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Ludovico Sforza had already made sure of Ferdinand’s promise to
conform
to the plan he had invented, when the old king, at the solicitation
of
Piero, suddenly drew back. Sforza found out how this change had
come
about, and learned that it was Piero’s influence that had
overmastered
his own. He could not disentangle the real motives that had
promised the
change, and imagined there was some secret league against
himself: he
attributed the changed political programme to the death of
Lorenzo dei
Medici. But whatever its cause might be, it was evidently
prejudicial to
his own interests: Florence, Milan’s old ally, was abandoning
her for
Naples. He resolved to throw a counter weight into the scales;
so,
betraying to Alexander the policy of Piero and Ferdinand, he proposed
to
form a defensive and offensive alliance with him and admit the
republic
of Venice; Duke Hercules III of Ferrara was also to be summoned
to
pronounce for one or other of the two leagues. Alexander VI, wounded
by
Ferdinand’s treatment of himself, accepted Ludovico
Sforza’s
proposition, and an Act of Confederation was signed on the 22nd
of
April, 1493, by which the new allies pledged themselves to set on
foot
for the maintenance of the public peace an army of 20,000 horse
and
6,000 infantry.
Ferdinand was frightened when he beheld the
formation of this league;
but he thought he could neutralise its effects by
depriving Ludovico
Sforza of his regency, which he had already kept beyond
the proper time,
though as yet he was not strictly an usurper. Although the
young
Galeazzo, his nephew, had reached the age of two-and-twenty,
Ludovico
Sforza none the less continued regent. Now Ferdinand definitely
proposed
to the Duke of Milan that he should resign the sovereign power into
the
hands of his nephew, on pain of being declared an usurper.
This
was a bold stroke; but there was a risk of inciting Ludovico Sforza
to start
one of those political plots that he was so familiar with,
never recoiling
from any situation, however dangerous it might be. This
was exactly what
happened: Sforza, uneasy about his duchy, resolved to
threaten Ferdinand’s
kingdom.
Nothing could be easier: he knew the warlike nations of Charles
VIII,
and the pretensions of the house of France to the kingdom of Naples.
He
sent two ambassadors to invite the young king to claim the rights
of
Anjou usurped by Aragon; and with a view to reconciling Charles to
so
distant and hazardous an expedition, offered him a free and
friendly
passage through his own States.
Such a proposition was
welcome to Charles VIII, as we might suppose from
our knowledge of his
character; a magnificent prospect was opened to him
as by an enchanter: what
Ludovica Sforza was offering him was virtually
the command of the
Mediterranean, the protectorship of the whole of
Italy; it was an open road,
through Naples and Venice, that well might
lead to the conquest of Turkey or
the Holy Land, if he ever had the
fancy to avenge the disasters of Nicapolis
and Mansourah. So the
proposition was accepted, and a secret alliance was
signed, with Count
Charles di Belgiojasa and the Count of Cajazza acting for
Ludovica
Sforza, and the Bishop of St. Malo and Seneschal de Beaucaire
far
Charles VIII. By this treaty it was agreed:—
That the King of
France should attempt the conquest of the kingdom of
Naples;
That the
Duke of Milan should grant a passage to the King of France
through his
territories, and accompany him with five hundred lances;
That the Duke of
Milan should permit the King of France to send out as
many ships of war as he
pleased from Genoa;
Lastly, that the Duke of Milan should lend the King
of France 200,000
ducats, payable when he started.
On his side,
Charles VIII agreed:—
To defend the personal authority of Ludowico Sforza
over the duchy of
Milan against anyone who might attempt to turn him
out;
To keep two hundred French lances always in readiness to help the
house
of Sforza, at Asti, a town belonging to the Duke of Orleans by
the
inheritance of his mother, Valentina Visconti;
Lastly, to hand
over to his ally the principality of Tarentum
immediately after the conquest
of Naples was effected.
This treaty was scarcely concluded when Charles
VIII, who exaggerated
its advantages, began to dream of freeing himself from
every let or
hindrance to the expedition. Precautions were necessary; for
his
relations with the great Powers were far from being what he could
have
wished.
Indeed, Henry VII had disembarked at Calais with a
formidable army, and
was threatening France with another
invasion.
Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, if they had not assisted at
the fall of
the house of Anjou, had at any rate helped the Aragon party with
men and
money.
Lastly, the war with the emperor acquired a fresh
impetus when Charles
VIII sent back Margaret of Burgundy to her father
Maximilian, and
contracted a marriage with Anne of Brittany.
By the
treaty of Etaples, on the 3rd of November, 1492, Henry VII
cancelled the
alliance with the King of the Romans, and pledged himself
not to follow his
conquests.
This cost Charles VIII 745,000 gold crowns and the expenses of
the war
with England.
By the treaty of Barcelona, dated the 19th of
January, 1493, Ferdinand
the Catholic and Isabella agreed never to grant aid
to their cousin,
Ferdinand of Naples, and never to put obstacles in the way
of the French
king in Italy.
This cost Charles VIII Perpignan,
Roussillon, and the Cerdagne, which
had all been given to Louis XI as a
hostage for the sum of 300,000
ducats by John of Aragon; but at the time
agreed upon, Louis XI would
not give them up for the money, for the old fox
knew very well how
important were these doors to the Pyrenees, and proposed
in case of war
to keep them shut.
Lastly, by the treaty of Senlis,
dated the 23rd of May, 1493, Maximilian
granted a gracious pardon to France
for the insult her king had offered
him.
