On ascending the throne Louis XII. reduced the public taxes and
confirmed in their posts his predecessor’s chief advisers, using to Louis
de la Tremoille, who had been one of his most energetic foes, that
celebrated expression, “The King of France avenges not the wrongs of the
Duke of Orleans.” At the same time, on the day of his coronation at
Rheims [May 27, 1492], he assumed, besides his title of King of France,
the titles of King of Naples and of Jerusalem and Duke of Milan. This
was as much as to say that he would pursue a pacific and conservative
policy at home and a warlike and adventurous policy abroad. And, indeed,
his government did present these two phases, so different and
inharmonious. By his policy at home Louis XII. deserved and obtained the
name of Father of the People; by his enterprises and wars abroad he
involved France still more deeply than Charles VIII. had in that mad
course of distant, reckless, and incoherent conquests for which his
successor, Francis I., was destined to pay by capture at Pavia and by the
lamentable treaty of Madrid, in 1526, as the price of his release. Let
us follow these two portions of Louis XII.’s reign, each separately,
without mixing up one with the other by reason of identity of dates. We
shall thus get at a better understanding and better appreciation of their
character and their results.
Outside of France, Milaness [the Milanese district] was Louis XII.’s
first thought, at his accession, and the first object of his desire. He
looked upon it as his patrimony. His grandmother, Valentine Visconti,
widow of that Duke of Orleans who had been assassinated at Paris in 1407
by order of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, had been the last to
inherit the duchy of Milan, which the Sforzas, in 1450, had seized.
When Charles VIII. invaded Italy in 1494, “Now is the time,” said Louis,
“to enforce the rights of Valentine Visconti, my grandmother, to
Milaness.” And he, in fact, asserted them openly, and proclaimed his
intention of vindicating them so soon as he found the moment propitious.
When he became king, his chance of success was great. The Duke of
Milan, Ludovic, the Moor, had by his sagacity and fertile mind, by his
taste for arts and sciences and the intelligent patronage he bestowed
upon them, by his ability in speaking, and by his facile character,
obtained in Italy a position far beyond his real power. Leonardo da
Vinci, one of the most eminent amongst the noble geniuses of the age,
lived on intimate terms with him; but Ludovic was, nevertheless, a
turbulent rascal and a greedy tyrant, of whom those who did not profit
by his vices or the enjoyments of his court were desirous of being
relieved. He had, moreover, embroiled himself with his neighbors the
Venetians, who were watching for an opportunity of aggrandizing
themselves at his expense. As early as the 20th of April, 1498, a
fortnight after his accession, Louis XII. addressed to the Venetians a
letter “most gracious,” says the contemporary chronicler Marino Sanuto,
“and testifying great good-will;” and the special courier who brought it
declared that the king had written to nobody in Italy except the pope,
the Venetians, and the Florentines. The Venetians did not care to
neglect such an opening; and they at once sent three ambassadors to
Louis XII. Louis heard the news thereof with marked satisfaction. “I
have never seen Zorzi,” said he, “but I know him well; as for Loredano,
I like him much; he has been at this court before, some time ago.” He
gave them a reception on the 12th of August, at Etampes, “not in a
palace,” says one of the senate’s private correspondents, “but at the
Fountain inn. You will tell me that so great a king ought not to put up
at an inn; but I shall answer you that in this district of Etampes the
best houses are as yet the inns. There is certainly a royal castle, in
the which lives the queen, the wife of the deceased king; nevertheless
his Majesty was pleased to give audience in this hostelry, all covered
expressly with cloth of Alexandrine velvet, with lilies of gold at the
spot where the king was placed. As soon as the speech was ended, his
Majesty rose up and gave quite a brotherly welcome to the brilliant
ambassadors. The king has a very good countenance, a smiling
countenance; he is forty years of age, and appears very active in make.
To-day, Monday, August 13, the ambassadors were received at a private
audience.”
[Illustration: Louis XII----310]
A treaty concluded on the 9th of February, 1499, and published as signed
at Blois no earlier than the 15th of April following, was the result of
this negotiation. It provided for an alliance between the King of France
and the Venetian government, for the purpose of making war in common upon
the Duke of Milan, Ludovic Sforza, on and against every one, save the
lord pope of Rome, and for the purpose of insuring to the Most Christian
king restoration to the possession of the said duchy of Milan as his
rightful and olden patrimony. And on account of the charges and expenses
which would be incurred by the Venetian government whilst rendering
assistance to the Most Christian king in the aforesaid war, the Most
Christian king bound himself to approve and consent that the city of
Cremona and certain forts or territories adjacent, specially indicated,
should belong in freehold and perpetuity to the Venetian government. The
treaty, at the same time, regulated the number of troops and the military
details of the war on behalf of the two contracting powers, and it
provided for divers political incidents which might be entailed, and to
which the alliance thus concluded should or should not be applicable
according to the special stipulations which were drawn up with a view to
those very incidents.
In the month of August, 1499, the French army, with a strength of from
twenty to five and twenty thousand men, of whom five thousand were Swiss,
invaded Milaness. Duke Ludovic Sforza opposed to it a force pretty
nearly equal in number, but far less full of confidence and of far less
valor. In less than three weeks the duchy was conquered; in only two
cases was any assault necessary; all the other places were given up by
traitors or surrendered without a show of resistance. The Venetians had
the same success on the eastern frontier of the duchy. Milan and Cremona
alone remained to be occupied. Ludovic Sforza “appeared before his
troops and his people like the very spirit of lethargy,” says a
contemporary unpublished chronicle, “with his head bent down to the
earth, and for a long while he remained thus pensive and without a single
word to say. Howbeit he was not so discomfited but that on that very
same day he could get his luggage packed, his transport-train under
orders, his horses shod, his ducats, with which he had more than thirty
mules laden, put by, and, in short, everything in readiness to decamp
next morning as early as possible.” Just as he left Milan, he said to
the Venetian ambassadors, “You have brought the King of France to dinner
with me; I warn you that he will come to supper with you.”
“Unless necessity constrain him thereto,” says Machiavelli [treatise Du
Prince, ch. xxi.], “a prince ought never to form alliance with one
stronger than himself in order to attack others, for, the most powerful
being victor, thou remainest, thyself, at his discretion, and princes
ought to avoid, as much as ever they can, being at another’s discretion.
The Venetians allied themselves with France against the Duke of Milan;
and yet they might have avoided this alliance, which entailed their
ruin.” For all his great and profound intellect, Machiavelli was wrong
about this event and the actors in it. The Venetians did not deserve his
censure. By allying themselves, in 1499, with Louis XII. against the
Duke of Milan, they did not fall into Louis’s hands, for, between 1499
and 1515, and many times over, they sided alternately with and against
him, always preserving their independence and displaying it as suited
them at the moment. And these vicissitudes in their policy did not bring
about their ruin, for at the death of Louis XII. their power and
importance in Southern Europe had not declined. It was Louis XII. who
deserved Machiavelli’s strictures for having engaged, by means of
diplomatic alliances of the most contradictory kind, at one time with the
Venetians’ support, and at another against them, in a policy of distant
and incoherent conquests, without any connection with the national
interests of France, and, in the long run, without any success.
