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English Pages 246 Year 2022
FORGED IN THE SHADOW OF MARS
FORGED IN THE SHADOW OF MARS CH I VA LR Y A N D V I O L E N CE I N LATE M EDI E VA L F LO R E N CE
Peter W. Sposato
CORNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS Ithaca and London
Copyright © 2022 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. Visit our website at cornellpress.cornell.edu. First published 2022 by Cornell University Press Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Sposato, Peter, author. Title: Forged in the shadow of Mars : chivalry and violence in late medieval Florence / Peter W. Sposato. Description: Ithaca [New York] : Cornell University Press, 2022. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021026778 (print) | LCCN 2021026779 (ebook) | ISBN 9781501761898 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781501761904 (epub) | ISBN 9781501761911 (pdf ) Subjects: LCSH: Chivalry—Italy—Florence—History—To 1500. | Knights and knighthood—Italy—Florence— History—To 1500. | Violence—Italy—Florence— History—To 1500. | Social history—Medieval, 500–1500. | Civilization, Medieval. | Florence (Italy)—History— To 1421. | Florence (Italy)—Civilization. Classification: LCC CR4529.I8 S66 2022 (print) | LCC CR4529.I8 (ebook) | DDC 945/.03088355—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021026778 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021026779 Cover image: Murder of Buondelmonte de’ Buondelmonti beneath the statue of Mars. Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica. Chig.L.VIII.296, fol. 70r. © [2021] Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana.
This book is dedicated with love and gratitude to my wife, Margaret, and to my children, Mary and William. It is also dedicated to my mother, Alice, and to the memory of my father, Carl Frederick Sposato, both of whom fostered in me a love of history from a very young age.
Contents
Acknowledgments
ix
Note on Names and Dates
xiii
Introduction: Chivalry and the Chivalric
Elite in Late Medieval Florence
1
1. Chivalry and Honor Violence
28
2. Chivalry and Social Violence
70
3. Brunetto Latini’s Il Tesoretto: A Case
Study in Chivalric Reform
118
4. Chivalric Identity and the Profession
of Arms
143
Epilogue: The Chivalric Life of
Buonaccorso Pitti (1354–1432) Bibliography Index
223
205
189
Acknow l e dgme nts
During the long years spent researching, writ ing, and revising this project I have accrued significant intellectual, profes sional, and personal debts that I cannot hope to repay here. First and foremost, I wish to sincerely thank Richard Kaeuper, who was my doctoral adviser at the University of Rochester, for his patient guidance, sage advice, and un wavering support over many years. His intellectual prowess and knowledge of history are matched only by his unfailing generosity, kindness, humor, and a storytelling ability that rivals Mark Twain. He was a wonderful adviser and teacher during my time at Rochester and has championed my cause in the years since. I wish also to thank William Caferro, who has served for more than a decade as my unofficial mentor in all things Florentine, Italian, and archival. I have benefited from his considerable expertise on the social, economic, and military history of late medieval and early Renaissance Italy and his incredible knowledge of the Florentine archives. He has generously served as a sounding board for ideas and arguments, written letters in sup port of my work, and offered timely encouragement and thoughtful feed back on this book project. I could not wish for two better examples on which to model my own career. I owe a substantial debt to a number of other scholars who have gener ously shared their time, expertise, and advice over the years. I thank Enrico Faini for enthusiastically supporting my project from its inception, as well as for his willingness to read and comment on early drafts of chapters. He patiently fielded a multitude of questions about minutiae and kindly offered friendship and stimulating conversation over caffè on several occasions in Fi renze. I am likewise grateful to Sarah R. Blanshei for her continuous support over the years. I thank her for reading drafts of this book project and for of fering careful and substantial feedback. I greatly appreciate her generosity of time and knowledge, which have made me a better scholar. I would also like to thank several friends and compatriots in letters who offered assistance and friendship during various stages of this project. Luka Špoljaric´ provided continuous encouragement, timely humor, and substantial ix
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help on many fronts over the past decade. I thank him for reading the entire manuscript and for providing detailed feedback in the final months. My fam ily and I greatly appreciate the incredible hospitality he and his family have shown us in his wonderful patria. Sam Claussen has redefined meritorious suffering through his willingness to read and comment on endless drafts and listen to me ramble on about Florentine and Italian topics. His visit to Flor ence in the summer of 2018 was a highlight, not least because he challenged me to sharpen my ideas and arguments as we perambulated around the streets and churches of the city. I appreciate his essential feedback on each of the chapters and on the project as a whole. Likewise, Marty Martoccio read the entire manuscript and offered useful suggestions for improvement. I thank him also for our many pleasant conversations about mutual interests, discussions held after long hours spent in the Archivio di Stato and in the most conducive of locations: Florentine enoteche. Tucker Million deserves significant credit for the successful completion of this book. Tucker first became involved in 2014 when he served as my under graduate research assistant at Indiana University Kokomo. He has since gone on to graduate school at the University of Rochester, where he is about to de fend an excellent dissertation on the important topic of chivalry and kingship at the Angevin court in Naples. Over the past seven years he has continued to serve as a sounding board for ideas and arguments, to track down sources and documents, and to read drafts of chapters. I thank him sincerely for his essential assistance and friendship. I would like to acknowledge a number of other scholars who offered im portant assistance, stimulating conversation, or encouragement. Joel Rosen thal and Sara Lipton, my undergraduate advisers at Stony Brook University, sparked my interest in medieval history and set me on the path that has taken me to this point. Their encouragement and guidance in those early days were instrumental, and they remain exemplars of intellectual excellence. John Hosler provided important professional advice years ago while serving as a most genial mentor at the ’Zoo. I thank him for taking an interest in my work and for his continued support. My work also benefited from conversa tions with Steve Muhlberger, Justine Walden, D’Arcy Jonathan Dacre Boul ton, Fabrizio Ricciardelli, Gloria Allaire, Silvia Diacciati, Guido Castelnuovo, Anne Leader, and James Palmer. Each helped in some way to shape many of the ideas and arguments in this book or simply made its completion possible. I wish to thank the staff at the Archivio di Stato di Firenze, the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze, and the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana for their patience and assistance. I would also like to thank Joe Figliulo-Ross wurm for his help with the records of the Executor of the Ordinances of
Acknowledgments
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Justice and for sharing thoughts from his excellent work in progress. I thank Elizabeth Mellyn, David Rosenthal, and Francesco Poggi for generously tak ing photographs of documents in the Florentine archives. At Indiana Uni versity Kokomo, I benefited from the encouragement and support of fellow historians Andrew McFarland and Sarah Heath, and the considerable assis tance of Christina Fivecoate in the university library, who tirelessly procured innumerable articles, books, dissertations, and published primary sources. Hannah Bourne, an IUK alumna, did an excellent job creating the index. I offer them my gratitude. Crucial financial assistance was provided by numerous institutions and organizations. Indiana University Kokomo provided multiple Grants-in-Aid of Faculty Research and research awards, which funded trips to the Floren tine archives, and several Summer Faculty Fellowships, which gave me time to read and to write the book. The University of Rochester’s Department of History provided financial assistance that made some of the initial research for this book possible. Likewise, a Renaissance Society of America Disserta tion Research Grant made possible an extended stay in Florence in 2011. I would like to offer my sincere thanks to Mahinder Kingra and the edito rial staff at Cornell University Press for helping to see this book through the publication process. Mahinder championed this project from an early stage and offered timely encouragement and advice along the way for which I am grateful. I also thank the anonymous readers for their constructive feedback. The book is much improved because of their help. At Rochester, I benefited from the camaraderie, support, and wideranging knowledge of my fellow graduate students. I wish to thank, in par ticular, the cohort of medievalists who studied at Rochester during those heady years, especially Dan Franke, Craig Nakashian, Paul Dingman, and Chris Guyol. I look back with great fondness upon those years and feel fortu nate to continue to count them as friends. I thank Dan and Craig in particular for continued productive collaboration and support. Outside of the medi evalists, I benefited from the friendship of a group of burgeoning historians in various fields. Jeff Ludwig has provided steady friendship and encourage ment over the years. I thank him for our many conversations about history, baseball, and life. I also thank Kira Thurman and Douglas Flowe for their friendship and for providing important advice on a range of professional matters. I would also like to acknowledge the friendship of Emily Morry, Katie Ludwig, Amy Arbogast, and Kim Cristal, which helped make Roches ter a wonderful place to study. My love of Italian history and culture began during a truly memorable experience studying abroad in Italy in 2005. I recall with great fondness
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exploring the cities, towns, and countryside of Italy with Matt Koster and Sam Grimaldo, who were my constant companions during those glorious months. I thank them for their continued friendship over the many years since. Finally, I wish to acknowledge the unwavering support I have received from my family and friends. I wish to thank my mother, Alice Sposato, my in-laws, Peter and Patty Van Brunt, and my many siblings for their steady en couragement, particularly in view of the time and effort it took to complete this book project. I also thank Jason Ruckman for many decades of friendship and for forcing me to have fun. Finally, special gratitude is reserved to my wife, Margaret, whose support and love were instrumental in the completion of this project. Margaret, “Hear my soul speak. The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service. . . . I would not wish any companion in the world but you” (The Tempest).
Note on N ames a nd Dates
All names retain their original medieval Italian form but have been standardized, with the exception of those appearing in direct quotations of an original source or in the case of a few individuals, such as Corso Donati, who appear regularly in anglophone scholarship in a simplified form. All dates have been rendered according to the Gregorian calendar with the new year beginning on January 1 rather than the Floren tine calendar in use during the period studied in this book, which began on March 25.
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Introduction Chivalry and the Chivalric Elite in Late Medieval Florence
“That noble city in the province of Tuscany, built under the sign of Mars . . . its citizens bold in arms, proud and combat ive, and rich with unlawful profits, distrusted and feared for its greatness by the nearby cities, rather than loved.”1 Dino Compagni’s (1264–1324) descrip tion of Florence and its leading citizens during his lifetime paints the striking picture of a city riven by violence and engaged in what must have seemed to contemporaries like perpetual warfare. Although Compagni’s emphasis on violence and war may seem, at first glance, incongruent with the popular conception of the great proto-capitalistic Florentine republic, the epicenter of humanism and cradle of the Italian Renaissance, it is actually quite fitting for a city “built under the sign of Mars,” the Roman god of war. In fact, an ancient temple dedicated to Mars once towered over the city, and an eques trian statue of the god magnificently accoutered in the arms and armor of a medieval knight stood prominently on a pedestal at the north bank of the Ponte Vecchio from at least 1178 to 1333.2 Dino Compagni was not alone; 1. Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, trans. Daniel Bornstein (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1986), 5; Dino Compagni, Cronica delle cose occorrenti ne’ tempi suoi, ed. Gino Luz zatto (Turin: Giulio Einaudi editore, 1968), 2. 2. For the myth of Mars, see Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, trans. Eugenio Dupré-These ider, 5 vols. (Florence: Sansoni, 1956–68), 1:1114–19; Charles T. Davis, “Topographical and Historical Propaganda in Early Florentine Chronicles and in Villani,” Medioevo e Rinascimento 2 (1988): 33–51; 1
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well-known contemporaries like Dante Alighieri (1265–1321) and Giovanni Villani (ca. 1276–1348) also connected Mars to the violence that plagued Florence.3 This association was so powerful in the common imagination of Florentines up through the end of the fourteenth century that the famous humanist Leonardo Bruni (1370–1444) found sufficient cause to push back against the idea. Bruni did not deny or minimize the bloody history of elite violence in the city, but rather he sought to explain it through a more prag matic discussion of social, economic, and political catalysts.4 While most modern historians tend to privilege the same forces when seeking to explain the root causes and prevalence of conflict in late medieval Florence, the purpose of this book is to illuminate the central role played by chivalric ideology in strongly encouraging and valorizing violence among a sizable segment of the Florentine elite, and its connection to the violence that loomed so large in that culture.5 Chivalry, an ideology infused with vio lence, was the dominant ethos of the lay elite in late medieval Europe but one that has received little attention from historians who study Florence dur ing the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Before discussing chivalric ideol ogy as it manifested in Florence during this period, the concept of ideology requires some explanation. It can be defined as what an individual or group holds to be true and serves as the prism that shapes how one sees and thinks, how one puts thoughts into actions. It is the linkage between theory and
and Richard Trexler, “Florentine Religious Experience: The Sacred Image,” Studies in the Renaissance 19 (1972): 7–41. The statue of Mars is discussed in Brendan Cassidy, Politics, Civic Ideals and Sculpture in Italy, c.1240–1400 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), 101–2. 3. Dante Alighieri, “Inferno,” canto XIII, lines 148–50, in Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, trans. Charles H. Sisson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 101: “Those citizens, who built the city again / Upon the ashes which Attila left, / Would have carried out all that work in vain.” Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica, ed. Giuseppe Porta (Parma: Fondazione Pietro Bembo, 1991), 215. Péter Bokody discusses vendetta and the statue of Mars in “Florentine Women and Vendetta: The Origin of Guelf-Ghibelline Conflict in Giovanni Villani’s Nuova Cronica,” Source: Notes in the History of Art 37, no. 1 (Fall 2017): 5–14. 4. Gary Ianziti, Writing History in Renaissance Italy: Leonardo Bruni and the Uses of the Past (Cam bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 140–41, discusses Bruni’s efforts to push back against the connection between Mars and violence. Bruni may have been motivated in this regard by Franco Sacchetti, a famous late fourteenth-century writer and satirist, who blamed the influence of Mars for the violence of the Florentine people. For Sacchetti, see Luca Gatti, “Il mito di Marte di Firenze e la ‘Pietra Scema,’ ” Rinascimento 35 (1995): 201–30. 5. The scholarship on conflict in late medieval Florence is extensive: Katherine Jansen, Peace and Penance in Late Medieval Italy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018); Silvia Diacciati, Popolani e magnati: Società e politica nella Firenze del Duecento (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2011); John Najemy, A History of Florence, 1200–1575 (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2008); Francesco Bruni, La città divisa: Le parti e il bene comune da Dante a Guicciardini (Bologna: il Mulino, 2003); and Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates: Lineage and Faction in a Medieval Commune (Prince ton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991).
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practice. In this way ideology is similar to the concept of habitus, a sociologi cal idea articulated by Pierre Bourdieu, that explains how societal forces act on the individual, which has informed the work of historians David Crouch and Sarah R. Blanshei.6 Thus, the central argument in this book is twofold: first, that chivalry exercised a powerful influence on a sizable segment of the Florentine elite during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries (a time frame necessitated by the evidentiary limitations discussed below); and second, that chivalric ideol ogy shaped the identities these men claimed and the ideas, values, and beliefs that informed their worldview or mentalité. This chivalric mentalité in turn directly impacted their behavior, especially the various forms of violence they committed with striking regularity.7 Indeed, we should acknowledge up front that chivalric practitioners in Florence were violent, that they recog nized they were violent, and that they embraced an ideology that rendered this violence not only licit and praiseworthy but also purposive. As a result, examining Florentine elite culture through a chivalric lens helps us to make better sense of the penchant for violence, brash lawlessness, and deeply en trenched resistance to the growing public authority of the communal gov ernment demonstrated by many individuals and lineages. In other words, if the city of Florence was built under the sign of Mars, Florentine chivalry was forged in Mars’s shadow. The connection between chivalry, honor, and violence has been the topic of significant debate among scholars working on northwestern Europe, where chivalry has long been recognized as the animating ideology of the lay elite.8 Currently the scholarship on medieval chivalry is dominated by two schools of thought. The first, Richard Kaeuper’s influential work, em phasizes the practical nature of the ideology, with a particular focus on the overt valorization and promotion of violence as a central aspect of chivalric 6. Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, trans. R. Nice (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni versity Press, 1977), 78–86; David Crouch, The Birth of Nobility: Constructing Aristocracy in England and France, 900–1300 (London: Pearson-Longman, 2005), 52–57; and Sarah Rubin Blanshei, Politics and Justice in Late Medieval Bologna (Leiden: Brill, 2010), especially 210–16, and Blanshei, “Habitus: Identity and the Formation of Hereditary Classes in Late Medieval Bologna,” in Bologna, Cultural Crossroads from the Medieval to the Baroque: Recent Anglo-American Scholarship, ed. Gian Mario Anselmi, Angela De Benedictis, and Nicholas Terpstra (Bologna: Bononia University Press, 2013), 143–57. 7. Franco Cardini, L’acciar de’ cavalieri: Studi sulla cavalleria nel mondo toscano e italico (secc. XII–XV) (Florence: Le Lettere, 1997), 76–110, conceives of “chivalric mentalities” as the intersection of the values and ideas promoted in literature with actual behavior. 8. Important studies of honor include Julian Pitt-Rivers, “Honour and Social Status,” in Honour and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society, ed. Jean Peristiany (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 19–77, and Frank Stewart, Honor (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994). See chapter 1 for a more detailed discussion of honor in Florentine chivalric culture.
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identity.9 For Kaeuper, there was little space between chivalric ideals and reality: the violence rampant in works of imaginative literature and cele brated in chivalric biographies, among other types of evidence, echoed the same practice of violence in the historical world. As Kaeuper eloquently argues “chivalry was not the broadly protective and altruistic force of roman tic dreams.”10 This view sharply contrasts with the second, that of Maurice Keen, who conceives of chivalry as an uplifting and civilizing force, promot ing ideas about courtliness and refined manners, and relegating violence to the battlefield, where it was controlled by “laws of war.”11 For Keen, true knights were moral exemplars, not violent thugs intent on the destruction of society and one another in the pursuit of honor. At present, only Keen’s chivalric lens has been employed when studying Florence and Tuscany, most notably in the prodigious work of Franco Car dini.12 Like Keen, Cardini’s chivalry, although neither he nor any other ita lophone scholar uses the term, is defined predominantly by its ceremonial and courtly aspects. Knights were first and foremost courtly gentlemen who participated in civic-patriotic and spiritual rituals and institutions. Further more, chivalry encouraged them to restrict their violence to the battlefield, where they utilized their military skill in the service of the “state.” In fact, Cardini associates any other form of violent behavior, especially the violence that is central to this present book’s conceptualization of chivalry, with either “antiknights” or young elite men ( juvenes/donzelli) who had not yet had their violence redirected by participation in brigata or compagnie.13 In other words, Cardini believes that knights who engaged in the type of violence Compagni and other Florentines associated with the malevolent influence of Mars are the opposite of chivalric. This understanding of chivalry is largely congru ent with contemporary civic or popolani ideas about what noble or knightly (i.e., chivalric) culture should be but not what it actually was. As we shall see in the chapters that follow, the very same works of imaginative literature Cardini draws on to support his view of chivalry are inundated with acts of 9. See Richard Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), and the studies cited therein. 10. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 56. 11. Maurice Keen, Chivalry (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), 219–37; Keen, The Laws of War in the Late Middle Ages (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1965). 12. Franco Cardini, Alle radici della cavalleria medievale (Florence: La Nuova Italia, 1981); Cardini, Quell’antica festa crudele: Guerra e cultura della guerra dall’età feudale alla grande rivoluzione (Florence: Sansoni, 1982); Cardini, Guerre di primavera: Studi sulla cavalleria e la tradizione cavallersca (Florence: Le Lettere, 1992); and Cardini, L’acciar de’ cavalieri. 13. For the antiknights, see Cardini, Guerre di primavera, 209–12. Cardini discusses the brigata and compagnie in L’acciar de’ cavalieri, 129–33.
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violence. Rather than being condemned as not chivalric or unbefitting of a knight, however, this violence is valorized and praised as honorable. Beyond Cardini, scholars working on Italy have spilled comparatively little ink discussing the powerful ideology. This is striking because anglo phone scholars ranging from Maurice Keen, John Larner, Philip J. Jones, and Ronald Witt to John Najemy, Carol Lansing, and Sarah Blanshei have all acknowledged chivalry’s presence and influence in Italy, including in cities like Florence, although these references and the few discussions of them remain incidental.14 Similarly, italophone and francophone scholars work ing on Florence and other Italian communes, especially Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, Erminia Crimi, Guido Castelnuovo, and Silvia Diacciati, have dis cussed the existence of a noble or knightly ideology (habitus) and have pub lished important studies of various aspects of the associated culture, but without fully engaging with the general scholarship on chivalry.15 Still other scholars have sought to trace the influence of a foreign (i.e., French and German) noble culture on the communal Italian elite, leaving little space for a domesticated or even native chivalric culture.16 Therefore, the history of chivalric practitioners, ideas, and action in communal Italy very much
14. Keen, Chivalry, 17, 38–40; John Larner, “Chivalric Culture in the Age of Dante,” Renaissance Studies 2, no. 2 (1988): 117–30; Ronald Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients: The Origins of Humanism from Lovato to Bruni (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 55, 61, 64–65, and passim; Witt, The Two Latin Cultures and the Foundation of Renaissance Humanism in Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 438, 450, 471, 484; Blanshei, “Habitus”; Blanshei, Politics and Justice in Late Medieval Bologna; Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 155–56, 160–62, 226; Najemy, A History of Florence, 11–20; and George Dameron, Episcopal Power and Florentine Society, 1000–1320 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uni versity Press, 1991), 13, 146, 151, 198. 15. Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini: Guerra, conflitti e società nell’Italia comunale (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2004); Erminia Maria Crimi, “Cortesia” e “Valore” dalla tradizione a Dante (Ro vito: Marra, 1993); Guido Castelnuovo, Être noble dans la cité: Les noblesses italiennes en quête d’identité (XIIIe–XVe siècle) (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2014); and Diacciati, Popolani e magnati. Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 212–28, provides an important overview of contemporary debates about the nature of true nobility. 16. For the “German” origin of knightly and “chivalric” ideology and rituals in Italy, see Stefano Gasparri, I milites cittadini: Studi sulla cavalleria in Italia (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1992). Larner, “Chivalric Culture in the Age of Dante,” 118–19, examines the French influ ence. For chivalry and the Angevin Court in Naples, see Richard Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996); Paola Ventrone, “Cerimonialità e spettacolo nella festa cavalleresca fiorentina del quattrocento,” in La civiltà del torneo (sec. XII–XVII): Giostre e tornei tra medioevo ed età moderna (Rome: Centro Studi Storici, 1990), 35–53; Jean Dunbabin, Charles I of Anjou: Power, Kingship and State-Making in Thirteenth-Century Europe (London: Longman, 1998); Dunbabin, The French in the Kingdom of Sicily, 1266–1305 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Elizabeth Casteen, From She-Wolf to Martyr: The Reign and Disputed Reputation of Johanna I of Naples (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2015); and the forthcoming dissertation by Jacob Tucker Million, “Worthy Lords and Honorable Violence: Chivalric Kingship in Angevin Naples, 1250–1382” (PhD, University of Rochester).
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remains to be written.17 The purpose of this book is to fill this lacuna for late medieval Florence.
defining the Florentine chivalric elite Who were the Florentine “chivalric elite”? Did they form a group definable in socioeconomic or legal terms? If so, did that definition change over time? It is a relatively straightforward task to identify members of the Florentine chival ric elite in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, as most belonged to the knightly consular aristocracy or to their rural aristocratic counterparts, although the latter group is outside the scope of this study.18 The lineages of the knightly consular aristocracy proudly distinguished themselves through the dignity of knighthood (identified in Italian by the title messere), member ship in the societas militum (1189–1237) that represented their interests, and participation in tower societies (società di torre).19 They dominated the politi cal and economic hierarchies of the city through their claimed monopoly on violence and their close association with the church.20 They regularly went to war as strenuous knights (in the sense of the Latin term strenuus or active; i.e., miles in armis strenuus) and mounted men-at-arms (gens d’armes), securing in the process wealth and social prestige that translated into political power.21 17. Peter Sposato, “Chivalry in Late Medieval Tuscany: Current Historiography and New Per spectives,” History Compass 16 ( June 26, 2018): 1–14, offers an overview of the extant scholarship for the Florentine and Tuscan contexts. 18. For Florence and its contado during this period, see Enrico Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica (1000–1211): L’espansione urbana, lo sviluppo istituzionale, il rapporto con il territorio (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 2010), and Maria Elena Cortese, Signori, castelli, città: L’aristocrazia del territorio fiorentino tra X e XII secolo (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 2007). Peter Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 1000–1250 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), examines the Tuscan rural aristocracy up to the mid-thirteenth century. 19. Enrico Faini, “Società di torre e società cittadina: Sui ‘pacta turris’ del XII secolo,” in Società e poteri nell’Italia medievale: Studi degli allievi per Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, ed. Lorenzo Tanzini and Silvia Diacciati (Rome: Viella, 2014), 19–39. Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 89–93, offers an over view in English. 20. For elite lineages and the church, see Dameron, Episcopal Power and Florentine Society, and Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 64–83. Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 189–222, pro vides a synthesis on elite violence in the Tuscan countryside. See also Marco Merlo, “Guerra e vio lenza nella definizione dei confine politici della Maremma nel Duecento,” Maritima: Rivista di storia della Maremma 5 (2015): 17–27, and Simone Collavini, “Sviluppo signorile e nuove strategie ono mastiche: Qualche riflessione sulla percezione e la rapresentazione della violenza in Toscana nel XII secolo,” in Studi di storia offerti a Michele Luzzati, ed. Silio P. Scalfati and Alessandra Veronese (Pisa: Pacini Editore, 2008), 73–85. 21. Daniela De Rosa, “Il controllo politico di un esercito durante il medioevo: L’esempio di Fi renze,” in Guerra e guerrieri nella Toscana medievale: Saggi, ed. Franco Cardini and Marco Tangheroni (Florence: Edifir, 1990), 100–105; Trevor Dean, “Knighthood in Later Medieval Italy,” in Europa e Italia: Studi in onore di Giorgio Chittolini (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2011), 143–53. Maire
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These chivalric lineages, a term used to indicate “an extended family identi fied by a surname,” included the Adimari, Buondelmonti, Donati, Fifanti, Tornaquinci, Uberti, and Visdomini, among others.22 Despite their shared chivalric identity, these lineages were intensely di vided by personal, familial, and political interests. The conflict between elite lineages during the years 1177–80 amounted to open warfare, involving seri ous fighting in the city streets and a fire that burned much of the city cen ter.23 Forty years later, some of the same lineages were involved when the well-known factional conflict between the Guelfs and Ghibellines began in the city of Florence. According to Compagni, Villani, and others, the con flict originated with the murder of Buondelmonte dei Buondelmonti in 1216 by members of the Uberti and Fifanti lineages.24 The conflict was quintes sentially medieval with no clear line between private (personal and familial) and public interests and grievances among the Florentine participants. While historians have discussed the political, social, and economic catalysts behind the factionalism, chivalry also played an important role. More specifically, chivalric ideas about honor and violent force contributed to the persistence and virulence of the conflict, encouraging participants to commit egregious acts of violence (see chapter 1).25 Eventually, the Guelf and Ghibelline conflict took on a pan-Italian scope. The Guelfs were associated with the papacy and then the Angevin kings of Naples, while the Ghibellines were tied to the empire.26 Although the Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini, chaps. 1–6: Maire Vigueur discusses roughly this same group, whom he refers to as the milites, in the larger Italian context. For the term “strenuous” in connection with knighthood and war, see Michael Prestwich, “Miles in Armis Strenuus: The Knight at War,” Transac tions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th ser., 5 (1995): 201–20. 22. See the important discussion of terminology in Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 28–31, at 28. Cortese, Signori, castelli, città, especially chap. 1, discusses the early history of many of the lin eages listed. 23. See the discussions in Faini, Firenze nell’età romanica, 193–97, and Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 220. 24. Enrico Faini, “Il convito del 1216: La vendetta all’origine del fazionalismo fiorentino,” An nali di Storia di Firenze 1 (2006): 9–36, offers an introduction to the events, sources, and modern scholarship. 25. See Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 425, for the connection between “chivalric emphasis on personal honor and loyalty to superiors” and violent factionalism in the communal Italian con text. Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 191, asserts the purposive nature of aristocratic violence in twelfth-century Tuscany. 26. Najemy, A History of Florence, 20–27, provides an overview, while Diacciati, Popolani e mag nati, 209–302, examines the factions in Florence. Massimo Tarassi, “Le famiglie di parte guelfa nella classe dirigente della città di Firenze durante il XIII secolo,” in I ceti dirigenti dell’età comunale nei secoli XII e XIII: Atti del II Convegno, Firenze, 14–15 dicembre 1979 (Pisa: Pacini, 1982), 301–21, and Sergio Raveggi, “Le famiglie di parte ghibellina nella classe dirigente fiorentina del secolo XIII,” in I ceti dirigenti dell’età comunale nei secoli XII e XIII, 279–99, discuss the composition of the factions.
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dimensions of the conflict shifted during the second half of the thirteenth century as the Ghibelline cause went into decline following the destruction of the Hohenstaufen imperial family in the 1250s and 1260s and the Guelf faction fractured along familial lines in the 1290s into the White and Black Guelfs, it often served throughout this period as a proxy for hostilities within the Florentine chivalric elite.27 In addition to the expanding scope and intensification of the Guelf and Ghibelline conflict, the Florentine chivalric elite also had to negotiate signifi cant changes in Florentine society, politics, and culture in the second half of the thirteenth century. Among the most important catalysts of this change were the arrival of a substantial influx of migrants from the contado and a striking expansion of the urban economy thanks to banking, mercantile, and industrial activities.28 These changes led to the emergence of new elite lineages, the popolo grasso, who owed their meteoric rise to their dominance in those same economic activities.29 Although some members of the popolo grasso were attracted to the chivalric lifestyle (or the vita honorabilis),30 the majority embraced a very different brand of elite identity centered on mer cantile and banking enterprises and underpinned by the articulation of a powerful new civic ideology deeply influenced by the revival of Aristotle’s works. This civic ideology was characterized by notions of the common good and service to the commune, and by the promotion of peace and stabil ity in the pursuit of economic profits.31 In many ways, the civic ideology of the popolo grasso was fundamentally at odds with chivalry, leading to an ideo logical contest that lasted from the mid-thirteenth century into the fifteenth
27. Najemy, A History of Florence, 88–95, provides an overview. See Oren Margolis, Politics of Culture in Quattrocento Europe: René of Anjou in Italy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), for the Guelf tradition in the fifteenth century. 28. Dante’s discussion with his ancestor, Messer Cacciaguida, in Paradiso (canto XVI) illuminates these seismic changes arguably from the perspective of a chivalric knight: Dante Alighieri, “Para diso,” in Dante, The Divine Comedy, 418–22, lines 1–154. 29. Enrico Faini and Silvia Diacciati, “Ricerche sulla formazione dei laici a Firenze nel tardo Duecento,” Archivio Storico Italiano 175 (2017): 205–37. 30. Blanshei, “Habitus,” 143, 147–48, 153–56. Blanshei uses this terminology for the context of late medieval Bologna. 31. Seminal studies include Enrico Artifoni, “Prudenza del consigliare: L’educazione del Citta dino nel Liber consolationis et consilii di Albertano da Brescia (1246),” in “Consilium”: Teorie e pratiche del consigliare nella cultura medievale, ed. Carla Casagrande, Chiara Crisciani, and Silvana Vecchio (Florence: SISMEL, 2004), 195–216; Artifoni, “Bonacompagno da Signa, i maestri di retorica e le città comunali nella prima metà del Duecento,” in Il pensiero e l’opera di Boncompagno da Signa, ed. Massimo Baldini (Signa: Massimo Baldini, 2002), 23–36; and Artifoni, “Sull’eloquenza politica nel Duecento italiano,” Quaderni Medievali 35 (1993): 57–78.
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century.32 These distinct worldviews and lifestyles led to very different views on the institution of knighthood, with the chivalric elite maintaining the traditional connection between the dignity and the profession of arms and the popolo grasso seeking out the appellation solely for the social and political benefits it conferred.33 In the second half of the thirteenth century a somewhat cohesive popular movement emerged and succeeded in establishing two broadly supported guild governments, the Primo (1250–60) and Secondo (1293) Popolo. These governments put in place a number of important laws and innovations that ultimately altered the power dynamics within the city. Foremost among them were the creation of a category of politically and legally disadvantaged elite Florentines known as magnates (grandi) and the formation of citizen militias in the city and contado to contest the private armies these magnates brought into the city during times of trouble. The antimagnate laws promul gated in 1286 and 1293, specifically the Ordinances of Justice, were intended primarily to protect “the small and the weak” from the violence and oppres sion of “the great and the powerful,” behaviors that were not only inherent in chivalric ideology but also heavily valorized.34 The criteria for determining whether an individual or lineage was listed among the magnates, codified for the first time in the Ordinances, are, in many ways, essentially the characteristics and behaviors valorized and pro moted by chivalry: knighthood, arrogance, discord, abuse of power, and violence, especially against “the small and weak” (popolani minuti).35 Thus, prima facie the criteria for determining magnate status seems to be ideally suited for identifying members of the chivalric elite during this period, and not surprisingly many chivalric lineages appear in the lists of magnates is sued in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. Unfortunately, the designation cannot always be taken at face value, because some elite 32. Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 46, 55, 64–65: Witt has argued (46) for the larger com munal Italian context that the civic ideology of the popolo was “largely antipathetic to the values of knighthood.” Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 43, notes a clear ideological and cultural divide between the milites and populares. 33. Sposato, “Chivalry in Late Medieval Tuscany,” 4–6, discusses the historical treatment of Flo rentine knighthood. The foundational study, now dated, is Gaetano Salvemini, La dignita cavalleresca nel comune di Firenze (Florence: Tipografia M. Ricci, 1896). See also Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 224–43, for an examination of knighthood in Tuscany up to the mid-thirteenth century. 34. See Najemy, A History of Florence, 79, and 35–88 for a general overview. Lansing, The Floren tine Magnates, and Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, remain the seminal studies on the magnates during this period. 35. Silvia Diacciati, “ ‘Il barone’: Corso Donati,” in Nel Duecento di Dante: I personaggi, ed. Franco Suitner (Florence: Le Lettere, 2020), 186–87.
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individuals and lineages were labelled magnates based solely upon political motivations, allowing others who actually met the criteria to avoid the des ignation because of their cooperation with the Florentine government or personal alliances with the lineages of the ruling popolo grasso.36 Thus, by the end of the thirteenth century neither traditional social appel lations like knight or noble (miles, nobilis) nor newer legal designations like magnate (grande, magnate) represented definitive markers of chivalric iden tity among the Florentine elite.37 These obstacles require the construction of a new heuristic device, that of a “cultural community,” to trace chivalry’s continued vitality among a broad group of elite Florentines well into the fifteenth century. The concept of a cultural community derives from Bar bara Rosenwein’s “emotional community,” that is, “groups in which people adhere to the same norms of emotional expression and value (or devalue) the same or related emotions.”38 A cultural community is, like Rosenwein’s emotional community, by its very nature not a well-defined social group or legally defined class with rigid boundaries, but rather has a fluid membership whose contours are difficult to precisely define at any given time. This allows for a membership that transcends social groups and legally defined classes to encompass all members of the Florentine elite who subscribed to chivalric ideas and embraced a chivalric lifestyle.39 This lifestyle was centered on the close link between prowess (prodezza) and honor (onore), what Richard Kaeuper has eloquently described as “the most potent bond at the heart of chivalry,” as well as a fierce sense of au tonomy (or “proud self-assertive dominance”) and the profession of arms.40 Members of the Florentine chivalric elite considered warfare to be an enno bling and praiseworthy enterprise, and violence in the defense of personal and familial honor not only licit but also necessary. In other words, what
36. Enrico Fiumi, Fioritura e decadenza dell’economia fiorentina (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1977), 12–13, and passim, and generally Enrico Pispisa, “Lotte sociali e concetto di nobiltà a Firenze nella seconda metà del Duecento,” Studi medievali 38 (1997): 439–43. 37. Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 241, 266, discusses the multiple uses and mean ings of terms like miles and nobilis in contemporary Tuscany, confirming in the process that such designations are not reliable indicators of whether or not an elite individual embraced chivalry. 38. Barbara Rosenwein, Emotional Communities in the Early Middle Ages (Ithaca, NY: Cornell Uni versity Press, 2007), 2. 39. See the important parallels of this approach with Clémence Revest’s use of the analytical con cept of a “movement” in her recent study of humanists in fifteenth-century Italy: “The Birth of the Humanist Movement at the Turn of the Fifteenth Century,” Annales HSS 68, no. 3 ( July–September 2013): 425–56. 40. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 33; for a discussion of these core chivalric values, see 25–56, and passim.
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unified these men was the adoption of a set of values and behaviors, regard less of the antiquity of their lineage or how they acquired their wealth and power. If members of the knightly consular aristocracy and their counterparts from the contado formed the core of the chivalric cultural community in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, they were joined in the second half of the thirteenth century by certain elite males from the lineages of the popolo grasso. These two groups combined to form what Silvia Diacciati has called the milizia, a group defined by its martial function and knightly lifestyle but not necessarily by the dignity of knighthood itself.41 The chap ters that follow will demonstrate that many members of the lineages of the milizia were enthusiastic members of the chivalric elite. This group included the Bardi, Bordoni, Brunelleschi, Cerchi, Frescobaldi, Pulci, Scali, and Spini, among many others. The majority of these lineages appear in the list of magnates issued in 1293 and 1295, with Diacciati highlighting a number of them as possessing “definitive knightly traditions.”42 These lineages formed the core of the chivalric cultural community during this period, thus suggest ing that while the Florentine chivalric elite of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries were not completely synonymous with the magnates, there was a great deal of congruence between the two groups. In the first half of the fourteenth century new individuals and lineages primarily from the popolo grasso continued to join the ranks of the chivalric elite despite, or perhaps in response to, the “deep structural transformations at work within the elite and its relationship to the popolo” during this period.43 Some members of newer lineages like the Medici and the Acciaiuoli, for example the famous knight and seneschal of the Angevin regno Niccolò Ac ciaiuoli (d. 1365), appear among the ranks of the chivalric elite during this pe riod.44 This was not an all-or-nothing proposition, however, as the members of these new lineages were often divided in the elite identities they claimed. 41. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 19–20. 42. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 59, n. 128, notes the Abati, Adimari, Amidei, Arrigucci, BogoleisFifanti, Buondelmonti, Caponsacchi, Cavalcanti, Cipriani, Compiobbesi, da Castiglione, Donati, Ga ligai, da Gangalandi, Gherardini, Giandonati, Gianfigliazzi, Guidi, Infangati, Lamberti, Malespini, Mazzinghi, Migliorelli, Nerli, Pazzi, Pigli, Rossi, Sacchetti, Scolari, Sizi, Soldanieri, da Sommaia, Tedaldini, Tornaquinci, della Tosa, Uberti, Ubriachi, Vecchietti, Visdomini, and da Volognano lineages. 43. Najemy, A History of Florence, 95. 44. Gene Brucker, “The Medici in the Fourteenth Century,” Speculum 32 (1957): 1–26, and John Paoletti, “Medici Funerary Monuments in the Duomo of Florence during the Fourteenth Century: A Prologue to ‘The Early Medici,’ ” Renaissance Quarterly 59, no. 4 (2006): 1117–63. For the Acciai uoli, see William Caferro, “Niccolò Acciaiuoli and the Certosa at the Intersection of Faith, Politics, Economy and Warfare in Trecento Italy,” in Niccolò Acciaiuoli e il suo Certosa, ed. S. Tognetti (Florence: Edifir Press, forthcoming); Francesco P. Tocco, Niccolò Acciaiuoli: Vita e politica in Italia alla metà del
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In contrast, traditional chivalric lineages—especially those originating in the knightly consular aristocracy—showed remarkable continuity during this period, with members of the Adimari, Bardi, Buondelmonti, Cavalcanti, Do nati, Frescobaldi, Gherardini, Nerli, Pazzi, Tornaquinci, and Visdomini still engaging in the behaviors commonly associated with the chivalric lifestyle, such as the practice of various forms of violence and the cultivation of the profession of arms.45 During the fourteenth century, the political and ideological conflicts be tween the chivalric elite and the popolo grasso were more often than not de cided in favor of the latter and its civic ideology. As a result, members of the Florentine chivalric elite in the middle decades of the fourteenth century in creasingly found themselves at the margins of society or in exile, with more than one contemporary and near-contemporary chronicler and moralist ob serving that the chivalric mentalité and lifestyle were not well suited to civic society. This did not lead to the complete collapse of chivalric culture dur ing this period, but rather forced the chivalric elite to decide between three paths: first, completely abandon the chivalric lifestyle and adopt the civic ideology of the popolani; second, modify certain aspects of the chivalric life style that were deemed a particular threat by the Florentine government— like committing egregious acts of violence against social inferiors—while also doubling down on other aspects, like the profession of arms; or third, continue to fully embrace the chivalric lifestyle and operate as marginalized figures. The first two options allowed an individual or lineage to return to civic society, a process studied in detail by Christiane Klapisch-Zuber.46 The life of Buonaccorso Pitti, examined in the epilogue below, provides an excel lent example of a chivalric practitioner who chose the second option and suc ceeded in moving between the chivalric and civic worlds during his lifetime. Those who made the third choice often remain hidden from our view, appearing only when they broke the law or when they warranted the atten tion of a contemporary chronicler because they chose to take a particularly dramatic course of action, like armed rebellion. Occasionally we can gain sustained glimpses of these men, but usually only the most successful and intrepid of their number, like Niccolò Acciaiuoli and Esaù Buondelmonti XIV secolo (Rome: Istituto Storico per il Medio Evo, 2001); and Million, “Worthy Lords and Honor able Violence.” 45. Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica: I magnati fiorentini, 1340–1440, trans. Isabelle Chabot and Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2009), 420–21, 424, provides the number of denunciations for violence and the number of magnates from the aforementioned lineages who swore before the podestà for the middle decades of the fourteenth century. 46. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 175–399.
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(d. 1400), who established themselves as prominent figures at royal and noble courts in Italy and further abroad where their violent lifestyle was mainstream.47 In fact, a recent study of the Buondelmonti has identified multiple members of the lineage who enjoyed a fully realized chivalric life style abroad.48 While these men were certainly exceptional in the level of success they attained, it is important to keep in mind that they are repre sentative of a larger group of men who will likely forever evade our direct study. The Social Complexities of the Florentine Chivalric Cultural Community
Although the ideological conflict between the chivalric cultural community and the popolo grasso was at its core that of a violent, warrior elite versus a plutocratic, economic elite, the dominant role played by commerce, indus try, and banking in Florence meant that both groups engaged extensively with this world from the second half of the thirteenth century. The flexibil ity of chivalric identity in Florence, and quite possibly in communal Italy in general, meant that it could survive alongside professions like banking, com merce, and international trade. Indeed, the mercantile or banking origin of a lineage’s wealth did not ipso facto render all of its members immune to chiv alry’s influence or ineligible to join the chivalric cultural community. In fact, members of the same lineage might belong to different cultural communi ties and thus be animated by different ideologies (i.e., civic or chivalric).49 Florentine chivalric lineages often, but not always, included a few merchants, bankers, and/or international traders alongside strenuous warriors.
47. Sandro Petrucci, Re in Sardegna, a Pisa cittadini: Ricerche sui domini Sardinee pisani (Bologna: Cappelli, 1988); Petrucci, “Guerrieri toscani in Sardegna,” in Cardini and Tangheroni, Guerra e guerrieri nella Toscana medievale, 71–92; Nicolò Gattai, “Condottieri fiorentini nella penisola balcanica nel XIV secolo,” in I fiorentini alle crociate: Guerre, pellegrinaggi e immaginario orientalistico a Firenze tra Medioevo ed età moderna, ed. Silvia Agnoletti and Luca Mantelli (Florence: Edizioni della Meridiana, 2008), 196–243; David Nichol, The Despotate of Epiros, 1267–1479: A Contribution to the History of Greece in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984); Brendan Cassidy, “The Tombs of the Acciaioli in the Certosa del Galluzzo outside of Florence,” in Studies in Carthusian Monasticism in the Late Middle Ages, ed. Julian Luxford (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), 323–53; and Tocco, Niccolò Acciaiuoli. 48. Peter Sposato, “The Profession of Arms and Chivalric Identity in Late Medieval Florence: A Prosopographical Study of the Buondelmonti Family,” Medieval Prosopography 33 (2018): 123–36. 49. Gene Brucker, The Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Uni versity Press, 1977), 20, notes “the commune made distinctions among kinsmen, by giving popolano status, for example, to individual magnates who had merited the commune’s benevolence; or by separating delinquents from their more respectable cousins.” Blanshei, “Habitus,” 143–44, and Blan shei, Politics and Justice in Late Medieval Bologna, 135–312, discuss this issue in Bologna.
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Some members of the chivalric elite, like Vieri dei Cerchi (d. 1313), wore more than one hat during their lifetimes, embracing chivalry for part of their lives before “retiring” to take up politics and business. In this way, elite men moved between the chivalric and civic cultural communities in late medieval Florence. Even more common was the practice of using income generated by investment or other activities in the world of business and banking to sup port less lucrative but more formative chivalric activities, like the profession of arms.50 For example, Diacciati notes that Corso Donati, a paragon of the Florentine chivalric elite, likely supplemented his military career through the lending of money at interest, mercantile activities, and the ownership of factories involved in the wool industry, although these connections to the world of business and trade played no role in shaping the chivalric identity he claimed and lifestyle he exemplified.51 Diacciati observes that such efforts to obfuscate participation in commercial activities occurred even among less illustrious members of the chivalric elite, like the magnate Neri degli Strinati (d. after 1312), who makes little mention of these sources of income in his cronichetta.52 This was also almost certainly common practice among many members of chivalric lineages of greater repute, like the Bardi, Frescobaldi, and Pazzi, whose business interests and companies played such a prominent role in the Florentine economy. The well-known contemporary distinction between the Cerchi and Do nati lineages, posited most famously by Dino Compagni and Giovanni Vil lani, highlights the need to reexamine the complexities of Florentine elite society during this period through a chivalric lens. These two lineages were held up as illustrative of the differences between a new lineage, greatly en riched by a booming urban economy (the Cerchi), and an ancient lineage of warriors, proud but increasingly impoverished (the Donati). Compagni de scribed the Cerchi as “men of low estate, but good merchants and very rich; they dressed well, kept many servants and horses, and made a brave show,” and the Donati as “of more ancient lineage but not as rich” and “much more brazen than the Cerchi, and they feared nothing.”53 Giovanni Villani, like wise, described the Donati as a house of “gentlemen and warriors.”54
50. See Nicolai Rubinstein, La Lotta Contro i Magnati a Firenze, vol. 2, Le origini della legge sul “so damento” (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1939), who argued that magnates could easily reconcile mercantile activity with their grandezza and knightly lifestyle. 51. Diacciati, “ ‘Il barone’: Corso Donati,” 180. 52. “Memorie di un magnate impenitente: Neri degli Strinati e la sua Cronichetta,” ed. Silvia Diacciati, Archivio Storico Italiano 168 (2010): 109. 53. Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 22, 28; Compagni, Cronica, 26–27, 34. 54. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 567: “gentili uomini e guerrieri.”
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In reality, however, the Cerchi and Donati actually complicate rather than prove these simple distinctions. The Cerchi lineage included a whole host of bankers and merchants alongside men like the aforementioned Vieri dei Cer chi and his kinsman Ricoverino. The former famously fought at the Battle of Campaldino in 1289 alongside his son, Giano, as captain of the feditori—the mounted warriors who comprised the vanguard of a Florentine army—be fore retiring to a life of banking and politics. Ricoverino, meanwhile, was a prominent young Florentine man-at-arms who seems to have fully embraced the chivalric lifestyle without ever, as far as we can tell, engaging in mercantile activities.55 While historians know little else about Ricoverino, Villani’s Nuova Cronica includes a remarkable story about a skirmish in the piazza of Santa Trinità during which Ricoverino famously lost his nose to a sword stroke. Rather than retreating Ricoverino charged into the fray with his sword held high in pursuit of vengeance.56 The Donati, in contrast, were a decidedly chivalric lineage, with many members vigorously cultivating the profession of arms and perpetrating destructive violence throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. And yet, the lineage also included less well-known men like Aldebrandino di Buoncambio, Apardo Nigromonte, Banduccio, Gia como, Pietro di Forese, and Tolosano, who were all merchants or bankers. These two lineages are not unique in this regard. The Frescobaldi, like the Cerchi, were heavily involved in the world of banking. Alongside this profitable economic activity, however, members of the Frescobaldi lineage practiced various forms of chivalric violence (see chapters 1 and 2) and cul tivated the practice of arms (see chapter 4). For example, an extensive but not exhaustive investigation of the sources for the present book revealed at least twenty-five Frescobaldi men who cultivated military careers during the period 1260–1391. After the decline of the Frescobaldi bank in the early four teenth century, many members of the lineage seem to have doubled down on these chivalric behaviors, especially committing acts of violence against popolani. This intensification of chivalric violence in the wake of economic misfortune seems to have been a recurring theme in the fourteenth century, punctuated by a dramatic shift in 1343, when a large number of chivalric lineages, especially those bearing the designation magnate, withdrew from these economic activities.57 55. Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 13; Compagni, Cronica, 12–13. 56. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 568–69. 57. Gene Brucker, Florentine Politics and Society, 1343–1378 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1977), 25. This economic shift had much to do with the catastrophic failure of the major banking companies. For a recent study, see Lorenzo Tanzini, 1345. La bancarotta di Firenze: Una storia di banchieri, fallimenti e finanza (Rome: Salerno Editrice, 2018). Edwin Hunt, The Medieval
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These developments almost certainly exacerbated extant divisions within chivalric lineages, motivating many individuals to distinguish themselves from their kin by stressing their popolani bona fides. Ippolito Frescobaldi’s testimony in 1373 is illuminating in this regard, as he went to great lengths to convince the Florentine government that “although he belongs to the house of Frescobaldi, nevertheless he was and is considered, through the maternal line, to be weak and impotent, and has always tried to live in peace and tran quility, abstaining from inflicting injury upon anyone, and embracing the life and customs of the popolani of this city.”58 The complexities of the sociocultural terrain of late medieval Florence were not lost on contemporary Florentines, especially members of the chi valric elite, who were forced to come to terms with the omnipresence of mercantile and banking enterprises. This did not mean that they recognized these enterprises as ennobling, but rather that they lived in a rapidly chang ing world. As long as they did not adopt the popolani attitudes of the civic elite, such activities neither threatened their membership in the chivalric cultural community nor defined their lifestyle or identity.59 In other words, chivalry offered the Florentine chivalric elite a flexible and practical alterna tive set of elite values and ideals to the civic-mercantile ideas of the popolo grasso, which are commonly treated by historians. The chivalric identity they claimed, with its associated mentalité and lifestyle, not only connected them with their counterparts elsewhere in Italy and north of the Alps, but also helped distinguish them from the popolo grasso. Indeed, chivalry was in many ways antithetical to the civic ideology of the popolo, creating a stark con trast that can be detected through careful social analysis. This type of social analysis, however, requires us to look at a broad range of different types of contemporary sources in order to identify and study the attitudes and actions of Florentine knights and men-at-arms. These in turn allow us to determine whether or not certain men subscribed to chivalric ideas and embraced the chivalric lifestyle.
Super-Companies: A Study of the Peruzzi Company of Florence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994) remains an important study of one of the major companies. For a general overview, see Na jemy, A History of Florence, 132–44. 58. As cited in Brucker, Florentine Politics and Society, 155. 59. Philip J. Jones, “Florentine Families and Florentine Diaries in the Fourteenth Century,” Papers of the British School at Rome 24 (1956): 203–4, notes that “Nearly half the town-dwelling grandi of Flor ence were merchants, but not all of these were gente nuova: of the fifty-one ancient families named by [Giovanni] Villani, fifteen, and of the 114 or so ancient families named by [Ricordano] Malespini, fifty-two at least can be shown to have shared directly in trade or banking.”
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sources and methods This book makes use of a variety of approaches and sources when studying chivalric ideology and its practitioners in thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Florence. These sources include both historical works like chronicles, ri cordanza (personal or familial journals), and the records of the Florentine government now found in the State Archive (Archivio di Stato), as well as works of imaginative chivalric literature, especially romances and epics. The need to cast a wide net into the evidentiary waters is all the more urgent in the Florentine context because of the inherent limitations of the traditional historical sources for understanding chivalry. Rosenwein’s observation that some emotional communities are hidden from the historian’s view because of the nature of the available sources certainly holds true for the Florentine chivalric cultural community.60 Most contemporary chronicles were composed by popolani authors who were not only largely ignorant of the intricacies of Florentine chivalry, but as intellectual representatives and proponents of a broadly supported Florentine government underpinned by the nascent civic ideology discussed earlier in the introduction, they were also unsympathetic or outright hostile toward the chivalric lifestyle and its justifications of violence.61 The only exception was vi olence performed in the heroic defense of the city against external enemies.62 From their point of view, any other form of chivalric violence represented a serious threat to the vita civile, a belief proven to be true on numerous occa sions, and thus deserving of only criticism and condemnation.63 Therefore, while they recount many historical acts of chivalric violence, they rarely offer the chivalric perspective or much insight into the mentalité of the perpetrators of this violence. Even authors who were familiar with the chivalric cultural community, as Paula Clarke suggests was the case with Giovanni Villani, often fail to satisfy the historian’s desire to know motivation and context.64 60. Rosenwein, Emotional Communities, 2. 61. Trevor Dean, “Marriage and Mutilation: Vendetta in Late Medieval Italy,” Past and Present 157 (November 1997): 24, notes the difficulties posed by using chronicles to study vendetta, but his observations also hold true for chivalric honor violence. 62. See Enrico Faini, Italica gens: Memoria e immaginario politico dei cavalieri cittadini (secoli XII– XIII) (Rome: Viella, 2018) for an expansive discussion of chronicle writing in the Italian communes. 63. Thomas Kuehn, Law, Family, and Women: Toward a Legal Anthropology of Renaissance Italy (Chi cago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 78, argues that limits on vendetta were intended to protect public welfare. 64. Paula Clarke, “The Villani Chronicles,” in Chronicling History: Chroniclers and Historians in Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. Sharon Dale, Alison W. Lewin, and Duane Osheim (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2007), 123. For Walter of Brienne’s lordship, see Najemy,
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In addition, it seems likely that contemporary chroniclers wrote mostly about major incidents of chivalric violence, leaving historians in the dark about the more mundane conflicts that undoubtedly occurred. The various document sets in the Florentine archives, especially those of the judicial ar chive, serve as the natural complement to chronicles. Unfortunately, most of the records for the years before 1343 no longer exist, a casualty of a fire set during the uprising that drove Walter of Brienne, the Duke of Athens and erstwhile lord of Florence, from the city in the summer of that year.65 To make matters more difficult, the archival evidence that does survive often fails to offer insight into motivation or sometimes even context. The violence is readily apparent, but the records offer little information about the mental ity of the aggressors. The limitations of traditional historical sources in the Florentine context require scholars to rely more heavily on the suggestive body of evidence provided by a number of romances and epics composed and/or consumed in Tuscany during this period.66 These works focused predominantly on Ar thurian material (the Matter of Britain), but also stories related to the court of Charlemagne (the Matter of France) and the Greek and Roman past (the Matter of Rome).67 The appearance in Tuscany of first names like Turpin, Orlando, Rolando, and Olivero suggests that the Roland story, one of the
A History of Florence, 135–37; Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 139–41, 179–85, and passim; Tan zini, 1345. La bancarotta di Firenze, 50–57; Amedeo De Vincentiis, “L’ultima signoria: Firenze, il duca d’Atene e la fine del consenso angioino,” in Le signorie cittadine in Toscana: Esperienze di potere e forme di governo personale (secoli XIII–XV), ed. Andrea Zorzi (Rome: Viella, 2013), 83–120. 65. See Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 80, 141, for the destruction of the criminal archives. 66. General studies of chivalric romance in Italy include Marco Praloran and Nicola Morato, “Nostalgia e fascinazione della letteratura cavalleresca,” in Il Rinascimento Italiano e l’Europa, vol. 2, Umanesimo ed educazione, ed. Gino Belloni and Riccardo Drusi (Costabissara: Angelo Colla Editore, 2007), 487–512; Antonio Pasqualino, Le vie del cavaliere: Epica medievale e memoria popolare (Milan: Bompiani, 1992); Paul Grendler, “Chivalric Romances in the Italian Renaissance,” Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History 10 (1988): 59–102; and F. Regina Psaki, “Chivalry and Medieval Italian Ro mance,” in The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Romance, ed. Roberta Krueger (Cambridge: Cam bridge University Press, 2000), 203–18. 67. Studies of Arthurian works in Italy include Gloria Allaire and F. Regina Psaki, eds., The Ar thur of the Italians: The Arthurian Legend in Medieval Italian Literature and Culture (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2014); Daniela Delcorno Branca, Tristano e Lancillotto in Italia: Studi di letteratura arturiana (Ravenna: Longo Editore, 1998); Joan Ferrante, The Conflict of Love and Honor: The Me dieval Tristan Legend in France, Germany, and Italy (Paris: Mouton, 1973); and the classic work by Edmund Gardner, The Arthurian Legend in Italian Literature (London: Kessinger, 2003). For the Matter of France in Italy, see Jane Everson, “The Epic Tradition of Charlemagne in Italy,” Cahiers de recher ches médiévales et humanistes 12 (2005): 45–81. For Andrea de Barberino, see Gloria Allaire, Andrea da Barberino and the Language of Chivalry (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1997). For the Matter of Rome in Renaissance Italy, see Jane Everson, The Italian Romance Epic in the Age of Humanism: The Matter of Italy and the World of Rome (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).
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core works of the Matter of France, was well known in the region by the late twelfth century. Olaf Brattö’s study of the names listed in the Libro di Mon taperti, a collection of records about the Florentine army that was defeated at Montaperti in 1260, identified sixty-nine Rolandos.68 Likewise, Carol Lan sing observes that a Florentine tenzone dating from the 1260s includes an Orlanduccio Orafo, who congratulated himself on his heroic name.69 This evidence confirms the circulation of the Roland story in Florence by the midthirteenth century as well. Alongside Orlanduccio Orafo in the mid-thirteenth-century Florentine tenzone is another heroically named character, Pallamidesse di Bellindote, whose given name (Palamedes) stems from the Arthurian works of the Mat ter of Britain. Ronald Witt, drawing upon the work of Robert Davidsohn and David Herlihy, has argued that the Arthurian cycle likely circulated in Tuscany from the first half of the twelfth century, noting the appearance of names drawn from these works in Pistoian documents dating to that peri od.70 Arthurian romances circulated the region in both French and the ver nacular during the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries as well.71 Scholars have suggested that these Arthurian works were well known to Flo rentines during this period, with Dante and Giovanni Villani both identified as likely readers.72 Tristan was, according to most modern scholars, the greatest hero of Arthurian romance in Tuscany.73 This suggests that the various redactions and translations of the Prose Tristan likely enjoyed significant popularity and 68. Olaf Brattö, Studi di antroponomia fiorentina: Il libro di Montaperti (Göteborgs: Elanders Bok tryckeri Aktiebolag, 1953), 28; as cited in Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 156. 69. Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 156. As Lansing notes, the tenzone can be found in Poeti del Duecento, ed. Gianfranco Contini (Milan: R. Ricciardi, 1960), 473–74. 70. Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 42. 71. Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 175, 180, notes the easy circulation of men, ideas, and vernacular works in Tuscany. Allison Cornish, Vernacular Translation in Dante’s Italy: Illiterate Litera ture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 70–100, discusses “cultural ricochet” between France and Italy in the context of literature. 72. Christopher Kleinhenz, “The Arthurian Tradition in the Three Crowns,” in Allaire and Psaki, The Arthur of the Italians, especially 160–64, notes Dante’s familiarity with Arthurian works. Clarke, “The Villani Chronicles,” 123, suggests Giovanni Villani read chivalric romance. See also Gloria Al laire, “Owners and Readers of Arthurian Books in Italy,” in Allaire and Psaki, The Arthur of the Ital ians, 195; Marie-José Heijkant, “From France to Italy: The Tristan Texts,” in Allaire and Psaki, The Arthur of the Italians, 61, who discusses “the clamorous success of the Tristan en prose in diverse social and cultural environments” in Italy; and Delcorno Branca, Tristano e Lancillotto in Italia, 16–18, who remarks upon the popularity of not only the Tristan romances, but also the Prose Lancelot and other works (Guiron le Curtois, etc.). 73. Delcorno Branca, Tristano e Lancillotto in Italia, 186, argues that Tristan is the primary chival ric hero in Italy. Heijkant, “From France to Italy,” 43–44, 47–48, provides the most recent census of surviving manuscripts for Tristan romances in Italy.
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Tristan’s example may have held significant didactic power. This present book utilizes contemporary Tristan romances composed in the vernacular like the Tristano Riccardiano (late thirteenth century) and the Tristano Panci atichiano (early fourteenth century), as well other Arthurian works like Rus tichello da Pisa’s Compilation (late thirteenth century; referred to hereafter as the Romanzo Arturiano) and the anonymous Florentine romance La Tavola Ritonda (first half of the fourteenth century).74 Beyond Tristan and the Mat ter of Britain, prose romances like the Legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio (possibly 1315–40) and the Latin prose epic Historia destructionis troiae (com posed by Guido delle Colonne ca. 1287; translated into the vernacular by the Florentine Filippo Ceffi in 1324), representing the Matters of France and Rome respectively, are also examined.75 But how and to what end? Constance Bouchard and Richard Kaeuper have both argued for the validity and necessity of using imaginative literature to understand chivalry in the general European context, and Franco Cardini’s work has shown this to be true for Florence and Tuscany as well.76 This begs the question of what exactly these literary sources can tell us about chivalric ideology and its cultural community in Florence. Kaeuper argues persua sively that these works “allow us to get inside the warriors’ heads, to learn their formative assumptions, their framework for interpreting the world.”77 In other words, imaginative literature provides essential evidence about tra ditional chivalric attitudes, ideals, and ideas, especially related to violence and honor, allowing the modern reader to better understand the ideological underpinnings of and motivations behind the bloody, showy violence of the Florentine chivalric elite.
74. Studies of each with extensive bibliographies can be found in Allaire and Psaki, The Arthur of the Italians. The editions used in the present book are as follows: Italian Literature, vol. 2, Tristano Riccardiano, ed. and trans. F. Regina Psaki (Woodbridge: D. S. Brewer, 2006); Italian Literature, vol. 1, Tristano Panciatichiano, ed. and trans. Gloria Allaire (Woodbridge: D. S. Brewer, 2002); Il Romanzo arturiano di Rustichello da Pisa, ed. and trans. Fabrizio Cigni (Pisa: Cassa di risparmio di Pisa, 1994); and Tristan and the Round Table: A Translation of “La Tavola Ritonda,” ed. and trans. Anne Shaver (Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1983). 75. For the former, see La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, ed. Marco Maulu (Cagliari: Centro di Studi Filologici Sardi, 2010); the issue of dating is addressed on xci. For the latter, see Guido delle Colonne, Historia destructionis troiae, ed. and trans. Mary E. Meek (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1974). 76. Constance Bouchard, “Strong of Body, Brave and Noble”: Chivalry and Society in Medieval France (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998); Richard Kaeuper, “Literature as Essential Evidence for Understanding Chivalry,” Journal of Medieval Military History 5 (2007): 1–15; and Cardini, L’acciar de’ cavalieri, 76–110. 77. Kaeuper, “Literature as Essential Evidence for Understanding Chivalry,” 2.
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Historians of chivalry must approach the evidence provided by these ro mances and epics with caution, however, as they not only tell us how members of the Florentine chivalric elite actually behaved, but also how they should be have. In other words, the chivalric ideas and behavior valorized and promoted in these works could be either descriptive or prescriptive, and sometimes both. This book will make use of historical and literary sources in an effort to sift out prescriptions from descriptions, although both kinds of evidence offer important insight into the mentalité and behavior of these elite warriors. And yet, how can we be certain Florentine knights and men-at-arms read or listened to these works? Franco Cardini’s study of chivalric mentalities and the recent scholarship of Ronald Witt, Martin Aurell, Kristina Olson, and Lorenzo Caravaggi all strongly suggest that they did. In fact, Cardini’s suggestion that imaginative literature provided important models of behav ior for Florentine and Tuscan knights presupposes considerable familiarity with, if not an intimate knowledge of, these works.78 This intimacy would have been possible, if we are to believe Witt, who argued for an “extraordi narily high degree of vernacular literacy” in Florence.79 Aurell, coming at the issue from a different angle, notes that literacy among the warrior elite in communal Italy was perhaps the highest in Europe, while also pointing out that the spatial arrangements of elite households were designed to en hance the experience of listening to literature read aloud.80 Caravaggi’s work on the extensive library of Giovanni dei Maltraversi, a knight from the city of Piacenza, likewise paints the picture of a highly literate class of knights and elite warriors in Italian cities.81 Finally, Olson observes that “courtly culture in Italy fed upon chivalric epic and romance,” and names the famous Floren tine literati Dante Alighieri and Giovanni Boccaccio as important consumers of Arthurian romance.82 When considered in toto, this scholarship paints the picture of a literate or semiliterate chivalric elite whose members would have been more than capable of understanding, possibly even fully reading and writing, works of imaginative literature.
78. Cardini, L’acciar de’ cavalieri, 76–110, especially 86–110. 79. Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 193–94. 80. Martin Aurell, The Lettered Knight: Knowledge and Aristocratic Behaviour in the Twelfth and Thir teenth Centuries, trans. Jean-Charles Khalifa and Jeremy Price (Budapest: Central European Press, 2017), 39–97, 103–11, 145–72. 81. Lorenzo Caravaggi, “A Knight and His Library: Romanitas and Chivalry in Early ThirteenthCentury Italy,” Viator 50, no. 1 (2019): especially 142–43. 82. Kristina Olson, Courtesy Lost: Dante, Boccaccio, and the Literature of History (Toronto: Univer sity of Toronto Press, 2014), 10, 29.
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Finally, while it is always difficult to discuss what motivated historical fig ures, particularly from the distance of many centuries, it is clear that the strikingly consistent ideas, behaviors, and attitudes contained in all of these works would have been familiar and attractive to members of the Florentine chivalric elite.83 This is a reasonable assertion not least because the behav iors valorized and promoted in these works were largely congruent with the historical behavior of Florentine knights and men-at-arms themselves. It is wrong to suggest, however, that these men were simply aping the behavior they read about or listened to in romances and epics. Instead, the valorization and promotion of certain ideals and actions in these works helped shape how they viewed the violence they already readily committed. In other words, these works both inspired and reflected prevailing attitudes and behaviors.
Approaches to understanding Florentine chivalry What was the relationship between chivalry and violence in thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Florence? This book seeks to answer this question by ex ploring several categories of chivalric violence and the ideology that under pinned them. Chapter 1 examines the practice of what I have termed “honor violence,” or violence related to personal and familial honor, what Frank Stewart has termed the “horizontal honor” shared by members of the same social or “honor” group.84 The term “honor violence” was chosen intention ally to encompass without distinction the violence inherent in vendettas (vin dicta; individual acts of vengeance within a feud), feuds (faida), and other private enmities (inimicitia), while also highlighting the centrality of honor as a catalyst of that violence.85 Indeed, members of the Florentine chivalric elite treated honor as central to their very identities, “the great goal and unsurpassed good, regularly ranked as more valuable than life itself.”86 This sentiment was not necessarily hyperbole. Here two examples must stand in for many. In the first, Brunetto Latini, a prominent thirteenth-century Florentine notary and author of the allegorical treatise the Tesoretto (Little Treasure), instructed the chivalric audience of this work that
83. Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 198, 200, concedes this point even as he argues that “the Florentine upper class felt a pull toward the writings of antiquity.” 84. Stewart, Honor, 54–63. 85. For two recent discussions of these terms, see Trevor Dean, Crime and Justice in Late Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 123–26, and Andrea Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico: Ricerche su politica e giustizia a Firenze dal comune allo Stato territoriale (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2008), 131ff. 86. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 40.
