husband of the Pope’s sister Laodamia, together with his four sons, Antonio, Francesco, Andrea and Giacomo (to whom Pius had given the arms and name of Piccolomini), was similarly qualified for the Signoria and Council of the People, and received into the Monte del Popolo. The Pope, however, demanded that all the nobles should be made eligible to all posts in the government; he told the Sienese envoys that, unless his request were granted, he would withhold the favours that he had intended to confer upon his native city. In spite of the intervention of the Duke of Milan, the Sienese remained obstinate, until the Pope threatened to go to Florence without passing through Siena. Then the Balìa yielded in part, and Pius came to the city in February 1459. He had a magnificent reception from all orders in the State; but Malavolti tells us that on the part of the chief men of the Republic the rejoicing was more simulated than real, for that they bitterly resented his attempted insertion of the nobles into the popular government of the city. Nevertheless, during his stay Pius loaded the Sienese with favours, gave the Golden Rose to the Commune, and raised the See to the rank of an archbishopric. His attempts to allay the factions and to obtain the admission of the nobles were only partly successful; and what little share in the government had been granted to the latter was taken away from them (exception being still made for the Piccolomini), after his death in 1464. To this day Siena bears more of the stamp of Pius II. than of any other single man. Everywhere in her streets the arms of the Piccolomini are as much in evidence as the sacred monogram that San Bernardino had set up. The Loggia that Pius raised to his family, the palaces that his kinsfolk built, still stand, while the Library of the Duomo gleams still with the gorgeous frescoed pageant of his life. And away to the south, in the district of Montepulciano, the little village of Corsignano, where he had been born in 1405, and was transformed by him into a city, is still called from his name Pienza, and still bears the imprint of his genial and splendid spirit in the noble buildings, secular and religious alike, that his munificence reared.
A potentate of a very different character now for a while overshadows the Republic—Alfonso, Duke of Calabria, son of King Ferrante of Naples. The Duke meditated the acquisition of all Tuscany, and between 1468 and 1480 he made Siena the basis of his operations. The Republic joined the King and Pope Sixtus IV. in the war against Lorenzo de’ Medici, and had the one real battle of the campaign of 1479 depicted in fresco in the Palace of the Commune. Gorgeous pageants and dances greeted the visit of any member of the Royal House to Siena. The Duke “became the centre of the extravagant, pleasure-loving Sienese society; and the cruel, passionate Alfonso, who recognised no scruples in matters human and divine, became the popular godfather to the babies of the Republic.”[50] There was a strong party within the city itself that would gladly have accepted him as their suzerain, and he still lingered at Buonconvento after the peace had been made with Florence. On June 23rd, 1480, the Noveschi and some of the Monte del Popolo, together with the mercenaries left by the Duke in charge of the city, occupied the Campo early in the morning, and expelled the Riformatori from the government. The Duke returned to Siena the next day, and was received with enthusiasm at the Porta Romana. There was a wild demonstration in the Campo, as the people, all armed, with frantic cheering and deafening uproar, brought him to the Palace. “When he got to the door of the Palace,” says Allegretto, “all the people rejoiced with such sounding of trumpets and of bells that rang a gloria, and with such firing of guns and shouting, that it was a jubilation.” In the place of the suppressed Monte of the Riformatori, a new Monte of the Aggregati was formed—composed partly of nobles, partly of those Noveschi who had been excluded from the government for the conspiracy of 1456, partly of popolani who had never held the priorate, and to these were added a few of the Riformatori at the Duke’s request. But the capture of Otranto by the Turks, in August, recalled the Duke to his father’s dominions, and in the following year the decision of King Ferrante (la iniqua sentenza, as Allegretto calls it), compelling the Sienese to surrender certain towns and castles to the Florentines, destroyed the last remnants of his popularity.
Seven years of tumult and faction followed the departure of the Duke of Calabria. The annulling of the new Monte of the Aggregati, the re-admission of the Riformatori and the Dodicini, were accompanied by a series of furious battles in the streets. In July 1482 there was a general rising of the people—Popolani, Dodicini, Riformatori—against the Noveschi, who, headed by the Bellanti, Petrucci, and Borghesi, assembled in arms in the Postierla. The Noveschi swept down the Via di Città, but were hurled back to the Postierla, and their leaders forced to take refuge in the palaces of the Pecci and Borghesi, which, after a fierce contest of more than three hours with crossbows and guns and long lances, surrendered, at the persuasion of the Cardinal Archbishop, Francesco Piccolomini (the nephew of Pius II.), and the arms were laid down for a while. It is on this occasion that the name of Pandolfo di Bartolommeo Petrucci first appears prominently as a leader of the Noveschi.
