At the beginning of the fourteenth century, the institution of the Signoria was established in Lucca too. Following the financial crash of the Ricciardi dynasty and the local revolts of the early fourteenth century, the ancient Commune which had prospered from the eleventh up to the end of the thirteenth century came under the rule of a single lord, Castruccio Castracani degli Antelminelli, nominated Duke of Lucca from November 1327. This exploits of this  illustrious figure in the history of Lucca were also described by Niccolò Machiavelli, who saw him as the embodiment of the perfect prince. He was undoubtedly a great leader in political and military terms, but his actions also gave rise to tragic events which, even now, those wishing to study this period of Lucca’s history have to take into consideration. One of the first baleful dates was that of 14 June 1314, when the Pisan Uguccione della Faggiola, with his troops and with Castruccio too in his entourage, invaded and conquered Lucca, sacking and setting fire to the city and destroying most of the historic memory of this period. Castruccio’s subsequent alliance with Louis the Bavarian, and the coronation of the latter as Emperor in January 1328 following the defeat of the Florentines at the Battle of Altopascio, consecrated Castruccio’s power, although it was destined to be short-lived. In the same year that Louis was elected Emperor, just eight months later, Castruccio died suddenly from an attack of malaria, in the Augusta fortress that he had erected as a symbol of his power. Protected by twenty-nine towers and surrounded by a ditch, it extended over a fifth of the city, from what is now Piazzale Verdi-Piazza San Giusto to Via dei Fossi. In short, it was an authentic citadel set within the larger fortification represented by the city walls, and symbolising a different site of power from that of the government of the Elders. No trace remains of the Augusta fortress which was destroyed on 3 April 1370 when, as frequently happens when the form of government changes, the most significant symbols of previous power are eradicated. Nevertheless, we do have a clear and complete description in the 1412 terrilogio, or register of the properties of the Guinigi family where it is cited and described since it had passed in inheritance to Caterina Castracani, descendant of Castruccio but also the first, unfortunate child-bride of the future lord of Lucca Paolo Guinigi. If we want to trace the first example of a Lucca villa in this period, then history takes us back again to the name of the great condottiero and, according to the most recent studies, more specifically to his wife Pina. It was she in fact who in 1324 launched the first construction of this kind in Massa Pisana, in the very same setting in which we can now admire an example of Lucchese excellence in the hotel sector, represented by the splendid, luxury structure called Villa Principessa.

The sudden death of Castruccio ushered in one of the darkest and most tragic periods in the history of Lucca. The city was prey to plundering, looting and raids of every kind. For forty long years the territory was fought over and none of the aristocratic dynasties of Lucca and no single military leader could keep the greed of families from other cities at bay, or thwart the expansionist ambitions of Pisa and Florence. Castruccio’s sons, Arrigo and Valleranno, were unable to live up to the expectations of their name and, despite their monarchical right to succession, were soon ousted from power and driven out.  In 1329 the city was sacked again, leading to the destruction of all the documentation that had been built up since 1314. Then came the terrible night of 25 September 1333 when Castruccio’s sons returned to Lucca intent on revenge and on destroying all the papers regarding them, and above all those concerning their enforced exile from the city. Three drastic episodes of pillaging, destruction and the burning of public documents in less than thirty years inevitably led to the loss of most of the documentary sources and hence of the historic memory. This tragic period in the history of Lucca, marked by further clashes, bloodshed, rivalry, riots and unrest, is nevertheless not without one joyful memory: the date of crucial importance – 8 April 1369 – on which the Emperor Charles IV liberated Lucca by imperial decree, wresting from Pisa all rights and privileges over the neighbouring, enemy city.  Naturally, the price to be paid was exorbitant: three hundred thousand florins which, even if paid in instalments, was inevitably a source of anguish given the pitiful conditions of the ravaged city coffers. Nevertheless, with great difficulty and by dint of loans, the demands were met; the Fatinelli and Cenami dynasties made a decisive contribution, and this significant fact is still recalled as one of the most outstanding moments in the history of the city. It marked the start of Lucca’s precious and jealously-guarded independence, which endured practically uninterrupted up to the end of the eighteenth century and the advent of the Napoleonic whirlwind.

