ‘peasant’ becomes in any of them. Instead, they are replaced with vibrant communities of individuals pursuing a vast range of activities, within a series of complex cultural frameworks. These frameworks were not only recognizable to the urban citizens of Florence, but they shared many aspects of the urban culture that historians of Florence have come to know so well.

24

Elena Guarini, ‘Geographies of Power: The Territorial State in Early Modern Italy’, in The Renaissance: Italy and Abroad, ed. by John J. Martin (London: Routledge, 2003), pp. 89–103.

Part I The Communes and their Government

Chapter 1

F LORENTINE C ONTROL OF THE T ERRITORIES AND THE M ACHINERY OF L OCAL G OVERNMENT

B

I

y the time that Lorenzo de’ Medici died in 1492, the period of Florentine territorial expansion was almost at a close. In the century that preceded his death, the physical territory of Florence had tripled. The newly acquired lands had been reorganized into administrative and judicial units overseen by Florentine officials and magistracies, and hundreds of rural communes had found themselves answerable to Florentine authorities for anything from permission to cut down a tree on common land to the prosecution of serious crimes.1 In the decades that followed the situation intensified as urban lawmakers extended their control over local judicial systems and the extraordinary office of the commissioners was created and given full authority to take control of rural communities if the security of the territory was threatened.2 When the death throes of the last

1

For a description of the administrative framework of the territory, see Zorzi, L’amministrazione, and his ‘The “Material Constitution” of the Florentine Dominion’, in Florentine Tuscany, ed. by Connell and Zorzi, pp. 6–31. 2

Regarding the legislative changes which occurred during the sixteenth century, see John Brackett, Criminal Justice and Crime in Late Renaissance Florence, 1537–1609 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992); Butters, Governors and Government in Early Sixteenth-Century Florence; R . Burr Litchfield, Emergence of a Bureaucracy: The Florentine Patricians, 1530–1790 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986); and Laura Stern, The Criminal Law System of Medieval and Renaissance Florence (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994). For a discussion of the role of commissari, see William Connell, ‘Il commissario e lo stato territoriale fiorentino’, Ricerche Storiche, 17 (1988), 591–617.

16

Chapter 1

Florentine republic had finally come to an end and the Medici were securely installed as legitimate rulers of the newly declared Grand Duchy of Florence in the mid-sixteenth century, rural communes found their rights irrevocably eroded and any changes to local structure and organization were subject to the will of Florentine officials.3 And yet local councils persisted, contadini continued to compete for political offices within their towns, individuals and rural confraternities competed with urban citizens for control of their ecclesiastical institutions, and on many occasions rural communities actually found a way to achieve the political ends they desired.4 One explanation for this apparent contradiction is that rural communes found alternative channels for the negotiation of power and the control of their own communities. If this is true, then contadini must be credited with at least a working knowledge of the political system that drove the city of Florence, and with more ingenuity than either historians or their contemporary urban brothers have been willing to grant them. This analysis seeks to establish just how these rural communities responded to the changing world of Florentine politics and contends that the very differences in social and political structure that existed between the rural communities not only determined the channels of communication sought out by rural inhabitants, but affected the nature of Florentine territorial government itself. If rural communities differed dramatically from one another in social composition, economy, and political ties, then these differences were likely to have impacted on the relationships forged between Florence and the subject communes and, subsequently, on the development of Florentine mechanisms of control of the territory. There are numerous indications that this is exactly what happened, that the Florentine government distinguished between communities on the basis of their economic resources, strategic locations, political affiliations, social composition, and ecclesiastical ties and altered its treatment of each subject community accordingly. The apparently haphazard development of Florentine territoriality was a product of the tardiness with which the city achieved supremacy in the region. Prior to

3 4

See Chapters 2, 3, and 4 for further discussion of these themes.

Even if there was no unified political programme that belonged to a ‘class’ of peasantry (as subsequent chapters will discuss in more detail) rural communities often exhibited a surprising ability to negotiate with the Florentine government to their own advantage. For a thought-provoking discussion of class issues in Florentine politics, see the recent article by John Najemy, ‘Politics: Class and Patronage in Twentieth-Century Italian Renaissance Historiography’, in The Italian Renaissance in the Twentieth Century, ed. by Alan Grieco, Michael Rocke, and Fiorella Superbi (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 2002), pp. 119–36.

FLORENTINE CONTROL OF THE TERRITORIES

17

the thirteenth century the cities of Pisa and Lucca had been more powerful and exercised greater control over their territories. Florence was able to establish itself as the dominant force in its contado in the 1200s as a result of its military presence, but administrative and judicial control of the territory was still a long way off.5 The evolution of these systems of governance was a lengthy process and throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries progressed hand-in-hand with the expansion of the territory itself. Over this two-hundred-year period, Florence was faced with the dual challenge of incorporating new lands into its administrative system while simultaneously legitimating its superiority in the region. As a result there was no unified approach to the government of the territories and, instead, mechanisms of control were developed in response to the particular geographic, military, and political situations of the territories absorbed.6 For example, some of the more strategically sensitive acquisitions such as Pistoia, Prato, and Volterra had the control of their contado removed from them and were financially crippled as a result, while others were allowed to maintain their administration of surrounding lands and experienced minimal changes to their political systems. Some areas had their historical boundaries completely redefined, such as those in the Guidi-dominated Mugello, and others were able to maintain their traditional relationships with neighbouring communities.

II By the beginning of the fifteenth century the administrative and judicial structures governing the territory were largely in place. The supreme organs of government were Florence’s own central councils of the Signoria, the colleges, and the legislative assemblies. Under them fell the civic magistracies of the Cinque del Contado, responsible for overseeing the fiscal organization of the communes; the Otto di Guardia, initially established as an extraordinary magistracy to maintain public order, but subsequently evolving into the most important criminal court in the fifteenth century; and the Ufficiali dell’estimo del contado, responsible for the allocation and collection of taxes. All of these institutions were centrally controlled magistracies operating out of Florence. Then came the territorial administrators, the vicari, 5

For a discussion of the evolution of Florentine judicial control, see Chris Wickham, Courts and Conflict in Twelfth-Century Tuscany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 6

The mechanics of Florentine control will be discussed in more detail with the examination of specific case studies in the following chapters.

18

Chapter 1

capitani, and podestà, who were sent out into the territories to administer justice, maintain order, and collect taxes from the subject towns. The positions of the capitani and the podestà evolved from the traditional practice by which independent communes invited a foreign power to oversee their government, while the appointment of vicari was originally an extraordinary measure for the maintenance of peace in the territories, but had also become a permanent office by the beginning of the fifteenth century.7 As the century progressed the vicari became increasingly responsible for the most important criminal cases and the podestà was relegated to minor criminal and civil hearings. All three offices were expected to act as intermediaries between central government and local powers. Between 1380 and 1420 there was an exponential leap in the number of these territorial offices and over this period the number of vicari increased from four to ten, that of the capitani from four to nine, and the major podesterie from five to eleven.8 This dramatic increase reflected the reorganization of the administrative boundaries of the Florentine territory. In 1415 the hierarchy of the new divisions was consolidated with podesterie being classified into five different levels, depending on the strategic importance of the area where they were located.9 Laws were also passed as to the importance of cases that could be handled by a podestà before they were handed over to the central courts of Florence, although this was dependent on how far a community was located from Florence. Those in an area not more than ten miles from the city were able to hear cases with a maximum penalty of twenty-five lire di fiorino piccolo and those outside this radius of up to two hundred lire di fiorino piccolo.10 The Florentine government worked hard over the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries to consolidate its control of the territory, but its primary concern was the security of the region and not the development of centralized administration for its own sake. As a result, there were only minor alterations to the system that had been put in place under republican Florence. In contrast to the dramatic increase in new jurisdictional units in the early years of the fifteenth century, between 1420 and 1520 only three vicariati and five capitani had been added. The number of minor officials was in fact reduced in order to reflect a greater bureaucratic 7

The role of podestà has been described as a ‘surrogate monarch’ who had both military and judicial powers. It was traditionally a role held by a foreigner for short terms. See Anne Isaacs, ‘States in Tuscany and Veneto, 1200–1500’, in Origins of the Modern State: Resistance, Representation and Community (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), pp. 291–304 (p. 296). 8 9

Zorzi, L’amministrazione, p. 24. Zorzi, L’amministrazione, p. 25.

10

Zorzi, L’amministrazione, p. 27.

FLORENTINE CONTROL OF THE TERRITORIES

19

efficiency and to cut the costs associated with administering the territory.11 Even when Duke Cosimo I turned his attention to the reform of administrative systems in the 1550s and 1560s, his focus was to increase controls over central magistracies and to introduce a series of new laws that were applicable to the entire territory rather than changing existing administrative structures in any substantial way. Whilst changes to the administrative and judicial structures of the Florentine territory were limited, there had been a marked increase in informal Florentine interference in subject communities during the fifteenth century, with Lorenzo de’ Medici himself taking a particular interest in the appointment of local officials. This informal control was by no means absolute, and while significant, it was mainly limited to positions which had traditionally been external appointments, such as the appointment of doctors and teachers to a town.12 Patrizia Salvadori’s study of these informal networks has shown that Lorenzo had to negotiate existing loyalties and his interference in local matters was not always welcome and, on some occasions, was even ignored. Salvadori cites a letter of advice written by an Aretine, Giovanni Bacci, to the young Lorenzo which counseled ‘You must recognize and know the truth of what you can and cannot do, and not try to force the people using fear’.13 Salvadori goes on to argue that Lorenzo’s interest in these subject towns served the double purpose of legitimating his position in the territory as defacto leader while at the same time increasing the rural communities’ access to the decision-making structures of Florence. For whilst contadini may have had little or no official recourse in matters of finance or justice, the informal relationships forged with Lorenzo and other members of the Florentine patriciate meant that they could appeal directly to these private citizens.14 Hundreds of letters asking

11 12

Zorzi, L’amministrazione, pp. 30–31.

Despite Patrizia Salvadori’s proposition that this was the beginning of the end for local control, Florentine citizens often already exercised these roles and Lorenzo was influencing decisions rather than replacing positions previously held by local people. See Patrizia Salvadori, ‘Lorenzo de’ Medici e le comunità soggette, tra pressioni e resistenze’, in La Toscana al tempo di Lorenzo il Magnifico: Politica, economia, cultura, arte: Convegno di studi, vol. III (Florence: Pacini Editore, 1992), pp. 891–906; and Salvadori, ‘Rapporti personali, rapporti di potere nella corrispondenza di Lorenzo il Magnifico’, in Lorenzo il Magnifico e il suo tempo, ed. by Gian Carlo Garfagnini (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1992), pp. 125–46. 13

‘Cognoscere et sapere el vero de quello se può et non se può, e non volere sforzare temerariamente uno popolo’. Quoted in Patrizia Salvadori, Dominio e patronato: Lorenzo dei Medici e la Toscana nel Quattrocento (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2000), p. 4. 14

Salvadori, Dominio e patronato, p. 5.

20

Chapter 1

Lorenzo to intervene in matters ranging from local disputes between individuals and communities to appeals against juridical decisions to the establishment of markets and the election of local officials can be found in the Medici archives.15 One can reasonably assume that an equal number of such requests were conveyed a bocca (by word of mouth) or have been lost. One such request, discovered only recently by Lorenz Böninger in the records of the local community itself, was made to Lorenzo by the community of Santa Croce sull’Arno as early in Lorenzo’s ascendancy as 1471, asking him to act as arbiter of some internal problems within the community. In response, Lorenzo had apparently suggested a series of reforms that could be made to its statutes, and the community quickly put these into action.16 This tradition of direct appeal was continued into the Grand Duchy with thousands of suppliche written to the Medici dukes asking for their personal intervention in what were often quite minor matters.17 The extent to which Lorenzo’s approach to the management of rural communities had influenced the emerging territorial state should not be underestimated. His recognition of, and ability to work within, existing local structures set a pattern of government which favoured negotiation rather than domination. The complex system of patron-client relationships, the study of which has so greatly influenced historians’ understanding of urban networks, has definite implications for urban-rural relations. It is hardly surprising that a society such as Florence, whose political system depended on a delicate equilibrium of informal relationships, extended these relationships to its governance of the territories under its control. It should also be noted that the cases when Lorenzo intervened of his own accord (as opposed to in response to a request from the rural communities themselves), tended to be in areas of greater strategic importance, while smaller rural communities remained largely untouched throughout this period.18

15 16

See ASF, MAP for examples of these letters.

The letter and a short commentary has been published recently by Lorenz Böninger, ‘La “riforma laurenziana” di Santa Croce sull’Arno (11 giugno 1471)’, Archivio Storico Italiano, 608 (2006), 319–24. 17

Obviously there was a considerable gap in this type of correspondence coinciding with the fall of the republic and the expulsion of the Medici, but the style of the later suppliche was very much reminiscent of the letters written to Lorenzo at the height of his power. 18

Twelve volumes of Lorenzo’s letters spanning 1460–87 have been published so far in Lorenzo de’ Medici: Lettere 1449–1492 (Giunti: Barbèra, 1977–) These letters reveal examples of Lorenzo influencing the appointment of contado officials; for example, the ufficio di danni dati for Arezzo in 1470 and 1474; the cancellieri for San Gimignano in 1471; and the medico and maestro

FLORENTINE CONTROL OF THE TERRITORIES

21

Failure to exert complete control over the countryside was symptomatic of both the informal and formal relationships forged between Florence and its territories and is explicable in both practical and ideological terms. Both Florentine citizens and their rural brothers and sisters were living in the shadow of the communal movement, and the concept of the right of communities to govern themselves was firmly entrenched in contemporary rural and urban political ideology. John Najemy convincingly argues that from the beginning of the fifteenth century, universal notions of consent and representation were fundamental to the legitimization of republican government.19 According to Najemy, this was a result of popular uprisings and periods of popular government that occurred in the preceding centuries. These moments of conflict shaped the ‘dialogue of power’ in Florence in that while there was a distinct elite, its members still had to go through the motions of maintaining complex systems of elections and scrutinies to keep control. Any manipulation of these systems was done behind the scenes. He credits the popolo with teaching the elite to speak the language of power of the popolo because the elite families could not compete with the idea that power was legitimate insofar as it reflected the will of the people.20 Despite the ascendancy of the Medici in the fifteenth century, and their eventual establishment as Dukes and later Grand Dukes in the sixteenth, parts of the territory continued to cling to proud republican traditions. These rural communities may have accepted their loss of independence, but they clung onto symbols of their liberty and self-determination. Communal forms persisted in the countryside well into the period of the Grand Duchy, with rural communes maintaining responsibility for the administration of common lands, infrastructure, and taxation. This phenomenon was widespread throughout Europe, and even in feudal and princely states villages exercised control over their own internal governance. The principle of representation was expressed in the existence of town councils and village assemblies, which provided an opportunity for negotiation and

di scuola for Prato in 1473 and 1480 respectively. See Lorenzo de’ Medici: Lettere, vol. I: 1460–1474, ed. by Riccardo Fubini (1977), pp. 199 and 526, 296, 435–36; and Lorenzo de’ Medici: Lettere, vol. II: 1480–1481, ed. by Michael Mallet (1989), pp. 17–18. These, together with examples given by Salvadori, support Guidi’s analysis that Florence was careful to exercise greater control of major centres. 19

See John Najemy, ‘Dialogue of Power in Florentine Politics’, in The Renaissance: Italy and Abroad, ed. by Martin, pp. 43–65. 20

Najemy, ‘Dialogue of Power’, p. 60, claims that by the fifteenth century this discourse had become ‘second nature’ to the elite of Florence.

22

Chapter 1

compromise.21 So influential was the communal ideology that Florentine jurists in the fifteenth century argued that, despite the city’s domination of the territory, communal statutes created by rural communities were legally binding as soon as they had been made public, with or without sanction from city officials.22 Inhabitants of the territories were governed in the first instance by laws set out in the Capitoli of Florence, but they were also subject to their own local statutes. Ideologues, writers, politicians, and poets had poured so much energy and determination into justifying Florentine legitimacy as a self-governing republic that it would have been impossible to undermine these principles overnight. The very nobility and honour of its citizens were dependant on their system of government — as they had been told by the ancients as well as their peers — and it is clear that this mentality did not end with the city walls. Practically, while individual communes were no direct threat to Florence, the support and loyalty of the countryside was vital in both military and economic terms. Florentine officials, many of whom originated from the countryside under discussion and were still linked to it through landholding and family ties, were perceptive enough to understand that loyalty was to be bought through negotiation and dialogue. The stability of the territorial government was dependant on the integration of subject towns and villages, and consensus was the best way to achieve this. Perhaps with sufficient military might this may not have been necessary, but as it stood Florentine defences were not sufficient without the cooperation of the territories. Furthermore, the city depended on the contado for a regular supply of food and for the revenue generated by taxation. From an administrative perspective, it would have caused considerably less trouble and expense to allow communes to continue a tradition of self-government, overseen by token representatives, than to supply the framework to govern every aspect of these small rural communities. The strategic location and political ties of each rural community were fundamental factors in determining the type of controls necessary to guarantee the stability of the region. The Florentine policy of removing from subject towns the administration of their traditional contado and absorbing the rural communities into the Florentine jurisdictional structure, as was done in the cases of Pistoia and 21

For a discussion of the preservation of provincial autonomy in monarchical France and village communal forms in Germany, see Steinar Imsen and Giinter Vogler, ‘Communal Autonomy and Peasant Resistance in Northern and Central Europe’, in Origins of the Modern State, pp. 5–43. 22

Jane Black, ‘Gli statuti comunali e lo stato territoriale fiorentino: il contributo dei giuristi’, in Lo stato territoriale fiorentino (secoli XIV – XV ): Ricerche, linguaggi, confronti (Pisa: Fondazione Centre Studi sulla Civiltà del Tardo Medioevo, 2001), pp. 23–46 (p. 27).

FLORENTINE CONTROL OF THE TERRITORIES

23

Volterra, was clearly a strategy designed to weaken the towns economically and break their bonds with the rural villages that had been under their control.23 In reality, this often allowed smaller rural communities to exercise a greater autonomy than they had enjoyed under their previous masters, freeing them from oppressive taxation and allowing them to develop their own regional fairs and markets.24 Townships that were located on main roads were just as closely controlled, as they were potentially the routes for invading armies from the north or south. Often the Florentine representatives who were sent to these areas were provided with troops to protect these routes, and their salaries tended to be much higher than those of governors of less sensitive zones of the countryside.25 These communities were more likely to experience Florentine intervention in the election of local officials as their absolute loyalty to Florence was essential.26 The recognition of regional differences by the Florentine government is perhaps most clearly and concretely demonstrated in its approach to the taxation of the countryside. Where earlier historical debates centred on whether Florentine taxation of the countryside was damaging and oppressive, more recently economic historians have begun looking at the differing approaches of Florentine fiscal policy towards particular regions of the territory. It has now been generally accepted that just as Florence did not impose centralized judicial and administrative organization of the territory, there was also in no sense a uniform fiscal system. Taxes were levied in response to the particular circumstances in which the government found itself and in response to the differing characters of rural communities. Samuel Cohn describes these differences as Florence’s recognition of the ‘mosaic of fiscal communities’ that existed in the countryside.27 Florentine taxation of some areas of the countryside can indeed be seen to have been aggressively damaging, but this was neither true of its taxation of all areas of the territory nor true all of the time. Thus, during the fourteenth century, while areas closer to the city walls escaped rather 23 Guidi, Il governo, p. 65, and Guarini, ‘Gli statuti delle città soggette a Firenze tra 1400 e 1500’, p. 107. 24

Steven Epstein, ‘Market Structures’, in Florentine Tuscany, ed. by Connell and Zorzi, pp. 90–121. 25

See ASF, Archivio delle Tratte. For a list of vicari, capitani, and podestà between 1505 and 1539, see ASF, Archivio delle Tratte, 1005 and 1006. 26

Salvadori discusses Medici intervention in rural appointments in ‘Lorenzo de’ Medici’, pp. 891–906, and in her book, Dominio e patronato. 27

Samuel Cohn, ‘The Other Florence within Florence’, in Beyond Florence, ed. by Findlen, Fontaine, and Osheim, pp. 33–44 (p. 34).

24

Chapter 1

lightly, mountain areas were taxed at extremely high rates, despite their relative poverty. This was clearly a recognition that not only was citizen landownership highest in the rural areas immediately surrounding the city, but that these areas provided the majority of the city’s food supplies. The economic historian Giuseppe Petralia has recently demonstrated the extent to which the Florentine government responded to the particular circumstances of each town, comparing the fiscal management of Arezzo and Pisa after their subjection to Florence. He argues that taxation policy was not only based on the economic and political circumstances of each town, but also on the relationships Florence had with leading members of each community.28 Samuel Cohn, in a recent essay, has also stressed to what exact degree tax rates were variable from village to village, citing major differences in levels of taxation.29 In the early sixteenth century, it was the smaller urban centres that suffered most, while the mountains were granted a series of exemptions and pardons from their taxation levies.30 The decision-making process to determine levels of taxation was clearly a complex affair that requires further investigation by historians, but the vast differences in taxation and the granting of pardons to communities in trouble indicate a specific knowledge of regional differences on the part of Florentine officials and a detailed understanding of the particular economic and political circumstances of each area at any given time. Decisions regarding taxation made by the central government were, of course, not always accepted unquestioningly by the city’s rural subjects, as is evident in the series of letters written in the 1480s by Florentine representatives responsible for the collation of information for the new Decima tax. Out of approximately one hundred letters written, at least half of these seek to explain why the officials had failed in their task because of the difficulties they had faced in achieving the cooperation of the local rural communities. The podestà of Firenzuola refers to the ‘disobedience and evil nature’ of the communities.31 The podestà of San Casciano complains that his failure to send the information was not due to his own negligence but that ‘because of the malice of these peasants, it is heavy work to get this information out of 28

Giuseppe Petralia, ‘Fiscality, Politics and Dominion in Florentine Tuscany at the End of the Middle Ages’, in Florentine Tuscany, ed. by Connell and Zorzi, pp. 65–89. 29

30

Cohn, ‘Demography’, p. 185.

Samuel Cohn, ‘Inventing Braudel’s Mountains: The Florentine Alps after the Black Death’, in Portraits of Medieval and Renaissance Living: Essays in Memory of David Herlihy, ed. by Samuel Cohn and Steven Epstein (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1995), pp. 383–416, particularly p. 408. See also ASF, Pratica Segreta, 1–4. 31

‘sono disubbidienti e di male natura’: ASF, Misc. Medicea, 2, insert 52, fol. 85.

FLORENTINE CONTROL OF THE TERRITORIES

25

them’.32 The capitano of Pistoia is a little more understanding of his charges, explaining that the high levels of plague infection in the area have caused men of the city to disperse into the countryside and made rural inhabitants hesitant to enter the city to bring in their reports.33 The need to preserve the security of the Florentine territory and protect its borders was paramount in the minds of those who governed the city, and the mechanisms employed in the administration of the territories reflected this. The debates that continued throughout the fifteenth century and into the sixteenth century about the relative merits of using a local militia as opposed to foreign mercenary troops indicated that threats to this security were not always perceived to come from outside of the Florentine borders. The opposition of the government in the early sixteenth century to Machiavelli’s plan for the development of a permanent rural militia was on the grounds of the potential threat such a militia might pose to the city of Florence. At the same time, the continual presence of foreign mercenaries was not without its disadvantages. A few decades earlier, the captain of Pietrasanta had written to the Otto di Pratica, warning them that something had to be done to compensate the local farmers for the damage that had been caused to their crops by the foreign soldiers and horses that were being lodged in the area. If nothing was done, there was the risk of an uprising because ‘these men are fed up with having soldiers continually in their midst for the past three years’.34 Indeed when the militia was finally instituted by Machiavelli in 1506, it was not without its teething problems, but these tended to be related more to the inter- and intracommunal relationships than to the ultimate threat it posed to the city of Florence. It was not uncommon, for example, for the leaders of particular militia to use the men under their command as a personal army. A group of twelve from the militia of Poppi, led by Ser Giuliano di Pierfrancesco, marched to the house of Francesco di Christofano di Baldo and assaulted him and severely damaged his property ‘because he was in dispute with Ser Giuliano, over certain boundaries of 32

‘perché il tempo e passato acciò l’ufficio vostro non credesti facessi per negligentia il non mandarle, non così per ciò, ma solo per la malitia di questi contadini, che affar’ raportare dette anime col pichone’: ASF, Misc. Medicea, 2, insert 52, fol. 47. 33

‘Et perché la terra e contado è alquanto infecto di morbo se alquanto indugiassi a mandare la detta descriptione dell’anime non si maravigli Vostri Signori, perché non essendo gl’uomini della terra, ma spariti pel contado e contadini anchora mal volentieri capitando in città’: ASF, Misc. Medicea, 2, insert 52, fol. 13. 34

‘ Et pure questi huomini sono stati affatichati già anni 3 di continui soldati’: ASF, Otto di Pratica, Responsive 4, fol. 21r.

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land’.35 For this reason, the Florentine government sought to place militia groups under the command of men from other zones of the countryside, but even this move was not always successful. Despite being led by a man from the Castiglione, the militia of San Miniato sacked a tavern in Santa Gonda, eating and drinking before moving on to another inn to spend the night, forcing entry against the will of the innkeeper.36 Other groups used the power of their arms to raid the food supplies of nearby villages, such as the militia of Montegonzi who went in force and stole twenty-five staia of chestnuts and five mules and horses from the community of Montevarchi, located less than ten kilometres away.37 If a clear-cut division existed, it was more likely to have been between one rural community and the next than between the city and the countryside of the Florentine territory. In fact, on a number of occasions, Florence was forced to protect the militia from their own communities, such as the occasion when the Dieci di Balia wrote to the vicar of the Mugello complaining that the recruits were being publicly ridiculed and demanding that something be done to prevent this.38

III The hundreds of books of rural communal statutes lodged in the state archives stand testament to the Florentine government’s tendency to accept, if not to perpetuate, regional individuality within its territory. Not only do these books offer a wealth of information about the unique challenges faced by each of the subject communities, they also provide the means by which the overall anatomy of communal government can be reconstructed. In doing so, it is possible to explore the extent to which the administration of rural communes was self-directing; that is, to what extent rural communities had control over the day-to-day functioning of their affairs. While not setting out to provide a comprehensive analysis of rural communal structures, for the remainder of this chapter I wish to turn to an 35

‘Così, armati volontariamente et per fare piacer e spalle a Ser Giuliano di Pierfrancesco, decto el Fontanino, andarono come soprascritto et assaltarono, a casa sua, Francesco di Christofano di Baldo da Poppi, abita alla villa di Lariano, podesteria di Poppi, perché era in differentia con decto ser Giuliano per conto di certi confini di terra’: ASF, Nove, Notificazione e Querele, 1, fols 82v–83 r. 36

37 38

ASF, Nove, Notificazione e Querele, 1, fol. 2r. ASF, Nove, Notificazione e Querele, 1, fol. 26v.

This event is recounted by Philip Jones ‘The Machiavellian Militia: Innovation or Renovation?’, in La Toscane et les Toscans autour de la Renaissance: Cadres de vie, société, croyances. Mélanges offerts à Charles-M. de La Roncière (Provence: L’Université de Provence, 1999), pp. 11–54 (p. 12).

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examination of those aspects of local government on which hinged the fundamental financial, political, and judicial powers of the commune.39 This overview of the structure of rural governance will then form the basis of in-depth analyses of specific rural communes in the chapters to come.40 The fundamental ruling body of rural communities was the grand council. While the day-to-day running of the commune was in the hands of much smaller groups of officials, this council had the last word on any major decisions, including all appointments of officials, submission of communal expenses to the Cinque, and changes to local laws.41 Generally, councils averaged between forty and seventy members.42 As is the case for most rural communes, the lack of surviving records means that many of the details about the exact role of the general councils are unclear. So, too, the regularity and location of meetings are not always discernable from official documents.43 However the principle behind the existence of councils is unambiguous. Symbols of wide-based representation, councils both provided greater opportunity for participation in local politics and acted as control mechanisms for the community. No major administrative decision was allowed to be passed by smaller committees without the approval of the grand council — even if the committee had been established for that specific purpose. This was also true of judicial matters, and in order to limit the opportunities for officials to exercise favouritism, no individual was allowed to be granted leniency for fines or debts without the explicit approval of the larger council.44 The emblematic importance 39

In her study of the establishment of rural communal structures Oretta Muzzi cites the central responsibilities of communal councils as being political, financial, control of the commune’s property, and the maintenance of public order: ‘L’organizzazione del populus nel primo Trecento dagli statuti di alcune terre valdesane’, in La Toscane et les Toscans autour de la Renaissance, pp. 217–38 (p. 229). 40

I will concentrate on communal councils, councillors, rettori, and camarlinghi. For a detailed examination of communal structures for minor rural communes, see Guidi, Il governo, particularly Chapters 4–7. 41

These roles are stipulated in the majority of statutes discussing the activities of general councils. Obviously these could differ from region to region, but variations are slight. 42

The council of Scarperia numbered only thirty men, and while general councils were usually composed of a combination of office holders and other members of the community, that of Scarperia was limited to those holding communal positions. 43

Meetings were generally held either in the parish church, loggia, or apartments of the local podestà or vicar. 44

This regulation was an addition to the statutes of Gangalandi in 1493. ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 77v.

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of the councils cannot be over emphasized, and regardless of actual power, they acted as one of the most outwardly significant bodies of rural politics. There is no evidence to suggest that there was any attempt on the part of the Florentine government either to suppress or reduce the numbers of general councils in the countryside over the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Its lack of interference in these bodies is a strong indication of the type of control Florence sought to exercise over the territory. There is no doubt that the council of the consiglieri was the core decisionmaking body for all communes. They were responsible for writing the statutes which governed these communities and essentially held the administrative structure of the commune together: meeting regularly, reporting to the podestà, electing the plethora of minor officials who administered the law, overseeing confraternities and guilds, and corresponding with Florentine magistracies. In addition to their legislative and electoral responsibilities, consiglieri exercised a secondary financial power within the commune. In the majority of communities, if communal funds were low, consiglieri had the power to impose their own local taxes to supplement the borse. The amounts they were authorized to raise were limited, but this legislation gave the councilors a great deal of power over their constituents. In order to avoid individuals taking advantage of their own communities, Florence kept stringent controls over these supplementary taxes, and councils were required to obtain permission before levying them. When this procedure was not followed the penalties were harsh, such as in the case of the officials of the podesteria of Galeata who had introduced a tax on oxen in their community without communicating first with the magistracy of the Cinque and as a result were fined heavily for their actions.45 The consiglieri were also the principal mediators with the central government and were responsible for creating the majority of correspondence with Florentine magistracies, writing on behalf of the whole commune or for individuals in the community. Certainly not the most well paid of appointments, the role of the consiglieri was one of delegation rather than action, yet their power to elect others and make decisions that affected the entire commune meant that it was one of the most prestigious and sought-after offices.46 To insult one of these councillors incurred penalties comparable to insulting a Florentine official or even God.47 45 46

ASF, Cinque, Suppliche, 254, box 4, no foliation.

Consiglieri for the vicariato of Scarperia were only paid the nominal sum of four lire for a sixmonth office; even the messenger received three times this amount. ASF, Statuti, 830, fol. 52r–v. 47

In Gangalandi the fine for insulting a councillor was three lire, compared to five lire that was the penalty for speaking against the podestà. ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 20r.

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Befitting the honour of the role, consiglieri generally met in the apartments of the podestà to forge the policy of the commune, but some communities demanded a more visible presence from their representatives. Perhaps experiencing financial difficulties, prior to 1518 the consiglieri of the commune of Terranuova had been renting out their communal meeting areas to a local tavern keeper who had set up shop there. Believing this arrangement to be demeaning for their status, a newly drawn council moved that this situation should not continue: firstly because the arrangement was becoming too costly due to the material damage the drinkers were inflicting on the building, but more importantly because inns were places where dishonest men gathered and lies were told, not the reputation one would wish to forge for a respectable town council.48 The inconvenience and ignominy of having to wait for the drinkers to leave so that the deliberations would not be overheard became too much to endure. This was neither sacred nor respectable space. However it was not so easy for a council to defy the wishes of its constituency, and three years later this statute was reversed. The community, it seems, preferred to have the council amongst the people rather than shut away in rooms they could not enter. It was often the case that not all consiglieri gathered for every meeting; instead, one representative for each popolo was deputized to attend with the whole number meeting only when important decisions were to be made. Those chosen were referred to as ‘priors’ or as ‘greater councillors’ and, together with a gonfaloniere or pennoniere, would meet as often as several times a month. For example in Gangalandi and Cutigliano only four of the twelve regularly met and in Borgo San Lorenzo as few as two out of fourteen attended gatherings.49 It was in order to regulate these positions that the strictest laws regarding consanguinity were passed to prevent family members holding simultaneous or back-to back offices, and it was 48

‘Et veduto e considerato il danno grande che risulta al decto comune, et per tenere apigionata la casa di decto comune ad hosteria, et maxime perché in quella vi si fa di molto danno da quelli che vanno a detta hosteria, cioè guastano finestre et uscì, tavole, panche et qualche volta l’ammattonato di decta casa, di modo che la spesa in capo d’anno sopravanza l’entrata; et perché qualunque volta bisogna ricorre el consiglio per cose occorenti a decto comune, come il solito il più delle volte, il decto consiglio bisogna aspectare che chi è in casa a bere escha fuori, et anche perché in decta casa, per essere a hosteria, sempre vi si dice cose inhoneste di modo che e vicini conviene stieno in casa, se non vogliono vedere o udire cose che sieno manco che honeste.’ Statutes published in Carlo Fabbri, Statuti e riforme del comune di Terranuova, 1487–1675: Una comunita del contado fiorentino attraverso le sue istituzione (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1989), p. 238. 49

These attendance figures are based on those who are recorded in statutes as being present at communal meetings. The popolo of Scarperia only ever elected two consiglieri and one gonfaloniere who were always all present.

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through the domination of these positions that a family or faction could potentially gain control of a commune. Historians continue to debate the extent to which the law-making responsibilities of consiglieri constituted power in any real sense. While it has been acknowledged that there had been a long tradition of self-government in rural communes, particularly those traditionally part of the Florentine contado, it is generally argued that as the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries progressed, this power became nominal rather than actual.50 The elected local representatives continued to write and revise communal statutes during this period — in fact there appears to have been an increase in the quantity of local legislation in the fifteenth century51 — but from 1380 these statutes had to be regularly submitted for approval to Florentine officials, the Approvatori degli statuti del contado e distretto.52 Understandably, the power of ultimate veto held by Florence has been interpreted as another step in the gradual erosion of local autonomy and yet the reality was that the system often proceeded in a rather haphazard fashion.53 There were frequently considerable time lapses between the establishment of new legislation and its submission to Florentine officials, and some statutes never reached Florence at all.54 Many issues were settled in their local context without Florence ever being aware that they had occurred. In these instances the responsibility of representing the interests of Florence fell to the podestà. In fact, statutes often were given first to the podestà for his perusal before their submission to the Approvatori.55 The large number of communes in the territory also meant that there was a huge backlog of legislation waiting to pass scrutiny. For the most part free of direct interference, rural communes continued to create and revise their own statutes well into the

50 51 52 53

Salvadori, ‘Lorenzo de’ Medici’. Black, ‘Gli statuti comunali e lo stato territoriale fiorentino’, p. 25. Guidi, Il governo, III, 61.

Guarini argues for this gradual reduction in local control in ‘Gli statuti delle città soggette a Firenze tra 1400 e 1500’, p. 81. 54

While in principle all new statutes had to be approved by the Approvatori, this was only legally required every three years; see Guidi, Il governo, III, 65. Thus new legislation may have been in place for several years prior to official approval being given. 55

Apparently this was the case for the commune of Terranuova. The consiglieri regularly passed on new statutes to the local podestà, yet even in this case there was a time lapse of several weeks; perhaps this was related to the location of meetings. Fabbri, Statuti e riforme del comune di Terranuova, pp. 77–78.

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sixteenth century.56 In a period which saw Florence attempting to strengthen and develop a central administration of the region, there was no attempt to replace existing local statutes with a universally applicable code devised by a Florentine judiciary.57 Rural statutes reveal a quagmire of old and new judicial acts, in which laws were piled upon laws; officials could not have been expected to keep track of the hundreds of often-contradictory statutes accumulated over the centuries, and claims of ignorance or disuse were a common refrain for those seeking leniency for penalties.58 To counteract these problems, communal statutes required that local officials or notaries regularly read out laws in the main piazza — an ancient practice dating back to the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.59 In this act the entire community, including miserabili and women, regardless of literacy, were participants in the politics of their commune, drawn together to acknowledge and sometimes dispute the laws proposed by their representatives. It is not difficult to imagine the scene: a piazza crowded with artisans, peasants, shepherds, and women, filthy from their labours, work suspended at the ringing of a communal bell, listening to the code by which they were expected to live, no doubt heckling officials upon the announcement of a new tax or law preventing them from pasturing their animals in common land, then dispersing to homes or the local tavern to discuss the implications of what they have heard. These acts of ritual participation and gathering of a community ensured that contadini were a politically conscious people. Their very presence meant they could not easily be ignored by their peers who represented them, or by Florentine officials who oversaw their communities. 56

In his extensive treatment of minor rural communes, Guidi notes only one example in which the podestà assumed greater control. In the commune of Barga, admittedly a sensitive frontier town, not only did the podestà forbid council meetings without his express permission, he also took a direct role in the preparation of electoral bags for communal offices. Guidi, Il governo, p. 64. 57

At the same time, rural communes were also subject to some general laws, such as those regarding sumptuary legislation, which resulted in further confusion of judicial issues.

58 For example, Domenico di Nanni Martini, from Santa Croce di Sotto, appeals a fine of four lire imposed by the Cinque on the grounds that ‘Detto Domenico ha trangredito et ignoramente sì per non sapere tal legge come anchora non haver’ mai, per li tempi passati, ciõ usato che sono al mancho otto anni che lui si truova in tal’ufficio’, and receives the grudging response, ‘Habbi la gratia per questa volta’, from Lelio Torelli, the ducal secretary. ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, n. 50. 59

‘Accioché a ciaschuno della lega delle Scarperia sia noto quello et quanto ne’ presenti statuti si contiene, statuto et ordinato fu per li sopradecti statutari che ciaschuno podestà o uficiale della decta lega sia tenuto nel principio del suo uficio, fare leggere in sulla piazza della Scarperia, uno di a ciò diputato, tutti gli statuti della decta legha’: ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 56 v.

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On several occasions Florence had attempted to establish a more centralized control of communal statutes. In 1409, after the city had taken control of the Pistoian contado out of the hands of Pistoia, Florence demanded that every community in this region register its complete statutes with the Approvatori. Coupled with a general redaction of statutes in the same year, this attempt had limited success with many communes failing to comply.60 After several other half-hearted attempts throughout the fifteenth century to encourage submission, it was in 1546, under Cosimo I, that a universal law was passed requiring that every community subject to Florence send a legible copy of its statutes to the Auditore delle Riformagione, yet another indication that the Approvatori were failing in their task to oversee local legislation.61 Despite being given a strict six-month period in which to do so, and in defiance of threatened penalties, many communes ignored this call. In September of that year, the Auditore wrote to the captain of the mountains of Pistoia noting that at least seven of the communities under his jurisdiction, including Crespoli, Calamecca, and Cutigliano, had failed to submit their statutes.62 Two months later a similar letter was sent to the vicar residing in Scarperia complaining that despite repeated requests the commune of San Godenzo was refusing to obey the decree and did not want to submit its laws.63 Two years later San Godenzo had still failed to do so, as had the communes of Signa, Poppi, Cutigliano, Vico Pisano, San Piero in Sieve, Pieve di Septimo, and at least seventy others scattered throughout Florentine territory.64 There is no indication that these communities had anything in particular to hide — the majority of statutes appear to have been well kept and reasonably standard — yet it is difficult to believe their failure to cooperate was a case of absentmindedness or poor communication. Whilst Cutigliano is relatively isolated, it was also the seat of the captain of the mountains and was in constant communication with Florence. San Piero in Sieve was a short walk from the vicar in Scarperia and in the heart of the Medici homeland of the Mugello, and Signa was no more than a couple of hours by horse from Florence and in a significant 60

Giorgio Chittolini, ‘Ricerche sull’ordinamento territoriale del dominio fiorentino agli inizi del secolo XV ’, in La formazione dello stato regionale e le istituzioni del contado: Ricerche sull’ordinamento territoriale del dominio fiorentino agli inizi del secolo XV . Egemonia fiorentina ed autonomie locali nella Toscana nord-occidentale del primo Rinascimento: Vita, arte, cultura (Pisa: Presso la sede del Centro di Studio, 1975), pp. 293–352. 61 62 63 64

ASF, Auditore, 303, fol. 1r. ASF, Auditore, 303, fol. 2r. ASF, Auditore, 303, fols 4r and 8v . ASF, Auditore, 303, fol. 16r–v.

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defensive position. Rather, these communes were probably attempting to avoid paying the small fee required by the Approvatori for approval.65 If these communities had become as powerless as many historians would have us believe, such large-scale passive resistance to Florence is unimaginable.66

IV While it is not possible or even realistic to construct a strictly hierarchical model of communal offices, it is clear that the majority of the other administrative roles revolved around the central nexus of the consiglieri and their law-making responsibilities. The most important of these officials were drawn from electoral borse. However the remainder tended to be appointed by consiglieri, either for fixed terms or as needed by the commune. Messengers, bell ringers, ambassadors, horsemen, revellers, and gatekeepers all contributed to the administration of rural communes and provided opportunities for contadini to exercise public roles within their community. Many of these positions were common to all rural communes (although exact roles, numbers, and names could differ greatly), but others were established as specific responses to the needs of a particular community. Thus we see Gangalandi electing four polizie whose sole role was to watch over the extensive tract of communal forest and regulate the sale of wood taken from this land,67 and Scarperia appointing officials to control sanitation after an outbreak of plague decimated its population in 1527.68 Despite the increasing Florentine controls over the administration of the countryside, the consiglieri of rural communes also often had responsibility for appointing local teachers, doctors, and surgeons. In larger towns, the selection of candidates attracted considerable patrician interference, as citizens made recommendations as to who was most suitable to fill these offices, but in smaller centres these decisions were largely left to the discretion of the communal council.69 65

Typically eager to cooperate, the knife-makers guild from Scarperia had turned up with their statutes, but the guild did not have the money to pay for the approval. ASF, Auditore, 303, fol. 8 v. 66

67 68

At least 25 per cent of communities did not respond to the requests of the Approvatori. ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 86v .

During this outbreak Scarperia also voted to provide ten gold ducats to the confraternity of Santa Maria in Piazza for burials and to elect someone to administer the last sacraments. ASS, Delib., 2446, fol. 187r. 69

For a discussion of major centres and Lorenzo’s interference in appointments, see Salvadori, Dominio e patronato, Chapter 2. In general, see Daniela Pesciatini, ‘Maestri, Medici, Cerusici nelle

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Common to most communities (not least because Florence demanded their appointment), and acting as satellites to the judicial and administrative body of the consiglieri and grand council, were the camarlinghi responsible for the financial dealings of the commune. One of the most important of administrative positions, certainly the best paid, it was the office which attracted the most scandal and over which Florence exerted the tightest control. Camarlinghi were responsible for both the daily accounts of the commune and for the collection and submission of taxes to Florence. While the process by which this occurred varied from commune to commune, the camarlingo generale was usually assisted by a cohort of minor officials who performed the unenviable task of collecting taxes and fines, leaving him free to balance the books, pay the salaries of other officials, and ensure the money was delivered to the appropriate authorities. For these reasons the camarlinghi were in regular contact with both the local Florentine officials and with magistracies responsible for the administration of the countryside. They also held a great deal of power over the local community in their hands, as they were responsible for keeping track of who had failed to pay their taxes to the commune.70 Due to the nature of the role, they were most likely to be literate and relatively wealthy members of the community. It was certainly the case that these officials had to command the trust and respect of the commune and were expected to have a solid knowledge of the administrative processes. Without the cooperation of the community it would have been impossible for these officials to exercise the highly sensitive responsibilities of coordinating taxation and managing funds. The newly drawn camarlingo of Torre di San Miniato, Ser Ugolino Lacilotti, felt this acutely when his appointment was appealed against by the community on the grounds that he was not known by the town, he did not understand what went on there, and the people would not be happy under his leadership. Instead they proposed their own preferred candidate, one Biagio di Giovanni Scragoni, who would be more ‘useful’ to the commune.71 Even when appointments were universally approved, the prestige of the role of camarlingo was a double-edged sword. By order of the Cinque, exiting camarlinghi would have their books audited at the conclusion of their six-month office and

communità rurali pisane nel XVI secolo’, in Scienze, credenze, occulte: Livelli di cultura (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1982), pp. 121–46. 70

71

The statutes of Scarperia include lists of outstanding tax debts. ASF, Statuti, 830 and 831.

‘Per il che conoscendo noi el decto Biagio essere molto aproposito et più utile per la comunità’: ASF, Cinque, 320, 18 March 1539.

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were held directly accountable for any shortfall or discrepancy.72 Four camarlinghi from Bientina found themselves in this position when an audit of their accounts revealed payments of salaries and other expenses not approved by the council amounted to two hundred lire and were subsequently ordered by the Cinque to pay this money back.73 If communal funds were low and salaries had to be paid, camarlinghi were often forced to dip into their own resources rather than risk unrest. Such was the case for the labourer Bartolomeo di Mariotto who, at the conclusion of his term, found himself out of pocket after having to pay out money to various members of the commune. Five years later, attempting to support four young children, he complained that the matter was still to be settled, and although the sums involved were denari rather than lire, he could not afford to lose the money he had paid out.74 The podestà of Dicomano found it almost impossible to convince the mountain communities under his command to elect their own camarlinghi and was forced to go into the mountains numerous times in order to find local men who would take on the role. Only by promising that they would not be held responsible for any outstanding debts of the communities was the podestà able to convince any of these mountain inhabitants to act as camarlinghi, or indeed to assume any other official role within the community. The podestà then wrote to the Duke asking that his word be upheld as he had had no alternative and, moreover, after finding these men he had been forced to teach them how to fulfill their roles as they had been without any form of government for so long.75 In contrast, access to large quantities of cash proved too great a temptation for many camarlinghi, and they took the money and ran.76 Others limited themselves to petty fraud, taking only small amounts, which they could conceivably repay if their actions were detected. In the twelve-month period between 1547 and 1548, 72

The community of Brozzi articulated this requirement in their statute (as did a number of other communes) indicating that it was by order of the Cinque. ‘Ancora providdono in detti statutari che ogni rettore et carmalingho d’alcuno di detti popoli della detta legha sia tenuto et debba rendere ragione al suo popolo di tucti i danari fussino provenuti nelle sua mani secondo li ordini de Signori Cinque’: ASF, Statuti, 96, fol. 39r. 73

74

n. 23.

75 76

ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 625. ‘disiderato non perdere quello che ha pagato et sborsato di suo proprio’: ASF, Cinque, 256, ASF, Cinque, Lettere 320, no foliation, 5 January 1539.

The amounts which passed through the hands of the camarlinghi varied greatly from commune to commune. Amounts could range from a couple of hundred lire into the thousands, depending on the size and wealth of the region.

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at least 187 camarlinghi were condemned for debts and transgressions of the law.77 Unfortunately for their successors Florentine magistrates saw this as a community responsibility and new camarlinghi were given only one month to make amends for the failings and dishonesty of their predecessors or they were to be fined fifty lire. This policy encouraged communal unity and identity and would have increased the motivation to appoint a well-respected and accepted member of the community to be camarlingo. For many the responsibility involved in holding such a position outweighed the material benefits that could be gained. Preferring to pay a fine rather than accept the role, a series of names were often drawn before a camarlingo could be found. In other regions some less fortunate individuals faced the difficulty of being too poor to avoid their responsibilities. Drawn as camarlingo for the lega of Tagliaferro, Domenico di Matteo lacked the two lire he needed in order to refuse the office. Domenico explained his situation to the village’s parish priest, Giovanni, who generously responded by saying ‘leave it to me, don’t refuse the office, I will do it for you and will obtain the license of the Cinque’.78 Eager to take advantage of this quick solution Domenico readily agreed and upon Giovanni’s return from Florence abdicated his responsibilities. Unfortunately for Domenico the capellano died only a few months later, at which time it was revealed the Cinque knew nothing about the arrangement and promptly fined Domenico fifty lire. His attempt to beg for leniency, on the grounds of both his ignorance of the situation and his poverty, was greeted by a stern reply. Scribbled on the bottom of his letter of appeal, the ducal secretary had ruled that the preservation of order was more important and Domenico would have to pay the consequences of his actions.79 While it is easy to sympathize with the ill-fated Domenico, the insistence of the Cinque that it be kept informed of the identity of officials could be advantageous for the community as a whole. By preserving systems of appointment, the Cinque could prevent too

77 78

ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 68.

‘Come esso del mese di marzo passato, fu tratto camarlingo della lega di Tagliaferro, et per non havere il modo a pagare lire 2 di rifuto, che così si paga, lo conferì con Giovanni d’ Agostino cappellano di tal lega. Il quale gli disse “lascia fare a me, non rifutere, che io lo farò per te et harò licentia da Cinque”. Et così tal supplicante, per la impossibilità dello spendere et essere persona così fatta et credula, si lascia consigliare’: ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, n. 34. 79

‘A Sua Eccelentia pare che questi camarlinghi sieno in un’mal ordine et li poveri debbono partire le pene di queste et altre cose et bisogna pensare alli buon’ordine et non a aggiuntare col perdonare le trasgessioni’: ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, n. 34.

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much power falling into the hands of one family or faction.80 The Cinque also could act as an avenue of appeal if an individual had been excluded from representation in electoral borse, as was the case after Francesco di Piero, a local potter in Empoli, had been passed over following electoral reforms. Francesco went before this magistracy — accompanied by other representatives of the community — with his grievance, and the town’s statutes were meticulously examined to find cause for why he was not included. Failing to find any reason, the podestà of Empoli was ordered to make sure the situation was rectified, but such was the respect for the autonomy of local government that he was forced to take the word of the Accoppiatori who prepared the bags by secret scrutiny as he did not want to force them into showing him their borse to prove Francesco’s name was there.81 There is little doubt that Florence’s insistence on the existence of these officials was in order to facilitate the smooth administration of taxation, yet it resulted in decided advantages for the communities themselves. Not only did the existence of camarlinghi and other positions like it provide opportunities for participation in government, they also facilitated a greater level of control of local administration.82 Depending on local men rather than foreign officials, communities were able to determine their own taxation assessments and control the management of funds.83 As the sixteenth century progressed, the degree to which Florence interfered with the role of the camarlingo increased. Demanding to be notified of elections and being kept up to date with communal accounts by the mid-sixteenth century Florence required communes to request permission before any communal funds were spent or land transactions finalized. As a result Cinque records are peppered with suppliche from camarlinghi requesting permission to repair communal property, to employ teachers and doctors, to celebrate feast days, and to sell forests and

80 The situation in Scarperia, in which individuals effectively volunteered for office, was highly unusual, and it is not clear whether the Cinque were aware of what was happening. 81

‘Non ho voluto stringerli al farmi mostrare le borse per accertami se decto Francesco sia in decto borse o no’: ASF, Cinque, 320, 31 May 1538. 82

Chittolini, ‘Ricerche sull’ordinamento territoriale del dominio fiorentino’, pp. 295–309, argues similarly in regards to the Florentine conquest of the Pistoian contado, i.e. that the insistence on local officials administering the communes encouraged the participation of poorer elements of the society. 83

In 1492 the vicariato of Scarperia legislated that any commune, popolo, or pieve that had a taxation of greater than one hundred lire for the community was entitled and required to have its own camarlingo and would not be subject to the podesteria for coordination of finances, thus granting quite small communities a relatively large level of autonomy. ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 75r.

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pastoral lands. Whilst such requests were generally approved, Florence was able to hold a tight rein on any spending not considered to be in the best interests of the state. A request from Empoli to use communal funds to pay a doctor was approved only with the condition that monies already allocated to the construction of a defensive wall were not touched.84 When the commune of Montevarchi wrote to the Cinque in 1548 seeking permission to donate money to a religious community in the neighbouring district of Castelfranco, citing the ancient and great friendship which existed between the two towns, its request was categorically denied: ‘whoever wanted to give alms could do so out of their own money’.85 Whether a genuine attempt to protect funds in the interests of the majority to ensure tax payments were not affected, or to prevent two communes in a strategically important position from forging too close an alliance, in this instance Florence was able to exert her will. Yet in no way was this control absolute, and Florence was well aware that the control of communal funds was relatively easy to manipulate. This was true for individuals, as we have seen in the crime and fraud committed by camarlinghi, but communes could also work together as a whole to avoid paying dues to city officials. It seems resistance to Florentine control was not limited to remote regions, and in 1494 the Signoria of Florence demanded an investigation of all camarlinghi who had not submitted their accounts to the Cinque, stating that those who did not respond would be fined.86 Regular failure of rural communes to cooperate and a general resistance to Florentine authority meant an attitude of mutual mistrust prevailed when it came to the payment of taxes. In turn this prompted covert actions on the part of Florence. While travelling through the region of Pietrasanta the ducal secretary, Francesco Inghirami, called three men from the commune to a secret meeting during which he asked them to provide an approximate value of communal goods and land.87 The next time taxes were due to be collected communal officials, previously unaware the meeting had taken place, received a nasty shock. Instead of being based on the official submission, the assessment was 84 85

ASF, Cinque, 255, n. 23, 24 February 1550.

‘Chi vuol far’la lemosina facciala del suo et al comuni si lascino l’entrate’: ASF, Cinque, 254, box 1, n. 14. 86 87

ASF, Provv., 184, fol. 66.

‘Humilamente expongono alla Eccelentia Vostra, qualmente Francesco Inghirami, quando alli anni passati fu a Pietra Santa, in secreto chiamò tre persone di detto lugho quali non avevano notitia della qualità e de’ luoghi e manco sapeano la valuta dei pregi di certi beni [. . .] detti tre huomini fu fatta una improvvisa stima cosa saputa che ella fu contra l’ hopinione del’ huniversale di Pietra Santa’: ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, fol. 209.

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consistent with the estimation provided in secret, which had been much greater than the official version. The commune swiftly appealed against this decision, claiming that the three men who had spoken to the secretary had no knowledge of communal finances and that their estimation was ‘contrary to public opinion’.88 Seemingly a highly constrictive measure, the close control of communal funds by Florentine officials could also provide benefits for the community in much the same way as supervision of office holding. Firstly, by regulating spending, the extent to which communal officials could manipulate funds was reduced and communes were forced to be more accountable to their members. Not only did Florence require that camarlinghi keep careful records of income and expenditure, by 1507 the magistracy of the Cinque required these accounts to be attached to the door of the parish church for all to see.89 This would have been a much more effective measure in the prevention of fraud than the examination of the Cinque; the judgment of peers with a vested interest in where their taxes ended up would have had greater sway with officials than the view of an anonymous Florentine magistracy. Just as the existence of general councils and the public reading of laws and statutes invited political participation, the display of finances encouraged criticism and awareness in this sphere. At the same time, the very existence of the magistracy of the Cinque provided opportunities for communication with the centre.90 Prior to the organization of such centralized bureaucracy, individuals and communities would have had little recourse to those in positions of power in the city. Solely depending on patronage networks, many would have been left with limited avenues of appeal outside that of their immediate community. Although patron-client relationships and even friendships have been seen to exist between prominent citizens and contadini, their scope was necessarily restricted. While the poor and humble of the city could present themselves and their requests a bocca in the courtyard of the Medici palace,

88

This supplicha was signed by the most prominent men in the community, including a local priest and friar. Lelio Torrelli overrides this decision and orders that a new assessment be undertaken. ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, fol. 209. 89

‘Et e decti stantiamenti facti et appicchiati alla porta della chiesa di decto comune, secondo gli ordini degli statuti del comune di Firenze’: ASF, Cinque, 353, fol. 261r.

90 In his study of the justice system in late Renaissance Florence, Criminal Justice and Crime in Late Renaissance Florence, John Brackett argues (p. 71) that the practice of writing suppliche to magistracies such as the Otto was an advantage to the poor who would not have had the funds to hire a lawyer to appeal their case, and observes that most suppliche were accepted. This also appears to have been the case for contadini in regard to administrative and civil issues.

