The Italian Wars E-Book

Arthur Johnson

• Herausgeber: Jovian Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Seitenzahl: 142

Beschreibung

At the date of the Italian expedition, Charles viii. had been eleven years on the throne of France. The monarchy to which he succeeded was, perhaps, less controlled by constitutional checks than any other in Europe. The crown had earned popularity as the leader in the struggle against the English - a struggle which had created the French nation; and as the patron of the middle classes against the feudal nobles. The Estates-General, the deliberative assembly of the kingdom, had never succeeded in vindicating its claims. The class divisions which divided it, as they did the people, had prevented united action. The third estate did not adequately represent the middle classes; the knights of the shire, those valuable representatives of the country districts, who had formed the backbone of the English House of Commons, did not exist...

Leseprobe

THE ITALIAN WARS

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Arthur Johnson

JOVIAN PRESS

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Copyright © 2016 by Arthur Johnson

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Expedition of Charles VIII.

Savonarola and Florence.

Louis XII.The War of Milan and Naples.

Alexander VI. and Cæsar Borgia.

The League of Cambray.

THE EXPEDITION OF CHARLES VIII.

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AT THE DATE OF THE Italian expedition, Charles viii. had been eleven years on the throne of France. The monarchy to which he succeeded was, perhaps, less controlled by constitutional checks than any other in Europe. The crown had earned popularity as the leader in the struggle against the English—a struggle which had created the French nation; and as the patron of the middle classes against the feudal nobles. The Estates-General, the deliberative assembly of the kingdom, had never succeeded in vindicating its claims. The class divisions which divided it, as they did the people, had prevented united action. The third estate did not adequately represent the middle classes; the knights of the shire, those valuable representatives of the country districts, who had formed the backbone of the English House of Commons, did not exist. With these defects, the Estates-General had failed to secure the command of the purse, or to control the legislation and administration of the country. All power accordingly lay with the Royal Council, a body of royal nominees who issued ordinances and levied taxes at their will, so long as they did not entrench on the privileges of the nobility to be free from all direct taxation beyond their feudal dues.

True, the ‘Parlement’ of Paris, the supreme judicial court of the realm, tried to exercise a power of veto by insisting on its right of registering, and therefore of refusing to register, the royal edicts. The King, however, could easily overcome this opposition by holding a ‘Lit de Justice,’—that is, by summoning the members of the Parlement before the Great Council, and ordering them to register; and under a strong King, at least, the Parlement became the humble instrument rather than the opponent of the crown.

As Charles was in his fourteenth year on the death of his father Louis xi. in 1483, a regency was not necessary according to the ordinance of Charles v. (1374). But Louis xi., conscious of the way in which he had from policy or from cynicism neglected his son’s education, had intrusted him to the guardianship of his daughter Anne, wife of the Sire de Beaujeu, who, on the death of his elder brother in 1488, became Duke of Bourbon.

Of Anne Louis xi. had said ‘she is the least foolish woman in France.’ But her conduct during the earlier years of Charles’ reign belied his further remark that ‘of wise women he knew none.’ She had, in the interests of centralisation at least, though perhaps to the permanent loss of her country, successfully evaded the claims made by the States-General of 1484 to share in the government. She had defeated the repeated attempts of the nobility headed by Louis of Orleans, the heir-presumptive, to oust her from power, and to restore feudal licence—a movement which had been supported by Francis ii. Duke of Brittany, by Maximilian, then King of the Romans, by Richard iii., and subsequently by Henry vii. of England.

On the death of Francis, Duke of Brittany (1488), she had interfered in the affairs of the duchy and won by arms the hand of Anne, the Bretonne heiress, for the young King. By the marriage-contract the autonomy of Brittany was indeed acknowledged, but it was agreed that the duchy should fall to the survivor, and the Duchess Anne bound herself, in the event of her husband dying before her without children, to marry the next possessor of the French throne. Thus the way was prepared for the final incorporation into the monarchy of the last great semi-independent feudatory state, so long a thorn in the side of France.

This brilliant triumph of diplomacy aroused all the enemies of France. Maximilian had a double affront to avenge. He himself had been married by proxy to Anne of Brittany, while Charles viii. had at the Treaty of Arras, 1482, plighted his troth to Margaret, Maximilian’s daughter. Thus, by Charles’ marriage with the Breton Duchess, both the Emperor and his daughter were jilted. Stung by this twofold insult, Maximilian forthwith laid claim to Margaret’s dower, Artois and Franche-Comté, and tried to enforce his claims by arms. Henry vii. attempted to prevent the union of Brittany with France, and Ferdinand of Aragon seized the opportunity to reclaim Roussillon, which had been ceded to Louis xi.

