History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic by William Hickling Prescott Vol 3
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Title: The History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella The Catholic, V3

Author: William H. Prescott

Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6968]

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- START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FERDINAND AND ISABELLA, VOL. 3 ***

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HISTORY OF THE REIGN OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA, THE CATHOLIC.

BY

WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME III.

PART SECOND. [CONTINUED.]

CHAPTER X

ITALIAN WARS.—PARTITION OF NAPLES.—GONSALVO OVERRUNS CALABRIA.

LOUIS XII.‘S DESIGNS ON ITALY

POLITICS OF THAT COUNTRY

THE FRENCH CONQUER MILAN

ALARM OF THE SPANISH COURT

REMONSTRANCE TO THE POPE

BOLDNESS OF GARCILASSO DE LA VEGA

NEGOTIATIONS WITH VENICE AND THE EMPEROR

LOUIS OPENLY MENACES NAPLES

VIEWS OF FERDINAND

FLEET FITTED OUT UNDER GONSALVO DE CORDOVA PARTITION OF NAPLES

GROUND OF FERDINAND’S CLAIM

GONSALVO SAILS AGAINST THE TURKS

STORMING OF ST. GEORGE

HONORS PAID TO GONSALVO

THE POPE CONFIRMS THE PARTITION

ASTONISHMENT OF ITALY

SUCCESS AND CRUELTIES OF THE FRENCH

FATE OF FREDERIC

GONSALVO INVADES CALABRIA

INVESTS TARENTO

DISCONTENTS IN THE ARMY

MUNIFICENCE OF GONSALVO

HE PUNISHES A MUTINY

BOLDER PLAN OF ATTACK

TARENTO SURRENDERS

PERJURY OF GONSALVO

CHAPTER XI.

ITALIAN WARS.—RUPTURE WITH FRANCE.—GONSALVO BESIEGED IN BARLETA.

MUTUAL DISTRUST OF THE FRENCH AND SPANIARDS

CAUSE OF RUPTURE

THE FRENCH BEGIN HOSTILITIES

THE ITALIANS FAVOR THEM

THE FRENCH ARMY

INFERIORITY OF THE SPANIARDS

GONSALVO RETIRES TO BARLETA

SIEGE OF CANOSA

CHIVALROUS CHARACTER OF THE WAR

TOURNAMENT NEAR TRANI

DUEL BETWEEN BAYARD AND SOTOMAYOR

DISTRESS OF THE SPANIARDS

SPIRIT OF GONSALVO

THE FRENCH REDUCE CALABRIA

CONSTANCY OF THE SPANIARDS

NEMOURS DEFIES THE SPANIARDS

ROUT OF THE FRENCH REAR-GUARD

ARRIVAL OF SUPPLIES

DESIGN ON RUVO

GONSALVO STORMS AND TAKES IT

HIS TREATMENT OF THE PRISONERS

PREPARES TO LEAVE BARLETA

CHAPTER XII.

ITALIAN WARS.—NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRANCE.—VICTORY OF CERIGNOLA.—

SURRENDER OF NAPLES.

BIRTH OF CHARLES V

PHILIP AND JOANNA VISIT SPAIN

RECOGNIZED BY CORTES

PHILIP’S DISCONTENT

LEAVES SPAIN FOR FRANCE

NEGOTIATES A TREATY WITH LOUIS XII

TREATY OF LYONS

THE GREAT CAPTAIN REFUSES TO COMPLY WITH IT

MARCHES OUT OF BARLETA

DISTRESS OF THE TROOPS

ENCAMPS BEFORE CERIGNOLA

NEMOURS PURSUES

THE SPANISH FORCES

THE FRENCH FORCES

BATTLE OF CERIGNOLA

DEATH OF NEMOURS

ROUT OF THE FRENCH

THEIR LOSS

PURSUIT OF THE ENEMY

D’AUBIGNY DEFEATED

SUBMISSION OF NAPLES

TRIUMPHANT ENTRY OF GONSALVO

FORTRESSES OF NAPLES

CASTEL NUOVO STORMED

NEARLY ALL THE KINGDOM REDUCED

CHAPTER XIII.

NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRANCE—UNSUCCESSFUL INVASION OF SPAIN.—TRUCE.

TREATY OF LYONS

REJECTED BY FERDINAND

HIS POLICY EXAMINED

JOANNA’S DESPONDENCY

FIRST SYMPTOMS OF HER INSANITY

THE QUEEN HASTENS TO HER

ISABELLA’S DISTRESS

HER ILLNESS AND FORTITUDE

THE FRENCH INVADE SPAIN

SIEGE OF SALSAS

ISABELLA’S EXERTIONS

FERDINAND’S SUCCESSES

TRUCE WITH FRANCE

REFLECTIONS ON THE CAMPAIGN

IMPEDIMENTS TO HISTORIC ACCURACY

SPECULATIVE WRITERS

CHAPTER XIV.

ITALIAN WARS.—CONDITION OF ITALY.—FRENCH AND SPANISH ARMIES ON THE

GARIGLIANO.

MELANCHOLY CONDITION OF ITALY

VIEWS OF THE ITALIAN STATES

OF THE EMPEROR

GREAT PREPARATIONS OF LOUIS XII

DEATH OF ALEXANDER VI

ELECTIONEERING INTRIGUES

JULIUS II

GONSALVO REPULSED BEFORE GAETA

STRENGTH OF HIS FORCES

OCCUPIES SAN GERMANO

THE FRENCH ENCAMP ON THE GARIGLIANO

PASSAGE OF THE BRIDGE

DESPERATE RESISTANCE

THE FRENCH RESUME THEIR QUARTERS

ANXIOUS EXPECTATION OF ITALY

GONSALVO STRENGTHENS HIS POSITION

GREAT DISTRESS OF THE ARMY

GONSALVO’S RESOLUTION

REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF IT

PATIENCE OF THE SPANIARDS

SITUATION OF THE FRENCH

THEIR INSUBORDINATION

SALUZZO TAKES THE COMMAND

HEROISM OF PAREDES AND BAYARD

CHAPTER XV.

ITALIAN WARS.—ROUT OF THE GARIGLIANO.—TREATY WITH FRANCE.—GONSALVO’S

MILITARY CONDUCT.

GONSALVO SECURES THE ORSINI

ASSUMES THE OFFENSIVE

PLAN OF ATTACK

CONSTERNATION OF THE FRENCH

THEY RETREAT ON GAETA

ACTION AT THE BRIDGE OF MOLA

HOTLY CONTESTED

ARRIVAL OF THE SPANISH REAR

THE FRENCH ROUTED

THEIR LOSS

GALLANTRY OF THEIR CHIVALRY

CAPITULATION OF GAETA

GONSALVO’S COURTESY

CHAGRIN OF LOUIS XII

SUFFERINGS OF THE FRENCH

THE SPANIARDS OCCUPY GAETA

PUBLIC ENTHUSIASM EXTORTIONS OF THE SPANISH TROOPS

GONSALVO’S LIBERALITY TO HIS OFFICERS

APPREHENSIONS OF LOUIS XII

TREATY WITH FRANCE

GALLANTRY OF LOUIS D’ARS

CAUSES OF THE FRENCH FAILURES

REVIEW OF GONSALVO’S CONDUCT

HIS REFORM OF THE SERVICE

INFLUENCE OVER THE ARMY

HIS CONFIDENCE IN THEIR CHARACTER

POSITION OF THE ARMY

RESULTS OF THE CAMPAIGNS

MEMOIRS OF GONSALVO DE CORDOVA

FRENCH CHRONICLES

CHAPTER XVI.

ILLNESS AND DEATH OF ISABELLA.—HER CHARACTER.

DECLINE OF THE QUEEN’S HEALTH

MAD CONDUCT OF JOANNA

THE QUEEN SEIZED WITH A FEVER

RETAINS HER ENERGIES

ALARM OF THE NATION

HER TESTAMENT

SETTLES THE SUCCESSION

FERDINAND NAMED REGENT

PROVISION FOR HIM

HER CODICIL

SHE FAILS RAPIDLY

HER RESIGNATION AND DEATH

HER REMAINS TRANSPORTED TO GRANADA

LAID IN THE ALHAMBRA

ISABELLA’S PERSON

HER MANNERS

HER MAGNANIMITY

HER PIETY

HER BIGOTRY

COMMON TO HER AGE

AND LATER TIMES

HER STRENGTH OF PRINCIPLE

HER PRACTICAL SENSE

HER UNWEARIED ACTIVITY

HER COURAGE

HER SENSIBILITY

PARALLEL WITH QUEEN ELIZABETH

UNIVERSAL HOMAGE TO HER VIRTUES

CHAPTER XVII.

FERDINAND REGENT.—HIS SECOND MARRIAGE.—DISSENSIONS WITH PHILIP.—

RESIGNATION OF THE REGENCY.

PHILIP AND JOANNA PROCLAIMED

DISCONTENT OF THE NOBLES

DON JUAN MANUEL

PHILIP’S PRETENSIONS

HIS PARTY INCREASES

HE TAMPERS WITH GONSALVO DE CORDOVA

FERDINAND’S PERPLEXITIES

PROPOSALS FOR A SECOND MARRIAGE

POLICY OF LOUIS XII

TREATY WITH FRANCE

ITS IMPOLICY

CONCORD OR SALAMANCA

PHILIP AND JOANNA EMBARK

REACH CORUNA

PHILIP JOINED BY THE NOBLES

HIS CHARACTER

FERDINAND UNPOPULAR

INTERVIEW WITH PHILIP

COURTEOUS DEPORTMENT OF FERDINAND

PHILIP’S DISTRUST

FERDINAND RESIGNS THE REGENCY

HIS PRIVATE PROTEST

HIS MOTIVES

SECOND INTERVIEW

DEPARTURE OF FERDINAND

AUTHORITIES FOR THE ACCOUNT OF PHILIP

CHAPTER XVIII.

COLUMBUS.—HIS RETURN TO SPAIN.—HIS DEATH.

COLUMBUS’S LAST VOYAGE

HE LEARNS ISABELLA’S DEATH

HIS ILLNESS

HE VISITS THE COURT

FERDINAND’S UNJUST TREATMENT OF HIM

HE DECLINES IN HEALTH AND SPIRITS

HIS DEATH

HIS PERSON AND HABITS

HIS ENTHUSIASM

HIS LOFTY CHARACTER

CHAPTER XIX.

REIGN AND DEATH OF PHILIP I.—PROCEEDINGS IN CASTILE.—FERDINAND VISITS

NAPLES.

PHILIP AND JOANNA

PHILIP’S ARBITRARY GOVERNMENT

RECKLESS EXTRAVAGANCE

TROUBLES FROM THE INQUISITION

FERDINAND’S DISTRUST OF GONSALVO

HE SAILS FOR NAPLES

GONSALVO’S LOYALTY

DEATH OF PHILIP

HIS CHARACTER

PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT

JOANNA’S CONDITION

CONVOCATION OF CORTES

FERDINAND RECEIVED WITH ENTHUSIASM

HIS ENTRY INTO NAPLES

RESTORES THE ANGEVINS

GENERAL DISSATISFACTION

CHAPTER XX.

FERDINAND’S RETURN AND REGENCY.—GONSALVO’S HONORS AND RETIREMENT.

MEETING OF CORTES

JOANNA’S INSANE CONDUCT

SHE CHANGES HER MINISTERS

DISORDERLY STATE OF CASTILE

DISTRESS OF THE KINGDOM

FERDINAND’S POLITIC BEHAVIOR

HE LEAVES NAPLES

GONSALVO DE CORDOVA

GRIEF OF THE NEAPOLITANS

BRILLIANT INTERVIEW OF FERDINAND AND LOUIS

COMPLIMENTS TO GONSALVO

THE KING’S RECEPTION IN CASTILE

JOANNA’S RETIREMENT

IRREGULARITY OF FERDINAND’S PROCEEDINGS

GENERAL AMNESTY

HE ESTABLISHES A GUARD

HIS EXCESSIVE SEVERITY

DISGUST OF THE NOBLES

GONSALVO’S PROGRESS THROUGH THE COUNTRY

FERDINAND BREAKS HIS WORD

THE QUEEN’S COOLNESS

GONSALVO WITHDRAWS FROM COURT

SPLENDOR OF HIS RETIREMENT

CHAPTER XXI.

XIMENES.—CONQUESTS IN AFRICA.—UNIVERSITY OF ALCALA—POLYGLOT BIBLE.

POLICY OF FERDINAND’S SEVERITY

ENTHUSIASM OF XIMENES

HIS DESIGNS AGAINST ORAN

HIS WARLIKE PREPARATIONS

HIS PERSEVERANCE

SENDS AN ARMY TO AFRICA

ADDRESSES THE TROOPS

THE COMMAND LEFT TO NAVARRO

BATTLE BEFORE ORAN

THE CITY STORMED

MOORISH LOSS

XIMENES ENTERS ORAN

OPPOSITION OF HIS GENERAL

HIS DISTRUST OF FERDINAND

XIMENES RETURNS TO SPAIN

REFUSES PUBLIC HONORS

NAVARRO’S AFRICAN CONQUESTS

COLLEGE OF XIMENES AT ALCALA

ITS MAGNIFICENCE

PROVISIONS FOR EDUCATION

THE KING VISITS THE UNIVERSITY

POLYGLOT EDITION OF THE BIBLE

DIFFICULTIES OF THE TASK

GRAND PROJECTS OF XIMENES

CHAPTER XXII.

WARS AND POLITICS OF ITALY.

PROJECTS AGAINST VENICE

LEAGUE OF CAMBRAY

ITS ORIGIN

LOUIS XII. INVADES ITALY 01

RESOLUTION OF VENICE

ALARM OF FERDINAND

INVESTITURE OF NAPLES

HOLY LEAGUE

GASTON DE FOIX

BATTLE OF RAVENNA

DEATH OF GASTON DE FOIX

HIS CHARACTER

THE FRENCH RETREAT

VENICE DISGUSTED

BATTLE OF NOVARA

OF LA MOTTA

THE SPANIARDS VICTORIOUS

DARU’S “HISTOIRE DE VENISE”

CHAPTER XXIII.

CONQUEST OF NAVARRE.

SOVEREIGNS OF NAVARRE

DISTRUST OF SPAIN

NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRANCE

FERDINAND DEMANDS A PASSAGE

NAVARRE ALLIED TO FRANCE

INVADED BY ALVA

AND CONQUERED

CHARACTER OF JEAN D’ALBRET

DISCONTENT OF THE ENGLISH

DISCOMFITURE OF THE FRENCH

TREATY OF ORTHES

FERDINAND SETTLES HIS CONQUESTS

UNITED WITH CASTILE

THE KING’S CONDUCT EXAMINED

RIGHT OF PASSAGE

IMPRUDENCE OF NAVARRE

IT AUTHORIZES WAR

GROSS ABUSE OF VICTORY

AUTHORITIES FOR THE HISTORY OF NAVARRE

CHAPTER XXIV.

DEATH OF GONSALVO DE CORDOVA.—ILLNESS AND DEATH OF FERDINAND.—HIS

CHARACTER.

MAXIMILIAN’S PRETENSIONS

GONSALVO ORDERED TO ITALY

GENERAL ENTHUSIASM

THE KING’S DISTRUST

GONSALVO GOES INTO RETIREMENT

THE KING’S DESIRE FOR CHILDREN

DECLINE OF HIS HEALTH

GONSALVO’S ILLNESS AND DEATH

PUBLIC GRIEF

HIS CHARACTER

HIS PRIVATE VIRTUES HIS WANT OF FAITH

HIS LOYALTY

FERDINAND’S ILLNESS INCREASES

HIS INSENSIBILITY TO HIS SITUATION

HIS LAST HOURS

HIS DEATH AND TESTAMENT

HIS BODY TRANSPORTED TO GRANADA

HIS PERSON AND CHARACTER

HIS TEMPERANCE AND ECONOMY

HIS BIGOTRY

ACCUSED OF HYPOCRISY

HIS PERFIDY

HIS SHREWD POLICY

HIS INSENSIBILITY

CONTRAST WITH ISABELLA

GLOOMY CLOSE OF HIS LIFE

HIS KINGLY QUALITIES

JUDGMENT OF HIS CONTEMPORARIES

CHAPTER XXV.

ADMINISTRATION, DEATH, AND CHARACTER OF CARDINAL XIMENES.

DISPUTES RESPECTING THE REGENCY

CHARLES PROCLAIMED KING

ANECDOTE OF XIMENES

HIS MILITARY ORDINANCE

HIS DOMESTIC POLICY

HIS FOREIGN POLICY

ASSUMES THE SOLE POWER

INTIMIDATES THE NOBLES

PUBLIC DISCONTENTS

TREATY OF NOYON

CHARLES LANDS IN SPAIN

HIS UNGRATEFUL LETTER

THE CARDINAL’S LAST ILLNESS

HIS DEATH

HIS CHARACTER

HIS VERSATILITY OF TALENT

HIS DESPOTIC GOVERNMENT

HIS MORAL PRINCIPLE

HIS DISINTERESTEDNESS

HIS MONASTIC AUSTERITIES

HIS ECONOMY OF TIME

HIS PERSON

PARALLEL WITH RICHELIEU

NOTICE OF GALINDEZ DE CARBAJAL

CHAPTER XXVI.

GENERAL REVIEW OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA.

POLICY OF THE CROWN

DEPRESSION OF THE NOBLES

THEIR GREAT POWER

TREATMENT OF THE CHURCH

CARE OF MORALS

STATE OF THE COMMONS

THEIR CONSIDERATION

ROYAL ORDINANCES

ARBITRARY MEASURES OF FERDINAND

ADVANCEMENT OF PREROGATIVE

LEGAL COMPILATIONS

ORGANIZATION OF COUNCILS

LEGAL PROFESSION ADVANCED

CHARACTER OF THE LAWS

ERRONEOUS PRINCIPLES OF LEGISLATION

PRINCIPAL EXPORTS

MANUFACTURES

AGRICULTURE

ECONOMICAL POLICY

INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS

INCREASE OF EMPIRE

GOVERNMENT OF NAPLES

REVENUES FROM THE INDIES

SPIRIT OF ADVENTURE

PROGRESS OF DISCOVERY

EXCESSES OF THE SPANIARDS

SLAVERY IN THE COLONIES

COLONIAL ADMINISTRATION

GENERAL PROSPERITY

PUBLIC EMBELLISHMENTS

AUGMENTATION OF REVENUE

INCREASE OF POPULATION

PATRIOTIC PRINCIPLE

CHIVALROUS SPIRIT OF THE PEOPLE

SPIRIT OF BIGOTRY

BENEFICENT IMPULSE

THE PERIOD OF NATIONAL GLORY

PART SECOND. [CONTINUED.]

CHAPTER X.

ITALIAN WARS.—PARTITION OF NAPLES.—GONSALVO OVERRUNS CALABRIA.

1498-1502.

Louis XII.‘s Designs on Italy.—Alarm of the Spanish Court.—Bold Conduct of its Minister at Rome.—Celebrated Partition of Naples.—Gonsalvo Sails against the Turks.—Success and Cruelties of the French.—Gonsalvo Invades Calabria.—He Punishes a Mutiny.—His Munificent Spirit.—He Captures Tarento.—Seizes the Duke of Calabria.

During the last four years of our narrative, in which the unsettled state of the kingdom and the progress of foreign discovery appeared to demand the whole attention of the sovereigns, a most important revolution was going forward in the affairs of Italy. The death of Charles the Eighth would seem to have dissolved the relations recently arisen between that country and the rest of Europe, and to have restored it to its ancient independence. It might naturally have been expected that France, under her new monarch, who had reached a mature age, rendered still more mature by the lessons he had received in the school of adversity, would feel the folly of reviving ambitious schemes, which had cost so dear and ended so disastrously. Italy, too, it might have been presumed, lacerated and still bleeding at every pore, would have learned the fatal consequence of invoking foreign aid in her domestic quarrels, and of throwing open the gates to a torrent, sure to sweep down friend and foe indiscriminately in its progress. But experience, alas! did not bring wisdom, and passion triumphed as usual.

Louis the Twelfth, on ascending the throne, assumed the titles of Duke of Milan and King of Naples, thus unequivocally announcing his intention of asserting his claims, derived through the Visconti family, to the former, and through the Angevin dynasty, to the latter state. His aspiring temper was stimulated rather than satisfied by the martial renown he had acquired in the Italian wars; and he was urged on by the great body of the French chivalry, who, disgusted with a life of inaction, longed for a field where they might win new laurels, and indulge in the joyous license of military adventure.

Unhappily, the court of France found ready instruments for its purpose in the profligate politicians of Italy. The Roman pontiff, in particular, Alexander the Sixth, whose criminal ambition assumes something respectable by contrast with the low vices in which he was habitually steeped, willingly lent himself to a monarch, who could so effectually serve his selfish schemes of building up the fortunes of his family. The ancient republic of Venice, departing from her usual sagacious policy, and yielding to her hatred of Lodovico Sforza, and to the lust of territorial acquisition, consented to unite her arms with those of France against Milan, in consideration of a share (not the lion’s share) of the spoils of victory. Florence, and many other inferior powers, whether from fear or weakness, or the short-sighted hope of assistance in their petty international feuds, consented either to throw their weight into the same scale, or to remain neutral. [1]

Having thus secured himself from molestation in Italy, Louis the Twelfth entered into negotiations with such other European powers, as were most likely to interfere with his designs. The emperor Maximilian, whose relations with Milan would most naturally have demanded his interposition, was deeply entangled in a war with the Swiss. The neutrality of Spain was secured by the treaty of Marcoussis, August 5th, 1498, which settled all the existing differences with that country. And a treaty with Savoy in the following year guaranteed a free passage through her mountain passes to the French army into Italy. [2]

Having completed these arrangements, Louis lost no time in mustering his forces, which, descending like a torrent on the fair plains of Lombardy, effected the conquest of the entire duchy in little more than a fortnight; and, although the prize was snatched for a moment from his grasp, yet French valor and Swiss perfidy soon restored it. The miserable Sforza, the dupe of arts which he had so long practised, was transported into France, where he lingered out the remainder of his days in doleful captivity. He had first called the barbarians into Italy, and it was a righteous retribution which made him their earliest victim. [3]

By the conquest of Milan, France now took her place among the Italian powers. A preponderating weight was thus thrown into the scale, which disturbed the ancient political balance, and which, if the projects on Naples should be realized, would wholly annihilate it. These consequences, to which the Italian states seemed strangely insensible, had long been foreseen by the sagacious eye of Ferdinand the Catholic, who watched the movements of his powerful neighbor with the deepest anxiety. He had endeavored, before the invasion of Milan, to awaken the different governments in Italy to a sense of their danger, and to stir them up to some efficient combination against it. [4] Both he and the queen had beheld with disquietude the increasing corruptions of the papal court, and that shameless cupidity and lust of power, which made it the convenient tool of the French monarch.

By their orders, Garcilasso de la Vega, the Spanish ambassador, read a letter from his sovereigns in the presence of his Holiness, commenting on his scandalous immorality, his invasion of ecclesiastical rights appertaining to the Spanish crown, his schemes of selfish aggrandizement, and especially his avowed purpose of transferring his son Caesar Borgia, from a sacred to a secular dignity; a circumstance that must necessarily make him, from the manner in which it was to be conducted, the instrument of Louis the Twelfth. [5]

This unsavory rebuke, which probably lost nothing of its pungency from the tone in which it was delivered, so incensed the pope that he attempted to seize the paper and tear it in pieces, giving vent at the same time to the most indecent reproaches against the minister and his sovereigns.

Garcilasso coolly waited till the storm had subsided, and then replied undauntedly, “That he had uttered no more than became a loyal subject of Castile; that he should never shrink from declaring freely what his sovereigns commanded, or what he conceived to be for the good of Christendom; and, if his Holiness were displeased with it, he could dismiss him from his court, where he was convinced, indeed, his residence could be no longer useful.” [6]

Ferdinand had no better fortune at Venice, where his negotiations were conducted by Lorenzo Suarez de la Vega, an adroit diplomatist, brother of Garcilasso. [7] These negotiations were resumed after the occupation of Milan by the French, when the minister availed himself of the jealousy occasioned by that event to excite a determined resistance to the proposed aggression on Naples. But the republic was too sorely pressed by the Turkish war,—which Sforza, in the hope of creating a diversion in his own favor, had brought on his country,—to allow leisure for other operations.

Nor did the Spanish court succeed any better at this crisis with the emperor Maximilian, whose magnificent pretensions were ridiculously contrasted with his limited authority, and still more limited revenues, so scanty, indeed, as to gain him the contemptuous epithet among the Italians of pochi denari, or “the Moneyless.” He had conceived himself, indeed, greatly injured, both on the score of his imperial rights and his connection with Sforza, by the conquest of Milan; but, with the levity and cupidity essential to his character, he suffered himself, notwithstanding the remonstrances of the Spanish court, to be bribed into a truce with King Louis, which gave the latter full scope for his meditated enterprise on Naples. [8]

Thus disembarrassed of the most formidable means of annoyance, the French monarch went briskly forward with his preparations, the object of which he did not affect to conceal. Frederic, the unfortunate king of Naples, saw himself with dismay now menaced with the loss of empire, before he had time to taste the sweets of it. He knew not where to turn for refuge, in his desolate condition, from the impending storm. His treasury was drained, and his kingdom wasted, by the late war. His subjects, although attached to his person, were too familiar with revolutions to stake their lives or fortunes on the cast. His countrymen, the Italians, were in the interest of his enemy; and his nearest neighbor, the pope, had drawn from personal pique motives for the most deadly hostility. [9] He had as little reliance on the king of Spain, his natural ally and kinsman, who, he well knew, had always regarded the crown of Naples as his own rightful inheritance. He resolved, therefore, to apply at once to the French monarch; and he endeavored to propitiate him by the most humiliating concessions,—the offer of an annual tribute, and the surrender into his hands of some of the principal fortresses in the kingdom. Finding these advances coldly received, he invoked, in the extremity of his distress, the aid of the Turkish sultan, Bajazet, the terror of Christendom, requesting such supplies of troops as should enable him to make head against their common foe. This desperate step produced no other result than that of furnishing the enemies of the unhappy prince with a plausible ground of accusation against him, of which they did not fail to make good use. [10]

The Spanish government, in the mean time, made the most vivid remonstrances through its resident minister, or agents expressly accredited for the purpose, against the proposed expedition of Louis the Twelfth. It even went so far as to guarantee the faithful discharge of the tribute proffered by the king of Naples. [11] But the reckless ambition of the French monarch, overleaping the barriers of prudence, and indeed of common sense, disdained the fruits of conquest without the name.

Ferdinand now found himself apparently reduced to the alternative of abandoning the prize at once to the French king, or of making battle with him in defence of his royal kinsman. The first of these measures, which would bring a restless and powerful rival on the borders of the Sicilian dominions, was not to be thought of for a moment. The latter, which pledged him a second time to the support of pretensions hostile to his own, was scarcely more palatable. A third expedient suggested itself; the partition of the kingdom, as hinted in the negotiations with Charles the Eighth, [12] by which means the Spanish government, if it could not rescue the whole prize from the grasp of Louis, would at least divide it with him.

Instructions were accordingly given to Gralla, the minister at the court of Paris, to sound the government on this head, bringing it forward as his own private suggestion. Care was taken at the same time to secure a party in the French councils to the interests of Ferdinand. [13] The suggestions of the Spanish envoy received additional weight from the report of a considerable armament then equipping in the port of Malaga. Its ostensible purpose was to co-operate with the Venetians in the defence of their possessions in the Levant. Its main object, however, was to cover the coasts of Sicily in any event from the French, and to afford means for prompt action on any point where circumstances might require it. The fleet consisted of about sixty sail, large and small, and carried forces amounting to six hundred horse and four thousand foot, picked men, many of them drawn from the hardy regions of the north, which had been taxed least severely in the Moorish wars. [14]

The command of the whole was intrusted to the Great Captain, Gonsalvo of Cordova, who since his return home had fully sustained the high reputation, which his brilliant military talents had acquired for him abroad. Numerous volunteers, comprehending the noblest of the young chivalry of Spain, pressed forward to serve under the banner of this accomplished and popular chieftain. Among them may be particularly noticed Diego de Mendoza, son of the grand cardinal, Pedro de la Paz, [15] Gonzalo Pizarro, father of the celebrated adventurer of Peru, and Diego de Paredes, whose personal prowess and feats of extravagant daring furnished many an incredible legend for chronicle and romance. With this gallant armament the Great Captain weighed anchor in the port of Malaga, in May, 1500, designing to touch at Sicily before proceeding against the Turks.

[16]

Meanwhile, the negotiations between France and Spain, respecting Naples, were brought to a close, by a treaty for the equal partition of that kingdom between the two powers, ratified at Granada, November 11th, 1500.

This extraordinary document, after enlarging on the unmixed evils flowing from war, and the obligation on all Christians to preserve inviolate the blessed peace bequeathed them by the Saviour, proceeds to state that no other prince, save the kings of France and Aragon, can pretend to a title to the throne of Naples; and as King Frederic, its present occupant, has seen fit to endanger the safety of all Christendom, by bringing on it its bitterest enemy the Turks, the contracting parties, in order to rescue it from this imminent peril, and preserve inviolate the bond of peace, agree to take possession of his kingdom and divide it between them. It is then provided that the northern portion, comprehending the Terra di Lavoro and Abruzzo, be assigned to France, with the title of King of Naples and Jerusalem, and the southern, consisting of Apulia and Calabria, with the title of Duke of those provinces, to Spain. The dogana, an important duty levied on the flocks of the Capitanate, was to be collected by the officers of the Spanish government, and divided equally with France.