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he makes it a great good Who risks himself to the death Rather than suffer Shame and grave dishonor.87 In a similar vein, the thirteenth-century Tuscan poet Guittone d’Arezzo wrote for shame is more to be feared than death, and committing an injustice more than suffering harm; for a wise man ought to sincerely love a beautiful death [i.e., an honorable death] more than life, for each person should believe that he was created not to stay, but to pass through with honor.88 Thus, chivalry encouraged these men to utilize violence, often with reck less abandon, to assert, defend, or vindicate their personal and familial honor. The consequences of this extreme violence were often devastating not only for the lineages and individuals involved, but also for the city itself. Since the use of violence in matters related to honor was not the exclusive preserve of the chivalric elite, chapter 1 also examines how chivalric honor violence was dif ferent enough in degree, motivation, and intention to be different in kind from the violence used by the Florentine civic elite. This difference stems mainly from the contrasting ideologies of each group, the civic ideology of the popolo and chivalry, that shaped their respective understanding and use of violence. The connection between chivalry, honor, and violence is also considered in light of the chivalric elite’s struggle against the growing power of the Florentine state and the different social groups that attempted to harness its power. It is not surprising that chivalry’s emphasis on autonomy and the defense of honor and power through violence often resulted in intense conflict between the chivalric elite and other Florentines. Chapter 2 consid ers the chivalric violence at the core of this conflict, specifically violence directed at the middling and lower classes (especially the popolo minuto), a practice referred to in this book as “social violence.”89 The important con nection between honor and violence in chivalric ideology extended beyond
87. Brunetto Latini, Il Tesoretto (The Little Treasure), ed. and trans. Julia Bolton Holloway (New York: Garland, 1981), 100/101–102/103, lines 240–43. Brunetto Latini and the Tesoretto are treated at length in chapter 3. 88. Tuscan Poetry of the Duecento: An Anthology, ed. and trans. Frede Jensen (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1994), 177. 89. Cf. Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 189–222, who uses “social violence” to de scribe violence committed against both social inferiors and peers.
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personal and familial honor to encompass the corporate honor of the chi valric elite that was itself inextricably intertwined with their political power, social superiority, and traditional autonomy. The chivalric elite reinforced their group identity and constructed useful bulwarks against the rapid rise of “new men,” who were often wealthier and wielded more political power, and the threat posed by “popular” governments. Most often these efforts to assert or defend what Frank Stewart has termed “vertical honor”—whether of the individual, the lineage, or the larger chivalric community—manifested in extreme violence against the artisans and industry workers, among oth ers, of the urban middling and lower classes.90 Consequently, social violence was rampant in Florence during this period, as the chivalric elite struggled against the rise of new men and the centralization of power in Florence, first under popular regimes (the Primo and Secondo Popolo) in the second half of the thirteenth century and then in the fourteenth century under an oligarchic government comprised mostly of elite men drawn from lineages whose wealth came from mercantile and commercial enterprises and who were animated by a civic ideology largely at odds with chivalry. Chapter 2 begins by considering chivalric attitudes toward those of lower and middling social status, the popolani. More specifically, it analyzes how the sources generally distinguished chivalric warriors from their fellow citizens either by depicting the latter as of base character, utterly lacking in martial vigor and skill, or through expressions of great contempt toward those who enjoyed extensive wealth thanks to their mercantile and commercial deal ings. From the chivalric perspective, many of these men enjoyed the dignity of knighthood but did not cultivate the profession of arms or live the chi valric lifestyle. Their preference to pursue lives of luxury and inaction was perceived to be in stark contrast to the honorable and praiseworthy suffering of chivalric warriors who exposed themselves to physical harm and risked financial ruin every time they engaged in honor violence or went to war. The chapter then shifts to an examination of the historical practice of social violence in its many dimensions. What emerges is a deep, almost visceral desire on the part of the chivalric elite to unleash brutal, often transgressive, violence against popolani. As the first two chapters will demonstrate, the chivalric elite of late medi eval Florence lived a violent and warlike lifestyle similar to that of their coun terparts across Italy and Europe. Not surprisingly, many Florentines who operated outside of chivalric circles responded with a mixture of fear and
90. Stewart, Honor, 59.
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acerbic criticism. The popolo regime of 1293 (the Secondo Popolo) took con crete action, passing legislation, most notably a series of antimagnate laws, designed to curtail chivalric violence and bring practitioners under the con trol of the Florentine commune. Likewise, writers of moral treatises such as Albertano of Brescia and Bono Giamboni and influential Dominican preach ers like Remigio dei Girolami also attempted to reform the chivalric elite.91 Chapter 3 examines one such reform effort, Brunetto Latini’s Tesoretto (Little Treasure), which contains powerful reform messages aimed directly at the Florentine chivalric elite. Latini (ca. 1220–94) was a prominent figure in Florence, where he tutored Dante Alighieri and wrote a number of treatises about politics, ethics, and civic life. While his Li Livres dou Trésor (mid-1260s), an encyclopedic treatise composed in French, was popular among contem poraries and is well known to modern scholars, Latini’s Tesoretto was com posed in the vernacular and with a chivalric audience in mind. Latini’s goal in this treatise was to “reform” the knights and men-at-arms of the Florentine chivalric elite in order to make them less destructive and more productive members of society, thus ameliorating the worst consequences of chivalric violence at home and ensuring that they were positioned to serve as the lead ers of the Florentine government and army. This did not entail eliminating the core elements of chivalric identity as part of a larger “civilizing process,” but rather seizing upon the tension inherent within chivalric ideology itself, especially between the valorization and promotion of violence and calls for moderation of that violence. These tensions allowed room for the develop ment of internal discussions about chivalric behavior and the promotion of
91. For Albertano of Brescia, see James Powell, Albertanus of Brescia: The Pursuit of Happi ness in the Early Thirteenth Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992); Artifoni, “Prudenza del consigliare”; Andrea Zorzi, “La cultura della vendetta nel conflitto politico in età co munale,” in Le storie e la memoria: In onore di Arnold Esch, ed. Roberto Delle Donne and Andrea Zorzi (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2002), 135–70; and Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 60–63. For Bono Giamboni, see Enrico Faini, “Vegezio e Orosio: Storia, cavalleria e politica nella Firenze del tardo Duecento,” in Storia sacra e profana nei volgarizzamenti medioevali Rilievi di lingua e di cultura, ed. Michele Colombo, Paolo Pellegrini, and Simone Pregnolato (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2019), 237–54, and Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 179–80. For Remigio dei Girolami, see Teresa Rupp, “ ‘Love Justice, You Who Judge the Earth’: Remigio dei Girolami’s Sermons to the Florentine Priors, 1295,” in Preaching and Political Society: From Late Antiquity to the End of the Middle Ages, ed. Franco Moren zoni (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), 251–65; Jodi Hodge, “The Virtue of Vice: Preaching the Cardinal Virtues in the Sermons of Remigio dei Girolami,” Medieval Sermon Studies 52, no. 1 (2008): 6–18; Cecilia Iannella, “Civic Virtues in Dominican Homiletic Literature in Tuscany in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” Medieval Sermon Studies 51, no. 1 (2007): 22–32; Maria Consiglia De Matteis, “La pacificazione cittadina a Firenze nelle componenti culturali di Remigio de’ Girolami,” in La Pace nel pensiero, nella politica, negli ideali del trecento (Todi: Accademia Tudertina, 1975), 199–224; and Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 64–65.
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chivalric reform virtues that would have been more palatable to members of the cultural community. War is the topic of chapter 4, specifically the military service provided by members of the chivalric elite. The profession of arms was a founda tional pillar of traditional elite identity in Florence, as in Tuscany, Italy, and the rest of late medieval Europe. The scholarship on the Florentine elite, especially studies of the magnates and other like-minded elite lineages, has readily acknowledged the active participation and expertise of these men in martial matters during the thirteenth century. These works stress, however, the decline in this participation during the fourteenth century as elite men turned increasingly to commercial endeavors and politics. This decline was also precipitated and reinforced by the growing presence and importance of foreign mercenaries in Florentine armies, although the recent work of William Caferro has effectively challenged elements of this traditional nar rative. Particularly relevant is his work on how the Florentine state waged war, especially the striking degree of continuity in the service performed by both mercenary cavalrymen and “native” infantry elements in Florentine armies.92 This chapter utilizes a prosopographical methodology in order to trace the military careers of members of eighteen chivalric lineages from the Battle of Montaperti in 1260 through the Florentine war against Pisa in 1360–64.93 The result is a striking degree of continuity on both the macro and micro levels, with members of sixteen of the eighteen lineages serving in Florentine armies throughout the entire period and at least sixty-seven individuals enjoying careers lasting over a decade. Thus, while the traditional view holds that the Florentine elite gradually abandoned the profession of arms in favor of more pacific and profitable pursuits during the course of the fourteenth century, in reality the connection between war and chivalric identity remained strong during this period. Forged in the Shadow of Mars concludes with an epilogue that briefly con siders the fate of Florentine chivalry in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. Central to this epilogue is an examination of the chivalric life of 92. See William Caferro, Petrarch’s War: Florence and the Black Death in Context (Cambridge: Cam bridge University Press, 2018); Caferro, John Hawkwood: An English Mercenary in Fourteenth-Century Italy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006); Caferro, “Continuity, Long-Term Service, and Permanent Forces: A Reassessment of the Florentine Army in the Fourteenth Century,” Jour nal of Modern History 80 (2008): 219–51; and Caferro, “Warfare and Economy in Renaissance Italy, 1350–1450,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History 39 (2008): 167–209. 93. Daniel Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic from the Twelfth to the Fourteenth Century,” in Florentine Studies: Politics and Society in Renaissance Florence, ed. Nicolai Rubinstein (Evan ston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1968), 70–108.
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Buonaccorso di Nero Pitti (ca. 1354–1432), the scion of a prominent bank ing family, whose ricordanza records his remarkable efforts to fashion and claim a chivalric identity. Buonaccorso enjoyed a long and extraordinary military career and followed his chivalric predecessors in practicing honor violence. While these practices suggest a general continuity of chivalric cul ture among a segment of the Florentine elite well into the fifteenth century, Buonaccorso’s example also highlights developments within that culture, as chivalric practitioners modified their behavior in certain contexts in order to preserve their access to the political and economic benefits accrued from participation in civic society. In Buonaccorso’s case, he avoided committing honor violence while within the city walls of Florence, but readily engaged in the practice when in exile and, in particular, while at the noble and royal courts of France. In this way, Buonaccorso provides a powerful example of a new model of chivalric practitioner in early Renaissance Florence: one who straddled the line between the chivalric and civic cultural communities. As this book will show, chivalric ideology exercised a powerful influence among a sizeable segment of the lay elite in late medieval Florence from the late twelfth through the early fifteenth century. This group formed a cultural community defined not by social appellations like the dignity of knighthood or legally recognized titles of nobility, but by adherence to a chivalric life style centered on prowess, honor, autonomy, and the profession of arms. Although the cultural community’s membership fluctuated over time, there was striking continuity among the core lineages, like the Adimari, Buondel monti, Cavalcanti, Donati, Gianfigliazzi, Lamberti, Nerli, Pigli, Tornaqui nci, and Visdomini (della Tosa/Tosinghi), among others. This continuity was made possible in the face of dramatic political, social, economic, and cultural changes in Florence and its contado by chivalry’s practical and flexible nature. As a result, it is likely that members of the Florentine chivalric elite living at different points in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries would have found much to agree upon and admire in one another. This continuity also high lights the perspicacity of Dante who lamented in canto XIII of the Inferno that even though his native Florence had changed its patron from Mars to St. John the Baptist, the Roman god of war would “always try his tricks to make [the city] grieve.”94 94. Dante Alighieri, “Inferno,” canto XIII, in Dante, The Divine Comedy, 101, lines 143–45.
Ch a p ter 1
Chivalry and Honor Violence
Ché bell’onor s’acquista in far vendetta.
[What beautiful honor one acquires by making
vendetta.]
—Dante Alighieri, Rime petrose
On Christmas Day 1301, Simone, the son of the famous Florentine knight Corso Donati, attacked and killed his uncle, Niccola dei Cerchi, who was on his way home after praying in the church of Santa Croce.1 The incident is described by the fourteenth-century Florentine chronicler Giovanni Villani, who recounts in his Nuova Cronica how Simone, “driven and encouraged to do evil, . . . followed on horseback the said Messer Niccola with his companions and other followers; and reaching him at the Ponte ad Africo, . . . attacked him; . . . the said Messer Niccola, without fault or cause, nor guarding himself against Simone, his said nephew, was killed and knocked down from his horse.”2 Villani’s words betray the author’s disbelief Some of the material in this chapter was originally published as part of a festschrift. See “Chiv alry and Honor-Violence in Late Medieval Florence,” in Prowess, Piety, and Public Order in Medieval Society: Studies in Honor of Richard W. Kaeuper, ed. Craig M. Nakashian and Daniel P. Franke (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 102–19. 1. For Corso Donati, see Silvia Diacciati, “ ‘Il barone’: Corso Donati,” in Nel Duecento di Dante: I personaggi, ed. Franco Suitner (Florence: Le Lettere, 2020), 177–97. 2. Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica, ed. Giuseppe Porta (Parma: Fondazione Pietro Bembo, 1991), 580: “Simone di messer Corso Donati, nipote per madre del detto messer Niccola, sospinto e confor tate di mal fare, con suoi compagni e masnadieri segui a cavallo il detto messer Niccola, e giugnen dolo al ponte ad Africo l’assalì combattendo; . . . il detto messer Niccola sanza colpa o cagione, né guardandosi di Simone, dal detto suo nipote fu morto e atterrato da cavallo.” All translations are mine unless otherwise noted. 28
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and outrage at Simone’s seemingly unprovoked and unjustified violence. Af ter all Simone had attacked and killed his own uncle without cause on Christ mas Day.3 This anger is subsequently tempered by a somewhat surprising lament, for Villani informs his readers that Simone, “wounded through his side by the said Messer Niccola, died that night. So that . . . it was considered a great loss, because the said Simone was the most accomplished and virtu ous young nobleman of Florence, and he would have come to greater honor and state, and he was all the hope of his father, Messer Corso.”4 Simone’s act of brutal violence against his uncle surely elicited powerful reactions from contemporary Florentines. Villani’s reaction likely represents that of many popolani who, imbued with ideas about peace and stability in the name of the common good and possessing a healthy dose of fear, would have condemned the senselessness of Simone’s destructive violence that not only resulted in Niccola’s death, but also cost Simone his own life. Contem porary Florentines also would have understood the violence in political and social terms, noting that this incident took place during the height of the feud between the Donati and Cerchi lineages that pitted a lineage of great antiquity but diminished economic prosperity against a lineage of recent origin but significant wealth, in a contest for political power. This may have helped to explain why Simone, the son of the leader of the Donati lineage, would kill Niccola, a member of the Cerchi lineage, who was also his uncle. And yet, these explanations do not fully account for Simone’s violence. This is because they do not take into consideration Simone’s mentalité and the ideas and values of the cultural community to which he belonged.5 In deed, the powerful connection between honor and violence within chivalric ideology is key to understanding Simone’s behavior.6 Chivalry prioritized
3. Leonardo Bruni’s account, likely based in part on Villani’s, paints a slightly different picture, one in which both parties fought one another with great skill and bravery, although the outcome was the same. Leonardo Bruni, The History of the Florentine People, ed. and trans. James Hankins, 3 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001–7), 1:409: “When Simone, the young son of Corso Donati followed messer Niccolò Cerchi as the latter was riding out into the country he attacked him on the road: both men had companions and both sides fought well, but in the end Niccolò died.” 4. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 580: “che fedito il detto Simone dal detto messer Niccola per lo fianco, la notte presente morìo; onde . . . fu tenuto grande danno, che ’l detto Simone era il più compiuto e virtudioso donzello di Firenze, e da venire in maggiore pregio e stato, ed era tutta la speranza del suo padre messer Corso.” 5. Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini: Guerra, conflitti e società nell’Italia comunale (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2004), 398–406, argues that at the core of knightly culture in Italy was a culture of hatred. 6. Ronald Witt, The Two Latin Cultures and the Foundation of Renaissance Humanism in Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 384, 448, notes that the chivalric ethos justified urban violence in the minds of contemporary aristocrats. See also John Larner, “Chivalric Culture
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and valorized the deeply ingrained, almost visceral, need Florentine knights and men-at-arms felt to assert, defend, and vindicate their personal and fa milial honor (i.e., horizontal honor) through bloody violence. The perva siveness of this type of violence in Florence during the thirteenth and four teenth centuries suggests that at least in the minds of its practitioners, such an important end more than justified the destructive means. Thus, when seen through this chivalric lens, the motivation behind Simone’s violence comes into focus: the need to assert and defend his personal and familial honor, whatever the cost. The close connection between violence and honor was a dominant aspect of chivalric culture and identity in late medieval Florence and Tuscany, just as north of the Alps.7 Chivalry’s influence in Italy, however, has received comparatively little attention from scholars, who focus instead on political, social, and economic forces.8 Moreover, the recent scholarship on elite vio lence is dominated by a revisionist view that argues violent self-help, spe cifically the practice of vendetta, was commonplace in Florentine society and not limited to “noble” or traditional lineages. Proponents of this view contend that vendetta and feuding, well regulated by communal laws, were ultimately positive forces in Florentine society, helping to restore balance and end, rather than intensify, conflicts.9 In other words, far from being the product of a lifestyle or ethos associated with nobility or membership among a traditional warrior elite, violence related to honor was readily practiced by individuals at all levels of the social hierarchy.10 in the Age of Dante,” Renaissance Studies 2, no. 2 ( June 1988): 117–30, for the influence of chivalric ideas on real life in late medieval Italy. 7. For the general European context, see Richard Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence in Medieval Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), especially chap. 7. 8. Peter Sposato, “Chivalry in Late Medieval Tuscany: Current Historiography and New Per spectives,” History Compass 16 ( June 26, 2018): 1–14, offers a survey of the limited scholarship on Florentine and Tuscan chivalry. For the other catalysts, see Lauro Martines, “Political Violence in the Thirteenth Century,” in Violence and Civil Disorder in Italian Cities, 1200–1500, ed. Lauro Martines (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), 331–53; Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates: Lin eage and Faction in a Medieval Commune (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991); Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisited,” in Communes and Despots in Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. John E. Law and Bernadette Paton (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), 35–48; George Dameron, Episcopal Power and Florentine Society, 1000–1320 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991); and Andrea Zorzi, ed., Conflitti, paci e vendetta nell’Italia comunale (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2009). 9. Andrea Zorzi has published extensively on this and related topics. See in particular La trasformazione di un quadro politico: Ricerche su politica e giustizia a Firenze dal comune allo Stato territo riale (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2008), 136, 142, 172–73, and his many works cited therein. Zorzi, “I conflitti nell’Italia comunale: Riflessioni sullo stato degli studi e sulle prospettive di ricerca,” in Zorzi, Conflitti, paci e vendetta nell’Italia comunale, 7–43, surveys the state of the field. 10. Katherine Jansen, “Peacemaking in the Oltrarno, 1287–1297,” in Pope, Church and City: Essays in Honour of Brenda M. Bolton, ed. Frances Andrews, Christopher Egger, and Constance Rousseau
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This chapter does not seek to reassert the now thoroughly disproven contention that violent responses to matters of honor were the exclusive preserve of nobles, the traditional elite, and other members of the chivalric cultural community. It is clear that Florentines at every level of the social hierarchy considered violence to be an option during conflicts, although the risks and costs associated with this course of action no doubt led many to choose force only after carefully considering other alternatives, especially the law courts and private peace pacts negotiated and recorded by notaries.11 This violence also tended to be characterized by proportionality.12 Less convincing, however, is the related argument that the explicit link between excessive violence and “noble” identity made by a number of prominent contemporary chroniclers was simply popolani propaganda intended to de monize certain members of the elite who refused to peacefully integrate into civic society. It seems much more likely that chroniclers were making this connection precisely because the honor-related violence of these men was different in a number of significant ways, not least in terms of its inten sity and its deleterious impact on the city.13 These differences can be explained by a number of factors stemming from chivalric ideology. First, chivalry not only encouraged and valorized violence perpetrated in order to assert or defend honor, it created a clear expecta tion that challenges to honor would be met with force.14 As Thomas Kuehn has observed for fifteenth-century Florence, “honor was both an individual (Leiden: Brill, 2004): 330, argues that violence and peacemaking were common experiences in late medieval Florence. 11. Recent studies of notarial peace pacts include Katherine Jansen, “ ‘Pro bono pacis’: Crime, Conflict, and Dispute Resolution. The Evidence of Notarial Peace Contracts in Late Medieval Flor ence,” Speculum 88 (2013): 427–56; and Jansen, “Peacemaking in the Oltrarno.” For the practice of peacemaking, see Jansen, Peace and Penance in Late Medieval Italy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018); James A. Palmer, The Virtues of Economy: Governance, Power, and Piety in Late Medieval Rome (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2019), 167–95; and Glenn Kumhera, The Benefits of Peace: Private Peacemaking in Late Medieval Italy (Leiden: Brill, 2017). 12. For the proportional nature of vendetta and feuding as practiced by the Florentine popolani, see Andrea Zorzi, “ ‘Ius erat in armis’: Faide e conflitti tra pratiche sociali e pratiche di governo,” in Origini dello Stato: Processi di formazione statale in Italia fra medioevo and età moderna, ed. Giorgio Chittolini, Anthony Molho, and Pierangelo Schiera (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1994), 612, 616. For Siena, see Daniel Waley, “A Blood Feud with a Happy Ending: Siena, 1285–1304,” in City and Countryside in Late Medieval and Renaissance Italy: Essays Presented to Philip Jones, ed. Trevor Dean and Christopher Wickham (London: Hambledon, 1990), 47, 48. 13. Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 125, notes an important distinction between uncontrolled magnate violence and regulated vendetta. 14. Zorzi, “ ‘Ius erat in armis,’ ” 624, and Christopher Wickham, Courts and Conflicts in TwelfthCentury Tuscany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 216, 220, make clear that this expectation was regularly met by nobles and knights in twelfth- and thirteenth-century Tuscany. See also Julian Pitt-Rivers, “Honour and Social Status,” in Honour and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society,
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and group possession.”15 This was certainly the case in our period, when all male members of a lineage had to defend the group’s honor and ensure its dominance and interests. Any dishonor suffered, even by a single individual, impacted the entire lineage, requiring members to respond. To do otherwise risked suffering dishonor or shame. Second, the cultural forces of honor and shame were arguably more precious to the chivalric elite than to the average Florentine. While this is impossible to precisely measure given the nature of the sources, surviving contemporary voices suggest that honor was worth more than life itself. Sometimes this sentiment was made explicit, as when Guittone d’Arezzo, a famous Tuscan poet who wrote for an aristocratic audience in thirteenthcentury Tuscany, wrote that dishonor or shame “is more to be feared than death.”16 Giovanni Villani’s account of a likely apocryphal conversation be tween Messer Farinata degli Uberti and other Florentine Ghibelline exiles in 1260 suggests that Guittone’s point was a reality for historical chivalric practitioners. In this conversation Messer Farinata exhorts his fellow Ghibel lines to fight, concluding that “for us death and defeat would be better than to crawl around the world any longer.”17 Given the high stakes, the failure to avenge slights to one’s honor through violence compounded an individual’s dishonor and challenged his chivalric identity. This potent combination of chivalry, honor-shame, and superior re sources resulted in a level of violence among these knights and men-at-arms that was different enough in degree to be different in kind from the violence perpetrated by other members of Florentine society.18 A tell-tale character istic of chivalric honor violence seems, in fact, to have been its transgressive nature that perpetuated and intensified conflicts rather than restoring parity ed. Jean Peristiany (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 25: “On the field of honor, might is right.” 15. Thomas Kuehn, Law, Family, and Women: Toward a Legal Anthropology of Renaissance Italy (Chi cago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 134–35. Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence, 129–30, discusses the conceptualization of honor as the currency of chivalric culture. This concept fits well with the view in late medieval Florence of dishonor as a debt and vengeance as repayment. 16. Tuscan Poetry of the Duecento: An Anthology, ed. and trans. Frede Jensen (New York: Taylor and Francis, 1994), 177. Richard Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 40, argues that honor “remains the great goal and unsurpassed good, regularly ranked as more valuable than life itself.” 17. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 307–8: “e per noi farebbe meglio la morte e d’essere isconfitti, ch’andare più tapinando per lo mondo.” 18. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 318, discusses the greater social consequences of chivalric vio lence. See Trevor Dean, “Marriage and Mutilation: Vendetta in Late Medieval Italy,” Past and Present 157 (November 1997): especially 34; Kuehn, Law, Family, and Women, especially 79; and Sharon Stroc chia, “Gender and the Rites of Honour in Italian Renaissance Cities,” in Gender and Society in Renais sance Italy, ed. Judith Brown and Robert Davis (London: Longman, 1998), 39–60.
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and providing the conditions for peace.19 Not surprisingly given their de sire to prevail rather than restore parity through proportional responses, the traditional (i.e., chivalric) elite seem to have rarely made use of alternative methods of dealing with conflict, especially notarial peace pacts.20
limitations of the sources As noted in the introduction, the study of chivalry in late medieval Florence is made more difficult by the limitations of chronicle and archival evidence. This is particularly true for the historical practice of chivalric honor vio lence. Most contemporary chronicles were composed by popolani authors who were either unsympathetic or outright hostile toward the chivalric life style and its justifications of violence.21 From their point of view, chivalric violence presented a serious threat to life in an orderly and prosperous civic society. As a result, they rarely offer the chivalric perspective or much insight into the mentality of the perpetrators of honor violence, instead usually of fering only criticism and condemnation. Even authors who interacted closely with the chivalric cultural community, like the anonymous chronicler known as Pseudo-Brunetto Latini, often fail to satisfy the historian’s desire to know motivation and context.22 For example, when this anonymous author writes about a striking incident occurring in January 1296 that saw the podestà of Florence condemn the famous Florentine knight Corso Donati for wounding his cousin and fellow knight, Simone Galastrone Donati, he writes nothing about why Corso would attack and wound his own kin.23 19. Nicolai Rubinstein, “Dante and Nobility” (1973, unpublished), in Rubinstein, Studies in Ital ian History in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, vol. 1, Political Thought and the Language of Politics, ed. Giovanni Ciappelli (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2004), 181–82, observes that the violence practiced by “the great families and consorterie” had a far greater intensity and potential for widespread destruction than that of “lesser citizens.” 20. Jansen, Peace and Penance, 126, concludes that elite men and lineages had only a “minority presence in the peace acts.” Emanuela Porta Casucci, “Le paci fra private nelle parrocchie fiorentine di S. Felice in Piazza e S. Frediano: Un regesto per gli anni 1335–1365,” Annali di Storia di Firenze 4 (2009): 195–241, mentions only a few pacts between elite lineages, including one between the Gan galandi and the Donati in September 1351 (219–20). 21. Dean, “Marriage and Mutilation,” 24, offers a useful discussion of the difficulties posed by using chronicles to study vendetta. 22. “Cronica Fiorentina compilata nel secolo XIII,” in Pasquale Villari, The Two First Centuries of Florentine History: The Republic and Parties at the Time of Dante, trans. Linda Villari (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1895), 2:17–93 (cited hereafter as “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini”). Louis Green discusses this work under the title “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini” in Appendix 1 of Green, Chronicle into History: An Essay on the Interpretation of History in Florentine Fourteenth-Century Chronicles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 155–64. 23. “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini,” 69.
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In addition, contemporary chroniclers understandably wrote mostly about major incidents of honor violence, leaving historians in the dark about the more mundane conflicts that undoubtedly occurred. Normally the vari ous document sets in the Florentine archives, especially those of the judicial archive, would serve as the natural complement to chronicles when studying violence. Unfortunately, the records for much of this period (before 1343) no longer exist, and the archival evidence that does survive often fails to offer insight into the motivation behind or even context of this violence. Illustra tive is an example from March 1293, when Messer Rosso della Tosa, riding on horseback through the city, caught sight of two members of the Adimari lin eage. Messer Rosso returned to his home and gathered three of his relatives, with whom he rode through the city streets with swords and lances at the ready. The group intercepted Messer Gozzo and Filigno Adimari and struck them repeatedly. During the investigation initiated by the podestà, a certain popolano of San Frediano named Vanni testified that he saw Rossellino, Baldo, and Odaldo, all members of the della Tosa lineage, assault Messer Gozzo and Filigno Adimari.24 The violence is readily apparent, but the record offers little information about the mentality or motivations of the aggressors. Similarly lacking in context are the records of public rituals of peacemak ing. When Cardinal Latino forced a peace upon the city of Florence in 1280, many chivalric individuals and lineages appear in the register, including the Uberti, Fifanti, Gangalandi, Amidei, Scolari, Mazzinghi, Caponsacchi, Lam berti, Mannelli, and Pazzi.25 Historians are left in the dark, however, about the exact nature and duration of the conflict between these individuals and lineages. Likewise, a significant number of chivalric lineages were forced to make peace pacts (numbering 250) by the Duke of Athens in 1342, includ ing the Frescobaldi, Bordoni, Gangalandi, Nerli, Bardi, Buondelmonti, and Rossi, but with no insight into the violence between them.26 Thus, while this type of evidence confirms the pervasiveness of chivalric honor violence in Florentine society, it is of only limited value to the present chapter’s exami nation of the forces and ideas that underpinned it. Due to the sparse nature of the chronicle evidence and the destruction of many of the archival records for the thirteenth and early fourteenth 24. ASF, Diplomatico, Adespote, coperte di libri, March 18, 1293; as cited in Silvia Diacciati, Popolani e magnati: Società e politica nella Firenze del Duecento (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2011), 365–66. 25. The register is provided in Gaetano Salvemini, Magnati e Popolani in Firenze dal 1280 al 1295 (Florence: Tipografia G. Carnesecchi, 1899), 328–29. 26. Casucci, “Le paci fra private nelle parrocchie fiorentine di S. Felice in Piazza e S. Frediano,” 235.
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centuries, the incidents known to historians likely represent only the tip of the iceberg of honor violence. While it is impossible to recover evidence for the significant violence now lost, some of the limitations can be miti gated by the insight provided by works of imaginative literature, especially the large corpus of romances that circulated in Tuscany during this period. As discussed in the introduction, these works offer essential evidence for traditional chivalric attitudes, ideals, and ideas about the practice of honor violence. In other words, they offer historians insight into the mentality of the men engaging in this type of violence. As such, they should be under stood as both inspiring and reflecting a consistent set of prevailing ideals and behaviors among contemporary knights and men-at-arms.
chivalric honor violence The remainder of the chapter will examine these prevailing ideals and behav iors in order to reconstruct the ideological underpinnings of honor violence and examine its historical practice in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. This will be done with two specific foci. The first will look at violence in pur suit of personal and familial honor that also offered more tangible benefits, such as political power. The second will look at violence in defense of personal and familial honor or to avenge dishonor, both of which were critical to the defense of chivalric identity. Chivalric Violence and the Pursuit of Honor
In contemporary romance the desire of knights and men-at-arms to prove and enhance their honor through violence is pervasive and seemingly insatia ble. Consequently, even the most cursory survey of these works makes clear that the authors lavished effusive and joyful praise on the violent assertion of honor. The violence is presented as both necessary to prove honor and a source of honor in its own right. These ideas both helped to form and were reflections of the mental framework behind honor violence. If violence was the ultimate means of asserting and winning honor, the most active literary and historical participants in the battlefield of honor were young knights and donzelli, men-at-arms from noble or elite lineages who fully embraced the chivalric lifestyle and ideology but were not yet dubbed knights. Unlike the Provençal literary concept of youth as “the per fect realization of the courtly ideal,” however, these young warriors were characterized more by their violence and impetuousness than their courtesy
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and courtly behavior.27 This behavior was no doubt a result of both their limited economic opportunities, stemming above all from a circumscribed system of inheritance, and the considerable pressure the chivalric cultural community heaped on its youngest members to first establish and then con tinually enhance their honor through violence.28 This latter element has re ceived comparatively little scholarly attention, not least because of the limi tations of traditional historical sources. Once again, romances offer us the opportunity to understand not only the pressure heaped on young chivalric practitioners but also their resulting mindset as they sought to demonstrate their prowess and enhance their honor through public displays of violence. The close connection between honor, prowess, and reputation meant that most literary knights were known primarily by their prowess, which could only be proven in armed combat. Tristan’s behavior in this regard is largely consistent across the Tuscan prose romances composed in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. When Tristan challenges King Morholt to battle in the Tristano Riccardiano, composed in the late thirteenth century, the latter of fers to forgive Tristan’s challenge, believing that he has foolishly undertaken these actions because of his youth.29 Later in the same work, a young Tristan travels through a dense and dangerous forest with the express purpose of testing his prowess. When confronted by a knight who inquires why he is in the dangerous forest, he replies “I have come to these wilds to see whether
27. In this way these men were like Duby’s juvenes. See Georges Duby, The Chivalrous Society, trans. Cynthia Postan (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980), 112–22. See also C. Jean Camp bell, The Game of Courting and the Art of the Commune of San Gimignano, 1290–1320 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997), 88. 28. Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, especially 21, 45, 161–63, situates this group in their Flo rentine context arguing that marriage and inheritance practices were such that Florentine society included groups of restless young men from elite lineages with limited prospects who readily turned to the tenets of chivalry and saw “factional conflict as a potential vocation.” Florentine men did not get married or inherit until the death or incapacity of the father, while younger sons played no real economic role unless emancipated, “thus forming a group of wealthy and irresponsible young men who were active subscribers of the martial code of chivalry and participants in chivalric culture.” See also Andrea Zorzi, “Rituali di violenza giovanile nelle società urbane del tardo Medioevo,” in Infanzie: Funzioni di gruppo liminale dal mondo classico all’età moderna, ed. Ottavia Niccoli (Florence: Ponte Alle Grazie, 1993), 185–209. 29. Italian Literature, vol. 2, Tristano Riccardiano, ed. and trans. F. Regina Psaki (Woodbridge: D. S. Brewer, 2006) (cited hereafter as Tristano Riccardiano), 38/39. Later in the same work after Tristan defeats Kay, Gareth, and Gawain in battle, Gawain swears he will track down Tristan and make his acquaintance because he is such a great knight: “I tell you that I will never give up until I find this knight, for it seems to me that he is the best knight I have ever met”: Tristano Riccardiano, 338/339–340/341. In Il Romanzo arturiano di Rustichello da Pisa, ed. and trans. Fabrizio Cigni (Pisa: Cassa di risparmio di Pisa, 1994) (cited hereafter as Rustichello da Pisa, Il Romanzo arturiano), 311 (chap. 53, verse 4), Tristan undertakes a journey into the Perilous Forest for similar reasons: to prove his prowess and enhance his honor through armed combat.
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I could find any adventure through which I could gain renown for some act of prowess.” Tristan’s desire to prove himself despite his impeccable royal lineage is notable, suggesting that the chivalric elite believed prowess was the true proof of nobility, as Tristan declares: “for I am a very young knight, and have never yet been known for any deed of prowess. So I set out adven turing, to see whether I would ever be valiant in arms.”30 One can imagine a similar impetus to prove themselves through violence burdened the scions of Florentine chivalric lineages and contributed to what seems to a modern audience like their perpetration of random and egregious acts of violence. Perhaps this sheds new light on the weight of expectation that rested on the shoulders of Simone Donati, the son of the most famous knight in Florence, expectations that led him to ultimately attack and kill his uncle, Niccola dei Cerchi, on Christmas Day 1301. As with many elements of chivalric culture, the expectation to prove one’s honor through violence was not simply a case of ideas embedded in romance informing historical behavior. In fact, many romances likely reflected the already present insatiable desire of young Florentine knights and men-at arms to demonstrate their prowess as soon as possible. For example, the anonymous author of La Tavola Ritonda, a late fourteenth-century Tuscan romance probably composed in Florence, reflects this desire in his descrip tion of a young Tristan, who refused to settle down before he had become properly “accustomed to handling arms.” Tristan, likely mirroring attitudes and behaviors of young Florentine knights and men-at-arms, explains that he wished to avoid “any other cares that might constrain [him], except those practices which might lead [him] to a life of chivalry.”31 This attitude allowed him to become “a knight resembling his father and all his kinsmen who had been the flowers of knighthood.”32 If this was indeed a reflection of the at titudes of young Florentine knights and men-at-arms, it would require us to consider that they may have seen their youth not as a period of economic uncertainty, but perhaps as an opportunity to establish their chivalric bona fides. Tristan was not exceptional in this regard among the young literary knights and men-at-arms who appear in contemporary romance. Prode sagio, the hero of the anonymous fourteenth-century Florentine prose 30. Tristano Riccardiano, 322/323. 31. Tristan and the Round Table: A Translation of “La Tavola Ritonda,” ed. and trans. Anne Shaver (Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1983), 41, 43: The author describes how, at the age of fifteen, Tristan “fenced and played at arms and learned to ride, doing nothing else so that he developed his full prowess.” 32. Tristan and the Round Table, 43.
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romance the Legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, displays similar attitudes and confirms that this element of chivalric culture was not exclusive to the Matter of Britain (Arthurian romance). Prodesagio, at the tender age of twelve, demands to be both knighted and given command of the Christian army when Saracens invade the kingdom of Hungary. His primary motiva tion appears not to be the salvation of Christendom, but rather the desire to prove his prowess and win honor. Although he is only a young, freshly belted knight, Prodesagio immediately seeks out Balante, the king of the Saracens, who is a warrior of great prowess. Balante’s reputation only gal vanizes Prodesagio’s desire to challenge him on the battlefield: “Now turn your horse and I will turn mine . . ., I want to test your strength against mine, and see who is the most valiant.”33 Prodesagio eventually kills Balante, proving his superiority and saving the kingdom of Hungary from a Saracen invasion in the process.34 Later in the same romance, the emperor challenges Prodesagio, who is still a young knight, to prove his prowess and thus his worth in front of the entire court by stopping a “Turkish” invasion of France. Prodesagio defeats the Turkish army, winning great honor in the process.35 When he returns to the emperor, he receives lavish praise for his deeds: “By my faith, messere Prodesagio, [now] I can praise and honor you as the best knight in the en tire world.”36 Prodesagio strives constantly throughout the remainder of the romance not only to prove his honor and reputation but to enhance it. In one notable example, he personally challenges the king of the Turks, Brun forte, to single combat.37 Prodesagio is once again victorious and Brunforte 33. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, ed. Marco Maulu (Cagliari: Centro di Studi Filolog ici Sardi, 2010), 16: “E poi li disse messere Prodesagio: ‘Or volgete il vostro cavallo ed io volgerò i mio . . . imperò che lla vostra forza voglio provare co lla mia, e quie si vedrà chi sarà più valente.’ ” 34. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 16–18. 35. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 42: “E llo ’mperadore disse: ‘Io voglio sapere se ttu ssè mio parente, io voglio sapere se ttu sè alla piccolo spade buono cavalieri.’ Allora messer Prodesaggio trasse fuori Mongrea e punse Quintabile, e fedie uno turchio in su l’elmo dinanzi e miseli la spade infino al nasale, e morto l’abattè: e inanzi che tornasse allo ’mperadore uccise otto cavalieri turchi. E ppoi ritornò allo ’mperadore; disse: ‘Per mia fede, alla piccolo spade tu ssè buono cavaliere, ma io ti voglio vedere co lla grande spade come tu ti porti: ch’io non posso credere che ttu la possi bene balire.’ . . . E volse lo cavallo, e trasse fuori Gioiosa e fedì un turchio in su l’elmo, e tagliogli l’elmo e lla cuffia del ferro e fesselo infino a’ denti e cacciollo morto a terra del cavallo. E poi fedì una schiera di saracini e uccise inanzi che ristesse dodici cavalieri turchi. E poi tornò allo ’mperadore e disse: ‘Re, buone sono le mie spade e ben tagliano lo loro acciaio.’ ” 36. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 42: “E llo ’mperadore disse: ‘Per mia fede, messere Prodesagio, io il ti posso lodare e pregiare per lo migliore cavaliere che ssia in tutto il mondo.’ ” 37. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 61: “E messere Prodesagio disse: ‘Saracino, troppo m’adasti, ma io voglio che ttu pruovi la tua prodeza comeco.’ ”
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flees, with the victor in hot pursuit.38 After catching and killing Brunforte, Prodesagio returns to the battlefield, where he defeats Carbone, the king of the Saracens.39 Prodesagio’s powerful desire to assert and enhance his honor through violence reflects the values presented to young knights and, espe cially, donzelli in late medieval Florence. Given this emphasis on constantly winning honor through the sharp edge and point of a sword, it is not surpris ing that contemporary chroniclers and modern scholars alike have readily noted this group’s proclivity for violence. The literary models of Tristan and Prodesagio were not simply abstrac tions; the historical knights and men-at-arms who read and listened to these works behaved similarly. As noted previously, there was an expectation within Florentine chivalric culture that young knights and donzelli would seek to prove their worth, accumulate honor, and establish their reputa tion through the exercise of violence. Just as in literature, these young men were among the most enthusiastic participants in the battlefield of honor. They were characteristically rash, lacking wisdom and experience, and are often presented by contemporaries as more susceptible to their emotions than older, experienced warriors.40 The incident that began this chapter, Messer Simone di Corso Donati’s fatal attack on his uncle, Messer Niccola dei Cerchi, offers a chilling Florentine example. This violence should not, however, be explained away as simply the consequence of emotional im maturity or youthful impetuosity unmoored from the powerful motivating force of honor. For young knights and donzelli, as for all male members of chivalric society in Florence, their honor and precedence were constantly at stake, requiring hypervigilance and the willingness to quickly draw and use a sharp sword when the opportunity arose, regardless of the consequences. When viewed through this contemporary lens, however alien and offensive to our modern sensibilities, Simone’s violence no longer appears random and excessive. The stakes were almost certainly highest in the skirmishes and occasional pitched battles waged by young chivalric practitioners in the city streets, as these often led to changes in the balance of power in the city. Giovanni Villani 38. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 61: “E quando il saracino Brunforte si vide sanza spade incontanente si mise a fugire verso la sua gente e messere Prodesaggio l’andava seguitando.” 39. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 62. Similarly in the Tristano Riccardiano, 224/225, Tristan chooses to attack the company of Count Agrippe, as Agrippe is one of the greatest knights on the battlefield. 40. Trevor Dean, Crime and Justice in Late Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 131, observed for the larger Italian context that it was “quite common for a cycle of revenge to be started by the hot-headed action of a youth . . . youths are often found triggering vendettas or reviving family memories of old injuries.”
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offers an illuminating case from May 1300, when during a “dance of ladies that was happening in the piazza of Santa Trinita,” two groups of young knights and men-at-arms, the Cerchi and their allies and the Donati and their allies, insulted and then eventually attacked one another on horseback.41 Al though Villani does not explicitly identify honor as the catalyst of this vio lence, the progression from verbal to physical violence, both inextricably intertwined with honor, is clear. Dino Compagni’s account of the tumult offers more insight. He notes that the donzelli of the Donati faction “used to ride around together,” and motivated by typical noble arrogance, “they decided to confront the Cerchi band and use their fists and swords against them.”42 Leonardo Bruni, looking back from the fifteenth century, paints a similar picture, adding that there were upwards of three hundred men in volved in the skirmish that involved the use of offensive weapons (swords), long processions of armed men on horseback, and wounds inflicted on both sides.43 Thus, when examined through a chivalric lens what seemed to con temporary chroniclers to be senseless violence fueled by noble arrogance and imperiousness is recast as armed conflict necessary to establish honor, precedence, and identity.44 This assertion is confirmed by events later that same year, when the two groups came to blows thanks once again to the instigation of the donzelli on both sides, this time after attending the funeral of a Florentine noble woman. Bruni provides an elaborate account of the incident, although we must take the additional details with a grain of salt given Bruni’s reformative agenda, writing that “both parties attended the funeral of a noblewoman, armed, and they were barely able to contain their desire to draw swords and attack each other.”45 Villani, who lived in Florence during these turbulent times, offers fewer details, writing that the conflict within the confines of the city produced a pitched battle near San Piero Maggiore that the Donati 41. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 566–69, at 568: “veggendo uno ballo di donne che si facea nella piazza di Santa Trinita, l’una parte contra l’altra si cominciarono a sdegnare, e a pignere l’uno contro a l’altro i cavagli, onde si cominciò una grande zuffa.” 42. Dino Compagni, Cronica delle cose occorrenti ne’ tempi suoi, ed. Gino Luzzatto (Turin: Giulio Einaudi editore, 1968), 31; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, trans. Daniel Bornstein (Philadel phia: University of Pennsylvania, 1986), 25. 43. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:394–95. 44. Simone Collavini, “Sviluppo signorile e nuove strategie onomastiche: Qualche riflessione sulla percezione e la rapresentazione della violenza in Toscana nel XII secolo,” in Studi di storia offerti a Michele Luzzati, ed. Silio P. Scalfati and Alessandra Veronese (Pisa: Pacini Editore, 2008), 80, offers a deeply insightful study of the violent nicknames adopted by both rural and urban Tuscan aristocrats in the eleventh and twelfth centuries and how those nicknames reflected the values of that class. 45. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 570–72. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:396–97. Bruni’s refor mative agenda is treated briefly in chapter 4.
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faction won after they resisted and drove back the Cerchi, to the “dishonor and shame of the Cerchi and of their followers.”46 Giovanni Villani’s deci sion to choose shame and dishonor, rather than power or precedence, as the consequences for the Cerchi defeat is telling, especially given his familiarity with chivalric culture.47 Returning to Bruni’s account of the same battle, he attributes the Donati victory to Corso Donati’s “outstanding courage” and leadership, but it seems the main protagonists in this battle were donzelli and young knights.48 Bruni also adds details, such as the fact that the Donati and Cerchi marched veri table armies of armed men through the city streets, with the Cerchi proceed ing to the Donati strongholds “as though marching to a real battle, mailed and on horseback, surrounded by infantry.”49 This, of course, was not the first time these two lineages had put on display their military might in the city center, for Bruni notes that some twenty years earlier (1279–80) they had “marched in long, armed cavalcades through the city streets,” “causing fear and disturbance throughout the city.”50 These two groups also fought each other in the contado near the town of Remole, where the Donati were once again victorious.51 In other words, this conflict was more of a war than a carefully choreographed sequence of proportional acts of violence intended to restore parity. Historical knights and men-at-arms conceived of violence as a means not only to assert and enhance their honor but also to secure more tangible ben efits they believed were their due. Honor and political power were closely connected in the minds of the chivalric elite, leading to violent competi tion not only between lineages and individuals, but also with social inferi ors (see chapter 2 below). Dino Compagni provides the useful example of Baschiera della Tosa, “the young son of a [Guelf] Party member—a knight named messer Bindo del Baschiera who suffered many persecutions for the Guelf Party, [who] lost an eye to an arrow [during a battle] at the castle of Fucecchio, and was [later] wounded and killed in the battle [of Campaldino (1289)] with the Aretines.”52 Baschiera rightly expected to benefit from his
46. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 571: “onta e vergogna de’ Cerchi e de’ loro seguaci.” 47. Paula Clarke, “The Villani Chronicles,” in Chronicling History: Chroniclers and Historians in Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. Sharon Dale, Alison W. Lewin, and Duane Osheim (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2007), 123. 48. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:396–97. 49. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:396–97, 400–401; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 572–73. 50. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:287. 51. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 571; Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:398–99. 52. Compagni, Cronica, 67; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 52.
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father’s service and reputation by gaining access to political offices, among other rewards. Indeed, pro patria mori was recognized and rewarded in fourteenth-century Florence, as in later centuries.53 Even a popolani author like Dino Compagni seems to recognize the close connection between honor and access to politi cal power. He writes with obvious sympathy that the young man “should have held offices in the city since he was a young man who deserved them; but he was deprived of them because the elders of his house took the offices and their income for themselves and did not share them.” This denial was interpreted by Baschiera as an affront to his honor, forcing him to take ac tion: “He was an ardent supporter of the Guelf Party . . . [but] when the city turned around at messer Charles’s [of Naples] arrival, he vigorously armed himself and fought his kinsmen and adversaries with fire and sword.”54 The connection between violence, honor, and political power is here explicit. Although Compagni felt the need to defend Baschiera and reaffirm his loyalty to the Guelf Party, a chivalric audience would have readily under stood his actions. Offices and income should have been his just reward for his father’s loyal military service, as well as his own qualities. By denying Bas chiera, his kinsmen had impugned his personal honor, requiring Baschiera to resort to violent action in order to avoid the dreaded status of shame. Fur thermore, hostility between members of the della Tosa lineage suggests that when honor was on the line the solidarity of a lineage did not preclude “divi siveness or outright hostility among people who otherwise share a common name, coat of arms, ancestry and even dwelling.”55 Of course, while political and economic concerns were always present and played an appreciable role, in such conflicts honor lurked beneath the surface, motivating the chivalric elite to use violence to solve their problems. Richard Kaeuper has drawn this connection in the general European con text, arguing “we cannot ignore the terrifying reality of feud and warfare
53. For the general European context, see Ernst Kantorowicz, “Pro Patria Mori in Medieval Political Thought,” American Historical Review 56, no. 3 (April 1951): 472–92, and Norman Housley, “Pro deo et patria mori: Sanctified Patriotism in Europe, 1400–1600,” in War and the Competition between States, ed. Philippe Contamine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 221–48. 54. Compagni, Cronica, 67; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 52. Jansen, “Peacemaking in the Oltrarno,” 337, points out “familial ties, even blood ties, were no protection against intra-familial violence.” 55. Thomas Kuehn, “Inheritance and Identity in Early Renaissance Florence,” in Society and the Individual in Renaissance Florence, ed. William J. Connell (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 139. John Larner, Italy in the Age of Dante and Petrarch (New York: Longman, 1980), 87, observes that one of the primary functions of the consorteria was to neutralize the development of vendettas between members.
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fueled—or at least catalyzed—by strong emotions as well as close political calculation.”56 Illustrative for the Florentine context are the events of Octo ber 1308, when discord erupted between members of the Black Guelfs. Com pagni identifies Messer Corso as the source, writing that “they [the other Blacks] feared his proud spirit and energy, and did not believe that he could be satisfied with [only] a share of power. So messer Corso gathered many sorts of people to his side. . . . When messer Corso had rebuilt his faction, they began to speak more arrogantly in the piazzas and in the councils.”57 The closer these men came to political power and thus the greater the honor at stake, the more likely they were to engage in a violent struggle for pre dominance. This type of conflict had the potential to destroy the entire city, as it nearly did in 1304 when a fire sparked during the fighting between the Cerchi and Donati burned entire neighborhoods.58 It is crucial to recognize that power politics, wealth, and the dictates of honor were all fused in the minds of the chivalric elite.59 Chivalric Violence and the Defense and Vindication of Honor
While violence was central to the pursuit of honor, chivalric ideology also strongly valorized violence in the defense and vindication of honor. Knights and men-at-arms showed by their actions that the view tirelessly purveyed in literature was certainly reflective, if not also instructive: their honor was constantly at stake, requiring hypervigilance and a willingness to engage in violence. Failure to defend one’s honor not only was a source of dishonor, but compounded the dishonor already suffered.60 Sharon Stroc chia has observed for the general context of Renaissance Italian cities that “within the fray of everyday life one’s personal and family honour was sub ject to repeated attacks and might be won, lost or exchanged with remark able speed.”61 Based on the commentary of contemporary Italians, includ ing those who observed Florence from the outside, her observations are 56. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 265. See also Kuehn, “Inheritance and Identity in Early Renais sance Florence,” 138; Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini; Lauro Martines, “Introduction: The Histori cal Approach to Violence,” in Martines, Violence and Civil Disorder in Italian Cities, 3–18; and Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 180. 57. Compagni, Cronica, 108; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 82. 58. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 622–23, describes the massive fire. 59. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 311. 60. Waley, “A Blood Feud with a Happy Ending,” 47–48, argues that individuals who failed to en gage in vendetta when appropriate were thought despicable. Furthermore, it was widely recognized in late medieval Italy that “he who fails to avenge a wrong commits a wrong.” 61. Strocchia, “Gender and the Rites of Honour in Italian Renaissance Cities,” 40.
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applicable to an earlier Florentine context. We need not look further than the contemporary suggestion that Tuscans, especially Florentines, were particularly sensitive about the health of their honor and prone to seeking violent vengeance.62 For example, the thirteenth-century Florentine intel lectual Bono Giamboni (d. 1292) wrote that revenge is the “virtue by which everyone is allowed to vanquish his enemy.”63 Tuscan proverbs from the thirteenth century like “It is an insult in itself for those who are injured not to seek vengeance” and “Those who fear to seek vengeance will do much wrong” further confirm this sentiment and suggest the powerful aversion contemporaries felt for dishonor and shame.64 Likewise, Paolo Certaldo, another fourteenth-century Tuscan moralist (d. 1370), wrote, despite his personal objections to the practice, that “the first joy [in life] is making vendetta; sorrow is to be offended by one’s enemy.”65 Perhaps most strik ing is the observation of Benvenuto dei Rambaldi de Imola (d. 1390), the author of a celebrated commentary on Dante’s Divine Comedy, who noted that “though all men naturally tend toward vendetta, the Florentines are especially ardent in this, both publicly and privately.”66 Chivalric ideas can only have intensified and valorized this almost visceral need to utilize vio lence in pursuit of vengeance. Of course, our understanding of historical acts of honor violence in de fense of individual and familial honor is limited by the nature of nonliterary sources. Though these works, especially chronicles, record intense violence, they predictably fail to shed light on chivalric attitudes. Understandably, po polani writers focus instead on the deleterious consequences for the city and Florentine citizens. Yet the fear of reactive chivalric violence is ever present and significant. Dino Compagni’s invective in the preface of book 2 of his
62. Kuehn, Law, Family, and Women, 80, argues that “Florentines’ first thoughts were of revenge. Those thoughts might be quickly dismissed, but they were there, redolent with the cultural demands of offended honor.” See also Ilaria Taddei, “Recalling the Affront: Rituals of War in Italy in the Age of the Communes,” in The Culture of Violence in Renaissance Italy: Proceedings of the International Conference (Georgetown University at Villa Le Balze, 3–4 May, 2010), ed. Samuel K. Cohn Jr. and Fabrizio Ricciardelli (Florence: Le Lettere, 2012), 95, who describes Tuscany as “a true homeland for insults, not only in the context of military campaigns, but also in the various spheres of city life.” 63. As quoted in Fabrizio Ricciardelli, “Violence and Repression in Late Medieval Italy,” in Cohn and Ricciardelli, The Culture of Violence in Renaissance Italy, 58. 64. As quoted in Andrea Zorzi, “Legitimation and Legal Sanction of Vendetta in Italian Cities from the Twelfth to the Fourteenth Centuries,” in Cohn and Ricciardelli, The Culture of Violence in Renaissance Italy, 43. 65. As quoted in Kuehn, Law, Family, and Women, 80. 66. As quoted in Dean, “Marriage and Mutilation,” 6. Wickham, Courts and Conflicts in TwelfthCentury Tuscany, 222, suggests, like Benvenuto dei Rambaldi da Imola, that violence was more com mon in Florence than in other Tuscan cities.
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chronicle betrays his anxiety about the violent and antagonistic culture that dominated the chivalric elite during his lifetime: Arise, wicked citizens full of discord: grab sword and torch with your own hands and spread your wicked deeds. Unveil your iniquitous de sires and your worst intentions. . . . Go and reduce to ruins the beauties of your city. Spill the blood of your brothers, strip yourselves of faith and love, deny one another aid and support. . . . Look at your ances tors: did they win merit through discord? Yet now you sell [the] honors which they acquired.67 As a popolani chronicler, he felt little sympathy for a chivalric culture based on the primacy of personal and familial honor. Such obsessions brought out the worst in men, encouraging violence between citizens, threatening the stabil ity and prosperity of the city (i.e., the vita civile), and serving as an obstacle to Florentine grandezza (greatness). This view is even more striking in the work of Chiaro Davanzati (ca. 1280s–1303), a Florentine poet, who lamented the consequences of faction alism and elite violence: Alas, Florence, that is the memory of
your sovereign state and your freedom
that I just spoke about!, which is debased now,
changed into rudeness and forced
into suffering and servitude
by your sons with their corrupt behavior,
who, because they did not forgive
one another, have reduced you to a lowly condition.
Alas, where is the knowledge
and the merit and the valor and the freedom?
Your great nobility,
I believe that it is asleep and resting at a bad place:
he who first pronounced the word “faction,”
may he be tormented among your sons!68
Giovanni Villani and Dante Alighieri likewise understood but were not overly sympathetic toward chivalric norms. In his Inferno (canto XIII), Dante
67. Compagni, Cronica, 39; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 33. 68. Tuscan Poetry of the Duecento, 145–47. Pasquale Stoppelli, “Davanzati, Chiaro,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 33 (1987), https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/chiaro-davanzati_(Dizion ario-Biografico) (accessed December 1, 2020).
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connects the Florentine chivalric elite’s violence with worship of Mars, the Roman god of war, whose statue stood at the foot of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, when one of his characters laments that the city changed its first patron For John the Baptist; for which reason the first Will always try his tricks to make it grieve; And if it were not that, at the crossing of the Arno, Some slight trace of his image still remains.69 Likewise, Villani seems to suggest that Mars exercised influence over these elite warriors, writing “for the sins of the Florentines, had power in that idol of Mars, which the ancient pagan Florentines adored, that at the foot of his statue murder was committed, so that much evil followed in the city of Florence.”70 Both Villani and Compagni consequently provide plentiful evidence of elite violence and its deleterious effects for the second half of the thirteenth century, but these accounts never really offer more than cursory discussions of motivations. In his description of the events of 1248, Villani writes that the Florentine nobles in that year “often went to war among themselves because of their enmities.”71 Later, he laments that even during the com paratively uneventful year of 1277, members of the chivalric elite “having rest from wars abroad, with victory and honor, and enriched upon the goods of the exiled Ghibellines and through other procurements—due to pride and envy began to fight among themselves; so that there arose in Florence many quarrels and enmities between citizens, with death and wounds.”72 Likewise, Villani wrote that in 1292 “the magnates of Florence . . . were in many quar rels and discords among themselves.”73 A recently published manuscript of Giovanni Villani’s Nuova Cronica in cludes many striking miniatures that provide visual evidence to support his 69. Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, trans. Charles H. Sisson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 101 (lines 143–47). 70. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 215: “per le peccata de’ Fiorentini avesse podere nell’idolo di Marti, ch’e’ Fiorentini pagani anticamente adoravano, che appiè della sua figura si commise sì fatto micidio, onde tanto male è seguito alla città di Firenze.” 71. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 254: “e spesso si guerreggiassono tra loro di proprie nimistadi.” 72. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 408: “In questi tempi i grandi guelfi di Firenze riposati delle guerre di fuori con vittorie e onori, e ingrassati sopra i beni de’ ghibellini usciti, e per altri loro procacci, per superbia e invidia cominciarono a riottare tra loro, onde nacquero in Firenze più brighe e nimistadi tra’ cittadini, mortali, e di fedite.” Compagni, Cronica, 14, and Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 13: Compagni also recognizes the pride of the Florentine chivalric elite as a problem, writing at one point that the nobles and great citizens of Florence were “swollen with pride” following their victory at Campaldino in June 1289. 73. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 524: “i grandi di Firenze . . . furono tra loro in tante brighe e discordie.”
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Figure 1. Ricoverino dei Cerchi charging into battle against the Donati. Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica. Chig.L.VIII.296, fol. 164r. © [2021] Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana.
descriptions.74 One of these images depicts an act of honor violence that oc curred during a skirmish, introduced briefly earlier in the chapter, between the Cerchi and Donati lineages following an exchange of words in the piazza Santa Trinita (figure 1). Front and center in the miniature is a young Floren tine warrior of elite social status, Ricoverino dei Cerchi, who has just lost his nose to an enemy sword stroke. Ricoverino is portrayed charging into the fray with his sword held high in pursuit of vengeance. Giovanni Villani describes the incident: On the evening of the first of May in the year 1300, while [two groups of young knights and men-at-arms] were watching a dance of ladies that was happening in the piazza of Santa Trinita, they began to spurn one another, and to drive their horses against one another, so that there began a great conflict and melee . . . and, as ill-luck would have it, Ricoverino, son of M. Ricovero of the Cerchi, through misfortune had his nose cut off his face.75 74. Chiara Frugoni, ed., Il Villani illustrato: Firenze e l’Italia medievale nelle 253 immagini del ms. Chigiano L VIII 296 della Biblioteca Vaticana (Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2005). 75. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 568–69: “la sera di calen di maggio anno MCCC, veggendo uno ballo di donne che si facea nella piazza di Santa Trinita, l’una parte contra l’altra si cominciarono a
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Such demonstrations of bravery are quite common in imaginative literature, yet Ricoverino was a historical figure. Ricoverino’s actions as he sought to restore his honor and avoid shame through prowess, at the very real risk of his life, suggests that Florentine knights and men-at-arms, like their histori cal counterparts across the Alps and throughout the Italian peninsula, felt strongly enough about their honor to defend it with their lives. For many members of the Florentine chivalric elite, Guittone d’Arezzo’s powerful poem about honor and death, introduced in the introduction, splendidly ar ticulates their fundamentally different approach to life: for shame is more to be feared than death, and committing an injustice more than suffering harm; for a wise man ought to sincerely love a beautiful death more than life, for each person should believe that he was created not to stay, but to pass through with honor.76 Finally, in his description of the events of 1303, Villani says Florence was plagued by “dissension and urban warfare” and “much evil was committed in the city and in the countryside, of murders, and burnings, and robberies, as in a city uncontrolled and broken, without any rule from the government.”77 Villani adds that the Florentines would have destroyed themselves if the gov ernment had not asked the Lucchese to come and take guardianship of the city.78 The violence is readily recorded, but Villani’s account, unlike Guit tone’s poem, does not help historians get into the minds of the men who perpetrated these acts. Fortunately, the significant corpus of works of imaginative literature that circulated in Florence and Tuscany during this period offers scholars a more complete understanding of the mental framework behind this violence, especially the crucial connection between honor and violence. Since these works both reflected and informed historical behavior, the sheer consis tency with which literary knights quickly employed force in order to restore personal or familial honor is telling. An incident drawn from the Historia sdegnare, e a pignere l’uno contro a l’altro i cavagli, onde si cominciò una grande zuffa e mislea . . . e a Ricoverino di messer Ricovero de’Cerchi per disavventura fu tagliato il naso dal volto.” 76. Tuscan Poetry of the Duecento, 177. 77. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 616: “Per la quale dissensione e battaglia cittadina, molto male si com mise in città e contado di omicidii e d’arsioni e ruberie, siccome in città sciolta e rotta, sanza niuno ordine di signoria.” 78. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 616: “ed era la terra per guastarsi al tutto, se non fossono i Lucchesi che vennero a Firenze a richiesta del comune con grande gente di popolo e cavalieri, e vollono in mano la questione e la guardia della città.”
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destructionis troiae, a prose romance about the Trojan War composed in the 1280s by Sicilian Guido delle Colonne and well-known in Dante’s Florence, offers considerable insight.79 At one point in this work, King Priam expresses clearly to his sons and the members of his court the restorative quality of violence in chivalric ideology: “Wounds, which do not feel the benefits of medicine, must be cured by iron.”80 To contemporary knights and men-at-arms dishonor and shame could only be vindicated through honor violence; the failure to do so resulted in the loss of identity and membership in the chivalric cultural community. Later in the work, King Agamemnon advocates a striking attitude to his brother Menelaus, who is overcome with grief after Paris abducted Helen, that re inforces this message. Agamemnon asks “Why, brother, are you weighed down by such grief ? . . . Neither honor nor vengeance is to be obtained by painful anxiety or rivers of tears. Revenge is therefore to be sought with the sword, not by murmurs of complaint.”81 A similarly powerful expression of this sentiment appears in the Tavola Ritonda, when Sir Oris replies to Tristan’s overtures of peace by declaring, “A sharp sword is all that can make peace between you and me.”82 The message in these two examples rings clear: bloody violence is the best, and perhaps only acceptable, way to defend and vindicate personal and familial honor. This evidence is not exceptional; Florentine knights and men-at-arms were completely inundated with literary passages showing praiseworthy vio lence done in defense or vindication of honor. Moreover, voices expressing fear and anxiety about chivalric violence are for the most part drowned out in a flood of praise in these works. This imbalance is not surprising, because honor merited destructive violence that also served as a public demonstra tion of an individual’s right to be counted among the chivalric elite. The sheer magnitude of the available evidence in contemporary prose romances is staggering. The earliest work, Rustichello (occasionally Rusti chiano) da Pisa’s Romanzo Arturiano (ca. 1270–74), offers the example of a knight who justifies killing his enemy by explaining “if I killed him, I was
79. Allison Cornish, Vernacular Translation in Dante’s Italy: Illiterate Literature (Cambridge: Cam bridge University Press, 2011), 89, 96–97, notes that Dante praised Guido’s poetry in the De Vulgari Eloquentia. More to the point, Dante’s contemporary, the Florentine notary Filippo Ceffi, translated into the vernacular Guido’s Historia destructionis troiae in 1324. 80. Guido delle Colonne, Historia destructionis troiae, ed. and trans. Mary E. Meek (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1974), 63 (lines 337–38). 81. Guido delle Colonne, Historia destructionis troiae, 79 (lines 33–34, 40–43). 82. Tristan and the Round Table, 180.
