CHAPTER XXII.
WARS AND POLITICS OF ITALY. 1508-1513.
League of Cambray.—Alarm of Ferdinand.—Holy League.—Battle of Ravenna.
—Death of Gaston de Foix.—Retreat of the French.—The Spaniards
Victorious.
The domestic history of Spain, after Ferdinand's resumption of the regency, contains few remarkable events. Its foreign relations were more important. Those with Africa have been already noticed, and we must now turn to Italy and Navarre.
The possession of Naples necessarily brought Ferdinand within the sphere of Italian politics. He showed little disposition, however, to avail himself of it for the further extension of his conquests. Gonsalvo, indeed, during his administration, meditated various schemes for the overthrow of the French power in Italy, but with a view rather to the preservation than enlargement of his present acquisitions. After the treaty with Louis the Twelfth, even these designs were abandoned, and the Catholic monarch seemed wholly occupied with the internal affairs of his kingdom, and the establishment of his rising empire in Africa. [1]
The craving appetite of Louis the Twelfth, on the other hand, sharpened by the loss of Naples, sought to indemnify itself by more ample acquisitions in the north. As far back as 1504, he had arranged a plan with the emperor, for the partition of the continental possessions of Venice, introducing it into one of those abortive treaties at Blois for the marriage of his daughter. [2] The scheme is said to have been communicated to Ferdinand in the royal interview at Savona. No immediate action followed, and it seems probable that the latter monarch, with his usual circumspection, reserved his decision until he should be more clearly satisfied of the advantages to himself. [3]
At length the projected partition was definitely settled by the celebrated treaty of Cambray, December 10th, 1508, between Louis the Twelfth and the emperor Maximilian, in which the pope, King Ferdinand, and all princes who had any claims for spoliations by the Venetians, were invited to take part. The share of the spoil assigned to the Catholic monarch was the five Neapolitan cities, Trani, Brindisi, Gallipoli, Pulignano, and Otranto, pledged to Venice for considerable sums advanced by her during the late war. [4] The Spanish court, and, not long after, Julius the Second, ratified the treaty, although it was in direct contravention of the avowed purpose of the pontiff to chase the barbarians from Italy. It was his bold policy, however, to make use of them first for the aggrandizement of the church, and then to trust to his augmented strength and more favorable opportunities for eradicating them altogether.
Never was there a project more destitute of principle or sound policy. There was not one of the contracting parties, who was not at that very time in close alliance with the state, the dismemberment of which he was plotting. As a matter of policy, it went to break down the principal barrier, on which each of these powers could rely for keeping in check the overweening ambition of its neighbors, and maintaining the balance of Italy. [5] The alarm of Venice was quieted for a time by assurances from the courts of France and Spain, that the league was solely directed against the Turks, accompanied by the most hypocritical professions of good-will, and amicable offers to the republic. [6]
The preamble of the treaty declares, that, it being the intention of the allies to support the pope in a crusade against the infidel, they first proposed to recover from Venice the territories of which she had despoiled the church and other powers, to the manifest hindrance of these pious designs. The more flagitious the meditated enterprise, the deeper was the veil of hypocrisy thrown over it in this corrupt age. The true reasons for the confederacy are to be found in a speech delivered at the German diet, some time after, by the French minister Hélian. "We," he remarks, after enumerating various enormities of the republic, "we wear no fine purple; feast from no sumptuous services of plate; have no coffers overflowing with gold. We are barbarians. Surely," he continues in another place, "if it is derogatory to princes to act the part of merchants, it is unbecoming in merchants to assume the state of princes." [7] This, then, was the true key to the conspiracy against Venice; envy of her superior wealth and magnificence, hatred engendered by her too arrogant bearing, and lastly the evil eye, with which kings naturally regard the movements of an active, aspiring republic. [8]
To secure the co-operation of Florence, the kings of France and Spain agreed to withdraw their protection from Pisa, for a stipulated sum of money. There is nothing in the whole history of the merchant princes of Venice so mercenary and base, as this bartering away for gold the independence, for which this little republic had been so nobly contending for more than fourteen years. [9]
Early in April, 1509, Louis the Twelfth crossed the Alps at the head of a force which bore down all opposition. City and castle fell before him, and his demeanor to the vanquished, over whom he had no rights beyond the ordinary ones of war, was that of an incensed master taking vengeance on his rebellious vassals. In revenge for his detention before Peschiera, he hung the Venetian governor and his son from the battlements. This was an outrage on the laws of chivalry, which, however hard they bore on the peasant, respected those of high degree. Louis's rank, and his heart it seems, unhappily, raised him equally above sympathy with either class. [10]
On the 14th of May was fought the bloody battle of Agnadel, which broke the power of Venice, and at once decided the fate of the war. [11] Ferdinand had contributed nothing to these operations, except by his diversion on the side of Naples, where he possessed himself without difficulty of the cities allotted to his share. They were the cheapest, and if not the most valuable, were the most permanent acquisitions of the war, being reincorporated in the monarchy of Naples.
