From 1530 to 1796, that is, for a period of nearly three
centuries, the Italians had no history of their own. Their
annals are filled with records of dynastic changes and
redistributions of territory, consequent upon treaties signed
by foreign powers, in the settlement of quarrels which nowise
concerned the people. Italy only too often became the theatre
of desolating and distracting wars. But these wars were fought
for the most part by alien armies; the points at issue were
decided beyond the Alps; the gains accrued to royal families
whose names were unpronounceable by southern tongues. That the
Italians had created modern civilisation for Europe availed
them nothing. Italy, intellectually first among the peoples,
was now politically and practically last; and nothing to her
historian is more heart-rending than to watch the gradual
extinction of her spirit in this age of slavery.--J. A.
SYMONDS.[b]
[Sidenote: [1530-1600 A.D.]]
The first circumstance, after the fall of Florence, which interrupted
the ignominious repose of Italy, was the renewal of hostilities between
Francis I and the emperor. During the expedition of Charles V against
Tunis, the French monarch availed himself of the distraction of the
imperial strength to commence his offensive operations. His troops broke
into the territories of the duke of Savoy, against whom he had some
causes of dissatisfaction, and easily wrested all Savoy, and the greater
part of Piedmont, from that feeble prince; while the imperialists took
possession of the remainder of his states, under pretence of defending
them. Meanwhile the death of Francesco Sforza, who left no posterity,
revived the long wars for the possession of the Milanese state. On the
one hand, Francis I, alleging that he had only ceded that duchy to
Sforza and his descendants, insisted that his rights returned to him in
full force by the decease of that prince without issue; on the other,
Charles V anticipated his designs by seizing the duchy as a lapsed fief
of the empire. Francis I, after some hollow negotiations with his crafty
rival, once more staked the decision of his pretensions on a trial of
arms. Lombardy became again the theatre of furious contests between the
French and the imperialists; but the usual fortunes of Francis still
pursued him; and although his troops inflicted a sanguinary defeat on
their opponents in the battle of Cerisole, the fruits of their victory
were lost by the necessity, under which the French monarch was placed,
of turning his strength to the defence of the northern frontiers of his
own kingdom. The peace of Crespy, in 1544, left Charles in possession of
Lombardy; and though Francis still retained part of the dominions of the
duke of Savoy, the despotic authority of his rival over Italy remained
unshaken.
[Sidenote: [1535-1554 A.D.]]
The tranquillity restored to the peninsula by the peace of Crespy was
not materially disturbed for several years. This period was indeed
signalised by the abortive conspiracy of Fiesco at Genoa, and earlier by
the separation of Parma and Piacenza from the papal dominions, and their
erection into a sovereign duchy. These territories, which originally
formed part of the Milanese states, had first been annexed to the holy
see by the conquests of Julius II; they had frequently changed masters
in the subsequent convulsions of Italy; and their possession had finally
been confirmed to the papacy by the consent of Francesco Sforza. By
the subserviency of the sacred college, the reigning pontiff, Paul
III, of the family of Farnese, was suffered to detach these valuable
dependencies from the holy see, and to bestow them upon his son with the
ducal dignity. But neither the trifling change which was wrought in the
divisions of Lombardy by the creation of the duchy of Parma and Piacenza,
nor the dangerous conspiracy of Fiesco, affected the general aspect and
the quietude of Italy.
Shortly after the death of Pope Paul III, however, the determination of
the emperor to spoil his family obliged Ottavio Farnese, the reigning
duke of Parma, to throw himself into the arms of Henry II, the new
monarch of France; and thus a new war was kindled in Lombardy and
Piedmont, in which the French appeared, as the defenders of Ottavio,
against the forces of Charles V and of the new pope, Julius III (1551).
The war of Parma produced no memorable event, until it was extended into
Tuscany by the revolt of Siena against the grievous oppression of the
Spanish garrison, which the people had themselves introduced to curb the
tyranny of the aristocratical faction of their republic. After expelling
their Spanish masters, the Sienese invited the aid of the French for the
maintenance of their liberties against the emperor (1552).[c]
THE SIEGE AND FALL OF SIENA
[Sidenote: [1554 A.D.]]
Cosmo I, duke of Florence, had promised to remain neutral in the war
lighted up anew between the French and the imperialists; he nevertheless,
on the 27th of January, 1554, attacked, without any declaration of war,
the Sienese, whose city he hoped to take by surprise. Having failed in
this attack, he gave the command to the ferocious Medecino, marquis
of Marignano, who undertook to reduce it by famine. The first act of
Marignano was to massacre without mercy all the women, children, aged,
and sick, whom the Sienese, beginning to feel the want of provisions, had
sent out of the town; every peasant discovered carrying provisions into
Siena was immediately hung before its gates. The villages and fortresses
of the Sienese, for the most part, attempted to remain faithful to the
republic; but in all those which held out until the cannon was planted
against their walls, the inhabitants were inhumanly put to death.[d]
To oppose Marignano, and the formidable army which he assembled, the
king of France made choice of Pietro Strozzi, a Florentine nobleman, who
had resided long in France as an exile, and who had risen by his merit
to high reputation as well as command in the army. He was the son of
Filippo Strozzi, who, in the year 1537, had concurred with such ardour
in the attempt to expel the family of Medici out of Florence, in order
to re-establish the ancient republican form of government, and who had
perished in the undertaking. The son inherited the implacable aversion
of the Medici, as well as the same enthusiastic zeal for the liberty of
Florence which had animated his father, whose death he was impatient
to revenge. Henry flattered himself that his army would make rapid
progress under a general whose zeal to promote his interest was roused
and seconded by such powerful passions; especially as he had allotted
him, for the scene of action, his native country, in which he had many
powerful partisans, ready to facilitate all his operations.
But how specious soever the motives might appear which induced Henry
to make this choice, it proved fatal to the interests of France in
Italy. Cosmo, as soon as he heard that the mortal enemy of his family
was appointed to take the command in Tuscany, concluded that the king
of France aimed at something more than the protection of the Sienese,
and saw the necessity of making extraordinary efforts not merely to
reduce Siena, but to save himself from destruction. At the same time the
cardinal of Ferrara, who had the entire direction of the French affairs
in Italy, considered Strozzi as a formidable rival in power, and, in
order to prevent his acquiring any increase of authority from success,
he was extremely remiss in supplying him either with money to pay his
troops, or with provisions to support them. Strozzi himself, blinded
by his resentment against the Medici, pushed on his operations with
the impetuosity of revenge, rather than with the caution and prudence
becoming a great general.
At first, however, he attacked several towns in the territory of Florence
with such vigour as obliged Medecino, in order to check his progress, to
withdraw the greater part of his army from Siena, which he had invested
before Strozzi’s arrival in Italy. As Cosmo sustained the whole burden
of military operations, the expense of which must soon have exhausted
his revenues; as neither the viceroy of Naples nor governor of Milan was
in condition to afford him any effectual aid; and as the troops which
Medecino had left in the camp before Siena could attempt nothing against
it during his absence, it was Strozzi’s business to have protracted
the war, and to have transferred the seat of it into the territories
of Florence; but the hope of ruining his enemy by one decisive blow
precipitated him into a general engagement, not far from Marciano. The
armies were nearly equal in number; but a body of Italian cavalry,
in which Strozzi placed great confidence, having fled without making
any resistance, either through the treachery or the cowardice of the
officers who commanded it, his infantry remained exposed to the attacks
of all Medecino’s troops. Encouraged, however, by Strozzi’s presence and
example, who, after receiving a dangerous wound in endeavouring to rally
the cavalry, placed himself at the head of the infantry, and manifested
an admirable presence of mind, as well as extraordinary valour, they
stood their ground with great firmness, and repulsed such of the enemy
as ventured to approach them. But those gallant troops being surrounded
at last on every side, and torn in pieces by a battery of cannon which
Medecino brought to bear upon them, the Florentine cavalry broke in on
their flanks, and a general rout ensued. Strozzi, faint with the loss
of blood, and deeply affected with the fatal consequences of his own
rashness, found the utmost difficulty in making his escape with a handful
of men.