Lastly, any inequality between the respective territories was to be so adjusted, that the revenues accruing to each of the parties should be precisely equal. The treaty was to be kept profoundly secret, until preparations were completed for the simultaneous occupation of the devoted territory by the combined powers. [17]

Such were the terms of this celebrated compact, by which two European potentates coolly carved out and divided between them the entire dominions of a third, who had given no cause for umbrage, and with whom they were both at that time in perfect peace and amity. Similar instances of political robbery (to call it by the coarse name it merits) have occurred in later times; but never one founded on more flimsy pretexts, or veiled under a more detestable mask of hypocrisy. The principal odium of the transaction has attached to Ferdinand, as the kinsman of the unfortunate king of Naples. His conduct, however, admits of some palliatory considerations, that cannot be claimed for Louis.

The Aragonese nation always regarded the bequest of Ferdinand’s uncle, Alfonso the Fifth, in favor of his natural offspring as an unwarrantable and illegal act. The kingdom of Naples had been won by their own good swords, and, as such, was the rightful inheritance of their own princes.

Nothing but the domestic troubles of his dominions had prevented John the Second of Aragon, on the decease of his brother, from asserting his claim by arms. His son, Ferdinand the Catholic, had hitherto acquiesced in the usurpation of the bastard branch of his house only from similar causes. On the accession of the present monarch, he had made some demonstrations of vindicating his pretensions to Naples, which, however, the intelligence he received from that kingdom induced him to defer to a more convenient season. [18] But it was deferring, not relinquishing, his purpose. In the mean time, he carefully avoided entering into such engagements, as should compel him to a different policy by connecting his own interests with those of Frederic; and with this view, no doubt, rejected the alliance, strongly solicited by the latter, of the duke of Calabria, heir apparent to the Neapolitan crown, with his third daughter, the infanta Maria.

Indeed, this disposition of Ferdinand, so far from being dissembled, was well understood by the court of Naples, as is acknowledged by its own historians. [19]

It may be thought, that the undisturbed succession of four princes to the throne of Naples, each of whom had received the solemn recognition of the people, might have healed any defects in their original title, however glaring. But it may be remarked, in extenuation of both the French and Spanish claims, that the principles of monarchical succession were but imperfectly settled in that day; that oaths of allegiance were tendered too lightly by the Neapolitans, to carry the same weight as in other nations; and that the prescriptive right derived from possession, necessarily indeterminate, was greatly weakened in this case by the comparatively few years, not more than forty, during which the bastard line of Aragon had occupied the throne,—a period much shorter than that after which the house of York had in England, a few years before, successfully contested the validity of the Lancastrian title. It should be added, that Ferdinand’s views appear to have perfectly corresponded with those of the Spanish nation at large; not one writer of the time, whom I have met with, intimating the slightest doubt of his title to Naples, while not a few insist on it with unnecessary emphasis. [20] It is but fair to state, however, that foreigners, who contemplated the transaction with a more impartial eye, condemned it as inflicting a deep stain on the characters of both potentates. Indeed, something like an apprehension of this, in the parties themselves, may be inferred from their solicitude to deprecate public censure by masking their designs under a pretended zeal for religion.

Before the conferences respecting the treaty were brought to a close, the Spanish armada under Gonsalvo, after a long detention in Sicily, where it was reinforced by two thousand recruits, who had been serving as mercenaries in Italy, held its course for the Morea. The Turkish squadron, lying before Napoli di Romania, without waiting Gonsalvo’s approach, raised the siege, and retreated precipitately to Constantinople. The Spanish general, then uniting his forces with the Venetians, stationed at Corfu, proceeded at once against the fortified place of St. George, in Cephalonia, which the Turks had lately wrested from the republic. [21]

The town stood high on a rock, in an impregnable position, and was garrisoned by four hundred Turks, all veteran soldiers, prepared to die in its defence. We have not room for the details of this siege, in which both parties displayed unbounded courage and resources, and which was protracted nearly two months under all the privations of famine, and the inclemencies of a cold and stormy winter. [22]

At length, weary with this fatal procrastination, Gonsalvo and the Venetian admiral, Pesaro, resolved on a simultaneous attack on separate quarters of the town. The ramparts had been already shaken by the mining operations of Pedro Navarro, who, in the Italian wars, acquired such terrible celebrity in this department, till then little understood. The Venetian cannon, larger and better served than that of the Spaniards, had opened a practicable breach in the works, which the besieged repaired with such temporary defences as they could. The signal being given at the appointed hour, the two armies made a desperate assault on different quarters of the town, under cover of a murderous fire of artillery. The Turks sustained the attack with dauntless resolution, stopping up the breach with the bodies of their dead and dying comrades, and pouring down volleys of shot, arrows, burning oil and sulphur, and missiles of every kind, on the heads of the assailants. But the desperate energy, as well as numbers of the latter, proved too strong for them. Some forced the breach, others scaled the ramparts; and, after a short and deadly struggle within the walls, the brave garrison, four-fifths of whom with their commander had fallen, were overpowered, and the victorious banners of St. Jago and St. Mark were planted side by side triumphantly on the towers. [23]

The capture of this place, although accomplished at considerable loss, and after a most gallant resistance by a mere handful of men, was of great service to the Venetian cause; since it was the first cheek given to the arms of Bajazet, who had filched one place after another from the republic, menacing its whole colonial territory in the Levant. The promptness and efficiency of King Ferdinand’s succor to the Venetians gained him high reputation throughout Europe, and precisely of the kind which he most coveted, that of being the zealous defender of the faith; while it formed a favorable contrast to the cold supineness of the other powers of Christendom.

The capture of St. George restored to Venice the possession of Cephalonia; and the Great Captain, having accomplished this important object, returned in the beginning of the following year, 1501, to Sicily. Soon after his arrival there, an embassy waited on him from the Venetian senate, to express their grateful sense of his services; which they testified by enrolling his name on the golden book, as a nobleman of Venice, and by a magnificent present of plate, curious silks and velvets, and a stud of beautiful Turkish horses. Gonsalvo courteously accepted the proffered honors, but distributed the whole of the costly largess, with the exception of a few pieces of plate, among his friends and soldiers. [24]

In the mean while, Louis the Twelfth having completed his preparations for the invasion of Naples, an army, consisting of one thousand lances and ten thousand Swiss and Gascon foot, crossed the Alps, and directed its march towards the south. At the same time a powerful armament, under Philip de Ravenstein, with six thousand five hundred additional troops on board, quitted Genoa for the Neapolitan capital. The command of the land forces was given to the Sire d’Aubigny, the same brave and experienced officer who had formerly coped with Gonsalvo in the campaigns of Calabria. [25]

No sooner had D’Aubigny crossed the papal borders, than the French and Spanish ambassadors announced to Alexander the Sixth and the college of cardinals the existence of the treaty for the partition of the kingdom between the sovereigns, their masters, requesting his Holiness to confirm it, and grant them the investiture of their respective shares. In this very reasonable petition his Holiness, well drilled in the part he was to play, acquiesced without difficulty; declaring himself moved thereto solely by his consideration of the pious intentions of the parties, and the unworthiness of King Frederic, whose treachery to the Christian commonwealth had forfeited all right (if he ever possessed any) to the crown of Naples. [26]

From the moment that the French forces had descended into Lombardy, the eyes of all Italy were turned with breathless expectation on Gonsalvo, and his army in Sicily. The bustling preparations of the French monarch had diffused the knowledge of his designs throughout Europe. Those of the king of Spain, on the contrary, remained enveloped in profound secrecy. Few doubted, that Ferdinand would step forward to shield his kinsman from the invasion which menaced him, and, it might be, his own dominions in Sicily; and they looked to the immediate junction of Gonsalvo with King Frederic, in order that their combined strength might overpower the enemy before he had gained a footing in the kingdom. Great was their astonishment, when the scales dropped from their eyes, and they beheld the movements of Spain in perfect accordance with those of France, and directed to crush their common victim between them. They could scarcely credit, says Guicciardini, that Louis the Twelfth could be so blind as to reject the proffered vassalage and substantial sovereignty of Naples, in order to share it with so artful and dangerous a rival as Ferdinand. [27]

The unfortunate Frederic, who had been advised for some time past of the unfriendly dispositions of the Spanish government, [28] saw no refuge from the dark tempest mustering against him on the opposite quarters of his kingdom. He collected such troops as he could, however, in order to make battle with the nearest enemy, before he should cross the threshold. On the 28th of June, the French army resumed its march. Before quitting Rome, a brawl arose between some French soldiers and Spaniards resident in the capital; each party asserting the paramount right of its own sovereign to the crown of Naples. From words they soon came to blows, and many lives were lost before the fray could be quelled; a melancholy augury for the permanence of the concord so unrighteously established between the two governments. [29]

On the 8th of July, the French crossed the Neapolitan frontier. Frederic, who had taken post at St. Germano, found himself so weak, that he was compelled to give way on its approach, and retreat on his capital. The invaders went forward, occupying one place after another with little resistance till they came before Capua, where they received a temporary check. During a parley for the surrender of that place, they burst into the town, and, giving free scope to their fiendish passions, butchered seven thousand citizens in the streets, and perpetrated outrages worse than death on their defenceless wives and daughters. It was on this occasion that Alexander the Sixth’s son, the infamous Caesar Borgia, selected forty of the most beautiful from the principal ladies of the place, and sent them back to Rome to swell the complement of his seraglio.

The dreadful doom of Capua intimidated further resistance, but inspired such detestation of the French throughout the country, as proved of infinite prejudice to their cause in their subsequent struggle with the Spaniards. [30]

King Frederic, shocked at bringing such calamities on his subjects, resigned his capital without a blow in its defence, and, retreating to the isle of Ischia, soon after embraced the counsel of the French admiral Ravenstein, to accept a safe-conduct into France, and throw himself on the generosity of Louis the Twelfth. The latter received him courteously, and assigned him the duchy of Anjou with an ample revenue for his maintenance, which, to the credit of the French king, was continued after he had lost all hope of recovering the crown of Naples. [31] With this show of magnanimity, however, he kept a jealous eye on his royal guest; under pretence of paying him the greatest respect, he placed a guard over his person, and thus detained him in a sort of honorable captivity to the day of his death, which occurred soon after, in 1504.

Frederic was the last of the illegitimate branch of Aragon, who held the Neapolitan sceptre; a line of princes, who, whatever might be their characters in other respects, accorded that munificent patronage to letters which sheds a ray of glory over the roughest and most turbulent reign. It might have been expected, that an amiable and accomplished prince, like Frederic, would have done still more towards the moral development of his people, by healing the animosities which had so long festered in their bosoms. His gentle character, however, was ill suited to the evil times on which he had fallen; and it is not improbable, that he found greater contentment in the calm and cultivated retirement of his latter years, sweetened by the sympathies of friendship which adversity had proved, [32] than when placed on the dazzling heights which attract the admiration and envy of mankind. [33]

Early in March, Gonsalvo of Cordova had received his first official intelligence of the partition treaty, and of his own appointment to the post of lieutenant-general of Calabria and Apulia. He felt natural regret at being called to act against a prince, whose character he esteemed, and with whom he had once been placed in the most intimate and friendly relations. In the true spirit of chivalry, he returned to Frederic, before taking up arms against him, the duchy of St. Angel and the other large domains, with which that monarch had requited his services in the late war, requesting at the same time to be released from his obligations of homage and fealty. The generous monarch readily complied with the latter part of his request, but insisted on his retaining the grant, which he declared an inadequate compensation, after all, for the benefits the Great Captain had once rendered him. [34]

The levies assembled at Messina amounted to three hundred heavy-armed, three hundred light horse, and three thousand eight hundred infantry, together with a small body of Spanish veterans, which the Castilian ambassador had collected in Italy. The number of the forces was inconsiderable, but they were in excellent condition, well disciplined, and seasoned to all the toils and difficulties of war. On the 5th of July, the Great Captain landed at Tropea, and commenced the conquest of Calabria, ordering the fleet to keep along the coast, in order to furnish whatever supplies he might need. The ground was familiar to him, and his progress was facilitated by the old relations he had formed there, as well as by the important posts which the Spanish government had retained in its hands, as an indemnification for the expenses of the late war.

Notwithstanding the opposition or coldness of the great Angevin lords who resided in this quarter, the entire occupation of the two Calabrias, with the exception of Tarento, was effected in less than a month. [35]

This city, remarkable in ancient times for its defence against Hannibal, was of the last importance. King Frederic had sent thither his eldest son, the duke of Calabria, a youth about fourteen years of age, under the care of Juan de Guevara, count of Potenza, with a strong body of troops, considering it the place of greatest security in his dominions.

Independently of the strength of its works, it was rendered nearly inaccessible by its natural position; having no communication with the main land except by two bridges, at opposite quarters of the town, commanded by strong towers, while its exposure to the sea made it easily open to supplies from abroad.

Gonsalvo saw that the only method of reducing the place must be by blockade. Disagreeable as the delay was, he prepared to lay regular siege to it, ordering the fleet to sail round the southern point of Calabria, and blockade the port of Tarento, while he threw up works on the land side, which commanded the passes to the town, and cut off its communications with the neighboring country. The place, however, was well victualled, and the garrison prepared to maintain it to the last.[36]

Nothing tries more severely the patience and discipline of the soldier, than a life of sluggish inaction, unenlivened, as in the present instance, by any of the rencontres, or feats of arms, which keep up military excitement, and gratify the cupidity or ambition of the warrior. The Spanish troops, cooped up within their intrenchments, and disgusted with the languid monotony of their life, cast many a wistful glance to the stirring scenes of war in the centre of Italy, where Caesar Borgia held out magnificent promises of pay and plunder to all who embarked in his adventurous enterprises. He courted the aid, in particular, of the Spanish veterans, whose worth he well understood, for they had often served under his banner, in his feuds with the Italian princes. In consequence of these inducements, some of Gonsalvo’s men were found to desert every day; while those who remained were becoming hourly more discontented, from the large arrears due from the government; for Ferdinand, as already remarked, conducted his operations with a stinted economy, very different from the prompt and liberal expenditure of the queen, always competent to its object. [37]

A trivial incident, at this time, swelled the popular discontent into mutiny. The French fleet, after the capture of Naples, was ordered to the Levant to assist the Venetians against the Turks. Ravenstein, ambitious of eclipsing the exploits of the Great Captain, turned his arms against Mitilene, with the design of recovering it for the republic. He totally failed in the attack, and his fleet was soon after scattered by a tempest, and his own ship wrecked on the isle of Cerigo. He subsequently found his way, with several of his principal officers, to the shores of Calabria, where he landed in the most forlorn and desperate plight. Gonsalvo, touched with his misfortunes, no sooner learned his necessities, than he sent him abundant supplies of provisions, adding a service of plate, and a variety of elegant apparel for himself and followers; consulting his own munificent spirit in this, much more than the limited state of his finances. [38]

This excessive liberality was very inopportune. The soldiers loudly complained that their general found treasures to squander on foreigners, while his own troops were defrauded of their pay. The Biscayans, a people of whom Gonsalvo used to say, “he had rather be a lion-keeper than undertake to govern them,” took the lead in the tumult. It soon swelled into open insurrection; and the men, forming themselves into regular companies, marched to the general’s quarters and demanded payment of their arrears. One fellow, more insolent than the rest, levelled a pike at his breast with the most angry and menacing looks. Gonsalvo, however, retaining his self-possession, gently put it aside, saying, with a good-
natured smile, “Higher, you careless knave, lift your lance higher, or you will run me through in your jesting.” As he was reiterating his assurances of the want of funds, and his confident expectation of speedily obtaining them, a Biscayan captain called out, “Send your daughter to the brothel, and that will soon put you in funds!” This, was a favorite daughter named Elvira, whom Gonsalvo loved so tenderly, that he would not part with her, even in his campaigns. Although stung to the heart by this audacious taunt, he made no reply; but, without changing a muscle of his countenance, continued, in the same tone as before, to expostulate with the insurgents, who at length were prevailed on to draw off, and disperse to their quarters. The next morning, the appalling spectacle of the lifeless body of the Biscayan, hanging by the neck from a window of the house in which he had been quartered, admonished the, army that there were limits to the general’s forbearance it was not prudent to overstep. [39]

An unexpected event, which took place at this juncture, contributed even more than this monitory lesson to restore subordination to the army. This was the capture of a Genoese galleon with a valuable freight, chiefly iron, bound to some Turkish port, as it was said, in the Levant, which Gonsalvo, moved no doubt by his zeal for the Christian cause, ordered to be seized by the Spanish cruisers; and the cargo to be disposed of for the satisfaction of his troops. Giovio charitably excuses this act of hostility against a friendly power with the remark, that “when the Great Captain did anything contrary to law, he was wont to say, ‘A general must secure the victory at all hazards, right or wrong; and, when he has done this, he can compensate those whom he has injured with tenfold benefits.’”

[40]

The unexpected length of the siege of Tarento determined Gonsalvo, at length, to adopt bolder measures for quickening its termination. The city, whose insulated position has been noticed, was bounded on the north by a lake, or rather arm of the sea, forming an excellent interior harbor, about eighteen miles in circumference. The inhabitants, trusting to the natural defences of this quarter, had omitted to protect it by fortifications, and the houses rose abruptly from the margin of the basin.

Into this reservoir, the Spanish commander resolved to transport such of his vessels then riding in the outer bay, as from their size could be conveyed across the narrow isthmus, which divided it from the inner.

After incredible toil, twenty of the smallest craft were moved on huge cars and rollers across the intervening land, and safely launched on the bosom of the lake. The whole operation was performed amid the exciting accompaniments of discharges of ordnance, strains of martial music, and loud acclamations of the soldiery. The inhabitants of Tarento saw with consternation the fleet so lately floating in the open ocean under their impregnable walls, now quitting its native element, and moving, as it were by magic, across the land, to assault them on the quarter where they were the least defended. [41]

The Neapolitan commander perceived it would be impossible to hold out longer, without compromising the personal safety of the young prince under his care. He accordingly entered into negotiations for a truce with the Great Captain, during which articles of capitulation were arranged, guaranteeing to the duke of Calabria and his followers the right of evacuating the place and going wherever they listed. The Spanish general, in order to give greater solemnity to these engagements, bound himself to observe them by an oath on the sacrament. [42]

On the 1st of March, 1502, the Spanish army took possession, according to agreement, of the city of Tarento; and the duke of Calabria with his suite was permitted to leave it, in order to rejoin his father in France. In the mean time, advices were received from Ferdinand the Catholic, instructing Gonsalvo on no account to suffer the young prince to escape from his hands, as he was a pledge of too great importance for the Spanish government to relinquish. The general in consequence sent after the duke, who had proceeded in company with the count of Potenza as far as Bitonto, on his way to the north, and commanded him to be arrested and brought back to Tarento. Not long after, he caused him to be conveyed on board one of the men-of-war in the harbor, and, in contempt of his solemn engagements, sent a prisoner to Spain. [43]

The national writers have made many awkward attempts to varnish over this atrocious act of perfidy in their favorite hero. Zurita vindicates it by a letter from the Neapolitan prince to Gonsalvo, requesting the latter to take this step, since he preferred a residence in Spain to one in France, but could not with decency appear to act in opposition to his father’s wishes on the subject. If such a letter, however, were really obtained from the prince, his tender years would entitle it to little weight, and of course it would afford no substantial ground for justification. Another explanation is offered by Paolo Giovio, who states that the Great Captain, undetermined what course to adopt, took the opinion of certain learned jurists. This sage body decided, that Gonsalvo was not bound by his oath, since it was repugnant to his paramount obligations to his master; and that the latter was not bound by it, since it was made without his privity! [44] The man who trusts his honor to the tampering of casuists, has parted with it already. [45]

The only palliation of the act must be sought in the prevalent laxity and corruption of the period, which is rife with examples of the most flagrant violation of both public and private faith. Had this been the act of a Sforza, indeed, or a Borgia, it could not reasonably have excited surprise. But coming from one of a noble, magnanimous nature, like Gonsalvo, exemplary in his private life, and unstained with any of the grosser vices of the age, it excited general astonishment and reprobation, even among his contemporaries. It has left a reproach on his name, which the historian may regret, but cannot wipe away.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 4, p. 214, ed. 1645.—Flassan, Diplomatie Francaise, tom. i. pp. 275, 277.

[2] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iii. pp. 397-400.—Flassan, Diplomatie Francaise, tom. i. p. 279.

[3] Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 4, pp. 250-252.—Memoires de La Tremoille, chap. 19, apud Petitot, Collection de Memoires, tom. xiv.—Buonaccorsi, Diario de’ Successi piu Importanti, (Fiorenza, 1568,) pp. 26-29.

[4] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 31.

Martyr, in a letter written soon after Sforza’s recovery of his capital, says that the Spanish sovereigns “could not conceal their joy at the event, such was their jealousy of France.” (Opus Epist., epist. 213.) The same sagacious writer, the distance of whose residence from Italy removed him from those political factions and prejudices which clouded the optics of his countrymen, saw with deep regret their coalition with France, the fatal consequences of which he predicted in a letter to a friend in Venice, the former minister at the Spanish court. “The king of France,”

says he, “after he has dined with the duke of Milan, will come and sup with you.” (Epist. 207.) Daru, on the authority of Burchard, refers this remarkable prediction, which time so fully verified, to Sforza, on his quitting his capital. (Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. p. 326, 2d ed.) Martyr’s letter, however, is dated some months previously to that event.

[5] Louis XII., for the good offices of the pope in the affair of his divorce from the unfortunate Jeanne of France, promised the un-cardinalled Caesar Borgia the duchy of Valence in Dauphiny, with a rent of 20,000
livres, and a considerable force to support him in his flagitious enterprises against the princes of Romagna. Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i.

lib. 4, p. 207.—Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. p. 275.—Carta de Garcilasso de la Vega, MS.

[6] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 33.

Garcilasso de la Vega seems to have possessed little of the courtly and politic address of a diplomatist. In a subsequent audience, which the pope gave him together with a special embassy from Castile, his blunt expostulation so much exasperated his Holiness, that the latter hinted it would not cost him much to have him thrown into the Tiber. The hold bearing of the Castilian, however, appears to have had its effect; since we find the pope soon after revoking an offensive ecclesiastical provision he had made in Spain, taking occasion at the same time to eulogize the character of the Catholic sovereigns in full consistory. Ibid., lib. 3, cap. 33, 35.

[7] Oviedo has made this cavalier the subject of one of his dialogues.

Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 44.

[8] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 38, 39.—Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. pp. 336, 339, 347.—Muratori, Annali d’Italia, (Milano, 1820,) tom. xiv. pp. 9, 10.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib.

5, p. 260.

[9] Alexander VI. had requested the hand of Carlotta, daughter of King Frederic, for his son, Caesar Borgia; but this was a sacrifice, at which pride and parental affection alike revolted. The slight was not to be forgiven by the implacable Borgias. Comp. Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 3.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 4, p. 223.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 22.

[10] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 5, pp. 265, 266.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 3.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom.

i. lib. 3, cap. 40.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 1, p. 229.—Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. p, 338.

[11] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., lib. 14, epist. 218.

[12] See Part II. Chapter 3, of this History.

[13] According to Zurita, Ferdinand secured the services of Guillaume de Poictiers, lord of Clerieux and governor of Paris, by the promise of the city of Cotron, mortgaged to him in Italy. (Hist. del Rey Hernando, lib.

3, cap. 40.) Comines calls the same nobleman “a good sort of a man, qui aisement croit, et pour especial tels personnages,” meaning King Ferdinand. Comines, Memoires, liv. 8, chap. 23.

[14] Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. iii. lib. 5, p. 324.—Ulloa, Vita et Fatti dell’ Invitissimo Imperatore Carlo V., (Venetia, 1606,) fol. 2.—

Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 27, cap. 7.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, tom. i. p. 226.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 11.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 10, sec. 13.

[15] This cavalier, one of the most valiant captains in the army, was so diminutive in size, that, when mounted, he seemed almost lost in the high demipeak war-saddle then in vogue; which led a wag, according to Brantome, when asked if he had seen Don Pedro de Paz pass that way, to answer, that “he had seen his horse and saddle, but no rider.” Oeuvres, tom. i. disc.

9.

[16] Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. p. 217.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 161.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 9.

[17] See the original treaty, apud Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iii.

pp. 445, 446.

[18] See Part II. Chapter 3, of this History.

[19] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 19, cap. 3.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 32.

[20] See, in particular, the Doctor Salazar de Mendoza, who exhausts the subject,—and the reader’s patience,—in discussing the multifarious grounds of the incontrovertible title of the house of Aragon to Naples.

Monarquia, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 12-15.

[21] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, tom. i. p. 226.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 9.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 19.

[22] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, ubi supra.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 14.

[23] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, ubi supra.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 10.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 25.—

Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 167.

[24] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 167.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. p. 246.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 228.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 4.

[25] Jean d’Auton, Histoire de Louys XII., (Paris, 1622,) part. 1, chap.

44, 45, 48.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. p. 265.—Sainct Gelais, Histoire de Louys XII., (Paris, 1622,) p. 163.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p.

46.

[26] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 43.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 14.

[27] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 5, p. 266.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 8.

[28] In the month of April the king of Naples received letters from his envoys in Spain, written by command of King Ferdinand, informing him that he had nothing to expect from that monarch in case of an invasion of his territories by France. Frederic bitterly complained of the late hour at which this intelligence was given, which effectually prevented an accommodation he might otherwise have made with King Louis. Lanuza, Historias, lib. 1, cap. 14.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib.

4, cap. 37.

[29] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 1, chap. 48.

[30] Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iii. lib. 6, cap. 4.—D’Auton, Hist.

de Louys XII., part. 1, chap. 51-54.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 8.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 5, pp. 268, 269.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 41.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 3.

[31] St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 163.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 1, ch. 56.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iii. p. 541.

[32] The reader will readily call to mind the Neapolitan poet Sannazaro, whose fidelity to his royal master forms so beautiful a contrast with the conduct of Pontano, and indeed of too many of his tribe, whose gratitude is of that sort that will only rise above zero in the sunshine of a court.

His various poetical effusions afford a noble testimony to the virtues of his unfortunate sovereign, the more unsuspicious as many of them were produced in the days of his adversity.

[33] “Neque mala vel bona,” says the philosophic Roman, “quae vulgus putet; multos, qui conflictari udversis videantur, beatos; ac plerosque, quamquam magnas per opes, miserrimos; si illi gravem fortunam constanter tolerent, hi prospera inconsulte utantur.” Tacitus, Annales, lib. 6, sect.

22.

[34] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 35.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 230.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 21.—

Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 14.

[35] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 11, sec. 8.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 44.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 27, cap. 9.

[36] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 231.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V, fol.

9.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 3.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 31.

[37] Don Juan Mannel, the Spanish minister at Vienna, seems to hare been fully sensible of this trait of his master. He told the emperor Maximilian, who had requested the loan of 300,000 ducats from Spain, that it was as much money as would suffice King Ferdinand for the conquest, not merely of Italy, but Africa into the bargain. Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 42.

[38] Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. III. lib. 6, p. 368.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 232.—D’Auton, part. 1, chap. 71, 72.

[39] Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 34.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. pp. 252, 253.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 232.—Carta de Gonzalo, MS.

[40] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 1, p. 233.

[41] Gonsalvo took the hint for this, doubtless, from Hannibal’s similar expedient. See Polybius, lib. 8.

[42] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 52, 53.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 5, p. 270.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 3.—Muratori, Annali d’Italia, tom. xiv. p. 14.

The various authorities differ more irreconcilably than usual in the details of the siege. I have followed Paolo Giovio, a contemporary, and personally acquainted with the principal actors. All agree in the only fact, in which one would willingly see some discrepancy, Gonsalvo’s breach of faith to the young duke of Calabria.

[43] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 56.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 11, sec. 10-12.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 9.—Lanuza, Historias, lib. 1, cap. 14.

Martyr, who was present on the young prince’s arrival at court, where he experienced the most honorable reception, speaks of him in the highest terms. “Adolescens namque est et regno et regio sanguine dignus, mirae indolis, forma egregius.” (See Opus Epist., epist. 252.) He survived to the year 1550, but without ever quitting Spain, contrary to the fond prediction of his friend Sannazaro;

“Nam mihl, nam tempus veniet, cum reddita sceptra Parthenopes, fractosque tua sub cuspide reges Ipse canam.”

Opera Latina, Ecloga 4.

[44] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, lib. 4, cap. 58.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, lib. 1, p. 234.

Mariana coolly disposes of Gonsalvo’s treachery with the remark, “No parece se le guardo lo que tenian asentado. En la guerra quien hay que de todo punto lo guarde?” (Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. p. 675.) ----“Dolus an virtus, quis in hoste requirat?”

[45] In Gonsalvo’s correspondence is a letter to the sovereigns written soon after the occupation of Tarento, in which he mentions his efforts to secure the duke of Calabria in the Spanish interests. The communication is too brief to clear up the difficulties in this dark transaction. As coming from Gonsalvo himself, it has great interest, and I will give it to the reader in the curious orthography of the original. “Asi en la platica que estava con el duque don fernando de ponerse al servicio y amparo de vuestras altecas syn otro partido ny ofrecimiento demas de certificarle que en todo tiempo seria libre para yr donde quisiese sy vuestras altezas bien no le tratasen y que vuestras altecas le ternian el respeto que a tal persona como el se deve. El conde de potenca e algunos de los que estan ceerca del han trabajado por apartarle de este proposito e levarle a Iscla asi yo por muchos modos he procurado de reducirle al servicio de vuestras altecas y tengole en tal termino que puedo certificar a vuestras altecas que este mozo no les saldra de la mano con consenso suyo del servicio de vuestras altecas asta tanto que vuestras altecas me embien a mandar como del he de disponer e de lo que con el se ha de facer y por las contrastes que en esto han entrevenido no ha salido de taranto porque asi ha convenido. El viernes que sera once de marzo saldra a castellaneta que es quince millas de aqui con algunos destos suyos que le quieren seguir con alguna buena parte de compania destos criados de vuestras altecas para acompanarle y este mismo dia viernes entrar an las vanderas e gente de vuestras altecas en el castillo de tarento con ayuda de nuestro Senor.” De Tarento, 10 de Marzo, 1502, MS.

