The History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic — Volume 2

by William Hickling Prescott

This scene of domestic tranquillity was destined to be changed by that terrible invasion which the ambition of Lodovico Sforza brought upon his country. He had already organized a coalition of the northern powers of Italy, to defeat the interference of the king of Naples in behalf of his grandson, the rightful duke of Milan, whom his uncle held in subjection during a protracted minority, while he exercised all the real functions of sovereignty in his name. Not feeling sufficiently secure from his Italian confederacy, Sforza invited the king of France to revive the hereditary claims of the house of Anjou to the crown of Naples, promising to aid him in the enterprise with all his resources. In this way, this wily politician proposed to divert the storm from his own head, by giving Ferdinand sufficient occupation at home.

The throne of France was at that time filled by Charles the Eighth, a monarch scarcely twenty-two years of age. His father, Louis the Eleventh, had given him an education unbecoming, not only a great prince, but even a private gentleman. He would allow him to learn no other Latin, says Brantôme, than his favorite maxim, "Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare." [11] Charles made some amends for this, though with little judgment, in later life, when left to his own disposal. His favorite studies were the exploits of celebrated conquerors, of Caesar and Charlemagne particularly, which filled his young mind with vague and visionary ideas of glory. These dreams were still further nourished by the tourneys and other chivalrous spectacles of the age, in which he delighted, until he seems to have imagined himself some doughty paladin of romance, destined to the achievement of a grand and perilous enterprise. It affords some proof of this exalted state of his imagination, that he gave his only son the name of Orlando, after the celebrated hero of Roncesvalles. [12]

With a mind thus excited by chimerical visions of military glory, he lent a willing ear to the artful propositions of Sforza. In the extravagance of vanity, fed by the adulation of interested parasites, he affected to regard the enterprise against Naples as only opening the way to a career of more splendid conquests, which were to terminate in the capture of Constantinople, and the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. He even went so far as to purchase of Andrew Paleologus, the nephew and heir of Constantine, the last of the Caesars, his title to the Greek empire. [13]

Nothing could be more unsound, according to the principles of the present day, than Charles's claims to the crown of Naples. Without discussing the original pretensions of the rival houses of Aragon and Anjou, it is sufficient to state, that, at the time of Charles the Eighth's invasion, the Neapolitan throne had been in the possession of the Aragonese family more than half a century, under three successive princes solemnly recognized by the people, sanctioned by repeated investitures of the papal suzerain, and admitted by all the states of Europe. If all this did not give validity to their title, when was the nation to expect repose? Charles's claim, on the other hand, was derived originally from a testamentary bequest of René, count of Provence, operating to the exclusion of the son of his own daughter, the rightful heir of the house of Anjou; Naples being too notoriously a female fief to afford any pretext for the action of the Salic law. The pretensions of Ferdinand, of Spain, as representative of the legitimate branch of Aragon, were far more plausible. [14]

Independently of the defects in Charles's title, his position was such as to make the projected expedition every way impolitic. A misunderstanding had for some time subsisted between him and the Spanish sovereigns, and he was at open war with Germany and England; so that it was only by large concessions that he could hope to secure their acquiescence in an enterprise most precarious in its character, and where even complete success could be of no permanent benefit to his kingdom. "He did not understand," says Voltaire, "that a dozen villages adjacent to one's territory, are of more value than a kingdom four hundred leagues distant." [15] By the treaties of Etaples and Senlis, he purchased a reconciliation with Henry the Seventh of England, and with Maximilian, the emperor elect; and finally, by that of Barcelona, effected an amicable adjustment of his difficulties with Spain. [16]