Medecino returned immediately to the siege of Siena with his victorious
forces, and as Strozzi could not, after the greatest efforts of
activity, collect so many men as to form the appearance of a regular
army, he had leisure to carry on his approaches against the town without
molestation. But the Sienese, instead of sinking into despair upon this
cruel disappointment of their only hope of obtaining relief, prepared to
defend themselves to the utmost extremity, with that undaunted fortitude
which the love of liberty alone can inspire. This generous resolution
was warmly seconded by Montluc, who commanded the French garrison in
the town. The active and enterprising courage which he had displayed on
many occasions had procured him this command; and as he had ambition
which aspired to the highest military dignities, without any pretensions
to attain them but what he could derive from merit, he determined to
distinguish his defence of Siena by extraordinary efforts of valour
and perseverance. For this purpose, he repaired and strengthened the
fortifications with unwearied industry; he trained the citizens to
the use of arms, and accustomed them to go through the fatigues and
dangers of service in common with the soldiers; and as the enemy were
extremely strict in guarding all the avenues to the city, he husbanded
the provisions in the magazines with the most parsimonious economy,
and prevailed on the soldiers, as well as the citizens, to restrict
themselves to a very moderate daily allowance for their subsistence.
Medecino, though his army was not numerous enough to storm the town
by open force, ventured twice to assault it by surprise; but he was
received each time with so much spirit, and repulsed with such loss, as
discouraged him from repeating the attempt, and left him no hopes of
reducing the town but by famine.
[Sidenote: [1554-1556 A.D.]]
With this view he fortified his camp with great care, occupied all the
posts of strength round the place, and having cut off the besieged from
any communication with the adjacent country, he waited patiently until
necessity should compel them to open their gates. But their enthusiastic
zeal for liberty made the citizens despise the distresses occasioned
by the scarcity of provisions, and supported them long under all the
miseries of famine: Montluc, by his example and exhortations, taught his
soldiers to vie with them in patience and abstinence; and it was not
until they had withstood a siege of ten months, until they had eaten up
all the horses, dogs, and other animals in the place, and were reduced
almost to their last morsel of bread, that they proposed a capitulation
(1555). Even then they demanded honourable terms; and as Cosmo, though
no stranger to the extremity of their condition, was afraid that despair
might prompt them to venture upon some wild enterprise, he immediately
granted them conditions more favourable than they could have expected.
The capitulation was made in the emperor’s name, who engaged to take
the republic of Siena under the protection of the empire; he promised
to maintain the ancient liberties of the city, to allow the magistrates
the full exercise of their former authority, to secure the citizens in
the undisturbed possession of their privileges and property; he granted
an ample and unlimited pardon to all who had borne arms against him; he
reserved to himself the right of placing a garrison in the town, but
engaged not to rebuild the citadel without the consent of the citizens.
Montluc and his French garrison were allowed to march out with all the
honours of war.
[Illustration: POPE PAUL III]
Medecino observed the articles of capitulation, as far as depended on
him, with great exactness. No violence or insult whatever was offered to
the inhabitants, and the French garrison was treated with all the respect
due to their spirit and bravery. But many of the citizens suspecting,
from the extraordinary facility with which they had obtained such
favourable conditions, that the emperor, as well as Cosmo, would take
the first opportunity of violating them, and disdaining to possess a
precarious liberty, which depended on the will of another, abandoned the
place of their nativity, and accompanied the French to Montalcino, Porto
Ercole, and other small towns in the territory of the republic. They
established in Montalcino the same model of government to which they had
been accustomed at Siena, and appointing magistrates with the same titles
and jurisdiction, solaced themselves with this image of their ancient
liberty.[e]
[Sidenote: [1556-1557 A.D.]]
The Spaniards retained possession of Siena for two years, and did not
surrender it to the duke of Florence until the 19th of July, 1557. After
the subjugation of Siena, there remained in Italy only three republics,
Lucca, Genoa, and Venice, unless it may be permitted to reckon San
Marino, a free village, situated on the summit of a mountain of Romagna,
which has alike escaped both usurpation and history until our own time.[d]
In the same year that witnessed the fall of Siena (1565), Charles V began
putting into execution his intention to abdicate the various crowns of
his vast dominions.
AN ITALIAN ESTIMATE OF THE ABDICATION OF CHARLES V
It has never been doubted that the ambition of Charles V was great
and insatiable, and that this alone was his dominant passion. It was
therefore a greater marvel that he should voluntarily despoil himself
of all authority and dignity. But a close examination of the question
will show that his action had its origin in that very ambition. After
thirty years of continual warfare, journeys, negotiations, and perils, he
realised that he was no happier than before, and perhaps higher motives
prompted him to think upon the vanity and frailty of human greatness; or
satiety and weariness having disgusted him with kingship and power, he
thought to win the praise of men by other means, and to seek tranquillity
and repose in private life.
But it is most probable that after his reverses in Germany Charles
recognised the impossibility of attaining to that absolute monarchy which
he longed for, and experienced in himself that change of feeling to which
the human heart is naturally inclined; and that the excessive longing
for sovereignty over the whole world was succeeded by total lethargy and
a longing for quiet and inaction, more especially as he was suffering
from ill health and was beginning to feel the weight of years. The care
which he had taken to accustom Prince Philip, his only son, to the cares
of government, sending him to Italy and investing him with the duchy of
Milan in 1540, might lead one to believe that he had long since conceived
and matured the design of renouncing his authority before he died; and
that he would have done so much sooner if matters had been in such a
state that he could have withdrawn with dignity, and without laying
himself open to a charge of weakness.
In the meanwhile Henry II, no more resolved to keep peace with Charles
V than firmly persuaded that this was the sincere desire of the latter,
had leagued himself with the German princes, the enemies of the emperor,
and hostilities were begun on both sides without any formal declaration
of war. Thus while the French attacked Toul, Verdun, and Metz in Lower
Germany, the German allies, whose chief leaders were Maurice, duke and
elector of Saxony, Duke Albert of Mecklenburg, and Albert of Brandenburg,
markgraf of Kulmbach and Bayreuth, showed such spirit in their encounter
with the imperial army in the direction of the Tyrol that the emperor
himself, surprised at Innsbruck, withdrew hastily into Dalmatia to the
lands of his brother Ferdinand, leaving all his baggage as spoil to
the enemy. This fresh blow further confirmed him in his resolution to
withdraw from the world. After the flight from Innsbruck it was observed
that he suffered from a melancholy humour, and in Villach in Carinthia
shut himself in his room for several days, giving no audiences and
despatching no business. Having recruited his army he marched towards
Flanders, where he vainly attempted to besiege Metz, which was occupied
by the king of France. Still further saddened by this proof of his
altered fortune, he almost entirely abandoned the administration of his
dominions, partly to Prince Philip and partly to his favourite the bishop
of Arras, and his sister the widowed queen of Hungary.
[Sidenote: [1555-1556 A.D.]]
