Italy in the Seventeenth Century

Domenico Sella

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN: 9781138153776
• eBook ISBN: 9781317900733
• Topic: Storia
• Subtopic: Primordi della storia moderna

In his comprehensive overview of 17th century Italy, Professor Sella challenges the old view that Italy was in general decline, instead he shows it to have been a time of sharp contrasts and shifts in fortune. He starts with a balanced and critical analysis of political developments (placing the Italian states in their wider European context) before assessing the state of the economy. He then looks in depth at society, religion, and culture and science and in particular reassesses the influence of the Counter Reformation on Italian life. His book ends with an engrossing account of the life and work of Galileo as well as an overview of the important and often neglected contributions made by other scientists in the later part of the century. This rich and balanced volume is an ideal introduction to early modern Italy, and provides a critical revaluation of a much misunderstood period in the country's history.

CHAPTER ONE
The system of Italian states

From 1559, the year of the Peace of Cateau Cambresis between France and Spain, to the end of the centuiy Italy enjoyed an exceptionally long period of peace, a period that stands in sharp contrast to the previous half century when the country had been turned into a battlefield on which the two major European powers had fought for supremacy. Cateau Cambresis had not only restored peace and stability to a ravaged land and ushered in four decades of economic prosperity, it had also sealed the hegemony of Spain over Italy and had shaped the political map in a way that was to remain basically unchanged for the next 150 years.¹

On that map Spanish possessions loomed the largest: over roughly the southern half of the peninsula (the Kingdom of Naples which the French kings had hoped to make their own earlier in the century) flew the standard of His Catholic Majesty who also held the island Kingdoms of Sicily and Sardinia; in the north the State of Milan too was under direct Spanish rule and represented, despite its relatively small size, a strategically vital component of the Spanish monarchy in that it guarded the access to Italy against any future French attempt at meddling in Italian affairs, besides providing an essential link between the dominions of the two branches of the Habsburg dynasty the Spanish and the Austrian. The rest of the peninsula formed a mosaic of independent states: the Papal States stretching from Rome to the northern Adriatic (and, since 1598, to Ferrara), the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the Venetian Republic with its dependencies on the Dalmatian coast, and the Duchy of Savoy seated astride the Alps and extending from Nice in the south to the shores of Lake Geneva in the north. The fragmentation of the political map was at its highest in an area roughly extending from Nice to the Adriatic and comprising the Marquisats of Saluzzo (contested by France and Savoy) and of Monferrato (then a possession of the dukes of Mantua), the Republic of Genoa, and the small Duchies of Parma, Modena and Mantua. Lastly, three other diminutive states - the Duchies of Urbino and of Castro in the Papal States and the Republic of Lucca - added to the bewildering complexity of the political map.

With roughly one half of the land under its direct rule and with the resources of its vast empire to back its policies, the Spanish monarchy was obviously in a position where it could make its influence felt on most Italian states, all the more easily so as some of them, although formally independent, were, in fact, beholden to Spain. One such state was Tuscany whose ruling dynasty (the Medici) originally owed its crown, to a large extent, to Habsburg largesse; besides, its Spanish patrons held five garrison towns along the Tuscan coast (the so-called Stato dei Presidi) from which Spanish forces could stage, if need be, a rapid military intervention. The duke of Savoy, whose dominions had been overrun by French forces in the early part of the century, had recovered them in 1559 in the wake of Habsburg victory and could hardly ignore the importance of Spanish support as a safeguard against future French claims. As for the Papacy it had little choice, in the face of the rise of Protestantism and as long as the religious future of France was in doubt, but to rely on the Habsburgs (both Spanish and Austrian) for the defence of the Catholic cause. Lastly, the fortunes of the Republic of Genoa, whose bankers were lending prodigious amounts of money to the Spanish government, were inextricably tied to those of their client.