At the beginning of 1483 the Balìa was entirely composed of Popolani, and the Noveschi were deprived “for ever” of any share in the government. Luzio Bellanti, with a few daring spirits, occupied Montereggioni, and held it for some weeks against the Republic—which was made an excuse for arresting the leading Noveschi in Siena. The Papal Legate, Cardinal Giovanni Battista Cibo (afterwards Innocent VIII.), came from Rome as a peace-maker; and in March it was decided to reduce the four Monti to one, “di far di tutto il Reggimento un Monte,” which should be called the Monte del Popolo, and in which some Noveschi were to be admitted. But on April 1st a furious mob burst into the Palace, seized four of the imprisoned Noveschi—Agnolo Petrucci, Biagio Turchi, and two others—with a plebeian of their faction, and hurled them out of the windows, to be dashed to pieces on the pavement below. Disgusted and disillusioned, the Legate at once left the city. The Noveschi, headed by the Petrucci and Bellanti, together with others of other orders, at length retired from the territory of the Republic, and watched for the opportunity of recovering their state by force of arms; while, on August 7th, the Council of the People carried unanimously a resolution “that Siena should be given and presented to our Lady.”
The exiles had not long to wait. New factions broke out in the city, with plotting and counter-plotting, rioting and executions. Numbers of each order were banished. The Noveschi, supported by the King of Naples and the new Pope Innocent, collected troops under Giulio Orsini, and threatened the contado. Their first attempts were unsuccessful; but at length certain of the Riformatori and Dodicini, ousted from the administration and oppressed by the government, opened negotiations with the chosen representatives of the Noveschi—Niccolò Borghesi and Neri Placidi in
Rome and Leonardo Bellanti in Pisa—probably with the knowledge of the Cardinal Francesco, who, throughout these turbulent and blood-stained years, had acted strenuously, though not always successfully, as peace-maker. The Noveschi and other exiles assembled at Staggia, and, with a small force of Florentine soldiers, arrived at the Porta Fontebranda before dawn on July 22nd, 1487. Pandolfo Petrucci is said to have been the first to scale the walls. Leaving a small guard to hold the gate and secure their retreat if unsuccessful, they pressed up to the Croce del Travaglio, and then rushed through the streets, shouting “People and Nine! Liberty and Peace!” After a brief resistance, the Captain of the People was forced to surrender the Palace, and there was practically no opposition elsewhere. Camillo Venturini—a young man of the Monte del Popolo—killed with a bill-hook a certain Messer Cristoforo di Guidoccio to avenge his father, Lorenzo di Antonio Venturini, who had been beheaded in the previous year, and the Captain of the People was likewise put to death. But otherwise there was little or no bloodshed, save by way of private vendetta in the first confusion. Bartolommeo Sozzini, one of the Dodicini who had worked the scheme at Pisa, where he held a chair, returned with a party of mounted crossbowmen to share in the new regime. The two most honoured citizens of Siena—the Cardinal Francesco and his brother Andrea Piccolomini—came in, a day or two later, and the revolution was complete.
The government was, of course, reformed in the interests of the conquerors, but the other factions were not entirely excluded. There were the inevitable tumults, conspiracies, executions and banishments, accompanied by various changes in the constitution, but all tending to the ultimate preponderance of the Monte de’ Nove, whose government was styled “the government devout and consecrated to the glorious Virgin Mary, the patroness and defender of our Republic.” On the last day of 1494, there was a solemn reconciliation between the Popolani and the Noveschi. The former assembled in the Spedale, the latter in the Vescovado, and then in the evening they went separately to the Duomo. The Noveschi occupied the gospel side of the altar and choir, the Popolani the epistle side, and the Cardinal in full pontifical vestments came out of the sacristy and took his seat between the two parties in front of the high altar. “This is the day which the Lord hath made,” began his illustrious and most reverend Lordship, “let us rejoice and be glad in it;” and he proceeded to deliver an impassioned oration in favour of concord, expressing his conviction that the peace and quiet of the city were at last secured. Then a notary stepped forward and read the articles of the peace, with a most fearful string of curses and excommunications against any who should offend against them or break any of them—“in such wise,” writes the diarist, “that I, Allegretto di Nanni Allegretti, who was present at these things, do not believe that there was ever made nor heard a more stupendous and a more horrible swearing than this.” It was already night, and beneath the flaming torches the notaries on either side inscribed the names of the citizens, who all swore upon the Crucifix of the Missal; and while they swore and while they solemnly kissed each other, the bells rang and the choir with the organ burst out into Te Deum Laudamus. “Now may it please God,” continues Allegretto, “that this be the peace and the quiet of all the citizens; but I doubt it.”[51]
In the following March, it was decided that the government of the city should be equally divided among three Monti; the Monte de’ Nove; the Monte del Popolo; the Monte of the Gentiluomini and Dodicini; and that those of the Riformatori who were admitted should be distributed among these three Monti. A number of exiles were recalled. Then the Signoria with all the Council went to the Duomo, to return thanks to God and to the Virgin Mary, the Te Deum Laudamus was sung, the bells rang a gloria, and they returned to the Palace. But the real authority was still vested in the Balìa. A special magistracy called the Consiglio dei tre segreti had been instituted in 1492, the three being chosen from the members of the Balìa, and wielding, up to a certain point, the authority of the Balìa. By means of this special Council—suppressed at intervals by the enemies of the Noveschi, but almost always soon re-established—the Monte de’ Nove swayed the State. The government was rapidly becoming an oligarchy, in the hands of certain families of Noveschi.
