1495
On the evening of the 27th of February, while the joy bells were ringing in the Milanese churches in honour of the French king's triumph, the duke sent for the Venetian ambassadors.
"I have had bad news," he said. "Naples is lost, and the French king has been joyfully welcomed by the people. I am ready to do whatever the Republic desires. But there is no time to waste; we must act at once."
All eyes now turned to Lodovico as the only man who could save Italy from the French invaders. The emperor and the Venetians had been urging him to declare war against France for the last eight weeks, and now Ferrante of Aragon, in his despair, appealed to him by the Sforza blood that flowed in both their veins to deliver him and his kingdom from the dominion of the foreigner. The duke himself could not feel safe as long as Louis of Orleans remained at Asti, and declared that he was ready to place himself at the head of a league for the defence of Italy. He wrote to congratulate Commines, the French ambassador at Venice, on his master's success, but the same day he sent the Bishop of Como and Francesco Bernardino Visconti to Venice, there to negotiate a new league between himself, the Signoria, the Pope, the King of the Romans, and the King and Queen of Spain. The presence of the German and Spanish ambassadors, as well as the arrival of the two new Milanese envoys, excited Commines' suspicions, while the long faces and terror-struck air of the Venetian senators, when the news from Naples arrived, reminded him of the Romans after the defeat of Cannæ. But so well was the secret kept that he knew nothing of the league until after it had been signed, late on the night of the 31st of March, in the bedchamber of the old Doge. Early the next morning he was summoned to the palace, and, in the presence of a hundred senators, solemnly informed of the new treaty.
"Magnificent ambassador," said the prince, "our friendship for your master makes it our duty to inform you of all that concerns the state. Know, then, that yesterday, in the name of the Holy Spirit, of the glorious Virgin Mary, and the blessed Evangelist Monsignore S. Marco, our patron, a league has been concluded for the protection of the Church and the defence of the Holy Roman Empire and your own states, between his Holiness the Pope, his Majesty the King of the Romans, the King and Queen of Spain, our Signoria, and the Duke of Milan. Tell this, we pray you, to your Most Christian Majesty." Before the prince had done speaking, Commines heard the bells of St. Mark's ringing to celebrate the new league, and, still dazed by the unexpected news, he stammered out, "What will happen to my king? Will he be able to return to France?"
"Certainly," replied the prince, "if he comes as a friend to the league."
Without another word, Commines left the palace, but as he went down the grand staircase, he asked the secretary who accompanied him to repeat the Doge's words, since he could hardly take them in. Then he told his gondoliers to row him back to his house, near S. Giorgio Maggiore, and on the way he met the ambassador of Naples, in a fine new robe, with a smiling face, as he well might have, "for this," adds Commines, "was great news for him." Marino Sanuto, who narrates the incident, was much struck by Commines' rage and dismay, and, like a true Venetian, remarks contemptuously, "He did not know how to dissimulate his feelings, as one should do in such a case." And, in the same spirit, he goes on to admire the presence of mind displayed by the Milanese ambassadors, who to all Commines' remonstrances replied courteously, that of course their duke had nothing to do with all this. "They acted," he adds, "as the wise act in the government of states. They persuade their enemies that they mean to do one thing, and then they do another."
At night all Venice was illuminated, and from his covered gondola the French ambassador saw the fireworks and the banquetings that were held at the palaces of the other envoys. He understood what it all meant, and trembled for his king's safety. But he lost no time, and sent warnings both to Orleans at Asti and to Charles at Naples, of the coming storm. A week or two later he left Venice, and went to meet Charles at Florence. On Palm Sunday, the 10th of April, the League was solemnly proclaimed on the Piazza of St. Mark, and all the ambassadors marched in procession round the square, while images of united Italy, and of all the kings and princes of the League, were carried about in triumph, and the golden rose was given by the Pope to the Venetian ambassador in Rome. "To-day," said the Duke of Milan, "will see the dawn of the peace and prosperity of Italy."