It cost Charles VIII the
counties of Burgundy, Artois, Charalais, and
the seigniory of Noyers, which
had come to him as Margaret’s dowry, and
also the towns of Aire, Hesdin, and
Bethune, which he promised to
deliver up to Philip of Austria on the day he
came of age.
By dint of all these sacrifices the young king made peace
with his
neighbours, and could set on foot the enterprise that Ludavico
Sforza
had proposed. We have already explained that the project came
into
Sforza’s mind when his plan about the deputation was refused, and
that
the refusal was due to Piero dei Medici’s desire to make an
exhibition
of his magnificent jewels, and Gentile’s desire to make his
speech.
Thus the vanity of a tutor and the pride of his scholar
together
combined to agitate the civilized world from the Gulf of Tarentum to
the
Pyrenees.
Alexander VI was in the very centre of the impending
earthquake, and
before Italy had any idea that the earliest shocks were at
hand he had
profited by the perturbed preoccupation of other people to give
the lie
to that famous speech we have reported. He created cardinal John
Borgia,
a nephew, who during the last pontificate had been elected Archbishop
of
Montreal and Governor of Rome. This promotion caused no
discontent,
because of John’s antecedents; and Alexander, encouraged by the
success
of this, promised to Caesar Borgia the archbishopric of Valencia,
a
benefice he had himself enjoyed before his elevation to the papacy.
But
here the difficulty arose an the side of the recipient. The young
man,
full-blooded, with all the vices and natural instincts of a captain
of
condottieri, had very great trouble in assuming even the appearance of
a
Churchman’s virtue; but as he knew from his own father’s mouth that
the
highest secular dignities were reserved far his elder brother,
he
decided to take what he could get, for fear of getting nothing; but
his
hatred for Francesco grew stronger, for from henceforth he was
doubly
his rival, both in love and ambition.
Suddenly Alexander beheld
the old King Ferdinand returning to his side,
and at the very moment when he
least expected it. The pope was too
clever a politician to accept a
reconciliation without finding out the
cause of it; he soon learned what
plots were hatching at the French
court against the kingdom of Naples, and
the whole situation was
explained.
Now it was his turn to impose
conditions.
He demanded the completion of a marriage between Goffreda,
his third
son, and Dada Sancia, Alfonso’s illegitimate daughter.
He
demanded that she should bring her husband as dowry the principality
of
Squillace and the county of Cariati, with an income of 10,000 ducats
and the
office of protonotary, one of the seven great crown offices
which are
independent of royal control.
He demanded for his eldest son, whom
Ferdinand the Catholic had just
made Duke of Gandia, the principality of
Tricarico, the counties of
Chiaramonte, Lauria, and Carinola, an income of
12,000 ducats, and the
first of the seven great offices which should fall
vacant.
He demanded that Virginio Orsini, his ambassador at the
Neapolitan
court, should be given a third great office, viz. that of
Constable, the
most important of them all.
Lastly, he demanded that
Giuliano delta Rovere, one of the five
cardinals who had opposed his election
and was now taking refuge at
Ostia, where the oak whence he took his name and
bearings is still to be
seen carved on all the walls, should be driven out of
that town, and the
town itself given over to him.
In exchange, he
merely pledged himself never to withdraw from the house
of Aragon the
investiture of the kingdom of Naples accorded by his
predecessors. Ferdinand
was paying somewhat dearly for a simple promise;
but on the keeping of this
promise the legitimacy of his power wholly
depended. For the kingdom of
Naples was a fief of the Holy See; and to
the pope alone belonged the right
of pronouncing on the justice of each
competitor’s pretensions; the
continuance of this investiture was
therefore of the highest conceivable
importance to Aragon just at the
time when Anjou was rising up with an army
at her back to dispossess
her.
For a year after he mounted the papal
throne, Alexander VI had made
great strides, as we see, in the extension of
his temporal power. In his
own hands he held, to be sure, only the least in
size of the Italian
territories; but by the marriage of his daughter Lucrezia
with the lord
of Pesaro he was stretching out one hand as far as Venice,
while by the
marriage of the Prince of Squillace with Dona Sancia, and
the
territories conceded to the Duke of Sandia, he was touching with
the
other hand the boundary of Calabria.
When this treaty, so
advantageous for himself, was duly signed, he made
Caesar Cardinal of Santa
Maria Novella, for Caesar was always
complaining of being left out in the
distribution of his father’s
favours.
Only, as there was as yet no
precedent in Church history for a bastard’s
donning the scarlet, the pope
hunted up four false witnesses who
declared that Caesar was the son of Count
Ferdinand of Castile; who was,
as we know, that valuable person Don Manuel
Melchior, and who played the
father’s part with just as much solemnity as he
had played the
husband’s.
The wedding of the two bastards was most
splendid, rich with the double
pomp of Church and King. As the pope had
settled that the young bridal
pair should live near him, Caesar Borgia, the
new cardinal, undertook to
manage the ceremony of their entry into Rome and
the reception, and
Lucrezia, who enjoyed at her father’s side an amount of
favour hitherto
unheard of at the papal court, desired on her part to
contribute all the
splendour she had it in her power to add. He therefore
went to receive
the young people with a stately and magnificent escort of
lords and
cardinals, while she awaited them attended by the loveliest and
noblest
ladies of Rome, in one of the halls of the Vatican. A throne was
there
prepared for the pope, and at his feet were cushions far Lucrezia
and
Dona Sancia. "Thus," writes Tommaso Tommasi, "by the look of
the
assembly and the sort of conversation that went on for hours, you
would
suppose you were present at some magnificent and voluptuous
royal
audience of ancient Assyria, rather than at the severe consistory of
a
Roman pontiff, whose solemn duty it is to exhibit in every act
the
sanctity of the name he bears. But," continues the same historian,
"if
the Eve of Pentecost was spent in such worthy functions,
the
celebrations of the coming of the Holy Ghost on the following day
were
no less decorous and becoming to the spirit of the Church; for
thus
writes the master of the ceremonies in his journal:
"’The pope
made his entry into the Church of the Holy Apostles, and
beside him on the
marble steps of the pulpit where the canons of St.