Writing of the factions of Siena, Machiavelli calls the Noveschi the “nobili.” They were in fact a kind of burgher nobility, risen out of families of merchants in the course of the previous century. We find their parallel in Florentine history in the ottimati, the nobili popolani, whose prepotency had been overthrown by the Medici more than half a century before. They were men of wealth and influence, munificent patrons of art and letters; several of them must rank among the most enlightened men of their day. Prominent among them, the heart and soul of the new regime, are the Petrucci, Salvetti, Borghesi, Bichi and Bellanti. The more violent spirits are Giacoppo and Pandolfo Petrucci, Luzio and Leonardo Bellanti; but the noblest is Niccolò di Bartolommeo Borghesi, an ardent patriot and a profound scholar, whom Professor Zdekauer regards as the most important personality in the story of Siena during the second half of the Quattrocento. Niccolò had taken a leading part in the return of the fuorusciti in 1487, and in the September of that year he was appointed professor for five years at the Studio to read “Opus Humanitatis ac moralem Phylosophiam,” and at the same time made Secretary of State “with the charge of writing the annals and the deeds of the Sienese from the foundation of the City itself.”[52] But he showed more desire to make history than to write it, married his daughter Aurelia to Pandolfo Petrucci and plunged into the turmoil of the political conflict.
“Pandolfo Petrucci returned with other exiles to Siena,” writes Machiavelli in the famous chapter of his Discorsi dealing with conspiracies, “and the custody of the piazza was put into his charge, as a mechanical thing and one which the others refused; nevertheless those armed men in time gave him so great a reputation that, in a short while, he became prince of the city.” Pandolfo was born in 1452, and was therefore still under forty when the Noveschi returned. He was a man of little culture or education. At first he played the second part to his brother Giacoppo, but it was in the general alarm and confusion that accompanied the arrival in Italy of Charles VIII. of France that he found his opportunity. A force of 300 mercenaries, provvisionati, was brought to Siena in June 1494, to guard the city and maintain order, and Pandolfo was placed in command. This is evidently what Machiavelli meant. In October, Filippo Valori, one of the Florentine ambassadors to the King, wrote to Piero de’ Medici that His Majesty had been informed that the said Pandolfo was a daring and most dangerous person, persona animosa e scandalosa da precipitare. Nevertheless, when Niccolò Borghesi was sent from the Balìa to greet the King at Pisa, he was graciously received and returned with a letter making Pandolfo and Paolo Salvetti knights for the royal service. Charles entered Siena on December 2nd, with his bodyguard of 300 archers, 200 men-at-arms, and 100 mounted crossbowmen, “right graciously so that it seemed he were at home,” writes Allegretto—though his soldiery, especially the Swiss, committed numberless excesses in the contado. He marched onwards on the 4th, and there was much passing to and fro through Siena of soldiers and ambassadors in those months, stormy and disastrous for Italy, that followed. In the general dissolution of the Florentine dominion, Montepulciano rose in insurrection and declared that she would live and die with Siena. Even the women and children shouted “Lupa! Lupa!” The Sienese promptly dispatched Antonio Bichi as commissary with troops to the spot. The French King sent letters bidding both cities let Montepulciano alone, for he would judge the matter. The growing feeling of the Popolani and especially the Riformatori against the presence of the mercenaries—the outward sign of the prepotency of the Nove—came to a head, and, on the approach of the French army on its return march through Tuscany, the French ambassador forced the Balìa and Pandolfo to send them away. The King stayed a few days in Siena in June 1495, interviewed representatives of all factions, took the Republic under his perpetual protection, “saving the rights of the Empire,” and made a number of knights, including the infant son of Pandolfo. He left a captain with a French garrison behind him. Next month the Riformatori and Popolani rose, headed by Giovanni Severini and Giacomo Buoninsegni, drove Pietro Borghesi out of Siena, fought Niccolò Borghesi and Pandolfo Petrucci with their followers in the Campo. But on July 28th, before daybreak, Luzio Bellanti and Pietro Borghesi with all the dismissed mercenaries and the soldiers from Montepulciano burst into Siena by the Porta Tufi, drove an armed mob of Popolani and Riformatori in headlong flight down the Via di Città, occupied the Campo and all the strong places of the city. The Dodicini and the Gentiluomini made common cause with them, but the intervention of the French captain and Messer Andrea Piccolomini prevented a pitched battle in the Campo or a massacre in the streets. Pandolfo and others made a pretence of retiring to Buonconvento, but were recalled next day, and the French captain with his garrison was peaceably and honourably sent about his business.