It would be wrong to assume that the direct or indirect rule of Spain over much of the peninsula was necessarily perceived as an intolerable burden by Italians at the time. To be sure, at the beginning of the seventeenth century a few writers (Alessandro Tassoni, Traiano Boccalini, Fulvio Testi) denounced Spain as the source of all evils and called for all Italian states to join in a league in defence of Italian 'liberty'. Theirs, however, were isolated voices inspired more by nostalgia for a glorious but distant past than by a realistic assessment of present geopolitical conditions.² Most people no doubt accepted the Spanish presence as part of the normal order of things or as a 'lesser evil' (to use Tommaso Campanella's words) compared to the horrors of the first half of the century when Italy had been devastated by the Franco-Spanish contest.³ Other views were even more favourable: Spain was sometimes praised as the guardian of the 'tranquillity of Italy' (quiete d'Italia): 'Italy', wrote the historian and political writer Scipione Ammirato in 1594 as he reflected on the calm and prosperity of the past forty years, 'has not felt as oppressed [by Spanish rule] as had been feared, but for many years now has enjoyed greater happiness than ever before'.⁴ It was a feeling, one might add, that was likely shared, in the regions under direct Spanish rule, by the social elites (whether feudal nobility or urban patriciates) inasmuch as Spain, as will be seen, made it a point to respect their privileged status and left them in nearly complete control of local affairs.⁵

The End of Pax Hispanica

Peace and prosperity, however, were soon to come to an end. The new century ushered in a period of nearly sixty years during which war returned to the peninsula and brought back, in some areas, the instability and the devastations of the early sixteenth century. One main reason for this dramatic change was the revival of France as a great power after the wars of religion had come to a close in that country in 1598. Predictably, this meant that the two old rivals - France and Spain - would resume their contest for supremacy in Europe and that Italy would be, once again, one of the battlegrounds where the two powers would confront each other. It also meant that individual Italian states with a grudge or a claim against a neighbour might feel tempted to break the peace and to settle old scores by enlisting the support of one of the two superpowers. An early omen of things to come was provided by Piedmont-Savoy, then under the leadership of the ambitious, restless and somewhat reckless Duke Carlo Emanuele I (1580-1630). As early as 1588, taking advantage of the fact that France was in the throes of religious war, he had annexed the Marquisat of Saluzzo, the French enclave on the Italian side of the Alps that threatened the very heart of the duke's possessions in Piedmont. A war with France had followed with military operations unfolding mainly in Provence and Savoy rather than on Italian soil. After 1593, however, a revitalized France under the new Bourbon king Henry IV was able to contain the Savoyard forces and to demand that Carlo Emanuele restore Saluzzo to France (1598). As the duke refused, Henry IV marched his army into Savoy and occupied most of it (1600). In the event, papal mediation was able to arrange a compromise whereby Carlo Emanuele kept Saluzzo, but surrendered two small provinces on the French side of the Alps (Treaty of Lyons, 1601) - a trade-off that represented a success for the duke of Savoy in that, to use his own words, 'with Saluzzo in our hands, we make it difficult for the French to march into Italy'.⁶ Having thus eliminated, at a relatively small cost, a French salient in Piedmont, Carlo Emanuele drew closer to France and engaged in negotiations with other Italian states for the formation of a coalition or league which, with French support, would aim at driving the Spaniards out of north Italy: if successful, the ambitious plan would have enabled the duke of Savoy to annex a good portion of the neighbouring State of Milan. A formal treaty to that effect was signed with France at Bruzolo in 1609, but nothing came of it owing to Henry IV's assassination the following year. As for the Italian states whose help Carlo Emanuele had hoped to enlist against Spain, they quickly lost interest in his grand plan: whatever they may have thought of 'the liberty of Italy', they were highly suspicious of Carlo Emanuele's intention to expand into the State of Milan, for this would have substantially altered the balance of power in north Italy, an outcome no one cherished. As was said at the time, the several Italian rulers 'want an equal, not a superior' next door.⁷ Nor did Carlo Emanuele do anything to assuage those suspicions: in 1608 he had married off his daughter Margherita to Francesco II Gonzaga, duke of Mantua and marquis of Monferrato, in the hope that the marriage might establish some future claim, if not to the entire Gonzaga inheritance, at least to Monferrato, a very small province, to be sure, but one that lay right in the middle of the duke of Savoy's Italian possessions. And in fact, when Francesco II died in 1612 without issue, Carlo Emanuele rushed to claim Monferrato for himself and, having received a polite refusal from the late duke's brother and heir, Ferdinando Gonzaga, in the spring of 1613 marched his army into Monferrato and easily conquered three of its major strongholds.

