THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS (1494-1537)
We must now leave the great intellectual progress of the Renaissance on
its way from its home in Florence to its culmination in Rome, and look
over the political condition of the principal divisions of Italy. A
complete change comes during this period, that can only be likened to
the change wrought by the invasions of the Barbarians in ancient times.
In fact, it is a period of fresh invasions by Barbarians, as the
Italians, and not without some justice, still called foreigners. The
year 1494 was the fatal date of the first invasion of the French. From
that year onward there was a series of invasions of French, Austrians,
and Spaniards, until Italy was finally parcelled out according to the
pleasure of the invaders. Before that time Italy was in a peaceful and
prosperous condition. The famous Florentine historian Guicciardini
(1483-1540) thus records the time of his boyhood: "Since the fall of the
Roman Empire Italy had never known such great prosperity, nor had
experienced so desirable a condition as in the year 1490 and the years
just before and after. The country had been brought to profound peace
and tranquillity, agriculture spread over the roughest and most sterile
hills no less than over the most fertile plains, and Italy, subject to
no dominion but her own, abounded in men, merchandise, and wealth. She
was embellished to the utmost by the magnificence of many princes, by
the splendour of many most noble and beautiful cities, by the seat and
majesty of Religion; she was rich in men most apt in public affairs, and
in minds most noble for all sorts of knowledge. She was industrious and
excellent in every art, and, according to the standard of those days,
not without military glory."
In these happy years, and in the decades that preceded them, Italian
politics was a domestic game between the five principal powers, Papacy,
Naples, Florence, Venice, and Milan, who treated one another's border
cities as stakes. They made leagues and counter-leagues, waged
innumerable little wars, fought bloodless skirmishes, flourished their
swords, blew their trumpets, and made a good deal of commotion; but they
were all Italians, they all knew the rules of the game, however
irregular and complicated those rules might appear to an outsider, and
if there were bloody heads, they were all in the family. With 1494 came
the change. History seemed to turn back a thousand years; the French
poured over the Alps from the northwest, the Imperial soldiers of the
House of Hapsburg from the northeast, and the Spaniards from their
province of Sicily to the south.
_Milan, 1466-1535_
Our chronicle had better begin with the duchy of Milan. There, on the
death of Francesco Sforza (1466), his son, Galeazzo Maria, succeeded to
the throne. This duke was a typical Italian ruler, brilliant in
display, liberal in giving, harsh in taxing, interested in art and
scholarship, crafty and cruel in politics, and shamelessly dissolute in
private life. Fearful stories of his brutality are told. He was
literally insufferable, and was assassinated (1476). It is interesting
to see the great classical influence, which stimulated the arts and the
humanities, quickening the spirits of young men and giving an antique
lustre to murder. The story goes that a schoolmaster of Milan, who had
drilled his boys in Plutarch, till Plutarch's world seemed to live
again, burst out in his lecture, "Will none among my pupils rise up like
Brutus and Cassius to free his country from this vile yoke and merit
eternal renown?" Three of his pupils, stimulated by private wrongs to
emulate the classical example, murdered the duke in a church. All three
were put to death. The last to die was skewered on iron hooks and cut to
pieces alive. "I know," he said, "that for my wrongdoings I have
deserved these tortures and more besides, could my poor flesh endure
them; but as for the noble act for which I die, that comforts my soul.
Instead of repenting it, were I to live my life ten times again, ten
times again to perish in these tortures, none the less would I
consecrate all my life's blood, and all my might, to that noble
purpose."
The results of the murder were unimportant. In politics, even more than
in the arts, the classic impulse only affected details. Lodovico Sforza,
nicknamed Il Moro, the late duke's brother, seized the government and
supplanted the lawful heir, his young nephew, in every ducal
prerogative except the title. Lodovico was a brilliant, intellectual
man, devoid of moral sense; and for a time flourished in the full
sunshine of the opening High Renaissance. He patronized Bramante, he
employed familiarly Leonardo da Vinci. But his political talents were
suited to the earlier period of domestic Italian politics. Had he lived
then, his abilities, inherited from both the Sforzas and Visconti, would
have kept him secure on his ducal throne; but he did not understand the
larger forces of European politics.