CHAPTER XI.

ITALIAN WARS.—RUPTURE WITH FRANCE.—GONSALVO BESIEGED IN BARLETA.

1502, 1503.

Rupture between the French and Spaniards.—Gonsalvo Retires to Barleta.—

Chivalrous Character of the War.—Tourney near Trani.—Duel between Bayard and Sotomayor.—Distress of Barleta.—Constancy of the Spaniards.

—Gonsalvo Storms and Takes Ruvo.—Prepares to Leave Barleta.

It was hardly to be expected that the partition treaty between France and Spain, made so manifestly in contempt of all good faith, would be maintained any longer than suited the convenience of the respective parties. The French monarch, indeed, seems to have prepared, from the first, to dispense with it, as soon as he had secured his own moiety of the kingdom; [1] and sagacious men at the Spanish court inferred that King Ferdinand would do as much, when he should be in a situation to assert his claims with success. [2]

It was altogether improbable, whatever might be the good faith of the parties, that an arrangement could long subsist, which so rudely rent asunder the members of this ancient monarchy; or that a thousand points of collision should not arise between rival hosts, lying as it were on their arms within bowshot of each other, and in view of the rich spoil which each regarded as its own. Such grounds for rupture did occur, sooner probably than either party had foreseen, and certainly before the king of Aragon was prepared to meet it.

The immediate cause was the extremely loose language of the partition treaty, which assumed such a geographical division of the kingdom into four provinces, as did not correspond with any ancient division, and still less with the modern, by which the number was multiplied to twelve. [3]

The central portion, comprehending the Capitanate, the Basilicate, and the Principality, became debatable ground between the parties, each of whom insisted on these as forming an integral part of its own moiety. The French had no ground whatever for contesting the possession of the Capitanate, the first of these provinces, and by far the most important, on account of the tolls paid by the numerous flocks which descended every winter into its sheltered valleys from the snow-covered mountains of Abruzzo. [4] There was more uncertainty to which of the parties the two other provinces were meant to be assigned. It is scarcely possible that language so loose, in a matter requiring mathematical precision, should have been unintentional.

Before Gonsalvo de Cordova had completed the conquest of the southern moiety of the kingdom, and while lying before Tarento, he received intelligence of the occupation by the French of several places, both in the Capitanate and Basilicate. He detached a body of troops for the protection of these countries, and, after the surrender of Tarento, marched towards the north to cover them with his whole army. As he was not in a condition for immediate hostilities, however, he entered into negotiations, which, if attended with no other advantage, would at least gain him time. [5]

The pretensions of the two parties, as might have been expected, were too irreconcilable to admit of compromise; and a personal conference between the respective commanders-in-chief led to no better arrangement, than that each should retain his present acquisitions, till explicit instructions could be received from their respective courts.

But neither of the two monarchs had further instructions to give; and the Catholic king contented himself with admonishing his general to postpone an open rupture as long as possible, that the government might have time to provide more effectually for his support, and strengthen itself by alliance with other European powers. But, however pacific may have been the disposition of the generals, they had no power to control the passions of their soldiers, who, thus brought into immediate contact, glared on each other with the ferocity of bloodhounds, ready to slip the leash which held them in temporary check. Hostilities soon broke out along the lines of the two armies, the blame of which each nation charged on its opponent.

There seems good ground, however, for imputing it to the French; since they were altogether better prepared for war than the Spaniards, and entered into it so heartily as not only to assail places in the debatable ground, but in Apulia, which had been unequivocally assigned to their rivals. [6]

In the mean while, the Spanish court fruitlessly endeavored to interest the other powers of Europe in its cause. The emperor Maximilian, although dissatisfied with the occupation of Milan by the French, appeared wholly engrossed with the frivolous ambition of a Roman coronation. The pontiff and his son, Caesar Borgia, were closely bound to King Louis by the assistance which he had rendered them in their marauding enterprises against the neighboring chiefs of Romagna. The other Italian princes, although deeply incensed and disgusted by this infamous alliance, stood too much in awe of the colossal power, which had planted its foot so firmly on their territory, to offer any resistance. Venice alone, surveying from her distant watch-tower, to borrow the words of Peter Martyr, the whole extent of the political horizon, appeared to hesitate.

The French ambassadors loudly called on her to fulfil the terms of her late treaty with their master, and support him in his approaching quarrel; but that wily republic saw with distrust the encroaching ambition of her powerful neighbor, and secretly wished that a counterpoise might be found in the success of Aragon. Martyr, who stopped at Venice on his return from Egypt, appeared before the senate, and employed all his eloquence in supporting his master’s cause in opposition to the French envoys; but his pressing entreaties to the Spanish sovereigns to send thither some competent person, as a resident minister, show his own conviction of the critical position in which their affairs stood. [7]

The letters of the same intelligent individual, during his journey through the Milanese, [8] are filled with the most gloomy forebodings of the termination of a contest for which the Spaniards were so indifferently provided; while the whole north of Italy was alive with the bustling preparations of the French, who loudly vaunted their intention of driving their enemy not merely out of Naples, but Sicily itself. [9]

Louis the Twelfth superintended these preparations in person, and, to be near the theatre of operations, crossed the Alps, and took up his quarters at Asti. At length, all being in readiness, he brought things to an immediate issue, by commanding his general to proclaim war at once against the Spaniards, unless they abandoned the Capitanate in four-and-twenty hours. [10]

The French forces in Naples amounted, according to their own statements, to one thousand men-at-arms, three thousand five hundred French and Lombard, and three thousand Swiss infantry, in addition to the Neapolitan levies raised by the Angevin lords throughout the kingdom. The command was intrusted to the duke of Nemours, a brave and chivalrous young nobleman of the ancient house of Armagnac, whom family connections more than talents had raised to the perilous post of viceroy over the head of the veteran D’Aubigny. The latter would have thrown up his commission in disgust, but for the remonstrances of his sovereign, who prevailed on him to remain where his counsels were more than ever necessary to supply the inexperience of the young commander. The jealousy and wilfulness of the latter, however, defeated these intentions; and the misunderstanding of the chiefs, extending to their followers, led to a fatal want of concert in their movements.

With these officers were united some of the best and bravest of the French chivalry; among whom may be noticed Jacques de Chabannes, more commonly known as the Sire de la Palice, a favorite of Louis the Twelfth, and well entitled to be so by his deserts; Louis d’Ars; Ives d’Alegre, brother of the Precy who gained so much renown in the wars of Charles the Eighth; and Pierre de Bayard, the knight “sans peur et sans reproche,” who was then entering on the honorable career in which he seemed to realize all the imaginary perfections of chivalry. [11]

Notwithstanding the small numbers of the French force, the Great Captain was in no condition to cope with them. He had received no reinforcements from home since he first landed in Calabria. His little corps of veterans was destitute of proper clothing and equipments, and the large arrears due them made the tenure of their obedience extremely precarious. [12] Since affairs began to assume their present menacing aspect, he had been busily occupied with drawing together the detachments posted in various parts of Calabria, and concentrating them on the town of Atella in the Basilicate, where he had established his own quarters. He had also opened a correspondence with the barons of the Aragonese faction, who were most numerous as well as most powerful in the northern section of the kingdom, which had been assigned to the French. He was particularly fortunate in gaining over the two Colonnas, whose authority, powerful connections, and large military experience proved of inestimable value to him. [13]

With all the resources he could command, however, Gonsalvo found himself, as before noticed, unequal to the contest, though it was impossible to defer it, after the peremptory summons of the French viceroy to surrender the Capitanate. To this he unhesitatingly answered, that “the Capitanate belonged of right to his own master; and that, with the blessing of God, he would make good its defence against the French king, or any other who should invade it.”

Notwithstanding the bold front put on his affairs, however, he did not choose to abide the assault of the French in his present position. He instantly drew off with the greater part of his force to Barleta, a fortified seaport on the confines of Apulia, on the Adriatic, the situation of which would enable him either to receive supplies from abroad, or to effect a retreat, if necessary, on board the Spanish fleet, which still kept the coast of Calabria. The remainder of his army he distributed in Bari, Andria, Canosa, and other adjacent towns; where he confidently hoped to maintain himself till the arrival of reinforcements, which he solicited in the most pressing manner from Spain and Sicily, should enable him to take the field on more equal terms against his adversary. [14]

The French officers, in the mean time, were divided in opinion as to the best mode of conducting the war. Some were for besieging Bari, held by the illustrious and unfortunate Isabella of Aragon; [15] others, in a more chivalrous spirit, opposed the attack of a place defended by a female, and advised an immediate assault on Barleta itself, whose old and dilapidated works might easily be forced, if it did not at once surrender. The duke of Nemours, deciding on a middle course, determined to invest the last-
mentioned town; and, cutting off all communication with the surrounding country, to reduce it by regular blockade. This plan was unquestionably the least eligible of all, as it would allow time for the enthusiasm of the French, the furia Francese, as it was called in Italy, which carried them victorious over so many obstacles, to evaporate, while it brought into play the stern resolve, the calm, unflinching endurance, which distinguished the Spanish soldier. [16]

One of the first operations of the French viceroy was the siege of Canosa, a strongly fortified place west of Barleta, garrisoned by six hundred picked men under the engineer Pedro Navarro. The defence of the place justified the reputation of this gallant soldier. He beat off two successive assaults of the enemy, led on by Bayard, La Palice, and the flower of their chivalry. He had prepared to sustain a third, resolved to bury himself under the ruins of the town rather than surrender. But Gonsalvo, unable to relieve it, commanded him to make the best terms he could, saying, “the place was of far less value, than the lives of the brave men who defended it.” Navarro found no difficulty in obtaining an honorable capitulation; and the little garrison, dwindled to one-third of its original number, marched out through the enemy’s camp, with colors flying and music playing, as if in derision of the powerful force it had so nobly kept at bay. [17]

After the capture of Canosa, D’Aubigny, whose misunderstanding with Nemours still continued, was despatched with a small force into the south, to overrun the two Calabrias. The viceroy, in the mean while, having fruitlessly attempted the reduction of several strong places held by the Spaniards in the neighborhood of Barleta, endeavored to straiten the garrison there by desolating the surrounding country, and sweeping off the flocks and herds which grazed in its fertile pastures. The Spaniards, however, did not remain idle within their defences, but, sallying out in small detachments, occasionally retrieved the spoil from the hands of the enemy, or annoyed him with desultory attacks, ambuscades, and other irregular movements of guerrilla warfare, in which the French were comparatively unpractised. [18]

The war now began to assume many of the romantic features of that of Granada. The knights on both sides, not content with the usual military rencontres, defied one another to jousts and tourneys, eager to establish their prowess in the noble exercises of chivalry. One of the most remarkable of these meetings took place between eleven Spanish and as many French knights, in consequence of some disparaging remarks of the latter on the cavalry of their enemies, which they affirmed inferior to their own. The Venetians gave the parties a fair field of combat in the neutral territory under their own walls of Trani. A gallant array of well-armed knights of both nations guarded the lists, and maintained the order of the fight. On the appointed day, the champions appeared in the field, armed at all points, with horses richly caparisoned, and barbed or covered with steel panoply like their masters. The roofs and battlements of Trani were covered with spectators, while the lists were thronged with the French and Spanish chivalry, each staking in some degree the national honor on the issue of the contest. Among the Castilians were Diego de Paredes and Diego de Vera, while the good knight Bayard was most conspicuous on the other side.

As the trumpets sounded the appointed signal, the hostile parties rushed to the encounter. Three Spaniards were borne from their saddles by the rudeness of the shock, and four of their antagonists’ horses slain. The fight, which began at ten in the morning, was not to be protracted beyond sunset. Long before that hour, all the French save two, one of them the chevalier Bayard, had been dismounted, and their horses, at which the Spaniards had aimed more than at the riders, disabled or slain. The Spaniards, seven of whom were still on horseback, pressed hard on their adversaries, leaving little doubt of the fortune of the day. The latter, however, intrenching themselves behind the carcasses of their dead horses, made good their defence against the Spaniards, who in vain tried to spur their terrified steeds over the barrier. In this way the fight was protracted till sunset; and, as both parties continued to keep possession of the field, the palm of victory was adjudged to neither, while both were pronounced to have demeaned themselves like good and valiant knights. [19]

The tourney being ended, the combatants met in the centre of the lists, and embraced each other in the true companionship of chivalry, “making good cheer together,” says an old chronicler, before they separated. The Great Captain was not satisfied with the issue of the fight. “We have, at least,” said one of his champions, “disproved the taunt of the Frenchmen, and shown ourselves as good horsemen as they.” “I sent you for better,”

coldly retorted Gonsalvo. [20]

A more tragic termination befell a combat a l’outrance between the chevalier Bayard and a Spanish cavalier, named Alonso de Sotomayor, who had accused the former of uncourteous treatment of him, while his prisoner. Bayard denied the charge, and defied the Spaniard to prove it in single fight, on horse or on foot, as he best liked. Sotomayor, aware of his antagonist’s uncommon horsemanship, preferred the latter alternative.

At the day and hour appointed, the two knights entered the lists, armed with sword and dagger, and sheathed in complete harness; although, with a degree of temerity unusual in these, combats, they wore their visors up.

Both combatants knelt down in silent prayer for a few moments, and then rising and crossing themselves, advanced straight against each other; “the good knight Bayard,” says Brantome, “moving as light of step, as if he were going to lead some fair lady down the dance.”

The Spaniard was of a large and powerful frame, and endeavored to crush his enemy by weight of blows, or to close with him and bring him to the ground. The latter, naturally inferior in strength, was rendered still weaker by a fever, from which he had not entirely recovered. He was more light and agile than his adversary, however, and superior dexterity enabled him not only to parry his enemy’s strokes, but to deal him occasionally one of his own, while he sorely distressed him by the rapidity of his movements. At length, as the Spaniard was somewhat thrown off his balance by an ill-directed blow, Bayard struck him so sharply on the gorget, that it gave way, and the sword entered his throat. Furious with the agony of the wound, Sotomayor collected all his strength for the last struggle, and, grasping his antagonist in his arms, they both rolled in the dust together. Before either could extricate himself, the quick-
eyed Bayard, who had retained his poniard in his left hand during the whole combat, while the Spaniard’s had remained in his belt, drove the steel with such convulsive strength under his enemy’s eye, that it pierced quite through the brain. After the judges had awarded the honors of the day to Bayard, the minstrels as usual began to pour forth triumphant strains in praise of the victor; but the good knight commanded them to desist, and, having first prostrated himself on his knees in gratitude for his victory, walked slowly out of the lists, expressing a wish that the combat had had a different termination, so that his honor had been saved.

[2]

In these jousts and tourneys, described with sufficient prolixity, but in a truly heart-stirring tone, by the chroniclers of the day, we may discern the last gleam of the light of chivalry, which illumined the darkness of the Middle Ages; and, although rough in comparison with the pastimes of more polished times, they called forth such displays of magnificence, courtesy, and knightly honor, as throw something like the grace of civilization over the ferocious features of the age.

While the Spaniards, cooped up within the old town of Barleta, sought to vary the monotony of their existence by these chivalrous exercises, or an occasional foray into the neighboring country, they suffered greatly from the want of military stores, food, clothing, and the most common necessaries of life. It seemed as if their master had abandoned them to their fate on this forlorn outpost, without a struggle in their behalf.

[22] How different from the parental care with which Isabella watched over the welfare of her soldiers in the long war of Granada! The queen appears to have taken no part in the management of these wars, which, notwithstanding the number of her own immediate subjects embarked in them, she probably regarded, from the first, as appertaining to Aragon, as exclusively as the conquests in the New World did to Castile. Indeed, whatever degree of interest she may have felt in their success, the declining state of her health at this period would not have allowed her to take any part in the conduct of them.

Gonsalvo was not wanting to himself in this trying emergency, and his noble spirit seemed to rise as all outward and visible resources failed.

He cheered his troops with promises of speedy relief, talking confidently of the supplies of grain he expected from Sicily, and the men and money he was to receive from Spain and Venice. He contrived, too, says Giovio, that a report should get abroad, that a ponderous coffer lying in his apartment was filled with gold, which he could draw upon in the last extremity. The old campaigners, indeed, according to the same authority, shook their heads at these and other agreeable fictions of their general, with a very skeptical air. They derived some confirmation, however, from the arrival soon after of a Sicilian bark, laden with corn, and another from Venice with various serviceable stores and wearing apparel, which Gonsalvo bought on his own credit and that of his principal officers, and distributed gratuitously among his destitute soldiers. [23]

At this time he received the unwelcome tidings that a small force which had been sent from Spain to his assistance, under Don Manuel de Benavides, and which had effected a junction with one much larger from Sicily under Hugo de Cardona, was surprised by D’Aubigny near Terranova, and totally defeated. This disaster was followed by the reduction of all Calabria, which the latter general, at the head of his French and Scottish gendarmerie, rode over from one extremity to the other without opposition.

[24]

The prospect now grew darker and darker around the little garrison of Barleta. The discomfiture of Benavides excluded hopes of relief in that direction. The gradual occupation of most of the strong places in Apulia by the duke of Nemours cut off all communication with the neighboring country; and a French fleet cruising in the Adriatic rendered the arrival of further stores and reinforcements extremely precarious. Gonsalvo, however, maintained the same unruffled cheerfulness as before, and endeavored to infuse it into the hearts of others. He perfectly understood the character of his countrymen, knew all their resources, and tried to rouse every latent principle of honor, loyalty, pride, and national feeling; and such was the authority which he acquired over their minds, and so deep the affection which he inspired, by the amenity of his manners and the generosity of his disposition, that not a murmur or symptom of insubordination escaped them during the whole of this long and painful siege. But neither the excellence of his troops, nor the resources of his own genius, would have been sufficient to extricate Gonsalvo from the difficulties of his situation, without the most flagrant errors on the part of his opponent. The Spanish general, who understood the character of the French commander perfectly well, lay patiently awaiting his opportunity, like a skilful fencer, ready to make a decisive thrust at the first vulnerable point that should be presented. Such an occasion at length offered itself early in the following year. [25]

The French, no less weary than their adversaries of their long inaction, sallied out from Canosa, where the viceroy had established his headquarters, and, crossing the Ofanto, marched up directly under the walls of Barleta, with the intention of drawing out the garrison from the “old den,” as they called it, and deciding the quarrel in a pitched battle. The duke of Nemours, accordingly, having taken up his position, sent a trumpet into the place to defy the Great Captain to the encounter; but the latter returned for answer, that “he was accustomed to choose his own place and time for fighting, and would thank the French general to wait till his men found time to shoe their horses, and burnish up their arms.” At length, Nemours, after remaining some days, and finding there was no chance of decoying his wily foe from his defences, broke up his camp and retired, satisfied with the empty honors of his gasconade.

No sooner had he fairly turned his back, than Gonsalvo, whose soldiers had been restrained with difficulty from sallying out on their insolent foe, ordered the whole strength of his cavalry under the command of Diego de Mendoza, flanked by two corps of infantry, to issue forth and pursue the French. Mendoza executed these orders so promptly that he brought up his horse, which were somewhat in advance of the foot, on the rear-guard of the French, before it had got many miles from Barleta. The latter instantly halted to receive the charge of the Spaniards, and, after a lively skirmish of no great duration, Mendoza retreated, followed by the incautious enemy, who, in consequence of their irregular and straggling march, were detached from the main body of their army. In the mean time, the advancing columns of the Spanish infantry, which had now come up with the retreating horse, unexpectedly closing on the enemy’s flanks, threw them into some disorder, which became complete when the flying cavalry of the Spaniards, suddenly wheeling round in the rapid style of the Moorish tactics, charged them boldly in front. All was now confusion. Some made resistance, but most sought only to escape; a few effected it, but the greater part of those who did not fall on the field were carried prisoners to Barleta; where Mendoza found the Great Captain with his whole army drawn up under the walls in order of battle, ready to support him in person, if necessary. The whole affair passed so expeditiously, that the viceroy, who, as has been said, conducted his retreat in a most disorderly manner, and in fact had already dispersed several battalions of his infantry to the different towns from which he had drawn them, knew nothing of the rencontre, till his men were securely lodged within the walls of Barleta. [26]

The arrival of a Venetian trader at this time, with a cargo of grain, brought temporary relief to the pressing necessities of the garrison. [27]

This was followed by the welcome intelligence of the total discomfiture of the French fleet under M. de Prejan by the Spanish admiral Lezcano, in an action off Otranto, which consequently left the seas open for the supplies daily expected from Sicily. Fortune seemed now in the giving vein; for in a few days a convoy of seven transports from that island, laden with grain, meat, and other stores, came safe into Barleta, and supplied abundant means for recruiting the health and spirits of its famished inmates. [28]

Thus restored, the Spaniards began to look forward with eager confidence to the achievement of some new enterprise. The temerity of the viceroy soon afforded an opportunity. The people of Castellaneta, a town near Tarento, were driven by the insolent and licentious behavior of the French garrison to betray the place into the hands of the Spaniards. The duke of Nemours, enraged at this defection, prepared to march at once with his whole force, and take signal vengeance on the devoted little town; and this, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his officers against a step which must inevitably expose the unprotected garrisons in the neighborhood to the assault of their vigilant enemy in Barleta. The event justified these apprehensions. [29]

No sooner had Gonsalvo learned the departure of Nemours on a distant expedition, than he resolved at once to make an attack on the town of Ruvo, about twelve miles distant, and defended by the brave La Palice, with a corps of three hundred French lances, and as many foot. With his usual promptness, the Spanish general quitted the walls of Barleta the same night on which he received the news, taking with him his whole effective force, amounting to about three thousand infantry and one thousand light and heavy-armed horse. So few, indeed, remained to guard the city, that he thought it prudent to take some of the principal inhabitants as hostages to insure its fidelity in his absence.

At break of day, the little army arrived before Ruvo. Gonsalvo immediately opened a lively cannonade on the old ramparts, which in less than four hours effected a considerable breach. He then led his men to the assault, taking charge himself of those who were to storm the breach, while another division, armed with ladders for scaling the walls, was intrusted to the adventurous cavalier Diego de Paredes.

The assailants experienced more resolute resistance than they had anticipated from the inconsiderable number of the garrison. La Palice, throwing himself into the breach with his iron band of dismounted gendarmes, drove back the Spaniards as often as they attempted to set foot on the broken ramparts; while the Gascon archery showered down volleys of arrows thick as hail, from the battlements, on the exposed persons of the assailants. The latter, however, soon rallied under the eye of their general, and returned with fresh fury to the charge, until the overwhelming tide of numbers bore down all opposition, and they poured in through the breach and over the walls with irresistible fury. The brave little garrison were driven before them; still, however, occasionally making fight in the streets and houses. Their intrepid young commander, La Palice, retreated facing the enemy, who pressed thick and close upon him, till, his further progress being arrested by a wall, he placed his back against it, and kept them at bay, making a wide circle around him with the deadly sweep of his battle-axe. But the odds were too much for him; and at length, after repeated wounds, having been brought to the ground by a deep cut in the head, he was made prisoner; not, however, before he had flung his sword far over the heads of the assailants, disdaining, in the true spirit of a knight-errant, to yield it to the rabble around him. [30]

All resistance was now at an end. The women of the place had fled, like so many frightened deer, to one of the principal churches; and Gonsalvo, with more humanity than was usual in these barbarous wars, placed a guard over their persons, which effectually secured them from the insults of the soldiery. After a short time spent in gathering up the booty and securing his prisoners, the Spanish general, having achieved the object of his expedition, set out on his homeward march, and arrived without interruption at Barleta.

The duke of Nemours had scarcely appeared before Castellaneta, before he received tidings of the attack on Ruvo. He put himself, without losing a moment, at the head of his gendarmes, supported by the Swiss pikemen, hoping to reach the beleaguered town in time to raise the siege. Great was his astonishment, therefore, on arriving before it, to find no trace of an enemy, except the ensigns of Spain unfurled from the deserted battlements.

Mortified and dejected, be made no further attempt to recover Castellaneta, but silently drew off to hide his chagrin in the walls of Canosa. [31]

Among the prisoners were several persons of distinguished rank. Gonsalvo treated them with his usual courtesy, and especially La Palice, whom he provided with his own surgeon and all the appliances for rendering his situation as comfortable as possible. For the common file, however, he showed no such sympathy; but condemned them all to serve in the Spanish admiral’s galleys, where they continued to the close of the campaign. An unfortunate misunderstanding had long subsisted between the French and Spanish commanders respecting the ransom and exchange of prisoners; and Gonsalvo was probably led to this severe measure, so different from his usual clemency, by an unwillingness to encumber himself with a superfluous population in the besieged city. [32] But, in truth, such a proceeding, however offensive to humanity, was not at all repugnant to the haughty spirit of chivalry, which, reserving its courtesies exclusively for those of gentle blood and high degree, cared little for the inferior orders, whether soldier or peasant, whom it abandoned without remorse to all the caprices and cruelties of military license.

The capture of Ruvo was attended with important consequences to the Spaniards. Besides the valuable booty of clothes, jewels, and money, they brought back with them nearly a thousand horses, which furnished Gonsalvo with the means of augmenting his cavalry, the small number of which had hitherto materially crippled his operations. He accordingly selected seven hundred of his best troops and mounted them on the French horses; thus providing himself with a corps, burning with zeal to approve itself worthy of the distinguished honor conferred on it. [33]

A few weeks after, the general received an important accession of strength from the arrival of two thousand German mercenaries, which Don Juan Manuel, the Spanish minister at the Austrian court, had been permitted to raise in the emperor’s dominions. This event determined the Great Captain on a step which he had been some time meditating. The new levies placed him in a condition for assuming the offensive. His stock of provisions, moreover, already much reduced, would be obviously insufficient long to maintain his increased numbers. He resolved, therefore, to sally out of the old walls of Barleta, and, availing himself of the high spirits in which the late successes had put his troops, to bring the enemy at once to battle. [34]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Peter Martyr, in a letter written from Venice, while detained there on his way to Alexandria, speaks of the efforts made by the French emissaries to induce the republic to break with Spain, and support their master in his designs on Naples. “Adsunt namque a Ludovico rege Gallorum oratores, qui omni nixu conantur a vobis Venetorum animos avertere. Fremere dentibus aiunt oratorem primarium Gallum, quia nequeat per Venetorum suffragia consequi, ut aperte vobis hostilitatem edicant, utque velint Gallis regno Parthenopeo contra vestra praesidia ferre suppetias.” The letter is dated October 1st, 1501. Opus Epist., epist. 231.

[2] Martyr, after noticing the grounds of the partition treaty, comments with his usual shrewdness on the politic views of the Spanish sovereigns.

“Facilius namque se sperant, eam partem, quam sibi Galli sortiti sunt, habituros aliquando, quam si universum regnum occuparint.” Opus Epist., epist. 218.

[3] The Italian historians, who have investigated the subject with some parade of erudition, treat it so vaguely, as to leave it after all nearly as perplexed as they found it. Giovio includes the Capitanate in Apulia, according to the ancient division; Guicciardini, according to the modern; and the Spanish historian Mariana, according to both. The last writer, it may be observed, discusses the matter with equal learning and candor, and more perspicuity than either of the preceding. He admits reasonable grounds for doubt to which moiety of the kingdom the Basilicate and Principalities should be assigned. Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. p.

670.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 5, pp. 274, 275.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 1, pp. 234, 235.

[4] The provision of the partition treaty, that the Spaniards should collect the tolls paid by the flocks on their descent from the French district of Abruzzo into the Capitanate, is conclusive evidence of the intention of the contracting parties to assign the latter to Spain. See the treaty apud Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. in. pp. 445, 446.

[5] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom, i. lib. 4, cap. 52.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii, lib. 27, cap. 12.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol.

10.

[6] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 3-7.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 60, 62, 64, 65.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, tom. i. p. 236.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 4.

Bernaldez states, that the Great Captain, finding his conference with the French general ineffectual, proposed to the latter to decide the quarrel between their respective nations by single combat. (Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 167.) We should require some other authority, however, than that of the good Curate to vouch for this romantic flight, so entirely out of keeping with the Spanish general’s character, in which prudence was probably the most conspicuous attribute.

[7] Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. p. 345.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. i. lib. 6.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 238, 240, 252.—This may appear strange, considering that Lorenzo Suarez de la Vega was there, a person of whom Gonzalo de Oviedo writes, “Fue gentil caballero, e sabio, e de gran prudencia; ***** muy entendido e de mucho reposo e honesto e afable e de linda conversarcion;” and again more explicitly, “Embaxador a Venecia, en el qual oficio sirvio muy bien, e como prudente varon.”

(Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 44.) Martyr admits his prudence, but objects his ignorance of Latin, a deficiency, however heinous in the worthy tutor’s eyes, probably of no rare occurrence among the elder Castilian nobles.

[8] Many of Martyr’s letters were addressed to both Ferdinand and Isabella. The former, however, was ignorant of the Latin language, in which they were written. Martyr playfully alludes to this in one of his epistles, reminding the queen of her promise to interpret them faithfully to her husband. The unconstrained and familiar tone of his correspondence affords a pleasing example of the personal intimacy to which the sovereigns, so contrary to the usual stiffness of Spanish etiquette, admitted men of learning and probity at their court, without distinction of rank. Opus Epist., epist. 230.

[9] “Galli,” says Martyr, in a letter more remarkable for strength of expression than elegance of Latinity, “furunt, saeviunt, internecionem nostris minantur, putantque id sibi fere facillimum. Regem eorum esse in itinere, inquiunt, ut ipse cum duplicato exercitu Alpes trajiciat in Italiam. Vestro nomini insurgunt. Cristas erigunt in vos superbissime.