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or to various prominent individuals in their neighbourhood, those in the countryside felt the tyranny of distance. Limited to the relationships forged with landowning citizens, rural labourers may have had to wait weeks or even months until their patrons visited the country. The allocation of resources to magistracies with particular responsibilities for the countryside provided a codified chain of petition, which was used extensively by both individuals and rural councils. Such petitions were often met with compassionate responses. Castiglione was granted a reprieve when the council wrote to the Cinque explaining that not only were their communal records lost during the plague outbreak of 1527, but as a result of the conflict between Florence and the Imperial forces the area had been abandoned and those remaining were so few that their assessment could not be paid.91 By means of supplication contadini could, and regularly did, submit pleas to be granted clemency in fines, taxes, and duties, citing poverty, sickness, old age, and excessive numbers of children to support. In turn, the magistracies displayed extraordinary patience in systematically considering all these requests, often responding positively to them. Reserving their harshest judgements for displays of disloyalty to the state, Florentine officials were sympathetic to the plight of those tied to the land for their livelihood, and pleas were regularly submitted on behalf of individuals by the local podestà himself. Reading the thousands of letters and their responses preserved by Florentine officials, one has no sense of a heartless and faceless bureaucracy such as one would associate with our contemporary western political climate. Fifteenth- and sixteenth-century writers may at times have referred to contadini as ignorant savages, but the interests and concerns of even the most humble were taken very seriously.92

V While camarlinghi were generally drawn from electoral bags, consiglieri more directly exercised their power in the appointment of rettori or sindichi for the community. The final administrative body to be considered in this context, rettori were responsible for representing the people in front of judicial magistracies. Often 91 92

ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 642.

There are literally thousands of appeals from fathers incarcerated for minor crimes or poor widows appealing to the Cinque for exemption from completing their sentence or tax leniency because they have starving dependants. These have all been responded to, collated, and preserved by the Cinque. See ASF, Cinque, Suppliche.

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doubling as a police force, they reported crimes to the local podestà and collected penalties due for these transgressions of the law. Again, the exact roles of these officials varied from commune to commune. In Gangalandi responsibility was split between paciali, or peacekeepers, who oversaw disputes; guardie, who policed immobile property; four sindichi responsible for any debtors; and one rettore de’ malefiti, who reported all other crime.93 While salaries were approximately five lire for a six-month office compared to approximately two hundred lire paid to camarlinghi, there were advantages to taking on this role.94 Every penalty imposed was divided proportionally amongst those responsible for its imposition. For minor offenses this included those who reported the crime, the rettore relaying the charge, and the podestà with, in more serious cases, the local vicar also taking a cut.95 Fines for minor civil offenses could range from a few soldi for working on a feast day to as much as fifty lire for cutting communal wood without permission; quite a profitable conviction for any rettore.96 In this way citizens and officials were offered incentives for reporting their neighbours, no doubt a necessary procedure in small, close-knit communities. What was burdensome about exercising this office was the extensive amount of time-consuming and often dangerous travelling that was involved. Minor civil and criminal cases were settled within the commune itself by the podestà, but more serious crimes were referred to the vicar of the region. These vicariati encompassed vast territories. Scarperia, which included all of the Mugello, also swept south-west as far as Campi and Signa. As a result rettori were often on the move. Complaining that the eight rettori of Campi had to make the trip to Scarperia thirty-two times a year and that the road was long and treacherous, officials were looking for a subsidy for their travels of forty soldi every six months.97 The rettori of Gangalandi, troubled by villagers wanting them to report minor crimes to the vicar of Certaldo, took this 93 94

ASF, Statuti, 350, fols 9v–11 v.

The salaries of local officials varied from commune to commune. While the camarlingo generale of the vicariato of Scarperia was paid two hundred lire, and that of Castiglione over three hundred lire, those controlling smaller areas may only have received twenty or thirty lire for carrying out their responsibilities. 95

The proportion of fines paid to Florentine officials tended to increase as the size of the fine increased. See ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 17r. 96

These examples are taken from the fines imposed in the commune of Crespoli. ASF, Statuti, 257. 97

‘andare ogni anno tra tutti 32 volte alla Scarperia a sodare al vicariato, via molto lungha e cattiva, dove si perde molto tempo e spendono molti denari’: ASF, Statuti, 114, fol. 40r.

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a step further by insisting that if anyone wanted minor crimes reported they had to pay the rettore ten soldi for the trip there and back.98 Perhaps inhabitants did not feel the podestà was treating their complaints seriously enough. Whatever their motivation, the constant referral of crimes to the vicar of Certaldo indicates that the commune was not only prepared to recognize the Florentine judges as the supreme power in matters of justice, but saw them as a reliable source of impartial rulings. Lacking officers specifically responsible for the maintenance of roads and bridges, many communes also expected rettori to keep an eye on the condition of these communication routes. Seemingly a strange marriage of functions, there is a certain logic to the requirement as rettori were constantly travelling these roads to investigate and report crimes. Other communes elected their own officials to patrol road conditions and organize repairs, all of course in liaison with Florentine magistracies who had a vested interest in preserving lines of communication and supply. The persistence of local administration and government enabled rural communities to maintain the right to direct and control their own financial, political, and administrative apparatus. Through the offices of the grand council, the consiglieri, the camarlinghi, and the rettori, rural communities allocated their own taxes, made laws by which to live, decided who would govern, preserved justice, and forged relationships with neighbouring communities. While many of these powers gradually became subject to approval by Florence, it is too simplistic to conclude that as a result of Florentine presence, local autonomy was lost. The relationship between city and country was continually negotiated by each community under Florentine rule and despite, or rather because of, this communes continued to be responsible at the ground level, learning to manipulate the system and taking full advantage of the fail-safes it provided. The intricate systems of self rule meant that rural communes provided many of the advantages and civilities of urban life — representation, community, security, rule by law, education — and provided them in an environment which was much more open than was the city to participation from the poorest sectors of society. Those individuals holding offices within the communes of the contado valued their position in much the same way that Florentine officials valued theirs, regardless of how relatively humble the role was, and status was inextricably linked to a visible presence within the rural administrative structures.

98

ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 85r.

Chapter 2

T HE P ISTOIAN M OUNTAINS AND F ACTIONAL C ONFLICT

T

I

he Pistoian Mountains had always been particularly troublesome for the Florentine government. Not only did they constitute some of the poorest and most isolated regions under Florentine rule, they were also home to the territory’s most factious and violent inhabitants. The long-standing conflict between the Pistoian factions, the Cancellieri and Panciatichi, was as alive and well in the countryside as it was in the city of Pistoia itself, and the dense mountain forests provided ideal hiding places for condemned rebels. To complicate matters further, rewards offered for the capture of rebels attracted hundreds of mercenaries from the neighbouring territories of Ferrara and Bologna, who were not above raping and pillaging local inhabitants as they travelled through Florentine territory.1 In the midst of this poverty and lack of order, it is little wonder that, in 1502, the then captain of the mountains, Cardinale Rucellai, was driven to despair, lamenting that the local inhabitants ‘follow their nature, being born in these places and conversing with beasts’ and concluding ‘for my part, I can see no remedy, because they are all of evil nature’.2 And while the character of mountain inhabitants cannot be entirely attributed to a Braudelian geographical determinism, there is little doubt that Cardinale had a valid point: the communities in this region of the

1

Accounts of raids performed by these mercenaries are scattered throughout the records of the council appointed to oversee judicial and administrative control of the territory: ASF, Pratica Segreta, see particularly 1–4. 2

Quotation from Kent, Household and Lineage in Renaissance Florence, p. 251.

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Florentine territory appeared to follow a different set of rules from the rest of the population.3 Believed to be ferocious, uneducated, untamable, and desperately poor, the inhabitants of the mountains of Pistoia had always been physically and conceptually separate from the rest of the Pistoian territory.4 Although the mountain areas constituted over half of the surface area of the Pistoian territory, in 1244, the population of these areas constituted less than a fifth of the total rural population.5 The territory in question followed roughly the same boundaries as it does to the present day: an arc of mountains rising to the north of Pistoia and extending as far as present-day Abetone. Throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the inhabitants of this area fought a daily battle for survival, both to scratch out a living from unfertile land and to defend themselves from physical dangers. They ate differently from their hill- and plain-dwelling neighbours, they were shorter and stockier, they lived in smaller family groups, often side by side with their sworn enemies, and the mountainsides counted more beasts than people. These distinctive characteristics led mountain inhabitants to be at the same time both reviled and feared by their urban and rural contemporaries.6 Serving a six-month term as the captain of the mountains, Antonio di Francesco de’ Nobili found himself almost unable to maintain order, describing his charges as ‘so entrenched in their disobedience, that they have respect neither for the Florentine government, nor their own officials, and not even for God. They behave like beasts in every way, and brush off convictions like flies, not least because they never pay a fine’.7 Outside observers shared these impressions of the Pistoian mountains. When Ludovico Gonzaga wrote to Giuliano de’ Medici, advising him of the best road to Mantua,

3

Florentine officials often complained about postings to the territories — see Brucker, Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, p. 217 — but the Pistoiese mountains were seen as one of the most difficult positions. 4

The mountains were always treated as a separate administrative region from the plains and hills of the contado of Pistoia. See Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia, Appendix 1, pp. 271–73. 5

According to population figures of 1244 for areas over five hundred metres above sea level. Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia, p. 53. 6

For a discussion of contemporary attitudes towards mountain men in general, see Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, pp. 121–23. 7

‘Ma loro che sono tanto ischarsi nell’ disubbientia che non estimano più Signoria, nè rettori, nè anchora Iddio. D’ogni cosa si son facti bestie, et così fanno, et tanto stimano le condenagioni quanto el solleticho e meno perché non pagano mai niuna’: ASF, Misc. Rep., 52, insert 1, fol. 13r.

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his opinion was that he should take the old Roman road via Bologna and not the one that passed through the Pistoian mountains ‘where there are many savage and wooded areas, to be avoided because of the desperate nature of the inhabitants of this zone’.8 The podestà of Prato, Lorenzo Bartoli, painted a similar picture when he wrote to fra Girolamo Bartoli in Florence. In the context of calling for a larger police presence for the annual livestock fair held in Prato, he wrote that the contadi of Prato and Pistoia were full ‘of many mortal feuds and outlaws who fear no one’.9 Even now, it is difficult to visit some of the more isolated of these communities without sensing that you are somehow entering into another, somewhat hostile, world that is unaccustomed to strangers (Fig. 1; see also Figs 3 and 4 below). The altitude of the majority of mountain communities was too high for the cultivation of traditional crops and vines, and instead they substituted chestnuts and acorns for the wheat and cereal consumed by lower-lying communities, making bread substitutes from the ground meal.10 Wine was expensive and scarce and in order to satisfy their needs, mountain communities often turned to raiding the vineyards of their hill-dwelling neighbours, eventually resulting in the passing of harsh penalties for theft and the posting of guards round the clock.11 The mountains were not entirely devoid of economic potential, however, because being rich in pastureland and the raw materials required for iron and charcoal production, the region played an important part in the urban economy.12 While the rest of the Florentine territory was moving surely and steadily towards the sale of common land and the enclosure of larger areas of farmland, owned by citizens and worked by local peasant families, the mountains resisted any such agricultural transformation. Instead they maintained a balance between communally owned forest and

8

‘dove sono de molti logi salvatici e boschivi che più se haria a dubitare de gente disperata’: Ludovico Gonzaga a Giuliano de’ Medici, Mantua, 3 June 1472. Printed in Corinna Vasiæ Vatovec, ‘Lorenzo il Magnifico e i Gonzaga: due ‘viaggi’ nell’architettura’, in La Toscana al tempo di Lorenzo il Magnifico: Politica, economia, cultura, arte, ed. by Riccardo Fubini, vol. I (Pisa: Pacini Editore, 1996), pp. 96–97. 9

‘Ora faccisi quel che si può che, chome dicho, apena sen viene, si potrà soperire a dar terrore a tanto numero di gente, e massime perché ci è qua, per questo chontado di Pistoia e di questa di Prato, di molte brighe mortale e pieni di sbanditi a non temono persona.’ Cited in Epistolario di Fra Santi Rucellai, ed. by Armando F. Verde and Elettra Giaconti (Pistoia: Memorie Domenicane, 2003), p. 269. 10

11 12

Epistolario di Fra Santi Rucellai, ed. by Verde and Giaconti, p. 125. Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia, p. 38. Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, pp. 127–29.

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Figure 1. Pistoian Mountains

pasturelands.13 The large amount of land needed to support the raising of beasts and the clearing of forests meant that conditions favoured the persistence of small clustered settlements, sparsely dotting the mountain region. The four mountain communities of Cutigliano, Lizzano, San Marcello, and Gavinana, with a total of only 332 households recorded in the 1427 catasto, declared the incredible number of 13,144 sheep and goats, 404 cattle, and 589 mules, horses, and asses. It was little wonder that Cardinale Rucellai refers to the men conversing with beasts!14 In turn, while the labour-intensive cultivation of wheat and vines favoured increasingly large nuclear families in the hills and plains, the care of cattle was a largely solitary pursuit, and the need to forage much of their basic food sources from forestlands made it almost impossible to support large families.15 The very poverty of the

13

See the following discussion of the commune of Cutigliano for more details of how this was achieved. 14

15

Figures cited in Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, p. 129. The size of mountain households will be discussed in more detail as the chapter progresses.

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mountains, and the absence of patrician landholders, meant that there was what Giovanni Cherubini has referred to as ‘an egalitarianism in their poverty’ in contrast to some of the more fertile areas of the contado.16 Cherubini demonstrates that across eleven mountain communes there were hardly any truly destitute families, just as there were a minimal number of particularly wealthy inhabitants.17 Instead over 80 per cent of the population ‘enjoyed’ a comparable economic position, on the verge of poverty but never quite succumbing to ruin. And yet, as will be discussed in more detail as this chapter continues, this did not result in the development of a unified identity. The need constantly to change pasturelands meant that mountain communities were also set apart from a large number of their rural contemporaries by their very mobility. Not only did the men of these communities range the mountainsides, but harsh winter temperatures forced them to make an annual pilgrimage into the plains of the Maremma in order to ensure an adequate food supply. This continual journey up and down the mountains impacted on the entire community, bringing men into contact with a large number of other communities and leaving women, children, and the elderly alone for months at a time.18 Transhumance led to the development of much more wideranging networks for mountain men when compared to their rural brothers in the hills and plains. A similar situation was true of other mountain regions. In his study of marriage networks Samuel Cohn demonstrates that while one third of contadini from the plains married within their immediate parish community, in the Mugello this fell to less than one fifth, and in the mountains of the Casentino to less than 10 per cent.19 The mobility of the men in the community also made it very difficult for the collection of taxes, and those remaining behind often felt the heavy burden of Florentine assessments. In 1480, Florentine officials complained that something needed to be done about the communities in the Pistoian mountains as every time officials travelled to the area to exact payments, the inhabitants of the village would spontaneously disappear into the mountains.20 The inhabitants of Monte Cornaio 16 17

Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, p. 131.

Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, p. 141. Cherubini adopts the classification system established by Elio Conti in his study of the 1427 catasto for the development of this model: Conti, La formazione, III.2a, 243–45. 18

19

See the discussion in Chapter 6 of the role of confraternities for women.

Samuel Cohn, Creating the Florentine State: Peasants and Rebellion, 1348–1434 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 34. 20

‘decti huomini abandonassino la decta montagna et andassino ad abitare altrove’: ASF, Statuti, 448, fol. 66r.

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found themselves in just such a position when it came time for their taxes to be paid and wrote to the Duke appealing for a reduction in their assessment: ‘The majority of the men of this commune have gone, as usual, to stay in the Sienese and Roman Maremma.’21 They saw their location as being the explanation for their poverty, ending the letter, ‘the aforementioned men and commune [of Monte Cornaio] are not only poor but in fact beggars, as a result of living in the Appennines’.22 All these factors contributed to the unique social and political structure of mountain communities, gave them a separate identity in the minds of their contemporaries, and subsequently influenced the mechanisms by which Florence sought to exercise its control of the region. Certainly the absorption of the city and contado of Pistoia, a process not completed until well into the fifteenth century, was perhaps the greatest challenge faced by Florence in the period of territorial expansion. It may not have been the most dramatic or violent struggle, but it was certainly one of the most drawn out, taking the Florentine government over three hundred years finally to consolidate its rule. Over this period, the administrative shape of the area was completely transformed. Initially, Florence had been reluctant to involve itself fully in Pistoian affairs, but as the internal factional problems worsened and Florence’s own policies of expansion changed, the government felt it had little choice but to intervene.23 The process of domination had been unwittingly begun by the Pistoians themselves when, in 1235, the government requested Florentine assistance to resolve internal problems. Faced with what it saw as irreconcilable differences, Pistoia not only requested Florentine help to neutralize the immediate situation, but also accepted the Florentine proposal to establish temporarily a Florentine citizen as podestà in order to monitor the situation. For the following four years the city was governed by a Florentine citizen, until such time as the Pistoiesi rebelled and reasserted their independence, electing one of their own to the post. Less than twenty years later, however, the recently established popular government of Florence once again established its domination of Pistoia, appointing a Florentine citizen as podestà. There followed a series of 21 ‘La major parte delli huomini di detto comune sono soliti andare ad stare per le Maremme di Siena o di Roma’: ASF, Cinque, Suppliche, 253, fol. 243. 22

‘Essendo detto comune et uomini non solo poveri ma mendichi per essere siti loro in sull’alpe d’Appennino’: ASF, Cinque, Suppliche, 253, fol. 243. 23

The process of Pistoia’s submission to Florence is examined in detail by William Connell, La città dei crucci: Fazioni e clientele in uno stato repubblicano del ’400 (Florence: Nuova Toscana Editrice, 2000); Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia; and Storia di Pistoia, vols I– III, ed. by Natale Rauty, Giovanni Cherubini, and Giorgio Pinto (Florence: Felice Le Monnier, 1988–99).

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periods of Florentine rule, interspersed with Pistoian independence, that was brought to a close only in 1351, when Pistoia was forcibly subjected to Florence once and for all.24 Even then, Pistoia had managed to maintain some basic administrative and judicial control over the region, despite the presence of Florentine representatives in the city.25 In the early part of the fifteenth century Pistoia managed to pass a law making the city and contado exempt from the control of the Florentine magistracies responsible for administering the countryside. Instead Florence depended on the exploitation of patron-client relationships maintained by Pistoiesi with those in power in the various areas.26 However, this tentative control was brought to an end fifty years later. Spurred into action by a particularly acute period of factional conflict — involving a plan to assassinate the head of the Panciatichi family and declare Pistoia independent — the Florentine government had recognized the need to act quickly and moved to place the city definitively under Florentine control. The traditional countryside belonging to Pistoia was divided into completely new jurisdictional zones, and rural communities found themselves answering no longer to the city of Pistoia, but to the numerous Florentine magistracies that were responsible for administering the territories: the Cinque del Contado, Conservatori delle Leggi, Ufficiali della Torre, Pratica Segreta, and Ufficiali delle Notte.27 In addition, Florentine troops were placed not only within the city walls of Pistoia, but also in the castles of Sambucca and Serravale.28 There is little doubt that the actions of Florence were greatly motivated by the economic benefits that the conquest of Pistoia brought with it. In the early part of 24 According to Ezelinda Magliozzi, ‘Istituzioni comunali a Pistoia prima e dopo l’inizio della Dominazione Fiorentina’, in Egemonia fiorentina ed autonomie locali nella Toscana nord-occidentale del primo Rinascimento: Vita, arte, cultura (Pisa: Presso la sede del Centro di Studio, 1975), pp. 171–205 (p. 200), Pistoia’s liberty was effectively lost even earlier, in 1331, when Florence, by a balìa, was granted the power to preserve the peace and security of Pistoia and its contado. 25

Issacs, ‘States in Tuscany and Veneto’, p. 300, argues that the majority of cities that Florence took by force managed to regain some control over their traditional contado after initial harsh penalties negated their rights.

26 William Connell, ‘Clientelismo e stato territoriale: Il potere fiorentino a Pistoia nel XV secolo’, Società e storia, 53 (1991), 524–43, argues that during the fifteenth century Florence’s control of Pistoia was not one of increasing centralization of power, but in fact the opposite. This situation was, however, brought to an end at the conclusion of the fifteenth century and Florentine control consolidated with the establishment of the Pratica Segreta. 27 See Zorzi, L’amministrazione, for a detailed analysis of the responsibilities of these administrative and judicial bodies. 28

Magliozzi, ‘Istituzioni comunali’, p. 203.

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the fifteenth century the city and contado of Pistoia boasted over fifteen thousand inhabitants.29 The hills surrounding the city itself were fertile and well suited to the growing of grain, wine, and olives, and the mountains provided a rich source of minerals, chestnuts, wood, game, and fish, as well as supplying grazing lands for cattle. Strategically the region was no less important, bordering as it did on three foreign territories: the republic of Lucca, the Ferrarese state, and the Romagna. Yet probably the strongest impetus for the Florentine government was the need to stabilize the factional conflict, which threatened the entire region. The factions, headed by the Panciatichi and Cancellieri families, dated back to the thirteenth century and divided the loyalties of all inhabitants of the city and the contado of Pistoia. Outbreaks of factional violence occurred on a daily basis and on occasion reached the proportions of civil war.30 The factions drew their supporters not only from the Pistoian territory, but also from neighbouring regions, and thousands of men could be mobilized in a matter of days.31 Having such a volatile situation on its very doorstep would have been unsettling for Florence, to say the very least, and it was clearly not a situation that could be tolerated if the security of the region were to be guaranteed. In taking complete control of both the city of Pistoia and the surrounding countryside, Florence had become directly responsible for negotiating with the two sides of the factional conflict. Pursuing a deliberate policy of nurturing factional divisions, first institutionally and then, under the Medici, through ties of patronage, Florence’s strategy for managing the factionalism of Pistoia had dramatic consequences for both the city and the countryside in the centuries to follow.32 When, in the sixteenth century, concerted efforts were made to outlaw these factional bands, the Florentine government found itself up against loyalties that ran far deeper than any it had been able to instill in its century of

29 Pistoia and its contado experienced a population explosion in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, which was dramatically halted by the outbreaks of plague during the fourteenth century. The fifteenth century saw signs of improvement, as was the case in many Italian towns. See Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia, for a detailed analysis of population fluctuations and of the economic base of Pistoia. 30

The most famous being that of 1499–1502, during which time the city was all but destroyed by the warring factions. 31

See Bastiano Buoni’s account of civil war: ‘De’casi di Pistoia 1499 al 1504’, BNF, Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli, 371, fols 2r–112r. 32

Stephen Milner discusses in detail the shifts of Florentine — and particularly Medicean — policy towards Pistoia in his article ‘Rubrics and Requests: Statutory Division and Supra-communal Clientage in Pistoia’, in Florentine Tuscany, ed. by Connell and Zorzi, pp. 312–32.

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domination. The inhabitants of Pistoia may have come to tolerate Florentine rule, but they were in no hurry to alter their deeply ingrained fidelity to their factional brothers and sisters.33 In 1538 Cosimo I decided further to centralize the administration of the contado of Pistoia, appointing four Florentine commissioners to oversee directly all judicial, financial, and administrative matters. These commissioners, and the newly created magistracy — Pratica Segreta di Pistoia e Pontremoli — essentially absorbed the responsibilities of the Cinque del Contado and Conservatori delle Leggi and, in addition, were given the task of approving the communal statutes of all the communities of the contado of Pistoia.34 Despite these significant administrative reforms, the situation in the Pistoian mountains continued to be critical even into the second half of the sixteenth century, when the factions had supposedly been suppressed.35 Despite some level of fealty to local parishes, mainly due to the geographical isolation of many of the villages, factional loyalties took precedence in the mountains.36 These loyalties transcended the established geographical boundaries that largely determined communal relationships in other areas. These were more than merely casual associations, and so families and individuals swore their allegiance to one or other of the factions and many were prepared to kill or die to preserve these loyalties. The harsh terrain was, in itself, only one of the reasons why the mountains were one of the last havens for factional violence; the economic, spiritual, and social structure of the villages that were scattered throughout the mountains contributed significantly to the situation that led Cardinale Rucellai to declare ‘For my part, I can see no remedy, because they are all of evil nature’.37 Historians generally concur that there

33 34 35

The persistence of Pistoian factions will be discussed in more detail in the following section. Magliozzi, ‘Istituzioni comunali’, p. 204.

The elimination of the factions is usually dated by historians as coinciding with the tight controls imposed by Cosimo I. For example, see Connell, La città dei crucci, p. 240. The records of the Pratica Segreta demonstrate that this was clearly not the case, at least in the mountain areas, where factional violence continued to be reported well into the second half of the sixteenth century. 36

Political relationships between communes were limited to basic administrative requirements resulting from their unification into judicial districts under Florentine vicars and captains. Thus interaction was largely limited to councils formed under these territorial divisions, which had the responsibility of coordinating taxes, electing notaries, and reporting crime to the vicar. In cases of economic or political disputes, communes usually deferred to Florence, otherwise remaining largely independent of one another. 37

Quotation from Kent, Household and Lineage in Renaissance Florence, p. 251.

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was something about the structure and location of these communities that favoured, and indeed nurtured, the presence of factions even if their explanations for this phenomenon differ. Whether it was due to the isolated location, the harsh conditions, or the social structure of the villages, all agree that the mountains were well adapted to breeding factional division. Chris Wickham attributes this tendency to a lack of the mediating influence of outside powers, a result of the absence of large landholders.38 It is certainly significant that, apart from the official presence, virtually no Florentine citizen owned land in the region, and still fewer regularly visited the hostile mountain communities. Samuel Cohn argues that the degree of physical mobility and the topography of the land itself encouraged the development of factions,39 while David Herlihy placed more emphasis on the nature of the mountain economy, which precluded the need to form commercial networks and left inhabitants free to establish associations based on ties of friendship.40 In order to come to a more detailed understanding of this area of the Florentine territory, specific mountain communes will be examined in terms of their social, economic, and demographic structures in an attempt to identify the mechanisms they used to ensure the survival of their villages, both in the face of violent factional conflict and in the presence of their new Florentine masters. For just as the Florentine presence in the countryside adopted a myriad of forms — ecclesiastical, military, economic, and social — there was no single unified response to Florentine interference in the administration of rural communities. Instead each community developed, defined, and transformed individual strategies of negotiation when communicating with the central bodies of Florentine administration.

II Located high in the mountains, on one of the three major Apennine passes to Modena, the town of Cutigliano was one of the largest and most important villages in the Pistoiese mountains. With an elevation of 670m, it was strategically located to command a view of the surrounding valleys and for this reason had been chosen by Florence as one of the two seats of the captain of the mountains. Cutigliano 38

Chris Wickham, Il problema dell’incastellamento nell’Italia centrale: l’esempio di San Vincenzo al Volturno. Studi sulla società degli Appennini nell’alto Medioevo (Florence: Edizioni all’insegna del giglio, 1985), pp. 43–44 and 101–03. 39 40

Cohn, Creating the Florentine State, pp. 32–36. Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia, p. 198.

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shared this dubious honour with the much more accessible and — in Florentine terms at least — considerably more civilized town of San Marcello.41 The captain of the mountains was responsible for ten separate mountain communes, or a total population of 9106 inhabitants.42 In comparison with many of the other territorial jurisdictions this was a relatively small area, but the dangers and difficulties involved in governing this region meant that it was a far from sought-after position. To encourage Florentine citizens to take up the office, the government was forced to offer captains a comparatively high compensation for their sacrifice — a salary of 1403 lire, 9 soldi, and 10 denari per term of office. It was unavoidable that even the periodic presence of this powerful Florentine representative would have impacted on the structure of Cutigliano and the identity of its inhabitants. The most obvious influence was manifest in the urban structure of the village itself, for while the majority of mountain communities lacked any formal communal structure and were made up of dwellings loosely clustered around a parish church, Cutigliano would have more closely resembled a town of the hills or plains of the contado. Although awkward in its layout, the result of being somewhat precariously perched on a mountaintop, the town had a clearly recognizable communal centre. Predictably, the central piazza was dominated by the captain’s palace, which had been constructed in the fourteenth century at the expense of the mountain communes, on the site of an existing piazza. The piazza had originally been orientated towards the parish church of the village, and it was probably not accidental that the palace was built at right angles to the church instead of facing it. The orientation and location of the palace thus effectively blocked any view of the church’s facade, with pride of place being given to the entrance to the palace itself and the many coats of arms of the various Florentine captains that adorned it. It is also revealing that the resulting piazza, considerably reduced, would have been far too small to accommodate a public meeting of the population of Cutigliano, at least until the sixteenth century by which time the population had declined dramatically. A small loggia, complete with an impressive stone lion (the symbol of Florence), was added slightly later and further reduced the available meeting space. Directly behind the captain’s palace was the communal water supply, again a powerful symbol of who was in control of the village. Prior to the construction of the palace, this fountain would have flanked the right-hand side of the parish’s piazza 41 42

The captain and his retinue would alternate their residency between the two towns.

Census taken in 1551; BNF, Magli., II, I, 120. The breakdown of the communes was as follows: Cutigliano (1855), Lizzano (1625), Mammiano (345), Pupiglio (1454), San Marcello (961), Gavinana (672), Sambucha (1379), Calamecca (389), Crespoli (280), and Lanciuole (146).

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Figure 2. San Bartolomeo

and would have been easily accessible by all. On the outskirts of the town, at separate ends of the village, were the market square and the convent church of San Bartolomeo, both of which provided less centralized meeting spaces for the community (Fig. 2). Habitations, such as they were, extended down the sides of the mountain in either direction and blended into the surrounding woodlands. Apart from the physical impact, the presence of the Florentine captain and his retinue meant that the central authority more closely observed the inhabitants of Cutigliano — at least for six months of the year — than it did other mountain communities. It is perhaps for this reason that this town, more than any other mountain commune, features so regularly in the criminal records of the Pratica Segreta, including accounts of petty crimes of theft and brawling, and more serious cases of fraud, rape, and homicide.43 It is for this reason that it is possible to construct a more comprehensive picture of this particular community, the loyalties

43

By my calculations, the proportion of crimes recorded for inhabitants of Cutigliano approaches one third of all crimes mentioned in the records of the Pratica Segreta.

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and animosities of its inhabitants, than can be achieved for many other remote rural villages. Despite the presence of the Florentine captain, Cutigliano suffered the same slow plod towards depopulation as all other mountain communities. Where an official Florentine presence often stimulated urban investment in the countryside by guaranteeing a degree of security, no such investment occurred in the territory of Cutigliano. Even the captains themselves could not wait to be rid of their duties at the end of their six-month office, and very few ever returned voluntarily for a second term. Prior to the Black Death, the village had boasted a population of over nine hundred households, unusually large for the generally sparsely populated mountain regions.44 By 1388 this number had been reduced to 390 households and continued to fall steadily until arriving at 113 hearths, or a total population of 389 people, by the mid-sixteenth century (Table 1).45 This reduction in population — due not only to successive outbreaks of plague, but also to migration to the cities and mortality rates resulting from factional violence — was symptomatic of the environment of poverty and decline in the mountain communities. Table 1. Population of Pistoian Mountains, number of households (1244–1536) Commune Cutigliano Calamecca Crespoli Lanciuole

1244

1344 1388 1401 1404 1427 1536 918 390 358 269 118 113 45 193 130 110 82 23 27 26 193 106 60 53 20 33 10 91 70 42 36 17 17

Like the majority of other mountain communities Cutigliano was too high for the cultivation of grain and vines and thus depended on chestnut trees for a primary food source.46 The monetary economy of Cutigliano was therefore almost 44

The population of mountainous regions averaged less than ten inhabitants per square kilometre (Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, p. 124) as compared to the average for the middle hills of sixty to eighty people per square kilometer (David Herlihy and Cristiane KlapischZuber, Tuscans and their Families: A Study of the Florentine Catasto of 1427 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1978), pp. 47–49).

45 The population figures for 1244–1427 are taken from Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia. The later figures are my own from ASF, DG, 7799, fols 1–83. While this particular tax assessment was based on property, it is clear that only those who literally owned nothing at all were excluded. Records distinguish between house, goods, and animals for taxation purposes and, on examination, approximately 10 per cent of the population did not own a house. 46

There is no mention of land cultivated with either olives or grapes for this community in the tax records of the Decima Granducale; Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia, p. 38, also notes that this commune was too high for both crops.

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exclusively based on the raising of animals and the clearing of forests. Despite a continuing urban demand for both wood and animal products, the population found itself in increasing economic crisis, particularly acute in the one hundred years spanning the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In 1427, the animal holdings of the 118 households that made up Cutigliano included 6689 sheep and goats and 325 mules, horses, and asses, which were relatively evenly spread across the community.47 By the mid-sixteenth century, although the population was relatively stable at 113 households, only 40 per cent of the population declared ownership of beasts, which indicates that a dramatic change had occurred affecting the stability of the town’s economy.48 One clue as to the reasons for this destabilization can be found in the communal statutes of the town. A violent period of factional conflict defined the first years of the sixteenth century, resulting not only in extensive damage to property, but also in the breakdown of intercommunal relations in the mountains.49 In previous centuries, Cutigliano had depended on the neighbouring commune of Lizzano to provide extra pastures, as its own land was relatively scarce. Throughout the fifteenth century, the surviving statutes of Cutigliano reflect its inhabitants’ primary obsession with the protection of pasturelands and forests, dealing out harsh penalties for anyone who damaged either.50 Yet even with these strict controls Cutigliano’s own pasturelands did not suffice and the community was forced to draw up a pasturing agreement with Lizzano, which gave it the right to graze its animals on the land of its neighbours. Relations had always been precarious with Lizzano, although until the establishment of the captain of the mountains in Cutigliano the two villages had constituted a single commune. With the new jurisdictional boundaries Cutigliano became independent and decidedly more wealthy and influential than its more ancient neighbour. The communal council of Cutigliano was so troubled by the breakdown of relations that it decided to create a special council of seven men who would be responsible for negotiating the agreement.51 Despite these attempts to secure grazing rights, factional 47 48

Figures taken from Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, p. 129.

These proportions are my own, taken from ASF, DG, 7766, fols 1–83. The desire to hide possessions from the authorities must also be taken into account, but there still had to have been a significant reduction in cattle in the area. 49

50

Buoni, ‘De’casi di Pistoia’, BNF, Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli, 371; see particularly fols 89r–100.

Of the dozens of communal statutes I have examined in the course of the preparation of this book, only the mountain communities placed such a strong emphasis on laws regarding the protection of common land. 51

ASF, Notarile, 13270, fol. 181r.

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differences seem to have got the better of both parties and the agreement apparently dissolved. By the mid-sixteenth century, the preoccupations of the communal council saw a marked shift. Now having accepted the breakdown of relations with Lizzano, its concerns were much closer to home. It seems members of the local community had been deliberately planting chestnut trees on communal pasturing land, threatening the very balance of pasture and forest that the council had been so determined to protect over the centuries.52 That inhabitants of the town had turned from actively protecting the grazing land of their animals to a focus on the cultivation of a fundamental food source was no doubt a result of the decrease in animal ownership. For the 60 per cent of the population that no longer owned any animals, priorities had changed. The penalties for this infraction were harsh and the trees removed, but the message of those tree planters was clear and desperate: they needed food to survive. By 1538, the economic situation throughout the mountains had become so critical that an extraordinary meeting of legal advisors was called in front of the Pratica Segreta to examine the issue of outstanding taxes owed by the mountain regions, taxes dating back from 1524. At the conclusion of this meeting it was ruled that the contado of Pistoia was, in fact, in debt to the city for the incredible sum of 17,000 florins. In recognition of the impossibility of the communes being able to raise this sum, and of the critical state of poverty in which the mountain communities found themselves, this amount was immediately reduced to 10,000 florins with the first repayment of 1000 florins scheduled for twelve months later.53 Also reflecting the declining wealth of the population was the significant decrease in the average household size, which fell from an average of 5.8 members in 1427 to a mere 3.4 by 1536, as compared to the average household size of 4.74 for the Florentine territory.54 There was clearly no great economic advantage for families in the mountain regions to live in extended household groups; property ownership was limited and the land minimally cultivated, with inhabitants instead 52 53 54

ASF, Statuti, 296, fol. 9r. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fols 16r–20v .

The average household size for the territory is taken from Herlihy and Klapisch-Zuber, Tuscans and their Families, p. 283, while the figures for Cutigliano are my own. Herlihy and Klapisch-Zuber convincingly demonstrate the relationship between wealth and family size in their analysis of the 1427 catasto: Tuscans and their Families, pp. 282–90. They found the association to be even stronger in the countryside than it was in urban centres, taking into account the fact that mezzadria households were not necessarily representative as they usually had little taxable wealth but high household numbers.

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dependant on the land held in common even for their food source. There was also little financial benefit in cultivating extensive family ties within the community, as the wood and animal products they produced were for an external market; sheep and goats may have provided milk and meat for one’s own family, but their monetary value was primarily the wool sold to cloth makers in the urban centres. Likewise wood was a useful local product, but as all inhabitants had abundant access to wood for building and heating, the sale of wood was to urban manufacturers of iron and charcoal.55 Therefore, while the families of Cutigliano recognized the importance of a communal structure to protect their common interests, this did not necessarily translate into strong identification with other local families as some historians have inferred.56 Instead the economy was based more on a competition for survival: in foraging for food supplies as well as attempting to establish trade relationships with urban manufacturers. This lack of strong local ties had to be compensated for by the establishment of other networks, and it was here that factional loyalties came into play. Identification with a particular faction went a long way towards making up for the absence of local networks and was considerably more useful to mountain inhabitants. Individual households in Cutigliano may have been small, but this was of little consequence when a faction mobilized, for just as each family was surrounded by countless enemies they were also able to call on their factional brothers in times of need. The ability to find themselves among friends, even when a long way from home, was vital to the mountain inhabitants who depended on the transhumance of animals for their economic survival. Within a factional framework inhabitants could call on their allies when threatened; this was not only the case in local disputes, but also when on the move, at which time cattle rustling was a very real threat to economic survival. In one incident, the wealthiest inhabitant of Cutigliano, Biago di Guidotto, had lost a herd of 270 sheep to a local count, with little hope of regaining possession if it were not for the help of his factional brothers.57 Even if Florence had been prepared to send its own troops to defend the 55 Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, pp. 134–41, discusses the relationship between mountain communities and urban centres for the sale of wood and wool, citing particular examples of relationships between urban wool merchants and inhabitants of Cutigliano. 56

Both Cherubini, Signori, contadini, borghesi, and Connell, La città dei crucci, stress the continuing importance of communes to mountain communities, making the comparison with weakening bonds in other areas of the countryside, but do not examine to what extent these bonds represented social ties. 57

ASF, MAP, Filza 9, n. 214.

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mountains, they would probably have been minimally effective against local mercenaries who had grown up in the mountains and knew its paths and hiding places. Instead, individuals depended on the mobilization of their factional allies when their personal interests were threatened. The commune may have been an important administrative structure to manage pasturing rights, but it was certainly not the primary social bond for mountain inhabitants. The experience of living side by side in the same village, sharing the same pasturelands and foraging in the same forests, was not enough for the villagers of Cutigliano to overcome their fundamental differences. The internal factional divisions were so fundamental that the communal council was forced to create separate electoral bags for each faction, in an attempt to establish some sort of balance between the two groups.58 This also had a direct impact on the size of the council, which in Cutigliano numbered 150 men in 1489, or practically every individual with political eligibility.59 Certainly one would imagine a council of this size to be an unwieldy instrument of government, yet the need to maintain the fine balance between those loyal to the Cancellieri and those sworn to the Panciatichi would have meant that to exclude any of the household heads could have resulted in disaster.60 The criminal records of the Pratica Segreta, perhaps more than any other source, are witness to exactly how divided the community was. In these records it is evident that even the most mundane crimes usually had a factional basis. So when Clemenzino di Agnolo and Matteo di Meo of Cutigliano attempted to rape the wife of Giovanni di Bartolo, according to the documents, they were acting as two members of the Cancellieri faction committing a crime against their enemies, the Panciatichi.61 This is not to say that they recognized their crime as a political act, but merely to acknowledge the fact that the majority of friendships were formed between members of the same faction. Likewise it was hardly a coincidence that all nine members of the confraternity of Cutigliano who were accused of knowing that the captain of that confraternity — a priest from Bologna — was in 58

Just as Florence had instituted separate electoral bags in order to resolve factional differences within the city of Pistoia, the same system was adopted by the commune of Cutigliano. ASF, Statuti, 296, fol. 2. 59

60

ASF, Statuti, 296, fol. 4r.

A council of a similar size in Santa Maria in Bagno appealed to the Cinque to have permission to reduce the size of its general council ‘nel modo antico’ because of the confusion being caused. ASF, Cinque, Suppliche, 253, n. 455. 61

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fols 110v and 130r.

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possession of a small pistol were identified as members of the Cancellieri faction.62 Even more overtly factional in character was the accusation made by Jacopo di Santo from Cutigliano against nine of his fellow villagers. Jacopo had voluntarily presented himself in front of the Pratica Segreta, declaring that these men had met together in one of their houses to plot the murder of several members of the Panciatichi. Jacopo later confessed that he had falsified the accusation in order to win the favour of the Panciatichi faction.63 When factional disputes reached a critical point in the city and the countryside, mountain inhabitants did not waste time with false accusations but moved together in well-organized bands, massacring one another with impunity. A contemporary chronicler records: And in those times, both factions were awaiting a bountiful harvest, until that time when the Panciatichi cut some of the grain belonging to the Cancellieri, at which point everyone waited only to steal the harvest of the other, but the Panciatichi were much stronger and were able to cut more grain than the Cancellieri.64

It seems that it was a true case of survival of the fittest for mountain dwellers. Only a few months later, the Cancellieri had their revenge, herding 120 Panciatichi supporters into the church of Lizzano — only a few kilometres from Cutigliano — and setting fire to it, killing the thirty men, women, and children who were unable to escape the flames.65 It was little wonder that the pasturing agreement had broken down as a result of the differences between the two villages! By this stage Florence had well and truly reversed its policy of nurturing factional divisions and responded with fines of up to fifty gold scudi for infractions of the peace, an impossible sum for individuals who could barely find enough to eat.66 Furthermore, whereas Florence had, in the past, given permission to certain groups to arm themselves in selfdefence, in 1545 a general declaration was made that no one in the mountains or 62 63

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 4, fol. 40r.

Jacopo’s punishment was to be paraded through the streets of Cutigliano on the back of an ass with a sign reading ‘CALUNNIATORE FALSO’ hung around his neck. He was then condemned to five years in jail. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 3, fol. 137v . 64

‘Et in detti tempi, per l’una parte et per l’altra, si attendeva a fare buone raccolte, benché i Panciatichi taglierono assai grani di quegli de’ Cancellieri, pure ogn’uno attendeva a rubare le raccolte, l’uno al altro ma i Panciatichi erano molto più forte, et assai, più taglievano de’ grani ch’e Cancellieri’: Buoni, ‘De’casi di Pistoia 1499 al 1504’, BNF, Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli, 371, fol. 75r. 65 66

Buoni, ‘De’casi di Pistoia 1499 al 1504’, BNF, Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli, 371, fol. 89r.

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 3, fol. 46, and ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, loose sheets unnumbered, referring to the tumult of 1539.

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contado of Pistoia was allowed to carry arms, either defensive arms or weapons of attack. All arms had to be handed in to the piazza of Pistoia on penalty of five ducats.67 Even the threat of such extreme penalties was not enough to crush the factions, and five years later Filippo di Vincentio Panciatichi was found supplying arms to the men of the commune of Mamiamo.68 Factional loyalties were by far the strongest identifying social force for mountain inhabitants; communities could feel an affinity to those outside Florentine borders while being mortal enemies of a village only a few kilometres away. Thus, while Cutigliano was constantly in conflict with Lizzano over its pasturing agreement, its townspeople refer to a community in the Lucchese territory as their ‘friends and neighbours’.69 It seems that this particular community had won the loyalty of the Cutiglianese by disposing of one of their enemies who had murdered a villager from Cutigliano and continued to threaten and rob the town’s inhabitants. Appealing to Lorenzo de’ Medici to have words with the Lucchese government on their behalf, the villagers of Cutigliano wrote ‘they have done what we should have done ourselves’.70 Likewise, when it came to organized assaults on factional enemies, and even on the city of Pistoia itself, the borders of the Florentine territory appeared to have little significance for the mountain communities. The famous tumult of 1539, in which one of the gates of the city of Pistoia was broken down and many people killed, involved not only various villages from the mountains and the plains, but also a large number of inhabitants of the contado of Bologna.71 When, in 1540, a member of one of the most prominent families of Cutigliano was condemned for acts against the staff of the captain of the mountains, his fellow conspirators were not members of his own town, nor of neighbouring villages, but a group of foreigners from the contado of Ferrara.72 And again, in 1541, two adolescents of Cutigliano banded together with another man from Lombardy in the murder of five members of their own town, stealing money and animals.73 Despite being underage, these two boys were sentenced to death in the 67 68 69

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 3, fol. 50v. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 4, fol. 76r.

‘questi nostri amici e nostri vicini della terra de’ Lucha’: ASF, MAP, Filza 36, n. 495 (29 April 1478). 70

71 72 73

‘sicché costoro ànno fatto quello dovevamo fatto noi’: ASF, MAP, Filza 36, n. 495, fol. 36. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, loose sheets, unnumbered. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 71r. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 120v.

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absence of any relatives to take responsibility for their actions. A century of Florentine rule may have transformed the administrative and judicial structures of the Pistoian mountains, but it had clearly done little to impinge on the strength of factional ties, nor had it been able to instil in its inhabitants a sense of territorial borders.

III If Cutigliano, the seat of the captain of the mountains, had been impervious to Florentine attempts to crush the factions and to alter the social structure of the mountain communities, the three small mountain villages of Calamecca, Crespoli, and Lanciuole were even more protected from outside influences. Although geographically closer to Florence, they were not on any major routes of passage and were rarely visited by either human or beast. Falling under the jurisdiction of the podestà of Serravalle, there is little evidence of any regular visits to these communities by Florentine representatives, and who could blame them: these villages were some of the poorest and most desolate communities in a region torn apart by factional violence. Located on mountaintops the villages of Crespoli, at 671m, and Calamecca, at 693m, looked across at one another over seemingly impenetrable valleys of thick forests (Figs 3 and 4). Lanciuole, at a little over 600m, was nearby but hidden in a small valley of its own. All three villages lacked any communal structures or other meeting spaces, aside from their small parish churches, and the only defensive advantages they possessed were by virtue of their isolated and elevated position. Like Cutigliano, these villages were too high for the cultivation of olives, and the major food sources were products of the forest: chestnuts and acorns, game, and fish from mountain streams.74 Pasturelands in this zone were scarce; Calamecca and Crespoli recorded the presence of some beasts, but in the most depressed period of the mid-sixteenth century, Lanciuole could not even depend on this source of income.75 74

I have found one reference to Calamecca having some vineyards, admittedly in ill repair, but these areas are generally considered to be too high for both olives and grapes. ASF, Statuti, 108, fol. 15 r. 75 Based on tax declaration records, in 1536, 40 per cent of households in Cutigliano owned beasts, whereas in Calamecca only 11 per cent and in Crespoli 9 per cent declared animals. There were no declarations of animals for Lanciuole. In the 1595 Statutes, Calamecca also reports a crisis of deforestation resulting from over-logging to fuel the developing iron industry. ASF, Statuti, 108, fol. 11 r.

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Figure 3. View of Calamecca

Even at the height of their prosperity, in the early part of the fourteenth century, the communities of Calamecca and Crespoli numbered only slightly more than 190 households, while Lanciuole counted a mere ninety-one hearths (Table 1).76 Mirroring the population decline observed in Cutigliano, these numbers had dropped by the mid-sixteenth century to thirty-three households in Crespoli (a total population of eighty-three inhabitants), twenty-seven households in Calamecca (a total of 109), and only eleven recorded households in Lanciuole (a total of fifty villagers).77 It was on behalf of communities such as these that the council of the mountains appealed to Lorenzo de’ Medici in the later part of the fifteenth century for help in mediating with the Florentine tax officials, writing, We pray that Your Magnificence will lend them (our ambassadors) your favour and recommend them to the said officials, in the hope that with your mediation, these your loyal servants will be treated with humanity, that we may be able to preserve these poor and

76 77

Figures taken from Herlihy, Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia, pp. 272–82. ASF, DG, 7766, fols 1–83.

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Figure 4. View of Crespoli sterile lands, where, for the greater part, the poverty and sterility of the land, forces us to beg in other parts. And if we are injured by this tax we will all be forced to abandon this land.78

However, despite the leniency and intervention of the Medici, the economic situation of these communities continued to worsen until they reached the level of destitution evident in the tax records of the sixteenth century. It would not be unreasonable to expect that, over time, dire poverty would have led these communities to develop stronger local ties and a dependence on communal structures, if only to ensure survival. Yet not even the extreme isolation and the miserable conditions experienced by all three of the villages was enough to override their inhabitants’ fundamental loyalty to one faction or the other. And, 78

‘Preghiamo la Magnificenza Vostra, prestiate loro il favore vostro et racomandarli a’ detti ufficiali, sperando mediante i vostri favori che questi, vostri fidelissimi servadori, saranno trattati con humanità, in modo ci possiamo mantenere in questi poveri et sterili luoghi, dove la maggiore parte del tempo, per la povertà e sterilità del paese, siamo necessitati andare mendicando in altri luoghi la vita nostra et se fussimo agravati di gravezze al tutto ci bisognerebbe abandonare il paese’: 28 November 1475, ASF, MAP, Filza 32, n. 525.

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like Pistoia and Cutigliano, the tiny communities of Crespoli and Calamecca kept separate borse for communal elections in order to ensure equal representation of each faction on village councils.79 Long after Florence had abolished the electoral system in Pistoia that had proscribed separate electoral bags for members of the Cancellieri and Panciatichi factions, institutional divisions persisted in mountain communities.80 Far from trying to prevent this, Florence recognized how important this balance was to maintain peace in the territories. When, in a time of internal crisis, the commune of Calamecca turned to the newly established Pratica Segreta for help, it was the system of separate borse for electoral purposes that the four Florentine commissari advocated.81 Clearly prescribing which families and their patrilineal relations were to be placed in each borse, the commissari, the captain of the mountains, and the podestà of Pistoia made sure that there would be equal representation of the two factions.82 It was in this environment of factional division that there is the clearest indication of the existence of extended family networks, or consorterie, which have become so fundamental to our understanding of urban Florentine society.83 Despite the sketchy nature of the sources, which prevents the detailed identification of precise familial relationships, the Pistoiese identified themselves in the language of ‘clan’. These consorterie could not rival the size of those of the Florentine family groups — we are more likely to be talking of groups of four or five households making up a mountain lineage rather than the twenty-six of the Rucellai or the twelve households of the Capponi that existed in the fifteenth century — and yet it is clear that contemporaries took it for granted that each family group would act as a united political unit.84 Perhaps the most revealing evidence of the existence of 79

This division of communal electoral bags in Calamecca was ordered by the officials of the Pratica Segreta in 1490 on the grounds that only three families were dominating communal offices. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 1, Deliberazione, fol. 63r.

80 Pistoia’s electoral offices were equally divided between the two factions from 1376 until 1457 at which time, with the approval of Cosimo de’ Medici, the policy was reversed. Milner, ‘Rubrics and Requests’, argues that this resulted in Pistoia becoming increasingly dependent on Florence (and particularly the Medici) to negotiate peace between the factions. 81

82 83

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 1, fol. 63r. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 1, fol. 64r–v.

See particularly Kent, Household and Lineage in Renaissance Florence, and Herlihy and Klapisch-Zuber, Tuscans and their Families, pp. 337–60. 84

Lineage sizes from the 1427 catasto according to Kent, Household and Lineage in Renaissance Florence, p. 17.

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these unified lineages is to be found in the records of the Pratica Segreta when, in 1543, Florentine officials interfered in the election process of the council representatives of Calamecca. In order to ensure equal representation of the two factions, all eligible males were placed in two separate electoral bags and two representatives drawn from each. According to the records, Florentine officials grouped all ninety members of the grand council in the following way: For the faction headed by the family of Salvadore di Jacopo and his relatives, is presently joined to the family of Andreotto di Nanni and his family and the family of Pauoletto and their male relatives. To these families and faction we add the family of Poccio di Nanni and the family of Tonio d’ Andrea and their male relatives. The other faction is made up of the family and relatives of Tonio Cecchi, Menicho Jacopelli, Michele di Jacopo, Jacopo called Corsetto, Ricardo di Giovanni, and Bartolomeo di Piero and all their male relatives.85

Thus the ninety men eligible for office holding in the commune of Calamecca were divided into eleven consorterie.86 It is also revealing that these family relationships were so well known to contemporaries that it was not seen to be necessary, even in such an official document, to name each family individually. Unfortunately for us, the lack of surnames means that it is almost impossible to discern the exact composition of these clans. We can, however, make an estimate of their size. Taking into account the overall population and the proportion of extended families living in the same household, it is reasonable to assume that the size of these lineages would have ranged between two and seven households.87 The glimpses we have, however vague, indicate the existence of much more complex and extensive networks of familial associations than many historians have been prepared to entertain. This is fundamental to our understanding of the support networks available to contadini during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Florentine participation in the division of the electoral bags for Calamecca indicates that it, too, considered these clans as united families with clear political programmes. One must be careful

85

‘Per la parte della famiglia di Salvadore di Jacopo et suoi consorti con la quale al presente concorre la famiglia di Andreotto di Nanni et la famiglia di Pauoletto et loro consorti. Alle quali famigli et parte agiungniamo la famiglia di Poccio di Nanni et la famiglia di Tonio d’ Andrea et loro consorti. Per l’altra parte troviamo concorrano insieme la famiglia et consorteria di Tonio Cechi, Menicho Jacopelli, Michele di Jacopo, Jacopo decto Corsetto, Ricardo di Giovanni, et Bartolomeo di Piero et tucti i loro consorti’: ASF, Pratica Segreta, 1, fol. 64r–v. 86

Figures are based on a population of 389 individuals, and sixty-four households, recorded for 1551 census. BNF, Magli., II, I, 129, and division of borse recorded in ASF, Pratica Segreta, 1, fol. 63v. 87

Based on an average size of households; see Chapter 1.

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not to generalize for the contado as a whole. There is little doubt that the difficulties of survival in this wild mountain country would have served to encourage a certain amount of dependency on kin, yet the situation in the Pistoiese indicates that the influence of family networks on the shaping of rural communities needs to be taken much more seriously than it has been.88 Only in 1540, when faced with the seemingly imminent dissolution of their community, did the inhabitants of Crespoli attempt to make some sort of peace between the factions, negotiating for the reversal of all penalties and fines for members of each faction in exchange for a declaration of peace on the grounds that ‘with concord they would be able to overcome the damage, and in time, restore the desolate land’.89 Despite the fact that by this time the population consisted of only thirty-three households, the matter was considered important enough to be deliberated personally by three of the commissioners for Pistoia — the very prominent Florentine patricians Matteo di Messer Agnolo Niccolini, Matteo di Lorenzo Strozzi, and Ottaviano di Lorenzo de’ Medici — in the house of the Duke. Similar agreements were made in Lanciuole, yet despite the extremely high penalties involved, the peace continued to be broken, as factional divisions proved too strong to be completely forgotten. Only four years after the agreement was signed, squabbles broke out once again; the young Andrea di Giovanni of Lanciuole was the first to be fined for breaking the peace, finding himself with the impossible sum of fifty gold scudi to pay as a fine.90 Condemnations continued and these communities seemed prepared to self-destruct rather than reconcile their differences or polarize their loyalties. It certainly would not have helped that the heads of the factions were deliberately arming communities in the mountains, and perhaps there was an undertaking by these powerful men that fines, such as that attracted by Andrea’s actions, were to be paid in return for factional loyalty. Such strong family and factional loyalties could not have helped but have had repercussions at the level of local administration. Countless irregularities and absences are evident in surviving records, and it is unlikely that the sketchiness of communal records for these communes is solely due to their loss. Instead it is more likely that these particular rural communities shared with Pistoia what Stephen 88

Dale V. Kent and Francis W. Kent make this point in their study of the kinship ties of Messer Manno Temperani, and his relationship to several rural lineages: ‘Messer Manno Temperani and his Country Cousins’, pp. 237–52. 89 ‘et tutto ànno facto pensando colla concordia possere riavere e danni loro. Et col tempo restaurar la desolata terra’: ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 61r. 90

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 3, fol. 46v.