In order to evade the cares of government, which had now become
distasteful to him, he reduced himself to a private house in Brussels,
where, says Segin,[g] “he took great interest in clock-making, delighting
in such machinery and in talking with the workmen and watching their
work.” He began the formal abdication of his crown by making over the
kingdom of Naples to his son (1554). Julius III approved this abdication,
and received in the name of King Philip the homage paid to him by the
kings of Naples as feudatories of the holy see. Thus the states of Milan
and Naples changed their ruler somewhat earlier than Spain. But this
separation of the kingdom of Naples and duchy of Milan from Spain, to
which they were justly united, the former because of the ancient right
of the king of Aragon, and the latter because of the will of Charles,
who bestowed it upon the heir presumptive of the throne of Spain, was
only temporary, for the next year (1555) Charles further bestowed the Low
Countries upon his son, and a little later (1556) the kingdom of Spain
and the dominions of the new world.[f]
RENEWED HOSTILITIES; THE TREATY OF CATEAU-CAMBRÉSIS
At the time of the abdication of Charles V the flames of war which had
raged in Europe with such intense violence during the greater part of
his long reign seemed already expiring in their embers. But they were
rekindled in Italy, almost immediately after the accession of Philip II,
by the fierce passions of Paul IV, a rash and violent pontiff. In his
indignation at the opposition which Charles V had raised against his
election, and moreover to gratify the ambition of his family, Paul IV had
already instigated Henry II of France to join him in a league to ruin the
imperial power in Italy; and he now, in concert with the French monarch,
directed against Philip II the hostile measures which he had prepared
against his father.
Philip II, that most odious of tyrants, whose atrocious cruelty and
imbecile superstition may divide the judgment between execration and
contempt, shrank with horror from the impiety of combating the pontiff,
whom he had regarded as the vicegerent of God upon earth. He therefore
vainly exhausted every resource of negotiation, before he was reconciled
by the opinion of the Spanish ecclesiastics, whom he anxiously consulted,
to the lawfulness of engaging in such a contest. At length he was
prevailed upon to suffer the duke of Alva to lead the veteran Spanish
bands from the kingdom of Naples into the papal territories. The advance
of Alva to the gates of Rome, however, struck consternation into the
sacred college; and the haughty and obstinate pontiff was compelled
by the terror of his cardinals to conclude a truce with the Spanish
general, which he immediately broke on learning the approach of a
superior French army under the duke de Guise (1556).
[Sidenote: [1556-1557 A.D.]]
This celebrated captain of France, to whom the project was confided
of conquering the kingdom of Naples from the Spaniards, was, however,
able to accomplish nothing in Italy which accorded with his past and
subsequent fame. Crossing the Alps at the head of twenty thousand men, he
penetrated, without meeting any resistance, through Lombardy and Tuscany
to the ecclesiastical capital. If he could effect the reduction of the
kingdom of Naples, it was imagined that the Spanish provinces in northern
Italy must fall of themselves; and having, therefore, left the Milanese
duchy unassailed behind him, he passed on from Rome to the banks of the
Garigliano, where he found Alva posted with an inferior force to oppose
him. The wily caution of the Spanish general and the patient valour of
his troops disconcerted the impetuosity of the French and the military
skill of their gallant leader: and disease had already begun to make
fearful havoc in the ranks of the invaders, when Guise was recalled, by
the victory of the Spaniards at St. Quentin, to defend the frontiers of
France.[c]
[Illustration: THE COLONNADE, ST. PETER’S, ROME]
The confusion at Rome was great. But the pope, though considerably
grieved, gave no external sign of being disturbed or alarmed. “The
ambassador of France has just assured me,” wrote the bishop of Anglone
on the 25th of August, 1557, “that the pope felt greatly the constable’s
defeat, and is troubled; yet in spite of his affliction he does not say
cease, but that his courage is greater than ever, and, from what he sees
and believes, his holiness is more than ever disposed to continue the
friendly relations, as he well knows he cannot bear the cost alone and
has need of the king’s aid.” Nevertheless, Paul IV could not be unmindful
that he was left alone to face the victorious enemy, bolder in their
pretensions, as they knew themselves superior to their adversary.
The pope therefore took the resolution of checking the victorious march
of the duke of Alva, and saving Rome by coming to terms. Cardinal
Caraffa attempted through the medium of Alessandro Placidi to negotiate
with the Spanish viceroy, but the conditions imposed were too onerous
to be accepted by the pontifical court. Cosmo intervened in favour of
the latter, being anxious for peace, and a peace was signed upon most
honourable terms for the pope, who through the sagacity of Silvestro
Aldobrandini recovered all he had lost, and was enabled to confirm the
sentences against the rebellious vassals, while King Philip promised to
send a solemn embassy to him, asking grace and pardon.
[Sidenote: [1557-1558 A.D.]]
But in a secret article of the treaty (an article which the pope
ignored), the duchy of Paliano, the apparent cause of the war, remained
in the hands of the Spanish. The duke of Alva had therefore to repair to
Rome, and, though much against his will, was forced to bow before the
pontiff and ask pardon for having made war on the church. The pope, who
could hardly believe that he was free from a war into which he had been
dragged without foreseeing all the consequences, received him with great
benignity and sent the _rosa benedetta_ to his wife the vice-queen. The
duke of Ferrara was not included in the peace, but Cosmo prevailed upon
Philip to receive him into favour, which was to the great advantage of
the duke, who was now on friendly terms with the Venetians, having taken
part in the fight between the pope and Spain without the republic’s
consent, and who saw himself threatened by Duke Ottavio Farnese, anxious
to enlarge his dominions at the expense of the house of Este; while his
people, exhausted by a disastrous war, ardently longed for peace.
De Guise left Rome on the same day as the duke of Alva entered the town;
he proceeded in all haste to France, where his arrival was eagerly looked
for, and was appointed lieutenant-general with full powers. At the head
of the French army he entered the field, though the season was far
advanced. While feigning to bear down on the frontier of Flanders, he
suddenly turned and fell upon Calais, the last place which the English
held in France--an important dominion, as it secured them an easy and
safe passage into the heart of the country. In eight days De Guise took
possession of the place; a success due not so much to valour as to his
usual foresight, he having seized the moment when the fort was left
denuded of its garrison. This victory avenged St. Quentin and partly
smoothed the way to a general peace.
First a truce was spoken of, then a general disarming, then a disbanding
of foreign troops; but ultimately the two powers appointed their
plenipotentiaries, who on the 12th of October, 1558, assembled at
Cercamps, to formulate their proposals. Negotiations were long and
difficult, especially respecting the question of the possession of
Calais, being suspended on the 17th of November, 1558, on account
of the death of Mary Tudor, queen of England; they were resumed at
Cateau-Cambrésis in the following year, and finally peace was signed
between England and France in the first place, between France and
Spain in the second. The conditions were as follows: France restored
Marienburg, Thionville, Damvillers, Montmédy, in exchange for St.
Quentin, Ham, Catalet, and Thérouanne; she kept Calais and restored
without compensation Bovigny and Bouillon to the bishop of Liège, while
Philip kept Hesdin. In Italy the French evacuated Montferrat, Milan,
Corsica, Montalcino, Siena, Piedmont, excepting the forts of Turin,
Chieri, Pinerolo, Chivasso, Villanova d’Asti, which she held in pledge,
and which by the Treaty of Fossano, signed by the cardinal of Lorraine in
the name of the king of France, were restored to Emmanuel Philibert in
exchange for the forts of Savigliano and Perosa.
[Sidenote: [1558-1565 A.D.]]
The Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis left Savoy, Bresse, and Bugey free, but
not so the duchy of Saluzzo, which held by France was occupied by Henry
IV and definitely abandoned to Piedmont in 1601, in exchange for Bresse
and Bugey. The restitution of the forts of Piedmont on the part of France
put the seal on the separation of this power from northern Italy. Two
marriages were arranged to make the peace binding, one between Philip II,
left a widower a short time previously, and Elizabeth of Valois, eldest
daughter of Henry, and the other between Margaret, sister of the latter,
and the duke of Savoy.
The Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis, completed fifty years later by that
of Vervins, was the fundamental treaty of Europe until the Treaty of
Westphalia. Few diplomatic acts have had such lasting results. The
convention of the 2nd of April, 1559, answered the momentary needs of
Europe; defined the limits of the possessions of every nation; broke the
power of the house of Habsburg, which inclined to universal monarchy;
lessened the authority of Philip II in Italy and the Low Countries, and
compelled the said monarch to keep within the limits of the Iberian
peninsula; and assured liberty to the rest of Europe, so recently
threatened by the omnipotence of Charles V.[h]
But in its consequences to Italy, this famous treaty was particularly
important. To detach the duke of Parma from the French interest during
the late war, Philip had already restored to him the part of his states
which Charles V had formerly seized: to confirm the fidelity of Cosmo
I, afterwards grand duke of Tuscany, he had assigned Siena to the
sceptre of the Medici, and retained only in Tuscany the small maritime
district which was destined to form a Spanish province, under the title
of _lo stato degli presidi_--the state of the garrisons. The general
pacification confirmed these cessions of Philip; it also restored to the
house of Savoy the greater part of its possessions, which the French and
Spanish kings engaged to evacuate; and it left the kingdom of Naples and
the duchy of Milan under the recognised sovereignty of Spain.
Thus the Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis may be considered to have finally
regulated the limit and the existence of these Italian principalities and
provinces which, under despotic government, whether native or foreign,
had embraced almost the whole surface of the peninsula; and it left only
the shadow of republican freedom to Venice, Genoa, Lucca, and--if it be
worth naming--to the petty community of San Marino in the ecclesiastical
states. But this same pacification is yet more remarkable, as the era
from which Italy ceased to be the theatre of contention between the
monarchs of Spain and Germany and France, in their struggle for the
mastery of continental Europe. Other regions were now to be scathed by
their ambition, and other countries were to succeed to that inheritance
of warfare and all its calamities, of which Italy had reaped, and was yet
to reap, only the bitterest fruits.[c]
A new phase now began for Italy; she no longer resisted servitude but
became resigned, nay hastened to it. That same brilliant genius that
had strayed in the slippery paths of the Renaissance expiated its pagan
scepticism in the rigours of penitence and sometimes in the weaknesses of
superstition.
Pius IV set the example of resignation. Entirely occupied in embellishing
Rome, he had built the Porta Pia, opened up the via Montecavallo;
protected the coasts against barbaric pirates by the Borgo, Ancona, and
Cività-Vecchia fortifications, and had no other object than peace in
his relations with foreign powers. Solicited by the Savoy ambassador to
help his master in recovering Geneva, now turned Protestant, “What are
we coming to,” he said to him, “that such propositions should be made
to me? I desire above all things peace.” He was convinced that the holy
see could not long maintain itself without help from the princes, and
above all made much of those who reigned over Italy. He thought once
of conferring the title of king on Cosmo, or at least of making him
archduke. He refused nothing to his vassal Philip II for the kingdom of
Naples, and allowed him to oppose the formality of the _exequatur_ to his
own decrees. Still less did he combat the measures which the king took in
Milan to restrain the privileges left by Charles V to the senate and the
last communal liberties.
[Illustration: THE LION OF ST. MARK’S, VENICE]
[Sidenote: [1563-1572 A.D.]]
The holy see, it is true, gained spiritually what she lost temporally.
In the last sessions of the Council of Trent, which she had the glory
of reopening in 1563, Pope Pius IV, by politic concessions made to the
prince, strengthened the religious reforms which it had seemed possible
might be seized from him. By ceasing to invoke his right over crowned
heads he obtained one thing--there was no more talk of reforming the
church by reforming the head of it. The council, instead of putting
itself above him, bowed before his authority. Not only was tradition
maintained, and dogma in all its rigour, but the power of the holy see
in all of its Catholicity was raised and extended. The pope remained
sole judge of the changes to be worked in discipline, was infallible in
matters of faith, supreme interpreter of canons, uncontested head of
bishops, and Rome could console herself for the definite loss of a part
of Europe by seeing her power doubled in the Catholic nations of the
south who rallied religiously round her.
The lay sovereigns of Italy had not this compensation. Cosmo de’ Medici
could freely restrain by terror his subjects of Florence and Siena, who
still feared him. He could fortify Grossetto, Leghorn; found the order of
the cavaliers of St. Stephen against pirates; construct galleys, hollow
out canals, irrigate and try to repeople and make the Maremma healthy;
but in seizing the little town of Foligliano from Niccolo Orsini he
roused the discontent of the sovereigns, and did not appease them save by
accepting the hand of the archduchess Johanna, an Austrian princess, for
his son. The duke of Savoy, Emmanuel Philibert, who had given a victory
to Philip II over the king of France at St. Quentin, recovered, through
favour of the troubles in France, all his Piedmontese towns. But neither
from the king of Spain nor the pope did he obtain the help he needed to
reduce Geneva.
Under Pope Pius V (1566) the work of Catholic restoration and weakening
of the peninsula was finished. This holy but inflexible old man, admired
by the people for his always bare head, long white beard, and countenance
beaming with piety, got the Roman Inquisition admitted into all the
Italian states, and severely watched over faith and customs. Bishops were
bound to keep in residence, monks and nuns forced to strict seclusion.
The Collegium Germanicum, founded by the Jesuits, became a forcing
house for priests for Italy and Germany. Abuses had partly disappeared;
scandals diminished in Rome. Cardinals eminent for their piety gave
tone to the Roman court--among these the politic Gallio di Como, the
administrator Salviati, San Severino, the man of the Inquisition, and
Madruzzi, surnamed the Cato of the sacred college. Tiepolo, the Venetian
ambassador, a little later rendered the Holy City this witness: “Rome
strives to conquer the disrepute into which she had fallen; she has now
become more Christian in her customs and manner of living.” In Lombardy,
the archbishop of Milan, Carlo Borromeo, a worthy emulator of Pius V, did
not content himself with reforming the churches and clergy, the monks
and nuns. He restrained public amusement, watched over the regularity
of marriages and the general conduct of the laity: his zeal even led
him beyond the limit of his powers. He aspired to lend his religious
decrees the aid of military force, and the governor of Milan bowed to the
ascendency of a zeal free from all political ambition.
This reform, quite ecclesiastical and for discipline, had not,
unfortunately, anything practical or strong. Worship was re-established
without reformation of men’s characters. The faith was strengthened
without correction of manners. Minds were dominated without souls
being uplifted. One great action stands out during this epoch. Pius V
determined a league against the Turks and among the Italian and Spanish
states. Under the leadership of Don John, the vassals of Venice, Genoa,
Tuscany, Naples, and the church states carried a glorious victory
at Lepanto (1571).[i] So great and so glorious was this victory,
that we must give it more than passing notice. As one of the great
decisive battles between the Orient and the Occident, it had really
world-historical significance. We shall adopt the enthusiastic narrative
of the Spanish historian Lafuente.[a]
A SPANISH ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE OF LEPANTO
[Sidenote: [1571 A.D.]]
The Turkish fleet in Lepanto had been reinforced with ships, victuals,
artillery, and soldiers drawn from the Morea and Modon, so that it
numbered no less than 240 galleys, and a multitude of galiots, foists,
and other craft, with 120,000 men, soldiers and rowers. Pertev Pasha and
Ali Uluch, as also the viceroy of Alexandria and other Turkish generals,
counselled Ali Pasha not to fight or to risk in one battle the loss of
the conquests made in Cyprus. But Ali, as commander-in-chief of the
fleet, rejected their advice as cowardly. The reason of this was that
a famous corsair, disguised as a fisherman, had been able to approach
and reconnoitre the Christian galleys, and whether to encourage the
Mussulmans, or because he had not seen the whole fleet, had greatly
underestimated their numbers, and had assured the pasha of a certain,
indeed almost infallible victory.
Don John’s generals, amongst whom were Giovanni Andrea Doria, Ascanio de
la Corna, and Sebastian Veniero, also feared engaging in a battle; and
some, declaring that it would be rashness, came forward to advise him
to retreat. “Gentlemen,” replied the son of Charles V, “it is no longer
the hour for advising, but for fighting;” and he continued disposing the
order of battle.