Provinciam hanc, veluti rem humilem, parvique momenti, se aggressuros praeconantur. Nihil esse negotii eradicare exterminareque vestra praesidia ex utraque Sicilia blacterant. Insolenter nimis exspuendo insultant.” Opus Epist., epist. 241.

[10] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 8.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 4.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 5, pp. 274, 275.—

Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 61.

[11] Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 5, p. 265.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 1, chap. 57.—Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. pp. 221-233.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII, p. 169.

Brantome has introduced sketches of most of the French captains mentioned in the text into his admirable gallery of national portraits.—See Vies des Hommes Illustres, Oeuvres, tom. ii. and iii.

[12] Martyr’s epistles at this crisis are filled with expostulation, argument, and entreaties to the sovereigns, begging them to rouse from their apathy, and take measures to secure the wavering affections of Venice, as well as to send more effectual aid to their Italian troops.

Ferdinand listened to the first of these suggestions; but showed a strange insensibility to the last.

[13] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, lib. 4, cap. 62, 65.—Carta del Gran Capitan, MS.

Prospero Colonna, in particular, was distinguished not only for his military science, but his fondness for letters and the arts, of which he is commemorated by Tiraboschi as a munificent patron. (Letteratura Italians, tom. viii. p. 77.) Paolo Giovio has introduced his portrait among the effigies of illustrious men, who, it must be confessed, are more indebted in his work to the hand of the historian than the artist. Elogia Virorum Bellica Virtute Illustrium, (Basiliae, 1578,) lib. 5.

[14] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 8.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 10.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 42.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iii. p. 541.

[15] This beautiful and high-spirited lady, whose fate has led Boccalini, in his whimsical satire of the “Ragguagli di Parnasso,” to call her the most unfortunate female on record, had seen her father, Alfonso II., and her husband, Galeazzo Sforza, driven from their thrones by the French, while her son still remained in captivity in their hands. No wonder they revolted from accumulating new woes on her devoted head.

[16] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 237.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib.

5, pp. 282, 283.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 14.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 249.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap.

168.

[17] Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 47.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 4, cap. 69.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, tom. i. p. 241.—

D’Auton, part. 2, chap. 11.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 247.

Martyr says, that the Spaniards marched through the enemy’s camp, shouting “Espana, Espana, viva Espana!” (ubi supra.) Their gallantry in the defence of Canosa elicits a hearty eulogium from Jean D’Auton, the loyal historiographer of Louis XII. “Je ne veux donc par ma Chronique mettre les biensfaicts des Espaignols en publy, mais dire que pour vertueuse defence, doibuent auoir louange honorable.” Hist. de Louys XII., chap. 11.

[18] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 169.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 10.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 66.

[19] Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 53.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 26.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 238, 239.—Memoires de Bayard par le Loyal Serviteur, chap. 23, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xv.—Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. iii. disc. 77.

This celebrated tourney, its causes, and all the details of the action, are told in as many different ways as there are narrators; and this, notwithstanding it was fought in the presence of a crowd of witnesses, who had nothing to do but look on, and note what passed before their eyes. The only facts in which all agree, are, that there was such a tournament, and that neither party gained the advantage. So much for history!

[20] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., ubi supra.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. ii. p. 263.

[21] Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. vi. Discours sur les Duels.—D’Auton, Hist.

de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 27.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 11.—

Memoires de Bayard, chap. 22, apud Collection des Memoires.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 240.

[22] According to Martyr, the besieged had been so severely pressed by famine for some time before this, that Gonsalvo entertained serious thoughts of embarking the whole of his little garrison on board the fleet, and abandoning the place to the enemy. “Barlettae inclusos fame pesteque urgeri graviter aiunt. Vicina ipsorum omnia Galli occupant, et nostros quotidie magis ac magis premunt. Ita obsessi undi que, de relinquenda etiam Barletta saepius iniere consilium. Ut mari terga dent hostibus, ne fame pesteque pereant, saepe cadit in deliberationem.” Opus Epist., epist.

249.

[23] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 242.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 4.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap.

167.—Guicciardini, Istoria, p. 283.

[24] Ibid., lib. 5, p. 294.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap.

22.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 63.

[25] Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 11.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, tom. i. p. 247.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 9.

[26] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 243, 244.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 11, 12. A dispute arose, soon after this affair, between a French officer and some Italian gentlemen at Gonsalvo’s table, in consequence of certain injurious reflections made by the former on the bravery of the Italian nation. The quarrel was settled by a combat a l’outrance between thirteen knights on each side, fought under the protection of the Great Captain, who took a lively interest in the success of his allies. It terminated in the discomfiture and capture of all the French. The tourney covers more pages in the Italian historians than the longest battle, and is told with pride and a swell of exultation which show that this insult of the French cut more deeply than all the injuries inflicted by them.

Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 244-247.—Guicciardini, Istoria, pp.

296-298.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 4.—Summonte, Hist.

di Napoli, tom. iii. pp. 542-552.—et al.

[27]: This supply was owing to the avarice of the French general Alegre, who, having got possession of a magazine of corn in Foggia, sold it to the Venetian merchant, instead of reserving it, where it was most needed, for his own army.

[28] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part, 1, chap. 72.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 254.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 242.

[29] Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 5, p. 296.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 31.

[30] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 248, 249.—Guicciardini, Istoria, p. 296.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 175.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 31.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 72.

The gallant behavior of La Palice, and indeed the whole siege of Ruvo, is told by Jean D’Auton in a truly heart-stirring tone, quite worthy of the chivalrous pen of old Froissart. There is an inexpressible charm imparted to the French memoirs and chronicles of this ancient date, not only from the picturesque character of the details, but from a gentle tinge of romance shed over them, which calls to mind the doughty feats of “prowest knights,

Both Paynim and the peers of Charlemagne.”

[31] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., ubi supra.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 16.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 72.

[32] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., ubi supra.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, p. 249.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. ii. p. 270.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 14.

[33] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 249.

[34] Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 15.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 16.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 17.

CHAPTER XII.

ITALIAN WARS.—NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRANCE.—VICTORY OF CERIGNOLA.—SURRENDER

OF NAPLES.

1503.

Birth of Charles V.—Philip and Joanna Visit Spain.—Treaty of Lyons.—The Great Captain Refuses to Comply with it.—Encamps before Cerignola.—

Battle and Rout of the French.—Triumphant Entry of Gonsalvo into Naples.

Before accompanying the Great Captain further in his warlike operations, it will be necessary to take a rapid glance at what was passing in the French and Spanish courts, where negotiations were in train for putting a stop to them altogether.

The reader has been made acquainted in a preceding chapter with the marriage of the infanta Joanna, second daughter of the Catholic sovereigns, with the archduke Philip, son of the emperor Maximilian, and sovereign, in right of his mother, of the Low Countries. The first fruit of this marriage was the celebrated Charles the Fifth, born at Ghent, February 24th, 1500, whose birth was no sooner announced to Queen Isabella, than she predicted that to this infant would one day descend the rich inheritance of the Spanish monarchy. [1] The premature death of the heir apparent, Prince Miguel, not long after, prepared the way for this event by devolving the succession on Joanna, Charles’s mother. From that moment the sovereigns were pressing in their entreaties that the archduke and his wife would visit Spain, that they might receive the customary oaths of allegiance, and that the former might become acquainted with the character and institutions of his future subjects. The giddy young prince, however, thought too much of present pleasure to heed the call of ambition or duty, and suffered more than a year to glide away, before he complied with the summons of his royal parents.

In the latter part of 1501, Philip and Joanna, attended by a numerous suite of Flemish courtiers, set out on their journey, proposing to take their way through France. They were entertained with profuse magnificence and hospitality at the French court, where the politic attentions of Louis the Twelfth not only effaced the recollection of ancient injuries to the house of Burgundy, [2] but left impressions of the most agreeable character on the mind of the young prince. [3] After some weeks passed in a succession of splendid fetes and amusements at Blois, where the archduke confirmed the treaty of Trent recently made between his father, the emperor, and the French king, stipulating the marriage of Louis’s eldest daughter, the princess Claude, with Philip’s son Charles, the royal pair resumed their journey towards Spain, which they entered by the way of Fontarabia, January 29th, 1502. [4]

Magnificent preparations had been made for their reception. The grand constable of Castile, the duke of Naxara, and many other of the principal grandees waited on the borders to receive them. Brilliant fetes and illuminations, and all the usual marks of public rejoicing, greeted their progress through the principal cities of the north, and a pragmatica
relaxing the simplicity, or rather severity, of the sumptuary laws of the period, so far as to allow the use of silks and various-colored apparel, shows the attention of the sovereigns to every circumstance, however trifling, which could affect the minds of the young princes agreeably, and diffuse an air of cheerfulness over the scene. [5]

Ferdinand and Isabella, who were occupied with the affairs of Andalusia at this period, no sooner heard of the arrival of Philip and Joanna, than they hastened to the north. They reached Toledo towards the end of April, and in a few days, the queen, who paid the usual penalties of royalty, in seeing her children, one after another, removed far from her into distant lands, had the satisfaction of again folding her beloved daughter in her arms.

On the 22d of the ensuing month, the archduke and his wife received the usual oaths of fealty from the cortes duly convoked for the purpose at Toledo. [6] King Ferdinand, not long after, made a journey into Aragon, in which the queen’s feeble health would not permit her to accompany him, in order to prepare the way for a similar recognition by the estates of that realm. We are not informed what arguments the sagacious monarch made use of to dispel the scruples formerly entertained by that independent body, on a similar application in behalf of his daughter, the late queen of Portugal. [7] They were completely successful, however; and Philip and Joanna, having ascertained the favorable disposition of cortes, made their entrance in great state into the ancient city of Saragossa, in the month of October. On the 27th, having first made oath before the Justice, to observe the laws and liberties of the realm, Joanna as future queen proprietor, and Philip as her husband,—were solemnly recognized by the four arms of Aragon as successors to the crown, in default of male issue of King Ferdinand. The circumstance is memorable, as affording the first example of the parliamentary recognition of a female heir apparent in Aragonese history. [8]

Amidst all the honors so liberally lavished on Philip, his bosom secretly swelled with discontent, fomented still further by his followers, who pressed him to hasten his return to Flanders, where the free and social manners of the people were much more congenial to their tastes, than the reserve and stately ceremonial of the Spanish court. The young prince shared in these feelings, to which, indeed, the love of pleasure, and an instinctive aversion to anything like serious occupation, naturally disposed him. Ferdinand and Isabella saw with regret the frivolous disposition of their son-in-law, who, in the indulgence of selfish and effeminate ease, was willing to repose on others all the important duties of government. They beheld with mortification his indifference to Joanna, who could boast few personal attractions, [9] and who cooled the affections of her husband by alternations of excessive fondness and irritable jealousy, for which last the levity of his conduct gave her too much occasion.

Shortly after the ceremony at Saragossa, the archduke announced his intention of an immediate return to the Netherlands, by the way of France.

The sovereigns, astonished at this abrupt determination, used every argument to dissuade him from it. They represented the ill effects it might occasion the princess Joanna, then too far advanced in a state of pregnancy to accompany him. They pointed out the impropriety, as well as danger, of committing himself to the hands of the French king, with whom they were now at open war; and they finally insisted on the importance of Philip’s remaining long enough in the kingdom to become familiar with the usages, and establish himself in the affections of the people over whom he would one day be called to reign.

All these arguments were ineffectual; the inflexible prince, turning a deaf ear alike to the entreaties of his unhappy wife, and the remonstrances of the Aragonese cortes, still in session, set out from Madrid, with the whole of his Flemish suite, in the month of December. He left Ferdinand and Isabella disgusted with the levity of his conduct, and the queen, in particular, filled with mournful solicitude for the welfare of the daughter with whom his destinies were united. [10]

Before his departure for France, Philip, anxious to re-establish harmony between that country and Spain, offered his services to his father-in-law in negotiating with Louis the Twelfth, if possible, a settlement of the differences respecting Naples. Ferdinand showed some reluctance at intrusting so delicate a commission to an envoy in whose discretion he placed small reliance, which was not augmented by the known partiality which Philip entertained for the French monarch. [11] Before the archduke had crossed the frontier, however, he was overtaken by a Spanish ecclesiastic named Bernaldo Boyl, abbot of St. Miguel de Cuxa, who brought full powers to Philip from the king for concluding a treaty with France, accompanied at the same time with private instructions of the most strict and limited nature. He was enjoined, moreover, to take no step without the advice of his reverend coadjutor, and to inform the Spanish court at once, if different propositions were submitted from those contemplated by his instructions. [12] Thus fortified, the archduke Philip made his appearance at the French Court in Lyons, where he was received by Louis with the same lively expressions of regard as before. With these amiable dispositions, the negotiations were not long in resulting in a definitive treaty, arranged to the mutual satisfaction of the parties, though in violation of the private instructions of the archduke. In the progress of the discussions, Ferdinand, according to the Spanish historians, received advices from his envoy, the abate Boyl, that Philip was transcending his commission; in consequence of which the king sent an express to France, urging his son-in-law to adhere to the strict letter of his instructions.

Before the messenger reached Lyons, however, the treaty was executed. Such is the Spanish account of this blind transaction. [13]

The treaty, which was signed at Lyons, April 5th, 1503, was arranged on the basis of the marriage of Charles, the infant son of Philip, and Claude, princess of France; a marriage, which, settled by three several treaties, was destined never to take place. The royal infants were immediately to assume the titles of King and Queen of Naples, and Duke and Duchess of Calabria. Until the consummation of the marriage, the French division of the kingdom was to be placed under the administration of some suitable person named by Louis the Twelfth, and the Spanish under that of the archduke Philip, or some other deputy appointed by Ferdinand. All places unlawfully seized by either party were to be restored; and lastly it was settled, with regard to the disputed province of the Capitanate, that the portion held by the French should be governed by an agent of King Louis, and the Spanish by the archduke Philip on behalf of Ferdinand. [14]

Such in substance was the treaty of Lyons; a treaty, which, while it seemed to consult the interests of Ferdinand, by securing the throne of Naples eventually to his posterity, was in fact far more accommodated to those of Louis, by placing the immediate control of the Spanish moiety under a prince over whom that monarch held entire influence. It is impossible that so shrewd a statesman as Ferdinand could, from the mere consideration of advantages so remote to himself and dependent on so precarious a contingency as the marriage of two infants, then in their cradles, have seriously contemplated an arrangement, which surrendered all the actual power into the hands of his rival; and that too at the moment when his large armament, so long preparing for Calabria, had reached that country, and when the Great Captain, on the other quarter, had received such accessions of strength as enabled him to assume the offensive, on at least equal terms with the enemy.

No misgivings on this head, however, appeared to have entered the minds of the signers of the treaty, which was celebrated by the court at Lyons with every show of public rejoicing, and particularly with tourneys and tilts of reeds, in imitation of the Spanish chivalry. At the same time, the French king countermanded the embarkation of French troops on board a fleet equipping at the port of Genoa for Naples, and sent orders to his generals in Italy to desist from further operations. The archduke forwarded similar instructions to Gonsalvo, accompanied with a copy of the powers intrusted to him by Ferdinand. That prudent officer, however, whether in obedience to previous directions from the king, as Spanish writers affirm, or on his own responsibility, from a very natural sense of duty, refused to comply with the ambassador’s orders; declaring “he knew no authority but that of his own sovereigns, and that he felt bound to prosecute the war with all his ability, till he received their commands to the contrary.” [15]

Indeed, the archduke’s despatches arrived at the very time when the Spanish general, having strengthened himself by a reinforcement from the neighboring garrison of Tarento under Pedro Navarro, was prepared to sally forth, and try his fortune in battle with the enemy. Without further delay, he put his purpose into execution, and on Friday, the 28th of April, marched out with his whole army from the ancient walls of Barleta; a spot ever memorable in history as the scene of the extraordinary sufferings and indomitable constancy of the Spanish soldier.

The road lay across the field of Cannae, where, seventeen centuries before, the pride of Rome had been humbled by the victorious arms of Hannibal, [16] in a battle which, though fought with far greater numbers, was not so decisive in its consequences as that which the same scenes were to witness in a few hours. The coincidence is certainly singular; and one might almost fancy that the actors in these fearful tragedies, unwilling to deface the fair haunts of civilization, had purposely sought a more fitting theatre in this obscure and sequestered region.

The weather, although only at the latter end of April, was extremely sultry; the troops, notwithstanding Gonsalvo’s orders on crossing the river Ofanto, the ancient Aufidus, had failed to supply themselves with sufficient water for the march; parched with heat and dust, they were soon distressed by excessive thirst; and, as the burning rays of the noontide sun beat fiercely on their heads, many of them, especially those cased in heavy armor, sunk down on the road, fainting with exhaustion and fatigue.

Gonsalvo was seen in every quarter, administering to the necessities of his men, and striving to reanimate their drooping spirits. At length, to relieve them, he commanded that each trooper should take one of the infantry on his crupper, setting the example himself by mounting a German ensign behind him on his own horse.

In this way, the whole army arrived early in the afternoon before Cerignola, a small town on an eminence about sixteen miles from Barleta, where the nature of the ground afforded the Spanish general a favorable position for his camp. The sloping sides of the hill were covered with vineyards, and its base was protected by a ditch of considerable depth.

Gonsalvo saw at once the advantages of the ground. His men were jaded by the march; but there was no time to lose, as the French, who, on his departure from Barleta, had been drawn up under the walls of Canosa, were now rapidly advancing. All hands were put in requisition, therefore, for widening the trench, in which they planted sharp-pointed stakes; while the earth which they excavated enabled them to throw up a parapet of considerable height on the side next the town. On this rampart he mounted his little train of artillery, consisting of thirteen guns, and behind it drew up his forces in order of battle. [17]

Before these movements were completed in the Spanish camp, the bright arms and banners of the French were seen glistening in the distance amid the tall fennel and cane-brakes with which the country was thickly covered. As soon as they had come in view of the Spanish encampment, they were brought to a halt, while a council of war was called, to determine the expediency of giving battle that evening. The duke of Nemours would have deferred it till the following morning, as the day was already far spent, and allowed no time for reconnoitring the position of his enemy. But Ives d’Allegre, Chandieu, the commander of the Swiss, and some other officers, were for immediate action, representing the importance of not balking the impatience of the soldiers, who were all hot for the assault. In the course of the debate, Allegre was so much heated as to throw out some rash taunts on the courage of the viceroy, which the latter would have avenged on the spot, had not his arm been arrested by Louis d’Ars. He had the weakness, however, to suffer them to change his cooler purpose, exclaiming, “We will fight to-night, then; and perhaps those who vaunt the loudest will be found to trust more to their spurs, than their swords;” a prediction bitterly justified by the event. [18]

While this dispute was going on, Gonsalvo gained time for making the necessary disposition of his troops. In the centre he placed his German auxiliaries, armed with their long pikes, and on each wing the Spanish infantry under the command of Pedro Navarro, Diego de Paredes, Pizarro, and other illustrious captains. The defence of the artillery was committed to the left wing. A considerable body of men-at-arms, including those recently equipped from the spoils of Ruvo, was drawn up within the intrenchments, in a quarter affording a convenient opening for a sally, and placed under the orders of Mendoza and Fabrizio Colonna, whose brother Prospero and Pedro de la Paz took charge of the light cavalry, which was posted without the lines to annoy the advance of the enemy, and act on any point, as occasion might require. Having completed his preparations, the Spanish general coolly waited the assault of the French.

The duke of Nemours had marshalled his forces in a very different order.

He distributed them into three battles or divisions, stationing his heavy horse, composing altogether, as Gonsalvo declared, “the finest body of cavalry seen for many years in Italy,” under the command of Louis d’Ars, on the right. The second and centre division, formed somewhat in the rear of the right, was made up of the Swiss and Gascon infantry, headed by the brave Chandieu; and his left, consisting chiefly of his light cavalry, and drawn up, like the last, somewhat in the rear of the preceding, was intrusted to Allegre. [19]

It was within half an hour of sunset when the duke de Nemours gave orders for the attack, and, putting himself at the head of the gendarmerie on the right, spurred at full gallop against the Spanish left. The hostile armies were nearly equal, amounting to between six and seven thousand men each.

The French were superior in the number and condition of their cavalry, rising to a third of their whole force; while Gonsalvo’s strength lay chiefly in his infantry, which had acquired a lesson of tactics under him, that raised it to a level with the best in Europe.

As the French advanced, the guns on the Spanish left poured a lively fire into their ranks, when, a spark accidentally communicating with the magazine of powder, the whole blew up with a tremendous explosion. The Spaniards were filled with consternation; but Gonsalvo, converting the misfortune into a lucky omen, called out, “Courage, soldiers, these are the beacon lights of victory! We have no need of our guns at close quarters.”

In the mean time, the French van under Nemours, advancing rapidly under the dark clouds of smoke, which rolled heavily over the field, were unexpectedly brought up by the deep trench, of whose existence they were unapprised. Some of the horse were precipitated into it, and all received a sudden check, until Nemours, finding it impossible to force the works in this quarter, rode along their front in search of some practicable passage. In doing this, he necessarily exposed his flank to the fatal aim of the Spanish arquebusiers. A shot from one of them took effect on the unfortunate young nobleman, and he fell mortally wounded from his saddle.

At this juncture, the Swiss and Gascon infantry, briskly moving up to second the attack of the now disordered horse, arrived before the intrenchments. Undismayed by this formidable barrier, their commander, Chandieu, made the most desperate attempts to force a passage; but the loose earth freshly turned up afforded no hold to the feet, and his men were compelled to recoil from the dense array of German pikes, which bristled over the summit of the breastwork. Chandieu, their leader, made every effort to rally and bring them back to the charge; but, in the act of doing this, was hit by a ball, which stretched him lifeless in the ditch; his burnished arms, and the snow-white plumes above his helmet, making him a conspicuous mark for the enemy.

All was now confusion. The Spanish arquebusiers, screened by their defences, poured a galling fire into the dense masses of the enemy, who were mingled together indiscriminately, horse and foot, while, the leaders being down, no one seemed capable of bringing them to order. At this critical moment, Gonsalvo, whose eagle eye took in the whole operations of the field, ordered a general charge along the line; and the Spaniards, leaping their intrenchments, descended with the fury of an avalanche on their foes, whose wavering columns, completely broken by the violence of the shock, were seized with a panic, and fled, scarcely offering any resistance. Louis d’Ars, at the head of such of the men-at-arms as could follow him, went off in one direction, and Ives d’Allegre, with his light cavalry, which had hardly come into action, in another; thus fully verifying the ominous prediction of his commander. The slaughter fell most heavily on the Swiss and Gascon foot, whom the cavalry under Mendoza and Pedro de la Paz rode down and cut to pieces without sparing, till the shades of evening shielded them at length from their pitiless pursuers.

[20]

Prospero Colonna pushed on to the French encampment, where he found the tables in the duke’s tent spread for his evening repast; of which the Italian general and his followers did not fail to make good account. A trifling incident, that well illustrates the sudden reverses of war.

The Great Captain passed the night on the field of battle, which, on the following morning, presented a ghastly spectacle of the dying and the dead. More than three thousand French are computed by the best accounts to have fallen. The loss of the Spaniards, covered as they were by their defences, was inconsiderable. [21] All the enemy’s artillery, consisting of thirteen pieces, his baggage, and most of his colors fell into their hands. Never was there a more complete victory, achieved too within the space of little more than an hour. The body of the unfortunate Nemours, which was recognized by one of his pages from the rings on the fingers, was found under a heap of slain, much disfigured. It appeared that he had received three several wounds, disproving, if need were, by his honorable death the injurious taunts of Allegre. Gonsalvo was affected even to tears at beholding the mutilated remains of his young and gallant adversary, who, whatever judgment may be formed of his capacity as a leader, was allowed to have all the qualities which belong to a true knight. With him perished the last scion of the illustrious house of Armagnac. Gonsalvo ordered his remains to be conveyed to Barleta, where they were laid in the cemetery of the convent of St. Francis, with all the honors due to his high station. [22]

The Spanish commander lost no time in following up his blow, well aware that it is quite as difficult to improve a victory as to win one. The French had rushed into battle with too much precipitation to agree on any plan of operations, or any point on which to rally in case of defeat. They accordingly scattered in different directions, and Pedro de la Paz was despatched in pursuit of Louis d’Ars, who threw himself into Venosa, [23]

where he kept the enemy at bay for many months longer. Paredes kept close on the scent of Allegre, who, finding the gates shut against him wherever he passed, at length took shelter in Gaeta on the extreme point of the Neapolitan territory. There he endeavored to rally the scattered relics of the field of Cerignola, and to establish a strong position, from which the French, when strengthened by fresh supplies from home, might recommence operations for the recovery of the kingdom.

The day after the battle of Cerignola the Spaniards received tidings of another victory, scarcely less important, gained over the French in Calabria, the preceding week. [24] The army sent out under Portocarrero had reached that coast early in March; but, soon after its arrival, its gallant commander fell ill and died. [25] The dying general named Don Fernando de Andrada as his successor; and this officer, combining his forces with those before in the country under Cardona and Benavides, encountered the French commander D’Aubigny in a pitched battle, not far from Seminara, on Friday, the 21st of April. It was near the same spot on which the latter had twice beaten the Spaniards. But the star of France was on the wane; and the gallant old officer had the mortification to see his little corps of veterans completely routed after a sharp engagement of less than an hour, while he himself was retrieved with difficulty from the hands of the enemy by the valor of his Scottish guard. [26]

The Great Captain and his army, highly elated with the news of this fortunate event, which annihilated the French power in Calabria, began their march on Naples; Fabrizio Colonna having been first detached into the Abruzzi to receive the submission of the people in that quarter. The tidings of the victory had spread far and wide; and, as Gonsalvo’s army advanced, they beheld the ensigns of Aragon floating from the battlements of the towns upon their route, while the inhabitants came forth to greet the conqueror, eager to testify their devotion to the Spanish cause. The army halted at Benevento; and the general sent his summons to the city of Naples, inviting it in the most courteous terms to resume its ancient allegiance to the legitimate branch of Aragon. It was hardly to be expected, that the allegiance of a people, who had so long seen their country set up as a mere stake for political gamesters, should sit very closely upon them, or that they should care to peril their lives on the transfer of a crown which had shifted on the heads of half a dozen proprietors in as many successive years. [27] With the same ductile enthusiasm, therefore, with which they greeted the accession of Charles the Eighth or Louis the Twelfth, they now welcomed the restoration of the ancient dynasty of Aragon; and deputies from the principal nobility and citizens waited on the Great Captain at Acerra, where they tendered him the keys of the city, and requested the confirmation of their rights and privileges.

Gonsalvo, having promised this in the name of his royal master, on the following morning, the 14th of May, 1503, made his entrance in great state into the capital, leaving his army without the walls. He was escorted by the military of the city under a royal canopy borne by the deputies. The streets were strewed with flowers, the edifices decorated with appropriate emblems and devices, and wreathed with banners emblazoned with the united arms of Aragon and Naples. As he passed along, the city rung with the acclamations of countless multitudes who thronged the streets; while every window and housetop was filled with spectators, eager to behold the man, who, with scarcely any other resources than those of his own genius, had so long defied, and at length completely foiled, the power of France.

On the following day a deputation of the nobility and people waited on the Great Captain at his quarters, and tendered him the usual oaths of allegiance for his master, King Ferdinand, whose accession finally closed the series of revolutions which had so long agitated this unhappy country.

[28]

The city of Naples was commanded by two strong fortresses still held by the French, which, being well victualled and supplied with ammunition, showed no disposition to surrender. The Great Captain determined, therefore, to reserve a small corps for their reduction, while he sent forward the main body of his army to besiege Gaeta. But the Spanish infantry refused to march until the heavy arrears, suffered to accumulate through the negligence of the government, were discharged; and Gonsalvo, afraid of awakening the mutinous spirit which he had once found it so difficult to quell, was obliged to content himself with sending forward his cavalry and German levies, and to permit the infantry to take up its quarters in the capital, under strict orders to respect the persons and property of the citizens.

He now lost no time in pressing the siege of the French fortresses, whose impregnable situation might have derided the efforts of the most formidable enemy in the ancient state of military science. But the reduction of these places was intrusted to Pedro Navarro, the celebrated engineer, whose improvements in the art of mining have gained him the popular reputation of being its inventor, and who displayed such unprecedented skill on this occasion, as makes it a memorable epoch in the annals of war. [29]

Under his directions, the small tower of St. Vincenzo having been first reduced by a furious cannonade, a mine was run under the outer defences of the great fortress called Castel Nuovo. On the 21st of May, the mine was sprung; a passage was opened over the prostrate ramparts, and the assailants, rushing in with Gonsalvo and Navarro at their head, before the garrison had time to secure the drawbridge, applied their ladders to the walls of the castle, and succeeded in carrying the place by escalade, after a desperate struggle, in which the greater part of the French were slaughtered. An immense booty was found in the castle. The Angevin party had made it a place of deposit for their most valuable effects, gold, jewels, plate, and other treasures, which, together with its well-stored magazines of grain and ammunition, became the indiscriminate spoil of the victors. As some of these, however, complained of not getting their share of the plunder, Gonsalvo, giving full scope in the exultation of the moment to military license, called out gayly, “Make amends for it, then, by what you can find in my quarters!” The words were not uttered to deaf ears. The mob of soldiery rushed to the splendid palace of the Angevin prince of Salerno, then occupied by the Great Captain, and in a moment its sumptuous furniture, paintings, and other costly decorations, together with the contents of its generous cellar, were seized and appropriated without ceremony by the invaders, who thus indemnified themselves at their general’s expense for the remissness of government.