The events of the next few years confirmed the power of Pandolfo. In revenge for the affair of Montepulciano and for the assistance that the Balìa had given to Piero de’ Medici, a Florentine army led by Piero Capponi approached Siena in January 1496, and even penetrated so far as the Palazzo de’ Diavoli. With them were Lodovico Luti and a number of other Sienese exiles. They were in secret understanding with the disaffected within the walls, who hoped to introduce them together with enough Florentine soldiers to change the government. But the Florentines were in stronger force than had been anticipated, and the conspirators shrank from betraying their country. “The city of Siena,” writes Machiavelli in the second book of the Discorsi, “has never changed state with the favour of the Florentines, save when these favours have been small and few. For when they have been many and strenuous, they have merely united that city for the defence of the existing government.” And so it happened now. “We were all disposed,” said Allegretto, “to defend ourselves from our most cordial enemies the Florentines. We wanted our exiled fellow citizens back, but in another way.” The Florentines retreated. Luzio Bellanti had deserved as much as Pandolfo from the Monte de’ Nove, but he now found himself ousted from the command of the provvisionati. Possibly he had been in the plot with the Florentines; at least he now plotted to admit them and the fuorusciti and to murder the two Petrucci, Neri Placidi, Antonio Bichi, Niccolò Borghesi and others of their faction. A peculiar feature of the conspiracy was that one of Luzio’s agents pretended to have visions of the Madonna who, he said, wished the Sienese to go in solemn procession to a church beyond the Porta Tufi—the idea being to leave the way clear for the entry of the exiles. The plot was discovered, and Luzio Bellanti in September fled with a price upon his head.
Pandolfo Petrucci was now practically without a rival, and, in all but the name, tyrant of Siena. Pandolfo Petrucci, wrote the Venetian diarist Sanudo, al presente in Siena è il tutto. In the following year, 1497, the Balìa largely increased the number of the mercenaries, who were still under his command, and the death of his brother Giacoppo left him alone at the head of his own family. In theory the Balìa was still equally divided between the three Monti; but it was entirely controlled by the Noveschi, and a number of hostile families were “admonished” and for ever excluded. The Balìa of forty-five—fifteen from each Monte—that was elected in November in this year, for five years, by successive reappointments continued in power till 1516, and in it Pandolfo sat to the end of his life. His strong personality, coupled with his lavishness and backed by the mercenaries, secured the compliance of the high and dazzled the low. While not openly interfering with the republican forms of government, and merely taking the comparatively humble title of “magnifico,” which every petty noble used in the aristocratic circles of Ferrara or Mantua, he kept in his own hands the whole thread of Sienese policy. Allied to France and never openly breaking with Florence, he plotted with Duke Lodovico Sforza of Milan until the latter’s fall, kept in touch with the exiled Medici, and maintained intimate relations with the petty tyrants of Umbria and the Patrimony. His chosen confidant was a Neopolitan of humble birth, who had once held a chair at the University of Siena, a certain Antonio da Venafro, exalted by Machiavelli as the typical secretary of a tyrant, “a serviceable villain” in the Shakespearian sense, who stuck at no crime for his patron’s sake nor hesitated to whisper bloodier suggestions into his ear.
Much use did Pandolfo make of secret assassinations. The exiled Lodovico Luti was murdered by his emissaries in 1499. Luzio Bellanti, earning a precarious living as a man of letters in Florence, lived in constant apprehension. “The liberty of my country,” he says at the end of a book on astrology which he published in 1498, “is ever in my mind. Even whilst I write, a messenger breaks in to warn me that assassins are at hand to slay me; everywhere I find snares prepared, so that my friends may call me Damocles or Dionysius. And although I am by now become callous, nevertheless the pen drops from my wearied hand.” A little later his apprehensions were verified; but in the meanwhile Leonardo Bellanti (Luzio’s brother) and Niccolò Borghesi (Pandolfo’s father-in-law) showed signs of resenting the Petruccian supremacy, and Antonio da Venafro urged his master to make away with Niccolò, who was dreaming republican dreams. An alleged conspiracy against Pandolfo’s own life was the pretext—but, some months before this, he had communicated to Lodovico Sforza, through his serviceable secretary, his intention of freeing himself from the Bellanti and the Borghesi. In June 1500, Niccolò Borghesi was set upon by six armed men in Pandolfo’s pay, as he was returning from Mass at the Duomo, and mortally wounded. He lingered on for a few weeks, spending what of life remained to him in finishing his life of St Catherine, in dictating a Latin epigram commending Siena to her protection. Then he died, freely forgiving Pandolfo for his death. On July 20th he was buried in the vaults of San Domenico.
Pandolfo professed the most sincere repentance, and sent a Franciscan friar to the murdered man’s son, Bernardino, to propose a conference at the convent of the Osservanza. Leonardo Bellanti, who had fled from Siena at the news of Niccolò’s death, wrote a vigorous letter to Bernardino urging him not to go. “The ground still runs with the blood of thy excellent father, the father of our common country,” he said; “I know not how thou canst even think of having to speak to him who with his own hands—nay, much more than with his own hands—so deliberately and abominably, with such cruelty, hath killed thy father, and but yesterday. Alas! Art thou not a rational man? Hast no spirit? Hast not blood? Hast no heart or stomach? For, certes, the vilest of men would not listen to his messengers, much less speak to this man who is devoid of any faith or love, but most abounding in good words and tears.”[53] Nevertheless the Borghesi were reconciled to Pandolfo, and Leonardo himself soon returned to the city.