Milan being at odds with Naples, and the other Italian powers as usual
either taking part, or biding a more favourable time, Lodovico Sforza
thought it would be a brilliant play, in the little Italian game, to use
a foreign piece to checkmate Naples. He invited the French king, Charles
VIII, who represented the claims of the House of Anjou to the Neapolitan
crown, to come into Italy and take possession of his own. Other Italian
politicians, with no more knowledge of European politics than Lodovico,
joined in the petition. Charles VIII, an ugly little man, of scant
intelligence, strong in a compact and vigorous kingdom, believing that
he could play the part of a Charlemagne, accepted the suggestion with
alacrity, got together an admirable army, and crossed the Alps, in the
memorable year 1494. He received the respects of Lodovico and swept
triumphantly down through Italy. No resistance to speak of was
attempted. Florence made a treaty with him, the Pope was delighted to be
able to do the like, and Naples watched her king run away and the
French march in, with blended indifference and pleasure. This brilliant
success, however, was a mere blaze of straw. The powers of Europe took
alarm, and while the puny Charles was rioting in Naples, made a league,
in which Venice, the Pope, and the double-dealing Sforza joined. Charles
hurried north as fast as he could, and barely escaped across the Alps.
But the episode was full of portent for Italy. The Barbarians had once
again broken through the barrier which nature had set up to protect
Italy; they had rediscovered what a delightful place Italy was; and the
second period of Barbarian invasion had begun. We cannot dally over
Milan. Sforza's treachery overreached itself. The succeeding King of
France, Louis XII, a prince of Orleans, was a grandson of Gian Galeazzo
Visconti's eldest daughter, and had as good a legal title to the
inheritance of the Visconti as his second cousin Lodovico; though in
strictness neither title had any legal value. Revenge lent strength to
Louis's claim. In a few years (1499), the French again descended into
the pleasant plains of Lombardy, captured Milan, took Sforza prisoner,
and locked him up in a French prison for the rest of his life.
It is useless to follow the shifting ownership of Milan, tossed about in
the great struggle between Francis I of France and the Emperor Charles
V. The Empire espoused the cause of the Sforza heirs and put them back
on the throne. Then France gained the battle of Marignano (1515) and
recovered Milan, but the Empire conquered at Pavia (1525), and finally
won. The male line of the Sforzas became extinct in 1535; and the
dukedom of Milan, though it continued to be a nominal fief of the
Empire, was annexed to the Spanish crown by Charles V (who was King of
Spain as well as Emperor), and passed as a part of the Spanish
inheritance to a line of Spanish kings. The Barbarian occupation of
Milan was destined to last for three hundred years.
_Florence, 1492-1537_
Now that we have followed Milan into the service of Spanish masters, we
must do a somewhat similar office for Florence. But Florence's liberty
was put out in glory. The politic statesman, Lorenzo dei Medici, whose
sagacity had contributed so much to the pleasant state of Italy prior to
the French invasion, died in 1492. The great period of Florentine
intellectual primacy ended with him, for, though Florence continued to
pour forth genius, that genius no longer was gathered together at home
but emigrated to honour other places. Nevertheless, she again challenges
our admiration; the ancient republican city once more asserted its
preeminence by a burst of moral enthusiasm. Nowhere else in Italy
throughout the Renaissance was such a spectacle seen, and though the
leader, Girolamo Savonarola (1452-98), was a native of Ferrara, yet it
was in Florence, and among Florentines, that he kindled enthusiasm and
ran his brilliant career. Savonarola was the reincarnation of a Hebrew
prophet, a Florentine Habakkuk, passionately sure of the moral
government of God, passionately convinced that the wickedness of Italy
must bring its own punishment and purification. Shortly before
Lorenzo's death he became a distinguished preacher, spoke in the
cathedral, and won the ear of the people. He preached righteousness and
judgment to come. He proclaimed spiritual evils and political
punishments, and foretold that God would stretch forth His hand and send
His avenger to punish Italy. The prophecies were so definite, and fitted
the invasion of Charles VIII so accurately, that Savonarola was hailed
as a prophet. In the excitement over the French invasion Lorenzo's sons
were driven out, the former republican constitution reestablished, and
Savonarola raised by a burst of popular enthusiasm practically to the
position of guiding and governing the city. The best way to understand
Savonarola's influence is to read a few extracts from the diary of Luca
Landucci, a Florentine apothecary:--
"December 14, 1494. On this day Fra Girolamo greatly laboured in the
pulpit that Florence should adopt a good form of government; he has been
preaching in Santa Maria del Fiore [the Duomo] every day, and this day,
Sunday, he preached, and he did not want women but men, and he wanted
the officers of the city, and nobody stayed in the Palace [Palazzo
Vecchio, the City Hall] except the Gonfaloniere and one other; all the
officials in Florence were there, and he preached about matters of
state, that we ought to love and fear God and love the common weal, and
that no man henceforth should wish to hold his head high or wish himself
great. He always inclined to the people's side, and insisted that no
blood should be shed, but that punishment should be made in some other
way; and he preached like this every day....
