The Italian infantry, which had fallen back before the landsknechts, now rallied under cover of the Spanish charge; until at length the overwhelming clouds of French gendarmerie, headed by Ives d'Allègre, 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 the loyal serviteur, "that the gentle prince had never turned his back." [21]
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." [22] 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.
Unhappily, his brilliant fame is sullied by a recklessness of human life, the more odious in one too young to be steeled by familiarity with the iron trade to which he was devoted. It may be fair, however, to charge this on the age rather than on the individual, for surely never was there one characterized by greater brutality, and more unsparing ferocity in its wars. [23] So little had the progress of civilization done for humanity. It is not until a recent period, that a more generous spirit has operated; that a fellow-creature has been understood not to forfeit his rights as a man, because he is an enemy; that conventional laws have been established, tending greatly to mitigate the evils of a condition, which with every alleviation is one of unspeakable misery; and that those who hold the destinies of nations in their hands have been made to feel, that there is less true glory, and far less profit, to be derived from war, than from the wise prevention of it.
The defeat at Ravenna struck a panic into the confederates. The stout heart of Julius the Second faltered, and it required all the assurances of the Spanish and Venetian ministers to keep him staunch to his purpose. King Ferdinand issued orders to the Great Captain to hold himself in readiness for taking the command of forces to be instantly raised for Naples. There could be no better proof of the royal consternation. [24]
The victory of Ravenna, however, was more fatal to the French than to their foes. The uninterrupted successes of a commander are so far unfortunate, that they incline his followers, by the brilliant illusion they throw around his name, to rely less on their own resources, than on him whom they have hitherto found invincible; and thus subject their own destiny to all the casualties which attach to the fortunes of a single individual. The death of Gaston de Foix seemed to dissolve the only bond which held the French together. The officers became divided, the soldiers disheartened, and, with the loss of their young hero, lost all interest in the service. The allies, advised of this disorderly state of the army, recovered confidence, and renewed their exertions. Through Ferdinand's influence over his son-in-law, Henry the Eighth of England, the latter had been induced openly to join the League in the beginning of the present year. [25] The Catholic king had the address, moreover, just before the battle to detach the emperor from France, by effecting a truce between him and Venice. [26] The French, now menaced and pressed on every side, began their retreat under the brave La Palice, and, to such an impotent state were they reduced, that, in less than three months after the fatal victory, they were at the foot of the Alps, having abandoned not only their recent, but all their conquests in the north of Italy. [27]
The same results now took place as in the late war against Venice. The confederates quarrelled over the division of the spoil. The republic, with the largest claims, obtained the least concessions. She felt that she was to be made to descend to an inferior rank in the scale of nations. Ferdinand earnestly remonstrated with the pope, and subsequently, by means of his Venetian minister, with Maximilian, on this mistaken policy. [28] But the indifference of the one, and the cupidity of the other, were closed against argument. The result was precisely what the prudent monarch foresaw. Venice was driven into the arms of her perfidious ancient ally, and on the 23d of March, 1513, a definitive treaty was arranged with France for their mutual defence. [29] Thus the most efficient member was alienated from the confederacy. All the recent advantages of the allies were compromised. New combinations were to be formed, and new and interminable prospects of hostility opened.
Ferdinand, relieved from immediate apprehensions of the French, took comparatively little interest in Italian politics. He was too much occupied with settling his conquests in Navarre. The army, indeed, under Cardona still kept the field in the north of Italy. The viceroy, after re-establishing the Medici in Florence, remained inactive. The French, in the mean while, had again mustered in force, and crossing the mountains encountered the Swiss in a bloody battle at Novara, where the former were entirely routed. Cardona, then rousing from his lethargy, traversed the Milanese without opposition, laying waste the ancient territories of Venice, burning the palaces and pleasure-houses of its lordly inhabitants on the beautiful banks of the Brenta, and approaching so near to the "Queen of the Adriatic" as to throw a few impotent balls into the monastery of San Secondo.
The indignation of the Venetians and of Alviano, the same general who had fought so gallantly under Gonsalvo at the Garigliano, hurried them into an engagement with the allies near La Motta, at two miles' distance from Vicenza. Cardona, loaded with booty and entangled among the mountain passes, was assailed under every disadvantage. The German allies gave way before the impetuous charge of Alviano, but the Spanish infantry stood its ground unshaken, and by extraordinary discipline and valor succeeded in turning the fortunes of the day. More than four thousand of the enemy were left on the field, and a large number of prisoners, including many of rank, with all the baggage and artillery, fell into the hands of the victors. [30]
Thus ended the campaign of 1513; the French driven again beyond the mountains; Venice cooped up within her sea-girt fastnesses, and compelled to enrol her artisans and common laborers in her defence,—but still strong in resources, above all in the patriotism and unconquerable spirit of her people. [31]
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