A new danger now threatened Siena and Pandolfo alike. Cesare Borgia, with the aid of his father, Pope Alexander VI., was building up a great state for himself in central Italy. He had conquered the Romagna, added Piombino to his dominions in September 1501, and was casting eyes upon Siena. In the spring of 1502 the Pope invited Pandolfo to meet him at Piombino; but the Magnifico, pleading excuses and delays, did not go. In August Pandolfo purchased the protection of King Louis XII. of France, with the moneys of the Republic. He sent ambassadors to congratulate Cesare on his conquests, but plotted against him with the petty tyrants who led his mercenaries and began to suspect that their own turns were coming. In the autumn took place the famous meeting of the conspirators at La Magione, to ally against Cesare—“for the salvation of all, and not to be, one by one, devoured by the dragon,” as their leading spirit, Giampaolo Baglioni of Perugia, put it. Pandolfo was represented by Antonio da Venafro and Guido Pecci, and hoped for Piombino as his share of the spoils. At the same time he tried to treat with the Borgia, using Antonio da Venafro as a go-between. “This man,” said Cesare to Machiavelli (who was with him as ambassador of Florence), “sends me every day either letters or special envoys to make me understand his great friendship towards me, but I know him.” It is needless to repeat the tale here of how Cesare—when his forces were temporarily defeated at Fossombrone—waited until the time was ripe, and then crushed the wretched conspirators at the famous tradimento of Sinigaglia. Pandolfo had kept out of the trap. Perugia surrendered on January 6th, 1503; Giampaolo Baglioni fled with his followers to join his Sienese ally.
Siena now “felt the Hydra’s fiery breath.” “This Signore,” wrote Machiavelli of Cesare to the Signoria of Florence from Gualdo on January 6th, “is leaving here to-morrow with his army and is going to Assisi, and thence he will advance upon Siena to make of that city a state to his own liking.” At Assisi the Sienese ambassadors met him. Cesare assured them that he had no quarrel with the Republic, but was at war only with his inimico capitale, Pandolfo. Let them send him away and there would be peace. Otherwise he would come with his army, “impelled by necessity and by a reasonable indignation against the man who, not content with tyrannising over one of the first cities of Italy, wished also by ruining others to be able to impose laws upon all his neighbours.” Machiavelli thought Pandolfo’s position fairly strong, seeing that he was “a man of much prudence in a state held by him with great reputation, and without having external or internal enemies of real importance, since he has either killed them or reconciled them, and with a large force of good troops, if Giampaolo has taken refuge with him, as they say, and not without money.” The Balìa sent to assure the Duke that he was mistaken about Pandolfo, who was no tyrant but had always conducted himself as “a most modest citizen,” and to remind him that Siena was under the protection of France. “The master of the shop, who is the King of France,” quoth Cesare with pleasing frankness to Machiavelli, “would not be content that I should take Siena for myself, nor am I so daring that I should think of such a thing. That community should trust me; I want nothing of theirs, but only to drive away Pandolfo. And I would have thy Government bear witness to and publish this intention of mine, which is only to assure myself of this tyrant. I believe that that community of Siena will believe me; but in case it should not, I shall march on and plant my artillery at the gates.” Pandolfo, he said, had been the cervello, the brain of the whole conspiracy against him. He confidently appealed to the Florentines for help in the business, “for as long as Pandolfo is in Siena, it will always be a refuge and a support for all your enemies.”[54]
The Sienese prepared for defence, while messenger after messenger was sent to stay the Borgia’s advance. At first all orders seemed united to defend Pandolfo, “with such love and charity,” wrote the Balìa, “as has never been shown in any other occurrence in this city.” The mob shouted lustily for “Lupa, Libertà e Pandolfo.” But Cesare came nearer and nearer, sending an ultimatum before him, bidding the Sienese expel Pandolfo, dismiss Giampaolo Baglioni and his men, and surrender their artillery. Then the hearts of the Sienese began to sink; there were countrymen of theirs in the hostile camp, and Leonardo Bellanti was vigorously fanning the flames among the citizens. Pandolfo sent his children to a place of safety. At length, on January 24th, the Balìa, in Pandolfo’s presence, decreed his exile, and appointed six citizens to come to an agreement with Cesare. But already the people had risen in tumult at the sight of the two Borgian envoys and the rumoured approach of his cavalry, and Pandolfo still lingered. Then there came another letter from Cesare from Pienza: “We swear to God that if, in whatever hour you shall receive these presents, you shall not have already expelled, or shall not immediately without further delay expel the said Pandolfo, we shall reckon every one of you in the place of Pandolfo. And without any intermission we shall move to the total extermination of all your towns, subjects, and goods, and of your city and of your own persons. Since you choose to be our enemies, you shall remain beaten down and crushed in such wise that never again shall you be able to offend us.”[55] This settled it. On the evening of January 28th, Pandolfo and Giampaolo took a solemn farewell of the government and left Siena. As the Magnifico rode from the Palazzo his adherents crowded round him, weeping and profuse in their anticipations of his speedy return. But a woman shrieked at him from a window: “Crucify him! crucify the traitor!” It was the mother of a certain Ildebrando Cerretani, who had been secretly murdered at Pandolfo’s bidding. He made his way in disguise to Lucca, closely pursued by a band of Borgia’s light-armed cavalry, who (in spite of Cesare’s safe conduct to Pandolfo) had orders to cut both him and Giampaolo to pieces.