[Illustration: Bayard----315]
Louis was at Lyons when he heard of his army’s victory in Milaness and of
Ludovic Sforza’s flight. He was eager to go and take possession of his
conquest, and, on the 6th of October, 1499, he made his triumphal entry
into Milan amidst cries of “Hurrah! for France.” He reduced the heavy
imposts established by the Sforzas, revoked the vexatious game-laws,
instituted at Milan a court of justice analogous to the French
parliaments, loaded with favors the scholars and artists who were the
honor of Lombardy, and recrossed the Alps at the end of some weeks,
leaving as governor of Milaness John James Trivulzio, the valiant
Condottiere, who, four years before, had quitted the service of Ferdinand
II., King of Naples, for that of Charles VIII. Unfortunately Trivulzio
was himself a Milanese and of the faction of the Guelphs. He had the
passions of a partisan and the habits of a man of war; and he soon became
as tyrannical and as much detested in Milaness as Ludovic the Moor had
but lately been. A plot was formed in favor of the fallen tyrant, who
was in Germany expecting it, and was recruiting, during expectancy,
amongst the Germans and Swiss in order to take advantage of it. On the
25th of January, 1500, the insurrection broke out; and two months later
Ludovic Sforza had once more become master of Milaness, where the French
possessed nothing but the castle of Milan. In one of the fights brought
about by this sudden revolution the young Chevalier Bayard, carried away
by the impetuosity of his age and courage, pursued right into Milan the
foes he was driving before him, without noticing that his French comrades
had left him; and he was taken prisoner in front of the very palace in
which were the quarters of Ludovic Sforza. The incident created some
noise around the palace; Ludovic asked what it meant, and was informed
that a brave and bold gentleman, younger than any of the others, had
entered Milan pell-mell with the combatants he was pursuing, and had been
taken prisoner by John Bernardino Casaccio, one of the leaders of the
insurrection. Ludovic ordered him to be brought up, which was done,
though not without some disquietude on the part of Bayard’s captor,
“a courteous gentleman, who feared that Lord Ludovico might do him some
displeasure.” He resolved himself to be his conductor, after having
dressed him in one of his own robes and made him look like a gentleman.
“Marvelling to see Bayard so young, ‘Come hither, my gentleman,’ said
Ludovico: ‘who brought you into the city?’ ‘By my faith, my lord,’
answered Bayard, who was not a whit abashed, ‘I never imagined I was
entering all alone, and thought surely I was being followed of my
comrades, who knew more about war than I, for if they had done as I did
they would, like me, be prisoners. Howbeit, after my mishap, I laud the
fortune which caused me to fall into the hands of so valiant and discreet
a knight as he who has me in holding.’ ‘By your faith,’ asked Ludovico,
‘of how many is the army of the King of France?’ ‘On my soul, my lord,’
answered Bayard, ‘so far as I can hear, there are fourteen or fifteen
hundred men-at-arms and sixteen or eighteen thousand foot; but they are
all picked men, who are resolved to busy themselves so well this bout
that they will assure the state of Milan to the king our master; and
meseems, my lord, that you would surely be in as great safety in Germany
as you are here, for your folks are not the sort to fight us.’ With such
assurance spoke the good knight that Lord Ludovico took pleasure
there-in, though his say was enough to astound him. ‘On my faith, my
gentleman,’ said he, as it were in raillery, ‘I have a good mind that the
King of France’s army and mine should come together, in order that by
battle it may be known to whom of right belongs this heritage, for I see
no other way to it.’ ‘By my sacred oath, my lord,’ said the good knight,
‘I would that it might be to-morrow, provided that I were out of
captivity.’ ‘Verily, that shall not stand in your way,’ said Ludovico,
‘for I will let you go forth, and that presently. Moreover, ask of me
what you will, and I will give it you.’ The good knight, who, on bended
knee, thanked Lord Ludovico for the offers he made him, as there was good
reason he should, then said to him, ‘My lord, I ask of you nothing save
only that you may be pleased to extend your courtesy so far as to get me
back my horse and my arms that I brought into this city, and so send me
away to my garrison, which is twenty miles hence; you would do me a very
great kindness, for which I shall all my life feel bounden to you; and,
barring my duty to the king my master and saving my honor, I would show
my gratitude for it in whatsoever it might please you to command me.’
‘In good faith,’ said Lord Ludovico, ‘you shall have presently that which
you do ask for.’ And then he said to the Lord John Bernardino, ‘At once,
Sir Captain, let his horse be found, his arms and all that is his.’
‘My lord,’ answered the captain, ‘it is right easy to find, it is all at
my quarters.’ He sent forthwith two or three servants, who brought the
arms and led up the horse of the good young knight; and Lord Ludovico had
him armed before his eyes. When he was accoutred, the young knight
leaped upon his horse without putting foot to stirrup; then he asked for
a lance, which was handed to him, and, raising his eyes, he said to Lord
Ludovico, ‘My lord, I thank you for the courtesy you have done me; please
God to pay it back to you.’ He was in a fine large court-yard; then he
began to set spurs to his horse, the which gave four or five jumps, so
gayly that it could not be better done; then the young knight gave him a
little run, in the which he broke the lance against the ground into five
or six pieces; whereat Lord Ludovico was not over pleased, and said out
loud, ‘If all the men-at-arms of France were like him yonder, I should
have a bad chance.’ Nevertheless he had a trumpeter told off to conduct
him to his garrison.” [Histoire du bon Chevalier sans Peur et sans
Reproche, t. i. pp. 212-216.]
For Ludovic the Moor’s chance to be bad it was not necessary that the
men-at-arms of France should all be like Chevalier Bayard. Louis XII.,
so soon as he heard of the Milanese insurrection, sent into Italy Louis
de la Tremoille, the best of his captains, and the Cardinal d’Amboise,
his privy councillor and his friend, the former to command the royal
troops, French and Swiss, and the latter “for to treat about the
reconciliation of the rebel towns, and to deal with everything as if it
were the king in his own person.” The campaign did not last long. The
Swiss who had been recruited by Ludovic and those who were in Louis
XII.’s service had no mind to fight one another; and the former
capitulated, surrendered the strong place of Novara, and promised to
evacuate the country on condition of a safe-conduct for themselves and
their booty. Ludovic, in extreme anxiety for his own safety, was on the
point of giving himself up to the French; but, whether by his own free
will or by the advice of the Swiss who were but lately in his pay, and
who were now withdrawing; he concealed himself amongst them, putting on a
disguise, “with his hair turned up under a coif, a collaret round his
neck, a doublet of crimson satin, scarlet hose, and a halberd in his
fist;” but, whether it were that he was betrayed or that he was
recognized, he, on the 10th of April, 1500, fell into the hands of the
French, and was conducted to the quarters of La Tremoille, who said no
more than, “Welcome, lord.” Next day, April 11, Louis XII. received near
Lyons the news of this capture, “whereat he was right joyous, and had
bonfires lighted, together with devotional processions, giving thanks to
the Prince of princes for the happy victory he had, by the divine aid,
obtained over his enemies.” Ludovic was taken to Lyons. “At the
entrance into the city a great number of gentlemen from the king’s
household were present to meet him; and the provost of the household
conducted him all along the high street to the castle of Pierre-Encise,
where he was lodged and placed in security.” There he passed a
fortnight. Louis refused to see him, but had him “questioned as to
several matters by the lords of his grand council; and, granted that he
had committed nought but follies, still he spoke right wisely.” He was
conducted from Pierre-Encise to the castle of Loches in Touraine, where
he was at first kept in very strict captivity, “without books, paper, or
ink,” but it was afterwards less severe. “He plays at tennis and at
cards,” says a despatch of the Venetian ambassador, Dominic of Treviso,
“and he is fatter than ever.” [_La Diplomatic Venitienne,_ by M. Armand
Baschet (1862), p. 363.] He died in his prison at the end of eight years,
having to the very last great confidence in the future of his name, for
he wrote, they say, on the wall of his prison these words: “Services
rendered me will count for an heritage.” And “thus was the duchy of
Milan, within seven months and a half, twice conquered by the French,”
says John d’Auton in his Claronique, “and for the nonce was ended the war
in Lombardy, and the authors thereof were captives and exiles.”