After some weeks of protracted operations, the remaining fortress, Castel d’Uovo, as it was called, opened its gates to Navarro; and a French fleet, coming into the harbor, had the mortification to find itself fired on from the walls of the place it was intended to relieve. Before this event, Gonsalvo, having obtained funds from Spain for paying off his men, quitted the capital and directed his march on Gaeta. The important results of his victories were now fully disclosed. D’Aubigny, with the wreck of the forces escaped from Seminara, had surrendered. The two Abruzzi, the Capitanate, all the Basilicate, except Venosa, still held by Louis d’Ars, and indeed every considerable place in the kingdom, had tendered its submission, with the exception of Gaeta. Summoning, therefore, to his aid Andrada, Navarro, and his other officers, the Great Captain resolved to concentrate all his strength on this point, designing to press the siege, and thus exterminate at a blow the feeble remains of the French power in Italy. The enterprise was attended with more difficulty than he had anticipated. [30]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1500.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 2.

The queen expressed herself in the language of Scripture. “Sora cecidit super Mathiam,” in allusion to the circumstance of Charles being born on that saint’s day; a day which, if we are to believe Garibay, was fortunate to him through the whole course of his life. Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 9.

[2] Charles VIII., Louis’s predecessor, had contrived to secure the hand of Anne of Bretagne, notwithstanding she was already married by proxy to Philip’s father, the emperor Maximilian; and this, too, in contempt of his own engagements to Margaret, the emperor’s daughter, to whom he had been affianced from her infancy. This twofold insult, which sunk deep into the heart of Maximilian, seems to have made no impression on the volatile spirits of his son.

[3] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, lib. 27, cap. 11.—St. Gelais describes the cordial reception of Philip and Joanna by the Court at Blois, where he was probably present himself. The historian shows his own opinion of the effect produced on their young minds by these flattering attentions, by remarking, “Le roy leur monstra si tres grand semblant d’amour, que par noblesse et honestete de coeur il les obligeoit envers luy de leur en souvenir toute leur vie.” Hist. de Louys. XII., pp. 164, 165.

In passing through Paris, Philip took his seat in parliament as peer of France, and subsequently did homage to Louis XII., as his suzerain for his estates in Flanders; an acknowledgment of inferiority not at all palatable to the Spanish historians, who insist with much satisfaction on the haughty refusal of his wife, the archduchess, to take part in the ceremony. Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 4, cap. 55.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1502.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 13, sec. 1.—

Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, p. 17.

[4] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1501.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 5.

[5] Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 4, cap. 55.—Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. p. 220.

This extreme simplicity of attire, in which Zurita discerns “the modesty of the times,” was enforced by laws, the policy of which, whatever be thought of their moral import, may well be doubted in an economical view.

I shall have occasion to draw the reader’s attention to them hereafter.

[6] The writ is dated at Llerena, March 8. It was extracted by Marina from the archives of Toledo, Teoria, tom. ii. p. 18.

[7] It is remarkable that the Aragonese writers, generally so inquisitive on all points touching the constitutional history of their country, should have omitted to notice the grounds on which the cortes thought proper to reverse its former decision in the analogous case of the infanta Isabella.

There seems to have been even less reason for departing from ancient usage in the present instance, since Joanna had a son, to whom the cortes might lawfully have tendered its oath of recognition; for a female, although excluded from the throne in her own person, was regarded as competent to transmit the title unimpaired to her male heirs. Blancas suggests no explanation of the affair, (Coronaciones, lib. 3, cap. 20, and Commentarii, pp. 274, 511,) and Zurita quietly dismisses it with the remark, that “there was some opposition raised, but the king had managed it so discreetly beforehand, that there was not the same difficulty as formerly.” (Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 5.) It is curious to see with what effrontery the prothonotary of the cortes, in the desire to varnish over the departure from constitutional precedent, declares, in the opening address, “the princess Joanna, true and lawful heir to the crown, to whom, in default of male heirs, the usage and law of the land require the oath of allegiance.” Coronaciones, ubi supra.

[8] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1500.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii.

rey 30, cap. 12, sec. 6.—Robles, Vita de Ximenez, p. 126.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 14.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 5.

Petronilla, the only female who ever sat, in her own right, on the throne of Aragon, never received the homage of cortes as heir apparent; the custom not having been established at that time, the middle of the twelfth century. (Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 5.) Blancas has described the ceremony of Joanna’s recognition with quite as much circumstantiality as the novelty of the case could warrant. Coronaciones, lib. 3, cap. 20.

[9] “Simplex est foemina,” says Martyr, speaking of Joanna, “licet a tanta muliere progenita.” Opus Epist., epist. 250.

[10] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., ubi supra.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib.

5, cap. 10.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 44.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1502.

[11] Such manifest partiality for the French court and manners was shown by Philip and his Flemish followers, that the Spaniards very generally believed the latter were in the pay of Louis XII. See Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 44.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 23.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 253.—Lanuza, Historias, cap. 16.

[12] Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 10.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 13, sec. 2.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 15.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 1, chap. 32.

[13] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 23.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., pp. 170, 171.—Claude de Seyssel, Histoire de Louys XII., (Paris, 1615,) p. 108.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 13, sec. 3.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. pp. 690, 691.—

Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. cap. 16.

Some of the French historians speak of two agents besides Philip employed in the negotiations. Father Boyl is the only one named by the Spanish writers, as regularly commissioned for the purpose, although it is not improbable that Gralla, the resident minister at Louis’s court, took part in the discussions.

[14] See the treaty, apud Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. pp. 27-29.

[15] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 33, sec. 3.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 4.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p.

171.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 75.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 32.

According to the Aragonese historians, Ferdinand, on the archduke’s departure, informed Gonsalvo of the intended negotiations with France, cautioning the general at the same time not to heed any instructions of the archduke till confirmed by him. This circumstance the French writers regard as unequivocal proof of the king’s insincerity in entering into the negotiation. It wears this aspect at first, certainly; but, on a nearer view, admits of a very different construction. Ferdinand had no confidence in the discretion of his envoy, whom, if we are to believe the Spanish writers, he employed in the affair more from accident than choice; and, notwithstanding the full powers intrusted to him, he did not consider himself bound to recognize the validity of any treaty which the other should sign, until first ratified by himself. With these views, founded on principles now universally recognized in European diplomacy, it was natural to caution his general against any unauthorized interference on the part of his envoy, which the rash and presumptuous character of the latter, acting, moreover, under an undue influence of the French monarch, gave him good reason to fear.

As to the Great Captain, who has borne a liberal share of censure on this occasion, it is not easy to see how he could have acted otherwise than he did, even in the event of no special instructions from Ferdinand. For he would scarcely have been justified in abandoning a sure prospect of advantage on the authority of one, the validity of whose powers he could not determine, and which, in fact, do not appear to have warranted such interference. The only authority he knew, was that from which he held his commission, and to which he was responsible for the faithful discharge of it.

[16] Neither Polybius (lib. 3, sec. 24 et seq.) nor Livy, (Hist., lib. 22, cap. 43-50,) who give the most circumstantial narratives of the battle, are precise enough to enable us to ascertain the exact spot in which it was fought. Strabo, in his topographical notices of this part of Italy, briefly alludes to “the affair of Cannae” (ta peri Kannas), without any description of the scene of action. (Geog., lib. 6, p. 285.) Cluverius fixes the site of the ancient Cannae on the right bank of the Anfidus, the modern Ofanto, between three and four miles below Canusium; and notices the modern hamlet of nearly the same name, Canne, where common tradition recognizes the ruins of the ancient town. (Italia Antiqua, lib. 4, cap.

12, sec. 8.) D’Anville makes no difficulty in identifying these two, (Geographie Ancienne Abregee, tom. i. p. 208,) having laid down the ancient town in his maps in the direct line, and about midway, between Barleta and Cerignola.

[17] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 253-255.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 5, p. 303.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 75, 76.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 27.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 256.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 16, 17.

Giovio says, that he had heard Fabrizio Colonna remark more than once, in allusion to the intrenchments at the base of the hill, “that the victory was owing, not to the skill of the commander, nor the valor of the troops, but to a mound and a ditch.” This ancient mode of securing a position, which had fallen into disuse, was revived after this, according to the same author, and came into general practice among the best captains of the age. Ubi supra.

[18] Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. ii. disc. 8.—Garnier, Histoire de France, (Paris, 1783-8,) tom. v. pp. 395, 396.—Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. p.

244.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 171.

[19] Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 76.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 253-255.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 17.

[20] Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 75.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom.

v. pp. 396, 397.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 5, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xvi.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, ubi supra.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. pp. 303, 304.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., pp. 171, 172.—Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. ii. disc. 8.

[21] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 255.—Garibay, Compendio, tom.

ii. lib. 19, cap. 15.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 180.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 256.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 5.

No account, that I know of, places the French loss so low as 3000; Garibay raises it to 4500, and the French marechal de Fleurange rates that of the Swiss alone at 5000; a round exaggeration, not readily accounted for, as he had undoubted access to the best means of information. The Spaniards were too well screened to sustain much injury, and no estimate makes it more than a hundred killed, and some considerable less. The odds are indeed startling, but not impossible; as the Spaniards were not much exposed by personal collision with the enemy, until the latter were thrown into too much disorder to think of anything but escape. The more than usual confusion and discrepancy in the various statements of the particulars of this action may probably be attributed to the lateness of the hour, and consequently imperfect light, in which it was fought.

[22] Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom i. p. 277.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, fol. 255.—Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. pp. 248, 249.—

Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 17.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap.

181.

[23] It was to this same city of Venusium that the rash and unfortunate Varro made his retreat, some seventeen centuries before, from the bloody field of Cannae. Liv. Hist., lib. 22, cap. 49.

[24] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 255.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 256.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 80.

Friday, says Guicciardini, alluding no doubt to Columbus’s discoveries, as well as these two victories, was observed to be a lucky day to the Spaniards; according to Gaillard, it was regarded from this time by the French with more superstitious dread than ever. Istoria, tom. i. p. 301.—

Rivalite, tom. iv. p. 348.

[25] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 8, 24.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 250.

The reader may perhaps recollect the distinguished part played in the Moorish war by Luis Portocarrero, lord of Palma. He was of noble Italian origin, being descended from the ancient Genoese house of Boccanegra. The Great Captain and he had married sisters; and this connection probably recommended him, as much as his military talents, to the Calabrian command, which it was highly important should be intrusted to one who would maintain a good understanding with the commander-in-chief; a thing not easy to secure among the haughty nobility of Castile.

[26] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 255.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 256.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 80.—Varillas, Histoire de Louis XII. (Paris, 1688,) tom. i. pp. 289-292. See the account of D’Aubigny’s victories at Seminara, in Part II. Chapters 2 and 11, of this History.

[27] Since 1494 the sceptre of Naples had passed into the hands of no less than seven princes, Ferdinand I., Alfonso II., Ferdinand II., Charles VIII., Frederic III., Louis XII., Ferdinand the Catholic. No private estate in the kingdom in the same time had probably changed masters half so often. See Cartas del Gran Capitan, MS.

[28] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. p. 304.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 4.—Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. p. 250.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iii. pp. 552, 553.—Muratori, Annali d’Italia, tom.

xiv. p. 40.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 81.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 18.

[29] The Italians, in their admiration of Pedro Navarro, caused medals to be struck, on which the invention of mines was ascribed to him. (Marini, apud Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. p. 351.) Although not actually the inventor, his glory was scarcely less, since he was the first who discovered the extensive and formidable uses to which they might be applied in the science of destruction. See Part I. Chapter 13, note 23, of this History.

[30] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 30, 31, 34, 35.

—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 255-257.—Garibay, Compendio, tom.

ii. lib. 19, cap. 15.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 183.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, pp. 307-309.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol.

18, 19.—Ammirato, Istorie Florentine, tom. iii. p. 271.-Summonte, Hist.

di Napoli, tom. iii. p. 554.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 84, 86, 87, 93, 95.—Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. pp. 407-409.

CHAPTER XIII.

NEGOTIATIONS WITH FRANCE.—UNSUCCESSFUL INVASION OF SPAIN.—TRUCE.

1503.

Ferdinand’s Policy Examined.—First Symptoms of Joanna’s Insanity.—

Isabella’s Distress and Fortitude.—Efforts of France.—Siege of Salsas.—

Isabella’s Levies.—Ferdinand’s Successes.—Reflections on the Campaign.

The events noticed in the preceding chapter glided away as rapidly as the flitting phantoms of a dream. Scarcely had Louis the Twelfth received the unwelcome intelligence of Gonsalvo de Cordova’s refusal to obey the mandate of the archduke Philip, before he was astounded with the tidings of the victory of Cerignola, the march on Naples, and the surrender of that capital, as well as of the greater part of the kingdom, following one another in breathless succession. It seemed as if the very means on which the French king had so confidently relied for calming the tempest, had been the signal for awakening all its fury, and bringing it on his devoted head. Mortified and incensed at being made the dupe of what he deemed a perfidious policy, he demanded an explanation of the archduke, who was still in France. The latter, vehemently protesting his own innocence, felt, or affected to feel, so sensibly the ridiculous and, as it appeared, dishonorable part played by him in the transaction, that he was thrown into a severe illness, which confined him to his bed for several days. [1]

Without delay, he wrote to the Spanish court in terms of bitter expostulation, urging the immediate ratification of the treaty made pursuant to its orders, and an indemnification to France for its subsequent violation. Such is the account given by the French historians.

The Spanish writers, on the other hand, say, that before the news of Gonsalvo’s successes reached Spain, King Ferdinand refused to confirm the treaty sent him by his son-in-law, until it had undergone certain material modifications. If the Spanish monarch hesitated to approve the treaty in the doubtful posture of his affairs, he was little likely to do so, when he had the game entirely in his own hands. [2]

He postponed an answer to Philip’s application, willing probably to gain time for the Great Captain to strengthen himself firmly in his recent acquisitions. At length, after a considerable interval, he despatched an embassy to France, announcing his final determination never to ratify a treaty made in contempt of his orders, and so clearly detrimental to his interests. He endeavored, however, to gain further time by spinning out the negotiation, holding up for this purpose the prospect of an ultimate accommodation, and suggesting the re-establishment of his kinsman, the unfortunate Frederic, on the Neapolitan throne, as the best means of effecting it. The artifice, however, was too gross even for the credulous Louis; who peremptorily demanded of the ambassadors the instant and absolute ratification of the treaty, and, on their declaring it was beyond their powers, ordered them at once to leave his court. “I had rather,”

said he, “suffer the loss of a kingdom, which may perhaps be retrieved, than the loss of honor, which never can.” A noble sentiment, but falling with no particular grace from the lips of Louis the Twelfth. [3]

The whole of this blind transaction is stated in so irreconcilable a manner by the historians of the different nations, that it is extremely difficult to draw anything like a probable narrative out of them. The Spanish writers assert that the public commission of the archduke was controlled by strict private instructions; [4] while the French, on the other hand, are either silent as to the latter, or represent them to have been as broad and unlimited as his credentials. [5] If this be true, the negotiations must be admitted to exhibit, on the part of Ferdinand, as gross an example of political jugglery and falsehood, as ever disgraced the annals of diplomacy. [6]

But it is altogether improbable, as I have before remarked, that a monarch so astute and habitually cautious should have intrusted unlimited authority, in so delicate a business, to a person whose discretion, independent of his known partiality for the French monarch, he held so lightly. It is much more likely that he limited, as is often done, the full powers committed to him in public, by private instructions of the most explicit character; and that the archduke was betrayed by his own vanity, and perhaps ambition (for the treaty threw the immediate power into his own hands), into arrangements unwarranted by the tenor of these instructions. [7]

If this were the case, the propriety of Ferdinand’s conduct in refusing the ratification depends on the question how far a sovereign is bound by the acts of a plenipotentiary who departs from his private instructions.

Formerly, the question would seem to have been unsettled. Indeed, some of the most respectable writers on public law in the beginning of the seventeenth century maintain, that such a departure would not justify the prince in withholding his ratification; deciding thus, no doubt, on principles of natural equity, which appear to require that a principal should be held responsible for the acts of an agent, coming within the scope of his powers, though at variance with his secret orders, with which the other contracting party can have no acquaintance or concern. [8]

The inconvenience, however, arising from adopting a principle in political negotiations, which must necessarily place the destinies of a whole nation in the hands of a single individual, rash or incompetent, it may be, without the power of interference or supervision on the part of the government, has led to a different conclusion in practice; and it is now generally admitted by European writers, not merely that the exchange of ratifications is essential to the validity of a treaty, but that a government is not bound to ratify the doings of a minister who has transcended his private instructions. [9]

But, whatever be thought of Ferdinand’s good faith in the early stages of this business, there is no doubt that, at a later period, when his position was changed by the success of his arms in Italy, he sought only to amuse the French court with a show of negotiation, in order, as we have already intimated, to paralyze its operations and gain time for securing his conquests. The French writers inveigh loudly against this crafty and treacherous policy; and Louis the Twelfth gave vent to his own indignation in no very measured terms. But, however we may now regard it, it was in perfect accordance with the trickish spirit of the age; and the French king resigned all right of rebuking his antagonist on this score, when he condescended to become a party with him to the infamous partition treaty, and still more when he so grossly violated it. He had voluntarily engaged with his Spanish rival in the game, and it afforded no good ground of complaint, that he was the least adroit of the two.

While Ferdinand was thus triumphant in his schemes of foreign policy and conquest, his domestic life was clouded with the deepest anxiety, in consequence of the declining health of the queen, and the eccentric conduct of his daughter, the infanta Joanna. We have already seen the extravagant fondness with which that princess, notwithstanding her occasional sallies of jealousy, doated on her young and handsome husband.

[10] From the hour of his departure she had been plunged in the deepest dejection, sitting day and night with her eyes fixed on the ground, in uninterrupted silence, or broken only by occasional expressions of petulant discontent. She refused all consolation, thinking only of rejoining her absent lord, and “equally regardless,” says Martyr, who was then at the court, “of herself, her future subjects, and her afflicted parents.” [11]

On the 10th of March, 1503, she was delivered of her second son, who received the baptismal name of Ferdinand, in compliment to his grandfather. [12] No change, however, took place in the mind of the unfortunate mother, who from this time was wholly occupied with the project of returning to Flanders. An invitation to that effect, which she received from her husband in the month of November, determined her to undertake the journey, at all hazards, notwithstanding the affectionate remonstrances of the queen, who represented the impracticability of traversing France, agitated, as it then was, with all the bustle of war-like preparation, or of venturing by sea at this inclement and stormy season.

One evening, while her mother was absent at Segovia, Joanna, whose residence was at Medina del Campo, left her apartment in the castle, and sallied out, though in dishabille, without announcing her purpose to any of her attendants. They followed, however, and used every argument and entreaty to prevail on her to return, at least for the night, but without effect; until the bishop of Burgos, who had charge of her household, finding every other means ineffectual, was compelled to close the castle gates, in order to prevent her departure.

The princess, thus thwarted in her purpose, gave way to the most violent indignation. She menaced the attendants with her utmost vengeance for their disobedience, and, taking her station on the barrier, she obstinately refused to re-enter the castle, or even to put on any additional clothing, but remained cold and shivering on the spot till the following morning. The good bishop, sorely embarrassed by the dilemma to which he found himself reduced, of offending the queen by complying with the mad humor of the princess, or the latter still more, by resisting it, despatched an express in all haste to Isabella, acquainting her with the affair, and begging instructions how to proceed.

The queen, who was staying, as has been said, at Segovia, about forty miles distant, alarmed at the intelligence, sent the king’s cousin, the admiral Henriquez, together with the archbishop of Toledo, at once to Medina, and prepared to follow as fast as the feeble state of her health would permit. The efforts of these eminent persons, however, were not much more successful than those of the bishop. All they could obtain from Joanna was, that she would retire to a miserable kitchen in the neighborhood, during the night; while she persisted in taking her station on the barrier as soon as it was light, and continued there, immovable as a statue, the whole day. In this deplorable state she was found by the queen on her arrival; and it was not without great difficulty that the latter, with all the deference habitually paid her by her daughter, succeeded in persuading her to return to her own apartments in the castle.

These were the first unequivocal symptoms of that hereditary taint of insanity which had clouded the latter days of Isabella’s mother, and which, with a few brief intervals, was to shed a deeper gloom over the long-protracted existence of her unfortunate daughter. [13]

The conviction of this sad infirmity of the princess gave a shock to the unhappy mother, scarcely less than that which she had formerly been called to endure in the death of her children. The sorrows, over which time had had so little power, were opened afresh by a calamity, which naturally filled her with the most gloomy forebodings for the fate of her people, whose welfare was to be committed to such incompetent hands. These domestic griefs were still further swelled at this time by the death of two of her ancient friends and counsellors, Juan Chacon, adelantado of Murcia, [14] and Gutierre de Cardenas, grand commander of Leon. [15] They had attached themselves to Isabella in the early part of her life, when her fortunes were still under a cloud; and they afterwards reaped the requital of their services in such ample honors and emoluments as royal gratitude could bestow, and in the full enjoyment of her confidence, to which their steady devotion to her interests well entitled them. [16]

But neither the domestic troubles which pressed so heavily on Isabella’s heart, nor the rapidly declining state of her own health, had power to blunt the energies of her mind, or lessen the vigilance with which she watched over the interests of her people. A remarkable proof of this was given in the autumn of the present year, 1503, when the country was menaced with an invasion from France.

The whole French nation had shared the indignation of Louis the Twelfth, at the mortifying result of his enterprise against Naples; and it answered his call for supplies so promptly and liberally, that, in a few months after the defeat of Cerignola, he was able to resume operations, on a more formidable scale than France had witnessed for centuries. Three large armies were raised, one to retrieve affairs in Italy, a second to penetrate into Spain, by the way of Fontarabia, and a third to cross into Roussillon, and get possession of the strong post of Salsas, the key of the mountain passes in that quarter. Two fleets were also equipped in the ports of Genoa and Marseilles, the latter of which was to support the invasion of Roussillon by a descent on the coast of Catalonia. These various corps were intended to act in concert, and thus, by one grand, simultaneous movement, Spain was to be assailed on three several points of her territory. The results did not correspond with the magnificence of the apparatus. [17]

The army destined to march on Fontarabia was placed under the command of Alan d’Albret, father of the king of Navarre, along the frontiers of whose dominions its route necessarily lay. Ferdinand had assured himself of the favorable dispositions of this prince, the situation of whose kingdom, more than its strength, made his friendship important; and the lord d’Albret, whether from a direct understanding with the Spanish monarch, or fearful of the consequences which might result to his son from the hostility of the latter, detained the forces intrusted to him, so long among the bleak and barren fastnesses of the mountains, that at length, exhausted by fatigue and want of food, the army melted away without even reaching the enemy’s borders. [18]

The force directed against Roussillon was of a more formidable character.

It was commanded by the marechal de Rieux, a brave and experienced officer, though much broken by age and bodily infirmities. It amounted to more than twenty thousand men. Its strength, however, lay chiefly in its numbers. It was, with the exception of a few thousand lansquenets under William de la Marck, [19] made up of the arriere-ban of the kingdom, and the undisciplined militia from the great towns of Languedoc. With this numerous array the French marshal entered Roussillon without opposition, and sat down before Salsas on the 16th of September, 1503.

The old castle of Salsas, which had been carried without much difficulty by the French in the preceding war, had been put in a defensible condition at the commencement of the present, under the superintendence of Pedro Navarro, although the repairs were not yet wholly completed. Ferdinand, on the approach of the enemy, had thrown a thousand picked men into the place, which was well victualled and provided for a siege; while a corps of six thousand was placed under his cousin, Don Frederic de Toledo, duke of Alva, with orders to take up a position in the neighborhood, where he might watch the movements of the enemy, and annoy him as far as possible by cutting off his supplies. [20]

Ferdinand, in the mean while, lost no time in enforcing levies throughout the kingdom, with which he might advance to the relief of the beleaguered fortress. While thus occupied, he received such accounts of the queen’s indisposition as induced him to quit Aragon, where he then was, and hasten by rapid journeys to Castile. The accounts were probably exaggerated; he found no cause for immediate alarm on his arrival, and Isabella, ever ready to sacrifice her own inclinations to the public weal, persuaded him to return to the scene of operations, where his presence at this juncture was so important. Forgetting her illness, she made the most unwearied efforts for assembling troops without delay to support her husband. The grand constable of Castile was commissioned to raise levies through every part of the kingdom, and the principal nobility flocked in with their retainers from the farthest provinces, all eager to obey the call of their beloved mistress. Thus strengthened, Ferdinand, whose head-quarters were established at Girona, saw himself in less than a month in possession of a force, which, including the supplies of Aragon, amounted to ten or twelve thousand horse, and three or four times that number of foot. He no longer delayed his march, and about the middle of October put his army in motion, proposing to effect a junction with the duke of Alva, then lying before Perpignan, at a few leagues’ distance from Salsas. [21] Isabella, who was at Segovia, was made acquainted by regular expresses with every movement of the army. She no sooner learned its departure from Gerona than she was filled with disquietude at the prospect of a speedy encounter with the enemy, whose defeat, whatever glory it might reflect on her own arms, could be purchased only at the expense of Christian blood. She wrote in earnest terms to her husband, requesting him not to drive his enemies to despair by closing up their retreat to their own land, but to leave vengeance to Him to whom alone it belonged. She passed her days, together with her whole household, in fasting and continual prayer, and, in the fervor of her pious zeal, personally visited the several religious houses of the city, distributing alms among their holy inmates, and imploring them humbly to supplicate the Almighty to avert the impending calamity.

[22]

The prayers of the devout queen and her court found favor with Heaven.

[23] King Ferdinand reached Perpignan on the 19th of October, and on that same night the French marshal, finding himself unequal to the rencontre with the combined forces of Spain, broke up his camp, and, setting fire to his tents, began his retreat towards the frontier, having consumed nearly six weeks since first opening trenches. Ferdinand pressed close on his flying enemy, whose rear sustained some annoyance from the Spanish ginetes, in its passage through the defiles of the sierras. The retreat, however, was conducted in too good order to allow any material loss to be inflicted on the French, who succeeded at length in sheltering themselves under the cannon of Narbonne, up to which place they were pursued by their victorious foe. Several places on the frontier, as Leocate, Palme, Sigean, Roquefort, and others, were abandoned to the Spaniards, who pillaged them of whatever was worth carrying off; without any violence, however, to the persons of the inhabitants, whom, as a Christian population, if we are to believe Martyr, Ferdinand refused even to make prisoners. [24]

The Spanish monarch made no attempt to retain these acquisitions; but, having dismantled some of the towns, which offered most resistance, returned loaded with the spoils of victory to his own dominions. “Had he been as good a general as he was a statesman,” says a Spanish historian, “he might have penetrated to the centre of France.” [25] Ferdinand, however, was too prudent to attempt conquests which could only be maintained, if maintained at all, at an infinite expense of blood and treasure. He had sufficiently vindicated his honor by meeting his foe so promptly, and driving him triumphantly over the border; and he preferred, like a cautious prince, not to risk all he had gained by attempting more, but to employ his present successes as a vantage-ground for entering on negotiation, in which at all times he placed more reliance than on the sword.

In this, his good star still further favored him. The armada, equipped at so much cost by the French king at Marseilles, had no sooner put to sea, than it was assailed by furious tempests, and so far crippled, that it was obliged to return to port without even effecting a descent on the Spanish coast.

These accumulated disasters so disheartened Louis the Twelfth, that he consented to enter into negotiations for a suspension of hostilities; and an armistice was finally arranged, through the mediation of his pensioner Frederic, ex-king of Naples, between the hostile monarchs. It extended only to their hereditary dominions; Italy and the circumjacent seas being still left open as a common arena, on which the rival parties might meet, and settle their respective titles by the sword. This truce, first concluded for five months, was subsequently prolonged to three years. It gave Ferdinand, what he most needed, leisure, and means to provide for the security of his Italian possessions, on which the dark storm of war was soon to burst with ten-fold fury. [26]

The unfortunate Frederic, who had been drawn from his obscurity to take part in these negotiations, died in the following year. It is singular that the last act of his political life should have been to mediate a peace between the dominions of two monarchs, who had united to strip him of his own.

The results of this campaign were as honorable to Spain, as they were disastrous and humiliating to Louis the Twelfth, who had seen his arms baffled on every point, and all his mighty apparatus of fleets and armies dissolve, as if by enchantment, in less time than it had been preparing.

The immediate success of Spain may no doubt be ascribed in a considerable degree to the improved organization and thorough discipline introduced by the sovereigns into the national militia at the close of the Moorish war, without which it would have been scarcely possible to concentrate so promptly on a distant point such large masses of men, all well equipped and trained for active service. So soon was the nation called to feel the effect of these wise provisions.

But the results of the campaign are, after all, less worthy of notice as indicating the resources of the country, than as evidence of a pervading patriotic feeling, which could alone make these resources available.

Instead of the narrow local jealousies, which had so long estranged the people of the separate provinces, and more especially those of the rival states of Aragon and Castile, from one another, there had been gradually raised up a common national sentiment like that knitting together the constituent parts of one great commonwealth. At the first alarm of invasion on the frontier of Aragon, the whole extent of the sister kingdom, from the green, valleys of the Guadalquivir up to the rocky fastnesses of the Asturias, responded to the call, as to that of a common country, sending forth, as we have seen, its swarms of warriors, to repel the foe, and roll back the tide of war upon his own land. What a contrast did all this present to the cold and parsimonious hand with which the nation, thirty years before, dealt out its supplies to King John the Second, Ferdinand’s father, when he was left to cope single-handed with the whole power of France, in this very quarter of Roussillon. Such was the consequence of the glorious union, which brought together the petty and hitherto discordant tribes of the Peninsula under the same rule; and, by creating common interests and an harmonious principle of action, was silently preparing them for constituting one great nation,—one and indivisible, as intended by nature.