In the meanwhile Leonardo Bellanti, Andrea Piccolomini, Lorenzo Beccafumi, and three other delegates were making terms for Siena with Cesare. But the Pope called the Duke back to suppress the rising of the Roman barons, and the intervention of the King of France protected Siena from further molestation. To the demands of the King addressed to the Balìa for the recall of Pandolfo, an evasive answer was returned, and the Pope was assured that the Sienese did not want him back. Pandolfo, however, had gained over the Florentines by undertaking to restore Montepulciano, and he suddenly appeared with armed men at Poggibonsi. On March 29th, the Balìa decreed his recall and restitution into the Collegio; but they implored him not to bring Giampaolo Baglioni with him, and to be content with a modest return with a small company, so that he could “enjoy his sweet native land in peace with the others, as is the common desire of all the citizens.” Nevertheless, on the same day, Pandolfo entered Siena in triumph accompanied by the French ambassadors, with Giampaolo Baglioni and his cavalry, and the condottiere Pochintesta da Bagnacavallo with a large force of infantry. “And so,” he wrote to the Florentines, “by the gift of God, accompanied by the orators of the Most Christian King, and with a great multitude of the citizens and Sienese nobles, peacefully and without tumult or any disturbance, have I entered my sweet native land.”[56]
Alexander VI. died in the following August, and was succeeded by the Cardinal Francesco Piccolomini, who took the title of Pius III. in the memory of his uncle. Andrea Piccolomini had left Siena on Pandolfo’s return, and the new Pope was probably not well disposed to the re-establishment of this despotism in his native city. But his pontificate only lasted twenty-six days—he was broken down already with age and ill-health; and Pandolfo managed to establish friendly relations with his successor, Julius II. Like his uncle, Pius III. has left his mark upon Siena, and we shall return to him in the Duomo.
Henceforth Pandolfo was practically undisputed lord of Siena and her dominion, though he never succeeded in getting the longed-for imperial investiture. The citizens appear to have acquiesced in his supremacy. The Balìa was in his hands; he disposed of the moneys of the State, and appears to have been allowed to sell certain magistracies and offices to his own profit. Ambassadors were sent to him and not to the Republic, and business was transacted by the “Magnificent Pandolfo Petrucci, Sienese Patrician, in the stead and in the name of the Magnificent Commune of Siena.” He meddled in all the political intrigues of the early Cinquecento, with a considerable amount of success. “In the midst of the new complications which now arose,” writes Professor Villari, “he shaped his course with the greatest wariness, and whilst he made a show of friendship towards Florence, from which he could certainly receive much damage, he strove also to draw near to her enemies, seeing that the bad fortune of France was augmenting their power and ever rendering the friends of Spain more potent.”[57] He secretly assisted Pisa against Florence in 1505, when Bartolommeo Alviano assailed the territory of the latter Republic, and this was the occasion of the second legation of Machiavelli to Siena in the July of that year.[58] Machiavelli found Pandolfo a hard problem: “I can hardly judge,” he wrote to the Signoria, “whether he should be believed or not, because here I have seen no sign whereby I can make a better conjecture than can your Lordships.” And he talked all day with Antonio da Venafro, without getting anything out of him.
There was a last conspiracy against Pandolfo’s life in 1508. He had promised his daughter Sulpizia to Giulio, one of the sons of Leonardo Bellanti, but married her to Sigismondo Chigi instead. Induced by this slight and the desire of avenging Luzio, Leonardo and his sons with a force of armed men lay in wait for Pandolfo, on his way to visit their own kinsman, Petrino Bellanti, who lay sick. A boy that they had set to watch gave the alarm too soon, and the Magnifico escaped. The Bellanti at once fled through the Porta Camollia to Florence. They were summoned to appear before the Balìa within three days, declared rebels, and their goods confiscated.
Pandolfo had now assumed the pomp and state of a petty prince. He walked through the streets and squares followed by a cortège of Noveschi and Gentiluomini, while his splendid new palace near the Duomo seemed destined to play the part in the story of Siena that the Palazzo Riccardi was doing in that of Florence. He made and unmade marriages at his pleasure. He separated Mariana Vignoli from her husband, and shut her up in a convent, while he compelled Vittoria Piccolomini, the daughter of the late Andrea, to become the wife of his own son Borghese. The sumptuary laws of Siena touching the jewels and dresses of ladies were abrogated in favour of the women of his family,[59] who are said to have taken full advantage of this dispensation. He obtained possession for himself of various castles and palaces in the contado, while by humouring the nobles, giving the public funds and offices to his friends, finding work for artisans and food for the poor, he contrived to keep all classes more or less content. “How does the Magnifico rule the Sienese?” asked one of the Popes of Antonio da Venafro. “With lies, Holy Father,” answered the astute secretary. But Luzio Bellanti and Niccolò Borghesi were not alone in declining to give credit to these bugie, and Pandolfo is said to have murdered some sixty persons in the course of his reign. The more insignificant of these were thrown into oubliettes or disused burial vaults, and left there to starve.
