[1] Those who are curious to trace the history of the origin of syphilis, should study the article upon the subject in Von Hirsch, Historisch-geographische Pathologie (Erlangen, 1860), and in Rosenbaum Geschichte der Lustseuche im Alterthum (Halle, 1845).  Some curious contemporary observations concerning the rapid diffusion of the disease in Italy, its symptoms, and its cure, are contained in Matarazzo’s Cronaca di Perugia (Arch.  Stor.  It. vol. xvi. part ii. pp. 32-36), and in Portovenere (Arch.  St. vol. vi. pt. ii. p. 338).  The celebrated poem of Fracastorius deserves to be read both for its fine Latinity and for its information.  One of the earliest works issued from the Aldine press in 1497 was the Libellus de Epidemia quam vulgo morbum Gallicum vocant.  It was written by Nicolas Leoniceno, and dedicated to the Count Francesco de la Mirandola.

The kingdom of Naples, through the frequent uncertainty which attended the succession to the throne, as well as the suzerainty assumed and misused by the Popes, had been for centuries a standing cause of discord in Italy.  The dynasty which Charles now hoped to dispossess was Spanish.  After the death of Joanna II. in 1435, Alfonso, King of Aragon and Sicily, who had no claim to the crown beyond what he derived through a bastard branch of the old Norman dynasty, conquered Naples, expelled Count Rene of Anjou, and established himself in this new kingdom, which he preferred to those he had inherited by right.  Alfonso, surnamed the Magnanimous, was one of the most brilliant and romantic personages of the fifteenth century.  Historians are never weary of relating his victories over Caldora and Francesco Sforza, the coup-de-main by which he expelled his rival Rene, and the fascination which he exercised in Milan, while a captive, over the jealous spirit of Filippo Maria Visconti.[1] Scholars are no less profuse in their praises of his virtues, the justice, humanity, religion, generosity, and culture which rendered him pre-eminent among the princes of that splendid period.[2] His love of learning was a passion.  Whether at home in the retirement of his palace, or in his tent during war, he was always attended by students, who read aloud and commented on Livy, Seneca, or the Bible.  No prince was more profuse in his presents to learned men.  Bartolommeo Fazio received 500 ducats a year for the composition of his histories, and when, at their conclusion, the scholar asked for a further gift of 200 or 300 florins, the prince bestowed upon him 1,500.  The year he died, Alfonso distributed 20,000 ducats to men of letters alone.  This immoderate liberality is the only vice of which he is accused.  It bore its usual fruits in the disorganization of finance.