The Life of

Castruccio Castracani

The Life of

Castruccio Castracani

Niccolò Machiavelli

Translated by Andrew Brown

ALMA CLASSICS

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The Life of Castruccio Castracani first published in Italian in 1520;

Florentine Histories first published in Italian in 1525.

This translation first published by Hesperus Press Limited in 2003;

this revised edition first published by Alma Classics in 2020

Translation, Introduction and Notes © Andrew Brown, 2003, 2020

Cover design by Will Dady

Printed in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY

ISBN: 978-1-84749-832-8

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not be resold, lent, hired out or otherwise circulated without the express prior consent of the publisher.

Contents

The Life of Castruccio Castracani

Introduction

The Life of Castruccio Castracani

Extract from the Florentine Histories

Note on the Text

Notes

The Life of

Castruccio Castracani

Introduction

Nietzsche, the philosopher of the will to power, whose admiration for Machiavelli comes as no surprise, complained how difficult it was to capture the Italian’s style in German. “How could the German language [...] imitate the tempo of Machiavelli, who in his Prince allows us to breathe in the fine, dry air of Florence and cannot hold back from presenting the most serious affairs in an unrestrained allegrissimo, not perhaps without a malicious artistic sense of the contradiction he is risking – thoughts that are long, heavy, hard and dangerous, conveyed at the tempo of a gallop and with the most mischievous sense of humour” (Beyond Good and Evil, Section 28).

Nietzsche loved the Italian language, to which he remained, in practical terms, a relative outsider. He strewed his own writings with Italian tags, and tried to capture for German something of the brio of the southern language as he perceived it. This was quite a challenge given that, even more than the French of his beloved moralistes and Stendhal, Italian was for him the anti-Teutonic language par excellence. German is heavy, contorted, pedestrian, lumbering, serious, Hegelian; Italian is light, direct, skipping, dancing, mocking – Machiavellian.

His observations here have as much to do with his penchant for berating his fellow Germans as with the inherent qualities of Machiavelli’s prose. Whether in The Prince, or the Discourses, or the Florentine Histories, or even the short Life of Castruccio Castracani, it is doubtful whether “allegrissimo” is the right word for Machiavelli’s tempo. His Italian is concise, epigrammatic and dry, but it cannot be read quickly. The sentence structures can be as involved and hypotactic as in much German writing; the plethora of vowels slows the voice (or the inner voice) down to something closer to an andante moderato; the exposition is (apart from flights of passion such as the appeal for Italian unification at the end of The Prince) couched in the calm tones of precise analysis. Through the divisions and subdivisions of regime classification in The Prince, or the insistence on causal chains in the career of Castruccio (“seeing that”, “because of”, “in order that”, “for fear of”), one can hear the pad of an alert, wary, gleaming-eyed feline. Italian can sound both airy and orotund, deliberate and ironic, passionate (grand opera: “Nessun dorma!”) and mouth-wateringly sensuous (mascarpone, fettuccine, zabaglione). In his theoretical and historical works, Machiavelli employs all these registers, except perhaps the last (as Nietzsche says, he is “dry”), but he also imposes a Latinate rhetoric – a love of balance and antithesis, the use of chiasmus, a reliance on the personification of abstractions such as Fortune – onto his sentences.

The stylistic “dryness” may at times result in a perceived disjunction between the (to his contemporaries) often hair-raising subversiveness of what he was doing – namely, attempting to undermine a millennium and a half of Christian teaching on the nature of moral life, especially in so far as it relates to politics – and the debonair way he put his message forward. Machiavelli is not to be read quickly (and it is worth remembering that Nietzsche was a great advocate of slow reading, in any language). He believed his Prince, or any political leader, should wait for the right moment for action, and not be overhasty or impulsive; his style, too, has, for all the provocation of the subject matter, a cautious disposition, arranging its words with the care of a military tactician. (This can be captured only approximately in English, which conducts its syntactic campaigns in accordance with different rules.) And it is not just a matter of word order. Machiavelli was convinced that, wherever we go, we need to be on our guard against false friends. Castruccio, his warlord hero, was exemplary in his awareness of the prevalence of treachery in public affairs. He shows no compunction at breaking his word; if he does not, others will, and he will be eliminated – hence the need for a pre-emptive strike. Words change (“stato” – state, or status?… the word was mutating), and so do human affairs; so, be adaptable. Politics is full of false friends; so, too, is language. Machiavelli himself focuses on how people use lofty language to conceal self-serving ends – this is a skill which his Prince must deliberately adopt. And Machiavelli himself tests to breaking-point the terms of ethical discourse he has inherited, most notoriously the word which, more than most, lies at the very foundation of all moral discourse: the word virtù (virtue).

If we look at some of the dozen or more examples of Machiavelli’s use of this word in The Life of Castruccio Castracani, we gain a sense of the constellation of meanings that it comprises. The young Castruccio, good at athletics and all the arts that would make him a successful warrior, shows virtù of mind and body. Messer Francesco of Pisa is exemplary in wealth, grace and virtù. It is soon obvious that virtù does not denote Christian virtue, or, if it does, the term is being used with an elasticity that is exhilarating and perplexing, even if we accept that any definition of virtue is going to be fuzzy, problematic, endlessly revisable (that, after all, is what moral philosophy is all about). For Machiavelli, the notion of virtù draws on the Latin virtus – it refers to the qualities of a man (vir). Its etymology need not as such condemn it to an exclusively masculinist fate; still, virtù in Machiavelli is often the quality that needs to be shown by a soldier. At one point in the Life, Castruccio’s enemies flee without having been able to show their virtù. Later on, we are told that certain men in battle resist their opponents not out of virtù but out of mere tenacity. So virtù cannot be mere unthinking bravery: it involves a certain intelligence, too – the ability to seize the way things are going and take advantage of them. (Sometimes Machiavelli uses the word industria to denote a quality that can help virtù along: industria is industry and diligence, but also astuteness, alertness, cunning.)

Virtù is to some extent context-dependent – it covers actions and dispositions that are “spirited”, especially “public-spirited”, “showing initiative”, “skilful”, “astute”, “manly”, “brave” (physically and morally). It can be a magic word, converting deeds that are “bad” by traditional moral standards (breaking one’s word) into “good” deeds (those which preserve your state or your status). It occurs in extraordinary conjunctions: Cesare Borgia, in The Prince, shows “tanta ferocia e tanta virtù”. Even though the word “ferocia” here may also be employed idiosyncratically, implying something more like “independence”, there is a sense in which Machiavelli’s provocation is best captured by a straightforward translation so that Borgia becomes an example of “ferocity and virtue”. Why not? (As Nietzsche put it: “Cesare Borgia for Pope!”) A Machiavellian translator may seem to be falling prey to the wiles of linguistic false friends, but sometimes he is only pretending to have been duped.

And yet there are limits to the semantic range covered by virtù: it is not quite what the French writer Roland Barthes called a “mot-mana”, a “mana word” or floating signifier, a stellar cluster of diffuse but numinous meanings. Discussing (again in The Prince) the tyrant of Syracuse, Agathocles (361–289 BC), Machiavelli catalogues his meteoric rise to power and the violent and cruel acts he committed in holding on to it. A fine exemplar of Machiavellian virtù? No: Machiavelli comments laconically that it cannot be called virtù “to slaughter your citizens, to betray your friends, to be without faith, without pity [or piety: pietà], without religion”. And yet, even after this disavowal, Machiavelli still refers to the virtù of Agathocles, one of the greatest captains and most spirited of leaders, and a source of some of the anecdotes Machiavelli attributes to Castruccio – he merely comments that the cruelties of Agathocles debar him from the very highest rank.

Occasionally Machiavelli seems to be systematizing virtù. He does this by setting it in a binary opposition with Fortune. Castruccio’s career, for instance, is dominated by virtù and Fortune; we know from Machiavelli’s other writings that he viewed the first of these as more virile, the second as feminine (i.e. capricious). But this bit of stereotyping at least led to the possibility of a kind of amorous tussle between the two; a man could use his virtù to seduce Fortune – impose his will, albeit never definitively, on a recalcitrant and ultimately inscrutable goddess, so that she would shower him with her favours. Castruccio slyly comments (quite apocryphally – most of the aphorisms and adages attributed to him by Machiavelli at the end of the Life are in fact taken wholesale from Diogenes Laertius’s Lives of the Philosophers) that God loves the strong, since He uses them to punish the weak. (This is not so very subversive: in the Old Testament, God uses strong kings to punish an Israel enfeebled because of its sins.) Machiavelli certainly suggested that Fortune favours the bold – or, at least, that she likes a man who can master her. But although Castruccio himself enjoys her favours for a while, he loses them – ironically enough, thanks to the very same Florentine climate Nietzsche found so bracing. On his deathbed, he confesses that he has not been clever enough to understand Fortune’s vagaries, and she has left him with insufficient time to remedy that deficiency with a show of virtù.

So, how should virtù be translated? It covers so many Machiavellian meanings while also drawing on, and not entirely annulling, the many meanings of “virtue” in the medieval Thomist-Aristotelian tradition. It is noteworthy that the word “virtue” does not appear at all frequently in the Bible itself. This is partly because its semantic range is covered by other words, such as “goodness”. But it could also be because, as Machiavelli at times suggests, there may not, in fact, be a specifically Christian doctrine of virtue at all. Christianity may be a religion that enjoins us to be “good”, or even perfect, as our Father in heaven is perfect, but this does not mean “virtuous”. It is as difficult to find an English equivalent for virtù as it is to translate, say, arete in the Greek of Plato and Aristotle, or the Confucian concept of ren (roughly, “humanity” or “kindness”). I was tempted to leave it untranslated, as virtù, to preserve some of the strangeness: but it is even more estranging to be reminded that “virtue” is not necessarily at home in any language, and so, wherever Machiavelli writes “virtù”, I have put “virtue”. I leave it to Fortune to decide whether this fiat (rather minor, after all, and not particularly princely) will have the moral effect that Machiavelli’s terminology certainly does: making us reflect critically on our (and his) ethical vocabulary.