Besides his natural valour, his confidence had been heightened by the
report he had received that Ali Uluch, the Algerian, had separated from
the Turkish fleet. Both commanders were deceived and confident, both
counted on the victory, both were equally anxious for battle; it would
seem that they were moved by a mysterious force. Don John passed from
ship to ship encouraging the Christians. “Brothers,” he cried in sonorous
accents to the Spaniards, “we are here to vanquish or die, if God so
wishes it. Do not give your arrogant enemy occasion to cry out with
haughty impiety, ‘Where is your God?’ Fight with faith in his holy name;
killed or victorious, you shall enjoy immortality.” And to the Venetians:
“The day has come to avenge insults; you hold in your hands the remedy to
your sufferings, wield your swords with courage and anger.” And the fire
of his words inflamed the hearts of the combatants with warlike ardour.
Ali Pasha, who was confident of victory, thinking that the whole of the
Christian fleet was in sight, when the greater part of it was hidden from
him by the Curzolari Islands, was dumfounded, and cursed the corsair who
had deceived him, when upon his sailing into the open he discovered its
magnitude, saw the multitude of sails and the admirable order in which it
was disposed.
Don John also perceived that he had been mistaken in the number of the
enemy’s ships, and that it was uncertain whether Ali Uluch had deserted;
he fully weighed the danger into which he had run, but remembered who
he was, fixed his eyes on a crucifix which he always wore, then raised
them to heaven, and placing his trust in God resolved to fight with the
presentiment of victory. The wind, which at first had been contrary
to the Christians, presently turned against the infidels, rendering
the operations of their ships difficult, and being favourable to the
Christian fleet, which raised their courage. Among other things Don John
caused the beakheads of all the galleys to be cut away, commencing with
his own flag-ship, which measure, as afterwards proved, was of great
advantage.
Six Venetian galleasses sailed as a vanguard, the left wing formed of
sixty galleys was commanded by the _provveditore_ Barbarigo; Giovanni
Andrea Doria commanded the right which was composed of nearly an equal
number of sail; in the centre division, composed of sixty-three galleys,
was the generalissimo Don John of Austria in his flag-ship, having on
each side the two generals of Rome and Venice, Colonna and Veniero, and
in the rear his lieutenant, Requesens, chief knight commander of Castile.
The rear-guard or relief squadron, of thirty-five galleys, was commanded
by Don Alvaro de Bazan, marquis of Santa Cruz.
The Turkish fleet, more numerous than the Christian, formed a half moon
and was also divided into three bodies. The right, of fifty-five galleys,
was commanded by the viceroy of Alexandria, Muhammed Siroko; the left
wing, composed of ninety-three, by Ali Uluch of Algiers, and the two
pashas, Pertev and Ali, were in the centre with ninety-six sail, with
their corresponding relief force or rear-guard. So that each division
faced the corresponding division of the enemy, and the standard of the
Grand Turk fluttered in front of the holy standard of the league.
The wind had fallen, the waters of the gulf were tranquil, and the
sun shone out from a blue and clear sky, as though God wished that no
element should disturb the struggle of men, that nature should oppose
no obstacle to the battle which was to decide the triumph of the cross
or the crescent. If the reflection of the polished arms, the shining
shields, and burnished helmets of the Christians dazzled the Mussulmans,
the eyes of the allies were wounded by the gilded poop lanterns, the
silver and gold inscriptions of the Turkish standards, the stars, the
moon, the double-edged scimitars, which shone from the ships of the
Ottoman admirals. Nothing could be discerned on the horizon but banners
and pendants of varied colours. For a brief space the two fleets surveyed
one another in mutual wonder; this impressive silence was broken by a
broadside discharged from Ali’s galley, which was answered by another
from Don John’s flag-ship.
The first boom of the artillery, which was the signal for battle, was
followed instantly by the usual clamour and shouting, with which the
Moors commence a fight. The Turkish right wing commanded by the viceroy
of Alexandria first engaged with the Christian left, commanded by the
_provveditore_ Barbarigo. The Venetians fought unshielded with the
furious courage and passion of men fighting the murderers of their
compatriots. Doria the Genoese engaged with Ali Uluch the Algerian, who
captured the flag-ship of Malta, and put all her defenders to the sword,
with the exception of the prior and two other knights, who, covered with
wounds, were saved by being counted among the dead.
Ali Pasha and Don John of Austria sought each other with equal hatred,
until with a terrible shock their two galleys rushed together, the fire
of the artillery and arquebuses from the Spanish ship doing deadly work
on the men of the Turkish galley. The action became general, and the
contending galleys changed about; the sea was white with the foam of the
troubled waves, the smoke of the artillery and arquebuses darkened the
sky, turned midday into night, the sparks flying from the swords and
shields as they clashed together seemed like lightning flashing from
black clouds. Ships were engulfed in the waves, Turks and Christians fell
in a muddled heap, clasped together like brothers, with the hatred of
enemies, by the side of a sinking ship; greedy flames devoured others;
a Turkish ship would be seen flying a Christian flag, and a Spanish
galley guided by a Turkish commandant. Swords broken, they fought hand
to hand; all was destruction and death, until the sea became reddened
with blood. “Never,” says the author of the _Memories of Lepanto_, “had
the Mediterranean witnessed on her bosom, nor shall the world again see,
a conflict so obstinate, a butchery so terrible, men so valiant and so
enraged.”
With his youthful and untiring arm Don John of Austria wielded his sword
unceasingly, his person being ever exposed to danger; youthful also in
the battle appeared the veteran Sebastian Veniero; Colonna did justice
to his illustrious name; Requesens showed himself a worthy lieutenant of
the valiant prince Don John; the prince of Parma proved that the blood of
Charles V ran in his veins; the wounds he received did not check Urbino;
Figueroa, Zapata, Carillo, every captain of the flag-ship worked like
men well used to battle, setting little value on their lives, when the
flag-ship was hard pressed, because Ali and Pertev Pasha also fought like
heroes with their janissaries.
Don Alvaro de Bazan came to the rescue, as though his galley was moved
by lightning, and mowed down Mussulmans, clearing all before him, though
balls turned against his shield. Like a whirlwind he moved, nor did his
fire slacken though ships were engulfed at his side and captains fell
lifeless before him. Ali Uluch held Doria in desperate conflict; the
marquis of Santa Cruz, leaving the flag-ship in safety, rushed to his
assistance, regained the flag-ship of Malta, relieved the Genoese, and
put the Algerian to ignominious flight.
It is impossible to relate the special deeds of prowess of every captain
and every soldier in the stupendous struggle, in which the janissaries,
who held themselves to be the most valiant warriors of the world, were to
learn that there were Christian soldiers more valiant, more audacious,
and more daring than they. Nevertheless we cannot omit making special
mention of a Spanish soldier who, prostrated with fever on board Giovanni
Andrea Doria’s galley, but feeling a more fierce fever burning in his
breast, that is to say, the fire of courage and the desire of battle,
left his bed and begged the captain to station him at the post of
greatest danger. In vain his comrades, in vain the captain himself, tried
to convince him that he was more in a condition to be curing his body
than exposing it to danger. The soldier insisted, the soldier fought
valiantly, the soldier was wounded in the breast and left hand, but yet
he would not retreat, for the maxim of this soldier was, that wounds
received in battle are stars which guide to the heaven of glory. The
stubborn soldier stood firm, and could not be prevailed upon to retire
that he might be attended to, until his galley had ceased to battle, the
captain Francisco de San Pedro being killed in the fight. The reader will
understand why, in the midst of numerous other deeds of prowess, we have
singled that of this soldier in particular, for he will have divined that
this soldier was no other than Miguel de Cervantes, who, then unknown to
the world as a soldier, became afterwards famous as a writer.