(a cura di Laurina Busti)

Further readings: 

AA.VV.,Castruccio Castracani e il suo tempo, proceedings of the international conference, Lucca 5-10 October 1981, inActum Luceaa. XIII-XIV, Lucca 1986.
AA.VV Il secolo di Castruccio. Fonti e documenti di storia lucchese, Catalogue of the exhibition, Lucca 1983.
Concioni G., Ferri C.,Ghilarducci G., Arte e pittura nel medioevo lucchese, Lucca 1994. Green L., Castruccio Castracani.A study on the Origins and Character of a Fourteenth-Century Italian DespotismOxford, 1986.
Green L.,Lucca under Many Masters. A Fourteenth-Century Italian Commune in Crisis (1328-1342), Firenze 1995.
Machiavelli N. La Vita di Castruccio Castracani da Lucca,Vienna 1969.
Meek C.E.,1369-1400: Politcs and Society in an Early Renaissance City-State, Oxford 1978.
Meek C.E.,The Commune of Lucca under Pisan Rule: 1342-1369. Cambridge 1980.
Paoli M., Arte e committenza privata a Lucca nel trecento e quattrocento, Lucca 1986.

The century of the lord of Lucca

Thus, having regained its independence, restored the Republican government and drawn up a new statute in 1372 – following those of 1308 and 1342 – it would have appeared natural to expect a period of respite and serenity, but this was not to be. Internal discord, factions and aspirations to power led to renewed clashes which materialised in bloody battles in the heart of the city. Tragically famous was the strife between the Forteguerra family, who at the time held the important political role of gonfaloniere – similar to what is now the head of government – and the Guinigi dynasty. The latter was undoubtedly the most influential in economic terms, with lucrative mercantile companies in Pisa, Genoa, Naples, Bruges and London, and was also greatly envied on account of having enjoyed from 1376 to 1387 the prestigious and much-coveted mandate for the appointment of the Pope’s bankers.

The feud between these two noble families culminated in a gruesome battle in the centre of the city, beneath the tower known as “del veglio” in the piazza of the same name, in front of the fountain of Piazza San Salvatore, which ended in ferocious bloodshed before the distraught gaze of all the citizens of Lucca. The gonfaloniere Forteguerra was murdered and flung from the window of the Palazzo Pubblico, while another important member of the same family, Lazzaro, was barbarously slaughtered by an axe blow to his head in the heart of the city in Piazza San Michele. The dawn of the fifteenth century brought with it further slaughter and crimes, this time among the members of the Guinigi family itself as a result of internal feuds. After this, the plague set the finishing touch to the tragedy, leaving as sole survivor of the family the last of four brothers. This was the selfsame Paolo who, skilfully assisted by Giovanni Sercambi – gonfaloniere at the time and author of the famous illuminated chronicle of Lucca – was first appointed capitano del popolo, and later after escaping the umpteenth plot against him, on 21 November 1400 was proclaimed Lord of Lucca. This marked the start of a thirty-year period in the history of Lucca which, albeit judged differently by individual scholars, was certainly one of relative respite and peace.Conspiracies and moments of tension were addressed with wisdom and prudence, without a spirit of vengeance and, as was customary, frequently involving money changing hands. The famous soldier of fortune Braccio da Montone, Lord of Perugia, who had apparently been sent to Lucca at the instigation of the Florentines, was bought off with no less than seventy-five thousand florins. Other funds were used to secure defence of the city in the event of attack; attempts were made to remedy the dangerous isolation of the Lucca Signoria by striking up of alliances that were often far from felicitous, and led fairly rapidly to the overthrow of the Guinigi lordship. This was 15 August 1430, the year in which the famous Brunelleschi unsuccessfully sought to flood the city of Lucca by diverting the river Serchio using artificial dams. A short time before, doubtlessly foreseeing imminent downfall, Paolo Guinigi had forwarded to Venice considerable capital (well-documented and the subject of a number of studies) with the evident purpose of saving it. However, despite his attempts to retrieve it, in the end it remained in the hands of the Venetians. And so the coffers of Lucca were empty, and those who were supposed to defend the city eminently failed to do so precisely because there were no funds to pay them. Consequently, the mercenary Francesco Sforza – who was moreover able to exploit the complicity of two Lucchese nobles Pietro Cenami and Lorenzo Buonvisi – had little difficulty capturing the Lord of Lucca and handing him over to the Duke of Milan, Gian Galeazzo Visconti. The Duke locked Guinigi up in the prison of Pavia where, after just two years, he died at the age of fifty-six. This spelled the end of Lucca’s dream of a great Renaissance court, of luxury, patronage and a love of the arts greater than that of arms which was shortly to emerge in other cities, the shining example of which was undoubtedly Lorenzo de’ Medici. Nevertheless, remaining as evidence of this period are masterpieces such as Iacopo della Quercia’s splendid funeral monument to Ilaria del Carretto, the second wife of Paolo Guinigi, who died in childbirth at the age of twenty-six. This superb masterpiece of white marble is jealously conserved in the cathedral of the city, and justly an indubitable attraction for tourists. As in the case of Lucrezia Buonvisi  and of Lucida Mansi, numerous legends have grown up around this female figure too, such as that she was in fact poisoned, and – possibly with some element of truth – that this magnificently sculpted sarcophagus with the beautiful face and the delightful little dog at her feet, does not contain the remains of the lovely Ilaria, which instead continue to rest with other members of the Guinigi family– saving plunder – in the chapel of Santa Lucia in the former church of San Francesco, now housing the auditorium of the IMT Institute for Advanced Studies Lucca.