The Life of Castruccio Castracani is indeed best seen as an altogether experimental piece of work. It was composed, in fact, as a dry run for the Florentine Histories, the section of which relating to Castruccio is included in the present translation (and which paints a rather different portrait of the warrior hero, at times in flat contradiction with the Life). Its dedicatees were friends of Machiavelli’s (they all met in the gardens of the Rucellai family to discuss contemporary affairs and political philosophy), and they seem to have been a little perplexed at the gift. For one thing, the Life gives an account of Castruccio’s itinerary that is so different from the historical realities as to constitute a fiction. The story of Castruccio being found, almost like Moses, in a clump of bushes, seems to be pure invention; we hear nothing of the real Castruccio’s mercantile career and his travels to, among other places, England; and the account of his death – according to Machiavelli a result of the exhaustion of battle and the cold breezes of the Arno – is largely made up. The deathbed oration and the “adages” attributed to Castruccio are likewise apocryphal, the first being a set-piece example of classical-Renaissance rhetoric, the second being lifted from much earlier sources. Machiavelli stated that his Prince should read and imitate the Greats: Alexander imitated Achilles and was in turn imitated by Caesar, so that the chain of emulation begins with a character from myth. And Machiavelli’s heroes, as set out in Chapter 6 of The Prince, include Moses, Cyrus, Romulus and Theseus – all of them (with the exception of Cyrus) characters of doubtful historicity. Perhaps the “Prince” is a regulatory fiction: he must ideally be someone who creates fictions in order to achieve very real ends; he must be a great “simulatore e dissimulatore” (The Prince, Chapter 18), able to pretend to be what he is not. (Some have seen an interesting, if teasing, theological parallel here: the Prince is a creator, beyond good and evil, who exists in a state of permanent irony with his creation, the State, in which he is made manifest, but behind which he conceals himself, so as never to be exhausted by his acts of self-disclosure…) Although Castruccio has many princely qualities for Machiavelli, he is made to recognize his limits: on his deathbed he points out how he made too many mistakes, and is leaving his heir with an overextended and weakened state. But he has been a good dissimulator, and Machiavelli, who has seen through the dissimulations, has in turn made of him a good fiction. What do we make of him, now, in the age of the charming, thuggish mafiosi of Scorsese and Coppola, or the warlords locked in quasi-Renaissance power struggles in so many parts of the world? A fiction such as The Life of Castruccio Castracani is as good a place as any to explore our conflicting moral feelings about the good things in life and how to rank them in some sort of hierarchy. The extract chosen from the Florentine Histories ends, fortuitously but tellingly, with the haunting image of Giotto’s campanile for Santa Reparata (the cathedral of Florence, rebuilt as Santa Maria del Fiore), floating serenely, as it were, above the great flood of 1333 and the carnage of the everlasting internecine wars that plagued medieval and Renaissance Italy. It is sobering to consider how the beauty of the tower on the one hand, and the civic strife that bloodied the streets below it on the other, are related.

Is Machiavelli still radical? In some ways, he has become the victim of his own success. Far from being subversive, he seems obvious – the self-evident theorist of realpolitik, and thus the predictable bedtime reading of the last century’s worst tyrants. This success is attributable to his sheer skill, no doubt, as well as to the (for him) lucky fact that many of his tenets have become enshrined in modernity, albeit in disguise – Nietzschean, or Darwinian, or even Freudian. But which is the real Prince – the embattled ego, struggling to impose itself on a slippery world, or the unconscious that is working behind the scenes for its own ends?

Machiavelli’s success, in other words, is due to the operations of virtù and Fortune, which together have given him his elevated status as a “Prince” of political theory, and the commonsensical spokesman of an age (his and our own) in which a pre-emptive strike can seem a tactical necessity. But surely more challenging (to the point of seeming quite unfeasible?) would be the qualified pacificism of that arch-moderate (and anti-Machiavellian par excellence), Erasmus. Dulce bellum inexpertis, ran one of Erasmus’s adages: “War Is Sweet to Those Who Know It Not”. Erasmus, too, denied some aspects of traditional Christian teaching, such as the Augustinian theory of the “just war” – he even claimed that a prince who cannot defend his realm without violating justice should simply give it up, as it is better to be a just man than an unjust prince. Machiavelli would have retorted that a prince who abandons “his” country is not acting out of virtù – and in one sense, Erasmus is merely reverting to Christian other-worldliness (or anticipating Kantian moral purism): “my kingdom is not of this world”. Might it be Erasmus who is “radical” here, not his diabolical Italian cousin, always prepared to compromise with “the way men really are” rather than what they might be? But any outright rejection of Machiavelli runs the risk of ignoring those imperfections of the world as it is: imperfections which, when ignored, remain intractable. And Machiavelli’s writings show clearly how all politics must pay wary respect to at least one particular prince, the figure recognized by an earlier, equally ironical and equally shrewd observer of human life (see John 16:11) as “the prince of this world”.

– Andrew Brown, 2020

The Life of

Castruccio Castracani

DE AREST ZANOBI AND LUIGI:[*] to anyone who considers the matter, it appears quite amazing that all of those (or at least the greater part of them) who have achieved outstanding things in this world, and distinguished themselves from among their contemporaries, have been of humble birth, springing from low and obscure circumstances, or else have suffered to an unusual degree from the travails of Fortune; all of them, indeed, have been exposed to wild beasts, or have had such humble fathers that, feeling ashamed of them, they have made themselves out to be sons of Jupiter or some other god. To list them again would – since many of their names are familiar to everyone – be tedious and undesirable to the reader, so I will omit them as superfluous. I firmly believe that this is the result of the way Fortune, wishing to demonstrate to the world that it is she who makes men great, and not Prudence, begins to show her powers at a time when Prudence can play no part at all, so that Fortune can take the credit for everything.

Castruccio Castracani of Lucca, then, was one of these men; given the times in which he lived and the city in which he was born, his achievements were outstanding, and, just like the others, he sprang from circumstances that were neither favourable nor distinguished, as I intend to show in reflecting on the course of his life. I thought it worthwhile to recall his career to the memory of men, since it seemed to me that I had discovered many things in it, regarding both virtue and Fortune, that are quite exemplary. And I decided to address it to you two, as you are men who, more than any other of my acquaintances, take delight in the actions of virtue.

So, then, the Castracani family is counted among the noble families of the city of Lucca, although these days it has, following the laws to which all worldly affairs are subject, faded away. Into this family was born a certain Antonio, who, having taken holy orders, was made canon of the church of San Michele in Lucca, and as a mark of respect was called Messer Antonio. He had no close relatives apart from a sister, whom he soon married off to Buonaccorso Cennami; but when Buonaccorso died and she was left a widow, she returned to live with her brother, having decided not to remarry.

Behind the house where he lived, Messer Antonio had a vineyard which could be reached without much difficulty, since it had gardens on every side. It so happened that, one day shortly after sunrise, Madonna Dianora (this was the name of Messer Antonio’s sister) was taking a walk through the vineyard, gathering, as is the custom of women, various herbs to make some of her seasonings, when she heard a rustling noise from under the vine leaves, and, turning round to look in that direction, she heard a sound like someone crying. She went over to where the noise was coming from and uncovered the hands and face of a baby boy who was surrounded by the leaves and seemed to be asking her for help. So, half amazed and half dismayed, filled with compassion and wonder, she picked him up and, when she had taken him home, washed him and, wrapping him in white swaddling-clothes, as is the custom, she presented him to Messer Antonio on his return home. He, in turn, on hearing what had happened and seeing the boy, was no less filled with amazement and pity than the lady had been: they discussed between themselves what they ought to do, and decided to bring him up, since he was a priest and she had no children. So they took a nurse into their home, and cared for him with as much love as if he had been their own son; and when they had him baptized, they gave him the name Castruccio, after their father.

Castruccio grew more graceful with every year, and in all things he showed intelligence and prudence; and at every age he quickly learnt the things that Messer Antonio taught him. Antonio intended to make him a priest and, in time, hand over his canonry and his other benefices to him, so he trained him up with this aim in view. But in the boy he had found someone with a mind totally lacking in any predisposition for the priesthood; as soon as Castruccio reached the age of fourteen and started to be less in thrall to Messer Antonio, and to be quite unafraid of Madonna Dianora, he laid aside his books dealing with churchly matters and started to occupy himself with weapons; and now the only thing that he took pleasure in was either handling them, or else running, jumping, wrestling and doing similar exercises with his companions. In all these pursuits he showed the greatest virtue of mind and body, and far surpassed all the other boys of his own age. And if he did chance to pick up a book, the only things he liked reading about were accounts of war or the deeds of outstanding men; and all this gave Messer Antonio immeasurable dismay and distress.

There was in the city of Lucca a nobleman of the Guinigi family, called Messer Francesco, who in wealth and grace and virtue far surpassed all the other people of Lucca. His trade was war, and he had long served as a soldier under the Viscontis of Milan; and as he was a Ghibelline, he was esteemed above all the others who followed that party in Lucca.[*] While he was in Lucca, where morning and evening he joined the other citizens under the loggia of the podestà,[*] which is at the top end of the Piazza di San Michele, the principal square in Lucca, he several times saw Castruccio with the other boys from his district engaged in those exercises I mentioned above; and since it appeared to him that, as well as surpassing them all, Castruccio had a regal authority over them, and that in a certain way they loved and revered him, he became greatly desirous of finding out his identity. When he learnt from the bystanders who the boy was, he was impelled by an even more ardent desire to take him into his service. And one day, having summoned him, he asked him where he would rather live – in the house of a nobleman who would teach him how to ride and handle weapons, or in the house of a priest where he would only ever hear holy offices and masses. Messer Francesco noted how Castruccio’s face lit up when he heard horses and weapons being mentioned; but the boy was a little hesitant, and when Messer Francesco encouraged him to speak, he replied that, if his guardian agreed, he could not think of anything more attractive than the idea of leaving the profession of a priest and taking up that of a soldier. Messer Francesco was greatly pleased by this answer, and just a few days later he managed to get Messer Antonio to hand the boy over to him, impelled above every other consideration by the boy’s nature, which led him to conclude that he would be unable to keep him for long in his present state.