Peter are wont to chant
the Epistle and Gospel, sat Lucrezia his
daughter and Sancia his son’s wife:
round about them, a disgrace to the
Church and a public scandal, were grouped
a number of other Roman ladies
far more fit to dwell in Messalina’s city than
in St. Peter’s.’"
So at Rome and Naples did men slumber while ruin was at
hand; so did
they waste their time and squander their money in a vain display
of
pride; and this was going on while the French, thoroughly alive,
were
busy laying hands upon the torches with which they would presently
set
Italy on fire.
Indeed, the designs of Charles VIII for conquest
were no longer for
anybody a matter of doubt. The young king had sent an
embassy to the
various Italian States, composed of Perrone dei Baschi,
Brigonnet,
d’Aubigny, and the president of the Provencal Parliament. The
mission of
this embassy was to demand from the Italian princes their
co-operation
in recovering the rights of the crown of Naples for the house of
Anjou.
The embassy first approached the Venetians, demanding aid and
counsel
for the king their master. But the Venetians, faithful to
their
political tradition, which had gained for them the sobriquet of
"the
Jews of Christendom," replied that they were not in a position to
give
any aid to the young king, so long as they had to keep ceaselessly
on
guard against the Turks; that, as to advice, it would be too great
a
presumption in them to give advice to a prince who was surrounded
by
such experienced generals and such able ministers.
Perrone dei
Baschi, when he found he could get no other answer, next
made for Florence.
Piero dei Medici received him at a grand council, for
he summoned on this
occasion not only the seventy, but also the
gonfalonieri who had sat for the
last thirty-four years in the Signoria.
The French ambassador put forward his
proposal, that the republic should
permit their army to pass through her
States, and pledge herself in that
case to supply for ready money all the
necessary victual and fodder. The
magnificent republic replied that if
Charles VIII had been marching
against the Turks instead of against
Ferdinand, she would be only too
ready to grant everything he wished; but
being bound to the house of
Aragon by a treaty, she could not betray her ally
by yielding to the
demands of the King of France.
The ambassadors next
turned their steps to Siena. The poor little
republic, terrified by the
honour of being considered at all, replied
that it was her desire to preserve
a strict neutrality, that she was too
weak to declare beforehand either for
or against such mighty rivals, for
she would naturally be obliged to join the
stronger party. Furnished
with this reply, which had at least the merit of
frankness, the French
envoys proceeded to Rome, and were conducted into the
pope’s presence,
where they demanded the investiture of the kingdom of Naples
for their
king.
Alexander VI replied that, as his predecessors had
granted this
investiture to the house of Aragon, he could not take it away,
unless it
were first established that the house of Anjou had a better claim
than
the house that was to be dispossessed. Then he represented to
Perrone
dei Baschi that, as Naples was a fief of the Holy See, to the pope
alone
the choice of her sovereign properly belonged, and that in
consequence
to attack the reigning sovereign was to attack the Church
itself.
The result of the embassy, we see, was not very promising for
Charles
VIII; so he resolved to rely on his ally Ludovico Sforza alone, and
to
relegate all other questions to the fortunes of war.
A piece of
news that reached him about this time strengthened him in
this resolution:
this was the death of Ferdinand. The old king had
caught a severe cold and
cough on his return from the hunting field, and
in two days he was at his
last gasp. On the 25th of January, 1494, he
passed away, at the age of
seventy, after a thirty-six years’ reign,
leaving the throne to his elder
son, Alfonso, who was immediately chosen
as his successor.
Ferdinand
never belied his title of "the happy ruler." His death
occurred at the very
moment when the fortune of his family was changing.
The new king,
Alfonso, was not a novice in arms: he had already fought
successfully against
Florence and Venice, and had driven the Turks out
of Otranto; besides, he had
the name of being as cunning as his father
in the tortuous game of politics
so much in vogue at the Italian courts.
He did not despair of counting among
his allies the very enemy he was at
war with when Charles VIII first put
forward his pretensions, we mean
Bajazet II. So he despatched to Bajazet one
of his confidential
ministers, Camillo Pandone, to give the Turkish emperor
to understand
that the expedition to Italy was to the King of France nothing
but a
blind for approaching the scene of Mahomedan conquests, and that
if
Charles VIII were once at the Adriatic it would only take him a day
or
two to get across and attack Macedonia; from there he could easily go
by
land to Constantinople. Consequently he suggested that Bajazet for
the
maintenance of their common interests should supply six thousand
horse
and six thousand infantry; he himself would furnish their pay so long
as
they were in Italy. It was settled that Pandone should be joined
at
Tarentum by Giorgia Bucciarda, Alexander VI’s envoy, who
was
commissioned by the pope to engage the Turks to help him against
the
Christians. But while he was waiting for Bajazet’s reply, which
might
involve a delay of several months, Alfonso requested that a
meeting
might take place between Piero dei Medici, the pope, and himself,
to
take counsel together about important affairs. This meeting was
arranged
at Vicovaro, near Tivoli, and the three interested parties duly met
on
the appointed day.
