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

by William Hickling Prescott

Guerri, trusting to the strength of his defences, refused to surrender. Gonsalvo, after coolly preparing his batteries, opened a heavy cannonade on the place, which at the end of five days effected a practicable breach in the walls. In the mean time, Garcilasso de la Vega, the Castilian ambassador at the papal court, who could not bear to remain inactive so near the field where laurels were to be won, arrived to Gonsalvo's support, with a handful of his own countrymen resident in Rome. This gallant little band, scaling the walls on the opposite side to that assailed by Gonsalvo, effected an entrance into the town, while the garrison was occupied with maintaining the breach against the main body of the Spaniards. Thus surprised, and hemmed in on both sides, Guerri and his associates made no further resistance, but surrendered themselves prisoners of war; and Gonsalvo, with more clemency than was usually shown on such occasions, stopped the carnage, and reserved his captives to grace his entry into the capital. [4]

This was made a few days after, with all the pomp of a Roman triumph. The Spanish general entered by the gate of Ostia, at the head of his martial squadrons in battle array, with colors flying and music playing, while the rear was brought up by the captive chief and his confederates, so long the terror, now the derision, of the populace. The balconies and windows were crowded with spectators, and the streets, lined with multitudes, who shouted forth the name of Gonsalvo de Cordova, the "deliverer of Rome!" The procession took its way through the principal streets of the city towards the Vatican, where Alexander the Sixth awaited its approach, seated under a canopy of state in the chief saloon of the palace, surrounded by his great ecclesiastics and nobility. On Gonsalvo's entrance, the cardinals rose to receive him. The Spanish general knelt down to receive the benediction of the pope; but the latter, raising him up, kissed him on the forehead, and complimented him with the golden rose, which the Holy See was accustomed to dispense as the reward of its most devoted champions.

In the conversation which ensued, Gonsalvo obtained the pardon of Guerri and his associates, and an exemption from taxes for the oppressed inhabitants of Ostia. In a subsequent part of the discourse, the pope taking occasion most inopportunely to accuse the Spanish sovereigns of unfavorable dispositions towards himself, Gonsalvo replied with much warmth, enumerating the various good offices rendered by them to the church; and, roundly taxing the pope with ingratitude, somewhat bluntly advised him to reform his life and conversation, which brought scandal on all Christendom. His Holiness testified no indignation at this unsavory rebuke of the Great Captain, though, as the historians with some simplicity inform us, he was greatly surprised to find the latter so fluent in discourse, and so well instructed in matters foreign to his profession. [5]

Gonsalvo experienced the most honorable reception from King Frederic on his return to Naples. During his continuance there, he was lodged and sumptuously entertained in one of the royal fortresses; and the grateful monarch requited his services with the title of Duke of St. Angelo, and an estate in Abruzzo, containing three thousand vassals. He had before pressed these honors on the victor, who declined accepting them till he had obtained the consent of his own sovereigns. Soon after, Gonsalvo, quitting Naples, revisited Sicily, where he adjusted certain differences which had arisen betwixt the viceroy and the inhabitants respecting the revenues of the island. Then embarking with his whole force, he reached the shores of Spain in the month of August, 1498. His return to his native land was greeted with a general enthusiasm far more grateful to his patriotic heart, than any homage or honors conferred by foreign princes. Isabella welcomed him with pride and satisfaction, as having fully vindicated her preference of him to his more experienced rivals for the difficult post of Italy; and Ferdinand did not hesitate to declare, that the Calabrian campaigns reflected more lustre on his crown, than the conquest of Granada. [6]

The total expulsion of the French from Naples brought hostilities between that nation and Spain to a close. The latter had gained her point, and the former had little heart to resume so disastrous an enterprise. Before this event, indeed, overtures had been made by the French court for a separate treaty with Spain. The latter, however, was unwilling to enter into any compact, without the participation of her allies. After the total abandonment of the French enterprise, there seemed to exist no further pretext for prolonging the war. The Spanish government, moreover, had little cause for satisfaction with its confederates. The emperor had not co-operated in the descent on the enemy's frontier, according to agreement; nor had the allies ever reimbursed Spain for the heavy charges incurred in fulfilling her part of the engagements. The Venetians were taken up with securing to themselves as much of the Neapolitan territory as they could, by way of indemnification for their own expenses. [7] The duke of Milan had already made a separate treaty with King Charles. In short, every member of the league, after the first alarm subsided, had shown itself ready to sacrifice the common weal to its own private ends. With these causes of disgust, the Spanish government consented to a truce with France, to begin for itself on the 5th of March, and, for the allies, if they chose to be included in it, seven weeks later, and to continue till the end of October, 1497. This truce was subsequently prolonged, and, after the death of Charles the Eighth, terminated in a definitive treaty of peace, signed at Marcoussi, August 5th, 1498. [8]