Whilst matters were thus going on in the north of Italy, Louis XII. was
preparing for his second great Italian venture, the conquest of the
kingdom of Naples, in which his predecessor Charles VIII. had failed. He
thought to render the enterprise easier by not bearing the whole burden
by himself alone. On the 11th of November, 1500, he concluded at Grenada
“with Ferdinand and Isabella, King and Queen of Castile and Arragon,” a
treaty, by which the Kings of France and Spain divided, by anticipation,
between them the kingdom of Naples, which they were making an engagement
to conquer together. Terra di Lavoro and the province of the Abruzzi,
with the cities of Naples and Gaeta, were to be the share of Louis XII.,
who would assume the title of King of Naples and of Jerusalem; Calabria
and Puglia (Apulia), with the title of duchies, would belong to the King
of Spain, to whom Louis XII., in order to obtain this chance of an
accessary and precarious kingship, gave up entirely Roussillon and
Cerdagne, that French frontier of the Pyrenees which Louis XI. had
purchased, a golden bargain, from John II., King of Arragon. In this
arrangement there was a blemish and a danger of which the superficial and
reckless policy of Louis XII. made no account: he did not here, as he had
done for the conquest of Milaness, join himself to an ally of far
inferior power to his own, and of ambition confined within far narrower
boundaries, as was the case when the Venetians supported him against
Ludovie Sforza: he was choosing for his comrade, in a far greater
enterprise, his nearest and most powerful rival, and the most dexterous
rascal amongst the kings of his day. “The King of France,” said
Ferdinand one day, “complains that I have deceived him twice; he lies,
the drunkard; I have deceived him more than ten times.” Whether this
barefaced language were or were not really used, it expressed nothing but
the truth: mediocre men, who desire to remain pretty nearly honest, have
always the worst of it, and are always dupes when they ally themselves
with men who are corrupt and at the same time able, indifferent to good
and evil, to justice and iniquity. Louis XII., even with the Cardinal
d’Amboise to advise him, was neither sufficiently judicious to abstain
from madly conceived enterprises, nor sufficiently scrupulous and
clear-sighted to unmask and play off every act of perfidy and wickedness:
by uniting himself, for the conquest and partition of the kingdom of
Naples, with Ferdinand the Catholic, he was bringing upon himself first
of all hidden opposition in the very midst of joint action, and
afterwards open treason and defection. He forgot, moreover, that
Ferdinand had at the head of his armies a tried chieftain, Gonzalvo of
Cordova, already known throughout Europe as the great captain, who had
won that name in campaigns against the Moors, the Turks, and the
Portuguese, and who had the character of being as free from scruple as
from fear. Lastly the supporters who, at the very commencement of his
enterprises in Italy, had been sought and gained by Louis XII., Pope
Alexander VI. and his son Caesar Borgia, were as little to be depended
upon in the future as they were compromising at the present by reason of
their reputation for unbridled ambition, perfidy, and crime. The King of
France, whatever sacrifices he might already have made and might still
make in order to insure their co-operation, could no more count upon it
than upon the loyalty of the King of Spain in the conquest they were
entering upon together.
The outset of the campaign was attended with easy success. The French
army, under the command of Stuart d’Aubigny, a valiant Scot, arrived on
the 25th of June, 1501, before Rome, and there received a communication
in the form of a bull of the pope which removed the crown of Naples from
the head of Frederick III., and partitioned that fief of the Holy See
between the Kings of France and Spain. Fortified with this authority,
the army continued its march, and arrived before Capua on the 6th of
July. Gonzalvo of Cordova was already upon Neapolitan territory with a
Spanish army, which Ferdinand the Catholic had hastily sent thither at
the request of Frederick III. himself, who had counted upon the
assistance of his cousin the King of Arragon against the French invasion.
Great was his consternation when he heard that the ambassadors of France
and Spain had proclaimed at Rome the alliance between their masters. At
the first rumor of this news, Gonzalvo of Cordova, whether sincerely or
not, treated it as a calumny; but, so soon as its certainty was made
public, he accepted it without hesitation, and took, equally with the
French, the offensive against the king, already dethroned by the pope,
and very near being so by the two sovereigns who had made alliance for
the purpose of sharing between them the spoil they should get from him.
Capua capitulated, and was nevertheless plundered and laid waste. A
French fleet, commanded by Philip de Ravenstein, arrived off Naples when
D’Aubigny was already master of it. The unhappy King Frederick took
refuge in the island of Ischia; and, unable to bear the idea of seeking
an asylum in Spain with his cousin who had betrayed him so shamefully,
he begged the French admiral himself to advise him in his adversity. “As
enemies that have the advantage should show humanity to the afflicted,”
Ravenstein sent word to him, “he would willingly advise him as to his
affairs; according to his advice, the best thing would be to surrender
and place himself in the hands of the King of France, and submit to his
good pleasure; he would find him so wise, and so debonnair, and so
accommodating, that he would be bound to be content. Better or safer
counsel for him he had not to give.” After taking some precautions on
the score of his eldest son, Prince Ferdinand, whom he left at Tarento,
in the kingdom he was about to quit, Frederick III. followed Ravenstein’s
counsel, sent to ask for “a young gentleman to be his guide to France,”
put to sea with five hundred men remaining to him, and arrived at
Marseilles, whither Louis XII. sent some lords of his court to receive
him. Two months afterwards, and not before, he was conducted to the king
himself, who was then at Blois. Louis welcomed him with his natural
kindness, and secured to him fifty thousand livres a year on the duchy of
Anjou, on condition that he never left France. It does not appear that
Frederick ever had an idea of doing so, for his name is completely lost
to history up to the day of his death, which took place at Tours on the
9th of November, 1504, after three years’ oblivion and exile.
On hearing of so prompt a success, Louis XII.’s satisfaction was great.
He believed, and many others, no doubt, believed with him, that his
conquest of Naples, of that portion at least which was assigned to him
by his treaty with the King of Spain, was accomplished. The senate of
Venice sent to him, in December, 1501, a solemn embassy to congratulate
him. In giving the senate an account of his mission, one of the
ambassadors, Dominic of Treviso, drew the following portrait of
Louis XII.: “The king is in stature tall and thin, and temperate in
eating, taking scarcely anything but boiled beef; he is by nature miserly
and retentive; his great pleasure is hawking; from September to April he
hawks. The Cardinal of Rouen [George d’Amboise] does everything;
nothing, however, with-out the cognizance of the king, who has a far from
stable mind, saying yes and no. . . . I am of opinion that their
lordships should remove every suspicion from his Majesty’s mind, and aim
at keeping themselves closely united with him.” [Armand Baschet, _La
Diplomatic, L’enitienne_, p. 362.] It was not without ground that the
Venetian envoy gave his government this advice. So soon as the treaty of
alliance between Louis XII. and the Venetians for the conquest of
Milaness had attained its end, the king had more than once felt and
testified some displeasure at the demeanor assumed towards him by his
former allies. They had shown vexation and disquietude at the extension
of French influence in Italy; and they had addressed to Louis certain
representations touching the favor enjoyed at his hands by the pope’s
nephew, Caesar Borgia, to whom he had given the title of Duke of
Valentinois on investing him with the countships of Valence and of Die in
Dauphiny. Louis, on his side, showed anxiety as to the conduct which
would be exhibited towards him by the Venetians if he encountered any
embarrassment in his expedition to Naples. Nothing of the kind happened
to him during the first month after King Frederick III.’s abandonment of
the kingdom of Naples. The French and the Spaniards, D’Aubigny and
Gonzalvo of Cordova, at first gave their attention to nothing but
establishing themselves firmly, each in the interests of the king his
master, in those portions of the kingdom which were to belong to them.
But, before long, disputes arose between the two generals as to the
meaning of certain clauses in the treaty of November 11, 1500, and as to
the demarcation of the French and the Spanish territories. D’Aubigny
fell ill; and Louis XII. sent to Naples, with the title of viceroy, Louis
d’Armagnac, Duke of Nemours, a brave warrior, but a negotiator inclined
to take umbrage and to give offence. The disputes soon took the form of
hostilities. The French essayed to drive the Spaniards from the points
they had occupied in the disputed territories; and at first they had the
advantage. Gonzalvo of Cordova, from necessity or in prudence,
concentrated his forces within Barletta, a little fortress with a little
port on the Adriatic; but he there endured, from July, 1502, to April,
1503, a siege which did great honor to the patient firmness of the
Spanish troops and the persistent vigor of their captain. Gonzalvo was
getting ready to sally from Barletta and take the offensive against the
French when he heard that a treaty signed at Lyons on the 5th of April,
1503, between the Kings of Spain and France, made a change in the
position, reciprocally, of the two sovereigns, and must suspend the
military operations of their generals within the kingdom of Naples.
“The French general declared his readiness to obey his king,” says
Guicciardini; “but the Spanish, whether it were that he felt sure of
victory or that he had received private instructions on that point, said
that he could not stop the war without express orders from his king.”