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obliged to do so [for] he killed my brother.”83 In this same work, Sir Kay (Keu) the Seneschal demonstrates a touchy sense of honor when he asserts that Tristan dishonored him by refusing, out of contempt, to respond to his challenge to engage in armed combat. In reality, Tristan is lost in his own thoughts and grief after being separated from Isolde, and does not realize Sir Kay desires to fight him until he is struck unawares by a mighty blow.84 Roughly contemporaneous is the anonymous late thirteenth-century Tus can prose romance, the Tristano Riccardiano, in which Galehaut expresses an insatiable desire to go to the Island of Giants to fight Tristan, motivated by the need to avenge the death of his father and mother, whom Tristan had killed earlier in the work. When the two knights come face-to-face, Gale haut informs Tristan bluntly, “My name is Galehaut, lord of the Far Isles, whose father and mother [you] killed. Therefore I am here to take revenge upon [you].”85 The seeming obsession with vengeance achieved through bloody violence attests to the centrality of the defense of personal and fa milial honor to chivalric identity among both literary and historical knights and donzelli. Similar sentiments were promoted in the romances composed in the fourteenth century. When in the Tristano Panciatichiano the king of Norgales wounds Lancelot’s honor by claiming that he is “not so valiant” and that he (the king) and his knights could defeat him in single combat, Lancelot shows an intense desire to avenge this slight to his prowess and honor.86 Later in the same work a group of knights demand that Tristan and Palamedes divulge the identity of the lady (Queen Iseut/Isolde) whom they are escorting. When they refuse, the knights accuse Tristan of being discourteous in his
83. Rustichello da Pisa, Il Romanzo arturiano, 333 (chap. 131, verse 8): “se l’ho ucciso, sono stato costretto a farlo: egli aveva ucciso un mio fratello.” 84. Rustichello da Pisa, Il Romanzo arturiano, 352 (chap. 200, verses 8–17, chap. 201, verses 1–3): “ ‘Dio mio, aiutami!,’ fece il cavaliere [i.e., Keu], ‘per mia fe’! Non ho mai incontrato un cavaliere orgoglioso come questo, che non si degna nemmeno di rispondermi. Che possa essere disgraziato, se non riuscirò a farlo pentire di questa follia!’ . . . Keu . . . spronò il cavallo e si diresse verso Tristano. Lo colpì così forte che lo disarcionò.” 85. Tristano Riccardiano, 112/113–116/117, at 116/117. 86. Italian Literature, vol. 1, Tristano Panciatichiano, ed. and trans. Gloria Allaire (Woodbridge: D. S. Brewer, 2002) (cited hereafter as Tristano Panciatichiano), 334/335: “Then the abbot told about the great wonders that Sir Lancelot was doing. And the king contradicted him, saying that he was not so valiant, and he even said, ‘I have in my band and in my company five [knights], any one of which would be able to give Lancelot a good fight and defeat him.’ And Sir Lancelot heard all these words and was very angry about them and thinks all night long about getting up early to be able to test himself with those knights of the king. But he stayed awake so long thinking about this that it was terce before he got up. And then when he saw the time, he got really angry again and felt cheated, and he goes quickly and arms himself to catch up with the king.”
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reply and prepare to force the issue through violence.87 Again the vindication and restoration of honor requires the use of deadly violence. The evidence provided by these romances also makes clear that the ex pectation to quickly employ violence after suffering dishonor fell heavily on the shoulders of young knights and donzelli. In these works, young warriors demonstrate a steadfast and often uncontrollable desire to secure vengeance, that is, to use violence to vindicate honor or repair the damage inflicted by dishonor. One need only think back to the earlier example of Prodesagio, who at nine years of age attempts to wear his father’s armor and ride his father’s horse to track down and bring to justice his father’s murderer. Upon learning of his father’s death, Prodesagio instructed his valet to “Go and bring me my arms, because I do not want to linger any longer.”88 Prode sagio’s guardian and tutor, Leodicio, convinces the young hero to delay his vengeance, however, until he becomes a knight: “My boy, leave those arms: you are still too young to have the vendetta that you seek. Thanks to God you shall be a brave man, but you are not yet nine years old, and brave men and valiant knights are thirty-six years old before they can prove themselves.”89 When Prodesagio is finally knighted on the eve of battle only three years later, the prerogative of a literary hero, he draws an explicit connection be tween the ceremony and his ability to secure vengeance.90 His first words after the knighting ceremony are telling: “this blow against the traitors will be sweet vengeance.”91 Similarly, in Rustichello da Pisa’s Romanzo Arturiano the Vecchio Cavaliere (the Old Knight), Branor il Bruno, rescues a fellow knight who had been held prisoner by four evil men. The newly liberated knight tells Branor how he had made a trip to Camelot in order to be dubbed, before he was ready or worthy, so that he could take vengeance upon his father’s murderers.92 The knight recounted to Branor: “I was still a valet, and not being able, in that condition, to attack a knight, I went, still a very young man, to the court of 87. Tristano Panciatichiano, 566/567. 88. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 8: “Andate e recatemi la mia arme, ch’io non mi voglio pìu indugiare.” 89. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 8–9: “Bello figliuolo, lascia stare ancora queste armi: tu sé ancora sì giovane che la vendetta non t’è ancora richiesta. Grazia di Dio tue sarai prode uomo, che ttu nonn ài ancora più di nove anni, e i prodi uomini e i valenti cavalieri ànno. xxxvi. anni inanzi ch’ellino possano bene provare loro persone.” 90. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 13: “Io voglio che voi mi facciate cavaliere, sicch’io possa portare allato la mia spade Gioiosa.” 91. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 13: “questa gotata sopra i traditori sarà cara vendetta.” 92. Rustichello da Pisa, Il Romanzo arturiano, 307 (chap. 36, verses 17–18): “Sappiate che due dei Quattro cavalieri che avete visto, sono fratelli di sangue, e ne avevano anche un altro. E quando erano ancora in tre, uccisero mio padre senza alcun motive.”
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King Arthur, where I had myself made a knight before I should have, so that I could avenge the death of my father. Once I became a knight, I did so much that I killed one of the three brothers.”93 These two examples suggest that just as with the necessary task of asserting or enhancing honor, there seems to have been a real concern among more experienced knights about the abil ity of these young men to be successful in the important charge of secur ing vengence. To fail, of course, meant to suffer even greater dishonor or even the possibility of dreaded shame (understood here to be a condition, rather than an emotional response to dishonor). This concern seems to have manifested in contemporary romance as an effort to connect successful ven geance with knighthood, more specifically the idea that an individual had the best chance of securing vengeance when he had acquired sufficient skill and experience to win the inevitable battle of prowess. Of course, in reality young knights and donzelli were joined in the practice of honor violence in pursuit of vengeance by historical chivalric practitioners of all ages. Knights and men-at-arms who engaged in honor violence in order to de fend personal and familial honor or to avenge dishonor suffered did so based on a set of assumptions and expectations informed by chivalric literature. These works emphasized the necessity and praiseworthiness of utilizing in such situations a degree of violence that can only be characterized as trans gressive. In other words, the violent response far exceeded the initial offense. This is a key point because the transgressive violence valorized by chivalry was in sharp contrast to the proportionality promoted by the civic ethos of the popolo and the vendetta laws promulgated by the Florentine government. Unlike the latter, the former did not seek to end conflicts by restoring parity, but rather its goal was the defense and restoration of personal and familial honor at the expense of the other party. The failure to do so, as we shall see, risked shame and the loss of identity. It is important to note, however, that these works did not offer historical chivalric practitioners literal advice on the scale of destruction required to expunge the stain of dishonor and shame
93. Rustichello da Pisa, Il Romanzo arturiano, 307 (chap. 36, verses 19–20): “Io a quel tempo ero ancora valletto, e non potendo, in quella condizione, attaccare un cavaliere, mi recai, ancora molto giovane, alla corte del re Artù, dove mi feci investire cavaliere molto prima del dovuto, proprio per vendicare la morte di mio padre. Una volta divento cavaliere, tanto feci che uccisi uno dei tre fratelli.” In response to the death of their brother, the other two brothers sought vengeance against the liberated knight, highlighting the cyclical nature of honor violence: “Dopo che mi fui vendicato, avevo intenzione di fare pace con gli altri due, ma quelli non ne vollero sapere, e mi minacciarono di morte”: ibid., 307 (chap. 36, verse 21). Two more of many other possible examples of honor violence begetting more honor violence can be found in the same work: ibid., 317 (chap. 75, verses 16ff.) and 319 (chap. 81, verse 2).
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in their own lives, but rather a fervent endorsement of transgressive violence in such situations. The transgressive nature of honor violence is readily and chillingly ap parent in contemporary literary works. In the Tristano Riccardiano, when Tristan avenged the murder of his father by killing all of the knights directly responsible, the author lavished great praise on the hero for successfully defending and vindicating his personal and familial honor: the anonymous author writes that the hero “avenged his father very nobly, for he killed all eight of the knights who had been present at the king’s death.”94 Despite having secured what contemporary popolani might have considered pro portional and thus appropriate revenge for his father’s murder, the author recounts that after killing the knights Tristan “still did not deem himself satisfied with this vengeance. So he rode to the city from which these knights came, which was called Brescia, and he killed all the men and women there, and destroyed the city and its walls down to the foundations.”95 Although a contemporary popolani audience, not to mention a modern reader, no doubt would have found Tristan’s second act of honor violence both unjustified and horrifying, the author’s approval of the hero’s conduct tells us a great deal about mentality and operating assumptions within the chivalric elite that are unfortunately not elaborated in contemporary chronicles and many literary sources: “All this Tristan did to avenge King Meliadus his father, and no greater revenge was ever taken by any knight, than the one Tristan took for his father’s death.”96 Equally striking in its praise of transgressive violence is the example pro vided in the Tavola Ritonda of the noblewoman, Escorducarla, who desired “high vendetta against King Artù and his knights” for the murder of her four sons and daughter.97 Escorducarla convinces her brother, Sir Lasancis, to at tack and destroy the city of Camelot, killing the men, women, and children therein. She promises that such transgressive violence will be regarded as “the greatest vendetta in the world.”98 Likewise, a chivalric audience would not have been surprised that Prodesagio allowed his private pursuit of ven geance for the murder of his father to become a prolonged war with farreaching and devastating consequences: entire lineages are destroyed, cities are ruined, and Christendom itself is nearly overrun by Saracens. In the face
94. 95. 96. 97. 98.
Tristano Riccardiano, 18/19. Tristano Riccardiano, 18/19. Tristano Riccardiano, 18/19. Tristan and the Round Table, 210. Tristan and the Round Table, 210–11.
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of these terrible consequences that the author unhesitatingly delineates, his positive judgment of Prodesagio’s vengeance at the end of the work is strik ing: “it seems to me that [Ciattivo, Prodesagio’s father] is well avenged.”99 In other words, the author stresses that Prodesagio, like Tristan, achieved a good and praiseworthy vengeance, and his extreme violence did not take away from this. In the intricacies of chivalric mentality, such an important end more than justified the bloody and excessive means.100 These examples are representative of a larger body of transgressive vi olence in contemporary chivalric literature. Tristan’s vengeance for his fa ther’s murder appears not only in the version presented above—drawn from the Tristano Riccardiano—it also appears in the Tristano Panciatichiano and the Tavola Ritonda. Each version of the vengeance story takes on an increas ingly more violent tenor. In the Tristano Panciatichiano we find a similar story, strongly suggesting that the author of this work was familiar with the Tristano Riccardiano. Once again King Meliadus is murdered by eight of his knights, Tristan is forced to wait until he becomes a knight to avenge his father, and his vengeance is achieved through the deaths of the murderous knights and the slaughter of innocent men, women, and children while the hero “tore apart the city.”101 The author of the Tristano Panciatichiano like wise valorizes Tristan’s violence, although perhaps not as effusively, stating matter-of-factly that “when Tristan had carried out this vendetta, he was very happy.”102 Absent is any criticism or condemnation for the slaughter of in nocent bystanders or the destruction of an entire city. The Tavola Ritonda recounts these events in a similar, if more verbose, fashion. The author describes how Tristan’s father went hunting with a large number of knights, all of whom were unarmed. In this particular version of the story, the king was attacked by “twelve armed knights, his mortal ene mies even though they were his kin” who were holding a nearby castle. Since the king was alone and unarmed, they attacked and killed him. The author quickly reassures his audience that “when Tristan was grown and had be come a knight, he made a great vendetta.”103 Sometime later the author elab orates on Tristan’s vengeance, describing the hero’s return to Cornovaglia 99. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 75: “imperò che per la morte del Ciattivo Inamieri si truova ch’è morto Andrea da Pontieri, quelli che ll’uccise, con quatro suoi figliuoli, e sono morti alle sue cagioni tra più volte in più luogora bene trecentosessanta migliaia d’uomini, parmi che ssia bene vendicato.” 100. Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 136, argues that magnates were not identified simply by the practice of vendetta, but rather by excessively violent behavior. 101. Tristano Panciatichiano, 138/139. 102. Tristano Panciatichiano, 138/139. 103. Tristan and the Round Table, 36.
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(Cornwall) after training on the continent and his arrival outside of the walls of Bridoa, the castle controlled by the evil knights who had murdered his father. Tristan demands to joust the leader of the evil knights. Tristan subse quently defeats the knight and four of his companions. The other knights re main behind the castle’s walls, ostensibly out of fear. Rather than satiating his appetite for vengeance, Tristan escalates his violence: “At that point, Tristano unsheathed his sword, as did the good Governale (his tutor) and the two squires, and they went toward the gate, entering the castle by force, putting whomever they found to the sword. Then he took the five mortal enemies he had beaten, and put them, well-armed, into a single room. All alone he went in among them, his good sword in hand saying ‘Defend yourselves against me, knights, for I am that Tristano, son of King Meliadus whom you killed. Know now that you have reached the place where, God willing, I will take great vengeance for this. Defend yourself, for there is no other way to escape me, that is sure!’ ” The evil knights defend themselves bravely and skillfully, wounding Tristan in two places. These wounds, however, serve only to intensify Tristan’s desire for ven geance; the author describes how Tristan “grew so angry against these trai tors for the way they had attacked him that he cut them to pieces with his true sword, all except one, the youngest of the five,” who is granted mercy. Tristan’s “mercy” extends to those inhabitants of the castle who remained alive, as they are allowed to leave before the hero burns it to the ground.104 While the inclusion of mercy in this particular version of the storyline might lead some to conclude that the author intended to criticize Tristan’s excessive violence rather than praise it without qualification, we should remember that Tristan had earlier entered the castle through force and put whomever he found therein to the sword, and that he was greeted as a hero upon his return to Liones.105 The positive judgment, if not approbation, of Tristan’s conduct in all of these works is striking and crucially important: transgres sive violence done in the name of personal and familial honor is not only licit and praiseworthy but expected. The murder of Buondelmonte dei Buondelmonti on Easter Day 1216 evinces the presence of this concept, if on a more realistic scale, among members of the chivalric elite in late medieval Florence.106 Pseudo-Brunetto Latini provides crucial insight into the background of this infamous incident,
104. Tristan and the Round Table, 59–60. 105. Tristan and the Round Table, 60. 106. See the important study by Enrico Faini, “Il convito del 1216: La vendetta all’origine del fazionalismo fiorentino,” Annali di Storia di Firenze 1 (2006): 9–36.
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allowing historians to observe the increasing levels of violence that eventu ally resulted in Buondelmonte’s brutal death. The animosity between Buon delmonte and his enemies began during a banquet held in 1216 to celebrate the knighting of a Florentine noble. The author writes that in that year, messer Mazzingo Tegrimi de’ Mazinghi was made a knight; and all of the noblemen of Florence were invited. And the knights being seated at the table, a court jester came and lifted up a cut of meat from in front of messer Uberto dell’Infangati, who was in the company of messer Bondelmonte di Bondelmonti; who was greatly worried [by this]. And messer Oddo Arrighi de’ Fifanti, a valorous man, villainously rebuked messer Uberto; so that messer Uberto grabbed him by the throat and messer Oddo Arrighi threw a trencher full of meat in his face; so that the entire court was troubled; [and] when everyone got up from the table, messer Bondelmonte stabbed messer Oddo Arrighi in the arm with a knife and villainously wounded him.107 This violence was trumped a few weeks later on Easter Day, when the very same Buondelmonte was pulled from his horse and killed by Oddo Arrighi and his kinsmen, in broad daylight, at the foot of the statue of Mars, the Roman god of war that once stood near the Ponte Vecchio in Florence. Not surprisingly, Buondelmonte’s murder was answered with further violence. Pseudo-Brunetto Latini records the details of a skirmish between several Florentine knights during which Simone Donati killed Messer Iacopo di Schi atta degli Uberti. Also killed in this skirmish were Messer Oddo Arrighi dei Fifanti and several others, among them a certain Messer Guido dei Galli, whose nose and lips were cut off. This brutal violence was carried out by the Buondelmonti lineage and their allies as vengeance for Buondelmonte’s murder.108
107. “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini,” 43: “si fece chavaliere messer Mazzingo Tegrimi de’ Maz inghi; ed invitòvi tutta la buona gente di Firenze. Ed essendo li chavalieri a tavola, uno giucolare di corte venne e llevò uno talgliere fornito dinanzi a messer Uberto dell’ Infangati, il quel era in conpangnia di messer Bondelmonte di Bondelmonti; donde fortemente si cruccioe. E messer Oddo Arrighi de’ Fifanti, huomo valoroso, villanamente riprese messer Uberto predecto; onde messer Uberto lo smentio per la gola, e messer Oddo Arrighi li gittò nel viso uno talgliere fornito di carne: onde tutta la corte ne fue travalgata. Quando fuorono levate le tavole, e messer Bondelmonte diede d’uno coltello a messer Oddo Arrighi per lo braccio, e villanamente il fedio.” 108. The Buondelmonti also took Messers Farinata, Neri Piccolino, and Schiatta Uberti prisoner. “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini,” 45: “e messer Iacopo dello Schiatta Uberti per Simone Donati vi fue morto, e messer Oddarighi di Fifanti con altri assai gentili huomini; ed a messer Guido de’ Galli fu mozzo il naso con tutto il labro, e fessa la boccha da ciascuno lato insino alli orecchi. E questo trat tato fue di Bondelmonti, credendo avere preso messer Farinata e messer Neri Piccolino e messer lo
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Equally illuminating are the conversations and debates between the his torical figures involved in these incidents that appear in contemporary and near-contemporary chronicles. Although the details are likely apocryphal, they confirm the centrality of honor and shame to chivalric violence. Af ter Pseudo-Brunetto Latini describes the violent banquet, he recounts how Messer Oddo Arrighi dei Fifanti took counsel with his friends and kinsfolk, among whom were the powerful Uberti, Lamberti, and Amidei lineages of Florence. The chosen course of action was to negotiate a peace between the parties, to be cemented with the marriage of Buondelmonte and a lady of the Amidei lineage. This marriage, however, never took place, because Bu ondelmonte repudiated his bride in favor of another. The rationale behind this fateful decision, at least in one version, is pro vided by the anonymous chronicler who writes that on the day of Buon delmonte’s wedding, he was accosted by a woman of the Donati lineage, Madonna Gualdrada, who disparaged him publicly in the streets, yelling “Vi tuperated knight, you have taken her [the niece of Oddo] through fear of the Uberti and Fifanti.” For men with a very touchy sense of honor, such a verbal assault approximated an accusation of cowardice, challenging Buon delmonte’s honor. The author claims that Madonna Gualdrada herself made this connection, exclaiming if Buondelmonte did not repudiate his bride-to be, “he [would] be forever a dishonored knight.”109 Less important than the accuracy of this conversation is the fact that the chronicle makes clear that Buondelmonte gave precedence to the health of his personal and familial honor over civic peace. When Buondelmonte repudiated his Amidei bride he greatly dishonored and shamed her lineage and allies in turn. Pseudo-Brunetto Latini writes that Messer Oddo degli Arrighi “was very distressed” because of “the shame that messer Bondelmonte had done to him.”110 Marchionne di Coppo Stefani’s ac count, composed more than a century and a half after the events took place, similarly highlights the connection between honor, shame, and violence. He bluntly states that Buondelmonte’s repudiation was a great affront done to the honor of the Amidei, the resulting dishonor and shame requiring “high
Schiatta Uberti.” This cycle of honor violence between the Buondelmonti and the Uberti lasted until 1239, when peace was finally made. 109. “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini,” 43–44: “e madonna Gualdrada molgle di messer Forese di Donati sacretamente mandò per messer Bondelmonte e disse:—Chavaliere vitiperato, ch’ài tolto molgle per paura dell’Uberti e di Fifanti; lascia quella ch’ ai presa e prendi questa, e sarai senpre inorato chavaliere.” 110. “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini,” 44: “fu molto cruccioso”; “si lamentò della vergongnia che lli era stato fatto per messer Bondelmonte.”
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vendetta.”111 This time when Messer Oddo consulted his friends and kinsfolk, rather than seeking a way to peacefully settle the dispute, Pseudo-Brunetto Latini instead centered the discussion on the degree of violence that was necessary to vindicate both Oddo’s personal honor and the collective honor of the group. Some of the men present advocated wounding Buondelmonte in the face, while others said that he should be beaten with a stick.112 Last to speak was Messer Mosca dei Lamberti who warned, “If you beat him or wound him, think first to make a hole where you can hide [from retribution]; [but I recommend] that you give him such [a blow] that it will seem that you have taken his head.”113 Mosca’s frank advice to employ deadly force high lights the stark reality of honor violence: the exercise of violence was, in the end, necessary to cleanse the stain of dishonor and shame. The great prob lem for honor cultures like that of the chivalric elite in late medieval Flor ence, of course, was that this action in turn transferred dishonor and shame to the victim and his lineage, requiring the aggrieved party to seek similar vengeance. Mosca’s advice to kill Buondelmonte likely reflects this concern, as well as the fact that Buondelmonte had twice dishonored the Amidei and their allies. As a result, half measures, such as peaceful mediation, were no longer deemed sufficient. This lack of proportionality is alarmingly present in other historical acts of honor violence. In May 1292, an inquisitio trial proceeded against Giacotto, the illegitimate son of Ricco dei Mozzi, and an unnamed accomplice in the service of the Mozzi lineage. It was public knowledge (fama) that the two men, on horseback and brandishing both offensive and defensive weapons (lances, swords, etc.), had assaulted Becco di Bonaguida dei Bardi, brother of Vanni, knocking him from his horse and wounding him gravely, especially
111. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, ed. Giosue Carducci and Vittorio Fiorini, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, n.s., 30, pt. 1 (Città di Castello: Editore S. Lapi, 1903), 29: “Sentito questo [Amidei] e gli amici sdegnati della vergogna ricevuta diliberarono di ciò fare alta vendetta”; “The [Amidei] and their kinsmen disdained by the shame they had received deliberated how best to make high vendetta.” 112. “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini,” 44: “Si che fue consilglato per certi huomini ch’ a llui fosse dato d’uno basstone, e altri dissero k’ elli fosse fedito nella faccia.” It seems likely that facial wounds were often seen as an appropriate response to dishonor suffered because they would forever serve as a public symbol of the avenger’s successful vendetta and the shame and dishonor of the victim. See ibid., 76–77, where the author mentions other examples of individuals being wounded in the face, including Baldinaccio di m. Bindo delli Adimari, who was wounded in a skirmish in the city in December 1296. 113. “The Pseudo-Brunetto Latini,” 44: “Se ttu il batti o ffiedi, pensa prima di fare la fossa dove tue ricoveri; ma dàlli tale ché ssi paia che cosa fatta cappa à.” For Mosca Lamberti’s life, see Renzo Nelli, “Lamberti, Mosca,” Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 63 (2004), https://www.treccani.it/enci clopedia/mosca-lamberti_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (accessed April 25, 2020).
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Figure 2. The Death of Corso Donati. Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica. Chig.L.VIII.296, fol. 193r. © [2021] Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana.
in the face.114 Even more illuminating is the testimony that Giacotto and his accomplice raged against Becco’s person repeatedly with lance and sword and that this was done so that Giacotto might avenge the wounds taken by his brother in that same year.115 A second miniature (figure 2) found in Giovanni Villani’s Nuova Cronica adds visual evidence to the author’s description of events that took place in October 1308, when Florentines feared that Corso Donati would install himself as lord (signore) of the city. This fear was no doubt fueled by Corso’s contemporary reputation as a powerful knight who believed he deserved power and was willing to use violence to secure it. In fact, Compagni seems to justify or at least excuse these claims and the use of force with what must have seemed to him a simple truth: “he was a most valiant knight in every thing he undertook.”116 While Compagni seems to admire Corso, he also concludes, quite explicitly, that despite being “a man of great distinction, [he 114. For fama in Tuscany and Florence, see Thomas Kuehn, “Fama as Legal Status in Renais sance Florence,” in Fama: The Politics of Talk and Reputation in Medieval Europe, ed. Thelma Fenster and Daniel Lord Smail (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2003), 27–46; Wickham, Courts and Conflicts in Twelfth-Century Tuscany, 283, 284. 115. As cited in Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 365. 116. Compagni, Cronica, 78–79; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 59–60.
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was] too turbulent to be a citizen in a good republic.”117 It is not surprising, then, that Corso Donati was eventually condemned as a rebel and traitor, and forced to flee the city after fighting a desperate battle in the streets. During this retreat, he was caught and killed by a Catalan knight in the service of the Florentine communal government. Of particular importance to our present purpose, however, is a second contiguous incident of honor violence that appears in the same miniature. Alongside the depiction of Corso’s gory death is the portrayal of the demise of another knight, Gherardo dei Bordoni, Corso’s close friend. Although Gh erardo participated in Corso’s desperate defense, he is the victim of an act of violence motivated by the dictates of personal honor, one not directly related to Donati’s uprising. In the miniature Boccaccio dei Cavicciuli, a Florentine knight, is shown cutting off Gherardo’s hand. Villani tells us that Boccaccio subsequently nailed the hand to the door of Messer Tedici degli Adimari’s palace. Tedici was Gherardo’s close companion, and Boccaccio did this “be cause of animosity” (per ministade) between Boccaccio and Tedici.118 These historical incidents of honor violence not only reinforce the assertion that honor formed a crucial part of the cultural fabric of Florence but also con firm that the transgressive nature of honor violence so apparent in romances seems to have had a basis in the historical reality of late medieval Florence. Many of these acts of honor violence, such as the vendetta between Tom masino dei Mandelli (Mannelli) and Fornaino del Rosso dei Rossi that con tinued under the cover of the larger Guelf-Ghibelline conflict in 1266, were regularly subsumed into larger hostilities serving to intensify the tension and violence already present in Florentine politics and society.119 Given the centrality of honor and violence to chivalric identity, it is not surprising that these elite warriors had long memories when it came to ven geance. Quick and bloody revenge was always preferable, of course, even if accomplished at great personal and familial cost, but if vengeance was 117. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:455, criticizes other knights by name, including Charles of Anjou (1:311) who was “unquestionably a distinguished man, but far more able in the arts of war than in those of peace,” as well as Pietro Saccone (2:201), the lord of Arezzo (d. 1355), who was “truly outstanding in matters of war, but . . . less well adapted to civil behavior,” and Bonifazio Lupo of Parma (ca. 1361), the commander of the Florentine military forces, whom he described as “man of great ability and great knowledge of military affairs, but of such a free and independent disposition that he paid no attention whatsoever to the citizens who had been seconded to him as his counselors.” 118. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 669: “E per Boccaccio Cavicciuli fu giunto Gherardo Bordoni in sull’Affrico, e morto, e tagliatogli la mano e recata nel corso degli Adimari, e confitta all’uscio di messer Tedici degli Adimari suo consorto, per ministade avuta tra loro.” 119. Cronica di Paolino Pieri Fiorentino delle cose d’Italia, dall’anno 1080 fino all’anno 1305, ed. Anto nio F. Adami (Rome: Multigrafica Ed., 1981), 33–34.
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not immediately possible, the aggrieved knight or elite man-at-arms could bide his time until the opportunity presented itself without risking further dishonor. This period of waiting had to be accompanied, however, by a clear and continuous demonstration of the aggrieved party’s desire and inten tion to secure vengeance. The failure to do so opened them up to suffering shame. Shame was both an emotion felt and a deleterious condition expe rienced when dishonor was not successfully cleansed. Shame challenged a warrior’s claim to membership in the chivalric community and damaged his honor, sometimes permanently. Shame was also difficult to overcome, often requiring public and bloody violence to cleanse its corrosive effects and to restore damaged honor.120 Literary examples abound of knights waiting to secure vengeance, with careful attention paid to making it clear to the larger chivalric community that their damaged honor remained at the forefront of their minds. In the Tristano Riccardiano, Sir Gedis and King Mark assemble all of the relatives of two knights killed by Tristan earlier in the work, knowing that they desired above all else to avenge their relatives, a desire only amplified by the passage of time.121 In the Tristano Panciatichiano, Palamedes takes it upon himself to seek vengeance for a dead knight after discovering that the knight’s brother was ambivalent about undertaking this sacred duty. Palamedes seems to have considerable difficulty understanding this attitude toward vengeance, which he believed was not in accord with the living brother’s reputation as a valiant knight.122 Indeed, even the dishonorable King Mark begrudgingly acknowl edges on several occasions in the Tavola Ritonda an obligation to secure ven geance against Tristan in order to cleanse the disgrace and shame the hero had inflicted upon him.123 Likewise, in Giovanni Bocaccio’s romance Il Filocolo—composed during his time at the Angevin court in Naples and under the patronage of the Flo rentine knight Niccolò Acciaiuoli—Florio, the hero of the work, fears that the relatives of Lelio, killed by his father in battle many years before, would seek to exact vengeance upon him. His fear is based on the belief, one seemingly shared by historical figures like Charles of Valois (d. 1325), that “since these 120. Kate McGrath, “The Politics of Chivalry,” in Feud, Violence and Practice: Essays in Medieval Studies in Honor of Stephen D. White, ed. Tracey Billado and Belle S. Tuten (Burlington: Ashgate, 2010), 57, argues that expressions of anger “are necessary for the maintenance of personal honor and authority.” 121. Tristano Riccardiano, 168/169. 122. Tristano Panciatichiano, 510/511. 123. Tristan and the Round Table, 107: “Now I [King Mark] am deeply disgraced, and finally I see that these two have brought me much shame. . . . Be certain that I must at once take high vengeance for this.”
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people have Tuscan blood: they never forget an offense without avenging it first.”124 In this way, Florio recognized as legitimate the obligation of Lelio’s relatives to pursue vengeance against his lineage, even well after the original offense was committed.125 Returning to an earlier example, that of Prodesagio’s reaction when he learns of his father’s treacherous murder, we see a young hero immediately request his arms and horse, not wanting to delay his pursuit of vengeance. Prodesagio is prevented from riding out, however, by his guardian, a wise old knight named Leodicio, who recognizes that Prodesagio is not only too small to fit into his father’s armor, but also too young to secure his revenge through the necessary violence.126 As a great literary hero destined to be come a brave knight and exemplar of chivalric behavior, Prodesagio accepts that he must wait, but only after showing the required willingness to risk it all for vengeance. More importantly, he does not sit idly by over the twenty years it takes to avenge his father’s death, but rather he cultivates the martial skills necessary to secure vengeance when the time comes and demonstrates an active persistence in the pursuit of that vengeance. In other words, Prode sagio’s desire for vengeance and ability to secure it only increase over time. Florentine knights and men-at-arms certainly felt a similar need to defend their precious honor through violence, a demand made all the more intense by the passage of time. The specter of dishonor and shame loomed if they, like their literary counterparts, waited too long or appeared uninterested in securing revenge.127 Perhaps even more so than in literature, however, histor ical chivalric practitioners could not always immediately secure vengeance, although the need to do so was kept alive by their peers, who constantly reminded them through the practice of “improperation” of an unavenged death or dishonor in order to provoke them into action.128 It is not surprising, therefore, that the available historical sources amply confirm the long-term memory of knights and men-at-arms in matters relating to honor. In 1304,
124. Giovanni Boccaccio, Il Filocolo, trans. Donald Cheney (New York: Garland, 1985), 423. Com pagni, Cronica, 41; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 34, writes that Charles “did not understand the Tuscans or their malice.” 125. Boccaccio, Il Filocolo, 443: “More than anything else, he [Florio] desires to make your ac quaintance [Lelio’s brother]; and he would especially like to have peace with you, and he would will ingly come to see you if he thought he might have it. But knowing of your power, he rightly fears that you might want to take vengeance on him for the death of your brother [Lelio].” 126. La legenda e storia di messere Prodesagio, 8–9. 127. Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, trans. R. Nice (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni versity Press, 1977), 14: “Potential dishonor becomes more and more real the longer vengeance is delayed: therefore, the time-lag between the offense and the reparation must be as short as possible.” 128. Dean, “Marriage and Mutilation,” 28.
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the papal legate Cardinal Niccolo of Prato came to Florence in an attempt to pacify the factional warfare and violence that plagued the city. He invited many of the leaders of the exiles (White Guelfs and Ghibellines) to return to the city. Among those who returned was Lapo di Messer Azzolino, a member of the venerable Uberti lineage who had been in exile for several genera tions. Dino Compagni records that “old Ghibelline men and women kissed the Uberti arms” when the exiles entered the city. Less enthused were many “Guelf citizens” who bore “a mortal hatred” for the Uberti, resulting in Lapo being “closely guarded by [his] magnate friends.”129 Three years after the death of Corso Donati (1311), Messer Pazzino dei Pazzi, an erstwhile ally turned competitor of the former leader of the Black Guelfs, was murdered while out hunting. Passiera dei Cavalcanti, Pazzino’s falconer, along with Messer Betto di Brunello dei Brunelleschi, a powerful Florentine knight, carried out this act of honor violence. Villani tells us this was done as part of “a vendetta of Masino de’ Cavalcanti and of Messer Betto Brunelleschi” with the Pazzi dating back several years and that Betto “g[ave] a blow to the said Messer Pazzino which killed him.”130 The reaction of the Florentine government to this act highlights both the expectation among popolani that the Pazzi would seek violent vengeance, as well as the attempt of the popular government to provide public justice (i.e., public vengeance) as an alternative to honor violence, a topic discussed below in chapter 2. According to Villani, the government of Florence moved quickly to defuse the situation, as “the city was put into an uproar and to arms, and with the gonfalone of the people rushed in fury to the house of the Cavalcanti and set it on fire and from the top the Cavalcanti were driven out of Florence.”131 In addition, the Florentine government made four members of the Pazzi lineage knights, giving them an income from the commune.132 Despite the commune’s efforts, as in this case, to enact public vengeance and offer com pensation thereby preempting the desire of the aggrieved to secure revenge, many members of the chivalric elite did not accept public justice as sufficient
129. Compagni, Cronica, 90; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 69. 130. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 708–9: “e ciò fece per vendetta di Masino de’ Cavalcanti e di messer Betto Brunelleschi, dando colpa al detto messer Pazzino gli avesse fatti morire.” Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 107, adds that Pazzino was killed in revenge for the death of Ma sino dei Cavalcanti, who had been executed by the popolo. 131. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 709: “la città si mosse tutta a romore e ad arme, e col gonfalone del popolo in furia si corse a casa i Cavalcanti, e misevisi fuoco, e da capo furono cacciati di Firenze i Cavalcanti.” 132. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1508–9.
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to cleanse the stain of dishonor and shame.133 Surely this attitude informed the decision of the Cerchi lineage to keep secret the identity of the donzello who had attacked Ricoverino in 1300, preferring instead to wait “to make a great vendetta.”134 The Pazzi also kept alive the desire for vengeance for Pazzino’s death de spite the public remedies, biding their time until the opportunity for revenge presented itself. Later that same year (March 8, 1311) the Pazzi, determined enemies of the Cavalcanti and Brunelleschi, finally secured cleansing ven geance for the dishonor and shame. Villani writes that members of the Do nati lineage and their friends, ostensibly the Pazzi numbering among them, “slew M[essere] Betto Brunelleschi” while he was at home playing chess, the very man who had struck down Pazzino.135 The greater significance of this act of vengeance, however, is made clear when the Donati and their kinsfolk and friends “a little while after [the slaying of Brunelleschi] . . . gathered at San Salvi and disinterred Messer Corso Donati, and made great lamentation, and held a service as if he was just dead, showing that through the death of Messer Betto vengeance had been done.”136 In other words, the close friend ship of Pazzino and Corso during much of their lifetimes meant that Betto Brunelleschi’s death served as vengeance for Corso Donati as well. Donato Velluti’s Cronica offers plentiful evidence of both the continued practice of honor violence in the fourteenth century and the long memories of knights and men-at-arms when it came to matters of honor.137 Although Donato was not a warrior himself, he was proud of his many ancestors who were, and his chronicle consequently includes a great deal of information about the acts of honor violence they committed. Many of these violent acts 133. Kuehn, Law, Family, and Women, 78, argues that while the Florentine government tried to set limits on the practice of vendetta and other acts of honor violence, Florentines recognized the undisputed right one had to “seek redress or revenge against perceived injuries. . . . Urban com munes, families, the church, and others could all seek to discourage violent self-help in the visible and dangerous form of armed vendetta, but they could not deny one’s ultimate right to it.” 134. Compagni, Cronica, 31; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 25. 135. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 696: “uccisono messer Betto Brunelleschi.” See also Franco Car dini, “Brunelleschi, Betto di Brunello,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 14 (1972), https://www. treccani.it/enciclopedia/betto-di-brunello-brunelleschi_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (accessed November 24, 2017). 136. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 696–97: “e poco appresso i detti Donati e’ loro parenti e amici raunati a San Salvi disotterraro messer Corso Donati, e feciono gran lamento e l’uficio come allora fosse morto, mostrando che per la morte di messer Betto fosse fatta la vendetta.” Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, 12, argued that “as soon as vengeance [is] taken, [a] family [would] rejoice at the ending of dishonor.” 137. La Cronica Domestica di Messer Donato Velluti scritta fra il 1367 e il 1370, con le addizioni di Paolo Velluti, scritte fra il 1555 e il 1560, ed. Isidoro Del Lungo and Guglielmo Volpi (Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1914) (cited hereafter as Donato Velluti, Cronica).
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do not appear in other contemporary historical accounts.138 In one incident, occurring sometime before 1348, Sandro di Lippaccio dei Velluti made a ven detta on behalf of Simone di Taddeo dei Velluti against Simone di Messer Berto dei Frescobaldi, striking him a blow (with his sword) in the face.139 Vel luti provides the background to Sandro’s act of honor violence, writing that Sandro’s father, Tommasso di Lippaccio, had previously assaulted Messer Filippo di Messer Berto with a lance at Montespertoli. Messer Filippo was on horseback, but the lance still struck his flesh.140 Messer Filippo subsequently returned to Florence where he rode into the Piazza dei Frescobaldi and found Simone di Taddeo, striking him in the head with his sword, but because Simone was wearing a helmet, he was not badly injured and began to flee. Messer Filippo pursued Simone, striking him a mortal blow in the side with a lance.141 Another example from Velluti’s Cronica illuminates a complex web of honor violence centering on the death of Dino, son of Lambertuccio, who was twenty years old when he was attacked and left to die at his house in Montelupo. Velluti tells us that members of the Bostichi lineage had entered Dino’s house to secure vengeance against him on behalf of the Frescobaldi lineage. Velluti again provides the context, explaining how Buco dei Bostichi had been killed earlier by Tomasso di Lippaccio di Messer Lambertuccio. Even more striking is the revelation that the decision to kill Dino was made by his own cousins, Napoleone and Sandro di Lippaccio, who bore him a mortal hatred.142 In 1348, Napoleone and Sandro were again involved in an act of honor violence, this time against Berto di Messer Giovanni, whom they wounded at nighttime. Velluti described this action as “a great act of
138. Donato Velluti, Cronica, 63ff.: Velluti provides a long narrative about a vendetta waged by his ancestors. 139. Donato Velluti, Cronica, 83: “Fece la vendetta di Simone di Taddeo in messer Simone di messer Berto Frescobaldi, d’uno colpo gli diè nel viso.” 140. Donato Velluti, Cronica, 87: “Che avendo Tommaso di Lippaccio, a Montespertoli o in quelle parti, assalito messer Filippo di messer Berto predetto, piovano di San Piero in Mercato, e gittattoli una lancia, essendo a cavallo, gli giunse la lancia nella sella, e toccogli, parme, le carni.” 141. Donato Velluti, Cronica, 87: “Fuggì il detto messer Filippo verso Firenze; e sanza ismontare da cavallo, ne venne su per la Piazza de’ Frescobaldi . . . e trovò il detto Simone, e con una spade gli diè in su la testa. Avea la cervelliera, non gli fece male: cominiciò a fuggire; e fuggendo, il fante era col detto messer Filippo gli gittò una lancia dietro, a diègli per lo fianco, e stettene in fine di morte.” 142. Donato Velluti, Cronica, 94: “Dino, figliuolo del detto Lambertuccio, era di età di xx anni o più, quando morì . . . fu lasciato per morto a Montelupo, essendo entrati in casa loro i Bostichi, i quali s’aveano a vendicare de’ Frescobaldi per la morte di Buco Bostichi, il quale fu morto da Tommaso di Lippaccio di messer Lambertuccio. E questo fu fatto, di vendicarsi sopra il detto Dino, con ordine e trattato di Napoleone e Sandro di Lippaccio: e questo mi disse il detto Lambertuccio; e loro tenea per mortali nimici, avvegnadio che fossono cugini.”
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treachery.”143 The negative judgment of this act of violence suggests that honor violence had to be done openly in public, rather than in secret.144 Of course, such ideal behavior was not always realized, given the pressing need to avenge dishonor through violence. Rather than seeking to kill Berto through treacherous means, these two men-at-arms may have been caught up by the powerful emotions of anger and the strong desire for immediate vengeance.145 The result is a self-perpetuating cycle of violence, with each victim’s response creating yet another victim and more dishonor to avenge.146 One need not have suffered the slight personally to take revenge. Given the exceptional importance of honor to members of the chivalric elite, liter ary and historical works alike suggest that even a deceased individual’s honor was also held dearly by his friends and lineage. If honor was decidedly per sonal, it also factored into the collective honor of the lineage. The resulting obligation extended to relatives or even friends. Florio, the hero of Boccac cio’s prose romance Il Filocolo, encapsulates the traditional chivalric attitude toward the necessity of avenging the death of a loved one when he argues that “a just revenge . . . will satisfy the souls of those who suffer[ed].”147 In the Tristano Panciatichiano, Tristan is forced to fight a man who claims that the hero killed his brother. The man is so determined to secure vengeance that he refuses Tristan’s apologies and requests for mercy. When Tristan knocks the man from his horse, he stands up and attacks Tristan with his sword, obsessed with killing him.148 This same insatiable desire for vengeance also 143. Donato Velluti, Cronica, 99–100: “Fu in prima fedito da Napoleone e Sandro di notte tempo a grande tradimento, per male che gli voleano, e vogliendolo apporre a’ Bostichi ch’avessono fatto loro vendetta.” 144. Waley, “A Blood Feud with a Happy Ending,” 47, points out that in Siena a “man who took revenge on his known enemy could not be accused of murder: laws recognized the privileged posi tion of the man committing homicide in the pursuance of feud.” This meant, however, that both the animosity and the violent reprisal needed to be carried out in public. 145. For an important discussion of chivalric emotions and vengeance, see Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, chap. 11. 146. Wickham, Courts and Conflicts in Twelfth-Century Tuscany, 221, observes that in the game of vengeance, reprisal was necessary to preserve honor. Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, 12, provides an important theoretical framework, noting that by responding to a challenge to one’s honor, an individual in turn issues a new challenge. Accordingly, the game of honor can go on for ever. Cf. Zorzi, “Legitimation and Legal Sanction of Vendetta,” 49, who argues that “the logic of vendetta [as a constitutionally recognized tool for dealing with conflict] held out as long as it was able to guarantee a balance.” 147. Boccaccio, Il Filocolo, 401. 148. Tristano Panciatichiano, 486/487, “The man, who is already so very irate that he just barely keeps from going mad with pain, doesn’t answer a single word; rather, he comes to his horse and mounts up as nimbly as he can. He doesn’t remember his wound or any pain that he has. When he has mounted his horse, he grabs his sword and comes toward Tristan and gives him such a great,
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animates Percival when he learns that his brother, Lamorat of Gaul, has been killed.149 In Rustichello da Pisa’s Romanzo Arturiano, Lancelot (Lancillotto) recog nizes the obligation, as a chivalric knight, to secure vengeance for his com panions, all of whom have been defeated by Branor il Bruno, the Old Knight (Vecchio Cavaliere), and now risk shame because they cannot avenge them selves. He also realizes that if he refuses to fulfill the obligation to avenge his kindred, he will be considered a coward and thus suffer the ignominy of dishonor and shame. Rustichello describes the scene: Lancelot, after having seen his companions fall to the ground, and now also Tristan, his dear friend, he lay on the ground as if dead. . . . And he said that, although [Branor il Bruno] was the most powerful and formidable in the world, he would similarly expose himself to the risk, in order to vindicate the shame suffered by his companions; [realizing] that if he did not do everything possible, he could be considered [by his peers] a coward.150 In yet another incident later in this work a knight bluntly explains that he must kill a certain knight because that knight killed his brother.151 This sim ple and striking expression of a basic tenet of Florentine chivalry makes clear to a modern audience why the authors of chronicles and histories composed in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries express great concern and fear about unrestrained chivalric violence. heavy blow on his helmet, the greatest blow he can with all his might. ‘Sir knight,’ said Sir Tristan, ‘you do wrong to assail me for no reason. . . . I’m just barely restraining myself from causing you great dishonor because you well deserve it since you are assailing me even though I have no desire to fight.’ ” 149. Tristano Panciatichiano, 414/415: “When Percival hears these words, that is, such great praise for Sir Lamorat, he doesn’t say anything; instead, tears fall very tenderly from his eyes for a long time. Then he speaks and says, ‘Woe, alas! He who killed my brother did a great wrong to our whole lineage.’ And then he said, ‘Palamedes, my fine, sweet friend, for courtesy’s sake, would you be able to tell me news about who killed Lamorat my brother? . . . For God’s sake, Palamedes, tell me who killed him, if you know.’ ” 150. Rustichello da Pisa, Il Romanzo arturiano, 299 (chap. 9, verses 1–2): “Lancillotto, dopo aver visto tanti suoi compagni cadere a terra, ed ora anche Tristano, il suo caro amico, giacere al suolo come morto. . . . E dice che, nonostante quell cavaliere sia l’uomo più potente e più temibile del mondo, ugualmente egli si esporrà al rischio, pur di vendicare l’onta subita dai compagni; che, se egli non facesse tutto il possibile, lo potrebbero considerare un codardo.” 151. Rustichello da Pisa, Il Romanzo arturiano, 333 (chap. 131, verse 8): “se l’ho ucciso, sono stato costretto a farlo: egli aveva ucciso un mio fratello!” A third example (361, chap. 231, verses 3–4) is the author’s certainty that someone will come and avenge Tristan’s treacherous murder at the hands of King Mark: “ma sapevano anche che qualcuno sarebbe venuto a vendicare la morte di Tristano.”
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Meanwhile in the Tristano Panciatichiano, Hector warns Palamedes that if he kills Bliobleris, he will have to deal with the dead knight’s entire lineage.152 In preaching prudence and restraint Hector does not deny Palamedes’s right to seek vengeance against Bliobleris or suggest that he is a coward, but rather warns him of the serious consequences of attacking a member of his lin eage: war with Lancelot and many other great knights. Palamedes’s response is typically chivalric, defending his honor while acknowledging the wisdom of Hector’s warning: Now know that by my will I would never willingly fight with the knights of King Ban, except for Bliobleris, because he has wronged me in so many ways, as well he knows. And therefore I would willingly vindicate myself, but not for this reason do I want to put him to death, because he is too good a knight. But if fortune gives me the power, I would willingly dishonor him and thereupon I would then bear it. But since I see that this battle [with Bliobleris] is called off, I will bear it. But the great desire I have to fight with him moves me because he has unhorsed me just now, and I want to remove this shame from myself.153 While the desire to cleanse the stain of shame and dishonor is seemingly more important to Palamedes than his life, in the end he gives up this quest for vengeance, but only because of his respect for Hector and the knights of King Ban’s lineage. It seems likely that Florentine knights and men-at-arms, like their liter ary counterparts, were more obstinate than Palamedes in their pursuit of vengeance. Honor violence remained an important characteristic of the chi valric lifestyle well into the fourteenth century, despite coming increasingly under attack because of the threat such violence posed to the vita civile and the increasingly centralized authority of the Florentine communal govern ment.154 As we shall see in the epilogue, chivalric practitioners in the early fifteenth century continued to practice honor violence, although with cer tain modifications.
152. Tristano Panciatichiano, 410/411–412/413. 153. Tristano Panciatichiano, 412/413. 154. Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica: I magnati fiorentini, 1340–1440, trans. Isabelle Chabot and Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2009) observes that the gradual reintegration of Florentine magnates after 1340 was slowed by the continued refusal of some magnates to give up their violent lifestyles. John Najemy, A History of Florence, 1200–1575 (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2008), 16, likewise writes that fourteenth-century court records and elite memoirs confirm “the picture of the elite families as a generally unruly and violent group.”
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The substantial evidence found in both chronicles and imaginative lit erature suggests that chivalry, honor, and violence combined prominently in Florence during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. This evidence strongly suggests that Florentine knights and men-at-arms believed their honor was constantly at stake, requiring vigilance and violence. After all, as Sharon Strocchia has observed, “one’s personal and family honour was subject to repeated attacks and might be won, lost or exchanged with re markable speed.”155 These warriors also felt a correspondingly deep aversion to dishonor and shame that stained reputation and threatened identity, and regularly exercised public and bloody violence to cleanse its deleterious ef fects and restore their damaged honor. The violence of the chivalric elite was not only different enough in degree to be different in kind from the violence perpetrated by other Florentines, it was also underpinned by a fundamen tally different ideology, one that praised and encouraged bloody, showy vio lence as central to identity. The available evidence, drawn primarily from chivalric literature and chronicles, shows that the violent behavior of Florentine knights and menat-arms was influenced by chivalric ideas. In fact, we can discern a chivalric mentalité that is consistent across both the literary world of romances and epics and the historical world of late medieval Florence. The significant pop ularity of imaginative chivalric literature in Florence and elsewhere in Italy raised the great danger that historical knights might follow suit, if on a more realistic scale.156 Tristan’s example in particular had power; he ranked as one of the great flowers of idealized chivalry in Italy, and his vengeance worked through bloody and exaggerated violence.157 Tristan and his fellow literary knights reinforced through their example time and time again that failure to avenge dishonor produced shame, a fate worse than death. Historical knights knew this as well as their literary counterparts, and as a result, in the minds of the chivalric elite, justified carnage could actually bring praise. 155. Strocchia, “Gender and the Rites of Honour in Italian Renaissance Cities,” 40. 156. For the popularity of these works, see the discussion in the introduction above, as well as in Gloria Allaire and F. Regina Psaki, eds., The Arthur of the Italians: The Arthurian Legend in Medieval Italian Literature and Culture (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2014), 42–56, 69, 105, 106. 157. Larner, “Chivalric Culture in the Age of Dante,” 124: “Heroes of chivalric literature served as models for Italians, especially as a continual source of moral reference.” For Tristan specifically, see Daniela Delcorno Branca, Tristano e Lancillotto in Italia: Studi di letteratura arturiano (Ravenna: Longo Editore, 1998).
Ch a p ter 2
Chivalry and Social Violence
If we beat one of our servants, we are undone. And therefore, lords, I recommend that we escape from this servitude. Let us take arms and run to the piazza. Let us kill as many of the popol[ani] as we find, whether friends or enemies, so that never again shall we or our sons be subjugated to them. —Messer Berto Frescobaldi (1293), in Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence
Dino Compagni and other Florentine authors spilled considerable ink forcefully condemning the pervasive violence com mitted by knights and men-at-arms during the thirteenth and fourteenth cen turies. They saved their harshest condemnations, however, for elite violence perpetrated against popolani (citizens of lower and middling status), whom members of the Florentine chivalric elite considered to be their social infe riors.1 Dino Compagni, an eyewitness to the events he recorded, wrote with obvious alarm that after the Florentine victory at the Battle of Campaldino in 1289 “the nobles and the great citizens, swollen with pride, did many in juries to the popolani, beating them and committing other offenses.”2 Similar rebukes of elite violence against the popolani appear in the fourteenth cen tury, as when Marchionne di Coppo Stefani (d. 1385) blamed inexhaustible
I wish to thank Joe Figliulo-Rosswurm for his generous help with the archival material for this chapter. 1. Peter Coss, The Aristocracy of England and Tuscany, 1000–1250 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), 190, notes that this type of aristocratic violence had a long history in Tuscany. 2. Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, trans. Daniel Bornstein (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 1986), 13; Dino Compagni, Cronica delle cose occorrenti ne’ tempi suoi, ed. Gino Luzzatto (Turin: Giulio Einaudi editore, 1968), 14: “Ritornati I cittadini in Firenze, si resse il popolo alquanti anni in grande e potente stato; ma i nobili e grandi cittadini insuperbiti faceano molte ingiurie a’ popolani, con batterli e con altre villanie.” 70
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pride (superbia) for the acts of violence committed in the city and in the contado (countryside) in 1343.3 The continuity of this violence led Leonardo Bruni (d. 1444), a famous humanist who wrote a history of Florence in the first decades of the fifteenth century, to paint an equally negative picture of a group he describes as the “nobility.” In one example that can stand in for many spanning the period covered in this study, Bruni writes that in the late thirteenth century these nobles were “superior in wealth and arrogant in manner, [whose] haughtiness was unsuited to a free city, and [who] could be restrained from committing unjust acts only with the greatest of difficulty.” Bruni laments that “many were the men of modest fortune whom they at tacked physically; and many were despoiled of their goods or expelled from their estates.”4 As these representative examples suggest, Florentine authors, especially popolani chroniclers, often explicitly connect elite violence against the popolani with pride (superbia) and arrogance (grandigia). They considered these vices to be inherent in the “noble” or “knightly” lifestyle, a lifestyle as sociated from the late thirteenth century with the grandi (magnates), but one that had actually been present among Tuscan aristocrats and knights since the late eleventh century.5 All of these terms, however, are problematic. Flor ence did not have a legally recognized nobility, and many of the elite war riors who displayed a penchant for violence fueled by pride and arrogance did not possess landed titles or the dignity of knighthood. The designation of grande or magnate was above all a political one, applied unevenly. As a
3. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, ed. Giosue Carducci and Vittorio Fiorini, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, n.s., 30, pt. 1 (Città di Castello: Editore S. Lapi, 1903), 211–12. 4. Leonardo Bruni, The History of the Florentine People, ed. and trans. James Hankins, 3 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001–7), 1:359. Gary Ianziti, Writing History in Renais sance Italy: Leonardo Bruni and the Uses of the Past (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 207ff., discusses Bruni’s reliance on the Villani chronicles and the larger purpose behind his writing of history. James Hankins, Virtue Politics: Soulcraft and Statecraft in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2019), 271–88, offers an illuminating study of Bruni’s re form program. See also Gene Brucker, Florentine Politics and Society, 1343–1378 (Princeton, NJ: Princ eton University Press, 1962), 115. 5. Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica: I magnati fiorentini, 1340–1440, trans. Isabelle Chabot and Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2009), 19, 98, for a discussion of magnate superbia and gran digia. See also the important study of noble pride in Guido Castelnuovo, “La noblesse et son orgueil dans l’Italie urbaine: Discipliner une pulsion pour sauvegarder une identité,” in Passions, pulsions et violence à la cour, ed. Bernard Andenmatten, Armand Jamme, Laurence Moulinier, and Marilyn Nicoud (Florence: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2014), especially 244–62. Alessio Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation: Power Structures and Political Communication in the Countryside of Central and Northern Italy, 1080–1130, trans. Sergio Knipe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020), chap. 10, discusses the connection between violence and pride among the elite in north-central Italy in the late eleventh and twelfth centuries.
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result, it seems more appropriate to think of this as a chivalric rather than a “noble,” “knightly,” or “magnate” lifestyle.6 Indeed, Florentine descriptions of violent behavior and references to pride and arrogance are strikingly simi lar to what we find associated elsewhere in late medieval Europe with the chivalric lifestyle.7 This chapter will suggest that our current understanding of the violence committed by Florentine knights and men-at-arms against popolani can be enhanced by considering the role chivalric ideology played in promoting and valorizing this type of violent behavior. This approach, exemplified by Richard Kaeuper, differs markedly from that of the comparatively few studies of Florentine and Tuscan chivalry, which tend to subscribe to Mau rice Keen’s conception of chivalry, one that treats violence against social inferiors as the antithesis of chivalric behavior.8 Such an understanding of the relationship between chivalry and violence is aptly illustrated by Franco Cardini’s discussion of “antiknights” (anticavalieri), knights whose violence violated the heavily Christianized and romanticized norms that supposedly underpinned their lifestyle.9 Other scholars of late medieval Florence and Tuscany focus instead on the political, social, and economic causes of elite violence during this period. In particular, they frame the conflict as one be tween the grandi (magnates) and the popolani (citizens of lower and mid dling status) and debate whether or not violence between the two groups was the result of conflicting class interests, mainly economic in nature, or if the stimulus was instead political competition.10 Political, economic, and social forces certainly encouraged elite violence against popolani. This ap proach does not adequately explain, however, why so many members of 6. Cf. Nicolai Rubinstein, “Dante and the Nobility” (1973, unpublished), in Rubinstein, Studies in Italian History in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, vol. 1, Political Thought and the Language of Politics, ed. Giovanni Ciappelli (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2004), 167, who argues that the Florentine magnates were a legal nobility. 7. Richard Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 181–207. 8. Another historian who adopts the Kaeuperian approach is Samuel Claussen, who argues that chivalry shaped elite violence against peasants in late medieval Castile. See Claussen, Chivalry and Violence in Late Medieval Castile (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2020), chap. 2. For an overview of the histori ography on Florentine and Tuscan chivalry, see Peter Sposato, “Chivalry in Late Medieval Tuscany: Current Historiography and New Perspectives,” History Compass 16 ( June 26, 2018): 1–14. 9. Franco Cardini, Guerre di primavera: Studi sulla cavalleria e la tradizione cavallersca (Florence: Le Lettere, 1992), 209–12. 10. The complexities of intention and causation are the subject of significant historiographical trends and fall outside of the scope of this chapter. For an overview of the historiographical debates, see Silvia Diacciati, Popolani e magnati: Società e politica nella Firenze del Duecento (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2011), xxiii–xxxii; Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates: Lin eage and Faction in a Medieval Commune (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991), 3–26; and Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 8–9. Lauro Martines, ed., Violence and Civil Disorder in Italian Cit ies, 1200–1500 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972), examines the general Italian context.
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the Florentine chivalric elite acted against their self-interest by committing acts of social violence, especially after the promulgation of the Ordinances of Justice (1293) made it possible for the communal government to bring its burgeoning legal and military might down upon perpetrators. This apparent contradiction brings into focus the crucial role played by chivalric ideology, which valorized the practice of social violence as honor able, in the sense that committing acts of social violence did not tarnish a perpetrator’s honor but actually enhanced it. Understanding the framework behind this relationship requires us to discuss the function of vertical honor in this context, as well as examine certain attitudes chivalric practitioners maintained toward those they perceived to be their social inferiors. Firstly, acts of social violence—including assault, mutilation, murder, rape, and the pillaging and burning of property—were not considered a source of dis honor, because the popolani were viewed as men without honor themselves and thus of little intrinsic value. Furthermore, knights and men-at-arms thought of the popolani not only as socially inferior, but also as dangerous interlopers, albeit uncouth, lazy, and cowardly ones. As a result, chivalric practitioners were encouraged to remind popolani of their proper place in the social hierarchy, a process known as “inferiorization,” through the en actment of physical acts of violence informed by a “culture of intimidation and brutality.”11 Violence of this kind had long been treated by rural lords and knights in north-central Italy as a “key element in . . . [their] aristocratic self-representation,” a point of pride and satisfaction, and chivalric ideology reinforced and valorized these same currents among members of the Floren tine chivalric elite who readily followed suit in their own practice of violence against commoners.12 Committing acts of violence, often transgressive in degree and monstrous in nature, against men and women who were without honor or value was, at worst, honor-neutral and, at best, honorable. Secondly, acts of social violence were indeed seen to enhance honor be cause in practice they often took the same form as honorable behavior uti lized during warfare. War during this period continued to be characterized by what Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur identified as a “culture of predation” in the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. This predation involved the pillag ing and destruction of enemy property, as well as the assault and slaughter of enemy peasants.13 Richard Kaeuper has made clear that this behavior was widely considered to be honorable from a chivalric perspective, but what
11. Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation, 231, 233–34. 12. Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation, 246. 13. Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini: Guerra, conflitti e società nell’Italia comunale (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2004), 93–98.
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distinguished Florentine chivalry was the valorization of violence that inten tionally targeted nonelite citizens. Related to these aspects of social violence was the chivalric elite’s claim to the right to seek private justice, or justice determined not by judges based on the law, but rather through the prowess and valor of knights and menat-arms during combat. This was both an assertion of chivalric autonomy from the authority of the communal government, as well as a claim that chivalric means of determining justice were superior. Congruent was the belief that violence employed to assert and defend their rights and privileges was both licit and praiseworthy. The result of the coming together of all of these currents was the practice of social violence of such a scope and de gree that it greatly threatened public order and the stability of the Florentine government.
establishing the mental Framework of the chivalric elite The chivalric lifestyle was quite different from that of the popolani, a differ ence stemming at least in part from the contrasting ideologies that under pinned, to varying degrees, each group’s mentality and lifestyle: chivalry and the nascent but powerful civic ideology of the popolani, which was in many ways antithetical to chivalric ideas and values.14 Although contemporary chroniclers and other writers began to observe and discuss at length the dif ferences between these two groups in the second half of the thirteenth cen tury, Silvia Diacciati argues persuasively that the milites and populares faced off over a variety of issues as early as the late twelfth century. These two groups were, likewise, divided by their very different systems of values and approaches to civic life.15 While the scarcity of sources for this period makes it difficult to discuss the early manifestations of these cultural communities, especially that of the milites, by the mid-thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the available evidence 14. For the mid-fourteenth-century magnates, see Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 118. Mar vin Becker, “A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates, 1280–1343,” in Florentine Essays: Selected Writings of Marvin B. Becker, ed. James Banker and Carol Lansing (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002), 253, discusses the long struggle in late medieval Florence to establish public over private. It makes some sense to think of chivalry as an ideology giving primacy to the private, while the civic ideology necessarily promoted the public, common interest. Cf. Andrea Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico: Ricerche su politica e giustizia a Firenze dal comune allo Stato territo riale (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2008), 121, who argues instead that the antimagnate legisla tion did not signal the victory of public over private justice or the rise of the state but must be seen in the context of conflict resolution, much of which remained infrajudicial. 15. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 38, 45, 97, and passim.
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is much more voluminous and detailed, allowing for clear distinctions to be drawn. It is during this later period that proponents of civic ideology, like the Dominican preacher Remigio dei Girolami and the reform-minded intel lectual Brunetto Latini,16 began to exhort Florentine citizens to embrace the common good and realize personal ambitions and the interests through ser vice to the “state.”17 For these men service brought honor, wealth, social sta tus, and political power, with “the state alone serving as the font of honor.”18 Moreover, Florentines were encouraged to settle their disputes peacefully through public courts and arbitration, although as we saw in chapter 1, pro portional violence remained for all Florentines a possible option for dealing with conflict. The popolani desired more than anything else the stability and order at home that were essential to the peace-requiring occupations of trade and commerce.19 James Hankins ascribes to Leonardo Bruni the opinion, based on Bruni’s study of the history of the Florentine commune and colored by his republican leanings, that “the citizen who is interested in business rather than conflict [had proven himself] readier to put the good of the state ahead of private honor.”20 This opinion almost certainly reflects contemporary 16. For Remigio dei Girolami, see Teresa Rupp, “ ‘Love Justice, You Who Judge the Earth’: Remi gio dei Girolami’s Sermons to the Florentine Priors, 1295,” in Preaching and Political Society: From Late Antiquity to the End of the Middle Ages, ed. Franco Morenzoni (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), 251–65; Rupp, “Damnation, Individual and Community in Remigio dei Girolami’s De Bono Communi,” His tory of Political Thought 21, no. 2 (2000): 217–36; Rupp, “ ‘Common’ = ‘of the Commune’: Private Property and Individualism in Remigio dei Girolami’s De Bono Pacis,” History of Political Thought 14, no. 1 (1993): 41–56; Jodi Hodge, “The Virtue of Vice: Preaching the Cardinal Virtues in the Sermons of Remigio dei Girolami,” Medieval Sermon Studies 52, no. 1 (2008): 6–18; Cecilia Iannella, “Civic Virtues in Dominican Homiletic Literature in Tuscany in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” Medieval Sermon Studies 51, no. 1 (2007): 22–32; and Maria Consiglia De Matteis, “La pacificazione cittadina a Firenze nelle componenti culturali di Remigio de’ Girolami,” in La Pace nel pensiero, nella politica, negli ideali del trecento (Todi: Accademia Tudertina, 1975), 199–224. Both Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 309–10, 316, and John Najemy, A History of Florence, 1200–1575 (Malden, MA: Wiley-Black well, 2008), 58, see Remigio as a sincere proponent of the common good. 17. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 45ff., 99–100, 311–19, 393ff., at 290, observes that during the mid-Duecento the concept of the common good and freedom for all, developments stemming likely from the Aristotelian and “Roman” revolutions of the time, became increasingly more central and powerful. See also Quentin Skinner, Visions of Politics, vol. 2: Renaissance Virtues (Cambridge: Cam bridge University Press, 2004), 19–20. M. S. Kempshall, The Common Good in Late Medieval Political Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), explores the concept of the common good. 18. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:xix. Trevor Dean, “Knighthood in Later Medieval Italy,” in Europa e Italia: Studi in onore di Giorgio Chittolini (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2011), 148, discusses the Florentine commune’s desire to act as the sole font of honor. 19. John Larner, Italy in the Age of Dante and Petrarch (New York: Longman, 1980), 102, argues that in towns of great mercantile wealth, like Florence, “the needs of commerce produced among the nobility a greater need and instinct for compromise and peace, a new spirit transcending the old chivalric ideal of the vendetta.” We must be careful, however, to avoid imputing to these men a Weberian bourgeois ethic. 20. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:xix.
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sentiments among popolani chroniclers, who levelled similarly powerful cri tiques of knights and men-at-arms who regularly placed personal and famil ial honor ahead of the common good. Despite this trenchant criticism of their lifestyle, there can be little doubt that the chivalric elite cared about the honor of their native patria, which they believed was defended and augmented first and foremost through war. There exists clear evidence that Bruni and the popolani chroniclers who pre ceded him readily acknowledged, and occasionally exuberantly praised, Flo rentine knights and men-at-arms when they used their prowess and valor against Florence’s enemies, especially in defense of the city’s honor.21 There fore, Bruni’s rebuke is based on the long history of deleterious violence against the popolani and imperiousness, both central elements of the chival ric lifestyle, that made these men in his eyes particularly ill-suited to exercise power in a republic. He considered this violence to be a threat to the city’s stability and prosperity and believed the perpetrators posed an existential threat to civic life itself.22 While these judgments accurately touch upon the antagonistic attitude of the chivalric elite toward both the popolani and Florentine governments under the leadership of the popolo, knights and men-at-arms were capable of controlling their emotions; they did not crave only chaos and war. They were also interested in wielding political power and enjoying economic prosperity, both of which they believed belonged to them thanks to their distinguished lineages and their ability to field private armies and perpetrate devastating violence. The problem, of course, was their means of acquiring, maintain ing, and exercising that power. Dino Compagni and Leonardo Bruni both of fer vivid descriptions of the famous Florentine knight Corso Donati (d. 1308) that highlight the incongruence between the chivalric and civic lifestyles.23 Dino Compagni described Donati, who was perhaps the most prominent knight in the city during Compagni’s lifetime, in the following terms:
21. For a discussion of Bruni’s treatment of the prowess of Florentine citizens, see Ianziti, Writing History in Renaissance Italy, 95–98 and passim. For an example of a Florentine elite warrior defending the honor of the city through violence, see Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica, ed. Giuseppe Porta (Parma: Fondazione Pietro Bembo, 1991), 354–55; Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 90. 22. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:315, identifies arrogance and ambition as the char acteristic vices of the nobility. Later (1:359), Bruni argues that this arrogance was unsuited to a free city, lamenting that the “nobility” could be “restrained from committing unjust acts only with the greatest of difficulty.” 23. Ianziti, Writing History in Renaissance Italy, 132–33, discusses Bruni’s view on Donati. For an important recent study of Corso Donati, see Silvia Diacciati, “ ‘Il barone’: Corso Donati,” in Nel Duecento di Dante: I personaggi, ed. Franco Suitner (Florence: Le Lettere, 2020), 177–97.