Then followed the memorable decree, by which Venice released her continental provinces from their allegiance, authorizing them to provide in any way they could for their safety; a measure, which, whether originating in panic or policy, was perfectly consonant with the latter. [12] The confederates, who had remained united during the chase, soon quarrelled over the division of the spoil. Ancient jealousies revived. The republic, with cool and consummate diplomacy, availed herself of this state of feeling.
Pope Julius, who had gained all that he had proposed, and was satisfied with the humiliation of Venice, now felt all his former antipathies and distrust of the French return in full force. The rising flame was diligently fanned by the artful emissaries of the republic, who at length effected a reconciliation on her behalf with the haughty pontiff. The latter, having taken this direction, went forward in it with his usual impetuosity. He planned a new coalition for the expulsion of the French, calling on the other allies to take part in it. Louis retaliated by summoning a council to inquire into the pope's conduct, and by marching his troops into the territories of the church. [13]
The advance of the French, who had now got possession of Bologna, alarmed Ferdinand. He had secured the objects for which he had entered into the war, and was loath to be diverted from enterprises in which he was interested nearer home, "I know not," writes Peter Martyr, at this time, "on what the king will decide. He is intent on following up his African conquests. He feels natural reluctance at breaking with his French ally. But I do not well see how he can avoid supporting the pope and the church, not only as the cause of religion, but of freedom. For if the French get possession of Rome, the liberties of all Italy and of every state in Europe are in peril." [14]
The Catholic king viewed it in this light, and sent repeated and earnest remonstrances to Louis the Twelfth, against his aggressions on the church, beseeching him not to interrupt the peace of Christendom, and his own pious purpose, more particularly, of spreading the banners of the Cross over the infidel regions of Africa. The very sweet and fraternal tone of these communications filled the king of France, says Guicciardini, with much distrust of his royal brother; and he was heard to say, in allusion to the great preparations which the Spanish monarch was making by sea and land, "I am the Saracen against whom they are directed." [14]
To secure Ferdinand more to his interests, the pope granted him the investiture, so long withheld, of Naples, on the same easy terms on which it was formerly held by the Aragonese line. His Holiness further released him from the obligation of his marriage treaty, by which the moiety of Naples was to revert to the French crown, in case of Germaine's dying without issue. This dispensing power of the successors of St. Peter, so convenient for princes in their good graces, is undoubtedly the severest tax ever levied by superstition on human reason. [15]
On the 4th of October, 1511, a treaty was concluded between Julius the Second, Ferdinand, and Venice, with the avowed object of protecting the church,—in other words, driving the French out of Italy. [16] From the pious purpose to which it was devoted, it was called the Holy League. The quota to be furnished by the king of Aragon was twelve hundred heavy and one thousand light cavalry, ten thousand foot, and a squadron of eleven galleys, to act in concert with the Venetian fleet. The combined forces were to be placed under the command of Hugo de Cardona, viceroy of Naples, a person of polished and engaging address, but without the resolution or experience requisite to military success. The rough old pope sarcastically nicknamed him "Lady Cardona." It was an appointment, that would certainly have never been made by Queen Isabella. Indeed, the favor shown this nobleman on this and other occasions was so much beyond his deserts, as to raise a suspicion in many, that he was more nearly allied by blood to Ferdinand, than was usually imagined. [17]
Early in 1512, France, by great exertions, and without a single confederate out of Italy, save the false and fluctuating emperor, got an army into the field superior to that of the allies in point of numbers, and still more so in the character of its commander. This was Gaston de Foix, duke de Nemours, and brother of the queen of Aragon. Though a boy in years, for he was but twenty-two, he was ripe in understanding, and possessed consummate military talents. He introduced a severer discipline into his army, and an entirely new system of tactics. He looked forward to his results with stern indifference to the means by which they were to be effected. He disregarded the difficulties of the roads, and the inclemency of the season, which had hitherto put a check on military operations. Through the midst of frightful morasses, or