The Venetians: A New History: from Marco Polo to Casanova (14 page)

The days of the young Visconti brothers squabbling over their inheritance were now over, and a new tyrant of Milan had emerged in the form of Filippo Maria Visconti. From this time on, for almost twenty years, Foscari’s policy would ensure that Venice was engaged in war against Milan and its allies. And just as Mocenigo had so ominously predicted, Venice was forced to hire mercenary generals who would gain increasing sway over the decisions taken by the Republic. The first of these powerful
condottieri
was Francesco Bussone, better known as Carmagnola.

Carmagnola was said to have been born the son of a swineherd on the banks of the Po south of Turin sometime before 1382. At the age of twelve he ran off to join, or was sold into, the mercenary army in the service of the previous tyrant of Milan, Gian Galeazzo Visconti. Demonstrating precocious ruthlessness and skill in battle, he quickly rose through the ranks. When Gian Galeazzo died in 1402, Milan became divided amongst his squabbling heirs, and his son Filippo Maria realised that he would have to go to war if he was to secure what he considered to be his rightful claim to the duchy and its entire territories. But he did not immediately achieve his aim, and the struggle against his brothers dragged on. It was now that the military skill of the thirty-year-old Carmagnola came to the notice of Filippo Maria, who took him under his wing and appointed him commander of his mercenary army. Carmagnola more than fulfilled his expectations, and in 1412 Filippo Maria was able to claim the entire Duchy of Milan as his own.

Filippo Maria had further territorial ambitions for Milan, and over the ensuing years Carmagnola enabled him to begin realising them, executing a number of brilliant victories, most notably defeating a force of Swiss infantry, generally reckoned to be the toughest fighting men in Europe at the time. Consequently Carmagnola was soon regarded as the finest general in Italy, his army feared by all others. Filippo Maria rewarded him
handsomely; he was aware that, as Carmagnola was now such a renowned soldier-of-fortune, he was liable to receive other offers for his services, and he wished to bind him as closely as possible to the cause of Milan. As a result, Carmagnola was given a magnificent palazzo, a tax-free income of 40,000 florins a year, and the hand in marriage of Filippo Maria’s cousin, Antonia Visconti. Filippo Maria made it clear that Carmagnola was now much more than a mere
condottiere:
he bestowed on him a title, acknowledging him as the second most powerful man in Milan, and as such his close personal friend.

Even the more flattering portraits of Filippo Maria Visconti cannot disguise the curious squashed ugliness of his bulging features, an unattractive appearance which was more than echoed in his paranoid and unpredictable personality. He had already demonstrated the characteristic Visconti ruthlessness by having his wife beheaded. It was soon clear that, despite all the favour that he had bestowed upon Carmagnola, Filippo Maria did not trust him – suspecting that, as the power of his mercenary army increased, and with it Carmagnola’s popularity amongst his men, he might one day seek to take the Duchy of Milan for himself. Consequently in 1422 Filippo Maria appointed Carmagnola governor of Genoa. At a stroke, this removed him from the centre of power in Milan, and separated him from his troops who were now campaigning against Florence. At the same time, it also gave Carmagnola’s many jealous enemies at the court in Milan the chance to feed Filippo Maria’s paranoia with poisonous rumours.

No doubt prompted by such whisperings, in 1424 Filippo Maria suddenly stripped Carmagnola of his post in Genoa, without offering his ‘friend’ a word of justification. Carmagnola at once set out for Milan to demand the reason for his dismissal. On his arrival at court, he was refused an audience with the duke. Carmagnola felt deeply betrayed by the man who had even gone so far as to take him into his own family. At the same time, he also realised the danger of his situation, and immediately fled with his wife and children across the border to Savoy, where he sought the protection of the ruler, Duke Amadeus VIII. Carmagnola was now bent on seeking revenge for what he saw as his betrayal, and began attempting to turn Amadeus VIII against Filippo Maria. But the court of Amadeus in Turin was not like the court of Filippo Maria in Milan had once been.
Here Carmasnola was no longer treated by the ruler as a friend, but as a mere peasant boy who had risen to become an uncouth
condottiere
. Owing to his lack of sophistication and diplomatic skill, Carmagnola had severely misjudged the political situation. Amadeus VIII reacted by seizing Carmagnola’s wife and daughters, although Carmagnola himself managed to escape. This was the man who arrived in Venice on 23 February 1425, accompanied by eighty of his most loyal men-at-arms, offering his services to the Republic.