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A knight in the mold of Catiline the Roman, but more cruel; noble of blood, handsome of body, a charming speaker, adorned with good breeding, subtle of intellect, with his mind always set on evildoing; one who gathered many armed men and kept a great entourage, who ordered many arsons and robberies and did great damage to the Cer chi and their friends, who gained many possessions and rose to great heights: such was messer Corso Donati, who because of his pride was called the Baron. When he passed through he city many cried “long live the Baron,” and the city seemed to belong to him.24 The emphasis Compagni places on Donati’s cruelty, nobility, pride, and pen chant for evildoing suggests a man motivated by very different values than those promoted by the civic ethos of the popolani, while his maintenance of a personal army and great entourage and his propensity for engaging in violence offer proof of comportment antithetical to civic life. Bruni’s pithy description of Donati and his peers makes the same point, but from the perspective of a student of Florentine history looking back on this tumultuous period. Bruni writes that these great men were “conscious of their own virtue and merits and therefore possess[ed] the arrogance to demand public honors.” More importantly, when men like Donati did not receive what they perceived to be their due, they were “overwrought with indignation” and suffered from “restless pride.” This emotional reaction re peatedly led to “armed struggle, bloodshed, and civic turmoil.”25 Due to this violent and confrontational approach to civic life, Florentine knights and men-at-arms were not inclined to concede peacefully to the de mands of popular governments, especially arguments promoting the interest of the collective good over that of the individual or lineage.26 The anony mous author of the Tavola Ritonda deftly reflects this attitude in the literary realm when he has King Meliadus respond to King Arthur’s demand that he swear allegiance by declaring, “In good faith, Sire, I would first have all my lands burnt and all my people killed before I would surrender to anyone through fear or cowardice; but if I myself choose it, I will serve you. For I am determined to live and die free, and after my death come what may!”27 In fact, the chivalric lifestyle, imbued with ideas of “proud self-assertive
24. Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 48–49; Compagni, Cronica, 62. 25. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:451. 26. Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini, 65–174, discusses autonomy and leadership in the context of warfare. 27. Tristan and the Round Table: A Translation of “La Tavola Ritonda,” ed. and trans. Anne Shaver (Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1983), 23.
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dominance,” made subservience to a centralized government controlled in creasingly by the civic elite and other popular elements of Florentine society not only difficult, but also framed such acquiescence (i.e., loss of autonomy) as a source of dishonor that had to be met with violence.28 Chivalric Attitudes toward the Popolani
While popolani attitudes toward a violent elite, especially the Florentine grandi (magnates), have received significant scholarly attention, there has been comparatively little discussion of how knights and men-at-arms felt about the lower and middling classes. Moreover, the few insights provided by contemporary chronicles are filtered through social, political, and economic lenses and are colored by the popolani leanings of the authors.29 Missing are the voices of the knights and men-at-arms themselves. Unfortunately, chival ric texts, especially the large corpus of romances that circulated in Tuscany during this period and served as an important medium for the transmission of chivalric attitudes and ideas, do not spend much time discussing the popolani. This is because chivalry had very little to do with these men, an observation that reveals a great deal about the attitude of knights and men-at-arms to ward those they perceived to be their social inferiors, namely that these men were deemed unworthy of attention or even subhuman.30 This assertion is also supported by occasional insights provided by chronicles—although the few “magnate” chronicles that have survived, namely those of Simone della Tosa and Neri degli Strinati, have little to say about the popolani—and archi val documents.31 As Leonardo Bruni informs us, Walter of Brienne, the Duke of Athens and short-lived lord of Florence (1342–43), considered “common people” to be “almost slaves,” an attitude he surely shared with members of the Florentine chivalric elite.32 Since these knights and men-at-arms believed that their social and politi cal superiority stemmed primarily from their membership in the ordo militum 28. For chivalry and autonomy, see Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 33, 263. See Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 22, and Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 99, for discussion of related points. 29. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 193–96, provides an expansive study of the changing political, economic, and social terrain in Florence during the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, as well as the reaction of the traditional elite (milites). 30. Nicholas Wright, Knights and Peasants: The Hundred Years’ War in the French Countryside (Roch ester, NY: Boydell & Brewer, 1998), 15, discusses this aspect of chivalry in France during the Hundred Years’ War. 31. Silvia Diacciati, ed., “Memorie di un magnate impenitente: Neri degli Strinati e la sua Cronichetta,” Archivio Storico Italiano 168 (2010): 110, argues that Neri seems to show the popolani only indifference. 32. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:265.
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and thus their function as strenuous warriors (with strenuous again being used in the sense of the Latin strenuus or active) who provided military lead ership and service abroad and exercised a privileged practice of violence at home, individuals ranging from farmers to merchants, bankers, and crafts men are often depicted in a wide range of contemporary works as the op posite: base commoners, utterly lacking in martial vigor and skill and ham pered by cowardice and sloth. The early romances of Giovanni Boccaccio provide useful evidence in this regard, for although he wrote these works while at the Angevin court in Naples, he did so under the patronage of Nic colò Acciaiuoli, a Florentine knight and royal seneschal of the kingdom, sug gesting that the chivalric elite both in the regno as well as in Tuscany were his audience.33 A recent study of the military activities of other Florentine knights and men-at-arms in Acciaiuoli’s circle in Naples, especially members of the Buondelmonti lineage, lends further weight to this assertion.34 Boccaccio’s Filocolo, one of his earliest romances (1335–36), offers a gen eral view of commoners as “disorderly and gross,” men who consistently incited their social superiors “to wrath” or imperiousness.35 Boccaccio pro vides an illuminating example, when the eponymous hero of the work and his knightly friends come across two groups of peasants. In this particular scene the knights go out of their way to incite the two groups of peasants to fight one another while the warriors watch and laugh. Boccaccio describes at great length the peasants’ lack of vigor and martial skill, a common theme in chivalric romances and a reflection of the attitudes of historical knights and men-at-arms, that he implicitly contrasts with the prowess and bravery of the noble heroes of his work: Going to [the peasants], [Filocolo] stirred them up with words so that they became bold and undertook to cross the river. . . . But they were not arrived at the other bank when their armed adversaries attacked them, and they began their battle haphazardly in the midst of the river, 33. Franco Cardini, Le cento novelle contro morte: Giovanni Boccaccio e la rifondazione cavalleresca del mondo (Rome: Salerno Editrice, 2007), argues that Boccaccio was a proponent of chivalric, rather than mercantile, culture later in his life when he wrote the Decameron. 34. Peter Sposato, “The Profession of Arms and Chivalric Identity in Late Medieval Florence: A Prosopographical Study of the Buondelmonti Family,” Medieval Prosopography 33 (2018): 123–36. 35. Giovanni Boccaccio, Il Filocolo, trans. Donald Cheney (New York: Garland, 1985), 419 (bk. 5, chap. 47). Paul Freedman, Images of the Medieval Peasant (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, 1999), examines elite views on peasants in the general European context. See also Freedman, “Peasant Anger in the Late Middle Ages,” in Anger’s Past: The Social Uses of an Emotion in the Middle Ages, ed. Barbara Rosenwein (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998), 171–88. The exact date of composi tion is debated by scholars. I have opted to use the one Kristina Olson provides in Courtesy Lost: Dante, Boccaccio, and the Literature of History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014), 18.
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severely lacerating their rough arms and backs with the heavy staves. Because of the close quarters, there was no room for bow or sling; and if there were any sword used, it either missed or was twisted as it struck. They were much impeded by the water . . . and at times it made the most cowardly into valiant combatants, holding their feet in the soft sand when they would have fled if they were on hard field. But after they had gone on fighting for a long time, and many from both sides had returned in bad shape, Filocolo and his companions had laughed enough at the bizarre behavior of these folks.36 Shortly thereafter, Filocolo sums up the traditional chivalric attitude, telling the peasants, You unhappy people, poor in men and in wealth, why do you fight? . . . It should suffice you to follow the doctrine of Saturn [the Roman god of sowing and seed closely associated with farming], without wanting to usurp the office of Mars [the Roman god of war], since that it is silly for them to fight since dwells in you neither nobility of spirit, nor system, nor sense, nor skills at arms.37 In this way, Boccaccio captures one aspect of contemporary chivalric opinion about people of middling and lower social status, an opinion shared not only in Angevin Naples but also in Florence. In fact, this would have been particu larly relevant to the experience of the Florentine chivalric elite who were by Boccaccio’s lifetime fighting a losing battle against the popular classes and suffering under the yoke of a civic ideology largely antithetical to chivalry. Literary works also, on occasion, echo the view that elite men who did not embrace the chivalric lifestyle are greedy and discourteous, no doubt reflecting contemporary criticism of the lifestyle of wealthy merchants and bankers who often bore the trappings of chivalry but eschewed its core te nets. The Novellino, a late thirteenth-century collection of tales composed anonymously in Florence, is a particularly illuminating work in this regard, as it offers an “uncritical exaltation of the chivalric world, which the Floren tine elite certainly read in forming their own collective identity.”38 In one of the tales, a poor knight and a jongleur both ask for a gift from Alexander the Great. The knight asks only for certain modest gifts that will allow him to return home with his honor intact. The jongleur, on the other hand, asks for
36. Boccaccio, Il Filocolo, 410–11 (bk. 5, chaps. 39–40). 37. Boccaccio, Il Filocolo, 411–12 (bk. 5, chap. 41). 38. Olson, Courtesy Lost, 14.
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the city of Gaza. Alexander grants the knight his request but rejects the com moner’s greedy demand. The author also praises the knight for his wisdom in recognizing that a commoner cannot possibly aspire to rule and that his true motivation thus must be the desire for wealth.39 No doubt this emphasis upon the evils of greed was motivated by the plight of some members of the chivalric elite who struggled to maintain their dignity in the face of legal and social troubles, declining economic for tunes, and changing attitudes toward wealth in the late thirteenth and first half of the fourteenth centuries.40 Illuminating in this regard is an incident from the fourteenth-century romance the Tavola Ritonda, when Tristan’s re quest for hospitality is rejected by “three churlish and villainous millers,” who only acquiesce when Tristan offers to pay them.41 This example would have affirmed a belief already held by historical knights and men-at-arms that their fellow citizens, especially members of the popolo grasso, cared more about accumulating wealth than about largesse and honor. Greed and a pen chant for luxury in turn led to idleness or sloth, as wealthy individuals sought to enjoy their wealth by living leisurely, a lifestyle that was in many ways antithetical to chivalry. Even when commoners avoided the infamy of cowardice and demon strated a modicum of bravery and martial skill, chivalric authors found ways to distinguish these men from “true” knights and men-at-arms. The most striking example of this attempt to denigrate commoners who show chival ric qualities such as bravery and prowess comes from the mid-fourteenth century romance the Tristano Panciatichiano. At one point in the work, Pala medes and Tristan learn of two peasants who had been raised to the dignity of knighthood by the King of Vermillion City thanks to their prowess and great renown. This, of course, would have engendered vigorous debate, if not indignation and outrage, among the chivalric audience of the work. We can almost sense the collective sigh of relief when later in the romance the two peasant knights treacherously kill their liege, the very man who raised them from poverty and obscurity to knighthood.42 The chivalric audience of this work would not have been surprised that these peasant-knights could
39. Il Novellino, ed. Valeria Mouchet (Milan: Bureau Biblioteca Univ. Rizzoli, 2008), Canto IV, 48–50: “Alessandro e’ suoi baroni prosciolsero il cavaliere, e commendarlo di grande sapienzia.” 40. Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 235–36, examines changing attitudes toward wealth. See Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 96, 392, for a discussion of the economic misfortunes of some chivalric families in the second half of the fourteenth century. 41. Tristan and the Round Table, 196. 42. Italian Literature, vol. 1, Tristano Panciatichiano, ed. and trans. Gloria Allaire (Woodbridge: D. S. Brewer, 2002) (cited hereafter as Tristano Panciatichiano), 476/477–478/479.
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commit such a dishonorable deed. Nor would they have been surprised that a great knight, Palamedes, would eventually succeed in securing vengeance on behalf of the murdered king.43 In other words, commoners who could not be impugned as cowards or as lacking martial skill were generally de picted as treacherous and wicked, a condition of their base origin. The anonymous author of this work goes to great lengths to draw dis tinctions and to reinforce social boundaries, making the important point that while Palamedes’s enemies show great prowess, as commoners they fail to possess the other important tenets of chivalry, most notably loyalty and courtesy. This criticism is made explicit when the brother of the mur dered king describes the peasant-knights as “valiant men and if they were such gentlemen in loyalty and goodness as they are in their physical abilities, they would be highly praised and esteemed, but [their] great disloyalty and wickedness and cruelty greatly hurts their chivalry.”44 Meanwhile, their lack of courtesy and treacherous conduct in battle no doubt confirmed, at least in the minds of the chivalric audience of this work, that they were not true knights.45 The author’s depiction of two peasant-knights as disloyal and discourte ous accorded with the belief among some contemporaries that loyalty and courtesy were traditionally associated with men of distinguished lineage, if not nobility of the blood.46 This is reflected extensively in works of imagina tive literature, and not only in chivalric romances. In one case drawn from the Tristano Riccardiano, Tristan is described as the “flower of all knights in prowess, in loyalty, and in courtesy.”47 In fact, the author of the Tavola Ritonda writes that “As the world is sustained by four columns, so Tristano [sic] had in himself four strengths, from which comes the honor and the great 43. Tristano Panciatichiano, 516/517, 524/525–530/531. 44. Tristano Panciatichiano, 516/517. The only reason Palamedes was involved with these two peasant-knights was because he had accepted the almost sacred task of avenging the treacherous murder of the king. 45. Tristano Panciatichiano, 526/527: “When Palamedes saw himself knocked to the ground, it’s no wonder if he’s sorrowful and ashamed about this. And he gets up quickly and says to himself, ‘What a good knight this is who has unhorsed me! I haven’t found anyone who unhorsed me for a long time, except for Tristan, nor anyone who gave me such a forceful blow as this one.’ . . . Then [the peasant-knight] touches his horse with his spurs and gallops toward Palamedes, even though he was mounted. And Palamedes was not at all afraid of this because he had been in many other worse adventures many other times. He said chivalrously, ‘If you don’t get off, I’ll kill the horse and you’ll have dishonor and shame.’ ” 46. Olson, Courtesy Lost, and Erminia Maria Crimi, “Cortesia” e “Valore” dalla tradizione a Dante (Rovito: Marra, 1993), both examine the connection between cortesia and elite culture in late medi eval Italy. 47. Italian Literature, vol. 2, Tristano Riccardiano, ed. and trans. F. Regina Psaki (Woodbridge: D. S. Brewer, 2006) (cited hereafter as Tristano Riccardiano), 262/263.
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worthiness of chivalry . . .; that is, loyalty, prowess, love, and courtesy.”48 Likewise, Giovanni Boccaccio emphasized the centrality of courtesy to chivalric identity in his Teseida when he described Arcites, Palaemon, and Theseus as “display[ing] such courtesy that all the people were marveled.”49 In this way he recognized a contemporary attitude that such extreme and consistent courtesy in conjunction with prowess and valor was supposed to distinguish the chivalric elite from their social peers and inferiors. Thus, an honorable knight of distinguished (even if recent) origin who never, in the ory, impugned his own honor through treacherous or discourteous conduct could contrast himself positively with pseudo-knights of inferior origin and commoners, all of whom failed to demonstrate one or all of these central tenets of chivalry: prowess, loyalty, and courtesy. The demonstration of all of the core tenets of chivalric ideology provided a measure of social distinc tion and prestige that could not be purchased, even with the fabulous wealth possessed by many new men among the popolo grasso. Franco Sacchetti’s Trecentonovelle (ca. 1390), a collection of satirical novelle composed by a member of an ancient Florentine lineage that included many knights and men-at-arms, offers an illuminating example.50 In novella 63, a crude artisan (grossolano artefice) asks the famous Florentine artist Giotto di Bondone (d. 1337) to design a coat of arms for him and to paint it on his buckler.51 The man has need of this potent symbol of elite social status be cause he has been elected to serve as a castellan, a military official charged with guarding a castle or other fortification in the Florentine territorial state. During Giotto’s lifetime, Florentine castellans overwhelmingly were military men, very often knights, who usually belonged to chivalric lineages. Few ar tisans were elected to the office of castellan who possessed neither military expertise nor a distinguished surname, especially during times of war. By Sacchetti’s lifetime, however, office-holding practices had shifted, resulting in men from the lesser guilds controlling castles and strategic fortifications. As a result, most scholars treat this episode as a biting social commentary on the degradation of knighthood and the military tradition in Florence at the end of the fourteenth century. It might also serve another purpose, however, for Sacchetti succeeds, even if unintentionally, in capturing powerful chivalric
48. Tristan and the Round Table, 77–78. 49. Giovanni Boccaccio, The Book of Theseus: Teseida delle Nozze d’Emilia, trans. Bernadette Marie McCoy (New York: Medieval Text Association, 1974), 146 (bk. 6, chap. 7). 50. Franco Sacchetti, Il Trecentonovelle, ed. Emilio Faccioli (Turin: Einaudi, 1970). 51. I wish to thank Dr. Anne Leader for bringing this particular novella to my attention. The novella can be found in Sacchetti, Il Trecentonovelle, 119–20.
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attitudes toward those they perceived to be social interlopers, attitudes that remained current throughout the lifetimes of Giotto and Sacchetti. Indeed, Sacchetti makes clear that Giotto took great offense at the arti san’s audacity and pretensions, for an “upstart simpleton” (omicciatto sem plice) had no business entering his workshop to demand a coat of arms be designed for him as if he were French royalty (“come se fosse de’ reali di Francia”). Although Giotto ultimately agrees to the artisan’s request, he does so only to teach the parvenu a lesson about propriety. Giotto’s subsequent design for the coat of arms features an array of armaments that although nonsensical in their placement, evokes the fundamentally martial nature of the office of castellan and serves to highlight the artisan’s sharp incongru ence with that nature. Not surprisingly, the artisan is dismayed by the coat of arms and refuses to pay Giotto for the work, leading the artist to unleash a devastating criticism of the man’s audacity and impropriety, a harangue that no doubt reflected the underlying sentiments of Florentine knights and men-at-arms across the fourteenth century: and you come here and say “Paint my arms.” If you were of the Bardi, that would be enough. What arms do you carry? Where are you from? Who were your ancestors? Oh please, aren’t you ashamed? It begins before you come into the world, that you think about arms as if you were the Duke of Bavaria.52 Giotto’s reference to the Bardi lineage, a distinguished chivalric lineage boasting ancient roots and many active knights and men-at-arms among its branches, is particularly telling, especially in contrast to the conclusion of the novella, when Giotto emphasizes the base origin of the crude artisan who “like every sad man wants to claim a coat of arms and a lineage,” even though his father was among those who “will have been found in the hospitals,” an indignity suffered only by the children of destitute families and orphans.53 This literary attempt and other efforts like it to erect boundaries and rein force distinctions between the chivalrous and nonchivalrous at various levels of the Florentine social hierarchy reflect the challenges faced by knights and men-at-arms from roughly the mid-thirteenth to the mid-fourteenth century. 52. This translation comes from Anne Leader’s article “The Tomb of a Bookseller in Early Re naissance Florence,” unpublished at the time of writing, and used with her permission. Sacchetti, Il Trecentonovelle, 119–20: “e giungi qui, e di’: ‘Dipignimi l’arme mia.’ Se tu fussi stato de’ Bardi, serebbe bastato. Che arma porti tu? di qua’ se’ tu? chi furono gli antichi tuoi? deh, che non ti vergogni! comin cia prima a venire al mondo, che tu ragioni d’arma, come stu fussi il Dusnam di Baviera.” 53. Sacchetti, Il Trecentonovelle, 120: “ché ogni tristo vuol fare arma e far casati; e chi tali, che li loro padri seranno stati trovati agli ospedali.” The translation is mine.
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As we shall see, such intellectual and cultural efforts were coupled with more tangible measures, especially violent ones. Indeed, the chivalric elite eagerly and joyfully employed violence against social inferiors in order to defend and restore their superiority and autonomy, a practice that continued into the early fifteenth century.
the historical practice of chivalric social violence Giovanni Villani’s Nuova Cronica and Leonardo Bruni’s History of the Florentine People (almost certainly drawing heavily upon Villani) both include a striking incident involving Messer Tegghiaio Aldobrandi degli Adimari, a Florentine knight, and a commoner (popolano) by the name of Spedito (Bruni calls him Expeditus), who engaged in a tense debate in 1260 about a proposed military campaign against Siena and the Florentine Ghibellines in exile there. Ac cording to Giovanni Villani, when Tegghiaio cautioned prudence Spedito questioned his courage, telling him “to look at his pants if he was afraid” to go to war.54 In Bruni’s rendition, Spedito, whom the author describes as “a fierce and shameless fellow . . . the sort of person unrestrained liberty can sometimes produce,” lambasted Tegghiaio asking him: “What are you after Tegghiaio? Have you turned into a filthy coward? This magistracy isn’t going to pay any attention to your fears and quakings. It’s going to consider the dignity of the Florentine people. If you’re paralyzed with fear, we’ll let you off military service.”55 These attacks upon the courage, vigor, and military expertise of a knight like Tegghiaio, some of the most sensitive elements of chivalric identity, would seemingly warrant a violent response from the knight. And yet, ac cording to Villani, Tegghiaio responded by pointing out that Spedito “would not dare to follow him into battle where he himself would go,” a sentiment seconded by a fellow warrior who was also present, Messer Cece dei Gherar dini.56 Bruni’s version is similar, with Tegghiaio replying bluntly to Spedito that “he was sure that the man who had insulted him would never venture in battle where he himself would venture.”57 In both versions, Tegghiaio does not react with violence to Spedito’s provocations and insults. Although likely apocryphal, this incident is important because it presents an ideal, that of the noble knight, whom Boccaccio referred to as a miles
54. 55. 56. 57.
Villani, Nuova Cronica, 306: “si cercasse le brache, s’avea paura.” Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:159. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 306: “non ardirebbe di seguirlo nella battaglia colà ov’egli si meterebbe.” Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:159.
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mavortis, who exercises restraint even in the face of insults and aspersions cast by a social inferior.58 The evidence provided by chronicles and histories, as well as archival documents, strongly suggests, however, that such an ideal was rarely met. Rather, the historical record demonstrates quite convinc ingly that the Florentine chivalric elite eagerly and joyfully employed vio lence, often transgressive in nature, against their fellow citizens, especially those below them in the social hierarchy who were perceived as challenging their social and political superiority, autonomy, and personal and collective honor.59 Various institutions, groups, and individuals took steps to deal with the problem of social violence, a danger made all the more serious by the chival ric elite’s prickly sense of honor and the significant private military power at their disposal.60 These measures involved the promulgation of punitive legis lation, including the Ordinances of Justice (1293, 1295) and other antimagnate legislation, as well as sumptuary laws and restrictions on possessing offensive weapons.61 The overarching goal of these measures was to force knights and men-at-arms to abandon their violent lifestyles and to ensure the freedom of the popolani from the oppression of those who refuted the ways of civic life.62 The Ordinances were particularly far-reaching, restricting participation in politics and imposing heavy financial penalties in the form of sureties to ensure good behavior and harsh judicial punishments for violators. They also included provisions related to the creation of popular military companies in the city and contado to provide an independent military force capable of 58. Boccaccio, The Book of Theseus, 16: Bernadette McCoy, the English translator of the text, argues that Boccaccio envisioned the miles mavortis as a “gentled knight who has established harmony in himself, who rights wrongs against the natural order, who champions the weak, who dispenses justice temperately, bravely, and wisely, who abhors the careless shedding of human blood.” 59. Simone Collavini, “Sviluppo signorile e nuove strategie onomastiche: Qualche riflessione sulla percezione e la rapresentazione della violenza in Toscana nel XII secolo,” in Studi di storia offerti a Michele Luzzati, ed. Silio P. Scalfati and Alessandra Veronese (Pisa: Pacini Editore, 2008), 80–81: Collavini’s study of aristocratic nicknames (soprannomi) in twelfth-century Tuscany strongly suggests that this violence was common in the period prior to that covered in this study, as these nicknames often evoked their bearer’s use of force against social inferiors. 60. Richard Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence in Medieval Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 7–8. 61. See Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 308 (for a discussion of sumptuary legislation), 366 (for restrictions on possessing offensive weapons), and 358–95 (for a general discussion); Andrea Zorzi, “Politica e giustizia a Firenze al tempo degli ordinamenti antimagnatizi,” in Ordinamenti di giustizia fiorentini: Studi in occasione del VII Centenario, ed. Vanna Arrighi (Florence: Ministero per beni culturali e beni ambientali, 1995), 105–47; Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 121–62; Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 192–212; and Najemy, A History of Florence, 81–87. 62. Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 146. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 369, concludes that by gaining competence in the law the popolani were able to combat the great lineages of Flor ence, ultimately gaining the upper hand in the second half of the thirteenth century.
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defending the Florentine government and popolani.63 Each new iteration of the Ordinances corresponded to a period of increased threats to the common good and civic peace.64 During the second half of the fourteenth century in dividuals were encouraged to disassociate themselves from the more violent members of their lineages and to reintegrate into the civic body.65 Despite these efforts, the practice of social violence remained pervasive in late medieval Florence. This can be attributed in part to chivalry’s valo rization of this type of violence as honorable, although the comparatively rare appearances of commoners in romances—literary works that were not an exterior force but rather a powerful channeling medium—makes it more difficult to fully develop than the practice of honor violence. While there are a few exceptions, interactions between knights and commoners in these works overwhelmingly involve the threat or acts of violence. In one scene drawn from Rustichello da Pisa’s Romanzo Arturiano, composed in the mid-thirteenth century, two commoners—who are described as “minions” (sgherri)—viciously attack a knight. Perceval witnesses the assault and is over taken by rage. He commands the commoners to stop attacking the knight, and when they do not comply, he drives them away.66 The continued valoriza tion into the fourteenth century of chivalric violence against social inferiors is also present in the Tavola Ritonda, when Tristan, who has temporarily lost his mind, is mocked by a peasant who is leading a mule loaded with jugs of water through a city. Even though Tristan is insensate, he becomes angry and picks up the peasant and smashes him down onto the mule, killing both. This violence wins great praise from the king and barons who witness Tristan’s strength.67 These literary examples allow us to better understand the framework underpinning the practice of social violence, but they must be interpreted 63. See Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 13, 16–17; Carol Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revis ited,” in Communes and Despots in Medieval and Renaissance Italy, ed. John E. Law and Bernadette Paton (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), 35; Becker, “A Study in Political Failure,” 247 and 266; Nicolai Rubinstein, La Lotta Contro i Magnati a Firenze, vol. 2, Le origini della legge sul “sodamento” (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1939), 33–38; and Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 175. 64. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 358–95, provides a detailed study of this period and the context for the promulgation of this legislation. 65. Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 161, 247, points out that the commune used not only coercive measures, but also reconciliation and amnesty. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 308, 364, 391ff., discusses efforts to marginalize more violent members of magnate lineages and the reintegra tion of their peaceful kin. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 175–216, examines these efforts in the second half of the fourteenth century. 66. Il Romanzo arturiano di Rustichello da Pisa, ed. and trans. Fabrizio Cigni (Pisa: Cassa di rispar mio di Pisa, 1994), 343 (chap. 161, lines 14–20). 67. Tristan and the Round Table, 165.
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with care. Read prescriptively, they clearly encouraged knights to see this type of violence as the appropriate response to most interactions with, let alone challenges from, individuals from lower and middling social status. They should also be read as descriptive, a reflection of the pervasive his torical practice of social violence. Is it any wonder that popolani referred to members of the chivalric elite as “rapacious wolves”?68 Before turning our attention to the historical practice of social violence, however, we need to first acknowledge the evidentiary obstacles historians of late medieval Florence face when attempting to study this category of chivalric violence. The primary obstacle is the lack of judicial records for the years before 1343, a casualty of the coup that toppled the Duke of Athens in that year. Much of the mundane violence perpetrated against the popolani before this year therefore remains lost to historians, although some sense of the scope of this violence can be ascertained from looking at the records from the remainder of the fourteenth century and from other historical sources, like chronicles and histories. These latter sources provide their own challenges for historians, most notably authorial bias due to the popolani ori gin and perspective of the majority of contemporary and near-contempo rary chroniclers. Due to these two factors, the incidents of social violence recorded in contemporary chronicles and histories tend to be only the most egregious examples, while the discussion in these works of this violence and the motivation behind it is imbued with the popolani biases of the authors. Thus, while both the judicial records and popular chronicles provide useful evidence, historians must exercise caution when considering these sources. Incidents of social violence varied in degree from isolated conflicts be tween individuals to massive pitched battles in the streets and piazzas of Flor ence that threatened on several occasions to engulf the entire city. Conse quently, social violence posed a significant threat to peace, public order, and stability in late medieval Florence. The remainder of this chapter will explore three broad themes related to social violence: first, the chivalric elite’s claim to the right to private justice, determined through prowess and valor during combat that led to violent conflict with the Florentine government; second, violent resistance against popularly led and supported governments that the chivalric elite believed impinged upon their perceived rights and privileges; 68. Carol Lansing, Passion and Order: Restraint of Grief in the Medieval Italian Communes (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2008), 35. Fabrizio Ricciardelli, “Violence and Repression in Late Me dieval Italy,” in The Culture of Violence in Renaissance Italy: Proceedings of the International Conference (Georgetown University at Villa Le Balze, 3–4 May, 2010), ed. Samuel K. Cohn Jr. and Fabrizio Ricciardelli (Florence: Le Lettere, 2012), 55–80, examines the use of the wolf and lamb metaphor in the general communal Italian context.
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and third, a larger, more general body of acts of social violence against indi vidual popolani that will help illustrate the violent nature of the larger strug gle waged by the chivalric elite to assert and defend their social superiority.69 The Conflict over Private Justice
The use of violence to protect the traditional autonomy and superiority of the Florentine chivalric elite is perhaps most clear in the realm of justice. The popolani, who, according to Leonardo Bruni, “could not equal the greatness of the nobility and often suffered injury and insult,” sought instead to exact “public vengeance for private offenses.”70 The promotion of public justice was not only a central element of what Zorzi has called an “ideology of justice,” but was also political in nature, redoubling its importance to the popolani.71 In sharp contrast, the chivalric elite believed in their inalienable right to private justice, especially in matters relating to personal and familial honor, because private justice was determined ultimately by prowess, a gift bestowed by God.72 In their estimation, divine will in the form of prowess trumped the arbitrary judgment of public courts, especially courts staffed by social inferiors. This prominent chivalric idea received plentiful support in the romances composed across our period. In the late thirteenth-century romance Tristano
69. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 45, observes that the milites were animated by an ideology that valorized the use of violence as a means of resolving conflicts. 70. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:349. 71. Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 145, 149, 151, 160, argues that justice was a key element in the foundation of civic life under the popolo and that this ideology of justice was crucial to the political legitimization of the popolani, and at 146–48 argues that justice was associated with the defense of the public treasury and public order. Zorzi observes that there was an obsession with political discourse during this period, particularly since magnates regularly corrupted or disrupted its administration. See also Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, xxx, who likewise argues that antimagnate legislation in Florence helped legitimize the popular regime and thus urges caution when using the Ordinances of Justice to define the magnates, and at 46, 311, 359, likewise asserts that the nature of law and justice changed at the end of the thirteenth century, becoming more public in nature. It is important to note, however, that Diacciati downplays the political nature of the Ordinances, refer encing the fact that many of the lineages negatively impacted by the antimagnate legislation were not at the forefront of political society. In addition, she argues that the Ordinances were fully justified in the cultural, ideological, and moral context of Florence during this period. 72. See Julian Pitt-Rivers, “Honour and Social Status,” in Honour and Shame: The Values of Medi terranean Society, ed. Jean Peristiany (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 31, who observes that an aristocracy claims the right to honor and precedence by the tradition that makes them leaders of society, arbiters rather than “arbitrated” and therefore “a law unto themselves.” Enrico Pispisa, “Lotte sociali e concetto di nobiltà a Firenze nella seconda metà del Duencento,” Studi medievali 38 (1997): 447, argues that only those nobles and powerful elite men who took justice into their own hands were confined to the category of magnate.
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Riccardiano, Tristan challenges King Morholt on behalf of King Mark in order to prove through his prowess the justice of King Mark’s charge that Morholt had illegally forced the people of Cornwall to pay him a steep trib ute. Not surprisingly, Tristan emerges victorious.73 Later, when Tristan is accused of killing Morholt through treacherous means, he swears before King Anguin and his court that he wounded Morholt fairly in combat and was justified in doing so. More importantly, he challenges anyone to prove him wrong in single combat.74 The king decides the case in Tristan’s favor, reinforcing once again the idea that justice and the truth should be proven through violence.75 Tristan would return the favor later in the same work, serving as King Anguin’s champion against charges that he treacherously killed an unnamed knight.76 The chivalric audience of the Tavola Ritonda in the second half of the fourteenth century would have been exposed to the same ideas. In one ex ample drawn from this work, King Languis comes before King Arthur to defend himself against accusations of treachery, claiming that he will fight “as a knight who is not guilty.” In response, Sir Brunor (Brunoro) the Red, nephew of King Ban (Bando) of Benoich, insists that he will prove King Lan guis’s guilt through his prowess in combat. The author writes that At these words a bold and eager knight came forward, Sir Brunoro the Red. . . . He said, “How can you say this, King Languis, and deny that you had killed, or killed yourself, a knight in your court who was our companion. I will prove by force of arms that you are guilty.” Sir Tristan, who had agreed to serve as King Languis’s champion, then stepped forward and replied, “My lords, I am a knight from a distant country who is very displeased to see one knight accusing another without just cause. Thus I will take King Languis’s battle upon myself and will show by force of arms that he is guilty of no treachery, and that he has been falsely accused.” The author concludes by stating that “Thus the two knights came to accord, and exchanged gloves in front of the two kings. The kings then decreed that they should be on the field before Camellotto in three days, to decide the 73. Tristano Riccardiano, 36/37–38/39. 74. Tristano Riccardiano, 64/65: “Then the king said to Tristan, ‘Tell me, Tristan, did you kill Morholt of Ireland by treachery?’ Tristan answered and said, ‘Sire, I wounded him in combat like a knight. But if there be any knight in your court who claims or wishes to claim that I killed him treacherously, I summon him to combat at the court of King Arthur.’ ” 75. Tristano Riccardiano, 64/65. 76. Tristano Riccardiano, 94/95–100/101.
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question by combat.”77 This extended exchange reaffirms the continued cir culation of the ideas that justice should be decided through prowess. Of course, this idea left plenty of room for elite warriors to transform the idea of justice into that of “might makes right,” a concept inextricably inter twined with honor.78 This idea certainly appears in the Tavola Ritonda during an exchange between Tristan and Amoroldo. Tristan, perhaps representing a reformed version of chivalry in this work, encourages Amoroldo to follow the rule of justice rather than force, saying “We would rather observe the law of God which rules not through force but justice and right, not through war and rapine.”79 Amoroldo’s forceful response, however, represents the traditional chivalric attitude toward justice: “Such words mean nothing to me. The good point of my sword will decide right and wrong.”80 This pow erful sentiment nicely encapsulates both the chivalric belief about veracity of justice determined through violence and how easily the pursuit of justice could be transformed into “might makes right.” These ideas about justice easily led to the operating assumption among knights and men-at-arms that public justice could be ignored or overruled through force. This appears in both imaginative literature and traditional historical sources. When King Mark catches Tristan red-handed in his illicit love affair with Isolde in the Tristano Riccardiano, the knights in the audi ence of this work would have agreed that Mark was quite justified to chal lenge the eponymous hero of the work to single combat. King Mark fulfills this obligation despite the fact that Tristan is a far superior knight. When Tristan handily defeats King Mark, the audience is left with little doubt that justice had not been done, even if historical knights would have appreci ated Tristan’s ability to subvert justice through his prowess.81 Earlier in the same text, Tristan once again exploits his superior prowess to escape jus tice when he defeats Lambegues, the husband of the lady of Thornwood, with whom Tristan had recently slept, thus denying this knight his deserved vengeance.82 Rather than being punished for his adultery, Tristan escapes unscathed because of his prowess. The version of chivalry presented in another work, the Tavola Ritonda, is entirely contradictory, much like chivalric ideology itself. On the one hand, this text more than any of the others examined in this chapter consistently 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82.
Tristan and the Round Table, 71. Pitt-Rivers, “Honour and Social Status,” 25. Tristan and the Round Table, 46. Tristan and the Round Table, 47. Tristano Riccardiano, 74/75. Tristano Riccardiano, 78/79–80/81.
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promotes the idea that knights should be the strong arm of justice, uphold ing the rule of law and maintaining public order. Tristan’s prayers during his vigil the night before being made a knight include several references to justice and confirm that in the author’s estimation, one of the primary func tions of knighthood was to uphold justice: Tristan prayed that “God might give him the grace to carry his knighthood with justice, loyalty, and prowess; a knight must be brave, bold and sure, loyal, courteous and just.” Likewise, King Mark wished Tristan “to have ardor, prowess, and courtesy, so that he can live according to right, with courtesy and justice, defending right from wrong.” Tristan, for the most part, lives up to the billing, being described at one point in the text as “the knight most well known for defending justice.”83 On the other hand, justice in the Tavola Ritonda is ultimately determined by private violence, violence that is often used to flaunt public justice. For example, Tristan is able to avoid punishment for his affair with Queen Isolde (Isotta) when “the good and faithful Governale and the four friendly knights errant armed themselves and went secretly to the edge of the sea to rescue Tristano from death.”84 Another literary flower of chivalry, Lancelot, like wise utilizes his prowess to subvert justice, escaping the clutches of King Arthur and saving the queen after their adulterous affair is discovered.85 Per haps these contradictions are a reflection of the debate within the chivalric cultural community at this time about the issue of justice, particularly how to reconcile their assertion of the right to private justice in the face of a Flo rentine government struggling to impose its authority upon its most violent and unruly citizens. Despite the ambiguity in the Tavola Ritonda, most romances strongly endorsed the validity of determining or avoiding justice through prowess. There are numerous examples of literary knights who are unable to avoid justice through their own prowess but are saved by friends or relatives. In the Tristano Riccardiano, just as in the Tavola Ritonda, Tristan’s friends plan to rescue him from King Mark’s justice through force after he is caught en gaging in an adulterous affair with Isolde. According to the author, when Governal found out that Tristan had been condemned by King Mark, he assembled four of Tristan’s knightly companions, instructing them that “As soon as Tristan appears we will attack the men who are escorting him, so fiercely that we will rescue the lady Isolde and my lord Tristan. For it is better
83. Tristan and the Round Table, 45, 68. 84. Tristan and the Round Table, 107. 85. Tristan and the Round Table, 119.
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to die with honor than to live with shame”; all of the knights readily agreed.86 A similar incident can be found in the Tristano Panciatichiano, when Tristan once again resists arrest through his prowess. This particular version of the story is striking because the king and his knights are so amazed by Tristan’s great deeds of arms that they lavish praise upon the very prowess Tristan uses to subvert justice.87 The valorization in literary works, especially romances, of violence used to dispense private justice or to outright subvert the rule of law served a clarion call encouraging historical knights and men-at-arms to exploit their superior martial skills and resources in order to turn illicit actions into licit ones, to prove their innocence when their guilt was all but certain.88 As we shall see, these incidents also reflected actual historical behavior. We can find evidence of this type of violence from at least the middle of the thirteenth century. In 1258, it was discovered that the Uberti lineage were planning to attack and overthrow the Primo Popolo, a popular government that held power in Florence from 1250 to 1260. Prominent members of the lineage were summoned to appear before the magistrates, but rather than humble themselves to the authority of those they perceived to be their social in feriors, they used violence to subvert justice, “grievously wound[ing] and smit[ing]” the staff of the podestà. Not surprisingly, the popular government reacted to this challenge with force, as the popolani armed themselves and attacked the Uberti houses. Giovanni Villani writes that “they killed Schi attuzzo degli Uberti and many of their followers and retainers, and they took Uberto Caini degli Uberti and Mangia degli Infangati,” who were sub sequently beheaded.89 86. Tristano Riccardiano, 176/177. 87. Tristano Panciatichiano, 294/295–296/297: “And the king and the other knights who saw that blow were greatly amazed by it.” 88. Najemy, A History of Florence, 17, 19, argues that “the pursuit of vendetta can be seen as a po litically motivated rejection of the popolo’s emerging norms of the supremacy of law and internalized discipline of the good citizen.” In fact, Najemy goes so far as to assert that “circumventing the courts and the criminal justice system must have been at least as important to these families in preserving their honor as the actual vendetta.” 89. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 292: “uccisorvi Schiattuzzo degli Uberti e più loro masnadieri e fami gliari; e fue preso Uberto Caini degli Uberti e Mangia del’Infangati, i quali per loro confessata la congiura in parlamento, in Orto Sa[n] Michele fu loro tagliata la testa.” See also “Annali di Simone della Tosa,” in Cronichette antiche di vari scrittori del buon secolo della lingua Italiana, ed. Domenico Ma ria Manni (Milan: Giovanni Silvestri, 1844), 197–98/209–10: “il popolo di Firenze, sentendo di volere essere rotto per gli Uberti, si trassono loro alle case, e disfecero le case loro, e cominciossene a fare le mura a San Giorgio, e morivvi lo Schiattuzzo Uberti, e presono Uberto Caini, e mozzarongli la testa, e gli altri sen’andaro con alquanti Ghibellini fuori di Firenze.” Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:133, also emphasizes the fact that the Uberti and their allies among the chivalric elite “began to defy the magistracy,” forcing the “Florentine commonwealth [to] ma[k]e war against the [Uberti]
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Likewise, in 1287, Corso Donati and his retinue attempted to rescue through violence a certain Totto dei Mazzinghi da Campi, “a great warrior and commander,” who was condemned to be beheaded for murder.90 Al though they failed, the readiness of the chivalric elite to use violence to sub vert public justice is readily apparent. Leonardo Bruni, looking back from the early fifteenth century, wrote that in 1289, “the common people went in fear of the nobles with their retinues,” making the enforcement of the law difficult, even after the creation of popular military companies in the second half of the thirteenth century.91 On other occasions, the chivalric elite were more successful in subverting justice. In 1296, the Florentine exile Messer Tosolato degli Uberti cut off the head of the judge of Alborea in 1296, taking all of his wealth as his own. Rather than being condemned for his actions, however, he was made a knight shortly thereafter.92 Only a few years later, in November 1301, Corso Donati liberated through force all of the noble and knightly prisoners held in the city’s prison.93 Meanwhile, in 1304, a cer tain Talano di Messer Boccaccio Cavicciuli degli Adimari was condemned for evil committed (“per malificio commesso”), but before he could be delivered to justice, “his consorts assailed with arms the podestà who [was traveling] from the palace of the Priors with his family, and wounded them badly, and his family was put to death and severely wounded; and the said Cavicciuli [family] entered into the palace, and through force rescued the said Talano without any resistance.”94 Numerous additional examples confirm this practice continued into the fourteenth century. During the chaos following the removal of the Duke of Athens from power in 1343, Corso di Messer Amerigo dei Donati and many others broke into the prison (the Stinche), freeing the noble prisoners
family in the city streets.” Becker, “A Study in Political Failure,” 254, observes that “the arrest and condemnation of a great magnate would be enough to trigger public rioting.” 90. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 477: “uno grande guerriere e caporale”; “avendo preso e condannato nella testa per micidio fatto.” Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronica Fiorentina, 63. 91. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:351. 92. “Cronica Fiorentina compilata nel secolo XIII,” in Pasquale Villari, The Two First Centuries of Florentine History: The Republic and Parties at the Time of Dante, trans. Linda Villari (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1895), 78: “Ed in questo anno messer Tosolato delli Uberti di Firenze talglò la tessta al Giu dice d’Alborea, e tutto il suo tesoro, ch’ era i grande quantitade si fece venire alle mani; e a di xv di gennaio si fece chavaliere in Sardingna.” 93. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 579. 94. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 629: “I suoi consorti, tornando la podestade con sua famiglia furono morti e fediti assai; e’ detti Cavicciuli entrarono in palagio, e per forza ne trassono il detto Talano sanza contasto niuno.” See also the “Cronaca marciana magliabechiana,” in Eine Chronik Von Florenz zu den Jahren MCCC–MCCCXIII, ed. Otto Hartwig (Halle: Druck Von E. Karras, 1880), 19–20.
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therein, before proceeding throughout the city burning and fighting.95 In this way Corso followed in the footsteps of his namesake who, as we have seen, had similarly attempted to subvert justice in 1287 and succeeded in doing so in 1301. Likewise, in August 1346, the Bardi lineage were accused of avoiding justice through their great arrogance (grandigia) and violence.96 Four years later in 1350, Carlo di Baldovinetto dei Gherardini killed the commander of the civic militia (gonfaloniere di compagnia), Banchello di ser Belcaro, whose office gave him the responsibility for maintaining public or der and justice.97 While Giovanni Villani and his fellow popolani chroniclers lamented the lack or perversion of justice in the Florentine state, members of the chivalric elite would not have considered this resistance to a public authority enforced by those they perceived to be their social inferiors to be unjust or corrupt. Rather they would have understood this violence to be a licit assertion of their traditional right to seek private justice, a right predicated upon their perceived superiority as members of distinguished lineages with long tradi tions of military service and political leadership. In other words, social vio lence was a constitutive feature of the chivalric cultural community. Violent Resistance against Civic Authority
Florentine chronicles are replete with incidents of social violence at the col lective level, which commonly took the form of warfare between the chival ric elite and representatives of the government. Alessio Fiore has recently shown that this type of violence had been utilized by aristocrats and knights in north-central Italy since the late eleventh century as a form of political communication and that in an urban context it was specifically connected to the struggle for power.98 John Najemy, likewise, has argued that “much elite violence, whatever the specific origin in this or that quarrel, can . . . be seen as collective acts of defiance against the constraints imposed by the popolo: loud statements that the elite wanted no meddling from self-declared gov ernments of guildsmen in what it considered its own internal affairs.”99 From 95. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 205–6: “Mentrechè le predette cose si faceano, Corso di messer Amerigo Donati con molti altri, li quali aveano in pregione loro amici e parenti, si ragunarono, e con molto popolazzo corsero alle Stinche, e quelle coll’aiuto di quelli dentro ruppono, e cavaronne tutti I prigioni.” See also Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 135. 96. Claudia Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino: Dinamiche sociali e rapporti di potere nel Trecento,” Rivista di storia dell’agricoltura 33, no. 2 (1993): 30. 97. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 289. 98. Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation, 234, 238. 99. Najemy, A History of Florence, 17.
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the perspective of Florentine knights and men-at-arms, the denial of their perceived rights was a source of dishonor, doubly so because of the status of the resisting party, requiring the appropriate degree of violence to restore the lost honor.100 Historical examples confirm the prescriptive and descriptive value of the literary incidents. In 1250, when faced with a powerful challenge by the Primo Popolo (1250–60), the Florentine Ghibellines armed themselves and gathered at the house of the Uberti, an ancient and powerful Florentine lin eage comprised of many knights and men-at-arms. These men, full of chi valric ideas about the praiseworthy and honorable exercise of violence when their collective rights and honor were challenged, prepared to make war on the popolani and Florentine government. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, look ing back at these events from the mid-fourteenth century, wrote that not even fear of an alliance between their Guelf enemies and the popolani could prevent these men from resorting to violence.101 Only five years later, the streets of Florence were once again the scene of pitched battles fought between the chivalric elite and popolani. This time the Uberti lineage, among others, was driven into exile.102 Following the defeat of King Manfred of Sicily at the Battle of Benevento (1266), the Florentine Ghibellines attacked the popolani in the city streets before fleeing the city. Chronicler Paolino Pieri, who was born in the second half of the thirteenth century, wrote baldly that “many skirmishes and great trouble was found in Florence in those days.”103 In another incident recounted this time by Mar chionne di Coppo Stefani, the author makes explicit what was surely the case in previous examples, that collective social violence often involved common ers (whether from the city or countryside) fighting on behalf of members of the chivalric elite against other commoners and even the Florentine govern ment. Marchionne writes that in 1279 the city of Florence was completely divided with nearly all of the citizens participating in the war between the Adimari and the Donati, Pazzi, and Tosinghi, each a prominent lineage of the chivalric elite.104 Meanwhile, in 1293, the chivalric elite “brought from Champagne a brave and bold knight named Messer Jean de Chalons, a man 100. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 364. 101. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 37: The Ghibellines supposedly decided “andiamo a provare se vogliono zuffa con noi; se la vogliono, diamala loro.” 102. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 44; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 263–65; Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:133; and “Annali di Simone della Tosa,” 197–98. 103. Cronica di Paolino Pieri Fiorentino delle cose d’Italia, dall’anno 1080 fino all’anno 1305, ed. An tonio F. Adami (Rome: Multigrafica Ed., 1981), 33: “Molte zuffe, e gran romore fu in quel di(e) in Firenze.” 104. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 56.
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more powerful than loyal . . . [who] came to Tuscany allied with the mag nates of Florence” to help them “crush the popolo of Florence.”105 The establishment of the Secondo Popolo and its promulgation of more stringent measures to control social violence succeeded in bringing the vari ous factions of the chivalric elite together in 1295 in order to resist the po polani.106 Villani’s description of the subsequent conflict in the city streets is reminiscent of pitched battles on battlefields across Europe: “all the people in the city of Florence were in a clamor and in arms; the magnates them selves [were] on armored horses, and with their retainers from the country side and other followers on foot in great numbers” attempted to take control of the city through violence.107 Extant sources claim that Corso Donati and his allies challenged Giano della Bella—a member of an elite Florentine lin eage who had gained power through an alliance with the popolani and subse quently helped craft the Ordinances of Justice—and his supporters and even tually drove them from the city.108 Likewise, in June 1300, tensions between two of the leading Florentine lineages, the Donati and Cerchi, exploded into open warfare, resulting in significant violence against the popolani.109 Dino Compagni provides perhaps the most striking and illustrative exam ple when he recounts a likely apocryphal conversation held between several members of the Florentine chivalric elite in 1293 about how best to restore their fortunes following the meteoric rise to power of new men as part of the Secondo Popolo and what they saw as the oppression of the traditional ruling lineages. According to Compagni, the first speaker, Messer Berto dei Frescobaldi (d. 1310), “spoke of how these dogs[, the popolani,] had stripped them of honors and offices, and how they did not dare to enter the public palace.” Frescobaldi’s solution to this affront to their honor and challenge to their social and political superiority is typically chivalric; he impassionedly exhorts his fellow knights and men-at-arms to employ extreme violence: “Let us take arms and run to the piazza. Let us kill as many of the popol[ani] as we
105. Compagni, Cronica, 17; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 16. 106. Lansing, The Florentine Magnates, 16, argues that one of the primary functions of the Ordi nances of Justice was to end magnate oppression of the popolani. 107. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 538: “onde nella città di Firenze fu tutta gente a romore e al’arme; i grandi per se a cavalli coverti, e con loro seguito di contadini e d’altri masnadieri a pié in grande quantità.” 108. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 72, discusses Corso’s leadership. Most of the major sources discuss the violent resistance against the Secondo Popolo and della Bella’s leader ship. See Villani, Nuova Cronica, 538–39; Compagni, Cronica, 18–24, and Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 17–20; and Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:379–83. 109. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 538–39; Compagni, Cronica, 26–38, and Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 23–30; and Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:393–401.
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find, whether friends or enemies, so that never again shall we or our sons be subjugated to them.”110 By associating the chivalric elite with transgressive, if not completely unconstrained violence (“Let us kill as many of the popol[ani] as we find, whether friends or enemies”), Compagni no doubt sought to critique the dark side of chivalric culture. Even if Compagni fabricated the details of the dialogue to serve this purpose, however, he also succeeds in highlighting an important element of chivalric mentality: the chivalric elite interpreted the loss of political power and social prestige as a source of dishonor, requir ing knights and men-at-arms to use violence to cleanse the stain on their honor and restore their traditional superiority.111 Messer Baldo della Tosa, the second knight to speak, offers further con firmation that violence was considered the preferred solution to such chal lenges. Unlike Messer Berto dei Frescobaldi, Messer Baldo advocates an ap proach that combines violence with prudence and restraint to ensure not just vengeance in the short term, but also the destruction of the popolani and the permanent restoration of the chivalric elite’s superiority and autonomy. According to Compagni, Messer Baldo told the assembled crowd: “Lords, the advice of this wise knight is good—except that if our plan fell short we would all be killed. But let us first conquer them with cunning and sow discord among them with pious words. . . . And once they are divided, let us thrash them so that they will never rise again.”112 Compagni once again highlights, albeit unintentionally, an important aspect of chivalric mentality: knights and men-at-arms saw violence as central to any response, a necessary weapon in the struggle to restore the traditional and natural order of society. According to Compagni, Messer Baldo’s advice was very well received. Yet the pervasive violence delineated in this and other chronicles suggests that the promotion of reform virtues such as restraint and prudence seems to have been largely ignored or negated by powerful chivalric ideas about the necessity of answering challenges to autonomy and perceived superiority with violence. As a well-informed contemporary to these events it is possible that Compagni was privy to the details of the debate, but regardless of the accuracy of particular exchanges, the author succeeds in shedding light on 110. Compagni, Cronica, 19–20; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 17. 111. Andrea Zorzi, “Legitimation and Legal Sanction of Vendetta in Italian Cities from the Twelfth to the Fourteenth Centuries,” in Cohn and Ricciardelli, The Culture of Violence in Renaissance Italy, 52, notes that “the new ‘popular’ governments . . . turned the politics of pacification into the symbol of a renewed ideology of governance which began to identify the social group of the milites as being responsible for urban violence.” 112. Compagni, Cronica, 20; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 17–18.
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the chivalric attitude toward their social superiority and perceived right to wield power. There can be little doubt that the battle for political power played a role in engendering this violence. After all, Alessio Fiore’s work on the seigneurial elite in north-central Italy in the eleventh and twelfth centuries has demon strated convincingly that violence was an important mode of political com munication.113 This violence cannot be fully explained, however, by consider ing it to be simply the product of a battle to exercise power in the Florentine commune. If the chivalric elite only wished to exercise political power, they could have realized this goal more easily through accommodation with the popolani, especially members of the popolo grasso with whom they enjoyed marriage and business ties. The typical magnate, like other members of the chivalric elite, believed transgressive violence to be an appropriate and praiseworthy means of defending individual and collective honor. As we shall see in chapter 4, the chivalric elite held positions of leadership in times of war, a right they claimed thanks to their long experience and training in war and social superiority. This leadership and service in turn pro vided Florentine knights and men-at-arms with honor and confirmed their exalted social standing. When their demands were not met, they reacted in a variety of ways, but all aimed at subverting or overcoming the authority claimed by men they perceived to be their social inferiors. In 1251, the Ghi bellines of Florence refused to participate in an expedition against Pistoia that was under the authority of the broadly supported government of the Primo Popolo. Villani claimed that “in word and in deed [they] oppose[d] it.”114 Apposite also is the example from Dino Compagni introduced at the beginning of the chapter, who recounts that on the eve of the feast day of St. John ( June 24) in 1289, the chivalric elite resorted to violence in order to express displeasure at their treatment following the leading role they played in the Florentine victory against the Aretines and Ghibelline exiles at Cam paldino earlier that year.115 Compagni writes that while the guilds were going in a procession to make their customary offerings with their consuls “some magnates laid hands on them and struck them saying: ‘We are the ones who were responsible for the victory at Campaldino, yet you have taken from us the offices and honors of our city.’ ”116
113. 114. 115. 116.
Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation, 234. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 270: “anzi in detto e in fatto la contradiaro.” Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 147. Compagni, Cronica, 29; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 24.
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Likewise, in 1310, Giovanni Villani blamed certain members of the chi valric elite for refusing to take the city of Arezzo after a long siege in 1310, because they wished for the war to continue.117 He also relates how during the siege of Prato over a decade later in 1323, the chivalric elite (he uses the term “nobility”) “through the[ir] vice . . . did not want to win the war for the honor and standing of the popolo.”118 The resulting conflict between the popolani and the chivalric elite within the Florentine army led to an ig nominious retreat, to their “great dishonor and shame and that of the Com mune of Florence.”119 To make matters worse, Florentine exiles attempted to take advantage of the political disorder that followed in order to force their way into the city with the assistance of some of the very same members of the chivalric elite whom Villani blamed for the failed siege. Although they were ultimately stopped, Villani claims that these exiles continued to plot with nobles in the city to make war against the popolani in order to secure their restoration.120 Less than a year later in February 1324, some members of the chivalric elite (Villani makes reference to a general group comprised of grandi and other powerful Florentine houses) formed an alliance “with twenty-five noble houses from the contado,” with the intention of return ing to power through violence.121 Marchionne di Coppo Stefani offers more insight claiming that the chivalric elite had expressed considerable outrage before the campaign against Castruccio Castracani began because the popolo would not allow them to choose their own captain.122 This shows a clear and consistent effort by the chivalric elite to jealously guard their traditional role as the martial leaders of the Florentine commune—a primary source of honor for them—against those they considered their social inferiors who sought to control the prosecution of war. In other words, the efforts of the popolo challenged the collective honor of the chivalric elite, requiring violent resistance. All of these examples occurred during a particularly contentious time in Florentine history when the chivalric elite were treated in a seemingly con tradictory manner. As we have seen already, they received praise for leading Florence to victory at the Battle of Campaldino (1289), while at the same
117. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 685–86. 118. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 850–53, at 851: “per vizio de’ nobili, che non voleano vincere la guerra in onore e stato di popolo.” 119. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 853: “con grande onta e vergogna di loro e del Comune di Firenze.” 120. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 853. 121. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 902: “si trassono del numero de’ grandi e potenti dieci casati minimi e impotenti di Firenze, e venticinque schiatte de’nobili di contado, e recargli a popolo.” 122. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 132–33.
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time they were subjected to the Ordinances of Justice in 1293. This treat ment no doubt highlighted the challenge posed to the chivalric elite’s tradi tional modus operandi by the emergence and increasing dominance of the popolani. In the past, the chivalric elite were rewarded for successful military leadership and service with honor, as well as social prestige, political power, and wealth. The emergence of popular Florentine governments animated by civic ideology, however, saw military affairs come increasingly under the leadership of men who were not strenuous warriors, as well as the bestowal of honor and prestige on those who provided other forms of service, mostly administrative and juridical in nature. Resistance to these changes over whelmingly took the form of violence. The stakes involved in most incidents of collective social violence were obviously quite high, as the momentum and power gained or lost in these conflicts between the chivalric elite and the popolani could ultimately lead to significant changes in the city, the rise and fall of governments, and the exile or death of prominent Florentine citizens. Social violence had the potential to spiral out of control, engulfing the entire city.123 Even when the violence was more contained, the consequences were often extensive, as when the po polani armed themselves and destroyed the towers and palaces of the Torna quinci lineage in 1303 in response to one of its members killing a popolano.124 Given the pervasiveness and intensity of this violence, the popolani lived in constant fear of a violent uprising by the chivalric elite. Leonardo Bruni, looking back on this tumultuous period, wrote that in 1289 “fear of the no bility was the one bond of harmony that united the people.”125 Giovanni Villani, who lived through these events, also notes this fear and the high level of distrust that existed between the popolani and the chivalric elite. This is clearest, perhaps, in his description of the events of November and December 1325. Earlier that year, Castruccio Castracani, the lord of Pisa and Lucca, had routed the Florentine army at the Battle of Altopascio, leav ing many prominent Florentines in Lucchese prison. In November of that same year, Villani wrote that “the Florentines were very suspicious among themselves, fearing one another of treachery, especially certain grandi and powerful popolani [grassi], who had sons and brothers in prison in Lucca; they issued a decree under great penalty that no citizen who had someone in prison in Lucca could be castellan of any castle, or vicar of a league or
123. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 213–18. 124. “Cronaca marciana magliabechiana,” 17. 125. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:351.
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of people.”126 In December, these fears still had not subsided, as the Flo rentines “liv[ed] in great fear of treachery, especially among those who had brothers and sons imprisoned in Lucca, who were powerful and great in the commune.”127 While many additional examples for the fourteenth century can be found in contemporary and near-contemporary chronicles, a few incidents drawn from the work of the Villani are representative of this larger body of evi dence. Villani writes that in 1323 numerous knights and men-at-arms came together and shouted battle cries that included “Death, death to the com mune and il popolo of Florence and to the [Party] Guelfa and long live the Ghibellines.”128 This was particularly concerning because in that same year members of the chivalric elite in exile had worked together with their coun terparts in the city, most notably Amerigo dei Donati, Tegghia dei Fresco baldi, and Lotteringo dei Gherardini, in a failed attempt to overthrow the Florentine government.129 Less than a decade later, Ugolino di Tano degli Ub aldini, a member of a famous and powerful lineage from the Florentine con tado, attempted, with the support of certain lesser men, to commit treachery in Florence in 1329. He planned to secretly place two hundred of his men in the city and then to set fire to houses in different parts of Florence in or der to sow confusion. During the confusion, Florentine Ghibelline exiles, in conjunction with soldiers from various allies, including the emperor, would attack the city, taking control. Villani informs his reader with unmistakable relief that the plot was discovered and thwarted.130 Only a few years later (1333), certain members of the chivalric elite took advantage of flooding in the city to move once again against the popolani. This time they tried to block the bridges so that the civic militia could not cross the river but eventually backed down when the militia marched against a member of the elite Rossi lineage, who had attacked and wounded his popolano relative.131 As these examples demonstrate, the high stakes associated with social vio lence, especially collective social violence, meant that those members of the chivalric elite who played the game of power politics risked their property, 126. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 940: “i Fiorentini furono in grande sospetto dentro tra loro, temendo l’no dell’altro di tradigione, e spezialmente di certi grandi e popolani possenti, i quali aveano loro figliuoli e fratelli in pregione a Lucca, si feciono uno dicreto sotto grande pena, che nullo cittadino che avesse pregione a Lucca potesse essere castellano di nullo castello, o vicario di lega o di gente.” 127. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 944: “vivendo in paura grande di tradimento, temendo di coloro ch’aveano i loro figliuoli e fratelli pregioni in Lucca, i quali erano possenti e grandi in comune.” 128. As quoted in Becker, “A Study in Political Failure,” 286. 129. Becker, “A Study in Political Failure,” 284. 130. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1087–88. 131. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1229.
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exile, and even death.132 Perhaps the most famous example is the fall from grace of Messer Corso Donati, “the baron,” in 1308.133 In that year, after spending over a decade as one of the leading figures in Florence, Donati was accused of conspiring to take control of the city. When he refused to submit himself to the authority of the communal government, a typical assertion of chivalric autonomy, he was condemned in absentia. Corso and his allies, including the Bordoni lineage, prepared to defend themselves in Piazza San Piero Maggiore. Dino Compagni describes the events that followed: Messer Corso was badly afflicted with gout and could not bear arms, but he urged his friends on with his tongue, praising and inspiring those who bore themselves valiantly. But he had few men. . . . The attackers were numerous, for all the banners of the popolo were there alongside the mercenaries and men at arms, attacking the barricades with crossbows, stones, and fire. Messer Corso’s few soldiers defended themselves vigorously with lances, crossbows, and stones, waiting for those in the conspiracy to come to their aid . . . but none of them showed any sign of coming. . . . Seeing that he could no longer defend himself, messer Corso decided to leave. The barricades were broken; his friends fled through the houses. . . . Messer Rosso [dei Rossi], messer Pazzino [dei Pazzi], messer Geri [dei Bordoni], and many others fought vigorously on foot and horse. . . . Messer Corso, ill with gout, fled to wards the abbey of San Selvi. . . . The men at arms [of the commune] caught him and recognized him and wanted to lead him off; he de fended himself with fine words like a wise knight. Meanwhile, the mar shal’s young brother-in-law arrived. Though urged by the others to kill messer Corso, he refused to do it and turned back. He was sent again, this second time he struck messer Corso in the throat with a Catalan lance and another blow in the flank and knocked him to the ground. Some monks carried messer Corso to the abbey, and there he died.134 Compagni clearly admired the bravery and vigorous deeds of the Donati, Pazzi, and Bordoni in this battle, even if he lamented the fact that their prowess was used to inflict devastating violence on their fellow citizens, es pecially popolani.135 In contrast, the Donati, Pazzi, and Bordoni would have 132. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 86, makes the important counterpoint that the finan cial wealth of a magnate lineage did not coincide with its power. 133. Diacciati, “ ‘Il barone’: Corso Donati.” 134. Compagni, Cronica, 109–11, and Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 83–84. 135. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 386, notes that Donato Velluti seems to have prized the moral aspect of nobility over all other aspects. He recognized and praised cunning and physical
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understood their violence to be not only licit and a source of honor but also a necessary assertion of chivalric autonomy. While the nature of our historical sources means that acts of collective social violence were the most likely to be recorded in chronicles, the records of the criminal courts also provide evidence. The judicial archives contain particularly rich veins of evidence, especially the records of the executor of the Ordinances of Justice, the podestà, and the captain of the Popolo.136 These archives remain largely unexamined by most scholars, especially his torians of chivalry, although they are not a panacea for the challenges facing historians of chivalry in late medieval Florence. Historians, consequently, are left largely in the dark about much of the violence that occurred in the second half of the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries in particular. In addition, the records for the years that do survive are complicated and in complete, with the denunciation (tamburagione), inquisition, and sentencing related to one particular case found in three different sets of documents, if they have even survived the vicissitudes of time.137 The important work of scholars such as Claudia Caduff, Carol Lansing, Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, and Joseph Figliulo-Rosswurm, among others, has made it possible for historians of chivalry to draw broad conclusions about identified incidents of social violence.138 Of course, these scholars also advise caution when utilizing accusations and denunciations as evidence of actual violence: sometimes men bore false witness, and often when an ac cusation was made the named witnesses failed to show up and testify. Occa sionally accusations were declared without basis by relevant authorities and subsequently dismissed.139 Some scholars have suggested that denunciations courage but came down hard on the moral shortcomings of magnates. Becker, “A Study in Politi cal Failure,” 254, argues that noblemen such as Corso Donati filled their countrymen with fear and fascination. They were often praised and condemned in the same breath. 136. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 139: The executor of the Ordinances of Justice was charged with investigating the aggression, offenses, and crimes of magnates, but he did not pro nounce the sentence. Klapisch-Zuber, 12, emphasizes the importance of testimony given before the podestà for understanding the mentality of magnates and their culture of violence. 137. Joseph Figliulo-Rosswurm, “ ‘So that They Are Not Killed and Robbed Every Day’: The Construction and Use of Popular Identity in Florentine Tuscany, ca. 1250–1350” (PhD diss., Univer sity of California, Santa Barbara, 2016). Figliulo-Rosswurm provides an important discussion of the records of the Executor of the Ordinances as a source. 138. Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino”; Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revis ited”; Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica; Vieri Mazzoni, Accusare e proscrivere il nemico politico: Legis lazione antighibellina e persecuzione giudiziaria a Firenze (1347–1378) (Pisa: Pacini Editore, 2010); Joseph Figliulo-Rosswurm, “Rural People and Public Justice in Fourteenth-Century Tuscany,” Renaissance Quarterly 72, no. 2 (2019): 417–56; and Figliulo-Rosswurm, The Social Politics of Public Justice in an Italian Commune (Routledge, forthcoming). 139. In June 1307, the Signoria dismissed accusations made against Bernardino di Gherardino Gherardini by a popolano who claimed that Bernardino had violently invaded and occupied his land
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were an important weapon utilized by the popolani and, by extension, the Florentine government to legitimate popular rule and agendas and to de monize and weaken the grandi.140 Vieri Mazzoni likewise makes a strong case that in the fourteenth century the mechanisms of the judicial system could be abused by the elite, especially members of the Parte Guelfa, in order to take down political enemies.141 Samuel K. Cohn Jr. meanwhile notes that the judicial records “track the state’s strategies of prosecution and social control as much as, if not more, than criminal behavior or violence.”142 Despite these limitations and concerns, the judicial records of the Flo rentine government do provide useful evidence for the practice of social violence in the second half of the fourteenth century, especially when con sidered in light of the mental framework of the chivalric practitioners who committed the violence. Indeed, Alessio Fiore has argued for the utility of examining querimoniae (pleas to a sovereign authority) in order to understand seigneurial violence in north-central Italy in the eleventh and twelfth centu ries, asserting that “regardless of their factual accuracy, the actions described [in the querimoniae] had to strike the addressee as likely and, more generally, be socially plausible; therefore, they had to be consistent with the actual behavioural models of their age, with respect to which they can serve as useful guides.”143 This certainly holds true for Florentine judicial records, especially the anonymous, written denunciations (tamburagioni) filed by po polani against magnates. Christiane Klapisch-Zuber’s discussion of several denunciations occur ring in the year 1345 highlights the value of these archival documents in
in the Val d’Elsa in 1302: ASF, Diplomatico, Adespote, coperte di libri, June 6, 1307. See also Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino,” 29, 58. 140. See Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, especially 152. Cf. Becker, “A Study in Political Failure,” 280, who argues that there was almost unanimous judgment by contemporaries who saw the magnates as the principal agents of rebellion and discord. Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisited,” 45, acknowledges that while popular regimes sought to demonize magnates in an effort to “consolidate and legitimate their own rule,” this did not mean that “magnate violence was not a genuine threat.” 141. Mazzoni, Accusare e proscrivere il nemico politico. See also Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 139, who observes that accusations of Ghibellinism and rebellion were easy to issue and effective. Massimo Tarassi, “Le famiglie di parte guelfa nella classe dirigente della città di Firenze durante il XIII secolo,” in I ceti dirigenti dell’età comunale nei secoli XII e XIII: Atti del II convegno, Firenze, 14–15 dicembre 1979 (Pisa: Pacini, 1982), 301–21, discusses the Parte Guelfa in the thirteenth century. Gen eral discussions can be found in Najemy, A History of Florence; Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico; and Diacciati, Popolani e magnati. 142. Samuel K. Cohn Jr., Creating the Florentine State: Peasants and Rebellion, 1348–1434 (Cam bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 29. For related issues, see Massimo Vallerani, Medieval Public Justice, trans. Sarah R. Blanshei (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2012), 77–81. 143. Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation, 228–29.