Predictably, his brutal aggression triggered a strong reaction: Spanish forces, supported by Austria, attacked from the State of Milan and managed to score some significant successes in Monferrato and to conquer the stronghold of Vercelli in northeastern Piedmont; Venice and Florence offered financial support to the beleaguered duke of Mantua; France itself (by now in a pro-Spanish mood under the regency of Henry's widow, Marie de' Medici) opened a second front on Carlo Emanuele's western flank. Between 1613 and 1617 war raged inconclusively all around Piedmont: two ceasefires mediated by the Papacy in 1614 and 1615 were broken as soon as they had been agreed on; on the battlefield Carlo Emanuele was able, if not to defeat his enemies, at least to hold his ground and to prove that his forces could stand up to those of Spain and its allies. In the end a stalemate was reached and both the Venetian Republic and France managed to persuade the duke of Savoy to surrender whatever land he had seized in Monferrato in return for Spain withdrawing from Vercelli. With this compromise, reluctantly accepted by Carlo Emanuele, the war over Monferrato - the first major war fought on Italian soil since the settlement of 1559 - was brought to a close and Carlo Emanuele's ambitious plans for expansion were laid to rest, or so it seemed at the time.

Italy and the Thirty Years War

In 1618 the outbreak in Bohemia of what would one day be known as the Thirty Years War presented the restless duke with a fresh opportunity to resume his drive for aggrandisement and for getting even with the countries that had done so much to thwart his earlier plans, namely Spain and Austria. Accordingly, as soon as revolt broke out in Prague he dispatched 2,000 troops to assist the rebels and offered himself as a candidate to the elective crown of Bohemia. As his offer was ignored, he abandoned the rebels' cause and drew closer to the Austrian emperor, going so far as to offer him (in vain as it turned out) military support - an about-face that earned him at the time the unflattering epithet of 'chameleon'.⁸

The outbreak of the Thirty Years War impacted another small area in north Italy, namely the Valtelline, a narrow, rugged valley under the overlordship of the Grisons (but in fact largely autonomous) that ran from the northern tip of Lake Como to the Alpine pass of Spluga and thus provided a crucial link between the Spanish possessions in north Italy (the State of Milan) and the lands of the Austrian emperor and, beyond them, the Rhineland. The obvious strategic importance of the Valtelline was further enhanced in 1621 when war resumed in the Netherlands between Spain and the Dutch rebels: since the Atlantic sealanes had been virtually closed by the unremitting attacks of English and Dutch mariners, all Spanish troops and supplies intended for the Netherlands had to be funnelled through the Valtelline and the Rhineland if they were to reach their destination at all.⁹ Whether this could be done or not ultimately depended on the goodwill of the Protestant Grisons, but with war in Germany pitting Catholics against Protestants such goodwill could hardly be expected. The Catholic population of the Valtelline, on its part, was inclined to support the Habsburg cause; as a result, clashes broke out between the two religious groups. After the Protestants attempted to crush Catholic opposition in the valley in 1619 the Catholics, prodded by the Spanish governor of Milan, responded by resorting to armed insurrection against their Protestant overlords, killing hundreds of them in what came to be known as the 'holy slaughter' (sacro macello) of 1620 and opening their gates to Spanish forces. Two years later the governor of Milan marched his troops from the Valtelline all the way to Chur, the Grison capital, and forced its government to renounce all claims on the contested valley.

The Spanish occupation of the Valtelline was viewed as an alarming development by the Venetian Republic which had traditionally recruited mercenary troops in the Grisons and would not be able to do so as long as Spanish forces controlled the Valtelline. It was viewed with no less apprehension by France, for it greatly strengthened the position of its traditional enemy in north Italy. In 1620', however, neither Venice, still recovering from a short but costly war with Austria, nor France, faced as it was with a Huguenot uprising at home, could do anything to oppose the Spanish takeover. Only after order had been restored at home did France take the initiative of forming a coalition with Venice and Savoy against Spain. The latter responded in 1623 by offering a compromise: her troops would pull out of the valley and would be replaced by a papal garrison pending a final resolution of the whole issue. Three years later, secret negotiations between Richelieu and Olivares, the prime ministers of France and Spain respectively, led to the Treaty of Moncon whereby, unbeknownst to the Papacy and the other Italian states, the Valtelline was handed back to the Grisons, but with the stipulation that it would be demilitarized and that Catholics living in the valley would enjoy complete freedom of religion.