So it was that Castruccio went from the house of Messer Antonio Castracani the canon to the house of Messer Francesco Guinigi the condottiere;[*] it is extraordinary to think in what a short time he fully demonstrated all those kinds of virtue and all those dispositions that are necessary in a true nobleman. Firstly, he managed to become an excellent horseman, able to handle the most fiery steed with the greatest dexterity: and in jousts and tournaments, even though still just a young lad, he distinguished himself more than any of the others – to such an extent, indeed, that in every activity that required strength or skill there was no man who could surpass him. In addition to these accomplishments, his manners demonstrated an inestimable modesty; he was never seen to do a single thing or say a single word which could cause offence, and he was respectful to his elders, modest with his peers and courteous to his inferiors. All this made not only the whole Guinigi family, but the whole city of Lucca love him.

It so happened that, when Castruccio was eighteen years old, the Ghibellines were driven out of Pavia by the Guelphs, and Messer Francesco Guinigi was sent by the Viscontis of Milan to provide assistance to the former. Castruccio went with him, having been put in charge of the whole company. On this expedition, Castruccio gave so much evidence of his prudence and courage that nobody involved in the enterprise came back from it with as high a reputation as he did, and his name became great and honoured not only in Pavia, but in the whole of Lombardy.

So when he had returned to Lucca, much more highly esteemed than when he had left, he ensured he made as many friends as he could, using every means necessary to win men over to him. But when Messer Francesco Guinigi died, leaving one of his sons, a thirteen-year-old by the name of Pagolo, he also appointed Castruccio to be his son’s tutor and to administer his estate; shortly before his death, he summoned Castruccio to him and begged him to agree to bring up his son as devotedly as Castruccio himself had been raised, and to show to the son, Pagolo, the gratitude he had not been able to show to the father, Francesco. So when Messer Francesco Guinigi died and Castruccio was left guardian and tutor of Pagolo, his reputation and power grew so much that the goodwill he had hitherto enjoyed in Lucca began to turn into envy; indeed, many began to slander him as a man who aroused fear and had a mind inclined to tyranny. Among these men, the foremost was Messer Giorgio degli Opizi, head of the Guelph party. He had hoped, on Messer Francesco’s death, to assume the leading position in Lucca; but now Castruccio, who had risen to power thanks to the plaudits which his qualities had earned him, had deprived him of any chance to do so, and for this reason he went around sowing seeds of suspicion with the aim of diminishing his credit. At first Castruccio treated these attempts with scorn, but soon he started to feel anxious, thinking that Messer Giorgio would not rest until he had brought him into disgrace with the viceroy of King Robert of Naples, who would then have him driven out of Lucca.[*]

At this time, Uguccione della Faggiuola of Arezzo was Lord of Pisa; he had first been chosen by the Pisans to be their general, and had then made himself their ruler. With Uguccione were some citizens of Lucca who had been driven into exile, members of the Ghibelline party; Castruccio was in contact with them, and aimed to restore them to their positions with Uguccione’s help, and he also communicated his intentions to his friends inside Lucca, who refused to tolerate the power of the Opizi family. So, having given them instructions on what to do, Castruccio took the precaution of fortifying the Onesti tower and filling it with munitions and with a great deal of supplies so that he would be able, should the case arise, to hold out there for several days. When the night came that he had agreed on with Uguccione, he gave a signal to the latter, who had come down into the plain between Lucca and the mountains with a great company of men; and when Uguccione saw the signal, he advanced on St Peter’s Gate and set fire to the external fortifications. Meanwhile Castruccio raised a great outcry, calling the populace to arms, and forced the gate from within the city, with the result that, once Uguccione and his men had entered, they poured through the whole city, killing Messer Giorgio together with everyone in his family and many of his friends and supporters, and driving out the governor; and the city’s government was reorganized in accordance with Uguccione’s wishes, to the great detriment of the place, since it turned out that more than a hundred families were driven out of Lucca. Some of the fugitives went to Florence, some to Pistoia – these cities were both ruled by the Guelph party, and this is why they were hostile to Uguccione and the citizens of Lucca.

The Florentines and the other Guelphs now decided that the Ghibelline party had assumed too much authority in Tuscany, and so they agreed to restore the exiles from Lucca to their positions; they formed a huge army, and entered the Nievole Valley, and occupied Montecatini; then they laid siege to Montecarlo to ensure that they would have free access to Lucca. Uguccione therefore assembled a great number of Pisans, Luccans, and in addition many German cavalry that he brought in from Lombardy, and he marched against the Florentine camp. The Florentine troops, hearing that the enemy were on their way, had left Montecarlo and taken up position between Montecatini and Pescia, and Uguccione deployed his troops near Montecarlo, some two miles from the enemy. For several days there were light skirmishes between the cavalry of the two armies; Uguccione had fallen ill, and the Pisans and Luccans wanted to defer a pitched battle with their enemies.

But when Uguccione’s illness grew more serious, he withdrew to Montecarlo until he had recovered, and left the army in the hands of Castruccio. This was the reason for the downfall of the Guelphs: thinking that the enemy army had been left without a leader, they took fresh heart, and when Castruccio realized this, he waited a few days so that they would be confirmed in their belief, pretending that he was too afraid to let anyone leave the fortified camp; for their part, the more the Guelphs interpreted this as evidence of panic, the more overweening they became, and every day they presented themselves in battle formation before Castruccio’s army. He, in turn, deciding that he had allowed them to grow bold enough, resolved, now that he had become apprised of their tactics, to join battle with them; and first he made a speech to stiffen up the sinews of his own soldiers, and show them that victory would certainly be theirs if they were prepared to obey his orders.

Castruccio had seen how the enemy had placed all their stronger men in the centre of the battle line and the weaker soldiers on the flanks, so he did the opposite, placing the most valorous of his troops on the flanks of his army, and in the centre those who were less reliable. He marched out of his camp in this formation, and as soon as he came within sight of the enemy army – which, as usual, had come up with arrogant boldness to meet him – he commanded the squadrons in his centre to move forwards slowly and those on his flanks to advance quickly. The result was that when he joined battle with the enemy, only the wings of the two armies were engaged with each other, while the troops in the centre remained inactive – Castruccio’s centre had stayed so far behind that his enemy’s centre could not reach them. Thus Castruccio’s best fighters found themselves doing battle with the enemy’s weakest troops, and the enemy’s best fighters were unable to join battle or inflict any harm on the men facing them, or indeed give any help to their own comrades. So the enemy troops on both flanks were, without much difficulty, put to flight – and the soldiers in the centre, seeing that their flanks were exposed, fled without having had an opportunity to show any of their virtue. The enemy was thus completely routed with great slaughter, more than ten thousand men being killed, many captains and great knights from the Guelph party throughout Tuscany among them, as well as many princes who had come to help them, including Peter, the brother of King Robert, Charles, his nephew, and Philip, the Lord of Taranto. Castruccio’s losses barely amounted to three hundred; the fatalities included Francesco, Uguccione’s son, a valiant young man full of spirit, who was killed in the first charge.

This rout made Castruccio’s reputation truly great – to such an extent, indeed, that Uguccione was overcome by so much jealousy and anxiety at his standing that all his thoughts were bent on how he might get rid of him, since it seemed to him that this victory had not given him supreme power, but rather taken it from him. As he brooded over these thoughts, waiting for a decent opportunity to turn them into a reality, it happened that Pier Agnolo Micheli, a man of great qualities and high esteem, was killed in Lucca. His murderer fled to the house of Castruccio, and when the sergeants of the captain went there to apprehend him, they were repulsed by Castruccio, with the result that the assassin, thanks to Castruccio’s help, escaped. When Uguccione, who at that time was in Pisa, heard this, he reckoned that he now had a just reason for punishing him; he summoned his son Neri, to whom he had given the lordship of Lucca, and ordered him to invite Castruccio to a banquet and then, having lured him there, to seize him and have him killed. So Castruccio, going to the ruler’s palace in the fullest confidence, not fearing any danger, was first detained by Neri at the banquet and then seized. But Neri, anxious that, if he were to have him killed without any justification, the people might rise in rebellion, kept him alive, while waiting for more detailed instructions from Uguccione as to what to do next. Uguccione, cursing his son’s hesitancy and cowardice, decided to put an end to the matter and left Pisa with four hundred cavalry, and headed to Lucca; and hardly had he arrived at Bagni di San Giuliano than the Pisans took up arms and killed Uguccione’s deputy and the other members of his household who had stayed in Pisa, and made Count Gaddo della Gherardesca their leader. Uguccione heard the news from Pisa before reaching Lucca, but it seemed to him unwise to turn back, since the Luccans might follow the example of the Pisans and shut the gates against him as the latter had done. But the Luccans, having heard what had happened in Pisa, and in spite of the fact that Uguccione had come to Lucca, took this as an opportunity to free Castruccio; at first they started walking up and down in the squares, uttering rebellious threats, and then they raised a tumult and eventually took up arms, demanding that Castruccio be freed. Faced with these demands, Uguccione, for fear of anything worse happening, released him from prison, whereupon Castruccio quickly assembled his friends and, with the encouragement and help of the people, attacked Uguccione. When Uguccione saw that his position was hopeless, he took flight with his friends and went to Lombardy to take refuge with the Della Scala family, and there he died in poverty.