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unearthing acts of collective social violence, especially efforts of members of the chivalric elite to resist, if not overthrow, the Florentine govern ment. Some suggest high-level machinations with potentially far-reaching consequences. In July of that year three Adimari, one Tosinghi, and indi viduals from multiple other chivalric lineages were accused of plotting to restore the Duke of Athens and drive the Florentine Priors from their palace. Another denunciation in that same year accused two members of the Scali lineage of plotting several years earlier (1342) with the same Duke of Athens to take the palace of the Signoria. Other denunciations lay bare more mundane violence, as when Napoleone and Sandro di Lipaccio were accused of bombarding with rocks and bricks the guards of the com mune who were stationed in the piazza upon which their palace stood in February 1347.144 Further outside the walls such acts of social violence often took on a more expansive form. For example, in 1349, a member of the Abati lineage was accused of attempting to take the castle of Incisa in the Florentine contado at the head of a group of armed followers. One witness testified that the group shouted “Death to the popolo and long live the grandi!” while storming the castle.145 A petition submitted by all of the members of the Tornaquinci lin eage in 1352 reveals that two of its members, Attaviano di Messer Testa and Musino di Manetto, had both been condemned by the Esecutore to decapita tion and the confiscation of their possessions for having forcibly taken over a small town (località) near Volterra and shouting “Death to the Guelf Party!” (Muora la parte guelfa).146 Meanwhile, Pazzino dei Donati was condemned by the podestà to death, the confiscation of his possessions, and for his like ness to be painted (“la pittura infamante”) for conspiracy in 1360.147 In Octo ber 1387, all members of the Strozzi were made magnates after the murder of Piero Lenzi, the gonfaloniere of the compagnia (an important official of the Florentine communal government), by Pagnozzino di Pagnozzo and his brother, Nofri, both members of the Strozzi lineage, who were subsequently declared rebels.148
144. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 116–17. 145. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 117. 146. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 206–7. 147. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 227, n. 43. Cf. Gene Brucker, “The Medici in the Four teenth Century,” Speculum 32 (1957): 17, who notes another participant in this plot, Bartolomeo di Messer Alamanno dei Medici. 148. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 252. See also Gene Brucker, The Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, 1343–1378 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1962), 84–85.
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General Violence against Popolani
Chivalric ideas, especially the need to assert and defend individual and col lective honor, complemented and enhanced the more readily recognized economic, political, and social motivations behind elite violence against the popolani. Indeed, Richard Kaeuper has made clear for the larger European context that profit and politics were no strangers to honor and chivalry.149 If often social violence seems both random and transgressive in the Florentine context, chivalric ideology would have imbued it with an important purpose: to reassert their social superiority over the popolani, whom the chivalric elite thought had forgotten their natural place in the hierarchy, and to challenge the authority of a Florentine government that had usurped their traditional power and autonomy.150 Before turning to individual acts, which often es caped the attention of contemporary chroniclers, it is useful to first examine this violence at a macro level. Lansing’s study of the criminal archives for the years 1343–48 identifies 143 criminal cases involving accusations that individuals identified as nobles, grandi, and magnati either threatened or committed acts of transgressive violence against popolani. These acts ranged from assault with defensive weapons to rape and the murder of priests.151 Likewise, Caduff concludes that a majority of the denunciations she examined for the period 1345–46 involved accusations of elite men attacking, wounding, or killing popolani.152 Even more extensive in its coverage is the work of Klapisch-Zuber, who analyzed 448 denunciations made during the years 1344–50, 1367–77, and 1400–1405.153 Of these, 225 involved elite violence against popolani, result ing in injuries. Twenty-seven denunciations involved charges of murder, and sixteen involved rape. If we take into consideration the violence that oc curred during attacks on the property of popolani, we see at least another sixty incidents and possibly twice that number. Meanwhile, the most violent lineages, based on denunciations during the years studied by Klapisch-Zuber, were the Adimari, Bardi, Cavalcanti, Frescobaldi, and Rossi.154 Perhaps most importantly of all, roughly 72 percent of the total victims were popolani men.
149. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 167, 363. 150. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 118. 151. Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisited.” 152. Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino,” 35. 153. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 121, argues based on her study of the records of the judicial archives that some magnates must have considered the popolani to be “traitors” who broke their oaths of loyalty to their natural superiors. 154. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 420–21.
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The above assessment of the judicial archives suggests a significant num ber of incidents of social violence were committed in the second half of the fourteenth century. This type of violence undoubtedly regularly occurred in the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries as well, although examples are comparatively difficult to identify because of the lack of archival documents for this period. Despite these evidentiary limitations, it is possible to identify a number of representative examples for the early fourteenth century. In Au gust 1300, Regino di M. Ugholino dei Rossi (Rubei) attacked with a kitchen knife and killed Vane, a popolano from S. Felicita.155 In May 1305, Messer Andrea di Tommaso dei Mozzi was forced to surrender three farms to the Florentine government after his failure to pay a fine of 2,100 lire, imposed after he struck a popolano multiple times.156 In August 1308, the podestà of Florence condemned Baldo dei Frescobaldi and Lamberto, his son, for hav ing assaulted and struck a popolano, Lando di Bernardo.157 Two of the few surviving documents from the judicial archives for the period before 1343 relate to the violent actions of Donato di M. Marsello dei Donati, who was required, on March 15, 1310, to restore a certain percentage of the goods he took from some popolani. He was also sentenced on December 5, 1310, for having occupied the farm of a popolano.158 Arnoldo Tani degli Amidei, meanwhile, was condemned to death a few months later (March 6, 1311) for having attacked and killed a popolano. A year later, two members of the Ricasoli lineage, Bindaccio di Albertuccio and Guicciardone di Micco, were initially condemned for killing a peasant in April 1312, although they avoided punishment.159 In contrast to the dearth of documents for the early fourteenth century, the judicial archives are replete with evidence for the years after 1343, even if these records, like chronicles, often fail to offer insight into the motivation and mentality behind chivalric social violence. What they do make clear, however, is the bloody and transgressive nature of chivalric social violence. The judicial archives for Florence are immense: Andrea Zorzi notes that there are over 12,000 registers for the years 1343–1502, while the records 155. ASF, Provvisioni, registri 10, fol. 271r–v (August 2, 1300). 156. Biagio Boccadibue (1298–1314), vol. 1, fasc. 2, Febbraio 1300–ottobre 1305, ed. Laura De Angelis, Elisabetta Gigli, and Franek Sznura (Pisa: Giardini Editori, 1993), 247–54: “cum dominus Andreas domini Tomasi de Moczis, tamquam magnas et potens civitatis Florentie, occasione accusationis de eo facte per Cantem Berghi, popularem personam et de populo civitatis Florentie, de septem percus sionibus cum minibus sine sanguinis effusione.” 157. ASF, Diplomatico, Archivio Generale dei Contratti, August 17, 1308. 158. ASF, Diplomatico, Riformagioni, March 15, 1310 and December 5, 1310. 159. Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, trans. Eugenio Dupré-Theseider, 5 vols. (Florence: San soni, 1956–68), 4:614–16.
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for the period 1343–60 alone comprise over 345 registers.160 As a result, only a representative sample of incidents will be examined below, drawn mostly from the middle decades of the century and chosen because they involve individuals who belong to one of the main chivalric lineages studied in this present book. They are organized chronologically in order to demonstrate the continuity and nature of the practice of social violence during the second half of the fourteenth century. In December 1343, the podestà of Florence condemned to death in con tumacy Bernardo, called “Pelagra,” son of Nerone dei Cavalcanti, for the murder of a popolano in July.161 A month later, in January 1344, Giovanni di Guelfo dei Pulci was denounced for having smashed Grasso di Guccio in the head with the pommel of his sword.162 Later that same year, four Gherardini men were forced to pay the Florentine government six thousand lire because one of their cousins murdered a popolano man who happened to be an exprior of the city.163 The following year brought violent incidents of a similar tenor. In Febru ary, Boccaccio di Rinaldo was accused of murdering Nuccio di Giovanni di Arrigo, a popolano from the contado, by hitting him with a lance (lancia).164 Other cases from 1345 include Migliore degli Abati’s assault on a popolano priest named Giovanni Bonaiuti of S. Michele di Bertelde and Francesco dei Bardi’s attack on Giorgio di Calandrino, a popolano from the contado, during which he beat Giorgio in the face and torso.165 In another striking case from 1345, a certain Angelo del fu Panziere dei Ricasoli was first accused in August of having approached Cennina and her husband, Vannuccio, on the piazza of a church. Angelo subsequently kidnapped and held Cennina at his house for days where he raped her, while also sending men to kill Vannuccio. Ac cording to the records of the case, Vannuccio was killed near Siena and his hand was brought back to Angelo, who allegedly threw it to his dogs to eat. He was convicted the following year (1346).166 In the early spring of 1346, Jacopo dei Bardi was accused of hitting Gual terino di Duccio Parenti over the head with a wine jug until he died.167 160. Andrea Zorzi, “The Judicial System in Florence in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries,” in Crime, Society and the Law in Renaissance Italy, ed. Trevor Dean and K. J. P. Lowe (Cambridge: Cam bridge University Press, 1994), 40. 161. ASF, Esecutore degli Ordinamenti di giustizia (EOG), 1, fols. 25r–26v (December 18, 1343). 162. Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisted,” 42. 163. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 154. 164. ASF, EOG, 21, fol. 82r–v (February 21, 1345): the witnesses all confirm the violent act. 165. ASF, EOG, 51, fol. 18r; ASF, EOG, 51, fol. 43r. 166. Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino,” 35–37. 167. Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisited,” 43.
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Similarly violent were the actions of Lotto di Messer Fornaio dei Rossi, who was denounced for having struck Lorenzo, resident of Santa Maria Impru neta, with a dog collar multiple times in the face until it was bloody, while Lotto’s associate (consorte) held his arms firmly behind his back. While Lotto beat Lorenzo, he allegedly taunted his father saying “go, help your son, you filthy popolano piece of shit” (va’, aiuta [il tuo] figliolo, sozzo popolano di merda).168 During that same year, Lotto di Lapo di Guerarduccio of the Bu ondelmonti was accused of breaking into the house of Guisca, a popolana from Castelfiorentino, and abducting her.169 The judicial records for 1347 and 1348 offer more of the same. A denun ciation made in February 1347 claimed that a member of the Rossi lineage struck a woman, a popolana from San Iacopo a Trecento, in the head until she fell on the ground all bloody. This violence was occasioned by a verbal exchange, when the woman publicly repudiated the Rossi man in his own vil lage.170 In July, Giovanni di Cipriano dei Tornaquinci was accused of assault ing a popolano of S. Donato Vicchietti, although nine of the eleven witnesses who gave testimony claimed no knowledge of the attack.171 It is important to note here, as Figliulo-Rosswurm argues convincingly in a recent study, that “witnesses’ silence was a pragmatic response to local power networks and the criminal court’s procedural regime. Typically, witnesses denied knowl edge.” Due to these repeated denials, there was “a low conviction rate for magnate malefactors.”172 Thus, by extension, these denials do not signify that the violent incidents at the heart of popolani denunciations did not actually take place. In September of that same year, Lambertuccio and Dino, his son, of the Frescobaldi lineage were accused of attacking Agostino, a popolano from S. Stefano in Pane. Four of the six witnesses listed in the records testified that they knew nothing about the incident, and thus Lambertuccio and Dino es caped punishment.173 In January 1348, Giovanni di Lotterio (called Bugliaffa) and Bartolo di Bertuccio (called Bara Chazza) assaulted, robbed, and then ab ducted Cino di Fave of Monte Ficalle. The government was unable to convict
168. Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino,” 49. 169. ASF, EOG, 96, fols. 102r–130v. 170. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 119: the Florentine woman allegedly told the Rossi man “c’egli face peccato c’elgli facea reccare el pane del Comune da Firenze e poscia e’ rivendea ale povere persone.” 171. ASF, EOG, 143, fols. 29r–31r ( July 26, 1347). 172. Figliulo-Rosswurm, “Rural People and Public Justice in Fourteenth-Century Tuscany,” 417, 420–21. 173. ASF, EOG, 96, fols. 72r–73v.
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them, however, after the witnesses refused to testify.174 A month later (Febru ary), Bernardo dei Tosinghi was accused of assaulting Lapo di Mona Cosa, a popolano, but the case was dismissed after no witnesses were willing to come forward.175 Finally, in January (1348), Rainero di Acconte of the Pazzi was accused of having assaulted Francesco di Pettaccio a month earlier (De cember 1347), but Rainero was also able to avoid justice when the witnesses testified that they knew nothing about the attack.176 Vieri di Filipozzo dei Bardi was accused of assaulting Duzio del Sara, a popolano, in 1349, although once again none of the four of the witnesses called to testify could remember the incident.177 A similar outcome occurred in the case of Michele di Dugolto and Lotto di Simone, both members of the Agli lineage, who were accused of assaulting a popolano named Michele di Gudalotto, but remained free in part because the attack occurred at night.178 Geri dei Donati, meanwhile, was denounced in August 1349 for having wounded a man in his tavern where “as a great and powerful man he made peace through fear.”179 Other cases include Francesco degli Abati’s assault on Giolla di Morello, an agricultural laborer from the contado, Taddeo di Can tino and Antonio di Lotto of the Agli’s attack on Matteo di Giovanni, Panoc chierio di M. Monte dei Buondelmonti’s violence against Niccolo di Butazo, a popolano from the contado, and Napoleone di Lipaccio dei Frescobaldi’s as sault on yet another popolano, Martino di Perio.180 In a final striking case from that year, Ottaviano di M. Teste dei Tornaquinci assaulted Francesco di Sanza degli Strozzi, who rather than responding in kind, chose to utilize the judicial apparatus to secure justice.181 In July 1350, Stoldo di Nicolaio dei Frescobaldi was denounced for assault ing a popolano, but when two of the three witnesses testified that they had no knowledge of the incident, Stoldo escaped punishment.182 Several months later, in November, Durlino di Caleffo was similarly denounced for striking Guido di Lipaccio, a popolano, in the head.183 Talano di Capestro degli Adi mari was similarly accused in that year of assaulting Domenico di Sandro di 174. ASF, EOG, 96, fols. 27r–30v ( January 16, 1348). 175. ASF, EOG, 119, fols. 32r–33v (February 27, 1348). 176. ASF, EOG, 96, fols. 40r–42r ( January 18, 1348). 177. ASF, EOG, 143, fols. 11r–13r. 178. ASF, EOG, 122, fols. 58r–59v. 179. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 126, n. 131. 180. ASF, EOG, 122, fol. 28r; ASF, EOG, 122, fols. 125r–126v; ASF, EOG, 122, fol. 113r–v; ASF, EOG, 122, fols. 34r–36v (October 9, 1349). 181. ASF, EOG, 96, fols. 125r–127r. 182. ASF, EOG, 143, fols. 14r–16r ( July 17, 1350). 183. ASF, EOG, 157, fols. 88r–89v (November 7, 1350).
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Dominico, a popolano, and stealing his horse (roncino/ronzino).184 Other cases from 1350 include the accusation against Jacopo di Cante dei Cavalcanti that he attacked Staggio, a popolano from the contado, and Bernardo di Giovanni di Sasso dei Tosinghi’s attack on Lapo di Mona Cosa of S. Lorenzo.185 The voluminous records of the judicial archive confirm that members of the Florentine chivalric elite continued to practice social violence in the 1350s and 1360s. For example, in 1351, Gino di M. Manetto dei Buondel monti was accused of killing a popolano from the contado, but the accusation remained unproven when the witnesses testified that they were unaware of the murder.186 In November 1352, the podestà of Florence condemned in contumacy a member of the Rossi lineage, Simone di Messer Porcello, for the murder of a popolano.187 Two years later (1354), Cece, a consort of the Gherardini lineage, accused Luigi di Lottino dei Gherardini of having struck and wounded a popolano with the shaft (asta) of his lance.188 In 1364, Donato di Mino dei Ricasoli wounded a popolano with a sword and was required to pay a nine hundred lire fine or have his hand amputated.189 Several years later (1368), Bartolomeo di Rainaldo dei Donati was accused of assaulting a popolano in the parish church of Remole, but eleven of the thirteen cited witnesses could not confirm the attack and thus the case was dismissed.190 In that same year, Lorenzo di M. Simone dei Visdomini attacked and beat up a young popolano, but he was not convicted for nearly four years (1372).191 That social violence continued to be practiced through the end of the cen tury is suggested by a striking example from 1394, when two “powerful and arrogant” Medici, Francesco di Bicci and his son Averardo, were denounced by a popolano whom they had beat up and chastised as if he were a baby. The victim even claimed that the Medici men had thrown away his pants in order to further humiliate him.192 On occasion the judicial archives offer insight into the alleged motivation behind an act of social violence. In many cases, the motivation is articulated as a desire to challenge the Florentine government. When a member of the Rossi lineage was denounced in September 1349 for having attacked and wounded a ward (pupillo), he was accused of having shouted at his victim 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192.
ASF, EOG, 143, fols. 2r–3v. ASF, EOG, 143, fols. 87r–88r; ASF, EOG, 143, fol. 72r–v. ASF, EOG, 157, fols. 35r–38r. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 152. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 166. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 157. ASF, EOG, 530, fol. 72r (May 6, 1368). Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 153. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 262.
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“and I do this to you in order to intimidate and disrespect the Commune and the Popolo and the Signoria, go [to them] so that they can help you, if they can.”193 Similarly explicit is the challenge issued by a member of the Adimari lineage, who, according to a denunciation made in February 1349, attacked and raped a girl with several of his companions while shouting “Death to the Popolo and the Captain (of the Popolo).”194 Klapisch-Zuber likewise pro vides additional examples of verbal challenges to the popolo issued during violent assaults on popolani, including “Dog, I will make you repudiate your loyalty to/faith of the Popolo of Florence,” found in the denunciation of an attack made on May 18, 1347, and “what popolani shits they are,” found in two denunciations dating from March 23, 1347, and April 13, 1347.195 Like wise, an undated denunciation accused several members of the Cavalcanti lineage of wounding a certain popolano, Laveggio di Puccerello, and insulting him and the Florentine government.196 Giovanni Villani’s observation about the state of affairs in Florence in 1292 nicely sums up a second major motivation behind social violence against in dividual popolani: “the nobles called magnates and the powerful, used force and violence against the popolani and the impotent in the countryside as in the city taking possession of both persons and goods.”197 The chivalric elite regularly used violence to appropriate property, extort money, or demand service from a popolano. It is important to note before looking at specific ex amples from the judicial archives that although the evidence available is only from the second half of the fourteenth century, a 1286 law obliging magnates to buy, for a fair price, goods and structures that they possessed illegally, usually through force, suggests that similar incidents occurred in the second half of the thirteenth and first half of the fourteenth centuries.198 Occasional pieces of evidence, which survive in the city’s archives by happy accident, reinforce this argument. One such example is that of the undated petition made by Naddo and the heirs of Geri, his brother, against Corso Donati, who allegedly used his power and position, and by extension ostensibly a veiled threat of violence, to extort money from Naddo and his kin.199 Nearly fifty years later, in April 1338, two members of the della Tosa lineage, Francesco 193. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 118. 194. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 117. 195. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 117: “Cane, io te faro’ rinnegare la fede del Popolo di Fiorenza”; “Che popolari di merda sono questi!” 196. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 117. 197. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 523: “i nobili detti grandi e possenti, contra i popolani e impotenti, così in contado come in città, faceano forze e violenze nelle persone e ne’ beni altrui, occupando.” 198. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 363. 199. ASF, Diplomatico, Adespote, coperte di libri, Secolo XIII, fine 5.
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and Bigliardo, allegedly engaged in similarly motivated violence, that is, in order to take over the property and possessions of a defenseless popolana, Margherita, although no action was taken against the men.200 The work of Samuel Cohn Jr., Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, and William Caferro in particular have highlighted the violence of the Ubaldini, Squar cialupi, and other rural noble lineages who operated at the periphery of the Florentine contado. Their studies make clear that these lineages regularly en gaged in violence against individual popolani, a practice Alessio Fiore has con firmed was also prevalent in the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, as well as against agents of the Florentine government and ecclesiastical figures and properties.201 Particularly egregious offenders were the Monterinaldi, a branch of the Ubaldini, whom Klapisch-Zuber describes as having “a strong preference for armed aggression, with the lance, sword, or bludgeon” and whom “did not hesitate to take possession through force of other people’s goods.”202 Likewise, Caferro’s recent work on the Ubaldini makes clear that this lineage often took their violence to the next level, waging outright war against Florence.203 The judicial archives offer considerable evidence of this type of violence for both the contado as well as in and around the city. In July 1343, Niccolo di Nosso dei Buondelmonti went with a band of soldiers (fanti) to the house of Piero Chiano, which he threatened to burn down with him and his children inside if he did not pay ten gold florins.204 Likewise, in March 1345 Chele Nutini from San Godenzo in the Mugello accused Count Guido Domestico, of the Counts Guidi, of attacking his house with fifty men after Chele re fused to perform guard service at one of the Guidi castles. He claims Guido was “driven by rage” and stole, along with his men, all of Chele’s grain,
200. I Consigli della Repubblica fiorentina: Libri Fabarum XVII (1338–1340), ed. Francesca Klein (Flor ence: Ministero per i beni culturali e ambientali ufficio centrale per i beni archivistici, 1995), 22–23. 201. Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation, 233. See also Cohn, Creating the Florentine State, 172– 94; Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico, 245; and Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 122–25. Klapisch-Zuber observes that two-thirds to three-fourths of the crimes denounced in the 1350s and 1360s were committed in the countryside by members of the nobility of the contado. They were joined around 1370 by urban magnates who fled public justice by taking up residence in the country side, where they continued to perpetrate violence. She furthermore notes that the Mugello seemed to be the most active area for magnate violence, concluding that the perpetrators must have been beyond the reach of the Florentine government in this region. See also Becker, “A Study in Political Failure,” 260, 283. 202. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 123. 203. William Caferro, “ ‘Le Tre Corone Fiorentine’ and War with the Ubaldini, 1349–1350,” in Boccaccio 1313–2013, ed. Francesco Ciabattoni, Elsa Filosa, and Kristina Olson (Ravenna: Longo Editore, 2015), 43–55. 204. Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisited,” 44.
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wine, household goods, and animals, before burning the house and the land around it.205 In that same year, Lapo dei Cavalcanti stole the personal posses sions of the sons of Rosso di Bagnese, a popolano, and took control of their mill on the Pesa River.206 Jacopo del fu Francesco dei Pazzi, meanwhile, was denounced in April 1346 for having entered the house of a Florentine popo lano at night with several other men, which he subsequently sacked, carrying away goods valued at one hundred gold florins.207 Similar were the actions of Mannolo dei Nerli, who was denounced in March 1346 for choking Ser Manecto nearly to death for refusing to pay his annual payment of grain, and two members of the da Grignano lineage, who were denounced in De cember 1346 for attacking a popolano near the border of Sienese territory and imposing a fine on him.208 In August 1347, Beltranio dei Pazzi was accused of taking control of a farm belonging to Zenobio, a popolano, but despite the testimony of five witnesses, Beltranio was not found guilty.209 A month later, Gerardo di Maro di M. Giano di Adimaro degli Adimari and his retainers were accused of stealing grain from Sagliano di Bonagio, a popolano.210 Multiple representa tive incidents can be identified for 1348 as well. In August, brothers Nero and Giovanni, sons of Jacobo Lambernardo degli Adimari, stole grain from the house of a popolano.211 Lapo degli Agli, meanwhile, took over the house of Nicolosa, a popolana widow, but he escaped justice when the witnesses all testified that they knew nothing.212 One year later (1349), Domenico di Jacopo di Domino Ruggiero dei Tornaquinci stole a pig from a popolano mer chant at a meat market in the contado.213 And finally, in 1351, Cogetto di Giovanni di M. Donato di Travino dei Donati broke into the house of a po polano and stole grain and many other things.214 These examples suggest that chivalry valorized violence, often transgressive in nature, against popolani as honorable; indeed, this behavior “smear[ed] no blot on the cherished shield of honor.”215 Chivalric ideas also justified as licit and honorable the use of
205. Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisited,” 41–42. 206. ASF, EOG, 51, fol. 20r. 207. Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino,” 51–52. 208. Lansing, “Magnate Violence Revisited,” 42, and Caduff, “Magnati e popolani nel contado fiorentino,” 34. 209. ASF, EOG, 96, fols. 134r–136r. 210. ASF, EOG, 96, fols. 37r–42r. 211. ASF, EOG, 119, fols. 77r–79v. 212. ASF, EOG, 111, fols. 21r–22r. 213. ASF, EOG, 122, fols. 8r–9v. 214. ASF, EOG, 157, fols. 64r–65v. 215. Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry, 196.
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predatory behavior typically associated with war—the despoiling and de struction of property—on the home front.216 The sheer weight of evidence for the period covered by this study of elite violence against the popolani is staggering. Even with the destruction of the judicial archives for the period before 1343, a variety of different kinds of evidence, including surviving archival documents, chronicles, and civic legis lation, strongly suggests the pervasive practice of social violence during that period. The extant records for the remainder of the fourteenth century con firm the continuity of the practice of this category of chivalric violence in these years. Social violence was underpinned by a chivalric ideology that em phasized social superiority by right of prowess. Because chivalric ideology promoted the idea that might made right, Florentine knights and men-at arms believed that they could act with impunity against those they deemed their social inferiors. Nicolò Rodolico has concluded, based on an analysis of the judicial records for the late fourteenth century, especially oaths sworn before the podestà, that the magnates were still powerful at the end of this century.217 Perhaps even more apposite is Klapisch-Zuber’s conclusion that the Florentine government’s struggle to control magnate violence (a “cul ture of violence”) still had a long way to go in 1400.218 While violence was central to the identity and lifestyle of the Florentine chivalric elite, the violence perpetrated against social inferiors, the popolani, receives the most virulent condemnation in contemporary chronicles, ar chival records, and communal legislation. This is not surprising, as social violence posed a threat not only to public order and prosperity, but also to the very survival of the popolo. This social violence was not, however, simply a matter of lordship—that is, the attempt of an increasingly marginalized warrior elite to impose their fading authority over those they considered to be their inferiors, possibly even their subjects—or the result of political, economic, and social factors alone. Indeed, a much easier route to economic stability and political participation existed in the renunciation process, which allowed an individual, a family, or even an entire lineage to “return to the polis” as popolani after renouncing the practice of social violence, as well as their ancestral surname and coat of arms.219 That this violence contin ued into the fifteenth century strongly suggests that social violence was also
216. Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini, 93–98, connects this behavior to a culture of predation among Tuscan knights in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 217. As discussed in Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 80. 218. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 26, 99, 122. 219. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, chaps. 9–12.
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promoted and valorized by powerful chivalric ideas that were shared by knights and men-at-arms in Florence and further abroad. As a result, social violence was understood to be a crucial means of asserting and defending not only personal and familial honor, but also the honor of the entire chival ric community.
Ch a p ter 3
Brunetto Latini’s Il Tesoretto A Case Study in Chivalric Reform
And fine prowess,
So that Achilles the brave,
Who acquired such praise,
And the good Trojan Hector,
Lancelot, and Tristan
Were not more worthy than you,
Whenever there was need.
—Brunetto Latini, Il Tesoretto
Chivalry played an ambivalent, if not delete rious, role in Florentine society, encouraging knights and men-at-arms to utilize extreme violence in order to defend both their personal and familial honor (honor violence) and their collective honor (social violence). Indeed, chivalry intensified the violence committed by practitioners to a degree un matched by other groups in Florentine society. This is a crucial point, be cause while the ready recourse to violence was not exclusive to nobles or to a class of knights, chivalric identity was centered in large part on the exercise of transgressive honor and social violence. Not surprisingly, the determined violence central to chivalric identity was a source of considerable anxiety for contemporary Florentines. Members of the great merchant and banking lineages of the popolo grasso, although will ing participants when they stood to profit materially or politically, lamented the disruption to business and governance caused by wide-scale internecine fighting and, on occasion, outright civil war. Meanwhile, Florentine popolani of lower and middling social status were at once terrified of the chivalric elite’s violent aggression, of which they were the most common recipients, and attracted by the intoxicating mixture of their social prestige and power (see chapter 2). All popolani agreed, however, that chivalric violence posed a real and serious threat to public order and civic concord in late medieval Florence, so much so that concerned individuals both within and outside 118
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of the chivalric cultural community sought to reform the chivalric lifestyle, especially the centrality of violence. It is important at this point to differentiate the concept of chivalric re form from that of a “civilizing process,” first introduced by Norbert Elias and recently applied with more nuance to communal Italy by John Najemy.1 Elias argued that the violent and reckless medieval warrior elite were “civi lized” (i.e., turned into courtiers) by the coercive power of centralized states in early modern Europe.2 Najemy observes this same process occurring much earlier (the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries) in the cities of north ern Italy, where the process of “defining, codifying, and legislating standards of behavior that modified the character of the aristocratic classes” achieved notable success.3 This “civilizing process,” however, ignores two important realities: first, the various reform efforts put into motion in communal Italy, especially in Florence, during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries were not entirely successful in stamping out the powerful attraction to and influ ence of chivalry, especially among magnates and exiles (fuorusciti); and sec ond, change was not imposed exclusively by external parties bent on elimi nating chivalric violence or browbeating elite warriors into accepting a more pacific and subservient role in communal society.4 Strong currents of reform can be detected emanating both from within chivalric circles as well as from sympathetic outsiders—men like Dante Aligh ieri and Giovanni Boccaccio—in late medieval Italy.5 While these messages A version of this chapter was originally published as “Reforming the Chivalric Elite in Thir teenth-Century Florence: The Evidence of Brunetto Latini’s Il Tesoretto,” Viator: Medieval and Renais sance Studies 46, no. 1 (2015): 203–28. 1. For chivalric reform, see Richard Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence in Medieval Europe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), chaps. 4, 11, and 13. The concept of a civilizing process originates in Norbert Elias, The Civilizing Process, vol. 1, The History of Manners, trans. Edmund Jephcott (New York: Urizen Books, 1978) and Elias, The Civilizing Process, vol. 2, Power and Civility, trans. Edmund Jephcott (New York: Pantheon Books, 1982). Stuart Carroll, Blood and Violence in Early Modern France (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), Kaeuper, “Chivalry and the Civilizing Process,” in Violence in Medieval Society, ed. Richard Kaeuper (Rochester: Boydell Press, 2000), 21–39, and Colin Rose, A Renaissance of Violence: Homicide in Early Modern Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019), all offer important critiques of Elias’s argument. 2. Elias, The Civilizing Process, 2:72. Cf. Kaeuper, “Chivalry and the Civilizing Process,” 21–22. 3. John Najemy, “The Medieval Italian City and the ‘Civilizing Process,’ ” in Europa e Italia: Studi in onore di Giorgio Chittolini (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2011), 356. 4. Silvia Diacciati, Popolani e magnati: Società e politica nella Firenze del Duecento (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2011), 193–97, 309–37, discusses popolani efforts to force new civic values on the magnates. Diacciati, “ ‘Il barone’: Corso Donati,” in Nel Duecento di Dante: I personaggi, ed. Franco Suitner (Florence: Le Lettere, 2020), 180–81, notes the failure of these new values to take root among lineages like the Donati. 5. Enrico Faini, “Vegezio e Orosio: Storia, cavalleria e politica nella Firenze del tardo Duecento,” in Storia sacra e profana nei volgarizzamenti medioevali Rilievi di lingua e di cultura, ed. Michele Colombo,
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of chivalric reform can be construed as having somewhat similar goals as the “civilizing process” promoted by the popolani, their origin and fundamental nature were chivalric, not civic. In other words, these reformers drew upon reformative debates, themes, and virtues inherent in the ideological world of chivalry.6 They believed the best way to define the proper use of violence, to rein in the traditional autonomy of the chivalric elite, and to redirect their loyalty toward service of a sovereign power was through the use of language and virtues already present within chivalric discourse.7 These “internal” reform messages were disseminated primarily through the substantial corpus of imaginative literature, especially prose romances that circulated in Florence and Tuscany during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. As discussed in the introduction, Constance Bouchard and Rich ard Kaeuper have argued for the necessity of using imaginative literature to understand chivalry in the general European context, especially chivalric re form currents, and this holds true for Florence and Tuscany.8 Likewise, the recent studies by Martin Aurell and Lorenzo Caravaggi lend credence to the idea that many Florentine and Tuscan knights read and listened to literary works.9 To this body of scholarship should be added the insights provided by Ronald Witt, Kristina Olson, and Franco Cardini, which in toto paint a convincing picture of literate or semiliterate knights who would have been more than capable of understanding, possibly even fully reading and writ ing, works of imaginative literature.10 As a result, it seems likely that they, Paolo Pellegrini, and Simone Pregnolato (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2019), 237–54, examines the reform program of Bono Giamboni (d. 1292), one of Brunetto Latini’s contemporaries. Kristina Olson, Courtesy Lost: Dante, Boccaccio, and the Literature of History (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014), offers important insight into the reform efforts of Dante and Boccaccio. 6. Martin Aurell, The Lettered Knight: Knowledge and Aristocratic Behaviour in the Twelfth and Thir teenth Centuries, trans. Jean-Charles Khalifa and Jeremy Price (Budapest: Central European Press, 2017), emphasizes the reformative role played by clerics in the general European context. 7. Kaeuper, “Chivalry and the Civilizing Process,” 34, notes the reformative role of courtesy, which functioned as a means of “ensur[ing] the proper exercise of violence, rather than its elimina tion.” Peter Sposato, “Treasonous and Dishonorable Conduct: The Private Dimension of Treason and Chivalric Reform in Late Medieval Florence,” in Treason: Medieval and Early Modern Adultery, Betrayal, and Shame, ed. Larissa Tracy (Leiden: Brill, 2019), 108–28, discusses one current of chivalric reform in Florence. 8. Constance Bouchard, “Strong of Body, Brave and Noble”: Chivalry and Society in Medieval France (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998), and Richard Kaeuper, “Literature as Essential Evidence for Understanding Chivalry,” Journal of Medieval Military History 5 (2007): 1–15. 9. Aurell, The Lettered Knight, 39–97, 103–11, 145–72; Lorenzo Caravaggi, “A Knight and His Library: Romanitas and Chivalry in Early Thirteenth-Century Italy,” Viator 50, no. 1 (2019): especially 142–43. 10. Ronald Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients: The Origins of Humanism from Lovato to Bruni (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 193–94; Olson, Courtesy Lost, 10, 29, passim; and Franco Cardini, L’acciar de’ cava lieri: Studi sulla cavalleria nel mondo toscano e italico (secc. XII–XV) (Florence: Le Lettere, 1997), 86–110.
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like their counterparts elsewhere in Europe, would have readily consumed and debated the reform currents embedded within these works, even if the extant evidence does not offer much insight into how these messages were received and internalized.
Brunetto latini and chivalric reform Although prose romances were the most common medium for the trans mission of chivalric reform messages in Florence and Tuscany, this chap ter will focus on a single allegorical poem that served a similar purpose: Brunetto Latini’s Tesoretto (Little Treasure, ca. 1267).11 Latini’s Tesoretto is one of the earliest reform works to circulate in Florentine chivalric society during the thirteenth century, and it is representative of a larger body of prescriptive works cutting across genres that followed. At first glance Latini seems to be an unlikely “internal” reformer: he was a notary by profession and a prominent intellectual and political theorist.12 Despite these popolani bona fides, however, he was also well versed in general European concepts of chivalry after spending six years in exile in France. During these years he was immersed in the chivalric culture of that kingdom, no doubt well aware of the perceived failures and excesses of French knighthood. Since the powerful influence of chivalry was not contained by traditional politi cal and cultural boundaries in late medieval Europe, but rather was shared by knights and men-at-arms on both sides of the Alps, it seems likely that Latini adapted many of the reform ideas circulating in France for use in his native Florence.13 The chivalric nature of the Tesoretto is further reinforced by the fact that Latini wrote two very different works upon his return to Florence in 1267. The first, Li Livres dou Trésor, was a treatise composed in French and was addressed to the “rhetoricians and rulers in the government of the Italian
11. All references to the poem, including English translations of the Italian prose (unless indi cated otherwise), are from Brunetto Latini, Il Tesoretto (The Little Treasure), ed. and trans. Julia Bolton Holloway (New York: Garland, 1981). 12. Enrico Faini, “Prima di Brunetto: Sulla formazione intellettuale dei laici a Firenze ai primi del Duecento,” Reti Medievali Rivista 18, no. 1 (2017): 189–218, examines Latini’s education. See also Gianluca Briguglia, “ ‘Io, Brunetto Latini’: Considerazioni su cultura e identità politica di Brunetto Latini e il Tesoretto,” Philosophical Readings 10, no. 3 (2018): 176–85. 13. Peter Armour, “Brunetto Latini’s Poetry and Dante,” Journal of the Institute of Romance Stud ies 6 (1998): 85, argues that the Tesoretto was “the principal work which mediated between the French romances and Florentine culture.” Craig Taylor, Chivalry and the Ideals of Knighthood in France during the Hundred Years War (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), is the seminal study of chiv alry in late medieval France.
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communes, the class that provided the podestà.”14 The Trésor discusses the appointment, qualifications, duties, and comportment of a podestà and other leading officials, among other topics. The second, the Tesoretto, was an allegorical poem composed in the Italian vernacular with content, as we shall see, directly relevant to the lives of the chivalric elite. This suggests that Latini had a specific audience in mind: Florentine knights and men-at-arms.15 Brunetto Latini’s great admiration for the chivalric lifestyle and its prac titioners, like that of many of his contemporaries, was naturally tempered by a healthy dose of fear. Both emotions are understandable given that this group during Latini’s lifetime comprised many of the leading figures in Flor ence, men like Corso Donati (d. 1308), Tegghiaio Aldobrandi degli Adimari (d. ca. 1266), and Farinata degli Uberti (d. 1264). As we have seen, these men, in sharp contrast to Brunetto Latini, boasted distinguished lineages, owned great landed estates and urban possessions, were the leaders of sizable bodies of armed men, and possessed the military experience and leadership neces sary to protect and expand the interests of the Florentine territorial state. Due to this social prestige and power, the chivalric lifestyle had numerous admirers and imitators, but many who aspired to the social benefits of chiv alry were deeply concerned with the consequences of chivalric violence on public order and civic concord.16 The Tesoretto directly reflects this combination of admiration and anxiety. For Latini, the violence of the Florentine chivalric elite did not need to be eliminated but rather controlled. This could be accomplished by inculcating knights and men-at-arms with a message of reform aimed at tempering the more violent aspects of their lifestyle, thus allowing them in the process to become productive members of Florentine society.17 This effort involved promoting certain reformative chivalric virtues, often with language drawn from newly available classical sources.18 Similar to other reformers, like Al bertano of Brescia, Latini attached great importance to the idea of balanc ing the vigorous and even joyous exercise of prowess with prudence, mesuré
14. John Najemy, “Brunetto Latini’s ‘Politica,’ ” Dante Studies 112 (1994): 34, discusses the trea tise’s content. Armour, “Brunetto Latini’s Poetry and Dante,” 87–88, examines the audience. 15. Armour, “Brunetto Latini’s Poetry and Dante,” 87–88, argues that the Tesoretto was intended to be more accessible than the Trésor. 16. Armour, “Brunetto Latini’s Poetry and Dante,” 84; Najemy, “Brunetto Latini’s ‘Politica,’ ” 42. 17. Najemy, “Brunetto Latini’s ‘Politica,’ ” 44, argues that “no Florentine reader of the Tesoretto would have failed to note . . . Latini’s choice of a knight in the role of the disciple of the Virtues.” 18. Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 6, 21, 24, 198–99, notes Latini’s familiarity with classical works, especially those of Cicero.
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(restraint), and wisdom.19 It is crucial to recognize that perhaps unlike Alber tano, however, Latini sought not to delegitimize chivalric violence but rather to promote its proper and controlled use.20 Likewise, Latini sought to com bat the traditional autonomy of the chivalric elite by advocating a hierarchi cal concept of loyalty to a sovereign power (in his case, the communal gov ernment of Florence).21 He also encouraged these warriors to utilize their considerable martial experience and expertise in the service of that power. In addition, Latini, adapting a classical concept, conceived of knighthood as a profession or art (arte) that could be not only taught and learned but also reformed. The use of the knight as student of the Virtues in the Tesoretto strongly suggests that Latini believed that the chivalric elite were not only capable but also worthy of being reformed. Latini’s goal was therefore not to excise the chivalric elite from the civic body or to redefine chivalric ideas by giving prominence to the civic virtues promoted by the popolani, but rather to encourage strenuous (used in the sense of the Latin strenuus or active) knights and men-at-arms to exercise proper and controlled violence, to rein in their traditional autonomy, and to accept a leading but more inclusive role in society. Brunetto Latini’s Tesoretto contains strong messages of reform designed for an explicit audience: the Florentine chivalric elite. As suggested previ ously, Latini sought to balance respect for the traditional nature of the chi valric lifestyle with an emphasis on the reformative strands inherent in chi valric discourse, thus crafting a reform message that would have been more easily digested by the intended recipients. Critical to this reform message is the author’s discussion of the nature of true nobility, one that includes qualities and virtues incorporated from both chivalric and classical currents
19. Ronald Witt, The Two Latin Cultures and the Foundation of Renaissance Humanism in Medieval Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 450, argues that Albertano’s writings “consti tuted a counterweight to the [chivalric] ethos.” For Albertano, see James Powell, Albertanus of Bres cia: The Pursuit of Happiness in the Early Thirteenth Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992); Enrico Artifoni, “Prudenza del consigliare: L’educazione del Cittadino nel Liber conso lationis et conisilii di Albertano da Brescia (1246),” in “Consilium”: Teorie e pratiche del consigliare nella cultura medievale, ed. Carla Casagrande, Chiara Crisciani, and Silvana Vecchio (Florence: SISMEL, 2004), 195–216; and Andrea Zorzi, “La cultura della vendetta nel conflitto politico in età comunale,” in Le storie e la memoria: In onore di Arnold Esch, ed. Roberto Delle Donne and Andrea Zorzi (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2002), 135–70. 20. Witt, In the Footsteps of the Ancients, 61–62, argues that Albertano’s work delegitimized chi valric violence. 21. Cardini, L’acciar de’ cavalieri, 89–90, observes that an ethic of fidelity to a constituted power succeeded in replacing the “knightly ethic” (etica cavalleresca) in Tuscany from the twelfth century.
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(especially Aristotle’s Ethics).22 For Latini, there was a clear difference be tween nobility and gentility: nobility was a product of lineage and tradition, and thus was inherited; gentility was something demonstrated. Latini writes, For I hold him to be genteel Who seems to take the mode Of Great valor And of good rearing Such that beyond his lineage He does things of profit And lives honorably, So that he is pleasing to the people.23 Gentility is nobility of personal action, the demonstration of the positive attri butes traditionally associated with the ideal version of the nobility of the blood (valor and bravery in war, courtesy, leadership, generosity) by individuals re gardless of their lineage. More importantly, a person who demonstrates gentil ity does not fall into the excesses associated by most Florentines with nobility of the blood (and by extension, chivalry), especially violence against the popo lani and internecine conflict with other members of the elite. The nobility are clearly connected in Latini’s mind to civic discord and were considered a threat to the successful rule of the Florentine government. Instead, a man of gentility “is pleasing to the people” and a productive member of society. Virtuous acts done in the interest of the commonwealth earn him praise and honor.24
22. For Aristotle’s Ethics in late medieval Europe, see Cecilia Iannella, “Civic Virtues in Domini can Homiletic Literature in Tuscany in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries,” Medieval Sermon Studies 51, no. 1 (2007): 22–32; Jodi Hodge, “The Virtue of Vice: Preaching the Cardinal Virtues in the Sermons of Remigio dei Girolami,” Medieval Sermon Studies 52, no. 1 (2008) 6–18; M. S. Kempshall, The Common Good in Late Medieval Political Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999); the es says in István P. Bejczy, ed., Virtue Ethics in the Middle Ages: Commentaries on Aristotle’s “Nicomachean Ethics,” 1200–1500 (Leiden: Brill, 2008); Quentin Skinner, Visions of Politics, vol. 2, Renaissance Virtues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); and the essays in István P. Bejczy and Cary Neder man, eds., Princely Virtues in the Middle Ages, 1200–1500 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007). 23. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 86/87, lines 1725–32. For contemporary debates about the nature of true nobility, see Nicolai Rubinstein, “Dante and the Nobility,” (1973, unpublished, in Rubinstein, Stud ies in Italian History in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, vol. 1, Political Thought and the Language of Politics, ed. Giovanni Ciappelli (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2004), 165–200; Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates: Lineage and Faction in a Medieval Commune (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991), 212–28; Charles T. Davis, “Brunetto Latini and Dante,” Studi medievali 3, no. 8 (1967): 421–50; and Maurice Keen, Nobles, Knights and Men-at-Arms in the Middle Ages (London: Hambledon Press, 1996), 187–222. 24. Julian Pitt-River, “Honour and Social Status,” in Honour and Shame: The Values of Mediterra nean Society, ed. Jean Peristiany (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 19–77, is an important anthropological study of honor and shame in Mediterranean society often utilized by historians.
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Concepts of nobility traditionally associated with the general European context, especially nobility of the blood, remained important to Latini and many of his contemporaries, despite the threat “nobles” (i.e., the chivalric elite) posed to civic concord and the growth of a centralized public authority. That this is true is at least partly the result of the powerful influence of honor in late medieval Florentine society. Moreover, Florentines at all levels of the so cial hierarchy maintained a deep-seated respect for the distinguished lineages of their city, whose members “evoked fear, respect, and hatred, as well as pity when they fell on hard times.”25 Latini accordingly acknowledges that if two men are equally “gentle” (i.e., demonstrate the same level of gentility), the man with a better lineage is customarily considered by society to be superior: I admit: if in good deeds One man and another are equal. He who is better born Is held to be more gracious Not through my teaching, But because it is custom.26 This view on nobility and gentility is reflected in Latini’s reform program, which encourages knights and men-at-arms of exalted noble lineage to dem onstrate their gentility. In this way, a nobleman of distinguished lineage and demonstrated gentility would serve as a model for other members of the chivalric elite, becoming in the process a productive and leading member of Florentine society. Latini held up certain great knights as models of reformed chivalry. These models were drawn from a myriad of sources—both historical and literary (especially chivalric romance and epic)—and included contemporaries or near-contemporaries of the audience of these works, as well as famous fig ures from antiquity.27 Latini’s model knight is also likely the anonymous
25. Marvin Becker, “A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates, 1280–1343,” in Flo rentine Essays: Selected Writings of Marvin B. Becker, ed. James Banker and Carol Lansing (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002), 255. 26. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 86/87, lines 1733–38. 27. Le Dicerie di Filippo Ceffi, ed. Luigi Biondi (Turin: Tipografia Chirio e Mina, 1825), 15–17: Filippo Ceffi chooses Charles, Duke of Calabria (d. 1328), as his model for the traits of an honorable lord and knight. See also the Conti di Antichi Cavalieri, ed. Pietro Fanfani (Florence: Baracchi, 1851), an anonymous fourteenth-century work that provides a number of historical and fictional knights, ranging from Saladin and Julius Caesar to Hector of Troy and Galahad, as models for contemporary knighthood. Alessandro Barbero, “I modelli aristocratici,” in Ceti, modelli, comportamenti nella società medievale (secoli XIII–metà XIV): Pistoia, 14–17 maggio 1999 (Rome: Centro Italiano di studi di storia e d’arte, 2001), 239–54, discusses noble cultural models in late medieval Italy.
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dedicatee of the Tesoretto, possibly a Florentine who served Charles of Anjou (king of Naples, 1266–85) during his conquest of the kingdom of Sicily in the mid-1260s. This knight is described by Latini as a “worthy lord” of noble birth (alto legnaggio) and demonstrated gentility, having “no equal either in peace or war.”28 Thus, Latini’s model knight demonstrates his quality in both civic life and warfare, the two arenas in which a reformed Florentine knight was expected to “[do] things of profit” and “[live] honorably.”29 Not surprisingly, Latini’s ideal knight excels by demonstrating both gen tility and nobility. It is important to note, however, that Latini’s reform pro gram inextricably intertwines the two concepts (gentility and nobility) and their concomitant virtues. Therefore, virtues traditionally associated with gentility, especially wisdom and prudence, are also associated by Latini with nobility as he addresses his ideal knight: We can see so much
Sense and wisdom in you
In every situation
.
.
.
.
.
.
Such a high intellect
You have in every respect
That you wear the crown
and mantle of nobility.30
Likewise, Latini connects gentility to the chivalric and noble virtues of cour tesy, largesse, and especially prowess. He writes, Where everyone else is false,
That you nevertheless improve
And continually are refined;
Your worthy heart
Rises so high
Toward every goodness
That you have all
The appearance of Alexander
Because you consider of no account
Land, gold, and silver;
. . . . . . . .
28. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 2/3, lines 4–5. 29. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 86/87, lines 1730–31. 30. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 2/3, 4/5, lines 15–17, 32–35.
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And fine prowess, So that Achilles the brave, Who acquired such praise, And the good Trojan Hector, Lancelot, and Tristan Were not more worthy than you, Whenever there was need.31 The inclusion of prowess in this constellation of virtues in the galaxy of gentility-nobility is, as we shall see, critical to Latini’s reform message. Any reading of contemporary chivalric literature, especially romances, leaves no doubt about the dominant position of prowess in the pantheon of chivalry.32 Kaeuper has argued that knights and men-at-arms in the general European context worshiped “the demi-god prowess,” and as we have seen, this holds true for the Florentine chivalric elite as well.33 Thus, Latini had to balance the need to valorize chivalry with the desire to reform it. He consequently praises his model knight wholeheartedly not only for his prowess, but also for his wisdom and prudence. The seemingly ideal combination of wisdom, prudence, and prowess is buttressed in Latini’s text by two strands of reform, one more traditionally chivalric and the other classical. In Latini’s mind, and that of other reformers in thirteenth-century Italy, traditional chivalric motifs and characters (Lance lot and Tristan) could be easily reconciled with classical history and mythol ogy (Hector and Achilles), and thus be attached to the burgeoning revival of classical works.34 Traditional chivalric qualities also had their counterparts (albeit not always direct equivalents) in classical texts.35 The classical intel lectual tradition lent authority to such reform efforts. After the dedicatory message, Latini assumes the role of narrator and witnesses the reformation of a Florentine knight by a series of personified virtues. It is important that Latini chooses a knight (“bel cavalero”) as the re cipient of explicit messages of reform in the Tesoretto, rather than the public 31. For courtesy and largesse, see Latini, Il Tesoretto, 2/3–4/5, lines 22–31. For prowess, see Latini, Il Tesoretto, 4/5, lines 36–42. 32. Armour, “Brunetto Latini’s Poetry and Dante,” 85, argues that the Tesoretto was “the prin cipal work which mediated between the French romances and Florentine culture,” suggesting that Latini had more than a passing familiarity with these works. 33. Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence, especially chap. 7. 34. Contemporary literary works also drawing upon classical antiquity for material include the Conti di Antichi Cavalieri; Guido delle Colonne, Historia destructionis troiae, ed. and trans. Mary E. Meek (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1974); and Il Novellino, ed. Valeria Mouchet (Milan: Bureau Biblioteca Univ. Rizzoli, 2008). 35. Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence, 34, argues the classical virtue of courage was likely used by reformers as a sanitized version of prowess and bravery.
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servant and good popolano of the Livres dou Trésor.36 The message promoted by the virtues is intended to reform the knight in his profession and send him home well educated in war (“ben apreso di guerra”). The reference to educa tion is predicated upon Latini’s conception of arms as an arte, that is, as a set of practices that could be taught and learned, a matter in which one could give good instruction or advice based on experience.37 Latini, in this way, adapts to a contemporary chivalric context the classical idea that the prac titioners of a profession can be reformed. As such, the Tesoretto should be considered neither an antecedent nor a direct contribution to the efforts of some members of the popolo grasso to create a demilitarized service knight hood.38 The Tesoretto is instead about the honor, behavior, and worldly suc cess of a strenuous knight within Florentine society.39 In short, Latini’s goal is to soften the rough edges of the chivalric lifestyle in order to allow these knights and men-at-arms to become productive members of Florentine so ciety, particularly as soldiers and military leaders who focus their violent en ergies on external enemies rather than their fellow citizens. Latini does not seek to end chivalric violence or subsume it into the publicly accepted and regulated practice of vendetta, but rather to define proper ways of using it, thus engaging with a major reform theme found in chivalric literature across Europe.40 In the Tesoretto Latini’s knight and the personified virtues come together at an imagined noble court presided over by an “Empress” named Virtue. Latini describes the Empress Virtue as the chief and savior Of refined custom And of good usage And good behavior By which people live.41 This Empress has several daughters, including three that represent important tenets of chivalry: Prudence, “Whom men in the vernacular / Call simply Good Sense”;42 Temperance, “Whom people at times / Are accustomed to
36. Armour, “Brunetto Latini’s Poetry and Dante,” 89. 37. Najemy, “Brunetto Latini’s ‘Politica,’ ” 40, discusses Latini’s treatment of politics as an arte in the Livres dou Trésor. 38. Cardini, L’acciar de’ cavalieri, 17, 23, discusses the demilitarization of knighthood. 39. Armour, “Brunetto Latini’s Poetry and Dante,” 89. 40. See the discussion in Kaeuper, “Chivalry and the Civilizing Process.” 41. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 64/65, lines 1240–44. 42. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 66/67, lines 1273–74. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, trans. Robert Bartlett and Susan Collins (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012), bk. 6, chap. 5, 120–21, discusses the
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call Measure”;43 and finally Fortitude, “Who at times by custom / Is called Power of Courage / By some people.”44 The identity of these three figures, blending chivalric and classical virtues, is critical: fortitude (i.e., martial cour age or bravery, not the ability to endure) was closely connected to prow ess, the sine qua non of chivalry, while the practice of temperance (i.e., re straint or mesuré) and prudence (i.e., caution and wisdom) allowed a knight or man-at-arms to know when, where, and how to demonstrate his prowess to achieve the greatest success.45 Thus, Latini stresses the ideal combination of fortitude tempered by restraint and prudence. The emphasis upon these basic tenets of chivalry and the balance they provide is also recurrent in chi valric reform literature outside of Italy and therefore is not unique to the civic culture of Italian cities and towns.46 Latini’s message of reform is clearest when his knight meets four grand mistresses present at the Empress’s court: Ladies Generosity, Courtesy, Loy alty, and Prowess. These four figures again represent important tenets of chivalry and will be responsible for reforming the knight. The importance at tached to the cooperation of the personified virtues is made clear by Latini, who writes that “their working together / Seems to me very gracious / And useful to people.”47 Latini’s reform message is consistent throughout the poem: the ideal combination of prowess, prudence, and restraint is neces sary to temper the violence and channel the martial ardor of the chivalric elite and make these warriors productive members of Florentine society. It is useful to consider each of the knight’s instructors in turn. The first, Lady Generosity, likely played two roles in Latini’s reform program.48 Her
intellectual virtue of prudence (phronesis) that allows an individual to always choose the correct ac tion in a given circumstance and to perform it well. 43. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 66/67, lines 1285–86. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, bk. 3, chap. 10, 62–63, considers the classical virtue of temperance, sometimes appearing as moderation (sophrosune), that allows an individual to have the proper disposition toward bodily desires and pleasures (including honor and glory). 44. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 66/67, lines 1297–99. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, bk. 3, chap. 6, 54–56, concerns the classical virtue of fortitude, often appearing as courage (andreia). See also David Pears, “Courage as a Mean,” in Essays on Aristotle’s Ethics, ed. Amelie O. Rorty (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980), 171–87. 45. Skinner, Visions of Politics, 2:87, argues that Latini broke with the tradition of Thomas Aqui nas by interpreting fortitude in a military context, that is, as the courage to fight rather than the courage to endure. 46. See The Book of Chivalry of Geoffroi de Charny: Text, Context, and Translation, trans. Elspeth Kennedy, intro. Richard Kaeuper (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1996), for an ex ample from mid-fourteenth-century France. 47. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 68/69, lines 1340–42: “Perché lor convenente / Mi par più gratioso / E a la gente in uso.” 48. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 68/69–78/79, lines 1364–1550, concerns the interaction between Lady Generosity and Latini’s knight. Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, bk. 4, chaps. 1–2, 67–75, discusses
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moral role promoted in the minds of the audience the virtues of generos ity and charity in contrast to the sins of avarice and envy. Her social role as generosity, particularly in the extravagant form recognized in chivalric circles as largesse, was widely acknowledged as an important means of differentiat ing knights and men-at-arms from the wealthy merchants and bankers of the popolo grasso who actively sought the social benefits and trappings of chivalry.49 Naturally, the moral and social roles were intimately connected. While merchants and bankers were often associated with greed and envy, knights were traditionally associated with extreme generosity. In this way, Latini employed moral differentiation as a means of buttressing the claims of social superiority made by the chivalric elite. Another important contribution made by Lady Generosity is the identifi cation of knighthood as a profession (mestero) or art (arte). As discussed previ ously, this is a crucial point because professions were taught, and accordingly their practitioners were capable of being retaught or reformed. Latini, in his role as narrator, writes that Lady Generosity Show[ed] with great clarity To a handsome knight How in his profession He should comport himself.50 This is a clear statement of Latini’s goal to reform the way in which Floren tine knights (and by extension, men-at-arms) comported themselves in their profession. Lady Courtesy, “In whom always rests / Every prize of worthiness,” is the next grand mistress who imparts instruction to Latini’s knight.51 Lady Cour tesy tells him that “In acts, do not be too bold, / But gain for yourself from others / To whom your deeds are pleasing.”52 What is gained is honor, the re sult of fellow members of the chivalric cultural community recognizing not just a knight’s prowess but also its proper exercise. Critical to Latini’s reform message then is the belief that prowess must be exercised with humility. To praise one’s own prowess or honor is dishonorable and shows a distinct
magnificence (megaloprepeia), a term roughly defined in this context as the proper spending of money on a grand scale. 49. For largesse in the general European context, see Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence, 193–99, and Maurice Keen, Chivalry (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), 1–44. 50. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 70/71, lines 1366–69. 51. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 80/81, lines 1576–77. 52. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 84/85, lines 1668–70. It seems clear Latini thinks that honor is gained from accomplishing such deeds.
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lack of courtesy. Some contemporary works of imaginative literature go so far as to suggest that to praise oneself negates the praise of others, leading the authors of these works to make explicit the motivation behind the rare instances when a heroic knight takes the time to bask in the reflective glow of his own glory. In the Tavola Ritonda, for example, when Tristano speaks highly of himself, the author makes clear he does so only out of necessity and not for the wrong reasons: “And, in truth, messer Tristano praised him self greatly and spoke very highly of himself there with the dame, so that the dame felt secure, and would take him on this adventure; he did this for no other reason.”53 Honor is also intimately connected to courtesy when it is shown to a worthy recipient. In this vein, Lady Courtesy instructs the knight to “always bear in mind / To associate with good people” and to “Honor the truly good friends / As much as yourself, / On foot and on horse.”54 Courtesy informs how a knight should interact with others, whether they are his social equals and superiors (“on horse”) or inferiors (“on foot”): And watch that you do not err If you stand or move With ladies and lords Or with other great ones; And although you may be their equal, You should know how to honor them, Each one according to his state. And so be in this way mindful Of the greater and the lesser, So that you do not lose control; And to those lesser than you Do not render more honor Than what is fitting for them, Lest they hold you vile; And [if] they are more base, Always go ahead a step.55 53. La Tavola Ritonda, ed. Marie-José Heijkant (Milan: Luni Editrice, 1999), 260–61: “E, nel vero, messer Tristano fece qui con la dama uno grande vantarsi e dire molto alto, acciò che la dama avesse sicurtà, e si movesse a metterlo a questa avventura; chè per altra cosa nollo faceva.” The translation is mine. For the primary English translation of the text, see Tristan and the Round Table: A Translation of “La Tavola Ritonda,” ed. and trans. Anne Shaver (Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1983). 54. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 82/83, lines 1649–50, 1643–45. 55. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 90/91, lines 1787–1802.
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Closely related to this discussion, and an important element of Latini’s reform program, is the connection Lady Courtesy makes between courtesy and self-control, especially in social or public situations. Lady Courtesy in structs the knight to go “Very courteously” (molto cortesemente) if he rides through the city, “Rather than going unreined / With great wildness.”56 She continues by exhorting the knight to move confidently among the people: Watch that you don’t move Like a man who is from the country; Do not slide like an eel, But go confidently On the way and among the people.57 In doing so a knight projects his knightly state or franchise, a term that lacks a precise definition but is generally considered the attitude and comportment befitting a free and noble man. More specifically, this implies the self-confi dence and social grace that befits a man of nobility and gentility. Accordingly, Lady Courtesy instructs the knight to be generous and courteous, So that in every country Your entire condition May be considered pleasing.58 Latini would have been well aware of the great desire among members of the Florentine chivalric elite to be acknowledged both at home and abroad as members of an international order of knights and men-at-arms (ordo mili tum). This acknowledgment would have served as validation of their lifestyle and as a bulwark against the rise of “new men” (i.e., the popolo grasso) whose immense wealth threatened the social superiority long enjoyed by traditional chivalric families. Latini was also cognizant of the violent consequences of conflict between the Florentine chivalric elite and these “new men.”59 Latini therefore sought to appease his chivalric audience by acknowledging the va lidity of franchise, while also promoting a message of reform by connecting franchise to gentility. He wanted these men of noble lineage and franchise to demonstrate their gentility and become productive, leading members of 56. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 90/91, lines 1810–11. 57. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 90/91, lines 1814–18. 58. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 92/93, lines 1853–56. 59. Andrea Zorzi, La trasformazione di un quadro politico: Ricerche su politica e giustizia a Firenze dal comune allo Stato territoriale (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2008), 95–120, discusses the conflict between the Donati and Cerchi lineages, perhaps the most famous conflict of its kind.
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Florentine society, ostensibly eliminating, in his mind, the need of the chival ric elite to prove their superiority through violence. Lady Loyalty, the third grand mistress who undertakes the task of in structing Latini’s knight, represents one of the central tenets of chivalry and a virtue used by those seeking to temper the customary autonomy of the chivalric elite. While traditionally loyalty had the meaning of faithfulness to one’s word or reliability, Lady Loyalty instead emphasizes a hierarchical meaning of loyal service to one’s patria.60 This is an understanding of loyalty and service drawn from classical works, one that was developing in chivalric circles during this period and could be applied to either a commonwealth or a sovereign lord. In the context of Florence, it would have been critical to promote loyalty among members of the chivalric elite to the communal government in order to successfully establish a sovereign territorial state and maintain civic concord and public order. Lady Loyalty consequently exhorts Latini’s knight to risk his life in the service of his patria: I hope that to your city, With every other motive removed, You will be true and loyal, And never for any evil That can happen to it Allow it to perish.61 The difficulty facing Latini when advocating this conception of loyalty is that while such service promised honor and prestige, it threatened the tra ditional autonomy of the chivalric elite and gave rise to the possibility that they might have to fight against relatives or friends. This would have been particularly relevant in the case of Florence, as many among the Florentine chivalric elite maintained close connections to exiles and nobles in other re gions of northern and central Italy.62 Finally, the knight comes before Lady Prowess, who cuts a striking fig ure in her boldness and confidence, echoing contemporary depictions of
60. Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence, 185–89, examines the changing definition of loyalty. 61. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 96/97, lines 1939–44. Norman Housley, “Pro deo et patria mori: Sanctified Patriotism in Europe, 1400–1600,” in War and Competition between States, ed. Philippe Contamine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 221–48, examines death in the service of one’s patria. 62. Fabrizio Ricciardelli, The Politics of Exclusion in Early Renaissance Florence (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007) remains the seminal study for Florentine exiles and exclusion. See also Randolph Starn, Con trary Commonwealth: The Theme of Exile in Medieval and Renaissance Italy (Berkeley: University of Cali fornia Press, 1982); Christine Shaw, The Politics of Exile in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
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knights across a variety of genres.63 It is notable that Lady Prowess most forcefully conveys Latini’s reform message, promoting prudence and re straint. Given the centrality of prowess to chivalry, the knight’s interaction with this grand mistress deserves special attention. Her praise of prowess is matched by her insistence on its proper (restrained and acceptable) use. She instructs the knight, saying you should not be rash In doing or saying folly, Because, through my faith, He has not taken my art Who is thrown on folly’s side.64 She continues by highlighting the dangers of failing to temper prowess with prudence and restraint, telling the knight that “He whom madness troubles / Will not rise to such heights / That he will not tumble to the depths.”65 Latini’s message about the importance of the proper exercise of prowess must be seen in two contexts: warfare proper and other forms of chivalric violence. In the context of war, Lady Prowess emphasizes the exercise of restraint, wisdom, and prudence in the decision to go to war or to confront the enemy in battle: “And more, do not rush / Into war or battle, / And do not be a creator / Of war or of scandal.”66 Once war has been undertaken and battle engaged, Lady Prowess instructs the bel cavalero that self-control Refines the ardor more Than does mere striking. He who strikes boldly Can in turn be boldly struck; And if you have a knife, The other has a good and fine one; But self-control crowns Force and strength, And makes vendettas be put off, And rash haste protracted 63. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 98/99, lines 1981–83: “Then I heard Prowess, / With a face of boldness, / Confident and without laughter”; “Allora udìo prodezza, / Con viso di baldezza / Secura e sanza risa.” 64. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 98/99, lines 1986–90. 65. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 98/99, lines 1991–93. 66. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 106/107, lines 2143–46.