In 1511, Pope Julius created Pandolfo’s second son Alfonso a Cardinal. In the same year peace was finally made with Florence, and a confederation established between the two Republics, Montepulciano being restored and the prepotency of the Petrucci assured. The star of France being on the wane in Italy, Pandolfo was now looking to Spain. His last political act was to intervene for harmony between the Pope and Florence. Gradually he was losing hold of things, absorbed in a vulgar, senile passion for a certain Caterina, whom the Sienese called “the two-handed sword,” the young wife of an artisan in the Via di Salicotto. In February 1512, he obtained from the Balìa that his son Borghese should take his place in the Collegio, and in all other magistracies in his absence. On May 21st he died at San Quirico. All the shops were closed when his body was brought to the city; there was a state funeral in the Duomo, after which it was carried in procession to San Francesco, and thence quietly conveyed by the friars to the Osservanza. Machiavelli, who came with the condolences of the Republic of Florence, ranks Pandolfo in the second class of despots. He was undoubtedly not among the worst tyrants of the epoch. Especially after his return from his brief exile, his rule was beneficial to Siena, in that he secured for the State a comparatively long period of respite from internal factions and of external peace.
Pandolfo, writes an anonymous chronicler, at his death left Borghese his son with the same authority, but not with the same prudence. The machinations of Antonio da Venafro secured his peaceful accession to his father’s dignities, and an increased force of mercenaries was hired under the command of Orazio Baglioni—Borghese’s prospective brother-in-law. But the young man was utterly without his father’s abilities, luxurious and dissolute, as well as cowardly and arrogant. So superstitious was he that, at the advice of a Jew astrologer, he always wore a bracelet with certain mysterious signs that should infallibly protect him from all possible enemies. For some time he tried the Medicean policy of dazzling the populace with festivities and spectacular displays, while the Cardinal Alfonso amassed riches at Rome, and plunged into the intrigues at the court of Leo X., which the papal executioners cut short a few years later. While the brutalities of Borghese’s favourite, the condottiere Pochintesta, disgusted and exasperated the Sienese, there was another Petrucci—Raffaello di Giacoppo, Bishop of Grosseto and governor of the Castle of Sant’Angelo—high in favour with the Pope and biding his time, in touch with the Bellanti, Petroni, Tancredi, and other families that hated Borghese. In December 1515, Borghese dismissed Antonio da Venafro. “I go, Magnificence,” said the old secretary, “but only to take rooms for you.” In the following March, with aid from Pope Leo X. and Florence, Raffaello Petrucci appeared in Sienese territory at the head of a force of mercenaries, accompanied by Leonardo Bellanti and other exiles, and Borghese with his young brother Fabio ignominiously fled from the city, leaving his wife and little daughters behind him.
Raffaello Petrucci entered Siena in triumph through the Porta Romana on March 10th, 1516, harangued the Signoria—his words being few and inelegant, says Pecci, because he was ignorant and more disposed to arms than to letters—and was then conveyed in state to his father’s palace, which occupied the site of the present Palazzo Reale. The creation of the new Balìa was put into his hands, the exiles were restored to their honours, Borghese and Fabio declared rebels. A league—but with reservation of the imperial rights over the city of Siena and its state—was concluded with the younger Lorenzo de’ Medici and the Pope, who was desirous, says Guicciardini, “that that city, being placed between the States of the Church and of the Florentines, should be governed by a man in his confidence, and perchance all the more because he hoped, when the opportunity of times should
be propitious, to be able, by the consent of the Bishop himself, to subject it either to his brother or his nephew.” In the following year the Cardinal Alfonso Petrucci plotted against the Pope’s life in Rome, was degraded from the Cardinalate, and strangled in prison. One of his accomplices was the condottiere Pochintesta who, when examined, accused the Bellanti of similarly intending to murder the Bishop Raffaello at Siena. Raffaello summoned Giulio and Guidone Bellanti to his presence; the first was butchered by Francesco di Camillo Petrucci in the street outside, the second cut to pieces in the palace before Raffaello’s eyes, while he knelt and begged for mercy. Leonardo Bellanti, their old father, was sent to a fortress in the Maremma and there beheaded. Shortly afterwards, Raffaello was raised to the Cardinalate.
In spite of his personal immorality and cruelty, the tyranny of the Cardinal Raffaello does not seem to have been utterly bad. He governed with a firm hand, keeping Siena in peace and comparative prosperity for six years. During his absence at the conclave after the death of Leo X., the exiles and anti-Mediceans prevailed upon the Duke of Urbino in January, 1522, to invade the Sienese contado in favour of Lattanzio Petrucci, also an ecclesiastic and a cousin of Borghese; but with no result. And in March, after his return, another unsuccessful attempt led by Renzo da Ceri, backed by France and secretly favoured by a party in Siena itself, was made to overthrow his regime. The Cardinal died suddenly in his villa on December 17th, 1522, in such a tempest “that it seemed the mouth of Hell were opened.” When his body was brought to Siena to be buried in San Domenico, a howling mob assailed the funeral procession, hurling stones and hooting, shouting that the dead man should be thrown out into the place where the carrion was cast. The friars all fled, leaving the bier alone in the midst of the police, who with difficulty got it safe into the church. Raffaello left one illegitimate son, Eustacchio, who held the command of the mercenaries in the Campo.