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Milner has described as a ‘lack of respect’ for communal structure.91 Existing books jump decades at a time with no record of the election of local officials, let alone any meetings. Laws setting out fines for not attending communal gatherings appear with a regularity that indicates individuals were doing just that. The inhabitants of the mountains did not take kindly to external interference, and when Florence had created a new podesteria in the mountains in 1402, the Pistoiese fought back by threatening to refuse to pay suitable ritual tribute to the city by not sending an offering for the festival of San Giacomo.92 As early as 1409 Florence demanded that each of these communities submit copies of their statutes to the Approvatori, and yet apart from the documentation of some fundamental laws referring to the use of property — mainly concerning the pasturing of beasts — communal codes are conspicuous by their absence.93 The only records surviving for the commune of Calamecca are two sets of statutes, one written in 1525 consisting of only two pages of laws regarding the use of communal land and another that was put together at the end of the sixteenth century, at the request of the new vicar of the mountains, in order to ‘avoid the disorder and confusion that can result from the absence of statutes’.94 It comes as no surprise that the most comprehensive communal records were generated under the watchful eye of Florentine officials. As one of the seats of the captain of the mountains, the statutes for the commune of Cutigliano are comparatively extensive, and despite the difficulty of travelling through this wild country, the attendance rates for the council of the mountains are impressive, even for the most remote communities.95 91 Milner, ‘Rubrics and Requests’, p. 330. In this instance he is referring to the city of Pistoia, but the statement is equally applicable, if not more so, to mountain communes. 92

Giorgio Chittolini, ‘Civic Religion and the Countryside in Late Medieval Italy’, in City and Countryside in Late Medieval and Renaissance Italy: Essays Presented to Philip Jones, ed. by Chris Wickham and Trevor Dean (London: Hambledon, 1990), pp. 69–80 (p. 78). 93

This law is referred to in Chittolini, ‘Ricerche sull’ordinamento territoriale del dominio fiorentino’. An examination of the statutes for this region preserved in ASF reveals how deficient they are. 94

‘Dove non è regola, nè ordine, in molte cose vogliono nascere confusioni et disordine grandissimi, sì nelle città, come anche nelle terre et castello. Imperò li huomini et comune di Calameccha volendo oviare alli disordini et confusioni che possono nascere dalla mancanza di statuti’: ASF, Statuti, 108, fol. 2r. 95

When the role of the captain of the mountains was taken over by Florence (it had previously been a position occupied by a Pistoian), the office was operating under a separate set of statutes which determined civil and criminal procedure for the mountain region. These statutes were preserved and continued to be enforced under the Florentine captain. A council of representatives

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In addition to conspicuous absences from meetings and outright resistance to Florentine influences, there is a sense that existing communal structures in this region were somewhat irregular. In Crespoli we find the local priest, a man originally from Pisa, acting as chaplain, scribe, and cancelliere for the commune, a role usually reserved for Florentine notaries who were expected to act as representatives for the Florentine government.96 Cutigliano had a general council of remarkable size: approximately 150 counsellors in a town with a population of a little over five hundred are recorded for the year 1489.97 In an unprecedented spirit of cooperation the communes of Lizzano and Cutigliano were united in the use and maintenance of jointly owned pasturage land when the majority of other communes in the territory were desperately defending the separation of territory.98 Not revolutionary in themselves, these irregularities demonstrate ways in which the mountain communes often strayed from the normal activities and structures of communal government. Their unique structures and values influenced the creation of alliances unknown in more accessible regions and helped create an extraordinary level of participation in self-government. Poverty was often the factor that brought communes together, as was evident when the entire mountainous region united in legal action against debts accumulated to Pistoia from 1524.99 Their combined power was visible in the resistance they mounted when the decision went against them and they were required to pay Pistoia the extraordinary sum of 17,000 florins. Managing to have the debt reduced by almost half in a matter of days, the mountain communes were still refusing to pay taxes over two years later. Eventually Crespoli, Lanciuole, and Calamecca were granted complete exemption due to their

from each of the communes in the Pistoian mountains was responsible for additions or changes to the statutes. These included San Marcello, Cutigliano, Lizzano, Cavinano, Pupigliano, Crespoli, Calamecca, Lanciuole, Piteglio, and Mammiano. 96

ASF, Statuti, 257, fol. 34r . I have come across only one other instance of this, in Montecatini, when local officials were fined by the Cinque for electing a priest to the position of cancelliere et maestro di scuola when their previous cancelliere had been charged with heresy. In this case the defendants argued that they were unaware of the law preventing priests and friars from holding the position. ASF, Cinque, 256, n. 110. 97

98

ASF, Statuti, 296, fol. 4r.

This was not always a peaceful arrangement; however the agreement persisted for most of the fifteenth century. The earliest mention of the relationship between the two communes is in 1443: ASF, Statuti, 448, fol. 53r. The final dissolution of the agreement occurred in 1513: ASF, Notarile, 13270, fol. 181r. 99

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 16r.

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extreme poverty.100 Likewise, communal statutes reflected the poverty and particular needs of each community. The statutes of Cutigliano allowed anyone in the community to make and sell bread and building materials, giving the impression that inhabitants were allowed to do whatever they could to scratch out an existence.101 And yet despite their precarious economic position, and constant threat of outbreaks of factional violence, the community of Cutigliano appears to have shared some of the values of other more ordered and peaceful settlements. In 1513, a school was set up inside the walls of the township, teaching alphabet, reading, Latin grammar, and abacus for a small sum to its students. It is hard to imagine that inhabitants of this community would have had any spare money for the education of their children, much less a desire to learn Latin grammar, but over the course of only one year, the school was recorded as having 144 students.102 Considering a total population of 1855 in the surrounding areas, this is quite an extraordinary proportion of the inhabitants of the zone who chose to undertake basic education and gives some indication of exactly how dependent on the written word even the most far-flung areas of the Florentine territory were. Perhaps despairing of being able to teach these people that had been likened by Florentine citizens to brute beasts, at the conclusion of this first year the teacher retired because of ill health.

IV It is little wonder that Florence was forced to develop unique relationships with each of the territories under its control. Nor is it surprising that each of the communities brought under Florentine domination utilized different mechanisms in their quest to maintain a level of self-determination. Lack of order, structure, and institutional loyalties meant that in the Pistoiese mountains city officials had to learn to operate in the context of a new code of factional loyalties. It was not a framework that was completely foreign to them — there is no need to rehearse the role of factional divisions in Florentine politics — but it is significant that the mechanisms of control were developed on someone else’s terms, according to existing loyalties that the Florentine government could do little to dismantle 100 101 102

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 20v . ASF, Statuti, 296, fol. 6v .

Paul Grendler, Schooling in Renaissance Italy: Literacy and Learning 1300–1600 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), p. 32.

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despite its best efforts.103 These communities, together with many of the other more remote regions embraced by Florence, may have had no choice other than to accept domination, but they resisted transformation at every turn. It was the violent and lawless aspect of mountain life, the desperate conditions, and the unwillingness of the inhabitants to renounce their factional loyalties that led to the hesitancy of Florentine officials to take up their postings to the mountains. Yet, although the inhabitants of the mountains rebelled against Florentine laws and were not prepared to alter their ties of friendship and association, in some respects they offered a much more concrete loyalty to Florence than they had ever demonstrated to the city of Pistoia. Thus, while they had been prepared to assault the walls of their own city, they not only warned Florentine officials of potential danger in the territories but on one notable occasion seized a castle in the name of Florence. This event had occurred when a group of shepherds, pasturing their animals in the area of Castiglione della Pescaia, had found themselves in conflict over their grazing rights with the gatekeeper. Unable to resolve the dispute, the shepherds rather over-enthusiastically killed the gatekeeper and seized the castle, with shouts of ‘Viva Marzocco’, or ‘Long Live Florence’.104 While their actions were ill advised — Florence was at a delicate point of negotiations and subsequently convinced these men to return the castle to its rightful owners — it is significant that it was in the name of the city that these men had undertaken their actions. The increasingly desperate situation in which these communities found themselves led them not only to tolerate the Florentine presence, but deliberately to seek out the city’s intervention in matters of factional conflict. Just as Pistoia had first appealed to the Florentines in 1235 in order to resolve their internal problems, so too did Cutigliano. In February of 1474, a month before the new captain of the mountains was due to take up his post in San Marcello, the council of Cutigliano made a special appeal to Lorenzo de’ Medici that the captain elect, Marsilio d’ Antonio di Marsilio Vecchietti, be sent instead to reside in their community. They made this appeal on the grounds that a dispute had emerged between two of their leading families and that there were casualties. The council was seeking to make peace because ‘if peace did not ensue we are in no doubt that the commune would come to a bad end’. Admitting their inability to achieve this on their own, the letter 103

Milner, ‘Rubrics and Requests’, p. 316, argues that according to chronicles it was actually Pistoia that introduced factions into Florence, further negating the argument that Florence was the only influential factor in these relationships. 104

G. Giusti, ‘I Giornali di Ser Giusto Giusti d’ Anghiari (1437–1482)’, in Letteratura Italiana Antica, ed. by N. Newbigin (Rome: Moxedano Editrice, 2002), pp. 41–246 (p. 116).

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continues, ‘we don’t know how [to do this] if not in this way, that the new captain of the mountain comes here to stay with us and we will consult with him’.105 The relationship between the Medici and these mountain communities was often much more direct and personal than that mediated by the Florentine officials posted to the mountains. There are numerous surviving letters addressed from the councils of the mountains to the Medici, which make evident that not only did the mountain communities pay tribute to the family but they were also in regular personal contact. Despite the isolation of the mountains, contadini acting as both porters and ambassadors regularly made the journey to the Medici palace in Florence, carrying with them offerings of fish, veal, and on one notable occasion, a bear.106 They wrote appealing for leniency in regards to unpaid taxation, for the intervention of the Medici when one of their number was accused of a crime, for assistance in maintaining peace between the factions, and perhaps most strikingly, to make known their own needs and desires.107 The extent to which the voice of this small and poverty-stricken community of Cutigliano was not only heard but responded to by the Medici is reflected in the very tone in which they wrote: Only this, because we are sending to your grace Sandro da Mammiano from here as our ambassador and bearer of this letter, and this to know the identity of the new captain for these six months. And from the said Sandro, you will be advised more fully of our will. We pray you to trust in him as if he were the entire community. Nothing more for now.108

The extremely active role played by the Medici in the management of the factions of Pistoia has been acknowledged by a number of scholars, yet few would have credited the mountain villages with having the influence to ‘advise’ the Medici in the government of this region. While this letter is unusual in its directness, it is clear that the council of Cutigliano expected to be listened to, and moreover, took it for granted that its needs would be communicated to the new captain — who 105

‘qui è venuto una certa diferenza fra due familglie delle milgiori ci siano e sono feriti. Ora facemmo farne uno poco di triegha e innanzi che la triegha finesse noi vorre (mo) se possible fosse ne venisse la pacie pero che se la pacie non ne viene dubitiamo che questo comune vadi male’: ASF, MAP, Filza 30, n. 94. 106 107 108

See ASF, MAP, Filza 32, n. 348; Filza 14, n. 360; Filza 41, n. 207; Filza 10, n. 123. For examples, see ASF, MAP, Filza 10, n. 57 and n. 328; Filza 32, n. 467; Filza 6, n. 553.

‘Solo questa perché mandiamo alle Vostre Beningnità, Sandro da Maniano di qui, per nostro imbasciadore e aportatore di questa lettera e solo per avere el capitano nuovo per questi sei mesi e da detto Sandro a bocha più apienamente sarete avisato della nostra voluntà. Preghiamli prestate fede come se fosse tutto el comune propro. Non più per questo tempo’: ASF, MAP, Filza 32, n. 62.

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was, incidentally, the Medici partisan Giuliano di Francesco di Ser Viviano dei Viviani. That the community chose this particular moment to request Medici intervention indicated that such small communities may have been considerably more attuned to the intricacies of Florentine politics than they have previously been given credit for. Even those citizens who bitterly complained about their posting to the mountains occasionally demonstrated a certain amount of sympathy for the inhabitants of the region. It is difficult to tell whether this was due to the establishment of any real relationships with the inhabitants themselves, or merely a recognition of the strategic importance of this region and the difficulties involved in governing it. Whatever the motivation, however, Florence seemed prepared to negotiate. Thus when the Panciatichi severely damaged the church of Cutigliano during a skirmish, it was Florence that ensured damages were paid to the Cancellieri of the area.109 Florentine officials intervened to ensure that each faction was equally represented in communal governments, even when one faction vastly outnumbered the other in terms of population. There was also a clear recognition that the economic wellbeing of the mountain communities was integral to the maintenance of factional peace. Writing to Lorenzo de’ Medici in 1476, the then captain of the mountains, Braccio di Messer Domenico di Niccolò Martelli, argued for a reduction in taxation saying, ‘I believe it would be good, both for the contentment of these mountains, and for the maintenance of peace’.110 Not neglecting to appeal for a reduction of his own tax assessment, Braccio adds a surprisingly human postscript: ‘As I am away, I am sure that a few lines from you to the gonfalonier will do the trick and get those that are there moving, as here their chestnuts are awaiting them.’111 Florentine officials were certainly prepared to listen when voices were circulating about possible threats to the security of the territories, and even the great Florentine statesman Piero Capponi, grandson of Neri Capponi, gave heed to a warning given him by a contadino from the mountain village of Gavinana who had heard from another contadino that the Lucchese were preparing for war. While stating that ‘you don’t want to believe every tale’, not only did Piero Capponi give

109 110

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 75r.

‘Credo sia buono, insomma, et per contento di questa montagna et per loro mantenimento et pace’: ASF, MAP, Filza 33, n. 886. 111

‘Essendo fuori dalla terra, sono certo che una tua pichola poliza al gonfaloniere farà il bisogno e spaccerà quelli che sono costì e quelli sono aspetati qui dale loro castagne’: ASF, MAP, Filza 33, n. 886.

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audience to this humble man, but he took the matter seriously enough to pass on the warning directly to Lorenzo de’ Medici.112 Florence may have successfully transformed the administrative and jurisdictional procedures governing the mountain communities, but the relationship between the centre and these remote communities was far from one of simple subjection. Try as they might, Florentine troops were never entirely successful in eradicating the factions, for these were bound together by ties of loyalty that were based on a series of social and cultural circumstances beyond their control. Neither did Pistoia ever entirely reject the Florentine presence in its midst. In Florence, and particularly in the Medici, the mountain inhabitants found a governing force which was much simpler to negotiate with and often more sympathetic than the frequently chaotic and divided Pistoia. Even as the mountain communities were successively weakened by demographic crises, both parties recognized the continuing need for dialogue and compromise in order to navigate the complex series of relationships and loyalties within which they lived.

112

‘Non si vuole credere ogni favola’: ASF, MAP, Filza 34, n. 474.

Chapter 3

G ANGALANDI AND S HARECROPPING IN THE T RADITIONAL F LORENTINE C ONTADO

T

I

here is probably no more dramatic contrast to the factious and rebellious mountain communities than the seemingly passive rural communes located in the lower and middle hills surrounding the city of Florence. The area had been part of Florence’s traditional contado for centuries; it bordered on no external powers and was the most fertile land in all the territories. Intercommunal conflict was almost unheard of; fighting may have occurred in the region, but it was almost exclusively limited to encounters between Florentine troops and invading forces. Inhabitants expressed the utmost loyalty to their immediate parish community and a respect for the importance of communal unity. They affected no direct resistance to the tightening of Florentine controls during the period of administrative and judicial reforms. These communities were no strangers to Florentine rule for they had tolerated an official Florentine presence in their midst in one form or another for hundreds of years and, in return for their loyalty and in recognition of their economic importance for the city, Florence went to great lengths to negotiate favourable market and taxation conditions for these areas and to limit its own interference in their affairs.1

1 For general discussions of the relationship between Florence and the hills, see particularly Conti, La formazione, vol. I; Pinto, La Toscana nel tardo medievale; and Herlihy and KlapischZuber, Tuscans and their Families, pp. 47–49. For a discussion of taxation of the countryside, see Cohn, Creating the Florentine State. For the persistence of local control in smaller communes located in Florence’s traditional contado, see Litchfield, Emergence of a Bureaucracy.

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The presence of Florentine representatives in the territories was, however, only a small part of the increasing challenge to rural autonomy in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. It is arguable that the presence of private landowning Florentine citizens in the countryside had a more significant social and cultural impact on the countryside than any of the judicial and administrative developments which had so transformed the shape of the contado. While it is true that Florentine citizens never entirely turned their backs on the rural life, there is no doubt that the fifteenth century saw both a marked increase in the number of citizens investing in rural property and a renewed awareness of the importance of the countryside — economically and as a reflection of social status. The country villa (and preferably more than one) was considered a must for every citizen of a particular social standing, and after the economic and social disasters of the previous century, Florentine citizens recognized the importance of the countryside as providing the necessary sustenance to preserve the urban economy.2 Most popular were the areas immediately surrounding the cities of Prato and Florence, not only for their fertility, but also for their ease of access, and already by the mid-fifteenth century, the inhabitants of Florence owned over 75 per cent of land in these regions.3 This was in sharp contrast to the almost complete dearth of citizen landowners in the Pistoian contado; after all, there was little advantage in owning even large tracts of infertile and rocky land, several days travel from the city of Florence, and in the midst of violent factional battles. The renewed interest in the land on the part of Florentine citizens not only increased their physical presence in the countryside, but also altered the very social and economic fabric of the rural communities with which they were associated.4 It may have done so in a less direct way than the Florentine officials who were drawn into Pistoian conflicts, but the economic, social, and cultural influence of these urban landowners is indisputable. And yet, perhaps because of the very difficulties associated with quantifying the impact that the citizen presence had on rural communities, it is this aspect of the urban–rural relationship that has been 2 Amanda Lillie makes this point convincingly in her book Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century and more detailed PhD thesis, ‘Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century’. See also her article ‘Memory of Place’, particularly pp. 195–96. 3

4

Pinto, La Toscana nel tardo medioevo, p. 158.

For a general treatment, see David Herlihy, ‘The Problem of the “Return to the Land” in Tuscan Economic History of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries’, in Civiltà ed economia agricola in Toscana nei sec. XIII– XV : problemi della vita delle campagne nel tardo medioevo (Pistoia: Centro italiano di studi di storia e d’arte, 1981), pp. 401–16.

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most unsatisfactorily explored by Renaissance historians. The image of Florentine landowning citizens as agents of oppression in the countryside is one which has slipped into mainstream historical consciousness with a lack of critical scrutiny uncharacteristic of the field of Renaissance studies. Replacing the only slightly less desirable signorial lords and ecclesiastical institutions, the increasing interest of Florentine citizens in accumulating rural land has been seen by historians as another demonstration of patrician exploitation of the populace.5 Italy may have been comparatively free of the oppressive manorial systems more usually associated with France and England, but the dominant historiography of the period still promotes the view that Florentine citizens effectively filled the same role as manorial lords, merely exercising a different modus operandi. Notable exceptions have been the recent acknowledgements that at least some Florentine citizens developed real relationships with contadini — assisting them during their lifetime as well as making provisions for them in their wills — and the broader spectrum analyses of territorial politics, which acknowledge the power of provincial centres as agents of change.6 And yet, the image of the increasing dominance of Florentine citizens and the proletarization of rural labourers is that which has taken hold of historical discourse. Even the more systematic studies of the economy of the countryside during the ‘return to the land’ phenomenon are primarily concerned with the statistical analysis of citizen landholding in the countryside (particularly the presence of mezzadria contracts) without ever examining these statistics in the light of the existing social and cultural structures of the rural communities themselves.7 The 5

See particularly Jones, ‘From Manor to Mezzadria’, where he discusses the transformation of agriculture and the resulting development of class divisions along these lines, although he admits in the last couple of pages that the process was not complete. See also Pinto, La Toscana nel tardo medioevo, p. 207; and Mazzi and Raveggi, Gli uomini e le cose nelle campagne fiorentine del Quattrocento, p. 60. 6

Here I am thinking particularly of the recent work by Steven Milner in his article acknowledging the influence of Pistoia on Florence, ‘Rubrics and Requests’; of the work by Samuel Cohn demonstrating the bargaining power of rural communes in his book Creating the Florentine State; and of the article by Kent, ‘“Be Rather Loved than Feared”’, all of which convincingly argue for the development of real relationships and ties of affection which cross so-called class boundaries. 7

Historians who have followed this approach include Giorgio Chittolini, ‘La formazione dello stato regionale e le istituzioni del contado: ricerche sull’ordinamento territoriale del dominio fiorentino agli inizi del secolo XV ’, in Egemonia fiorentina ed autonomie locali nella Toscana nordoccidentale del primo Rinascimento, pp. 17–109; Giovanni Cherubini, Scritti Toscani: L’urbanismo medievale e la mezzadria (Florence: Salimbeni, 1991); Cherubini, Fra Tevere, Arno e Appenino: Valli, comunità, signori (Florence: Editoriale Tosca, 1992); Conti, La formazione; to an extent, David Herlihy, particularly in his article ‘The History of the Rural Seigneury in Italy, 752–1200’,

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preoccupation of rural historians with the diffusion of sharecropping or mezzadria is understandable: not only was it one of the single most important agents of change in the history of agriculture in this period, but the surviving contracts provide a tangible source base with which to work. However the phenomenon needs to be examined in the context of individual communities and their particular circumstances if its social and political impact is to be understood. It is precisely this theme that the following two case studies attempt to address, not at the expense of quantitative analysis, but by incorporating statistical data into a wider understanding of the specific conditions within individual rural communities.

II Only twelve kilometres south-west of Florence, no more than two and a half hours on foot, the commune of Gangalandi was in one of the more fertile and accessible areas of this region of the Florentine contado. One of the most densely populated and economically vibrant areas of the low and middle hills surrounding the city, Gangalandi was also within the zone that had the highest diffusion of sharecropping in all the territories.8 The commune of Gangalandi spanned the area south of the Arno, in a westwards direction from Lastra a Signa to Ponte a Signa, and south as far as Malmantile (Fig. 5). As early as the eleventh century, the parishes of Gangalandi had been removed from the possession of local lords and taken over by the Cathedral Chapter of Florence. During this period, the castle of Gangalandi, which had once stood as a primary defence point in the region, had been destroyed by Florentine troops.9 The castle was never rebuilt, and when the consolidation of centralized control of the territories had occurred in the fifteenth century, the inhabitants of the area had already passed four hundred years under Florentine control. Dominating one of the principal routes to Pisa, the commune of Gangalandi was an important strategic and military asset for the city of Florence. The Agricultural History, 32–34 (1958), 58–71; Pinto, Toscana medievale; and Plesner, L’emigrazione dalla campagna. 8

9

Herlihy and Klapisch-Zuber, Tuscans and their Families, pp. 118–20.

For a discussion of the role played by the Cathedral Chapter, see George Dameron, ‘Patrimony and Clientage in the Florentine Countryside: The Formation of the Estate of the Cathedral Chapter, 950–1200’, in Portraits of Medieval and Renaissance Living, ed. by Cohn and Epstein, pp. 259–82. For an account of the Florentine takeover, see Gioia Romagnoli, ‘Gangalandi: appunti per la storia di un territorio, di una chiesa e di una famiglia’, in San Martino a Gangalandi, ed. by Rossana Pisani and Gioia Romagnoli (Florence: Edifir – Edizioni Firenze, 2001), pp. 13–20.

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Figure 5. View from Ponte a Signa towards Santa Maria delle Selve

bridge at Ponte a Signa was, for centuries, one of only two crossing points that existed on this stretch of the Arno between Florence and Pisa, and when the city of Florence was threatened by external powers the whole zone became a battleground.10 The area was all but destroyed in 1325 by Castruccio Castracanni. Again, in 1401, local inhabitants suffered greatly with the invasion of Visconti forces, and in 1530, an imperial army laying siege to Lastra a Signa set fire to the parish church of San Martino, nearly destroying the whole structure.11 Despite, or perhaps because of, regularly finding themselves under threat from external forces, the parishes of Gangalandi enjoyed relatively peaceful internal relations. In the early part of the fifteenth century the commune encompassed four separate parishes and had a population of 335 households or 1649 individuals.12 As the seat of the communal council, the popolo of San Martino was the wealthiest and

10 11 12

Romagnoli, ‘Gangalandi’. Romagnoli, ‘Gangalandi’, p. 17. ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 109r.

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Figure 6. San Martino a Gangalandi

most densely populated of the four parishes of the commune (Fig. 6). A short distance away to the south-east, in a slightly more elevated position than San Martino, was the parish of Santa Michele. The remaining parishes, Santo Stefano a Calcinaia and San Pietro in Selve, were only several kilometres away, just outside the fortified castle of Malmantile; Santo Stefano was located on a rise overlooking the old Via Pisana, and San Pietro dominated the road leading into Malmantile itself (Figs 7 and 8). The rare moments when conflict between the parishes erupted tell us just as much, if not more, about the ways in which this commune maintained harmony as the long stretches of peaceful relations. Two such events in the later part of the fifteenth century stand out, and the resolution of both stands testament to the strength of communal identity in Gangalandi. The first moment of instability was when four men, who were supposed to be representing the four parishes of the commune as priors, attempted to stage a takeover of the communal government. In August of 1486 the four priors of the commune had attempted to circumvent the usual electoral process, passing a law that placed complete control of communal politics in their own hands. Cecco di Simone Boschi of the parish of San Martino, Duccino di Luca of San Michele,

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Figure 7. View of San Martino a Gangalandi from Santo Stefano a Calcinaia

Michele di Piero of Santo Stefano, and Bartolomeo d’ Antonio di Maso of San Pietro in Selve had argued that the existing general council of forty-eight was too large to govern effectively and had reduced this number to twenty.13 These twenty were to govern together with the four priors, completely eliminating the most powerful body within communal government, that of the twelve consiglieri. In addition to this Cecco, Duccino, Michele, and Bartolomeo would be personally responsible for the selection of the names to be placed in the electoral bags of the twenty for at least the next four years.14 For the existing general council, and no doubt for the community at large, such a move was unacceptable. According to the earliest surviving set of communal statutes the size of the council had been determined in 1417, and by 1442 it had

13 The four parishes of San Martino, Santo Stefano, San Michele, and San Pietro in Selve were united under the commune and podestà of Gangalandi. 14

ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 49r.

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Figure 8. Santo Stefano a Calcinaia

been codified that this council had full authority to govern the commune.15 The priors of Gangalandi had attempted to curtail levels of local participation in government at the most basic level by reducing the size of the grand council of the commune. At least in principle the general council represented the interests of four parishes or popoli that made up the commune, with equal numbers of representatives being drawn from each parish. This principle of equal parochial representation was a fundamental character of rural communal politics. While the attempt of the four priors of Gangalandi had not struck at the heart of the principle of equal parish representation — they merely reduced the number of council members from one representative for every fifty people to one for every 250 people — their actions were enough to upset the accepted structure. The dramatic reduction in opportunities for political participation was a move that, if it had been successful, would have created a ruling group characterized by its exclusiveness. While the 15

The council of the forty-eight met together with the twelve councillors of the comune, ‘il quale consiglio di 60 abbia piena autorità et balìa sopra tucto il comune di Gangalandi predecto’: ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 14r.

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majority of rural labourers would have had recourse to at least one council member under the established system, the priors’ proposal would have denied this avenue for many inhabitants. The records of the council meeting to reverse the decision make it very clear that the inhabitants recognized this danger explicitly.16 The lack of consultation with the grand council provided them the grounds on which to overrule the legislative changes that the four priors had attempted to put into place.17 Yet it is arguable that the most radical aspect of the priors’ legislation was not the reduction of offices open to the people of Gangalandi, but their plan to place the preparation of electoral bags in their own hands. Their actions were, of course, not without precedent, the Medici themselves having successfully used this tactic in extension of terms and self-selection of the Accoppiatori in Florence, resulting in the monopolization of offices by an ever more restricted group of citizens.18 In this model not only would representation be reduced, but it would be limited to those able to curry the favour of the priors, leaving them virtual lords of their own parishes.19 The short duration of the attempted coup — by October of the same year their attempt had failed and the general council had reversed the legislation — means that any attempt to understand what its implications might have been if successful can only be speculative. However, the attempts of the priors to increase and institutionalize their own power is transparent.20 (It is certainly

16

Not only was the larger council disturbed by the extraordinary powers the four had taken upon themselves, but it was also worried about the inconvenience that the arrangement would cause. ‘Et atteso che riducendosi el governo di questo comune, dove è gran numero di uomini, a pochi, ne risulterebbe molti inconveniente, maxime perché sono alcuni di questo luogho che più facilmente ridurrebbono a loro proposto, che a utilità di comune, decto governo’: ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 49r. 17

‘In prima che statutari veduto et considerato, uno statuto di nuovo, fatto sotto dì dicasette del mese di maggio prossimo passato per certi statutari electi dal uficio del dodici, si riduresse a quattro priori et consiglio del quarantotto si riduressi a venti consiglieri [. . .]. Et dichirano decto statuto per decto uficio del dodici sanza auctorità del consiglio generale di decto comune, non essere potuto nè dovuto fare. Et di nuovo confermorono decto uficio del dodici et consiglio del quarantotto con tutta l’auctorità et balìa consueta’: ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 49 r. 18 See Nicolai Rubinstein, The Government of Florence under the Medici (1434–1494) (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), pp. 41–45. 19

While this may also have been a fear under the twelve, the swift rotation of office holders, the small population of each parish, and the basic requirements of age and status for election meant that even if they had wanted to, the twelve could not have deliberately excluded more than a handful from office. 20

It was only two months later that the priors’ legislation was overturned; the only statement about the prior’s motive that was made in the statutes related to their argument that the general

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difficult to believe the priors’ protestations, with echoes of modern-day economic rationalism, that their reforms were a matter of efficiency, that a system that had functioned effectively for seventy years had suddenly become impossibly unwieldy.) Also obvious is that, despite Florentine inroads into the control of the countryside, the people of Gangalandi would not tolerate any attempts to reduce the opportunities they had to participate in the government of their commune. By the first decades of the sixteenth century there were almost seventy official positions in Gangalandi that contadini could occupy, with at least twenty separately defined roles, and this was not counting participation in the general council. While the accumulation of administrative roles in rural communes can leave the outsider confused and sceptical as to the need for so many bureaucrats, there was often a carefully constructed structure behind these administrative systems. In Gangalandi, for example, there appears to be an inordinate number of officials responsible for overseeing fines and taxes, and yet on closer examination the system is carefully constructed to make sure no one group had the opportunity to defraud the commune.21 If nothing else, the inhabitants of Gangalandi demanded financial accountability from their representatives, and it was perhaps this tradition of accountability that largely prevented the emergence of a distinct ruling group within the commune — resulting in the emergence of a sort of participatory (but not democratic) republicanism. This was not a community whose accepted members were even aware of their status as a disenfranchised proletariat. The swift actions of the council were apparently effective in quashing any further plans the priors, or others like them, may have had. There were certainly no further challenges to the electoral system which, after this incident, remained in place at least until the latter part of the sixteenth century. What is perhaps more surprising was the subsequent lack of retributive action on the part of the people. Whether after reestablishing the twelve the general council of the commune felt that the four had learnt their lesson, or whether the priors’ power base was too firmly entrenched in their local parishes to risk reprisal, there appears to have been no attempt to punish the perpetrators. There is no evidence to suggest that the four did not serve out the

council was too large: ‘per essere grande e troppo numero d’ufficiali in decto comune et pervengono in grandissimo danno et ruina’. ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 46r. 21

These included four ragionieri responsible for debtors to the commune, four aliberatori to investigate tax payments, four extimatori to oversee payments to the court of the podestà, four exactori to review the accounts of the camarlingo, and one camarlingo della pegnorate to coordinate the payment of fines. ASF, Statuti, 350, fols 8v–13r.

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remainder of their six-month office, and three years later we find both Cecco and Duccino once again priors of the commune.22 Communal politics proceeded peacefully in Gangalandi for the following six years until a second, far more dramatic, incident occurred, one which undermined the apparent unity of the community. On 16 December 1493, with apparently very little opposition, the parish of Santo Stefano broke away from the commune of Gangalandi. This time Florence was involved. Responding to a petition from Santo Stefano the magistracy of the Cinque had approved this division in the very period when Florence was deliberately grouping rural communities together in larger administrative units. As a result all councils and offices were reduced by a quarter of their number, the general council becoming the council of thirty-six and the twelve becoming the nine.23 It is unclear why permission was granted to Santo Stefano and there is no reference in statutes to any particular dispute between the parish and rest of the commune that may have prompted the split; in fact the representatives of the parish of San Pietro in Selve, and not those of Santo Stefano, were most regularly and conspicuously absent from communal gatherings. There is little doubt that, as the seat of the pieve, the parish of San Martino dominated the commune. Perhaps Santo Stefano, as one of the more remote parishes, resented the control it exercised. The four popoli had been united in the face of the threat to communal principles posed by the priors, but this incident serves to remind us that each parish in the Florentine territory also had distinct networks and solidarities separate from the commune as a whole. These loyalties were institutionalized by the electoral system in which it was far more important to hold local power than to have extensive ties throughout the commune. Popoli may have chosen, or been forced, to live together under one code, but in many cases their immediate sphere of reference was their local parish.24 This was certainly true of the inhabitants of

22

There is no mention of another election before the appointed time and, together with Baldese di Piero Gheradini from Santo Stefano and Biagio d’ Antonio di Cosimo from San Pietro, Cecco and Duccino are drawn to represent their popoli in 1489. ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 69r. 23

‘Una sentenzia di divisione data per gli spettabili uomini Signori Cinque del Contado e Distretto di Firenze, sotto dì XVI di dicembre proximo passato del presente anno in favore et al petizione degli uomini del popolo di Santo Stefano a Calcinaia, e’ quali per infino a qual giorno erano stati amici et insieme collegati con gli altri tre popoli’: ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 76r. 24

In a study of the clientage of the Abbey of Settimo (with which Gangalandi was associated), Charles M. de la Roncière, ‘A Monastic Clientele? The Abbey of Settimo, its Neighbours and its Tenants: Tuscany, 1280–1340’, in City and Countryside in Late Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. by Wickham and Dean, pp. 55–67, argues that, by the early part of the fourteenth century, the

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Santo Stefano where, tending to cluster in family groups as they did, generations of labourers would have been spiritually, politically, and socially associated with the parish. Despite Gangalandi being one of the oldest established communes in the Florentine contado, traditional ties to the local popolo had persisted, and for a time at least these transcended loyalty to the commune itself. As a result of the formal division, the parishioners of Santo Stefano had been able to assert their independence from the commune and for the period of their separation were not answerable to the neighbouring parishes in the election of officials, the control of local funds or, perhaps most importantly, the payment of taxes to Florence. Following the separation there is no further reference to Santo Stefano in communal books until we find a quite extraordinary entry on 15 October 1497. Substituting Ser Domenico di Bartolo di Giovanni da Monterappoli for their usual notary Ser Carlo Pandolfini, the nine consiglieri reported: Remembering that in the beginning, as Aristotle in his Political Society said, man procreated so that humankind could live together in unity and one would be obedient to the other; and cities and castles were built so that humankind would leave the life of brute beasts behind them and follow reason; and as Saint Mark and Saint John, and all the saints and Evangelists have taught, God commanded his disciples to live together in peace and unity.25

And with this prelude, the four parishes were rejoined as one commune. Apart from highlighting the durability of parish ties, this division and its subsequent conclusion also informs an understanding of attitudes towards rural identity. While the language chosen to record this reunification, and no doubt the Aristotelian reference, was owed to the notary acting as scribe, this statute of reunification reflects the general belief that the inhabitants of this commune and others like it were in some ways ‘citizens’ of a community.26 It was certainly not an identity that was as prestigious or as desirable as being a true cittadino, at least in the eyes of

monastery no longer played a signorial role; instead village solidarities took precedence. Parish ties and local loyalties will be discussed in following chapters.

25 ‘Et ricordandosi che nel principio da natura humana procreò l’huomo come dice Aristotile nella sua politicha società acciò che gli huomini stessino insieme uniti et l’uno all’altro fusse obbediente et però furono create le ciptà et le castella acciò che gli huomini lascino la vita degli animali bruti et seguitino la ragione et siccome dicono San Marcho et San Giovanni ne’ sancti et sant’evangeliste che Iddio commandò a sue discepoli che tucti insieme vivessino in pace et unito’: ASF, Statuti, 350, fols 82v–83 r. 26

This passage is not a direct quotation from Aristotle, but is a summary of the first two books; see The Complete Works of Aristotle: The Revised Oxford Translation, ed. by Jonathon Barnes (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984), pp. 1986–2129.

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Florentines, yet it is difficult not to get the sense that here, too, in the midst of rural surrounds, the sacred nature of community was recognized and honoured. After all, regardless of whoever had been responsible for the wording, the statute was debated by the consiglieri and ratified by the grand council, all of whom would have undoubtedly preferred to be associated with reason than with brute beasts. In this instance the size and nature of the community seems to be irrelevant, the important factor being its ability to live together in peace and unity. Thus inhabitants of the countryside were simultaneously contadini and cittadini within their own community. Both Charles de la Roncière and Giorgio Chittolini have introduced us to an understanding of the countryside as a collection of ‘quasi-urban’ settlements, integrated communities with diverse economic interests and central political and administrative systems of control.27 While they focus on the larger settlements, many of the smallest communes of the Florentine territory shared these urban characteristics and as a result also displayed highly developed codes of relationship and status. To be a foreigner was as damning a social condition in rural towns as being labeled a contadino in Florence.28 Just as urban dwellers depended on networks of support, a village or town community provided a similar framework if on a smaller scale, and contadini depended on these complex networks in order to survive and thrive within their own communities. Despite these disturbances, Gangalandi was able to maintain a delicate balance between the competing loyalties of parish and commune. In the seventy-year period that roughly defines the scope of this study, only these two major incidents upset communal peace, and irrespective of Gangalandi’s strategic economic and defensive position, Florence tended to leave the community to its own devices. The absence of dramatic rebellions or upheavals meant that this community was able to continue to govern itself according to traditional and, to a large extent, autonomous principles. But the question remains: how typical were parish loyalties and the demand for representation evident in the community of Gangalandi? Can it be argued that these were the fundamental self-identifying forces for contadini, those that were above all preserved in the face of Florentine domination? 27

See Charles M. de la Roncière, ‘La place des confrèries dans l’encadrement religieux du contado Florentin: L’exemple de la Val d’Elsa’, Melanges de l’école française de Rome, 85 (1973), 30–77; and Chittolini, ‘“Quasi-città”’. 28

It was standard practice that forestieri were required to pay greater penalties and taxes, often double those paid by locals. In addition, there were regular acts passed preventing locals from renting property to outsiders without the approval of the local council, so enabling the community to control who was allowed in. See for example ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 97v.

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Each of these ancient parishes strove to maintain their separate traditions and yet they also recognized the need for a united communal identity. With their concerted efforts to resolve internal fighting and their abundance of agricultural produce, these four parishes appear to have inhabited a world apart from that of the rough and often desperate mountain men of the Pistoiese. And yet by virtue of their respective geographic locations the two groups would have had at least some passing contact. Both the parish of San Martino and that of San Michele were on one of the main routes of transhumance for the mountain communities, a path which led them down the valley of the Bisenzio and across the bridge of Ponte a Signa.29 It is not difficult to imagine what each would have made of the other: the disdain and perhaps fear the inhabitants of Gangalandi must have felt as ragged groups of men with scores of cattle made their way across the territory, and the envy with which the half starved mountain men would have looked at the fertile agricultural land, the well-fed children, and the many patrician villas of the area. However, there are no known accounts of fighting breaking out between the groups, and despite their trepidation, the inhabitants of Gangalandi would have welcomed the arrival of the Pistoiesi as an opportunity to increase the numbers of their own livestock, despite the damage their passing would have caused the local area.30 As one of the major annual livestock fairs was held in nearby Prato, it would have been to the advantage of both groups that amicable relations be kept.31 The commune of Gangalandi also managed to maintain friendly relations with nearly all of its closest neighbours. The nearby parishes of Settimo and Sant’ Ippolito had previously been part of the lega of Gangalandi, and while by the 1400s they were no longer a part of the commune, the separation had occurred peacefully and individual ties remained. By the fifteenth century, Gangalandi was made up of only four parishes and officially fell within the podesteria of Lastra a Signa — or more precisely, the two communes shared a podestà whose place of residence was inside the walled castello of Lastra a Signa.32 Gangalandi had long enjoyed relatively peaceful relationships with Lastra a Signa; the town was a market centre and many 29 30

Romagnoli, ‘Gangalandi’, p. 15.

While I have not found any examples of complaints from the community of Gangalandi, the commune of Certaldo passed a new statute in 1497 forbidding outsiders the right to pasture their beasts in its territory because of the great damage created by the multitude of animals passing through on the way to the Maremma. ASF, Statuti, 225, fol. 25r. 31 See Epistolario di Fra Santi Rucellai, ed. by Verde and Giaconti, pp. 268–70, for reference to the livestock fair in Prato. 32

ASF, Statuti, 352, fol. 2r.

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inhabitants of the commune — both peasant and artisan — travelled regularly to Lastra to sell their produce and wares. The two communes came together in the celebration of religious feasts, and the confraternities of Gangalandi controlled the hospitals located within the walls of Lastra.33 The relationship between the communities was further consolidated by the construction of Lastra a Signa’s defensive walls in the early fifteenth century, which made the town the principal defensive retreat for all surrounding villages in times of danger. As none of the parishes of Gangalandi had defences of their own, they were forced to rely on their relationships with nearby settlements when threatened by fighting in the area. It is interesting to note that it was the result of a request by the inhabitants of Gangalandi itself that the fortifications of both Lastra a Signa and Malmantile were constructed in the first place.34 If the commune had felt in the least threatened by these neighbours they were hardly likely to have requested the strengthening of the towns’ defences. Thus, by linking the two communes of Gangalandi and Lastra a Signa under one podestà for administrative purposes, Florence was doing little more than acknowledging an existing relationship between the communities. Under this arrangement, Gangalandi had both the advantage of nearby protection and a channel of appeal through the Florentine representative, while at the same time not having the physical presence of the podestà disturbing the daily activities of the commune. This situation seemed to suit the four parishes of the commune, and there is no evidence that either the commune as a body or individual inhabitants within the commune ever seriously attempted to bypass the system by seeking direct contact with the central government of the city. Where scores of surviving letters document the quite personal relationship forged between the Medici and the mountain communities, there is a significant absence of such communication between Gangalandi and the Medici.35 Instead, the council of the commune of Gangalandi seemed more than content to follow official channels of justice and appeal. The community appeared to accept the established structure and was prepared to work within it, particularly if the outcome was that the inhabitants were largely left to their own devices. Thus, the commune of Gangalandi dutifully submitted its statues to be approved by Florentine magistracies, paid its taxes and dues, faithfully 33 34

ASF, Comp. Bigallo, 1360, fols 9v, 11v, 12v, and 16v.

Gioia Romagnoli, ‘Il patrimonio storico artistico del Comune di Lastra a Signa’, in Il Medioevo nelle colline a sud di Firenze (Florence: Edifir – Edizioni Firenze, 2000), pp. 129–78 (pp. 169–72). 35

Based on my systematic search of ASF, MAP correspondence, appeals to the Duke, and communal records.

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recorded details of all communal elections and scrutinies, and generally caused very little trouble at all for the Florentine authorities. Likewise, the Florentine peace of mind in regard to the security of this region of the territories was reflected by the city’s choice of official representatives. Accompanied by only three men at arms (of which one was mounted), it was clear that the podestà expected little more than minor incidents and bureaucratic problems to mar his six-month term of office. The rate of pay was nowhere near the compensation given to the captains of the mountains, and while the podestà of Gangalandi were, as far as one can judge, for the most part Medici partisans, they were certainly neither the most illustrious nor most capable (see Appendix 2). The most powerful patrician families with landholdings in the area are conspicuously absent from the lists of Florentine office holders, and instead the names of more minor lineages abound — the Masini, the Scarlatti, and the Bonsi to name a few. Between 1470 and 1550, the Pandolfini, Albizzi, and Alberti, who were fundamentally tied to the region, do not appear at all, the Strozzi only once, in 1509, and the Rucellai twice, in 1485 and 1486. Even the Medici only took on one term of office and that was held by Gabrielle di Cambio di Messer Veri de’ Medici in 1496. The list of podestà serving in Gangalandi is hardly the roll-call of able and prominent men capable of governing a difficult or tumultuous region of the Florentine territories.

III If the official Florentine presence created minimal disturbance for the inhabitants of the commune, the same could not be said of the increasing number of Florentine citizens who held a stake in Gangalandi. The proximity of Gangalandi to Florence meant that transport to and from the city was relatively simple — making it not only commercially important as a source of grain and wine which were sold to city markets, but also a convenient rural retreat for Florentine citizens. And although the stretch of the Arno between Lastra a Signa and Florence was not navigable, barges from Pisa could venture as far as Lastra, for it was here that the tributary Vignone joined up with the Arno, so opening up the passage to the port cities of the Tirreanean coast.36 In addition, the fertility of the land meant that a great diversity of produce was cultivated in the region; the staple grain made up for a 36

Michael Mallet, The Florentine Galleys in the Fifteenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), p. 15.

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large proportion of agriculture particularly in the lower-lying areas of the commune, but where the hills began grapes, olives, and fruit trees became more common (Fig. 7). These yielded less produce but were sold at considerably higher prices. The hills of Gangalandi also provided suitable pastureland for sheep and goats, which were run in small flocks and herds, usually by Florentine landowners.37 The area also provided a rich supply of brushwood, used for fuel, as well as timber for building purposes from the nearby forests of Lecceto and Le Selve — the commune itself owning more than 250 staiora of woodlands.38 In addition, clay dug from the river banks was baked in brick kilns and also used for building. While Florentine citizens tended to favour the right bank of the Arno — the countryside surrounding Signa and Campi — for ease of access, there was no lack of urban investment in the commune of Gangalandi. Many of those citizens owning land in the area — such as the Strozzi, Alberti, Rucellai, Pandolfini, and Albizzi — had strong ancestral ties to the region while others were newcomers, attracted not only by the fertility of the land, but also by the advantageous links that could be formed with these older, more established, families. And while the majority of citizens owning land in the commune were from prominent patrician families, there was a significant presence of minor merchants and artisans who, if not in possession of entire farms, at least owned several pieces of land. The Florentine citizens with an interest in Gangalandi were not absentee landlords, but maintained close ties to the parishes of the area. The Bertelleschi were at one time patrons of Santo Stefano a Calcinaia, and the Soderini, in addition to owning land in the commune, were also patrons of two small parishes that had been part of the old lega of Gangalandi.39 The Pucci, who owned a villa at Bellosguardo, had ties to the Carmellite order of Santa Maria delle Selve, not far from Ponte a Signa, as did the Vitelli and Salviati who took possession of the Strozzi villa located within the same parish bounds.40 However, it was the patronage of the largest parish of the commune, that of San Martino, that was most sought after by Florentine citizens. One of the earliest patrons of the parish had been the Adimari 37

Lillie, ‘Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century’, pp. 102–03, notes that the Strozzi properties in Gangalandi supported not only sheep, but a herd of fifty goats as well as much smaller numbers of cows and oxen used for farm labour. 38 39

ASF, Statuti, 350, fol 59r.

Rossana Pisani, ‘Itinerari per le chiese del Piviere di San Martino a Gangalandi’, in San Martino a Gangalandi, ed. by Pisani and Romagnoli, pp. 139–46 (p. 141). 40

Gioia Romagnoli, ‘Gli Oratori Pubblici e Privati’, in San Martino a Gangalandi, ed. by Pisani and Romagnoli, pp. 147–54 (p. 148).

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family, who also had patronage rights over Santo Stefano a Calcinaia until they handed them over to the Albizzi.41 The Strozzi had also been patrons of San Martino in the early part of the fifteenth century; they owned large quantities of land in the area and were the only significant landowning family whose members had twice served as podestà of the commune.42 However, by the later 1400s the Strozzi interests had moved elsewhere and they found themselves in a position of conflict with the parish of San Martino over the patronage rights of the nearby convent of Lecceto, a dispute that was not resolved without insults and ensuing resentment.43 Despite this ‘falling out’ with the parish church of San Martino, the family still maintained an active presence in the area. A large number of pieces of land in the hills of Gangalandi remained Strozzi property, and even if these were not organized around a villa and were administered from the town of Malmantile, they were still tangible evidence of the Strozzi presence, as were the mills they owned in Signa.44 Filippo Strozzi’s brother-in-law owned a villa in the parish of San Maria delle Selve, another church that benefited from Strozzi patronage.45 The Strozzi clearly continued to visit the area regularly. Two of Filippo’s children died at the villa, two weddings were held there, and in 1479 Filippo’s daughter was baptized at the church of San Martino a Gangalandi.46 The Strozzi may have played an important role in local life, but it was the Pandolfini family — believed to have originated in this region of the contado — that maintained the most vital and consistent relationship with the commune of Gangalandi and its inhabitants. In 1380 Filippo di Giovanni Pandolfini inherited the Palazzo della Torre on Ponte a Signa, an old guard post of the Florentine republic.47 His son, the famous humanist figure Agnolo Pandolfini, spent the last years of his life in this tower-home and was buried in the church of San Martino, despite the fact that at that time the Pandolfini had no patronage rights over the 41

Renzo Ventisette, ‘La giurisdizione della chiesa di San Martino a Gangalandi’, in San Martino a Gangalandi, ed. by Pisani and Romagnoli, pp. 135–38 (p. 136). 42

Luca Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze: Biografia, storia, letteratura (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 2000), p. 102. 43

44

See the discussion in Chapter 6 for an account of the dispute.

The house in Malmantile was purchased by Niccolò di Barla Strozzi when he inherited the Gangalandi properties. For Strozzi holdings, see Lillie, Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century, pp. 105–13. 45

46 47

Lillie, Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century, pp. 294–97. Lillie, Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century, p. 297. Gabrielle Corsani, Lastra a Signa (Florence: Giunta regionale Toscana, 1993), p. 36.

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church.48 Agnolo’s son, Carlo Pandolfini, developed even stronger ties to the area, becoming patron of the church of San Martino in 1464.49 From this point on he also acted as the congregation’s notary, preparing documents for the members of the confraternities associated with the church.50 The important role of notaries as mediators between various social groups is one which warrants further attention from historians. Carlo Pandolfini was certainly genuinely involved in the local parish community, despite his family’s elevated status.51 Over the course of his life he had one of his own daughters baptized in the church and was godfather to a number of local children.52 Later, the Tornabuoni also became involved in the parish, acting as priors of San Martino in the period 1472–1568 and taking over the first floor of the lodgings attached to the church itself.53 In addition to the influence that Florentine citizens had on the governance of the parishes of Gangalandi, their extensive landholdings changed the shape of the agricultural landscape of the commune. Of the sixty-three poderi, or farms, recorded in the tax records of the Decima of 1497, forty-four were owned by Florentine citizens and a further eight by ecclesiastical entities.54 Such a large proportion of urban landowners — many of whom engaged local labour according to mezzadria contracts — could not have helped but have had a significant effect on the social and cultural structure of the local community. The debate amongst historians as to whether sharecropping improved the overall quality of life or in fact disadvantaged or weakened the position of individual contadini has been raging for decades and had, until recently, reached somewhat of an impasse.55 Few could deny that the 48

Ilaria Taddei, ‘Committenze e personaggi dal secolo XII al secolo Gangalandi, ed. by Pisani and Romagnoli, pp. 51–56 (p. 22).

XV ’,

in San Martino a

49 The control of patronage rights over San Martino will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6. See Gene Brucker, ‘The Pope, the Pandolfini, and the Parrochiali of San Martino a Gangalandi (1465)’, in Mosaics of Friendship: Studies in Art and History for Eve Borsook, ed. by Ornella Francisci Osti (Florence: Centro Di, 1999), pp. 117–24, for a discussion of the Pandolfini bid for patronage rights over the church. 50

51

See Chapter 6.

Plesner, L’emigrazione dalla campagna, p. 143, using the example of Passignano, has argued that notaries had a particular role in connecting rural and urban life. 52

53 54 55

See AA, Reg. Parr., Campagna, 0830. These lodgings had previously been the meeting area for the council of the commune. My own figures, based on taxation records: ASF, DR, 266.

The principal participants in this debate include Cherubini, Fra Tevere, Arno e Appenino; Chittolini, ‘La formazione dello stato regionale e le istituzioni del contado’; Fiumi, ‘Sui rapporti

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system guaranteed certain fail-safes and economic advantages for peasants — they were provided with more efficient equipment and were to some extent sheltered from bad harvests — but at the same time, no one could claim that the increasing dependence of contadini on urban landowners was an empowering situation.56 One of the characteristics of sharecropping arrangements considered by rural historians to have been particularly damaging for the vitality of rural communes was the provision of accommodation for labourers on the property they were engaged to work. A convenient arrangement for landowners to maximize peasant productivity, it has been argued that the removal of peasants from their village community was responsible for the weakening of local solidarities, resulting in the polarization of rural communities between village dwellers and sharecroppers. Now, however, the issue of exactly what the diffusion of mezzadria meant for individual contadini has been problematized, with Duccio Balestracci arguing that there was a significant gap between the theory and reality of sharecropping. Many peasants did not in fact live on their proprietor’s podere, he has argued, and many owned additional pieces of land or engaged in more than one sharecropping agreement.57 John Muendel has provided support for this argument in his study of the peasant community of Buti, in the Monte Pisano east of Pisa.58 This community’s economy was based on highly specialized manufacturing activities which utilized watermills in their production process — such as water-driven olive oil presses, hydraulic saws, grain mills, and rice huskers.59 And yet, in his examination of tax declarations, Muendel has found that the majority of those inhabitants engaged in manufacturing activities also owned and/or worked agricultural land. He gives the example of Parduccio di Michele who, while owning his own house and thirteen pieces of land, travelled to Pontedera to work the land of someone else on a

economici’; Jones, ‘From Manor to Mezzadria’; Pinto, Toscana medievale and La Toscana nel tardo medioevo; and Paolo Pirillo, Costruzione di un contado: i fiorentini e il loro territorio nel basso medioevo (Florence: Casa Editrice Le Lettere, 2001). See also Herlihy’s observations in Medieval and Renaissance Pistoia. 56

For a detailed discussion of how mezzadria contracts differed from other rental agreements, see Jones, ‘From Manor to Mezzadria’, pp. 218–34. 57

Duccio Balestracci, La zappa e la retorica: Memorie familiari di un contadino toscano del Quattrocento (Florence: Salimbeni, 1984), see particularly his introduction, pp. 1–8. 58 John Muendel, ‘Peasant Entrepreneurs and the Manufacturing Activities of FifteenthCentury Buti’, Bollettino Storico Pisano, 69 (2000), 31–45. 59

Muendel, ‘Peasant Entrepreneurs’.

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sharecropping arrangement, indicating that there were some definite advantages for the rural labourers to be involved in such arrangements.60 An examination of sharecropping agreements in Gangalandi appears to give further support to Muendel’s and Balestracci’s position. The first significant factor to note is that while the use of the terminology of podere, or farm, gives the impression of large tracts of land surrounding a central villa complex, in Gangalandi at least this does not appear to have been the norm. Instead, poderi in this commune were predominately made up of large numbers of smaller pieces of land spread over parishes and grouped together only in name.61 By the end of the fifteenth century, the proportion of sharecroppers in Gangalandi had reached 18 per cent of the total population or approximately 44 per cent of those declaring their occupation as working the land, making it close to the average for the entire Florentine territory (Table 2). However, of the 44 per cent of peasants engaging in sharecropping, over one third owned and lived in a habitation which was not part of the podere that they worked.62 If the major impact of the spread of mezzadria contracts is seen to be the physical isolation of rural labourers and their separation from their local community, the possession of alternative housing is a vital point to take into consideration as it seems that not nearly so many peasants lived on their proprietors’ land as has been previously believed. This proportion is consistent with the findings of David Herlihy and Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, who in their study of the catasto of 1427 found that only one in seven rural labourers engaged in sharecropping arrangements actually lived in the house of their proprietors.63 Furthermore, another quarter of all sharecroppers were not dependant on this rental agreement as their only source of income, but also owned outright at least two other pieces of land. The determination of local inhabitants to hold on to their own property, and the Florentine patricians’ inability to consolidate their own holdings into continuous farms, is surely evidence of some level of bargaining power in the hands of the contadini in this area. At the same time, if the lack of independence and landownership is seen to be one of the major detrimental consequences of sharecropping for the peasant community, this effect was at least

60 61

Muendel, ‘Peasant Entrepreneurs’, pp. 39–40.

For example, see Lillie’s analysis of the Strozzi holdings in the commune of Gangalandi, ‘Florentine Villas in the Fifteenth Century’, p. 107. 62 Figures are based on my detailed examination of the taxation records for the parishes of Gangalandi: ASF, DR, 266 and ASF, DG, 5169. 63

Herlihy and Klapisch-Zuber, Tuscans and their Families, p. 274.

