It was with the aid of the Swiss that the pope designed to liberate Italy. He admired the valour and piety of that warlike people; he saw, with pleasure, that cupidity had become their ruling passion. The Italians, who needed the defence of the Swiss, were rich enough to pay them; and a wise policy conspired for once with avarice; for the Swiss republics could not be safe if liberty were not re-established in Italy. Louis XII, by his prejudice in favour of nobility, had offended those proud mountaineers, whom, even in his own army, he considered only as revolted peasants. Julius II employed the bishop of Sion, whom he afterwards made cardinal, to irritate them still more against France. In the course of the summer of 1510, the French, according to the plan which Julius had formed, were attacked in the Milanese by the Swiss, in Genoa by the Genoese emigrants, at Modena by the pontifical troops, and at Verona by the Venetians; but, notwithstanding the profound secrecy in which the pope enveloped his negotiations and intrigues, he could not succeed, as he had hoped, in surprising the French everywhere at the same time. The four attacks were made successively, and repulsed. The sire de Chaumont, lieutenant of Louis in Lombardy, determined to avenge himself by besieging the pope in Bologna, in the month of October. Julius feigned a desire to purchase peace at any price; but, while negotiating, he caused troops to advance; and, on finding himself the stronger, suddenly changed his language, used threats, and made Chaumont retire. When Chaumont had placed his troops in winter quarters, the pope, during the greatest severity of the season, attacked the small state of Mirandola, which had put itself under the protection of France, and entered its capital by a breach, on the 20th of January, 1511.
[1511-1512 A.D.]
The pope’s troops, commanded by the duke of Urbino, experienced in the following campaign a signal defeat at Casalecchio, on the 21st of May, 1511. It was called “the day of the ass-drivers,” because the French knights returned driving asses before them loaded with booty. The loss of Bologna followed; but Julius II was not discouraged. His legates laboured, throughout Europe, to raise enemies against France. They at last accomplished a league, which was signed on the 5th of October, and which was called “holy,” because it was headed by the pope. It comprehended the kings of Spain and England, the Swiss, and the Venetians. Louis XII, to oppose an ecclesiastical authority to that of the pontiffs, convoked, in concert with Maximilian, whom he continued to consider his ally, an œcumenical council. A few cardinals, who had separated from the pope, clothed it with their authority; and Florence dared not refuse to the two greatest monarchs of Europe the city of Pisa for its place of meeting, although the whole population beheld with dread this commencement of a new schism.[d]
The combined forces were to be placed under the command of Raymond 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 never have been made by Queen Isabella. Indeed, the favour 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.
THE BATTLE OF RAVENNA
[1512 A.D.]
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 of 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 (February 5th), 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.
This battle, fought with the greatest numbers, was also the most murderous which had stained the fair soil of Italy for a century (April 11th, 1512). No less than eighteen or twenty thousand, according to authentic accounts, fell in it, comprehending the best blood of France and Italy. 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 lansquenets 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 establishes the superiority of the Spanish arms.
The Italian infantry, which had fallen back before the lansquenets, now rallied under cover of the Spanish charge; until at length the overwhelming clouds of French gendarmerie headed by Ives d’Alègre, 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 Bayard’s secretary and biographer, called the loyal serviteur,[j] “that the gentle prince had never turned his back.”
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.” 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.