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And placed in oblivion,
And foolishness extinguished.67
Reform literature on both sides of the Alps, including imaginative literature, also promotes this message. One need only think of the example of Roland, the epon ymous hero of the Chanson de Roland, a chivalric work well known at the Angevin Court at Naples by the late thirteenth century (King Charles I [d. 1285] chose to copy Roland in naming his sword Durendal), to understand the negative conse quences of failing to balance bravery and prowess with prudence and restraint.68 Lady Prowess continues her discussion of chivalric conduct in battle, in structing the knight: But if it should happen
That your city forms
An army or cavalcade,
I want you in that event
To carry yourself with nobility,
And make a greater show
Than your state bears;
And on every side
Show your courage
And be of good prowess.
Do not be either slow or tardy,
For never did a cowardly man
Gain any honor
Or become greater for it.
And you by no chance
Should ever fear death,
For it is much more pleasing
To die honorably
Than to be vituperated
On every side, while living.
And now return to your land,
And be valiant and courteous;
Do not be woolly or soft,
Or rash or mad.69
67. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 104/105, lines 2092–2104. 68. See The Song of Roland, ed. and trans. Simon Gaunt and Karen Pratt (Oxford: Oxford Uni versity Press, 2017). 69. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 106/107, lines 2147–70.
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This long quotation repays closer examination. The first portion of Lady Prowess’s instruction certainly would have fallen on receptive ears: strenu ous knights and men-at-arms throughout medieval Europe, including those in Florence, whose expertise and experience in warfare made them the driv ing force behind most military campaigns.70 She counsels, make a greater show Than your state bears; And on every side Show your courage And be of good prowess. This advice echoes a trope recurrent in imaginative literature, one that would have been commonplace in Florentine chivalric culture. Indeed, the best way for a knight to maintain and increase his honor was by dem onstrating his prowess in battle, as war was considered an ennobling enterprise. Following the exhortation to demonstrate nobility and prowess in battle, Lady Prowess attacks cowardice: Do not be either slow or tardy, For never did a cowardly man Gain any honor Or become greater for it. And you by no chance Should ever fear death, For it is much more pleasing To die honorably Than to be vituperated On every side, while living. Attacks upon cowardice and the promotion of bravery and prowess in battle are themes that would have resonated with the martial ardor of the honor-driven Florentine chivalric elite. If war was recognized throughout the medieval world as an ennobling activity, surely the Florentine chivalric elite used it, as with generosity, to further differentiate themselves from the popolo grasso.
70. See Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini: Guerra, conflitti e società nell’Italia comu nale (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2004), for an expansive discussion of communal Italy through the thirteenth century.
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Lady Prowess’s emphasis upon prudence and restraint applies not only to the battlefield, but also to altercations in the streets and in the halls of gov ernment when the honor of the participants was also at risk. When conflict arises away from the field of battle, Lady Prowess advocates first seeking redress through the courts, which is not surprising given the profession of the author: Of this much I advise you,
That if wrong is done to you,
Ardently and well
Hold on to your reason;
I counsel you this well:
That, if with a lawyer
You can help yourself out,
I want you to do it,
For it is the better deed
To restrain madness
With words sweet and slow
Than to come to blows.71
Lady Prowess warns the knight to be cautious before resorting to violence in such a conflict: if they are stronger than you,
Use reason if you can endure it
And give way in conflict,
For he is a fool who risks himself
When he is not powerful.72
Prudence may necessarily replace an immediate and reckless act of violence. While Lady Prowess includes a plea for the knight to stoically endure challenges to his honor or person, there is an implicit acknowledgement of the difficulty of this request, especially if the act causing dishonor is com mitted in public under the watchful eye of a chivalric community with a very touchy sense of honor.73 Not surprisingly therefore, Lady Prowess hints
71. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 100/101, lines 2003–14. 72. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 100/101, lines 2021–25. 73. Christopher Wickham, “Fama and the Law in Twelfth-Century Tuscany,” in Fama: The Poli tics of Talk and Reputation in Medieval Europe, ed. Thelma Fenster and Daniel Lord Smail (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2003), 20, discusses the necessity of responding to challenges in public spaces.
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immediately thereafter that such challenges might be difficult to endure and a knight might be required to respond through force: But if through its furor
One does not release you,
Wishing to injure you,
I counsel and command you:
Do not go away smoothly;
Have your hands ready;
Do not fear death,
For you know for certain
That with no shield
Can a man cover himself
So that he will not go to his death
When the moment arrives;
And so he makes it a great good
Who risks himself to the death
Rather than suffer
Shame and grave dishonor.74
If force is required, it should be undertaken with bravery and without fear of death. Again, this is a message that would not have been out of place in imaginative literature and one that certainly would have resonated with Flo rentine knights and men-at-arms. While Lady Prowess forcefully promotes her reform message, it is not an all-or-nothing proposal. The tensions in Latini’s instruction suggest that the author was well aware that the courts could not solve every problem and that the chivalric mentality conceived of violence as the best, if not the only le gitimate, weapon for rectifying offenses.75 First Lady Prowess tells the knight if an offense is made to you
In words or in deeds,
74. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 100/101–102/103, lines 2028–43. 75. The scholarship on vendetta in medieval Florence and Italy is extensive. See Trevor Dean, “Italian Medieval Vendetta,” in Feud in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. Jeppe B. Netterstrom and Bjorn Poulsen (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 2007), 135–45; Dean, “Marriage and Mutila tion: Vendetta in Late Medieval Italy,” Past and Present 157 (November 1997): 3–36; the essays in Andrea Zorzi, ed., Conflitti, paci e vendetta nell’Italia comunale (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2009); Zorzi, “La cultura della vendetta nel conflitto politico in età comunale”; and the works cited in Zorzi, “I conflitti nell’Italia comunale: Riflessioni sullo stato degli studi e sulle prospettive di ricerca,” in Zorzi, Conflitti, paci e vendetta nell’Italia comunale, 7–43. For Florence specifically, see Anna Maria Enriques, “La vendetta nella vita e nella legislazione fiorentina,” Archivio Storico Italiano, 7th ser., 19 (1933): 103–13; Enrico Faini, “Il convito del 1216: La vendetta all’origine del fazionalismo fiorentino,” Annali di Storia di Firenze 1 (2006): 9–36.
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Do not risk your person, Or be more hasty In what carries the situation further.76 She goes on to contradict herself, however, when she states that if you are indeed offended, I say to you in every way That you must not mope, But night and day Think of vengeance, And do not make such haste That you worsen the shame.77 Beneath the seemingly conflicting advice is the same reform message one detects throughout the text: Lady Prowess exhorts the knight to exercise prudence when dealing with these situations and restraint when the deci sion has been made to resort to violence. Most important of all, however, is Lady Prowess’s exhortation that a knight must avoid the shame of failing to avenge dishonor. By emphasizing reformative virtues inherent in chivalry, Latini con structed in the Tesoretto a multifaceted reform message that sought to tem per chivalric violence and ardor by promoting restraint and prudence, while still respecting the traditional lifestyle of these strenuous knights and men-at arms. In this way his allegorical poem has much in common with the prose romances utilized in previous chapters. The burgeoning revival of classical works in late medieval Florence no doubt encouraged Latini to occasionally utilize terminology for these virtues that differs from that of other contem porary reformers who were active north of the Alps; the content, however, is strikingly consistent.78 Indeed, the revival of classical ideals and ideas should not be seen as conflicting with chivalric culture. For example, Richard Kaeu per has argued that Aristotelian courage could easily be (and was) perceived by chivalric culture as a sanitized form of prowess.79 Thus, the content of Latini’s reform in the Tesoretto clearly parallels that which was current across the Alps, albeit sometimes couched in somewhat different terms: the virtue of courage (i.e., fortitude or prowess) must be tempered by other virtues, primarily temperance (i.e., mesuré or restraint) and prudence. 76. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 104/105, lines 2106–10. 77. Latini, Il Tesoretto, 104/105–106/107, lines 2121–27. 78. For chivalric reform in contemporary Europe, see Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence, chaps. 4, 11, and 13. 79. Kaeuper, Chivalry and Violence, 34.
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In addition, through the use of this classical language, the reform mes sages embedded in the Tesoretto foreshadow the chivalric reform movements that developed in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries in both Italy and France. Despite these similarities, it is important to place Latini’s chivalric reform program in its proper context. If we compare the Tesoretto with Leonardo Bruni’s De militia (On Knighthood, ca. 1420) we can detect an important difference: Latini’s and Bruni’s respective currents of reform moved in different directions as they confronted different problems. James Hankins has argued that Bruni’s De militia functioned as a reform text aimed at remilitarizing the pusillanimous “carpet knights” whom contemporaries excoriated as stains on the glory of Florence. This remilitarization was to be accomplished by “co-opt[ing] the most glamorous of medieval ideals, the ideal of chivalry, and . . . re-interpret[ing] it in terms of Graeco-Roman ideals of military service.”80 Thus, Bruni sought to reinvigorate a Florentine knight hood seemingly bereft of courage, prowess, and martial experience.81 Latini, on the other hand, dealt with an overly stimulated, excessively violent, and highly militarized chivalric elite fiercely protective of their perceived honor, prestige, and autonomy. As a result, he sought to curb the violent excesses of the chivalric elite through reform that was aimed at minimizing the disorder and violence plaguing Florence in the middle of the thirteenth century, but without drastically redefining the ideology or membership of the chivalric cultural community. The comparison of these two attempts to reform the Florentine chivalric elite, admittedly in fundamentally different ways based on the exigencies of the world in which each lived, highlights the critical importance of context. While reforms emphasizing ideals such as discipline and loyalty and service to the commonwealth might be considered classical in their origins, reform ers who operated in a more traditional chivalric milieu easily adopted them. Again, this should not be surprising, as chivalry was eminently practical, capable of taking root in a variety of social terrains and of being fed by a variety of traditions. 80. James Hankins, “Civic Knighthood in the Early Renaissance: Leonardo Bruni’s De militia (ca. 1420),” Working Paper. Faculty of Arts and Sciences: Harvard University, 2011, 5. See now his Virtue Poli tics: Soulcraft and Statecraft in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2019), 238–70. 81. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, ed. Giosue Carducci and Vittorio Fiorini, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, n.s., 30, pt. 1 (Città di Castello: Editore S. Lapi, 1903), 237–38, laments that Florentines around 1350 were more often merchants than warriors: “non sono uomini di guerra, ma di mercanzia, ed a quel tempo meno erano, perocchè erano stati gran tempo senza guerra” (they are not warriors, but merchants, and at that time there were less, because they were a long time without war; translation is mine).
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In addition, the Tesoretto reveals a great deal about contemporary Flo rentine culture and reflects Latini’s serious concerns about the tumultuous conflicts that plagued his city, especially the factional wars that led to his exile in 1260. For Latini, the violence of the Florentine chivalric elite needed to be reformed so that these knights and men-at-arms could become produc tive members of society. Latini sought to accomplish this goal by conceiving of knighthood as a profession or art (arte) that could be reformed through reeducation. The use of the knight as student of the Virtues indicates that Latini thought the institution and its members were not only capable but also worthy of being reformed. Latini’s goal was therefore not to detach the chivalric elite from the larger civic body, nor to eliminate chivalric violence altogether, or even to demilitarize the institution of knighthood, but rather to encourage the proper and controlled exercise of violence and to make these strenuous elite warriors accept their important role in society. But did Latini’s reformative virtues and ideal behaviors influence mem bers of the Florentine chivalric elite to change their behavior? The evidence presented in chapters 1 and 2 strongly suggests that many knights and menat-arms failed to consistently put Latini’s reformative virtues and ideal behav iors into practice, even though many streams of the larger current of reform continued to be explored by important literary figures like Dante Alighieri and Giovanni Boccaccio, as well as chronicle writers like Dino Compagni and the Villani.82 Despite their efforts, unreformed knights and men-at-arms continued to commit acts of honor and social violence during the remaining decades of the thirteenth century, and many came to be labelled magnates. This violence continued, in many cases unabated, into the middle of the fourteenth century and beyond, leading Boccaccio to conclude that the chivalric mentality of the Florentine elite was “not pliable and receptive to correction.”83 It would be wrong, however, to interpret this sustained violence as proof that reform efforts like Latini’s had no impact upon the chivalric elite. Klapisch-Zuber’s study of the Florentine magnates from the mid-fourteenth through the mid-fifteenth century makes clear that many of these men re turned to civic society after modifying their behavior or proving that they had broken with the traditional lifestyle of their predecessors and kinsmen.84 82. The continuity of reform themes across time (the mid-thirteenth through the mid-four teenth centuries) and genre (from Latini’s allegorical poem to other literary works and even chroni cles) is the topic of an article currently in progress. See also the illuminating discussion of Dante and Boccaccio in Olson, Courtesy Lost. 83. Olson, Courtesy Lost, 44. 84. Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica: I magnati fiorentini, 1340–1440, trans. Isabelle Chabot and Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2009), 285–399.
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For other members of the chivalric elite this process was not so smooth, as reintegration had to work around chivalry’s still powerful influence. This often meant the modification of certain behaviors, like when and where to engage in honor and social violence, while also the intensification of other chivalric activities that were more widely accepted in civic society, like the profession of arms. Buonaccorso di Neri Pitti, the focus of the epilogue, exemplifies this reformed version of the chivalric lifestyle.
Ch a p ter 4
Chivalric Identity and the Profession of Arms These are on display at the temple of Mars for the glory of the city, which had taken magnificent vengeance —Leonardo Bruni, History of the Florentine People
One form of chivalric violence that was praised by reformers like Brunetto Latini and popolani chroniclers like Dino Com pagni and Giovanni Villani was the profession of arms. As we shall see, the military expertise and experience of the chivalric elite was of immense value to the city of Florence, as long as it was directed against external enemies. If the profession of arms had value in the eyes of the popolani, we must keep in mind that it was the raison d’être of the chivalric elite. Indeed, war was a foundational pillar of chivalric identity in Florence during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a profession widely considered to be fundamentally ennobling and honorable.1 Folgore da San Gimignano’s sonnet “Martidí” (Tuesday), composed in the early fourteenth century by a Sienese warriorpoet, suggests that Tuscan knights, Florentines assuredly among them, took great joy in going to war.2 In the sonnet, Folgore waxes lyrical about the sound of trumpets and tambourines, the sight of knights and donzelli armed
1. William Caferro, Petrarch’s War: Florence and the Black Death in Context (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 144, makes a similar point about the ennobling power of war among mer cenaries serving in Italy. 2. For Folgore, see Liana Cellerino, “Folgore da San Gimignano,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 48 (1997), https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/folgore-da-san-gimignano_%28Dizionario Biografico%29/ (accessed December 13, 2020). 143
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and astride their magnificent horses, and the striking of great blows.3 In an other sonnet dedicated to prowess, he connects the great blows struck dur ing battle to the eternal glory and honor a knight earned when his deeds of prowess are made known to the larger chivalric community.4 This connec tion between war and honor certainly would have held great importance in the mind of every strenuous Florentine knight and man-at-arms. It is no surprise, therefore, that war was central to chivalric identity in Florence and that many members of the Florentine chivalric elite chose to cultivate mili tary careers during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Florentine knights and men-at-arms also clearly recognized the role war played in reinforcing their claims to social superiority and political authority. Occasionally historians can catch glimpses of these beliefs writ large, as when Dino Compagni wrote with obvious alarm that the nobles and great citizens of Florence were “swollen with pride” following the victory at the Battle of Campaldino in 1289. Their arrogance was occasioned by the conviction that they alone were responsible for the victory, and thus they were furious that “the offices and honors” they believed were due to them because of this vital service had been taken away.5 Compagni writes rather more positively about the Uberti lineage, who, in 1303, returned to the city after a consider able period in exile, expressing his clear admiration that “even in exile they kept great state and never diminished their honor, for they always . . . dedi cated themselves to great undertakings.”6 Once again Compagni articulates a connection between war, that is, “great undertakings,” and honor, status, and power. This time Compagni uses terminology (great undertakings) that seems to endure in the Florentine context even beyond the period covered in this chapter. 3. Le rime di Folgore da San Gemignano e di Cene da la Chitarra d’Arezzo, ed. Giulio Navone (Bo logna: Gaetano Romagnoli, 1880), 35: “El martidí gli do un novo mondo, / udir sonar trombette e tamburelli, / armar pedon, cavalieri e donzelli, / e campane a Martello dicer don do; / e lui primero e gli altri secondo / armati di loriche e di Cappelli, / veder nemici e percoter ad elli, / dando gran colpi e mettendoli a fondo. / Destrier veder andare a vote selle, / tirando per lo campo lor segnori / e strascinando figati e budelli; / e sonar a raccolta I trombatori, / e sufuli e flauti e ciramelle, / e tornar a le schiere i feritori.” 4. Le rime di Folgore da San Gemignano, 46: “Eccho prodezza che tosto lo spoglia / e dice: amicho e’ convien che tu mudi, / Per ciò ch’ i’ vo’ veder li uomini nudi, / e vo’ che sappi non abbo altra voglia; / E lascia ogni costume che far soglia / e nuovamente t’affatichi e sudi; / Se questo fai tu sarai de’ miei druid, / pur che ben far non t’increscha né doglia. / E quando vede le membra schoperte / immantenente si le reca in braccio / dicendo: queste charni m’ ai offerte; / l’ te ricevo e questo don ti faccio, / acciò ke le tue opera sien certe; / chè ogni tuo ben far giammai non taccio.” 5. Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, trans. Daniel Bornstein (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1986), 13, 24; Dino Compagni, Cronica delle cose occorrenti ne’ tempi suoi, ed. Gino Luzzatto (Turin: Giulio Einaudi editore, 1968), 14, 29. 6. Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 56; Compagni, Cronica, 73.
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As we shall see in the epilogue, the Florentine nobleman Buonaccorso Pitti enjoyed a long and active military career during the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. In his ricordanza, he makes clear that he was moti vated to cultivate the profession of arms by a consistent desire “to partake once more in such great doings.” Thus, Buonaccorso makes the same con nection as his Florentine predecessors between war and “great doings.” In fact, Buonaccorso concludes that to die while “bearing arms,” would allow “a more glorious memory” to survive him and “more honor” to be reflected on his lineage than any other end.7 In other words, chivalric practitioners in the Florentine worlds of both Dino Compagni (1264–1324) and Buonaccorso Pitti (1354–1432) express similar attitudes toward the profession of arms and war, suggesting a strong continuity across the entire period under investiga tion in this book. This connection between martial function and elite social status, how ever, was not new to Florence in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, but rested on a chivalric tradition that was pervasive in Europe generally, including in Tuscany, by the twelfth century.8 In the Florentine context, the dominant lineages of the consular aristocracy in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries were mostly military in nature, likely forming what Giovanni Tabacco termed a “nobiltà di fatto,” that is, an elite defined by its martial function.9 Numerous studies confirm the martial character of the “traditional” Florentine elite, with Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur’s work in 7. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” in Two Memoirs of Renaissance Florence: The Diaries of Buon accorso Pitti and Gregorio Dati, ed. Gene Brucker, trans. Julia Martines (Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press, 1991), 70–71; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, ed. Alberto Bacchi della Lega (Bologna: Romagnoli dall’Acqua, 1905), 127: “io sarei pi. contento morire innarme al suo servigio, che morire come man dato per danari &c. per. che molto migliore fama ne rimarrebbe di me et onore a quelli di casa mia.” 8. For the general European context, see Richard Kaeuper, Medieval Chivalry (Cambridge: Cam bridge University Press, 2016), especially chaps. 3–5; David Crouch, The Chivalric Turn: Conduct and Hegemony in Europe before 1300 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019); Crouch, The Birth of Nobil ity: Constructing Aristocracy in England and France, 900–1300 (London: Pearson-Longman, 2005). For the Tuscan context, see Christopher Wickham, The Mountains and the City: The Tuscan Apennines in the Early Middle Ages (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), xxv, 285–306. The dominant mar tial character of rural Tuscan aristocrats is confirmed in Maria Elena Cortese, Signori, castelli, città: L’aristocrazia del territorio fiorentino tra X e XII secolo (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 2007); Cortese, “Between the City and the Countryside: The Aristocracy in the March of Tuscia,” in Italy and Early Medieval Eu rope: Papers for Chris Wickham, ed. Ross Balzaretti, Julia Barrow, and Patricia Skinner (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018), 140–54; Cortese, “Rural Milites in Central and Northern Italy between Local Elites and Aristocracy (1100–1300),” in Social Mobility in Medieval Italy (1100–1500), ed. Sandro Carocci and Isabella Lazzarini (Rome: Viella, 2018), 335–52; Peter Coss, The Aristocracy in England and Tuscany, 1000–1250 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020); and Alessio Fiore, The Seigneurial Transformation: Power Structures and Political Communication in the Countryside of Central and Northern Italy, 1080–1130, trans. Sergio Knipe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020). 9. Giovanni Tabacco, “Su nobiltà e cavalleria nel medioevo,” Rivista storica italiana 91 (1979): 10.
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particular offering significant insight into their lifestyle and martial practices for the period before 1250.10 In brief, the vigorous cultivation of the profes sion of arms allowed members of traditional martial lineages to fulfill an important military function on behalf of the city, one that earned them in exchange prestige, wealth, and a powerful claim to political authority. It is no surprise, therefore, that newly arrived lineages from the contado (country side) and newly enriched urban lineages eagerly followed suit, forming along with the consular aristocracy what Silvia Diacciati has called the milizia, a group defined by its martial function and knightly lifestyle, but not necessar ily by the dignity of knighthood itself.11 As we have seen, at the end of the thirteenth century the Florentine government labelled many, but not all, of the lineages in this group as magnates, a legally defined category of citizens characterized by their violent lifestyle and sense of autonomy and imperi ousness, which often manifested as resistance to the authority of popular governments.12 The magnates as a social group included, for much of the subsequent century, some of the most prominent members and lineages of the chivalric elite.13 This chapter will demonstrate that strenuous Florentine knights and men-at-arms from chivalric lineages continued the martial traditions of their Tuscan knightly predecessors by cultivating military careers through out the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.14 The importance of this conti nuity becomes clear when considered in the context of the seismic changes 10. John Najemy, A History of Florence, 1200–1575 (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2008), 11, 65; Carol Lansing, The Florentine Magnates: Lineage and Faction in a Medieval Commune (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1991), 91, 97; Jean-Claude Maire Vigueur, Cavalieri e cittadini: Guerra, conflitti e società nell’Italia comunale (Bologna: Il Mulino, 2004), 108–10, 126–27; Stefano Gasparri, I milites cittadini: Studi sulla cavalleria in Italia (Rome: Istituto storico italiano per il Medio Evo, 1992), 8; and Silvia Diacciati, Popolani e magnati: Società e politica nella Firenze del Duecento (Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull’alto Medioevo, 2011), 21–23, 27, 59, 197, 369, 392–93. 11. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 19–20, paints a similar picture of the identity and lifestyle of the milites. 12. Marvin Becker, “A Study in Political Failure: The Florentine Magnates, 1280–1343,” in Floren tine Essays: Selected Writings of Marvin B. Becker, ed. James Banker and Carol Lansing (Ann Arbor: Uni versity of Michigan Press, 2002), 246, notes that “the definitions of the term ‘magnate’ are legion.” 13. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 291. For the magnates, see also Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica: I magnati fiorentini, 1340–1440, trans. Isabelle Chabot and Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2009) and Lansing, The Florentine Magnates. 14. Silvia Diacciati, “ ‘Il barone’: Corso Donati,” in Nel Duecento di Dante: I personaggi, ed. Franco Suitner (Florence: Le Lettere, 2020), 181, argues for the continuity of warrior values (valori guerrieri) among the Donati and other magnate lineages into the fourteenth century. See also Trevor Dean, “Knighthood in Later Medieval Italy,” in Europa e Italia: Studi in onore di Giorgio Chittolini (Florence: Firenze University Press, 2011), 153, who observes the connection between knighthood and “mili tary practice, and with individual and collective feats of arms” for the general Italian context in the fourteenth century.
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that began in Florence in the mid-thirteenth century with the advent of the popular government known as the Primo Popolo (1250–60), and further de veloped in the early 1290s under another popular government, the Secondo Popolo, before reaching maturity during the fourteenth century. As we have seen, the changes were not only political, economic, and social in nature, but also cultural. This cultural change impacted Florentine elite society in particular, which saw the introduction of a new civic model of elite identity. While this new identity has been discussed at length in previous chapters, it is important to note here that it challenged the traditional connection between elite identity and the profession of arms. Indeed, in the second half of the thirteenth century and especially in the fourteenth century many members of the Florentine civic elite, especially those belonging to mercantile and banking lineages known as the popolo grasso, abandoned military careers in favor of other more lucrative opportu nities in the worlds of domestic politics and business.15 This is not surprising, because politics and business not only promised far greater economic rewards than war but also offered far less risk.16 The only time the benefits or necessity seemingly outweighed the risk was when Florentine interests or the city itself faced an existential threat, as in 1323 when all able-bodied Florentines mobi lized in order to save Prato from Castruccio Castracani.17 This attitude toward war was based not only on practical concerns, but was also shaped by the cultural contest between a burgeoning but influential civic ethos and chivalric ideology. The growing dominance of the civic ethos among the Florentine popolo grasso meant that political power and social superiority increasingly became a product of incredible wealth stemming from trade, manufacturing, and moneylending, not leadership and participation in war. This sea change was accompanied by other developments, including the slow but perceptible decline in the early fourteenth century of the cavallata, the mechanism by which the Florentine government secured the military service of wealthy citizens, and the creation of a sprawling territorial state, which required more frequent and longer campaigns to defend and enlarge.18 15. Najemy, A History of Florence, 12, 76. Charles Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence: The “De Militia” of Leonardo Bruni (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1961), 55–56, argues that during the course of the fourteenth century “the unwarlike merchants and other nuova gente who guided the destinies of the city had no taste for, or experience in, the profession of arms.” 16. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 386–88, discusses Donato Velluti’s thoughts on these issues in the mid-fourteenth century. 17. Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica, ed. Giuseppe Porta (Parma: Fondazione Pietro Bembo, 1991), 850–51. 18. Cesare Paoli, “Le cavallate fiorentine nei secoli XIII e XIV: Saggio storico compilato sui docu menti dell’archivio fiorentino,” Archivio Storico Italiano, 3rd ser., 1, no. 2 (1865): 53–94, provides the
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Issues of law and order also played a role, especially the promulgation of antimagnate laws in the 1280s and the Ordinances of Justice in 1293 that made the Florentine chivalric elite less inclined to fight on behalf of a city they viewed as oppressing and marginalizing them. Moreover, the periodic intensification of the Ordinances (1306, 1309, 1321, 1324) meant that a reduc tion of the available skilled manpower continued for multiple generations. No doubt the Florentine government understood the issue from a different point of view, one articulated by Giovanni Villani, who saw the resistance of the traditional elite as a “defection of the nobles, the natural warrior class of Florence, whose fidelity to the popular régime was shaken by the persis tent refusal to rescind the Ordinances of Justice.”19 All of these factors led to a greater, but never complete, reliance on mercenaries to fill the ranks of Florentine armies.20 Nevertheless, chivalric ideology continued to encourage the Florentine chivalric elite to treat martial careers as central to their identity, honor, and social superiority. War itself remained an ennobling enterprise, while exper tise in the profession of arms and traditions of military service continued to translate into social prestige, economic wealth, and political power.21 In a world where function still had some correlation with status, elite men from traditional martial lineages proudly touted their military leadership and ser vice as strenuous knights—distinguished in a military context by terminol ogy like cavalieri di corredo or simply cavalieri, although this could also mean cavalrymen—and men-at-arms as proof of their claims to a superior form of elite identity, one that connected them to their peers in other cities, courts, and kingdoms. In other words, members of the Florentine chivalric elite not only continued to go to war, they also treated military service as an increas ingly important marker of an elite identity more venerable and prestigious than those claimed by the civic elite, something to be pursued regardless of its profitability and risks.
most comprehensive study of the Florentine cavallata. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 37, notes that the rise of the cavallata itself resulted in a decline of the traditional privileges and benefits accrued by knights and men-at-arms when they went to war. 19. Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence, 55. 20. Daniel Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic from the Twelfth to the Fourteenth Century,” in Florentine Studies: Politics and Society in Renaissance Florence, ed. Nicolai Rubinstein (Evan ston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1968), especially 96. See also Waley, “Condotte e condottieri in the Thirteenth Century,” Proceedings of the British Academy 61 (1975): 337–71; Caferro, Petrarch’s War; William Caferro, “Continuity, Long-Term Service, and Permanent Forces: A Reassessment of the Florentine Army in the Fourteenth Century,” Journal of Modern History 80 ( June 2008): 219–51; and Caferro, Mercenary Companies and the Decline of Siena (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998). 21. Dean, “Knighthood in Later Medieval Italy,” 153. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 197ff.
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Despite the aforementioned challenges to the chivalric lifestyle and the dra matic transformation of the social, political, and cultural terrain of Florence, the continued close connection between chivalric identity and the profession of arms ensured that members of traditional martial lineages vigorously pur sued opportunities to go to war throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Given the paucity and nature of the surviving evidence, however, it is easier to reconstruct the military service performed by individual mem bers of chivalric lineages during this period than it is to bring into focus the attitudes of specific practitioners. The striking continuity revealed by this prosopographical approach strongly suggests the importance members of the Florentine chivalric elite attached to the profession of arms. This chapter will focus on the military service provided by members of eighteen chivalric lineages, many of whom appear regularly in previous chapters, over a period of approximately one hundred years: from the Battle of Montaperti (1260) to the Battle of Cascina (1364). These major military campaigns mark the beginning and end of this long century and are well at tested in the available evidence. The eighteen lineages featured in this chap ter were chosen because they belonged either to the martial consular aris tocracy that ruled Florence in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries or to the milizia, a group of newer elite lineages whose members vigorously cultivated the profession of arms in the first half of the thirteenth century. In other words, their prominence and clear military traditions at the start of our period allow us to trace their military activities over a longer period of time. The lineages are the Adimari-Cavicciuli, Bardi, Bostichi, Brunelleschi, Cav alcanti, della Tosa-Tosinghi, Donati, Foraboschi, Frescobaldi, Gianfigliazzi, Mazzinghi, Nerli, Pigli, Scali, Spini, Tornaquinci, Vecchietti, and Visdomini Aliotti.22 This list provides a representative sample of the Florentine chivalric community, although not necessarily with the most active military lineages in mind. In fact, some of the most bellicose lineages have been excluded, including the Buondelmonti, Giandonati, Pazzi, Scolari, and Uberti, sev eral of whom spent much of this period in exile and at war with Florence.23 The Scolari and Uberti are only two of the most familiar of a large group of Ghibelline lineages, like the Lamberti, Amidei, and Cipriani, that spent
22. See Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 60–93, for a discussion of their martial activities in the first half of the thirteenth century. 23. Peter Sposato, “The Profession of Arms and Chivalric Identity in Late Medieval Florence: A Prosopographical Study of the Buondelmonti Family,” Medieval Prosopography 33 (2018): 123–36, traces the military service of members of the Buondelmonti lineage from the early thirteenth into the fifteenth century.
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long years after 1250 in exile, surviving thanks to their martial skill.24 Also excluded are lineages that rose to prominence in the fourteenth century, like the Albizzi, Medici, and Strozzi, whose members actively served Florence in a military capacity. This chapter not only challenges the conventional historical view that the traditional, martial Florentine elite were transformed, in toto, from strenu ous knights and warriors to “decadent and sedentary businessmen,” but, by extension, it also contributes to the lively debate among historians about both the prevalence and importance of mercenaries in the Florentine military ma chine and the long-term stability and continuity of the forces employed by the city.25 In this way it builds upon the seminal revisionist studies of Dan iel Waley and William Caferro on late medieval Florentine military history and adopts a similar document-based approach. The main sources used for this chapter include the budget records produced by the Florentine camera del comune—especially those concerned with expenditures (e.g., camarlinghi uscita and scrivano di camera uscita)—which survive in large numbers for the years after 1343; the records of Florentine city councils (e.g., the reg isters of the Consulte, Libri Fabarum, and Provvisioni); various other archival sources (e.g., Libro di Montaperti); and the major contemporary and nearcontemporary chronicles and histories.26 Some of these sources are more limited in the types of evidence they provide, with the chronicles in par ticular often failing to identify the individuals involved in a particular event. Finally, this study differs from the work of Waley and Caferro in its exclusive focus on the Florentine chivalric elite and in its chronological breadth, both of which allow for the identification of military careers and patterns of ser vice. Given the scope of the study and the sheer weight of available evidence for the years after 1343, this is a significant but by no means comprehensive first treatment of the topic. 24. Robert Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, trans. Eugenio Dupré-Theseider, 5 vols. (Florence: San soni, 1956–68), 4:672, describes them as “ancient and glorious families.” 25. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 107. For the intersection of the Florentine economy and society and warfare in the fourteenth century, see Caferro, Petrarch’s War; William Caferro, John Hawkwood: An English Mercenary in Fourteenth-Century Italy (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006); Caferro, “Continuity, Long-Term Service, and Permanent Forces”; Caferro, “Warfare and Economy in Renaissance Italy, 1350–1450,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History 39 (2008): 167–209; Caferro, “Petrarch’s War: Florentine Wages at the Time of the Black Death,” Speculum 88 (2013): 144–65; Caferro, “Military Enterprise in Florence at the Time of the Black Death,” in Entrepre neurs and the State in Europe and the Mediterranean, 1300–1800, ed. Jeff Fynn-Paul (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 15–31; and Anthony Molho, Florentine Public Finance in the Early Renaissance, 1400–1433 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971). 26. Caferro, “Continuity, Long-Term Service, and Permanent Forces,” 222–23 (n. 16), offers a concise introduction to the relevant sources.
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the Battle of montaperti The well-documented preparations for two Florentine campaigns in 1260 serve as a natural starting place for a general survey of the Florentine chival ric elite and their cultivation of the profession of arms.27 The first campaign lasted from February to May and the second from June to September of that year, when the Florentine Guelf army was defeated by the Sienese and their Ghibelline and imperial allies at the Battle of Montaperti (September 4). The surviving records, contained in the unique Libro di Montaperti, represent only a small portion of what was once a much larger military archive. The Libro contains information on the Florentine cavalry, the force in which most of the chivalric elite would have served, for only one of the six sections or sesti of the city: the sesto of San Pancrazio. This group numbered 185 men, lead ing Waley to estimate that the total cavalry force was around 1,400, possibly rising to 1,650 with the inclusion of the forty-eight cavalry guarding the city’s caroccio (war wagon) and an uncertain number of cavalrymen and knights who volunteered for service or came from the contado.28 Thus, while the Libro provides considerably more information about the composition and leadership of the Florentine army during these two campaigns than in any other in the thirteenth century, it is still not possible to reconstruct a full picture of those who participated.29 Despite these limitations, at least seventy-two members of the eighteen lineages appear in the Libro and likely served on one or both of the cam paigns. The Tornaquinci provided the largest contingent with eighteen men, several of whom held leadership positions in the army or military positions in the contado during the campaign. Messer Giani was chosen as one of the captains (there were two from each sesto) of the army on behalf of the sesto of Porta San Pancrazio (Porte S. Pancratii),30 Brunetto (Burnetto) di Lot tero Mentuccio served as one of the officers and advisers (distringitores et consiliarii) of the gonfalonier of the crossbowmen for the same sesto,31 and Messer Sinibaldo held the office of podestà of Poggibonsi, which prevented
27. For the Battle of Montaperti, see Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 74–80; Fabio Bargigia, “I documenti dell’esercito: L’esempio del Libro di Montaperti,” in Cittadini in armi: Eserciti e guerre nell’Italia comunale, ed. Paolo Grillo (Cantanzaro: Soveria Mannelli, 2011), 71–82; and Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 2:678–96. 28. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 76, 77. 29. Il Libro di Montaperti (An. MCCLX), ed. Cesare Paoli (Florence: Vieusseux, 1889). An abridged copy of the manuscript can be found in ASF, Manoscritti Vari 534, unpaginated. 30. Libro di Montaperti, 1, 297, 369: He also delivered a horse that was likely used by Soldo, his son. 31. Libro di Montaperti, 5.
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him from participating in the campaign, although he did deliver a horse to the army that his nephew, Quinci, rode instead.32 Three other Tornaquinci men served in a company of infantry provided by the popolo of San Pier Buonconsiglio (S. Petri Bonconsilii): Duccio di Lottero, Cipriano di Lottero, and Betto di Lottero.33 Other Tornaquinci fought in the battle, although the exact nature of their service is not always made clear in the evidence. Messer Iacobo delivered a horse on his own behalf and that of his son Gieri di Iacobo, but the Libro di Montaperti does not make clear who ended up riding that horse during the campaign.34 Likewise, Testa di Giani, Lotto di M. Ugolini, Follia di M. Iacobo, Cardinale “Marabottini,” and Baldera di M. Gianni all delivered horses and possibly rode them into battle as part of the Florentine army.35 Several Torna quinci served in the army on horses provided by other Florentines, including Zandonato Giovanni, Tero di M. Iacobo, Soldo di Gianni, Quinci di Sinibaldo, and Nato di Gianni.36 Finally, Lutero di Iacopo delivered a horse to the army but could not participate in the campaign because of a “bodily defect.”37 Eight Adimari-Cavicciuli men participated in the Montaperti campaign in one form or another. Perhaps the most famous example is that of Messer Tegghiaio di Aldobrandino di Bellincione, “a knight wise and skilled in arms and of great authority,” who was called upon by the Florentine government in 1259 to provide expert counsel regarding a proposed campaign against the Sienese and their allies, including the Ghibelline exiles of Florence.38 Tegghiaio’s calls for caution were famously ignored by the leaders of the Primo Popolo, and the Florentine army subsequently suffered a decisive de feat at the Battle of Montaperti.39 In addition to providing counsel before 32. Libro di Montaperti, 54, 68, 297. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 75, provides a brief discussion of citizens maintaining horses on behalf of the city, including joint ownership or the “consort system,” as well as the practice of nominating substitutes to go on campaign. 33. Libro di Montaperti, 333. 34. Libro di Montaperti, 297. 35. Libro di Montaperti, 304–7. 36. Libro di Montaperti, 292, 297, 299, 300, 311. 37. Libro di Montaperti, 310: Lutero was supposed to ride in the place of the Davanzati sons, but because he had a bodily defect, he was replaced by Cato di Valentino. “Ad defensionem Davan zati filii Ianni Benincasa, Cato f. Valentino iuramento dicit: quod dictus equus dicti Davanzati, qui (quem) equitabat Luteri f. Iacopi Tornaquinci, fuit admissus ad exercitum factum contra Senesium a principio, sed dicit quod habuit mendum, unde emit unum alium qui debet equitare dictus Cato. Et dicit, quod representavit dictum equum ad consignationem im presentia domini Guidonis Burgesani militis Potestatis, et dicit quod est cavalcator dicti Davanzati.” 38. The description comes from Villani’s Nuova Cronica, 305: “cavaliere savio e prode in arme e di grande autoritade.” 39. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 305–12; Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, ed. Giosue Carducci and Vittorio Fiorini, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, n.s., 30, pt. 1 (Città di Castello: Editore
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the campaign, Messer Tegghiaio also served as one of the army’s captains for the sesto Porta San Piero.40 He was joined by Messer Bindo Alamanno, “a wise and honest man” (sapienti et probo viro), who was chosen as one of the distringitores for the sesto of Porta del Duomo and later was commanded to procure troops from the Mugello, where he was serving as vicar.41 Messer Manfredo was one of the captains commanded to assemble the knights of Porta San Pietro behind the battle lines so that they might advance together,42 Messer Uberto held the office of captain of Montesmurlo,43 and Messer Bo naccorso di Bellincione served as one of the knights of the carroccio (milites carroccii) for the sesto of San Pancrazio (Porte Sancti Pancratii).44 Bonaccor so’s sons, Aldobrandino and Ranieri, also appear in the Libro providing a horse for the army, although whether they fought in the battle is unclear.45 The Mazzinghi, Visdomini-Aliotti, and Cavalcanti lineages each provided seven men to serve in the Florentine army. Regarding the Mazzinghi, Ar righetto is recorded as delivering two horses to the army, one on his own behalf and one on behalf of his father, Mazingo (Mazinghus) di Ugolino, with Arrighetto riding one of them into battle.46 The Libro does not indi cate who rode the other horse, but it is reasonable to assume that it could have been used by another Mazzinghi, Messer Mazzetto (Maczettus), who was chosen as one of the distringitores for the sesto of San Pancrazio, but apparently did not have a warhorse of his own (“non habet equum”).47 Bin daccio and Federigo di Ligo Arrighetto also delivered horses and rode them into battle.48 Two other Mazzinghi delivered horses but did not travel with the army: Ghersetto di Tegrimi was excused because he held the office of castellan of Barbarino, a town in the Florentine contado, at the time of the campaign,49 and Tegrimo di Bernardo, one of the distringitores et consiliarii
S. Lapi, 1903), 46–47; Storia Fiorentina di Ricordano Malispini. Dall’edificazione di Firenze fino al 1282. Seguita poi da Giacotto Malispini fino al 1286, ed. Antonio Benci, 2 vols. (Livorno: Torchi di Glauco Mas., 1830), 2:387–88; and Leonardo Bruni, The History of the Florentine People, ed. and trans. James Hankins, 3 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001–7), 1:151–59. 40. Libro di Montaperti, 5. 41. Libro di Montaperti, 3, 51–52. 42. Libro di Montaperti, 87: “distringendum de retro milites ut vadant stricte ad schieras.” 43. Libro di Montaperti, 96: “ut solvi et satisfieri faciat a Communi dicti loci illis hominibus dicti Communis, qui venerunt et sunt in presenti exercitu, secundum modum et formam quot fuit ordi natum et stabilitum per Commune dicti loci.” 44. Libro di Montaperti, 8. 45. Libro di Montaperti, 302, 327. 46. Libro di Montaperti, 296, 307. 47. Libro di Montaperti, 2. 48. Libro di Montaperti, 297, 307. 49. Libro di Montaperti, 307: “Castellanus pro Communi Florentie in castro Barbarino.”
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of the bannerman of the archers for the sesto of San Pancrazio, was excused because he was too ill to fight.50 The Visdomini men involved in the Montaperti campaign all held impor tant leadership positions. Messer Filippo (Phylippus) was chosen as one of main captains of the army.51 Messer Tedici Aliotti dei Visdomini and Neri Gioia di Gherardo degli Aliotti served as one of the consiliarii and the bannerman of the archers (arcatorum), respectively, for the Porta San Pietro.52 Both Forese di Albizo and Lapo di Gherardo degli Aliotti served as members of a company of infantry (Venticinquine), the former for the Porta San Pancrazio and the latter for the popolo of San Andrea.53 Finally, Ugolino Aldobrandino Romeo dei Visdomini (Vicedomini) served as captain of the infantry from San Martino in Viminiccio, and Messer Bindo degli Aliotti was given the singular honor of serving as one of the knights tasked with defending the Florentine carroccio during the battle.54 Likewise, most of the Cavalcanti men held leadership positions in the Florentine army. Messer Ranieri (Ranerius) and Messer Amadore Adimari Giamberti were both chosen as captains of the forces from the sesto of Borgo, while Messer Bernardo was chosen as one of the consiliarii for the same ses to.55 Also holding positions of importance in the army were Lapo Valente, who was chosen as the gonfalonier of the crossbowmen (gonfalonerius balis tariorum), and Messer Sangallo Gianni Schichi, who served as one of the distringitores et consiliarii for the bannerman of the archers from the sesto of Borgo.56 Also fighting at Montaperti were Scolario Adimari di Gianni Leti and Gherardo, who was chosen to carry the banner for the same sesto.57 Six men from the Nerli lineage participated in the campaign. Brunetto, Ricovero, Albizzello, Aveduto, and Ventura all served in the army and 50. Libro di Montaperti, 6, 306. 51. Libro di Montaperti, 45, 369: “Capitaneos potentis et victoriosi exercitus, quem Commune Florentine in presenti facere debet adversus inimicos et ad confusionem inimicorum suorum, ad honorem et laudem dicte Potestatis et Communis Florentie et domini Phylippi Visdomini Capitanei et Anzianorum Populi Florentini et dictorum Capitaneorum exercitus”; 374: “in quo interfuerunt dictus dominus Phylippus Capitaneus et Anziani Populi Florentini.” 52. Libro di Montaperti, 3, 7. 53. Libro di Montaperti, 320, 334. 54. Libro di Montaperti, 56. Bindo appears in a list of men with the following description: “Infra scripti sunt Domini et Superstites Coarroccii victoriosi Communis Florentie, qui debeant superesse ad guidandum et guidari et gubernari faciendum ipsum Carroccium, et ad omnia etiam que ad ipsum officium spectant; electi per Capitaneos exercitus.” 55. Libro di Montaperti, 1, 2, 87. Messer Amadore’s office is described as “capitaneos exercitus ad distringendum de retro milites ut vadant stricte ad schieras” (87). 56. Libro di Montaperti, 5. 57. Libro di Montaperti, 30, 71. Gherardo’s office is described as “officiales super faciendo eligi vexilliferos in comitatus super faciendo fieri custodia in exercitu” (30).
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ostensibly fought at the Battle of Montaperti. Canto di Gherardo dei Nerli, meanwhile, held the position of bannerman of the archers for the sesto of Porta Duomo.58 The Donati contingent numbered four. Aldobrandino deliv ered a horse on behalf of his sons and nephews, although it is unclear who rode the horse.59 Boninsegna is listed as serving in a company of infantry provided by the popolo of San Paulo.60 Iunta and Astuccio, meanwhile, both fought in the army as representatives of rural communities, the popolo of San Quirico d’Orcia (S. Quirici a le Valle; near Siena) and the popolo of Doccio, respectively.61 The Vecchietti and della Tosa-Tosinghi lineages were also each represented by four men. Regarding the Vecchietti, it is clear that Marsilio di Bernardo di M. Ugo, Lapo di Bernardo, and Filippo di Iacopo all fought in the battle.62 Less clear is whether or not Durazzo di M. Guidalotto fought, although the Libro di Montaperti confirms he was charged by the captains of the army to make and lead the siege weapons needed to assault Menzano, a castle west of Siena.63 The men of the della Tosa-Tosinghi lineage also held leadership positions in the army. Messer Marsoppino Azzo was chosen as the gonfalonier of the knights of the sesto of Porta Duomo.64 Messer Odaldo and Baschiera both represented the same sesto, with the former serving as one of the captains of the army and the latter chosen by the captains of the army to build and conduct, along with the aforementioned Durazzo dei Vecchietti, siege weapons for the assault on Menzano.65 The Spini lineage, meanwhile, provided three men, each of whom held a leadership or otherwise prominent position in the army. Panfo was cap tain of a company of infantry (Venticinquine) provided by the sesto Porta San Pancrazio, while his son Tingo served in the same company under his father’s command. Finally, Ugo served as one of the captains of the entire army, representing the sesto of Borgo.66 To this list should be added the single member of each of the Bardi, Bostichi, Frescobaldi, and Pigli lineages who appear in the Libro di Montaperti. Geri di Ricco dei Bardi was chosen as the 58. Libro di Montaperti, 6, 101, 356: Albizzello, Aveduto, and Ventura each served on behalf of the popolo of S. Maria Novella (S. Marie ad Nuovolem). 59. Libro di Montaperti, 305. 60. Libro di Montaperti, 325. 61. Libro di Montaperti, 358, 364. 62. Arnaldo D’Addario, “Vecchietti (Del Vecchio),” in Enciclopedia Dantesca (1970), http://www. treccani.it/enciclopedia/vecchietti_%28Enciclopedia-Dantesca%29/ (accessed October 7, 2018): Despite D’Addario’s claim, I have been unable to locate them in the Libro di Montaperti. 63. Libro di Montaperti, 76: “ad faciendum fieri et conduci hedificia et scalas, grillos, gattos et tures lignaminis, pro expugnando castro Menzani, et super omni eo quod fieri expedit ad predicta.” 64. Libro di Montaperti, 3. 65. Libro di Montaperti, 1, 76. 66. Libro di Montaperti, 1, 35, 41, 45, 96, 321, 369.
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bannerman for the archers (bandifer arcatorum) for two sesti: Oltrarno and San Pancrazio.67 Spada Petri of the Bostichi lineage served as the gonfalonier of the infantry from the sesto of Borgo.68 Neri Lamberti of the Frescobaldi was granted the honor of representing the sesto of Oltrarno as one of the bannermen for the army.69 Finally, Ugo di M. Folchetto Clariti of the Pigli delivered one horse to the army on his own behalf and that of his brother, Roffolo, and one of the men ostensibly fought at the Battle of Montaperti.70 The large but incomplete archive for the two Florentine campaigns in 1260 confirms the participation of at least seventy-three members of the eighteen lineages under consideration in this chapter. This is, of course, only a frac tion of the total number of knights and mounted men-at-arms who actually participated in the campaigns, but it does confirm that members of these lineages joined and led the major military expeditions of this year. Many of the men discussed above would go on to enjoy long military careers, and all of the lineages continued to cultivate their established military traditions.
From montaperti to campaldino The surviving archival evidence makes it difficult to reconstruct the mili tary careers of many of the Florentine knights and men-at-arms introduced above in the years after Montaperti. The decade of Ghibelline rule in Flor ence following the Guelf defeat at Montaperti (1260) is especially poorly doc umented. This is unfortunate because during the 1260s and 1270s the Floren tine army became “part of the wide fabric of Guelf military policy,” resulting in an exponential increase in military participation.71 Most of the evidence for this important period in the history of the Florentine army consequently comes from chronicles, an evidentiary body that often leaves much to be de sired when it comes to identifying the knights and men-at-arms who went to war. Giovanni Villani writes that after their exile from Florence following the defeat at Montaperti, the Guelfs who did not go to France went to Bologna, where these “virtuous men [who were] disposed to arms and to war” served on foot or on horse, depending on their means.72 He does not, however, identify them all by name. Similarly, the identities of the “more than four hundred horsemen, good men-at-arms, well mounted” who fought in the 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72.
Libro di Montaperti, 6, 100. Libro di Montaperti, 3. Libro di Montaperti, 7. Libro di Montaperti, 307. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 80. See also Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 211. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 318–19: “gente virtudiosa, e disposta ad arme e a guerra.”
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army of Charles, Count of Anjou and Provence, against Manfred in Apulia in 1266 do not appear in Villani’s account. In fact, their names were not recorded in the surviving Florentine or Angevin sources, despite Villani’s as sertion that “they were among the best and the most skilled in arms of the many men which King Charles had in the battle against Manfred.”73 Notwithstanding these limitations, it is possible to confirm that many Florentine knights and men-at-arms continued to cultivate the profession of arms during this period. Dino Compagni recorded that Messer Bindo della Tosa, son of Baschiera who fought at Montaperti, participated in a battle outside the castle of Fucecchio in 1261, where he lost an eye.74 In 1263, Messer Forese di Bonaccorso degli Adimari led a force of Florentine knights to Reggio in the Emilia-Romagna, where they helped the Guelfs of that city to defeat their Ghibelline enemies. The chronicles of Giovanni Villani and Marchionne di Coppo Stefani and the history of Leonardo Bruni all contain accounts of the battle highlighting Forese’s leadership and prowess.75 Bruni, writing with an eye to revitalizing the martial vigor of the elite in his own day, paints a particularly vivid scene with Forese defeating Casca, the veri table giant of a man who led the Ghibellines of Reggio, in single combat.76 Several years later, Forese commanded the Florentine Guelf knights, four hundred in number and from the greatest houses of Florence, who served in the army of Charles of Anjou at the Battle of Benevento (February 26, 1266), where the French prince defeated King Manfred of Sicily.77 Of course, Forese was not the only member of the Florentine chivalric elite to serve Charles in a military capacity.78 Simone di Donato dei Donati
73. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 320, 331: “più di CCCC a cavallo di buona gente d’arme bene mon tati”; “e fu della migliore gente, e che più adoperarono d’arme ch’avesse del tanto il re Carlo alla battaglia contro a Manfredi.” Villani likewise (421–22) does not provide the names of the one hun dred Florentine knights and five hundred Florentine mounted men-at-arms sent in 1272 to serve Charles of Anjou, king of Naples. 74. Compagni, Cronica, 67; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 52; and Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:182–85 (for the siege). This is likely a reference to the Ghibelline siege of Fucec chio in October 1261 that was led by Guido Novello and guarded by the Lucchese and Florentine Guelf exiles. 75. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 319–20; Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:191; and Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 49–50. 76. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 1:189–91. 77. Antonio Sapori, “Adimari,” in Enciclopedia Italiana, I Appendice (1938), http://www.treccani. it/enciclopedia/adimari_%28Enciclopedia-Italiana%29/ (accessed February 19, 2016). The number and description of the Florentine knights comes from Villani, Nuova Cronica, 341. For the battle, see Paolo Grillo, L’aquila e il Giglio, 1266: La battaglia di Benevento (Rome: Salerno Editrice, 2015). 78. Diacciati, Popolani e magnati, 263–64, notes the close ties between several of the lineages under discussion and the Angevin court, especially the Bardi, Bostichi, Frescobaldi, and Scali.
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also served in Charles of Anjou’s army at the Battle of Benevento.79 Another Florentine, Messer Uberto dei Cavalcanti, appears as a knight at Charles’s court in 1269.80 Several years later in 1272, Forese’s kinsman Carlo Adimari (Carlo de Guerrae de Ademario) dei Cavalcanti served as captain of the knights of the city of Amalfi.81 Despite the destruction of the Neapolitan archives during World War II and the fragmented nature of the documents that survive, it is reasonable to assume that many more Florentine knights and men-at-arms cultivated military careers at the Neapolitan court during this period. The 1280s were characterized by continued conflict between the Guelfs and Ghibellines in Tuscany, Florentine efforts to control its contado more closely, and wars against nearby cities and lordships, especially Arezzo and Pisa in the years 1287–93.82 Unfortunately, the various military campaigns and smaller excursions during this period are not well documented. For ex ample, historians know little about the proposed force that was to campaign against the Pisans in 1285 or the composition of the Florentine army sent to help the Sienese that winter.83 The sources identify a limited number of knights and men-at-arms from chivalric lineages who held leadership positions or served in Florentine and Guelf armies. This may be due to the limitations of the sources or, as Waley has argued, the reluctance of many Florentines to serve for pay in the Ro magna in 1281–82 or in the war against Siena in 1285.84 Despite this reluc tance, Waley notes that five hundred to one thousand Florentines received the annual cavallata payments to maintain a warhorse in the late 1280s, and we can identify a few members of chivalric lineages performing service.85 Messer Corso di Simone dei Donati, who enjoyed a long and distinguished career before he met an ignominious death during a failed rebellion in 1308,86 79. Sergio Raveggi, “Donati, Simone,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 41 (1992), https:// www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/simone-donati_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (accessed on Febru ary 19, 2016) suggests that Simone likely joined other Guelf exiles in Charles’s army. 80. Giovanni Boccaccio, opere in versi, Corbaccio, Trattatello in laude di Dante, prose latine, epistole, ed. Riccardo Ricciardi (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 1969), 787n. 81. “Memorie appartenenti alla Famiglia degli Adimari, raccolte da Alessandro di Bernardo Adi mari l’anno MDCXIII dirette a’suoi Parenti,” in Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, ed. Ildefonso di San Luigi, vol. 11 (Florence: Gaetano Cambiagi, 1778), 267. 82. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 81–85, offers an extensive discussion of this period. 83. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 96. 84. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 94–95. 85. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 95. 86. Compagni, Cronica, 110–11; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 82–85; and Villani, Nuova Cronica, 667–70, are the main accounts.
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served as captain of a Florentine force sent to help Guido di Montfort and his knights of the Tuscan Guelf League (Tallia), a permanent military force supported by all Guelf cities, at the siege of Poggio Santa Cecilia in 1285.87 Messer Guelfo of the Cavalcanti also served as captain of a large force, num bering three hundred knights, sent by Florence in 1287 to another iteration of the Tuscan Guelf League. He was thus, ostensibly, present in the Guelf army that defeated the Pisans in the Maremma later that year.88 Similarly, Messer Guelfo dei Cavalcanti captained a cavalcata into the Maremma against the Pisans in September 1288.89
the Battle of campaldino The conflicts of the 1280s came to a head in 1289 at the Battle of Campaldino ( June 11).90 Nothing comparable to the Libro di Montaperti survives for the campaign that led to this decisive battle, leaving historians in the dark about most of the participants, including the over six hundred citizens, “the best armed and mounted” to ever ride out from the city, who fought in the bat tle.91 It is possible this number is actually a conservative estimate, as Dino Compagni observes that the Cavalcanti lineage alone supplied sixty men-at arms.92 The task of identifying specific members of this group of warriors is possible only through close analysis of chronicles and the records of the Florentine councils. These sources confirm that many members of the Florentine chivalric elite participated in the Battle of Campaldino. Messer Gherardo Ventraia dei Tornaquinci bore the royal standard and led the army into battle. Cavalcante dei Cavalcanti was, according to Silvia Diacciati, one of the leading knights in the army.93 The infamous Messer Corso Donati likewise held a leadership 87. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 474–75, discusses the siege but does not mention Corso. Sergio Raveggi, “Donati, Corso,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 41 (1992), https://www.treccani.it/ enciclopedia/corso-donati_(Dizionario-Biografico) (accessed July 9, 2017), asserts that Corso played a leading role during the siege. 88. Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica, 487–88. 89. As cited in M. Giuliani, “I nomi degli eroi,” in Il sabato di San Barnaba: La battaglia di Cam paldino (11 giugno 1289–1989) (Milan: Electa, 1989), 43. 90. On Campaldino, see Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 87–88; the studies in Il sabato di San Barnaba; and Kelly DeVries and Niccolò Capponi, Campaldino 1289: The Battle that Made Dante (London: Bloomsbury, 2018). Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 3:452–71, is the classic overview. 91. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 495: “i meglio armati e montati ch’uscissono anche di Firenze.” See also Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 107, for a brief discussion of the cavallata. 92. Giuliani, “I nomi degli eroi,” 43. 93. Silvia Diacciati, “Dante a Campaldino,” Le Tre Corone: Rivista internazionale di studi su Dante, Petrarca, Boccaccio 6 (2019): 17.
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position as captain of a force of cavalry commanded to remain in reserve, an order that Corso famously ignored in order to lead a decisive charge that broke the Aretine lines and won the battle for the Florentines.94 Also fight ing in the battle were Messer Bindo del Baschiera, Francesco, Guido di Bas chiera, and Messer Pino, all of the della Tosa lineage. These men, along with Tico dei Visdomini, were part of a large group of Florentines who were either captured or killed during the battle.95 To this incomplete list can be added a large number of men who received compensation (menda) for the loss of horses during the expedition against Arezzo in June 1289. Six of the lineages under consideration in this chap ter are represented, including Messer Lotterio di M. Gianni, Messer Filippo di M. Filigni, Boccaccino, and Guidoni Benzi di M. Lapo of the Adimari; Messer Neri and Benghi of the Bardi; Messer Biancho of the Cavalcanti; Messer Arrigho di M. Gottifredo, Bartolomeo di Masoppino, Baschiera, Da vizzo, and Messer Bellingiordo of the della Tosa; Messers Freseo (Fresen), Giovanni, Paniccia, and Stoldo of the Frescobaldi; and Vantuscio di M. Cav alcantis of the Nerli.96 Twelve days later (February 20, 1290), Manetto degli Scali received compensation for the loss of two horses.97 Several other Adimari participated in the fighting that occurred both be fore and after the Florentine victory at Campaldino. Ruggero Rubeo and Messer Tedici, for example, were both compensated on February 20, 1290, for horses lost while serving King Charles II of Naples on a chevauchée in the Sienese contado, possibly in the buildup to the battle. Messer Guelfo of the Cavalcanti lineage participated in the same military action and was similarly compensated for the loss of a horse.98 Although the limitations of the ex tant sources likely leave historians in the dark about many of the Florentine knights and men-at-arms who went to war during this period, it is clear from the evidence presented that a significant number of men from the eighteen 94. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 495, 497–98. 95. Compagni, Cronica, 12–13, 67; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 52; “Annali di Simone della Tosa,” in Cronichette antiche di vari scrittori del buon secolo della lingua italiana, ed. Domenico Maria Manni (Milan: Giovanni Silvestri, 1844), 218; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 498; and Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 65–66. Simone Della Tosa states that Tico was killed in the Piano di Ceromondo between Bibbiena and Poppio where the Florentines fought the Aretines, who were supported by the Ghibellines and Pazzi of the Valdarno. Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4:802, states that two members of the della Tosa lineage were killed at Campaldino but does not provide names. 96. ASF, Provvisioni, registri 2, February 8, 1290, fols. 49r, 49v, 71v, 72r. Messer Giovanni dei Frescobaldi appears in Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina, dall’anno MCCLXXX al MCCXCVIII, ed. Alessandro Gherardi, 2 vols. (Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1896–98), 2:77. He received compensation worth fifteen gold florins. 97. Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina, 1:363; ASF, Provvisioni, registri 2, February 20, 1290, fol. 55v. 98. ASF, Provvisioni, registri 2, February 20, 1290, fol. 56r: Ruggero received 150 florins.
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chivalric lineages in question actively cultivated the profession of arms in the second half of the thirteenth century.
From campaldino to montecatini The most important sources for reconstructing the participation of members of the Florentine chivalric elite in the military enterprises of the last decade of the thirteenth and first decade of the fourteenth centuries are once again chronicles and the surviving, but often limited and fragmented, records pro duced by the government councils. These records confirm the continued service of numerous knights and men-at-arms, but these examples are hardly comprehensive. As Waley points out, the year 1289 was exceptionally busy: in addition to the Battle of Campaldino, Florentines served in a Lucchese army for twenty-five days in August, and in November a Florentine army attempted, in vain, to take Arezzo.99 Unfortunately, the documentation for the latter two campaigns are for the most part no longer extant. Also incon clusive are the terse mentions of individual Florentines, like Messer Manno degli Adimari, who served as knights in the household of the Angevin kings of Naples during these years.100 The records of the Florentine councils offer more certainty. The records of the consulte for June 16, 1290, confirm that Rosso della Tosa was one of the captains of the Florentine infantry serving against the Aretines in that same month.101 The consulte also record the presence of Messer Odaldo (Daldus) della Tosa at a council session on January 20, 1290, describing him as a knight of the Florentine commune.102 Several years later, on August 5, 1292, Donato di Guelfo dei Donati appears in the consulte when he was granted eighteen florins as compensation for a horse lost while serving in the company (mas nada) of Messer Alberto dei Bostoli in July of that year.103 The records of the Florentine councils often do not, however, provide the entire picture. For example, they often note that compensation was paid out to mounted warriors who lost a horse during a campaign, siege, or other mil itary action, but they do not always identify the recipients.104 Similarly, other entries dealing with military matters—such as when the records indicate
99. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 97. 100. “Memorie appartenenti alla Famiglia degli Adimari,” 267: “familiaris habet in donum pro servitiis Carolo primo.” 101. Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina, 1:407 ( June 16, 1290). 102. Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina, 2:79. 103. ASF, Provvisioni, registri 3, August 5, 1292, fol. 101v. 104. Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina, 1:431: “Item, super emendation octo equorum soldato rum Comunis Florentie.” This is one of many similar examples.
