t must here be briefly indicated by what steps the art of war assumed
the character of a product of reflection. Throughout the countries of
the West the education of the individual soldier in the Middle Ages was
perfect within the limits of the then prevalent system of defence and
attack: nor was there any want of ingenious inventors in the arts of
besieging and of fortification. But the development both of strategy
and of tactics was hindered by the character and duration of military
service, and by the ambition of the nobles, who disputed questions of
precedence in the face of the enemy, and through simple want of
discipline caused the loss of great battles like Crecy and Maupertuis.
Italy, on the contrary, was the first country to adopt the system of
mercenary troops, which demanded a wholly different organization; and
the early intro- duction of firearms did its part in making war a
democratic pursuit, not only because the strongest castles were unable
to withstand a bombardment, but because the skill of the engineer, of
the gunfounder, and of the artillerist-- men belonging to another class
than the nobility--was now of the first importance in a campaign. It
was felt, with regret, that the value of the individual, which had been
the soul of the small and admirably organized bands of mercenaries,
would suffer from these novel means of destruction, which did their
work at a distance; and there were Condottieri who opposed to the
utmost the introduction at least of the musket, which had lately been
invented in Germany. We read that Paolo Vitelli, while recognizing and
himself adopting the cannon, put out the eyes and cut off the hands of
the captured 'schioppettieri' (arquebusiers) because he held it
unworthy that a gallant, and it might be noble, knight should be
wounded and laid low by a common, despised foot soldier. On the whole,
however, the new discoveries were accepted and turned to useful
account, till the Italians became the teachers of all Europe, both in
the build- ing of fortifications and in the means of attacking them.
Princes like Federigo of Urbino and Alfonso of Ferrara acquired a
mastery of the subject compared to which the knowledge even of
Maximilian I appears superficial. In Italy, earlier than elsewhere,
there existed a comprehensive science and art of military affairs;
here, for the first time, that impartial delight is taken in able
generalship for its own sake, which might, indeed, be expected from the
frequent change of party and from the wholly unsentimental mode of
action of the Condottieri. During the Milano-Venetian war of 1451 and
1452, between Francesco Sforza and Jacopo Piccinino, the headquarters
of the latter were attended by the scholar Gian Antonio Porcellio dei
Pandoni, commissioned by Alfonso of Naples to write a report of the
campaign. It is written, not in the purest, but in a fluent Latin, a
little too much in the style of the humanistic bombast of the day, is
modelled on Caesar's Commentaries, and interspersed with speeches,
prodigies, and the like. Since for the past hundred years it had been
seriously disputed whether Scipio Africanus or Hannibal was the
greater, Piccinino through the whole book must needs be called Scipio
and Sforza Hannibal. But something positive had to be reported too
respecting the Milanese army; the sophist presented himself to Sforza,
was led along the ranks, praised highly all that he saw, and promised
to hand it down to posterity. Apart from him the Italian literature of
the day is rich in descriptions of wars and strategic devices, written
for the use of educated men in general as well as of specialists, while
the contemporary narratives of northerners, such as the 'Burgundian
War' by Diebold Schilling, still retain the shapelessness and matter-of-fact
dryness of a mere chronicle. The greatest dilettante who has
ever treated in that character of military affairs, Machiavelli, was
then busy writing his 'Arte della Guerra.' But the development of the
individual soldier found its most complete expression in those public
and solemn conflicts between one or more pairs of combatants which were
practiced long before the famous 'Challenge of Barletta' (1503). The
victor was assured of the praises of poets and scholars, which were
denied to the northern warrior. The result of these combats was no
longer regarded as a Divine judgement, but as a triumph of personal
merit, and to the minds of the spectators seemed to be both the
decision of an exciting competition and a satisfaction for the honour
of the army or the nation.
It is obvious that this purely rational treatment of warlike affairs
allowed, under certain circumstances, of the worst atrocities, even in
the absence of a strong political hatred, as, for instance, when the
plunder of a city had been promised to the troops. After the forty
days' devastation of Piacenza, which Sforza was compelled to permit to
his soldiers (1477), the town long stood empty, and at last had to be
peopled by force. Yet outrages like these were nothing compared with
the misery which was afterwards brought upon Italy by foreign troops,
and most of all by the Spaniards, in whom perhaps a touch of oriental
blood, perhaps familiarity with the spectacles of the Inquisition, had
unloosed the devilish element of human nature. After seeing them at
work at Prato, Rome, and elsewhere, it is not easy to take any interest
of the higher sort in Ferdinand the Catholic and Charles V who knew
what these hordes were, and yet unchained them. The mass of documents
which are gradually brought to light from the cabinets of these rulers
will always remain an important source of historical information; but
from such men no fruitful political conception can be looked for.