"April, 1495. Fra Girolamo preached and said that the Virgin Mary had
revealed to him how the city of Florence would become richer, more
glorious, and more powerful than she had ever been, but not till after
many troubles; and he spoke all this as if he were a prophet, and most
of the people believed him, especially the better sort who had no
political or partisan passions....
"June 17, 1495. The Frate nowadays is held in such esteem and devotion
in Florence that there are many men and women who would obey him
implicitly, if he should say 'walk into the fire.' Many believe him to
be a prophet, and he said so himself....
"February 16 [1496], the Carnival. Fra Girolamo preached a few days ago
that the children, instead of foolish pranks, throwing stones, etc.,
should collect alms and distribute them to the worthy poor; and, thanks
to divine grace, such a change was wrought, that in place of tomfoolery
the children collected alms for days beforehand, [and to-day six
thousand of them or more, carrying olive branches and singing hymns,
marched to the Duomo where they offered up their alms] so that good
sensible men wept from tenderness and said, 'Truly this new change is
the work of God.' ... I have written this because it is the fact and I
saw it, and I felt the greatest happiness to have my children among
those blessed innocent bands....
"August 15, 1496. Fra Girolamo preached in Santa Maria del Fiore [the
Duomo, where great scaffolds had been erected which were filled with
children singing], and there was so much holiness in the church, and it
was so sweet to hear the children sing, above, below, and on every side,
singing so simply and so modestly, that they did not seem like children.
I write this because I was there and saw it and felt so much spiritual
sweetness. In truth the Church was full of angels."
The friar's political enemies were strong, and the Pope, the very
notable Borgia, Alexander VI, in anger and in fear, excommunicated him,
and bade the Signory of Florence forbid him to preach. There was great
disturbance over this action, and feeling ran to a passionate height.
One of Savonarola's disciples, a foolish Dominican, challenged an
adversary to the ordeal by fire; the challenge was accepted, and on the
appointed day all Florence, in great excitement, flocked to the
_piazza_. The Dominican and his adversary were there, and their
respective partisans, but nothing was done. One delay followed another;
there was nothing but hesitancy, disagreement as to conditions, backing
and filling. The disappointed populace turned on Savonarola. They had
believed him a prophet and expected to see a judgment of God. The Pope
took advantage of this resentment, and demanded his trial. Savonarola
was tried, and tortured. During the torture a confession was extorted
from him, which was undoubtedly pieced out by forgery. Our apothecary
says:--
"April 19, 1498. The confession of Fra Girolamo was read before the
Council in the Great Hall, which he had written with his own hand,--he
whom we held to be a prophet,--and he confessed that he was not a
prophet, and had not received from God the things he preached, and he
confessed to many things in the course of his preaching which were the
opposite of what he had given us to understand. I was there to hear the
confession read, and was bewildered and stood astonished and stupefied.
My soul was in pain to see such an edifice tumble to earth because it
all rested on a lie. I expected Florence to be a new Jerusalem from
which should proceed laws, glory, and the example of a good life and to
behold the restoration of the Church, the conversion of the infidels,
and the comfort of good men, and now I behold the opposite,--and I took
the medicine. In Thy will, O God, stand all things."
Savonarola was condemned to death for heresy; he was hanged, his body
burned, and his ashes flung into the Arno. So ended the one moral effort
of the Italian Renaissance.
After his death the Republican government endured for a time; but the
Medicean faction was powerful and forced its way back in 1512. Then
Lorenzo's second son, Giovanni (1475-1521), following the steps of
Florentine art and humanism, went to Rome and became Pope Leo X. As
Pope, he was able to strengthen his family in Florence and to extend its
dominion. But Republicanism, quickened by the events then happening in
Rome, flared up once more in 1527; but it was helpless before the
hostile spirit of the time. Another Medici had become Pope, Clement VII,
and the requirements of policy induced the calculating Emperor, Charles
V, to suppress what he deemed a rebellion. Florence made a gallant
defence; Michelangelo strengthened her walls, and the courage of the
defenders threw a dying glory over the city. A great grandson of
Lorenzo, Alessandro dei Medici, was put into power, and married to a
daughter of Charles V. He was succeeded by a distant cousin, Cosimo
(1537), who was honoured by His Holiness the Pope with the title of
Grand Duke of Tuscany. Thus Florentine liberty was extinguished, and the
Medici were established as dukes in name as well as in fact.