But Castruccio, one minute a prisoner and the next minute practically lord of Lucca, so contrived with his friends, and with the freshly won favour of the people, that he was made general of their army for one year. Having obtained this position, he decided that, so as to win himself a reputation for success in war, he would recover for the Luccans many of the territories that had rebelled after Uguccione’s departure. So, with the support of the Pisans, with whom he had allied himself, he marched to Sarzana, to which he laid siege; in order to capture it, he built a fortress overlooking it (it has since been fortified by the Florentines, and is nowadays called Sarzanello), and in the course of two months he captured the town. Fortified by the reputation he gained in this siege, he conquered Massa, Carrara and Lavenza, and very rapidly occupied the whole of Lunigiana, and to block the pass that leads from Lombardy to Lunigiana, he seized Pontremoli and drove out its ruler, Messer Anastagio Palavisini.[*] With this victory to his credit, he returned to Lucca and was hailed by the whole populace. It now seemed to him that he should no longer put off making himself prince, and with the help of Pazzino dal Poggio, Puccinello dal Portico, Francesco Boccansacchi and Cecco Guinigi, all of whom at the time enjoyed a good reputation in Lucca but who were bribed by him, he made himself lord of the city, and by solemn decree of the people he was declared prince.

Frederick of Bavaria, King of the Romans, had at that time come into Italy to assume the imperial crown. Castruccio gained his friendship; going to meet him with five hundred cavalry, he left behind in Lucca his lieutenant, Pagolo Guinigi, a man whom, in memory of his father, he treated with as much esteem as if he had been his own son. Castruccio was received most honourably by Frederick, who granted him many privileges and made him his lieutenant in Tuscany. And since the Pisans had driven out Gaddo della Gherardesca and, being afraid of him, had turned to Frederick for help, Frederick made Castruccio Lord of Pisa, and the Pisans, fearing the Guelph party, and especially the Florentines, accepted his rule.

So, when Frederick had returned to Germany, leaving a governor in Rome, all the Tuscan and Lombard Ghibellines who followed the Emperor’s party had recourse to Castruccio, and each of them promised him that he could rule their states when by his help they had returned to them; among them were Matteo Guidi, Nardo Scolari, Lapo Uberti, Gerozzo Nardi and Piero Buonaccorsi, all of them Ghibellines exiled from Florence. And Castruccio, intending to use their help and that of his own forces to make himself Lord of all Tuscany, decided to win prestige by forging an alliance with Messer Matteo Visconti, Prince of Milan, and put the whole city and its suburbs on a war footing. And since Lucca had five gates, he divided the whole of its territory into five parts and armed the inhabitants, placing them under captains and ensigns; as a result, he could rapidly muster twenty thousand men, not counting those who could come to his aid from Pisa. While Castruccio surrounded himself with these forces and allies, it so happened that Messer Matteo Visconti was attacked by the Guelphs of Piacenza, who had driven out the Ghibellines; the Florentines and King Robert had sent their troops to help the Guelphs. Whereupon Messer Matteo requested Castruccio to launch an attack on the Florentines, so that the latter, forced to defend their homes, would recall their troops from Lombardy. So Castruccio, with a large army, stormed down the Arno Valley and occupied Fucecchio and San Miniato, inflicting great damage on the countryside; so the Florentines found themselves obliged to recall their troops. These had hardly returned to Tuscany before Castruccio found himself forced for other reasons to return to Lucca.

In that city, the Poggio family was in a dominant position because it had made Castruccio not only powerful but prince. As the members of this family thought they had not been sufficiently rewarded for their services, they conspired with other families in Lucca to rouse the city to revolt and drive out Castruccio. Seizing their opportunity, one morning they took up arms, attacked the man Castruccio had appointed to administer justice as his lieutenant and killed him. When they wanted to go on to rouse the populace to riot, Stefano di Poggio, an elderly and peace-loving man who had played no part in the conspiracy, stood before them and used his authority to force his comrades to lay down their arms, offering to act as mediator between them and Castruccio and gain for them the things they were after. So they laid down their arms, with no greater prudence than when they had taken them up; Castruccio, hearing the news from Lucca, lost no time, but set out for that city with part of his troops, leaving Pagolo Guinigi in charge of the rest. And when he found that, contrary to his expectations, the disturbances had been brought under control, he thought it best for his own safety to post armed followers at strategic points throughout the city. Stefano di Poggio, thinking that Castruccio would feel indebted to him, sought him out, and begged him, not on his own account (since he felt he had no need to), but on behalf of others in his family, to make allowances for their youth, and to bear in mind their long-standing friendship and the obligations he owed to their family. To this, Castruccio replied graciously, telling him to take heart and not be afraid, pointing out that he was more delighted to find that the disturbances had been quelled than he had been discomfited at the news of their outbreak; and he encouraged Stefano to bring them all to see him, saying that he gave thanks to God that he could have an opportunity to demonstrate his mercy and generosity. When, trusting in the pledges given by Stefano and Castruccio, they arrived, they were, together with Stefano, imprisoned and then killed.

Meanwhile the Florentines had recaptured San Miniato, whereupon Castruccio decided it would be a good idea to bring the war to an end, since until he could be sure of Lucca he would not be able to leave home. Having put forward proposals for a truce to the Florentines, he found them all too ready to accept, since they were weary of the war and anxious not to have to spend any more on it. So they made a truce for two years: each side was to keep what it already held. Castruccio, thus freed from the need to make war, and in order not to run the risks he had earlier incurred, eliminated, under various pretexts and excuses, all those in Lucca who might have ambitions to aspire to the position of prince; and he did not spare a single one, depriving them of their country, their possessions and, if he could get his hands on them, their lives, claiming that he had learnt by experience that he could trust none of them to remain loyal to him. And for greater security, he built a fortress in Lucca, using the materials from the towers of the families he had exiled or killed.

While Castruccio had been making peace with the Florentines and fortifying his position in Lucca, he did not neglect to do those things which could, without his openly declaring war, work to increase his greatness. And having a strong desire to occupy Pistoia, since he judged that once he had won possession of that town he would have one foot in Florence, he used various means to gain the friendship of all the inhabitants of the mountain region, and he behaved towards all the factions in Pistoia in such a way that each of them came to trust him. That city was at the time divided, as it had always been, between Whites and Blacks. The head of the Whites was Bastiano di Possente, and of the Blacks Iacopo da Gia; both of them were in secret communication with Castruccio, and each of them harboured the desire to drive out the other, so that eventually, after much mutual suspicion, they took up arms against each other. Iacopo strengthened his position at the Florentine Gate, and Bastiano at the Luccan Gate, and since both of them placed more trust in Castruccio than in the Florentines, judging him to be more ready and expeditious in matters of war, both of them secretly sent to him asking for help; and Castruccio promised help to both of them, telling Iacopo that he would come in person, and Bastiano that he would send Pagolo Guinigi, his protégé. He gave each of them a time and place for the rendezvous, and sent Pagolo by way of Pescia while he himself came directly to Pistoia; and by midnight, as Castruccio and Pagolo had agreed, they were both in Pistoia, where they were received as friends. Thus, once they were both inside the town, Castruccio chose his moment and then gave a signal to Pagolo, whereupon the one slew Iacopo da Gia and the other Bastiano di Possente, and all their supporters were either captured or killed; and without any other opposition, Pistoia fell into their hands, and Castruccio, having driven the Signoria[*] from the palace, forced the populace to surrender to him, in return for cancelling many of their old debts and making them many new promises. He did likewise with regard to the people from the surrounding countryside, many of whom had come to see the new prince; so eventually everyone, filled with hope, and to a large degree impressed by the examples of virtue he showed, quietly accepted the new status quo.

It happened in those days that the people of Rome rebelled because of the high cost of living, blaming it on the absence of the Pope, who was then in Avignon,[*] and cursing the German authorities. As a result, murders and other disturbances became daily occurrences, without Henry, the Emperor’s deputy,[*] being able to put an end to them; eventually, Henry was filled with great anxiety lest the Romans call in King Robert of Naples and drive him out of Rome and restore it to the Pope. Since he had no closer friend to whom he could turn for help than Castruccio, he sent a message to him, begging him to agree not just to send help but to come to Rome in person. Castruccio considered that he should not delay to accede to this request, partly because he wanted to do the Emperor a service and partly because he judged that, given the Emperor’s absence from Rome, there was no other way of resolving the situation. So, leaving Pagolo Guinigi in Lucca, he set off with six hundred cavalry to Rome, where he was received by Henry with the greatest honour – and in the shortest space of time his presence so greatly refurbished the prestige of the imperial party that, without bloodshed or any other violence, order was completely restored. This was the result of Castruccio’s having a great deal of corn shipped in from the countryside around Pisa, and thus removing the cause of the crisis; then, threatening some of the Roman leaders and punishing the rest, he brought them round to accepting Henry’s authority. And Castruccio was made a senator of Rome, and granted many other honours by the Roman people. Castruccio assumed this office with great pomp and circumstance, and donned a brocaded toga with an inscription embroidered on its front, reading “God wills it”, and another on the back, reading “What God wills shall be”.

Meanwhile, the Florentines, indignant that Castruccio should have gained control of Pistoia during a time of truce, started scheming how they could rouse the city to rebellion, something they judged would be easy in his absence. Among the Pistoian exiles in Florence were Baldo Cecchi and Iacopo Baldini, both men of authority, ready to run any risk. They plotted together with their friends inside Pistoia; and, with the help of the Florentines, they entered the city at night and drove out Castruccio’s supporters and appointees, killing many of them, and restoring freedom to the city. The news of this greatly angered and annoyed Castruccio; he took leave of Henry, and with forced marches came to Lucca with his troops. When the Florentines heard of Castruccio’s return, they reflected that he would not remain idle, and so they decided to pre-empt him and reach the Nievole Valley with their troops before he could get there, judging that if they could occupy that valley they would be able to cut off the road he would need to take to recapture Pistoia, and they raised a large army comprising all their allies in the Guelph party and came into Pistoian territory. On his side, Castruccio and his troops came to Montecarlo, and having found out where the Florentine army was located, he decided not to go out to meet it on the plain of Pistoia, nor to wait for it on the plain of Pescia, but, if possible, to confront it in the Serravalle pass; he thought that if this plan succeeded, he would be assured of victory, since he was informed that the Florentines had thirty thousand men, while he had twelve thousand choice men of his own – and, though he had every confidence in his own diligence and their virtue, he was still anxious that, if he took up a position out in the open, he might be surrounded by the great numbers of his enemies.