And sallying forthwith from Barletta, he gained, on the 28th of April,
1503, at Cerignola, a small town of Puglia, a signal victory over the
French commanded by the Duke of Nemours, who, together with three
thousand men of his army, was killed in action. The very day after his
success Gonzalvo heard that a Spanish corps, lately disembarked in
Calabria, had also beaten, on the 21st of April, at Seminara, a French
corps commanded by D’Aubigny. The great captain was as eager to profit
by victory as he had been patient in waiting for a chance of it. He
marched rapidly on Naples, and entered it on the 14th of May, almost
without resistance; and the two forts defending the city, the Castel
Nuovo and the Castel dell’ Uovo surrendered, one on the 11th of June and
the other on the 1st of July. The capital of the kingdom having thus
fallen into the hands of the Spaniards, Capua and Aversa followed its
example. Gaeta was the only important place which still held out for the
French, and contained a garrison capable of defending it; and thither the
remnant of the troops beaten at Seminara and at Cerignola had retired.
Louis XII. hastened to levy and send to Italy, under the command of Louis
de la Tremoille, a fresh army for the purpose of relieving Gaeta and
recovering Naples; but at Parma La Tremoille fell ill, “so crushed by his
malady and so despairing of life,” says his chronicler, John Bouchet,
“that the physicians sent word to the king that it was impossible in the
way of nature to recover him, and that without the divine assistance he
could not get well.” The command devolved upon the Marquis of Mantua,
who marched on Gaeta. He found Gonzalvo of Cordova posted with his army
on the left bank of the Garigliano, either to invest the place or to
repulse re-enforcements that might arrive for it. The two armies passed
fifty days face to face almost, with the river and its marshes between
them, and vainly attempting over and over again to join battle. Some of
Gonzalvo’s officers advised him to fall back on Capua, so as to withdraw
his troops from an unhealthy and difficult position; but “I would
rather,” said he, “have here, for my grave, six feet of earth by pushing
forward, than prolong my life a hundred years by falling back, though it
were but a few arms’ lengths.” The French army was dispersing about in
search of shelter and provisions; and the Marquis of Mantua, disgusted
with the command, resigned it to the Marquis of Saluzzo, and returned
home to his marquisate. Gonzalvo, who was kept well informed of his
enemies’ condition, threw, on the 27th of December, a bridge over the
Garigliano, attacked the French suddenly, and forced them to fall back
upon Gaeta, which they did not succeed in entering until they had lost
artillery, baggage, and a number of prisoners. “The Spaniards,” says
John d’Auton, “halted before the place, made as if they would lay siege
to it, and so remained for two or three days. The French, who were there
in great numbers, had scarcely any provisions, and could not hold out for
long; however, they put a good face upon it. The captain, Gonzalvo, sent
word to them that if they would surrender their town he would, on his
part, restore to them without ransom all prisoners and others of their
party; and he had many of them, James de la Palisse, Stuart d’Aubigny,
Gaspard de Coligny, Anthony de la Fayette, &c., all captains. The French
captains, seeing that fortune was not kind to them, and that they had
provisions for a week only, were all for taking this offer. All the
prisoners, captains, men-at-arms, and common soldiers were accordingly
given up, put to sea, and sailed for Genoa, where they were well received
and kindly treated by the Genoese, which did them great good, for they
were much in need of it. Nearly all the captains died on their return,
some of mourning over their losses, others of melancholy at their
misfortune, others for fear of the king’s displeasure, and others of
sickness and weariness.” [_Chroniques of John d’Auton,_ t. iii.
pp. 68-70.]
Gaeta fell into the hands of the Spaniards on the 1st of January, 1504.
The war was not ended, but the kingdom of Naples was lost to the King of
France.
At the news of these reverses the grief and irritation of Louis XII.
were extreme. Not only was he losing his Neapolitan conquests, but even
his Milaness was also threatened. The ill-will of the Venetians became
manifest. They had re-victualled by sea the fortress of Barletta, in
which Gonzalvo of Cordova had shut himself up with his troops; “and when
the king presented complaints of this succor afforded to his enemies, the
senate replied that the matter had taken place without their cognizance,
that Venice was a republic of traders, and that private persons might
very likely have sold provisions to the Spaniards, with whom Venice was
at peace, without there being any ground for concluding from it that she
had failed in her engagements towards France. Some time afterwards, four
French galleys, chased by a Spanish squadron of superior force, presented
themselves before the port of Otranto, which was in the occupation of the
Venetians, who pleaded their neutrality as a reason for refusing asylum
to the French squadron, which the commander was obliged to set on fire
that it might not fall into he enemy’s hands.” [_Histoire de la
Republique de L’enise,_ by Count Daru, t. iii. p. 245.] The determined
prosecution of hostilities in the kingdom of Naples by Gonzalvo of
Cordova, in spite of the treaty concluded at Lyons on the 5th of April,
1503, between the Kings of France and Spain, was so much the more
offensive to Louis XII. in that this treaty was the consequence and the
confirmation of an enormous concession which he had, two years
previously, made to the King of Spain on consenting to affiance his
daughter, Princess Claude of France, two years old, to Ferdinand’s
grandson, Charles of Austria, who was then only one year old, and who
became Charles the Fifth (emperor)! Lastly, about the same time, Pope
Alexander VI., who, willy hilly, had rendered Louis XII. so many
services, died at Rome on the 12th of August, 1503. Louis had hoped that
his favorite minister, Cardinal George d’Amboise, would succeed him, and
that hope had a great deal to do with the shocking favor he showed Caesar
Borgia, that infamous son of a demoralized father. But the candidature
of Cardinal d’Amboise failed; a four weeks’ pope, Pius III., succeeded
Alexander VI.; and, when the Holy See suddenly became once more vacant,
Cardinal d’Amboise failed again; and the new choice was Cardinal Julian
della Rovera, Pope Julius II., who soon became the most determined and
most dangerous foe of Louis XII., already assailed by so many enemies.
The Venetian, Dominic of Treviso, was quite right; Louis XII. was “of
unstable mind, saying yes and no.” On such characters discouragement
tells rapidly. In order to put off the struggle which had succeeded so
ill for him in the kingdom of Naples, Louis concluded, on the 31st of
March, 1504, a truce for three years with the King of Spain; and on the
22d of September, in the same year, in order to satisfy his grudge on
account of the Venetians’ demeanor towards him, he made an alliance
against them with Emperor Maximilian I. and Pope Julius II., with the
design, all three of them, of wresting certain provinces from them. With
those political miscalculations was connected a more personal and more
disinterested feeling. Louis repented of having in 1501 affianced his
daughter Claude to Prince Charles of Austria, and of the enormous
concessions he had made by two treaties, one of April 5, 1503, and the
other of September 22, 1504, for the sake of this marriage. He had
assigned as dowry to his daughter, first the duchy of Milan, then the
kingdom of Naples, then Brittany, and then the duchy of Burgundy and the
countship of Blois. The latter of these treaties contained even the
following strange clause: “If, by default of the Most Christian king or
of the queen his wife, or of the Princess Claude, the aforesaid marriage
should not take place, the Most Christian king doth will and consent,
from now, that the said duchies of Burgundy and Milan and the countship
of Asti, do remain settled upon the said Prince Charles, Duke of
Luxembourg, with all the rights therein possessed, or possibly to be
possessed, by the Most Christian king.” [_Corps Diplomatique du Droit
des Gens,_ by J. Dumont, t. iv. part i. p. 57.] It was dismembering
France, and at the same time settling on all her frontiers, to east,
west, and south-west, as well as to north and south, a power which the
approaching union of two crowns, the imperial and the Spanish, on the
head of Prince Charles of Austria, rendered so preponderating and so
formidable.