Another stunning exemplar from this period is certainly the Guinigi Villa built over part of the ruins of Castruccio’s Augusta, close to the aforementioned church of San Francesco. Works on the place of the lord of Lucca were begun in 1413, but immediately after his fall in 1430 it was confiscated by the restored Republican government of the time. Now, after an eventful history and the almost complete sale of the beautiful park that surrounded it, it is the splendid site of a national museum containing paintings, sculptures and archaeological exhibits that make it an essential destination for the type of quality tourism that has been increasing dramatically in Lucca over recent years.

Further reading

AA.VV. Il Magnifico di Lucca: Paolo di Francesco Guinigi, catalogue of the exhibition, Lucca 17 November-16 December 2007.
Altavista C., Lucca e Paolo Guinigi (1400-1430): la costruzione di una corte rinascimentale. Città, architetture, arte, Pisa 2005.
Belli Barsali I., La villa a Lucca dal XV al XIX secolo, Roma 1964.
Bongi S.,  Di Paolo Guinigi e delle sue ricchezze, Lucca 1871.
De Neria G., Ilaria del Carretto. La donna del Guinigi. Storie e leggende. Lucca 1988.
Donati G., Lucca e il tempo di Paolo Guinigi, Lucca 2007.
Fumi L., Lazzareschi E., Carteggio di Paolo Guinigi. Regesto (1400-1430), Lucca 1925.

In the sixteenth century, despite their skill and acumen the Lucchese diplomats had a hard time of it.  All too often they had to plunge into the city coffers to protect the precious liberty that had never been as severely threatened as in this period of continual and variable alliances between States much more powerful than the little Republic. Looming over the city were famine, plague and the economic recession caused by the massive reduction in the demand for Lucca silks, especially from France. But the greatest threat of all was the terror of being taken over by the “Marzocco”, that is of finally succumbing to the dominion of Florence and losing the independence to which the people of Lucca had always attributed the most absolute priority, subordinating everything else to it. A choice had to be made: France and Spain with their struggles for hegemony over Italy forced the people of Lucca – tiny and powerless as they were “noi minimi e senza alcuna potentia” –to make a clear stand in order to hope  for the necessary protection. On paper, the winner was bound to be Charles V, and so an ambassador was sent from Lucca to offer the devotion, fealty and submission of the city to the Emperor; after the customary ritual, negotiations arrived at the heart of the matter. Lucca was willing to offer a certain figure, but the Emperor demanded four times as much; in the end agreement was reached on fifteen thousand ducats, while at the same time trying to safeguard against unexpected but possible political scenarios, in line with the conviction expressed by another ambassador that the Lucchese were imperial “in everything but not in their hearts”. Hence, should Charles V not emerge victorious, everyone would have to know that the hearts of the Lucca people were with the adversaries. The important thing was to leave all doors slightly ajar, and then money and the astute ambassadors would, as always, find the way to safeguard their precious liberty.

This was 1521, and France responded with an embargo on the silk produced in Lucca, at a time when the flourishing revenues from this felicitous trade were already a thing of the past, and the first bankruptcies tolled the knell on a world moving towards its end. And so an alternative was sought in a return to the land, and alongside the city palazzo there emerged the country villa, frequently with all its appurtenances, which came to assume the significance of social status that gave most lustre to the noble dynasties. Dating to this period too are the splendid villas of the Buonvisi, one built right in the centre of the city inside the new sixteenth-century wall circle – now premises of the City Council and given over to multipurpose public use  – and one at Camigliano, now belonging to the Torrigiani family, which legend holds was the site of amorous encounters between the two unhappy lovers whose tryst led to the murder of the most illustrious member of the Buonvisi family of that time in the very heart of the city in Piazza dei Servi.