in the depth of winter snows, he performed his marches with a celerity unknown in the warfare of that age. In less than a fortnight after leaving Milan, he relieved Bologna, then besieged by the allies, made a countermarch on Brescia, defeated a detachment by the way, and the whole Venetian army under its walls; and, on the same day with the last event, succeeded in carrying the place by storm. After a few weeks' dissipation of the carnival, he again put himself in motion, and, descending on Ravenna, succeeded in bringing the allied army to a decisive action under its walls. Ferdinand, well understanding the peculiar characters of the French and of the Spanish soldier, had cautioned his general to adopt the Fabian policy of Gonsalvo, and avoid a close encounter as long as possible. [18]
This battle, fought with the greatest numbers, was also the most murderous, which had stained the fair soil of Italy for a century. No less than eighteen or twenty thousand, according to authentic accounts, fell in it, comprehending the best blood of France and Italy. [19] The viceroy Cardona went off somewhat too early for his reputation. But the Spanish infantry, under the count Pedro Navarro, behaved in a style worthy of the school of Gonsalvo. During the early part of the day, they lay on the ground, in a position which sheltered them from the deadly artillery of Este, then the best mounted and best served of any in Europe. When at length, as the tide of battle was going against them, they were brought into the field, Navarro led them at once against a deep column of landsknechts, who, armed with the long German pike, were bearing down all before them. The Spaniards received the shock of this formidable weapon on the mailed panoply with which their bodies were covered, and, dexterously gliding into the hostile ranks, contrived with their short swords to do such execution on the enemy, unprotected except by corselets in front, and incapable of availing themselves of their long weapon, that they were thrown into confusion, and totally discomfited. It was repeating the experiment more than once made during these wars, but never on so great a scale, and it fully established the superiority of the Spanish arms. [20]
The Italian infantry, which had fallen back before the landsknechts, now rallied under cover of the Spanish charge; until at length the overwhelming clouds of French gendarmerie, headed by Ives d'Allègre, who lost his own life in the mêlée, compelled the allies to give ground. The retreat of the Spaniards, however, was conducted with admirable order, and they preserved their ranks unbroken, as they repeatedly turned to drive back the tide of pursuit. At this crisis, Gaston de Foix, flushed with success, was so exasperated by the sight of this valiant corps going off in so cool and orderly a manner from the field, that he made a desperate charge at the head of his chivalry, in hopes of breaking it. Unfortunately, his wounded horse fell under him. It was in vain his followers called out, "It is our viceroy, the brother of your queen!" The words had no charm for a Spanish ear, and he was despatched with a multitude of wounds. He received fourteen or fifteen in the face; good proof, says the loyal serviteur, "that the gentle prince had never turned his back." [21]
There are few instances in history, if indeed there be any, of so brief, and at the same time so brilliant a military career, as that of Gaston de Foix; and it well entitled him to the epithet his countrymen gave him of the "thunderbolt of Italy." [22] He had not merely given extraordinary promise, but in the course of a very few months had achieved such results, as might well make the greatest powers of the peninsula tremble for their possessions. His precocious military talents, the early age at which he assumed the command of armies, as well as many peculiarities of his discipline and tactics, suggest some resemblance to the beginning of Napoleon's career.
Unhappily, his brilliant fame is sullied by a recklessness of human life, the more odious in one too young to be steeled by familiarity with the iron trade to which he was devoted. It may be fair, however, to charge this on the age rather than on the individual, for surely never was there one characterized by greater brutality, and more unsparing ferocity in its wars. [23] So little had the progress of civilization done for humanity. It is not until a recent period, that a more generous spirit has operated; that a fellow-creature has been understood not to forfeit his rights as a man, because he is an enemy; that conventional laws have been established, tending greatly to mitigate the evils of a condition, which with every alleviation is one of unspeakable misery; and that those who hold the destinies of nations in their hands have been made to feel, that there is less true glory, and far less profit, to be derived from war, than from the wise prevention of it.