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reduced (if not negated) for those labourers who also held onto their own land when they entered into mezzadria contracts.64 The combined effect of taking into account those labourers who owned their own land or lived in their own housing is that a little over half — or a total of thirty-six households — were solely dependent on their proprietors for income and housing. Taken as a proportion of the entire population, a mere 10 per cent of the inhabitants of Gangalandi were exclusively engaged in mezzadria farming with all the negative and positive consequences of these arrangements. With such a minimal proportion of the population affected, it is unlikely that the spread of sharecropping arrangements was responsible for a significant change in the status of contadini nor, as will be argued in later chapters, can it be seen to have weakened ties of loyalty and community within rural villages. Table 2. Gangalandi and Scarperia compared, mezzadria and landownership (1497) No. of Households Total Population Average Size of Households No. of Mezzadria % of Mezzadria head of household (of total no. of households) % of Mezzadria (of total no. of peasant labourer households) % of Mezzadria owning separate house % of Mezzadria owning separate land % of Mezzadria with no additional house or land

Gangalandi Commune Scarperia Sant’ Fagna of Scarperia Agata 360 239 114 106 19 2009 1043 457 494 92 5.5 4.4 4 4.6 4.8 65 42 9 21 12 18.05% 17.57% 7.89% 19.81% 63.15% 43.91%

33.09%

19.56% 27.27% 75.00%

35.38%

33.33%

44.44% 38.09% 16.66%

26.15%

47.61%

55.55% 57.14% 25.00%

10.00%

5.85%

2.63%

4.71% 47.36%

Even the 10 per cent of the population of the commune who were exclusively tied to the property of their landlords in the late 1400s were not nearly as isolated from other workers in their communities as we might imagine.65 The middle hills of Florence, where the mezzadria contracts were concentrated, were also the most densely populated rural zones in the entire territory, and it was difficult to travel

64

For example, Pinto’s treatment of mezzadria in his Toscana medievale is largely based on this assumption. 65

Indeed this is one of Jones’s main arguments for the detrimental effects of mezzadria arrangements in ‘From Manor to Mezzadria’, particularly pp. 201 and 232.

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more than a few kilometres before coming across another settlement.66 Thus, the commune of Gangalandi, while covering a relatively large area, was made up of four separate popoli, with the maximum distance between any two parish centres being not more than five kilometres. This meant that even the thirty-six households that lived on the farms that they worked were never far from one or other of the townships. Even a cursory glance through the records of parish and communal councils shows that individuals living in mezzadria arrangements continued to participate in the community decision-making and were very much a part of communal life. Not only, then, did Gino di Marco di Bernardo work and live on the podere of Piero Soderini, supporting a family of seven, but he also participated in the grand council of the commune, and on at least one occasion, in 1498, had been elected as one of the twelve representatives of the commune.67 Those living on poderi were often no further from townships than those living in such communities were from the plots of land to which they travelled to work every day. In fact, an examination of the records of the Decima Granducale suggests that it was common for independent landowners to possess holdings not only within the bounds of their own popolo but also in neighbouring parishes and sometimes other communes altogether. For example, in 1536, Agnolo d’ Antonio di Simone declared ownership of land not only in the central piazza of San Martino, but also near Signa, as well as two staiora of vineyard near the church of Santo Stefano.68 Similarly, the carter Lorenzo di Giuliano di Bernardo di Santo, while living in the parish of Santo Stefano, declared in the same tax report that he also owned a house and some land in San Martino.69 And Giovanni di Salvatore lived and owned land in San Martino while at the same time cultivating two additional vineyards in the parish of Settimo, which was in a completely different podesteria.70 The distances these men would have had to travel to work this land was no greater than those travelled by many contadini from the land of their proprietors to attend communal council meetings, to participate in religious festivals and Eucharistic rites, to journey to the markets held in Lastra a Signa, or to meet with their fellow farmers in a local tavern. 66

According to catasto figures as cited in Herlihy and Klapisch-Zuber, Tuscans and their Families, p. 47, the population density in this area was sixty to eighty people per square kilometre, compared to an overall density for the dominion of twenty-four people per square kilometre. 67

68 69 70

ASF, DR, 266, popolo 55, fol. 186r ; ASF, CRS, 2169II, fol. 25r. ASF, DG, 5169, fol. 246v . ASF, DG, 5169, fol. 365v . ASF, DR, 266, popolo 55, fol. 192r.

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Neither can it be assumed that the relationships forged between landlord and peasant were necessarily exploitative. Apart from economically invigorating the countryside, there is ample evidence that even the most prominent citizens took a close interest in the workings of the farms, not only directing their labourers as to where and when to plant certain crops, but also actually participating in the farming process.71 While one of the motivations for this interest was, undoubtedly, to keep an eye on a profitable investment, there is evidence that not only Lorenzo de’ Medici, but a large number of his contemporaries found pleasure in overseeing the minutiae of agricultural activities. Writing to one of his relatives in 1466, Andrea di Cresci explains that he is ‘at his country house to push along the grape harvest and I cannot leave to join you [in Florence] before Saturday’.72 And while they undoubtedly would have left the heaviest and most unpleasant tasks to contadini, they did not distance themselves from the processes involved in directing farm life. As such, patrician landowners and rural labourers would have been brought into regular if not daily contact for the period that citizens spent on their farms. This daily contact would often evolve into the development of lifelong relationships between patrician and peasant, relationships initially based on mutual convenience but developing into something much more substantial.73 Such appears to have been the case for the Pandolfini who made themselves an integral part of local life and developed a series of godparent relationships with peasant farmers in the area.74Apart from the personal ties born out of farming arrangements, Florentine citizens often also demonstrated a strong identification with the community itself: leaving money for the prayers of local confraternities upon their death, commissioning works of art for rural parishes and convents, and baptizing their children in rural parishes. Giovanni Rucellai, and his relationship with the rural community at Quaracchi according to his Zibaldone, demonstrates exactly how close these ties between urban and rural inhabitants could become. In this context he expresses not only great affection for the area and for his own villa but also for his own labourers and the local community, to whom he left a bequest in his will to pay for the dowries of local girls. It appears Rucellai’s sentiments were reciprocated, and 71

See Kent, ‘“Be Rather Loved than Feared”’, for a recent discussion of exactly what these relationships could entail. 72

‘in villa, per spacciare la vendemia e non mi posso partire ad essere costì prima che sabato’: ASF, Archivio Gherardi Piccolomini di Aragona, 326, no foliation, loose sheet, 2 October 1466.

73 Patrizia Salvadori argues that patricians often acted as mediators for rural inhabitants, Dominio e patronato, p. 21. 74

See Chapter 6 for further discussion and examples of this type of involvement.

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when he found himself in financial difficulty, it was a group of his labourers who undertook the maintenance of his gardens at Quaracchi, at no charge.75 Minor landowning Florentines were often just as involved in local rural communities as their wealthier and more influential fellow citizens. As their landholdings were more limited, they tended to rent their property for fixed terms instead of entering into sharecropping agreements, but this did not prevent them from mixing with local inhabitants, moving, and perhaps mediating, between patrician and peasant circles with apparent ease. A prime example of this was the incredibly wide network of ties forged in Gangalandi by the artist Neri di Bicci. Paid in land for a series of frescoes he painted on behalf of the confraternity of the Virgin Mary in the main parish church of Gangalandi, Neri di Bicci continued to expand and strengthen his ties with the region for the remainder of his life.76 As the number of local commissions increased, he purchased more land and in 1467 began construction of a relatively extensive farm complex including a dovecote, pigpen, large oven, and courtyard.77 The artist employed local farmers to work the land but always kept a close eye on levels of production, quality of produce, and farming methods — details of which he meticulously recorded in his ricordanze. By his time of death Neri di Bicci had executed works in the local parish church of San Martino, the monastery of Le Selve, and the Badia di Settimo.78 The work for Le Selve had been commissioned and paid for by Tomaso Soderini, who owned a large farm in the commune and for whom Neri had fulfilled several personal artistic commissions.79 Neri di Bicci was also regularly commissioned by members of another significant landowning family in the region, the Rucellai, but the majority of his personal commissions came from local artisans for whom he executed minor works such as a small image of the Madonna and two Saints created for the house of an ironworker from Lastra a Signa.80 His relationships with local people were not, however, entirely commercial, and later on in his life he can be seen to take a particular interest

75

Francis W. Kent, ‘The Making of a Renaissance Patron of the Arts’, in Francis W. Kent and others, Giovanni Rucellai ed il suo Zibaldone, vol. II: A Florentine Patrician and his Palace (London: Warburg Institute, University of London, 1960–81), pp. 9–98 (pp. 72–75). 76

77 78

Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, ed. by B. Santi (Pisa: Marlin, 1976), p. 31, n. 61. Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, p. 306, n. 577.

Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze; see Bruno Santi’s introduction to this work, pp. 11–36, for the scope of Neri di Bicci’s involvement in the area. 79 80

Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, p. 35, n. 66. Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, p. 15, n. 29.

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in the personal lives of those surrounding him, organizing the marriage of his servant to a local man and providing housing for his labourers. In 1470 Neri di Bicci records that he had concluded yet another property transaction with a local widow, buying her house first a parola and then setting a notary to work to draw up the contract. The conditions of the purchase were that the widow was permitted to live in the house for the rest of her life and it was to pass to the artist on her death, a seemingly standard arrangement. What was not part of the contract were the lengths of black cloth Neri di Bicci recorded as buying for her only two months later, to enable her to honour appropriately her late husband. It is tempting to speculate that Neri had entered into the arrangement primarily to assist the woman on the death of her husband — after all he had only recently finished construction of his own extensive farm complex and another small, deteriorating house nearby would have been of questionable financial advantage.81 The artist had played a similar role in the district of the Green Dragon in Florence where he had been born and where his main workshop was located. He was an active member of the confraternity of Sant’ Agnese, connected with the Carmelite church in this district, and not only did he create art works for this company, but he also acted as its bookkeeper.82 The Soderini were also heavily involved in this confraternity, and that family’s presence in Gangalandi, and their commissioning of Neri for the work in the monastary at Le Selve, provides further evidence of urban ties and relationships extending into rural settings. The seeming ease with which Neri di Bicci moved between the ecclesiastical, patrician, and rural worlds may have been facilitated by his position as artist and artisan, but it was in no way unique. The extensive and quite complicated networks of association, which bridged the world of patrician and peasant, meant that rural inhabitants were not without urban advocates when they found themselves in need. Lottieri del Piccino, a Florentine artisan and member of the wool guild, not only owned several pieces of land in the commune of Gangalandi but, when called upon, was prepared to act as guarantor for two prominent members of the community, one of whom was a wood merchant and the other a potter.83 In accepting this role — which eventually resulted in a short period in prison for Lottieri when the two men were unable to pay their debts — he must have been acting on the basis 81 82

Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, pp. 345–50.

Nicholas Eckstein, The District of the Green Dragon: Neighbourhood Life and Social Change in Renaissance Florence (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1995), p. 44. 83

Notarial documents published in Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, document 19, pp. 210–12.

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of an established relationship with the two contadini, as well having close ties to the rural community that they represented. Likewise, the herbalist Bernardo Bernardi, who was a native of Gangalandi but had transferred to the city — buying a shop first in Pisa and then in Florence — continued to accumulate land in his ancestral commune and to participate in decisions regarding the administration of the church of his baptism, none other than San Martino in Gangalandi.84 These numerous informal relationships may go some way towards accounting for the dearth of surviving official correspondence between the governors and the governed. The inhabitants of Gangalandi clearly had a variety of ways to make sure their voices were heard, and there was no easy divide between urban and rural interests.

IV If the predominant picture of the overall impact of sharecropping on rural communities needs to be modified in order to reach an understanding of the day-to-day reality of life in rural communities, equally important is the acknowledgment of the diversity of the economic base of the countryside. As early as the 1950s Enrico Fiumi stressed that the economy of the countryside could not be reduced to the exclusive working of the land.85 More recently Giorgio Chittolini had gone a long way in strengthening this idea by his coinage of the term ‘Quasi-città’ when referring to rural communities.86 Duccio Balestracci has gone even further with his claim that the distinction made between artisan and peasant was not valid, as rural families both worked the land and engaged in craft and trade within their village communities.87 This certainly appeared to be the case in the Pisan community of Buti, mentioned earlier in this chapter, where not only were the inhabitants often engaged in quite specialized manufacturing activities as well as working the land, but they actively responded to market opportunities by changing the focus of these manufacturing activities depending on the current demand for particular products in the Tuscan economy.88 This ability to respond to external forces saw them move from an economy largely based on the production of olive oil to one heavily

84 85 86 87 88

Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, document 24, pp. 224–27. Fiumi, ‘Sui rapporti economici’, p. 23. Chittolini, ‘“Quasi-città”’. Balestracci, La zappa e la retorica, p. 134. Muendel, ‘Peasant Entrepreneurs’, pp. 31–44.

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involved in the manufacture of iron in the late fifteenth century, and back again to oil when Cosimo I took over the control of the distribution of iron ore from Elba.89 Yet, despite extensive work in this area, urban historians still tend to subscribe to, and perpetuate, an image of the countryside as filled with individuals whose sole means of survival was the land they toiled. In complete contrast to this picture, one of the most striking realities of the community of Gangalandi, and the other case studies examined in this book, is the very diversity of occupations and economic interests pursued by their inhabitants. Only just over 40 per cent of the population of Gangalandi exclusively worked the land.90 Agriculture was fundamental to the economy of the commune, but the location of Gangalandi meant that it was also heavily dependant on river trade, and as a result, a significant number of its inhabitants pursued activities associated with the transport of materials up and down the river. Half of those involved in the transport of materials were engaged in sailing cargo boats to and from Pisa, while the other half were responsible for the next stage of the journey, taking the cargo from Lastra a Signa by mule into the city of Florence. Another 5 per cent of the population of Gangalandi were professional fishermen, and the remaining 40 per cent engaged in occupations more usually associated with cities, or at least larger communal centres, but that were necessary for these rural towns to survive — they were labourers, shoemakers, shopkeepers, barbers, tavern keepers, and cloth makers. Tax declarations for the commune list the presence of four taverns, three shops, six bakeries, and three mills. Of all these artisans, boatmen, and fishermen, over 99 per cent also owned and/or worked at least one piece of land, no doubt in order to guarantee basic sustenance for their families (see Table 3). The economic balance between agriculture, the river trade, and artisanal occupations was one which seemed to work for the commune of Gangalandi. There is even the sense of a developing idle rich in the complaints of the council representatives, who claim that in the community ‘there are certain youths and men who have inherited considerable fortunes which they have quickly squandered, for they have chosen to pass their time gambling and on superfluous pleasure in the inns and taverns, rather than pursuing an honest day’s work’.91 Finding themselves without 89 90 91

Muendel, ‘Peasant Entrepreneurs’, p. 42. These figures are taken from a detailed examination of tax records: ASF, DR, 266, popolo 55.

‘Havendo avvertenza al grande danno risulta al comune et uomini et persone di decto comune et alle lamentazioni fanno tutti e prefati uomini et persone, conciosiacosaché sono in decto comune certi giovani et uomini che solevano starsi bene di mobili et immobili, lasciati loro per heredità, et in pocho tempo hanno consumato et spicciato tutti loro beni per non voler durare

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Table 3. Gangalandi, landownership according to occupation (1497) Occupation

No. Percentage No. of occupational Percentage of occupational of total group owning land (not group owning land (not population including shop/house) including shop/house) Peasant Labourer 148 41.11% 108 72.97% Labourer 102 28.33% 35 34.31% Kiln Worker 5 1.38% 3 60.00% Wool Washer 1 0.28% Butcher 1 0.28% 1 100.00% Tavern Keeper 1 0.28% Messenger 1 0.28% 1 100.00% Clog Maker 2 0.55% Carter 3 0.83% 2 66.66% Muleteer 2 0.55% 1 50.00% Shopkeeper 2 0.55% 1 50.00% Shoemaker 4 1.11% 2 50.00% Blacksmith 2 0.55% 2 100.00% Barber 1 0.28% 1 100.00% Mason 4 1.11% 4 100.00% Boatman 5 1.38% 2 40.00% Fisherman 19 5.27% 15 78.94% Unknown 57 15.83% 45 79.94%

money, the notary of the commune continues to explain, these men had become employees of the podestà and vicar, collecting fines and taxes and condemning the poor of the community, to the shame of their relatives. As debt collectors, these recently impoverished individuals would receive a percentage of the fine or tax they were successful in collecting. The councillors decide to pass a motion that no inhabitant of the commune of Gangalandi was to be an employee of Florentine officials, thus ensuring that these men could no longer persecute the weaker members of their own communities in the name of the law after squandering their own inheritance.92 Whereas the population of other areas of the contado was steadily falling during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, that of Gangalandi gradually increased. From faticha ne’ loro eserciti, ma più tosto attendere a giocare et ghodere su per le hosterie et taverne. Ora si sono dati allo exercito, et factoli birri et famigli con andare agravare et pigliare gli uomini et persone dello comune, quando colla famiglia della vicario, et quando con quella di podestà, et officiali del comune con vilipendio et verghonia de’ loro parenti et consorti, condanno de’ poveri uomini di decto comune’: ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 69r. 92

ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 69v .

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a population of 2009 inhabitants or 360 households in the 1480s, by the midsixteenth century this figure had reached 2452 or 453 households. The size of households, another indicator of wealth and prosperity, remained relatively constant over this period with the average remaining around 5.5 members per household — close to the highest recorded for Cutigliano in its most prosperous times and well above the average for the territories.93 Patterns of landownership show that immobile wealth increased in line with the number of members of any given household. According to the scale of wealth developed by the economic historian Elio Conti, even at the beginning of the fifteenth century Gangalandi enjoyed a relatively even spread of wealth across the population.94 Only 17 per cent of households fell into the category of miserabili, compared to 44 per cent rated as poveri with an annual income of 1–50 florins, and a further 33 per cent mediani with an income of 50–200 florins. While the levels of income were modest in Florentine terms, for rural communities both mediani and poveri generated enough income to survive. Artisans and the most wealthy peasant farmers were concentrated in the parish of San Martino, probably due to ease of access to the markets of Lastra a Signa, but even then there were no significant discrepancies of wealth between the remaining three parishes.95 The diversity of the economic base enjoyed by Gangalandi not only resulted in a comparatively high standard of living, but it also stimulated the establishment of business and friendship associations between urban and rural inhabitants. Patricians built their country villas, artisans invested in agricultural property, and contadini who had succeeded in immigrating to the city continued to hold a vested interest in their homeland. As a result, in these relatively trouble-free and fertile areas of the Florentine contado, the city was able to adopt a less interventionist style of leadership than in the more far-flung regions of the territories. In turn, the rural community had no need to rebel against the established system of Florentine administration — its urban friends and its economic importance ensured inhabitants were given a fair hearing in front of Florentine magistracies and that their needs were well attended to. The centralization of Florentine administrative mechanisms may have slightly altered procedures of appeal and the chains of authority as far as rural communities were concerned, but it had little impact on

93

The average household size for the territories in 1458 was 4.7. See Herlihy and KlapischZuber, Tuscans and their Families, p. 90. 94 95

See Conti, La formazione. Based on the Decima records for this area.

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the internal structure of the commune of Gangalandi. Likewise, the diffusion of the sharecropping system would have altered the social framework of only a tiny proportion of the population. The most significant impact of Florentine citizens on this rural community was not the economic exploitation of local inhabitants, but the development of personal ties and an active engagement on the part of urban landowners in the activities of communal and ecclesiastical institutions.

Chapter 4

T HE W ALLS OF S CARPERIA

A

I

t the foot of the main ridge of the Appennines, approximately thirty kilometres to the north of Florence, lies the upland valley of the Mugello, the ancestral home of the Medici. Approaching from the south, the flat open expanse of the fertile plain comes as somewhat of a surprise after the steady climb out of Florence. Well protected to the north by the mountains themselves, the Mugello is located in a naturally strong strategic position, and it is not surprising that the Medici chose to preserve their foothold in this area long after they had established their position of dominance within the city of Florence. Throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the mountain passes of the Appennines were considered some of the harshest and most difficult of the region to traverse. If an army descending from the north managed to navigate the treacherous mountain passes it would then be forced into a position of complete exposure in the valley of the Mugello. In addition to its strategic importance, the Mugello provided a significant proportion of the grain that fed the city of Florence and thus to control it was also an economic priority. By the fifteenth century, the Medici domination of the region was absolute.1 Their well-fortified villas of Trebbio and Cafaggiolo controlled the eastern part of the valley and provided a clear line of view to the mountains. Neither construction left any doubt as to its purpose: Trebbio, the tower-like hunting lodge, was perched on the top of a high rise, surveying both the mountains to the north and looking across the valley to Cafaggiolo; Cafaggiolo, 1

George Dameron, ‘A World of its Own: Economy, Society and Religious Life in the Tuscan Mugello at the Time of Dante’, in Beyond Florence, ed. by Findlen, Fontaine, and Osheim, pp. 45–58 (pp. 47–53).

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which was surrounded by a moat in the period and possessed a second tower (now disappeared), sat squat and solid guarding the entrance to the fertile plain. Both Trebbio and Cafaggiolo more closely resembled signorial castles than private family villas, and the family’s active policy of land acquisition in the region between 1433 and 1456 supports the hypothesis that the Medici had deliberately set out to establish themselves as lords of this important strategic area of the Florentine territory.2 In the second half of the fifteenth century the Medici declared their possessions in the Mugello to include an impressive sixty-seven farms, six vineyards, fifteen houses (many of which were used as personal grain stores), forty-two scattered pieces of land, three shops, a kiln, and three mills.3 A little over one hundred years earlier, however, the region had been far from secure. Despite, or rather because of, the natural fortification provided by the mountains, the upper Mugello was one of the few remaining strongholds of feudal lords, the Ubaldini.4 The persistence of these small feudal units in the outlying regions of the territory presented one of the main risks to Florentine security during this period.5 In an age when the majority of all political units on the Italian peninsula were focused on expanding their territories, Florence faced the very real threat of foreign incursions across its borders. The fear was that minor nobility such as the Ubaldini might have been tempted to assist the enemy in the invasion of the Florentine territories. Thus, towards the end of the thirteenth century, the city had turned its focus to destroying these feudal formations and creating in their place free communes, which were then absorbed into the city’s administrative framework.6 This policy resulted not only in the reorganization of the resources and structure of the countryside, but also in the creation of a series of new settlements

2

For a discussion of Medici landholdings throughout the Florentine contado, see Paolo Nanni, Lorenzo Agricoltore: Sulla proprietà fondaria dei Medici nella seconda metà del Quattrocento (Florence: Accademia dei georgofilli, 1992), p. 6. 3

4

Salvadori, Dominio e patronato, p. 161.

The presence of the Ubaldini in the Mugello and the area’s relationship with Florence prior to 1300 are explored in Dameron, ‘A World of its Own’, pp. 45–58. 5

A comprehensive discussion of the threats to the security of the Florentine territory in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and the government’s strategy of defense, can be found in the recent work by Paolo Pirillo, Costruzione di un contado. See particularly Part 1. A comprehensive general overview can be found in Zorzi, ‘The “Material Constitution” of the Florentine Dominion’. 6

Once the villages were liberated from their feudal lords they were inserted into the preexisting system of Florentine territorial administration and were therefore placed under a podestà and were answerable to the various Florentine magistracies that governed the countryside.

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(or New Towns), which were carefully designed military bases, strategically located to protect the integrity of the Florentine territory.7 The New Towns were concentrated in the Upper Valdarno and the Mugello, zones on the margins of Florentine territory that had retained their feudal characteristics. These towns, eleven in total, were almost exclusively new structures and their populations were chosen from the villages in the surrounding area by Florentine officials. The antiseigneurial motivation behind the creation of the New Towns was unambiguous. Once these towns were built and settled, the Florentine government passed laws that prevented magnates from buying property within a certain radius of the town, and any existing property of theirs within these bounds was confiscated.8 As artificially created settlements, the New Towns presented Florence with an entirely different set of challenges than those faced in the consolidation of the administrative and judicial structures of other areas of the contado. Here the city was not only faced with negotiating pre-existing ties and loyalties, but also was confronted by the challenge of instilling in these recently established communities a new loyalty to Florence.

II Of all the areas of the Florentine territory where New Towns were established, the Appennine pass on the road to Bologna was perhaps the most sensitive strategic position. The most likely route for any northern invasion, it was also the main trade passage to Lombardy where Tuscan wool, salt, and grain were sold. In addition to the direct road north, another major route passed through the Mugello — the Via Flaminia Minor — which linked Bologna to Arezzo and then continued on to Rome.9 By also gaining control of this passage, Florence would be able to turn the traffic into itself, forcing travelers and merchants to pass through the city and, as a result, significantly increasing its revenue. In order to secure this region, the decision was made in 1306 to establish two New Towns, one at either end of the

7 The most often cited studies of the New Towns are David Friedman, Florentine New Towns: Urban Design in the Late Middle Ages (New York: Architectural History Foundation; Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1988), and Italo Moretti, Le terre nuove del contado fiorentino (Florence: Salimbeni, 1979). 8

Giuseppina Romby and Ester Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia: Popolazione, insediamenti, ambiente, XIV – XVI secolo (Florence: Comune di Scarperia, 1985), p. 15. 9

John Larner, ‘Crosssing the Romagnol Appennines’, in City and Countryside in Late Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. by Wickham and Dean, pp. 147–79 (p. 147).

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Appennine pass.10 The first, Scarperia, was to be constructed on the site of an existing settlement, the Castel Santa Barbara, a short distance to the north of the mill town of San Piero in Sieve. The second, Firenzuola, was located much higher up into the mountains, and together the two towns were expected to guarantee the safety of the road north. Today very little remains of the original settlement of Firenzuola, apart from a few sections of the fortified walls, as the interior of the town was all but destroyed during the second world war. (It is a testament to the geopolitical importance of this road that the retreating German army chose this path in their journey northwards out of Italy.) While Scarperia survived the war, prior to this it had been victim to a major earthquake in the sixteenth century, which had destroyed or severely damaged many of the original constructions. Once the decision was made by the Florentine government to settle these two towns a fierce battle against the Ubaldini and their allies ensued. The struggle lasted several months, and many of the small feudal settlements in the area were destroyed as a result.11 At the conclusion of this battle, in July of 1306, the refortification of Castel Santa Barbara and the construction of Scarperia began, and with it came not only the emergence of a new settlement but a change in the demographic structure of the region. The surrounding villages (those that had survived the conflict) were called to contribute financially and physically to the construction of Scarperia, acting as a cheap labour force in the construction of the new fortifications.12 An incident occurring almost fifty years after the foundation of the town brought home to Florentine officials just how necessary the military base of Scarperia was. In 1351, the Ubaldini managed to infiltrate the labour force working on the foundations of the walls by sending a group of their loyal subjects to pose as local farmers. Before their presence had been discovered amongst the crowd, these followers of the Ubaldini managed to sabotage part of the foundations causing the collapse of a section of the walls.13 This memorable episode was only the beginning 10

The decision was made by the Council of One Hundred and recorded in the Provvisioni registri. Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, p. 12. 11 Fighting only drew to a close when Florentine forces took possession of the castle of Montaccianico. Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, p. 13. 12

The use of a local labour force was a method commonly employed by the Florentine government in the development of its defensive systems. See Pirillo, Costruzione di un contado, Chapter 3. For a list of the twenty-two villages involved in the construction of Scarperia, see Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, p. 16. 13

This event is recorded by Villani in his Cronica and recounted by Pirillo, Costruzione di un contado, pp. 79–80.

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of a continuous series of conflicts and troubles which were to haunt the New Town of Scarperia as it struggled to establish an identity of its own in hostile territory. When the construction of the town was finally finished, whole villages of people from the surrounding area were moved inside the walls. At the time of its settlement, the population of Scarperia numbered 234 households or approximately one thousand individuals. (This was to fall dramatically, as a result of repeated outbreaks of plague, to a mere seventy households by 1427.)14 The inhabitants of the feudal villages destroyed in the fighting were forcibly resettled, while others had moved of their own free will from nearby towns. As an incentive to embrace their new identity, Florence granted the inhabitants of the town a ten-year exemption from all Florentine taxes and dues.15 These demographic movements were accompanied by administrative and judicial changes to the area. The numerous small communes in the surrounding area were absorbed into the newly established commune of Scarperia and placed under the same podesteria, thus establishing a permanent Florentine judicial and administrative presence within the walls.16 As a result of this reorganization, the two most significant pre-existing communes in the area, Sant’ Agata and Santa Maria di Fagna, lost not only a significant proportion of their population, but also their status as communes in their own right. Reduced to popoli, these villages were forced to send their representatives to Scarperia in order to ensure at least some representation of their interests. The inhabitants of these villages were less than content with the new order — both parishes were significantly more ancient and Sant’ Agata had a greater population than the new settlement — but with Florentine backing it was inevitable that Scarperia was politically to dominate the area.17 The Florentine official presence in Scarperia became even more pronounced with the jurisdictional reforms of 1415, which saw the creation of Scarperia as the seat of one of the ten vicariati of the territories.18 The new vicariato of Scarperia embraced territory as far away as Fiesole, Carmignano, and Signa; over 55,000 inhabitants of the Florentine territory 14 15 16

Figures taken from Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, p. 18. Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, p. 15

By 1551, the podesteria of Scarperia numbered 905 households, with a total population of 5700 people. BNF, Magli., II, I, 120. 17

The history of these two parishes and their changed status after the establishment of Scarperia will be discussed in more detail in Part II of this book. 18

When the vicariato was created the role of podestà was abolished, although the jurisdictional area remained in existence. Antonia Antoinella, ‘Atti delle antiche magistrature giudizare toscane’, Rassegna degli Archivio di Stato, 39 (1974), 380–415.

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answered to the court of the vicar of the Mugello.19 With the vicar came a whole retinue of minor officials and armed forces, further elevating the status of the town in regard to the surrounding communities. Now, not only did Sant’ Agata and Fagna have to turn to Scarperia for political representation, but they were also answerable to the judicial courts of the New Town. The town’s political domination of the region also brought with it an economic hegemony. This was primarily due to the system by which Florence had chosen to administer the taxation of the countryside, one which mirrored the city’s own practice.20 Instead of working on the basis of individual taxation declarations, Florentine officials allocated a levy for each parish group that the parish, and ultimately the commune, was responsible for raising. Therefore, as the inhabitants of Scarperia dominated the communal council, they also had the last word as to who was forced to pay the highest tax assessments.21 With the granting of market rights to Scarperia in 1311, the town’s position as economic hub of the surrounding area became even more pronounced, and its emergent artisanal economy set Scarperia even further apart from the agricultural economies of Sant’ Agata and Fagna.22 Over time, the trade routes passing through Firenzuola and Scarperia were secured by the Florentine military presence, and these smaller communities found themselves quite literally ‘off the beaten track’ when it came to mercantile ventures. The division between the three main parishes of the commune was to become one of Scarperia’s most important defining characteristics, and in turn would affect the internal structure of the community as well as the relationships forged between the commune and the Florentine officials in its midst. The physical structure of the town also contributed significantly to the development of a psychological division between the town of Scarperia and the other villages that were part of the new commune. The construction of a ring of defensive walls physically cut off the inhabitants of Scarperia from the surrounding villages,

19 20

Figures taken from the 1551 census: BNF, Magli., II, I, 120.

For a discussion of the city’s taxation mechanisms, see Kent and Kent, Neighbours and Neighbourhood in Renaissance Florence, especially Chapter 1(ii). 21

The communal council took this responsibility very seriously and kept meticulous records of any failure to pay tax assessments; a large proportion of those listed were inhabitants of nearby parishes. See ASS, Delib., 2446. For example see fol. 23r. 22

The economic differentiation of the three parishes will be discussed in more detail as the chapter progresses.

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none of which were themselves fortified.23 Labourers living outside of Scarperia were allowed free access to the town during the day, but at night and in times of military activity in the area the gates of Scarperia were closed and the town became a fortress.24 In the construction of Scarperia and of the other New Towns, Florentine planners were able to realize what they saw to be an ideal urban structure.25 Free of existing edifices and of curving medieval streets, the New Towns were constructed along the lines of a perfect grid. In order to make the most of the passing traffic, the lines of Scarperia followed the main road leading to Firenzuola; this road — the Via Maesta — ran north–south from the Porta Fiorentina to the Porta Bolognese, bisecting the perfect rectangle of the town’s construction (Fig. 9). As the major route of passage, the Via Maesta was dominated by taverns, hotels, and inns to feed and provide accommodation for the large numbers of people that travelled through the town on pilgrimages, trade, or military missions.26 In the centre of the town, a large piazza was the focal point of the political, economic, and spiritual life of the inhabitants. Dominating the piazza on the left side, the vicar’s palace — an almost perfect replica in miniature of the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence — stood as a constant visual reminder of the town’s ties to Florence (Fig. 10). Seemingly oversized for such a small settlement, the Palace served not only as the residence of the vicar and his retinue, but also as a hall of justice for the prosecution of crimes, a meeting area for communal councils, and a prison. On the opposite side of the piazza stood the church and convent of Santa Barbara, while flanking the remaining two sides were the parish church of San Jacopo and Filippo and the oratory of the confraternity of the Virgin Mary. Notably, the only private structure in the

23

Since the entire circumference of the walls was a little over five kilometres, the town was filled almost to capacity with the original settlers. For Florentine urban planners, the town of Scarperia had a predominately military role to play in this zone of the contado, and the tiny residential space available within the walls was considered sufficient. 24

The communal council was responsible for electing a guard who slept in the gatehouse and was responsible for opening and closing the gates of the town. ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 81v. In times of extreme danger, farmers from the surrounding area would take refuge within the walls of Scarperia. 25

For a more detailed discussion of the urban planning of the New Towns, see Friedman, Florentine New Towns, Chapter 2, particularly pp. 70–73. 26

As property bordering on this main road was the most valuable in the town, buildings facing the road generally had narrow entrances and extended backwards, thus making up in length the space they lost in width. Friedman, Florentine New Towns, pp. 70–73.

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Figure 9. Streetscape of Scarperia

piazza was a large inn owned by the Medici.27 It is little wonder that within this very rigid and formal urban structure, those living within the walls set themselves apart psychologically from the agricultural communities that surrounded them. Over the course of the fifteenth century, inhabitants of the castello systematically cut themselves off from those who did not live within the defensive perimeter of the New Town. Using vocabulary reminiscent of Florence’s own approach to those living outside of the city walls, the councils of the town increasingly described the ‘outsiders’ as being poor and of limited intelligence, referring to them as contadini as if to distinguish themselves as cittadini.28 The emerging distinction was not limited to one of verbal differences, for citizens of Scarperia were also determined to dominate the political horizons of the region. Infiltrating the offices of the other two parishes that made up the commune, nearby Fagna and Sant’ Agata, inhabitants

27 This inn was declared as the property of Giovanni di Cosimo de’ Medici and was rented out to local families. Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, p. 65. 28

ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 77v , and ASF, Statuti, 832, fol. 25r.

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Figure 10. Vicar’s Palace, Scarperia

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Figure 11. Parish of Fagna

of the castello defied laws limiting office holding to place of residence (Fig. 11). On two occasions the consiglieri attempted to combat this trend, when in 1486 and again in 1488 they reasserted the law, but to little effect.29 As many inhabitants of the castello held property both dentro and fuori the walls, it was legally difficult to establish where the place of habitation was, and Scarperians were not slow to exploit this loophole. Two years later, the law was annulled entirely on the grounds that too many good men were being charged under this statute.30

29 ‘Et così qualunque habita o per lo advenire habiterà familiarmente nel castello della Scarperia non possa havere ufficio nè preminenza nè rendere alcuno partito a ufficio o casa appartenente al pievere di Santa Maria a Fagna et al pievere di Sant’ Agata’: ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 71 v and fol. 73 r. 30

‘Molte querele, quali sono facti dinanzi a decto consiglio, per molti uomini da bene, e quali abitano familiarmente et dormano nel castello della Scarperia, e quivi supportano spese ordinarie et extraordinarie. Le querele de’ quali sono per essere stati privati che loro che dormano nel castello della Scarperia non possino nè exercitare alcuno ufficio nei pievere di fuori sotto pena. Come manifestamente si vede per uno capitolo facto per Giovanni di Nofri da Ponzalla, sindico in quello tempo di decta lega, sotto dì XI del mese d’ottobre, 1486 et rogato per ser Stefano di Filippo

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The animosity felt between the groups came to a head in 1500 when it was time for a new rector to be elected for the church of San Jacopo and Filippo. While only inhabitants of the castello were permitted to be part of the decision-making process, it seems that some of these were contadini or forestieri who had ‘recently’ moved within the walls. After several unsuccessful attempts by the congregation to reach an agreement it was these newer arrivals who were blamed for the failure. They were accused of a lack of honour and regard for the divine cult and of possessing a desire to elect one of their own with no consideration as to whether the rector was an able man or not. From this point onwards it was decided that the election would continue in the hands of the general council of Scarperia, and these newcomers were no longer permitted to meet together with the true original inhabitants of the town for any decision making.31 It was an effective, if heavy handed, way to maintain the power balance of the town — preventing input from new men who might upset the established order. It is not clear exactly how many generations it would take to be considered a true Scarperian. It would be surprising if all members of the general council could trace their families back to the original settlers of the New Town, but contadini had long memories and one or two generations would not necessarily make one acceptable or trustworthy. The tendency to distinguish and discriminate between those on either side of protective walls was not unique to Scarperia and the other New Towns. It seems to have been a predominant characteristic of all walled communities in the region and one that Florence shared rather than patented.32 Inextricably tied to

Maniero, notaio publico fiorentino et approvato per gli approvatori del popolo fiorentino. Decto capitolo per decto Giovanni facto, et rogato per decto Stefano sotto dì XI d’ottobre, 1486, con tucte quelle parti che in esse si contiene, rievocarono et anullarono’: ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 75r. 31

‘Che la lega della Scarperia, i huomini et persone di quella, sia et sieno veri padroni della chiesa di San Jacopo et Filippo della Scarperia. Et alchuna volta, quando vaca el rettore di decta chiesa, per morte o altra cagione, et similarmente cappellani di decta chiesa, el consiglio di decta lega, insieme con li uomini del castello della Scarpiera, si trovano a dare decta chiesa al nuovo rectore o rectori. Et occorre, come si veduto per qualche esperientia fatta, che molti forestieri et contadini tornano ad abitare familiarmente in decto castello, et sono persone che hanno poca consideratione et riguardo quando si trovono a detto eletione, sia per la loro povertà, si’ancora per la loro poca intelligentia. [. . .] Questi simili non si dovessimo congregari con li altri veri originari di decto luogo’: ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 77v . 32

The commune of San Casciano had a similar setup, with each quarter of the town having one representative for dentro and one for fuori. ASF, Statuti, 747, fol. 2r. In nearby Borgo San Lorenzo, while the positions for councillors were divided equally amongst the four parishes that were part of the commune, only those living within the walls were eligible to be placed in the borse

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identification with a parish, the construction of walls added a concrete social and political dividing line that differed from divisions existing in communes without fortification. Evolving as a necessary precaution against foreign threat, walls also cut communities off from their own. While contadini in surrounding regions continued to take refuge within the walls in times of danger, they were still outsiders psychologically as well as physically. For these communities, political offices were divided in terms of location relative to the walls as well as parish lines indicating that the interests of groups inside and outside the perimeter were expected to be different, if not at odds with each other, and would require separate representation.33 The division existing between Scarperia and the other parishes appears to have been most pronounced when it came to the parish of Sant’ Agata, one of the town’s closest neighbours. At one point, the vicar of Scarperia had thrown the local representatives of Sant’ Agata in jail, an act which would have done little to remove the existing resentment felt towards Scarperia. The accused not only were guilty of failing to provide information about the population of the community for a tax assessment, but when they finally did provide this information, the vicar found it to be riddled with what we can only assume to be deliberate errors.34 That the vicar put these local representatives in jail ‘for their crime and to serve as an example’, indicated that he expected additional acts of rebellion from other centres. Nor was Scarperia free of internal conflict. In their desire to construct Scarperia in the image of Florence, the town planners had originally divided the town into four quarters, intended to serve as administrative units in much the same way as Florence’s own quarters. Each quarter was named after the patron saint of the village from which most of its inhabitants were drawn — Sant’ Agata, Santa Maria, for gonfaloniere. Guidi, Il governo, p. 70. According to Giovanna Benadusi, A Provincial Elite in Early Modern Tuscany (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), this was also the case for the commune of Poppi, which was administratively divided into those living inside and outside the town walls, with the township itself becoming increasingly better represented. Benadusi makes the connection between this fact and the emergence of a new provincial elite class.

33 In Scarperia the offices of camarlinghi, festaiuoli, and castaldoni della lega are divided according to whether they were dentro or fuori the city walls; rettori and sindichi were often divided along these lines also. 34

‘Et continue di poi ho sollecitati e’ rectori de’ comune et popoli al’exercitarli a dare interamente tucte le loro anime. Et non venendo se non per forza, questo dì ho avuto di me il rectore del popolo di Sant’ Agata et il rectore del popolo di San Jacopo a Scianello, et parendo la loro data piccola rispecta a’ popoli, riscontrando il mio cavaliere con esso loro e’ nomi ha allo aphabeto, de’ tali popoli gli trovo in errori di molti che non avevano dati, ho gli in prigione sì per lo errore hanno comesso et sì per dare agli altri terrore’: ASF, Misc. Rep., 52, insert 1, fol. 84r.

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San Michele, and San Giovanni. Perhaps in order to acknowledge the pre-existing bonds of friendship and family which existed between these new settlers, and certainly with a lack of foresight, Florentine officials chose to settle groups of villagers in the quarter bearing the name of the patron saint of their ancestral popolo.35 Not surprisingly, it was not long before internal divisions emerged between these groups. The natural loyalty that the new inhabitants of Scarperia felt towards their own people was exacerbated by an inequality in wealth and numbers between the quarters: San Michele enjoyed a population of almost double that of the other three quarters and was home to ten of the wealthiest families of Scarperia; San Giovanni was the second most populous quarter, with about half that number of wealthy families; whereas both Sant’ Agata and Santa Maria (named after the nearby ex-communes of Sant’ Agata and Santa Maria di Fagna) were both poor and sparsely populated from the time of their settlement.36 These divisions, born of ties of loyalty to villages of origin and combined with perceived inequality in their situations, regularly resulted in violent outbreaks, and the problem had become so acute by the beginning of the fifteenth century that Florentine troops were called in to suppress the fighting and the quarters were abolished. Yet despite these measures the inhabitants of Renaissance Scarperia continued to refer to the quarters until well into the following century.37

III Despite their deeply felt superiority over the other parishes of the commune, the townspeople of Scarperia were nothing if not respectful of Florentine institutions. For it was the presence of these institutions which granted legitimacy to Scarperia’s own domination of the surrounding region. As a result, the inhabitants of Scarperia continued to pay their taxes regularly and to contribute to the salaries of the Florentine officials in their midst.38 They also financially supported the Florentine soldiers stationed there, and in the sixteenth century, the town became one of the 35

For further discussion of the problems emerging between quarters, see Friedman, Florentine New Towns, pp. 168–69. 36

Changes in population figures are discussed in Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, pp. 18–25. 37

38

Friedman, Florentine New Towns, p. 169.

Amounts paid to maintain officials are discussed in more detail in the following chapter. See, for example, communal expenses listed for 1512, in ASS, Delib., 2446, fol. 88r.

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main centres for the coordination of the rural militia.39 Scarperia had chosen to associate itself with a Florentine system of values and priorities and follow the established hierarchy in its dealings with the central government of the territory. Any grievances or requests were channeled through the Florentine representatives living in Scarperia — through the vicar or his notary.40 It is perhaps a reflection of the social status and political connections of the vicars themselves that communication was largely limited to these official channels. The council of Scarperia realized that an appeal funneled through the likes of a Guiccardini, a Pandolfini, a Ginori, or a Rucellai was more likely to have sway than any direct request to the central powers from the council of Scarperia. The Florentine citizens elected to act as vicars of the Mugello were certainly an illustrious cast — the importance of the role and the strategic difficulties of the posting demanding it. Accompanied by one notary, four servants, and fifteen men-at-arms (five of whom were mounted), the vicar of the Mugello commanded an impressive salary of two thousand lire. These men were powerful political forces both inside and outside of the city of Florence, friends of the Medici but not subserviently so (see Appendix 3). In the early years of the Medici domination of Florence, while the vicars were happy enough to receive recommendations from Lorenzo de’ Medici and grant clemency to his favoured clients, they were not about to bow to his every request. Only two months into his office, the vicar of the Mugello in 1476, Leonardo di Giovanni di Domenico Bartoli, wrote to Lorenzo — in response to his request for clemency for a thief of the name of Batista Bagnioni — declaring that while he did not wish to act against Lorenzo’s will in this matter, before granting his request he was sending his notary with a documented list of forty-five crimes committed by this man, which were anything but minor, including the stripping of altars.41 This was not an unprecedented action, for others in the Bartoli family had also gone out of their way to remind the young Lorenzo that his duty, first and foremost, was to uphold the honour of the Florentine Republic. Nearly ten years earlier, Domenico Bartoli wrote to Lorenzo informing him that he had recommended the two men Lorenzo had asked him to assist, but added the barbed statement that he had done so ‘knowing you love justice above all other things and that you hold my honour in the same 39

See ASF, Nove, Deliberazione 2, fol. 114v for a list of bande in the Mugello and their composition. 40

My systematic search of ASF, MAP and supplications made in the sixteenth century to the Medici dukes reveals very few individual appeals from inhabitants of this region of the territory. Instead requests are filtered through the vicars serving in the town. 41

ASF, MAP, Filza 33, n. 864.

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esteem as your own’.42 Others were less scrupulous in the carrying out of their official duties, and when Paolo Riccialbani apprehended someone laden with salt from the Romagna who had been recommended by Lorenzo’s cousin, he wrote immediately to Lorenzo asking for instructions. Instead of handing the culprit over to the salt officials, the vicar was prepared to sidestep the law if Lorenzo so desired.43 In return for the loyalty shown by the inhabitants of Scarperia, and their acceptance of the Florentine administration, there is strong evidence that a certain amount of comprehension and flexibility was exercised by Florentine officials. When the newly established magistracy, the Cinque delle Fortezze, was given the task of visiting Florentine fortifications throughout the countryside in the 1470s they discovered the walls of Scarperia — along with many others — in need of significant repair works. While traditionally it would have been the responsibility of the inhabitants of the town to finance and execute these repairs, the officials sympathetically reported that the population would be incapable of carrying out the work ‘because of the many expenses and trials they have’. Instead it was decided that for the following four years, the income derived by the vicar from fines and condemnations would be used to finance the work.44 In this way both the interests of the Florentine government and those of the local people would be served without creating unnecessary hardship for those living inside the walls of Scarperia.

IV Scarperia had little choice but to depend on the official channels of communication with the central government provided by the Florentine vicar and his representatives. Whereas the inhabitants of Gangalandi were able to supplement their official communications with the informal relationships they established with the many Florentine citizens who owned land in the region, Scarperia’s informal Florentine ties were few and far between and those that existed nearly always involved the Medici. Although the Medici family only held the office of the vicar of the Mugello three times in the period 1470–1555, its domination of the area was

42

‘So che tu ami la giustitia sopra ogni altra cosa et so che tu stimi l’onore mio al pare del tuo’: ASF, MAP, Filza 20, n. 336. 43

44

ASF, MAP, Filza 25, n. 153.

‘Et volendo aspettare che gli uomini del paese lo facessino da loro, per le molte spese et fatiche che hanno, si conosce non si farebbe mai’: ASF, Ufficiali delle Castella, 37, insert, 1, fol. 6v.

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unrivalled.45 This was not due to any lack of Florentine investment in the region: the proportion of citizen landholders in the commune of Scarperia in the midsixteenth century was even higher than that of Gangalandi, with almost 66 per cent of all real property in the hands of urban investors and a total of 189 urban landholders. A further 13 per cent of land was owned by ninety different ecclesiastical institutions, leaving the 313 local inhabitants only 20 per cent of the total surface area that was confined by the bounds of the commune. The Mugello was certainly an attractive investment proposition for Florentine citizens — fertile and well drained, the land ranged from altitudes of 220m to 570m. In the fifteenth century the area was predominately farmed with cereal crops and vineyards, in contrast to the factories and New World crop of maize which dominate the agricultural landscape in the present day.46 The area was not particularly well suited to the production of good quality wine, but the demand produced by the high number of inns and taverns in the area made grapes a profitable option for farmers of the period. But despite the high proportion of urban landholders investing in the area during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the inhabitants of the township of Scarperia appeared to have had little direct contact with these citizens. This was undoubtedly because of the absence of sharecropping arrangements entered into by the inhabitants of Scarperia. While the proportion of households engaged in mezzadria contracts for the entire commune was comparable to Gangalandi — 17.57 per cent in Scarperia as opposed to 18 per cent in Gangalandi — it was a highly concentrated phenomenon.47 Although nearly all of the sixty-seven poderi owned by the main branch of the Medici family in the Mugello were farmed according to sharecropping arrangements, only a handful of these involved inhabitants of the township.48 The landownership patterns of the region were highly suitable for mezzadria arrangements in that there was a much greater concentration of property as continuous land rather than scattered strips, but very few men from the town of Scarperia were involved in farming these continuous plots. Where twelve of the nineteen households (or 63.15 per cent) of the parish of Fagna were sharecroppers and twenty-one out of a total of 106 households (19.81 per cent) in the parish of Sant’ Agata, only 7.89 per cent of inhabitants of Scarperia were involved

45 46 47

See Appendix 3. See ASF, DR, 333 for tax records which demonstrate a very high level of vine cultivation.

These and successive figures are my own calculations based on tax declarations and population figures. See Table 2 in Chapter 3 for a summary. 48

Nanni, Lorenzo Agricoltore, p. 12.

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in this type of farming contract. The location of the township of Scarperia made it particularly difficult for inhabitants to engage in sharecropping arrangements even if they had wanted to, and by definition, no inhabitant of the town lived on the land of his proprietors. The terrain immediately surrounding the town was dedicated to garden plots and small strips of land, meaning individuals would have had to travel significant distances to reach the poderi.49 Thus, farmers living within the township tended to be independent cultivators, owning a series of small strips of land, no doubt a situation which contributed to the sense of superiority they felt over their peasant neighbours. Out of the total number of inhabitants of Scarperia who exclusively worked the land, only a fifth were involved in a sharecropping arrangement. This was in sharp contrast to the 27.27 per cent in Sant’ Agata — which was almost exactly the same proportion as the commune of Gangalandi and consistent with the norm for the entire Florentine territory — and the extremely elevated 75 per cent in Fagna. If sharecropping arrangements in Scarperia are examined in the light of the social impact of the increased diffusion of the mezzadria system throughout the Florentine territory, it appears that, like Gangalandi, the effects of sharecropping on the structure of the local community were minimal. Ignoring, for the moment, Fagna with its very high proportion of sharecropping, the proportion of total households in Sant’ Agata and Scarperia that were limited to a mezzadria contract and owned no other property of their own (either houses or other pieces of land) was 4.71 per cent and 2.63 per cent respectively. Although the proportion in Fagna was much higher, 47.36 per cent of the population, the sample is extremely limited — only nineteen households — and the community unique in its ancient ties to the brothers who had founded the parish in 1018 and owned most of the surrounding land.50 Even taking Fagna into account, the proportion of the population of the commune as a whole which was solely dependant on mezzadria contracts was a low 5.85 per cent, or half the proportion of those in a similar position in Gangalandi. The lack of farmers living in the township of Scarperia was not a particularly surprising phenomenon, but it did alter the nature, or rather explain the lack, of relationships between the inhabitants of the town and independent Florentine citizens. As a walled market town with a large flow of passing trade, Scarperia was much more suited to the development of a mercantile economy than one based predominantly on agriculture. Indeed, when the occupations of the villagers are

49 50

Romby and Diana, Una ‘Terra Nuova’ nel Mugello, Scarperia, p. 78. The role played by this religious community will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6.

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compared between the three parishes of the commune, by far the highest concentration of artisanal trades was to be found within the town walls. Just over 40 per cent of the total number of households in Scarperia was exclusively involved in the occupation of farming, where this proportion reached 72.64 per cent in Sant’ Agata and over 84 per cent in Fagna (Tables 4–6).51 The small proportion of the inhabitants of these two towns who were not farmers were still involved in activities that supported the most essential needs of the community: they were tavern keepers, bakers, and ironworkers.52 For any more specialized services such as those provided by builders, brick makers, tailors, and shoemakers, the inhabitants of these villages would have to travel to Scarperia itself. In contrast to these small rural communities, the economy of Scarperia shared more characteristics of a busy port town or larger urban centre, with its constant passing traffic of traders, pilgrims, and soldiers, its numerous inns and taverns, its vibrant markets, and the noise and bustle of local people calling out to advertise their goods. One of most important occupational groups in Scarperia — second only in numbers to the farming community — was the knife makers. Even today, knives from Scarperia are sold widely throughout the world and are well known for their high quality and distinctive form. In the Quattrocento, this occupation involved such a large proportion of the population that in 1541 a series of statutes was made in order to regulate their activities and give them the status of a guild.53 Those who practised this trade held a privileged status within the community, and in addition to being amongst the richest inhabitants of the town, the knife makers were also the most highly represented group in confraternal councils. But while this trade group formed the basis of a series of close family and friendship circles, there was no lack of competition and antagonism between the various practitioners. In fact, the guild statutes were written in reaction to disputes occurring about the sale of knives to passing travellers which, according to the records, was the result of competitors jostling for passing trade and creating confusion in the streets as each sought to make a sale. This rather undignified heckling for business was believed to be bringing dishonour to the whole community and no doubt created an atmosphere in the streets of Scarperia of a market bazaar. In order to bring the situation under control the guild decided to divide the traders into two groups, each of 51

According to Conti, Fagna had an index of appoderamento — a measure of the degree to which continuous land was owned by the one landowner — that was one of the highest in the entire contado. See Conti, La formazione, p. 338. 52

53

ASF, DR, 333, popolo 203 and 211. Guild statutes can be found in ASF, Statuti, 833.

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Tables 4–6 Commune of Scarperia, occupational distribution (1497) by popolo Table 4. Scarperia Occupation No.

Peasant Labourer Blacksmith Servant Baker Knife Maker Slipper Maker Shoemaker Tailor Labourer Farrier/Smith Messenger Barber Horsedealer Kiln Worker Mason Food Hawker Trumpeter Priest Unknown

46 5 1 1 7 1 2 1 1 2 1 1 2 1 3 1 1 1 36

Percentage of total population 40.35% 4.38% 0.87% 0.87% 6.14% 0.87% 1.75% 0.87% 0.87% 1.75% 0.87% 0.87% 1.75% 0.87% 2.63% 0.87% 0.87% 0.87% 31.57%

Table 5. Santa Agata Occupation No.

Peasant Labourer Priest Blacksmith Weaver Barrel Maker Mill Keeper Unknown Table 6. Fagna Occupation Peasant Labourer Baker Horsedealer Tavern Keeper

77 1 1 1 1 1 24 No. 16 1 1 1

Percentage of total population 72.64% 0.94% 0.94% 0.94% 0.94% 0.94% 22.64% Percentage of total population 84.21% 5.26% 5.26% 5.26%

which were given permission only to visit travellers in the local inns and taverns in order to display their wares on alternate days.54 The very existence of a separate series of guild statutes for the knife makers is an indication of the artisanal focus of Scarperia’s economy and lends weight to Chittolini’s description of this type of rural centre as ‘Quasi-città’.55 The contrast between the economies of the three parishes of the commune, and the minimal proportion of the inhabitants of Scarperia that entered into sharecropping agreements, contributed to the conceptual division that led inhabitants of the town to refer to their neighbours as contadini, in spite of their own peasant origins.56 It also resulted in the emergence of an elite group of families, whose wealth went far beyond even the most comfortable of Gangalandi’s inhabitants: already by 1427, 54 55 56

ASF, Statuti, 833, fol. 5r. Chittolini, ‘La formazione dello stato regionale e le istituzioni del contado’, pp. 17–109.

The emergence of the use of the terminology cittadini and contadini by the inhabitants of Scarperia will be explored in the following chapter. For example, see ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 77 v, and ASF, Statuti, 832, fol. 25r.

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7 per cent of the population declared an income of over 200 florins.57 The economy of the town, and its resultant social structure, much more closely resembled an urban centre than the traditional picture of a rural community. The role of the establishment of a market in Scarperia in contributing to this transformation should not be underestimated. By being granted market concessions, Scarperia was able to rival other larger urban centres as a focus for trade, thus stimulating the local economy. The market also had a profound impact on the social identity of the local community, strengthening the town’s internal ties and establishing it as an important meeting centre for the entire area. The establishment of an annual fair in 1500 further strengthened Scarperia’s economic position. Fairs, as opposed to markets, specialized in livestock or cereals and were mainly limited to larger towns such as Prato, Arezzo, and San Gimignano.58 Prior to each fair, the main piazza of Scarperia was ‘put up for auction’. The sounding of a trumpet signalled the beginning of the event, and when the local people were gathered in the main square of Scarperia the bidding would start. The leading bidder at the conclusion of the auction would have control of the piazza and presumably make decisions as to who could display their goods and who was to be allocated the prime positions.59 This process of auction is particularly interesting considering the symbolic importance of the piazza. In contemporary political language it was said that ‘he who controls the piazza wins the città’.60 The large amounts paid for this privilege — in 1536 Francesco di Matteo di Simone paid twenty-five lire for the piazza — give the impression that winning the piazza was also not without its economic benefits.61 It is likely that the winner would, in turn, sell space within the piazza to his fellow townspeople and farmers from the surrounding region. This system clearly favoured the wealthier members of the population as few would have been able to afford such a large investment, further differentiating between the various groups within the town.62 It is also interesting to note that the auction did not seem to be open to anyone living outside the town walls — or if they were allowed to participate, I have not found one example of their being successful bidders. 57 58

Conti, La formazione, p. 339.