At the time marriages were arranged and were a way of achieving or consolidating social status. The beautiful Lucrezia Malpigli, considering her good looks and the fact that her mother was a Buonvisi, could aspire to the most wealthy and powerful dynasty, and to such she was destined. However, the future Sister Umilia was already in love with another young noble, of very different fortune, who answered to the name of Massimiliano Arnolfini.  Their tragic and intense love story ended in the following century with considerable embarrassment and inconvenience in both civilian terms – with the Republic of Lucca which wished to take Lucrezia to trial for complicity in the murder of her husband Lelio Buonvisi – and with the church, with the Pope taking up a distinct stand in favour of Lucrezia who had taken refuge in the convent of Santa Chiara to escape the inevitable sentence.

However, although the Buonvisi were undoubtedly one of the most conspicuous dynasties in terms of power, prestige and wealth, in the sixteenth century there was another faction that instilled fear largely on account of the number of its members, their insistent requests for positions in the government of the Republic, and their youthful age, which had already led to attitudes and intemperance in which it was possible to discern a clear attempt to gain supremacy over the other Lucca nobles. These were the Poggi family, which represented a sort of bomb with a lighted fuse in the Lucca of that period that was just waiting for the pretext and the opportunity to explode.

And the opportunity duly arrived: the church of Santa Giulia had been left without a rector in 1521, and almost all the noble families hoped to have this very well-paid and undemanding benefice assigned to them. But then, from Rome, and without any consultation or agreement, a high-ranking and influential prelate of the Roman curia Bartolomeo Arnolfini sought to wipe out the opposition in one fell swoop by having the Pope confer the rectorship upon himself and sending a proxy of his to Lucca. This brought another conflict to the fore, this time of an ecclesiastical nature, since the episcopal vicar also had his eye on this lucrative benefice and decided to seek support from none other than the powerful Poggi family. The initial idea was to drive the new incumbent from Santa Giulia, but then things got out of hand. The young Vincenti di Poggio marched into the Palazzo Pubblico and killed the gonfaloniere – a type of head of government at the time – by stabbing him ten times, while other acolytes sought to round up and kill various members of the Arnolfini family, but succeeded only in wounding them. The affair ended with the Poggi being ostracised from Lucca, with seven sentenced to death and a price set on the heads of the fugitives. One of the most cruel sights that the Lucca people of the time were subjected to was the macabre spectacle of the two Poggi who were captured outside the Republic and put to death: after this their heads were spiked to the city gates, a baleful trophy and a severe admonition to any who would dare to challenge the freedom of the Republic. Despite this, just twenty years later there was another attempt to set up a Signoria, a clumsy attempt orchestrated by Pietro Fatinelli, a Lucca man with interests and assignments outside the city. It was immediately foiled with the respective, habitual torture used to extort confession, followed by trial and the inevitable decapitation, not without aspersions being cast on his alleged heterodoxy. Of a different calibre, and undoubtedly motivated by an idealism that was certainly shared by many at the time, was the attempt made in 1546 by Francesco Burlamacchi who wished to create a league of Tuscan cities with a view to freeing them from the overwhelming yoke of Florence. He was discovered and tortured to get him to confess the names of the other conspirators, but he staunchly and heroically refused. Notwithstanding the denigration of his contemporaries and the accusation of madness, he was finally given his due deserts through a decree of 23 September 1859 in which he was recognised as the first martyr of Italian unification, and a statue was erected in his honour close to the church of San Michele which can still be admired to this day. But while these three attempts were fuelled by lust for power or resentment against Medici policy, a very different affair was that which has gone down in history as the “beggars’ revolt”, when the silk workers took to the streets waving black flags protesting against the appalling conditions they had been reduced to. It is true that, at the time, there was a severe economic crisis and fierce competition in the silk market, but it is equally true that the full brunt of this critical economic situation was being borne by the last links in the chain, while special laws were passed to safeguard the merchants. The rising was violently repressed, with the connivance of the parish priest of San Donato who, opening up the namesake gate, allowed the rebels to be attacked from the rear by Martino Buonvisi and his henchmen. The result was an authentic massacre, and even many of those who got away with their lives were forced to flee from Lucca to escape persecution. Another wave of exiles, especially towards Geneva, left for religious reasons. This was the century of Luther, of the Reformation, of a Lucca which did all in its power to protect itself from ecclesiastical interference, as amply illustrated by the attempt to establish the notorious tribunal of the Inquisition within the Republic. The good relations between Church and State that had been so diligently nurtured over the centuries (an example being the case of Lucrezia Buonvisi) was put harshly to the test.  In the bull establishing the Holy Office, Lucca is mentioned and described as a hotbed of heresy. This statement was certainly alarming, especially in view of the fact that just the previous year, in 1541, the Pope had had a meeting with the Emperor and had remained in the city for several days, probing the situation and undoubtedly collecting information about the spiritual health of the people of Lucca. He may well have taken a particular interest in the merchants, who by virtue of their trade were more in contact with the new ideas and could represent a channel of dissemination. When the notorious tribunal of the Inquisition demanded that Lucca hand over two friars in odour of heresy, the situation appeared to become more complicated. Already the prior of San Frediano Vermigli, a famous dissident theologian, had decided to leave the city with a number of followers and go to Zurich. But, once again, the Lucchese succeeded in resolving a critical situation through their mettle, skilful diplomacy and, where necessary, money. To prevent dangerous interference, in the first place it was necessary to reassure the Holy See regarding the vigilance of the Republic as regards all forms of heterodoxy. A magistracy was established for the purpose under the name of Offizio sopra la Religione, which had the task of repressing and sanctioning any heretics, informing and maintaining good relations with Rome, albeit always in an autonomous manner to the point even, if necessary, of closing the gates of the walled city – and not only metaphorically. This happened for example in the case of the Jesuits who, despite hefty pressure, never managed to enter Lucca.    