* * * * *

Those who have not themselves had occasion to pursue historical inquiries will scarcely imagine on what loose grounds the greater part of the narrative is to be built. With the exception of a few leading outlines, there is such a mass of inconsistency and contradiction in the details, even of contemporaries, that it seems almost as hopeless to seize the true aspect of any particular age as it would be to transfer to the canvas a faithful likeness of an individual from a description simply of his prominent features.

Much of the difficulty might seem to be removed, now that we are on the luminous and beaten track of Italian history; but, in fact, the vision is rather dazzled than assisted by the numerous cross lights thrown over the path, and the infinitely various points of view from which every object is contemplated. Besides the local and party prejudices which we had to encounter in the contemporary Spanish historians, we have now a host of national prejudices, not less unfavorable to truth; while the remoteness of the scene of action necessarily begets a thousand additional inaccuracies in the gossipping and credulous chroniclers of France and Spain.

The mode in which public negotiations were conducted at this period, interposes still further embarrassments in our search after truth. They were regarded as the personal concerns of the sovereign, in which the nation at large had no right to interfere. They were settled, like the rest of his private affairs, under his own eye, without the participation of any other branch of the government. They were shrouded, therefore, under an impenetrable secrecy, which permitted such results only to emerge into light as suited the monarch. Even these results cannot be relied on as furnishing the true key to the intentions of the parties. The science of the cabinet, as then practised, authorized such a system of artifice and shameless duplicity, as greatly impaired the credit of those official documents which we are accustomed to regard as the surest foundations of history.

The only records which we can receive with full confidence are the private correspondence of contemporaries, which, from its very nature, is exempt from most of the restraints and affectations incident more or less to every work destined for the public eye. Such communications, indeed, come like the voice of departed years; and when, as in Martyr’s case, they proceed from one whose acuteness is combined with singular opportunities for observation, they are of inestimable value. Instead of exposing to us only the results, they lay open the interior workings of the machinery, and we enter into all the shifting doubts, passions, and purposes which agitate the minds of the actors. Unfortunately, the chain of correspondence here, as in similar cases, when not originally designed for historical uses, necessarily suffers from occasional breaks and interruptions. The scattered gleams which are thrown over the most prominent points, however, shed so strong a light, as materially to aid us in groping our way through the darker and more perplexed passages of the story.

The obscurity which hangs over the period has not been dispelled by those modern writers, who, like Varillas, in his well-known work, Politique de Ferdinand le Catholique, affect to treat the subject philosophically, paying less attention to facts than to their causes and consequences.

These ingenious persons, seldom willing to take things as they find them, seem to think that truth is only to be reached by delving deep below the surface. In this search after more profound causes of action, they reject whatever is natural and obvious. They are inexhaustible in conjectures and fine-spun conclusions, inferring quite as much from what is not said or done, as from what is. In short, they put the reader as completely in possession of their hero’s thoughts on all occasions, as any professed romance-writer would venture to do. All this may be very agreeable, and, to persons of easy faith, very satisfactory; but it is not history and may well remind us of the astonishment somewhere expressed by Cardinal de Retz at the assurance of those who, at a distance from the scene of action, pretended to lay open all the secret springs of policy, of which he himself, though a principal party, was ignorant.

No prince, on the whole, has suffered more from these unwarrantable liberties than Ferdinand the Catholic. His reputation for shrewd policy suggests a ready key to whatever is mysterious and otherwise inexplicable in his government; while it puts writers like Gaillard and Varillas constantly on the scent after the most secret and subtile sources of action, as if there were always something more to be detected than readily meets the eye. Instead of judging him by the general rules of human conduct, everything is referred to deep-laid stratagem; no allowance is made for the ordinary disturbing forces, the passions and casualties of life; every action proceeds with the same wary calculation that regulates the moves upon a chessboard; and thus a character of consummate artifice is built up, not only unsupported by historical evidence, but in manifest contradiction to the principles of our nature. The part of our subject embraced in the present chapter has long been debatable ground between the French and Spanish historians; and the obscurity which hangs over it has furnished an ample range for speculation to the class of writers above alluded to, which they have not failed to improve.

FOOTNOTES

[1] St. Gelais seems willing to accept Philip’s statement, and to consider the whole affair of the negotiation as “one of Ferdinand’s old tricks,”

“l’ancienne cantele de celuy qui en scavoit bien faire d’autres.” Hist. de Louys XII., p. 172.

[2] Idem, ubi supra.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. p. 410.—Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. pp. 238, 239.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap.

23.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 15.—Ferreras, Hist.

d’Espagne, tom. viii. p. 233.

[3] Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. p. 388.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 13, sec. 3.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. p. 300, ed. 1645.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 9.

It is amusing to see with what industry certain French writers, as Gaillard and Varillas, are perpetually contrasting the bonne foi of Louis XII. with the mechancete of Ferdinand, whose secret intentions, even, are quoted in evidence of his hypocrisy, while the most objectionable acts of his rival seem to be abundantly compensated by some fine sentiment like that in the text.

[4] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 10.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 13, sec. 2.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. pp. 690, 691.—et al.

[5] Seyssel, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 61.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 171.—Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. p. 239.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. p. 387.—D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, chap. 32.

[6] Varillas regards Philip’s mission to France as a coup de maitre
on the part of Ferdinand, who thereby rid himself of a dangerous rival at home, likely to contest his succession to Castile on Isabella’s death, while he employed that rival in outwitting Louis XII. by a treaty which he meant to disavow. (Politique de Ferdinand, liv. 1, pp. 146-150.) The first of these imputations is sufficiently disproved by the fact that Philip quitted Spain in opposition to the pressing remonstrances of the king, queen, and cortes, and to the general disgust of the whole nation, as is repeatedly stated by Gomez, Martyr, and other contemporaries. The second will be difficult to refute, and still harder to prove, as it rests on a man’s secret intentions, known only to himself. Such are the flimsy cobwebs of which this political dreamer’s theories are made. Truly chateaux en Espagne.

[7] Martyr, whose copious correspondence furnishes the most valuable commentary, unquestionably, on the proceedings of this reign, is provokingly reserved in regard to this interesting matter. He contents himself with remarking in one of his letters, that “the Spaniards derided Philip’s negotiations as of no consequence, and indeed altogether preposterous, considering the attitude assumed by the nation at that very time for maintaining its claims by the sword;” and he dismisses the subject with a reflection, that seems to rest the merits of the case more on might than right. “Exitus, qui judex est rerum aeternus, loquatur.

Nostri regno potiuntur majori ex parte.” (Opus Epist., epist. 257.) This reserve of Martyr might be construed unfavorably for Ferdinand, were it not for the freedom with which he usually criticizes whatever appears really objectionable to him in the measures of the government.

[8] Grotius, De Jure Belli et Pacis, lib. 2, cap. 11, sec. 12; lib. 3, cap. 22, sec. 4.—Gentilis, De Jure Belli, lib. 3, cap. 14, apud Bynkershoek, Quaest. Juris Publici, lib. 2, cap. 7.

[9] Bynkershoek, Quaest. Juris Publici, lib. 2, cap. 7.—Mably, Droit Publique, chap. 1.—Vattel, Droit des Gens, liv. 2, chap. 12.—Martens, Law of Nations, trans., book 2, chap. 1.

Bynkershoek, the earliest of these writers, has discussed the question with an amplitude, perspicuity, and fairness unsurpassed by any who have followed him.

[10] Philip is known in history by the title of “the Handsome,” implying that he was, at least, quite as remarkable for his personal qualities, as his mental.

[11] Opus Epist., epist. 253.—Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. pp.

235, 238.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 44.

[12] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1503.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 45, 46.

He was born at Alcala de Henares. Ximenes availed himself of this circumstance to obtain from Isabella a permanent exemption from taxes for his favorite city, which his princely patronage was fast raising up to contest the palm of literary precedence with Salamanca, the ancient “Athens of Spain.” The citizens of the place long preserved, and still preserve, for aught I know, the cradle of the royal infant, in token of their gratitude. Robles, Vida de Ximenez, p. 127.

[13] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 268.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 56.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 46.

[14] “Espejo de bondad,” mirror of virtue, as Oviedo styles this cavalier. He was always much regarded by the sovereigns, and the lucrative post of contador mayor, which he filled for many years, enabled him to acquire an immense estate, 50,000 ducats a year, without imputation on his honesty. Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 2.

[15] The name of this cavalier, as well as that of his cousin, Alonso de Cardenas, grand master of St. James, have become familiar to us in the Granadine war. If Don Gutierre made a less brilliant figure than the latter, he acquired, by means of his intimacy with the sovereigns, and his personal qualities, as great weight in the royal councils as any subject in the kingdom. “Nothing of any importance,” says Oviedo, “was done without his advice.” He was raised to the important posts of comendador de Leon, and contador mayor, which last, in the words of the same author, “made its possessor a second king over the public treasury.” He left large estates, and more than five thousand vassals. His eldest son was created duke of Maqueda. Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 1.—Col. de Ced., tom. v. no. 182.

[16] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 255.—Gomez, de Rebus Gestis, fol.

45.—For some further account of these individuals see Part I, Chapter 14, note 10.

Martyr thus panegyrizes the queen’s fortitude under her accumulated sorrows. “Sentit, licet constantissima sit, et supra foeminam prudens, has alapas fortunae saevientis regina, ita concussa fluctibus undique, veluti vasta rupes, maris in medio.” Opus Epist., loc. cit.

[17] Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 405, 406.—Ferreras, Hist.

d’Espagne, tom. viii. pp. 235-238.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. pp.

300, 301.—Memoires de la Tremoille, chap. 19, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xiv.

[18] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. pp. 110-112.

The king of Navarre promised to oppose the passage of the French, if attempted, through his dominions; and, in order to obviate any distrust on the part of Ferdinand, sent his daughter Margaret to reside at the court of Castile, as a pledge for his fidelity. Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom.

viii. p. 235.

[19] Younger brother of Robert, third duke of Bouillon. (D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 2, pp. 103, 186.) The reader will not confound him with his namesake, the famous “boar of Ardennes,”—more familiar to us now in the pages of romance than history,—who perished ignominiously some twenty years before this period, in 1484, not in fight, but by the hands of the common executioner at Utrecht. Duclos, Hist. de Louis XI., tom. ii. p.

379.

[20] Gonzalo Ayora, Capitan de la Guardia Real, Cartas al Rey, Don Fernando, (Madrid, 1794,) carta 9.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v.

pp. 112, 113.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. p. 407.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 51.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom, ii, rey 30, cap.

13, sec. 11.

[21] Gonzalo Ayora, Cartas, cap. 9.—Zurita, Anales, ubi supra.—

Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 197, 198.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1503.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 8.—Col. de Cedulas, tom. i. no. 97.

The most authentic account of the siege of Salsas is to be found in the correspondence of Gonzalo Ayora, dated in the Spanish camp. This individual, equally eminent in letters and arms, filled the dissimilar posts of captain of the royal guard and historiographer of the crown. He served in the army at this time, and was present at all its operations.

Pref. ad Cartas, de Ayora; and Nic. Antonio, Biliotheca Nova, tom. i. p.

551.

[22] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist, epist. 263.

The loyal captain, Ayora, shows little of this Christian vein. He concludes one of his letters with praying, no doubt most sincerely, “that the Almighty would be pleased to infuse less benevolence into the hearts of the sovereigns, and incite them to chastise and humble the proud French, and strip them of their ill-gotten possessions, which, however repugnant to their own godly inclinations, would tend greatly to replenish their coffers, as well as those of their, faithful and loving subjects.”

See this graceless petition in his Cartas, carta 9, p. 66.

[23] “Exaudivit igitur sancte reginee religiosorumque ac virginum preces summus Altitonans.” (Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 263.) The learned Theban borrows an epithet more familiar to Greek and Roman than to Christian ears.

[24] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 54.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 13, sec. 11.Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 264.-Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1503.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 198.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 408, 409.—Gonzalo Ayora, Cartas, carta 11.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., dial.

de Deza.

Peter Martyr seems to have shared none of Isabella’s scruples in regard to bringing the enemy to battle. On the contrary, he indulges in a most querulous strain of sarcasm against the Catholic king for his remissness in this particular. “Quar elucescente die moniti nostri de Gallorum discessu ad eos, at sero, concurrerunt. Rex Perpiniani agebat, ad millia passuum sex non brevia, uti nosti. Propterea sero id actum, venit concitato cursu, at sero. Ad hostes itur, at sero. Cernunt hostium acies, at sero, at a longe. Distabant jam milliaria circiter duo. Ergo sero Phryges sapuerunt. Cujus haec culpa, tu scrutator aliunde; mea est, si nescis. Maximam dedit ea dies, quae est, si nescis, calendarum Novembrium sexta, Hispanis ignominiam, et aliquando jacturam illis pariet collachrymandam.” Letter to the cardinal of Santa Cruz, epist. 262.

[25] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. p. 113.

Oviedo, who was present in this campaign, seems to have been of the same opinion. At least he says, “If the king had pursued vigorously, not a Frenchman would have lived to carry back the tidings of defeat to his own land.” If we are to believe him, Ferdinand desisted from the pursuit at the earnest entreaty of Bishop Deza, his confessor. Quincuagenas, MS.

[26] Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 55.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 13, sec. 11.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

264.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. cap. 17.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii.

lib. 19, cap. 16.—Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 27.

Mons. Varillas notices as the weak side of Louis XII., “une demangeaison de faire la paix a contre temps, dont il fut travaille durant toute sa vie.” (Politique de Ferdinand, liv. 1, p. 148.) A statesman shrewder than Varillas, De Retz, furnishes, perhaps, the best key to this policy, in the remark, “Les gens foibles ne plient jamais quand ils le doivent.”

CHAPTER XIV.

ITALIAN WARS.—CONDITION OF ITALY.—FRENCH AND SPANISH ARMIES ON THE

GARIGLIANO.

1503.

Melancholy State of Italy.—Great Preparations of Louis.—Gonsalvo Repulsed before Gaeta.—Armies on the Garigliano.—Bloody Passage of the Bridge.—Anxious Expectation of Italy.—Critical Situation of the Spaniards.—Gonsalvo’s Resolution.—Heroism of Paredes and Bayard.

We must now turn our eyes towards Italy, where the sounds of war, which had lately died away, were again heard in wilder dissonance than ever. Our attention, hitherto, has been too exclusively directed to mere military manoeuvres to allow us to dwell much on the condition of this unhappy land. The dreary progress of our story, over fields of blood and battle, might naturally dispose the imagination to lay the scene of action in some rude and savage age; an age, at best, of feudal heroism, when the energies of the soul could be roused only by the fierce din of war.

Far otherwise, however; the tents of the hostile armies were now pitched in the bosom of the most lovely and cultivated regions on the globe; inhabited by a people who had carried the various arts of policy and social life to a degree of excellence elsewhere unknown; whose natural resources had been augmented by all the appliances of ingenuity and industry; whose cities were crowded with magnificent and costly works of public utility; into whose ports every wind that blew wafted the rich freights of distant climes; whose thousand hills were covered to their very tops with the golden labors of the husbandman; and whose intellectual development showed itself, not only in a liberal scholarship far outstripping that of their contemporaries, but in works of imagination, and of elegant art more particularly, which rivalled the best days of antiquity. The period before us, indeed, the commencement of the sixteenth century, was that of their meridian splendor, when Italian genius, breaking through the cloud which had temporarily obscured its early dawn, shone out in full effulgence; for we are now touching on the age of Machiavelli, Ariosto, and Michael Angelo,—the golden age of Leo the Tenth.

It is impossible, even at this distance of time, to contemplate without feelings of sadness the fate of such a country, thus suddenly converted into an arena for the bloody exhibitions of the gladiators of Europe; to behold her trodden under foot by the very nations on whom she had freely poured the light of civilization; to see the fierce soldiery of Europe, from the Danube to the Tagus, sweeping like an army of locusts over her fields, defiling her pleasant places, and raising the shout of battle, or of brutal triumph under the shadow of those monuments of genius, which have been the delight and despair of succeeding ages. It was the old story of the Goths and Vandals acted over again. Those more refined arts of the cabinet, on which the Italians were accustomed to rely, much more than on the sword, in their disputes with one another, were of no avail against these rude invaders, whose strong arm easily broke through the subtile webs of policy which entangled the movements of less formidable adversaries. It was the triumph of brute force over civilization,—one of the most humiliating lessons by which Providence has seen fit to rebuke the pride of human intellect. [1]

The fate of Italy inculcates a most important lesson. With all this outward show of prosperity, her political institutions had gradually lost the vital principle, which could alone give them stability or real value.

The forms of freedom, indeed, in most instances, had sunk under the usurpation of some aspiring chief. Everywhere patriotism was lost in the most intense selfishness. Moral principle was at as low an ebb in private, as in public life. The hands, which shed their liberal patronage over genius and learning, were too often red with blood. The courtly precincts, which seemed the favorite haunt of the Muses, were too often the Epicurean sty of brutish sensuality; while the head of the church itself, whose station, exalted over that of every worldly potentate, should have raised him at least above their grosser vices, was sunk in the foulest corruptions that debase poor human nature. Was it surprising, then, that the tree, thus cankered at heart, with all the goodly show of blossoms on its branches, should have fallen before the blast, which now descended in such pitiless fury from the mountains?

Had there been an invigorating national feeling, any common principle of coalition among the Italian states; had they, in short, been true to themselves, they possessed abundant resources in their wealth, talent, and superior science, to have shielded their soil from violation.

Unfortunately, while the other European states had been augmenting their strength incalculably by the consolidation of their scattered fragments into one whole, those of Italy, in the absence of some great central point round which to rally, had grown more and more confirmed in their original disunion. Thus, without concert in action, and destitute of the vivifying impulse of patriotic sentiment, they were delivered up to be the spoil and mockery of nations, whom in their proud language they still despised as barbarians; an impressive example of the impotence of human genius, and of the instability of human institutions, however excellent in themselves, when unsustained by public and private virtue. [2]

The great powers, who had now entered the lists, created entirely new interests in Italy, which broke up the old political combinations. The conquest of Milan enabled France to assume a decided control over the affairs of the country. Her recent reverses in Naples, however, had greatly loosened this authority; although Florence and other neighboring states, which lay under her colossal shadow, still remained true to her.

Venice, with her usual crafty policy, kept aloof, maintaining a position of neutrality between the belligerents, each of whom made the most pressing efforts to secure so formidable an ‘ally. She had, however, long since entertained a deep distrust of her French neighbor; and, although she would enter into no public engagements, she gave the Spanish minister every assurance of her friendly disposition towards his government. [3]

She intimated this still more unequivocally, by the supplies she had allowed her citizens to carry into Barleta during the late campaign, and by other indirect aid of a similar nature during the present; for all which she was one day to be called to a heavy reckoning by her enemies.

The disposition of the papal court towards the French monarch was still less favorable; and it took no pains to conceal this after his reverses in Naples. Soon after the defeat of Cerignola, it entered into correspondence with Gonsalvo de Cordova; and, although Alexander the Sixth refused to break openly with France, and sign a treaty with the Spanish sovereigns, he pledged himself to do so, on the reduction of Gaeta. In the mean time, he freely allowed the Great Captain to raise such levies as he could in Rome, before the very eyes of the French ambassador. So little had the immense concessions of Louis, including those of principle and honor, availed to secure the fidelity of this treacherous ally. [4]

With the emperor Maximilian, notwithstanding repeated treaties, he was on scarcely better terms. That prince was connected with Spain by the matrimonial alliances of his family, and no less averse to France from personal feeling, which, with the majority of minds, operates more powerfully than motives of state policy. He had, moreover, always regarded the occupation of Milan by the latter as an infringement, in some measure, of his imperial rights. The Spanish government, availing itself of these feelings, endeavored through its minister, Don Juan Manuel, to stimulate Maximilian to the invasion of Lombardy. As the emperor, however, demanded, as usual, a liberal subsidy for carrying on the war, King Ferdinand, who was seldom incommoded by a superfluity of funds, preferred reserving them for his own enterprises, to hazarding them on the Quixotic schemes of his ally. But, although the negotiations were attended with no result, the amicable dispositions of the Austrian government were evinced by the permission given to its subjects to serve under the banners of Gonsalvo, where indeed, as we have already seen, they formed some of his best troops. [5]

But while Louis the Twelfth drew so little assistance from abroad, the heartiness with which the whole French people entered into his feelings at this crisis, made him nearly independent of it, and, in an incredibly short space of time, placed him in a condition for resuming operations on a far more formidable scale than before. The preceding failures in Italy he attributed in a great degree to an overweening confidence in the superiority of his own troops, and his neglect to support them with the necessary reinforcements and supplies. He now provided against this by remitting large sums to Rome, and establishing ample magazines of grain and military stores there, under the direction of commissaries for the maintenance of the army. He equipped without loss of time a large armament at Genoa, under the marquis of Saluzzo, for the relief of Gaeta, still blockaded by the Spaniards. He obtained a small supply of men from his Italian allies, and subsidized a corps of eight thousand Swiss, the strength of his infantry; while the remainder of his army, comprehending a fine body of cavalry, and the most complete train of artillery, probably, in Europe, was drawn from his own dominions. Volunteers of the highest rank pressed forward to serve in an expedition, to which they confidently looked for the vindication of the national honor. The command was intrusted to the marechal de la Tremouille, esteemed the best general in France; and the whole amount of force, exclusive of that employed permanently in the fleet, is variously computed from twenty to thirty thousand men. [6]

In the month of July, the army was on its march across the broad plains of Lombardy, but, on reaching Parma, the appointed place of rendezvous for the Swiss and Italian mercenaries, was brought to a halt by tidings of an unlooked-for event, the death of Pope Alexander the Sixth. He expired on the 18th of August, 1503, at the age of seventy-two, the victim, there is very little doubt, of poison he had prepared for others; thus closing an infamous life by a death equally infamous. He was a man of undoubted talent, and uncommon energy of character. But his powers were perverted to the worst purposes, and his gross vices were unredeemed, if we are to credit the report of his most respectable contemporaries, by a single virtue. In him the papacy reached its lowest degradation. His pontificate, however, was not without its use; since that Providence, which still educes good from evil, made the scandal, which it occasioned to the Christian world, a principal spring of the glorious Reformation. [7]

The death of this pontiff occasioned no particular disquietude at the Spanish court, where his immoral life had been viewed with undisguised reprobation, and made the subject of more than one pressing remonstrance, as we have already seen. His public course had been as little to its satisfaction; since, although a Spaniard by birth, being a native of Valencia, he had placed himself almost wholly at the disposal of Louis the Twelfth, in return for the countenance afforded by that monarch to the iniquitous schemes of his son, Caesar Borgia.

The pope’s death was attended with important consequences on the movements of the French. Louis’s favorite minister, Cardinal D’Amboise, had long looked to this event as opening to him the succession to the tiara. He now hastened to Italy, therefore, with his master’s approbation, proposing to enforce his pretensions by the presence of the French army, placed, as it would seem, with this view at his disposal.

The army, accordingly, was ordered to advance towards Rome, and halt within a few miles of its gates. The conclave of cardinals, then convened to supply the vacancy in the pontificate, were filled with indignation at this attempt to overawe their election; and the citizens beheld with anxiety the encampment of this formidable force under their walls, anticipating some counteracting movement on the part of the Great Captain, which might involve their capital, already in a state of anarchy, in all the horrors of war. Gonsalvo, indeed, had sent forward a detachment of between two and three thousand men, under Mendoza and Fabrizio Colonna, who posted themselves in the neighborhood of the city, where they could observe the movements of the enemy. [8]

At length Cardinal D’Amboise, yielding to public feeling, and the representations of pretended friends, consented to the removal of the French forces from the neighborhood, and trusted for success to his personal influence. He over-estimated its weight. It is foreign to our purpose to detail the proceedings of the reverend body, thus convened to supply the chair of St. Peter. They are displayed at full length by the Italian writers, and must be allowed to form a most edifying chapter in ecclesiastical history. [9] It is enough to state, that, on the departure of the French, the suffrages of the conclave fell on an Italian, who assumed the name of Pius the Third, and who justified the policy of the choice by dying in less time than his best friends had anticipated;—
within a month after his elevation. [10]

The new vacancy was at once supplied by the election of Julius the Second, the belligerent pontiff who made his tiara a helmet, and his crosier a sword. It is remarkable, that, while his fierce, inexorable temper left him with scarcely a personal friend, he came to the throne by the united suffrages of each of the rival factions of France, Spain, and, above all, Venice, whose ruin in return he made the great business of his restless pontificate. [11]

No sooner had the game, into which Cardinal D’Amboise had entered with such prospects of success, been snatched from his grasp by the superior address of his Italian rivals, and the election of Pius the Third been publicly announced, than the French army was permitted to resume its march on Naples, after the loss,—an irreparable loss,—of more than a month. A still greater misfortune had befallen it, in the mean time, in the illness of Tremouille, its chief; which compelled him to resign the command into the hands of the marquis of Mantua, an Italian nobleman, who held the second station in the army. He was a man of some military experience, having fought in the Venetian service, and led the allied forces, with doubtful credit indeed, against Charles the Eighth at the battle of Fornovo. His elevation was more acceptable to his own countrymen than to the French; and in truth, however competent to ordinary exigencies, he was altogether unequal to the present, in, which he was compelled to measure his genius with that of the greatest captain of the age. [12]

The Spanish commander, in the mean while, was detained before the strong post of Gaeta, into which Ives d’Allegre had thrown himself, as already noticed, with the fugitives from the field of Cerignola, where he had been subsequently reinforced by four thousand additional troops under the marquis of Saluzzo. From these circumstances, as well as the great strength of the place, Gonsalvo experienced an opposition, to which, of late, he had been wholly unaccustomed. His exposed situation in the plains, under the guns of the city, occasioned the loss of many of his best men, and, among others, that of his friend Don Hugo de Cardona, one of the late victors at Seminara, who was shot down at his side, while conversing with him. At length, after a desperate but ineffectual attempt to extricate himself from his perilous position by forcing the neighboring eminence of Mount Orlando, he was compelled to retire to a greater distance, and draw off his army to the adjacent village of Castellone, which may call up more agreeable associations in the reader’s mind, as the site of the Villa Formiana of Cicero. [13] At this place he was still occupied with the blockade of Gaeta, when he received intelligence that the French had crossed the Tiber, and were in full march against him. [14]

While Gonsalvo lay before Gaeta, he had been intent on collecting such reinforcements as he could from every quarter. The Neapolitan division under Navarro had already joined him, as well as the victorious legions of Andrada from Calabria. His strength was further augmented by the arrival of between two and three thousand troops, Spanish, German, and Italian, which the Castilian minister, Francisco de Roxas, had levied in Rome; and he was in daily hopes of a more important accession from the same quarter, through the good offices of the Venetian ambassador. Lastly, he had obtained some additional recruits, and a remittance of a considerable sum of money, in a fleet of Catalan ships lately arrived from Spain. With all this, however, a heavy amount of arrears remained due to his troops. In point of numbers he was still far inferior to the enemy; no computation swelling them higher than three thousand horse, two of them light cavalry, and nine thousand foot. The strength of his army lay in his Spanish infantry, on whose thorough discipline, steady nerve, and strong attachment to his person he felt he might confidently rely. In cavalry, and still more in artillery, he was far below the French, which, together with his great numerical inferiority, made it impossible for him to keep the open country. His only resource was to get possession of some pass or strong position, which lay in their route, where he might detain them, till the arrival of further reinforcements should enable him to face them on more equal terms. The deep stream of the Garigliano presented such a line of defence as he wanted. [15]

On the 6th of October, therefore, the Great Captain broke up his camp at Castellone, and, abandoning the whole region north of the Garigliano to the enemy, struck into the interior of the country, and took post at San Germano, a strong place on the other side of the river, covered by the two fortresses of Monte Casino [16] and Rocca Secca. Into this last he threw a body of determined men under Villalba, and waited calmly the approach of the enemy.

It was not long before the columns of the latter were descried in full march on Ponte Corvo, at a few miles’ distance only on the opposite side of the Garigliano. After a brief halt there, they traversed the bridge before that place and advanced confidently forward in the expectation of encountering little resistance from a foe so much their inferior. In this they were mistaken; the garrison of Rocca Secca, against which they directed their arms, handled them so roughly, that, after in vain endeavoring to carry the place in two desperate assaults, the marquis of Mantua resolved to abandon the attempt altogether, and, recrossing the river, to seek a more practicable point for his purpose lower down. [17]

Keeping along the right bank, therefore, to the southeast of the mountains of Fondi, he descended nearly to the mouth of the Garigliano, the site, as commonly supposed, of the ancient Minturnae. [18] The place was covered by a fortress called the Tower of the Garigliano, occupied by a small Spanish garrison, who made some resistance, but surrendered on being permitted to march out with the honors of war. On rejoining their countrymen under Gonsalvo, the latter were so much incensed that the garrison should have yielded on any terms, instead of dying on their posts, that, falling on them with their pikes, they massacred them all to a man. Gonsalvo did not think proper to punish this outrage, which, however shocking to his own feelings, indicated a desperate tone of resolution, which he felt he should have occasion to tax to the utmost in the present exigency. [19]

The ground now occupied by the armies was low and swampy, a character which it possessed in ancient times; the marshes on the southern side being supposed to be the same in which Marius concealed himself from his enemies during his proscription. [20] Its natural humidity was greatly increased, at this time, by the excessive rains, which began earlier and with much more violence than usual. The French position was neither so low nor so wet as that of the Spaniards. It had the advantage, moreover, of being supported by a well-peopled and friendly country in the rear, where lay the large towns of Fondi, Itri, and Gaeta; while their fleet, under the admiral Prejan, which rode at anchor in the mouth of the Garigliano, might be of essential service in the passage of the river.