King Charles, meanwhile, unconscious of the dangers that threatened to impede his return home, was revelling in the delights of Naples, and holding jousts and banquets in the sunny gardens and fair palaces of that enchanted bay. "My brother," he wrote to the Duke of Bourbon, "this is the divinest land and the fairest city that I have ever seen. You would never believe what beautiful gardens I have here. So delicious are they, and so full of rare and lovely flowers and fruits, that nothing, by my faith, is wanting, except Adam and Eve, to make this place another Eden."
While the king and his nobles were eating off gold and silver plate and drinking out of jewelled goblets in King Alfonso's tapestried halls, the French soldiers were to be seen lying about in the streets, intoxicated with the strong and luscious wines of Southern Italy. The whole army was given over to luxury and vice, and the outrages which the troops committed soon made them hated by the fickle populace, who a few weeks before had welcomed them as deliverers from the tyrant's yoke. "From the moment of the king's arrival until his departure," writes Commines, "he thought of nothing but pleasure, and those about him only cared to seek their own profit. His youth may excuse him, but for his servants there could be no excuse." The news of the league between the powers came to startle Charles out of this fool's paradise. On the 8th of April, the Count of Caiazzo was suddenly recalled to Milan, and when Charles asked Lodovico to send him Messer Galeazzo instead, the duke replied curtly that he had need of him at home. By degrees the king began to realize the formidable combination which had arisen against him, and prepared to march northward with the bulk of his army, leaving the Duke of Montpensier with a few hundred French troops and some thousand Swiss mercenaries to defend his newly conquered kingdom. On the 20th of May, he finally left Naples, and on the 1st of June entered Rome by the Latin gate, two days after the Pope had fled to Orvieto. Almost at the same moment, King Ferrante returned to Calabria, and his subjects flocked to join the old banner of the house of Aragon.
Lodovico's first step was to send Galeazzo di Sanseverino with a body of newly raised troops against Asti, on the 19th of April, and to summon the Duke of Orleans to surrender the town and to drop the title of Duke of Milan. In this he was supported by the Emperor Maximilian, who sent an imperious order to Louis forbidding him to assume the title, on pain of forfeiting his fief of Asti. Orleans replied proudly that Asti formed part of his heritage, and that he was ready to defend it to the last drop of his blood against Signor Lodovico or any other foe. At the same time he sent an urgent appeal to the Duke of Bourbon for reinforcements, and prepared to act on the offensive.
On the 14th of the same month, the Duke of Milan wrote a gay letter to Isabella d'Este, informing her of his intention to attack Asti, and regretting that she was not present to join the expedition on her fleet charger. But Asti was too strongly fortified, and the forces under Galeazzo were too raw and ill paid, for him to attempt an assault; so he remained in his camp at Annona, and contented himself with cutting off the supplies of the beleaguered city.
Towards the end of April, the imperial envoys were at length despatched with the long-promised privileges, and in the middle of May they reached Milan, where they were magnificently entertained by the duke and duchess in the Castello. On the 26th of May, the festival of S. Felicissimo, the great ceremony took place. An imposing tribunal, hung with crimson satin embroidered with gold mulberry leaves and berries, was erected for the occasion on the piazza at the doors of the Duomo, and here, after attending high mass, Lodovico Sforza was solemnly proclaimed Duke of Milan, Count of Pavia and Angera, by the grace of God and the will of his Cesarean Majesty, Maximilian, Emperor-elect and chief of the Holy Roman Empire. The imperial delegates, Melchior, Bishop of Brixen, and Conrad Stürzl, Chancellor of the King of the Romans, first read aloud the privileges in their master's name, and then invested Lodovico with the ducal cap and mantle, and placed the sceptre and sword of state in his hands. Giasone del Maino, the celebrated Pavian jurist, recited a Latin oration, after which the duke, accompanied by the imperial ambassadors, and followed by the duchess and a brilliant suite of courtiers and ladies, rode in procession to the ancient basilica of S. Ambrogio to return thanks for his accession. Then the whole company returned, "with immense rejoicing and triumph," to the Castello, where a series of splendid fêtes were given in honour of the occasion, and rich presents were made to the imperial ambassadors and court officials. Two days afterwards another imposing ceremony was held in the Castello, when the heads of houses from the different quarters of the city were assembled, and each citizen in turn swore fealty, first to Duke Lodovico and afterwards to Duchess Beatrice, whom, in the event of his own death, he had appointed to be regent of the State and guardian of his sons. The Marquis of Mantua was among the guests present, and Beatrice felt the keenest regret that the marchioness was unable to accompany him and witness the wonderful scene before the Duomo, which, she exclaims in her youthful enthusiasm," was the grandest spectacle and noblest solemnity that our eyes have ever beheld."