The intention of Alfonso, who before leaving
Naples had settled the
disposition of his naval forces, and given his brother
Frederic the
command of a fleet that consisted of thirty-six galleys,
eighteen large
and twelve small vessels, with injunctions to wait at Livorno
and keep a
watch on the fleet Charles VIII was getting ready at the port of
Genoa,
was above all things to check with the aid of his allies the progress
of
operations on land. Without counting the contingent he expected
his
allies to furnish, he had at his immediate disposal a hundred
squadrons
of heavy cavalry, twenty men in each, and three thousand bowmen
and
light horse. He proposed, therefore, to advance at once into
Lombardy,
to get up a revolution in favour of his nephew Galeazzo, and to
drive
Ludovico Sforza out of Milan before he could get help from France;
so
that Charles VIII, at the very time of crossing the Alps, would find
an
enemy to fight instead of a friend who had promised him a safe
passage,
men, and money.
This was the scheme of a great politician and
a bold commander; but as
everybody had came in pursuit of his own interests,
regardless of the
common this plan was very coldly received by Piero dei
Medici, who was
afraid lest in the war he should play only the same poor part
he had
been threatened with in the affair of the embassy; by Alexander VI
it
was rejected, because he reckoned on employing the troops of Alfonso
an
his own account. He reminded the King of Naples of one of the
conditions
of the investiture he had promised him, viz. that he should drive
out
the Cardinal Giuliano delta Rovere from the town of Ostia, and give
up
the town to him, according to the stipulation already agreed
upon.
Besides, the advantages that had accrued to Virginio Orsini,
Alexander’s
favourite, from his embassy to Naples had brought upon him the
ill-will
of Prospero and Fabrizio Colonna, who owned nearly all the
villages
round about Rome. Now the pope could not endure to live in the midst
of
such powerful enemies, and the most important matter was to deliver
him
from all of them, seeing that it was really of moment that he should
be
at peace who was the head and soul of the league whereof the others
were
only the body and limbs.
Although Alfonso had clearly seen
through the motives of Piero’s
coldness, and Alexander had not even given him
the trouble of seeking
his, he was none the less obliged to bow to the will
of his allies,
leaving the one to defend the Apennines against the French,
and helping
the other to shake himself free of his neighbours in the
Romagna.
Consequently he, pressed on the siege of Ostia, and added to
Virginio’s
forces, which already amounted to two hundred men of the papal
army, a
body of his own light horse; this little army was to be stationed
round
about Rome, and was to enforce obedience from the Colonnas. The rest
of
his troops Alfonso divided into two parties: one he left in the hands
of
his son Ferdinand, with orders to scour the Romagna and worry, the
petty
princes into levying and supporting the contingent they had
promised,
while with the other he himself defended the defiles of the
Abruzzi.
On the 23rd of April, at three o’clock in the morning, Alexander
VI was
freed from the first and fiercest of his foes; Giuliano delta
Rovere,
seeing the impossibility of holding out any longer against
Alfonso’s
troops, embarked on a brigantine which was to carry him to
Savona.
From that day forward Virginio Orsini began that famous partisan
warfare
which reduced the country about Rome to the most pathetic desolation
the
world has ever seen. During all this time Charles VIII was at Lyons,
not
only uncertain as to the route he ought to take for getting into
Italy,
but even beginning to reflect a little on the chances and risks of
such
an expedition. He had found no sympathy anywhere except with
Ludovico
Sforza; so it appeared not unlikely that he would have to fight not
the
kingdom of Naples alone, but the whole of Italy to boot. In
his
preparations for war he had spent almost all the money at his
disposal;
the Lady of Beaujeu and the Duke of Bourbon both condemned
his
enterprise; Briconnet, who had advised it, did not venture to support
it
now; at last Charles, more irresolute than ever, had recalled
several
regiments that had actually started, when Cardinal Giuliano
delta
Rovere, driven out of Italy by the pope, arrived at Lyons, and
presented
himself before the king.
The cardinal, full of hatred, full
of hope, hastened to Charles, and
found him on the point of abandoning that
enterprise on which, as
Alexander’s enemy, delta Rovere rested his whole
expectation of
vengeance. He informed Charles of the quarrelling among his
enemies; he
showed him that each of them was seeking his own ends—Piero dei
Medici
the gratification of his pride, the pope the aggrandisement of
his
house. He pointed out that armed fleets were in the ports
of
Villefranche, Marseilles, and Genoa, and that these armaments would
be
lost; he reminded him that he had sent Pierre d’Urfe, his grand
equerry,
on in advance, to have splendid accommodation prepared in the
Spinola
and Doria palaces. Lastly, he urged that ridicule and disgrace
would
fall on him from every side if he renounced an enterprise so
loudly
vaunted beforehand, for whose successful execution, moreover, he
had
been obliged to sign three treaties of peace that were all
vexatious
enough, viz. with Henry VII, with Maximilian, and with Ferdinand
the
Catholic. Giuliano della Rovere had exercised true insight in
probing
the vanity of the young king, and Charles did not hesitate for a
single
moment. He ordered his cousin, the Duke of Orleans (who later on
became
Louis XII) to take command of the French fleet and bring it to Genoa;
he
despatched a courier to Antoine de Bessay, Baron de Tricastel,
bidding
him take to Asti the 2000 Swiss foot-soldiers he had levied in
the
cantons; lastly, he started himself from Vienne, in Dauphine, on
the
23rd of August, 1494, crossed the Alps by Mont Genevre,
without
encountering a single body of troops to dispute his passage,
descended
into Piedmont and Monferrato, both just then governed by women
regents,
the sovereigns of both principalities being children, Charles John
Aime
and William John, aged respectively six and eight.