In order to effect this, the marquis of Mantua prepared to throw a bridge across, at a point not far from Trajetto. He succeeded in it, notwithstanding the swollen and troubled condition of the waters, [20] in a few days, under cover of the artillery, which he had planted on the bank of the river, and which from its greater elevation entirely commanded the opposite shore.

The bridge was constructed of boats belonging to the fleet, strongly secured together and covered with planks. The work being completed, on the 6th of November the army advanced upon the bridge, supported by such a lively cannonade from the batteries along the shore, as made all resistance on the part of the Spaniards ineffectual. The impetuosity with which the French rushed forward was such as to drive back the advanced guard of their enemy, which, giving way in disorder, retreated on the main body. Before the confusion could extend further, Gonsalvo, mounted a la gineta, in the manner of the light cavalry, rode through the broken ranks, and, rallying the fugitives, quickly brought them to order. Navarro and Andrada, at the same time, led up the Spanish infantry, and the whole column charging furiously against the French, compelled them to falter and at length to fall back on the bridge.

The struggle now became desperate, officers and soldiers, horse and foot, mingling together, and fighting hand to hand, with all the ferocity kindled by close personal combat. Some were trodden under the feet of the cavalry, many more were forced from the bridge, and the waters of the Garigliano were covered with men and horses, borne down by the current, and struggling in vain to gain the shore. It was a contest of mere bodily strength and courage, in which skill and superior tactics were of little avail. Among those who most distinguished themselves, the name of the noble Italian, Fabrizio Colonna, is particularly mentioned. An heroic action is recorded also of a person of inferior rank, a Spanish alferez, or standard-bearer, named Illescas. The right hand of this man was shot away by a cannon-ball. As a comrade was raising up the fallen colors, the gallant ensign resolutely grasped them, exclaiming that “he had one hand still left.” At the same time, muffling a scarf round the bleeding stump, he took his place in the ranks as before. This brave deed did not go unrewarded, and a liberal pension was settled on him, at Gonsalvo’s instance.

During the heat of the melee, the guns on the French shore had been entirely silent, since they could not be worked without doing as much mischief to their own men as to the Spaniards, with whom they were closely mingled. But, as the French gradually recoiled before their impetuous adversaries, fresh bodies of the latter rushing forward to support their advance necessarily exposed a considerable length of column to the range of the French guns, which opened a galling fire on the further extremity of the bridge. The Spaniards, notwithstanding “they threw themselves into the face of the cannon,” as the marquis of Mantua exclaimed, “with as much unconcern as if their bodies had been made of air instead of flesh and blood,” found themselves so much distressed by this terrible fire, that they were compelled to fall back; and the van, thus left without support, at length retreated in turn, abandoning the bridge to the enemy. [21]

This action was one of the severest which occurred in these wars. Don Hugo de Moncada, the veteran of many a fight by land and sea, told Paolo Giovio that “he had never felt himself in such imminent peril in any of his battles, as in this.” [22] The French, notwithstanding they remained masters of the contested bridge, had met with a resistance which greatly discouraged them; and, instead of attempting to push their success further, retired that same evening to their quarters on the other side of the river. The tempestuous weather, which continued with unabated fury, had now broken up the roads, and converted the soil into a morass, nearly impracticable for the movements, of horse, and quite so for those of artillery, on which the French chiefly relied; while it interposed comparatively slight obstacles to the manoeuvres of infantry, which constituted the strength of the Spaniards. From a consideration of these circumstances, the French commander resolved not to resume active operations till a change of weather, by restoring the roads, should enable him to do so with advantage. Meanwhile he constructed a redoubt on the Spanish extremity of the bridge, and threw a body of troops into it, in order to command the pass whenever he should be disposed to use it. [23]

While the hostile armies thus lay facing each other, the eyes of all Italy were turned to them, in anxious expectation of a battle which should finally decide the fate of Naples. Expresses were daily despatched from the French camp to Rome, whence the ministers of the different European powers transmitted the tidings to their respective governments.

Machiavelli represented at that time the Florentine republic at the papal court, and his correspondence teems with as many floating rumors and speculations as a modern gazette. There were many French residents in the city, with whom the minister was personally acquainted. He frequently notices their opinions on the progress of the war, which they regarded with the most sanguine confidence, as sure to result in the triumph of their own arms, when once fairly brought into collision with the enemy.

The calmer and more penetrating eye of the Florentine discerns symptoms in the condition of the two armies of quite a different tendency. [24]

It seemed now obvious, that victory must declare for that party which could best endure the hardships and privations of its present situation.

The local position of the Spaniards was far more unfavorable than that of the enemy. The Great Captain, soon after the affair of the bridge, had drawn off his forces to a rising ground about a mile from the river, which was crowned by the little hamlet of Cintura, and commanded the route to Naples. In front of his camp he sunk a deep trench, which, in the saturated soil, speedily filled with water; and he garnished it at each extremity with a strong redoubt. Thus securely intrenched, he resolved patiently to await the movements of the enemy.

The situation of the army, in the mean time, was indeed deplorable. Those who occupied the lower level were up to their knees in mud and water; for the excessive rains, and the inundation of the Garigliano, had converted the whole country into a mere quagmire, or rather standing pool. The only way in which the men could secure themselves was by covering the earth as far as possible with boughs and bundles of twigs; and it was altogether uncertain how long even this expedient would serve against the encroaching element. Those on the higher grounds were scarcely in better plight. The driving storms of sleet and rain, which had continued for several weeks without intermission, found their way into every crevice of the flimsy tents and crazy hovels, thatched only with branches of trees, which afforded a temporary shelter to the troops. In addition to these evils, the soldiers were badly fed, from the difficulty of finding resources in the waste and depopulated regions in which they were quartered, [25] and badly paid, from the negligence, or perhaps poverty, of King Ferdinand, whose inadequate remittances to his general exposed him, among many other embarrassments, to the imminent hazard of disaffection among the soldiery, especially the foreign mercenaries, which nothing, indeed, but the most delicate and judicious conduct on his part could have averted. [26]

In this difficult crisis, Gonsalvo de Cordova retained all his usual equanimity, and even the cheerfulness, so indispensable in a leader who would infuse heart into his followers. He entered freely into the distresses and personal feelings of his men, and, instead of assuming any exemption from fatigue or suffering on the score of his rank, took his turn in the humblest tour of duty with the meanest of them, mounting guard himself, it is said, on more than one occasion. Above all, he displayed that inflexible constancy, which enables the strong mind in the hour of darkness and peril to buoy up the sinking spirits around it. A remarkable instance of this fixedness of purpose occurred at this time.

The forlorn condition of the army, and the indefinite prospect of its continuance, raised a natural apprehension in many of the officers, that, if it did not provoke some open act of mutiny, would in all probability break down the spirits and constitution of the soldiers. Several of them, therefore, among the rest Mendoza and the two Colonnas, waited on the commander-in-chief, and, after stating their fears without reserve, besought him to remove the camp to Capua, where the troops might find healthy and commodious quarters, at least until the severity of the season was mitigated; before which, they insisted, there was no reason to anticipate any movement on the part of the French. But Gonsalvo felt too deeply the importance of grappling with the enemy, before they should gain the open country, to be willing to trust to any such precarious contingency. Besides, he distrusted the effect of such a retrograde movement on the spirits of his own troops. He had decided on his course after the most mature deliberation; and, having patiently heard his officers to the end, replied in these few but memorable words; “It is indispensable to the public service to maintain our present position; and be assured, I would sooner march forward two steps, though it should bring me to my grave, than fall back one, to gain a hundred years.” The decided tone of the reply relieved him from further importunity. [27]

There is no act of Gonsalvo’s life, which on the whole displays more strikingly the strength of his character. When thus witnessing his faithful followers drooping and dying around him, with the consciousness that a word could relieve them from all their distresses, he yet refrained from uttering it, in stern obedience to what he regarded as the call of duty; and this too on his own responsibility, in opposition to the remonstrances of those on whose judgment he most relied.

Gonsalvo confided in the prudence, sobriety, and excellent constitution of the Spaniards, for resisting the bad effects of the climate. He relied too on their tried discipline, and their devotion to himself, for carrying them through any sacrifice he should demand of them. His experience at Barleta led him to anticipate results of a very opposite character with the French troops. The event justified his conclusions in both respects.

The French, as already noticed, occupied higher and more healthy ground, on the other side of the Garigliano, than their rivals. They were fortunate enough also to find more effectual protection from the weather in the remains of a spacious amphitheatre, and some other edifices, which still covered the site of Minturnae. With all this, however, they suffered more severely from the inclement season than their robust adversaries.

Numbers daily sickened and died. They were much straitened, moreover, from want of provisions, through the knavish peculations of the commissaries who had charge of the magazines in Rome. Thus situated, the fiery spirits of the French soldiery, eager for prompt and decisive action, and impatient of delay, gradually sunk under the protracted miseries of a war, where the elements were the principal enemy, and where they saw themselves melting away like slaves in a prison-ship, without even the chance of winning an honorable death on the field of battle. [28]

The discontent occasioned by these circumstances was further swelled by the imperfect success, which had attended their efforts, when allowed to measure weapons with the enemy.

At length the latent mass of disaffection found an object on which to vent itself, in the person of their commander-in-chief, the marquis of Mantua, never popular with the French soldiers. They now loudly taxed him with imbecility, accused him of a secret understanding with the enemy, and loaded him with the opprobrious epithets with which Trans-alpine insolence was accustomed to stigmatize the Italians. In all this, they were secretly supported by Ives d’Allegre, Sandricourt, and other French officers, who had always regarded with dissatisfaction the elevation of the Italian general; till at length the latter, finding that he had influence with neither officers nor soldiers, and unwilling to retain command where he had lost authority, availed himself of a temporary illness, under which he was laboring, to throw up his commission, and withdrew abruptly to his own estates.

He was succeeded by the marquis of Saluzzo, an Italian, indeed, by birth, being a native of Piedmont, but who had long served under the French banners, where he had been intrusted by Louis the Twelfth with very important commands. He was not deficient in energy of character or military science. But it required powers of a higher order than his to bring the army under subordination, and renew its confidence under present circumstances. The Italians, disgusted with the treatment of their former chief, deserted in great numbers. The great body of the French chivalry, impatient of their present unhealthy position, dispersed among the adjacent cities of Fondi, Itri, and Gaeta, leaving the low country around the Tower of the Garigliano to the care of the Swiss and German infantry.

Thus, while the whole Spanish army lay within a mile of the river, under the immediate eye of their commander, prepared for instant service, the French were scattered over a country more than ten miles in extent, where, without regard to military discipline, they sought to relieve the dreary monotony of a camp, by all the relaxations which such comfortable quarters could afford. [29]

It must not be supposed that the repose of the two armies was never broken by the sounds of war. More than one rencontre, on the contrary, with various fortune, took place, and more than one display of personal prowess by the knights of the two nations, as formerly at the siege of Barleta.

The Spaniards made two unsuccessful efforts to burn the enemy’s bridge; but they succeeded, on the other hand, in carrying the strong fortress of Rocca Guglielma, garrisoned by the French. Among the feats of individual heroism, the Castilian writers expatiate most complacently on that of their favorite cavalier, Diego de Paredes, who descended alone on the bridge against a body of French knights, all armed in proof, with a desperate hardihood worthy of Don Quixote; and would most probably have shared the usual fate of that renowned personage on such occasions, had he not been rescued by a sally of his own countrymen. The French find a counterpart to this adventure in that of the preux chevalier Bayard, who, with his single arm, maintained the barriers of the bridge against two hundred Spaniards, for an hour or more. [30]

Such feats, indeed, are more easily achieved with the pen than with the sword. It would be injustice, however, to the honest chronicler of the day to suppose that he did not himself fully “Believe the magic wonders that he sung.”

Every heart confessed the influence of a romantic age,—the dying age, indeed, of chivalry,—but when, with superior refinement, it had lost nothing of the enthusiasm and exaltation of its prime. A shadowy twilight of romance enveloped every object. Every day gave birth to such extravagances, not merely of sentiment, but of action, as made it difficult to discern the precise boundaries of fact and fiction. The chronicler might innocently encroach sometimes on the province of the poet, and the poet occasionally draw the theme of his visions from the pages of the chronicler. Such, in fact, was the case; and the romantic Muse of Italy, then coming forth in her glory, did little more than give a brighter flush of color to the chimeras of real life. The characters of living heroes, a Bayard, a Paredes, and a La Palice, readily supplied her with the elements of those ideal combinations, in which she has so gracefully embodied the perfections of chivalry. [31]

FOOTNOTES

[1]

“O pria si cara al ciel del mondo parte, Che l’acqua cigne, e ‘l sasso orrido serra; O lieta sopra ogn’ altra e dolce terra, Che ‘l superbo Appennin segna e diparte; Che val omai se ‘l buon popol di Marte Ti lascio del mar donna e de la terra?

Le genti a te gia serve, or ti fan guerra, E pongon man ne le tue treccie sparte.

Lasso ne manea de’ tuoi figli ancora

Chi le piu strane a te chiamando insieme La spada sua nel tuo bel corpo adopre.

Or son queste simili a l’ antich’ opre?

O pur cosi pietate e Dio a’ onora?

Ahi secol duro, ahi tralignato seme.”

Bembo, rime Son. 108.

This exquisite little lyric, inferior to none other which had appeared on the same subject since the “Italia mia” of Petrarch, was composed by Bembo at the period of which we are treating.

[2] The philosophic Machiavelli discerned the true causes of the calamities, in the corruptions of his country; which he has exposed, with more than his usual boldness and bitterness of sarcasm, in the seventh book of his “Arte della Guerra.”

[3] Lorenzo Suarez de la Vega filled the post of minister at the republic during the whole of the war. His long continuance in the office at so critical a period, under so vigilant a sovereign as Ferdinand, is sufficient warrant for his ability. Peter Martyr, while he admits his talents, makes some objections to his appointment, on the ground of his want of scholarship. “Nec placet quod hunc elegeritis hac tempestate.

Maluissem namque virum, qui Latinum calleret, vel salterm intelligeret, linguam; hic tantum suam patriam vernaculam novit; prudentem esse alias, atque inter ignaros literarum satis esse gnarum, Rex ipse mihi testatus est. Cupissem tamen ego, quae dixi.” (See the letter to the Catholic queen, Opus Epist., epist. 246.) The objections have weight undoubtedly, the Latin being the common medium of diplomatic intercourse at that time.

Martyr, who on his return through Venice from his Egyptian mission took charge for the time of the interests of Spain, might probably have been prevailed on to assume the difficulties of a diplomatic station there himself. See also Part II. Chapter 11, note 7, of this History.

[4] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 38, 48.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. iii. lib. 6.—Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. p.

347.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 6, p. 311, ed. 1645.—

Buonaccorsi, Diario, pp. 77, 81.

[5] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 55.—Coxe, History of the House of Austria, (London, 1807,) vol. i. chap. 23.

[6] Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 78.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., pp. 173, 174.—Varillas, Hist. de Louis XII., tom. i. pp. 386, 387.—Memoires de la Tremoille, chap. 19, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xiv.—

Muratori, Annali d’Italia, tom. xiv. anno 1503.—Carta de Gonzalo, MS.

Historians, as usual, differ widely in their estimates of the French numbers. Guicciardini, whose moderate computation of 20,000 men is usually followed, does not take the trouble to reconcile his sum total with the various estimates given by him in detail, which considerably exceed that amount. Istoria, pp. 308, 309, 312.

[7] Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 81.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, lib. 6.

The little ceremony with which Alexander’s remains were treated, while yet scarcely cold, is the best commentary on the general detestation in which he was held. “Lorsque Alexandre,” says the pope’s maitre des ceremonies, “rendit le dernier soupir, il n’y avait dans sa chambre que l’eveque de Rieti, le dataire et quelques palefreniers. Cette chambre fut aussitot pillee. La face du cadavre devint noire; la langue s’enfla au point qu’elle remplissait la bouche qui resta ouverte. La biere dans laquelle il fallait mettre le corps se trouva trop petite; on l’y enfonca a coups de poings. Les restes du pape insultes par ses domestiques furent portes dans l’eglise de St. Pierre, sans etre accompagnes de pretres ni de torches, et on les placa en dedans de la grille du choeur pour les derober aux outrages de la populace.” Notice de Burchard, apud Brequigny, Notices et Extraits des Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque du Roi, (Paris, 1787-1818,) tom. i. p. 120.

[8] Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 82.—Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, Let.

1, 3, et al.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. iii. lib. 6.—Ammirato, Istorie Fiorentine, tom. iii. lib. 28.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 47.

[9] Guicciardini, in particular, has related them with a circumstantiality which could scarcely have been exceeded by one of the conclave itself.

Istoria, lib. 6, pp. 316-318.

[10] Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, lib. 6.—Ammirato, Istorie Fiorentine, tom.

iii. lib. 28.

The election of Pius was extremely grateful to Queen Isabella, who caused Te Deums and thanksgivings to be celebrated in the churches, for the appointment of “so worthy a pastor over the Christian fold.” See Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 265.

[11] Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 6.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, lib. 7.

[12] Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 435-438.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, p. 316.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 83.—St. Gelais, Hist.

de Louys XII., p. 173.

[13] Cicero’s country seat stood midway between Gaeta and Mola, the ancient Formiae, about two miles and a half from each. (Cluverius, Ital.

Antiq., lib. 3, cap. 6.) The remains of his mansion and of his mausoleum may still be discerned, on the borders of the old Appian way, by the classical and credulous tourist.

[14] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 258, 259.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 95.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 19.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 261.

[15] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 38, 43, 44, 48, 57.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 258, 259.—Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. p. 417.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap.

16.—Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. pp. 252-257.—Carta del Gran Capitan, MS.

The Castilian writers do not state the sum total of the Spanish force, which is to be inferred only from the scattered estimates, careless and contradictory as usual, of the various detachments which joined it.

[16] The Spaniards carried Monte Casino by storm, and with sacrilegious violence plundered the Benedictine monastery of all its costly plate. They were compelled, however, to respect the bones of the martyrs, and other saintly relics; a division of spoil probably not entirely satisfactory to its reverend inmates. Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 262.

[17] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 102.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 21.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 6, pp. 326, 327.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 267.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap.

188.

[18] The remains of this city, which stood about four miles above the mouth of the Liris, are still to be seen on the right of the road. In ancient days it was of sufficient magnitude to cover both sides of the river. See Strabo, Geographia, lib. 5, p. 233, (Paris, 1629, with Casaubon’s notes,) p. 110.

[19] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 107.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 263.

[20] The marshes of Minturnae lay between the city and the mouth of the Liris. (Cluverius, Ital. Antiq., lib. 3, cap. 10, sec. 9.) The Spanish army encamped, says Guicciardini, “in a place called by Livy, from its vicinity to Sessa, aquae Sinuessanae, being perhaps the marshes in which Marius hid himself.” (Istoria, lib. 6.) The historian makes two blunders in a breath. 1st. Aquae Sinuessanae, was a name derived not from Sessa, the ancient Suessa Aurunca, but from the adjacent Sinuessa, a town about ten miles southeast of Minturnae. (Comp. Livy, lib. 22, cap.

14, and Strabo, lib. 5, p. 233.) 2d. The name did not indicate marshes, but natural hot springs, particularly noted for their salubrity.

“Salubritate harum aquarum,” says Tacitus in allusion to them (Annales, lib. 12); and Pliny notices their medicinal properties more explicitly.

Hist. Naturalis, lib. 31, cap. 2.

[20] This does not accord with Horace’s character of the Garigliano, the ancient Liris, as the “taciturnus amnis,” (Carm., lib. i. 30,) and still less with that of Silius Italicus,

“Liris … qui fonte quieto

Dissimulat cursum, et nullo mutabilis imbre

Perstringit tacitas gemmanti gurgite ripas.”

Puncia, lib. 4.

Indeed, the stream exhibits at the present day the same soft and tranquil aspect celebrated by the Roman poets. Its natural character, however, was entirely changed at the period before us, in consequence of the unexampled heaviness and duration of the autumnal rains.

[21] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 188.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 14.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 16.

—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 269.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 262-264.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 22.—Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 11, Nov. 10.—let. 16, Nov. 13.—let. 17.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 106.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp.

440, 441.

[22] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 264.

[23] Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, pp. 327, 328.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, fol. 262.—Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 29.—

Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 443-445.

[24] Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 9, 10, 18.

The French showed the same confidence from the beginning of hostilities.

One of that nation having told Suarez, the Castilian minister at Venice, that the marshal de la Tremouille said, “He would give 20,000 ducats, if he could meet Gonsalvo de Cordova in the plains of Viterbo;” the Spaniard smartly replied, “Nemours would have given twice as much not to have met him at Cerignola.” Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 36.

[25] This barren tract of uninhabited country must have been of very limited extent; for it lay in the Campania Felix, in the neighborhood of the cultivated plains of Sessa, the Massicau mountain, and Falernian fields,—names, which call up associations, that must live while good poetry and good wine shall be held in honor.

[26] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 5.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 6, p. 328.—Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 44.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 22.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 107, 108.—The Neapolitan conquests, it will be remembered, were undertaken exclusively for the crown of Aragon, the revenues of which were far more limited than those of Castile.

[27] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 188.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 108.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap, 16.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, p. 328.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib.

5, cap. 58.

[28] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 265.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. p. 445.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 59.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, fol. 85.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 22.—Varillas, Hist. de Louis XII., tom. i. pp. 401, 402.

[29] Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 440-443.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, fol. 264, 265.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 6, p. 329.—

Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 44.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., pp. 173, 174.

[30] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 106.—Memoires de Bayard, chap. 25, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xv.—Varillas, Hist.

de Louis XII., tom. i. p. 417.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. pp.

288-290.—Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 39, 44.

[31] Compare the prose romances of D’Auton, of the “loyal serviteur” of Bayard, and the no less loyal biographer of the Great Captain, with the poetic ones of Ariosto, Berni, and the like.

“Magnanima menzogna! or quando e il vero Si bello, che si possa a te preporre?”

CHAPTER XV.

ITALIAN WARS.—ROUT OF THE GARIGLIANO.—TREATY WITH FRANCE.—GONSALVO’S

MILITARY CONDUCT.

1503, 1504.

Gonsalvo Crosses the River.—Consternation of the French.—Action near Gaeta.—Hotly Contested.—The French Defeated.—Gaeta Surrenders.—Public Enthusiasm.—Treaty with France.—Review of Gonsalvo’s Military Conduct.—

Results of the Campaign.

Seven weeks had now elapsed, since the two armies had lain in sight of each other without any decided movement on either side. During this time, the Great Captain had made repeated efforts to strengthen himself, through the intervention of the Spanish ambassador, Francisco de Rojas, [1] by reinforcements from Rome. His negotiations were chiefly directed to secure the alliance of the Orsini, a powerful family, long involved in a bitter feud with the Colonnas, then in the Spanish service. A reconciliation between these noble houses was at length happily effected; and Bartolomeo d’Alviano, the head of the Orsini, agreed to enlist under the Spanish commander with three thousand men. This arrangement was finally brought about through the good offices of the Venetian minister at Rome, who even advanced a considerable sum of money towards the payment of the new levies. [2]

The appearance of this corps, with one of the most able and valiant of the Italian captains at its head, revived the drooping spirits of the camp.

Soon after his arrival, Alviano strongly urged Gonsalvo to abandon his original plan of operations, and avail himself of his augmented strength to attack the enemy in his own quarters. The Spanish commander had intended to confine himself wholly to the defensive, and, too unequal in force to meet the French in the open field, as before noticed, had intrenched himself in his present strong position, with the fixed purpose of awaiting the enemy there. Circumstances had now greatly changed. The original inequality was diminished by the arrival of the Italian levies, and still further compensated by the present disorderly state of the French army. He knew, moreover, that in the most perilous enterprises, the assailing party gathers an enthusiasm and an impetus in its career, which counterbalance large numerical odds; while the party taken by surprise is proportionably disconcerted, and prepared, as it were, for defeat before a blow is struck. From these considerations, the cautious general acquiesced in Alviano’s project to cross the Garigliano, by establishing a bridge at a point opposite Suzio, a small place garrisoned by the French on the right bank, about four miles above their head-quarters. The time for the attack was fixed as soon as possible after the approaching Christmas, when the French, occupied with the festivities of the season, might be thrown off their guard. [3]

This day of general rejoicing to the Christian world at length arrived. It brought little joy to the Spaniards, buried in the depths of these dreary morasses, destitute of most of the necessaries of life, and with scarcely any other means of resisting the climate, than those afforded by their iron constitutions and invincible courage. They celebrated the day, however, with all the devotional feeling, and the imposing solemnities, with which it is commemorated by the Roman Catholic church; and the exercises of religion, rendered more impressive by their situation, served to exalt still higher the heroic constancy, which had sustained them under such unparalleled sufferings.

In the mean while, the materials for the bridge were collected, and the work went forward with such despatch, that on the 28th of December all was in readiness for carrying the plan of attack into execution. The task of laying the bridge across the river was intrusted to Alviano, who had charge of the van. The central and main division of the army under Gonsalvo was to cross at the same point; while Andrada at the head of the rear-guard was to force a passage at the old bridge, lower down the stream, opposite to the Tower of the Garigliano. [4]

The night was dark and stormy. Alviano performed the duty intrusted to him with such silence and celerity, that the work was completed without attracting the enemy’s notice. He then crossed over with the van-guard, consisting chiefly of cavalry, supported by Navarro, Paredes, and Pizarro; and, falling on the sleeping garrison of Suzio, cut to pieces all who offered resistance.

The report of the Spaniards having passed the river spread far and wide, and soon reached the head-quarters of the marquis of Saluzzo, near the Tower of the Garigliano. The French commander-in-chief, who believed that the Spaniards were lying on the other side of the river, as torpid as the snakes in their own marshes, was as much astounded by the event as if a thunderbolt had burst over his head from a cloudless sky. He lost no time, however, in rallying such of his scattered forces as he could assemble, and in the mean while despatched Ives d’Allegre with a body of horse to hold the enemy in check, till he could make good his own retreat on Gaeta.

His first step was to demolish the bridge near his own quarters, cutting the moorings of the boats and turning them adrift down the river. He abandoned his tents and baggage, together with nine of his heaviest cannon; leaving even the sick and wounded to the mercy of the enemy, rather than encumber himself with anything that should retard his march.

The remainder of the artillery he sent forward in the van. The infantry followed next, and the rear, in which Saluzzo took his own station, was brought up by the men-at-arms to cover the retreat.

Before Allegre could reach Suzio, the whole Spanish army had passed the Garigliano, and formed on the right bank. Unable to face such superior numbers, he fell back with precipitation, and joined himself to the main body of the French, now in full retreat on Gaeta. [5]

Gonsalvo, afraid the French might escape him, sent forward Prospero Colonna, with a corps of light horse, to annoy and retard their march until he could come up. Keeping the right bank of the river with the main body, he marched rapidly through the deserted camp of the enemy, leaving little leisure for his men to glean the rich spoil, which lay tempting them on every side. It was not long before he came up with the French, whose movements were greatly retarded by the difficulty of dragging their guns over the ground completely saturated with rain. The retreat was conducted, however, in excellent order; they were eminently favored by the narrowness of the road, which, allowing but a comparatively small body of troops on either side to come into action, made success chiefly depend on the relative merits of these. The French rear, as already stated, was made up of their men-at-arms, including Bayard, Sandricourt, La Fayette, and others of their bravest chivalry, who, armed at all points, found no great difficulty in beating off the light troops which formed the advance of the Spaniards. At every bridge, stream, and narrow pass, which afforded a favorable position, the French cavalry closed their ranks, and made a resolute stand to gain time for the columns in advance.

In this way, alternately halting and retreating, with perpetual skirmishes, though without much loss on either side, they reached the bridge before Mola di Gaeta. Here, some of the gun-carriages breaking down or being overturned occasioned considerable delay and confusion. The infantry, pressing on, became entangled with the artillery. The marquis of Saluzzo endeavored to avail himself of the strong position afforded by the bridge to restore order. A desperate struggle ensued. The French knights dashed boldly into the Spanish ranks, driving back for a time the tide of pursuit. The chevalier Bayard, who was seen as usual in the front of danger, had three horses killed under him; and, at length, carried forward by his ardor into the thickest of the enemy, was retrieved with difficulty from their hands by a desperate charge of his friend Sandricourt. [6]

The Spaniards, shaken by the violence of the assault, seemed for a moment to hesitate; but Gonsalvo had now time to bring up his men-at-arms, who sustained the faltering columns, and renewed the combat on more equal terms. He himself was in the hottest of the melee; and at one time was exposed to imminent hazard by his horse’s losing his footing on the slippery soil, and coming with him to the ground. The general fortunately experienced no injury, and, quickly recovering himself, continued to animate his followers by his voice and intrepid bearing, as before.

The fight had now lasted two hours. The Spaniards, although still in excellent heart, were faint with fatigue and want of food, having travelled six leagues, without breaking their fast since the preceding evening. It was, therefore, with no little anxiety, that Gonsalvo looked for the coming up of his rear-guard, left, as the reader will remember, under Andrada at the lower bridge, to decide the fortune of the day.

The welcome spectacle at length presented itself. The dark columns of the Spaniards were seen, at first faint in the distance, by degrees growing more and more distinct to the eye. Andrada had easily carried the French redoubt on his side of the Garigliano; but it was not without difficulty and delay, that he recovered the scattered boats which the French had set adrift down the stream, and finally succeeded in re-establishing his communications with the opposite bank. Having accomplished this, he rapidly advanced by a more direct road, to the east of that lately traversed by Gonsalvo along the sea-side, in pursuit of the French. The latter beheld with dismay the arrival of this fresh body of troops, who seemed to have dropped from the clouds on the field of battle. They scarcely waited for the shock before they broke, and gave way in all directions. The disabled carriages of the artillery, which clogged up the avenues in the rear, increased the confusion among the fugitives, and the foot were trampled down without mercy under the heels of their own cavalry, in the eagerness of the latter to extricate themselves from their perilous situation. The Spanish light horse followed up their advantage with the alacrity of vengeance long delayed, inflicting bloody retribution for all they had so long suffered in the marshes of Sessa.

