Introduction: A Fateful Misjudgment

On June 1, 1528, Odet de Foix, Lord of Lautrec, commander of the French forces besieging Naples, confidently informed an Italian ally that the recent victories of the Imperial army under Charles V were not due to courage, but mere luck. Convinced that fortune had turned against his enemies and that divine punishment awaited them, Lautreck anticipated imminent success. His assessment could not have been more mistaken. Unbeknownst to him, Andrea Doria, the Genoese admiral blockading Naples by sea, had already decided to abandon the French cause. This single decision would trigger a cascade of events permanently altering the balance of power in Italy and reinforcing the legend of Charles V’s extraordinary luck.

The Strategic Landscape of Renaissance Italy

The early 16th century witnessed a relentless struggle for dominance in the Italian Peninsula, often called the “Italian Wars.” What began in 1494 as a French invasion to claim the Kingdom of Naples evolved into a decades-long conflict involving most major European powers. By the 1520s, the primary antagonists were Francis I of France and Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and ruler of Spain, the Netherlands, and vast territories in the New World. Italy became the battlefield where these two monarchs contended for hegemony, with city-states like Genoa, Venice, and Milan serving as both pawns and prizes in their great game.

Control of Naples represented more than just another royal title—it meant command of the central Mediterranean, influence over the Papacy, and access to the riches of southern Italy. For France, holding Naples would secure their southern flank and threaten Spanish communications with Sicily and beyond. For Charles V, its retention was essential to protecting his Mediterranean domains and affirming his authority in Italy. The stage was set for a confrontation whose outcome would depend not just on armies, but on diplomacy, finance, and the loyalties of condottieri like Andrea Doria.

Andrea Doria: Admiral Between Two Masters

Andrea Doria belonged to a noble but financially diminished Genoese family. Like many Italian aristocrats of his time, he turned to military service, initially fighting for various Italian princes before offering his skills to greater powers. By the 1520s, he had become a celebrated naval commander, leading a fleet of galleys primarily in the service of France. His effectiveness at sea made him a valuable asset, yet his relationship with Francis I was fraught with tension. The French king, often distracted by other fronts and financial difficulties, sometimes failed to pay Doria promptly or show adequate respect for his contributions.

Doria’s motivations extended beyond personal grievance. As a Genoese patriot, he longed to free his city from foreign domination and restore its independence and prosperity. Since 1499, Genoa had been under French control, governed through local allies like the Fregoso family. For Doria, service to France was a means to an end—a way to accumulate influence, wealth, and naval power that might one day be turned toward liberating Genoa. Yet as French commitments in Italy wavered, Doria began to doubt whether Francis I could or would support Genoese autonomy.

Charles V’s Cunning Diplomacy

Charles V, despite his vast resources, faced immense challenges in funding simultaneous wars against France, the Ottoman Empire, and Protestant rebels in Germany. Naples was just one theater in a global struggle, and the loss of the city would have been a severe blow to his prestige and strategy. When rumors reached him that Doria might be persuaded to switch sides, the emperor acted with uncharacteristic decisiveness. He declared he would “spare no effort to convince this Andrea Doria to serve me, at any cost,” and authorized a remarkably generous treaty.

The terms offered to Doria were designed to address his every concern: appointment as imperial naval commander; full pardon for past actions against Habsburg interests; supplies, crews, and funds to maintain twelve galleys in imperial service; and recognition as “perpetual consul” of Genoa and its former territories once they were restored to imperial influence. Crucially, the treaty also granted Genoese merchants equal trading rights with Charles’s subjects, including access to the lucrative markets of the Americas. This economic incentive promised to revive Genoa’s commercial fortunes, making Doria’s defection not just a political maneuver, but a boon to his homeland.

The Collapse of the French Siege

Doria’s withdrawal from the Bay of Naples in late June 1528 had immediate and devastating consequences for the French. Imperial supply ships and reinforcements now reached the city’s defenders unimpeded, while the besieging French army, already weakened by malaria and dysentery, began to disintegrate. Lord Lautrec himself succumbed to illness, leaving his forces leaderless and demoralized. By August, the remnants of the French army retreated to Aversa, a town about twenty kilometers inland, only to find it indefensible. Facing certain defeat, the French commanders surrendered not just themselves, but agreed to relinquish all “cities, lands, castles, domains, and fortresses” under their control in Italy, effectively restoring the situation to what it had been before Lautrec’s invasion.