It was not only from considerations of external policy, and in order to
conciliate to himself Emperor Maximilian and King Ferdinand, that Louis
XII. had allowed himself to proceed to concessions so plainly contrary to
the greatest interests of France: he had yielded also to domestic
influences. The queen his wife, Anne of Brittany, detested Louise of
Savoy, widow of Charles d’Orleans, Count of Angouleme, and mother of
Francis d’Angouleme, heir presumptive to the throne, since Louis XII.
had no son. Anne could not bear the idea that her daughter, Princess
Claude, should marry the son of her personal enemy; and, being more
Breton than French, say her contemporaries, she, in order to avoid this
disagreeableness, had used with the king all her influence, which was
great, in favor of the Austrian marriage, caring little, and, perhaps,
even desiring, that Brittany should be again severed from France. Louis,
in the midst of the reverses of his diplomacy, had thus to suffer from
the hatreds of his wife, the observations of his advisers, and the
reproaches of his conscience as a king. He fell so ill that he was
supposed to be past recovery. “It were to do what would be incredible,”
says his contemporary, John de St. Gelais, “to write or tell of the
lamentations made throughout the whole realm of France, by reason of the
sorrow felt by all for the illness of their good king. There were to be
seen night and day, at Blois, at Amboise, at Tours, and everywhere else,
men and women going all bare throughout the churches and to the holy
places, in order to obtain from divine mercy grace of health and
convalescence for one whom there was as great fear of losing as if he had
been the father of each.” Louis was touched by this popular sympathy;
and his wisest councillors, Cardinal d’Amboise the first of all, took
advantage thereof to appeal to his conscience in respect of the
engagements which “through weakness he had undertaken contrary to the
interests of the realm and the coronation-promises.” Queen Anne herself,
not without a struggle, however, at last gave up her opposition to this
patriotic recoil; and on the 10th of May, 1505, Louis XII. put in his
will a clause to the effect that his daughter, Princess Claude, should be
married, so soon as she was old enough, to the heir to the throne,
Francis, Count of Angouleme. Only it was agreed, in order to avoid
diplomatic embarrassments, that this arrangement should be kept secret
till further notice. [The will itself of Louis XII. has been inserted in
the _Recueil des Ordonnances des Bois des France,_ t. xxi. p. 323, dated
30th of May, 1505.]
When Louis had recovered, discreet measures were taken for arousing the
feeling of the country as well as the king’s conscience as to this great
question. In the course of the year 1505 there took place throughout the
whole kingdom, amongst the nobility and in the principal towns,
assemblies at which means were proposed for preventing this evil.
Unpleasant consequences might have been apprehended from these meetings,
in the case of a prince less beloved by his subjects than the king was;
but nothing further was decided thereby than that a representation should
with submission be made to him of the dangers likely to result from this
treaty, that he should be entreated to prevent them by breaking it, and
that a proposal should be made to him to assemble the estates to
deliberate upon a subject so important. [_Histoire de France,_ by Le
Pere Daniel, t. viii. p. 427, edit. of 1755.] The states-general were
accordingly convoked and met at Tours on the 10th of May, 1506; and on
the 14th of May Louis XII. opened them in person at Plessis-les-Tours,
seated in a great hall, in the royal seat, between Cardinal d’Amboise and
Duke Francis of Valois, and surrounded by many archbishops and all the
princes of the blood and other lords and barons of the said realm in
great number, and he gave the order for admitting the deputies of the
estates of the realm.
[Illustration: STATES GENERAL AT TOURS----329]
“Far from setting forth the grievances of the nation, as the spokesman of
the estates had always done, Thomas Bricot, canon of Notre-Dame de Paris,
delivered an address enumerating, in simple and touching terms, the
benefits conferred by Louis XII., and describing to him the nation’s
gratitude. To him they owed peace and the tranquillity of the realm,
complete respect for private property, release from a quarter of the
talliages, reform in the administration of justice, and the appointment
of enlightened and incorruptible judges. For these causes, the speaker
added, and for others which it would take too long to recount, he was
destined to be known as Louis XII., father of the people.
“At these last words loud cheers rang out; emotion was general, and
reached the king himself, who shed tears at hearing the title which
posterity and history were forever to attach to his name.
“Then, the deputies having dropped on their knees, the speaker resumed
his speech, saying that they were come to prefer a request for the
general good of the realm, the king’s subjects entreating him to be
pleased to give his only daughter in marriage to my lord Francis, here
present, who is every whit French.
“When this declaration was ended, the king called Cardinal d’Amboise and
the chancellor, with whom he conferred for some time; and then the
chancellor, turning to the deputies, made answer that the king had given
due ear and heed to their request and representation, . . . that if he
had done well, he desired to do still better; and that, as to the request
touching the marriage, he had never heard talk of it; but that as to that
matter, he would communicate with the princes of the blood, so as to have
their opinion.
“The day after this session the king received an embassy which could not
but crown his joy: the estates of the duchy of Burgundy, more interested
than any other province in the rupture of the (Austrian) marriage, had
sent deputies to join their most urgent prayers to the entreaties of the
estates of France.
“On Monday, May 18, the king assembled about him his chief councillors,
to learn if the demand of the estates was profitable and reasonable for
him and his kingdom. ‘Thereon,’ continues the report, ‘the first to
deliver an opinion was my lord the Bishop of Paris; after him the premier
president of the parliament of Paris and of that of Bordeaux.’ Their
speeches produced such effect that, ‘quite with one voice and one
mind, those present agreed that the request of the estates was sound,
just, and reasonable, and with one consent entreated the king to agree to
the said marriage.’
“The most enlightened councillors and the princes of the blood found
themselves in agreement with the commons. There was no ambiguity about
the reply. On the Tuesday, May 19, the king held a session in state for
the purpose of announcing to the estates that their wishes should be
fully gratified, and that the betrothal of his daughter to the heir to
the throne should take place next day but one, May 21, in order that the
deputies might report the news of it to their constituents.
“After that the estates had returned thanks, the chancellor gave notice
that, as municipal affairs imperatively demanded the return of the
deputies, the king gave them leave to go, retaining only one burgess from
each town, to inform him of their wants and ‘their business, if such
there be in any case, wherein the king will give them good and short
despatch.’
“The session was brought to a close by the festivities of the betrothal,
and by the oath taken by the deputies, who, before their departure, swore
to bring about with all their might, even to the risk of body and goods,
the marriage which had just been decided upon by the common advice of all
those who represented France.’” [_Histoire des Etats Generaux_ from 1355
to 1614, by George Picot, t. i. pp. 352-354].
Francis d’Angouleme was at that time eleven years old, and Claude of
France was nearly seven.
Whatever displeasure must have been caused to the Emperor of Germany and
to the King of Spain by this resolution on the part of France and her
king, it did not show itself, either in acts of hostility or even in
complaints of a more or less threatening kind. Italy remained for some
years longer the sole theatre of rivalry and strife between these three
great powers; and, during this strife, the utter diversity of the
combinations, whether in the way of alliance or of rupture, bore witness
to the extreme changeability of the interests, passions, and designs of
the actors. From 1506 to 1515, between Louis XII.’s will and his death,
we find in the history of his career in Italy five coalitions, and as
many great battles, of a profoundly contradictory character. In 1508,
Pope Julius II., Louis XII., Emperor Maximilian, and Ferdinand the
Catholic, King of Spain, form together against the Venetians the League
of Cambrai. In 1510, Julius II., Ferdinand, the Venetians, and the Swiss
make a coalition against Louis XII. In 1512, this coalition, decomposed
for a while, re-unites, under the name of the League of the Holy Union,
between the pope, the Venetians, the Swiss, and the Kings of Arragon and
Naples against Louis XII., minus the Emperor Maximilian, and plus Henry
VIII., King of England. On the 14th of May, 1509, Louis XII., in the
name of the League of Cambrai, gains the battle of Agnadello against the
Venetians. On the 11th of April, 1512, it is against Pope Julius II.,
Ferdinand the Catholic, and the Venetians that he gains the battle of
Ravenna. On the 14th of March, 1513, he is in alliance with the
Venetians, and it is against the Swiss that he loses the battle of
Novara. In 1510, 1511, and 1512, in the course of all these incessant
changes of political allies and adversaries, three councils met at Tours,
at Pisa, and at St. John Lateran with views still more discordant and
irreconcilable than those of all these laic coalitions. We merely point
out here the principal traits of the nascent sixteenth century; we have
no intention of tracing with a certain amount of detail any incidents but
those that refer to Louis XII. and to France, to their procedure and
their fortunes.
Jealousy, ambition, secret resentment, and the prospect of despoiling
them caused the formation of the League of Cambrai against the Venetians.
