In the fifteenth century Italy was divided into numerous independent states, among which there was more or less rivalry. The two great powers of the north were Venice and Milan, both striving for the possession of Lombardy. To the Venetian republic already belonged an extensive territory on the mainland, and she was determined on conquest at any cost. To this end condottieri were employed to carry on the several campaigns.
These condottieri were military leaders who made war a business. It mattered nothing to them on what side they fought or against what enemy, so long as they were well paid for their services. As a rule they were men of unscrupulous character, many of whom betrayed the cause entrusted to them. To this rule a notable exception was Gattamelata,[55] the subject of the equestrian statue in our illustration.
The man's real name was Erasmo da Narni. It was as first lieutenant in the Venetian army that he came into notice, serving under Gonzaga. When later this Gonzaga went over to the cause of the Milanese enemy, the lieutenant was promoted to the command. He threw into the work before him, says the historian, "an honest heart and splendid faculties."
The Milanese army was much larger than the Venetian, and was commanded by the famous strategist Niccolò Piccinino. Gattamelata could make little headway against such odds, but all that was possible to do he accomplished "with equal courage, fidelity, and zeal." At length, in attempting to bring relief to the besieged city of Brescia, he found himself shut in between the Lake of Garda and the Alps.
It was in the month of September, 1438. Snow already lay on the mountains, and the rivers were swollen with the autumn rains. The roads were out of repair, bridges were washed away, and even the fords were impassable. To make matters worse, the army was short of provisions. Such conditions would have forced any other general to lay down his arms, but not Gattamelata. With admirable coolness, he led his men in a retreat across the mountains and around the lake. Three thousand horsemen and two thousand infantry made up their number, and all were devoted to their leader. Torrents were bridged, old roads repaired, new ones opened, and at the end of a month the army emerged upon the Lombard plain.
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Alinari, photo.John Andrew & Son, Sc. |
| EQUESTRIAN STATUE OF GATTAMELATA (DONATELLO) Piazza del Santo, Padua |
Thus were the Venetian arms saved, and at the same time the Milanese were baffled in a design to come between Venice and her army. Gattamelata's retreat was a victory of peace, less showy, perhaps, than a victory of war, but requiring the finest qualities of generalship. In recognition of his services the Venetian Signory conferred the title of nobility upon him, with a palace and a pension.
In the following year, the Venetian cause was strengthened by alliance with Florence, and Gattamelata yielded the first place in command to Sforza, the general of the Florentine forces. In 1440 the united armies succeeded in relieving Brescia, but in the same year a calamity befell Gattamelata. Exposure to cold brought on paralysis, and after a lingering illness of two years he died. The honor of a great funeral was accorded him at the public expense, and he was buried in the church of S. Antonio at Padua. The next year the sculptor, Donatello, was commissioned to make an equestrian statue of the great condottiere to be set up in the square in front of the church.[56]
With quiet dignity Gattamelata rides forward on his horse as if reviewing his army. There is nothing pompous in his attitude or manner. He seems a plain man intent upon his task, with no thought of display. He has the strong face of one born for leadership, and we can believe the stories of his troops' devotion to him. With his right hand he lifts his wand in a gesture of command, letting it rest across the horse's neck.