The two
regents appeared before Charles VIII, one at Turin, one at
Casale, each at
the head of a numerous and brilliant court, and both
glittering with jewels
and precious stones. Charles, although he quite
well knew that for all these
friendly demonstrations they were both
bound by treaty to his enemy, Alfonso
of Naples, treated them all the
same with the greatest politeness, and when
they made protestations of
friendship, asked them to let him have a proof of
it, suggesting that
they should lend him the diamonds they were covered with.
The two
regents could do no less than obey the invitation which was really
a
command. They took off necklaces, rings, and earrings. Charles VIII
gave
them a receipt accurately drawn up, and pledged the jewels for
20,000
ducats. Then, enriched by this money, he resumed his journey and
made
his way towards Asti. The Duke of Orleans held the sovereignty of
Asti,
as we said before, and hither came to meet Charles both Ludovico
Sforza
and his father-in-law, Hercules d’Este, Duke of Ferrara. They
brought
with them not only the promised troops and money, but also a
court
composed of the loveliest women in Italy.
The balls, fetes, and
tourneys began with a magnificence surpassing
anything that Italy had ever
seen before. But suddenly they were
interrupted by the king’s illness. This
was the first example in Italy
of the disease brought by Christopher Columbus
from the New World, and
was called by Italians the French, by Frenchmen the
Italian disease. The
probability is that some of Columbus’s crew who were at
Genoa or
thereabouts had already brought over this strange and cruel
complaint
that counter balanced the gains of the American
gold-mines.
The king’s indisposition, however, did not prove so grave as
was at
first supposed. He was cured by the end of a few weeks, and proceeded
on
his way towards Pavia, where the young Duke John Galeazzo lay dying.
He
and the King of France were first cousins, sons of two sisters of
the
house of Savoy. So Charles VIII was obliged to see him, and went
to
visit him in the castle where he lived more like prisoner than lord.
He
found him half reclining on a couch, pale and emaciated, some said
in
consequence of luxurious living, others from the effects of a slow
but
deadly poison. But whether or not the poor young man was desirous
of
pouring out a complaint to Charles, he did not dare say a word; for
his
uncle, Ludovico Sforza, never left the King of France for an
instant.
But at the very moment when Charles VIII was getting up to go, the
door
opened, and a young woman appeared and threw herself at the king’s
feet;
she was the wife of the unlucky John Galeazzo, and came to entreat
his
cousin to do nothing against her father Alfonso, nor against her
brother
Ferdinand. At sight of her; Sforza scowled with an anxious
and
threatening aspect, far he knew not what impression might be produced
on
his ally by this scene. But he was soon reassured; far Charles
replied
that he had advanced too far to draw back now, and that the glory of
his
name was at stake as well as the interests of his kingdom, and
that
these two motives were far too important to be sacrificed to
any
sentiment of pity he might feel, however real and deep it might be
and
was. The poor young woman, who had based her last hope an this
appeal,
then rose from her knees and threw herself sobbing into her
husband’s
arms. Charles VIII and Ludavico Sforza, took their leave: John
Galeazzo
was doomed.
Two days after, Charles VIII left for Florence,
accompanied by his ally;
but scarcely had they reached Parma when a messenger
caught them up, and
announced to Ludovico that his nephew was just dead:
Ludovico at once
begged Charles to excuse his leaving him to finish the
journey alone;
the interests which called him back to Milan were so
important, he said,
that he could not under the circumstances stay away a
single day longer.
As a fact he had to make sure of succeeding the man he had
assassinated.
But Charles VIII continued his road not without some
uneasiness. The
sight of the young prince on his deathbed had moved him
deeply, for at
the bottom of his heart he was convinced that Ludovico Sforza
was his
murderer; and a murderer might very well be a traitor. He was
going
forward into an unfamiliar country, with a declared enemy in front
of
him and a doubtful friend behind: he was now at the entrance to
the
mountains, and as his army had no store of provisions and only
lived
from hand to mouth, a forced delay, however short, would mean famine.
In
front of him was Fivizzano, nothing, it is true, but a
village
surrounded by walls, but beyond Fivizzano lay Sarzano and Pietra
Santa,
both of them considered impregnable fortresses; worse than this,
they
were coming into a part of the country that was especially unhealthy
in
October, had no natural product except oil, and even procured its
own
corn from neighbouring provinces; it was plain that a whole army
might
perish there in a few days either from scarcity of food or from
the
unwholesome air, both of which were more disastrous than the
impediments
offered at every step by the nature of the ground. The situation
was
grave; but the pride of Piero dei Medici came once more to the rescue
of
the fortunes of Charles VIII.