The claim of Maximilian to the dower of his daughter was a just one and could scarce be denied. But the cession of Roussillon should have been resisted at all hazards, while the interference of Henry vii. might have been answered by a resolute attempt to regain Calais and drive the English finally from the kingdom. Whether France was strong enough for so bold a stroke may perhaps be doubted, but at least her policy should have been devoted to the strengthening of her frontiers and the consolidation of the kingdom.

Unfortunately at this moment Charles had become infatuated with the idea of the Italian expedition. Being now old enough to act independently of his sister, he hurriedly yielded to the demands of his enemies. Henry vii. was bought off by the Treaty of Étaples, November 1492. Cerdagne and Roussillon were ceded to Ferdinand by the Treaty of Barcelona, January 1493, and by the Treaty of Senlis, May 1493, the princess Margaret was restored to her father with Artois and Franche-Comté. Having thus evaded his difficulties near home, Charles hurried on his preparations for the Italian campaign.

After the fall of the Roman Empire, Italy had rapidly lost all national cohesion. In spite of fruitless attempts which were made now and again to establish a united kingdom in the Peninsula, the principle of disintegration had finally triumphed. The Emperors of the West indeed had claimed supremacy, but, since the close of the thirteenth century, this had ceased to be a reality, and on the ruins of those claims, amidst numerous smaller states, five had risen to special prominence.

In the centre of the plain of Lombardy stood Milan, which at the close of the thirteenth century had fallen to the Visconti. That cruel but capable family, while they destroyed the liberties, extended the dominion of the republic, and absorbed most of the smaller states of the plain which escaped the rule of Venice. The territory, which on the extinction of the male line of the Visconti was seized by the Condottiere, Francesco Sforza (1450), stretched from the river Adda, where it marched with the Venetian lands, to the Sesia, where it met Piedmont then under the Duke of Savoy, and the Marquisate of Montferrat. In 1476, the son of Francesco, Galeazzo Maria, had paid the penalty of his tyranny, lust, and cruelty at the hands of three Milanese nobles who, if tyrannicide may ever be defended, are worthy of the name of patriots. He left a widow Bona of Savoy, who ruled in the name of her infant son Gian Galeazzo, aided by her husband’s wisest counsellor, Francesco Simonetta. Three years later, 1479, Ludovico ‘Il Moro,’ uncle of the young Gian, overthrew her rule, caused Simonetta to be executed, and assumed the regency. Ludovico, though ambitious, unscrupulous, and a lover of intrigue, was not wantonly cruel as many of his predecessors had been, and, if his rule was a despotic one, he was a liberal patron of the arts and kept his dominions contented and at peace.

To the east of the Duchy of Milan stood the republic of Venice. Once a democracy, she had by the close of the thirteenth century become a commercial oligarchy. At the close of the fifteenth century, not only did the Great Council monopolise the electoral functions of the state, but the Doge himself had become little more than an ornamental figure-head. Venice originally had concerned herself little with the politics of the mainland. Entrenched behind her lagoons, she had turned her attention to the Mediterranean and the East, from whence came her commerce, the source of her wealth. At the commencement of the fifteenth century, however, she had turned her eye westward to form a territory on the mainland. In this venture she had indeed met with great success, and, besides her possessions on the east of the Adriatic, in the Morea, and the Ægean Sea, she now ruled a large territory north of the Po, which stretched westwards to the Adda and northwards to the spurs of the Alps. But this policy had drawn her into the troubled tangle of Italian politics, and aroused the jealousy of the Italian states. Still Venice was formidable. By the treaty of 1479, she had surrendered indeed Scutari, Negropont, and most of her possessions in the Morea, but had retained her commercial privileges, and secured a temporary peace with the Turk. In 1488, she annexed, by a fiction of remarkable ingenuity, the island of Cyprus.

The rule of her aristocracy was far less corrupt and far more consistent than that of other Italian states. The stability of her Government and her immunity from those revolutions to which the other states of Italy were ever subject excited the envy of her neighbours. The leniency and wisdom with which she governed her dependencies secured her the loyalty of her subjects. Her riches were still great; her patronage of art magnificent; and if the tone of private morality was low, it was not lower than in the rest of Italy.

To the south and south-west of Venice lay the two independent territories of Mantua and of Ferrara. Of these Mantua, situated amid the marshy flats of the Mincio, belonged to the warrior family of the Gonzagas, while Ferrara, commanding the mouths of the Po, was ruled by the ancient house of Este.

Nestling under the Apennines, Florence held the watershed of the Arno with her dependent cities of Volterra, Arezzo, Cortona, Pistoja, and Pisa. To the north-west and to the south of her lay the independent states of Lucca and Siena, long her deadly enemies.