Their far-reaching greatness on the seas, their steady progress on land,
their riches, their cool assumption of independence towards the papacy,
their renown for ability, and their profoundly selfish, but singularly
prosperous policy, had excited in Italy, and even beyond the Alps, that
feeling of envy and ill-will which is caused amongst men, whether kings
or people, by the spectacle of strange, brilliant, and unexpected good
fortune, though it be the fruits of rare merit. As the Venetians were as
much dreaded as they were little beloved, great care was taken to conceal
from them the projects that were being formed against them. According to
their historian, Cardinal Bembo, they owed to chance the first notice
they had. It happened one day that a Piedmontese at Milan, in presence
of the Resident of Venice, allowed to escape from his lips the words,
“I should have the pleasure, then, of seeing the crime punished of those
who put to death the most illustrious man of my country.” He alluded to
Carmagnola, a celebrated Piedmontese condottiere, who had been accused of
treason and beheaded at Venice on the 3d of May, 1432. The Venetian
ambassador at Louis XII.’s court, suspecting what had taken place at
Cambrai, tried to dissuade the king. “Sir,” said he, “it were folly to
attack them of Venice; their wisdom renders them invincible.” “I believe
they are prudent and wise,” answered Louis, “but all the wrong way of the
hair (inopportunely); if it must come to war, I will bring upon them so
many fools, that your wiseacres will not have leisure to teach them
reason, for my fools hit all round without looking where.” When the
league was decisively formed, Louis sent to Venice a herald to officially
proclaim war. After having replied to the grievances alleged in support
of that proclamation, “We should never have believed,” said the Doge
Loredano, “that so great a prince would have given ear to the envenomed
words of a pope whom he ought to know better, and to the insinuations of
another priest whom we forbear to mention (Cardinal d’Amboise). In order
to please them, he declares himself the foe of a republic which has
rendered him great services. We will try to defend ourselves, and to
prove to him that he has not kept faith with us. God shall judge betwixt
us. Father herald, and you, trumpeter, ye have heard what we had to say
to you; report it to your master. Away!” Independently of their natural
haughtiness, the Venetians were puffed up with the advantages they had
obtained in a separate campaign against the Emperor Maximilian, and
flattered themselves that they would manage to conquer, one after the
other, or to split up, or to tire out, their enemies; and they prepared
energetically for war. Louis XII., on his side, got together an army
with a strength of twenty-three hundred lances (about thirteen thousand
mounted troops), ten to twelve thousand French foot, and six or eight
thousand Swiss. He sent for Chevalier Bayard, already famous, though
still quite a youth. “Bayard,” said he, “you know that I am about to
cross the mountains, for to bring to reason the Venetians, who by great
wrong withhold from me the countship of Cremona and other districts.
I give to you from this present time the company of Captain Chatelard,
who they tell me is dead, whereat I am distressed; but I desire that in
this enterprise you have under your charge men afoot; your lieutenant-
captain, Pierrepont [Pierre de Pont d’Albi, a Savoyard gentle-man, and
Bayard’s nephew], who is a very good man, shall lead your men-at-arms.”
“Sir,” answered Bayard, “I will do what pleaseth you; but how many men
afoot will you be pleased to hand over to me to lead?” “A thousand,”
said the king: “there is no man that hath more.” “Sir,” replied Bayard,
“it is a many for my poor wits; I do entreat you to be content that I
have five hundred; and I pledge you my faith, sir, that I will take pains
to choose such as shall do you service; meseems that for one man it is a
very heavy charge, if he would fain do his duty therewith.” “Good!” said
the king: “go, then, quickly into Dauphiny, and take heed that you be in
my duchy of Milan by the end of March.” Bayard forthwith set out to
raise and choose his foot; a proof of the growing importance of infantry,
and of the care taken by Louis XII. to have it commanded by men of war of
experience and popularity.
[Illustration: Battle of Agnadello----334]
On the 14th of May, 1509, the French army and the Venetian army, of
nearly equal strength, encountered near the village of Agnadello, in the
province of Lodi, on the banks of the Adda. Louis XII. commanded his in
person, with Louis de la Tremoille and James Trivulzio for his principal
lieutenants; the Venetians were under the orders of two generals, the
Count of Petigliano and Barthelemy d’Alviano, both members of the Roman
family of the Orsini, but not on good terms with one another. The French
had to cross the Adda to reach the enemy, who kept in his camp.
Trivulzio, seeing that the Venetians did not dispute their passage, cried
out to the king, “To-day, sir, the victory is ours!” The French advance-
guard engaged with the troops of Alviano. When apprised of this fight,
Louis, to whom word was at this same time brought that the enemy was
already occupying the point towards which he was moving with the main
body of the army, said briskly, “Forward, all the same; we will halt upon
their bellies.” The action became general and hot. The king, sword in
hand, hurried from one corps to another, under fire from the Venetian
artillery, which struck several men near him. He was urged to place
himself under cover a little, so as to give his orders thence; but, “It
is no odds,” said he; “they who are afraid have only to put themselves
behind me.” A body of Gascons showed signs of wavering: “Lads,” shouted
La Tremoille, “the king sees you.” They dashed forward; and the
Venetians were broken, in spite of the brave resistance of Alviano, who
was taken and brought, all covered with blood, and with one eye out, into
the presence of the king. Louis said to him, courteously, “You shall
have fair treatment and fair captivity; have fair patience.” “So I
will,” answered the condottiere; “if I had won the battle, I had been the
most victorious man in the world; and, though I have lost it, still have
I the great honor of having had against me a King of France in person.”
Louis, who had often heard talk of the warrior’s intrepid presence of
mind, had a fancy for putting it to further proof, and, all the time
chatting with him, gave secret orders to have the alarm sounded not far
from them. “What is this, pray, Sir Barthelemy?” asked the king: “your
folks are very difficult to please; is it that they want to begin
again?” “Sir,” said Alviano, “if there is fighting still, it must be
that the French are fighting one another; as for my folks, I assure you,
on my life, they will not pay you a visit this fortnight.” The Venetian
army, in fact, withdrew with a precipitation which resembled a rout: for,
to rally it, its general, the Count of Petigliano, appointed for its
gathering-point the ground beneath the walls of Brescia, forty miles from
the field of battle. “Few men-at-arms,” says Guicciardini, “were slain
in this affair; the great loss fell upon the Venetians’ infantry, which
lost, according to some, eight thousand men; others say that the number
of dead on both sides did not amount to more than six thousand.” The
territorial results of the victory were greater than the numerical losses
of the armies. Within a fortnight, the towns of Caravaggio, Bergamo,
Brescia, Crema, Cremona, and Pizzighitone surrendered to the French.
Peschiera alone, a strong fortress at the southern extremity of the Lake
of Garda, resisted, and was carried by assault. “It was a bad thing for
those within,” says the Loyal Serviteur of Bayard; “for all, or nearly
all, perished there; amongst the which was the governor of the Signory
and his son, who were willing to pay good and heavy ransom; but that
served them not at all, for on one tree were both of them hanged, which
to me did seem great cruelty; a very lusty gentleman, called the
Lorrainer, had their parole, and he had big words about it with the grand
master, lieutenant-general of the king; but he got no good thereby.” The
_Memoires of Robert de la Marck,_ lord of Fleuranges, and a warrior of
the day, confirm, as to this sad incident, the story of the Loyal
Serviteur of Bayard: “When the French volunteers,” says he, “entered by
the breach into the castle of Peschiera, they cut to pieces all those who
were therein, and there were left only the captain, the proveditore, and
the podesta, the which stowed themselves away in a tower, surrendered to
the good pleasure of the king, and, being brought before him, offered him
for ransom a hundred thousand ducats; but the king swore, ‘If ever I eat
or drink till they be hanged and strangled! ‘Nor even for all the prayer
they could make could the grand master Chaumont, and even his uncle,
Cardinal d’Amboise, find any help for it, but the king would have them
hanged that very hour.” Some chroniclers attribute this violence on
Louis XII.’s part to a “low and coarse” reply returned by those in
command at Peschiera to the summons to surrender. Guicciardini, whilst
also recording the fact, explains it otherwise than by a fit of anger on
Louis’s part: “The king,” he says, “was led to such cruelty in order
that, dismayed at such punishment, those who were still holding out in
the fortress of Cremona might not defend themselves to the last
extremity.” [_Guicciardini, Istoria d’Italia,_ liv. viii. t. i. p.