Epstein, ‘Market Structures’, discusses the role of markets and fairs in the Florentine economy. 59

60 61 62

ASF, Statuti, 831, fol 38 r, and ASS, Delib., 2446, fol 246r. Quotation from Giovanni Cavalcanti, cited in Kent ‘“Be Rather Loved than Feared”’, p. 28. ASS, Delib., 2446, fol. 264v .

The commune of Calamecca seems to have had a similar auction, which occurred once a year on 25 July, although the details are scarce. ASF, Statuti, 108, fol. 16v .

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V The presence of an economic elite resulted in the gradual emergence of a pronounced political elite within the township, a phenomenon not observed in the mountain communities of Pistoia or in the commune of Gangalandi. The streamlined nature of communal administrative structures contributed to the relative ease with which one family was able to take control. Our first indication that this was occuring is recorded in a statute declaring that the consiglieri responsible for electing other communal positions as well as their own successors were continuously choosing their own relatives regardless of ability or suitability to office.63 This is the first complaint of such nepotism in Scarperia, and as the laws had not been altered we can assume that, prior to this, no family had been sufficiently numerous or powerful enough to dominate communal offices. From this point onwards, however, we begin to see the same names emerging again and again until by 1540 a family of knife makers, the Melai, left the commune in little doubt as to who was in control. At first the commune attempted to stem the tide. In 1486 strict laws regarding consanguinity were passed to prevent this situation from continuing, and these remained in place, at least in theory, for the next fifty years.64 In reality, over this period, Scarperia experienced a gradual shift in its internal organization with the emergence of an elite group of mainly artisanal families dominating political offices. If the office-holding patterns for the commune are examined for the period spanning 1499–1538 (for which surviving communal records are relatively intact), the extent to which political offices were limited to a small minority becomes all the clearer. Out of a possible 228 offices, ninety-nine men took part in communal government over this thirty-eight year period.65 Of these ninety-nine men, at least nine came from the lineage of the Melai, five were descendants of Nardo di Nuto, four from the family Niccolino, four from that of Tenducci, three descendants of Guccio di Messer Francesco, two from the family Puccini. Close to a third of all office holders, therefore, came from only six different lineages. As the lack of surnames makes complete reconstruction of the familial and marital relationships impossible, we can 63

‘el più delle volti eleggono loro stessi o loro parenti, persone insufficienti’: ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 72r. 64

65

ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 72r.

These figures and the following analysis are derived from my detailed examination of communal records found in ASS, Delib., 2446, fols 7–280. Note that the commune of Scarperia performed a new squittino every two years and all those present in electoral bags, but not drawn, are recorded. While ninety-nine men held offices, there were a further twenty-eight individuals recorded as being in the borse who were never drawn over this thirty-eight year period.

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only speculate as to the total number of ruling families, but it is unlikely that any more than twenty families, out of a total of 163 that made up the population of Scarperia, held political offices with any regularity. Over and over again, the same individuals found themselves in positions of power within the community. Take, for example, Giovanni di Cuccio di Lorenzo who held the office of gonfaloniere a total of eight times in a twenty-year period, or Nuto di Giovanni di Nuto, a shoemaker, who in twenty-one years was gonfaloniere five times, in addition to serving for three terms as the commune’s accountant, once as ambassador, and twice as a councillor.66 Similarly, the knife maker Francesco di Guccio di Messer Francesco, whose distinguished ancestry betrayed by his grandfather’s title comes as something of a surprise, was four times gonfaloniere, three times consigliere, and twice camarlingo, while only declaring a small vineyard and a rented house in his tax return (see Appendix 4).67 While the majority of those dominating offices were artisans, peasants were not excluded completely from this circle. One contadino, Lorenzo di Nanni Tenducci, declaring fifteen staiora of land and ‘una casetta trista’ in his tax report, was gonfaloniere three times, consigliere four times, and had been drawn as camarlingo once but refused the office. It is likely that his status within the community had been born of his very longevity, since his first term of office was served when he was already forty-five years old and his last at the age of seventy.68 He was an exception, however, and only five out of the thirty individuals serving as gonfaloniere between 1499 and 1538 declared themselves to be a ‘lavoratore di terra’ in their tax reports. The very financial responsibilities that came with the role of camarlingo meant that those of limited means would often prefer to pay a fine and refuse the role as Lorenzo di Nanni Tenducci had. By 1524 the problem had become so acute in Scarperia that the council was forced to do away with the existing system of appointment by which a camarlingo would be drawn from borse every six months; instead the office was to go to whoever wanted it. Already consigliere, Ristoro di Francesco di Ristoro ‘offered that he wanted to do it for a year with a salary of sixty-five lire’, and on the condition that no one else declared himself willing, he was to remain camarlingo indefinitely.69 There is no record that anyone else did 66 67

ASS, Delib., 2446.

It is possible that the ‘Messer’ was in fact some sort of nickname; however, there is no reference to this being the case, and it is more likely that Francesco was the descendant of an impoverished knight or lawyer. This may explain the very prominent position he held within the community despite his extreme poverty. ASS, Delib., 2446, and ASF, DR, 333, fol. 174. 68

69

Lorenzo declared himself to be fifty-one years old in 1504 in ASF, DR, 333, fol. 198.

‘Et considerato che alli tempi passati sono stati tracti tanti camarlinghi, che le borse sono vuote et che difficilmente si trovasi detto camarlingo di Scarperia. Ristoro di Francescho Ristoro

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volunteer for the position until in 1528, when Ristoro became gonfaloniere of Scarperia, another prominent citizen and regular office holder, the knife maker Giovanbatista di Giovanpiero, took up the mantle of office.70 From this point on, camarlinghi remained in office for anything between two- and six-year terms, and often held simultaneous positions.71 The voluntary appointment of camarlinghi in Scarperia, together with legislation passed in 1500 preventing anyone paying less than five soldi in the estimo from holding the positions of camarlinghi and consiglieri, is consistent with the emerging pattern of elite control of communal politics in this town.72 In a separate incident in Scarperia, this time concerning the camarlingo of the vicariato rather than the town itself, the son of the previous camarlingo was substituted for the man legitimately drawn, thus transgressing laws of consanguinity. Appealing the two hundred lire fine imposed by the Cinque, Bastiano del Rosso di Luigi da Ronta and his son Domenico claimed that, as they had observed many exercising the office for years (I assume they are referring to the situation in the township of Scarperia described above), they were ignorant of any laws preventing them from carrying out the substitution.73 It is interesting that these men appeared to see no difference between one individual remaining in office and its being passed from one family member to another. In this case the ducal secretary stood firm, saying that those condemned and the magistracy that condemned them should be made to observe the law because it was made for the good of the community.74 da Scarperia si offerse di volerlo fare per un anno con salario di lire 65. Et non sendo chi altro offerisi si spense le candele et rimase al detto Ristoro’: ASS, Delib., 2446, fol. 169r. 70

71

ASS, Delib., 2446, fol. 200v .

At the same time as holding office as camarlingo, Giovanbatista was also consigliere for Scarperia. ASS, Delib., 2446, fol. 204r. 72

ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 77r.The assessment of five soldi falls into the middle to upper range of taxation levels for this region. 73

‘Bastiano del Rosso di Luigi da Ronta, humilamente expone a Vostra Excellentia che l’anno passato fu facto camarlingo del Vicariato del Mugello, et lo ecercitò diligentamente et rendè sua ragione in buona forma. Et l’anno presente, essendo suto tracto un Piero Magnani da l’Isola, camarlingo et non lo possendo excitare, si contentò a sustituire Domenico, figliolo del decto Bastiano, il quale sapendo che per molti altri si usava di sustituire et che da una medisima persona era recitato per più anni continuati, et non havendo notitia di alcuna legge che ne facessi divieto, innocentemente intrò in luocho del decto Piero Magnani’: ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, fol. 275. 74

‘Questi condanato et il magistrato facci osservare le leggi perchè sono facti per conserverne di communi et che nasce per l’innosservantia d’epse che li poveri sono mal tractati’: ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, fol. 275.

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By 1536, when the process of the emergence of a small group of ruling families was well under way, it was decided that the measures taken in 1486 against consanguinity were too strict and from that point on would apply only to first- and second-degree relatives.75 Unsurprisingly this policy reversal was made in the same year that saw Jacopo di Michele Melai as gonfaloniere, Biago di Domenico Melai, Piero di Meo Melai, and Lorenzo di Guido Melai as consiglieri, and Lorenzo’s brother Gabrielle di Guido Melai as ragioniere.76 Perhaps the Melai had been able to take advantage of the loss of the commune’s electoral purses during the dramatic plague outbreak of 1527 in order to alter the contents of the bags. This outbreak created such chaos in the town that officials recount that the survivors were dying of hunger and the sick deliberately infecting the healthy.77 While the laws regarding consanguinity were reinstated in 1540, due to ‘the many tumults, animosities and injustices’ occurring, little seemed to change. By this time the Melai were secure in their domination, and the rest of the commune had no choice but to line up either for or against them.78 It seemed that Scarperia had learnt all too well from its Florentine masters how to attach its fate to that of one rising family. The emergence of a rural elite in Scarperia was, of course, not an isolated phenomenon, and during the sixteenth century many other rural and provincial centres observed a similar process occurring. These transformations have been identified by historians as one of the side effects of the centralization of the administration of the Florentine contado — certainly without Florence’s having made Scarperia head of a commune, podesteria, and vicariato, it would never have become such an important centre. In the last decades, as historians’ attention has been turning more and more towards the territories and their role in Florentine ‘statebuilding’, the evolution of rural political classes has come to the forefront, a byproduct of a larger historiographical tradition relating to the supposed aristocratization of the sixteenth century. Some of the most recently examined and better-documented cases include Poppi, Pescia, Colle, and San Minato al Tedesco.79 75 76 77 78 79

ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 95r. ASS, Delib., 2446, fols 264r–265v. ASS, Delib., 2446, fol. 270r. ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 100r.

This is one of the themes touched on by many of the essays in the recently published collection, Florentine Tuscany, ed. by Connell and Zorzi. Several essays are specifically dedicated to this topic, such as those by Francesco Salvestrini, ‘San Miniato al Tedesco: The Evolution of the Political Class’, pp. 242–63, and Oretta Muzzi ‘The Social Classes of Colle Valdesa and the Formation of the Dominion (Fourteenth and Sixteenth Centuries)’, pp. 264–92. See also Benadusi,

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Giovanna Benadusi, for example, observes a similar process occurring in her study of the town of Poppi; the more formalized the social and political organization of the countryside, the more likely it was for the centres responsible for the provincial communities to take on distinctly urban characteristics.80 As in Scarperia, Benadusi discovered that there was a pronounced separation in the community of Poppi between those living inside and those on the outside of the walls, and as the town became more ‘urbanised’, a provincial elite emerged from its ranks.81 Similarly, Judith Brown’s study of Renaissance Pescia traces the emergence of an economic elite within the town with the growth of specialized industry. Pescia was a much larger settlement, counting ten separate guilds operating within the city, but the mechanism was the same: the emergence of a wealthy artisanal elite who over time came to dominate the political offices of the city council.82 Notably, Scarperia was one of the smallest communities experiencing this transformation, and it did not fulfill the definition of a provincial centre. These considerations support the argument that its particular status as a walled New Town and seat of a vicariato was a strong contributing factor to the emerging patterns of government. The strong official Florentine presence in the town, together with the formal urban landscape, shaped and directed the inhabitants’ sense of themselves. The defensive walls physically separated the town from the neighbouring villages, the privileges and wealth enjoyed by the inhabitants economically differentiated them, and the concentration of political and spiritual institutions within the walls led to a social split between the three main parishes of the commune. Whether a deliberate choice or not, the inhabitants of Scarperia moulded themselves into an urban framework, adopting a Florentine understanding of status and community and accepting Florentine judicial and administrative controls. In turn, the Florentine presence legitimated Scarperia’s status in its immediate community and provided its inhabitants with the necessary mechanisms to establish their domination of the region.

Provincial Elite, and Judith Brown, In the Shadow of Florence: Provincial Society in Renaissance Pescia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982). 80

81 82

Benadusi, Provincial Elite, pp. 190–93. Benadusi, Provincial Elite, p. 32. Brown, In the Shadow of Florence.

Part II Rural Parish Communities and Florentine Patrons

Chapter 5

R ELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS IN THE C OUNTRYSIDE

E

I

arly on the morning of the 13th of May 1511 a group of local men, with weapons drawn, forced their way past their parish priest and into the small rural church of San Piero di Castagnoli in Chianti.1 While the majority of these men were members of the local militia, theirs was not a mission of state security. They were there for an election. The time had come to select a replacement for their priest, and these men were determined to assert their right to be part of the process. This determination led the group not only to assault their current pastor, but to commit the additional sin of entering a sacred space by force and armed — an act which demanded the harshest penalties of local law.2 Once inside, the men continued their occupation of the church well into the next day. When they had finally dispersed, the existing priest of San Piero denounced the group to the officials of the Nove di Ordinanza e Milizia and they were hauled in front of the Florentine magistracy to answer charges. In their subsequent — and apparently unforced — confessions the men declared that while it was true they had entered armed, and by force, they had done so as rightful padroni in order to watch over their affairs and ‘not to lose their rights’.3 While this is an extreme example of one 1 2

ASF, Nove, Notificazione e Querele, 1, fol. 140r.

Crimes of all types usually attracted greater penalties (often double) when committed within a certain distance of a church or other sacred building. See Stern, Criminal Law System of Medieval and Renaissance Florence, p. 27. 3

‘Notificarsi a voi Signori Nove della Militia come a dì 13 et 14 di maggio 1511, Lazero Salvini del popolo di San Piero ad Castagnoli andò et entrò armata mano per forza nella chiesa di San Piero ad Castagnoli contro alla voglia del prete, rectore di decta chiesa. Et el simile anchora in decto dì

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community’s determination to preserve its patronage rights, it serves to highlight the extremely sensitive (and highly political) nature of ecclesiastical institutions throughout this period. It also draws attention to the civic function of church buildings themselves, which often served as meeting and rallying points. It was common for council meetings to be held in church buildings for lack of any other communal buildings. Thus they were the symbols of spiritual and political unity. By the beginning of the fifteenth century, the Florentine territories encompassed over 2100 parochial churches; 300 of these were pieve with a baptismal font. Scattered throughout the region were an additional 290 convents and at least that number of hospitals and oratories.4 Together, these ecclesiastical institutions owned approximately a quarter of all landholdings, making the church the single most economically powerful body in the region.5 Aside from the church’s material wealth, its spiritual, social, and political influence meant that the stability of the ever-expanding Florentine territory depended on the city’s ability to woo, negotiate with, and to some extent control the ecclesiastical institutions that fell within its boundaries. In an urban setting, detailed studies of patrician political programs have revealed the vital role played by ecclesiastical patronage in securing local and city-wide power. Throughout the Quattrocento, families struggled to secure patronage rights over churches and chapels, to influence internal architecture and decoration, and to participate in the selection of priests and councils.6 The Signoria et similmodo andò et entrò armata mano per forza et contro alla voglia del sopradecto prete, nella sopradecta chiesa, Sancti di Meo da Cieni di decto popolo di San Piero ad Castagnuolo et così Giuliano di Franco di decto popolo, entrò per forza et contro alla voluntà del rectore della sopradecta chiesa [. . .]. A dì 20 di decto comparirono li soprascritti notificati, resposseno et confessorono essere, et loro et altri, andati in decta chiesa come padroni per guardare le cose loro et per havere ad popolo sancta electione d’uno prete’: ASF, Nove, Notificazione e Querele, 1, fol. 141r. 4

5

Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, p. 14.

While, in the late fourteenth century, the church had been dealt a serious blow with the confiscation of large amounts of property by the state in order to finance the ‘War of the Eight Saints’, most of this property was returned to the church during the first half of the fifteenth century. See David Peterson, ‘State Building, Church Reform and the Politics of Legitimacy in Florence, 1375– 1460’, in Florentine Tuscany, ed. by Connell and Zorzi, pp. 122–43 (pp. 129–30). For an analysis of ecclesiastical landholdings, see also Conti, La formazione, vol. III, particularly pp. 395–411. 6

Both social and art historians have effectively demonstrated the importance of ecclesiastical patronage in the development of individual or family status. Again the literature is extensive as patronage issues have dominated Renaissance historiography for the last four decades. See particularly the collection of essays in Patronage, Art and Society in Renaissance Italy, ed. by Francis W. Kent and Patricia Simons (Canberra: Humanities Research Centre; New York: Oxford University Press, 1987).

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of Florence recognized not only the importance of ecclesiastical patronage, but also the potential power of visiting preachers over the community.7 Nor were lay confraternities immune from such politicking, and membership has been shown to have provided citizens with vital opportunities for the development of economic and social networks.8 Less closely examined has been the role of rural ecclesiastical patronage in the control of the Florentine territories. While individual studies of Florentine citizens as patrons may also explore a family’s rural ties, there is a marked absence in Florentine historiography of any sort of discussion of the practical implications that this urban presence had on rural communities. It is to this theme that the following chapters turn: initially as a general examination of the relationship between church and state authorities and the extent to which the Florentine presence impinged on rural ecclesiastical structures, and then, in the context of three case studies, a detailed analysis of how these structures interacted and shaped the nature of rural communities. For while administrative divisions played a vital role in defining local identity, no less important were the various ecclesiastical and spiritual ties forged by contadini both within as well as outside their immediate communities. At times these ties were synonymous with the political units that defined the vast territories of Florence, but more often, they transcended and contradicted the established patterns of intercommunal relationships.

II The precarious nature of the relationship between ecclesiastical and temporal powers had a profound influence on the emerging shape of the Florentine territorial state. The two powers were in continual competition, struggling to assert and defend their influence over the population, wealth, and lands that constituted the Florentine territory. In the twelfth century, before Florence had emerged as the dominant power in the region, almost the only urban landowners with substantial 7 Peter Howard, Beyond the Written Word: Preaching and Theology in the Florence of Archbishop Antoninus (Florence: L. S. Olshki, 1995). 8

Here I am thinking particularly of Ronald Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood in Renaissance Florence (New York: Academic Press, 1982), but other confraternal studies also confront this issue, including Marvin Becker, ‘Aspects of Lay Piety in Early Renaissance Florence’, in The Pursuit of Holiness in Late Medieval and Renaissance Religion, ed. by Charles Trinkaus and Heiko Oberman (Leiden: Brill, 1974), pp. 177–99; Christopher Black, Italian Confraternities in the Sixteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989); and John Henderson, Piety and Charity in Late Medieval Florence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994).

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rural property holdings were the Cathedral and the Badia Fiorentina.9 As Florence extended its hold over the surrounding countryside, the Church found itself forced to come to terms with the increasingly powerful administrative mechanisms of the state. In turn, the Florentine government was faced with the challenge of negotiating the significant jurisdictional powers of the Church. In fact, one of the fundamental stumbling blocks for the Florentine expansionist policy was that the ancient diocesan boundaries — the Church’s jurisdictional divisions — did not necessarily reflect the emerging political divisions.10 While the traditional Florentine contado was roughly contiguous with the boundaries of the dioceses of Florence and Fiesole, the newly acquired territories often crossed into other dioceses. Thus, when the city’s territories expanded to incorporate Pistoia, Volterra, Pisa, and Lucca, the Florentine government not only had to defeat temporal powers, but also needed to court the existing ecclesiastical hierarchy. Florentine attempts to convince the papacy to redefine ecclesiastical boundaries in order to bring them into line with territorial divisions were met with continual resistance. As a partial compromise, Florence had managed to persuade Pope Martin V to raise the status of the Florentine diocese to that of archdiocese.11 However, even in a local context, the relationship between the Church and the government was a delicate one, and Florence could not always depend on its influence with the local bishop.12 The situation was even more complex in the context of conventual orders, whose boundaries could cover enormous territories and had the added complication of being independent of episcopal jurisdiction. And although a series of reforms brought many observant and mendicant orders roughly in line with territorial boundaries, the Florentine government was a long way from gaining outright institutional control over the Church. This added complication of episcopal versus conventual control over the countryside was perhaps most apparent in the diocese of Fiesole. Not only was it a centre of little political importance in its own right, the majority of Church landholdings in this diocese were not in the hands of the bishop but belonged to the monasteries.

9

Wickham, Courts and Conflict, p. 169.

10

Florence’s territories covered six other dioceses in addition to Florence and Fiesole, namely Pistoia, Arezzo, Volterra, Siena, Pisa, and Cortona. 11

For an examination of deliberations between Florence and the Papacy, see Bizzochi, Chiesa e potere, pp. 55–98. 12

The particularly strained relationship between the state and the reforming Archbishop Antoninus is discussed in detail by Howard, Beyond the Written Word.

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As a result, Florence was forced vis-à-vis the church to pursue a less direct, if no less deliberate, approach to increasing its hold over the territories. By gradually, and quite consciously, appropriating aspects of the Church’s traditional spiritual, financial, and judicial roles within the community, the state managed to go some way towards eroding the Church’s power in the region.13 Unable to alter diocesan boundaries, the Florentine government went about weakening the power of the episcopal courts by systematically taking away the Church’s responsibility for the prosecution of lay moral crimes and replacing these courts with the newly created central courts of the ten vicariati and eighty-five podesterie. The prosecution of usury and breach of contract had become state matters as early as 1375, and during the course of the next fifty years the government also began to regulate laws regarding blasphemy, sexual crimes, illegal gaming, and dress regulations.14 In doing so, not only was the state usurping the judicial role of the Church and denying it the significant income generated by the prosecution of such crimes, but it was also making a claim to the regulation of the morality of the lay population. And if the financial damage done to the Church by the government’s appropriation of judicial and welfare matters was not enough, Florence added insult to injury by beginning to impose direct taxes on ecclesiastical entities. Initially justified as extraordinary taxes to meet military expenses, these imposte became more and more frequent throughout the century.15 With the creation of the catasto and subsequent estimi, the Florentine government, for the first time, had a record of ecclesiastical and clerical properties. The imposition of taxes, while only a conditional victory, was a powerful symbol of the growing authority of the state in the region.16 It was also a move which had certain benefits for the rural population, who could now divide local expenses with the wealthy ecclesiastical institutions in their midst. When the community of Buggiano was faced with significant expenses in order to repair the banks of the river which ran through the commune, it requested permission to 13 14 15

See Becker, ‘Florentine Territorial State’, pp. 110–11. Zorzi, L’amministrazione, pp. 56–63.

See Peterson, ‘State Building, Church Reform’, pp. 136–41; and David Peterson, ‘The War of the Eight Saints in Florentine Memory and Oblivion’, in Society and the Individual in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Connell, pp. 173–214 (pp. 204–05); see also Elio Conti, I catasti agrari della Repubblica fiorentina e il catasto particellare toscano (Rome: Isituto Storico Italiano per il Medio Evo, 1966), pp. 119–29. 16

In theory all such taxation had to be approved by the papal curia, yet on many occasions this procedure was not followed and the state continually took advantage of the Church’s internal disorganization to avoid obtaining permission for taxes levied. Bizzochi, Chiesa e potere, pp. 312–40.

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impose an extraordinary tax not only on property owners among its own villagers, but also on the religious orders that owned land in the area — a request that was approved immediately by Florentine authorities, on the grounds that the works would also benefit the ecclesiastical properties in the area.17 For the individual clerics, however, the imposition of state taxes was an additional financial burden upon their existing responsibilities to the Church. In 1488 this resulted in a local official appealing to the Otto di Pratica to intercede with the Church on behalf of a group of local priests. The appeal came on the occasion of the imposition of yet another Decima by the apostolic see. The captain of the district wrote: ‘When this tax is exacted, it will result in intolerable oppression of these poor priests.’18 The fact that a Florentine representative in the territories was writing to his own government to represent the interests of local clerics is an indication of the potential for these officials to become engaged with the local rural communities in which they served. On this occasion it resulted in the captain acting as advocate for a group of priests, indisputably an act that was above and beyond his official duties. This particular incident is also an example of the competing jurisdictions of the Church and the Florentine administration and the effect that this struggle for control had on the local people. In addition to increasing financial blows, the Church also found its spiritual autonomy threatened. Aside from the ever-increasing popularity of lay confraternities within the city, the Florentine government also began to take a more active role in the coordination of religious festivals and the sacralization of particular sites and images.19 The government control of religious celebrations was not limited to instances of urban feasts, but also extended to rural celebrations, and with the establishment of the magistracy of the Cinque del Contado, rural communities found themselves obligated to obtain permission from the state to spend communal funds

17

‘Et si trova in grande disordine et non pensa potere fare tale spesa senza il benigno adiuto et se non si degnia concederli facultà et licentia che tale spese si possino mettere et distribuire ancora sopra e’ beni ecclesiastici.’ On the bottom of the page the ducal secretary had written: ‘Le spese che si fanno per le reperationi de’ fiumi, profitta così a’ beni degli ecclesiastici, come quelli secolari, et però pare ragionevole che i padroni d’essi debbino contribuire a tali spese’: ASF, Cinque, 253, fol. 476. 18

‘E quand tale exactione havesse a seguire non farebbe senza intollerabili oppressione di questi poveri preti’: ASF, Otto di Pratica, Responsive 4, fol. 481. 19

Probably still the most comprehensive discussion of the civic nature of ritual and the government’s appropriation of festivals is Richard Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence (New York: Academic Press, 1980).

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on their own religious celebrations or to go on pilgrimages through the countryside.20 This was true of many of the pilgrimages undertaken by rural communities to Impruneta, and other locations, as well as local patronal festivals, which often involved a large outlay of funds for the community feast. Thus, the podesteria of San Miniato was forced to write to the Cinque in 1538 in order to request permission to spend twenty-five lire for fireworks to celebrate San Giovanni and twentyfour lire to celebrate a local festival day.21 (It was no doubt a political decision on the part of San Martino to request one lire more for the celebration of the patron saint of Florence than for that of its own saint!) In the same year Mariano da Bartolomeo, from the community of Montemarciano, wrote to the Cinque asking permission to make a journey to Rome for the Jubilee, writing that he was unable to leave ‘without the license of Your Excellency, because of the new law’.22 While the appropriation of rural religious images by the city had been occurring for centuries, the expansion of the territories led the Florentine government to begin to demand acts of ritual tribute from newly acquired territories as a symbol of their supremacy. By the mid-sixteenth century the civic celebration of the city’s patron saint had become more of an expression of the Duke’s territorial might than a religious feast. Representatives of each region of the countryside were forced to make the journey to Florence for the celebration of this feast day in order to offer their respective coats of arms to the Duke. These banners were then displayed on the palace facades surrounding the Piazza della Signoria for all to marvel at the extent and power of the Florentine state. For contadini it was an experience of ritual humiliation, requiring them not only to make the expensive, long, and often difficult journey to the city in order to display publicly their submission, but once there to face the taunts of their urban counterparts who — according to contemporary chroniclers — delighted in following these rural representatives around the city streets hurling insults.23 While any absence from such urban celebrations had to be approved by Florentine magistracies, it is hardly surprising that, on occasion, rural communities took this opportunity to express their discontent with the 20

See Chittolini, ‘Civic Religion’, p. 74, for a discussion of rural participation in urban festivals as an act of submission. 21

22

ASF, Cinque, 320, December 1538, no foliation.

‘A Cinque et humili servitori di quella, disiderando d’andare a Roma per pigliare il Giubileo et non portendo partirsi senza licentia di Vostre Eccelentie per vigore della nuova legge’: ASF, Cinque, 253, fol. 101. 23

For a description of these festivities, see BRF, ‘Piccolo Diario’, Fondo Palagi, 70, fols 130–31. Thanks to David Rosenthal for alerting me to the existence of the chronicle.

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government. Thus when Florence attempted to reorganize the communities of the Pistoian mountains into a single podesteria, the inhabitants of the mountains did not respond with violence but instead threatened their absence from the next celebration of San Giovanni.24 Others attempted more personal appeals, writing to make their excuses on the grounds of illness or infirmity, and while these were occasionally approved, Florence tended to deal harshly with rebellious newly acquired and troublesome zones.25 Ecclesiastical figures continued to play an important liturgical role in the celebration of both rural and urban festivals but there was little doubt that the message being conveyed was a political one. Less successful were the attempts of the Florentine government to combat clerical immunity from state judicial structures, and if episcopal courts had been defeated over the issue of lay prosecution, they were careful to protect jealously their right to oversee clerical crimes.26 Between 5 and 10 per cent of the population of the Florentine territories were in some kind of religious order, and thus the continuing immunity of these people from lay courts constituted a significant lacuna in Florentine jurisdictional control of the region.27 This was all the more so because while there was an increasing tendency for secular crimes to be settled in local courts, the Roman curial courts were becoming increasingly centralized with all disputes being referred to Rome.28 The problem became even more acute when clerical crimes directly challenged government authority. One of the most revealing 24

There is no doubt that the mountain men were well aware of the significance of their absence from the festival. Chittolini, ‘Civic Religion’, p. 78. Participation in the processions of San Giovanni was a highly political statement for both Florentine citizens and contadini. In 1454 the friars of St Anthony had made a similar statement of discontent by withdrawing their participation from the procession of clergy; they claimed that, because they had been moved backwards from their position in the order of the procession, their status would be put in danger if they participated. See Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence, p. 271. 25

For some examples of these requests and the Florentine response, see ASF, Cinque; a request to spend money on fuochi for San Giovanni, ASF, Cinque, 320, December 1538; a request for an individual to make a journey to Rome for Jubilee, ASF, Cinque, 255, n. 101; an individual to open shop on a feast day, ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 175; a request to be absent from Florence for the feast of San Giovanni on grounds that the petitioner is too old and sick to make the journey, ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 231.

26 See Lauro Martines, ‘Raging against Priests in Italian Renaissance Verse’, in Society and the Individual in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Connell, pp. 261–77 (p. 275), for a discussion of the infiltration of papal courts into Florentine territory and the citizens’ frustration with clerical powers. 27 See Gene Brucker, Renaissance Florence: Society, Culture and Religion (Goldbach: Keip, 1994), pp. 230–57, for a discussion of ecclesiastical courts and their functions. 28

Wickham, Courts and Conflict, p. 224.

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examples of the frustration experienced by Florentine officials in the face of clerical immunity was the case of a malefactor brought in front of the then captain of the mountains Cardinale (by first name) Rucellai. When the priest smugly demanded his right to appeal to ecclesiastical courts, the captain reportedly replied, ‘I am the Cardinal and you will be punished by me’.29 The legal separation of the clergy from the rest of the population not only contributed to the frustration of Florentine officials, but also created an atmosphere of resentment and distrust of the clergy amongst the laity. Contemporary stories return again and again to the theme of local communities exercising a vigilante justice when it came to punishing clerical crimes. One of the most striking (and at the same time disturbing) of these can be found in Le Novelle of Agnolo Firenzuola dating from the 1520s, which recounts the story of a priest who had recently taken up his post in the Pistoian mountains and had fallen in love with one of his parishioners, a twenty-two-year-old woman called Tonia. Unfortunately, this particular woman was married to a local man, and while she enjoyed the priest’s attentions (and gifts) for some time, they subsequently fell out when the priest failed to satisfy her desire for costly presents. In order to obtain her revenge, the young woman told her husband that this cleric had, for some time, been making indecent propositions, and together they devised a plan. She was to meet with the priest and tell him that her husband was going to Cutigliano for the afternoon and if he came to her house he would find her alone. Not able to resist temptation, this is exactly what the priest did, and upon entering Tonia’s bedroom found himself ambushed by the woman’s husband and his brother. Devising what they thought to be a punishment befitting his crime, they stripped the priest and closed his testicles inside the bedroom chest, removing the keys and leaving him with only a shaving blade with which to liberate himself by castration. In this tale, the narrator manages to communicate both amusement at the cleric’s plight and disgust at the mountain men’s cruelty.30 The discontent of rural inhabitants was understandable. Episcopal courts were often lenient with their own, and in order to protect the dignity of the clergy and the Church as a whole, punishments were dealt out quietly and with none of the spectacle of lay prosecutions. When a local woman from the contado of Pistoia 29

Cited in Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, p. 260. For the frustration of Cardinale Rucellai in his role as captain of the mountains and his lamentations about the violent and factious nature of these mountain communities, see Kent, Household and Lineage in Renaissance Florence, p. 251. 30

Whether fact or fiction, the existence of these stories is an example of the widespread resentment of clerical immunity. For the full text of this story, see Agnolo Firenzuola, Le Novelle, ed. by E. Malato (Rome: G. Salerno, 1971), pp. 129–43.

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was condemned for engaging in sodomy with her local priest and was forced to ride through the city on market day on a donkey, wearing a mitre as ritual humiliation, her companion in ‘crime’ was nowhere to be seen.31 Perhaps even more frustrating for Florence, however, was its inability to gain outright control of the appointment of clerical benefices with all the political and financial benefits this would have brought. Yet unofficially, the Florentine government and its citizens were able to manipulate such appointments, ‘suggesting’ suitable candidates to papal authorities.32 Utilizing their influence in Curial circles, the government pursued a deliberate policy of establishing political allies in positions of authority, primarily concentrating on newly acquired or strategically important rural centres, but eventually infiltrating even some of the most modest parish centres. As usual, Lorenzo de’ Medici proved to be particularly masterful in the manipulation of such positions. Lorenzo’s personal involvement in the control of ecclesiastical institutions is documented for countless rural centres, some of the most important being the charitable institutions of Prato, Pisa, Empoli, Bibbiona, and of course, the ever troublesome Pistoia.33 Thus, parallel to the infiltration of Florentine administrative mechanisms into rural government, contadini faced an increasing encroachment on their traditional privileges of parochial election and control of their local ecclesiastical institutions. In a no less deliberate way, individual Florentine citizens also became increasingly involved in the competition for control over smaller country parishes, hospitals, and convents. A natural progression from the increasing urban presence in the contado, Florentine citizens often maintained close ties to their ancestral parishes, even hundreds of years after moving to the city. This urban presence was not only limited to the more powerful and famous patrician families such as the Strozzi, who maintained links in Signa and the Chianti, and the Medici, who had a vested interest in various parts of the Florentine territory (and more particularly in their homelands in the Mugello), but also involved an increasing number of the wealthier artisan families who were beginning to re-establish their agrarian roots. These urban families competed amongst themselves to gain patronage rights over rural churches and chapels, and in the majority of cases, when faced with this competition contadini quite simply lacked the funds to be competitive. In turn, the increasing 31 32

ASF, Practica Segreta, 4, fol. 187r.

The culmination of this process was the appointment of two Medici popes, Leo X (1513–21) and Clement VII (1523–34). For an overview of this process, see Bizzocchi, Chiesa e potere, pp. 190–92. 33

See Salvadori, Dominio e patronato, p. 68.

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urban presence in rural ecclesiastical patronage had important implications at a state level as the government’s failure to achieve a more concrete institutional control over the Church and its ecclesiastical benefices meant that, in order to ensure the loyalty of local communities, the government had not only to contend with these communities directly, but also negotiate with the various patrician families who maintained a vested interest in almost every zone of the countryside.

III By forcing their way into the tiny parish church, the men of San Piero di Castagnoli demonstrated that, just as contadini were adept at political and administrative strategies, they were highly conscious of the correlation between the control of ecclesiastical institutions and effective government. In the context of increasing urban interference in all aspects of rural life, participation in the election of parish priests was a crucial symbol of rural autonomy — all the more so because of the pivotal social, political, and spiritual role played by priests in the countryside. In many senses, rural parish priests performed a much more central function in their community than did their urban counterparts, and both the Florentine government and the local community were well aware of the potential advantages of finding an ally in the clergy and the damage that could be caused by an unfriendly clerical presence in their midst. The government’s interest in the identity of rural parish clergy went far beyond a need to assert its influence over the Church’s power in the region, although this was by no means a minor concern. Just as important was the clergy’s role as unofficial representatives of the Florentine government. Parish priests knew their local communities and interacted with them with a much greater intimacy than did the Florentine officials posted throughout the territories. For this reason parish priests were ideal informants concerning any hint of unrest or an uprising in the area and were, as well, valuable repositories of more mundane information concerning the local community — population figures, property holdings, and death records — which were essential for the accurate levying of state taxation. This was particularly important in the countryside where few people would have had an idea of their precise age and the keeping of personal records was virtually non-existent. Thus when visitation officials found parish records in ill repair, they demonstrated little patience with rural priests.34 Corrupt priests could 34

When visiting Sant’ Agata, officials found that these records were in disorder and gave the priest a deadline of fifteen days to acquire new books and start keeping the records in better order;

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exert considerable power — falsifying church records, protecting local inhabitants from taxation, and in more extreme cases, seizing church property. Attracted by the financial gains associated with ecclesiastical benefices, it was not only local communities such as Castagnoli who occupied parish churches by force, but it could also be, on occasion, priests themselves. One of the most famous clerical criminals was the Prete Rosso, Red Priest, who ranged the contado of Arezzo — pitchfork in hand — preventing Florentine clergy from collecting the income from their benefices.35 Transgressive clergy were a serious threat to Florentine authority, not least because of their immunity from state judicial authorities. In addition to being a symbol of government supremacy, the control of parish elections was therefore an important tool in the maintenance of territorial security. Local communities had no less a vested interest in the identity of their clergy. Liturgically, the parish priest provided vital spiritual cure and moral guidance for his flock. Despite a widespread (and apparently well-earned) reputation for questionable morals, priests were transformed into instruments of God when performing religious ceremonies. Thus rural communities often had ambiguous relationships with their parish priests: contadini could tell the familiar jokes and stories of gluttonous, licentious priests while in the tavern, but still passionately believe in the transforming spiritual power of the liturgy those clerics controlled. That is not to say parishioners were always willing to turn a blind eye to the behaviour of their clergy, although the number of cases in which priests were accused of having longlasting sexual relationships indicates there was certainly some degree of tolerance.36 It was, for example, the result of the testimony of three parishioners of Santo Stefano a Calcinaia that their priest was drawn to the attention of the vicar general, Messer Piero di Andrea de’ Casali, during his visitation of 1514. These members of the parish reported that their priest had kept a mistress for several years, using church funds to support her.37 It was, perhaps, the fact that money was being spent on this woman that had upset the congregation more than her existence as their priest’s lover. Another parishioner described his priest as una bestia to an episcopal

‘Trovo due libri piccoli per i matrimoni e per battesimo, et mal tenuti, et sia commando che in termine di XV giorni dovesse haver provisi due libri per soprascritti effetti al meno di 200 carte l’uno in foglio et commando che fussino tenuti diligentamente’: AA, VPD, 1.43, fol. 2r. 35

36 37

ASF, Signori, Missive II, Cancelleria, 5, fol. 8v . Brucker, Renaissance Florence, p. 237. Example cited in Brucker, Renaissance Florence, p. 238.

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visitation in the later part of the fourteenth century.38 Gene Brucker, in his examination of the records of ecclesiastical courts, has found that the majority of cases brought before the court were not those regarding the moral failings of clergy, but were instead complaints of unpaid debts — most commonly money owed by the clergy to lay people.39 At the same time it tended to be charges of sexual crimes which resulted in ecclesiastical courts removing clergy from their postings.40 The literacy of clergy was also of particular interest to the community that they served. In a society that obsessively and meticulously recorded all transactions, disputes, and meetings, the presence of even one literate member of the parish enabled contadini to be a part of a larger, written, community. It was thus common practice for those contadini unable to read or write to turn to their priest to record their tax declarations and to write letters of appeal on their behalf, and it was also not unknown for priests to act as official or unofficial scribes for the communal government, taking minutes of council meetings and rewriting statutes. In the community of Crespoli, in the Pistoiese mountains, not only did the parish priest act as the official scribe of the commune, he was also its cancelliere.41 In this way local congregations could use their clergy as tools of the parish communities at large. Many of the smaller rural communities that could not afford to pay for a schoolteacher regularly combined the roles of priest and teacher, increasing their priest’s salary on the condition that he would provide a basic education for the children of the community. The capellano of Sant’ Agata was responsible not only for the spiritual cure of his flock, but also for teaching the children of the community to read and write.42 Literacy was seen to be synonymous with moral behaviour and civic health, and so the education of a community was also a spiritual responsibility. Just as practically valuable for rural communities was the parish priest’s role as advocate, both for the community as a whole and for individuals within that community. Despite their reputations for roguery in the popular imagination, priests were imbued with a certain degree of respectability by their office. This, together with the fact that they were usually outsiders in the communities they served, meant that they were seen as relatively impartial judges and were thus regularly

38

Cited in Duane Osheim, ‘The Country Parish at Late Medieval Lucca’, in Beyond Florence, ed. by Findlen, Fontaine, and Osheim, pp. 59–71 (p. 68). 39 40 41 42

Brucker, Renaissance Florence, p. 247. Brucker, Renaissance Florence, p. 237. ASF, Statuti, 257, fol. 34r. ASF, CRS, 2155, fol. 94v.

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called upon to support appeals to various Florentine magistracies, certifying that this or that person was honest and of good character, that a widow was indeed without means of support, or that a deserted wife had not seen her husband for years and had children to support.43 It was no coincidence that the signatories of the appeal by the commune of Pietrasanta against the secret estimo commissioned by the ducal secretary included both the parish priest and several religious brothers.44 Clerical names continually appear as witnesses of notarial documents and as guarantors that declarations of wealth for taxation purposes were accurate. On those occasions when contadini found themselves face to face with the powers of the state, clergy regularly acted as go-betweens for the two parties. Priests would often also play a fundamental role in the functioning of the local economy, acting as landlords, investors, and even lenders for the community. They appear to have extended credit to parishioners, provided funds for the purchase of animals in return for products such as wool, meat, and cheese, and speculated in land rents.45 The multifaceted role of clergy as liturgical leaders, spies, scribes, teachers, and advocates meant that the identity of the priest was of fundamental concern to both the state and the local community. But although priests were undoubtedly pivotal figures in rural communities, their influence was relatively minor in comparison with the councils responsible for the day-to-day administration of rural parishes. Clergy were certainly voices of spiritual counsel and direction, but in practice, often they had no real judicial or financial control over the running of their parishes. In fact in some cases they were not even expected to be in residence. In a study of the rural parishes along the plain of Lucca, Duane Osheim gives two examples of priests being appointed despite the fact that they were not in holy orders.46 This was clearly not the norm, and many clergy were active in parish life, but the fact that it was considered an acceptable arrangement even in some situations is revealing. The instances of absentee clergy have been shown to have increased over the course of the fourteenth century as ecclesiastical property was transferred to new jurisdictions.47 Instead, it was the parish opera (or works committee) that controlled the use of funds, confraternities that took on the role of theologically

43 44 45

ASF, Cinque, 256, n.139; ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 347; ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, n. 2. ASF, Cinque, 254, box 2, n. 6.

For a discussion of the role of rural clerics in the area surrounding Lucca, see Osheim, ‘Country Parish at Late Medieval Lucca’, pp. 68–70. 46 47

Osheim, ‘Country Parish at Late Medieval Lucca’, p. 66. Osheim, ‘Country Parish at Late Medieval Lucca’, p. 69.

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educating the population, and the government that was responsible for judicial and administrative controls. Even the traditional role of priests as guardians of morality had been usurped by locally elected rettori who had the responsibility to watch over the comportment of their brothers and sisters.48 Thus government interference in parish elections and the increasing number of urban patrons of country parishes may have undermined the traditional rights and power of contadini over clerical appointments, but the organizational structure of rural parishes meant that the effects of this infiltration were relatively contained. Urban patrons, more often than not, had little involvement in the day-to-day running of the parish. Attracted by the spiritual and social gains associated with ecclesiastical patronage, Florentine citizens showed little desire to interfere any further in local structures.49 The conspicuous absence of patrons in records of parish meetings often makes it difficult to establish not only what these patrons actually did, but also at times who they were. Just as telling, when it came to relationships between rural parishes and their patrons, were the responses obtained when local people were questioned by a judge as to what they understood a ‘patron’ to be, which included ‘defender and lord’ and ‘he who gives his property to the church and builds the church on his own property’.50 Moreover, as any one citizen might be the patron of numerous rural parishes, it was physically impossible for him to have a major role in all of them. Rural communities may have been unable to compete financially with Florentine citizens to obtain outright patronage rights over their parish churches, but through parish councils and lay confraternities they were able to preserve a much more practically effective level of control.51 48

The role of rettori has been discussed in the previous chapter. In return for a proportion of any fines collected as a result of their denunciations, rettori acted as moral and criminal watchdogs for the community. A similar movement of moral power away from the church was occurring in the city with the establishment of magistracies such as the Ufficiali delle Notte; see Michael Rocke, Forbidden Friendships (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), pp. 45–54. 49

There is no need at this point to rehearse the countless motivations behind patronage of ecclesiastical institutions, which is covered by a huge body of art historical and political/social research. For a discussion of the concept of ecclesiastical patronage, see Roberto Bizzochi, ‘Patronato politico e giuspatronati ecclesiastici: Il caso Fiorentino’, Ricerche Storiche, 15 (1985), 95–107. These themes also inform many of the essays in Patronage, Art, and Society in Renaissance Italy, ed. by Kent and Simons. 50

51

Cited in Wickham, Courts and Conflict, p. 213.

For a discussion of the role of patrons and rectors (particularly in urban parishes), see Gene Brucker, ‘Urban Parishes and their Clergy in Quattrocento Florence: A Preliminary Sondage’, in Renaissance Studies in Honor of Craig Hugh Smyth, vol. I, ed. by Andrew Morrogh, Fiorella

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Despite the occasional emergence of disputes between urban patrons and country parishioners, rural communities were usually well aware that they could benefit from a certain degree of citizen involvement in their local parish. Urban patrons often had long associations with rural parishes and their inhabitants, whom they would employ to work their land and provide them with food, wine, and wood as well as worship alongside. Considering the often quite large landholdings belonging to parish churches, the patron of the parish could often be one of the main sources of rental property in the entire commune — the property owned by the parish of Gangalandi, for example, was valued at over 1500 florins.52 Ties of loyalty could be so great that contadini would actually prefer the presence of such families than take their chances with the more impersonal government structures. Such was the case in the parish of Castelfiorentino when, in an attempt to establish a more unified control of its institutions, the diocese of Florence tried to remove patronage rights from the Rossi family and make the election of the parish priest a communal matter. Foregoing the obvious advantages for the community, local people took up arms against Florence to defend this ancient family’s rights to control the election.53 Perhaps they had been aware that the avenues to powerful networks provided by the Rossi family would be more advantageous to them than any of their own attempts to negotiate directly with the faceless bureaucracy of the government. A family with a long history of local presence and established rural associations was likely to be more attuned to local needs. Cittadini were also able to provide injections of sorely needed capital into rural parishes, confraternities, and convents, enabling a level of building maintenance and support of charitable structures that would otherwise have been impossible for these communities to uphold. Countless wills stand testament to the nature of these arrangements. While donations could be in the form of bequests to particular individuals, they were more regularly concerned with local parishes, hospitals, and convents, providing land from which an income could be derived in order to fund charitable and communal activities. The decision to entrust often quite large sums to rural confraternities indicates the extent of the attachment citizens felt for their rural communities as well as a level of respect for rural institutions. Matteo Strozzi not only donated an entire podere to a confraternity in his country parish of Signa, but trusted Gioffredi, Pietro Morselli, and Eve Borsook (Florence: Giunti Barbèra, 1985), pp. 17–28. Osheim, ‘Country Parish at Late Medieval Lucca’, pp. 59–71, examines the role of rural congregations in the appointment of parish priests for the contado of Lucca. 52

53

Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, p. 105. Bizzocchi, ‘Patronato politico e giuspatronati ecclesiastici’, p. 104.

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it to pay a part of the income from this land to the monks of Santa Trinita in Florence for masses to be said for his soul.54 In Castello Quaratesi’s will, all his labourers were pardoned from their debts to him, and in addition, he set up a trust fund to pay the dowries for the daughters of one of these labourers.55 Local people recognized the need for such patronage and often actively sought it. When the confraternity of the Sacred Cross in Pescia decided to build a church in which to celebrate its devotions, it acknowledged that this would not be possible without the helping hands of the prominent citizens or huomini da bene, whom it actively sought out.56 Just as Florentine magistracies provided fail-safes and avenues of appeal in administrative and political spheres, these same institutions, and others like them, enabled contadini to voice concerns about the administration of their local churches and convents. There is no doubt that ultimate authority lay with government bodies, yet contadini often found a sympathetic ear for their complaints. Increasingly regular visitations by ecclesiastical authorities assessed not only the devotion of the people, but also the integrity of those who ministered to them.57 They provided rural people with an opportunity to make formal complaints about any extended absences of clergy, shortfalls in spiritual care, or moral transgressions. The administrative magistracy of the Cinque del Contado e Distretto also played a major role in the regulation of both parish spending and, for those parishes that had preserved their control over the election of their priests, local electoral procedures. The Cinque would ensure that elections were carried out according to the correct procedure and were also an avenue of appeal if the relationship between priest and community was not going as well as had been hoped. The parish of San Cristofano complained to the Cinque of just such a problem, telling the magistracy that for the previous five years they had had a priest of good standing, behaviour, and intelligence, but his replacement, a local man, fell far short of his predecessor. One wonders if it was a case of knowing this local man too well to be able to accept him as a spiritual guide and mouthpiece of God. On the basis of the parish’s complaints about this man’s inadequacies, the Cinque were quick to approve an annulment of 54

The rest of the income was to provide every year to four local girls chosen by the confraternity a dowry of fifty lire and the annual distribution of eight staia of bread to the poor. ASF, CRS, 1334, fol. 4v . 55

56 57

Kent, ‘“Be Rather Loved than Feared”’, p. 39. ASF, Cinque, 254, box 3, n. 21.

Umberto Mazzone, ‘Una fonte importante: Le visite pastorali’, in La parocchia montana nei secoli XV – XVIII, ed. by Paula Foschi and Renzo Zagnoni (Bologna: Editoriale Nuèter, 1994), pp. 13–22.

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the election and his replacement by another.58 This willingness to intervene, even in communities with no immediate strategic benefit to Florence, further indicates Florence’s vested interest in the countryside. The success of Florence as a territorial power rested on the city’s ability to develop individual relationships with all communities under its control, and a thriving and peaceful countryside depended just as much on the quality of its spiritual care as on its administrative structures. The very presence and participation of Florentine families in rural parish life also provided an opportunity for the development of less formal relationships between contadini and cittadini. As they worshipped and celebrated side by side, contadini and cittadini were spiritually united, providing a context that could potentially facilitate the development of more practical relationships. Baptismal records demonstrate that these relationships did indeed develop and were ritually sealed, with cittadini and contadini regularly acting as godparents for one another. These relationships were often financially and socially beneficial, as well as politically useful, providing vital business associations as well as facilitating an exchange of ideas, tastes, and beliefs.59 Even when Florentine citizens, or the government itself, interfered directly with rural appointments, they could do little to take away the role of contadini in the day-to-day activities of these ecclesiastical institutions.

IV The fundamental framework for the administration of rural ecclesiastical entities was not provided by the parish priest or by the urban patron, but instead by the hundreds of lay confraternities scattered throughout the territories. A conservative estimate suggests there were at least three hundred active confraternities in the contado of Florence by the early sixteenth century, and while most of these rural confraternities were connected in some way with a parish church, only approximately half of these were exclusively tied to the parish.60 The remainder either concentrated their devotion on a private oratory or drew their membership from the entire commune, and 58 ‘Hora, perché qua si trova certo prete Jacopo Talinucci, huomo di qui del lega, il quale lui vorria stare in tal ufficio, non essendo mai stato trovato sufficiente, nè abbile a poter reggere al tal servitio’: ASF, Cinque, 328, 22 March 1549, no foliation. 59

For a discussion of the role of godparents, see Cristiane Klapisch-Zuber, Women, Family and Ritual in Renaissance Italy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), particularly Chapter 4. 60

This figure is based on my examination of confraternities listed as landholders in ASF, DR, Religiosi. It is quite possible there were others, without immobile possessions, which are not accounted for in these records.

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thus remained at least partly independent of the parish. The differentiation of parish-based and communal confraternities was much more clearly defined in the larger rural parishes or pieve, which tended to have at least two or three confraternities associated with the church. Each of these confraternities would perform different roles within the community: as custodians of the church, as flagellant companies, or as guardians of a particular miraculous image or holy site. For example, the confraternity of San Bartolomeo in Borgo San Sepolcro was responsible for social welfare and consisted of the most elite members of the town. The company of Santa Maria della Badia, made up of less wealthy members of the town, was a laudese company exclusively devoted to worship, and there were also five companies of flagellants there.61 These confraternities — like their urban counterparts — took upon themselves the greater part of the responsibility for the distribution of charity and the religious education and spiritual care of rural inhabitants, and the ties established between and within them had a much more significant impact on the shape of rural communities than any of the Florentine administrative divisions imposed on the countryside.62 Importantly, apart from the periodic suppressions of confraternities and the requirement that confraternal statutes were approved by ecclesiastical authorities, these rural confraternities were left largely to their own devices, and even the election of company officials was an internal matter. Thus, when faced with the request of the parish priest of Montevettolini to have the local confraternities placed under his direct control, the Florentine government chose to deny his right. This was despite the fact that there were grounds on which to do so: the statutes of the companies were outdated and incomplete, their accounts a mess, and little attention was being paid to codified election procedures. While it was not unusual for local clergy to act as advisors to confraternities, this was a voluntary agreement, and in this case at least, Florence was unwilling to impose this type of direct control against the will of the community.63 It was elected councils, drawn from these confraternities, which voluntarily took responsibility for the coordination of parish activities and the maintenance of church buildings. While the actual councils were often quite small — they could be made up of as few as four individuals — they were accountable to the rest of the confraternal members in much the same way as communal officials were accountable 61

James Banker, ‘Lay Male Identity in the Institutions of a Tuscan Provincial Town’, in Society and Individual in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Connell, pp. 315–36. 62 This suggestion will be developed in more detail, with specific reference to individual communities, in the following chapters. 63

ASF, Cinque, 255, fol. 175.

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to grand councils. The existence of parish opere was integral to the maintenance of a strong local identity in the face of increasing Florentine intervention. Using funds derived from donations to the confraternity or the rent obtained from company land, councils went about organizing religious festivals, coordinating liturgy, and commissioning visiting preachers. Thus, even in the presence of powerful urban patrons or priests, these councils, or opere, were able to retain control over the basic functions of their parish and, in some instances, also over the structure and decoration of its meeting place. In addition to being responsible for the general maintenance of the church building, parish opere nearly always retained patronage rights over at least one chapel within the parish church. For example, the parish opera of San Martino in Gangalandi, the Compania della Vergine Maria, maintained the right to decorate its baptismal font, despite the presence of a series of powerful Florentine patrons and rettori.64 Admittedly, the opera was not able to act entirely independently of Florentine controls, and if communal funds were necessary to support the maintenance of church structures permission had first to be sought from Florence. The records of the Cinque are thus peppered with letters from rural opere requesting permission to expend funds on the upkeep of the parish church, repairs often made necessary by damage incurred by Florentine troops fighting in the area. While the government was hesitant to allow rural villages to dip into communal funds in order to make such repairs, it is clear they recognized and accepted the importance of local ‘ownership’ of the parish.65 In their own way, rural opere were as important to their communities as were the grand works committees of Florence itself.66 Parish-based confraternities also took a major role in the regulation of the morality of the congregation. Just as communal councils used local men to act as a rural police force (rettori), confraternities elected officials from within their own number to ensure a certain code of behaviour was observed.67 Inappropriate activities 64

ASF, CRS, 2169, fol. 6r. The inscription on the font is still legible and reads ‘Questo fonte ànno facto fare gli operai dell Compagnia della Vergine Maria, Anno MCCCCXXIII’. 65

Thus, when the local men of the parish of Montechio (near Pisa) wrote to the Duke complaining that their rettore, the Florentine citizen Luca Alamanni, had stolen parish goods, it was in favour of the local community that the Duke ruled. This community wrote skillfully, wielding the courtly language and declaring themselves vassals of the Duke, ‘non havendo altra protectione o refugio che Vostra Excellentia’: ASF, Cinque, Suppliche, 253, n. 463. 66

In general, see Opera: Carattere e ruolo delle fabbriche cittadine fina all’inizio dell’Età Moderna, ed. by Margaret Haines and Lucio Riccetti (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1996). 67

See for example the confraternal Capitoli of San Casciano and Signa regarding the correction of members. ASF, CRS, 1876, fol. 4v ; ASF, CRS, 1533, fol. 7r.