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that Florence sent, in October 1292, knights and mounted men-at-arms from three sesti (San Piero Scheraggio, San Piero Maggiore, and Porta Duomo), along with three hundred infantry (peditum), against the Pisans—inform us that these men served but do not name specific individuals.105 Also unknown are the identities of the fifty Florentine cavalry and an equivalent number of squires (socius) sent to aid Bologna in April 1296.106 Turning to the chronicle evidence, Giovanni Villani writes that Messer Corso Donati was initially given command, in 1291, of a Florentine army assembled to fight the Pisans and Florentine rebels in the contado who had captured the castle of Ponte ad Era but was removed from command thanks to the political machinations of his longtime enemy and competitor, Vieri dei Cerchi.107 While the composition of this Florentine army remains un known, there is clear evidence that Messer Geri degli Spini held the royal standard in the Florentine army sent against Pisa in the summer of 1292.108 Unfortunately, Villani once again does not name any of the other men who fought alongside Messer Geri. The extant sources make clear that members of the Florentine chivalric elite continued to go to war in the following decade. Tegghio dei Tornaqui nci appears in the Provvisioni in June 1302 when he was granted forgive ness for failing to show up for the chevauchée undertaken by the Florentine army in the territory of Pistoia in April of that year. It was explained that he did not participate because he was already serving in the Mugello, Chianti, or Valdarno.109 Tegghio was likely supposed to participate in the Florentine army that besieged Pistoia for a little over three weeks in May 1302, an army that included 497 knights of the Florentine cavallata (militibus cavallatarum Communis Florentie), although once again the extant sources do not provide the identities of those who served.110 It is possible that the aforementioned Messer Geri degli Spini followed up his initial service against Pisa in 1292 by joining the Florentine army that besieged Serravalle in 1303, although the chronicles to do not make his participation explicit.111 The Florentine 105. Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina, 2:279 (October 8, 1292). 106. As discussed in Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 97. See also Le consulte della repubblica fiorentina, 2:542–43. 107. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 516–17. 108. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 520. 109. ASF, Provvisioni, registri 11, June 13, 1302, fols. 134v–135r. 110. Cesare Paoli, “Rendiconto e approvazione di spese occurse nell’esercito fiorentino contro Pistoia,” Archivio Storico Italiano, 3rd ser., 6, no. 2 (1867): 9ff. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 97–98, places the total number of Florentine cavalry at five hundred. 111. Compagni, Cronica, 28; Dino Compagni’s Chronicle of Florence, 55. Compagni attributes the decision to besiege Serravalle to a conversation between Messer Schiatta Cancellieri, a Pistoian
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government’s decision to retain Messer Bardo of the Bardi lineage as captain of three knights in that same year is rather more certain.112 Another Bardi, Bartolo di M. Jacopo, appears in the Provvisioni on March 2, 1306, alongside Messer Maso dei Donati and Messer Gherardo Ventraia dei Tornaquinci with the mandate to defend the city of Florence and to reinforce the Florentine army in the field against Pistoia.113 Earlier in that same year (1306), Messer Simone di M. Baldo and Gottifredo della Tosa both received compensation for the loss of horses during the campaign and siege of the city of Pistoia.114 Finally, Baldino di Berto di Gherardo dei Nerli served as a feditore in a Floren tine army in 1308.115 The years 1309–13, meanwhile, brought more trouble to Florence and its allies with the descent of Emperor Henry VII into Italy at the head of a large army.116 During this period of existential threat emerged a famous group of young knights and men-at-arms from chivalric lineages known as the Knights of the Stripe (Cavalieri della Banda). Giovanni Villani described them as “a company of volunteers . . . [comprised] of the most distinguished young noblemen of Florence” who did many deeds of arms.117 Unfortunately, his torians lack the necessary evidence to reconstruct this group’s membership beyond a few random members. Messer Gherardo di M. Guerra degli Adi mari fought and died in a skirmish against Henry VII’s forces at San Salvi in 1309, but this is only known to historians because it is mentioned in Alessan dro di Bernardo Adimari’s seventeenth-century history of his lineage, which was published in the eighteenth century.118 Likewise, Messer Simoncino dei Bardi’s membership in the Knights of the Band is known thanks to a some what random notation made in the margin of the Storietta del Monaldi, which was published quite fortuitously by Vincenzio Borghini in his study of the knight, and Messers Geri degli Spini and Pazzino dei Pazzi, both prominent Florentines. Compagni does not, however, explicitly place Messer Geri at the siege. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 584–85, likewise does not confirm Messer Geri’s presence in the Florentine army. 112. Alessandro Gherardi, “L’antica camera del comune di Firenze e un quaderno d’uscita de’ suoi camarlinghi dell’anno 1303,” Archivio Storico Italiano, 4th ser., 16, no. 150 (1885): 339. 113. ASF, Provvisioni, registri 12, March 2, 1306, fol. 188v. 114. I Consigli della Repubblica Fiorentina, vol. 1, ed. Bernardino Barbadoro (Bologna: Nicola Za nichelli, 1921), 244 ( January 13, 1306): “cum dicatur ipsos equos mortuos esse in exercitu et obsidione contra civitatem Pistorii.” 115. Sommario storico delle famiglie celebri toscane compilato da Demostene Tiribilli-Giuliani (Flor ence: Alessandro Diligenti, 1862), 221: Unfortunately, the author does not provide the source for this claim. 116. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 102, puts the strength of the imperial army at seventeen thousand men (two thousand cavalry and fifteen thousand infantry). 117. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 722: “d’una compagnia di volontà . . . de’ più pregiati donzelli di Firenze, e assai feciono d’arme.” See also Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 111. 118. “Memorie appartenenti alla Famiglia degli Adimari,” 239.
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Florentine nobility.119 Finally, Zampaglione dei Tornaquinci’s capture at the battle in the Val d’Elsa in late November 1312 is brought to the attention of historians thanks only to Robert Davidsohn’s assiduous scholarship.120 What the chronicles of Giovanni Villani and Marchionne di Coppo Stefani lack in information about specific individuals they make up for with general insight into the deeds performed by the Knights of the Stripe. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani wrote about one particularly bitter skirmish between the Knights of the Stripe and Theobald of Bar, the bishop of Liege, who had with him “all the flower of Germany,” during a battle in the streets of Rome. The Florentines won the skirmish, and the bishop was captured in the pro cess.121 At the siege of Florence in late 1312, the Knights of the Stripe were among the only Florentines to leave the safety of the walls and attack the emperor’s army, engaging in skirmishes against far greater numbers. Un fortunately for the company, these “wise and brave” warriors were defeated by the imperial troops and among the dead were “three young men of great daring,” identified as members of the noble Bostichi, Guadagni, and Spini lineages.122 The Knights of the Stripe also participated in the defense of Siena in August 1313, where they fought valiantly outside the city walls but were ultimately forced to retire.123 This discussion highlights the shortcoming of chronicles as sources in this type of inquiry: they offer important narrative about military events involving knights and men-at-arms but rarely reveal the identities of the men who participated.124 The identities of other members of the chivalric elite who bore arms during this period are rather more certain thanks to the book of the Chiodo, which lists the names of Guelf exiles and rebels who were invited to return to Florence in September 1311 in order to take up arms against the imperial 119. Vincenzio Borghini, Storia della Nobiltà Fiorentina: Discorsi inediti o rari (Pisa: Edizioni Mar lin, 1974), 226; Istorie pistolesi ovvero delle cose avvenute in Toscana dall’anno MCCC al MCCXLVIII e diario del Monaldi (Milan: Tipografia di Gio. Silvestri, 1845), 437. 120. Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4:699. 121. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 109: “ma pure alla per fine i cavalieri della Banda un dì assaliro il vescovo di Leggi, che avea seco, per assalire la ruga e le torri de mercantanti, tutto il fiore della Magna. I cavalieri della Banda percossero di traverso, e ruppero i Tedeschi, e fu preso il vescovo di Leggi, e poi fu d’uno stocco ucciso.” 122. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 111; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 488: “e morì uno degli Spini, e uno de’ Bostichi, e uno de’ Guadagni per loro franchezza in questa stanza.” 123. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 726: “e cavalieri di Firenze alquanti per badalucchi uscirono per la porta di Cammollia, ed ebbonne il peggiore, e furono ripinti.” They were also present at the defense of San Gimignano in that same year: Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 111. 124. Borghini, Storia della Nobiltà Fiorentina, 226; Istorie pistolesi, 437: One of the few exceptions, however, is Messer Simoncino (Simone) di Corso di Lando della Fiore of the Bardi, who served as a member of the Knights of the Band with great distinction. The anonymous chronicler cited by Borghini hints at Messer Simoncino’s reputation when noting the public funeral held for him in 1372.
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army.125 This lengthy list includes members of the Nerli lineage who lived in Borgo San Iacopo, Lotto and Cresci di Messer Folchetto dei Pigli and their nephews and sons, the sons and descendants of Messer Bonaccurso degli Adimari, the sons of Tieri dei Brunelleschi, the sons of Baschiera di Messer Bindo della Tosa, and the members of the Adimari lineage who lived in Porta San Pietro Civitato (Porte S. Petri Civitatis).126 The publication of related documentation for March 1312 confirms that at least some of these men served in a Florentine army that gave battle against imperial forces at San Selvi in that month.127 Ciampolo di M. Cautini and Simonino Bamboli of the Cavalcanti fought alongside Baschiera di Bindo della Tosa and Talano di Gui ttomanno dei Tosinghi.128 Also present on both sides of the battle were thir teen members of the Adimari lineage (of the sesto of Porta San Pier): Arnol fino di M. Bindo, Filigno di M. Goccie, Ubaldinaccio di M. Bindo, Ubertino di Corso di M. Tano, Ottaviano di Ubaldinaccio, Bonaccurso di Ubaldinaccio, Francescho di M. Forese, Lippo Filigno di M. Goccie, Cantino di M. Filippo, Bindo di M. Filippo, and Guiduccio di M. Filippo all fought in the Florentine army, while Gherardo and Mari di Messer Ianni Puzzafiera fought under the imperial banner.129 The nature of the extant sources makes it possible to identify only a few additional members of the chivalric elite who were active during this period. In October 1310, the Florentine government granted Messer Pino della Tosa compensation for the loss of a horse a few months earlier while Pino served in a force sent to supply a fortress near Arezzo.130 He also led the defense of Brescia, a city in Lombardy where he was podestà, against the emperor (Henry VII) in 1311.131 Messer Alamanno Boccaccio degli Adimari performed similar military service, leading a force of Florentines that recovered the castle of San Ilario from imperial forces in November 1312.132 In that same month, Corrado dei Gianfigliazzi and one of his kinsmen led the defense of Santa Maria Novella, a castle near Lucardo, against a much larger imperial army. After a week of brave resistance, the castle surrendered and Corrado 125. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:63–87, offers a lengthy list of those recalled. 126. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:63, 70, 71, 73. 127. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:87–89. 128. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:86, 87. 129. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:86, 89. 130. ASF, Provvisioni, registri 14, October 12, 1310, fol. 71v; I Consigli della Repubblica Fiorentina, 1:509. 131. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:555. 132. ASF, Signori, Minutari, 3 (doc. #23). Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I have been unable to return to the Archivio di Stato di Firenze (ASF) and obtain the complete bibliographic information for this archival document.
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was taken captive.133 Davidsohn, drawing upon contemporary sources, as serts that Corrado’s bravery and skill impressed Emperor Henry VII so much that he protected Corrado from his personal enemies within the imperial ranks during his captivity.134 Only a month later, Tegghia dei Frescobaldi, one of the captains of a force of two hundred men within Castelfiorentino, launched a surprise attack against a group of fifty imperial knights who were making their way back to Pisa. Unfortunately, Tegghia was wounded during the attack, and many of his men were killed.135 These examples, which do not take into consideration many of the battles and skirmishes between the Black and White Guelfs during the first decade of the fourteenth century, represent only a fraction of the total number of Florentine knights and men-at-arms who went to war during this period. The extant sources once again confirm that the numbers were significant, but do not reveal the identities of most of these men. For example, the sources tell us little about the knights and men-at-arms who served in the Florentine army during the siege of Pistoia in 1305 or in the campaigns against the Ub aldini and Arezzo in subsequent years.136 Chronicles also reveal only a few of the names of the four hundred to six hundred Florentine cavalry who served in a large Guelf army in Rome in May and June 1312 or of the more than one thousand elite Florentines who defended the walls of Florence during Henry VII’s siege of the city in October 1312.137 Meanwhile, Waley observes that the cavallata not only continued to be called during the first two decades of the fourteenth century, but that the number of impacted citizens actually increased to 1,000 in 1310 and 1,300 in 1312.138 Likewise, both Waley and Caferro note that the Florentine armies during this period continued to be re cruited predominantly from Florence and the territories under its control.139 While the task of identifying many of these warriors remains difficult, the new evidence presented thus far supports Waley’s conclusion that Florence in the early fourteenth century was not a city of “soft, decadent businessmen who preferred to pay others to fight on their behalf.”140
133. Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4:697. 134. Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4:702. 135. Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4:700. 136. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 658–59, writes about a large Florentine army sent to take Arezzo in 1306 that failed because certain elite warriors (magnates; grandi) wanted the war to continue. The composition of the army remains unknown. 137. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 102. 138. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 101. 139. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 103. William Caferro, “The Florentine Army in the Age of the Companies of Adventure,” Millars 43, no. 2 (2017): 135–36, emphasizes the continued role of “lordly clans” in the Florentine army. 140. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 98–99; at 99.
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the Battle of montecatini Almost all of the lineages under investigation in this chapter participated in the various military actions occurring in the years immediately prior to the Battle of Montecatini (August 29, 1315). Many of the lineages pro vided knights and soldiers for the force Florence sent to resupply and defend the castle of Montecatini in 1313, the records for which were fortuitously transcribed in the eighteenth century from documents that no longer ex ist. Lapaccio di M. Gualterotto, Bindello, and Nuto were among the Bardi who served.141 The Bostichi included Carsa Carsagnini and Giovanni Ales sandro.142 Serving alongside the Bardi and Bostichi in 1313 were members of the Frescobaldi (Bindo di M. Tegghia and Simone di M. Betto),143 Gianfi gliazzi (Rossellino Vanni, Niccolo Telli, Rosso Zati, Rossellino, Vanno de Leccio, Borracco Durantis, and Simone),144 Mazzinghi (Lapo Malacode and Lapo Azzi),145 Nerli (Bonifatio di M. Alcampo, Duccio Goccia, and Cecco Ventuglio),146 Pigli (Messer Gaetano and Durante Torelli),147 Adimari-Cavic ciuli (Guccio di M. Tedici),148 and Spini lineages (Gianni, Messer Filippo, and Bruno di M. Filippo).149 Likewise, the Tornaquinci (Bindo Bingeri, Giachi notto di M. Neri, Piero Bernardi, and Messer Biagio) and Cavalcanti (Messers Maruccio Gherardini, Cantino di M. Tegghia, and Matteo Malatesta) were both well represented.150 The degree of participation in the large Florentine army that fought at Montecatini in August 1315 was even higher, with Waley noting that at least three hundred citizens served on horseback.151 Despite the limited surviving records for the campaign, it is possible to identify at least ninety individu als from the lineages in question, almost all of whom held the prestigious position of feditori in the army.152 The della Tosa-Tosinghi lineage provided 141. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:201, 203: Nuto apparently served in the place of the sons of a certain Ser Berto Nuto de Trifanti (203). 142. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:204: Giovanni Alessandro served in the place of Giovanni di M. Gherardo dei Bostichi. 143. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:201, 202. 144. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:203, 204: Rosso Zati served on behalf of Currado dei Gianfi gliazzi, Vanno de Leccio on behalf of Tello dei Gianfigliazzi, and Borracco on behalf of Vanne. 145. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:206. 146. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:201, 202, 203: Bonifatio di M. Alcampo served in the place of Albizino dei Nerli (202). 147. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:206. 148. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:205. 149. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:203, 204: Gianni served on behalf of Spina degli Spini (203). 150. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:204–6. 151. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 105. Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4:800–808, offers an overview of the Battle of Montecatini, with the major sources discussed on 802n. 152. Diacciati, “Dante a Campaldino,” 18, characterizes feditori as professional warriors.
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the largest contingent of men with eleven, followed by the Adimari-Cavic ciuli with ten.153 The Tornaquinci and Bostichi lineages were represented by eight men.154 The Bardi, Frescobaldi, Pigli, and Spini were each repre sented by six.155 Five men from the Donati and Visdomini-Aliotti lineages also fought,156 as well as four from each of the Brunelleschi, Cavalcanti, and Nerli lineages,157 two from the Gianfigliazzi and Foraboschi,158 and one each from the Mazzinghi, Scali, and Vecchietti lineages.159 Of these ninety men, all but thirty served as feditori in the army, and thirty-eight were lost, captured, or killed. To this could also be added the names of Florentine exiles and reb els, like Baldinaccio Adimari, who fought against their native city.160 In other 153. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:209, 211, 216, 217; Louis Green, Castruccio Castracani: A Study on the Origins and Character of a Fourteenth-Century Italian Despotism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), 68. The Adimari-Cavicciuli contingent was comprised of Geri di M. Uberto, Palla di M. Lot tieri, Guido Benzi, Berto di M. Pepo, Lapaccino Benghi, and Messers Bindo di Pepo, Alamanno di M. Boccaccio, Bindo Pepi, Gherardo Ser Grana, and Talano di M. Boccaccio. The della Tosa-Tosinghi men included Rosso, Pinuccio, Cherico di M. Fastello, Donato di Bindo Traiani, Niccolò di Scolaio, Rodolfo, and Messers Pino, Paolo Nepi, Gottifredo di M. Rosso, and Odaldo. ASF, Diplomatico, Adespote, coperte di libri, 488, July 10, 1337, contains testimonies made in support of the widow of Paolo di Nero della Tosa who claimed that her husband fought and died at the Battle of Montecatini and thus that she should have direct control over her dowry. 154. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:208, 210, 215, 217: The Tornaquinci contingent included Messers Gianni di M. Testa and Ugolinus, as well as Cardinale di M. Ugolino Cardinale, Neri Ghini Marabottini, Giovanni di Bingeri, Iacopo del Teghia, Cecco del Palota, and Ugo dell’Aggeggia. The Bostichi men were Messers Albizzo, Gherardo, and Alderotto (lost during the battle), as well as Spinello di M. Pazzi, Sperello di M. Pazzi, Alessandro di M. Fortebracci, Uberto Corticcioni, and Andrea Tani. 155. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:208, 210, 213, 214, 215, 217: The Bardi were Messers Simone di Corso di Lando della Fiore, Gualterotto, and Bardo, and Cecco, Colto Buonaguido, and Gug liata. The Frescobaldi were Messer Tegghia, Conte di M. Guido, Frescobaldo di M. Lapi, Geri di M. Bardo, Guido di M. Paniccia, and Manente di M. Guido. The Pigli were Messers Gatano Bonelle and Guatano Odarighi, and Giovanni di M. Teste, Biagio Lapi, Giovanni Bingeri, and Neri Ghini Marabottini. The Spini were Messers Geri and Guglielmino, and Piero, Mino di M. Manetto, Doffo di Lapo, and Lapo. 156. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:212, 216: The Donati men were Messers Corso, Manetto, and Maso, as well as Niccolò and Zurlo Scalore. The Visdomini-Aliotti were Messer Gherardo, Piero di M. Gaio, Ghino, Metto di M. Neri Gioia, and Lotto di Lapo di M. Neri Gioia. 157. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:208, 209, 210, 211, 213, 216: The Brunelleschi were Messers Brunellesco and Attaviano, and Filippo di M. Betto and Beso di M. Betto. The Cavalcanti lineage were Nerone di M. Bindo, Bartolommeo di M. Guido, Gherardo di M. Lapo, and Giannozzo di M. Uberto. The Nerli were Baldino di Berto di Gherardo, Cecco Ventugli, Coppo di Nerlo di Gherardo, and Francesco di Vantugio di Cavalcante. 158. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, XI, 209, 210, 214: The Gianfigliazzi were Casaggio and Vanno Rossi. The Foraboschi were Cece di M. Ormanno and Bindacchera. 159. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 11:210, 216: The remaining men were Bernarduccio dei Mazz inghi, Messer Dante degli Scali, and Ser Neri dei Vecchietti. 160. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 118; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 744. Neither chronicler explicitly states that Baldinaccio was present in the army of Uguccione della Faggiuola at Montecatini, but both write about his military exploits immediately after the Florentine defeat.
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words, the Florentine chivalric elite were warriors who regularly fought and died on the battlefields of Tuscany and Italy.
From montecatini to Altopascio The years between Montecatini (1315) and Altopascio (1325) were filled with conflict, as Florence dealt with the threat posed first by Uguccione della Fag giola and then by Castruccio Castracani. Given the multitude of military demands and their increasing duration, the Florentine government regularly employed mercenaries during the 1320s to supplement and support, rather than entirely replace, the citizen element.161 The need to recruit mercenar ies was intensified by the resistance among some members of the Floren tine chivalric elite to serve a city that continued to punish and marginalize them through enforcement of the Ordinances of Justice. This is particularly clear in their response to Castruccio threatening Prato in 1323.162 This did not mean, however, that Florentine knights and men-at-arms abandoned the profession of arms after Montecatini. Many participated in smaller military campaigns or held leadership positions in the contado during this period, and a likely significant number lived the life of arms in exile. Giovanni Villani’s estimate of four thousand “very proud men” suggests that this latter group was sufficiently large and skilled to convince the Florentine government to offer them restoration in exchange for military service at Prato in 1324.163 The early careers of Messer Amerigo di Corso dei Donati and Messer Pino della Tosa are illustrative. Messer Amerigo served, in 1318, as captain of the Guelf exiles of Lucca who fought against Uguccione della Faggiola.164 Five years later, he took command of an army of Florentine magnates and exiles who broke into the city of Florence in May 1323.165 The following spring (May 1324), he served as captain of a force of 340 knights sent by Florence to Perugia as part of a war effort against the Aretines.166 Messer Pino was active during the same period, beginning in June 1319 when he was entrusted by King Robert of Naples to serve as his vicar and defend Pistoia against
His main claim to fame was the capture of Cerreto Guidi that he defended against Florentine at tempts to reclaim it. 161. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 106. 162. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 132. 163. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 851: “molto fiera gente.” See also Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 136. 164. Scipione Ammirato, Delle famiglie nobili fiorentine, vol. 1 (Bologna: Forni, 1969), 183. 165. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 132–33; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 855–57. 166. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 877–78; Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:77.
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Castruccio Castracani.167 Two years later, in February 1321, he led a force out of Pistoia to confront Castracani at “Lo Sperone” but was forced to retreat in the face of superior numbers.168 King Robert rewarded him for his service in November 1324 with an annual pension of fifty ounces of gold.169 To these fairly well-documented careers can be added numerous other examples. In 1321, Messer Tegghiaio degli Adimari served as captain of the Florentine army sent against Galeazzo Visconti.170 Several years later, in June 1325, just a few short months before the Battle of Altopascio, Messer Attaviano dei Brunelleschi served as captain of a Florentine force recruited from the castles of the Valdarno that was sent to join a larger army in its at tack on Pistoia after the city was captured by Castracani.171 These examples, again, represent only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the total num ber of Florentine knights and men-at-arms who went to war.
the Battle of Altopascio Daniel Waley has demonstrated convincingly that the Florentine army at the Battle of Altopascio (September 23, 1325) was still, in many ways, a citizen-army, with around five hundred citizens serving on horseback: four hundred of the cavallata and more than one hundred squires (compagni).172 The army undoubtedly included a sizeable contingent of knights and menat-arms from chivalric lineages, but the task of reconstructing this group is made more difficult by the limited and fragmentary nature of the surviv ing sources.173 It is possible to identify one hundred and five men from the lineages in question who participated in the battle of Altopascio. The della Tosa-Tosinghi lineage provided the largest contingent with fourteen men serving in the Florentine army during the campaign.174 The second largest
167. Franca Allegrezza, “Della Tosa, Pino,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 37 (1989), https:// www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/pino-della-tosa_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (accessed March 10, 2018). 168. Green, Castruccio Castracani, 142n. 169. Allegrezza, “Della Tosa, Pino.” 170. “Memorie appartenenti alla Famiglia degli Adimari,” 240. 171. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 911–12. 172. Waley, “The Army of the Florentine Republic,” 107; Caferro, “The Florentine Army in the Age of the Companies of Adventure,” 136. 173. For an overview of the Battle of Altopascio, see Davidsohn, Storia di Firenze, 4:1005–22. The major sources can be found at 1017n. 174. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, ed. Ildefonso di San Luigi, vol. 12 (Florence: Gaetano Cambiagi, 1779), 266, 270, 273; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1406; and Green, Castruccio Castracani, 170. The contin gent included Davizzo di M. Bellisardo, Tanuccio, Fizzuccio, Ciampi di M. Pino, Donato di Bindo
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were the Donati and Bostichi lineages, each with nine.175 The Frescobaldi and Adimari-Cavicciuli lineages each provided eight men,176 while the Bardi and Tornaquinci lineages each provided seven.177 The representatives of the Gianfigliazzi and Pigli lineages numbered six and five, respectively.178 Four men from the Brunelleschi, Cavalcanti, Mazzinghi, and Visdomini-Aliotti lineages also participated.179 Also represented were the Spini, Nerli, and Foraboschi lineages with between one and three men each.180 The surviving evidence shows that these knights and men-at-arms fought on the front lines: all but sixteen served as feditori, and sixteen were lost, captured, or killed. At least forty-four of the men were involved in the cam paigns at both Montecatini and Altopascio. Perhaps more importantly, sev enteen of the eighteen lineages present at Montaperti were represented at Altopascio. While this evidence confirms the continuity of military service among Florentine chivalric lineages, the identities of the majority of the elite warriors who fought at Altopascio cannot be ascertained. It is quite possible
Traiani, Cherico di M. Fastello, Pinuccio, and Messers Rosso, Odaldo, Gottifredo, Paolo, Pino, Nepo, and Giovanni di M. Rosso. 175. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 12:264, 265, 267, 268; Ammirato, Delle famiglie nobili fiorentine, 190. The Donati contingent was comprised of Zurlo Scalore, Sinibaldo di M. Amerigo, Donato, Do nato di M. Martello, Geri Scalore, Guelfo, Cherico di M. Martello, and Messers Bellincione di Lapo and Corso. The Bostichi were Sperello di M. Pazzi, Alessandro di M. Fortebracci, Uberto Corticcioni, Andrea Tani, Cione Corticcioni, Banco Nepi, Rosso Tani, Tuccius Scilinguati, and Messer Gherardo. 176. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 12:262, 263, 267, 270, 271, 272, 273. The Frescobaldi were Conte di M. Guido, Geri di M. Bardo, Gherardo di M. Lippaccio, Iacopo di M. Teglia (Tegghia), Guido di Conte, Guido di Barna, Pepo Bettini, and Messer Tegghia. The Adimari-Cavicciuli lineage’s contin gent included Alessandro di M. Gherardo, Cantino di M. Guerre, Guido Bindaccio, Lotto di Manno, Guido Benzi, and Messers Bindo di Pepo (Pepi), Alamanno di M. Boccaccio, and Gherardo di Ser Grana. 177. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 12:262, 263, 265, 266, 271, 272. The Tornaquinci were Piero di Bernardo, Cardinale di Pacci Manetti, Neri di Ghino Marabottino, Binghiero, and Messers Biagio, Gianni di M. Testa, and Gherardo Ventraie. The Bardi lineage was represented by Messer Simone di Corso di Lando della Fiore, Lapaccio di M. Gualterotto, Gugliata, Beno, Piero di M. Gualterotto, and two other Bardi men whose given names are missing. 178. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 12:264, 265, 266, 270, 271, 272. The Gianfigliazzi lineage con tingent were Cassaggio, Vanni Rossi, Currado Gianni, Gherardo, Neri Telli, and Piero fante di Cor rado. The Pigli were Messer Guatano, Catalano di M. Odarighi, Meo Rinaldi, Torello di M. Neri, and Durante. 179. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 12:263, 265, 266, 267, 268, 270, 272. The Brunelleschi men were Messers Attaviano, Burnetto, and Francesco di M. Betto, and Bindo Tieri. The Cavalcanti who fought were Nerone di M. Bindo, Bartolommeo di M. Guido, Gherardo di M. Lapo, and Giannozzo di M. Uberto. The men of the Mazzinghi lineage were Lapo Malacode, Pinuccio di M. Dorelli, Simone Roggerini, and Iacopo. The Visdomini-Aliotti lineage was represented by Messer Gherardo, Piero di M. Gaio, Canciozzo, and Lorenzo Banchi. 180. Delizie degli Eruditi Toscani, 12:262, 263, 264, 269. They were Mino di M. Manneto, Doffo Lapi, and Vanni di M. Manneto degli Spini, Baldino di Berto di Gherardo and Coppo di Nerlo di Gherardo dei Nerli, and Buttino dei Foraboschi.
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given the limitations of the sources that members of the Scali lineage, the only one represented at Montaperti but not at Altopascio, were in fact pres ent in 1325. What is certain is that members of the Florentine chivalric elite continued to eagerly cultivate the profession of arms during this period.
From Altopascio to the revolution of 1343 Our records for the period between Altopascio (1325) and 1343 derive al most exclusively from chronicles, Giovanni Villani’s Nuova Cronica foremost among them. Villani not only discusses the major military campaigns un dertaken by Florence and individual Florentines during these years, he also sheds light on the relative martial strength of the city, particularly during the mid-1330s. He notes that in Florence during these years there were “around 25,000 men who were capable of bearing arms . . ., among which were 1,500 nobles and powerful men who gave guarantees [sureties] to the commune as magnates,” as well as “sixty-five knights” (cavalieri di corredo) from elite families who were not magnates and, finally, “more than 250 knights” among the popolo grasso, men who chose to bear the dignity despite the political disadvantages the status entailed.181 Thus, we might conclude from Villani’s assessment—shaped by the recognition that knighthood was a major crite rion for determining whether or not an individual was a magnate and that those knights among the popolo grasso seemingly placed great value on the dignity’s traditional military function—that there were nearly two thousand strenuous knights and men-at-arms in Florence. Unfortunately, the extant ev idence does not allow us to reconstruct the composition of this large group of elite warriors in its entirety. Nevertheless, the chronicle evidence highlights a clear continuity of mili tary service among members of chivalric lineages. This is particularly im portant because after Altopascio the cavallata was rarely utilized, and even when it was called, a payment of ten gold florins was sufficient to exempt an individual from having to go to war.182 In other words, the performance of military service by members of the Florentine chivalric elite after this point was done almost entirely on a volunteer basis, regardless of whether or not the participant entered into a contract with the city and earned a wage. Giovanni Villani writes that one hundred Florentine cavalry mustered under the command of Charles of Calabria, the son of Robert of Naples and the 181. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1351: “circa a XXVm d’uomini da portare arme . . . intra’ quali avea MD nobili e potenti che sodavano per grandi al Comune”; “i cavalieri più di CCL.” 182. Paoli, “Le cavallate fiorentine nei sec. XIII e XIV,” 73ff.
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military protector of Florence, before Santa Croce on July 25, 1325, but he does not provide any names.183 Similarly, Villani writes about the siege of Montecatino, which lasted eleven months and required two successive levies of the full Florentine army before its conclusion in July 1330, but without offering the identities of any of the participants.184 Despite these evidentiary challenges, it is possible to reconstruct the martial careers of numerous Flo rentine knights and men-at-arms, thus confirming the continued connection between war and chivalric identity during this period. The first example, Messer Biagio dei Tornaquinci, followed up his service at Altopascio by taking command of a force of two hundred German knights and six hundred other soldiers sent by Walter of Brienne, the Duke of Athens and Florence’s captain of war (capitano di guerra), to fight Castruccio in Oc tober 1326, although unfavorable weather in the mountains forced them to turn back.185 In June 1330, he served in the Florentine force sent to Bologna to reinforce an army under the command of fellow Florentine Messer Giovanni di M. Rosso della Tosa.186 Serving alongside Messer Biagio was Messer Gero zzo dei Bardi. Giovanni Villani, who notes Gerozzo’s participation in his Nuova Cronica, describes the Bardi man as among “the greatest and most wise and expert in war.”187 In July 1335, Messer Gerozzo served as captain of a force of horse and infantry sent by Florence to Pietrasanta.188 Almost a year later, in June 1336, he served as captain, along with fellow Florentine Messer Pino della Tosa, of a force of six hundred knights sent to the Romagna.189 Although he does not appear to have fought at Altopascio, Messer Giovanni di M. Tedici degli Adimari received great praise from Giovanni Villani and Leonardo Bruni for his skillful defense, in November 1325, of Montemurlo, a town not far from Prato, which frustrated Castruccio’s attempts to press the advantage following his famous victory. Villani and Bruni not surprisingly provide similar accounts, with Bruni writing that Giovanni and Messer Rin ieri dei Pazzi led a small force of 150 men “with great foresight and strength of character[, so] that the enemy’s endeavors were long frustrated.”190 Ugo degli Scali and Messer Amerigo di Corso dei Donati also enjoyed military careers. Ugo degli Scali served as captain of a force of four hundred barbute
183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190.
As discussed in Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence, 6. Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence, 7. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1139ff. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 996, and Green, Castruccio Castracani, 207. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1130–31. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1130–31: “de’ maggiori e più savi e sperti in guerra.” Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 177; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1259. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1284. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:105–9, at 105; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 940–41.
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(a military unit consisting of two men, a knight and a page) sent by Florence to help the Marquis of Ferrara in February 1334.191 Leonardo Bruni wrote, again with the goal of invigorating the martial ardor of knights in his own day, that Ugo and his fellow commanders “earned exceptional praise for their prowess in battle, as both men with equal ardor were found in the front rank. Military men of great fame at home, they made haste to extend the glory of their deeds abroad, exhorting their troops more by example than by words.”192 A few months later in August, Ugo once again captained a force of 350 knights sent by Florence to the contado of Parma where Mastino della Scala besieged the castle of Colornio.193 Messer Amerigo likewise commanded a force of five hundred infantry that joined the army of the Duke of Athens and departed from Prato in Octo ber 1326 in order to bring Castruccio Castracani to battle.194 Messer Amerigo was particularly active during the last years of the 1320s: in July 1328 he led the Florentine forces that besieged and retook Montecatini; in that same year he was compensated the sizable sum of 120 gold florins for the loss of a horse during the siege; in 1329, he was charged with defending Montecatini; and in 1330 he was captured when Castracani took Montecatini through treachery and eventually ransomed by the Florentine government.195 Three years after his release, in 1333, he led a chevauchée of four hundred barbute against the Lucchese in the Valdinievole near Buggiano, but his force was ambushed and forced to retreat to Montecatini with heavy losses.196 Messer Amerigo’s fellow captain in October 1326 was Messer Giannozzo di M. Uberto of the Cavalcanti lineage, whose remarkable career included service as a feditore at the battles of Montecatini and Altopascio and signifi cant martial activity in the subsequent four decades.197 In June 1330, Messer Giannozzo served in a Florentine army under the command of Messer Ala manno degli Obizzi that was sent to Bologna to reinforce the force captained by Messer Giovanni di M. Rosso della Tosa.198 His notable service on behalf of both Florence and King Robert of Naples was rewarded in 1335 when he was made podestà of the city of Genoa by the king himself.199 191. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 173; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1187. 192. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:193. 193. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1239. 194. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 966. 195. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 163; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1110. See also Green, Castruccio Castracani, 132n. 196. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 170; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1156. 197. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 966. 198. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1130–31. 199. Istoria genealogia delle famiglie nobili toscane et umbre, vol. 3, ed. Eugenio Gamurrini (Florence: Francesco Livi, 1673), 65.
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A number of Adimari likely rubbed shoulders with Messer Giannozzo at the Angevin court in Naples. For example, both Cantino di M. Guerre and Messer Philippo are identified as knights and familiars of King Robert of Naples.200 More prominent, arguably, was Messer Lotto di Manno degli Adimari, who served for at least a decade as a knight in the service of the Angevin kings of Naples. Three years after fighting as a feditore at the Battle of Altopascio, Messer Lotto served in 1328 as a knight and familiar of King Robert of Naples, although the nature of his service is not specified. In 1336 and 1337, Messer Lotto held the office of military governor (miles stratigotus; gubernatoris) of the city of Salerno in the Angevin regno. This was followed by a period of more than a year when he served as captain and knight in the service of the city of Adria.201 The activities of Messer Francesco di M. Betto dei Brunelleschi and Messer Pino della Tosa during this period are also illuminating. Messer Francesco, alongside the aforementioned Messer Gerozzo, was elected in 1332 to orga nize and coordinate Florence’s military forces in a league formed in response to the descent into Italy of Emperor Henry VII’s son, John of Bohemia.202 In addition to holding this leadership position, he also fought on the front lines of a Florentine force sent against the Pisans in October 1340. In fact, he was captured during the battle and held as a prisoner for almost two years.203 A year after his release (1343), he captained a Florentine army that fought against rebels and exiles in the contado.204 Messer Pino della Tosa, meanwhile, continued a long and distinguished career that began ostensibly at the Battle of Campaldino in June 1289 with further service in the 1320s and 1330s. In 1328, Messer Pino served as commander of a Florentine force that included three hundred horse captained by his brother Messer Giovanni di M. Rosso, which was sent to Bologna to support papal rule there.205 Eight years later, in June 1336, he served as captain, alongside Messers Simone della Tosa and Gerozzo dei Bardi, of six hundred horse sent against Mastino Della Scala in the Romagna.206 Two final examples are offered by other members of the della Tosa-Tos inghi lineage, Messers Simone di M. Baldo and Giovanni di M. Rosso. Messer 200. “Memorie appartenenti alla Famiglia degli Adimari,” 265. 201. “Memorie appartenenti alla Famiglia degli Adimari,” 268. 202. Franco Cardini, “Brunelleschi, Francesco,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 14 (1972), https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/francesco-brunelleschi_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (ac cessed November 24, 2018). 203. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1406. See also Cardini, “Brunelleschi, Francesco.” 204. Cardini, “Brunelleschi, Francesco.” 205. “Cronichette di S. della Tosa,” in Manni, Cronichette antiche di vari scrittori del buon secolo della lingua italiana (cited hereafter as Cronichette di S. della Tosa), 7. 206. Cronichette di S. della Tosa, 8; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1284.
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Simone enjoyed a long career that began at the Battle of Montecatini in Au gust 1315 and lasted until at least 1337. The sources are not clear if he fought at Altopascio in 1325, but it is certainly possible given his extensive military service during the surrounding years. In the winter of 1327–28, Messer Sim one was one of the major advocates in the Florentine councils of an attack on Pistoia. He did not just promote the attack from the safety of the council chamber, however; he actually participated in it. In January 1328, Messer Simone joined the army of Filippo di Sangineto, which included six hundred mercenary knights, in a daring nighttime attack that ultimately succeeded after significant fighting.207 That June he was given command of 250 knights and 1,000 infantry, and charged with defending Pistoia against Castracani.208 As mentioned previously, Messer Simone followed up this command eight years later by serving alongside Messer Pino della Tosa in a force of six hun dred horse sent by Florence against Mastino Della Scala in the Romagna.209 A year later, in May 1337, he served as captain of the contingent of heavy infantry (pavesari grossi) who formed part of the army of Messer Orlando dei Rossi of Parma, the captain general of Florence.210 Finally, Messer Simone’s kinsman, Messer Giovanni di M. Rosso, fought in a Florentine army that was defeated outside the walls of Lucca in October 1341, where he was captured and eventually ransomed.211 This brief survey of the identified members of the Florentine chivalric elite who cultivated the profession of arms in the years between the Battle of Altopascio and the revolution in 1343 presents only a fraction of the total service rendered by these and other elite warriors. Indeed, there is plenty of evidence to suggest that many more served during this period. For exam ple, Marchionne di Coppo Stefani wrote that in June 1337 many Florentines served in the army of Messer Marsilio dei Rossi of Parma, the captain of the league organized against the Visconti, but he does not provide us with their identities.212 Likewise, Giovanni Villani notes that in April 1333 four hundred Florentine knights served in the army of the papal legate outside of Ferrara and 150 Florentine knights, including forty exiles, served in the retinue of the Della Scala, but it is not possible to identify them based on the 207. Green, Castruccio Castracani, 229. 208. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:137. See also Green, Castruccio Castracani, 230. 209. Cronichette di S. della Tosa, 8. 210. Cronichette di S. della Tosa, 8: “essere stato caricato della cura di questa guerra il cav. Messer Simone della Tosa.” 211. Franca Allegrezza, “Della Tosa, Giovanni,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 37 (1989), https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/giovanni-della-tosa_(Dizionario-Biografico) (accessed No vember 24, 2017). 212. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 184.
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chronicle evidence.213 Giovanni Villani does reveal, however, the identities of a few members of the Florentine contingent who fought outside Lucca in October 1341 but leaves historians in the dark about a majority of the men. In a final example that can stand for many, he notes that forty elite Florentines joined the spring campaign of 1342, but he does not reveal who participated.214
From 1343 to the Florentine-pisan war of 1362–64 The years after 1343 are the best documented of any period examined thus far. Historians have generally concluded based on these sources that the Flo rentine army during this period was increasingly comprised of mercenaries, hired in an ad-hoc and haphazard manner, while the citizen contingent seems to have been in decline when compared to the forces that fought at Montap erti, Campaldino, Montecatini, and Altopascio.215 This does not mean, how ever, that members of the Florentine chivalric elite did not fight in the city’s many minor conflicts or in its wars against the Ubaldini in 1349–50 and Vis conti of Milan in 1351–53.216 Indeed, Giovanni Villani notes that around one thousand elite Florentines served on horse during the revolt that overthrew the Duke of Athens at the beginning of this period ( July 26, 1343).217 As a result of this service, the Florentine government rewarded these warriors by reducing the harshest penalties in the Ordinances of Justice. In September of that same year, however, many members of the chivalric elite took up arms against the Florentine government, leading to a series of pitched battles in the city streets. Although Giovanni Villani confirms that members of most of the lineages under consideration in this chapter were directly involved in the conflict, he does not reveal their identities.218 Not surprisingly, many members of the Florentine chivalric elite fled the city after the tumultuous events of 1343. Some found refuge in the service of Messer Mastino Della Scala and other lords, but around five hundred were soon restored to Florence, including members of the Adimari, Brunelleschi, 213. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1189. 214. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1415–17. Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence, 15, briefly discusses both. See also Caferro, “The Florentine Army in the Age of the Companies of Adventure,” 141, who confirms that the forty men included members of the city’s leading lineages. 215. Caferro, Petrarch’s War, 6–7, 51, 59–60, provides the pertinent historiography. 216. For the Florentine war against the Ubaldini, see William Caferro, “ ‘Le Tre Corone Fio rentine’ and War with the Ubaldini, 1349–1350,” in Boccaccio 1313–2013, ed. Francesco Ciabattoni, Elsa Filosa, and Kristina Olson (Ravenna: Longo Editore, 2015), 43–55, and Caferro, Petrarch’s War. 217. See Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1450–62. 218. See Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1462–75.
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Tosinghi (della Tosa), Nerli, Pigli, Scali, and Spini lineages.219 This was done “in order to strengthen the Popolo,” which likely meant that the Florentine government, ruled by men well versed in the worlds of business and politics but not war, desperately needed the military experience and expertise of these strenuous and experienced warriors.220 The returning knights and menat-arms joined their peers who had remained in good standing and continued to serve Florence in a military capacity.221 In fact, there is plentiful evidence that members of the chivalric elite held leadership positions, commanding both mounted and foot soldiers. As such, they should be considered along side mercenaries as part of the “core of seasoned professionals” maintained by Florence year-round.222 The survival of the detailed financial records produced by the Floren tine treasury, in particular, makes it possible to track the careers of many members of the chivalric lineages in question.223 Roberto Benelle dei Pigli serves as a useful example. In May 1345, he appears in the budgetary records as under contract to serve as captain of twenty infantry for a period of six months.224 Four years later, in August 1349, he was once again under con tract, this time as captain of seventeen infantry for six months.225 Roberto’s peer, Guelfo di M. Dante degli Scali, appears in the budget records on June 1, 1345, as a fellow captain of twenty infantry.226 Three days later, however, Guelfo’s contract seems to have been altered, as he is listed as a captain of only twelve infantry.227 On June 7, Guelfo appears alone as captain of six infantry for a period of either four or seven months.228 Additional examples abound of members of the chivalric elite leading troops during this period. Lapo Geri of the Pigli lineage appears in Septem ber 1343 as under contract to lead twenty-five infantry for two months.229
219. Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:299, notes that the Florentine government passed laws in 1344 requiring “those noblemen dwelling in the court of any king or tyrant [to] immediately return home,” or “face exile and confiscation of their goods if they failed to comply.” 220. Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1477–79: “per fortificare il popolo”; the lineages are listed at 1477–78. 221. See the discussion in Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence, 17. 222. Caferro, “The Florentine Army in the Age of Companies of Adventure,” 139, and in his various recent publications, identifies and studies these seasoned professionals at different points in the fourteenth century. 223. The short duration of the contracts is in line with the short terms of Florentine civic offices. See Caferro, “The Florentine Army in the Age of Companies of Adventure,” 138. 224. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 14, fols. 12r, 17v, 25r. 225. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 58, fol. 93r. 226. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 14, fol. 13r. 227. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 14, fol. 15v. 228. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 14, fol. 20v. 229. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 1, fol. 8r.
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Agnolo Lapi and Simone Lapi degli Scali both appear in May 1345 as un der contract to lead four and two infantry, respectively, for a period of six months.230 Nerio dei Donati (del Galuzzo) was contracted in August 1349 to serve as captain of first eight and then fifteen infantry for a period of four months.231 Andrea di Filippozzo and Bindo d’Andrea of the Bardi lineage were both charged by the Florentine government with defending the land of the contado of Pozzo in March 1349.232 Messer Rosso di M. Giovanni della Tosa, meanwhile, commanded ten horse and twenty-five infantry in his ca pacity as the vicar of Vallis Nebulae in the summer of 1349.233 Similar was the service of Agnolo di Geri dei Frescobaldi, who received ten gold florins in August 1351 as payment for defending the castle of Montelupo with two mounted men-at-arms (equites) for thirty days.234 Also serving in the early 1350s were Domenico di M. Rico Ser Villi dei Tosinghi, who was contracted to serve as captain of fifteen infantry for four months, and Sozzo di M. Piero dei Bardi, who served honorably in the Florentine army in 1351 despite the fact that he was an exile and had not been promised restoration.235 Two Pulci men were exempted from the tax (gravezza) imposed on nobles and citizens living outside of Florence because of their military service in that year.236 A similar number from the Tornaqui nci lineage were also under contract to serve as captains of infantry in 1352: Musino Manetti commanded forty-three infantry for four months,237 while Francesco Bernardi commanded, along with two other men, sixty infantry for a period of four months.238 Multiple members of the Donati and Adimari lineages are also present in the financial records for these years. Justo and Messer Forese di M. Amerigo of the Donati were both under contract to lead 230. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 14, fol. 12v. Simone Lapi continued to re ceive a stipend in November, suggesting an extension (ASF, Diplomatico, Riformagioni, Novem ber 11, 1345). 231. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 58, fol. 90r (August 31, 1349). 232. ASF, Signori, Missive Cancelleria, 1, VIII (doc. #69) (March 18, 1349). Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I have been unable to return to the Archivio di Stato di Firenze (ASF) and obtain the com plete bibliographic information for this archival document. 233. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 58, fol. 18r ( July 4, 1349). 234. ASF, Diplomatico, Riformagioni, August 31, 1351. 235. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 87, fol. 406r (March 1352); La Cronica Domes tica di Messer Donato Velluti scritta fra il 1367 e il 1370, con le addizioni di Paolo Velluti, scritte fra il 1555 e il 1560, ed. Isidoro Del Lungo and Guglielmo Volpi (Florence: G. C. Sansoni, 1914) (cited hereafter as Donato Velluti, Cronica), 206. 236. ASF, Diplomatico, Archivio Generale dei Contratti, January 14, 1351: They were Felliccia di Bindo and Scolaio di Doffo dei Pulci. 237. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 87, fol. 447v (March 28, 1352). 238. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 87, fol. 471r (April 15, 1352) and 89, fol. 492r (May 23, 1352).
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men in 1351, the former as captain of five infantry for four months and the latter as corporal of one horse and one squire (ragazzino) for two months.239 Regarding the Adimari, Messer Ugoni is described as a “caporali” in charge of forty foreign knights (equitum ultramani) in late June 1351, and Vanni Baldi and Jacobo Manni each appear in the records on March 4, 1352, as the cap tain of a force of infantry, the first of thirty-two men on a one-month con tract and the second of twenty-four men for the same length of contract.240 A fourth Adimari, Messer Antonio di Baldinaccio, served first as the vicar of the Vallis Nebulae and captain of nine horse and twenty-five infantry for six months in March 1351, and then several years later, as captain of a force of five hundred barbute that was sent to Rome in March 1355.241 Also appearing in the financial records is Rustico di Canto of the Cavalcanti, who enjoyed a four-month contract to captain five infantry during the spring of 1352.242 One of his kinsmen, Domenico di Cantino, likewise captained a force of in fantry, in his case, those tasked with guarding the castle of San Niccolò dalla Montagna (near Arezzo) in 1356.243 Another infantry captain, Messer Giovanni dei Visdomini, seems to have been highly sought after because of his military leadership. In August 1351, he volunteered to help relieve the siege of Scarperia, leading a small force of thirty men into the besieged town. Giovanni received plenty of plaudits from chroniclers for his service: the fourteenth-century chronicler Matteo Villani described him as one of the greatest infantry commanders of his time, and Bruni wrote that he was “a Florentine noble of high spirit and experience in war.”244 Messer Tassino also enjoyed a long career in arms, mostly in the service of the Visconti of Milan, who took control of the city of Bologna in 1350. He campaigned against his native Florence on more than one occa sion. In July 1351, while in exile, Messer Tassino served as a caporali, along with his brother Cignano, in the army of Giovanni Visconti, the archbishop of Milan, who had planned to attack Florence after taking Bologna the year
239. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 78, fol. 205r (March 17, 1351) and 82, fol. 293r (September 14, 1351). 240. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 80, fol. 265r ( June 30, 1351) and 87, fol. 410r (March 4, 1352). 241. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 78, fol. 210r (March 31, 1351), and Donato Velluti, Cronica, 216: This same Messer Antonio had provided important military leadership for the popolani during the tumultuous events of the summer of 1343. See also Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1451. 242. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 87, fol. 433v (March 22, 1352). 243. ASF, Diplomatico, Archivio Generale dei Contratti, January 15, 1356. 244. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 238–39; Bruni, History of the Florentine People, 2:357–59; and Matteo Villani, “Cronica,” in Croniche di Giovanni, Matteo e Filippo Villani, vol. 2 (Trieste: Lloyd Austriaco, 1858) (cited hereafter as Matteo Villani, Cronica), 63.
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before.245 Five years later, in 1356, Messer Tassino served as captain of sev enteen bandiere of knights, sent by Bernabò Visconti, lord of Bologna, to the Emilia Romagna.246 Messer Tassino continued to cultivate a military career as a mercenary captain throughout the remainder of the decade, mostly in the pay of the Visconti. A few other knights and men-at-arms seem to have been famous enough to warrant the attention of chroniclers. Another member of the Donati lineage, Messer Manno, for example, was exceptionally active during the 1340s and 1350s. In November 1340, he led, along with his kinsman Messer Giovanni della Tosa and several members of the Cavicciuli lineage, the forces of the popolo against the Frescobaldi and Bardi.247 More traditional service fol lowed in the spring of 1342, when he served in a Florentine army sent by the Duke of Athens to relieve the Pisan siege of Lucca.248 For much of the 1350s Messer Manno cultivated the profession of arms in the service of Francesco “il Vecchio” Carrara, the lord of Padova. For example, the sixteenth-century historian Scipione Ammirato claims that Messer Manno took a loan of six hundred florins to cover the costs of horses (ronzini) and armor (armadute) when he went into the service of the Carrara in 1351.249 Matteo Villani, meanwhile, notes that Messer Manno was sent by Fran cesco with two hundred knights to help his brother, Cangrande, to recover Verona in 1354.250 Messer Manno continued to serve Francesco two years later, when he was given command of an army sent to stop the mercenary captain Sicco da Caldonazzo from plundering the Paduan-controlled Val Su gana.251 One year later (1357), Messer Manno was chosen by the Florentine government to serve as captain of a company of seven hundred barbute of “buona gente” sent to the Romagna to fight the Great Company, which was at that time in the pay of Bernabò Visconti, lord of Milan.252 Messer Manno’s military service on behalf of both Florence and the Carrara lineage confirms that he was a knight who saw the profession of arms as central to his identity. In fact, he would continue to go to war for at least another fifteen years.
245. Matteo Villani, Cronica, 54–55. 246. Corpus chronicorum bononiensium, ed. Albano Sorbelli, Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, n.s., 18, pt. 1 (Città di Castello: S. Lapi, 1900), 2:89. 247. “Annali di Simone della Tosa,” 237. 248. Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 192–93; Villani, Nuova Cronica, 1418. 249. Ammirato, Delle famiglie nobili fiorentine, 185. 250. Matteo Villani, Cronica, 118. 251. Ernest H. Wilkins, “Petrarch and Manno Donati,” Speculum 35 (1960): 382, and the sources cited therein. 252. Matteo Villani, Cronica, 239.
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Many other members of the chivalric elite also served in the years im mediately before the Florentine-Pisan War began in 1362. Two members of the Donati lineage, Rossino (of Bibbiena) and Paccio, were contracted by the Florentine government in 1360 to each serve as captain of two infantry for four months.253 Jacopo Lapi of the Mazzinghi lineage appears in the financial records twice: first, in October 1360, when he received double pay along with two of his companions (sociis) for services rendered previously, and again, in July 1361, when he was under contract to serve as captain of twenty infantry for four months.254 Also serving in July of that year was Messer Amerigo di Giovanni of the Cavalcanti, whose career dated back to as early as 1344. Messer Amerigo held the position of adviser (consigliere) to Florence’s cap tain general, Rodolfo da Camerino.255 This significant list of knights and men-at-arms performing military ser vice is assuredly not complete. While the financial records produced by the Florentine government for these years are extensive (e.g., the Camarlinghi Uscita records, only one set of budget documents, number 153 volumes for the years 1343–61), the chronicle evidence continues to offer only limited assistance in the task of identifying the members of the chivalric elite who went to war during this period. The events of 1350–51 provide several useful examples. Matteo Villani, Donato Velluti, and Marchionne di Coppo Stefani all mention an assault on Prato and a daring attack on Pistoia in early 1351 by Florentine forces that included members of the chivalric elite, but the chron icles reveal the identities of only a few of the participants.256 Similarly limited is our knowledge of the large Florentine army—which included nearly two thousand cavalry—mobilized in March and April 1351 to besiege Pistoia, the Florentine force sent in August of that same year to confront Giovanni da Oleggio, and the army assembled a month later to defend Scarperia.257 Like wise, the letters exchanged between the Florentine Signoria and Messer Nic colò Acciaiuoli, the seneschal of the kingdom of Naples, make clear that Flo rentines were also serving in southern Italy during the spring and summer 253. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 147, fols. 144r, 161r (September 29 and Oc tober 29, 1360). 254. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 147, fol. 129v (October 24, 1360) and 151, fol. 418r ( July 23, 1361). 255. Luigina Carratori, “Cavalcanti, Amerigo,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani 22 (1979), https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/amerigo-cavalcanti_(Dizionario-Biografico) (accessed June 10, 2019). 256. Matteo Villani, Cronica, 50–51; Donato Velluti, Cronica, 200–214; Marchionne di Coppo Ste fani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 234. 257. Matteo Villani, Cronica, 51–52, 58–59; Marchionne di Coppo Stefani, Cronaca Fiorentina, 236–39. See also the discussion in Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence, 20.
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of 1352, although we are given only one name: Messer Henrici degli Spini. Messer Henrici was tasked with leading a sizeable force of one hundred horse in support of Queen Joanna I and her husband, Louis of Taranto, as they struggled to repel foreign invasions and quell internal rebellions.258 And finally, the identities of the three hundred “prominent citizens” summoned to perform military service in late 1353 also remain obscure.259 These few examples highlight how little we actually know about the military service performed by members of the Florentine chivalric elite during this period.
the Florentine-pisan war of 1362–64 Despite the shortcomings of the extant evidence, the discussion up to this point strongly suggests that for the years preceding the 1360s, members of the chivalric elite continued to play an important military role on behalf of their patria.260 This service intensified during the Florentine war against Pisa, which included multiple campaigns involving large numbers of citizens, none more so than the one that ended with the Battle of Cascina ( July 28, 1364). This continuity is important because Caferro in particular has argued that the year 1361 and the start of the Pisan war were turning points, when Florence and many other Italian “powers” began to hire large companies of mercenary soldiers led by prominent mercenary captains.261 What should we make of this continuity? Gene Brucker, echoing the pre vailing view of most historians, argues that the participation of the Floren tine elite can be attributed to the “memories of past military glories” and a desire to vindicate “Florentine honor.” Brucker even concludes that the war against Pisa was “the last major war in which a substantial contingent of Florentine citizens participated in the fighting,” highlighting the presence of men from prominent lineages like the Ricci, Alberti, Albizzi, and Capponi.262 258. ASF, Signori, Missive Cancelleria, 1, Box 11, scheda 127 (March 15, 1353); ASF, Signori, Mis sive Cancelleria, 1, Box 11, scheda 145 (April 27, 1353); and ASF, Signori, Missive Cancelleria, 1, Box 11, scheda 172 ( July 7, 1353). I thank Tucker Million for bringing these documents to my attention. 259. As discussed in Bayley, War and Society in Renaissance Florence, 22–23. 260. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 392. Caferro, “Continuity, Long-Term Service, and Permanent Forces,” 251. 261. Caferro, “The Florentine Army in the Age of the Companies of Adventure,” 141, argues that the presence of the White Company in Italy, and eventually in the service of Pisa, forced Flor ence to hire large bands of German mercenaries. The fullest discussions of the Pisan war are found in Caferro, John Hawkwood, 97–115, and Caferro, “ ‘The Fox and the Lion’: The White Company and the Hundred Years War in Italy,” in The Hundred Years War: A Wider Focus, ed. Andrew Villalon and Donald Kagay (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 179–209. 262. Gene Brucker, Florentine Politics and Society, 1343–1378 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1962), 188.
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While Brucker is no doubt correct that many members of the Florentine elite avoided military service during this period, his and other historical in quiries almost without exception focus on the popolo grasso, not traditional martial lineages like the Donati, Buondelmonti, and della Tosa. Knights and men-at-arms from these lineages continued to serve as a vital source of mili tary expertise and manpower well into the fifteenth century despite no lon ger dominating the city of Florence. If we turn our attention to the Florentine army that campaigned in the summer of 1362, we find clear evidence that members of the Florentine chi valric elite participated in significant numbers. Our knowledge of this cam paign comes primarily from the budget records produced by the Florentine camera. The Camarlinghi Uscita volume covering July and August 1362, for example, records the names of prominent citizens and the banners in which they served. Each banner was comprised of twenty to twenty-five men, gen erally knights, and was associated with a gonfalone or district within a specific quarter (quartiere) of the city: Ladder (Scala), Shell (Nicchio), Flail (Ferza), and Green Dragon (Drago Verde) within the quarter of Santo Spirito; Cart (Carro), Ox (Bue), Black Lion (Leon Nero), and Wheels (Ruote) in the quarter of Santa Croce; Viper (Vipera), Unicorn (Unicorno), Red Lion (Leon Rosso), and White Lion (Leon Bianco) in the quarter of Santa Maria Novella; and Golden Lion (Leon d’Oro), Dragon (Drago), Keys (Chiavi), and heraldic Vair (Vaio) in the quarter of San Giovanni.263 As during previous campaigns, the Bardi contingent was among the larg est, with nine men all serving in the banner of the Ladder (vex schalare): Messer Andrea, Iacopo Francesco di Giovanni, Ianno ( Janni) di M. Bardo, Bardo Congiotti, Giovanni di M. Agnoli, Sandro Bartoli, Giramonte Benghi, Alessandro di M. Riccardo, and Francesco Filippozzo.264 A sizeable contingent of men from the Donati lineage included Stagio Corsi (banner of the Flails; vex ferze), Aldobrandino (banner of the Dragon; vex draconis), Bonifacio di M. Donato (banner of the Black Lion; vex leonis nigri), and Cenno Donati Se tamolo (banner of the Flails; vex ferze).265 The Spini lineage was represented by Anigho Vanni, Nepo Doffi, Jacopo Doffi, Degho Doffi, and Giovanni Scolaio, all of whom fought in the banner of the Unicorn (vex vinconni).266 The Vecchietti fighting under the banner of the White Lion (vex leonis albi) 263. Caferro, “Continuity, Long-Term Service, and Permanent Forces,” 233, offers a brief discus sion of the banner and the shift to a “lance” unit (three horses and three men) in 1368–69. 264. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fols. 56v, 59r, 59v, 60v, 62r, 62v, 63r ( July 7, 12, 13, and 15, 1362). 265. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fols. 56v, 57r, 58r ( July 7, 1362). 266. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fols. 61r, 62v ( July 12–13, 1362).
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included Ughoni di Dominico and Vanni di Iacobo.267 The Cavalcanti contri bution, meanwhile, was comprised of Bartolomeo Rossi and Scolaio Rossi, both of whom fought in the banner of the Viper (vex vipere), and Malatesta di Angnoli, who served in the banner of the Wheel (vex rote).268 Also appear ing are Accamano dei Brunelleschi (banner of the Dragon; vex draconis),269 Filippo Tedeschi dei Foraboschi (banner of Unicorn; vex vincorri),270 Caroccio Angnoli dei Frescobaldi (banner of the Shells; vex nicchi),271 Giovanni Rossi and Falco dei Gianfigliazzi (banner of the Unicorn; vex viconni),272 Messer Maffio di M. Canto dei Pigli (banner of the Red Lion; vexilli leonis rubi),273 Bi ligiardo and Lodovico di M. Bindo della Tosa (banner of the Yellow Dragon; vex draconis bindis) and Messer Rosso di M. Giovanni della Tosa (banner of the Dragon of the quarter of S. Giovanni; vex draconis),274 and Niccolò Filippi degli Scali (banner of the Unicorn; vex vincorri).275 This list of thirty-three men, representing twelve of the eighteen traditional martial lineages studied in this chapter (approximately 67 percent), confirms that members of the Florentine chivalric elite continued to vigorously cultivate the profession of arms in the early 1360s. This percentage is almost certainly even higher given the number of other knights and men-at-arms who fought in the Florentine-Pisan War but who do not appear in the 1362 “military roll.” An anonymous chronicle located in Manoscritti Vari 222, for example, allows for the partial reconstruction of the leadership of the Florentine army assembled in the following year (1363). Among them is Messer Manno dei Donati (whose early career was exam ined above), Messer Luigi dei Gianfigliazzi, Messer Andrea di Gualtiero dei Bardi, and Messer Giannozzo di M. Uberto dei Cavalcanti.276 Of these lead ing knights, only Messer Andrea of the Bardi appears in the financial records for the summer campaign of 1362. Not appearing in either list are a whole host of men belonging to chi valric lineages, including Filippo Giovanni degli Adimari, who served in the
267. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fols. 56v, 59v ( July 7 and 12, 1362). 268. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fols. 61r, 63r ( July 12 and 14, 1362). 269. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fol. 60v ( July 12, 1362). 270. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fol. 59v ( July 7, 1362). 271. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fol. 63v (August 9, 1362). 272. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fols. 60r, 63v ( July 12 and August 2, 1362). 273. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fol. 63v ( July 28, 1362). 274. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fols. 57v, 62v ( July 7 and 13, 1362). 275. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 157, fol. 60r ( July 12, 1362). 276. “Anonymous chronicle,” in ASF, Manoscritti Vari, 222, fols. 217, 219–21. Brucker, Florentine Politics and Society, 189n, notes that Giannozzo was one of the leaders of the “war party” in the Flo rentine council for the duration of the war with Pisa.
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summer of 1362 as captain of two horse and thirty infantry, and Baschiera della Tosa, who was under contract for two months in June 1362 as captain of seven infantry.277 Jacopo Lapi of the Mazzinghi is listed in the budget records as captain of thirteen infantry in that same month, while Paccio dei Donati served as captain of thirty infantry for ten months in 1362 and of four in fantry for four months in 1363.278 Archino degli Adimari also appears in the records as the constable of the horse in the same Florentine army.279 Geno di Giovanni dei Frescobaldi meanwhile appears in May 1363 as under con tract to serve as captain of seventeen infantry, while Leonardo di Niccolò dei Frescobaldi served in the Florentine army near Pisa in June 1363.280 Bastione Franceschini dei Tosinghi served as captain of nine infantry for four months in the spring and summer of 1363.281 Ruggiero Guemacci dei Nerli was con tracted in the summers of both 1362 and 1363 to serve as captain of seven infantry for seven months and four infantry for four months, respectively.282 In the closing months of that year, Sinibaldo di M. Amerigo di M. Corso dei Donati, along with Messer Niccolò of the Buondelmonti lineage, served as captain of four hundred Pistoian infantry and over five hundred Florentine exiles, who were sent to San Miniato a Monte in order to guard it against the Pisans and the English mercenaries in their employ.283 Filippo Villani notes that both Sinibaldo and Niccolò were exiles (“erano in bando della persona”) who had served the Florentine commune in a military capacity on a number of occasions. Thus, the total participation in 1362–63 for the lineages in ques tion was actually much higher. It is possible to also identify several men from chivalric lineages who served in the Florentine military in the months leading up to the famous Battle of Cascina in July 1364. Pieraccino (Peracemo) Biagi dei Cavalcanti appears in the budget records on May 22, 1364, as under contract to serve as captain of twenty-one infantry.284 On July 7 of that same year, only weeks
277. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 156, unpaginated ( June 14 and 28, 1362). 278. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 156, unpaginated ( June 13 and 14, 1362) and 161, unpaginated (May 30, 1363). Poggio dei Donati, possibly the same man, appears in the Riforma gioni in May 1363 as constable of the infantry in the Florentine army near Pisa: ASF, Diplomatico, Riformagioni, May 28, 1363. 279. ASF, Diplomatico, Riformagioni, March 6, 1363. 280. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 161, unpaginated (May 27, 1363), and ASF, Diplomatico, Riformagioni, June 12, 1363. 281. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 161, unpaginated (May 1, 1363). 282. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 156, unpaginated ( June 18, 1362), and 161, unpaginated (May 10 and June 8, 1363). 283. Filippo Villani, “Cronica,” in Croniche di Giovanni, Matteo e Filippo Villani, 395. 284. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 166, unpaginated (May 22, 1364).
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before Cascina, Pieraccino’s contract was renewed for several months.285 Messer Manno dei Donati, whom the anonymous Florentine author of the Cronichetta d’incerto described in May 1364 as “brave and wise in war,” served as one of the leading knights in the army that defeated Pisa at Cascina ( July 28).286 In fact, several months after the victory at Cascina, the Florentine Signoria sent a letter to the lord of Padova thanking him for allowing Messer Manno to help Florence in the war against Pisa and attesting to Manno’s valor and military virtue.287 He was not alone, however, with many other Florentine knights and men-at-arms playing leading roles. Messer Andrea di Tingo of the Bardi lineage held the royal banner in the Florentine army dur ing the battle.288 Messer Amerigo dei Cavalcanti also served in the Florentine army during this campaign, along with many other “noblemen and popolani, on foot and on horse.”289 An examination of the documents related to the Florentine campaigns against Pisa in the years 1362–64 confirms that a majority of the chivalric lineages under consideration in this chapter, more specifically fifteen of the eighteen, continued to cultivate the profession of arms over the entire period of 1260–1364. Only members of the Bostichi, Tornaquinci, and Visdomini lineages do not appear in this extensive, but not exhaustive survey of what is a significant body of evidence. Of these lineages, members of the Torna quinci and Visdomini both appear in Florentine armies during the 1350s, and Tornaquinci and Visdomini men can be found bearing arms throughout the last decades of the fourteenth century. In short, it is clear that these eighteen traditional martial lineages, like the larger body of knights and men-at-arms who comprised the Florentine chivalric cultural community, continued to cultivate the profession of arms as a central element of their chivalric iden tity throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Given the sheer weight of evidence presented in this chapter, there can be little doubt that the profession of arms was a constitutive feature of the Florentine chivalric community. Florentine knights and men-at-arms under stood war to be an ennobling enterprise, and they treated the battlefield as 285. ASF, Camera del Comune, Camarlinghi Uscita 168, unpaginated ( July 7, 1364). 286. “Cronichetta d’Incerto,” in Manni, Cronichette antiche di vari scrittori del buon secolo della lin gua italiana, 256: “valenti e savi di guerra.” 287. ASF, Signori, Missive Cancelleria, 1, VIII (doc. #3). Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I have been unable to return to the Archivio di Stato di Firenze (ASF) and obtain the complete bibliographic information for this archival document. 288. Donato Velluti, Cronica, 238. 289. “Diario d’anonimo fiorentino,” in Cronache dei secoli XIII e XIV, ed. Marco Tabarrini (Flor ence: Tipi di M. Cellini, 1876), 297: “messer Amerigo Cavalcanti e molti nostril cittadini, gientili uomini e popolani, a piè e a cavallo, e con tutto l’esercito del Comune di Firenze.”
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the best place to demonstrate their prowess and valor, winning in the pro cess not only wealth, but also the glittering reward of honor. Their military service reinforced claims to social superiority and political authority during the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. Perhaps more importantly, the chivalric elite continued to vigorously cultivate the profession of arms well into the late fourteenth century, after both the obligation to perform military service (cavallata) fell into obsolescence and a new, mostly nonmartial, officeholding and economic elite cemented itself at the top of the Florentine social and political hierarchy. This is a clear testament to the enduring connection between chivalric identity and war in late medieval Florence.