521.] So that the Italian historian is less severe on this act of cruelty
than the French knight is.
Louis XII.’s victory at Agnadello had for him consequences very different
from what he had no doubt expected. “The king,” says Guicciardini,
“departed from Italy, carrying away with him to France great glory by
reason of so complete and so rapidly won a victory over the Venetians;
nevertheless, as in the case of things obtained after hope long deferred
men scarcely ever feel such joy and happiness as they had at first
imagined they would, the king took not back with him either greater peace
of mind or greater security in respect of his affairs.” The beaten
Venetians accepted their defeat with such a mixture of humility and
dignity as soon changed their position in Italy. They began by providing
all that was necessary for the defence of Venice herself; foreigners, but
only idle foreigners, were expelled; those who had any business which
secured them means of existence received orders to continue their labors.
Mills were built, cisterns were dug, corn was gathered in, the condition
of the canals was examined, bars were removed, the citizens were armed;
the law which did not allow vessels laden with provisions to touch at
Venice was repealed, and rewards were decreed to officers who had done
their duty. Having taken all this care for their own homes and their
fatherland on the sea, the Venetian senate passed a decree by which the
republic, releasing from their oath of fidelity the subjects it could not
defend, authorized its continental provinces to treat with the enemy with
a view to their own interests, and ordered its commandants to evacuate
such places as they still held. Nearly all such submitted without a
struggle to the victor of Agnadello and his allies of Cambrai; but at
Treviso, when Emperor Maximilian’s commissioner presented himself in
order to take possession of it, a shoemaker named Caligaro went running
through the streets, shouting, “Hurrah! for St. Mark.”
The people rose, pillaged the houses of those who had summoned the
foreigner, and declared that it would not separate its lot from that of
the republic. So Treviso remained Venetian. Two other small towns,
Marano and Osopo, followed her example; and for several months this was
all that the Venetians preserved of their continental possessions. But
at the commencement of July, 1509, they heard that the important town of
Padua, which had fallen to the share of Emperor Maximilian, was uttering
passionate murmurs against its new master, and wished for nothing better
than to come back beneath the old sway; and, in spite of the opposition
shown by the doge, Loredano, the Venetians resolved to attempt the
venture. During the night between the 16th and 17th of July, a small
detachment, well armed and well led, arrived beneath the walls of Padua,
which was rather carelessly guarded. In the morning, as soon as the gate
was opened, a string of large wagons presented themselves for admittance.
Behind one of these, and partially concealed by its bulk, advanced six
Venetian men-at-arms, each carrying on his crupper a foot-soldier armed
with an arquebuse; they fired on the guard; each killed his man; the
Austrian garrison hurried up and fought bravely; but other Venetian
troops arrived, and the garrison was beaten and surrendered. Padua
became Venetian again. “This surprisal,” says M. Darn, “caused
inexpressible joy in Venice; after so many disasters there was seen a
gleans of hope.” The Venetians hastened to provision Padua well and to
put it in a state of defence; and they at the same time published a
decree promising such subjects of the republic as should come back to its
sway complete indemnity for the losses they might have suffered during
the war. It blazed forth again immediately, but at first between the
Venetians and the Emperor Maximilian almost alone by himself. Louis
XII., in a hurry to get back to France, contented himself with leaving in
Lombardy a body of troops under the orders of James de Chabannes, Sire de
la Palisse, with orders “to take five hundred of the lustiest men-at-arms
and go into the service of the emperor, who was to make a descent upon
the district of Padua.” Maximilian did not make his descent until two
months after that the Venetians had retaken Padua and provisioned it
well; and it was only on the 15th of September that he sat down before
the place. All the allies of the League of Cambrai held themselves bound
to furnish him with their contingent. On sallying from Milan for this
campaign, La Palisse “fell in with the good knight Bayard, to whom he
said, ‘My comrade, my friend, would you not like us to be comrades
together?’ Bayard, who asked nothing better, answered him graciously
that he was at his service to be disposed of at his pleasure;” and from
the 15th to the 20th of September, Maximilian got together before Padua
an army with a strength, it is said, of about fifty thousand men,
men-at-arms or infantry, Germans, Spaniards, French, and Italians, sent
by the pope and by the Duke of Ferrara, or recruited from all parts of
Italy.
At the first rumor of such a force there was great emotion in Venice, but
an emotion tempered by bravery and intelligence. The doge, Leonardo
Loredano, the same who had but lately opposed the surprisal of Padua,
rose up and delivered in the senate a long speech, of which only the
essential and characteristic points can be quoted here:--
“Everybody knows, excellent gentlemen of the senate,” said he, “that on
the preservation of Padua depends all hope, not only of recovering our
empire, but of maintaining our own liberty. It must be confessed that,
great and wonderful as they have been, the preparations made and the
supplies provided hitherto are not sufficient either for the security of
that town or for the dignity of our republic. Our ancient renown forbids
us to leave the public safety, the lives and honor of our wives and our
children, entirely to the tillers of our fields and to mercenary
soldiers, without rushing ourselves to shelter them behind our own
breasts and defend them with our own arms. For so great and so glorious
a fatherland, which has for so many years been the bulwark of the faith
and the glory of the Christian republic, will the personal service of its
citizens and its sons be ever to seek? To save it who would refuse to
risk his own life and that of his children? If the defence of Padua is
the pledge for the salvation of Venice, who would hesitate to go and
defend it? And, though the forces already there were sufficient, is not
our honor also concerned therein? The fortune of our city so willed it
that in the space of a few days our empire slipped from our hands; the
opportunity has come back to us of recovering what we have lost; by
spontaneously facing the changes and chances of fate, we shall prove that
our disasters have not been our fault or our shame, but one of those
fatal storms which no wisdom and no firmness of man can resist. If it
were permitted us all in one mass to set out for Padua, if we might,
without neglecting the defence of our own homes and our urgent public
affairs, leave our city for some days deserted, I would not await your
deliberation; I would be the first on the road to Padua; for how could I
better expend the last days of my old age than in going to be present at
and take part in such a victory? But Venice may not be deserted by her
public bodies, which protect and defend Padua by their forethought and
their orders just as others do by their arms; and a useless mob of
graybeards would be a burden much more than a reenforcement there. Nor
do I ask that Venice be drained of all her youth; but I advise, I exhort,
that we choose two hundred young gentlemen, from the chiefest of our
families, and that they all, with such friends and following as their
means will permit them to get together, go forth to Padua to do all that
shall be necessary for her defence. My two sons, with many a comrade.
will be the first to carry out what I, their father and your chief, am
the first to propose. Thus Padua will be placed in security; and when
the mercenary soldiers who are there see how prompt are our youth to
guard the gates and everywhere face the battle, they will be moved
thereby to zeal and alacrity incalculable; and not only will Padua thus
be defended and saved, but all nations will see that we, we too, as our
fathers were, are men enough to defend at the peril of our lives the
freedom and th safety of the noblest country in the world.”
This generous advice was accepted by the fathers and carried out by the
sons with that earnest, prompt, and effective ardor which accompanies the
resolution of great souls. When the Paduans, before their city was as
yet invested, saw the arrival within their walls of these chosen youths
of the Venetian patriciate, with their numerous troop of friends and
followers, they considered Padua as good as saved; and when the imperial
army, posted before the place, commenced their attacks upon it, they soon
perceived that they had formidable defenders to deal with. “Five hundred
years it was since in prince’s camp had ever been seen such wealth as
there was there; and never was a day but there filed off some three or
four hundred lanzknechts who took away to Germany oxen and kine, beds,
corn, silk for sewing, and other articles; in such sort that to the said
country of Padua was damage done to the amount of two millions of crowns
in movables and in houses and palaces burnt and destroyed.” For three
days the imperial artillery fired upon the town and made in its walls
three breaches “knocked into one;” and still the defenders kept up their
resistance with the same vigor. “One morning,” says the Loyal Serviteur
of Bayard, “the Emperor Maximilian, accompanied by his princes and lords
from Germany, went thither to look; and he marvelled and thought it great
shame to him, with the number of men he had, that he had not sooner
delivered the assault. On returning to his quarters he sent for a French
secretary of his, whom he bade write to the lord of La Palisse a letter,
whereof this was the substance: ‘Dear cousin, I have this morning been to
look at the breach, which I find more than practicable for whoever would
do his duty. I have made up my mind to deliver the assault to-day. I
pray you, so soon as my big drum sounds, which will be about midday, that
you do incontinently hold ready all the French gentlemen who are under
your orders at my service, by command of my brother the King of France,
to go to the said assault along with my foot; and I hope that, with God’s
help we shall carry it.’