This treaty, which involved the restoration of Roussillon and Cerdagne, was of great importance to the crown of Aragon. These provinces, it will be remembered, had been originally mortgaged by Ferdinand's father, King John the Second, to Louis the Eleventh of France, for the sum of three hundred thousand crowns, in consideration of aid to be afforded by the latter monarch against the Catalan insurgents. Although the stipulated sum had never been paid by Aragon, yet a plausible pretext for requiring the restitution was afforded by Louis the Eleventh's incomplete performance of his engagements, as well as by the ample reimbursement, which the French government had already derived from the revenues of these countries. [17] This treaty had long been a principal object of Ferdinand's policy. He had not, indeed, confined himself to negotiation, but had made active demonstrations more than once of occupying the contested territory by force. Negotiation, however, was more consonant to his habitual policy; and, after the termination of the Moorish war, he pressed it with the utmost vigor, repairing with the queen to Barcelona, in order to watch over the deliberations of the envoys of the two nations at Figueras. [18]

The French historians accuse Ferdinand of bribing two ecclesiastics, in high influence at their court, to make such a representation of the affair, as should alarm the conscience of the young monarch. These holy men insisted on the restoration of Roussillon as an act of justice; since the sums for which it had been mortgaged, though not repaid, had been spent in the common cause of Christendom, the Moorish war. The soul, they said, could never hope to escape from purgatory, until restitution was made of all property unlawfully held during life. His royal father, Louis the Eleventh, was clearly in this predicament, as he himself would hereafter be, unless the Spanish territories should be relinquished; a measure, moreover, the more obligatory on him, since it was well known to be the dying request of his parent. These arguments made a suitable impression on the young monarch, and a still deeper on his sister, the duchess of Beaujeu, who exercised great influence over him, and who believed her own soul in peril of eternal damnation by deferring the act of restoration any longer. The effect of this cogent reasoning was no doubt greatly enhanced by the reckless impatience of Charles, who calculated no cost in the prosecution of his chimerical enterprise. With these amicable dispositions an arrangement was at length concluded, and received the signatures of the respective monarchs on the same day, being signed by Charles at Tours, and by Ferdinand and Isabella at Barcelona, January 19th, 1493. [19]

The principal articles of the treaty provided, that the contracting parties should mutually aid each other against all enemies; that they should reciprocally prefer this alliance to that with any other, the vicar of Christ excepted; that the Spanish sovereigns should enter into no understanding with any power, the vicar of Christ excepted, prejudicial to the interests of France; that their children should not be disposed of in marriage to the kings of England, or of the Romans, or to any enemy of France, without the French king's consent. It was finally stipulated that Roussillon and Cerdagne should be restored to Aragon; but that, as doubts might be entertained to which power the possession of these countries rightfully appertained, arbitrators named by Ferdinand and Isabella should be appointed, if requested by the French monarch, with full power to decide the question, by whose judgment the contracting parties mutually promised to abide. This last provision, obviously too well guarded to jeopard the interests of the Spanish sovereigns, was introduced to allay in some measure the discontents of the French, who loudly inveighed against their cabinet, as sacrificing the interests of the nation; accusing, indeed, the Cardinal D'Albi, the principal agent in the negotiation, of being in the pay of Ferdinand. [20]

The treaty excited equal surprise and satisfaction in Spain, where Roussillon was regarded as of the last importance, not merely from the extent of its resources, but from its local position, which made it the key of Catalonia. The nation, says Zurita, looked on its recovery as scarcely less important than the conquest of Granada; and they doubted some sinister motive, or deeper policy than appeared in the conduct of the French king. He was influenced, however, by no deeper policy than the cravings of a puerile ambition. [21]

The preparations of Charles, in the mean while, excited general alarm throughout Italy. Ferdinand, the old king of Naples, who in vain endeavored to arrest them by negotiation, had died in the beginning of 1494. He was succeeded by his son Alfonso, a prince of bolder but less politic character, and equally odious, from the cruelty of his disposition, with his father. He lost no time in putting his kingdom in a posture of defence; but he wanted the best of all defences, the attachment of his subjects. His interests were supported by the Florentine republic and the pope, whose family had intermarried with the royal house of Naples. Venice stood aloof, secure in her remoteness, unwilling to compromise her interests by too precipitate a declaration in favor of either party.