Doria, meanwhile, sailed north with his fleet to Genoa, entering the city in triumph on September 12, 1528. He expelled the French garrison and their local allies, particularly the Fregoso family, and reestablished Genoese independence under imperial protection. As historian Maurizio Arfaioli later noted, this double defeat for France—losing both Naples and Genoa within weeks—proved more consequential than their disaster at Pavia in 1525. Italy’s “gate and key” had slipped permanently from French grasp.

The Power of Perception: Fortuna Caesaris

Why did Doria defect? Charles V attributed it to the “shameful treatment” Doria and Genoa had received from the French king. The generous terms offered by the emperor certainly played a role, as did the economic advantages for Genoese merchants. Yet Doria himself offered a more enigmatic explanation. When questioned by a courtier in the emperor’s chambers about his sudden change of allegiance, the admiral replied that for three consecutive nights, just before dawn, he had received a vision in his dreams urging him to “serve the emperor.” He presented his decision as a matter of divine inspiration rather than calculated interest.

This explanation, whether sincere or strategic, resonated deeply in the Renaissance mindset. The concept of Fortuna Caesaris—the idea that true emperors were blessed with benevolence, patience, genius, victory, and good fortune—had roots in classical antiquity and remained influential throughout the 16th century. Luck, or the lack thereof, was widely believed to shape human affairs, and Charles V seemed uniquely favored by fate. From his unexpected inheritance of a global empire to his narrow escapes on the battlefield, the emperor’s career appeared guided by providential design.

Contemporary observers frequently commented on this phenomenon. The birth of Charles’s son, Philip, in 1527 prompted Venetian ambassador Andrea Navagero to note that the emperor’s luck had now reached its peak, since he had previously lacked an heir to secure his dynasty. Years later, another Venetian diplomat reflected that Charles’s “ship of state” had always been “piloted by favorable Fortune.” Even pragmatic statesmen like Antonio de Leyva, after the recapture of Genoa, assured Charles that “God created Your Majesty for the purpose of becoming lord of the whole world.”

Clerical Confirmations and Cosmic Order

The clergy, too, embraced this narrative of divine favor. In 1529, as Charles prepared for his coronation as Holy Roman Emperor by the Pope in Bologna, preachers across Europe hailed his successes as evidence of God’s plan. The defeat of the French in Naples, the liberation of Genoa, and the impending peace seemed to confirm that Charles was not merely a powerful monarch, but an instrument of heavenly will. This religious validation strengthened his legitimacy and helped consolidate support among devout populations, particularly in Spain and Italy.

Legacy and Long-Term Consequences

Doria’s defection and the French collapse at Naples marked a turning point in the Italian Wars. Charles V emerged as the undisputed master of Italy, with Genoa becoming a loyal ally and financial hub for his empire. The Treaty of Cambrai would formalize Spanish hegemony on the peninsula for over a century. Genoese bankers, thanks to their access to American trade, grew immensely wealthy, funding Habsburg campaigns across Europe.

For France, the loss was staggering. Francis I never again posed a serious threat to Spanish control of Naples, and French influence in Italy dwindled to a few peripheral holdings. The dream of a French-dominated peninsula, pursued by monarchs since Charles VIII, effectively died at the walls of Naples in 1528.

Andrea Doria, hailed as the “father of peace” in Genoa, ruled the republic as its elder statesman until his death in 1560. His decision to serve Charles V had achieved his goal of Genoese independence, albeit under imperial suzerainty, and secured his place in history as both an admiral and a patriot.

Conclusion: Fortune and Strategy Intertwined

The events of 1528 illustrate how individual decisions, perceived luck, and strategic calculation could converge to alter the course of history. Lautrec’s misjudgment, Doria’s defection, and Charles’s timely diplomacy combined to produce an outcome that contemporaries saw as fated, yet which relied on very human choices. The legend of Fortuna Caesaris endured because it provided a satisfying explanation for the inexplicable—why one man should rule so much of the world. Yet behind the veil of fortune lay keen intelligence, ruthless pragmatism, and a profound understanding of the passions and interests that move nations and admirals alike.