Serravalle is a fortified town between Pescia and Pistoia, set on a hill that closes off the Nievole Valley, not exactly in the pass itself, but two bowshots above it. The pass at this point is narrow rather than steep, sloping up gently on each side, but it is very narrow, so much so that twenty men standing in a row would stretch from one side to the other, especially up on the hill at the watershed. It was in this place that Castruccio had planned to confront the enemy, both because his relatively small army would thereby gain the advantage and because his soldiers would not see the enemy before joining battle with them – since he was afraid that when his men saw how many of the enemy there were, they would be filled with dismay. The lord of the fortress was Manfred, of German origin; before Castruccio had made himself Lord of Pistoia, he had been allowed to keep this fortress as a place shared by the Luccans and the Pistoians, and ever since then nobody had tried to attack him, as he had promised everyone that he would remain neutral and would not take sides with anyone; as a result, and because he occupied such a strong position, he had remained in charge. But now that the situation had changed, Castruccio was filled with the desire to occupy this place, and as he was on terms of the closest friendship with a citizen there, he arranged with him that the night before the battle his friend would allow four hundred of Castruccio’s soldiers to enter and kill the lord of the fortress.

Having laid these preparations, Castruccio did not move the army from Montecarlo, hoping this would encourage the Florentines to enter the pass. Since the Florentines wished to shift the theatre of operations from Pistoia to the Nievole Valley, they camped under Serravalle, with the intention of crossing the hill the following day. But Castruccio, having quietly seized the fortress that evening, left Montecarlo at midnight and silently arrived with his troops the next morning at the foot of Serravalle. As a result, at one and the same time the Florentines and he both started to climb the sides of the hill, each from his own side. Castruccio had told his infantry to take the main road, and he had sent a band of four hundred cavalry up towards the town on the left-hand side. The Florentines, on the other side, had sent forward four hundred cavalry, and then had advanced their infantry – and, behind them, their men-at-arms; they did not expect to find Castruccio on the hill, since they had no idea he had taken control of the fortress. So the Florentine cavalry, having reached the summit of the hillside, unexpectedly encountered Castruccio’s infantry, and found themselves so close to their enemy that they hardly had time to lower and lace up the visors of their helmets. Since, then, the unprepared were now under attack by the well-prepared and well-organized, Castruccio’s men assailed them with such spirit that they could hardly resist; a few of them did put up a fight, but once the din of battle had reached the rest of the Florentine camp, everything was plunged into confusion. The cavalry were hemmed in by the infantry, the infantry by the cavalry and the baggage trains; the captains could not go either backwards or forwards because of the narrowness of the pass; as a result, nobody knew, in the midst of such chaos, what he could or should do. Meanwhile the cavalry, who had come to blows with the enemy infantry, were being slaughtered or put out of action without being able to defend themselves – since the unpropitious terrain rendered this impossible – but they resisted, more out of mere tenacity than out of virtue, since, having the hillside on their flanks, their friends behind them and their enemies ahead, there was no means of escape left to them.

Meanwhile Castruccio, seeing that his men were insufficient in number to rout the enemy, sent a thousand infantrymen round through the town; and he ordered them to descend with four hundred cavalry that he had earlier sent ahead, so that they swept down on the enemy flank with such fury that the Florentine troops could not withstand the force of their attack and, vanquished more by the terrain than by their enemy, started to flee. The rout began with those at the rear, on the side nearest Pistoia; they scattered across the plain, and it was every man for himself.

This rout was a great and bloody affair. Many captains were taken prisoner, including Bandino de’ Rossi, Francesco Brunelleschi and Giovanni della Tosa, all of them Florentine nobles, together with many others from Tuscany and the Kingdom of Naples, who had been sent by King Robert to aid the Guelphs and were fighting on the Florentine side.

When the Pistoians heard the news of the rout, they lost no time in driving out the party that supported the Guelphs, and surrendered to Castruccio. He, not content with this, occupied Prato and all the towns on the plain, on both sides of the River Arno, and he set up camp with his troops in the plain of Peretola, two miles from Florence. There he stayed for many days, dividing up the spoils and holding feasts to celebrate his victory; to show his scorn for the Florentines, he ordered coins to be struck, and organized races for horses, men and whores. He went as far as bribing several noble citizens to open the gates of Florence to him at night, but the plot was discovered, and Tommaso Lupacci and Lambertuccio Frescobaldi were arrested and beheaded.

So the Florentines, filled with terror at their defeat, could now think of no way of preserving their freedom, and in order to ensure that they would have at least some aid, they sent spokesmen to Robert, King of Naples, to offer him the city and lordship over its inhabitants.[*] The King accepted this offer, not so much because of the honour thereby paid him by the Florentines, as because he knew how vital it was for his own state that the Guelph party should control Tuscany. He reached an agreement with the Florentines that they should pay him two hundred thousand florins per year, and sent Charles, his son, to Florence with four thousand cavalry.

Meanwhile, the Florentines were, to some degree, relieved of Castruccio’s troops, since he had found himself obliged to leave their lands and go to Pisa to suppress a conspiracy fomented against him by Benedetto Lanfranchi, one of the leading citizens in Pisa. Benedetto, unable to tolerate his fatherland being in thrall to a Luccan, conspired against him, planning to occupy the citadel, drive out the garrison and slaughter Castruccio’s supporters. But since in such situations a small number of people, while not large enough to betray a secret plan, is also not large enough to carry it out, Benedetto, having tried to canvas more supporters for his proposal, found that one of them betrayed his plan to Castruccio. And this disclosure also incriminated Bonifacio Cerchi and Giovanni Guidi, two Florentines who had been exiled and were resident in Pisa; thereupon, Castruccio managed to get his hands on Benedetto and kill him; he sent the rest of his family into exile, and had many other noble citizens beheaded. He suspected that there were few men in Pistoia and Pisa who were loyal to him, so he set out to make sure of them by a mixture of guile and force; this gave the Florentines time to reorganize their troops and await at leisure the arrival of Charles. When he arrived, they decided to waste no time, and they assembled a vast number of men, summoning to their aid almost all the Guelphs of Italy, and they mustered a huge army, more than thirty thousand infantry and ten thousand cavalry.[*] Having deliberated as to where they should launch their attack first, on Pistoia or Pisa, they decided it would be better to strike first at Pisa, seemingly an easier task to bring off because of the recent uprising there, and also a more useful thing to do, since they judged that, once they held Pisa, Pistoia would surrender of its own accord.

So the Florentines sallied out with this army, at the beginning of May 1328, and rapidly occupied Lastra, Signa, Montelupo and Empoli, and then came with their army to San Miniato. Castruccio, for his part, was not in the slightest dismayed at the news of the great army the Florentines had sent against him, and reflected that the time was ripe for Fortune to hand Tuscany over to his rule; he believed, too, that his enemies would not make any better showing at Pisa than they had at Serravalle, and had no hope of regrouping in the way they had done before. Having assembled twenty thousand of his foot soldiers and four thousand cavalry, he set up camp with his army at Fucecchio, and sent Pagolo Guinigi with five thousand infantry to Pisa. Fucecchio occupies a stronger position than any other walled town in the territory of Pisa, standing halfway between the Usciana Canal and the River Arno, a little above the surrounding plain; once he was there, the enemy would not be able to prevent provisions reaching him from Lucca or Pisa, unless they split their forces in two, nor could they either head to meet him or make for Pisa without putting themselves at risk, since in the first case they would be caught between Castruccio’s troops and those from Pisa, and, in the second, they would be forced to cross the Arno – something that they would be unable to do without great peril, as they would have the enemy harrying them. And Castruccio, in the hope of encouraging them to choose this option and cross the river, had taken up a position with his troops not on the banks of the Arno, but before the walls of Fucecchio, and had left a wide space between himself and the river.