It was the proudest day of Lodovico's life, and his adored wife, who shared the cares of State as well as the festivities of his court, might well join in his exultation. But his confidence in the favours of Fortune and in the security of his position was destined to receive a rude shock. Before the week was ended, on the very day when Beatrice wrote her triumphant letter to her sister, Louis of Orleans, strengthened by the arrival of fresh troops, made a successful sally from Asti at nightfall and appeared before the walls of Novara. The citizens, who were already disaffected by reason of the oppressive exactions of the Duke of Milan, opened their gates, and after a short siege the citadel surrendered. Suddenly the Duke of Milan, who was resting after the fatigues of the recent festivities at Vigevano, heard that his rival, at the head of a strongly armed force, was within twenty miles of his palace gates. An irresistible panic seized him, and he retired, first to Abbiategrasso, beyond the Ticino, and then to Milan, where he took refuge in the Castello with his wife and children. The Venetian annalist Malipiero records how, on the 20th of June, two Lombard friars arrived at the convent of San Salvador in Venice, bringing word that the duke had fled in terror of his life to the Rocca, and would hardly see or speak to a single soul. "He is in bad health, with one hand paralyzed, they say, and is hated by all the people, and fears they will rise against him." In this critical moment, Beatrice showed a courage and presence of mind which contrasted curiously with her husband's weakness. She sent for the chief Milanese noblemen, spoke brave words to them, and took prompt measures for defending the Castello and city. Fortunately, the Venetian general, Bernardo Contarini, arrived on the 22nd of June at the head of several thousand Greek Stradiots to the duke's assistance, while the French were held in check by Galeazzo's force and compelled to remain within the walls of Novara. This momentary panic over, Lodovico recovered his health and nerve, but his treasury was exhausted by the large subsidies granted to his allies and the extravagant expenditure of the last two years, and the forced loans which he exacted from his subjects created a general feeling of discontent. Galeazzo's force was weakened by continual desertion, and the duke had great difficulty in raising sufficient money to maintain two separate armies. Rumours of the disaffection of the Milanese and of the perils which threatened his ally had reached Maximilian's ears at Worms, and on the 18th of June he sent Lodovico a grave warning by his envoy, Angelo Talenti, begging the duke to place German troops in the fortress of Lombardy, and to provide guards for the castles of Milan and Como, "in order that he may be able to sleep in peace." Two days later he spoke again to the envoy, and begged him to urge the duke to remove his womankind from the Castello to Cremona, where he heard that he had a fine palace, saying that the presence of women had often caused the loss of citadels. Perhaps, if Maximilian had known Duchess Beatrice as well as he did a year later, he would have thought this warning superfluous. Lodovico, however, thanked his Majesty for his thoughtfulness, and applied himself, with the help of Leonardo, to fortify the Castello of Milan and make it an impregnable citadel. That winter he had appointed Bernardino del Corte, one of his favourite and most devoted servants, to be governor of the Rocca, which held his treasure and jewels together with all his most precious possessions, and on the 12th of January, a fortnight before the birth of Beatrice's child, the new castellan had taken a solemn oath of fealty to the duke and duchess, swearing, with his hand on the crucifix, that he would hold the Castello for his liege lord and lady till his latest breath. Messer Galeazzo and his brother, Antonio Maria di Sanseverino, Giasone del Maino, Ambrogio di Rosate, the astrologer, Galeotto Prince of Mirandola, and Giovanni Adorno, a powerful Genoese nobleman, who had married a sister of the Sanseverini brothers, were all present in Beatrice's room in the Rocchetta on this occasion, and signed the document as witnesses of Bernardino's oath.
