Characteristics of the period

The failure of the Hohenstaufen emperor Frederick II and his successor kings of Sicily to dominate Italy in the course of the 13th century left the peninsula divided among a large number of effectively independent political units. The inability of rulers from beyond the Alps to impose their authority upon it was clearly and finally demonstrated by the expedition (1310–13) of Henry of Luxembourg, crowned as Emperor Henry VII. An idealist who believed that he, as God’s secular vicar, had a divine mission to restore peace to “the garden of the Empire,” Henry entered Italy in 1310 with the consent of Pope Clement V (1305–14) and seemed at first to prosper. He sought, as an honest broker, to reconcile Guelf (i.e., pro-papal) and Ghibelline (i.e., pro-imperial) factions, but it was soon apparent that any attempt to override those old loyalties entailed a massive assault upon the political status quo, a revolution that would be fiercely resisted. Florence, in particular, opposed not only any concession to its enemies but any restoration of imperial power.

In these circumstances Henry was increasingly driven into exclusive alliance with the opponents of the Guelfs and became himself merely a leader of a faction. As a result, both the papacy and King Robert of Naples, who had originally favoured his coming to the peninsula, returned to their traditional anti-imperial stance. The dream of peace by imperial fiat dissolved, and Henry turned to war, but his death from fever at Buonconvento, near Siena, in August 1313 broke the hopes of the imperialists forever. Later emperors who intervened from the north—Louis IV (the Bavarian; 1327–30) and Charles IV of Bohemia (1354–55, 1368–69)—came with much more limited aims, not as universal monarchs but as short-time players on the Italian scene, seeking there such limited gains as the prestige of imperial coronation at Rome. However much these emperors maintained their formal de jure claims to rule, any imperial central authority in Italy had disappeared. In its place stood a complex, often chaotic grouping of many rival powers whose hostilities and alliances fill, in wearisome detail, the pages of contemporary chroniclers.

This political disunity went along with other divisions in a peninsula that manifested sharp regional differences in climate, land formation, economic development, customs, and language. (A 13th-century chronicler praises a contemporary as a skilled linguist because of his fluency in “French, Lombard, and Tuscan.” There was no common literary language before Dante—and then only in verse, not prose.) These very pronounced diversities have led many commentators to rule out any attempt to construct a general unified history of Italy in this period and to insist that a coherent synthesis must be based upon its constituent parts. For these authors, the only true history will consist of separate accounts of the six major powers—Sicily, Naples, the Papal States, Florence, Milan, and Venice—together with those of some 15 to 20 minor powers—such as Mantua, Montferrat, Lucca, and Siena—which were scattered among them. (This ignores the ambiguous case of Genoa, extremely powerful economically but pitifully weak politically.)

There is much in such contentions. It would be unwise to play down the overwhelming spirit of campanilismo (local patriotism; the spirit of “our campanile is taller than yours”) during the 14th and 15th centuries. Only a minority of people living at that time could ever have heard the word “Italia,” and loyalties were predominantly provincial. It is true that among certain classes, such as merchants who traveled beyond the Alps or scholars who looked back nostalgically to Roman republican or imperial glories, some elements of national consciousness survived. Dante—seeking in his De vulgari eloquentia (written 1304–07; “On the Eloquence of the Vernacular”) to find, amid what he described as “a thousand different dialects,” “the elusive panther” of some basis for a common vernacular literary language—argued that there were some “very simple standards of manners, dress, and speech by which our actions as Italians are weighed and measured.” However vague this claim may appear, one can certainly see in the peninsula some elements that, taken together, made a strong contrast to the world beyond the Alps: a common legal culture, high levels of lay education and urban literacy, a close relationship between town and country, and a nobility who frequently engaged in trade.

Yet ultimately one must conclude that the interest or importance of this period springs above all not from any “national” considerations or reflections upon the Italian peninsula as a unity but rather from three particular features that appeared in at least some parts of it. First there was the maturing, often in the face of severe challenges, of the remarkable economic development that had originated in earlier centuries. Though shaken in the course of the 14th century, northern and central Italian trade, manufacture, and mercantile capitalism, together with increasing urbanization, were to continue with extraordinary vigour and to have remarkable influence throughout much of the Mediterranean world and Europe as a whole—a development that served as the necessary preliminary for the expansion of Europe beyond its ancient bounds at the end of the 15th century. Second, in parallel with this, came the extension of de facto independent city-states, which, whether as republics or as powers ruled by one person or family (signorie, singular signoria; ruled by signori, or lords), created a powerful impression upon contemporaries and posterity. Finally, allied to both these movements was this society that produced the civilization of the Italian Renaissance, the Renaissance that in the 15th and 16th centuries was to spread to the rest of Europe.