_The Two Sicilies, 1494-1516_
In the south, it will be remembered, Alfonso the Magnanimous, as the
grateful humanists dubbed him, had united Sicily and the mainland; but
on his death (1458) the kingdom fell asunder. Sicily, as a part of the
Kingdom of Aragon, devolved on a legitimate brother, whereas Naples,
claimed as a conquest, was bequeathed to a bastard son, Ferdinand the
Cruel. The two kingdoms followed their respective dynasties for nearly
fifty years, when Sicily came by inheritance to Ferdinand of Aragon.
That crafty and eminently successful monarch, not satisfied with
Castile, Granada, Sicily, and a transatlantic realm, but coveting the
Kingdom of Naples, conspired with Louis XII of France, who now
represented the traditional Angevin claim; the two invaded the coveted
kingdom, and divided it between them (1500-1). Naturally, the rogues
disagreed over the division of the spoils, and fell foul of each other.
The Spaniards were triumphant, and the Kingdom of Naples was annexed to
the crown of Spain. Thus the Two Sicilies were reunited under the
Spanish crown, and on Ferdinand's death (1516) descended to his
grandson, the Emperor Charles V. The unfortunate kingdom remained an
appanage of Spain for two hundred years.
_Venice, 1453-1508_
In the northeast Venice still led a brilliant career, like a charming
woman who has received some fatal hurt and does not know it, but
instinctively lives more brilliantly than ever. Her fatal hurt was the
conquest of Constantinople by the Turks (1453). At first the only
obvious ill consequence was war. Venice, willy-nilly, stepped into the
place of Constantinople, and became "the bulwark of the West." She waged
war after war with the Turks and maintained her reputation for valour
and resolution, but Turkey was too strong for her, and little by little
stripped her of her long-drawn-out empire of coast and island. A far
worse blow than direct war was the cutting of the great trade routes
with the East, which damaged all the maritime cities of Italy, but
Venice most. Turkey stopped the supplies of Venetian greatness, and
slowly but surely sapped Venetian strength. On the stoppage of the
straight road to Asia, the blocked current of commerce poked about for a
new way, and discovered that it could reach the East by doubling the
Cape of Good Hope. Commerce thus avoided Turkey, but it also abandoned
the Mediterranean, great centre and source of ancient civilization, and
left the maritime cities of Italy stranded, as it were, on the shores
of a forsaken sea.
This doom, however, was still hidden in the obscurity of the future, and
Venice appeared to be at the height of prosperity. The French
ambassador, Philippe de Commines, called her "the most triumphant city I
have ever seen." The Venetians were a people apart from other Italians;
they never suffered from foreign invasion, or domestic revolt; they
lived in isolation, maintained their own customs and usages, and enjoyed
a sumptuous, opulent life, in proud security. Venice was the richest,
the most comfortable, the best governed city in the world. In military
strength she was commonly reckoned the first power in Italy, with the
Papacy, the Kingdom of Naples, and the Duchy of Milan about equal in
second rank. Venice entertained no suspicion of any seeds of decadence,
and continued her greedy career of annexation on the mainland, with a
haughtiness worthy of ancient Rome. She laid hands on part of Romagna,
and angered the Popes who had a title thereto, which, however imperfect,
was much better than the Venetian title. She provoked the Emperor
Maximilian, of the House of Hapsburg, who claimed Verona as an Imperial
city; and to the west she came into dangerous competition with the
French invaders. These enemies, taking their cue from the piratical
seizure of Naples by the French and Spanish, agreed together to
partition the Venetian territory on the mainland, and invited all the
powers of Europe to join them and take a share of the booty. The
coalition planned a kind of joint-stock piracy. This was the League of
Cambrai (1508), which stripped Venice of all her Italian territory, and
threatened the city herself. The allies, however, fell out among
themselves; and Venice, by biding her opportunity, in the course of time
managed to recover most of her lost territory. Thus, though for a season
the Barbarians brought the haughty city to her knees, she weathered the
storms better than the rest of Italy, and continued to maintain her
independence for three centuries to come.
The Papacy deserves a chapter to itself.