Nominally a republic based on a system of trade-guilds, Florence was practically in the hands of the Medici, who, while they left the outward form of the constitution intact, kept the government in the hands of their partisans. From time to time a packed ‘Parliament’ of the citizens elected committees or Balías, under whose control the Signory and other officials were selected. Finally, in 1480, a college of seventy, practically nominated by Lorenzo, took for a time the place of the Balías. This college not only nominated the Signory, but elected the Consiglio Maggiore, the legislative body of the republic, and thus became master of the city. A clever manipulation of the taxes, by which they struck at the rich, gained the Medici the support of the lower classes, while the confusion of the public treasury with the finances of their banking-house gave them the final control of the administration. The rule of the Medici was a far more temperate one than that of the Sforza of Milan. Their power was the result of real political genius. By that alone they had succeeded in controlling the most restless, the most acute, and the most brilliant people the world had yet seen since the days of the Athenians. In Florence was concentrated the essence of Italian art and literature, and with it, alas, much of that immorality and licence which stains the glory of the Renaissance. Unfortunately, at this crisis of her history, Lorenzo the Magnificent, the type of a Medicean prince, died (April 1492), and, under the incapable rule of his son Piero, the authority of the family was being rapidly undermined.

Encircling the territories of Siena and Florence on the south and the east, and stretching across the centre of Italy from sea to sea, stood the Papal States, formed of the Patrimony of St. Peter, the Campagna, the Duchy of Spoleto, the March of Ancona and the Romagna.

Of these territories all, except the two first, while acknowledging the suzerainty of the Pope, were practically independent, and in the Patrimony and in the Campagna, the powerful families of the Orsini and the Colonna were ever setting his authority at defiance. It had been of late the policy of the Popes to enforce their rule in these districts and to organise a strong temporal dominion, a policy definitely begun by Sixtus iv. (1471–1484). They are probably right who maintain that by this means alone could the Papacy hope to survive. The mediæval conception of the Holy Roman Empire had gone beyond recall. The idea of a united Christendom under one faith was no longer a reality. Largely, though by no means entirely, through its own deficiencies, the Papacy had lost its moral hold on Europe, and the attempt of Nicolas v. (1447–1455) and Pius ii. (1458–1464) to regain the intellectual leadership of Europe had met with scant success. During the period of the captivity of Avignon (1309–1377), and the great Schism (1378–1417), the power of the larger Italian states, and the lust for further extension, had grown. Under these circumstances, if the Papacy was to save itself from falling as low as it had fallen in the tenth century, when it was the puppet of the neighbouring nobles, it must needs follow suit, and form a strong and united dominion. Yet the necessity cost it dear. Sucked into the vortex of political intrigue, the Papacy prostituted its spiritual powers for these secular objects and shocked the conscience of Europe. Unfortunately the Popes who ascended the papal throne at this moment were men of low principle. Sixtus iv. (1471–1484) was venal, and sacrificed everything for the advancement of his nephews. Innocent viii. (1484–1492), hopelessly corrupt and indolent, was the first Pope who openly acknowledged his children; while of Rodrigo Borgia, who ruled as Pope Alexander vi. from 1492 to 1503, it is difficult to speak with moderation. To enumerate the charges which have been brought against him would exhaust the crimes of the decalogue. Even if we dismiss those charges on which the evidence is not conclusive, it cannot be denied that Alexander was profligate beyond ordinary profligacy, contemptuous of the ordinary conventionalities of decency, avaricious and cruel, and in statesmanship absolutely without scruple.

The desire of the Popes to form a temporal dominion was also injurious to Italy. Not strong enough to unite the Peninsula under their own sway, they were determined to prevent its union under any other hands. In this attempt to reconcile their interests as head of the Church with those of a temporal prince, they were ever ready to barter away their country’s liberties. They had more than once before this summoned the foreigner to their aid, and, if they were not responsible for the first invasion of the French, they went far to make the foreign dominion permanent.

The extremity of the Peninsula formed the kingdom of Naples, now in the hands of Ferrante i. (1458–1494), illegitimate son of Alfonso the Magnanimous, of Aragon; while Sicily and Sardinia belonged, with Aragon, to the legitimate branch represented just now by Ferdinand the Catholic (1479–1516). Always the most disturbed of the Italian states, Naples had in 1485 been the scene of a baronial revolt against the tyranny of Ferrante. The King, indeed, by cunning and ability had triumphed, but his faithlessness and inhuman cruelties had made him most unpopular, and his rule most insecure. He died in January 1494, to be succeeded by his son Alfonso ii. (1494–1495), who, according to the French chronicler Commines, though not so dangerous, was a worse man than his father, since ‘never was any prince more bloody, wicked, inhuman, lascivious, or gluttonous than he.’

The rivalry of these five states, mutually repellent, yet unable to establish complete independence, was to cause the ruin of Italy. Too equally balanced to allow of the supremacy of one, too jealous of each other and too divergent in the character of their peoples and the form of their governments to unite in a federal bond, they lost all sense of common national interest. The existence of numerous petty states between their frontiers, which could only hope to survive by dexterous intrigue, excited their cupidity and thickened the thread of treacherous diplomacy which was now to call the foreigner into Italy.