CHAPTER
V
PIERO DEI MEDICI had, as we may remember, undertaken to hold
the
entrance to Tuscany against the French; when, however, he saw his
enemy
coming dawn from the Alps, he felt less confident about his
own
strength, and demanded help from the pope; but scarcely had the
rumour
of foreign invasion began to spread in the Romagna, than the
Colonna
family declared themselves the French king’s men, and collecting
all
their forces seized Ostia, and there awaited the coming of the
French
fleet to offer a passage through Rome. The pope, therefore, instead
of
sending troops to Florence, was obliged to recall all his soldiers to
be
near the capital; the only promise he made to Piero was that if
Bajazet
should send him the troops that he had been asking for, he
would
despatch that army for him to make use of. Piero dei Medici had not
yet
taken any resolution or formed any plan, when he suddenly heard
two
startling pieces of news. A jealous neighbour of his, the Marquis
of
Torderiovo, had betrayed to the French the weak side of Fivizzano,
so
that they had taken it by storm, and had put its soldiers
and
inhabitants to the edge of the sword; on another side, Gilbert
of
Montpensier, who had been lighting up the sea-coast so as to keep
open
the communications between the French army and their fleet, had met
with
a detachment sent by Paolo Orsini to Sarzano, to reinforce the
garrison
there, and after an hour’s fighting had cut it to pieces. No quarter
had
been granted to any of the prisoners; every man the French could
get
hold of they had massacred.
This was the first occasion on which
the Italians, accustomed as they
were to the chivalrous contests of the
fifteenth century, found
themselves in contact with savage foreigners who,
less advanced in
civilisation, had not yet come to consider war as a clever
game, but
looked upon it as simply a mortal conflict. So the news of these
two
butcheries produced a tremendous sensation at Florence, the richest
city
in Italy, and the most prosperous in commerce and in art.
Every
Florentine imagined the French to be like an army of those
ancient
barbarians who were wont to extinguish fire with blood. The
prophecies
of Savonarola, who had predicted the foreign invasion and
the
destruction that should follow it, were recalled to the minds of
all;
and so much perturbation was evinced that Piero dei Medici, bent
on
getting peace at any price, forced a decree upon the republic
whereby
she was to send an embassy to the conqueror; and obtained
leave,
resolved as he was to deliver himself in person into the hands of
the
French monarch, to act as one of the ambassadors. He accordingly
quitted
Florence, accompanied by four other messengers, and an his arrival
at
Pietra Santa, sent to ask from Charles VIII a safe-conduct for
himself
alone. The day after he made this request, Brigonnet and de Piennes
came
to fetch him, and led him into the presence of Charles
VIII.
Piero dei Medici, in spite of his name and influence, was in the
eyes of
the French nobility, who considered it a dishonourable thing to
concern
oneself with art or industry, nothing more than a rich merchant,
with
whom it would be absurd to stand upon any very strict ceremony.
So
Charles VIII received him on horseback, and addressing him with
a
haughty air, as a master might address a servant, demanded whence
came
this pride of his that made him dispute his entrance into Tuscany.
Piero
dei Medici replied, that, with the actual consent of Louis XI,
his
father Lorenzo had concluded a treaty of alliance with Ferdinand
of
Naples; that accordingly he had acted in obedience to prior
obligations,
but as he did, not wish to push too far his devotion to the
house of
Aragon or his opposition to France, he was ready to do whatever
Charles
VIII might demand of him. The king, who had never looked for
such
humility in his enemy, demanded that Sarzano should be given up to
him:
to this Piero dei Medici at once consented. Then the conqueror,
wishing
to see how far the ambassador of the magnificent republic would
extend
his politeness, replied that this concession was far from
satisfying
him, and that he still must have the keys of Pietra Santa,
Pisa,
Librafatta, and Livorno. Piero saw no more difficulty about these
than
about Sarzano, and consented on Charles’s mere promise by word of
mouth
to restore the town when he had achieved the conquest of Naples. At
last
Charles VIII, seeing that this man who had been sent out to
negotiate
with him was very easy to manage, exacted as a final condition, a
’sine
qua non’, however, of his royal protection, that the
magnificent
republic should lend him the sum of 200,000 florins. Piero found
it no
harder to dispose of money than of fortresses, and replied that
his
fellow-citizens would be happy to render this service to their new
ally.
Then Charles VIII set him on horseback, and ordered him to go on
in
front, so as to begin to carry out his promises by yielding up the
four
fortresses he had insisted on having. Piero obeyed, and the French
army,
led by the grandson of Cosimo the Great and the son of Lorenzo
the
Magnificent, continued its triumphal march through Tuscany.
On his
arrival at Lucca, Piero dei Medici learnt that his concessions to
the King of
France were making a terrible commotion at Florence. The
magnificent republic
had supposed that what Charles VIII wanted was
simply a passage through her
territory, so when the news came there was
a general feeling of discontent,
which was augmented by the return of
the other ambassadors, whom Piero had
not even consulted when he took
action as he did. Piero considered it
necessary that he should return,
so he asked Charles’s permission to precede
him to the capital. As he
had fulfilled all his promises, except the matter
of the loan, which
could not be settled anywhere but at Florence, the king
saw no
objection, and the very evening after he quitted the French army
Piero
returned incognito to his palace in the Via Largo.