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were considered to be anything that went against the teaching of the Church, but particularly the participation in forbidden games, attendance at masked festivals, or the practice of sodomy.68 As taverns were seen as the hotbed of all these transgressive behaviours, the confraternity of Santa Maria della Grazia and San Gregorio in Radda in Chianti took the additional measure of forbidding members to enter a tavern except when travelling or in case of emergency.69 The youth company of Signa, perhaps facing difficulties in keeping its young men out of the tavern, introduced an added incentive for its members to obey such rules — membership fees did not need to be paid by those seen to be leading good and honest lives.70 Confraternities reserved the right to expel any members who did not comply with company regulations and held all their members answerable to the wider community. Despite increasing Florentine control of the region, the level of local involvement in the running of the parish church and its activities not only enabled rural communities to preserve a degree of autonomy, but also provided local people with the means by which to self-regulate the moral standards of their community. In addition to their financial and moral responsibilities, the lay devotions organized by these parish-based confraternities enabled local people to play a much more active role in the liturgy than was possible within the framework of established clerical practice. Where Florentine demands of ritual tributes and financial accountability for the celebration of feast days were an expression of the urban suppression of rural autonomy, the internal liturgies organized by these lay companies provided an alternative outlet for the development of a rural spirituality. Liturgical obligations were described in detail in many confraternal statutes: members of the company of Santa Maria Tartigliese in Figline were required to dress in their confraternal robes every second Sunday of the month and together to process to the tabernacle of the old parish church of the town before returning to the new

68

For example, one of the laws of the company of Buon Gesù in San Sepolcro stated, ‘Ognuno della decta sancta compagnia si debba guardare di non trovarse ad alcuni curiosi spectacoli, come sono giochi, maschere et simile cose inhoneste’: ASF, CRS, Capitoli 48, fol. 5v. The members of the company of the battuti of San Michele a Castello were forbidden to engage in usury and sodomy and were only allowed to enter a tavern out of necessity: La compagnia dei battuti di San Michele a Castello nel contado di Firenze, ed. by Paolo Aglietti (Florence: Pagnini, 1998), p. 22. See also the companies of San Casciano, Gaiole in Chianti, and Vicchio di Mugello, which set out these forbidden activities in their confraternal regulations. ASF, CRS, 1876, fol. 18r; ASF, CRS, Capitoli 223, fol. 4r; and ASF, CRS, Capitoli 267, fol. 3v . 69

70

ASF, CRS, 714, Capitoli 5. ASF, CRS, Capitoli 667, fol. 20r.

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parish for Mass to be said; those belonging to the company of Corpus Domini in Gaiole in Chianti met every Saturday night, at the ringing of the church bell, for Mass to be said; those in Signa met only once a month and listened to prayers.71 The occasional engagement of travelling preachers ensured the introduction of a level of religious learning in rural communities that could not always be guaranteed from their pastor.72 Sermons were usually delivered once a month, calling on different preachers for each homily, but in the Lenten period they occurred at least once a week, the communities employing a single preacher for the whole cycle of preparation. The need to have a good preacher every Lent was so important to the commune of Campi that it said so in the communal statutes.73 Permission to spend funds on preachers had to be granted by the magistracy of the Cinque, and while not all communities would have followed this procedure, those surviving requests make it possible to get some sense of where these preachers came from. For example, the community of Signa paid ten lire to one Messer Cornelio, a Servite, for preaching;74 that of Gangalandi paid forty-two lire to Frate Girolamo, from Santa Maria Maggiore,75 for what must have been a Lenten cycle; the inhabitants of Bibbiena looked to their own Franciscan community for a preacher (and subsequently failed to pay him, according to a complaint from the community of brothers).76 For the community of Gangalandi, this form of spiritual nurture was seen to be such an important part of rural spirituality that it gathered together all four parishes for the Lenten cycle of sermons, which was paid for by San Martino, the other companies being too poor to employ their own preachers.77 Interestingly, there is no evidence that Florence ever tried to interfere with the choice of preachers in Gangalandi. The power that the rural opera of the parish had in the selection of visiting preachers would have enabled it to influence the flavour of local spirituality, and give the population access to the various trends and movements of urban spirituality, thus providing country people with the opportunity to incorporate such developments into their own brand of Catholicism. 71 72

ASF, CRS, Capitoli 564, fol. 4v; ASF, CRS, Capitoli 223, fol. 3r; ASF, CRS, Capitoli 667, fol. 3v.

See for example ASF, CRS, 1678 and ASF, CRS, 1867 for references to regular sermons as part of the liturgical cycle of these confraternities. 73

74 75 76 77

ASF, Statuti, 114, fol. 46v . ASF, Cinque, 353, May 1507, no foliation. ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 224. ASF, Cinque, 254, box 4, no foliation. ASF, Cinque, 253, n. 135.

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Communal confraternities also had a significant role in the development of local spirituality. Even though they had no direct control over the parish church as such, these usually much larger and richer confraternities played an integral part in the regulation of the theological education of rural communities. While it tended to be parish-based confraternities that organized preaching cycles, communal confraternities took very seriously their educational responsibility, often demanding a much higher standard of religious learning from their members than their parish equivalents. For example the confraternity of Borgo San Sepolcro required individuals to know the Lord’s Prayer, the Ave Maria, and the Ten Commandments as well as to have a solid knowledge of the articles of faith, the creed, and the seven works of charity before they were allowed to become members.78 That of San Michele a Castello required its members to say five ‘Our Fathers’ and five ‘Ave Marias’ every day and to learn the Twelve Articles of Faith, the Ten Commandments, and the Seven Mortal Sins.79 Theological orthodoxy was ensured not by demanding a level of literacy, but by the rote learning of such Christian principles. These teachings, usually incorporated into the introductions to the books of the confraternity’s statutes and read out at the beginning of each gathering, often displayed a surprising level of theological sophistication. One such proemio, from a confraternity inside the walls of San Casciano, upholds the need for study and education in order to reach an understanding of the will of God, stating that ‘if Adam had not sinned, it would not have been necessary for us to study and have so many books, but would have been sufficient to have looked at our own hearts to see the heart of God’.80 Instead, humankind needed to be instructed in interpreting the will of God, which had been stamped on the body. As such, using a mimetic tool to facilitate memorization, this proemio systematically goes through the parts of the body associating them with theological teachings: ‘And because this man was made of two substances, soul and body, with two eyes, two ears, two nostrils, two cheeks, two lips, two hands, and two feet, it is ordained that there are two lives, one mortal and one immortal.’81 Some confraternities more simply prevailed upon their members to balance their lives according to the three grades of human 78 79 80

ASF, CRS, Capitoli 48, fols 4r–5r. La compagnia dei battuti, p. 26.

‘se Adamo non havesse peccato, non ci bisognava tanti libri e tanto studio, ma riguardando nel cuore nostro, haveremo veduto il cuor di Dio’: ASF, CRS, Capitoli 73, fol. 1r. 81

‘E perché vede che quest’huomo era composto di due sustantie, anima e corpo, con due occhi, due orecchie, due nari, due guance, due labbri, due mani e due piedi, ordinato a due vite, una mortale, l’altra immortale’: ASF, CRS, Capitoli 327, fol. 2v.

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life: contemplation of the divine, active participation in the community, and moral behaviour.82 Others took the opportunity to stress the importance of a sense of community by using the easily understood allegory of fire: ‘as two logs placed separately produce little heat, but together can warm many’, so the community must be united.83 Communal confraternities also maintained much more extensive ties with the convents and confraternities in neighbouring zones than their parish-based equivalents. Organizing the celebration of feast days with special liturgies and ritual meals, they regularly brought together not only members of all parishes in the commune, but also parish groups in neighbouring communes. These occasions of joint pilgrimage and celebration provided contadini with the opportunity to develop relationships of friendship and business with their more distant neighbours. The extent that any one confraternity was able to achieve this depended not only on its relative size and wealth, but also on its traditional relationship with those communes nearby. The communities located in the remote and mountainous Casentino, for example, which were both poor and constantly in conflict with each other, tended to celebrate feast days within their parish groupings. The parish of Santo Stefano in Pane, close to Florence, on the other hand, not only distributed alms to the neighbouring communities of Peretola, Castello, Nuovoli, and Careggi, but provided the confraternities of these communities with the funds to be part of a joint celebration of Corpus Christi.84 All five communities would together make the pilgrimage to Santa Maria Impruneta — where they would no doubt have found other rural groups holding their own celebration — at which point a Mass would be celebrated, before returning home to a ritual meal.85 This was no modest affair. Ten separate confraternities participated in the festival, and as the membership of the confraternity of Santo Stefano alone was over seventy strong, the whole exercise would have united hundreds of contadini in pilgrimage and celebration. Nor was the cost insignificant, for in addition to the meal itself, five priests from outside the community were paid for the saying of the Mass.86

82

ASF, CRS, Capitoli 667, fol. 3r . See also La compagnia dei battuti, p. 22.

83 ‘Et in vero, sì come due tizzoni posti in diversi luoghi fanno poco fuoco e rendono poco caldo, ma messi tutti insieme lo fanno grande e rendono gran caldo; così gl’huomini’: ASF, CRS, Capitoli 511, fol. 1v . 84 85 86

ASF, CRS, Capitoli 753, fol. 9r. ASF, CRS, Capitoli 753, fol. 9r. ASF, CRS, 1328, n. 6, fol. 8r.

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Aside from motives of genuine charity and friendship, confraternities were inspired to forge such ties with their neighbours for mutual protection and support. There was a prevailing sense of the need to protect rural confraternities from an increasing urban involvement in the countryside. Like their urban counterparts, most rural confraternities encouraged a culture of secrecy, demanding that confraternal meetings were kept confidential and that strangers were not admitted into their midst. The closer the physical location of a confraternity to the city walls, the more explicit it tended to be about its desire to protect its independence, excluding office holders, citizens, and those who worked for them from becoming members.87 By preventing outsiders and citizens from participating, confraternities provided a forum for rural people to gather outside the watchful eye of Florentine officials, citizens, priests, and notaries. With the increasing presence of Florentine officials in the countryside — vicari, podestà, rettori, and commissari — these opportunities were few and far between. Florentine officials regularly shut down urban companies in periods of internal crisis, and there is little doubt that Florentine officials recognized the potential danger of having such a large number of contadini united and often on the move, even if they did not have the necessary administrative instruments to keep them under as close a scrutiny as they did urban confraternities.88 In fact, the majority of communal confraternities appear to have had less communication with the centre than the parish-based groups operating as opere.89

V If Florentine citizens were unable or unwilling to play a large role in the organization of rural parishes and confraternities, the same cannot be claimed for their involvement in the administration of local hospitals and convents.90 This was 87

The first statute of the company of Monte Oliveto states, ‘nè famigli di palagio; nè d’altro uficio o arte della Ciptà di Firenze. Nè famiglio d’alcuno Ciptadino. Tuctie sopradecto sieno prohibiti, et non sieno acceptati in nostro consortio’: ASF, CRS, 1687, fol. 7r. Many urban confraternities also attempted to keep members of the regime out of their companies. 88

See Henderson, Piety and Charity in Late Medieval Florence, pp. 57–65, for a discussion of the control and suppression of urban confraternities. 89

Laws regarding financial controls of parish goods meant that parish-based confraternities were in constant communication with the centre, whereas there were no such obligations for communal companies. 90

For the most recent and comprehensive study about the way hospitals functioned and an examination of the emergence of large and more specialized hospitals in urban centres, see John

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particularly true of rural hospitals, which in addition to providing patrons with opportunities for spiritual gain, were also relatively profitable commercial ventures for urban patrons and governors.91 The countryside had not experienced the same move towards increasingly larger and more specialized hospitals that had been occurring in the city of Florence and in provincial centres over the course of the fifteenth century, and well into the sixteenth century there were still over 250 hospitals dotting the territories.92 These were usually very small institutions — some had as few as three to four beds — but they could often bring with them considerable income from the patients, pilgrims, and widows who made use of rural hospitals.93 Thus when a legal agreement was drawn up between two Florentine brothers for a temporary exchange of properties, one brother’s farm was seen as a fair exchange for the other’s hospital. For the three-year term of the contract, one man was to take possession of his brother’s farm in Dicomano with use of its ‘income, grain, and wine’, while the other was to receive in compensation the control of a hospital in Pietrasanta with ‘all its patients and income’.94 In addition to financial benefits, rural hospitals also had a particular strategic importance. Despite their small size, they were usually located in key positions throughout the countryside, placed just outside of townships on the main roads leading though the Florentine territories. As such they were witness to the traffic that passed through the region and were thus repositories for news of activity in other zones. The two Henderson The Renaissance Hospital: Healing the Body and Healing the Soul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006). 91

One of the most famous rural hospitals was that in Figline, financed by the Florentine family the Serristori; see Maria A. Timpanaro Morelli, Lo spedale Serristori di Figline: documenti e arredi (Florence: Opus Libri, 1983). 92

For a discussion about the changes occurring in the welfare system, see Philip Gavitt, Charity and Children in Renaissance Florence: The Ospedale degli Innocenti, 1410–1536 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1990). While Duccio Balestracci, ‘Lavoro e povertà in toscana’, Studi Storici, 23 (1982), 565–82, claims the same sort of specialization was occurring in the countryside, this was the case only for provincial centres, and smaller hospitals continued to exist throughout the countryside in more isolated communities. 93

While there was not the same degree of movement towards specialist institutions in the countryside as there was in the city, most rural orphans did end up in the Ospedale degli Innocenti in Florence. See Lucia Sandri, ‘La specializzazione ospedaliera fiorentina: gli Innocenti e l’assistenza all’infanzia (XV – XVI secolo)’, in Ospedali e città: Italia del Centro-Nord, XII– XVI secolo, ed. by Alan Grieco and Lucia Sandri (Florence: Le lettere, 1985), pp. 51–106 (pp. 59–60). 94

‘entrate, grano et vino’; ‘tutte le sue patiente e entrate’: ASF, CRS, Convento 111, n. 39, fol. 25v.

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hospitals of Scarperia, one placed immediately prior to the entrance to the town on the road from Florence and the other at the exit on the road to Bologna, were of such strategic concern that the Medici occupied themselves personally with the selection of their governors, appointing individuals who were invariably Medici partisans.95 Yet urban intervention in rural ecclesiastical institutions was perhaps most complete in the context of religious orders. Independent of local administration, communities of religious operated as completely separate units answerable only to Rome, and they often had much more ancient ties to the area than the parishes themselves. They were particularly attractive options to urban patrons because of that independence, and in contrast to rural parishes, there were no councils of local men making decisions as to the day-to day running of these institutions. The patronage of rural convents presented a prestigious alternative for urban citizens, providing a rural presence which was at the same time linked to that order’s urban houses. It was very rare that any rural institution or individual had sufficient wealth to challenge urban bids for the patronage of convents, and therefore most rural convents were in the hands of urban patrons. Materially, rural convents may have lost much of their power over the countryside with the increasing tendency towards short-term rental contracts, but they persisted in playing a vital role in the overall structure of the community.96 While a number of historians have argued that the increasing number of lay confraternities usurped the spiritual role of convents, religious communities continued to play an integral part in the liturgical activities of rural communes.97 Testamentary bequests from contadini may have been moving increasingly towards parishes and confraternities, but through these 95 The confraternity from 1489 received letters from the Medici regarding the appointment of hospital governors. The last recorded correspondence with Duchessa Bianca was in 1582. ASF, CRS, 1385, fol. 54 r. 96

For a discussion of changing patterns of landholding in general, see Conti, La formazione. Regarding convents in particular, see de la Roncière, ‘A Monastic Clientage?’; and Charles M. de la Roncière, ‘Fidelités, patronages, clienteles dans le contado florentin au XIV e siécle’, Ricerche Storiche, 15 (1985), 35–61. 97

This is a theme explored by David Peterson, ‘Religion, Politics and the Church in FifteenthCentury Florence’, in Girolomo Savonarola: Piety, Prophesy and Politics in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Donald Weinstein and Valerie Hotchkiss (Dallas: Bridwell Library, 1994), pp. 75–83, who argues that only a small proportion of parishes maintained collegiate associations. Cohn, Creating the Florentine State, particularly pp. 40–48, also argues for the central role of parish life in the countryside and for the existence of a trend for contadini to give bequests to charitable institutions instead of buildings.

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parishes and confraternities contadini maintained their ties with religious communities; and it was the confraternities and parishes as institutions that made regular donations to convents.98 Thus despite the fact that most convents in the countryside were outside local control, contadini still maintained a very active relationship with the religious orders in their area. Where regional factionalism meant that many parish churches and confraternities were locked in local disputes, convents provided a more neutral focus for rural communities. The traditionally divided communities of Figline found such a haven in their local Franciscan convent. While the three parishes were engaged in continuous disputes outside this context, they chose not only to donate alms jointly to the convent, but also to come together with the brothers for the ‘festa di maggio’, spending a rather extravagant eighty lire on the celebration.99

VI The delicate balance between Church and government authorities definitively altered the shape of the emerging Florentine territorial state. The city’s failure to gain outright control of ecclesiastical institutions meant that it was forced to negotiate the competing elements of local, Church, and citizen interests in these institutions. The consolidation of centralized administrative structures had enabled the state not only to appropriate some of the spiritual and jurisdictional powers of the Church, but also to regulate aspects of rural ecclesiastical entities. However the large number of Florentine citizens increasingly involved in rural parishes, convents, and hospitals resulted in the preservation of a degree of local control over the internal organization of these institutions and, as will be explored in the following chapters, this was often enough to enable contadini not only to develop an individual spirituality, but also to preserve a continuity of self-determination which ultimately defined the social structure of each individual community.

98

These collective donations have tended to be ignored by historians, such as Cohn, who limit themselves to the study of individual wills. Cohn, Creating the Florentine State, p. 43, argues that contadini left little in terms of buildings while, to the contrary, they were heavily involved in building projects but in a collective rather than individual way. 99

ASF, Cinque, Lettere, 320, no foliation, 14 October 1538.

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C AMPANILISMO AND R ELIGIOUS IDENTITIES IN G ANGALANDI, S CARPERIA , AND THE P ISTOIAN M OUNTAINS

W

I

riting less than a month after a powerful earthquake devastated the valley of the Mugello, a Florentine citizen belonging to the court of the Medici undertook to describe the material damage inflicted on the region and to record the terrifying signs that had heralded the event.1 The earthquake of 1542 had captured the attention of all of Europe. The anonymous chronicler’s pamphlet, originally published in Italian, was an instant best seller and was subsequently translated into German, Dutch, and English and circulated throughout the continent. During the earthquake inhabitants of the region had seen a chariot of fire, carrying men armed for battle, streak through the skies while sounds of trumpets and drums of battle reverberated through the valley. A shepherd watching over his flocks saw one of these armed men, complete with a set of enormous wings, throw a ball of fire onto the earth. From the Maremma came reports of the birth of a male child who, at the moment of birth, raised himself out of the arms of the midwife, walked over to the crucifix on the wall of the birthing room, and falling to his knees, began to give thanks to the Divine Majesty. Hearing these reports, Florentines were convinced the Last Judgement had arrived. Beginning with the inhabitants of the Mugello, contadini throughout the territories began to unite in procession towards 1

The text of this pamphlet has been transcribed and published in Fillipo Bellandi and Dennis Rhodes, Il terremoto del Mugello del 1542 in un raro opuscolo dell epoca (Florence: Communità Montana Zona E, 1987), pp. 40–44.

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the Cathedral of Florence. Barefoot, men, women, and children made their way over the kilometers of mountainous terrain and, arriving in the city, were joined by patricians and labourers alike to ask for mercy from an angry God. For weeks to come these pilgrimages continued, each parish processing as a group, while the parishioners flagellated themselves until their skin was scarlet with blood. Thousands rushed to confess their sins every day, and chanting was heard continually from the church of the Annunziata where, naked and barefoot, citizens and contadini whipped themselves continuously. According to our narrator, even the stones and rocks were heard to cry out for pity. The tremors continued over the following two weeks but each rumble was less intense than the last. A comet in the shape of a knife was seen for three successive nights, until it seems that the Lord was finally placated by the people’s repentance and the tremors and the comet were no more. It had been fifteen years since God had displayed such anger with the Florentines. In 1527 a devastating plague outbreak had decimated the population, with some of the highest death rates occurring in the Mugello, and while the earthquake of 1542 had only resulted in the deaths of one hundred people, the material damage was extensive with a total of three thousand houses destroyed in the region.2 Scarperia, being the closest settlement to the epicentre, was worst hit, counting dozens of houses destroyed, as well as a section of the castle, and large pieces of the defensive walls collapsed. Witnesses reported that the only building left untouched was the inn located just outside the city walls, and this had only escaped by miracle. Serious damage to buildings had occurred in the zone ranging from Borgo San Lorenzo to the treacherous pass of Giogo above Firenzuola and as far as the Medici villa of Cafaggiolo. Just as the regular outbreaks of plague were seen as divine punishment, the earthquake stimulated an immediate sense of collective guilt from both the local community and Florentine citizens alike. The sense of collective responsibility was reinforced when, only three weeks after the earthquake, Duke Cosimo I called for increased vigilance and more severe penalties for acts of blasphemy and sodomy; there was little doubt in the minds of contemporaries that they had brought such punishment on themselves.3 In the face of this natural disaster, the city and the countryside had been brought together in a rare moment of spiritual unity. Florentine citizens did not hesitate in taking to the streets, and contadini did not think twice before gravitating to the

2 According to another anonymous contemporary chronicler who lists the material damage to the region. Bellandi and Rhodes, Il terremoto del Mugello, pp. 53–54. 3

Bellandi and Rhodes, Il terremoto del Mugello, p. 21.

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most holy site of Florence in order to pray for mercy. Where the rural presence at the Florentine festival of San Giovanni was largely under sufferance, in this instance the pilgrimage to Florence had been spontaneous — country people ignoring sites of local devotion and moving en masse to unite with their urban brothers. These moments of unity were, however, few and far between, and the previous chapter has shown that rural communities were much more likely to shun citizen participation in their own liturgical life than welcome it. Where the previous chapter focused on an exploration of the ways in which the autonomy of rural communities was threatened by citizen participation in their parishes, convents, and confraternities, this chapter is a detailed examination of the ecclesiastical structures of three particular rural communities — their relationship with Florence, but more importantly their internal structure, organization, and religiosity. On the rare occasions that historians have given their attention to the question of rural religiosity, they have tended to construct a picture of powerless and divided rural communities, unable to form meaningful relationships outside their immediate parish boundaries. Yet this portrait is in complete contrast to the highly complex series of relationships and loyalties that were established by the communities of Scarperia, Gangalandi, and the Pistoiese Mountains.4 The degree to which rural settlements were able to maintain control over their ecclesiastical institutions, as well as over their individual spirituality, depended above all on the nature of the relationships which existed between rural inhabitants, their neighbours, and the various religious entities located within their community. It was predominately through such frameworks of spiritual associations that rural communities were able to forge and maintain the vital networks that ensured their economic and political survival. As a result, just as Florence was forced to negotiate the extent of its administrative control with each rural community on an individual basis, so too the mechanism by which the government was able to influence rural ecclesiastical structures varied from region to region. The prevailing image of a rural Christianity steeped in superstition, folklore, and ignorance, which has been perpetuated by too literal a reading of some of the more tongue-in-cheek stories of the Piovano Arlotto and, to a lesser extent, by studies such as Carlo Ginzburg’s examination of the heresy trial of the miller Menocchio, is far removed from the articulate and orthodox expressions of faith and belief that are evident in the records of these rural parishes 4

Samuel Cohn has gone some way in redressing this imbalance in his study of the periphery of the Florentine territories, Creating the Florentine State, where he acknowledges that while rural communities located in the plains were relatively confined to their parish groups, this was less true of mountain communities, which often formed far-reaching ties.

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and confraternities.5 This chapter seeks to demonstrate the ways in which the internal structures of rural ecclesiastical institutions impacted on the shape of the territorial state and thus on the style of leadership that Florence was able to adopt in its attempts to dominate the countryside.

II The relationship between the township of Scarperia and the city of Florence had always been a particularly close one, and in many respects their temporary unification during this period of hardship was far from surprising. As a New Town and the seat of one of the ten vicariati of the Florentine territory, there had been a strong citizen presence in the township since its establishment. It was a vital defensive outpost for the Florentine government, and after the earthquake, the Duke himself travelled to the region, spending a period of time at the Medici villa of Cafaggiolo to oversee the reconstruction of the castle and town walls.6 While neglecting its closest neighbours, Scarperia was in constant contact with Florence and Florentine citizens, modelling its institutions on Florentine equivalents. To an extent its inhabitants had had little choice in the matter: Scarperia had been constructed by the government as an idealized version of Florence itself, the town’s inhabitants forcibly liberated from their feudal villages to be relocated within the newly constructed town walls and their homes destroyed. They lived in close contact with the Florentine vicar, his staff, and his troops and witnessed the constant traffic passing back and forth to the city. As the Mugello was the ancestral home of the Medici, various branches of the family also continued to have a significant presence in the region even after the main branch of the family had switched its attentions in the latter Quattrocento to other rural areas: Poggio a Caiano and the Pisan contado. Scarperia’s ecclesiastical institutions also maintained particularly strong links to the diocese and city of Florence. From as early as the tenth century, the bishopric and ecclesiastical chapter of Florence drew significant income from the Mugello and they continued to be the major urban landholders in the region for the following centuries.7 In 1327 an Augustinian convent, closely allied to the convent at Santo Spirito in Florence, was established within the town walls. The confraternity 5

See Motti e facezie del piovano Arlotto, ed. by Gianfranco Folena (Milan: Riccardi, 1995), and Carlo Ginzburg, The Cheese and the Worms: The Cosmos of a Sixteenth-Century Miller (New York: Penguin, 1989). 6

7

Bellandi and Rhodes, Il terremoto del Mugello, p. 15. Dameron, ‘A World of its Own’, p. 51.

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associated with this coventual church, itself modelled on the largest and richest confraternity in Florence — that of Orsanmichele — was one of the few contado confraternities that permitted Florentine citizens to be members.8 The two hospitals owned by this confraternity were controlled by the Medici family, who also took a strong interest in the election of clergy for the parish church of Santi Jacopo and Filippo.9 In this context, it is little wonder that the suffering of this community was felt directly in Florence, or that the inhabitants of the town went immediately to the city to seek assuagement. Outside of the town walls of Scarperia not all of the commune’s inhabitants embraced the Florentine connection with quite so much enthusiasm. In fact the Mugello was known for its inward-looking protectionism of local cults and traditions.10 A total of 145 parishes, organized around seventeen pieve, were dotted across the countryside with only eight friaries and monasteries ministering to the region. Inhabitants expressed their preference for secular clergy in their choices of burial rights, which were overwhelmingly given to local parishes and confraternities and were directed towards local rather than urban saints.11 The commune of Scarperia consisted of two pieve outside the township itself, the parishes of Sant’ Agata and Fagna, with a total of fourteen separate popoli associated with these parishes.12 In the past, the three parishes that made up the commune of Scarperia had little more than a token association and despite their physical proximity came together only in one joint celebration, that of the festival of the Ascension. The antagonism between the parishes dated back to the settlement of the township. While being much older communities, the parishes of Sant’ Agata and Fagna were considerably less wealthy than those located in the township. They had muted voices in communal councils and were forbidden to hold office in the communal confraternity.13 The prejudice of town dwellers labelled them contadini and outsiders, when in 8

In 1490, ten of the ninety members of this confraternity were Florentine citizens. AA, CC, 72.15. 9

ASF, Comp. Bigallo, 1360, fols 181v –184v . For Medici involvement, see ASF, CRS, 1385, fol. 54r. 10

11 12 13

See Dameron, ‘A World of its Own’, pp. 45–58. Dameron, ‘A World of its Own’, p. 56. Fourteen separate popoli are listed in tax declarations; see ASF, DR, 33.

When the council of the vicariato met, representatives of Scarperia spoke for the entire commune. ASF, Statuti, 830, fol. 38r. And while the parishes were, in theory, equally represented on communal councils, in practice, members of the popolo of Scarperia invariably outnumbered representatives of Sant’ Agata and Fagna.

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their own minds it was the inhabitants of Scarperia, not themselves, who were newcomers, having been relocated from feudal villages into the castle walls in the early fourteenth century.14 Sant’ Agata was itself made up of three smaller parishes, and even as the largest parish of the three, Sant’ Agata was incredibly poor and owned almost no real estate, relying almost exclusively on the relatively meager donations of its faithful parishioners.15 Associated with the parish were two confraternities: the first, San Jacopo, was a flagellant company which according to visitation records had very little to do with the parish as such, and the second, the Visitation of the Virgin Mary, acted as the opera of the parish church.16 The poverty of the church and the absence of Florentine landholders in the immediate surrounding region meant that it was the confraternity of the Visitation that was forced to absorb the responsibility of social welfare in the community, not only overseeing the local hospital, providing dowries, and financially supporting the flagellant company but also providing free education for all the inhabitants of the region.17 Notably there was no support, financial or otherwise, forthcoming from Scarperia to assist this community in its poverty, and the inhabitants of Sant’ Agata were left to fend for themselves as best they could in times of plague, flood, and famine.18 Even after the earthquake, it was left to this confraternity to provide funds for repairs to the church and to offer some relief to the stricken victims.19 14

See council deliberations regarding the election of a parish priest for Scarperia: ‘molti forestieri et contadini tornano ad habitare familiarmente in decto castello et sono persone che hanno poca considerazione [. . .] sia per la loro povertà, sia ancor per la loro poca intelligentia’. ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 75r. 15

The parish’s annual income was one hundred scudi. A detailed list of the mobile and immobile property of the church can be found in AA, VPD, 1.43.

16 One can almost hear the voice of the priest responding to the visitation officials’ questioning in this description of the companies associated with the parish of Sant’ Agata: ‘Sono due compagnie nel borgo, l’una, s’intitolata San Jacopo che è situata accanto alla chiesa, di disciplina, chè questa non ha che far niente con la chiesa. L’altra, s’initolata della Visitazione, et in su la piazza et questa non è compagnia di battuto ma piutosto un opera et è interessata con la chiesa.’ AA, VPD, 1.43, fol. 1r. 17

In fact it was the captain of the confraternity, not elected but selected, who was obligated to teach ‘tutti i fanciulli che vogliono imparare a leggere e scrivere’ (reading and writing to all the children who wanted to learn), in return for which the captain was paid eighty lire annually and provided with a house and schoolroom. ASF, CRS, 2155, fols 7r and 94r.

18 The company’s books of entrata and uscita list no income from alms donated by the communal and religious institutions of Scarperia. ASF, CRS, 2155, fol. 3r-. 19

AA, VP, 1.43, fol. 1v.

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Perhaps because of its exclusion by Scarperia, the community of Sant’ Agata was a highly integrated and united one. All three popoli participated fully in the life of the parish and its confraternities; in fact the Capitoli of the company stressed that it was their desire that the three parishes were united and that all participated in the office-holding roles of the confraternity.20 In order to achieve this, offices were allocated for three years in advance, and in the period 1497–1500, twenty of the forty-eight members had held office as either capitano or camarlingo of the confraternity.21 When faced with internal squabbling between confraternal captains, the parish gathered together all members of both confraternities in order to negotiate a solution.22 This philosophy of inclusion also went as far as embracing female members as part of the confraternity. Where three of the four confraternities in the township of Scarperia had forbidden female participation, female membership of the opera of Sant’ Agata almost outnumbered male participation. It must be acknowledged that the participation of women in lay confraternities was a widespread phenomenon throughout the countryside long before it was common practice in an urban setting, yet even in the countryside, women were rarely members of confraternities which acted as parish councils. The parish opera was still predominately seen as a male domain, and Sant’ Agata was unusual in its integration of women into this sphere. While the parish of Fagna had been more closely linked to Scarperia than Sant’ Agata had ever been, relations between the two parishes were no less strained. Like the inhabitants of Sant’ Agata, members of the parish of Fagna had a limited participation in communal government, and they too were treated as outsiders and banned from holding offices in the communal confraternity. About half the size of Sant’ Agata, Fagna had only 150 communicant members and even fewer resources. For the first sixty years after the establishment of the parish church of Santi Jacopo and Filippo within the walls of Scarperia, it had been the canons and priors of Fagna who had overseen the parish, but from the moment that this church had won its independence, Scarperia increasingly distanced itself from its previous masters and deliberately worked towards asserting its supremacy in the 20

‘Questi tre popoli: Popolo Santa Agata, Popolo di Santo Jacopo a Scianello, Popolo di San Piero a Monte Acinicho e uniti tutti a tre insieme decti popoli e abbia essere uno solo insieme in detta compagnia. E però noi ordiniamo e vogliamo come è detto di sopra che loro participino di tutti li uficii di decta compagnia; di honore e di faticha e li altri che in sono fuori di decti popoli godino di quelle elemosine gli saranno fatte da decta compagnia’: ASF, CRS, Capitoli 611, fol. 3 r–v. 21

22

ASF, CRS, 2155, fol. 6r. ASF, CRS, 2155, fol. 93r.

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region. The one confraternity attached to the parish of Fagna, the company of Santa Maria, had subsequently gone into decline, and despite attempts to reinvigorate the community, members numbered only twenty-five at the beginning of the sixteenth century.23 Primarily a charitable confraternity acting as the parish opera, this company may have made small annual donations to the Augustinian convent inside the walls of Scarperia and permitted one of its brothers to be present when the confraternal statutes were reformed, but it was predominately concerned with caring for its own members.24 Like Sant’ Agata, the parish of Fagna received no assistance from the ecclesiastical entities of Scarperia, even despite its precarious position, and it did not seek to develop any sort of relationship with the companies of the town. Donations to the parish and confraternity came exclusively from those living within the boundaries of the popolo. Yet the earthquake of 1542 severely rocked the foundations of all three parishes in the commune, and for a brief moment their disputes and prejudices seemed like petty quarrels and were suspended in the face of such powerful divine forces. When the tremors first hit, members of the parishes of Scarperia, Sant’ Agata, and Fagna set off together immediately in pilgrimage to Florence, not even pausing to collect supplies for their journey. There they remained for several weeks, and on their return, the inhabitants of the region found that a subtle change had been effected in the relationship between the villages. This change was in the form of a newly discovered spiritual unity, based around an emerging site of popular devotion. Legend had it that, during the earthquake, an image of the Madonna and child located, significantly, in a small oratory just outside the entrance to Scarperia had miraculously been altered (Fig. 12). When the earthquake had begun the Madonna, who had been holding the Christ child in her arms, put him down on her lap, leaving her hands free to be placed together in prayer for God’s mercy.25 This miraculous image had immediately become a site of popular devotion, and members of all three parishes came together to venerate the Mother and Child (Fig. 13). As time passed, this oratory also became the site for an annual procession of the three communities, to mark the anniversary of the earthquake.26 This periodic spiritual unity went some way to healing the differences between the villages, even if it resulted in no

23 24

ASF, CRS, Capitoli 131, fol. 7v .

The parish of Fagna made an annual donation to the convent of fifteen lire, thirteen soldi. ASF, Corp. Relig. Sopp., Convento 253, fol. 13v . 25

26

Bellandi and Rhodes, Il terremoto del Mugello, pp. 18–19. Bellandi and Rhodes, Il terremoto del Mugello, p. 29.

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Figure 12. Oratory of the Madonna del Terremoto

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Figure 13. Miraculous image of the Madonna del Terremoto

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concrete changes in administrative mechanisms. Yet, perhaps because Scarperia made no subsequent moves to improve relations or increase the level of inclusion of the two other parishes, this unity between the parishes was short lived. Several years after the practice had begun, the parish of Sant’ Agata was already limiting its participation in the procession to once every three years, despite the fact that the community was located a mere three kilometres away from the oratory and that the symbol of Sant’ Agata’s main confraternity was exactly that of a Madonna with the Christ child held in her arms.27 Internally, the township of Scarperia was no less divided, with two churches inside the walls competing for congregations and their alms, an emerging political class which excluded over two-thirds of the population, and a growing prejudice against members of their own parish living outside the town walls. The first church constructed in the township, Santi Jacopo and Filippo, designated to be the unifying parish church of the community but initially controlled by Fagna, had been part of the original plans for the construction of the town. And when inhabitants finally succeeded in gaining their independence from the priors, the congregation, headed by the communal council, took over the patronage rights. While having no choice but to accept a degree of Florentine interference in parish elections, the communal council was determined to preserve its patronage rights over the church from its nearest neighbours and even from members of its own congregation. In the early 1500s, the council narrowed electoral participation to include only members of the council itself, arguing that the parish was being brought to ruin by ‘new’ members of the town, individuals who were really contadini, poor and stupid, and not true inhabitants of Scarperia and who, therefore, had little respect for the parish and the community.28 In passing this new regulation the council was not only cutting itself off from the other two parishes of the commune — the parishes of Sant’ Agata and Fagna — but also from parish members of Scarperia who did not live within the town walls and were thus not able to hold communal offices. The four confraternities located in the township were no less exclusive in their composition. Two were associated with the church of Santi Jacopo and Filippo: the parish opera of the same name, and the company of Santa Trinita, which was exclusively concerned with ministering to the many pilgrims that passed through Scarperia. The remaining two companies were associated with the Augustinian church

27 ASF, CRS, 2155, fol. 119r and ASF, CRS, Capitoli 611, fol. 24r. Instead the confraternity celebrated the festival of the visitation of the Madonna in its own town. 28

ASF, Statuti, 831, fol. 77v .

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and convent, San Barnaba. This conventual church attracted fewer communicant members than its counterpart and was not considered to be the communal parish as such, yet the extremely close ties which it maintained with Florence, and the presence of the Augustinian brothers in the associated convent, meant that San Barnaba inhabited an important niche in the local community.29 A large number of inhabitants maintained closer ties with this conventual church than with the communal parish, choosing to leave their property and goods to the Augustinian brothers rather than their own confraternity. (The spiritual benefits associated with obtaining the monks’ prayers for their departed souls was a strong incentive for the local community to favour the religious community.) The largest and wealthiest confraternity of the commune, Santa Maria in Piazza, also chose to be associated with this church rather than Santi Jacopo and Filippo. The convent and parish attracted more devotion and bequests from those living outside the walls than its sister parish, such as the regular gifts from the parish of Fagna, but in essence they too were linked most closely to the township, and in times of financial difficulty turned to Scarperia or to the convent of Santo Spirito for assistance. The links between the Florentine convent and the community of Scarperia led one of the Florentine brothers to commission an altarpiece from Neri di Bicci for the church in Scarperia.30 The company of Santa Maria in Piazza, although associated with San Barnaba, had its own oratory in the main square of Scarperia. In name it was the communal confraternity, but in practice only town dwellers were allowed to hold offices.31 While forbidding anyone working in the vicar’s palace from simultaneously holding offices in the confraternity, the confraternity did little to prevent those holding the more prestigious positions in the communal councils of gonfalonieri, camarlingo, and consiglieri from doing just that. Nor did it exclude Florentine citizens from the ranks of its members.32 Even prior to the ascendancy of the Melai to political authority, the family’s presence was strongly felt in confraternal office-holding 29

According to visitation records, while Santi Jacopo and Filippo had over six hundred communicant members, those of San Barnaba numbered a little over two hundred. AA, VP, 07, fols 1v –2v . 30

31

Neri di Bicci, Le Ricordanze, p. 320.

‘chavallari, messi, birri e simili offici, non possino nè debbino mai per tenpo alcuno aver officio alcuno di sorte alchuna’: ASF, CRS, Capitoli 54, fol. 15r. 32

‘La compagnia della Vergine Maria della piazza della Scarperia sono un numero d’uomini 90 o più, de’ quali 90 abita la città di Firenze circa 10, che sono cittadini e preti’: AA, CC, 391, fasc. 15, no foliation.

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and already by 1496 they made up over one sixth of the electoral borse.33 It is very likely that this domination of confraternal offices had been a political strategy of the family, for it certainly followed similar patterns in urban Florentine confraternities.34 Certainly every significant name in communal politics could also be found as members of this confraternity. Membership of this confraternity was made even more exclusive by the extraordinary membership fees: an initial payment of twenty soldi was required when most rural companies asked between two and five soldi.35 To their credit, its members were very active providers of charity, but even this was limited to inhabitants of Scarperia and to one other tiny settlement, that of Sant’ Andrea a Cerchiano. The latter numbered only thirty-five inhabitants and notably was not associated with the parishes of Fagna or Sant’ Agata.36 The company had been forced to take responsibility for this tiny community as a condition of a rather substantial testamentary bequest left by one of its members who had family living in this village.37 The exclusivity of this confraternity reflects the prevailing social structure of Scarperia: cut off from surrounding communities, excluding female membership, and conferring elevated social status on the richest artisanal families.38 Even the baptismal records of the church of Santi Jacopo and Filippo reflected the tendency of Scarperia to be an insular and self-regarding community. There were very few cases of individuals from outside the town walls ever acting as godparents for the town’s inhabitants. In the period between 1540 and 1544, a mere 5 per cent of children of town dwellers chose external godparents.39 On the 33 34

AA, CC, 391, fasc. 15, no foliation, loose insert.

For treatment of this issue in an urban setting, see Ronald Weissman, Ritual Brotherhood in Renaissance Florence (New York: Academic Press, 1982); and Dale Kent, The Rise of the Medici (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978). For the Medici involvement in one urban confraternity, see also Dale Kent, ‘The Buonomini of San Martino: Charity for the “Glory of God, the Honour of the City, and the Commemoration of Myself”’, in Cosimo ‘il Vecchio’ de’ Medici, 1389–1464, ed. by Francis Ames-Lewis (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), pp. 49–67. 35

36 37

ASF, CRS, Capitoli 54, fol. 10v . ASF, DR, 333.

‘Debbino anchora e’ prefati capitani per virtù dell’obrigho che ha questa compagnia sopra el podere di Ponzalla, far fare ogni anno staia dodici di pane alli huomini di Sanct’ Andrea a Cerchiano et distribuirlo à poveri di detto popolo [. . .] per l’amore di Dio sechondo che parla il testamento di chi ha lasciato l’obrigho’: ASF, CRS, Capitoli 54, fol. 15v . 38

It is also the only confraternity I have come across in the contado where the minutes of all meetings are recorded in Latin. This continues to be the case up until 1590. 39

Of 140 baptisms registered in this period, only seven families chose godparents who did not live within the town walls. AA, Reg. Parr., Campagna, 1777.

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occasions where this did occur, those involved tended to be either children who were themselves foreigners (born in the castle while their parents were sheltering in times of war) or female godparents chosen from surrounding villages, these being less important figures than male godparents for the child’s future. Moreover, by the mid-sixteenth century, the ruling group of families in Scarperia had developed such close and exclusive networks that in the period between 1545 and 1555, there is no instance of this group ever choosing godparents from outside the town, instead favouring local artisans and, more particularly, one another to take on this role for their children.40 In this sense, Scarperia had become even more divided along class lines than Florence itself. Interestingly, despite the very strong ties between Scarperia and Florence, there is no evidence of Florentine citizens acting as godparents for members of this community, as was the case in some other rural communities.41 It seems that the relationship between Florence and Scarperia was more one of imitation on the part of Scarperia and interference on the part of Florence than a series of direct and personal relationships between townspeople and Florentine citizens. This suggestion is also supported by the fact that in political matters, Scarperia tended to utilize official channels or appeal directly to the Medici, so revealing that they had no particularly close relationships with other individual Florentine citizens or families. Even after the earthquake, the relationship between Florentine citizens and the inhabitants of Scarperia remained surprisingly formal, and while the commune, as an administrative body, wrote regularly to the government, I have found no examples of individuals ever appealing directly to Florence. This formality also extended to the lack of participation in the liturgical life of the township on the part of the Medici, for while the relationship between the family and the region was a close one, the Medici chose a nearby conventual church, at Bosco dei Frati, as their place of worship rather than either of the parishes of Scarperia. It was also this tiny Franciscan church, and its community of brothers, located in the middle of an extensive tract of woodlands, which attracted the lion’s share of Medici patronage in this area of the territory. Despite the formal nature of their relations, Scarperia demonstrated little ability or inclination to throw off the yoke of its creators. To the contrary, as the sixteenth century progressed the citizens increasingly modelled their social and ecclesiastical structures on urban equivalents, sharing not only a physical resemblance to Florence, but also embracing the city’s prejudices and divisions. The 40 41

See list of names of ruling families in Appendix 4.

In the period 1518–50, there are no examples of Florentine citizens acting as godparents for children born in Scarperia, and none of citizens baptizing their own children in this parish church.

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town’s hierarchical social structure and division from its neighbouring parishes meant that Florentine territorial forces had little difficulty in keeping Scarperia under control, or in infiltrating its ecclesiastical structures. This official Florentine interference, however, ended with the contentious town walls. In a sense, the town’s prejudice and sense of superiority towards members of its own commune protected the surrounding communities from Florentine infiltration. The completely separate ecclesiastical structures that persisted in the parishes of Sant’ Agata and Fagna, while limiting them financially and in the networks they were able to develop, enabled these smaller communities to continue to preserve a large degree of their former autonomy in the face of the centralization of Florentine administration. Where Scarperia was too strategically important to leave to its own devices, the marginal significance of Sant’ Agata and Fagna protected them from Florentine inroads into their structures and institutions.

III Where Scarperia concentrated on its formal and institutional ties to Florence, the inhabitants of Gangalandi could not avoid being in continual contact with individual Florentine citizens. The Alberti, Pandolfini, Rucellai, Strozzi, Pucci, Soderini, and Pugliese all owned property in the area, competed for patronage rights over rural convents and chapels, and baptized their children in local churches. Many of the urban families whose influence was felt in Gangalandi during the late fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were descendants of the same rural lords that had dominated the region prior to its liberation by Florence in the early 1100s. It had been the kinsmen of the Alberti who had held the castle of Gangalandi in the late eleventh century and opposed the attempts of the cathedral chapter to gain control of the region.42 In this sense, the inhabitants of Gangalandi were no strangers to interference in their parishes. Yet, where the official Florentine presence in Scarperia curtailed local control, it can be argued that the local communities of Gangalandi were able to have greater autonomy under Florentine rule. At least by the fifteenth century this was the case, as the structures and controls put in place by the Florentine territorial government allowed local people to be much more involved in the control of rural institutions than they had been previously. Increased local control not only affected administrative structures, examined in previous chapters, but also impacted on ecclesiastical institutions throughout the commune. Where feudal 42

Dameron, ‘Patrimony and Clientage in the Florentine Countryside’, particularly pp. 274–75.

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lords had controlled parishes entirely, claiming tithes and forcing their vassals to work ecclesiastical lands, diocesan structures allowed for church property to be rented out to individuals and its income to be used not only to pay diocesan contributions, but also to maintain the parish and distribute charity to the rural poor. Furthermore, the structures of purchased patronage rights increased parish income and handed over the basic organization of parishes to local councils. Despite, or perhaps because of, the long history of significant citizen presence in the region, there is no evidence of direct Florentine interference in the day-to-day running of the parishes of the commune or their associated confraternities. One of the reasons that the commune was largely left in peace by the government was undoubtedly the fact that the region posed very little threat to Florence. Traditionally part of the Florentine contado, Gangalandi was well within ‘safe’ Florentine territory, and while in a strategically important position on the trade route to Pisa, there were no Florentine enemies in the immediate vicinity. Perhaps more important, however, were the close and active relationships forged between members of this community and the patrician families that owned property in the area. Many parishioners worked the poderi of the Pandolfini, Strozzi, and Soderini, worshipped with them, acted as godparents for each other’s children, and no doubt also at times drank with them in the communal taverns.43 The families also formed strong networks amongst themselves. Allies in both the city and the countryside thus provided a stable, unofficial, Florentine presence in the region. For the greater part, this convivenza between contadini and cittadini was a peaceful one, punctuated only by occasional disputes over unpaid debts, the appropriateness of particular parish priests, and the competition for patronage rights to local ecclesiastical institutions. Perhaps one of the best-known, and most thoroughly researched, examples of the role of an urban citizen in a rural parish is that of Leon Battista Alberti’s association with the parish of San Martino in Gangalandi, as described in the recently published study of Alberti’s relationship with Florence by Luca Boschetto.44 Alberti held the position of prior of San Martino 43

The Strozzi, Soderini, and Pandolfini all appear in San Martino’s baptismal records, either baptizing their own children in the church or acting as godparents for local children. See AA, Reg. Parr., Campagna, 0830. Pandolfo Pandolfini had his son Giannozzo baptized in this church and asked Bartolomeo Cederni, the small-time banker, to be one of his godparents. Letter 37, Bartolomeo Cederni and his Friends: Letters to an Obscure Florentine, ed. by Gino Corti and Francis W. Kent (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1991), p. 103. 44

Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, document 6. This impressive study of Leon Battista Alberti examines this relationship in some detail, and Boschetto has published a number of the key documents in his book.

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from 1431 until 1472, although his level of participation in the parish throughout these four decades varied. The first evidence of this fluctuating involvement was when he began to rent out his rights over the governance of the church in 1440 to two local men, Pagno di Balduccio, a wood merchant, and Aringo di Corso, a potter.45 These men were not acting on their own behalf but had taken over the contract for the confraternity of the Virgin Mary. Despite handing over responsibility for the governance of the church, Alberti was still not entirely cut off from local affairs. He still maintained control of the rental of the land that belonged to the church, was responsible for the payment of any taxes associated with church property, and maintained the right to live in the house attached to San Martino, but the organization and administration of the sacred offices passed into the hands of Pagno and Aringo. Exactly one month after the contract with Alberti had been notarized, Pagno and Aringo had another contract prepared in which they effectively leased San Martino to a Florentine, ser Luca di Brancaccio.46 This second contract observed the exact conditions of the original contract they had made with Alberti, the only addition being that ser Luca was expected to observe the statutes of the confraternity of the Virgin Mary, which met in the church and effectively operated as the opera, and pay the costs of employing a priest. This addition to the contract, and the choice of Pagno and Aringo to rent the church out for exactly the sum they were expected to pay Alberti, makes it clear that these men had not entered into the contract with the view to making a profit. Instead, they were buying back from Alberti the local community’s control over their own parish in order for them to have more say in the choice of who was to minister to their spiritual needs. The agreement did not proceed smoothly and, failing to make the necessary payments, Pagno, Aringo, and several of their guarantors ended up in prison. In their appeal against this sentence, Pagno and Aringo made this arrangement explicit, claiming that ‘In truth, these contracts of rent were taken on by Aringo and Pagno, on behalf of the community of San Martino, so that their church would be better governed, and the church’s possessions be maintained in better order’, thus giving the distinct impression that the community thought Alberti’s care of the parish left a little to be desired.47 The accusations and contra-

45 46 47

Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, document 6, pp. 193–96. Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, document 7, pp. 197–99.

‘Et perché in verità posto che decte conductione et locatione cantino in decti Aringo e Pagno, per lo decto popolo di San Martino predecto quelli fecino perché decta loro chiesa fusse meglio uffitiata, et le decte sue cose meglio se conservassino’: Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, document 32, pp. 246–47.

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accusations continued, as the various people acting as guarantors for the two parties were drawn further and further into the dispute. While it is not clear how this matter was finally resolved, another contract was drawn up in 1447, this time by Piero Dati and Marco di Parente Parenti acting on behalf of Alberti, with a Carmelite brother from Prato who was to be directly responsible for the liturgy of the parish, effectively cutting off the local inhabitants from the decision-making process.48 In 1464, Alberti’s control of San Martino was challenged on a different front, this time not by the parishioners, but by Carlo Pandolfini. Asserting that the church and property of San Martino were in poor condition and that his family should be given patronage rights in order that they might rectify this situation, Pandolfini’s claim was met by vocal protests from Alberti’s representative, Marco Parenti, as well as from members of the congregation.49 And yet despite this opposition, Pandolfini and his descendants were granted patronage rights to the parish.50 Another, equally serious, dispute concerning patronage rights in the commune was centred around the Dominican foundation located at Lecceto. The convent had been originally established in 1475 by virtue of the donation of a large piece of land to the Dominican order from the communal council. The commune was to finance the construction of the convent and, in return, receive patronage rights over the convent. Ten years after its establishment, however, the commune had found itself in financial trouble and unable to finish the building project.51 The brothers responded to this situation by handing over the patronage rights to the most famous and wealthy member of the Strozzi family, Filippo Strozzi (who was later to be responsible for the construction of the mammoth Strozzi palace in the centre of Florence), and subsequently removed the communal arms from the convent, replacing them with the family’s own.52 There is no doubt that this handover sparked a certain amount of animosity, and yet after the negotiations and accusations had ceased, the greatest damage done seemed to have been to the relationship between the commune and the convent. The dispute certainly marked the end of formal relationships between both parties — the friars had accused communal 48 49 50 51 52

Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, document 38, pp. 267–71. Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, p. 173. Brucker, ‘The Pope, the Pandolfini, and the Parrochiali’, pp. 121–22. For details of these disputes, see ASF, CS, serie 5, 1185.

For a discussion of these issues, see Eve Borsook, ‘Documenti relativi alle cappelle di Lecceto e delle Selve di Filippo Strozzi’, Antichità Viva, 9 (1970), 3–20, and Jill Burke, Changing Patrons: Social Identity and the Visual Arts in Renaissance Florence (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2004).

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officials of attempting to destroy the order — and the confraternities of the commune largely avoided contact with this community in favour of the other convent in the region.53 Yet the failure of the commune to preserve its rights over the convent appeared to have had no lasting impact on the relationship between the inhabitants of Gangalandi and the Strozzi as such, and in 1523, and again in 1524, we find one Niccolò d’ Antonio Strozzi acting as godparent for the children of two separate local families.54 One of the reasons that these patronage disputes never seriously disturbed the peace of this community was that despite the presence of Florentine citizens, it was still councils of local men that fundamentally controlled the parishes of the commune. Each of the four parishes of Gangalandi — San Martino, San Pietro, Santo Stefano, and San Michele — had a lay confraternity associated with the parish, which acted as the parish council and made the most important decisions regarding the organization of parochial activities including the decoration of the church, distribution of charity, and use of ecclesiastical property. In contrast to Scarperia, the inhabitants of Gangalandi were very careful to protect these confraternities from external interference, and despite the close personal relationships forged between the inhabitants and Florentine citizens, no confraternity allowed citizens to be members of its company. Participation in these councils was also considerably more broad-based than that of the confraternities of Scarperia, with membership fees less than a quarter of the cost and no prohibitive rulings as to who could participate. The more inclusive nature of the councils, the degree of control they were allowed, and the ancient nature of the parishes in question meant that a large percentage of individuals in each parish was able to participate actively in the organization and government of their respective communities. As a result, individuals tended to identify most strongly with their parish grouping, defending its freedom and autonomy to the last — a situation that resulted in the parish of Santo Stefano temporarily breaking away from the commune in 1493. In fact one of the greatest challenges facing the commune of Gangalandi in this period was to preserve the balance of these distinct parish communities, while at the same time maintaining a unified administrative body. It was the dedication of communal officials to

53

Despite the end of the formal relationship between the church and the commune it is interesting to note that a significant number of local people on the grand council of Gangalandi were employed on the building project for the convent, even after the patronage rights were taken over by Filippo Strozzi. For a list of labourers and payments made, see ASF, CS, serie 5, 1185. 54

AA, Reg. Parr., Campagna, 0830.

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achieving this balance that minimized the necessity of Florentine intervention and that enabled all four parishes to protect their proud tradition of self-government. Just as San Martino was the political and administrative hub of the commune, its parish was the spiritual and ritual centre, and as such, the parish played a central role in the maintenance of peaceful internal relations. Up until the late thirteenth century, the parish of San Martino had fallen under the authority of the parish priest of Signa. Signa was, after all, in the naturally more powerful position: traffic from Florence favoured the right bank of the Arno, as did citizen investment in property. And yet San Martino continued to be the wealthier of the two rural parishes and its congregation larger.55 The land owned by the parish church alone, not including the associated confraternities, was in the order of 250 staiora.56 In this context it is understandable that the parishioners of San Martino resented the fact they were obliged to honour the patronal festival of their dominant neighbour, just as the parish priest of San Martino would have resented the right of the priest of Signa to perform sacred duties in his church in Gangalandi. Perhaps the greatest inconvenience and insult was that San Martino was denied the right to its own baptismal font, forcing inhabitants of the commune to traverse Ponte a Signa in order to baptize their children. In 1224 the council of San Martino rebelled against the dominance of the parish of Signa and was threatened with excommunication for its actions.57 It was only as the result of a natural disaster that San Martino was to have its own baptismal font. Permission was finally granted in 1274, when flooding of the Arno collapsed the bridge at Ponte a Signa, making crossing impossible. When the bridge was rebuilt, San Martino hung onto its new-found independence, and attained dominance in the commune.58 As it was the only parish of the commune with a baptismal font, members of the other congregations were forced to have some ritual association with San Martino, if only in order to have their children baptized. Already forced to concede to San 55

In 1431 the annual income of the parish was 160 florins and the land owned by the parish declared to be of the value of 1500 florins. Boschetto, Leon Battista Alberti e Firenze, p. 105.