The defeat at Ravenna struck a panic into the confederates. The stout heart of Julius the Second faltered, and it required all the assurances of the Spanish and Venetian ministers to keep him staunch to his purpose. King Ferdinand issued orders to the Great Captain to hold himself in readiness for taking the command of forces to be instantly raised for Naples. There could be no better proof of the royal consternation. [24]
The victory of Ravenna, however, was more fatal to the French than to their foes. The uninterrupted successes of a commander are so far unfortunate, that they incline his followers, by the brilliant illusion they throw around his name, to rely less on their own resources, than on him whom they have hitherto found invincible; and thus subject their own destiny to all the casualties which attach to the fortunes of a single individual. The death of Gaston de Foix seemed to dissolve the only bond which held the French together. The officers became divided, the soldiers disheartened, and, with the loss of their young hero, lost all interest in the service. The allies, advised of this disorderly state of the army, recovered confidence, and renewed their exertions. Through Ferdinand's influence over his son-in-law, Henry the Eighth of England, the latter had been induced openly to join the League in the beginning of the present year. [25] The Catholic king had the address, moreover, just before the battle to detach the emperor from France, by effecting a truce between him and Venice. [26] The French, now menaced and pressed on every side, began their retreat under the brave La Palice, and, to such an impotent state were they reduced, that, in less than three months after the fatal victory, they were at the foot of the Alps, having abandoned not only their recent, but all their conquests in the north of Italy. [27]
The same results now took place as in the late war against Venice. The confederates quarrelled over the division of the spoil. The republic, with the largest claims, obtained the least concessions. She felt that she was to be made to descend to an inferior rank in the scale of nations. Ferdinand earnestly remonstrated with the pope, and subsequently, by means of his Venetian minister, with Maximilian, on this mistaken policy. [28] But the indifference of the one, and the cupidity of the other, were closed against argument. The result was precisely what the prudent monarch foresaw. Venice was driven into the arms of her perfidious ancient ally, and on the 23d of March, 1513, a definitive treaty was arranged with France for their mutual defence. [29] Thus the most efficient member was alienated from the confederacy. All the recent advantages of the allies were compromised. New combinations were to be formed, and new and interminable prospects of hostility opened.
Ferdinand, relieved from immediate apprehensions of the French, took comparatively little interest in Italian politics. He was too much occupied with settling his conquests in Navarre. The army, indeed, under Cardona still kept the field in the north of Italy. The viceroy, after re-establishing the Medici in Florence, remained inactive. The French, in the mean while, had again mustered in force, and crossing the mountains encountered the Swiss in a bloody battle at Novara, where the former were entirely routed. Cardona, then rousing from his lethargy, traversed the Milanese without opposition, laying waste the ancient territories of Venice, burning the palaces and pleasure-houses of its lordly inhabitants on the beautiful banks of the Brenta, and approaching so near to the "Queen of the Adriatic" as to throw a few impotent balls into the monastery of San Secondo.
The indignation of the Venetians and of Alviano, the same general who had fought so gallantly under Gonsalvo at the Garigliano, hurried them into an engagement with the allies near La Motta, at two miles' distance from Vicenza. Cardona, loaded with booty and entangled among the mountain passes, was assailed under every disadvantage. The German allies gave way before the impetuous charge of Alviano, but the Spanish infantry stood its ground unshaken, and by extraordinary discipline and valor succeeded in turning the fortunes of the day. More than four thousand of the enemy were left on the field, and a large number of prisoners, including many of rank, with all the baggage and artillery, fell into the hands of the victors. [30]
Thus ended the campaign of 1513; the French driven again beyond the mountains; Venice cooped up within her sea-girt fastnesses, and compelled to enrol her artisans and common laborers in her defence,—but still strong in resources, above all in the patriotism and unconquerable spirit of her people. [31]
* * * * *
Count Daru has supplied the desideratum, so long standing, of a full, authentic history of a state, whose institutions were the admiration of earlier times, and whose long stability and success make them deservedly an object of curiosity and interest to our own. The style of the work, at once lively and condensed, is not that best suited to historic writing, being of the piquant, epigrammatic kind, much affected by French writers. The subject, too, of the revolutions of empire, does not afford room for the dramatic interest, attaching to works which admit of more extended biographical development. Abundant interest will be found, however, in the dexterity with which he has disentangled the tortuous politics of the republic; in the acute and always sensible reflections with which he clothes the dry skeleton of fact; and in the novel stores of information he has opened. The foreign policy of Venice excited too much interest among friends and enemies in the day of her glory, not to occupy the pens of the most intelligent writers. But no Italian chronicler, not even one intrusted with the office by the government itself, has been able to exhibit the interior workings of the complicated machinery so satisfactorily as M. Daru has done, with the aid of those voluminous state papers, which were as jealously guarded from inspection, until the downfall of the republic, as the records of the Spanish Inquisition.