The next day
he proposed to present himself before the Signoria, but
when he arrived at
the Piazza del Palazzo Vecchio, he perceived the
gonfaloniere Jacopo de Nerli
coming towards him, signalling to him that
it was useless to attempt to go
farther, and pointing out to him the
figure of Luca Corsini standing at the
gate, sword in hand: behind him
stood guards, ordered, if need-were, to
dispute his passage. Piero dei
Medici, amazed by an opposition that he was
experiencing for the first
time in his life, did not attempt resistance. He
went home, and wrote to
his brother-in-law, Paolo Orsini, to come and help
him with his
gendarmes. Unluckily for him, his letter was intercepted. The
Signoria
considered that it was an attempt at rebellion. They summoned
the
citizens to their aid; they armed hastily, sallied forth in crowds,
and
thronged about the piazza of the palace. Meanwhile Cardinal Gian
dei
Medici had mounted on horseback, and under the impression that
the
Orsini were coming to the rescue, was riding about the streets
of
Florence, accompanied by his servants and uttering his battle
cry,
"Palle, Palle." But times had changed: there was no echo to the cry,
and
when the cardinal reached the Via dei Calizaioli, a threatening
murmur
was the only response, and he understood that instead of trying
to
arouse Florence he had much better get away before the excitement
ran
too high. He promptly retired to his own palace, expecting to find
there
his two brothers, Piero and Giuliano. But they, under the protection
of
Orsini and his gendarmes, had made their escape by the Porto San
Gallo.
The peril was imminent, and Gian dei Medici wished to follow
their
example; but wherever he went he was met by a clamour that grew more
and
more threatening. At last, as he saw that the danger was
constantly
increasing, he dismounted from his horse and ran into a house that
he
found standing open. This house by a lucky chance communicated with
a
convent of Franciscans; one of the friars lent the fugitive his
dress,
and the cardinal, under the protection of this humble
incognito,
contrived at last to get outside Florence, and joined his two
brothers
in the Apennines.
The same day the Medici were declared
traitors and rebels, and
ambassadors were sent to the King of France. They
found him at Pisa,
where he was granting independence to the town which
eighty-seven years
ago had fallen under the rule of the Florentines. Charles
VIII made no
reply to the envoys, but merely announced that he was going to
march on
Florence.
Such a reply, one may easily understand, terrified
the republic.
Florence, had no time to prepare a defence, and no strength in
her
present state to make one. But all the powerful houses assembled
and
armed their own servants and retainers, and awaited the issue,
intending
not to begin hostilities, but to defend themselves should the
French
make an attack. It was agreed that if any necessity should arise
for
taking up arms, the bells of the various churches in the town
should
ring a peal and so serve as a general signal. Such a resolution
was
perhaps of more significant moment in Florence than it could have
been
in any other town. For the palaces that still remain from that
period
are virtually fortresses and the eternal fights between Guelphs
and
Ghibellines had familiarised the Tuscan people with street
warfare.
The king appeared, an the 17th of November, in the evening, at
the gate
of San Friano. He found there the nobles of Florence clad in their
most
magnificent apparel, accompanied by priests chanting hymns, and by a
mob
who were full of joy at any prospect of change, and hoped for a
return
of liberty after the fall of the Medici. Charles VIII stopped for
a
moment under a sort of gilded canopy that had been prepared for him,
and
replied in a few evasive words to the welcoming speeches which
were
addressed to him by the Signoria; then he asked for his lance, he set
it
in rest, and gave the order to enter the town, the whole of which
he
paraded with his army following him with arms erect, and then went
down
to the palace of the Medici, which had been prepared for him.
The
next day negotiations commenced; but everyone was out of his
reckoning. The
Florentines had received Charles VIII as a guest, but he
had entered the city
as a conqueror. So when the deputies of the
Signoria spoke of ratifying the
treaty of Piero dei Medici, the king
replied that such a treaty no longer
existed, as they had banished the
man who made it; that he had conquered
Florence, as he proved the night
before, when he entered lance in hand; that
he should retain the
sovereignty, and would make any further decision
whenever it pleased him
to do so; further, he would let them know later on
whether he would
reinstate the Medici or whether he would delegate his
authority to the
Signoria: all they had to do was to come back the next day,
and he would
give them his ultimatum in writing.
This reply threw
Florence into a great state of consternation; but the
Florentines were
confirmed in their resolution of making a stand.
Charles, for his part, had
been astonished by the great number of the
inhabitants; not only was every
street he had passed through thickly
lined with people, but every house from
garret to basement seemed
overflowing with human beings. Florence indeed,
thanks to her rapid
increase in population, could muster nearly 150,000
souls.
The next day, at the appointed hour, the deputies made their
appearance
to meet the king. They were again introduced into his presence,
and the
discussion was reopened. At last, as they were coming to no sort
of
understanding, the royal secretary, standing at the foot of the
throne
upon which Charles viii sat with covered head, unfolded a paper
and
began to read, article by article, the conditions imposed by the King
of
France. But scarcely had he read a third of the document when
the
discussion began more hotly than ever before. Then Charles VIII
said
that thus it should be, or he would order his trumpets to be
sounded.
Hereupon Piero Capponi, secretary to the republic, commonly called
the
Scipio of Florence, snatched from the royal secretary’s hand
the
shameful proposal of capitulation, and tearing it to pieces,
exclaimed:—
"Very good, sire; blow your trumpets, and we will ring our
bells."
He threw the pieces in the face of the amazed reader, and dashed
out of
the room to give the terrible order that would convert the street
of
Florence into a battlefield.
Still, against all probabilities, this
bold answer saved the town. The
French supposed, from such audacious words,
addressed as they were to
men who so far had encountered no single obstacle,
that the Florentines
were possessed of sure resources, to them unknown: the
few prudent men
who retained any influence over the king advised him
accordingly to
abate his pretensions; the result was that Charles VIII
offered new and
more reasonable conditions, which were accepted, signed by
both parties,
and proclaimed on the 26th of November during mass in the
cathedral of
Santa Maria Del Fiore.