56 In the Decima of 1497 there are two separate declarations, one for the pieve of San Martino and one for the chiesa; both declare 250 staiora of land. ASF, DR, Religiosi Santo Spirito, 67, fols 241r and 257v. 57

This example is obviously a continuation of the systematic separation of rural parishes from their pieve that Chris Wickham has identified as occurring over the course of the twelfth century: Courts and Conflicts, pp. 252–60. 58

Gioia Romagnoli, ‘Gangalandi: appunti per la storia di un territorio, di una chiesa e di una famiglia’, in San Martino a Gangalandi, ed. by Pisani and Romagnoli, pp. 13–20.

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Martino politically, the parishes of San Michele, Santo Stefano, and San Pietro were in no hurry to submit any further to the central parish, and as a result, even token acts of liturgical unity were infused with controversy. In liturgical terms, the discontent of the three parishes was not focused on baptismal rites as such — the use of the central parish was unavoidable — but instead was associated with the ritual tributes expected by the parish of San Martino during the feast of Corpus Christi. Traditionally, the three parishes were required to make both liturgical and material offerings to the central pieve in the form of candlesticks, wax, Masses, and food for the celebration of the feast. The priests and congregations were expected to process with their offerings to San Martino and, united, celebrate in liturgy and feasting.59 By 1537 the weight of this symbolic act of submission had become too much for the three parishes, and after several years of refusing to make the journey, it was decided that all such expectations were to be suspended in order to ‘remove the differences between the parishes and maintain the union between them’.60 In previous years San Martino had responded to the absences by imposing fines on the rebellious communities but, realizing that the unity of the community was at stake, had been forced to concede its traditional dues. The extremely delicate nature of the power balance reached between the proud and loyal parishes of the commune was perhaps most clearly evident in the series of deliberations regarding the decoration of the communal palace. When, in 1536, the twelve councillors of Gangalandi decided that it was time to renovate their meeting rooms they were well aware of the sensitive nature of their charge.61 The original paintings had been damaged by the war and pieces had collapsed. The subject matter was straightforward — the images were to depict the four saints associated with each of the popoli, with a central figure of the Virgin Mary — but the problems emerged when it came to deciding how these images were to be arranged. As the largest and traditionally most important parish, it seemed logical that San Martino would have the place of honour on the right hand of the Virgin. Indeed in the original decorations, San Martino had enjoyed precisely this position, but it was soon realized that this would only exacerbate the existing resentment towards the central parish which had culminated in the suspension of ritual tributes only twelve months earlier.62 In a period when tension between the parishes

59 60 61 62

ASF, CRS, 1629, fol. 19v. ‘per levare le differenza tra popoli e mantenergli in pace e unione’: ASF, CRS, 1629, fol 19v. For deliberations regarding this commission, see ASF, CRS, 1629, fols 3v , 18r, and 21r. ASF, CRS, 1629, fol. 3v.

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was high, the councillors recognized that placing San Martino on the right of the Virgin would have been a constant and self-satisfied reminder to the people of the parish’s supremacy in the region. A compromise was finally reached, and the place of honour was given instead to the oldest of the four parishes, that of San Michele. Next to him they would depict San Pietro, with San Martino taking the Virgin’s left hand and Santo Stefano on the flank.63 This decision was passed by only nine of the twelve councillors, and it would not be surprising to learn that it had been the representatives of San Martino who had not been entirely happy with the decision. Yet the majority decision to allocate the position of honour in accordance to the ancient foundation of San Michele was irreproachable. Justifying the council’s decision on the grounds that ‘each popolo had its duty’, San Martino was forced, once again, to concede its position in order to maintain a lasting peace in the region.64 This incident not only reveals the dedication of local inhabitants to the principle of equal representation and democratic decision making, but it also serves as a timely reminder that not only were rural communities active patrons of art, they were also well versed in its language of power. Yet despite the attempts of the parishes of San Michele, San Pietro, and Santo Stefano to preserve their position, and the willingness of San Martino to concede a certain amount of power, it is undeniable that the central parish exercised the greatest control over communal ecclesiastical institutions. The landholdings of the other three parishes could in no sense match the overall financial strengths of San Martino. In 1497 Santo Stefano declared only thirty-seven staiora of land, San Pietro a mere four staiora of vineyard, and San Michele made no declaration at all.65 Not only was San Martino the wealthiest and largest parish of the commune — boasting one thousand communicant members — it also had four confraternities and an equal number of hospitals associated with the parish. Of these companies, two possessed separate oratories, one acted as the parish opera, and a fourth, entitled ‘The Poor of Christ’, drew its membership from the entire region. It was this confraternity that drew its membership from the entire commune that was most influential in the establishment of internal and external networks, and arguably, 63

‘E perché si ttrova che’l popolo di San Michele, ch’é uno de’ quattro popoli, è’l più anticho popolo del chomune di Gangalandi, deliberono e vinsono per fave nove nere che lo imagine di San Michele sia dipinta da latto diritto dela gloriose Vergine Maria. A latto di lui, la imagine di San Piero, e l’imagine San Martino sia a latto mancho della gloriosa Maria e latto a lui Santo Stefano’: ASF, CRS, 1629, fol 21r–v. 64

65

‘e questo ànno fatto perché ognuno abbia suo dovere’: ASF, CRS, 1629, fol. 21r. ASF, DR, 67, fols 356 (Santo Stefano), 342v (San Pietro).

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it had the greatest impact on the social structure of the community. This confraternity also came close to being as wealthy as the parish itself, in 1497 declaring landownership of over two hundred staiora, which it rented out to local labourers.66 The second largest confraternity of the commune, the Vergine Maria, which looked after the administration of the church, was also relatively wealthy, declaring possession of 144 staiora of land, whereas the flagellant company of San Martino owned only fifty-nine staiora.67 Unlike the communal confraternity of Scarperia, the Poveri di Christo ensured that each parish was equally represented in the offices of the company and regularly elected some of the poorest members of the commune to act as company officials.68 The success of the confraternity of the Poveri di Christo, despite its mixed membership, reflects the willingness of these disparate parishes to work together, united at least in some contexts, and its equal representation of each of the four popoli was fundamental to the maintenance of peaceful relationships between these four very proud and different communities. The company of the Poveri di Christo, like all communal confraternities, was primarily responsible for providing social welfare to the community at large. The rent from its extensive landholdings provided funds for the distribution of bread, the payment of dowries, the celebration of feast days, and the support of communal convents. The commune’s preoccupation with equal representation also extended to the charitable roles performed by the company, and officials were careful to ensure that each year an equal number of dowries were provided for all four parishes of the commune.69 Yet, while the company shared the rural impulse to look after, first and foremost, its own community, the Poveri di Christo also extended its charitable arm as far as the neighbouring settlement of Fegine, thus establishing a close relationship 66 67 68

ASF, DR, 67, fol. 300. ASF, DR, 67, fols 376 r and 239 v, respectively.

The company was governed by four priors, one from each of the four parishes of the commune. See ASF, CRS, 1628, fol. 29 r. When office-holding lists of this company are compared with the commune’s tax declarations, it is evident that a large number of office holders were of extremely humble means. For example Andrea di Bartolomeo, a local farmer, elected as prior in 1493, declared a taxable property of one third of a house and three staiora of vineyard. In the following year Giovanni di Salvadore di Pagholo, who had already held the office on several other occasions, declared a mere one-fifth of a house, three staiora of vineyard, and half a staiora of grain crops, supporting a family which numbered twelve individuals. ASF, DR, 266. 69

This desire to ensure equal representation was limited to supporting those living within the bounds of the commune. When it was discovered that dowries were being given to girls living outside the boundaries of Gangalandi, the confraternity moved quickly to remove their names from the list of eligible candidates. ASF, CRS, 1629, fol. 31r.

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with this town which, in turn, occasionally united with Gangalandi for the celebration of religious feasts.70 In addition the company ran the communal tavern — the financial benefit no doubt overcoming any moral hesitations — and oversaw four hospitals, one of which was located in the neighbouring commune of Lastra a Signa.71 The company also maintained extraordinarily close links with the communal government. It was the communal council of the twelve that elected the four operai of the confraternity — one from each of the four parishes of the commune — and in turn, the confraternity was responsible for safeguarding the electoral bags of the communal government and keeping accurate records of elections and lists of communal officials.72 The officials of the company were directly answerable to the twelve councillors and the grand council of the commune, and confraternal statutes required the four operai to consult with these councils before making any major decisions regarding confraternal property or activities.73 The communal council reinforced its control of the confraternity in 1486, when it passed a new law forbidding the confraternity to elect or remove a governor of any of the four hospitals under its care without the express approval of the council of the twelve and that of the forty-eight.74 Moreover these operai did not meet, as would be expected, in the parish church, but gathered instead in the communal palace, and thus acted more as a subsidiary of the communal government than as a separate institution.75 As a united front, the commune and the communal confraternity of the Poveri di Christo went about establishing strong relationships with the convents present in the area. These religious communities not only provided lines of communication with the centre, but also played a vital role in the liturgical and economic life of the commune: attracting pilgrims, providing preachers, participating in festivals, and renting their land to local families. The role of the commune in the establishment 70 71

ASF, CRS, 1629, fol. 236r.

The four hospitals governed by the commune were San’ Antonio in the parish of San Martino, San Salvadore a Malmantile, Santa Maria Maddalena in the parish of San Michele, and San Benedetto in the castello of Lastra a Signa. Not surprisingly, the governor of the hospital in the strategically important castello was a flag bearer of the Duke. ASF, Comp. Bigallo, 1360, fols 9v,11v, 12v, and 16v. 72 In fact, the lists of elected communal officials are found not in council records but amongst the papers of the confraternity. See ASF, CRS, 1629, fol. 35r. 73

These controls are outlined in the communal statutes regarding the election of confraternal priors. ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 10r. 74

75

ASF, Statuti, 350, fol. 50r. ASF, CRS, 1629, fol. 2r.

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of the Dominican convent has already been discussed, and it was no less active in its involvement with the Carmelite order. Santa Maria delle Selve was the older of the two convents and, while in Florentine territory, held the unique position of still being governed by the original founders, a Lombard community. Despite this link outside the territory, the convent still established strong ties with Florence, its patrons being the very active Strozzi family and the community having invested over five hundred florins in Monte credits.76 Filippo Strozzi owned land very near the convent, so his involvement in the chapel was a natural part of his rural presence. The convent was also particularly interested in local matters, both practical and liturgical, contributing to local street and water works and voluntarily providing funds to pay for a doctor for the community.77 The Poveri di Christo paid the brothers to say Masses for confraternal members, and the brothers made small contributions to the confraternity for the celebration of feast days.78 While the convent’s landholdings were relatively small, the convent also established more practical working relationships with the community by renting out its land to local men. The extent to which the local community claimed the convent as its own, despite holding no patronage rights over the monastery, is clear in the commune’s attempts to interfere in the convent’s internal structures. The convent had been hit badly by the severe plague outbreak of 1527, losing many of its brothers and being slowly reduced to ruin. In 1531 the situation was so bad that it was forced to sell off the majority of its land, 150 staiora of forest, to a prominent local man, Lorenzo di Piero Dolconi.79 By 1536 the situation had deteriorated even further, and according to the commune, the spiritual and temporal scandals associated with the convent’s decline were now affecting the entire commune. The inhabitants of Gangalandi felt that the perilous condition of the commune was being given little apostolic care for the very reason that the convent was under the control of the Mantuan motherhouse which, in turn, paid the convent little attention because it was located inside Florentine territory. This supposed Mantuan apathy may well have been a new development, as when Leon Battista Alberti had been alive and prior of the church there were no such complaints from the local community. Alberti had developed a close artistic and personal relationship with Ludovico Gonzaga in the later part of his life and had travelled back and forth to Mantua 76

ASF, Provv., 180, fols 124v –125. Filippo Strozzi’s involvement in this convent is also discussed by Borsook, ‘Documenti relativi alle Cappelle di Lecceto’, pp. 3–20. 77 78 79

ASF, Corp. Relig. Sopp., Convento 253, 5. ASF, Corp. Relig. Sopp., Convento 253, 1. ASF, Corp. Relig. Sopp., 253, 1, fol. 214v .

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regularly, so it is possible he had been able to act as advocate for the community. By the early part of the sixteenth century, however, Alberti was long departed and the twelve councillors of Gangalandi decided to take matters into their own hands and, calling an emergency meeting of the commune, elected four men to act as ambassadors to appeal to the highest ecclesiastical powers in Rome.80 The four were to request that the convent be removed from the control of the Mantuan vicar general and handed over to Tuscan control. The councillors were not content merely to suggest the handover, but they also had a suitable candidate in mind, a Cypriot brother, Niccolò Audet, who, they were to assure the Pope, was not only an honest and discrete man of good reputation and habits, but also happened to have all the licenses necessary to operate in Tuscany.81 It is unknown what the relationship between the commune and this Cypriot Carmelite was, or who had originally recommended him as a possible replacement, but the fact that the commune saw itself as in a position to interfere with the workings of a religious order — let alone make its appeal directly to the papacy — demonstrates a particular level of self-confidence and sense of responsibility for the well-being of the ecclesiastical institutions within the commune. In demanding that the order was placed under Tuscan control, the councillors also revealed an awareness of a strong regional identity that went far beyond the bounds of their immediate community. While it is clear that the divisions between the four parishes that made up the commune of Gangalandi were no less deeply entrenched than those existing in Scarperia, the inhabitants of the region were determined that these divisions be tempered by ensuring equal representation in all their ecclesiastical and administrative institutions. By taking responsibility for maintaining internal unity, the contadini of this zone were able to control both the internal structure of the commune and the relationships they forged with neighbouring communities, with minimal Florentine interference. The ability of this community to preserve a great degree of autonomy over its institutions was assisted by the stable presence of independent Florentine citizens who, while forging relationships with rural labourers and competing between themselves over patronage rights of the churches and convents 80

Representatives of all four parishes were present at this emergency session of the council and the four ambassadors chosen each represented one of these parishes. ASF, Notarile, 10045, fols 1162–72.

81 ‘et concedere eam cum omnibus connexis reverendo generali, generalissimo totis religionis ordinis Carmelitarum nuncupato, frati Nicholas Audet, de insula Cipri, viro quidem probo et discreto et bone qualitatis, fame e morum, et quod habeat facultatem et liberam potestatem supponendi dictam ecclesiam provinciali Tuscie dicti ordinis pro tempore existenti’: ASF, Notarile, 10045, fol. 117r.

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of the region, largely left the community to its own devices when it came to the regulation of internal disputes.

IV The desire to preserve internal peace was not universally shared amongst contadini, however, and once again the mountain communities of the Pistoiese present a dramatic contrast to the largely conciliatory approach of Gangalandi. The very lack of surviving sources for these communities reflects the degree of organizational chaos that prevailed in both administrative and ecclesiastical bodies: parish records are almost non-existent, and confraternal and convent sources scarce and badly maintained. The records of the visitation of 1550 complained that the parish of San Marcello Pistoiese had no records of either marriages or births, and the bishop visiting the parish was forced to make a list, in his own hand, of all those who had been baptized that year.82 Cutigliano was hardly any better organized, and in addition to badly kept records it was completely lacking any liturgical texts. Many other mountain parishes were found to be in a similar state of disarray.83 The environment of continual factional conflict and corporate violence was hardly conducive to the accurate keeping of records, nor did it contribute to the stability of the institutions themselves. Where records have survived, they present the seemingly contradictory picture of a series of intensely inward-looking communities, which were at the same time highly mobile and motivated by wider loyalties and solidarities. As was the case for the majority of rural communities, the parish church was the fundamental point of association for the mountain men of the Pistoiese. The church, together with its bell tower, was the primary symbol of identity; here they not only worshipped, but also conducted communal meetings, gathered for war and took shelter when their own community was threatened. When factional conflict led them to invade opposing territory, their assault was focused either on capturing or destroying their enemy’s parish church. The poverty of these communities meant that there were rarely any other sites of corporate gathering. As a result, the period of greatest factional conflict, between 1499 and 1504, saw scores of churches and bell towers throughout the mountain region destroyed, as the Cancellieri gradually gained the upper hand. This strong identification with bell towers was far from 82 Elena Vannucchi, ‘La fisionomia delle parrocchie della Montagna Pistoiese dal Quattrocento all’Epoca Ricciana’, in La parrocchia montana, ed. by Foschi and Zagnoni, pp. 35–44 (p. 36). 83

Vannucchi, ‘La fisionomia’, pp. 34–36.

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unique to mountain communities: the ringing of the community’s bell was the fundamental means for rural communities to mark out the working day, to warn of danger, and to announce any extraordinary events. Depriving a community of its bell tower was, in many senses, depriving it of meaning as without its bell the community could not be easily summoned to meet and was thus rendered temporarily impotent. The inhabitants of Poppi certainly felt this way about the loss of the bell belonging to the Franciscan community in their midst, appealing to Lucrezia Tornabuoni in 1473 to intervene and writing that ‘having been lost, we and all this territory are in effect deprived of all our spiritual consolations, since from these friars we receive sermons, confessions, and all the holy offices by means of this bell, for when it sounds on these occasions, everybody gathers there’.84 One after the other, the Panciatichi strongholds of Casale, Santo Stefano, Seravalle, Brandeglio, and Lizzano fell to Cancellieri forces.85 In these desperate battles there was no mercy, let alone respect for sacred spaces, and hundreds of men, women, and children were burnt alive while sheltering within the walls of their parish church.86 But in a sense, for the mountain communities, the parish church was more a military than a spiritual symbol, and its destruction was seen by contemporaries as a blow not to the community as such, but to the faction with which it was associated. Contemporary chroniclers describing factional battles describe the conquest of towns and commune as ‘the taking of the church’ or ‘the taking of the bell tower’.87 The two factional leaders even went so far as to treat the inhabitants of whole villages as their personal militia, encouraging their mobilization with donations of arms to enable the men to join in the violence.88 Thus only

84

Quoted in Francis W. Kent, ‘Sainted Mother, Magnificent Son: Lucrezia Tornabuoni and Lorenzo de’ Medici’, Italian History and Culture, 3 (1997), pp. 3–34 (p. 21). Quotation taken from Lucrezia Tornabuoni, Lettere, ed. by P. Salvadori (Florence: Olschki, 1993), pp. 199–20. 85

For a summary of factional loyalties and their evolution over the course of the fifteenth century, see Connell, La città dei crucci, pp. 255–56. 86

For example Buoni records the conquest of the church of Santo Stefano: ‘l’altro giorno, vedendo di non poter havere il campanile di Santo Stefano, feceno Consiglio di arder la chiesa, et che tutti che vi erano, morissono, al meno per il fuoco’. Buoni, ‘De’casi di Pistoia 1499 al 1504’, BNF, Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli, 371, fol. 49r. 87

See particularly the chronicler Buono Buoni, ‘De’casi di Pistoia 1499 al 1504’, BNF, Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli, 371. 88

A member of the Panciatichi confessed to having armed the village of Mammiano in order to secure its loyalty in factional conflicts, for which he was exiled from Florentine territory for two years. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 4, fol. 76r.

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where a community was united in its factional loyalties can the parish be considered to have been the dominant spiritual institution in the Pistoiese mountains. In these cases the community’s loyalty to the parish was only increased by the factional identity of parish groupings, defining themselves against their neighbours not only as a community of worshipers, but also as a political unit. Admittedly, some mountain communities chose to put aside factional loyalties in order to preserve the peace of their immediate parish community. But this was only in cases of extreme necessity, such as the treaty forged between the two factions in the impoverished town of Crespoli who, in order to be able to ‘restore the desolate lands’, made peace ‘in perpetuo’ and requested, as their reward, the pardoning of all exiled and condemned partisans of each faction.89 This was obviously such a welcome change for Florentine authorities that they immediately granted the pardon, and the two factions were then faced with the challenge of attempting to rebuild the ravaged region side by side. Even in these cases it was not the parish church itself, or the spiritual community, that the community was committed to preserving, but the social and economic unit of the parish. Evidently, the inhabitants of the mountains showed little respect for sacred space, and visitation records are witness to the disgust with which Florentine ecclesiastical authorities reacted to the use of church buildings. Various parishes were criticized for allowing forbidden games to be played inside the building or just outside the church doors, and the female parishioners of Lizzano were admonished for taking chairs into the church. But perhaps the most shocking discovery of all was made in the church of San Bartolomeo in Cutigliano (Fig. 2). Here, not only were the parishioners discovered playing tavern games — presumably involving betting — inside the church and had been seen climbing into the pulpit and imitating the movements of their priest, mocking him, but the walls of the chapel were vandalized with what were described as ‘various obscenities’.90 Instances where individuals would betray members of their own parishes in order to win the favour of their partisan brothers were relatively common. Thus when Jacopo di Santo of Cutigliano confessed that he had falsely accused ten members of his town of meeting in secret to plan a raid into Bolognese territory, he claimed he had only done so ‘in order to demonstrate his friendship to the Panciatichi’.91 The divisions in the town of Cutigliano certainly ran too deeply for any suggestion

89

‘hanno in fra loro facto pace perpetuo [. . .] et tutto ànno facto pensando colla concordia possere riavere e danni loro. Et col tempo restaurare la desolata terra’: ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 61 r. 90

91

Vannucchi, ‘La fisionomia’, p. 38. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 3, fol. 137r.

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of peace between the two factions; the matter could only be resolved in bloodshed, and two separate massacres of Panciatichi supporters decided the loyalties of the remaining inhabitants once and for all.92 An even more striking indication of the strength of partisan ties was the extent to which individuals from far-flung communities mobilized as a single unit in factional battles, and in these instances neither parish ties nor territorial boundaries were taken into consideration. When an individual from Cutigliano was prosecuted for acts committed against the Cancellieri, at his side were not members of his own parish but individuals from the northern city of Ferrara.93 Likewise, lists of rebels involved in the Pistoian tumult of 1539 included not only men from the mountain communities but also individuals from the territory of Bologna.94 Parish groups belonging to the same factions also joined forces to venture into Bolognese territory to seize cattle and confiscate parish goods.95 These principles were so deeply entrenched in the broader culture of this region that when crimes and acts of violence were not related to factional disputes they seemed to cause Florentine officials some confusion. Thus when members of the Cancellieri faction from the mountain villages of Calamecca, Pupiglio, Mammiano, and Piteglio set fire to an inn in broad daylight, the official investigating the incident reported that they had done so ‘with no motive because this girl [the owner] had never been a part of any faction but had always lived in Volterra’.96 Factional violence, together with an economy based on the transhumance of cattle, meant that this mountain community was an incredibly mobile one, which forged wide-ranging ties of loyalty and friendship and thus was not forced to rely on the immediate parish in order to ensure its social and economic survival.97 Likewise, the confraternities associated with parish churches throughout the region appear to have had an equally marginal role in the development of local identity. In contrast to other zones of the countryside, the confraternities of the Pistoiese mountains appeared to have fulfilled only the bare minimum of functions

92

The first massacre occurred in 1502 and the second almost thirty years later. Buoni, ‘De’casi di Pistoia 1499 al 1504’, BNF, Fondo Rossi-Cassigoli, 371, fol 89r. 93

94 95 96

ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 71r. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fols 35r and 151v. ASF, Pratica Segreta, 4, fol. 234v.

‘et arsono una hosteria senza alcuna ragione perché decta pupilla non si trova mai in alcuna faction ma sempre stata a Volterra’: ASF, Pratica Segreta, 138, fol. 49r. 97

This was particularly true of the male members of the population who engaged in factional violence and travelled to the plains with cattle in search of food.

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associated with the administration of parish property (which, it must be said, was far from extensive). Office holding was kept to a minimum — many of the companies elected only a single prior and camarlingo — and no effort was made to ensure that these officers were either representative or inclusive.98 There is little evidence that these confraternities met regularly for lay worship. In fact they seemed instead to be particularly tied to the formal liturgical structure of the church. The parish priest of the associated parishes was nearly always present at confraternal meetings, often acting as the confraternal scribe and record keeper, and it is even debatable as to the extent to which these associations can be considered to be lay companies at all. There is also no indication that these confraternities were particularly active in the organization of religious festivals for the community. Indeed we find the heads of the two factions providing central funds for these festivals, which tended to be celebrated at a factional rather than community level.99 Opportunities for the women of these communities to develop wider networks were considerably more limited, however, and for this reason they tended to rely more heavily on the relationships they developed with their immediate community. These were not dependent, as we might expect, on their parish groupings, but instead revolved around the communal confraternities that were located in the major administrative centres of the Pistoiese mountains. These confraternities were quite unlike their counterparts in other zones of the countryside, in both their membership and activities. While most communal confraternities had an exclusively male membership, the female membership of these mountain companies outnumbered the men by as much as three-to-one. One such communal confraternity, Our Lady of Cutigliano, had, in 1517, a membership consisting of over 340 women compared to only 100 men.100 As the community was made up of no more than one hundred households we must assume that women were coming from neighbouring communities to participate in the activities of this confraternity. Unlike communal confraternities in other zones of the countryside, this confraternity had no special responsibilities regarding other ecclesiastical institutions, nor did it have any particularly close association with the communal government. Instead it was unremarkable in its activities, merely providing a framework for lay worship and gathering. It is not surprising that mountain women found it 98 99

ASPist., Patrimonio Ecclesiastico, I, 23 and 104 bis.

The Cancellieri are recorded as paying money for the coordination of the festivals of Easter, Christmas, and the feast of the Virgin Mary for mountain communities. See ASF, Pratica Segreta, 2, fol. 60 r. 100

ASPist., Patrimonio Ecclesiatico, I, 95, fols 200v–209r.

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necessary to develop such a mechanism for female solidarity and support, since male members of the household would have often been absent, forced seasonally to migrate to the plains with their cattle during the harshest months of the year. The level of corporate violence also left women particularly vulnerable, as outbreaks of factional violence drew the men of the village from their homes, and also resulted in a high percentage of women left as widows. As such, women had a particular need to develop such outlets of sociability both as a mechanism of support and also for protection. At the same time, the existence of these confraternities was in no way symptomatic of a weakened sense of factional loyalties amongst women. In fact the captain of the communal confraternity of Cutigliano, a man, was one of the most prominent supporters of the Cancellieri and was regularly brought in front of Florentine officials on charges of factional violence.101 In fact, the only spiritual institutions that were in some way set apart from such factional divisions were the religious communities located in the mountains. These mendicant orders arguably had more of an impact on the type of religiosity prevalent in the mountains than the parishes and confraternities in the region, with both Franciscan and Dominican houses preaching a theology of the poor that was particularly relevant to these mountain people who were no strangers to hardship. Not surprisingly, the Dominican followers of Savonarola found an attentive audience in the mountains, as their focus on the shared suffering of Christ could not help but appeal to mountain dwellers, as did their teachings against the exploitation of rural labourers.102 Perhaps even more relevant to Dominican success in this region of rebellious factions was the Savonarolan theology of a personal salvation outside of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Before Savonarola’s death, hundreds of mountain inhabitants would make the long and difficult journey down the mountains and into Florence in order to hear, first hand, his inspirational teachings.103 Savonarola’s followers, both before and after his death, wrote regularly to these mountain villages, offering such spiritual advice and consolation. Moreover, in the very midst of these communities lived one of the most famous female mystics of the period, Doretea of Lanciuole, who provided a more immediate witness and a focal point 101

On one occasion this man was charged with having a gun in his possession and various other members of the community were also convicted for having known about this. Practia Segreta, 4, fol. 90r. 102

Donald Weinstein, ‘The Prophet as Physician of Souls: Savonarola’s Manual for Confessors’, in Society and the Individual in Renaissance Florence, ed. by Connell, pp. 214–60 (p. 255). 103

Lorenzo Polizzotto, ‘When Saints Fall Out: Women and the Savonarolan Reform in Early Sixteenth-Century Florence’, Renaissance Quarterly, 46 (1993), pp. 486–525 (p. 494).

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for this religiosity. Attracting an enormous following, Doretea claimed to have lived on the host alone for years and was marked with the stigmata of Christ. She remained sheltered and tended to by the local parish priest in this, one of the most remote and poverty stricken of the mountain communities, until she was eventually discredited by the Bishop of Pistoia and removed to Florence in order to prevent her further influencing the faithful in the area.104 Another of Savonarola’s followers from the countryside near Brozzi was not so fortunate as to escape with merely being discredited, and when found prophesying dire troubles for Florence and Rome, he was quickly put into prison.105 The very absence of strong, unifying, ecclesiastical institutions in the Pistoiese mountains says as much about the internal structure of these communities as their presence does in the communes of Scarperia and Gangalandi. For mountain men, external relationships were not formed through lay companies jointly celebrating feast days, but by the even stronger factional ties that defined the mountain communities. Parishes were the fundamental social unit, but this had more to do with the need for these communities to be unified for protection than it did with an overriding loyalty to the spiritual bond of the parish — even if this bond was no less genuine. While confraternities existed in the mountains, they were proportionally less numerous than in other regions of the countryside and, for the male members of the community, they were less powerful social and spiritual forces than parish and factional groups. Women, on the other hand, often left alone by the male members of their household for long periods, depended almost exclusively on communal confraternities to provide outlets of sociability and stability in a violent and unstable climate of conflict.

IV The concept of campanilismo may be a useful one in conveying the extent of the loyalties felt by rural communities towards their closest parish church, but it has also led generations of historians and social commentators to satisfy themselves with a rather simplistic image of rural religiosity. There is no doubt that parish 104

This woman’s story is discussed in Polizzotto, ‘When Saints Fall Out’, pp. 486–523, and is also recounted by the chronicler Buoni, ‘De’casi di Pistoia 1499 al 1504’, BNF, Fondo RossiCassigoli, 371, fols 105r–107v. 105

John Stephens, The Fall of the Florentine Republic, 1512–1530 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983), p. 31.

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churches are and were integral to the development of local rural identity throughout the Italian peninsula but they were far from being the exclusive unit of sociability or rural identification, nor were they always equally as important. Parish loyalty in the Pistoiese mountains had more to do with factional identity and mechanisms of self-protection than devotion to the parish itself. The division created by the town walls of Scarperia was a more powerful signifier of community than the existence of parishes within them. Gangalandi, perhaps the most traditional in its parish associations, maintained that communal unity was so important that it presumed to defy the Church and Florentine government to preserve it. Each commune, then, defined its own local identity, loyalties, and solidarities depending on the nature of its internal and external relationships. The level of Florentine interference impacted on this, but at the same time, the internal structure of the communities in question defined the nature of the relationship Florence established with each rural commune — each defining itself in contrast to the other.

Chapter 7

T HE M IRACULOUS M ADONNA DELLE C ARCERI1

On the fifth of September, a Sunday, there came in procession the village and parish of Bardeglio, in the mountains of the contado of Pistoia. They were dressed in white, some barefoot, with wreaths of olive branches on their heads, and the men and women each gave gifts of yellow candle wax. On top of the wax given by the women was a bunch of chestnuts worth fourteen lire.

*

On the twenty-fourth of October, a Sunday, there came in procession the towns and parishes of San Martino, Gangalandi (on the other side of the river from Signa) and Lastra, both part of the Florentine contado. The girls were dressed all in white, some barefoot, with wreaths of olive branches on their heads and carrying torches and candles in their hands. All together, between men, women, girls, and two flagellant confraternities, they totalled about eight hundred people. The parish priest said a second Mass at the Altar of Our Lady — after that said by Messer Ramondo — and they gave yellow candle wax weighing fifty libre and worth thirty lire, with ninety grossoni in coins on top of it.

*

On the twenty-fourth of July, a Sunday, there came in procession the confraternity of the Virgin Mary of the commune and town of Scarperia, in the contado of Florence. Then came 106 flagellants in all, dressed in white, and after them were carried two large wooden candlesticks all’anticha, measuring approximately five braccia, inset with gold and blue, and depicted with the Virgin Mary, worth thirty lire, and containing two candles, worth four lire. After them came the priests, men, and women — 150 people in all. And they stayed at the house of Lorenzino di Pierfrancesco, and there they lodged and took their leisure, and they left on the morning of Saint Jacopo.2

1

The account of the miracle used in the following section was published by Laura Bandini, ‘Il quinto centenario della “mirabilissima apparitione”’, Archivio Storico Pratese, 15 (1984), 55–96. 2

‘Addì 5 di settenbre, in domenicha, ci venne a pricissione el popolo et pieveri di Bardeglo, contado di Pistoia, nella Montagna, vestita di biancho, chon grillande d’ulivo in chapo, ischalzi et

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News of the first sighting of the miraculous image of the Madonna on the walls of the old prisons in Prato spread quickly through the Tuscan countryside. The first to be visited by the apparition was a young boy, playing in the ruins of the prisons, who saw the painted image of the Madonna cast her eyes heavenward. In the days that followed, other changes were observed, as the colour of the face of the Virgin changed from white to red to black and back to white again. On one occasion she was seen to shed tears of blood, on another, to close her eyes completely. With each transformation the city bells were rung to alert the people of Prato that another miracle had been performed. Only five days after the first sighting, in July of 1484, the inhabitants of the nearby village of Figline set out to see the miracle for themselves. They came barefoot with candles in their hands, girls dressed in white and their heads adorned with olive branches, to offer their gifts of wax to the Virgin Mary of the Prisons. On that same day, the villages of Pinzidimonte, Pimonte, and la Costa, located on the road to Calenzano, between Florence and Prato, also came to pay tribute to the Madonna. They too travelled barefoot and bore gifts of yellow candle wax as a tribute to the Virgin mother. In the weeks and months that followed, the pilgrimages continued to grow in number and size, with gifts becoming more and more elaborate, as communities competed with one another for the Virgin’s favours. Brass, gold, velvet, altar coverings, chalices, crosses, wax figures, oil, liturgical garments, and decorative images were some of the gifts offered by the rural villages that chose to make the pilgrimage to Prato. Less than a month after the first miracle occurred, the nearby community of Campi mobilized, with no less than two thousand men, women, and chalzati, et donorono due ceri di cera gialla: uno le donne e l’altro gl’uomini; in sul cero delle donne era uno mazzo di ricci di chastagno, di valuta di lire quattordici’ ‘Addì 24 d’octobre, in domenicha, ci venne a pricissione el popolo et pieve di San Martino a Ghangalandi, di là da Signa, et la Lastra, chontado di Firenze, vestite le fanciulle tucte di biancho chon grillande d’ulivo in chapo, parte iscalzi et parte chalzati, chon falchole et chandele in mano; et furono, tra huomini, donne et fanciulle et due chompagnie di battuti, circha a octocento. El prete di decta pieve disse la seconda messa, doppo a messer Ramondo, all’altare di decta Nostra Donna. Et donorono uno cero di cera gialla di peso libre 50, di valuta di lire trenta, in sul quale era 90 grossoni’ ‘Addì 24 luglo decto, in domenicha, ci venne a pricissione una chompagnia della vergine Maria del castello et commune della Scarperia, chontado di Firenze, et vennono inanzi battuti 106 annoverati, vestiti di biancho, et dopo loro vennono due viti facte all’anticha, di legname, di braccia 5 o circha, intaglate d’oro et d’azzurro, dipinctovi drento una vergine Maria, di valuta lire 30, con due falchole di cera biancha, di valuta di lire quattro; et di poi vennono e’preti, gl’uomini et le donne, che furono in tucto centocinquanta. Et stectono in chasa di Lorenzino di Pierfrancesco, et quivi si riposorono et abberghorono, et la mattina di san Iacopo partirono.’

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children travelling under the processional crosses of five separate confraternities. Not content merely to hand over their gift of a chasuble of white velvet decorated with flowers and the image of a bull, they had also created a sacred representation of Santo Stefano, with two angels on either side and the young boy who discovered the miracle represented in the centre. With no particular devotion to Santo Stefano themselves, it is almost certain that, with this sacred representation, the community of Campi was paying an additional tribute to Prato’s principal church, named for Santo Stefano. The inhabitants of Carmignano brought with them three votive figures carved in wax — a father and his two sons from the town, who had been killed by their enemies — as a gift for the Madonna. A community from the Val di Bura brought a bird in a cage which, the chronicler recounts, managed to escape on the Wednesday of the local fair.3 Instead of flying to its freedom, the bird spent eight days circling around the image of the Madonna, at which point it allowed itself to be recaptured and was placed inside the sacristy for all to see — yet another miracle performed by the Virgin Mary. One of the lower-lying mountain communities of the Pistoiese, Bardeglio, was the first of the three areas that have been the focus of this study to organize a pilgrimage to the site of the miraculous image of the Madonna in Prato. Like those who had made the journey before them, they came dressed in white with olive branches twisted around their heads. Their gifts were modest, as would be expected from these poor and desolate communities: two blocks of yellow candle wax, one carried by the women of the community and the other by the men. On top of the wax brought by the women was a bunch of chestnuts, more of symbolic than monetary value. Word of the miracle had not taken long to reach them. They set out on their journey only two months after the first sighting of the image in July of 1484, and their devotion was such that they had mobilized long before some of the much closer and more accessible areas of the countryside. Perhaps driven by their very desperation, they came to seek the favours of the Madonna. The commune of Gangalandi was not far behind them. Arriving in Prato a month later, and in much more impressive numbers, the four parishes of Gangalandi had joined up with the town of Lastra to make their pilgrimage. Eight hundred people in all — between men, women, children, and two companies of flagellants — the 3 The identity of the chronicler is unknown but it seems he was a devotee of the miraculous image and compiled the account in the late 1480s. The document is actually a combination of different sources including the notificazione made by the capellano of the chapel of the miracle, stories told to the narrator, and the ricordi of Andrea di Germanino who sold candles at the oratory. See Bandini, ‘Il quinto centenario’, pp. 55–59.

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community came bringing its own priest, and a donation of fifty libre of yellow wax containing ninety grossoni. In contrast, it took the inhabitants of Scarperia over a year to organize their pilgrimage to the miraculous site. They brought with them not only gifts of wax, but also two large wooden candlesticks, measuring over two and a half metres each, decorated with gold and blue and painted and depicted with an image of the Virgin Mary. All three communities had mobilized for the same reason, to seek the favour of the Madonna and to see for themselves her miraculous transformations. The very proximity of the contado of Pistoia to that of Prato helps explains the rapidity with which Pistoian rural communities heard about the miracle and began to make the journey to Prato to pay their tribute to the Madonna. The first to arrive were those communes that bordered on Pratese territory, Montale, Canapale, Sant’ Angelo, Montemagno, and Lamporecchio. They were predominately from the lower-lying regions or from the ridge of mountains to the south of Pistoia (near Carmignano) called Montalbano. From here, however, the word had spread to more remote areas, and at least one mountain community, Bardeglio, came to hear of the miracle and decided to make a pilgrimage to the site. Although the small communities located in the plains and low hills of the contado of Pistoia had joined up with neighbouring communities to make their pilgrimages, the mountain village of Bardeglio came alone. Their decision to do so is not surprising, for while mountain inhabitants often had wide-ranging relationships dependant on factional loyalties, their fundamental social unit was still their immediate parish community. An inherent distrust of outsiders, with whom they had no factional ties, was characteristic of these remote and desolate villages. However, the participation of this mountain community in the emerging cult of the Madonna delle Carceri demonstrated that these villages were not entirely isolated — either physically or psychologically — from the rest of the Florentine territory. At least on this occasion, they had heard about the miracle and decided to be part of a wider spiritual community. It was, of course, not the first or last example of their doing so — they had traditionally made pilgrimages to Florence and were to be particularly influenced by the Savonarolan movement in the next decade — but this pilgrimage was a symbol of their genuine engagement with the rest of the territory. As the identity of the parish community in the Pistoiese mountains was more closely linked to the village itself — as a defensive unit rather than a spiritual community — it is unsurprising that the town travelled without the leadership of its parish priest. Nor did it process in confraternal groups, as so many other rural communities did. Instead, the inhabitants of this mountain village came divided along gender lines, with men and women bringing separate tribute gifts to the image of

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the Madonna. Gender was, of course, a significant dividing factor for all rural communities, but it was most pronounced in the mountain communities. The altitude of the land meant that the principal agricultural activity was the raising of cattle, which required the men of the village to absent themselves for months at a time as the cattle were moved to lower-lying pastures during the winter months. As a result, the women, children, and elderly, left on their own during some of the harshest months of the year to fend for themselves, looked to one another for the development of social ties and support networks. When this particular pilgrimage was made, the men of the community would still have been in the mountains, making the most of the remaining fodder in the summer grazing fields, but a few months later they would begin the transhumance to the plains of Pisa and the Maremma to ensure the survival of their cattle. Once the men had left for the plains, the women would remain to collect chestnuts — the major food source for mountain communities — and grind them into flour for use in cooking. The female ownership of this task led them to make the separate offering of a bunch of chestnuts to the Madonna, and however poor this gift was in comparison with those of other rural communities, it was a powerful symbol of their devotion. The commune of Gangalandi had most probably been informed about the miracle by its close neighbours in the parish of Brozzi, or by one of the many Florentine citizens who owned land in the area.4 Its decision to combine its pilgrimage with the nearby township of Lastra a Signa was characteristic of the close relationship that existed between the two centres. The inhabitants of Gangalandi had a long history of ties to the town of Lastra, which was the home of the podestà who oversaw both communes. Not only did they come together regularly to celebrate religious feasts, but Gangalandi also had close economic and political ties with the town. The eight hundred people who made the pilgrimage to Prato would have represented approximately one third of the population of the two centres, a relatively large proportion considering the number of children and elderly who would have been unable to participate in the journey. The tradition of wide community participation was strong in the spiritual and political life of the commune — its grand council was perhaps one of the most inclusive of all the rural communes. And while individual parish loyalty was an important factor in the identity of inhabitants of Gangalandi, the concept of the united commune as a vehicle for the common good was just as powerful a part of its mentality. Thus they set out together, men, women, and children processing together with two flagellant

4

The community of Brozzi had made its pilgrimage two weeks earlier.

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confraternities bringing up the rear. The remaining confraternities of the commune, while important in their own right, represented the entire community in their roles of custodians of the church and providers of social welfare, and perhaps for this reason their members had chosen to process as a community rather than in confraternal groups. Not only did the community of Gangalandi travel with its parish priest, but the chronicler records that after a Mass said by the custodian of the miraculous image, a second Mass was said by the priest of the township. Notably, there is no other record in this account of the pilgrimages of other rural priests being given permission to say additional Masses at the altar of the Madonna. The inhabitants of Gangalandi had struggled to obtain ecclesiastical independence from the parish of Signa, to the point of risking excommunication, and perhaps this experience had instilled in them a particular desire to be represented by their own clergy. Inherent in this act was a belief that their priest, who understood their situation and knew them personally, could intercede for them with the Madonna much more successfully than an unknown cleric. At the conclusion of the Mass these people from Gangalandi, like the other pilgrims that had come before them, made their gift to the Virgin Mary; as a wealthy rural community they did not have to resort to symbolic offerings, or gifts in kind, but left as their tribute a large offering of wax with ninety grossoni inside it. This community was fortunate in both the fertility of its land and its access to monetary currency due to its close ties to Florentine citizens and urban markets. It took the community of Signa, the main rivals of Gangalandi, located on the opposite bank of the Arno, another year and a half before making the journey to Prato. Signa was much more closely associated with Florentine ecclesiastical powers, and perhaps the community had been waiting for the vexed issues of who was to be responsible for the building of the church and safeguarding of the cult to be resolved.5 Its citizens certainly managed to upstage Gangalandi when they did arrive, bringing with them not only numerous priests, deacons, and subdeacons, but the relic of the hands of Santa Giovanna, carried from Signa on a raised platform at the head of the procession. Leaving a gift of wax of exactly the same weight as that bestowed by the communities of Gangalandi and Lastra a Signa — no coincidence, surely — they also donated the reliquary in bronze. The inhabitants of Signa made sure that everyone had observed their gift by deliberately displaying it from the remarkable external pulpit of Santo Stefano in Prato, in the exact place 5

For an account of the dispute, see Paul Davies, ‘The Early History of S. Maria delle Carceri in Prato’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 54 (1995), 326–35.

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from which Prato’s most treasured relic — the Madonna’s girdle — was revealed to the populace on feast days. Scarperia had also taken its time in making the pilgrimage, arriving in Prato slightly more than a year after the image had been discovered. As the township of Scarperia was located on a main route of transport and pilgrimage, the delay in departure cannot have been due to lack of knowledge of the miracle. The journey was admittedly a long and arduous one, but no more so than the road to Florence, which was taken regularly by pilgrims and ambassadors of the local council. Scarperia’s ties to Florence may have slowed its response somewhat, as it was traditionally the city of its rulers that was the main pilgrimage destination for the inhabitants of Scarperia. Leading the procession was the all-powerful confraternity of the Virgin Mary in Piazza, whose membership included the most prominent families in the community, those who filled the majority of all political offices in the town. Following it was a company of flagellants, the priests of the community, and at the rear, the men and women who were not associated with the two confraternities. With the number of pilgrims not exceeding 150 people, it is unlikely that the neighbouring parishes of the commune, Fagna and Sant’ Agata, participated in the journey, and there is certainly no mention of them in the account of the miracle. Consistent with the insular and self-regarding character of the town’s inhabitants, these parishes were regularly excluded by those living within the walls of Scarperia. Nor did the inhabitants of Scarperia think to combine their pilgrimage with that of San Piero a Sieve, located only five kilometres away on the direct route to Prato. Instead, the inhabitants of San Piero, together with the town of Barberino di Mugello, made their own journey a month later, with an impressive number of 1500 pilgrims and accompanied by twenty-four priests. The organization involved in mobilizing such a large number of people makes it unlikely that Scarperia had set off before plans for this separate pilgrimage had begun, but either lack of communication with San Piero or a deliberate decision to make the journey alone must have motivated Scarperia’s anticipation of this much larger pilgrimage. For such a small number of individuals their gift was generous, valued by the chronicler at thirty lire, compared to the twenty-five lire of gifts given by the combined pilgrims of Barberino and San Piero. The inhabitants of Scarperia may have done little to cultivate their relationships with neighbouring towns and villages, but they went out of their way to maintain close relations with Florence (and particularly with the Medici). The Medici ancestral villas of Trebbio and Cafaggiolo were not far from Scarperia, and the family’s landholdings in the area were extensive. Lorenzo di Piero de’ Medici had

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personally intervened in the election of governors for the two hospitals in the township, and the Medici owned a large inn on the main square of the piazza — the very square that was home to the confraternity of the Virgin Mary. After presenting their gifts to the Madonna, and prior to beginning their return journey home from Prato, the entire party of pilgrims made their way to the house of Lorenzino di Pierfranceso de’ Medici, which was just outside of Prato in the parish of San Michele a Castello. Lorenzino (more commonly known as Lorenzo) was a member of the principal branch of the Medici family, and in addition to his property in the Mugello, he also owned a large farm on the road to Prato.6 The property included three houses for his workers, gardens and fields, a kiln, a tavern, and two houses for his labourers, more than enough room for the 150 pilgrims from Scarperia who are reported to have eaten and rested overnight before leaving for Scarperia the next morning.7 Of all the rural communities that are recorded as having made the pilgrimage to Prato, Scarperia was alone in being offered hospitality by a private citizen. Their visit to this Medici property, and the importance given to their visit by the chronicler, reinforces one’s sense of that community’s unique links with the Medici family. All three communities made their pilgrimage to Prato in a manner that was consistent with their sense of place within the territory; they did so bringing with them their own customs, spirituality, and social backgrounds; and they did so confident in the knowledge that they were a part of a spiritual and political community which went far beyond the limits of its own parish boundaries. This account of the rural pilgrimages to the miraculous Madonna of Prato speaks volumes, not just about rural spirituality, but also about the complex shape of rural identity and patterns of loyalty. It was a complexity born out of the intricate and subtle differences that existed between each town’s topography, agriculture, social structures, liturgical practices, strategic location, and political alliances. And it was this complexity that, in the construction of the territory, Florentines recognized and responded to. The miracle of Santa Maria delle Carceri and the multitude of ways in which the various rural communes chose to approach this miracle exemplify the complexity 6

I Medici nel contado fiorentino: Ville e possedimenti agricoli tra Quattrocento e Cinquecento, ed. by Vittorio Pardo and Giovanna Casali (Florence: CLSUF, 1978), p. 61. 7

Regarding Lorenzino’s acquisition of this villa, see Cristina Luchinat, ‘Il giardino della villa dell’Olmo a Castello’, in Giardini Medicei: Giardini di palazzo e di villa nella Firenze del Quattrocento, ed. by Cristina Luchinat (Milano: Federico Motta, 1996), pp. 201–06.

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of the relationships that existed between the urban and rural worlds of Renaissance Tuscany. This book has examined the development of rural identity in relation to the two major defining structures imposed by Florence on its territories: the administrative and ecclesiastical divisions that formed the basis of the city’s control of territory. The very imposition of these divisions and the mechanisms put in place for the administration of them have led historians to argue that rural autonomy had ended. Yet throughout the course of this study, I have attempted to demonstrate that these dividing lines were often blurred and, on occasion, were completely ignored by rural communities. In many cases contadini forged their own ties and systems of loyalty based on a complex interplay of demographic, socioeconomic, political, and religious factors. Emerging from this study is the clear sense that the Florentine administration of the territories was not based solely on attempts to dominate the countryside, but was instead founded on a fluid and dynamic relationship. Florence continually shaped and reshaped its style of government in reaction to the particular contours of each situation it found itself up against. At times the city’s officials were harsh and unrelenting in their treatment of the rural communities, and at others they appeared to bend over backwards in order to accommodate them. These differing approaches were apparently neither merely a product of what the city stood to gain in a particular situation nor a sign of military weakness, but were often based on quite a sophisticated understanding of the context of each rural community. And these contexts were rarely mono-dimensional. The topographical location, climate, soil quality, and vegetation of an area had as much influence on a rural community’s identity as the presence of Florentine landholders in the area. In fact, as we have seen, the two were usually closely interrelated. Florentine citizens were much more likely to own land in fertile areas such as Gangalandi, which supplied a significant proportion of the city’s grain, fruit, wine, and oil. These areas also tended to have more complex local economies due to the diversity of primary products produced by the communities. They also had a significantly higher density of population than less fertile or more isolated areas because a greater number of families could be supported by a smaller area of land. The combination of these factors resulted in the communities being closely integrated into the urban economy of Florence, trading almost daily with Florentine citizens. The presence of Florentine citizens also spilled over into urban involvement in local government and confraternities and in the patronage of rural churches. It was therefore a more effective mechanism of control for the city to negotiate with these communities through the citizens that were present in their midst. It was also natural that Florentine citizens, who had developed personal

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relationships with the labourers who worked their land and with those who supplied their primary alimentary and other consumer needs, would act as personal advocates for their rural neighbours should the need arise. In addition to contributing to our understanding of the nature of Florentine territorial government, this particular zone provides a revealing case study for historians of the agricultural transformation of central Italy, specifically the effect of sharecropping on the nature of rural communities. The large numbers of urban landowners would lead us to expect to see a high proportion of contadini being affected by the growth of this agricultural practise, which involved urban landholders gradually taking over the land once owned by rural citizens and effectively making contadini their bonded labourers. And yet, as I have demonstrated in Chapter 3, the effect of mezzadria does not appear to have been as all pervading as overall statistics for the area may indicate. The diversity which existed in the nature of individual mezzadria arrangements undermines many of our assumptions about the power dynamics that developed between the urban and rural communities as a result of the growth of this phenomenon. It also reminds us that economic and political trends must be examined in the context of the experience of the people directly affected by them. Perhaps the territory of Florence stands out from the rest of the Italian peninsula in this regard. Urban landholdings in this area were relatively small when compared with the vast tracts of land controlled by urban landholders further south. It is, however, a powerful reminder that rural communities did not share a common economic or social identity. The contrast between the fertile and economically vibrant hills of Gangalandi and the unforgiving terrain of the Pistoian Mountains was felt just as keenly by Florentine citizens of the period as it is by historians and readers of today. The altitude of the land meant that the inhabitants of the areas could not rely on the high density crops of grain and grapes that provided the staple income for most of the Florentine territory, but instead depended on the use of pasturelands and forest timber. For these activities to be sustainable they required large areas of land. As a result, mountain communities tended to be small, bordering on tiny, and were located at considerable distance from one another. This in turn impacted on the relationships that were forged both within and between mountain communities. As discussed in Chapter 2, the economic livelihood of each family within a village structure required the exploitation of common pasture and forest lands, and this engendered a spirit of competition between villages rather than encouraging the development of a community of interdependence. Instead, factional and clan loyalties were all consuming, and particularly for mountain men, these ties transcended parish, village, or communal loyalties. One of the main reasons for this was

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because of the seasonal mobility of the population. When the snow started to arrive the men of the community would take the animals down out of the mountains to lower-lying pasture areas. Travelling such long distances, factional loyalties were essential forms of insurance that help would be at hand if it were needed — even when they were far from home. The polarization of the mountains into those loyal to the Pistoian factions of the Cancellieri and the Panciatichi meant that allies could be found throughout their entire journey south to the plains. This pattern of transhumance also left the women, young, and elderly of the community alone for a significant portion of the year. The limited opportunities available for them to develop far-reaching ties, and their need for systems of support through the long, trying winters, meant that women were much more likely to depend on local networks, particularly those provided by confraternities. The mountain confraternities differed from the multitude of groups that peppered the middle hills and the plains of the Florentine territory. Instead of being relatively small and parish based, these mountain versions were ‘super-confraternities’ numbering hundreds of members. Even more significantly, the proportion of women to men could reach as much as three-to-one. While female confraternities were relatively common in other areas of the territory, it was not usual for the membership of a mixed confraternity to be weighted so heavily in this way. Prevailing assumptions amongst historians of the importance of local parish loyalties — of campanilismo being the most significant factor in the construction of identity for rural inhabitants — are challenged when individual communities are examined. There is no doubt that parish churches are and were integral to the development of local rural identity throughout the Italian peninsula, but they were far from being the exclusive unit of sociability or rural identification, and they were not always equally as important. Each commune, then, defined its own local identity, loyalties, and solidarities dependant on the nature of its internal and external relationships. As one of the New Towns, Scarperia was the closest thing to a rural community created in the image of Florence. Physically, it reflected the order many Florentines would have wished for their own city but were unable to achieve on their Roman and medieval foundations. The main buildings of the communal government and the church were united in the one piazza (interestingly the communal building was much grander than the ecclesiastical structures), and the streets were constructed in a regular grid, oriented along a major route of pilgrimage and trade. One of the greatest inheritances from Florence was neither its topographical setting nor its architectural layout; instead it was one which the founding fathers of Scarperia never intended for the town. The social and cultural composition of Scarperia led the inhabitants of the township to separate themselves off from those outside the

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walls of the town and to develop a sense of themselves as a privileged and superior group. Combined with the slow march towards the domination of the town by one affluent family, the Melai, these were more concrete manifestations of the city of Florence than any bricks or mortar. Its demographic and economic composition more closely resembled that of minor urban centres such as Poppi and Pescia than other rural communities of equivalent size. This was also true of the town’s ecclesiastical institutions, which maintained strong links with Florence. Surprisingly, despite the strong similarities that existed between Scarperia and its Florentine creators, there is little evidence of extensive personal ties existing between the town’s inhabitants and citizens of Florence. The contact between the two communities was predominately carried out through official channels — either with the officials stationed as part of the court of the vicar or through the ecclesiastical institutions with which the local churches were associated. This lack of individual advocacy was perhaps a product of the considerable official presence in their midst and the efficiencies of communicating through these structures, but may also have been because of the inhabitants’ lack of involvement in sharecropping. By choosing not to live on the land or work the land of urban landholders in the area, citizens of Scarperia would have had little opportunities for less formal contact with Florentine citizens outside their official dealings with the court of the vicar. Thus the context in which these individuals carried out their daily activities directly influenced not only their own sense of identity, but also the dynamic of power between this community and the Florentine State. On a larger scale, the entire Florentine territory was the context that shaped the nature of the city of Florence as an urban centre. This means that any study of urban Florence should not be separated from its identity as a territorial power. To do so would be to ignore more than half the picture. Cities do not stand in isolation from their surrounds. The recent trend towards comparative studies, so strongly advocated by many of the current generation of historians of the Italian peninsula, has demonstrated the inherent value of looking at cities in relation to other cities.8 Through these comparative studies, historians have posed questions about political systems, economic development, and social networks that may never otherwise have been asked by examining these centres in isolation. If these 8 Two of the great proponents of this approach in Florentine Renaissance historiography are Stephen Epstein and Samuel Cohn. For examples, see particularly Samuel Cohn, The Cult of Remembrance and the Black Death: Six Renaissance Cities in Central Italy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992) and Stephen Epstein, ‘Cities, Regions and the Late Medieval Crisis: Sicily and Tuscany Compared’, Past and Present, 130 (1991), 3–50.