Francesco di Camillo Petrucci, the son of a younger brother of Pandolfo, who had been at the head of the government during the Cardinal’s absence, now seized the chief power; while part of the citizens looked to the imperial agents in Rome for the restoration of their liberties, and another part desired the recall of Pandolfo’s youngest son Fabio—Borghese having gone mad at Naples. Francesco’s tyrannical behaviour and his murder of Marcello Saracini disgusted all classes. Pope Clement VII., who intended to marry Fabio Petrucci with the daughter of Galeotto de’ Medici, summoned Francesco to Rome and kept him there, while Fabio, in December 1523, entered Siena. Fabio was a youth of eighteen years of age, excessively handsome and winning in manners, most incompetent and more dissolute than even Borghese had been. The Sienese stood his mercenaries and his unsavoury amours for about nine months. On September 18th, 1524, there was a general rising against him, headed by Giovanni Martinozzi, Mario Bandini and Giovanni Battista Piccolomini. Fabio’s mercenaries occupied the Palazzo, while his few remaining friends assembled in the house of Alessandro Bichi. There was prolonged fighting in the Campo, in the Piazza Tolomei, at the Croce del Travaglio, the adherents of Fabio raising the Florentine shout of “Marzocco” only to be drowned by the swelling thunder of “Popolo e Libertà!” Had Fabio held his ground for a couple of days more, aid would have been forthcoming from the Florentines and the Pope; but his heart failed him and, rejecting the compromise which the leaders of the revolution offered him, he fled at nightfall through the Porta Tufi and escaped to Florence. Thus ignominiously ended the tyranny of the Petrucci in Siena.
WE may conveniently begin the story of Sienese art with the coming of Niccolò Pisano to Siena in 1266, the year after Dante’s birth, for the work of the great marble pulpit of the Duomo. Niccolò’s son, Giovanni, became a citizen of Siena, and was chief architect of the Duomo during the two closing decades of the century. Stimulated by their presence and example, there rose an independent school of Sienese sculptors, which flourished from the end of the thirteenth to the middle of the fourteenth century—a school which chronologically succeeds to that founded by Niccolò Pisano, and anticipates the rise of the Florentine school under Andrea Pisano’s influence. These Sienese sculptors were mainly employed upon the Cathedrals of Siena and of Orvieto, and in making tombs in other cities of Italy, sepulchral monuments in which, writes M. Reymond, “the Sienese school reveals a very special and new character, which is the subordination of the religious idea to the civil idea.”[60] Tino da Camaino, who sculptured the famous tomb of Henry VII. at Pisa and worked for the royal Angevins of Naples; the architects, Agostino di Giovanni and Agnolo di Ventura; Cellino di Nese, who made the tomb of the poet Cino at Pistoia; Gano da Siena and Ramo di Paganello; Lorenzo Maitani, whose fame is for ever linked to the glorious Duomo of Orvieto; these are the masters of chief repute in this early Sienese school.
All these belong to that bright epoch in the story of Siena previous to the great pestilence of 1348. Then there came a sad decline, as the statues of the Apostles in the chapel of the Campo, executed between 1376 and 1384, show only too clearly. But, just at the time that St Catherine was beginning her public life, Siena became the mother of one of the greatest sculptors of the Renaissance.
Giacomo della Quercia was the son of a goldsmith named Pietro di Agnolo, a citizen of Siena, and was born in Siena or its contado in 1371 or 1374. His first artistic studies were made in Siena itself where, there being then no great native sculptors, he drank inspiration almost solely from the great pulpit of the Duomo. This, perhaps, is what makes him so isolated a figure in the art of the Quattrocento; the heir of Niccolò Pisano, the forerunner of Michelangelo. He left Siena when it fell into the hands of the Duke of Milan, and went to Florence, where he was chiefly impressed by the work of Giotto and Andrea Pisano. In 1401 he entered the competition for the second bronze gates of the Baptistery, and came next to Ghiberti and Brunelleschi; his figures, says Vasari, were considered good, but lacking in refinement, non avevano finezze. A few years later, at Lucca, he carved that tomb of Ilaria del Carretto, made famous in our own days by the eloquent enthusiasm of Ruskin. His native city now began to recognise his genius. In 1409 he was commissioned to make the famous fountain of the Piazza del Campo, upon which he worked at intervals between 1412 and 1419—going off to do other work at Lucca, and forced by the Signoria to return under heavy financial penalties. In 1416 he was commissioned by the Operaio, or superintendent of the artistic work of the Duomo, to design the Font for the Baptistery,