Maximilian now sent his long-promised contingent of Swiss and German troops to join the Count of Caiazzo's horse, and the Venetian army, under the generalship of Gian Francesco Gonzaga, and the allied forces, amounting in all to some twenty-five thousand men, prepared to cut off the retreat of the French king and prevent his return to Asti. "Here I am," wrote the Marquis of Mantua to his wife, "at the head of the finest army which Italy has ever seen, not only to resist, but to exterminate the French." And Isabella wrote back in high spirits at the "great enterprise" that was before him, sending him a cross with an Agnus Dei to wear round his neck in battle, and telling him that her prayers and those of all the priests of Mantua were with him.
On Sunday, the 5th of July, the French army, reduced by sickness and desertion to less than ten thousand in number, and fatigued by long forced marches across the Apennines, descended into the valley of the Taro, and encamped at the village of Fornovo, on the right bank of the mountain torrent. Further along the same bank, down in the plains, lay the army of the league, and, in order to reach Lombardy, the French had to cross the river in full view of the enemy's camp. Early on Monday morning, the 6th of July, Charles, mounted on his favourite charger, "Savoy," and wearing white and purple plumes in his cap, led the van of his army across the Taro, swollen as it was by the late heavy rains. At the same moment, the Marquis of Mantua and the Count of Caiazzo, at the head of their light cavalry, attacked the French rear-guard, and the battle began. Paolo Giovio describes the engagement that followed as the fiercest battle of the age, in which more blood was spilt than in any other during the last two hundred years, although Commines, who was present with his monarch, says that the actual fighting only lasted a quarter of an hour. On both sides the leaders fought with heroic courage. Charles VIII. himself repeatedly led the charge against the Milanese horse, and, calling on the chivalry of France to live or die with him, dashed into the thickest of the fray. Once mounted on his war-horse, and face to face with the foe, the ugly little deformed man became a true king, and risked his life and liberty at the head of his subjects. Francesco Gonzaga, on his part, performed prodigies of valour, and had three horses killed under him, while his uncle, Rodolfo Gonzaga, and many other gallant knights were left dead on the field. But personal exploits could not atone for his want of generalship, and while the marquis and his immediate followers were engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand fight with the foe, a large body of his reserve remained inactive on the banks of the Taro, and his Stradiots were engaged in plundering the French camp. The result was that, in spite of their superior numbers, the Italian ranks were broken and many of the Venetians fled in confusion towards Parma, while the French succeeded in crossing the river, and, early on Tuesday morning, continued their march across the Lombard plain. But, as the camp and baggage remained in the hands of the allies, the Italians claimed the victory. The Venetians celebrated their triumph with public rejoicings and illuminations on the Piazza of S. Marco, and lauded their brave captain to the skies. Both at Milan and Mantua there was great exultation when the news became known; poets and painters alike did honour to the victors: Sperandio designed his noble medal, and Mantegna painted the Madonna della Vittoria to immortalize Francesco Gonzaga's triumph. But the marquis himself, writing to his wife from the camp the day after the battle, remarks that if only others had fought as he and his followers did, the victory would have been complete, and laments the disobedience and cowardice of the Stradiots, who first plundered the enemy's camp and then fled, although no one pursued them. "These things," he adds, "have caused me the greatest grief that I have ever known."
Lodovico's congratulations on the victory were coldly worded, and evoked a reply from his brother-in-law, saying that if he had foiled in courage, he would have been a dead man. But the duke could not forgive Gonzaga for allowing the French to pursue their way unmolested. Only the Count of Caiazzo and his brothers had attempted to follow them with their light cavalry, who were too few in number to do the enemy serious damage, and by the 8th of July, Charles and his tired army reached Asti in safety.