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studies are to continue to enrich our understanding of the complex and dynamic communities of early-modern Europe, they must also consider the context in which these urban centres developed and operated, and they must do so not only by studying the mechanisms by which each city controlled its territory, but also by examining the informal lines of communication with the rural communities that came under its control. Gangalandi, Scarperia, and the communities of the Pistoian Mountains embody the dramatic differences that existed between villages throughout the Florentine contado. The countryside was home to thousands of rural settlements, each with its own particular, sometimes unique, history, political goals, economic structure, religious identity, and social ties, and each part of a wider Florentine community. The relationships that existed between these communities and Florence, and between one rural town and the next, formed webs of infinite complexity that, disparate as they were, still together constituted the Florentine territory.

Appendix 1

C APTAINS OF THE P ISTOIAN M OUNTAINS, 1473–1550

Captains of the Pistoian Mountains were accompanied by two notaries, two servants, and twelve men at arms (including 3 mounted bowmen). Name Carlo di Zanobi di Paolo degli Acceto Francesco di Lorenzo di Giovanni (il Grasso) Amadori Bernardo di Maestro Galileo di Giovanni Galilei Marsilio d’ Antonio di Marsilio Vecchietti Zanobi di Clemente di Zanobi Guidotti Giuliano di Franco di Ser Viviano dei Viviani Braccio di Messer Domenico di Niccolò Martelli Averardo d’ Antonio di Salvestro Serristori Tomaso di Bernardo di Tomaso Antinori Gentile di Gino Cortigiani Tomaso di Bertoldo di Messer Filippo Corsini Piero di Domenico di Lorenzo Benintendi Piero di Gino di Nero di Gino Capponi Filippo di Giovanni Taddei dell’Antella Francesco di Berlinghiero di Francesco Berlinghieri Giuliano di Bernardo di Jacopo Ciai Antonio di Francesco de’ Nobili Messer Guidantonio di Giovanni Vespucci Pierfrancesco di Francesco Tosinghi Giovanni di Francesco di Lorenzo Spinelli Luigi di Giovanni di Stefano Corsini Lodovico di Giuliano di Salvestro Ceffini Messer Niccolò di Messer Luigi Guicciardini

Date office assumed 24 September 1473 24 March 1474 24 September 1474 24 March 1475 24 September 1475 24 March 1476 24 September 1476 24 March 1477 24 September 1477 24 March 1478 24 September 1478 24 March 1479 24 September 1479 24 March 1480 24 September 1480 1 December 1480 1 June 1481 1 December 1481 17 January 1482 17 July 1482 17 January 1483 17 July 1483 17 January 1484

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Name Simone di Filippo di Simone Lippi Antonio di Giovanni di Antonio Spini Bartolomeo di Domenico di Giovanni Giugni Lorenzo di Bartolo di Domenico Corsi Simone di Jacopo di Ugolino Mazzinghi Leonardo di Bernardo di Messer Lorenzo Ridolfi Bernardo di Taddeo di Bartolomeo Lorini Niccolò d’ Antonio di Ser Tomaso Masi Tomaso di Tolosino di Tomaso de’ Medici Bartolomeo Bencivieni dello Scarfa Antonio di Jacopo di Pagolo Ridolfi Mariotto di Piero di Mariotto dell’Amorotto Luigi di Ugolino di Niccolò Martelli Jacopo di Francesco di Jacopo Ventura Duccio di Jacopo di Duccio Mancini Francesco d’ Antonio di Giovanni di Guerriero Benci Alamano di Filippo dei Rinuccini Bernardo d’ Antonio di Taddeo di Filippo Taddei Francesco di Messer Manno di Giovanni Temperani Bernardetto di Tanai di Francesco de’ Nerli Tomaso di Gino di Neri di Gino Capponi Francesco di Bernardo di Messer Baldo della Tosa Domenico di Pierozzo della Luna Francesco di Bartolo di Niccolò Martelli Lorenzo di Lotto di Giovanni di Messer Forese Salviati Carlo di Bernardo di Messer Baldo della Tosa Napoleone di Jacopo di Giorgio Aldobrandi Vincenzio di Giuliano di Niccolò Ridolfi Francesco di Giovanni d’ Antonio Pucci Taddeo di Tomaso di Domenico Fagiuoli Rinieri di Francesco di Rinieri de’ Tosinghi Piero di Messer Manno di Giovanni Temperani Jacopo di Francesco di Jacopo Ventura Niccolò di Piero di Corsino Corsini Teghario d’ Alessandro Teglario de’ Montebuoni Cardinale di Guglielmo di Cardinale de’ Rucellai Zanobi di Giovanni di Tomaso de’ Borghini

Appendix 1

Date office assumed 17 July 1484 17 January 1485 17 July 1485 17 January 1486 17 July 1486 17 January 1487 17 July 1487 17 January 1488 17 July 1488 17 January 1489 17 July 1489 14 January 1490 17 July 1490 17 January 1491 17 July 1491 1 March 1492 1 September 1492 1 March 1493 1 September 1493 1 March 1494 1 September 1494 1 March 1495 1 September 1495 1 March 1496 1 September 1496 1 March 1497 19 October 1497 19 April 1498 19 October 1498 19 April 1499 9 December 1499 9 June 1500 9 December 1500 9 June 1501 9 December 1501 9 June 1502 9 December 1502

CAPTAINS OF THE PISTOIAN MOUNTAINS

Name Giovanni di Benedetto di Giovanni Ciciaporci Piero di Lorenzo di Piero Davanzati Giovanni di Zanobi di Tomaso Guidacci Francesco di Giuliano di Giovenco de’ Medici Gianozzo di Giovanni di Gianozzo Gianfigliazzi Leonardo di Giovanni di Paolo Carnesechi Jacopo di Bartolo di Lorenzo Gualterotti Lorenzo di Lucantonio di Niccolò Albizzi Bartolomeo di Niccolò di Giorgio Ugolini Donato di Jacopo di Niccolò Male Guglielmo di Antonio d’ Agnolo Spini Lodovico di Lodovico Altobianchi de’ Giandonati Bartolo di Piero di Bartolo Zati Cristoforo di Agnolo di Priori Risaliti Vanni di Cesaro di Domenico Petrucci Andrea di Piero di Niccolò Benino Alessandro di Donato di Neri Acciauioli Giovanni di Jacopo di Duccino Mancini Lorenzo di Lucantonio di Niccolò Albizzi Andrea di Giovanni di Salvatore Chaccia Giovanni di Piero di Mariotto Segni Zanobi di Matteo di Honofro Chaccia Gianozzo di Piero di Gianozzo Gianfigliazzi Guglielmo di Luigi d’ Antonio d’ Agnolo Spini Niccolò di Braccio di Niccolò Guicciardini Lorenzo di Luigi d’ Alessandro Cambi Giovanbattista di Matteo di Filippo Lippi Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco di Francesco Tosinghi Bernardo di Francesco di Berto Carnesecchi Carlo di Filippo di Pancrazio Messer Rucellai Bernardo di Geronimo di Matteo Morelli Guido di Bese di Guido Maghalotti Lorenzo di Giovanni di Jacopo Villani Lorenzo di Filippo di Bartolo Corsini Pietro di Leonardo di Pietro Benino Francesco di Niccolò di Conte Peruzzi Raffaello di Pandolfo di Bernardo Corbinelli

213

Date office assumed 9 June 1503 9 December 1503 9 June 1504 9 December 1504 9 June 1505 22 December 1505 23 March 1506 23 September 1506 23 March 1507 23 September 1507 23 March 1508 23 September 1508 23 March 1509 23 September 1509 23 March 1510 23 September 1510 23 March 1511 23 September 1511 23 March 1512 23 September 1512 23 March 1513 23 September 1513 23 March 1514 23 September 1514 23 March 1515 23 September 1515 23 March 1516 23 September 1516 23 March 1517 23 September 1517 23 March 1518 23 September 1518 23 March 1519 23 September 1519 23 March 1520 23 September 1520 23 March 1521

214

Name Girolamo di Christoforo di Niccolò Guidetti Giovanni di Alessandro di Giovanni Falconi Benedetto di Giovanni di Messer Carlo Federighi Francesco d’ Antonio di Francesco Giraldi Lodovico di Roberto di Francesco Antonfrancesco di Giovanni di Andrea Alamanni Girolamo di Govenco della Stufa Benedetto di Tomaso di Francesco Giovanni Zanobi di di Giovanni Rustichi Salvestro d’ Andrea di Lorenzo Corbinelli Roberto di Giovanni di Jacopo Venturi Pierfrancesco di Giovanbattista di Francesco Giovanni Antonio di Honofro di Giovanni d’ Arnolfo Neri d’ Antonio di Francesco Giraldi Giovanni d’ Antonio di Domenico Giugni Gherardo di Lodovico di Gherardo Spini Luca di Piero di Bernardo Vespucci Jacopo di Lazero di Tolosino de’ Medici Giuliano di Piero di Messer Luca Pitti Manfredi di Messer Piero Manfredi Squarcialupi Piero di Michele di Piero Rucellai Giuliano di Vincenzo di Giuliano Ridolfi Jacopo di Giovanmaria di Jacopo Corbinelli Lorenzo di Amerigo di Niccolò da Verazzano Piero di Giovanni di Niccolò Martelli Lorenzo di Jacopo di Francesco Venturi Carlo di Francesco d’ Antonio Barbarino Lorenzo di Francesco di Lorenzo Davanzati Antonio di Piero di Messer Luca Pitti Roberto di Stoldo di Filippo Rinuccini Giovanni di Benedetto di Bartolo Alessandri Simone di Andrea di Paolo Carnesechi Pietro di Francesco di Giovanni Nesi Pietro di Matteo Batoli Francesco di Matteo di Andrea Albizzi Matteo di Bernadino di Messer Otto Niccolini Pietro di Francesco di Carlo di Lodovico Benino

Appendix 1

Date office assumed 23 September 1521 23 March 1522 23 September 1522 23 March 1523 23 September 1523 23 March 1524 23 September 1524 23 March 1525 23 September 1525 23 March 1526 23 September 1526 23 March 1527 17 December 1527 23 July 1528 23 March 1529 23 September 1529 15 January 1530 31 July 1531 1 March 1532 1 September 1532 1 March 1533 1 September 1533 1 March 1534 1 September 1534 1 March 1535 1 September 1535 1 March 1536 1 September 1536 3 May 1537 23 November 1537 1 September 1538 1 March 1539 30 September 1539 17 December 1539 1 September 1540 1 March 1541 17 November 1541

CAPTAINS OF THE PISTOIAN MOUNTAINS

Name Niccolò di Carlo di Niccolò Nobili Simone di Andrea di Paolo Carnesechi Lorenzo di Agnolo di Lorenzo Baroncelli Luigi di Jacopo di Messer Bongiano Gianfigliazzi Jacopo di Lazero di Tolosino de’ Medici Giovanni di Filippo di Giovanni Arrighucci Giovanfrancesco di Pietro di Lorenzo Davanzati Giovanni di Girolamo di Paolo Federighi Cipriano d’ Andrea Cipriani di Sernigi Giovanni di Girolamo di Giovanni della Stufa Francesco di Girolamo di Paolo Federighi Alessandro di Francesco d’ Antonio Barberino Antonio di Giovanni di Zanobi Guidacci Pierfrancesco di Carlo di Lodovico Benino Lorenzo di Pietro di Lorenzo Davanzati Giovanni di Niccolò di Giovanni Bonsi Giovannino di Niccolò di Simone Altoviti

215

Date office assumed 17 May 1542 27 November 1542 1 August 1543 1 March 1544 1 September 1544 1 March 1545 1 September 1545 1 March 1546 1 September 1546 1 March 1547 1 September 1547 1 March 1548 1 September 1548 1 March 1549 1 September 1549 1 March 1550 1 September 1550

Appendix 2

P ODESTÀ OF G ANGALANDI, 1473–1550

Podestà of Gangalandi were accompanied by two notaries and 3 men at arms (one mounted). Name Bindo di Coppo di Bindo Canigiani Piero di Messer Tomaso di Ser Jacopo Salvetti Simone di Stagio di Simone di Lorenzo Corso Marco di Niccolò di Giani Berardi Antonio di Jacopo di Giovanni Carducci Taddeo di Bartolomeo di Antonio del Vigna Zanobi di Ser Jacopo di Buonauito Landi Dietifeci di Niccolò di Fecino di Dietifeci Niccolò di Giovanni di Stefano Corsini Andrea di Andrea di Niccolò di Francesco Sacchetti Giovanni di Zanobi di Jacopo Benintendi Raffaello di Niccolò Bonciani Lotto di Piero di Paolo Lotti Giorgio di Niccolò di Giorgio Berlinghieri Agnolo di Francesco di Lorenzo di Miniato Piero di Niccolò di Lodovico Rinucci Giovanni di Piero di Niccolò Davanzati Giovanni d’ Antonio di Tomaso Minerbetti Lorenzo di Ruggiero di Taddeo Canacci Buonacorso di Filippo del Pugliese Priore di Saracino d’ Antonio Pucci Giuliano di Ser Niccolò di Michele Fedini Bartolomeo di Francesco di Buono di Bramante

Date office assumed 4 July 1473 4 January 1474 4 July 1474 4 January 1475 4 July 1475 4 January 1476 4 July 1476 4 January 1477 4 July 1477 4 January 1478 4 July 1478 4 January 1479 4 July 1479 4 January 1480 4 July 1480 4 January 1481 4 July 1481 4 January 1482 4 July 1482 4 January 1483 4 July 1483 4 January 1484 4 July 1484

PODESTÀ OF GANGALANDI

Name Dioniso di Bernardo di Piero di Cardinale Rucellai Buonaccorso di Bernardo Soldani Parigi di Tomaso di Bartolomeo Corbinelli Carlo di Bernardo di Piero di Cardinale Rucellai Francesco di Betto di Buono di Bramante Carlo di Francesco di Carlo Bartoli Bernardo di Giovanni di Betto Rustichi Lorenzo di Ser Lando di Ser Lorenzo da Peschola Mazzeo di Giovanni di Ser Lapo Mazzei Pieruzzo di Ridolfo di Guglielmo Altoviti Niccolò di Giovanni di Silvestro Popoleschi Nofri di Bernardo di Nofri Mellini Antonio di Michele di Jacopo Cittadini Leonardo di Piero di Niccolò da Filicaia Mariotto d’ Antonio di Paolo Carnesechi Piero di Giovanni di Cante Compagni Andrea di Manetti di Andrea Tomasi Francesco d’ Antonio Scarlatti Girolamo d’ Andrea di Neri Vettori Bernardo di Francesco di Puccio d’ Antonio Pucci Francesco di Paolo di Pasquino Pasquini Bernardo di Gentile di Gino Cortigiani Carlo di Conte da Verazzano Gabrielle di Cambio di Messer Veri de’ Medici Matteo di Giovanni Tacci Lorenzo di Rustico di Giovanni Pepi Carlo di Lorenzo di Buonacorso Pitti Pierantonio di Jacopo di Jacopo Venturi Girolamo di Benci di Niccolò di Piero Benci Antonio di Scharlatto d’ Antonio Scarlatti Piero di Banco di Fruosino da Verrazzano Jacopo di Niccolò di Jacopo Carducci Manetto di Migliorotto d’ Antonio Migliorotti Luigi di Bartolo di Francesco Nobili Giovanni di Francesco di Masino Masini Luigi di Tomaso di Bartolomeo dei Sertini Tomaso di Francesco di Tomaso Strinati

217

Date office assumed 4 January 1485 1 May 1485 1 November 1485 1 May 1486 1 November 1486 1 May 1487 1 November 1487 1 May 1488 11 September 1488 11 March 1489 11 September 1489 11 March 1490 11 September 1490 11 March 1491 11 September 1491 11 March 1492 11 September 1492 11 March 1493 11 September 1493 11 March 1494 11 September 1494 11 March 1495 11 September 1495 11 March 1496 11 September 1496 11 March 1497 14 February 1498 22 August 1498 22 February 1499 22 August 1499 22 February 1500 22 August 1500 22 February 1501 22 August 1501 22 February 1502 22 August 1502 22 February 1503

218

Name Antonio di Jacopo Lanfredini Francesco di Zanobi di Ser Martino Martini Bartolomeo di Giovanni di Gualtiero Biliotti Jacopo di Silvestro di Leonardo Pucci Francesco di Stefano di Buto Stefani Giovanni d’ Antonio di Giovanni di Benedetto di Neri Capitani Jacopo di Francesco di Messer Guglielmo Tanaglia Zanobi di Niccolò di Francesco Salvetti Pandolfo di Baldassare di Giovanni Biliotti Leonardo di Tomaso di Giovanni Altoviti Bernardo d’ Antonio di Tommaso Ciacchi Bartolo di Giovanni Tacci Jacopo di Pierozzi di Biago Strozzi Antoniomaria di Naldo d’ Antonio Gherardini Bernardo di Serafino di Lorenzo del Biada Giovanfrancesco di Bartolo di Francesco Bramanti Simone di Tommaso di Giovanni Altoviti Antonio di Miglioro di Lorenzo Cresci Piero di Jacopo di Piero Berardi Antonio di Girolamo d’ Antonio Canacci Tommaso di Piero di Tommaso Minerbetti Tommaso di Messer Tommaso Ardinghelli Andrea di Guiliano di Partincino Particini Domenico di Paolo di Pasquino Pasquini Filippo di Neri di Filippo Rinuccini Lorenzo di Girolamo di Bartolo Niccoli Jacopo di Niccolò di Bernardo Cini Stefano di Ruggiero di Taddeo Chiarucci Jacopo di Napoleone di Jacopo Aldobrando Niccolò di Brando di Giovanni Ugolini Raffaello di Taddeo di Tommaso Faggiuoli Pietro di Mayanardo di Antonio Cieci Benedetto di Matteo di Alessandro Bellacci Antonio di Honofro di Giovanni Arnolfi Roberto di Cambio di Roberto del Palagio Jacopo di Paolo di Lapo Niccolini

Appendix 2

Date office assumed 22 August 1503 22 February 1504 22 August 1504 22 February 1505 22 August 1505 22 February 1506 22 August 1506 22 February 1507 22 August 1507 22 February 1508 22 August 1508 22 February 1509 22 August 1509 22 February 1510 22 August 1510 22 February 1511 22 August 1511 22 February 1512 22 August 1512 22 February 1513 22 August 1513 19 April 1514 19 October 1514 19 April 1515 19 October 1515 19 April 1516 19 October 1516 19 April 1517 19 October 1517 19 April 1518 19 October 1518 19 April 1519 19 October 1519 19 April 1520 11 May 1520 11 November 1520

PODESTÀ OF GANGALANDI

Name Vincenzio di Batista di Batista Dini Alessandro di Pagolotto di Bernardo Balducci Lamberto d’ Onesto Pietro dell’Antella Giovanni di Marchione di Danielle Dazzi Cosimo d’ Evangelista di Cristoforo dei Azzini Pietro di Benciveni di Bartolomeo dei Scarfi Giovanni di Francesco di Lorenzo Amadori Piermaria di Ridolfo di Ghicciono Giandonato Lorenzo di Frusino di Cristoforo Alberto di Niccolò di Pierozzi dei Viviani Giovanni di Paolo di Giovanni Benini Niccolò di Benedetto di Niccolò Bonvanni Matteo di Tomaso di Puccino Puccini Paggino di Giovanni di Giuliano Biliotti Niccolò di Giovanni di Niccolò Manelli Pierozzi di Niccolò di Pierozzi Viviano Paolo di Girolamo di Guardio della Guardia Lorenzo di Francesco di Tomaso Cavalcanti Lorenzo di Giovanni di Girolamo Bonsi Guglielmo di Francesco di Bernardo Paganelli Giovanni d’ Appollo di Giovanni Baldovini Giovanbatista di Dietisalvi di Niccolò Benintendi Geri di Benedetto di Geri Bartoli Francesco d’ Orso d’ Orso Pace Lorenzo di Francesco di Giovanni Spina Larione di Lorenzo di Giovanni Zampalochi Francesco di Carlo di Bernardo dell’Attosa Giovanissimo di Francesco di Bernardo Quaratesi Jacopo di Ser Zanobi di Jacopo Salvetti Bartolo di Jacopo di Bartolomeo Ghalli Frederico di Niccolò di Messer Donato (Cocchi) Simone di Francesco di Simone Guiducci Francesco di Niccolò di Lodovico Doffi Giovanfillipo di Bartolomeo d’ Antonio Bruni Antonio di Bartolo di Giovanni Popoleschi Francesco di Lodovico di Bernardo Dei Filippo di Carlo di Messer Antonio dei Borromei

219

Date office assumed 11 May 1521 11 November 1521 11 May 1522 11 November 1522 11 May 1523 11 November 1523 11 May 1524 11 November 1524 11 May 1525 11 November 1525 24 May 1526 14 November 1526 24 May 1527 15 March 1528 15 September 1528 15 March 1529 15 September 1529 28 January 1530 28 July 1530 28 January 1531 27 February 1532 27 August 1532 1 February 1533 30 October 1533 30 April 1534 11 February 1535 11 August 1535 11 February 1536 30 August 1536 21 March 1537 21 September 1537 21 March 1538 21 September 1538 21 May 1539 21 November 1539 30 June 1540 30 December 1540

220

Name Giovanbattista di Domenico di Bernardo Dei Vincenzio di Francesco di Ser Battista Guardi Francesco di Carlo di Bernardo Tosa Giovanbattista di Antonio di Agnolo Peruzzi Lorenzo di Francesco di Girolamo Brandi Agnolo di Giovanbattista di Bernardo Tosa Bernardo di Dionigi di Tomè del Lutiano Antonio di Tommaso di Antonio Scarlattini Bernardo di Lorenzo di Dionigi di Dini Peri Girolamo di Salvatore di Vanni Vechietti Lionetto di Domenico di Bernardo Dei Rinaldo di Bartolomeo di Jacopo dei Ridolfi Piergiovanni di Lodovico di Michele Banchi Giovanbattista di Bernardo di Tanai Nerli (Lastra) Tommaso di Conte di Tomè dei Frescobaldi (Montelupo) Matteo di Niccolò di Christoforo del Chiaro (Lastra) Baldino di Agnolo di Baldino Martellini (Montelupo)

Appendix 2

Date office assumed 30 June 1541 30 December 1541 30 June 1542 30 December 1542 30 June 1543 30 December 1543 30 June 1544 30 December 1544 30 June 1545 30 December 1545 30 June 1546 1 January 1547 1 January 1548 1 July 1548 1 March 1549 1 October 1549 1 March 1550

Appendix 3

V ICARS OF THE M UGELLO , 1473–1550

Vicars of the Mugello were accompanied by one notary, four servants, and fifteen men at arms (including 5 mounted). Name Antonio di Miglioro di Tommaso Guidotti Antonio di Michele di Benedetto Pescioni Jacopo di Bernardo di Jacopo Ciai Roberto di Francesco di Biagio Lioni Averardo di Alamano di Messer Jacopo Salviati Paolo di Simone di Paolo di Berto Carnesecchi Agostino di Giovanni di Jacopo Lucazinasi Leonardo di Giovanni di Domenico Bartoli Piero di Tommaso di Domenico Borgini Lotto di Duccio di Lotto Macini Andrea di Cresci di Lorenzo Cresci Paolantonio di Messer Tommaso Soderini Pagalotto di Bernardo di Pagolotto Balducci Carlo di Zanobi Ghiacci Domenico di Giovanni Bartoli Niccolò di Luigi di Messer Lorenzo Ridolfi Cesare di Domenico di Tano Petrucci Piero di Lutozzo di Jacopo Nasi Jacopo di Ugolino Mazzinghi Francesco di Puccio di Antonio Pucci Cosimo di Matteo di Marco Bartoli Piero di Anifrione di Lorenzo Lenzi Priore di Messer Gianozzo di Agnolo Pandolfini

Date office assumed 1 February 1473 1 August 1473 1 February 1474 1 August 1474 1 February 1475 1 August 1475 1 February 1476 1 August 1476 1 February 1477 1 August 1477 1 February 1478 1 August 1478 1 February 1479 1 August 1479 1 February 1480 1 August 1480 1 February 1481 1 August 1481 1 February 1482 1 August 1482 1 February 1483 1 August 1483 1 February 1484

222

Name Piero di Giovanni di Ser Luca Franceschi Filippo di Giovanni di Filippo di Barone Cappelli Alamano di Bernardo di Alamano de’ Medici Roberto di Francesco di Biagio Lioni Simone di Carlo Bonciani Ristoro d’ Antonio di Salvestro di Serristori Luigi di Piero Guicciardini Piero di Giovanni di Guglielmo di Bancho Altoviti Carlo di Zanobi Ghiacceto Tommaso di Paolo di Morello Morelli Lodovico d’ Antonio di Ser Tommaso Masi Piero di Messer Francesco Machiavelli Tommaso di Piero di Niccolò Malegonnelle Bernardo di Pazino di Luca Alberti Michele di Bernardo di Lapo Niccolini Antonio di Giovanni d’ Antonio Lorini Piero di Bertoldo di Gerardo di Messer Filippo Corsini Piero di Niccolò di Piero Popoleschi Gino di Giuliano di Francesco Ginori Filippo di Mauro di Salvestro Ceffini Neri di Piero di Filippo del Nero Tommaso di Piero di Niccolò Malegonnelle Bertoldo di Gherardo di Messer Filippo Corsini Giovanni di Simone di Giorgio Formichone Jacopo di Tommaso di Giacomo Goggi Piero di Bartolomeo di Lorenzo Gualterotti Bartolo di Giovanni di Salvestro Popoleschi Guglielmo d’ Antonio di Messer Andrea Pazzi Simone di Lorenzo di Parigi Corbinelli Matteo di Honofro di Giovanni Chaccia Simone di Carlo Bonciani Zanobi di Lucantonio Albizzi Francesco di Martino dello Scarfa Simone di Jacopo di Simone Corsi Girolamo di Pagnozzo di Bartolomeo Ridolfi Giuliano di Mauro di Salvestro Ceffini Giovanni di Bardo di Guglielmo Altoviti

Appendix 3

Date office assumed 1 August 1484 1 February 1485 27 June 1485 1 August 1485 1 February 1486 1 August 1486 1 February 1487 23 July 1487 1 August 1487 23 January 1488 23 July 1488 23 January 1489 23 July 1489 23 January 1490 23 July 1490 23 January 1491 23 July 1491 23 January 1492 23 July 1492 23 January 1493 23 July 1493 23 January 1494 23 July 1494 23 January 1495 23 July 1495 23 January 1496 23 July 1496 23 January 1497 23 July 1497 23 January 1498 23 July 1498 23 January 1499 27 August 1499 27 February 1500 27 August 1500 27 February 1501 27 August 1501

VICARS OF THE MUGELLO

Name Filippo di Giovanni di Taddeo dell’Antella Niccolò di Simone di Amerigo Zati Pietro di Leonardo di Pietro Benino Girolamo di Bernardo di Tommaso Corbinelli Giovanni di Paolo di Ridolfo Lotti Lorenzo di Lucantonio di Niccolò Albizzi Benedetto d’ Andrea di Niccolò Carducci Benedetto d’ Andrea di Pancrazio Rucellai Giovanbattista di Bernardo di Carlo Bartoli Piero di Jacopo di Piero Guicciardini Pazzino di Bernardo di Pazzino Lucalberti Antonfrancesco di Bartolo di Luigi Scali Filippo di Giovanni di Rinieri Peruzzi Agnolo di Giovanni d’ Onofro Chaccia Francesco di Lorenzo di Piero Davanzati Alessandro di Bernardo Galilei Antonio di Jacopo di Orsino Lanfredi Bernardo di Carlo di Salvestro Gondi Giovanni di Luigi di Messer Giovanni Guicciardini Giovanni di Francesco di Baldino Inghirami Francesco di Simone di Amerigo Zati Girolamo di Govenco di Lorenzo della Stufa Carlo di Danielle di Luigi Canigiani Neri di Gino di Neri Capponi Lorenzo di Francesco di Jacopo Guidetti Bindaccio d’ Andrea di Bindaccio Ricasoli Zanobi d’ Andrea di Niccolò Giugni Carlo di Francesco di Gentile Cortigiani Giovanni di Girolamo di Giovanni Popoleschi Raffaello di Gregorio di Matteo Antinori Andrea di Ser Tommaso d’ Andrea Minerbetti Leonardo di Bernardo di Messer Lorenzo Ridolfi Niccolò di Braccio di Niccolò Guicciardini Niccolò d’ Andrea di Niccolò Capponi Francesco di Bernardo di Jacopo Ciachi Berto di Francesco di Berto da Filicaia Zanobi di Lucantonio Albizzi

223

Date office assumed 27 February 1502 3 September 1502 3 March 1503 3 September 1503 3 March 1504 3 September 1504 3 March 1505 3 September 1505 3 March 1506 3 September 1506 3 March 1507 3 September 1507 3 March 1508 3 September 1508 3 March 1509 3 September 1509 3 March 1510 3 September 1510 3 March 1511 3 September 1511 3 March 1512 3 September 1512 3 March 1513 3 September 1513 3 March 1514 3 September 1514 3 March 1515 3 September 1515 3 March 1516 3 September 1516 3 March 1517 3 September 1517 3 March 1518 3 September 1518 3 March 1519 3 September 1519 3 March 1520

224

Name Amerigo di Messer Luca di Buonacorso Pitti Bernardo di Carlo di Salvestro Gondi Luca di Giorgio di Niccolò Ugolini Niccolò d’ Andrea di Niccolò Neri di Pietro di Neri Acciaiuoli Niccolò di Berto di Giovanni Albizzi Duccio di Jacopo di Duccio Mancini Giovanni di Pietro di Neri Acciaiuoli Giovanni di Paolo di Giovanni Machiavelli Giovanni di Paolo di Giovanni Federighi Andrea di Tommaso di Giovanni (Minerbetti) Manardo di Bartolo di Manardo Cavalcanti Lorenzo di Tommaso di Giovanni Niccolò di Michele d’ Antonio da Rabatta Bartolo di Giovanni di Bartolo (Tedaldi) Francesco di Pellegrino di Francesco Casavecchia Ugolino di Giuliano di Jacopo Mazzinghi Giovanni di Girolamo di Giovanni Popoleschi Lotto di Jacopo di Jacopo Gherardi Francesco di Guglielmo di Bernardo Altoviti Bernardo di Messer Cristofano di Bartolo Landini Girolamo di Piero di Jacopo Guiccciardini Jacopo di Berlinghiero di Francesco Berlinghieri Francesco di Messer Luigi di Messer Agnolo della Stufa Giovanni di Albertaccio di Danielle Alberti Lorenzo d’ Andrea di Bernardo de’ Medici Piero di Bartolo di Giovanni Orlandi Pierfrancesco di Salvo di Francesco Borgherini Francesco di Girolamo di Filippo Rucellai Andrea di Paolo di Simone Carnesechi Francesco di Tommaso di Francesco Alberti Giovanfrancesco di Niccolò di Bartolo Baroncelli Piero di Messer Antonio di Messer Donati Cocchi Giovanni di Bartolo di Nerrone dei Dietisalvi Bernardo di Francesco di Lapo del Tovaglia Giovanni di Altobiancho di Gherardo Giandonati Matteo di Bernadino di Messer Otto Niccolini

Appendix 3

Date office assumed 3 September 1520 3 March 1521 3 September 1521 3 March 1522 3 September 1522 3 March 1523 3 September 1523 3 March 1524 3 September 1524 3 March 1525 3 September 1525 3 March 1526 3 September 1526 3 March 1527 4 December 1527 4 June 1528 4 December 1528 4 June 1529 4 January 1530 1 March 1531 20 September 1531 20 March 1532 20 September 1532 20 March 1533 20 September 1533 20 March 1534 20 September 1534 20 March 1535 20 September 1535 20 March 1536 20 September 1536 12 April 1537 12 October 1537 12 April 1538 12 October 1538 12 April 1539 12 October 1539

VICARS OF THE MUGELLO

Name Pierpaolo di Carlo di Aldighuccino Biliotti Bernardo di Messer Giovanni di Messer Bernardo Buongirolami Simone d’ Andrea di Paolo Carnesecchi Giovanni di Albertaccio d’ Andrea Corsini Giovanni di Piero di Giovanni Franceschi Giovanni d’ Ubertino di Filippo Rucellai Lorenzo di Bernardo d’ Antonio Taddei Francesco di Raffaello di Francesco de’ Medici Filippo di Tommaso di Filippo Rucellai Albertaccio d’ Andrea di Giovanni Corsini Carlo di Roberto di Donato Acciaiuoli Antonio di Francesco d’ Antonio Neroni Tommaso di Tomeo di Federico Federighi Alberto di Gualterotto di Niccolò Gualterotti Bonaccorso di Giovanni di Buonacorso Pitti Roberto di Michele di Carlo Strozzi Roberto di Francesco di Roberto Leoni Jacopo di Piero di Jacopo Guicciardini Bastiano d’ Antonio di Simone Canigiani Filippo d’ Angolo di Lorenzo Carducci

225

Date office assumed 31 May 1540 15 January 1541 15 July 1541 1 March 1542 1 September 1542 1 March 1543 1 September 1543 1 March 1544 1 September 1544 15 March 1545 15 October 1545 14 April 1546 29 October 1546 14 May 1547 29 November 1547 14 June 1548 29 December 1548 14 July 1549 29 January 1550 13 August 1550

Appendix 4

G ONFALONIERI OF S CARPERIA 1499–1538

Lorenzo di Nanni Tenducci (detto Baldanza) (farmer) 1499 gonfaloniere 1500 consigliere 1502 sindico 1504 gonfaloniere 1505 consigliere 1508 gonfaloniere 1513 camarlingo — refuses in favour of Michele Melai 1522 consigliere 1524 consigliere Giordano d’ Antonio di Guido 1500 gonfaloniere 1501 consigliere 1504 gonfaloniere 1505 gonfaloniere Guccio di Giovanni d’ Antonio (farrier/smith) 1500 gonfaloniere 1502 consigliere 1507 gonfaloniere 1508 consigliere

Lorenzo di Salvestro di Nanni 1501 gonfaloniere 1502 sindico Piero di Niccolò di Santi 1500 consigliere 1501 ragioniere gonfaloniere 1503 ragioniere 1504 ragioniere 1506 consigliere 1508 ragioniere Francesco di Domenico (tailor) 1502 gonfaloniere 1505 consigliere Jacopo di Simone di Romolo 1500 ragioniere 1501 ragioniere 1502 gonfaloniere 1507 consigliere Girolamo di Francesco d’ Agnolo 1503 gonfaloniere Bartolomeo d’ Antonio di Niccolò (servant) 1505 gonfaloniere

227

GONFALONIERI OF SCARPERIA

1505 1506 1509 1517 1518 1519 1521 1523 1524

Francesco di Guccio di Messer Francesco (knife maker) consigliere camarlingo gonfaloniere consigliere gonfaloniere camarlingo gonfaloniere gonfaloniere consigliere

Bartolomeo di Guccio 1510 gonfaloniere 1513 gonfaloniere Jacopo di Francesco (Fantasia) (shoemaker) 1510 gonfaloniere 1512 consigliere 1516 consigliere 1518 gonfaloniere 1519 consigliere 1525 gonfaloniere 1526 gonfaloniere Biago di Silvestro Niccolino 1511 gonfaloniere 1520 gonfaloniere 1522 consigliere 1525 consigliere 1536 consigliere Giovanni di Piero Cechi 1512 gonfaloniere Guidone di Tomaso Melai 1512 gonfaloniere 1515 consigliere 1517 gonfaloniere

Filippo di Jacopo di Simone di Romolo 1514 gonfaloniere 1517 consigliere 1518 consigliere 1522 gonfaloniere Giovanni di Cuccio di Lorenzo 1515 gonfaloniere 1516 gonfaloniere 1519 gonfaloniere 1521 sindico 1522 gonfaloniere 1523 gonfaloniere 1525 gonfaloniere 1526 gonfaloniere 1528 consigliere 1531 gonfaloniere Nuto di Giovanni di Nuto (shoemaker) 1515 ragionere 1516 ragioniere 1517 gonfaloniere 1519 ragioniere consigliere 1521 gonfaloniere consigliere 1529 gonfaloniere 1531 gonfaloniere 1533 gonfaloniere 1536 ambasciadore Biago di Domenico Melai 1512 consigliere 1513 carmalingo — refuses 1518 consigliere 1519 gonfaloniere 1527 consigliere 1531 casteldone

228

Appendix 4

1532 gonfaloniere 1533 gonfaloniere 1536 consigliere Giuliano di Lippo di Nanni 1505 consigliere 1508 consigliere 1522 gonfaloniere 1532 consigliere 1536 consigliere Gabrielle di Guido Melai 1524 gonfaloniere 1526 consigliere 1527 gonfaloniere 1528 gonfaloniere 1532 consigliere 1535 consigliere 1536 ragioniere 1537 gonfaloniere Giovanbatista di Jacopo di Michele (blacksmith) 1519 camarlingo — refuses 1524 gonfaloniere 1527 castaldone 1529 consigliere 1531 consigliere

1521 1523 1525 1527 1530

Domenico di Giovanni di Domenico consigliere consigliere gonfaloniere gonfaloniere consigliere

Sandro di Giovanni di Nuto 1522 ragioniere 1526 gonfaloniere

Ristoro di Francesco di Ristoro 1523 consigliere 1524 consigliere 1524–28 camarlingo 1528 gonfaloniere 1532 consigliere 1535 gonfaloniere 1536 ambasciadore

1510 1511 1512 1530 1535 1536

Jacopo di Michele Melai (blacksmith) consigliere consigliere ragioniere gonfaloniere gonfaloniere gonfaloniere

Geremia di Giovanni di Nuto 1532 gonfaloniere 1534 gonfaloniere 1536 gonfaloniere Antonio di Puccino Puccini 1534 gonfaloniere 1535 gonfaloniere 1537 gonfaloniere Agnolo di Guido Melai 1535 consigliere 1537 consigliere 1538 gonfaloniere

INDEX

Note: As the majority of contadini I have referred to throughout the text did not have family names with which to identify them, I have included their place of residence in brackets following their name. Abetone 44 Accoppiatori 83 Adimari, family 91 Agnolo d’Antonio di Simone (Gangalandi) 97 Alberti, family 90, 91, 177 Alberti, Leon Battista 177–80, 187, 188 Albizzi, family 90, 91, 92 Altopascio 1 Andrea di Cresci 98 Andrea di Giovanni (Lanciuole) 67 Annunziata, church of (Florence) 165 Approvatori degli statuti del contado e distretto 30, 32, 68 Archival records for the study of the territory 9–10, 26–7, 145–6 Arezzo 24, 109, 126, 146 Aringo di Corso (Gangalandi) 179 Aristotle 86 Arno, river 90, 182, 202 Audet, Niccolò 188 Auditore delle Riformagione 32 Bacci, Giovanni 19 Bagnioni, Batista 120 Balestracci, Duccio 94, 95, 101 Barberino 203 Bardeglio 197, 199, 200

Bartoli, Domenico 120 Bartoli, fra Girolamo 45 Bartoli, Leonardo di Giovanni 120 Bartoli, Lorenzo 45 Bartolomeo d’Antonio di Maso (Gangalandi) 81 Bartolomeo di Mariotto (Bientina) 35 Bastiano del Rosso di Luigi da Ronta (Scarperia) 129 Becker, Marvin 6 Benedusi, Giovanna 131 Bernardi, Bernardo 101 Bertelleschi, family 91 Biagio di Guidotto (Cutigliano) 58 Bibbiona 144 Bientina 35 Bisenzio, river 88 Black Death and plagues 5, 40, 55, 111, 130, 164, 168, 187 Bologna 43, 45, 59, 61, 109, 161, 192 Böninger, Lorenz 20 Bonsi, family 90 Borgo San Lorenzo 29, 164 Borgo San Sepulcro, confraternity of San Bartolomeo 153, 157; confraternity of Santa Maria della Badia 153 Boschetto, Luca 178

230 Bosco dei Frati 176 Brandeglio 190 Brown, Judith 131 Brozzi 195, 201 Brucker, Gene 5, 147 Buggiano 139 Buti 94, 101 Cafaggiolo, Medici villa of 107, 108, 164, 166, 203 Calamecca, communal council 65, 66, 67–70; demography 32, 55, 63; economy 62; factions 64; social identity 66; statutes 68; topography 62; town of 10, 62 Calenzano 198 Camarlinghi 34–40, 128–9, 193 Campanilismo 189–90, 195–6, 207 Campi 41, 91, 156, 198, 199 Canapale 200 Cancellieri 147 Cancellieri, faction 43, 50, 59, 60, 65, 73, 189, 190, 192, 194, 207 Capitani 18, 19 Capponi, family 65 Capponi, Piero 73 Careggi 158 Carmignano 111, 199, 200 Casale 190 Casali, Messer Piero di Andrea de’ 146 Casentino 47 Castel Santa Barbara 110 Castelfiorentino 150 Castelfranco 38 Castello 158 Castiglione della Pescaia 26, 71 Castracanni, Castruccio 79 Cecco di Simone Boschi (Gangalandi) 80–1 Certaldo 41–2 Cherubini, Giovanni 47 Chianti 144 Chittolini, Giorgio 87, 101, 125 Church and State, diocesan boundaries 137–8; ecclesiastical institutions 136, 137–8, 144–5, 150, 162, 165–6; episcopal courts 139; juris-

Index diction 139; spiritual authority 137, 140–2; taxation 139–40 Cinque del Contado 17, 27, 28, 34, 35, 36, 39, 49, 51, 129, 140, 151, 156; suppliche to 37, 38, 40, 85, 141, 154 Cinque delle Fortezze 121 City and countryside, similarities between 3–4, 11, 87 Clemenzino di Agnolo (Cutigliano) 59 Clergy, lay attitudes to 143–4, 146–7; morality of 143–4, 146–7; role in rural communities 145–9 Cohn, Samuel 23–4, 47, 52 Colle 130 Commissari 159 Communal councils, meeting places 28–9, 136, 183–4; office holding 29–30, 33; role of 3–4, 27–33, 147 Communal movement ideology 3–4, 21–2, 201 Communal statutes 9, 20, 22, 26, 28, 30–3, 37, 39, 68, 147 Confraternities 3, 16, 28, 89, 93, 98, 140, 148–9, 151, 152–9, 161, 162, 165–9, 175, 178, 181, 192–3, 194, 195, 197, 199, 202, 203, 205, 207 Connell, William 7 Conservatori delle Leggi 49, 51 Consiglieri 28–33 Consorterie 65–7 Contadini, arming of 60–1, 190; Florentine relationships with 98–101, 104, 123–4, 149–52; literacy and schooling 70, 147, 157; political agency of 16, 31, 32–3, 34, 39, 42, 82–4, 86–7, 135–6, 145, 159, 177, 183–4, 188, 204; social identity 87, 137, 165, 192, 195; spirituality 3, 137, 141–2, 155–9, 164–5, 182–3, 188, 191, 200–1, 204 Contado, economy 101–2; Florentine attitudes to 2, 40, 75, 93–4, 98, 117, 141; Florentine migration from 3, 76, 144; historiographical attitudes to 1, 4–8, 77–8, 130–1, 137, 165 Conti, Elio 104 Convents 150, 158, 159, 161, 186–7 Cowan, Alexander 4

231

Index Crespoli, communal council 65, 67–70, 147; demography 63; economy 62; factions 64, 67, 191; topography 62; town of 10, 32, 53, 55, 62 Cutigliano, communal council 29, 56–7, 59, 69; confraternity of Our Lady of Cutigliano 193–4; demography 55–8; economy 55–6, 58; factions 56–62; San Bartolomeo 54; social identity 59, 61; statutes 56–7, 68, 70; topography 52; town of 70, 189 Dati, Piero 180 Decima 24, 97, 140 Dicomano 160; podestà of 35 Dieci di Balìa 26 Domenico di Bartolo di Giovanni da Monterappoli, ser 86 Domenico di Bastiano del Rosso di Luigi da Ronta (Scarperia) 129 Domenico di Matteo (Tagliaferro) 36 Doretea di Lanciuole 194–5 Duccino di Luca (Gangalandi) 81 Elba 102 Empoli 37, 38, 144 Fegine 185 Ferrara 43, 61, 192 Fiesole 111; diocese of 138 Figline 198, 162; confraternity of Santa Maria Tartigliese 155 Firenzuola 110, 112, 113, 164; podestà of 24 Firenzuola, Agnolo 143 Fiumi, Enrico 101 Florence, administration of the territory 7–8, 15–26, 28, 32, 42, 52, 68, 70, 139, 152, 177, 205–9; diverse territories of 1, 11, 75; taxation of the territory 23–5, 28, 34, 75; territorial expansion 15–17, 48, 108–9, 138 Francesco di Cristofano di Baldo (Poppi) 25 Francesco di Guccio di Messer Francesco (Scarperia) 128 Francesco di Matteo di Simone (Scarperia) 126 Francesco di Piero (Empoli) 37 Fucecchio 1

Gaiole in Chianti, confraternity of Corpus Domini 156 Galeata 28 Gangalandi, communal council 29, 41, 80–6, 180, 183–4, 186, 201; commune 79–80, 88–9; confraternities 89, 181, 184–7, 201–2; confraternity of Poveri di Cristo (San Martino) 184–7; confraternity of Vergine Maria (San Martino) 179, 185; convent of Lecceto 92, 181; convent of Santa Maria delle Selve 79, 99, 100, 187–8; demography 79–80, 103–4; ecclesiastical institutions 181–3, 184, 188, 202; economy 91, 95, 97, 102–5; relationship with Florence 89–90, 91–3, 104–5, 177–8, 188, 209; San Martino 79, 80, 81, 85, 88, 91, 92, 93, 97, 99, 101, 103, 141, 154, 156, 178–85, 197; San Michele 80, 81, 88, 181, 183, 184; San Pietro in Selve 80, 81, 85, 181, 183, 184; Santo Stefano a Calcinaia 80, 81, 82, 85–7, 91, 92, 97, 181, 183, 184; sharecropping 95–9; social identity 85–9, 182–3; topography 78; urban landholding 90–3, 187 Gavinana 46, 73 Gino di Marco di Bernardo (Gangalandi) 97 Ginori, family 120 Ginzburg, Carlo 165 Giovanbatista di Giovanpiero (Scarperia) 129 Giovanni (priest of Tagliaferro) 36 Giovanni di Bartolo (Cutigliano) 59 Giovanni di Cuccio di Lorenzo (Scarperia) 128 Giovanni di Salvatore (Gangalandi) 97 Giuliano di Pierfrancesco, ser (Poppi) 25 Godparents 152, 175–6, 178, 181 Gonfalonieri 29, 174 Gonzaga, Ludovico 44, 187 Guarini, Elena 11 Guccio di Messer Francesco (Scarperia) 127 Guiccardini, family 120 Guidi, family 17 Herlihy, David 52, 95 Hospitals 150, 159–61, 168, 184, 186 Impruneta, Santa Maria 158 Inghirami, Francesco 38

232 Jacopo di Santo (Cutigliano) 60, 191 Klapisch-Zuber, Christiane 95 La Costa 198 Lamporecchio 200 Lancilotto, Ugolino, ser (Torre di San Miniato) 34 Lanciuole, communal council 65, 67–70; demography 55, 63; economy 62; factions 64, 67, 194; topography 62; town of 10, 62 Lastra a Signa 10, 78, 88, 89, 90, 97, 99, 102, 104, 186, 197, 199, 201 Lizzano 46, 56–7, 60, 61, 69, 190, 191 Lorenzo di Giuliano di Bernardo di Santo (Gangalandi) 97 Lorenzo di Nanni Tenducci (Scarperia) 128 Lorenzo di Piero Dolconi 187 Lottieri del Piccino 100 Luca di Brancaccio, ser 179 Lucca 17, 50, 61, 138, 148 Machiavelli, Niccolò 2, 25 Malmantile 78, 79, 89, 92 Mammiano 61, 192 Mantua 44, 187 Maremma 47, 48, 201 Mariano da Bartolomeo (Montemarciano) 141 Martelli, Braccio di Messer Domenico di Niccolò 73 Masini, family 90, 114 Matteo di Meo (Cutigliano) 59 Medici, family 21, 32, 50, 64, 72, 74, 83, 89, 90, 107, 108, 120, 121, 122, 144, 161, 176, 203 Medici, Cosimo I 19, 32, 51, 102, 164 Medici, Gabrielle di Cambio di Messer Veri de’ 90 Medici, Giuliano de’ 44 Medici, Lorenzino di Pierfrancesco de’197, 203 Medici, Lorenzo di Piero de’ 3, 7, 15, 19–20, 61, 63, 67, 71, 73, 74, 98, 120, 121, 144, 203–4 Medici, Ottaviano di Lorenzo de’ 67 Melai, family (Scarperia) 127, 174, 208 Melai, Biago di Domenico 130 Melai, Gabrielle di Guido 130

Index Melai, Jacopo di Michele 130 Melai, Lorenzo di Guido 130 Melai, Piero di Meo 130 Mezzadria, sharecropping 77, 78, 93–9, 122–5, 206 Michele di Piero (Gangalandi) 81 Militia 25–6, 190 Milner, Stephen 67–8 Miraculous image of the Madonna (Prato) 198 Miraculous image of the Madonna (Scarperia) 170 Modena 52 Montalbano 200 Montale 200 Monte Cornaio 47–8 Montegonzi 26 Montemagno 200 Montepulciano 3 Montevarchi 26, 38 Montevettolini 153 Muendel, John 94–5 Mugello 1, 11, 17, 26, 32, 41, 47, 107, 109, 120, 122, 144, 163, 164, 166, 167, 203, 204; earthquake 163–4, 168, 170, 176 Najemy, John 21 Nardo di Nuto (Scarperia) 127 Neri di Bicci 99–100 New Towns 11, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 117, 131, 166, 207 Niccolini, Matteo di Messer Agnolo 67 Niccolino, family (Scarperia) 127 Nobili, Antonio di Francesco de’ 44 Nove di Ordinanza e Milizia 135 Nuovoli 158 Nuto di Giovanni di Nuto (Scarperia) 128 Opere 148, 154, 156, 159, 168, 181 Orsanmichele, church of (Florence) 166 Osheim, Duane 148 Otto di Guardia 17 Otto di Pratica 25, 140 Pagno di Balduccio (Gangalandi) 179 Panciatichi, faction 43, 49, 50, 59, 60, 65, 73, 190, 192, 207

233

Index Panciatichi, Filippo di Vincentio 61 Pandolfini, family 90, 91, 92, 98, 120, 177, 178 Pandolfini, Agnolo 92 Pandolfini, Carlo 86, 93, 180 Pandolfini, Filippo di Giovanni 92 Paolo di Certaldo 2 Parduccio di Michele (Pontedera) 94 Parenti, Marco di Parente 180 Patronage, art 99–100, 154, 183–4; ecclesiastical 91–3, 98, 135–7, 144–5, 149–51, 154, 173, 177, 180 Patron-client relations 20, 39, 49, 98 Pennonieri 29 Peretola 158 Pescia 130, 131, 208; confraternity of Santa Croce 151 Petralia, Giuseppe 24 Piazza della Signoria, Florence 141 Pietrasanta 148, 160; captain of 25 Pilgrimages 141, 158, 164, 170, 198–209 Pimonte 198 Pinzidimonte 198 Piovano Arlotto 2, 165 Pisa 17, 24, 69, 78, 79, 90, 101, 138, 144, 166, 178, 201 Pistoia 10, 17, 22, 32, 47, 61, 69, 71, 74, 138, 144, 192, 195; captain of 25; contado of 32, 45, 47, 76, 143, 197, 200; podestà of 65 Pistoian mountains, captain of 52–4; confraternities 192–4; convents 194; demography 46, 50, 57–8; ecclesiastical institutions 189–92, 194, 200; economy 45–7, 50, 206–7; factions 43, 50–2, 189–92, 207; lawlessness of 10, 43–5, 54, 71, 191; poverty of 43–8, 57, 63–5, 69, 191, 194; relationship with Florence 48–52, 59, 60, 65–6, 71–5, 209; relationship with Medici, 72; San Marcello 189; taxation 57, 69, 74 Piteglio 192 Podestà, podesterie 18, 28, 30, 40, 48, 68, 130, 139, 159 Poggio a Caiano 166 polizie 33 Ponte a Signa 78, 79, 88, 91, 182 Pontedera 94

Pope Martin V 138 Poppi 25, 32, 130, 131, 190, 208 Pratica Segreta di Pistoia e Pontremoli 49, 51, 54, 57, 59, 60, 65, 66 Prato 17, 45, 76, 88, 126, 144, 198–205 Preachers 137, 156 Pucci, family 91, 177 Puccini, family (Scarperia) 127 Pugliese, family 177 Pupiglio 192 Quaracchi 98–9 Quaratesi, Castello 151 Radda in Chianti, confraternity of San Gregorio 155; confraternity of Santa Maria della Grazia 155 Rettori 40, 41, 149, 154, 159 Riccialbani, Paolo 121 Ristoro di Francesco di Ristoro (Scarperia) 128, 129 Roads and bridges, maintenance of 42, 139 Rome 109, 142, 161, 188 Roncière, Charles de la 87 Rossi, family 150 Rubinstein, Nicolai 5 Rucellai, family 65, 90, 91, 99, 120, 177 Rucellai, Cardinale 43, 46, 51, 143 Rucellai, Giovanni 98 Salvadori, Patrizia 19 Salviati, family 91 Salviati, Jacopo 2–3 Sambucca 49 San Casciano 3, 157; podestà of 24 San Cristofano 151 San Gimignano 126 San Godenzo 32 San Marcello 46, 53, 71 San Michele a Castello 157 San Miniato 26, 141 San Miniato al Tedesco 130 San Piero di Castagnoli in Chianti 135, 145, 146 San Piero in Sieve 32, 110, 203

234 Sandro da Mammiano (Cutigliano) 73 Sant’ Andrea a Cerchiano 175 Sant’ Angelo 200 Sant’ Ippolito 88 Santa Croce sull’Arno 20 Santa Gonda 26 Santa Maria delle Carceri, Prato (see also miraculous image of the Madonna) 197, 200, 204 Santa Maria Maggiore, church of (Florence) 156 Santa Trinita, convent of (Florence) 151 Santo Spirito, convent of (Florence)166 Santo Stefano in Pane 158 Savonarola 3, 194, 195 Scarlatti, family 90 Scarperia, communal council 117, 127–9, 167, 173; commune 110, 111; confraternity of San Jacopo 168; confraternity of Santa Maria (Fagna) 170; confraternity of Santa Maria in Piazza (Scarperia) 113, 174–5, 203, 204; confraternity of Santa Trinita (Scarperia) 173; confraternity of Visitazione della Vergine Maria (Sant’ Agata) 168, 169, 173; convent of Santa Barbara 113, 174; demography 111, 124–5; ecclesiastical institutions 166–7, 170; economy 112, 122–6; emergence of political elite 127–31, 174–6; relationship with Florence 119–20, 121, 122–3, 166–7, 177, 208–9; relationship with Medici 120, 121–2, 176, 203–4; Sant’ Agata 96, 111, 112, 114, 118, 119, 122, 123, 124, 125, 147, 168, 169, 170, 173, 175, 177, 203; Santa Maria di Fagna 96, 111, 112, 114, 116, 119, 122, 123, 124, 125, 167, 169, 170, 173, 174, 174,177, 203; Santi Jacopo e Filippo 113, 117, 167, 169, 173, 174, 175; social identity 114–19; taxation 111; topography 110; town of 112–16, 118–19, 203 Scragoni, Biago di Giovanni (Torre di San Miniato) 34 Seravalle 49, 62, 190 Settimo 32, 88, 99 Signa 32, 41, 91, 97, 111, 144, 150, 155, 156, 182, 197, 202 Signoria (Florence) 38, 136

Index Soderini, family 91, 100, 177, 178 Soderini, Piero 2, 97 Soderini, Tomaso 99 Strozzi, family 90, 91, 92, 144, 177, 178, 187 Strozzi, Filippo 92, 180, 187 Strozzi, Matteo di Lorenzo 67, 150 Strozzi, Niccolò d’Antonio 181 Tagliaferro 36 Taverns 155, 178, 186, 204 Tenducci, family (Scarperia) 127 Terranuova 29 Testaments 150–1, 161–2, 174 Tornabuoni, family 93 Tornabuoni, Lucrezia 190 Torre di San Miniato 34 Transhumance 47, 58, 88, 192, 194, 201, 207 Trebbio, Medici villa of 107, 108, 203 Ubaldini, family 11, 108, 110 Ufficiali della Torre 49 Ufficiali delle Notte 49 Ufficiali dell’estimo del contado 17 Urban landholding in the territory 52, 76–8, 91–3, 122–3, 144, 160, 177, 206 Val d’Arno di Sopra 1 Val di Bura 199 Valdarno 109 Vecchietti, Marsilio d’ Antonio di Marsilio 71 Vicari, vicariati 18, 19, 40, 111, 120, 130, 139, 159 Vico Pisano 32 Vignone 90 Visconti, army 79 Visitations 145–7, 151, 189, 191 Vitelli, family 91 Viviani, Giuliano di Francesco di Ser Viviano 73 Volterra 17, 23, 138,192 Wickham, Chris 52