In the discussions to which these arrangements gave rise, the project is said to have been broached for the conquest and division of the kingdom of Naples by the combined powers of France and Spain, which was carried into effect some years later. According to Comines, the proposition originated with the Spanish court, although it saw fit, in a subsequent period of the negotiations, to disavow the fact. [9] The Spanish writers, on the other hand, impute the first suggestion of it to the French, who, they say, went so far as to specify the details of the partition subsequently adopted, according to which the two Calabrias were assigned to Spain. However this may be, there is little doubt that Ferdinand had long since entertained the idea of asserting his claim, at some time or other, to the crown of Naples. He, as well as his father, and indeed the whole nation, had beheld with dissatisfaction the transfer of what they deemed their rightful inheritance, purchased by the blood and treasure of Aragon, to an illegitimate branch of the family. The accession of Frederic, in particular, who came to the throne with the support of the Angevin party, the old enemies of Aragon, had given great umbrage to the Spanish monarch.

The Castilian envoy, Garcilasso de la Vega, agreeably to the instructions of his court, urged Alexander the Sixth to withhold the investiture of the kingdom from Frederic, but unavailingly, as the pope's interests were too closely connected, by marriage, with those of the royal family of Naples. Under these circumstances, it was somewhat doubtful what course Gonsalvo should be directed to pursue in the present exigency. That prudent commander, however, found the new monarch too strong in the affections of his people to be disturbed at present. All that now remained for Ferdinand, therefore, was to rest contented with the possession of the strong posts pledged for the reimbursement of his expenses in the war, and to make such use of the correspondence which the late campaigns had opened to him in Calabria, that, when the time arrived for action, he might act with effect. [10]

Ferdinand's conduct through the whole of the Italian war had greatly enhanced his reputation throughout Europe for sagacity and prudence. It afforded a most advantageous comparison with that of his rival, Charles the Eighth, whose very first act had been the surrender of so important a territory as Roussillon. The construction of the treaty relating to this, indeed, laid the Spanish monarch open to the imputation of artifice. But this, at least, did no violence to the political maxims of the age and only made him regarded as the more shrewd and subtile diplomatist; while, on the other hand, he appeared before the world in the imposing attitude of the defender of the church, and of the rights of his injured kinsman. His influence had been clearly discernible in every operation of moment, whether civil or military. He had been most active, through his ambassadors at Genoa, Venice, and Rome, in stirring up the great Italian confederacy, which eventually broke the power of King Charles; and his representations had tended, as much as any other cause, to alarm the jealousy of Sforza, to fix the vacillating politics of Alexander, and to quicken the cautious and dilatory movements of Venice. He had shown equal vigor in action; and contributed mainly to the success of the war by his operations on the side of Roussillon, and still more in Calabria. On the latter, indeed, he had not lavished any extraordinary expenditure; a circumstance partly attributable to the state of his finances, severely taxed, as already noticed, by the Granadine war, as well as by the operations in Roussillon, but in part, also, to his habitual frugality, which, with a very different spirit from that of his illustrious consort, always stinted the measure of his supplies to the bare exigency of the occasion. Fortunately, the genius of the Great Captain was so fruitful in resources, as to supply every deficiency; enabling him to accomplish such brilliant results, as effectually concealed any poverty of preparation on the part of his master.

The Italian wars were of signal importance to the Spanish nation. Until that time, they had been cooped up within the narrow limits of the Peninsula, uninstructed and taking little interest in the concerns of the rest of Europe. A new world was now opened to them. They were taught to measure their own strength by collision with other powers on a common scene of action; and, success inspiring them with greater confidence, seemed to beckon them on towards the field, where they were destined to achieve still more splendid triumphs.

This war afforded them also a most useful lesson of tactics. The war of Granada had insensibly trained up a hardy militia, patient and capable of every privation and fatigue, and brought under strict subordination. This was a great advance beyond the independent and disorderly habits of the feudal service. A most valuable corps of light troops had been formed, schooled in all the wild, irregular movements of guerilla warfare. But the nation was still defective in that steady, well-disciplined infantry, which, in the improved condition of military science, seemed destined to decide the fate of battles in Europe thenceforward.