Carmagnola had arrived in Venice at an opportune moment: Foscari had begun negotiations with Florence, with the aim of forming a northern Italian league against Milan. Although Carmagnola found the social graces of Foscari and his Signoria somewhat intimidating, he did his best to convince them of his invaluable worth by revealing his inside knowledge of Milan’s military strengths and weaknesses. Foscari then assured Carmagnola that, if all went well in the negotiations between Venice and Florence, he would be appointed commander-in-chief of the league’s forces, although for the time being it would be diplomatic if he retired to Treviso on the other side of the lagoon while negotiations continued. However, even at this early stage in Carmagnola’s relationship with Venice he may well have been considering the possibility of treachery, or maybe he did not feel fully reassured by Foscari, for during his stay in Treviso he was willing to receive secret messengers from Filippo Maria in Milan. He appears to have been hoping for a reconciliation, but this was not the messengers’ true intention; instead they had been ordered to poison Carmagnola. Their purpose was quickly detected and Carmagnola handed them over to Venice, where they were publicy tried for attempted murder and then hanged – all without mention being made of Filippo Maria, for the secret negotiations with Florence had not yet been concluded.

In February 1426, Venice and Florence finally signed an agreement, with each side promising to contribute 8,000 cavalry and 3,000 infantry, and Venice supplying a fleet of ships for campaigning along the navigable channels of the Po river system, which run right across the Lombardy plain. Carmagnola was recalled to Venice, where he was formally invested by Doge Foscari as commander of the Venetian forces and handed the standard of St Mark at a ceremony in the basilica of San Marco attended
by all the great and good of the city. Spurred on by the generous salary of 1,000 ducats a month, Carmagnola launched his army across the border into Milanese territory, where he laid siege to the strategic city of Brescia. After this initial success he requested permission from the Venetian authorities to retire to the thermal baths at Abano just outside Padua, claiming that he had suffered an awkward fall from his horse. Although this was some 100 miles behind the lines, the authorities reluctantly agreed, as long as his therapeutic visit was a short one. Carmagnola had made his point to his Venetian superiors: even a former peasant boy was entitled to take the waters like a Roman general.

The siege of Brescia dragged on through the long hot summer months, and in October Carmagnola once again felt the need to retire to the baths at Abano, even though the Venetian authorities remonstrated that they knew there was nothing wrong with him. In his absence Brescia surrendered to the Venetian forces. The authorities in Venice were overjoyed; while Filippo Maria, sensing his vulnerability, agreed to sign a peace treaty. However, this was only intended to give Filippo Maria time to regroup his forces, and within weeks Milan had launched a spring offensive. Despite orders from Venice, Carmagnola could not be induced to budge from his winter headquarters, citing insufficient forage for his cavalry, then insufficient money to pay his troops, and finally claiming that his army would be heavily outnumbered. The Venetian authorities knew that by now he had 36,000 men under his command, the strongest army yet seen in northern Italy, in every way superior to the Milanese forces, but despite constant urgings he still showed himself reluctant to engage the enemy, even after his army belatedly emerged from their winter quarters in April 1427. This only came about when he appeared to be stung into action by an ambush. Despite being caught off guard by the Milanese forces under the new young
condottiere
who had succeeded him, Carmagnola demonstrated his tactical genius by turning the tables on them and gaining a comprehensive victory at Casalmaggiore. As he well knew, this victory was doubly to his advantage: not only did it demonstrate to his paymasters in Venice the wisdom of continuing to employ him, but it also demonstrated to Filippo Maria his incontestable superiority in the field, and thus the wisdom of re-employing Carmagnola if he wished to achieve his objectives.

When news of the victory at Casalmaggiore reached Venice, the city was overjoyed. However, this joy was soured by the consequent news that the following day Carmagnola had released all the prisoners he had taken at Casalmaggiore so that they could return to the opposing army, ready to do battle once more. At the time this was in fact common practice in Italy amongst mercenary armies, which knew that it was in their interests to keep wars going for as long as possible and well understood that today’s enemy could easily become tomorrow’s ally. The Venetian authorities, still somewhat inexperienced in the ways of the mainland, realised there was little they could do, short of dismissing Carmagnola. And that was a course of action that by this stage they were reluctant to take. News had now come in that Carmagnola was openly in contact with Filippo Maria, who had regained Carmagnola’s naive trust by persuading Amadeus VIII of Savoy to free the
condottiere
’s wife and children, so that they could return to him. Filippo Maria judged correctly that Carmagnola had begun to long for a return to the old days when he was the ‘family friend’ in Milan. Carmagnola, for his part, excused his contact with Filippo Maria by explaining to Doge Foscari that he was sure he would be able to succeed, where previously the Venetians had failed, in negotiating a lasting peace with Milan.