But it is now time to draw this furious fight to a close, the result of
it being for a time doubtful. The Turks had already suffered a great loss
when Pertev Pasha, pressed by Don Juan de Cordova, fell into the sea, and
his galley was boarded by Paulo Jordan Urbino, the seraskier being forced
to swim to a small boat in which to escape. But the Christians did not
set up the cry of victory until they saw Ali Pasha, after the vigorous
and stubborn efforts of himself and the three hundred janissaries of his
flag-ship, fall on the gangway wounded in the forehead by a ball from one
of Don John’s arquebusiers.
Another cut off his head and presented it to the Christian generalissimo,
who with noble generosity censured the action with horror, and ordered
such trophies to be thrown into the sea; nevertheless he could not
prevent the head of the Turkish admiral from being raised and exhibited
on the point of a spear. The Christian’s cry of victory resounded through
the air, and was carried by the winds to the shore.
The last engagement was between the galleys of Ali Uluch and Giovanni
Andrea Doria, but on the approach of Don John, the viceroy of Algiers
hastened to effect his escape, with forty vessels saved from the general
destruction; and so great was his haste that neither Giovanni Andrea nor
Alvaro de Bazan could give chase. Nevertheless well-nigh all his men
perished, either drowned in the waves, when jumping in terror to the
shore, or killed among the rocks by the Venetians.
In this memorable battle the Turks lost 220 ships; of this number 130
fell into the hands of the Christians, more than 90 were engulfed in the
sea, or reduced to ruins by fire, 40 alone escaped; 25,000 Turks fell
in battle, 50,000 were taken prisoners; the allies took from them 17
heavy cannon, and 250 of smaller calibre, more than 12,000 Christians,
captives of the Mussulmans, employed as rowers, saw their chains broken
and precious liberty recovered. The Christian losses were also great,
about 8,000 valiant soldiers and sailors were killed, 2,000 of these were
Spaniards, 800 of the papal army, and the rest Venetians. Only 15 ships
were lost. On the other hand the gilded poop lanterns, the purple banners
embroidered in gold and silver, the stars and moon, the pasha’s pennons,
were precious trophies which the allies won in the battle.
Such in brief, concludes Lafuente, was the famous naval battle of
Lepanto, the most famous ever recorded in the annals of nations, for the
number of ships, the exertions and valour of the combatants, for the
complete destruction of a fleet as formidable as was the Ottoman fleet.
The janissaries were no longer invincible; the Sublime Porte was to lose
its supremacy in the Mediterranean.[j]
THE GENERAL CONDITION OF ITALY
[Sidenote: [1569-1585 A.D.]]
“There was a man sent from God, whose name was John,” Pius V could cry
in his enthusiasm over the victory of Lepanto. But besides this victory
there was little to arouse enthusiasm in Italy; scandals and baseness
prevailed everywhere. The Medici offered the worst examples of this.
Dreadful rumours circulated on the sudden and close deaths of Cosmo’s
two sons. It was confidently said that one, Giovanni, had in a fit of
jealousy during a hunting party assassinated his brother Garcias, and
that Cosmo had slain the fratricide some days later in the arms of
his mother. The third, Francesco, although married to the archduchess
Johanna, publicly contracted a liaison which seemed to give rise every
day to fresh scandals, and Cosmo in the recesses of his palace indulged
in stormy passions made worse by a sombre melancholy. All this did not
hinder Pope Pius V, in 1569, from conferring on Cosmo, by what right is
not known, the title of grand duke. This act showed to what depths the
Italian princes had sunk. The other small sovereigns, whose lives were
also not the most exemplary, showed themselves very jealous. The dukes
of Ferrara and Savoy protested at the courts of Madrid and Vienna, and
aspired to guard the right of precedence, which the pope had also just
changed. At least they would be of the first rank among slaves. The right
of precedence, such as it was in the general servitude, remained the
object of the princes’ feverish rivalry. To maintain this their wise men
used a good deal of heraldic and feudal science. Their ambassadors fought
at the courts of Madrid and Vienna.
Loss of liberty was not compensated for by material prosperity. This was
clearly shown during the reigns of Gregory XIII at Rome and Francesco I
at Florence.
Gregory XIII, although of less deep piety than his predecessor, was
carried along in his spiritual government by the vigorous impulse given
by Pius V. He founded an international college at Rome, and accomplished
a work truly European by the reform of the calendar in 1582. His attempts
to regulate economic conditions were not so successful. Francesco de’
Medici, more docile still than his father to the Spanish yoke, obtained
by concessions in 1576, from the emperor and the Spanish king, that
recognition of his grand-ducal title which Cosmo had refused, with the
right of precedence over the other dukes. With less reverence than ever
he established Bianca Capello in his palace, she losing nothing of his
affection for having given him a child by another father; she even became
his wife after the death of the archduchess. Quite a Spanish prince, he
separated himself entirely from the people. After the fashion of Philip
II he only lived in the midst of courtesans and favourites, who began
to form a nobility in a state which was formerly largely democratic.
But through his negligence all the elements of order and prosperity in
Tuscany were lost. The city of Leghorn alone slightly developed, thanks
to the commercial privileges he granted her, but the rest of the country
became deserted compared to what it had been under Cosmo I. Pisa, from
twenty-two thousand inhabitants, fell to eight thousand; and in 1575 a
conspiracy was necessary to overthrow that voluptuous tyrant who had no
thought for the morrow.
In the Milanese, where the governors respected the débris of ancient
liberties, there was still some activity. Milanese arms and embroideries
were sought after, woollen-weavers were very busy in Como and the
capital. The work of canalisation went on. Milan passed as Italy’s most
populous city and had 150,000 inhabitants. But at Naples the exigencies
and venality of the administration exhausted all sources of prosperity.
Whilst rich families in Lombardy, the Marignani, the Sforza, the Serboni,
the Borromei, and the Trivulzi, displayed a princely luxuriousness, the
Neapolitan nobility, quickly ruined by court life, retired to their
châteaux and lived by oppressing the peasants. Even the townsfolk,
crushed by taxation, and above all by the caprice of viceroys, were
ruined. The miserable tax-payers, after all their furniture had been
sold, were even driven to strip off their roofs and sell the material.
Towns fell into decay. Localities formerly very flourishing, like
Giovinazzo in Apulia, completely disappeared. A whole province was
desolated; Calabria was now only crossed by caravans.
[Illustration: SS. GIOVANNI E PAOLO, VENICE]
In the whole peninsula brigandage was organised, as in great epochs of
misery. The discontented, the banished, ruined people, and bad subjects
united in bands under bold and adventurous chiefs and wrought sanguinary
revenge. The Apennine gorges, the little châteaux there, became the
refuge for these outlaws or bandits who replaced the condottieri, and
were as a last and wild protestation of national independence. The
people, far from despising them, called them the _bravi_. Grandees,
princes, even cardinals often went to these men to seek help needed to
execute vengeance or even to satisfy their cupidity. Marco Bernardi
of Cosenza in Calabria; Pietro Leonello of Spoleto in the Marches;
Alfonso Piccolomini, lord of Montemarciano, and his noble family in the
Apennines, became the terror of the peninsula. It needed a real military
Spanish expedition to destroy Marco Bernardi and his band. Alfonso
Piccolomini seized châteaux and even small towns in the papal states.
Pope Gregory XIII augmented his military forces and gave Cardinal Sforza
the fullest power to rid the patrimony of St. Peter of this brigandage.
Gregory XIII could not, however, disarm Piccolomini but by pardoning
him and restoring his goods. Such was the state to which imperial and
pontifical restoration had reduced the peninsula towards the end of
the sixteenth century. But at the threshold of the seventeenth century
two energetic men tried to raise Italy and even put her in the way of
profiting by the restoration of France, her natural protector, since
she had fallen under the Spanish yoke: these were Sixtus V, sovereign
pontiff, and Ferdinand I, grand duke of Tuscany.
POPE SIXTUS V; FERDINAND, GRAND DUKE OF TUSCANY
[Sidenote: [1585-1590 A.D.]]