Epilogue The Chivalric Life of Buonaccorso Pitti (1354–1432)
a more glorious memory would survive me and more honor [would] reflect on my family if I were to die bearing arms in his service —Buonaccorso Pitti, Cronica
Chivalry remained a powerful thread in the cultural fabric of Florence well past the mid-fourteenth century. Indeed, many of the chivalric lineages examined in this study remained, into the next century, as constitutive elements of the Florentine chivalric cultural commu nity. Men from this cultural community continued to engage in chivalric vio lence and to cultivate the profession of arms. These were still seen as central tenets of chivalric identity. Despite this continuity, the social, political, and cultural terrain of early Renaissance Florence was significantly more difficult for them to navigate in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. The seeds planted in the mid-thirteenth century, most notably the emergence of a civic ideology largely antithetical to chivalry and the establishment of the judicial and police power of a communal government that increasingly asserted itself over unruly and violent citizens, were by the middle decades of the fourteenth century in full bloom.1 While it is clear that these develop ments did not lead to the destruction of the Florentine chivalric elite in toto,
A version of this epilogue appeared as “The Chivalrous Life of Buonaccorso Pitti: Honor-Vio lence and the Profession of Arms in Late Medieval Florence and Italy,” Studies in Medieval and Renais sance History, 3rd ser., 13 (2016): 141–76. 1. Christiane Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica: I magnati fiorentini, 1340–1440, trans. Isabelle Chabot and Paolo Pirillo (Rome: Viella, 2009), 131–74. 189
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Christiane Klapisch-Zuber’s seminal study of the Florentine magnates dur ing the second half of the fourteenth and first half of the fifteenth centuries confirms that some chivalric lineages fell into political and economic decline on the margins of society or in exile.2 Others abandoned their chivalric past in order to facilitate a return to civic society, a process of reintegration that involved changing not only traditional behavior and outlook, but also the surname of the lineage and its coat of arms.3 Further research is required, however, to gain a more complete understanding of how the remaining chi valric lineages navigated their new reality.4 The chivalric cultural community during the early Renaissance was re inforced by the addition of individuals and lineages from the popolo grasso, which was not a new phenomenon. While some of these new chivalric practitioners embraced wholeheartedly the typical behavior and mentalité of their cultural community, others seem to have adopted a more sober ap proach to the new reality outlined above. Accordingly, members of the latter group modified their use of chivalric violence while at home, especially the practices of honor and social violence, something most knights and menat-arms from traditional chivalric lineages did not do. The motivation be hind this more deliberate use of chivalric violence was assuredly the desire to avoid challenging the Florentine government’s authority or threatening public order, behavior that might see them cut off from the reins of political power and imperil their economic prosperity. This was, after all, the fate of so many magnates and chivalric lineages. This modification did not extend, however, to the profession of arms. Indeed, war remained a constitutive pil lar of chivalric identity into the fifteenth century, in large part because mili tary service was still treated as an acceptable, if not outright praiseworthy, occupation for elite men. This epilogue will focus on a well-documented exemplar of this new model of chivalric practitioner, Buonaccorso di Neri Pitti (1354–1432), who
2. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 114, argues that violence continued to plague Florence even into the mid-fourteenth century, noting that the primary perpetrators of this violence were not only the nobles of the contado (countryside), but also urban magnates who lived part of the year on their rural estates. 3. See Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 175–248, 392. See also Thomas Kuehn, “Social and Legal Capital in Vendetta: A Fifteenth-Century Florentine Feud in and out of Court,” in Sociability and Its Discontents: Civil Society, Social Capital, and Their Alternatives in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. Nicholas Eckstein and Nicholas Terpstra (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010), 51–72. 4. For example, work still needs to be done on the core group of Guelf militants who dominated the Parte Guelfa and utilized their prowess and military expertise in the service of the Florentine state until around 1360. See Gene Brucker, The Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1977), 41, 55, for an initial discussion.
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left for posterity a ricordanza, a history detailing both personal and public events during the period 1374–1429.5 Buonaccorso belonged to a prominent banking and mercantile lineage with a long history of political participation and officeholding, but his ricordanza suggests that rather than fully embrac ing the lifestyle typical of his peers among the plutocratic elite, he straddled the line between the chivalric and civic-mercantile cultural worlds during his lifetime.6 In fact, the profits he accrued from his activities in the civicmercantile world almost certainly paid for his strikingly expensive endeav ors in the chivalric world, especially his eager and continuous cultivation of the profession of arms.7 In keeping with the modified behavior of this new model of chivalric practitioner, Buonaccorso seems to have avoided engag ing in honor violence when such violence could be constituted as a challenge to the authority of the Florentine government. When he was in exile or abroad, however, his behavior and mentalité were far more typically chivalric, especially when he resided in more traditional chivalric spaces, like the royal and noble courts of France. Modern historians have noted that Buonaccorso was different from his peers, but the typical explanation offered for these differences points to the powerful influence of nearby royal and noble courts, most notably in France, Hungary, and Naples. For example, Gene Brucker concludes that Buonac corso was unique in his wholesale adoption of “the mores and values of the French aristocracy,” among whom he spent considerable time.8 In other words, Buonaccorso was simply an intrepid merchant with a strong liking for the lifestyle of foreign nobles. A close reexamination of Buonaccorso’s men tality and actions, which is possible thanks to the survival of his ricordanza, strongly suggests that if he felt at home in the royal and noble courts of early Renaissance France, it is because he already shared many of the same values and attitudes as French chivalric practitioners. As this book has made clear by now, chivalry exercised a powerful influence on elite warriors on both sides of the Alps, although Florentine and Italian knights and men-at-arms devel oped their own chivalric ideas and did not simply import a foreign chivalric culture. As a result, Buonaccorso occupied a complicated space in the social 5. Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, ed. Alberto Bacchi della Lega (Bologna: Romagnoli dall’Acqua, 1905). For his ancestors, see 7–16. 6. Léon Mirot, “Bonaccorso Pitti: Aventurier, joueur, et diplomat et mémorialiste,” AnnuaireBulletin de la Societé de l’histoire de France 67 (1930): 183–252. 7. Katalin Prajda, Network and Migration in Early Renaissance Florence, 1378–1433: Friends of Friends in the Kingdom of Hungary (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2018), offers an important study of the international economic world in which Buonaccorso operated. 8. Two Memoirs of Renaissance Florence: The Diaries of Buonaccorso Pitti and Gregorio Dati, ed. Gene Brucker, trans. Julia Martines (Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press, 1991), 18.
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and cultural terrain of early Renaissance Florence: on the one hand he was exceptional among the civic (plutocratic) elite who ruled the city, while on the other he was representative of one model of chivalric practitioner found in the city during his lifetime.9
chivalry and honor violence Given the new reality of Florentine public authority in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, members of the chivalric elite who wished to remain in the good graces of the Florentine government no longer had as much latitude to engage in acts of honor violence without risking fines, im prisonment, exile, or even execution.10 This is not to say that the Florentine elite, both chivalric and civic, never resorted to violence when their honor was in question. As discussed in chapter 1, the scholarship of Andrea Zorzi and others (see chapter 2) makes clear that the Florentine elite engaged in feuding and vendettas, but this type of violence was strongly distinguished in both law and popular perception from the destruction and disproportional ity of chivalric honor violence. Vendettas and feuding were regulated by the Florentine government and characterized by proportionality and the goal of ending, rather than intensifying, conflict. They were also often treated as a last resort by members of the popolo grasso (and other popolani) who preferred to utilize more pacific means of concluding conflicts—such as notarized peace concords, public law courts, and political retribution—that offered the opportunity to attack one’s enemies and advantageously end con flicts without the risks inherent in violent conflicts and with minimal damage to the economic prosperity and political unity of the larger ruling group or the fragile social fabric of the city. As Barna Valorini explained to his father Valorino in 1392, “Today vendettas are fought in the palace [of the Signoria] and not with knives.”11
9. In some ways, Buonaccorso may have been a model for Leonardo Bruni’s attempts to reform the Florentine knighthood and revitalize the martial vigor of the city’s elite. See James Hankins, Virtue Politics: Soulcraft and Statecraft in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2019), 238–71, for Bruni’s reform program. Unfortunately, it was published too late to be fully considered for this current book. 10. Gregory Roberts, Police Power in the Italian Communes, 1228–1326 (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2019), discusses the power of the state in these matters during an earlier period. Gary Ianziti, Writing History in Renaissance Italy: Leonardo Bruni and the Uses of the Past (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 140–41, highlights Bruni’s efforts to push back against the recourse to unrestrained violence over matters of honor. 11. As quoted in Brucker, Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, 30.
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Buonaccorso’s ricordanza strongly supports the suggestion that while members of the chivalric elite continued to practice honor violence, some did so much more readily while in exile or abroad. Buonaccorso’s first re corded use, or in this case threatened use, of violence in defense of his honor occurred in April 1380, when he was in exile in Pisa. While in that Tuscan city, Buonaccorso came into conflict with a fellow Florentine, Matteo del’ Ricco dei Corbizzi, who was infamous for insulting exiles to their faces. Mat teo’s insult constituted an attack on Buonaccorso’s personal honor, neces sitating a response from the dishonored party, but Buonaccorso, arguably in a demonstration of admirable restraint, responded in kind.12 This response, however, concluded with a promise that future verbal attacks would be met with violence: “if he continued to say anything that touched upon [i.e., of fended] my honor, I would demonstrate to him my displeasure through force.”13 Therefore, while Buonaccorso seems initially to demonstrate far more restraint in the face of Matteo’s braggadocio than one might expect given the example provided by many historical and literary knights in chap ter 1 above, Buonaccorso’s threat to utilize violence against Matteo confirms that the more dominant chivalric response was not lost upon the author: the proper and praiseworthy response required violence. Only a few days later, Buonaccorso nearly made good on his threat when he once again ran into Matteo del Ricco dei Corbizzi in the streets of Pisa. When Matteo threatened to attack Buonaccorso’s relatives back in Flor ence, Buonaccorso responded with actual if modest violence, grabbing and shaking him.14 Further violence on Buonaccorso’s part was ultimately pre empted, however, by the actions of his friend Niccolò, son of Betto dei Bardi, who “gave [Matteo del Ricco] a blow on the head which knocked him flat
12. For the connection between insults and honor, see Anna Maria Nada Patrone, “Simbologia e realtà nelle violenze verbali del tardo medioevo,” in Simbolo e realtà della vita urbana nel tardo medioevo: Atti del V Convegno storico italo-canadese (Viterbo 11–15 maggio 1988), ed. Massimo Miglio and Giuseppe Lombardi (Rome: Vecchiarelli, 1988), 47–87; William Caferro, “Honour and Insult: Military Rituals in Late Medieval Tuscany,” in Late Medieval and Early Modern Ritual: Studies in Italian Urban Culture, ed. Samuel K. Cohn Jr., Marcello Fantoni, Franco Franceschi, and Fabrizio Ricciardelli (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013), 183–209; Richard Drexler, Dependence in Context in Renaissance Florence (Binghamton, NY: Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, 1994), 113–70; and Ilaria Taddei, “Recalling the Affront: Rituals of War in Italy in the Age of the Communes,” in The Culture of Violence in Renais sance Italy: Proceedings of the International Conference (Georgetown University at Villa Le Balze, 3–4 May, 2010), ed. Samuel K. Cohn Jr. and Fabrizio Ricciardelli (Florence: Le Lettere, 2012), 81–98. 13. Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 49–50: “e che se pure egli seghuitasse di dire cosa che tocchasse al mio honore, ch’ io gli dimostrerei con efetto che mi dispiacesse.” The English translation is mine. 14. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” in Brucker and Martines, Two Memoirs of Renaissance Flor ence, 32–33. Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 51.
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at [their] feet,” a blow that eventually killed Matteo.15 Niccolò was himself a member of the powerful Florentine Bardi lineage and thus would not have been immune to the dictates of honor. Moreover, the murder of Matteo and the cyclical nature of chivalric honor violence ensured that the tension be tween the Pitti and Corbizzi would continue to build over the years, leading to further violence in the future. In 1391, however, Buonaccorso Pitti and Niccolò di Betto dei Bardi agreed to a thirty-year peace with the deceased man’s kin.16 The length of the peace agreement strongly suggests that con temporaries realized that the dictates of honor violence passed from genera tion to generation within a lineage, while the decision to make peace rather than employ further violence was likely the result of both external pressure placed on the parties, as well as Buonaccorso’s desire to reintegrate into the ruling elite after many years in exile and living abroad.17 As a decidedly chivalric activity, honor violence was at odds with the dominant civic ethos cultivated by the ruling elite in Florence and posed a challenge to the public authority of the communal government.18 Thus, the decision to employ honor violence would have made it much more difficult, if not impossible, for Buonaccorso to hold government offices. Even chival ric practitioners who demonstrated a penchant for honor violence might be forced, or even choose, to employ more pacific means of concluding a con flict within the confines of Florence. Such a choice, for example engaging in
15. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 33; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 51–52: “Nicolò sanza mio volere gli diede d’ uno bergamaschio in su la testa, tale che a piedi mi chadde. . . . La notte il detto ferito si morì.” The original Italian (“sanza mio volere”) suggests that Niccolò acted against Buonac corso’s wishes when he struck Matteo, but one wonders whether this was not a conscious attempt on the author’s part to not only avoid future punishment back in Florence, but also to diffuse ten sions between the Pitti and Corbizzi families. The only other contemporary account of this incident, found in the Diario d’anonimo fiorentino, is unfortunately terse, but it does suggest that Buonaccorso played a central role in the murder of Matteo. “Diario d’anonimo fiorentino,” in Cronache dei secoli XIII e XIV, ed. Marco Tabarrini (Florence: Tipi di M. Cellini, 1876), 1:411–12: “Oggi, a’ dì 12 d’aprile 1380, si fecie in Firenze il mistiere di Matteo de’ Ricco Corbizzi di San Piero Maggiore, che fu morto a Pisa da Bonaccorso di Neri Pitti di Firenze e Niccolò di Betto Bardi, tiratore, del popolo di San Piero Cattolino di Firenze.” 16. Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 77. The final agreement was recorded by a notary on January 20, 1393. Buonaccorso writes (112) that the Pitti reaffirmed their peace with the Corbizzi in 1399. 17. Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, especially 175–216, is the most important study of the reintegration of Florentine magnates. In Buonaccorso’s case, he held many important positions in the Florentine government over the subsequent years, as well as numerous ambassadorships abroad and captainships in the Florentine contado. Brucker, Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, 262, of fers a brief overview of Buonaccorso’s career. 18. Which is why when a magnate rejoined the popolo, he had to shed all signs of his former lifestyle, especially his violence and arrogance, and adopt the identity of a citizen (popolano). See Klapisch-Zuber, Ritorno alla politica, 394.
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mercantile activities, did not preclude Buonaccorso from self-identifying and being recognized as a member of the chivalric elite. Future incidents confirm that Buonaccorso still saw violence as the pri mary means to defend his honor, especially when abroad. In 1396, the author attempted to use violence to defend his personal honor, this time against a high-ranking French nobleman: Robert de Bethune, the Viscount of Meaux. Buonaccorso writes in his ricordanza that one day he accompanied Louis, the Duke of Orleans, to the house of a royal equerry where, after winning a sizeable sum of money in games of dice, the viscount became enraged and began to insult Buonaccorso’s masculinity.19 Such insults clearly consti tuted an attack on Buonaccorso’s honor, necessitating a response.20 When the viscount attempted to strike Buonaccorso, he leaped aside and cried out, “I am not one to let myself be struck when I am armed,” grabbing the sword he wore at his side. The viscount, a man with a volatile sense of honor in his own right, threatened in turn to kill Buonaccorso.21 It is clear from the initial exchange between the two men that both saw violence not only as legitimate, but also as the primary means of defending honor. For a second time, Buonaccorso’s apparent intention to use violence to assert and defend his honor was prevented by the intervention of a third party, this time his patron, the Duke of Orleans, who sent the Florentine away in an attempt to prevent Buonaccorso from killing the viscount, who was quite drunk.22 This did not, however, end the conflict. In fact, as Buonac corso made his way to the duke’s lodgings, the viscount’s bastard son tried to murder him with a knife. Buonaccorso chased the assailant away with a drawn sword, making clear not only to his readers but also to all those who witnessed the altercation that the man remained alive only because he was a bastard, and thus bereft of honor, making him unworthy to fight the Florentine.23 Buonaccorso’s suggestion that this restraint won him honor and praise from royal courtiers who witnessed or later learned of the in cident provides further insight into the chivalric mentality: “My behavior was wisely reported by the courtiers who had witnessed it and was greatly 19. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 51; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 88–89. 20. Hugh M. Thomas, “Shame, Masculinity, and the Death of Thomas Becket,” Speculum 87 (2012): 1050–88, examines masculinity and chivalry in the English context with general European implications. 21. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 52: “He [the Viscount of Meaux] yelled: ‘I have never been given the lie [been refuted] and now I shall have to kill you!’ ”; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 89. 22. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 51: Buonaccorso writes that the viscount “had drunk a lot of wine”; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 88. 23. Thomas Kuehn, Illegitimacy in Renaissance Florence (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002), 87–104, treats the issue of honor and illegitimacy.
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commended, for the bastard was only eighteen and a weakling whom I might easily have injured.”24 Moreover if we consider the economics of chivalric honor, it seems likely that Buonaccorso’s decision to exercise restraint when confronting the viscount’s bastard son likely stemmed from his belief that in some circumstances he would actually lose honor if he killed or wounded a man beneath his dignity. Consequently, Buonaccorso’s restraint, as in the earlier example, challenged neither his chivalric identity nor his belief that violence was the primary and praiseworthy response to any threat to per sonal and familial honor. Buonaccorso’s recollection of the events makes it clear that he considered the conflict with the viscount to be a matter of honor, thus justifying the threat or use of violence. Perhaps more importantly, the Duke of Orleans also recognized this to be the case. The duke even tried to stop the conflict between Buonaccorso and the viscount before they initiated a cycle of vio lence that might have far-reaching consequences.25 Buonaccorso does not elaborate on the duke’s motivation for stopping the violence, but it seems likely that he was seeking both to protect Buonaccorso from one of the great French nobles of royal blood, as well as to protect the honor of the viscount, who was ostensibly too drunk to defend it himself. Thus, while the duke acknowledged Buonaccorso’s right to defend his honor through violence, validating in the process his claim to chivalric identity, the duke sought to use his superior rank in the chivalric and secular hierarchies to end the dis pute before blows were exchanged. Buonaccorso’s acquiescence earned him honor, while the viscount’s intransigence, at least in the mind of the duke, brought him dishonor.26 Perhaps most illuminating of all is the reaction of Charles VI, the king of France, who was made aware of the conflict between Buonaccorso and the viscount by the Duke of Orleans. After hearing the details of the altercation, the king, according to Buonaccorso, responded: “The Viscount acted and spoke wrongly and Buonaccorso could not, without loss of honor, do less than answer him.”27 It is crucial to recognize that the king of France believed 24. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 52: “I turned and, by the light from the torches of a group of courtiers who happened to be passing by at that moment, saw and recognized a bastard of the Viscount of Monlev with a naked dagger in his hand. I drew my rapier, crying: ‘Bastard, [put your dagger back in the sheath and] go back to your father and tell him you could not find me!’ He looked around and seeing that none of his followers were coming, decided to do as I said”; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 89–90. 25. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 52; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 90. 26. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 52: “the matter will bring him little honor”; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 90. 27. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 52–53 (italics are mine); Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 90–91.
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that the viscount was in the wrong and that Buonaccorso had every right to defend his honor through the threat of violence. Not only was this an hon orable course of action, but also if Buonaccorso had not responded in this way, the king suggests that the Florentine would have dishonored himself. This same sentiment is echoed by the Duke of Orleans who, despite his ear lier desire to prevent bloodshed, justified Buonaccorso’s actions by forcibly responding to the viscount’s later protests, saying, “You had first spoken to him in such a way in my presence that if he had remained silent I would have considered him worthy of contempt!”28 In other words, if Buonaccorso had not responded to the viscount’s provocations in a manner befitting a chival ric practitioner, he would have been dishonored and his identity brought into question in the minds of the French lords. This confirms that the Florentine and French chivalric elite both held similar attitudes about the relationship between honor and violence. Moreover, this example highlights the fact that the king of France not only recognized the personal honor of a member of the Florentine chivalric elite, but also acknowledged his right to defend that honor through violence, even against a high-ranking French nobleman of royal blood. The king, through the intercession of the Duke of Berry, later made peace between Buonac corso and the viscount, with the former inviting the latter to dine with him as well as with the dukes of Orleans and Bourbon at the Florentine’s house in Paris.29 This incident and the reaction of the king and great lords of the French realm suggest not simply that Florentine knights and men-at-arms claimed chivalric identity, but that this claim was also recognized by the panEuropean chivalric elite, even if such recognition was given only begrudg ingly by some foreign knights and nobles, or won at the point of a sword.30 Buonaccorso’s ricordanza includes no further incidents of honor violence after 1396. This date seems to coincide with the start of a period character ized by Buonaccorso’s greater integration into the political machinery of the Florentine commune that would have been compromised if he had con tinued to engage in chivalric honor violence. In fact, during the remainder of his life he seems to have utilized more peaceful means of pursuing mat ters of honor and resolving conflicts, those that he had formerly eschewed while in exile or abroad. Despite this change, however, the incidents of honor 28. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 53; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 91. 29. Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 93. 30. Leonardo Bruni, The History of the Florentine People, ed. and trans. James Hankins, 3 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 3:511, 513, offers a striking example of two elite Florentine men-at-arms who defended their honor and martial bona fides when disparaged by for eign knights.
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violence discussed above strongly suggest that such an important element of chivalric ideology was central to Buonaccorso’s identity for much of his life. Buonaccorso’s attitudes regarding honor and violence are strongly remi niscent of those of his Florentine predecessors, despite the fact that he be longed to a civic (plutocratic) elite lineage. His decision to stop practicing honor violence within the city did not signal the abandonment or a betrayal of his chivalric identity, but rather a certain shrewdness that was typical of chivalric practitioners in early Renaissance Florence. Buonaccorso could em phasize certain aspects of the chivalric lifestyle while downplaying others based on circumstances and environment without threatening his chivalric identity. In Buonaccorso’s case, his attitude toward honor violence necessar ily changed once he became fully integrated into the political elite of Flor ence. One aspect of Buonaccorso’s chivalric lifestyle that never changed, however, was his cultivation of the profession of arms.
chivalry and the profession of Arms As discussed previously, the life of arms was central to chivalric identity in late medieval Florence. Buonaccorso’s ricordanza confirms that this was also the case during the early Renaissance, as he eagerly and consistently culti vated the profession of arms, often at great personal expense. Like many of his fellow Tuscans who spent considerable time in exile, his military experi ence was not limited to serving in the Florentine army but also included campaigns against Florence and significant service on battlefields far from home, particularly in France. Indeed, Buonaccorso’s last recorded participa tion in a campaign came in 1419 when, at the age of sixty-five, he served in a French army that fought several battles in Flanders.31 One of Buonaccorso’s first entries (1381) describes how, at the age of twenty-seven, he learned while in exile of the intention of Charles of Du razzo, the Angevin king of Hungary, to march south into Italy in order to make good on his claim to the kingdom of Naples.32 Buonaccorso saw this as an opportunity to secure restoration to his patria and also as a chance to go to war. He recalls in his ricordanza how he “bought five excellent horses and a quantity of arms” and also lent money to his friend, Niccolò, so that he 31. Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 216: “E da Parigi andai a ritrovare lo re di Francia ch’ era andato innarme in Fiandra . . . e trovai lo re con suo essercito. Diede la battaglia il dì di santa Caterina a quelli di Ghuanto e sconfisseli” (And from Paris I went to find the king of France who had gone in arms into Flanders . . . and I found the king with his army. He gave battle on the day of St. Catherine to the men of Ghent and defeated them; translation is mine). 32. Brucker, Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, 56, 76–77, 102–4.
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could arm himself and buy a pair of horses.33 Although Buonaccorso cam paigned with the king in the Romagna and Tuscany and spent upwards of 1,500 gold florins, in the end he failed to secure restoration because the im pecunious Charles made a deal with the ruling faction to leave them in peace in exchange for much-needed funds.34 While restoration was undoubtedly an important factor in Buonaccorso’s decision to join the campaign, the author writes that his premature exit was the result of poverty, rather than his failure to secure his return to Florence. This observation suggests that if conditions had allowed, he would have continued to serve Charles, even after the prom ise of restoration had come to naught.35 Buonaccorso continued, over the next several years, to seek opportunities to utilize his military skills both against the ruling faction in Florence as well as in other theaters of war. In November 1382, Buonaccorso was present with Charles VI, the king of France, at the Battle of Roosebeke that was fought against the Flemings, although he does not go into detail about the extent of his involvement.36 A year later (1383) when Buonaccorso heard that the English had landed in France (the so-called Despenser’s Crusade)37 under the leadership of Henry le Despenser, bishop of Norwich, he expressed great desire to participate in the French king’s campaign to drive them out: “being eager to partake once more in such great doings, I pooled resource with a man from Lucca and a Sienese. When we had equipped ourselves at our own expense with arms and with thirty-six horsemen, we enrolled in the army under the flag and captaincy of the Duke of Burgundy who commanded 20,000 horse.”38 The next day, Buonaccorso and the French took to the field to find the enemy, who had fled toward Dunkirk.39 They succeeded in finding and engaging with the English, most likely the rearguard force of English and Flemish who were under the command of Sir Robert Knolles, but they were eventually forced to withdraw “with great loss and little honor.” The author writes that “the English defended themselves boldly, firing arrows at our 33. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 34–35; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 54. 34. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 35–36; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 55–57. 35. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 36: “Some Florentine exiles followed him, but the ma jority had gone through their funds and were obliged to withdraw from the campaign”; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 57. 36. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 38–39; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 60–61. Jonathan Sump tion, The Hundred Years War, vol. 3, Divided Houses (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), 484–86, provides the larger context. 37. Sumption, The Hundred Years War, 470–72, 494–504. 38. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 42; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 68–69. 39. Sumption, The Hundred Years War, 506.
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[the French] troops which wrought havoc among them and wounded many.” Even more striking is the insight we gain into Buonaccorso’s personal expe rience during the battle: the author expresses great regret at the loss of so many of his own men, admitting that “in truth [he] was hardly able to look for [his men] but lay exhausted in a ditch until daybreak.”40 Buonaccorso’s description of this battle suggests that he not only served in person but also took on the role of a banneret, leading his own men into battle. Three years later, in September 1386, Buonaccorso once again geared up for war, this time making plans to join the proposed French invasion of Eng land that was set to leave from Flanders under the leadership of the king of France.41 In order to participate in this great undertaking, Buonaccorso and a few of his colleagues equipped themselves and hired a ship in the French fleet at their own not-inconsiderable expense.42 This is, once again, a clear sign of Buonaccorso’s intent to participate in the life of arms, a decidedly chi valric undertaking and attitude. After extensive preparations, the proposed invasion was finally called off due to poor weather in the English Channel.43 Although Buonaccorso was disappointed by the failure of the campaign, his eagerness to participate suggests a continued desire to cultivate the pro fession of arms alongside some of the great nobles of early Renaissance Europe. Particularly illuminating in this regard are the events of August 1400, when Buonaccorso records that he was traveling in the company of King Rupert of the Palatinate, the emperor-elect, who was in Italy to campaign against the Visconti of Milan.44 Buonaccorso writes in his ricordanza that the emperor-elect desired to send him to Florence as a special envoy in order to secure certain funds that had been promised by the Florentine government. Despite his intention to do the emperor-elect’s bidding, Buonaccorso’s re sponse reveals a strikingly chivalric sentiment, for he claims to have told Ru pert, “a more glorious memory would survive me and more honor [would] reflect on my family if I were to die bearing arms in [your] service than if I were to be killed as an agent on my way to pick up funds.”45 This is impor tant because Buonaccorso clearly demonstrates a decidedly chivalric impulse
40. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 43; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 70. 41. Christopher Allmand, The Hundred Years War: England and France at War, 1300–1450 (1988; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 25, 95. 42. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 43: Pitti notes that he and his companions “were of a mind to follow [the king of France] to England”; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 71. 43. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 43–44; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 72. 44. For the larger context, see Brucker, Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, 176–79. 45. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 70–71; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 127.
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to assert and increase his honor through the profession of arms that he found to be far superior to the safer, but certainly less praiseworthy, task assigned to him by Rupert. In the end, he was forced to acquiesce at the emperor-elect’s insistence, but Buonaccorso writes with great pride that Rupert ennobled him and gave him the right to bear the golden lion from his own coat of arms in recompense for going to Florence as his agent and thus giving up the op portunity to win glory and honor on the battlefield.46 The poem that Buonaccorso composed to celebrate the occasion, which he recorded in his ricordanza, underscores the importance of this moment to the author: This current year of fourteen one, King Rupert, in his town of Trent, Decreed my scutcheon might henceforth present An armorial emblem of his own: The golden lion rampant and, thereon, Caused to be written in a document My brothers’ names and mine with his assent So each of us might bear the lion on His wavy field. Thence our privilege comes, With lasting patents of nobility, To bear this symbol bravely on our arms Wherever such heraldic emblems be Borne: here or in other realms, And to hold land from kings in fee. So, sons and brothers, nobly cultivate Virtue as befits our new estate.47 Buonaccorso clearly intimates that both he and his descendants will bear this new coat of arms on battlefields in Italy and abroad, suggesting a connec tion to the profession of arms that was central to his personal and familial identity. Moreover, their participation in the life of arms must be done with bravery and vigor, as befitted proper noblemen.
46. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 71–72: “Yet [Rupert] insisted that I go, saying: ‘You will serve me better by this journey than you could if you were to command a hundred lances in my service,’ and added, ‘Ask me whatever you want and it shall be yours.’ I said, ‘Sire, I am happy to go since such is your pleasure, but if I should be killed or captured what sign will my family have to show I died in your service?’ Then he said, ‘I will give you an emblem from my own coat of arms: the golden lion which you may include among your own armorial bearings. And I ennoble you and your brothers and your descendants’ ”; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 127–28. 47. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 71–72; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 129.
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Despite Buonaccorso’s extensive military service during the 1380s and 1390s, it was not until the first decade of the fifteenth century that he re cords an entry relating to military service on behalf of his native Florence. In 1402, Buonaccorso offered to initiate and command a military campaign aimed at preventing Paolo Guinigi, lord of Lucca (1400–1430), from attack ing Florence.48 When his offer was ostensibly met with some hesitation and resistance, Buonaccorso’s response was typically chivalric: if the Commune [of Florence] preferred not to assume overt respon sibility for this enterprise, they could let me proceed by myself. [They need only] discreetly convey enough money to me to raise 50 cavalry and 200 foot-soldiers and archers, and I would declare war and offer shelter to rebels and deserters from the other side. Should the Com mune wish to dissociate themselves more completely from my under taking, I was willing to let them banish me and imprison my wife and children.49 While Buonaccorso’s offer can rightly be interpreted as a desire to serve the Florentine commune militarily, it also highlights the sense of autonomy that was deeply entrenched in chivalric mentality, as well as a desire to win honor and praise through military enterprise. Buonaccorso’s proposed campaign never came to fruition, but he did take part in the Florentine campaign against the Pisans in May 1403.50 More spe cifically, he played an active part in the Florentine attack on Livorno in that year, leading fourteen mounted men-at-arms, ten of whom he personally funded, although this enterprise too ended in defeat.51 Buonaccorso de scribes the attack in his ricordanza, recalling the large number of skilled ar chers in the city and lamenting that even though the Florentines gave battle, “after a number of our men had been killed by crossbow bolts and artillery, [we] gave up and returned to Florence with little honor.”52 Despite the ig nominious end to this military enterprise, the Livorno campaign represents 48. Michael E. Bratchel, Medieval Lucca and the Evolution of the Renaissance State (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 121–43, examines Paolo Guinigi’s lordship. See also Christine Meek, Lucca, 1369–1400: Politics and Society in an Early Renaissance City-State (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), 333–43. 49. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 76–77; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 140. 50. Brucker, Civic World of Early Renaissance Florence, 202–8, and John Najemy, A History of Florence, 1200–1575 (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2008), 194–200, address the Florentine war against Pisa. 51. Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 145. Buonaccorso records that although he brought fourteen mounted men-at-arms, he received pay for only four: “Io v’ andai con XIIII. chavalli, ed ebbi il sal aro per quattro, ciò è f. II. d’ oro il dí.” 52. “The Diary of Buonaccorso Pitti,” 79; Cronica di Buonaccorso Pitti, 145.
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an important step in Buonaccorso’s cultivation of the profession of arms, because for the first time recorded in his ricordanza, he used his prowess and bravery in the service of Florence. Although Buonaccorso would continue to hold positions with military responsibilities in the Florentine territorial state throughout the remainder of his life, these events are not recounted with the same detail as those de scribed above. This does not, of course, mean that war was no longer central to his identity. Quite to the contrary, despite enduring many failures and spending considerable sums of money over his long career, he went on cam paign in France one last time in 1419 at the tender age of sixty-five. Thus, his continued cultivation of the profession of arms and participation in military campaigns both in Italy and abroad reinforces the assertion that chivalric practitioners like Buonaccorso saw war as central to their identities. Buonac corso Pitti was not simply a merchant or a professional gambler, although he did participate in activities related to both; he was first and foremost an elite warrior who cared deeply about his martial reputation and honor. The life of Buonaccorso di Neri Pitti represents an important case study of the continuity of chivalric ideas and action in late fourteenth- and early fif teenth-century Florence and Italy. Buonaccorso crafted for himself a chival ric identity centered on the profession of arms and the defense of personal honor through violence, which was very similar to that of many of his pre decessors. Unlike previous generations of chivalric practitioners, however, he demonstrated a shrewdness about when and where to practice honor violence, a form of chivalric action that was treated by the Florentine gov ernment as an assertion of autonomy and a threat to public order. Indeed, Buonaccorso engaged in this type of violence only during the considerable time he spent in exile and abroad, especially in the noble and royal courts of France, where the violent defense and assertion of honor were not only ac ceptable but expected. What did not change from previous generations was his vigorous and joyful cultivation of the profession of arms. The chivalric nature of Buonaccorso’s identity and lifestyle is all the more important because he was a member of the prominent Pitti lineage that had held high offices in the Florentine government for more than a cen tury and had made a considerable fortune through mercantile and banking enterprises. Although Buonaccorso engaged in trade and eventually settled in Florence to take up politics and establish himself as a cloth merchant, such mercantile activities did not define his identity, but rather served to support his chivalric lifestyle. As such, rather than following in the footsteps of many chivalric practitioners of earlier generations by moving between cultural communities during his lifetime, Buonaccorso represents a model of
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chivalric practitioner new to early Renaissance Florence, that of the strenu ous warrior who made careful and controlled use of violence to assert and defend his honor. In this way, he straddled the line between two cultural worlds, the chivalric and the civic-mercantile. As this book has shown, chivalric ideology exercised a powerful influence among a sizeable segment of the lay elite in late medieval Florence from the late twelfth through the early fifteenth century. This group formed a cultural community defined not by social appellations like the dignity of knighthood or legally recognized titles of nobility, but by adherence to a chivalric lifestyle centered on prowess (violence), honor, autonomy, and the profession of arms. Although the cultural community’s membership fluctuated over time, there was striking continuity among the core lineages, like the Adimari, Bu ondelmonti, Cavalcanti, Donati, Gianfigliazzi, Lamberti, Nerli, Pigli, Torna quinci, and Visdomini (della Tosa-Tosinghi), among others. This continuity was made possible in the face of dramatic political, so cial, economic, and cultural changes in Florence and its contado by chivalry’s practical and flexible nature. As a result, it is likely that Buonaccorso Pitti would have found much to agree upon with and admire about previous generations of chivalric practitioners, men like Buondelmonte dei Buondel monti (d. 1215), Tegghiaio Aldobrandi degli Adimari (d. 1266), Corso Do nati (d. 1308), Simone della Tosa (d. 1340–45), and Benghi dei Buondelmonti (d. 1381). For all of these men were chivalric warriors who believed that violence was a licit and praiseworthy means of defending and asserting their personal and collective honor and that the profession of arms was inherently honorable and ennobling. In other words, they were devotees of Mars, the god of war, under whose sign Florence was founded and in whose shadow Florentine chivalry was forged.
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In dex
Abati lineage, 11n42, 106, 109, 111
Francesco degli, 111
Migliore degli, 109
Acciaiuoli lineage, 11, 12, 61, 79, 182
Niccolò degli, 11n42, 12, 13n47, 61,
79, 182
Adimari
Alamanno di M. Boccaccio degli, 165,
168n153, 171n176
Alessandro di Bernardo degli, 163
Alessandro di M. Gherardo degli,
171n176
Antonio di Baldinaccio degli, 180
Adimari Archino degli, 186
Baldinaccio degli, 168
Bindo di M. Pepo degli, 168n153,
171n176
Bindo di M. Filippo degli, 165
Boccaccino degli, 160
Bonaccurso di Ubaldinaccio degli, 165
Cantino di M. Filippo degli, 165
Cantino di M. Guerre degli,
171n176, 175
Filigno degli, 34
Filigno di M. Goccie degli, 165
Filippo di M. Filigno degli, 160, 175
Filippo Giovanni degli, 185
Forese di Bonaccorso degli, 157–58
Francescho di M. Forese degli, 165
Gerardo di Maro di M. Giano di Adimaro
degli, 115
Geri di M. Uberto degli, 168n153
Gherardo degli, 165
Gherardo di M. Guerra degli, 163
Gherardo di Ser Grana degli, 168n153,
171n176
Giovanni di Jacobo Lambernardo degli,
115
Giovanni di M. Tedici degli, 173
Gozzo degli, 34
Guccio di M. Tedici degli, 167
Guido Benzi degli, 168n153, 171n176
Guido Bindaccio degli, 171n176
Guidoni Benzi di M. Lapo degli, 160
Guiduccio di M. Filippo degli, 165
Jacopo Lambernardo degli, 115
Jacopo Manni degli, 180
Lapaccino Benghi degli, 168n153
Lippo Filigno di M. Goccie degli, 165
Lotterio di M. Gianni degli, 160
Lotto di Manno degli, 171n176, 175
Manno degli, 161
Mari di M. Ianni Puzzafiera degli, 165
Nero di Jacobo Lambernardo degli, 115
Ottaviano di Ubaldinaccio degli, 165
Palla di M. Lottieri degli, 168n153
Ruggero Rubeo degli, 160
Talano di Capestro degli, 111
Talano di M. Boccaccio degli, 94,
168n153
Tedici degli, 60, 160
Tegghiaio Aldobrandi degli, 85, 12, 122,
170, 204
Tegghiaio di Aldobrandino degli, 152–53
Ubaldinaccio di M. Bindo degli, 165
Ubertino di Corso di M. Tano degli, 165
Ugoni degli, 180
Vanni Baldi degli, 180
Adimari lineage, 7, 12, 27, 149, 175,
179–80, 204
Altopascio and, 171
Angevin court in Naples and, 175
campaign against Henry VII and, 165
Campaldino campaign and, 160
Florentine-Pisan War and, 185–86
honor violence and, 34
internecine conflict and, 96
magnate status and, 11n42
Mastino della Scala and, 177
Montaperti campaign and, 152
Montecatini and, 167–68
social violence and, 106–7, 113
See also Cavicciuli lineage
Agli lineage, 111, 115
Antonio di Lotto degli, 111
Lapo degli, 115
223
224
Index
Agli lineage (continued)
Lotto di Simone degli, 111
Michele di Dugolto degli, 111
Albizzi lineage, 150, 183
Alighieri, Dante, 21, 25, 45, 119, 141
Aliotti lineage, 149, 153, 168
Bindo degli, 154
Forese di Albizo degli, 154
Lapo di Gherardo degli, 154
Neri Gioia di Gherardo degli, 154
See also Visdomini lineage
Altopascio, Battle of (1325), 101, 169–72 Amidei lineage, 11n42, 34, 57–58, 149
Arnoldo Tani degli, 108
See also Gherardini lineage
Arrigucci lineage, 11n42
antiknights, 4, 72
antimagnate laws, 9, 25, 148, 74n14, 86,
89n71, 148. See also Ordinances of Justice
Aristotle, 8, 124
Arthurian cycle, 19
Aurell, Martin, 21, 120
Bardi
Alessandro di M. Riccardo dei, 184
Andrea di Filippozzo dei, 179
Andrea di Gualtiero dei, 184, 185
Andrea di Tingo dei, 187
Bardo dei, 163, 168n155
Bardo Congiotti dei, 184
Bartolo di M. Jacopo dei, 163
Becco di Bonaguida dei, 58
Benghi dei, 160
Beno dei, 171n177
Bindello dei, 167
Bindo d’Andrea dei, 179
Cecco dei, 168n155
Colto Buonaguido dei, 168n155
Francesco dei, 109
Francesco Filippozzo dei, 184
Geri di Ricco dei, 155
Gerozzo dei, 173, 175, 176
Giovanni di M. Agnoli dei, 184
Giovanni Bonaiuti dei, 109
Giramonte Benghi dei, 184
Gualterotto dei, 168n155
Gugliata dei, 168n155, 171n177
Iacopo Francesco di Giovanni dei, 184
Ianno di M. Bardo dei, 184
Jacopo dei, 109
Lapaccio di M. Gualterotto dei,
167, 171n177
Neri dei, 160
Niccolò di Betto dei, 193, 194
Nuto dei, 167
Piero di M. Gualterotto dei, 171n177
Sandro Bartoli dei, 184
Simoncino di Corso dei, 163, 164n124,
168n155, 171n177
Sozzo di M. Piero dei, 179
Vanni di Bonaguida dei, 58
Vieri di Filipozzo dei, 111
Bardi lineage, 11, 12, 14, 194
conflict with the Popolo and, 181
internecine violence and, 34
military service and, 149, 155, 157n78,
167–68, 171, 184
Sacchetti novella and, 84
social violence and, 95, 107
Bellindote, Pallamidesse di, 19
biographies, chivalric, 4
Blanshei, Sarah, 3, 5, 8n30
Bogolesi lineage, 11n42
Bordoni lineage, 11, 34, 103
Geri dei, 103
Gherardo dei, 60
Bostichi Albizzo dei, 168n154 Alderotto dei, 168n154 Alessandro di M. Fortebracci dei, 168n154
Andrea Tani dei, 168n154
Buco dei, 65
Carsa Carsagnini dei, 167
Gherardo dei, 168n154
Giovanni Alessandro dei, 167
Giovanni di M. Gherardo dei, 167
Spada Petri dei, 156
Sperello di M. Pazzi dei, 168n154
Spinello di M. Pazzi dei, 168n154
Uberto Corticcioni dei, 168n154
Bostichi lineage
vengeance and, 65, 157n78
military service and, 149, 155, 164,
167–68, 171, 187
Bouchard, Constance, 20, 120
Brattö, Olaf, 19
Brienne, Walter of, Duke of Athens, 17n64,
18, 78, 173
Brunelleschi lineage, 11, 63, 64, 149, 168,
171, 177
Accamano dei, 185
Attaviano dei, 168n157, 170, 171n179
Beso di M. Betto dei, 168n157
Betto di Brunello dei, 63, 64
Bindo di Tieri dei, 171n179
Brunellesco dei, 168n157
Index Burnetto dei, 171n179
Filippo di M. Betto dei, 168n157
Francesco di M. Betto dei, 171n179, 175
Tieri dei, 165
Buoncambio, Aldebrandino di, 15
Buondelmonti
Benghi dei, 204
Buondelmonte dei, 7, 55–58, 204
Esaù dei, 12
Gino di M. Manetto dei, 112
Lotto di Lapo dei, 110
Niccolò dei, 186
Niccolo di Nosso dei, 114
Panocchierio di M. Monte dei, 111
Buondelmonti lineage, 7, 11n42, 12–13,
27, 204
honor violence and, 34, 56, 57n108
military service and, 79, 149, 184
Campaldino, Battle of (1289), 15, 41, 46n72,
70, 99–100, 144, 159–61,
175, 177
Caponsacchi lineage, 11n42, 34
Caravaggi, Lorenzo, 21, 120
Cardini, Franco, 3n7, 4–5, 20, 21, 72, 120
Cascina, Battle of (1364), 149, 183, 186–87
Castelnuovo, Guido, 5, 71n5
da Castiglione lineage, 11n42
Cavalcanti
Amadore Adimari Giamberti dei, 154
Amerigo di Giovanni dei, 182, 187
Bartolommeo di M. Guido dei, 168n157,
171n179
Bartolomeo Rossi dei, 185
Bernardo dei, 154
Bernardo “Pelagra” di Nerone dei, 109
Biancho dei, 160
Cantino di M. Tegghia dei, 167
Carlo Adimari dei, 158
Cavalcante dei, 159
Ciampolo di M. Cautini dei, 165
Gherardus dei, 154
Gherardo di M. Lapo dei, 168n157,
171n179
Giannozzo di M. Uberto dei, 168n157,
171n179, 174, 185
Guelfo dei, 160
Jacopo di Cante dei, 112
Lapo dei, 115
Lapo Valente dei, 154
Maruccio Gherardini dei, 167
Masino dei, 63
Matteo Malatesta dei, 167
Nerone dei, 109
225
Nerone di M. Bindo dei, 168n157,
171n179
Passiera dei, 63
Pieraccino Biagi dei, 186
Ranieri dei, 154
Rustico di Canto dei, 180
Sangallo Gianni Schichi dei, 154
Scolaio Rossi dei, 185
Scolario Adimari di Gianni Leti
dei, 154
Simonino Bamboli dei, 165
Uberto dei, 158
Cavalcanti lineage, 11n42, 12, 27, 204
conflict with Pazzi, 64
conflict with the Popolo and, 63
social violence and, 107, 113
military service and, 149, 153–54, 159,
167–68, 171, 174
Cavicciuli lineage, 94, 149, 152, 168, 181
Boccaccio dei, 60
See also Adimari lineage
Cerchi lineage, 11, 14–15, 29, 40–41, 43,
47–48, 64, 77, 97, 132n59
Giano dei, 15
Niccola dei, 28–29, 37, 39
Ricoverino dei, 15, 47–48, 64
Vieri dei, 14, 15, 162
Charlemagne, 18
chivalric lineages, 7, 9–10, 11–12,
14, 149
chivalric mentalité (mentality), 3, 16, 195
contrast with popolani mentality, 74
exile and, 191
military service and, 202
problems related to studying, 17, 18, 21,
29, 33–35, 108
sources for studying, 53, 69
unsuitability to civic society, 12
violence and, 54, 98, 104n136, 138,
141, 190
Cipriani lineage, 11n42, 149
civic ideology, 8, 12, 16–17, 23–24, 74–75,
80, 101, 189
civilizing process, 4, 25. See also Elias,
Norbert
Clarke, Paula, 17
Compiobbesi lineage, 11n42
Crimi, Erminia, 5
Crouch, David, 3
Davidsohn, Robert, 19, 164, 166
Diacciatti, Silvia, 5, 11, 14, 74, 146, 159
dishonor, 32, 35, 43–44, 49, 51–52, 58,
61–62, 66–69, 137, 193
226
Index
Donati
Aldebrandino di Buoncambio dei, 15
Aldobrandino dei, 184
Amerigo dei, 102
Amerigo di Corso dei, 169, 173
Apardo Nigromonte dei, 15
Banduccio dei, 15
Bartolomeo di Rainaldo dei, 112
Bellincione di Lapo dei, 171n175
Bonifacio di M. Donato dei, 184
Cenno dei, 184
Cherico di M. Martello dei, 171n175
Cogetto di Giovanni dei, 115
Corso di Messer Amerigo dei, 94–95
Corso di Simone dei, 158, 171n175
Donato dei, 171n175
Donato di Guelfo dei, 161
Donato di M. Mars(t)ello dei, 108,
171n175
Forese dei, 57
Forese di M. Amerigo dei, 179
Geri dei, 111
Geri Scalore dei, 171n175
Giacomo dei, 15
Gualdrada dei, 57
Guelfo dei, 171n175
Justo dei, 179
Manetto dei, 168n156
Manno dei, 181, 185, 187
Maso dei, 163, 168n156
Nero dei (del Galuzzo), 179
Niccolò dei, 168n156
Paccio dei, 182, 186
Pazzino dei, 106
Pietro di Forese dei, 15
Poggio dei, 186n278
Rossino dei (of Bibbiena), 182
Simone dei, 56
Simone di Corso dei, 28–29, 37, 39
Simone di Donato dei, 157
Simone Galastrone dei, 33
Sinibaldo di M. Amerigo dei,
171n175, 186
Stagio Corsi dei, 184
Tolosano dei, 15
Zurlo Scalore dei, 168n156, 171n175
Donati, Corso dei, 14, 43, 76–77, 104n135,
122, 204
conflict with the Popolo and, 97
death of, 59–60, 63–64, 103, 158
death of his son Simon and, 28–29
military service and, 41, 159–60, 162
violent behavior of, 33, 94, 113
Donati lineage, 7, 11n42, 12, 27, 57, 204
the Cerchi and, 14–15, 29, 40–41, 43,
47, 97
internecine conflict and, 96, 103
military service and, 149, 155, 168, 171,
179–82, 184
vengeance and, 64
donzelli, 4, 35, 36n28, 39–41, 50–52, 143
Elias, Norbert, 119–20. See also civilizing process
emotional community, 10, 17
emotions, 39, 43, 61, 66, 76–77, 122
anger, 29, 61n120, 66, 79n35 fear, 1, 14, 23, 24, 29, 32, 41, 43, 44, 48,
49, 55, 57, 59, 61, 67, 77, 85, 94, 96,
101, 102, 111, 122, 125, 135, 138
rage, 59, 87, 114, 195
shame, 52, 61, 84, 120
feditori, 15, 163, 167–68, 171, 174, 175
feud, 22, 29, 30, 31n12, 42, 192
Fifanti lineage, 7, 11n42, 34, 56–58
Oddo Arrighi dei, 56–58
Florentine-Pisan War (1362–64), 182–88
Foraboschi lineage, 149, 168, 171
Bindacchera dei, 168n158
Buttino dei, 171n180
Cece di M. Ormanno dei, 168n158
Filippo Tedeschi dei, 185
Frescobaldi
Agnolo di Geri dei, 179
Bindo di M. Tegghia dei, 167
Caroccio Angnoli dei, 185
Conte di M. Guido dei, 168n155,
171n176
Frescobaldo di M. Lapi dei, 168n155
Freseo dei, 160
Geno di Giovanni dei, 186
Geri di M. Bardo dei, 168n155, 171n176
Gherardo di M. Lippaccio dei, 171n176
Giovanni dei, 160
Guido di Barna dei, 171n176
Guido di Conte dei, 171n176
Guido di M. Paniccia dei, 168n155
Iacopo di M. Tegghia dei, 171n176
Ippolito dei, 15
Leonardo di Niccolò dei, 186
Manente di M. Guido dei, 168n155
Neri Lamberti dei, 156
Paniccia dei, 160
Peppo Bettini dei, 171n176
Simone di M. Betto dei, 167
Stoldo dei, 160
Tegghia dei, 102, 166, 168n155, 171n176
Index Frescobaldi lineage, 11, 12, 14, 15–16,
157n78
military service and, 149, 155,
167–68, 171, 181
social violence and, 107
Galigai lineage, 11n42
Gangalandi lineage, 11n42, 33n20, 34
Gherardini lineage, 11n42, 12, 95, 109, 112
Bernardino di Gherardino
dei, 104n139
Carlo di Baldovinetto dei, 95
Cece dei, 85
Lotteringo dei, 102
Luigi di Lottino dei, 112
See also Amidei lineage
Ghibellines, 7–8, 60, 63, 85, 160n95
conflict against the Primo Popolo and,
96, 99
exiles, 46, 102, 149
war against Florence, 32, 151–52, 156–58
Giandonati lineage, 11n42, 149
Gianfigliazzi lineage, 11n42, 27, 149,
167–68, 171, 204
Borracco Durantis dei, 167
Casaggio dei, 168n158, 171n178
Corrado dei, 165
Currado Gianni dei, 171n178
Falco dei, 185
Giovanni Rossi dei, 185
Luigi dei, 185
Neri Telli dei, 171n178
Niccolo Telli dei, 167
Piero fante di Corrado dei, 171n178
Rossellino dei, 167
Rossellino Vanni dei, 167
Rosso Zati dei, 167
Simone dei, 167
Vanno de Leccio dei, 167
Vanno Rossi dei, 168n158, 171n178
grandezza, 14n50, 45
grandi. See magnates
Guelf League, 159, 175, 176
Guelfs, 7–8, 60, 96, 102, 106
Black and White factions, 43, 63, 166
exiles and rebels, 164, 169
war and, 151, 156–59, 190n4
Guidi, Counts, 11n42, 114, 169n160
guild governments, 9. See also Primo
Popolo; Secondo Popolo
habitus, 3, 5
Herlihy, David, 19
Hohenstaufen imperial family, 8
227
honor and chivalry, 3–5, 7, 22–24, 73,
75–76, 86–87
horizontal honor, 22, 30
ideology, definition of, 2–3 Infangati lineage, 11n42 Jones, Philip J., 5, 16n59 juvenes, 4, 36n27 Kaeuper, Richard, 3–4, 10, 20, 42–43,
72–73, 107, 120, 139
and the demi-god prowess, 127
Keen, Maurice, 4, 5, 72
Klapisch-Zuber, Christiane, 12, 104–7,
113–14, 116, 141, 190
Lamberti lineage, 11n42, 27, 34, 57, 149, 204
Mosca dei, 58
Lansing, Carol, 5, 19, 36n28, 104, 107
Larner, John, 5
Libro di Montaperti, 19, 150–52, 155, 159
literacy (among the chivalric elite), 21
magnates, 9–11, 15, 26, 36n28, 71,
89n71–72, 119, 190
military service and, 169, 172
popolani attitudes toward, 78
reintegration of, 87n65, 97, 99,
194nn17–18
social violence and, 105, 106, 107n153,
110, 113, 114n201, 116, 141, 146
violence and, 46, 54n100, 68n154,
72, 97, 99
Malespini lineage, 11n42
Mannelli lineage, 34, 60
Tommasino dei, 60
Mars, Roman god of war, 1–4, 27,
80, 143, 204
statue of Mars, 46, 56
Matter of Britain, 18–20, 38
Matter of France, 18–20
Matter of Rome, 18–19
Mazzinghi lineage, 11, 34, 149, 153,
167–68, 171
Arrighetto di Mazzingo dei, 153
Bernarduccio dei, 168n159
Bindaccio dei, 153
Federigo di Ligo Arrighetto dei, 153
Ghersetto di Tegrimi dei, 153
Iacopo dei, 171n179
Jacopo Lapi dei, 182, 186
Lapo Azzi dei, 167
Lapo Malacode dei, 167, 171n179
228
Index
Mazzinghi lineage (continued)
Mazzetto dei, 153
Mazzingo di Ugolino dei, 153
Pinuccio di M. Dorelli dei, 171n179
Simone Roggerini dei, 171n179
Tegrimo di Bernardo dei, 153
Totto dei (da Campi), 94
Medici lineage, 11, 112, 150
Averardo di Francesco dei, 112
Bartolomeo di M. Alamanno dei,
106n147 Francesco di Bicci dei, 112
Migliorelli lineage, 11n42
milizia, 11, 146, 149
Montaperti, Battle of (1260), 19, 26, 149,
151–57, 171–72, 177
Montecatini, Battle of (1315), 167–71, 174,
176–77
Najemy, John, 5, 93n88, 95
civilizing process and, 4, 119
Nerli
Albizzello dei, 154
Albizino dei, 167n146
Aveduto dei, 154
Baldino di Berto dei, 163, 168n157,
171n180
Bonifatio di M. Alcampo dei, 167
Brunetto dei, 154
Canto di Gherardo dei, 155
Cecco Ventuglio dei, 167, 168n157
Coppo di Nerlo dei, 168n157, 171n180
Duccio Goccia dei, 167
Francesco di Vantugio dei, 168n157
Mannolo dei, 115
Ruggiero Guemacci dei, 186
Vantuscio di M. Cavalcantis dei, 160
Ventura dei, 154
Nerli lineage, 11n42, 12, 27, 34, 204
Altopascio and, 171
military service and, 149
Montaperti and, 154
Montecatini and, 167–68
restoration in 1343 of, 178
Olson, Kristina, 21, 120
Orafo, Orlanduccio, 19
Ordinances of Justice, 89n71, 97
archival records of, 104
military service and, 101, 148, 169, 177
promulgation of, 9, 73, 86–87
ordo militum, 78, 132
Parte Guelfa, 41–42, 102, 105–6, 190n4 Pazzi
Beltranio dei, 115
Jacopo del fu Francesco dei, 115
Pazzino di Iacopo dei (d. 1312), 63–64,
103, 163n111
Rainero di Acconte dei, 111
Rinieri dei, 173
Pazzi lineage, 11n42, 12, 14, 34, 149
death of Corso Donati and, 103
internecine conflict and, 96
vengeance and, 63–64
Pigli
Biagio Lapi dei, 168n155
Catalano di M. Odarighi dei, 171n178
Cresci di M. Folchetto dei, 165
Durante Torelli dei, 167, 171n178
Gaetano dei, 167
Gaetano Bonelle dei, 168n155
Giovanni Bingeri dei, 168n155
Giovanni di M. Teste dei, 168n155
Guatano Odarighi dei, 168n155, 171n178
Lapo Geri dei, 178
Lotto dei, 165
Maffio di M. Canto dei, 185
Meo Rinaldi dei, 171n178
Neri Ghini Marabottini dei, 168n155
Roberto Benelle dei, 178
Torello di M. Neri dei, 171n178
Ugo di M. Folchetto dei, 156
Pigli lineage, 11n42, 27, 149, 204
Altopascio and, 171
Montaperti and, 155
Montecatini and, 167–68
restoration to Florence in 1343 of, 178
Pitti, Buonaccorso di Nero, 12, 27, 142, 145,
189–204
Poggio Santa Cecilia, siege of (1285), 159
Ponte Vecchio, 1, 46, 56
popolani/popolo, 11, 25, 63n130, 76, 95, 103,
104, 178
violence and, 97, 100, 102, 106–7, 116,
181, 194n18
popolo grasso, 8–13, 99, 190
chivalric violence and, 118
chivalry and, 130, 136
civic ideology and, 16, 81, 83
military service and, 147, 172, 184
reform and, 128, 132
popolo minuto, 9, 23
Primo Popolo (1250–1260), 9, 24, 93, 96, 99,
147, 152
Prose Tristan, 19
prowess, 76
link with dishonor and shame,
48, 50, 52
link with honor, 10, 27, 36, 38
Index link with justice, 74, 88–93
link with nobility, 37, 79, 81–83
military service and, 144, 157, 174, 188,
190n4, 203–4
reform and, 122, 126–27, 129–30, 133–40
social violence and, 103, 116
Pulci lineage, 11, 179
Felliccia di Bindo dei, 179n236
Giovanni di Guelfo dei, 109
Scolaio di Doffo dei, 179n236
Roland, Song of, 18–19, 135
Rose, Colin, 119n1
Rosenwein, Barbara, 10, 17
Rossi (Rubeis) lineage, 11n42, 34, 102, 107,
110, 112
Fornaino del Rosso dei, 60
Lotto di M. Fornaio dei, 110
Regino di M. Ugholino dei, 108
Rosso dei, 103
Simone di M. Porcello dei, 112
lineage of Parma, 176
Marsilio dei, 176
Orlando dei, 176
Sacchetti lineage, 11n42
Sacchetti, Franco, 2n4, 83–84
Trecentonovelle and, 83
Santa Trinità, 15, 40, 47
Scali lineage, 11, 106, 149, 157n78, 168,
172, 178
Agnolo Lapi degli, 179
Dante degli, 168
Guelfo di M. Dante degli, 178
Manetto degli, 160
Niccolò Filippo degli, 185
Simone Lapi degli, 179
Ugo degli, 173
Scolari lineage, 11n42, 34, 149
Secondo Popolo (1293), 9, 24–25, 97, 147
shame (condition), 23, 32, 42, 48, 49, 52, 57,
58, 61, 62, 69
Sizi lineage, 11n42
società di torre, 6
societas militum, 6
Soldanieri lineage, 11n42
da Sommaia lineage, 11n42
Spini lineage, 11, 149, 164, 167–68, 171,
178, 184
Anigho Vanni degli, 184
Bruno di M. Filippo degli, 167
Degho Doffi degli, 184
Doffo di Lapo degli, 168, 171n180
Filippo degli, 167
Geri degli, 163n111, 168
229
Gianni degli, 167
Giovanni Scolaio degli, 184
Guglielmino degli, 168
Henrici degli, 183
Jacopo Doffi degli, 184
Lapo degli, 168
Mino di M. Manetto degli, 168, 171n180 Nepo Doffi degli, 184
Piero degli, 168
Spina degli, 167n149 Vanni di M. Manetto degli, 171n180
Strinati, Neri degli, 14, 78
Strozzi lineage, 106, 150
Francesco di Sanza degli, 111
Nofri degli, 106
Pagnozzino di Pagnozzo degli, 106
Tedaldini lineage, 11n42
tenzone, 19
Tornaquinci
Attaviano di Messer Testa dei, 106
Baldera di M. Gianni dei, 152
Betto di Lottero dei, 152
Biaggio dei, 167, 171n177, 173
Bindo Bingeri dei, 167
Binghiero dei, 171n177
Brunetto di Lottero dei, 151
Cardinale Marabottini dei, 152
Cardinale di Pacci Manetti dei, 171n177
Cardinale di M. Ugolino dei, 168n154
Cecco del Palota dei, 168n154
Cipriano di Lottero dei, 152
Domenico dei, 115
Duccio di Lottero dei, 152
Follia di M. Iacobo dei, 152
Francesco Bernardi dei, 179
Gieri di Iacobo dei, 152
Gherardo Ventraia dei, 159, 163, 171n177
Giachinotto di M. Neri dei, 167
Giano dei, 151
Gianni di M. Testa dei, 168n154, 171n177
Giovanni di Bingeri dei, 168n154
Giovanni di Cipriano dei, 110
Iacobo dei, 152
Iacopo del Teghia dei, 168n154
Lotto di M. Ugolino dei, 152
Lutero di Iacopo dei, 152
Musino di Manetto dei, 106, 179
Nato di Gianni dei, 152
Neri Ghini Marabottini dei, 168n154,
171n177
Ottaviano di M. Teste dei, 111
Piero Bernardi dei, 167, 171n177
Quinci di Sinibaldo dei, 152
Sinibaldo dei, 151
230
Index
Tornaquinci (continued)
Soldo di Gianni dei, 152
Tegghio dei, 162
Tero di M. Iacobo dei, 152
Testa di Giani dei, 152
Ugo dell’Aggeggia dei, 168n154
Ugolino dei, 168n154
Zandonato Giovanni dei, 152
Tornaquinci lineage, 7, 11n42, 12, 27,
149, 204
Altopascio and, 171
conflict with the Popolo in 1303
and, 101
military service and, 187
Montaperti and, 151–52
Montecatini and, 167–68
della Tosa
Arrigho di M. Gottifredo, 160
Baldo, 34, 98
Bartolomeo di Masoppino, 160
Baschiera di Bindo, 41, 157, 160,
165, 185
Bellingiordo, 160
Biligiardo, 185
Bindo di Baschiera, 157, 160
Cherico di M. Fastello, 168n153, 170n174
Ciampo di M. Pino, 170n174
Davizzo di M. Bellisardo, 160, 170n174
Donato di Bindo dei, 168n153, 170n174
Fizzuccio, 170n174
Francesco, 160
Giovanni di M. Rosso, 170n174,
173–76, 181
Gottifredo di M. Rosso, 163, 168n153,
170n174
Guido di Baschiera, 160
Lodovico di M. Bindo, 185
Nepo, 170n174
Odaldo, 34, 161, 168n153, 170-n174
Paolo di Nero, 168n153, 170n174
Pino, 160, 165, 169, 170n174, 173,
175, 176
Pinuccio, 168n153, 170n174
Rodolfo, 168n153
Rossellino, 34
Rosso, 34, 167, 170n174
Rosso di M. Giovanni, 179, 185
Simone di Baldo, 160n95, 163,
175–76, 204
Tanuccio, 170n174
della Tosa lineage, 11n42, 27, 149, 184, 204
Altopascio and, 170
Campaldino and, 160
internecine conflict among, 42
Montaperti and, 155
Montecatini and, 167–68
return from exile of, 178
social violence and, 113–14
See also Tosinghi lineage
Tosinghi
Bastione Franceschini, 186
Bernardo dei, 111–12
Domenico di M. Rico, 179
Niccolò di Scolaio, 168n153
Paolo di Nepo, 168n153
Talano di Guittomanno dei, 165
Tosinghi lineage, 27, 96, 106, 149, 204
Altopascio and, 170
Mastino della Scala and, 178
Montaperti and, 155
Montecatini and, 167
See also della Tosa lineage
tower societies, 6
Tristano Riccardiano, 20, 36, 50, 53, 54, 61,
82, 89–92
Tristano Panciatichiano, 20, 50, 54, 61, 66,
68, 81, 93
Ubaldini lineage, 102, 114, 166, 177
Ugolino di Tano degli, 102
Uberti
Farinata degli, 32, 122
Iacopo di Schiatta degli, 56
Neri Piccolino degli, 56n108
Schiatta degli, 56n108
Tosolato degli, 94
Uberto Caini degli, 93
Uberti lineage, 7, 11n42, 34, 144, 149
conflict with Buondelmonte and, 57
conspiracy against Florence of, 93, 96
return to Florence in 1304 of, 63
Ubriachi lineage, 11n42
Vecchietti lineage, 11n42, 149, 155,
168, 184
Durazzo di M. Guidalotto dei, 155
Filippo di Iacopo dei, 155
Lapo di Bernardo dei, 155
Marsilio di Bernardo dei, 155
Neri dei, 168n159
vendetta, 22, 44, 51, 60, 138n75, 192
chivalric ideas about, 53–54, 75n19
historical vendettas, 58, 60, 63–65
laws and, 30, 52
Index proportional nature of, 31nn12–13
and public welfare, 17n63
reforming the practice of, 128, 134
vertical honor, 24, 73
Vigueur, Jean-Claude Maire, 5, 7n21, 73, 145
Visdomini
Canciozzo dei, 171n179
Filippo dei, 154
Gherardo dei, 168n156, 171n179
Giovanni dei, 180
Lorenzo Banchi dei, 171n179
Lorenzo di M. Simone dei, 112
Lotto di Lapo di M. Neri Gioia dei,
168n156
231
Metto di M. Neri Gioia dei, 168n156
Piero di M. Gaio dei, 168n156, 171n179
Tedici Aliotti dei, 154
Tico dei, 160
Ugolino Aldobrandino Romeo dei, 154
Visdomini lineage, 7, 11n42, 12, 27, 149,
187, 204
Altopascio and, 171
Montaperti and, 153–54
Montecatini and, 168
See also Aliotti lineage
da Volognano lineage, 11n42
Witt, Ronald, 5, 19, 21, 120