The Venetian citizenry, whose increasingly burdensome taxes were paying for Carmagnola and his army, were beginning to express their dissatisfaction with their
condottiere
, demanding that he should be recalled and put on trial for treason. The Venetian authorities now found themselves in a quandary. Although they faced civil unrest within the city, they knew that if they moved against Carmagnola he would in all likelihood simply offer his services to his old master Filippo Maria, and all the money they had invested in him and his army would come to nothing. The Council of Ten debated long and hard on the matter, before coming up with a feeble compromise. A carefully worded despatch was conveyed to Carmagnola suggesting that he should leave any peace negotiations to his employers.

At this stage, Carmagnola received word of the volatile situation in Venice, which he realised could easily turn against him. Not willing to have his hand forced, for he still did not fully trust Filippo Maria, he knew that his only recourse was to immediate action. Once again
demonstrating his supreme tactical ability, he advanced his army to within seven miles of the River Oglio, where he took up a position at the village of Maclodio. Here, on II October 1427, he was confronted by the Milanese army under the command of the distinguished
condottiere
Francesco Sforza and Carlo Malatesta (who, after serving Venice so well in the war against Hungary, had offered his services elsewhere as soon as peace was declared).

Carmagnola knew that the land in front of Maclodio was treacherous terrain, and when he appeared to withdraw, the hotheaded Malatesta immediately charged forward, leading his troops into a marsh where they quickly became bogged down. This time Carmagnola secured an even greater victory than he had achieved at Casalmaggiore, further consolidating his reputation as the greatest general of his era, though it must be emphasised that this was a typical
condottiere
battle. Rather than actual fighting, such engagements usually aimed at a tactical victory, consisting largely in manoeuvering the enemy into a position where they had no option but to fight to the last man or surrender (or, if possible, flee the field). Mercenaries on both sides had no appetite for the first option, whereas the other options enabled them to continue practising their profession on another day. Contemporary sources concur that around 30,000 men took part in the Battle of Maclodio, during the course of which most of the village was destroyed and many horses were slaughtered. However, according to the fifteenth-century Venetian historian Marcantonio Sabellico, ‘Those who were there affirm that they heard of no one being killed, extraordinary to relate, though it was a great battle.’

Once again, when news of this great victory reached Venice there was much rejoicing, and once again this was tempered by Carmagnola’s consequent actions. So comprehensive had been his victory that he had succeeded in capturing Malatesta himself, as well as 8,000 of his mercenaries, before the others had managed to make good their escape. The following day Malatesta and the prisoners were allowed to return to the service of Milan. Worse still, Carmagnola refused to act on his victory. All he had to do was march twenty miles south, crossing the River Oglio, and he could have taken the undefended city of Cremona. This would have protected his rear, allowing him to make a rapid advance on Milan itself, which would almost
certainly have fallen, thus bringing the war to an end. Instead, he once again did nothing, preferring to withdraw to his quarters, where his army sat out the winter while he retired once more to the baths at Abano. Meanwhile, the frightened Filippo Maria desperately sought to sign a more lasting peace treaty with Venice, which was eventually signed in May 1428.

Desperate to retain Carmagnola’s services, the Venetian authorities invited him to return to Venice to discuss his terms of future employment. Here, despite being given his own palazzo, the rough-and-ready Carmagnola found himself distinctly uncomfortable amidst the comparative sophistication and luxuries of Venetian life. The charm and courtly manners of the Venetians only had the effect of making him retreat even further into his recalcitrant ways as he negotiated with Foscari and the venerable members of his Signoria ranged around the table in all their finery. Carmagnola struck a hard bargain, and in the event the Venetian authorities agreed to continue paying him 1,000 ducats a month, even during peacetime, at the same time binding him even further to their cause by awarding him the fiefdom of Chiari and Roccafranca, which he would be allowed to pass on to his heirs, making them a hereditary dynasty.