Felice Peretti [Sixtus V], one of a poor slave family who had taken
refuge at Montalto, had been raised in the rough school of poverty.
He had often in his youth guarded the fruit or taken care of swine.
Received into a Franciscan convent, he had risen by showing a mixture
of theologic erudition and facility in administration, which evidenced
a decided mind and firm character. He was sixty-four and somewhat
infirm when called to the papacy (1585). This honour seemed to tend to
rejuvenescence, a fact which gave rise to a report that the day after
his exaltation he had thrown away his crutches. He was the first for
some time who understood that the pope, as temporal sovereign, cannot
be absorbed exclusively in religious duties without imperilling that
same spiritual power, and he undertook first to destroy brigandage and
raise the finances of the holy see. From the first day, most energetic
measures were taken against the brigands. A price was set on the heads
of the leaders; their relatives were rendered responsible and liable for
all their misdeeds. The holy father found good all the measures exercised
against them. No pity was to be expected from him. “As long as I live,”
he said the very day of his coronation, “every criminal shall suffer
capital punishment.” At the end of two years, ambassadors congratulated
the pope on the safety of the roads in the pontifical domain.
Gregory XIII had, as Sixtus V said, eaten the revenues of three pontiffs:
his own, those of his predecessor, and those of his successor. Sixtus
V exercised considerable economies in the expenses of the pontifical
chamber. He created a number of venal duties, and established _monti_
on the consumption of wine, wood, and even small industries. In a short
time he had paid his debts, and could put aside annually a million gold
crowns: a reserve destined to pay for great events such as a crusade,
a famine, or an invasion of St. Peter’s domain. The ordinary excess
of receipts was employed by him in embellishing Rome. Since Sixtus IV
had joined the two shores of the Tiber by the bridge which bears his
name, the lower part of the town had been entirely rebuilt; beyond the
river rose the marvels of the Vatican, the Belvedere, the Loggia, and
the palace of the Chigi; beyond these, the Cancellaria of Julius II,
the Farnese and Orsini palaces. But the heights of the town were always
abandoned; the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli and the palace of the
Conservatori on the Capitoline no longer attracted the inhabitants.
Sixtus V, to repeople these beautiful and celebrated heights, conducted
greatly needed water there by means of works which rivalled those
of the Romans. He caused to flow, sometimes under ground, sometimes
in aqueducts, to the Capitoline and Quirinal, that _aqua felice_
which gave in four hours 20,537 cubic metres of water and nourished
twenty-seven fountains. He planned a great number of streets, facilitated
communication between the higher and the lower towns, and doubled, as it
were, the town of Rome.
The former Franciscan monk also caused a reaction against paganism
in art; and was happy in celebrating in his works the triumph of the
Christian faith. He surmounted with a cross the beautiful obelisk which
the architect Fontana had raised with so much trouble and delight on the
Piazza di San Pietro. He knocked down the statues of Trajan and Antoninus
from the triumphal columns of those emperors to put up St. Peter and
St. Paul, and to build his churches and realise his plans destroyed the
monuments of antiquity, even the beautiful temple of Severus. He even
sacrificed to this Christian vandalism the beautiful tomb of Cæcilia
Metella. But before all, this positive mind had always one end in
view--public utility; and Rome really rose under his pontificate.
The death of the grand duke of Florence, Francesco, was as favourable to
Tuscany as that of Gregory XIII to the church states. Duke Francesco and
Cardinal Ferdinand de’ Medici, rarely in accord, were still embroiled
after the accession of Pope Sixtus V. In the autumn of 1587, Francesco
having fallen ill, Ferdinand came to Florence and there was reconciled
with him. But some days after the fever of Francesco grew worse, Bianca
Capello herself was attacked by the same illness. The husband and wife
whose passion for each other had troubled the court of Tuscany, even of
Italy, died within two days of each other, and Cardinal Ferdinand became
duke of Florence. A thousand rumours were set afloat to damage him, but
the new duke soon stifled them by benefits bestowed. An enlightened
man, with practical good sense and resolution, Ferdinand I repaired
the miseries caused by the negligence of Francesco. The prosperity of
Leghorn was taken in hand; the town of Pisa helped by the opening of a
canal which put her in communication with Leghorn at that point where
the Genoese were soon to assist at a yearly fair. The course of the Arno
received a more advantageous direction; there was much done in the way of
draining inundated lands, and the prospect of repeopling the Maremma was
reundertaken by increasing the water-supply and damming the overflow of
Lake Fucecchio. Ferdinand kept a navy sufficiently considerable to drive
the Barbary pirates back to Bona, and tried to reanimate art and letters,
which had been the glory of his country and his ancestors.
Pope Sixtus V and Ferdinand were so constituted as to understand each
other. Their foreign policy began to betray more independence. Sixtus
V pursued as far as Spanish territory the brigands who were sometimes
protected by them. Ferdinand sent away all the Spaniards whom Francesco
had taken into pay, and confided his fortresses to Italians whom he
could trust. Both men had come to a good understanding with the Venetian
republic. The pope particularly was fond of that town, which had helped
him to destroy the brigands. He often assured her that he would willingly
shed his blood for her. They also attached to themselves the Gonzagas of
Mantua and Genoa, threatened by Charles Emmanuel I of Savoy, who hoped
to obtain everything from Spain by proving himself her most zealous
partisan. It was already a scene of resistance. But help must be sought
from without. France, preyed upon for twenty-five years by the horrors of
a religious war which paralysed all foreign politics, could hardly stand
against the efforts and intrigues of Philip II. Ferdinand and Venice
favoured as much as they could the restoration of a strong and national
power. The republic guessed first what the future would be, and had the
courage to recognise Henry IV before all the other states. After her,
Ferdinand entered into friendly relations with the new king; and while
the duke of Savoy seized from him Barcelonnette and Antibes, he threw
himself into the château d’If and put an efficient garrison there.
Sixtus V hesitated. He threatened to break with the republic, for which
he had promised to shed his blood. He allowed himself, however, to be
persuaded to relent, and even received M. de Luxembourg, the envoy of
Henry IV, in private audience. The Spanish ambassador begged, threatened.
Sixtus went down before such boldness. Philip II again began to send
bandits to the pontifical territory, and intercepted the convoys laden
with grain which Ferdinand had caused to come for the provisionment of
Tuscany.
Sixtus V went so far as to speak of excommunicating the Catholic king
of Spain. This energetic man, however, bent under so great a task, and
died the 7th of August, 1590, pursued by the cowardly maledictions of the
people, who broke his statues, and decided that that honour should not
again be given to living popes.
POPE CLEMENT VIII (1590-1605 A.D.)
[Sidenote: [1590-1600 A.D.]]
The death of Sixtus V again agitated the conclave. The Medicean party at
last arrived at finding a pope, if not hostile, at least less devoted
to Spain--Urban VII. But he died at the end of seven days, and the
struggle recommenced. The viceroy of Naples, to finish it, sent brigands.
Olivares threatened the cardinals with a siege. Gregory XIV, a pope
devoted to Spain, was elected; but only reigned seven months. A third
struggle began, more fierce than the preceding ones. The cardinal of
San Severino, supported by the Spaniards, failed one day of the papacy
by a single vote. “Anxiety,” he himself said, “made me sweat blood.”
Cardinal Aldobrandini, the creature of Sixtus V, much less devoted to the
Spaniards, was at last elected on January 30th, 1592, and took the name
of Clement VIII.