“The lord of La Palisse,” continues the chronicler, “thought this a
somewhat strange manner of proceeding; howbeit he hid his thought, and
said to the secretary, ‘I am astounded that the emperor did not send for
my comrades and me for to deliberate more fully of this matter; howbeit
you will tell him that I will send to fetch them, and when they are come
I will show them the letter. I do not think there will be many who will
not be obedient to that which the emperor shall be pleased to command.’
“When the French captains had arrived at the quarters of the lord of La
Palisse, he said to them, ‘Gentlemen, we must now dine, for I have
somewhat to say to you, and if I were to say it first, peradventure you
would not make good cheer.’ During dinner they did nothing but make
sport one of another. After dinner, everybody was sent out of the room,
save the captains, to whom the lord of La Palisse made known the
emperor’s letter, which was read twice, for the better understanding of
it. They all looked at one another, laughing, for to see who would speak
first. Then said the lord of Ymbercourt to the lord of La Palisse, ‘It
needs not so much thought, my lord; send word to the emperor that we are
all ready; I am even now a-weary of the fields, for the nights are cold;
and then the good wines are beginning to fail us;’ whereat every one
burst out a-laughing. All agreed to what was said by the lord of
Ymbercourt. The lord of La Palisse looked at the good knight (Bayard),
and saw that he seemed to be picking his teeth, as if he had not heard
what his comrades had proposed. ‘Well, and you,’ said he, ‘what say you
about it? It is no time for picking one’s teeth; we must at once send
speedy reply to the emperor.’ Gayly the good knight answered, ‘If we
would all take my lord of Ymbercourt’s word, we have only to go straight
to the breach. But it is a somewhat sorry pastime for men-at-arms to go
afoot, and I would gladly be excused. Howbeit, since I must give my
opinion, I will. The emperor bids you, in his letter, set all the French
gentlemen afoot for to deliver the assault along with his lanzknechts.
My opinion is, that you, my lord, ought to send back to the emperor a
reply of this sort: that you have had a meeting of your captains, who are
quite determined to do his bidding, according to the charge they have
from the king their master; but that to mix them up with the foot, who
are of small estate, would be to make them of little account; the emperor
has loads of counts, lords, and gentlemen of Germany; let him set them
afoot along with the men-at-arms of France, who will gladly show them the
road; and then his lanzknechts will follow, if they know that it will
pay.’ When the good knight had thus spoken, his advice was found
virtuous and reasonable. To the emperor was sent back this answer, which
he thought right honorable. He incontinently had his trumpets sounded
and his drums beaten for to assemble all the princes, and lords, and
captains as well of Germany and Burgundy as of Hainault. Then the
emperor declared to them that he was determined to go, within an hour,
and deliver the assault on the town, whereof he had notified the lords of
France, who were all most desirous of doing their duty therein right
well, and prayed him that along with them might go the gentlemen of
Germany, to whom they would gladly show the road: ‘Wherefore, my lords,’
said the emperor, I pray you, as much as ever I can, to be pleased to
accompany them and set yourselves afoot with them; and I hope, with God’s
help, that at the first assault we shall be masters of our enemies.’
When the emperor had done speaking, on a sudden there arose among his
Germans a very wondrous and strange uproar, which lasted half an hour
before it was appeased; and then one amongst them, bidden to answer for
all, said that they were not folks to be set afoot or so to go up to a
breach, and that their condition was to fight like gentlemen,
a-horseback. Other answer the emperor could not get; but though it was
not according to his desire, and pleased him not at all, he uttered no
word beyond that he said, ‘Good my lords, we must advise, then, how we
shall do for the best.’ Then, forthwith he sent for a gentleman of his
who from time to time went backwards and forwards as ambassador to the
French, and said to him, ‘Go to the quarters of my cousin, the lord of La
Palisse; commend me to him and to all my lords the French captains you
find with him, and tell them that for to-day the assault will not be
delivered.’ I know not,” says the chronicler, “how it was nor who gave
the advice; but the night after this speech was spoken the emperor went
off, all in one stretch, more than forty miles from the camp, and from
his new quarters sent word to his people to have the siege raised; which
was done.”
So Padua was saved, and Venice once more became a power. Louis XII.,
having returned victorious to France, did not trouble himself much about
the check received in Italy by Emperor Maximilian, for whom he had no
love and but little esteem. Maximilian was personally brave and free
from depravity or premeditated perfidy, but he was coarse, volatile,
inconsistent, and not very able. Louis XII. had amongst his allies of
Cambrai and in Italy a more serious and more skilful foe, who was
preparing for him much greater embarrassments.
Julian Bella Rovera had, before his elevation to the pontifical throne,
but one object, which was, to mount it. When he became pope, he had
three objects: to recover and extend the temporal possessions of the
papacy, to exercise to the full his spiritual power, and to drive the
foreigner from Italy. He was not incapable of doubling and artifice.
In order to rise he had flattered Louis XII. and Cardinal d’Amboise with
the hope that the king’s minister would become the head of Christendom.
When once he was himself in possession of this puissant title he showed
himself as he really was; ambitious, audacious, imperious, energetic,
stubborn, and combining the egotism of the absolute sovereign with the
patriotism of an Italian pope. When the League of Cambrai had attained
success through the victory of Louis XII. over the Venetians, Cardinal
d’Amboise, in course of conversation with the two envoys from Florence at
the king’s court, let them have an inkling “that he was not without
suspicion of some new design;” and when Louis XII. announced his
approaching departure for France, the two Florentines wrote to their
government that “this departure might have very evil results, for the
power of Emperor Maximilian in Italy, the position of Ferdinand the
Catholic, the despair of the Venetians, and the character and
dissatisfaction of the pope, seemed to foreshadow some fresh
understanding against the Most Christian king.” Louis XII. and his
minister were very confident. “Take Spain, the king of the Romans, or
whom you please,” said Cardinal d’Amboise to the two Florentines; “there
is none who has observed and kept the alliance more faithfully than the
king has; he has done everything at the moment he promised; he has borne
upon his shoulders the whole weight of this affair; and I tell you,” he
added, with a fixed look at those whom he was addressing, “that his army
is a large one, which he will keep up and augment every day.” Louis, for
his part, treated the Florentines with great good-will, as friends on
whom he counted and who were concerned in his success. “You have become
the first power in Italy,” he said to then one day before a crowd of
people: “how are you addressed just now? Are you Most Serene or Most
Illustrious?” And when he was notified that distinguished Venetians were
going to meet Emperor Maximilian on his arrival in Italy, “No matter,”
said Louis; “let them go whither they will.” The Florentines did not the
less nourish their mistrustful presentiments; and one of Louis XII.’s
most intelligent advisers, his finance-minister Florimond Robertet, was
not slow to share them. “The pope,” said he to them one day [July 1,
1509], “is behaving very ill towards us; he seeks on every occasion to
sow enmity between the princes, especially between the emperor and the
Most Christian king;” and, some weeks later, whilst speaking of the
money-aids which the new King of England was sending, it was said, to
Emperor Maximilian, he said to the Florentine, Nasi, “It would be a very
serious business, if from all this were to result against us a universal
league, in which the pope, England, and Spain should join.”
[_Negotiations Diplomatiques de la France avec la Toscane,_ published by
M. Abel Desjardins, in the _Documents relatifs d l’Histoire de France,_
t. ii. pp. 331, 355, 367, 384, 389, 416.]