"God Himself was our guide," devoutly ejaculates Commines, "and led us home with honour, as that good man Fra Girolamo of Florence had foretold. But, as he said truly, we were made to suffer for our sins, for we were in sore need of food, and so great was our want of water that men drank of the ditches along the road; but no one was heard to complain, although it was the hardest journey I ever took in my life, and I have had many bad ones."
Among the booty which fell into the hands of the marquis after the battle was the French king's tent with all its contents. These included a sword and helmet, said to have belonged to Charlemagne, a silver casket containing the royal seals, besides a set of rich hangings and altar-plate, and a jewelled cross and reliquary on which Charles set great value, because it held a sacred thorn and piece of wood from the holy cross, a vest of our Lady, and a limb of St. Denis, which were objects of his especial devotion. Many of these relics were eventually restored to the king, who, not to be outdone in courtesy, sent the marquis a favourite white horse of his, which had been captured by the French, gorgeously apparelled in gold trappings. Among the spoils sent to Mantua were a magnificent set of embroidered hangings from the royal tent, and a curious book of paintings, containing portraits of the chief Italian beauties who had fascinated King Charles. These, together with the hilt of the broken sword with which the marquis himself had fought in the mêlèe, were joyfully received by Isabella, who counted these trophies among her proudest possessions. She was, accordingly, a good deal annoyed when, a week later, her husband desired her to send back the French king's hangings, as he wished to give them to her sister Beatrice. Her protest on this occasion is very characteristic.
"Most Illustrious Lord,
"Your Excellency has desired me to send the four pieces of drapery that belonged to the French king, in order that you may present them to the Duchess of Milan. I of course obey you, but in this instance I must say I do it with great reluctance, as I think these royal spoils ought to remain in our family, in perpetual memory of your glorious deeds, of which we have no other record here. By giving them to others, you appear to surrender the honour of the enterprise with these trophies of the victory. I do not send them to-day, because they require a mule, and I also hope that you will be able to make some excuse to the duchess and tell her, for instance, that you have already given me these hangings. If I had not seen them already, I should not have cared so much; but since you gave them to me in the first place, and they were won at the peril of your own life, I shall only give them up with tears in my eyes. All the same, as I said before, I will obey your Excellency, but shall hope to receive some explanation in reply. If these draperies were a thousand times more valuable than they are, and had been acquired in any other way, I should gladly give them up to my sister the duchess, whom, as you know, I love and honour with all my heart. But, under the circumstances, I must own it is very hard for me to part with them.
"Mantua, July 24, 1495."
In this case Beatrice showed herself, as she habitually was, the more generous of the two. The marquis had his way, and sent the four hangings to Milan, followed by a fifth belonging to the suite, which he had in the mean time recovered.
On the 25th of August, Beatrice, having duly received and admired her brother-in-law's gift, sent them all back to Mantua, with the following note, thanking him for his kindness, but declining to accept a present that she felt belonged of right to her sister:—
"I have to-day received, by your Highness's courier, one of the pieces of drapery belonging to the King of France. Andrea Cossa had already brought me the other four, for which I thank you exceedingly; but I feel that, under the circumstances, I ought not to keep them. As it is, I have great pleasure in seeing them all together, and now your Highness can give them back to the Marchesana."[60]
FOOTNOTES:
[60] Luzio-Renier, op. cit., pp. 632, 633.
CHAPTER XXIV
Ferrante II. recovers Naples—Siege of Novara by the army of the league—Review of the army by the Duke and Duchess of Milan—Charles VIII. visits Turin and comes to Vercelli—Negotiations for peace—Lodovic and Beatrice at the camp—Treaty of Vercelli concluded between France and Milan—Jealousy of the other Powers—Commines at Vigevano—Zenale's altar-piece in the Brera.