By his contemporaries Ludovico was regarded as the greatest political genius of the age, and the extravagant admiration bestowed on him shows that the adoption of any means to egotistic purposes was regarded not only as justifiable but also as commendable. Ludovico accepted the applause as his due, and boasted that “the Pope was his chaplain, the Emperor his condottiere, Venice his chamberlain, and the King of France his courier to come and go at his bidding.”
Charles VIII. was a visionary, weak, headstrong young man, and, disregarding the advice of his counsellors, he readily fell in with Ludovico’s plans. Vast preparations were made for war; a great army was gathered at Vienne and a large amount of artillery of a size hitherto unknown in Italy was sent to Genoa. Before Charles entered the peninsula, however, Don Federico began the war by an attack on Genoa, which, however, was unsuccessful.
Finally, August 23, 1494, Charles himself left Vienne and crossed the Alps to Asti, where he fell ill. On his recovery he visited his cousin, the deposed Duke of Milan, and his young wife, who were kept by Ludovico in the castle of Pavia. The Duchess pleaded for her husband and infant son and for her father and family, against whom Charles was advancing.
Shortly after the King’s visit the young duke died, and it was generally believed that he had been poisoned by his uncle, Ludovico.
Charles had sent an ambassador, Philippe de Commines, to endeavour to obtain the support of the Venetians, but they held aloof. The envoy explained that the King desired their aid and counsel in his undertaking; to which they replied that he was indeed most welcome, but that they could not give him any help, as they were afraid of the Turk—although they were at peace with him—and as to advising such a wise King, and one who already had such able counsellors, it would be great presumption on their part; nevertheless, they would much rather assist than injure him. They were careful to talk and also act with circumspection. “I believe their affairs are conducted more judiciously than those of any other power or prince in the whole world,” concludes Commines. As Venice would not assist him, it was necessary for Charles to secure Florence before advancing into Naples. He therefore decided to march through Tuscany, where he encountered no opposition, the cities in many cases voluntarily opening their gates to him and asking his protection.
The citizens of Florence were well disposed toward the French, hoping they would help them to throw off the tyranny of Piero de’ Medici, who refused to desert Naples. Charles therefore entered Tuscany and laid siege to Sarzana, whereupon Piero’s courage failed, and he secretly tried to make terms for himself. His situation had become so desperate that he offered to give up Pisa, Leghorn, Pietrasanta, and Librafatta, and he also agreed that the Republic should advance Charles a large sum of money. On learning of this the Florentines became so incensed that Piero fled and took refuge at the Court of Giovanni Bentivoglio of Bologna and never returned. After a short stay in Pisa and Florence the King set out for Rome.
At that time the French army was greatly superior to the armies of Italy. Charles’s cavalry consisted of lances, each composed of a heavily-armed man-at-arms and his three or four attendants; they and their horses were well equipped. The great strength of the French infantry, however, lay in the Swiss mercenaries.
The Italian troops were subjects of various states and were under the command of their own captains and were paid by them; consequently cohesion and discipline were entirely lacking in the armies of the peninsula. The Italian foot-soldiers were inferior to the Swiss, who were regarded as the best in the world. In addition to their heavy guns the French had a large number of light brass field-pieces, which could be easily moved about, and which threw iron balls, and were discharged with considerable rapidity, while the Italian guns were so heavy that they could be moved only by oxen and with the greatest difficulty; their ammunition consisted of heavy stone balls.
In the fifteenth century wars the loss of life was slight—notwithstanding the blood-curdling accounts of contemporary chroniclers. The defensive armour was so massive that it was difficult to kill a man, although it was comparatively easy to unhorse him.
War is a trade—in spite of the efforts of the advocates of brute force to glorify it. Wars were usually brought about then by adventurers bent on gain, as they are now, by the so-called captains of industry—who control all civilised Governments—for the extension of commerce, but always, of course, in the sacred name of patriotism, which Dr. Johnson described as “the last refuge of a scoundrel.” The leaders and the men in their pay fought for any state which hired them, and they might at any time change employers. The famous Italian captains played the game of war with great profit to themselves and no little skill.