This was a victory for Italy. The abjuration of Henry IV, his entry into
Paris in 1594, was another. It was celebrated in the peninsula as a
national event. The pope, who up to then had managed the Spanish and only
secretly received the ambassadors of Henry IV, no longer resisted the
insistences of the grand duke of Florence. In vain the Spanish party left
Rome with the cardinals, who led them; in vain the duke of Sessa, Philip
II’s ambassador, threw his Abruzzian bandits on church lands. Supported
by the Venetians, by the duke of Tuscany, by the emperor himself, to
whom the Italians furnished help against the Turks, the pope carried all
before him. He declared in solemn ceremony (September 8th, 1595) Henry to
be reconciled with the Catholic church, thus re-establishing between the
orthodox powers a favourable equilibrium to his own independence and the
freeing of Italy. The peninsula, in effect, soon found she had gained a
powerful support against Spain. Alfonso II, duke of Ferrara, Modena, and
Reggio, dying in 1597, had left his heritage to Don Cesare his cousin,
in default of a direct heir. Clement VIII claimed, as fief of the holy
see, the town of Ferrara, hurled excommunication against Don Cesare, who
aspired to all the heritage, and raised a loan to support an army of
spiritual thunderbolts.
At first events did not seem to favour the holy see. The court of Spain,
who thought it had somewhat against Clement VIII, was ill disposed. The
grand duke of Tuscany, brother-in-law to Don Cesare, this time abandoned
the pope. Even the Venetian Republic hindered him from recruiting
soldiers in Dalmatia. Henry IV forgot what he owed to Venice, to the
grand duke, and offered to send an army beyond the mountains to put the
pope in possession of Ferrara. Don Cesare, obliged to yield, gave up the
town after taking away the archives, the library, and the artillery of
his predecessors. He thereafter contented himself with the title of duke
of Modena and Reggio. The town of Ferrara lost all its advantages, all
its éclat as capital, and soon saw rise in place of the ducal palace and
the beautiful belvedere sung by her poets, a citadel which easily kept in
awe a town promptly dispeopled.
Philip II, who for thirty years had allowed nothing to be done in Italy
without his permission, was obliged to yield this time. He thus signed,
before dying, the peace of Vervins, which announced the re-establishment
of French power and the decadence of Spain. His successor, Philip III,
abandoned even the most faithful of the servitors of his house in
Italy--Charles Emmanuel I, duke of Savoy, from whom Henry IV, by the
treaty of Lyons, received in 1600 Bugey, Valromey, and Gex, in exchange
for the marquisate of Saluzzo.
Italy now turned with full hope towards France. The holy see had nothing
but kindness for her. The learned cardinal Baronius repeated, to whoever
cared to listen, that the papacy had never received of any nation so much
service. “Can it be allowed,” cried the cardinal’s nephew, Aldobrandini,
through whose hands all affairs passed, “can it be allowed that the
Spanish should command in the house of a stranger in spite of him?” And
it was not perhaps without reflection that he put millions in reserve and
maintained an army of twelve thousand men. Not having had occasion to
meddle with France since the Peace of Lyons, Charles Emmanuel I of Savoy
began to understand that it was in Italy, at the expense of Spain, that
he must seek aggrandisement. So he entered into intimate relations with
Henry IV, so long time his enemy. In waiting for better things, he ended
by organising the senate established by his father at Carignan on the
model of the French parliaments. He reanimated agriculture and commerce
and fortified Turin, an Italian city. He himself wrote a parallel between
great men ancient and modern, and began to found the military power of
his little state.
Ferdinand of Tuscany, only too happy to see Maria de’ Medici mount the
French throne, did not long hold out before Henry IV. He was bold enough
to send his admiral Inghirami, at the head of his fleet, to fight the
Turks in the Adriatic, even seeking to seize from them the isle of
Cyprus. In the north and south of Italy the Milanese and the Neapolitans
themselves began to grow restless under the iron yoke of Spain. It
was perhaps the time to attempt something. Cardinal Aldobrandini once
proposed to Venice a league against Spain. But Cardinal Aldobrandini and
Ferdinand were sworn foes. Henry IV, moreover, was not yet firmly enough
established in France to act outside it.
There then remained only one alternative for the Neapolitan kingdom--one
of those isolated revolts, so extraordinarily foolish, so frequent in
the peninsula, which can only be explained by the misery of the people.
A Dominican, Tommaso Campanella, a deep thinker if he had not been a
still greater dreamer, tore himself from his philosophic elucidations
and dreams to call, like a new Savonarola, his compatriots to liberty.
He believed in the faith of the Apocalypse that the seventeenth century
would be for Italy the signal for a cataclysm wherein would be engulfed
the Spanish domination, and he formed the project of founding a kind of
universal theocratic republic. He began first by Calabria, his country.
Monks, not only Dominicans, but Franciscans and Augustines, drawn away by
his eloquence, began to preach the doctrines of this new emissary from
God, and blew upon the hardly extinct ashes of Neapolitan frenzy. Even
many bishops and a few barons followed the monks. An army, recruited in
part by bandits, went out from Calabria. The count of Lemos, viceroy
of Naples, soon had the upper hand. The unfortunates who were seized
perished in frightful torments. Tommaso Campanella, regarded as insane,
was thrown in a dungeon, where he stayed twenty-seven years, and passed
from the dream of a universal republic to that of a universal holy empire.
This attempt sufficed to put the Spanish government, already full of
distrust, still more on their guard. Philip III, at Rome, roused Cardinal
Farnese, head of his faction, against Aldobrandini. The garrisons
of Tuscany were strengthened; Fuentes, governor of Milan, assembled
sufficient troops to scare the whole peninsula. He would have done
more, if the king of Spain, Philip III, and his minister, the duke of
Lerma, satisfied with maintaining their domination, had not taken every
precaution not to rouse the intervention of Henry IV from beyond the
Alps.[i]
Fully to appreciate the character of the times just treated, one must
recall the state of contemporary civilisation. We have been brought
somewhat in contact with the conditions in Germany, France, and Spain,
because these countries were in constant political association with
Italy. To complete the picture, it should be recalled that the sixteenth
century was the age of Henry VIII and Elizabeth in England; therefore,
the time of Spenser, Shakespeare, and Bacon. It was the age also of
Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin; the time when the spirit of the Reformation
was actively battling with the old ecclesiasticism, and when the counter
influence of the Inquisition made itself felt everywhere. Italy being
relatively uninfluenced by the Reformation was also relatively free from
the excesses of the Inquisition. Nevertheless, it furnished just at the
close of the century a most striking illustration of inquisitorial power
in the persecution, imprisonment, and finally the execution by burning at
the stake of the famous philosopher, Giordano Bruno.
But the Italian civilisation of the time presents some more attractive
features. The artistic impulses of the Renaissance, at which we have
glimpsed in an earlier chapter, could not be blotted out in a single
generation; and it must be recalled that Michelangelo lived until the
year 1564; so the art movement did not pass its climax before the
middle of the century. In the field of literature the activities of the
earlier generation were unabated. “Among the numbers of men who had
devoted themselves to letters,” says Sismondi,[k] “Italy produced at
this glorious epoch, at least thirty poets, whom their contemporaries
placed on a level with the first names of antiquity, and whose fame, it
was thought, would be commensurate with the existence of the world. But
even the names of these illustrious men begin to be forgotten; and their
works, buried in the libraries of the learned, are now seldom read.
“The circumstances of their equality in merit has doubtless been an
obstacle to the duration of their reputation. Fame does not possess
a strong memory. For a long flight, she relieves herself from all
unnecessary encumbrances. She rejects, on her departure, and in her
course, many who thought themselves accepted by her, and she comes down
to late ages, with the lightest possible burthen. Unable to choose
between Bembo, Sadoleti, Sanazzaro, Bernardo Accolti, and so many others,
she relinquishes them all.”
There is one name, however, that stands out from amidst this company in a
secure position. This is the name of Torquato Tasso, the famous author of
the _Gerusalemme Liberata_ (“Jerusalem Delivered”), a poem dealing with
the First Crusade, which by common consent has high rank among the great
epics, and which placed its author in contemporary estimation, as in that
of posterity, on an approximate level with Dante, Petrarch, and Ariosto.
The appearance of Tasso in this epoch is another illustration of that
fruitage of literary genius in times of political degeneration to which
reference has previously been made.[a]
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