The Florentines, having occupied San Miniato, debated what to do next: should they go to Pisa or go to meet Castruccio? Having weighed up the difficulties of both options, they decided to march against him. The River Arno was so low that it could be forded, but not low enough to prevent the infantry having to wade through water that came up to their shoulders, and the cavalry with water up to their saddles. So on the morning of 10th June, the Florentines, in battle formation, began to send part of their cavalry and a contingent of ten thousand infantry across the river. Castruccio, who was ready and prepared to carry out all his intentions, attacked them with a contingent of five thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry; he did not give all of them time to clamber out of the water, but engaged with them straight away, and sent a thousand light infantry downstream along the bank, and another thousand upstream. The Florentine infantry were weighed down by the water of the river and by their weapons, and they had not all climbed out onto the other bank. Though some of the cavalry managed to cross, they made it difficult for the others to do so, as their horses churned up the river bed of the Arno; thus, finding the ford impassable, many horses slipped and fell on their riders, and many got so stuck in the mud that they could not free themselves. When the Florentine captains saw how difficult it was to cross the river at this spot, they ordered their men to withdraw higher upstream to find a smoother stretch of river bed and an easier bank for them to climb. But they came up against the infantry troops that Castruccio had sent up the river bank; his soldiers, lightly armed and carrying round shields and spears, struck them in the face and the chest, uttering loud cries; as a result, the horses, panic-stricken by the blows and the cries, refused to advance, and fell back on top of one another. The battle between Castruccio’s men and those who did cross was grim and terrible: many men on both sides fell, and each side struggled with all its might to get the best of the other. Castruccio’s men wanted to force the enemy back into the river, while the Florentines wanted to push them out of the way so that their comrades could struggle up out of the water and manage to join the fight; their determination was reinforced by the urgings of their captains. Castruccio reminded his men that these were the very same enemy they had beaten not so long ago at Serravalle; and the Florentines berated their troops for allowing themselves, who were so numerous, to be vanquished by so few. But when Castruccio saw that the battle showed no sign of coming to an end, and that his own men as well as his adversaries were already exhausted – and that on both sides there were many dead and wounded – he threw forward another detachment of five thousand infantry, and, leading them up to a position right behind those who were fighting, he ordered the ones in the front ranks to separate and, as if they were retreating, to withdraw, one half to the right and the other to the left. They did so, and this manoeuvre gave the Florentines room to advance and gain some ground. But when Castruccio’s fresh troops met the battle-weary Florentines, they soon drove the latter back into the river. Neither of the cavalry forces had yet managed to gain the upper hand, since Castruccio, aware that his cavalry was not as strong, had ordered the condottieri merely to hold off the enemy, as he hoped to beat the infantry first; once they were beaten, he would be able more easily to vanquish the cavalry, and it turned out exactly as he had planned. Seeing that the enemy infantry had fallen back into the river, he sent the rest of his own infantry against the enemy cavalry; his foot soldiers attacked their opponents with spears and javelins, and then his cavalry charged into them, harrying them with yet greater fury and finally putting them to flight. The Florentine captains, seeing the difficulty their cavalry had encountered in crossing, tried to get their infantry across farther downstream, so as to attack Castruccio’s troops on their flank. But since the banks were steep and their summits were already held by Castruccio’s troops, their endeavour was in vain. Thus the enemy was routed, to the glory and honour of Castruccio, and from that great host not a third escaped alive. Many enemy leaders were captured, and Charles, the son of King Robert, together with Michelagnolo Falconi and Taddeo degli Albizzi, both Florentine commissioners, fled to Empoli. A great deal of booty was captured, and a very great number of men were slain, as can easily be imagined in such a battle – 20,231 of the Florentine soldiers and 1,570 of Castruccio’s men were killed.

But Fortune, hostile to his fame, when it was time to give him a life in fact deprived him of it, and interrupted those plans that for a long time he had been thinking of putting into effect, and nothing but death alone could ever have impeded his designs. Castruccio had been toiling throughout the day of the battle, and when the fighting finished, overwhelmed by exhaustion and drenched in sweat, he stopped near the gate of Fucecchio to wait for the soldiers to return from their triumph so he could greet them and thank them personally; partly, too, he wanted to be ready to deal with the enemy if they were to find a place to regroup, as he considered that it is the duty of a good general to be the first to mount his horse and the last to dismount. So, as he was standing there exposed to a wind which, usually about midday, rises over the Arno and tends to be almost always dangerous to the health, he was frozen to the marrow: he paid no attention to this, as he was used to such discomforts, and it thus became the cause of his death. The following night, he was gripped by a very serious fever; as it continued to worsen, and as the illness was judged to be incurable by all the doctors, Castruccio, realizing the situation, called Pagolo Guinigi and spoke to him in these words:

“If I had ever thought, my dear son, that Fortune would want to cut me off in the midst of the path I was following towards that fame that I had promised myself to gain, with the many successes I had brought off, I would have toiled less and would have left you with a smaller state but with fewer enemies and facing less envy. I would have been content with ruling Lucca and Pisa, and would never have subdued the Pistoians and angered the Florentines by inflicting so much damage on them – but, having befriended both of these peoples, I would have led a life, if not longer, at least certainly quieter, and I would have left you a state, if smaller, at least, no doubt, more secure and steadfast. But Fortune, the supposed arbiter of all human affairs, did not give me enough astuteness to recognize her workings, or enough time to be able to overcome her. You have heard, as many have told you (and I have never denied it), how I came to the house of your father while I was still a youth, lacking in all those hopes and expectations that should be present in every noble spirit, and how I was looked after and loved by him much more than if I had been born of his own blood, so that I, under his tuition, became a man of valour and capable of meeting with that Fortune that you yourself have seen, and see now. And since, when he was about to die, he committed to my loyalty you and all his property, I have brought you up with the same love, and increased that property with the same loyalty, by which I was and am still bound. And so that you should inherit not only what your father had left you, but also that which Fortune and my virtue could win, I decided not to take a wife, in case love for my children would prevent me from showing to the blood of your father, in every way possible, the gratitude that I felt bound to show.[*] I leave you, therefore, a large state; I am happy that this is so, but since I leave it to you weak and infirm, I am very much saddened. You are left with the city of Lucca, which will never be content to live under your rule. You are also left with Pisa, where the men are by nature fickle and full of disloyalty; and although its various experiences of servitude have accustomed it to that state, nonetheless, it will always disdain to be ruled by a Luccan. You are left with Pistoia, too, a city that is not very loyal, being so divided, and angered against our family because the damage we have done to it is still fresh in its memory. You have as neighbours the Florentines, who are embittered, having been damaged by us in a thousand ways, but not entirely vanquished; the news of my death will be more welcome to them than would be the acquisition of all Tuscany. In the princes of Milan and in the Emperor you can place no trust, because they are far away, slow to take action and tardy in bringing help. Therefore you must not trust in anything, except your skill and the memory of my examples of virtue and the repute that this new victory brings you; if you can make wise use of it, it will help you to come to terms with the Florentines – who, terror-stricken at this latest rout, will be all too glad to agree. Where I tried to turn them into enemies, and thought that their enmity would bring me power and glory, you must to the best of your ability try to make them your friends, since their friendship will bring you security and peace of mind. In this world it is of great importance to know yourself, and to be able to measure the strength of your spirit and your state, and he who knows that he is unfit for war should strive to reign with the arts of peace. It is, in my opinion, best if you personally turn to these arts and endeavour in this way to enjoy the fruits of my toils and dangers; you will easily succeed in this if you accept the truth of this advice I am giving you. And you will be indebted to me for two things: first, that I have left you this state; second, that I have taught you how to keep it.”

He then summoned those citizens from Lucca, Pisa and Pistoia who had fought with him, and, having commended Pagolo Guinigi to them and made them swear obedience to him, he died – leaving happy memories of him in all those who had heard his name mentioned, and, in those who had been his friends, as much regret for his passing as for that of any prince who ever died. His funeral was celebrated with all pomp and circumstance, and he was buried in San Francesco in Lucca. But virtue and Fortune were not to be as friendly to Pagolo Guinigi as they had been to Castruccio: not long after, he lost Pistoia, and then Pisa, and only just managed to retain the lordship of Lucca, which stayed under his family’s control until the time of Pagolo, his great-grandson.

Castruccio was, then, as has been clearly demonstrated, a man of rare distinction not only as regards his own times, but also by the standards of many preceding periods. He was unusually tall in stature, and every limb was in proportion to the rest; and he had so much grace in his bearing and received men with such humanity that nobody who had spoken with him left dissatisfied. His hair had a red sheen, and he wore it cut short above his ears, and always, whatever the weather, even if it was raining or snowing, he went about with his head bare.

He was kind to his friends, and to his enemies terrible; just towards his subjects, faithless to foreigners; never, when he could win by fraud, did he attempt to win by force – he used to say that it was the victory itself, not the way in which you had won the victory, which brought you glory.

No man was ever bolder when entering a dangerous situation, or more prudent when getting out of it; and he was in the habit of saying that men must attempt everything and not be too frightened of anything, and that God loves men who are strong, because we can clearly see how He always uses the powerful to afflict the powerless.

His replies were wonderfully mordant, uttered either in biting or in urbane tones, and, as he did not spare anyone from this way of speaking, he was not angered when he, in turn, was not spared. Hence people have remembered many of his biting remarks, and also many of the things to which he lent a tolerant ear.[*]

He once bought a partridge for a ducat, and when one of his friends rebuked him for it, Castruccio said, “So you would not pay more than a soldo for it?” And when his friend told him that this was so, he replied, “A ducat is of much less worth to me.”[*]

He once found a flatterer was hovering around him, and he spat on his face out of contempt, whereupon the flatterer said, “The fishermen, when trying to catch a small fish, let themselves get completely wetted by the sea; I am quite prepared to let myself be wetted by a gob of spit in order to catch a whale.” Castruccio not only lent a tolerant ear to his words, but rewarded him too.

When someone criticized him for living too splendidly, Castruccio said, “If this were a vice, there would not be such splendid banquets on our saints’ feast-days.”

Walking down a street, and observing a young man emerging from a prostitute’s house who blushed red because he had been seen by him, Castruccio told him, “Do not be ashamed when you come out of that place, but when you go in.”

When a friend gave him a knot to untie that had been very carefully knotted, he said, “You fool, do you think I want to untie something which is so difficult to tie?”

When Castruccio told a man who professed to be a philosopher, “You are all like dogs, who always come running up to the man who can give them most to eat,” the philosopher replied, “No, we are like doctors: we go to the houses of those who have most need of us.”

When he was travelling from Pisa to Livorno by boat, Castruccio encountered a dangerous storm, and was filled with dismay, whereupon he was rebuked by one of the men with him, who accused him of cowardice. The man remarked that he was not afraid of anything, whereupon Castruccio replied that this did not surprise him in the least, since each man values his life at its proper worth.

When asked by someone what he ought to do in order to win esteem for himself, he told him, “Make sure that, when you go to a banquet, it is not a case of one block of wood sitting on top of another.”

When someone was boasting of all the books he had read, Castruccio said, “It would be better to boast of having been able to remember them properly.”

When someone boasted that even when he drank a great deal he never got drunk, Castruccio said, “The same could be said of an ox.”