The dust had hardly settled in the Valtelline when Monferrato moved once again into the limelight. There were (wo reasons for this development: one was the impending extinction of the ruling house of Mantua and Monferrato as Duke Ferdinando Gonzaga died without male issue in 1626 and was succeeded by his ageing brother Vincenzo, himself with no children and no prospect of having any. Carlo Emanuele, needless to say, was only too ready to step forward with a claim to a share of the Gonzaga inheritance (the long-coveted Monferrato) on behalf of Mary, the daughter of the late duke and of Margaret of Savoy. His plans, however, were firmly resisted in Mantua by Duke Vincenzo who was determined to pass on all his dominions intact to Charles Gonzaga-Nevers, duke of Rethel, the scion of a collateral branch of the ducal family that had settled in France in 1549 and had achieved enormous wealth and considerable prominence there. To ensure a smooth transition while at the same time making his intentions unmistakeably clear, Duke Vincenzo had invited Nevers to take up residence in Mantua in 1625, there to be groomed for his future role as head of the Gonzaga state.

The looming conflict between the duke of Savoy and the duke of Nevers could have been nothing more than a local squabble between two Italian princelings were it not for the fact that, with war raging in Europe and with France increasingly stoking the fires of opposition to the two Habsburg monarchies, neither Spain nor Austria were prepared to tolerate, in the very heart of north Italy, a ruler who was notoriously a protégé of France. Under these circumstances the interests of Spain and of Savoy coincided, and in 1627 the two governments agreed to cooperate in preventing Nevers from succeeding to the throne of Mantua: the next duke would be a member of a collateral branch of the family, the Gonzaga-Guastalla who were friendly to Spain; as for Monferrato, it would be partitioned between Spain and Savoy.

Upon the death of the old duke in 1627 the plan was set in motion: Savoyard troops invaded much of Monferrato in spite of the heroic resistance of the local forces, while Spanish troops from Milan laid siege to, but failed to conquer, Casale, the major stronghold in the region. As for Mantua, Spain's plans to instal a new duke of its choosing were blocked, ironically enough, by the Austrian emperor who reserved to himself the right of deciding the succession to a duchy that was, after all, an imperial fief. In 1628 the military situation was further complicated by the intervention of the French army and at once the whole issue of the Gonzaga succession took on a broader European dimension. Cardinal Richelieu, from the start, had watched developments in north Italy with growing concern, but had been unable to intervene as he was confronted with the Huguenot uprising at La Rochelle. He clearly sensed, however, that sooner or later France must support the duke of Nevers: Mantua and Monferrato in friendly hands would give France a strategic advantage over its enemies, for in that event the State of Milan would be caught between Mantua to the east and Monferrato to the west, and the Spanish supply lines running through it could be severed. In this way 'French hegemony in Italy would replace Spain's and Francis I's old dream would become reality'.¹⁰

As soon as order was restored at home a French army marched into Piedmont and conquered the town of Susa, 50 km west of the capital Turin, while Mantuan forces under the duke of Nevers opened a second front against the Spaniards in southern Lombardy. At that point, however, Carlo Emanuele did not hesitate to switch sides once again and to come to terms with France: in return for keeping portions of Monferrato (notably the towns of Alba and Trino), he put pressure on Spain to raise the siege of Casale; on its part, France twisted Nevers's arm so that he would gracefully consent to the loss of portions of Monferrato to the duke of Savoy.

Calm had thus apparently been restored when, in the spring of 1629, an imperial army of 30,000 foot and 6,000 horse descended into north Italy. Its goal was to take Mantua from the duke of Nevers. At the same time Spanish troops resumed the siege of Casale, now defended by a French garrison, ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Abbreviations
• Dedication
• Preface
• Map: The Italian states in the seventeenth century
• Chapter One The system of Italian states
• Chapter Two The economy
• Chapter Three Society
• Chapter Four Religion
• Chapter Five Church and state
• Chapter Six Culture
• Chapter Seven Science
• Appendix: Tables of succession
• Index