While everything was in a state of flux, and even Siena had to renounce its freedom and accept Florentine supremacy, Lucca remained the last bastion of independence in Tuscany and astutely sought to mould itself to fit new demands: numerous Offizi were established – committees of a type similar to our Ministries. The fifteenth-century Offizio dell’onestà evolved into the creation of a magistracy which, to modern eyes, could appear something of an embarrassment. In effect the role was to protect the prostitutes, who were to succeed in the endeavour in which the previous Offizio had failed: namely to curb the odious and rampant vice of sodomy. And so these ladies of pleasure were “protected”, but similarly “protected” were the nuns, whose more or less platonic love affairs were the scandal of Lucca at the time. Apropos this, we cannot fail to return to mention the beautiful Lucrezia Buonvisi, now Sister Umilia, who in a sort of rebellion against her time and against that veil taken to escape the sentence for complicity in the murder of her husband, transformed the convent of Santa Chiara into a crossroads for her amours. She did so at the very time that the unfortunate Massimiliano Arnofini was captured, allegedly precisely as he was wandering in front of the city mansion of Villa Buonvisi.  On account of his precarious mental health he was not condemned to death, but was instead locked up in the Matilde tower in Viareggio, which was a prison at the time. The setting was clearly very different from what it is now. Viareggio, which began to be reclaimed only in the eighteenth century, was at the time a poor village consisting of huts, where the air was filled with the mephitic fumes from the nearby marshes; it was of this unwholesome air that the unfortunate lover breathed his last in the following century. Then, with just four years to go to the next century, Lucca had to come to grips with another conspiracy, that of Bernardino Antelminelli, which involved in different ways Genoa, Spain and the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. Request was made for the trial to be held in Rome, but this time too met with a curt refusal. The trial was held in Lucca and the sentence was inevitably beheading.

The century came to a close. From Lucca the Holy See was reassured about the strictest orthodoxy observed in the Republic, and in line with its customary prudent policy the peaceful State made silence into an instrument of government, even in one of the saddest and most disconcerting events of that time. It was in 1593 that Venice, despite having a tribunal of the Inquisition, and differently from the way Lucca had always behaved, gave in to the requests of Rome, handing over the philosopher and theologian Giordano Bruno, one of the most cultured and brilliant minds of the time. The pyre upon which the great thinker was burned seven years later represents one of the most tragic moments of our history and represents a warning – unfortunately even now not always heeded – against the infamous and shameful consequences of the denial of free thought and of religious intolerance.

Further reading

Belli Barsali I. (ed. by), I palazzi dei mercanti nella libera Lucca del ‘500, catalogue of the exhibition, June-September 1980.
AA.VV., Lucca e l’Europa degli affari secoli XV-XVII, proceedings of the international conference, 1-2 December 1989, Lucca 1990.
Adorni Braccesi S., “Una città infetta”. La repubblica di Lucca nella crisi religiosa del ‘500, Firenze 1994.
Berengo M., Nobili e mercanti nella Lucca del cinquecento, Torino 1965.
Martinelli R., Puccinelli G., Le mura del ‘500, Lucca 1983.
Vellutini M., Donne e società nella Lucca del ’500. Maritate, monache, meretrici, Lucca 2007.