Castruccio had a young woman with whom he was on intimate terms; when a friend of his rebuked him for this, saying in particular that it was bad that he had allowed himself to be taken by a woman, Castruccio replied, “You are wrong; I took her, not she me.”

When another man rebuked him for enjoying food that was too delicate, he said, “So you would not spend so much on food as I do?” And when the man replied that this was so, he retorted, “Then you are more avaricious than I am gluttonous.”

Once, he was invited to dinner by Taddeo Bernardi of Lucca, a man who owned great wealth and splendid property. When Castruccio arrived at his house, Taddeo showed him a room all decorated with tapestries, its floor made of fine stones which in various colours, variously combined, depicted flowers and branches and similar greenery; Castruccio filled his mouth with saliva and then spat it all out right into Taddeo’s face. When the latter reacted with anger, Castruccio remarked, “I did not know where to spit to offend you least.”

Being asked how Caesar had died, he said, “May God grant that I die in the same way that he did!”

One night, when he was at the house of one of his gentlemen, where many ladies had been invited to the party, he was dancing and enjoying himself more than befitted his rank, and one of his friends rebuked him for it. Castruccio replied, “The man who is considered wise by day will not be considered foolish by night.”

When someone came to ask him a favour, and Castruccio appeared to be turning a deaf ear, the man threw himself on his knees on the ground; and when Castruccio rebuked him for it, the man said, “It is your fault: you have ears in your feet.” As a result, he went away with double the favour he had been requesting.

He used to say that the road to hell was easy, since it led downhill and you could follow it with your eyes shut.

When once a man asked him for a favour with many superfluous words, Castruccio told him, “When you want anything more from me, send someone else to ask.”

When a similar man had bored him with a long speech and said to him at the end of it, “I have, perhaps, wearied you with too much talking,” Castruccio replied, “Not at all – I have not heard a thing you have said.”

He used to say of someone who had been a handsome youth and had grown into a handsome man that he really was too much of a nuisance, as he had started off by taking husbands from their wives and was now taking wives from their husbands.

To an envious man who was laughing, he said, “Are you laughing because things are going well for you or because things are going badly for someone else?”

When he was still under the tutelage of Messer Francesco Guinigi, and one of his comrades said to him, “What do you want me to give you in return for letting me slap you in the face?” Castruccio replied, “A helmet.”

Having put to death a citizen of Lucca who had contributed to his greatness, he was told that he had done wrong to kill one of his old friends, whereupon he replied that his critics were wrong – he had killed a new enemy.

Castruccio praised highly men who took women and then did not marry them, like those who said they were going to travel by sea and then did not do so.

He claimed to be amazed at men who, when they buy an earthenware or glass dish, sound it first to see if it is good, but when they take a wife are content with merely looking at her.

When he was at the point of death, and someone asked him how he wanted to be buried, he replied, “With my face turned down, because I know that, once I am dead, this country will be turned topsy-turvy.”

When he was asked whether, to save his soul, he ever thought of becoming a friar, he replied no, since it seemed strange to him that Brother Lazarus should go to paradise and Uguccione della Faggiuola to hell.

When he was asked when it is good to eat in order to stay healthy, he replied, “If a man is rich, whenever he is hungry; if he is poor, whenever he can.”

Seeing one of his gentlemen being laced up by one of his servants, he said to him, “I pray God that you get him to feed you too.”

Seeing that a certain man had written on his house, in capital letters, “MAY GOD GUARD THIS HOUSE FROM THE WICKED”, he said, “In that case, he should not enter it himself.”

Walking down a street where there was a small house with a big door, he said, “That house is going to run away through that door.”

When he was told that a foreigner had corrupted a boy, he said, “He must be from Perugia.”

When he asked which city was most notorious for its grafters and barrators, he was told, “Lucca”, since they were all by nature inclined that way, with the exception of Buontura.[*]

When Castruccio was arguing with an ambassador of the King of Naples about the property of certain exiles, and started to get angry, the ambassador said to him, “So you are not afraid of the King?” Castruccio replied, “Is that king of yours good or bad?” And when the ambassador replied that he was good, Castruccio retorted, “In that case, why do you want me to be afraid of good men?”

It would be possible to recount many other of his remarks, in all of which would be seen great ingenuity and gravity, but I prefer that these should suffice to bear witness to his great qualities.

He lived to the age of forty-four, and was, however Fortune treated him, a prince. And as there are many records of his good fortune, he wished there to appear records of his bad fortune too: for this reason, the handcuffs with which he had been chained in prison can still today be seen fastened in the tower of his dwelling, where they were placed by him so as to provide firm evidence of the adversities he had suffered. And since, in his lifetime, he was not inferior to Philip of Macedon, father of Alexander, nor to Scipio of Rome, he died at the same age they both did; and without a doubt he would have surpassed both of them if, instead of Lucca, his native land had been Macedonia or Rome.

Extract from the

Florentine Histories

(BOOK II, 26–27; 29–31)

IT WAS IN THIS PERIOD[*] that the lordship of Lucca and Pisa was taken away from Uguccione, and Castruccio Castracani, a citizen of Lucca, became their ruler – and, because he was young, ardent and fierce, and fortunate in all he undertook, he became in a very short time the leader of the Ghibellines of Tuscany. For this reason, the Florentines, once their civil discord had been suspended, thought at first, for several years, that Castruccio’s forces would not increase, and later, when they had in fact – to their dismay – increased, they considered how to defend themselves against them. And so that the city leaders should be able to deliberate on the basis of better advice, and execute their decrees with greater authority, they appointed twelve citizens, whom they called the Good Men, without whose advice and consent the city leaders would not be permitted to do anything of importance. Meanwhile, the rule of King Robert had come to an end; and the city, now in charge of itself, reverted to the rule of the usual rectors and magistrates; and the great fear aroused in it by the threat of Castruccio kept it united. He, after many sallies against the lords of Lunigiana, attacked Prato, whereupon the Florentines, determined to come to its aid, shut down their shops and in a great popular movement went there; they assembled twenty thousand infantry and one thousand five hundred horsemen. And in order to take forces away from Castruccio and add them to their own, the city leaders issued a proclamation stating that if any Guelph rebel were to come to the aid of Prato, he would, after the relief, be restored to his native city. As a result, more than four thousand rebels assembled there. This army, so very big and brought to Prato so speedily, filled Castruccio with such alarm that, without attempting to try his fortune in battle, he retreated towards Lucca. This led to a disagreement in the camp of the Florentines, between the nobles and the common people: the people wanted to pursue him, fight him and destroy him; the nobles wanted to return home, saying that it was quite enough to have placed Florence in peril for the sake of liberating Prato; this had originally been the right thing to do, since they had been constrained by necessity, but now that the necessity had vanished, it was not the right time to tempt Fortune, as they risked gaining little and losing much. They could not come to an agreement, and so handed the matter over to the city leaders, who found in their councils the same disagreement as between the people and the nobles. When news of this spread through the city, it brought many men out onto the piazzas, who started to utter many threatening words against the nobility; the result was that the nobles, filled with fear, yielded. This decision, reached belatedly and, by many, unwillingly, gave the enemy time to retreat safely to Lucca.

This unfortunate turn of events made the people so angry with the nobles that the city leaders decided to renege on the pledge that had been given – on their orders and with their support – to the exiles. The exiles, foreseeing this, determined to pre-empt it, and at the head of the army, so as to be the first to enter Florence, they presented themselves at the gates of the city; but this had all been foreseen in turn, and their attempt failed, and they were driven back by those who had remained in Florence. But so as to see whether they might get by mutual agreement what they had not been able to get by force, they sent eight men as ambassadors to remind the city leaders of their pledge and the risks they had run because of it, hoping as they had for the reward it had promised them. And although the nobles – who reckoned that they were under an obligation to fulfil the oath, since they had individually promised what the city leaders had pledged – took great pains on behalf of the exiles, nonetheless, because of the indignation felt by the general mass of the people, who were not in the same frame of mind as they would have been if they had won a victory against Castruccio, they failed, and this resulted in great disadvantage and dishonour for the city.

As many of the nobles were indignant at this turn of events, they tried to obtain by force what they had not been granted by asking for it; and they arranged with the exiles that the latter would come armed to the city, and they, being within, would take up arms on their behalf. The plot was discovered before the appointed day, and the exiles found the city up in arms, prepared to hold back those outside and intimidate those inside so that none of them would take up arms; and thus, without gaining anything, the exiles abandoned their attempt. When they had gone, there was a general desire to punish those who were considered most guilty of having made them come; and although everyone knew who the culprits were, no one was eager to name them, much less to accuse them to their faces. For this reason, so as to find out the truth of the matter without fear or favour, provisions were made that in the Councils everyone would write down the names of the culprits, and the papers be handed over in confidentiality to the captain. Thus it was that accusations were levelled against Messer Amerigo Donati, Messer Tegghiaio Frescobaldi and Messer Lotteringo Gherardini, who, finding that the judge was more favourably inclined to them than perhaps their crimes deserved, were sentenced to pay a fine.[*]

***

It was the year 1325, and Castruccio, having occupied Pistoia, had become so powerful that the Florentines, fearful of his greatness, determined that, before he could fully establish control of Pistoia, they should attack him and wrest it from his dominion. And from among their citizens and allies they raised an army of twenty thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry, and with it laid siege to Altopascio, aiming to occupy the town and thereby prevent Castruccio from coming to the help of Pistoia. The Florentines succeeded in taking the town; thereupon they headed for Lucca, laying waste to the countryside; but due to the lack of prudence and even greater lack of loyalty of their general, they did not make a great deal of progress. Their general was Messer Ramondo di Cardona; he, seeing that the Florentines had in the past been prodigal with their freedom – making a present of it now to the King, now to the papal legates and now to other men of lower rank – thought that if he led them into a situation where they would have need of him, he would easily contrive to have himself made prince by them. And he did not fail to make frequent mention of this, and he requested them to give him the same authority in the city as they had given him in the armies – otherwise, he pointed out, he would not be able to command the obedience that a general should expect; and when the Florentines refused, he continued to waste time, while Castruccio gained it. Castruccio indeed was given assistance as promised by the Viscontis and the other tyrants of Lombardy, and had become very strong; Messer Ramondo, having at first failed to triumph because of his lack of credit, was now unable, through his lack of prudence, to save himself. Proceeding slowly with his army, he was attacked by Castruccio near Altopascio, and routed after a great battle; many citizens were killed or captured in the battle, including Messer Ramondo, who, because of his lack of credit and his poor decisions, received from Fortune the punishment he had deserved at the hands of the Florentines. The damage inflicted on the Florentines by Castruccio after his victory – the spoils, prisoners, ruin and arson – would take too long to relate; for several months he rode and rampaged wherever he wanted, without meeting any opposition; and the Florentines were happy that, after such a defeat, they had at least managed to save their city.