These were the
conditions:
The Signoria were to pay to Charles VIII, as subsidy, the sum
of 120,000
florins, in three instalments;
The Signoria were to remove
the sequestration imposed upon the property
of the Medici, and to recall the
decree that set a price on their heads;
The Signoria were to engage to
pardon the Pisans, on condition of their
again submitting to the rule of
Florence;
Lastly, the Signoria were to recognise the claims of the Duke
of Milan
over Sarzano and Pietra Santa, and these claims thus recognised,
were to
be settled by arbitration.
In exchange for this, the King of
France pledged himself to restore the
fortresses that had been given up to
him, either after he had made
himself master of the town of Naples, or when
this war should be ended
by a peace or a two years’ truce, or else when, for
any reason
whatsoever, he should have quitted Italy.
Two days after
this proclamation, Charles VIII, much to the joy of the
Signoria, left
Florence, and advanced towards Rome by the route of
Poggibondi and
Siena.
The pope began to be affected by the general terror: he had heard
of the
massacres of Fivizzano, of Lunigiane, and of Imola; he knew that
Piero
dei Medici had handed over the Tuscan fortresses, that Florence
had
succumbed, and that Catherine Sforza had made terms with the
conqueror;
he saw the broken remnants of the Neapolitan troops pass
disheartened
through Rome, to rally their strength in the Abruzzi, and thus
he found
himself exposed to an enemy who was advancing upon him with the
whole of
the Romagna under his control from one sea to the other, in a line
of
march extending from Piombina to Ancona.
It was at this juncture
that Alexander VI received his answer from
Bajazet II: the reason of so long
a delay was that the pope’s envoy and
the Neapolitan ambassador had been
stopped by Gian della Rovere, the
Cardinal Giuliano’s brother, just as they
were disembarking at
Sinigaglia. They were charged with a verbal answer,
which was that the
sultan at this moment was busied with a triple war, first
with the
Sultan of Egypt, secondly with the King of Hungary, and thirdly with
the
Greeks of Macedonia and Epirus; and therefore he could not, with all
the
will in the world, help His Holiness with armed men. But the envoys
were
accompanied by a favourite of the sultan’s bearing a private letter
to
Alexander VI, in which Bajazet offered on certain conditions to help
him
with money. Although, as we see, the messengers had been stopped on
the
way, the Turkish envoy had all the same found a means of getting
his
despatch sent to the pope: we give it here in all its
naivete.
"Bajazet the Sultan, son of the Sultan Mahomet II, by the grace
of God
Emperor of Asia and Europe, to the Father and Lord of all
the
Christians, Alexander VI, Roman pontiff and pope by the will of
heavenly
Providence, first, greetings that we owe him and bestow with all
our
heart. We make known to your Highness, by the envoy of your
Mightiness,
Giorgio Bucciarda, that we have been apprised of your
convalescence, and
received the news thereof with great joy and comfort.
Among other
matters, the said Bucciarda has brought us word that the King of
France,
now marching against your Highness, has shown a desire to take under
his
protection our brother D’jem, who is now under yours—a thing which
is
not only against our will, but which would also be the cause of
great
injury to your Highness and to all Christendom. In turning the
matter
over with your envoy Giorgio we have devised a scheme most conducive
to
peace and most advantageous and honourable for your Highness; at
the
same time satisfactory to ourselves personally; it would be well if
our
aforesaid brother D’jem, who being a man is liable to death, and who
is
now in the hands of your Highness, should quit this world as soon
as
possible, seeing that his departure, a real good to him in his
position,
would be of great use to your Highness, and very conducive to
your
peace, while at the same time it would be very agreeable to us,
your
friend. If this proposition is favourably received, as we hope, by
your
Highness, in your desire to be friendly towards us, it would
be
advisable both in the interests of your Highness and for our
own
satisfaction that it should occur rather sooner than later, and by
the
surest means you might be pleased to employ; so that our said
brother
D’jem might pass from the pains of this world into a better and
more
peaceful life, where at last he may find repose. If your Highness
should
adapt this plan and send us the body of our brother, We, the
above-named
Sultan Bajazet, pledge ourselves to send to your Highness,
wheresoever
and by whatsoever hands you please, the sum of 300,000 ducats,
With
which sum you could purchase some fair domain for your children.
In
order to facilitate this purchase, we would be willing, while
awaiting
the issue, to place the 300,000 ducats in the hands of a third
party, so
that your Highness might be quite certain of receiving the money on
an
appointed day, in return for the despatch of our brother’s
body.
Moreover, we promise your Highness herewith, for your
greater
satisfaction, that never, so long as you shall remain on the
pontifical
throne, shall there be any hurt done to the Christians, neither by
us,
nor by our servants, nor by any of our compatriots, of whatsoever
kind
or condition they may be, neither on sea nor on land. And for the
still
further satisfaction of your Highness, and in order that no
doubt
whatever may remain concerning the fulfilment of our promises, we
have
sworn and affirmed in the presence of Bucciarda, your envoy, by the
true
God whom we adore and by our holy Gospels, that they shall be
faithfully
kept from the first point unto the last. And now for the final
and
complete assurance of your Highness, in order that no doubt may
still
remain in your heart, and that you may be once again and
profoundly
convinced of our good faith, we the aforesaid Sultan Bajazet do
swear by
the true God, who has created the heavens and the earth and all
that
therein is, that we will religiously observe all that has been
above
said and declared, and in the future will do nothing and
undertake
nothing that may be contrary to the interests of your
Highness.
"Given at Constantinople, in our palace, on the 12th of
September A.D. 1494." |
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