They were not, however, so dismayed that they did not gather great supplies of money, hire soldiers and send to their allies for help. Nonetheless, to hold such a powerful enemy at bay no provision sufficed; so they were forced to choose as their leader Charles, Duke of Calabria and son of King Robert, if they wanted him to come to their defence; since he was accustomed to rule Florence, he preferred their obedience to their friendship. But since Charles was preoccupied with his Sicilian wars, and was thus unable to come and take over control of the city, he sent instead Walter, a Frenchman who was Duke of Athens.[*] Walter, as his lord’s deputy, took possession of the city and appointed the magistrates as he wished. Nevertheless, his behaviour was restrained, and so very different from his true nature that everyone loved him. Once the Sicilian wars had been settled, Charles came to Florence with a thousand horsemen, making his entrance there in July 1326; his arrival meant that Castruccio was no longer free to lay waste to Florentine territory without hindrance. Nonetheless, the reputation that Charles won for himself outside the city was lost inside it, and the damage that was not inflicted by enemies was tolerated on the part of friends, since without the Duke’s consent the city leaders could do nothing, and within a year he got from the city four hundred thousand florins, despite the fact that, by the agreement they had reached with him, he was not supposed to exceed two hundred thousand – so great were the burdens with which every day either Charles or his father laid on the city. To these deprivations were added yet new fears and new enemies; the Ghibellines of Lombardy were so filled with fear by Charles’s arrival in Tuscany that Galeazzo Visconti and the other Lombard tyrants managed, by means of money and promises, to bring Louis of Bavaria into Italy, who, against the Pope’s will, had been elected Emperor. He came into Lombardy, and thence into Tuscany, and, with the help of Castruccio, he made himself Lord of Pisa; from here, having gained a fresh supply of money, he headed towards Rome. As a result, Charles left Florence, fearing for his kingdom, and as his deputy he left in his place Messer Filippo da Saggineto. Castruccio, after the Emperor’s departure, made himself Lord of Pisa, and the Florentines contrived by mutual agreement to get Pistoia from him, whereupon Castruccio laid siege to the town; and he stayed there, showing so much virtue and stubbornness that even though the Florentines attempted several times to relieve it, attacking now his army and now his territory, they never managed, either by fraud or force, to remove him from his settled design, so athirst was he to lay waste to the Pistoian land and vanquish the Florentines! As a result, the Pistoians were obliged to accept him as their lord. This affair, although it gave him so much glory, also proved so exhausting for him that, having returned to Lucca, he died. And since it frequently happens that Fortune accompanies one good or evil with another good or another evil, there also died, in Naples, Charles, Duke of Calabria and Lord of Florence, so that in a very short time, and quite unexpectedly, they were freed from the lordship of the one man and the fear of the other. Now that they were free, they reorganized their city and annulled the whole previous system of Councils, and set up two councils, one of three hundred common citizens, the other of two hundred and fifty nobles and commoners; the first they called the Council of the People, and the second the Council of the Commune.

When the Emperor arrived in Rome, he appointed an antipope,[*] and made many arrangements inimical to the Church and many others that were ineffectual; as a result, he eventually left, shamefaced, and came to Pisa. Here, either because they had some cause for anger or because they had not been paid, around eight hundred German cavalry rebelled against him, and at Montechiaro, above the Ceruglio, they fortified themselves. When the Emperor had left Pisa to go to Lombardy, they occupied Lucca, and drove out Francesco Castracani,[*] who had been left there by the Emperor, and, thinking to derive some benefit from their booty, they offered this city to the Florentines for eighty thousand florins; this offer was, on the advice of Messer Simone della Tosa, rejected. This deal would have been very useful to our city if the Florentines had stuck to this policy, but because they shortly afterwards changed their minds, it proved very harmful; they could have won it at a small cost, peacefully, and yet did not want to, whereas later on they did want it, but did not get it, even though they would have paid a much higher price; and this was the reason why Florence so frequently, and to its own great disadvantage, changed government. Thus Lucca, having been turned down by the Florentines, was bought by Messer Gherardino Spinoli of Genoa for thirty thousand florins. And because men are slower to take what they can have than they are to desire what they cannot get, once they discovered Messer Gherardino’s purchase, and how cheaply he had bought Lucca, the people of Florence were filled with a burning desire to have the town themselves, reproaching themselves and the man who had discouraged them before; and so as to win it by force, since they had been unwilling to buy it, they sent their soldiers to spoil and ravage the Luccan territory. Meanwhile, the Emperor had left Italy; and the Antipope, on the orders of the Pisans, had been taken off as a prisoner to France; and the Florentines, from the death of Castruccio, which happened in 1328, until 1340, remained quiet within their city, and attentive only to the external affairs of their state, and in Lombardy (as a result of the arrival of King John of Bohemia), and in Tuscany (on account of Lucca), they made many wars. They adorned the city with more new buildings; for instance, on the advice of Giotto, a painter most famous in those days, they built the tower of Santa Reparata – and when, in 1333, there was a flood and the waters of the Arno rose in some places in Florence to more than twelve cubits, destroying some of the bridges and many buildings, they went to great care and expense to rebuild what had been destroyed.

Note on the Text

My translation of The Life of Castruccio Castracani is based on ‘La Vita di Castruccio Castracani da Lucca’, in Machiavelli, Il Principe e altre opere politiche (Milan: Garzanti, 1976, reprinted 2002). The translation of the sections of the Florentine Histories relevant to Castruccio is based on Le istorie fiorentine, ed. Giovanni Battista Niccolini, third edition (Florence: Le Monnier, 1990).

Notes

p. 19, Zanobi and Luigi: Zanobi Buondelmonte and Luigi Alamanni were intellectuals who met with Machiavelli and others in the Rucellai Gardens in Florence to discuss literature and politics.

p. 24, Ghibelline… Lucca: From the early thirteenth century, Italy was divided between Guelph and Ghibelline factions: the first tended to support the Pope, the second the Holy Roman Emperor. In individual cities, such as Florence, the two parties also had specific local agendas and were often further subdivided (e.g. “White” and “Black” Guelphs in Florence).

p. 25, podestà: The chief magistrate in many Italian medieval cities.

p. 26, condottiere: A mercenary soldier, in particular the leader of a band of mercenaries.

p. 29, King Robert… driven out of Lucca: Due to the influence of Florence, Robert of Naples had sided with the Guelphs against the Ghibellines.

p. 39, Sarzana… Palavisini: Sarzana, Massa, Carrara, Lavenza (or Avenza) and Pontremoli are all towns in Lunigiana, the region surrounding the ancient Etruscan and subsequently Roman city of Luni, north-west of Lucca.

p. 48, Signoria: The governing body of the city.

p. 49, Avignon: The seat of the papacy was removed to Avignon in 1309, and returned to Rome in 1377.

p. 49, Henry, the Emperor’s deputy: The identity of the Emperor’s deputy Henry is uncertain. The Holy Roman Emperor was Louis IV (r. 1328–47), also known as King Ludwig of Bavaria (r. 1314–47).

p. 59, So the Florentines… inhabitants: This happened in 1313.

p. 61, When he arrived… cavalry: In this section, Machiavelli is in fact referring to events that took place in 1325.

p. 71, I decided not to take a wife… show: Machiavelli ignores the fact that Castruccio did, in fact, have a wife and numerous children.

p. 76, His replies… tolerant ear: Probably none of these remarks were ever made by Castruccio; Machiavelli adapts many of them from Diogenes Laertius’s Lives of the Philosophers (including Aristippus, Bion, Aristotle and Diogenes of Sinope). It is as if he wants Castruccio to be wise and witty as well as to display more Machiavellian “princely” attributes.

p. 76, Soldo… ducat. A ducat was worth far more than a soldo.

p. 84, barrators… Buontura: A barrator is a corrupt official who accepts bribes in return for political favours. The reference to Buontura Dati is taken from Dante’s Inferno (xxi, l. 41), where one of the devils jokes that everyone in Lucca is a barrator except for Buontura Dati (“Bonturo” in Dante), who was notorious for his dishonesty.

p. 87, This period: I.e. 1316–17.

p. 92, pay a fine: The following section (28), dealing with Florentine internal politics, has here been omitted.

p. 96, But since Charles… Athens: Charles of Anjou, son of Robert, was in control of Florence between 1325 and 1328; it was his premature death that helped to free the city from Angevin rule. Walter of Brienne was his deputy; once in power, Walter in fact appointed himself absolute dictator for life, but his arrogance soon led to a rebellion against him.

p. 99, an antipope: This was the Antipope Nicholas V. His short reign (1328–30), based in Rome, rivalled that of the “true” Pope John XXII in Avignon.

p. 99, Francesco Castracani: Francesco was the cousin of Castruccio.

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Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Contents

The Life of Castruccio Castracani

Introduction

The Life of Castruccio Castracani

Extract from the Florentine Histories

Note on the Text

Notes

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