At no great distance from the bridge the road takes two directions, the one towards Itri, the other to Gaeta. The bewildered fugitives here separated; by far the greater part keeping the latter route. Gonsalvo sent forward a body of horse under Navarro and Pedro de la Paz by a short cut across the country, to intercept their flight. A large number fell into his hands in consequence of this manoeuvre; but the greater part of those who escaped the sword succeeded in throwing themselves into Gaeta. [7]

The Great Captain took up his quarters that night in the neighboring village of Castellone. His brave followers had great need of refreshment, having fasted and fought through the whole day, and that under a driving storm of rain which had not ceased for a moment. Thus terminated the battle, or rout, as it is commonly called, of the Garigliano, the most important in its results of all Gonsalvo’s victories, and furnishing a suitable close to his brilliant military career. [8] The loss of the French is computed at from three to four thousand men, left dead on the field, together with all their baggage, colors, and splendid train of artillery. The Spaniards must have suffered severely during the sharp conflict on the bridge; but no estimate of their loss is to be met with, in any native or foreign writer. [9] It was observed that the 29th of December, on which this battle was won, came on Friday, the same ominous day of the week, which had so often proved auspicious to the Spaniards under the present reign. [10]

The disparity of the forces actually engaged was probably not great, since the extent of country over which the French were quartered prevented many of them from coming up in time for action. Several corps, who succeeded in reaching the field at the close of the fight, were seized with such a panic as to throw down their arms without attempting resistance. [11] The admirable artillery, on which the French placed chief reliance, was not only of no service, but of infinite mischief to them, as we have seen. The brunt of the battle fell on their chivalry, which bore itself throughout the day with the spirit and gallantry worthy of its ancient renown; never flinching, till the arrival of the Spanish rear-guard fresh in the field, at so critical a juncture, turned the scale in their adversaries’ favor.

Early on the following morning, Gonsalvo made preparations for storming the heights of Mount Orlando, which overlooked the city of Gaeta. Such was the despondency of its garrison, however, that this strong position, which bade defiance a few months before to the most desperate efforts of Spanish valor, was now surrendered without a struggle. The same feeling of despondency had communicated itself to the garrison of Gaeta; and, before Navarro could bring the batteries of Mount Orlando to bear upon the city, a flag of truce arrived from the marquis of Saluzzo with proposals for capitulation.

This was more than the Great Captain could have ventured to promise himself. The French were in great force; the fortifications of the place in excellent repair; it was well provided with artillery and ammunition, and with provisions for ten days at least; while their fleet, riding in the harbor, afforded the means of obtaining supplies from Leghorn, Genoa, and other friendly ports. But the French had lost all heart; they were sorely wasted by disease; their buoyant self-confidence was gone, and their spirits broken by the series of reverses, which had followed without interruption from the first hour of the campaign, to the last disastrous affair of the Garigliano. The very elements seemed to have leagued against them. Further efforts they deemed a fruitless struggle against destiny; and they now looked with melancholy longing to their native land, eager only to quit these ill-omened shores for ever.

The Great Captain made no difficulty in granting such terms, as, while they had a show of liberality, secured him the most important fruits of victory. This suited his cautious temper far better than pressing a desperate foe to extremity. He was, moreover, with all his successes, in no condition to do so; he was without funds, and, as usual, deeply in arrears to his army; while there was scarcely a ration of bread, says an Italian historian, in his whole camp. [12]

It was agreed by the terms of capitulation, January 1st, 1504, that the French should evacuate Gaeta at once, and deliver it up to the Spaniards with its artillery, munitions, and military stores of every description.

The prisoners on both sides, including those taken in the preceding campaign, an arrangement greatly to the advantage of the enemy, were to be restored; and the army in Gaeta was to be allowed a free passage by land or sea, as they should prefer, to their own country. [13]

From the moment hostilities were brought to a close; Gonsalvo displayed such generous sympathy for his late enemies, and such humanity in relieving them, as to reflect more honor on his character than all his victories. He scrupulously enforced the faithful performance of the treaty, and severely punished any violence offered to the French by his own men. His benign and courteous demeanor towards the vanquished, so remote from the images of terror with which he had been, hitherto associated in their minds, excited unqualified admiration; and they testified their sense of his amiable qualities, by speaking of him as the “gentil capitaine et gentil cavalier.” [14]

The news of the rout of the Garigliano and the surrender of Gaeta diffused general gloom and consternation over France. There was scarcely a family of rank, says a writer of that country, that had not some one of its members involved in these sad disasters. [15] The court went into mourning. The king, mortified at the discomfiture of all his lofty schemes, by the foe whom he despised, shut himself up in his palace, refusing access to every one, until the agitation of his spirits threw him into an illness, which had wellnigh proved fatal.

Meanwhile his exasperated feelings found an object on which to vent themselves in the unfortunate garrison of Gaeta, who so pusillanimously abandoned their post to return to their own country. He commanded them to winter in Italy, and not to recross the Alps without further orders. He sentenced Sandricourt and Allegre to banishment for insubordination to their commander-in-chief; the latter, for his conduct, more particularly, before the battle of Cerignola; and he hanged up the commissaries of the army, whose infamous peculations had been a principal cause of its ruin.

[16]

But the impotent wrath of their monarch was not needed to fill the bitter cup, which the French soldiers were now draining to the dregs. A large number of those, who embarked for Genoa, died of the maladies contracted during their long bivouac in the marshes of Minturnae. The rest recrossed the Alps into France, too desperate to heed their master’s prohibition.

Those who took their way by land suffered still more severely from the Italian peasantry, who retaliated in full measure the barbarities they had so long endured from the French. They were seen wandering like spectres along the high roads and principal cities on the route, pining with cold and famine; and all the hospitals in Rome, as well as the stables, sheds, and every other place, however mean, affording shelter, were filled with the wretched vagabonds, eager only to find some obscure retreat to die in.

The chiefs of the expedition fared little better. Among others, the marquis of Saluzzo, soon after reaching Genoa, was carried off by a fever, caused by his distress of mind. Sandricourt, too haughty to endure disgrace, laid violent hands on himself. Allegre, more culpable, but more courageous, survived to be reconciled with his sovereign, and to die a soldier’s death on the field of battle. [17]

Such are the dismal colors in which the French historians depict the last struggle made by their monarch for the recovery of Naples. Few military expeditions have commenced under more brilliant and imposing auspices; few have been conducted in so ill-advised a manner through their whole progress; and none attended in their close with more indiscriminate and overwhelming ruin.

On the 3d of January, 1504, Gonsalvo made his entry into Gaeta; and the thunders of his ordnance, now for the first time heard from its battlements, announced that this strong key to the dominions of Naples had passed into the hands of Aragon. After a short delay for the refreshment of his troops, he set out for the capital. But, amidst the general jubilee which greeted his return, he was seized with a fever, brought on by the incessant fatigue and high mental excitement in which he had been kept for the last four months. The attack was severe, and the event for some time doubtful. During this state of suspense the public mind was in the deepest agitation. The popular manners of Gonsalvo had won the hearts of the giddy people of Naples, who transferred their affections, indeed, as readily as their allegiance; and prayers and vows for his restoration, were offered up in all the churches and monasteries of the city. His excellent constitution at length got the better of his disease. As soon as this favorable result was ascertained, the whole population, rushing to the other extreme, abandoned itself to a delirium of joy; and, when he was sufficiently recovered to give them audience, men of all ranks thronged to Castel Nuovo to tender their congratulations, and obtain a sight of the hero, who now returned to their capital, for the third time, with the laurel of victory on his brow. Every tongue, says his enthusiastic biographer, was eloquent in his praise; some dwelling on his noble port, and the beauty of his countenance; others on the elegance and amenity of his manners; and all dazzled by a spirit of munificence, which would have become royalty itself. [18]

The tide of panegyric was swelled by more than one bard, who sought, though with indifferent success, to catch inspiration from so glorious a theme; trusting doubtless that his liberal hand would not stint the recompense to the precise measure of desert. Amid this general burst of adulation, the muse of Sannazaro, worth all his tribe, was alone silent; for the trophies of the conqueror were raised on the ruins of that royal house, under which the bard had been so long sheltered; and this silence, so rare in his tuneful brethren, must be admitted to reflect more credit on his name, than the best he ever sung. [19]

The first business of Gonsalvo was to call together the different orders of the state, and receive their oaths of allegiance to King Ferdinand. He next occupied himself with the necessary arrangements for the reorganization of the government, and for reforming various abuses which had crept into the administration of justice, more particularly. In these attempts to introduce order, he was not a little thwarted, however, by the insubordination of his own soldiery, They loudly clamored for the discharge of the arrears, still shamefully protracted, till, their discontents swelling to open mutiny, they forcibly seized on two of the principal places in the kingdom as security for the payment. Gonsalvo chastised their insolence by disbanding several of the most refractory companies, and sending them home for punishment. He endeavored to relieve them in part by raising contributions from the Neapolitans. But the soldiers took the matter into their own hands, oppressing the unfortunate people on whom they were quartered in a manner which rendered their condition scarcely more tolerable, than when exposed to the horrors of actual war. [20] This was the introduction, according to Guicciardini, of those systematic military exactions in time of peace, which became so common afterwards in Italy, adding an inconceivable amount to the long catalogue of woes which afflicted that unhappy land. [21]

Amidst his manifold duties, Gonsalvo did not forget the gallant officers who had borne with him the burdens of the war, and he requited their services in a princely style, better suited to his feelings than his interests, as subsequently appeared. Among them were Navarro, Mendoza, Andrada, Benavides, Leyva, the Italians Alviano and the two Colonnas, most of whom lived to display the lessons of tactics, which they learned under this great commander, on a still wider theatre of glory, in the reign of Charles the Fifth. He made them grants of cities, fortresses, and extensive lands, according to their various claims, to be held as fiefs of the crown. All this was done with the previous sanction of his royal master, Ferdinand the Catholic. They did some violence, however, to his more economical spirit, and he was heard somewhat peevishly to exclaim, “It boots little for Gonsalvo de Cordova to have won a kingdom for me, if he lavishes it all away before it comes into my hands.” It began to be perceived at court that the Great Captain was too powerful for a subject.

[22]

Meanwhile, Louis the Twelfth was filled with serious apprehensions for the fate of his possessions in the north of Italy. His former allies, the emperor Maximilian and the republic of Venice, the latter more especially, had shown many indications, not merely of coldness to himself, but of a secret understanding with his rival, the king of Spain. The restless pope, Julius the Second, had schemes of his own, wholly independent of France.

The republics of Pisa and Genoa, the latter one of her avowed dependencies, had entered into correspondence with the Great Captain, and invited him to assume their protection; while several of the disaffected party in Milan had assured him of their active support, in case he would march with a sufficient force to overturn the existing government. Indeed, not only France, but Europe in general, expected that the Spanish commander would avail himself of the present crisis, to push his victorious arms into upper Italy, revolutionize Tuscany in his way, and, wresting Milan from the French, drive them, crippled and disheartened by their late reverses, beyond the Alps. [23]

But Gonsalvo had occupation enough on his hands in settling the disordered state of Naples. King Ferdinand, his sovereign, notwithstanding the ambition of universal conquest absurdly imputed to him by the French writers, had no design to extend his acquisitions beyond what he could permanently maintain. His treasury, never overflowing, was too deeply drained by the late heavy demands on it, for him so soon to embark on another perilous enterprise, that must rouse anew the swarms of enemies, who seemed willing to rest in quiet after their long and exhausting struggle; nor is there any reason to suppose he sincerely contemplated such a movement for a moment. [24]

The apprehension of it, however, answered Ferdinand’s purpose, by preparing the French monarch to arrange his differences with his rival, as the latter now earnestly desired, by negotiation. Indeed, two Spanish ministers had resided during the greater part of the war at the French court, with the view of improving the first opening that should occur for accomplishing this object; and by their agency a treaty was concluded, to continue for three years, which guaranteed to Aragon the undisturbed possession of her conquests during that period. The chief articles provided for the immediate cessation of hostilities between the belligerents, and the complete re-establishment of their commercial relations and intercourse, with the exception of Naples, from which the French were to be excluded. The Spanish crown was to have full power to reduce all refractory places in that kingdom; and the contracting parties solemnly pledged themselves, each to render no assistance, secretly or openly, to the enemies of the other. The treaty, which was to run from the 25th of February, 1504, was signed by the French king and the Spanish plenipotentiaries at Lyons, on the 11th of that month, and ratified by Ferdinand and Isabella, at the convent of Santa Maria de la Mejorada, the 31st of March following. [25]

There was still a small spot in the heart of Naples, comprehending Venosa and several adjoining towns, where Louis d’Ars and his brave associates yet held out against the Spanish arms. Although cut off by the operation of this treaty from the hope of further support from home, the French knight disdained to surrender; but sallied out at the head of his little troop of gallant veterans, and thus, armed at all points, says Brantome, with lance in rest, took his way through Naples, and the centre of Italy.

He marched in battle array, levying contributions for his support on the places through which he passed. In this manner he entered France, and presented himself before the court at Blois. The king and queen, delighted with his prowess, came forward to welcome him, and made good cheer, says the old chronicler, for himself and his companions, whom they recompensed with liberal largesses, proffering at the same time any boon to the brave knight, which he should demand for himself. The latter in return simply requested that his old comrade Ives d’Allegre should be recalled from exile. This trait of magnanimity, when contrasted with the general ferocity of the times, has something in it inexpressibly pleasing. It shows, like others recorded of the French gentlemen of that period, that the age of chivalry,—the chivalry of romance, indeed,—had not wholly passed away. [26]

The pacification of Lyons sealed the fate of Naples; and, while it terminated the wars in that kingdom, closed the military career of Gonsalvo de Cordova. It is impossible to contemplate the magnitude of the results, achieved with such slender resources, and in the face of such overwhelming odds, without deep admiration for the genius of the man by whom they were accomplished.

His success, it is true, is imputable in part to the signal errors of his adversaries. The magnificent expedition of Charles the Eighth failed to produce any permanent impression, chiefly in consequence of the precipitation with which it had been entered into, without sufficient concert with the Italian states, who became a formidable enemy when united in his rear. He did not even avail himself of his temporary acquisition of Naples to gather support from the attachment of his new subjects. Far from incorporating with them, he was regarded as a foreigner and an enemy, and, as such, expelled by the joint action of all Italy from its bosom, as soon as it had recovered sufficient strength to rally.

Louis the Twelfth profited by the errors of his predecessor. His acquisitions in the Milanese formed a basis for future operations; and by negotiation and otherwise he secured the alliance and the interests of the various Italian governments on his side. These preliminary arrangements were followed by preparations every way commensurate with his object. He failed in the first campaign, however, by intrusting the command to incompetent hands, consulting birth rather than talent or experience.

In the succeeding campaigns, his failure, though partly chargeable on himself, was less so than on circumstances beyond his control. The first of these was the long detention of the army before Rome by Cardinal D’Amboise, and its consequent exposure to the unexampled severity of the ensuing winter. A second was the fraudulent conduct of the commissaries, implying, no doubt, some degree of negligence in the person who appointed them; and lastly, the want of a suitable commander-in-chief of the army.

La Tremouille being ill, and D’Aubigny a prisoner in the hands of the enemy, there appeared no one among the French qualified to cope with the Spanish general. The marquis of Mantua, independently of the disadvantage of being a foreigner, was too timid in council, and dilatory in conduct, to be any way competent to this difficult task.

If his enemies, however, committed great errors, it is altogether owing to Gonsalvo that he was in a situation to take advantage of them. Nothing could be more unpromising than his position on first entering Calabria.

Military operations had been conducted in Spain on principles totally different from those which prevailed in the rest of Europe. This was the case especially in the late Moorish wars, where the old tactics and the character of the ground brought light cavalry chiefly into use. This, indeed, constituted his principal strength at this period; for his infantry, though accustomed to irregular service, was indifferently armed and disciplined. An important revolution, however, had occurred in the other parts of Europe. The infantry had there regained the superiority which it maintained in the days of the Greeks and Romans. The experiment had been made on more than one bloody field; and it was found that the solid columns of Swiss and German pikes not only bore down all opposition in their onward march, but presented an impregnable barrier, not to be shaken by the most desperate charges of the best heavy-armed cavalry. It was against these dreaded battalions that Gonsalvo was now called to measure for the first time the bold but rudely armed and comparatively raw recruits from Galicia and the Asturias.

He lost his first battle, into which it should be remembered he was precipitated against his will. He proceeded afterwards with the greatest caution, gradually familiarizing his men with the aspect and usages of the enemy whom they held in such awe, before bringing them again to a direct encounter. He put himself to school during this whole campaign, carefully acquainting himself with the tactics, discipline, and novel arms of his adversaries, and borrowing just so much as he could incorporate into the ancient system of the Spaniards, without discarding the latter altogether.

Thus, while he retained the short sword and buckler of his countrymen, he fortified his battalions with a large number of spearmen, after the German fashion. The arrangement is highly commended by the sagacious Machiavelli, who considers it as combining the advantages of both systems, since, while the long spear served all the purposes of resistance, or even of attack on level ground, the short swords and targets enabled their wearers, as already noticed, to cut in under the dense array of hostile pikes, and bring the enemy to close quarters, where his formidable weapon was of no avail. [27]

While Gonsalvo made this innovation in the arms and tactics, he paid equal attention to the formation of a suitable character in his soldiery. The circumstances in which he was placed at Barleta, and on the Garigliano, imperatively demanded this. Without food, clothes, or pay, without the chance even of retrieving his desperate condition by venturing a blow at the enemy, the Spanish soldier was required to remain passive. To do this demanded, patience, abstinence, strict subordination, and a degree of resolution far higher than that required to combat obstacles, however formidable in themselves, where active exertion, which tasks the utmost energies of the soldier, renews his spirits and raises them to a contempt of danger. It was calling on him, in short, to begin with achieving that most difficult of all victories, the victory over himself.

All this the Spanish commander effected. He infused into his men a portion of his own invincible energy. He inspired a love of his person, which led them to emulate his example, and a confidence in his genius and resources, which supported them under all their privations by a firm reliance on a fortunate issue. His manners were distinguished by a graceful courtesy, less encumbered with etiquette than was usual with persons of his high rank in Castile. He knew well the proud and independent feelings of the Spanish soldier; and, far from annoying him by unnecessary restraints, showed the most liberal indulgence at all times. But his kindness was tempered with severity, which displayed itself, on such occasions as required interposition, in a manner that rarely failed to repress everything like insubordination. The reader will readily recall an example of this in the mutiny before Tarento; and it was doubtless by the assertion of similar power, that he was so long able to keep in check his German mercenaries, distinguished above the troops of every other nation by their habitual license and contempt of authority.

While Gonsalvo relied so freely on the hardy constitution and patient habits of the Spaniards, he trusted no less to the deficiency of these qualities in the French, who, possessing little of the artificial character formed under the stern training of later times, resembled their Gaulish ancestors in the facility with which they were discouraged by unexpected obstacles, and the difficulty with which they could be brought to rally. [28] In this he did not miscalculate. The French infantry, drawn from the militia of the country, hastily collected and soon to be disbanded, and the independent nobility and gentry who composed the cavalry service, were alike difficult to be brought within the strict curb of military rule. The severe trials, which steeled the souls, and gave sinewy strength to the constitutions, of the Spanish soldiers, impaired those of their enemies, introduced divisions into their councils, and relaxed the whole tone of discipline. Gonsalvo watched the operation of all this, and, coolly waiting the moment when his weary and disheartened adversary should be thrown off his guard, collected all his strength for a decisive blow, by which to terminate the action. Such was the history of those memorable campaigns, which closed with the brilliant victories of Cerignola and the Garigliano.

In a review of his military conduct, we must not overlook his politic deportment towards the Italians, altogether the reverse of the careless and insolent bearing of the French. He availed himself liberally of their superior science, showing great deference, and confiding the most important trusts, to their officers. [29] Far from the reserve usually shown to foreigners, he appeared insensible to national distinctions, and ardently embraced them as companions in arms, embarked in a common cause with himself. In their tourney with the French before Barleta, to which the whole nation attached such importance as a vindication of national honor, they were entirely supported by Gonsalvo, who furnished them with arms, secured a fair field of fight, and shared the triumph of the victors as that of his own countrymen,—paying those delicate attentions, which cost far less, indeed, but to an honorable mind are of greater value, than more substantial benefits. He conciliated the good-will of the Italian states by various important services; of the Venetians, by his gallant defence of their possessions in the Levant; of the people of Rome, by delivering them from the pirates of Ostia; while he succeeded, notwithstanding the excesses of his soldiery, in captivating the giddy Neapolitans to such a degree, by his affable manners and splendid style of life, as seemed to efface from their minds every recollection of the last and most popular of their monarchs, the unfortunate Frederic.

The distance of Gonsalvo’s theatre of operations from his own country, apparently most discouraging, proved extremely favorable to his purposes.

The troops, cut off from retreat by a wide sea and an impassable mountain barrier, had no alternative but to conquer or to die. Their long continuance in the field without disbanding gave them all the stern, inflexible qualities of a standing army; and, as they served through so many successive campaigns under the banner of the same leader, they were drilled in a system of tactics far steadier and more uniform than could be acquired under a variety of commanders, however able. Under these circumstances, which so well fitted them for receiving impressions, the Spanish army was gradually moulded into the form determined by the will of its great chief.

When we look at the amount offered at the disposal of Gonsalvo, it appears so paltry, especially compared with the gigantic apparatus of later wars, that it may well suggest disparaging ideas of the whole contest. To judge correctly, we must direct our eyes to the result. With this insignificant force, we shall then see the kingdom of Naples conquered, and the best generals and armies of France annihilated; an important innovation effected in military science; the art of mining, if not invented, carried to unprecedented perfection; a thorough reform introduced in the arms and discipline of the Spanish soldier; and the organization completed of that valiant infantry, which is honestly eulogized by a French writer, as irresistible in attack, and impossible to rout; [30] and which carried the banners of Spain victorious, for more than a century, over the most distant parts of Europe.

* * * * *

The brilliant qualities and achievements of Gonzalo de Cordova have naturally made him a popular theme both for history and romance. Various biographies of him have appeared in the different European languages, though none, I believe, hitherto in English. The authority of principal reference in these pages is the Life which Paolo Giovio has incorporated in his great work, “Vitae Illustrium Virorum,” which I have elsewhere noticed. This Life of Gonsalvo is not exempt from the prejudices, nor from the minor inaccuracies, which may be charged on most of this author’s productions; but these are abundantly compensated by the stores of novel and interesting details which Giovio’s familiarity with the principal actors of the time enabled him to throw into his work, and by the skilful arrangement. of his narrative, so disposed as, without studied effort, to bring into light the prominent qualities of his hero. Every page bears the marks of that “golden pen,” which the politic Italian reserved for his favorites; and, while this obvious partiality may put the reader somewhat on his guard, it gives an interest to the work, inferior to none other of his agreeable compositions.

The most imposing of the Spanish memoirs of Gonsalvo, in bulk at least, is the “Chronica del Gran Capitan,” Alcala de Henares, 1584. Nic. Antonio doubts whether the author were Pulgar, who wrote the “History of the Catholic Kings,” of such frequent reference in the Granadine wars’, or another Pulgar del Salar, as he is called, who received the honors of knighthood from King Ferdinand for his valorous exploits against the Moors. (See Bibliotheca Uova, tom. i. p. 387.) With regard to the first Pulgar, there is no reason to suppose that he lived into the sixteenth century; and, as to the second, the work composed by him, so far from being the one in question, was a compendium, bearing the title of “Sumario de los Hechos del Gran Capitan,” printed as early as 1527, at Seville, (See the editor’s prologue to Pulgar’s “Chronica de los Reyes Catolicos,”

ed Valencia, 1780.) Its author, therefore, remains in obscurity. He sustains no great damage on the score of reputation, however, from this circumstance; as his work is but an indifferent specimen of the rich old Spanish chronicle, exhibiting most of its characteristic blemishes, with a very small admixture of its beauties. The long and prosy narrative is overloaded with the most frivolous details, trumpeted forth in a strain of glorification, which sometimes disfigures more meritorious compositions in the Castilian. Nothing like discrimination of character, of course, is to be looked for in the unvarying swell of panegyric, which claims for its subject all the extravagant flights of a hero of romance. With these deductions, however, and a liberal allowance, consequently, for the nationality of the work, it has considerable value as a record of events, too recent in their occurrence to be seriously defaced by those deeper stains of error, which are so apt to settle on the weather-beaten monuments of antiquity. It has accordingly formed a principal source of the “Vida del Gran Capitan,” introduced by Quintana in the first volume of his “Espanoles Celebres,” printed at Madrid, in 1807. This memoir, in which the incidents are selected with discernment, displays the usual freedom and vivacity of its poetic author. It does not bring the general politics of the period under review, but will not be found deficient in particulars having immediate connection with the personal history of its subject; and, on the whole, exhibits in an agreeable and compendious form whatever is of most interest or importance for the general reader.

The French have also a “Histoire de Gonsalve de Cordoue,” composed by Father Duponcet, a Jesuit, in two vols. 12mo, Paris, 1714. Though an ambitious, it is a bungling performance, most unskilfully put together, and contains quite as much of what its hero did not do, as of what he did.

The prolixity of the narrative is not even relieved by the piquancy of style, which forms something like a substitute for thought in many of the lower order of French historians. It is less to history, however, than to romance, that the French public is indebted for its conceptions of the character of Gonsalvo de Cordova, as depicted by the gaudy pencil of Florian, in that highly poetic coloring, which is more attractive to the majority of readers than the cold and sober delineations of truth.

The contemporary French accounts of the Neapolitan wars of Louis XII. are extremely meagre, and few in number. The most striking, on the whole, is D’Auton’s chronicle, composed in the true chivalrous vein of old Froissart, but unfortunately terminating before the close of the first campaign. St. Gelais and Claude Seyssel touch very lightly on this part of their subject. History becomes in their hands, moreover, little better than fulsome panegyric, carried to such a height, indeed, by the latter writer, as brought on him the most severe strictures from his contemporaries; so that he was compelled to take up the pen more than once in his own vindication. The “Memoires de Bayard,” Fleurange, and La Tremouille, so diffuse in most military details, are nearly silent in regard to those of the Neapolitan war. The truth is, the subject was too ungrateful in itself, and presented too unbroken a series of calamities and defeats, to invite the attention of the French historians, who willingly turned to those brilliant passages in this reign, more soothing to national vanity.

The blank has been filled up, or rather attempted to be so, by the assiduity of their later writers. Among these, occasionally consulted by me, are Varillas, whose “Histoire de Louis XII.,” loose as it is, rests on a somewhat more solid basis than his metaphysical reveries, assuming the title of “Politique de Ferdinand,” already repeatedly noticed; Garnier, whose perspicuous narrative, if inferior to that of Gaillard in acuteness and epigrammatic point, makes a much nearer approach to truth; and, lastly, Sismondi, who, if he may be charged, in his “Histoire des Francais,” with some of the defect incident to indiscreet rapidity of composition, succeeds by a few brief and animated touches in opening deeper views into character and conduct than can be got from volumes of ordinary writers.

The want of authentic materials for a perfect acquaintance with the reign of Louis XII. is a subject of complaint with French writers themselves.

The memoirs of the period, occupied with the more dazzling military transactions, make no attempt to instruct us in the interior organization or policy of the government. One might imagine, that their authors lived a century before Philippe de Comines, instead of coming after him, so inferior are they, in all the great properties of historic composition, to this eminent statesman. The French savans have made slender contributions to the stock of original documents collected more than two centuries ago by Godefroy for the illustration of this reign. It can scarcely be supposed, however, that the labors of this early antiquary exhausted the department, in which the French are rich beyond all others, and that those, who work the same mine hereafter, should not find valuable materials for a broader foundation of this interesting portion of their history.

It is fortunate that the reserve of the French in regard to their relations with Italy, at this time, has been abundantly compensated by the labors of the most eminent contemporary writers of the latter country, as Bembo, Machiavelli, Giovio, and the philosophic Guicciardini; whose situation as Italians enabled them to maintain the balance of historic truth undisturbed, at least by undue partiality for either of the two great rival powers; whose high public stations introduced them to the principal characters of the day, and to springs of action hidden from vulgar eyes; and whose superior science, as well as genius, qualified them for rising above the humble level of garrulous chronicle and memoir to the classic dignity of history. It is with regret that we must now strike into a track unillumined by the labors of these great masters of their art in modern times.

Since the publication of this History, the Spanish Minister at Washington, Don Angel Calderon de la Barca, did me the favor to send me a copy of the biography above noticed as the “Sumario de los Hechos del Gran Capitan.”

It is a recent reprint from the ancient edition of 1527, of which the industrious editor, Don F. Martinez de la Rosa, was able to find but one copy in Spain. In its new form, it covers about a hundred duodecimo pages.

It has positive value, as a contemporary document, and as such I gladly avail myself of it. But the greater part is devoted to the early history of Gonsalvo, over which my limits have compelled me to pass lightly; and, for the rest, I am happy to find, on the perusal of it, nothing of moment, which conflicts with the statements drawn from other sources. The able editor has also combined an interesting notice of its author, Pulgar, El de las Hazanas, one of those heroes whose doughty feats shed the illusions of knight-errantry over the war of Granada.

FOOTNOTES

[1] He succeeded Garcilasso de la Vega at the court of Rome. Oviedo says, in reference to the illustrious house of Rojas, “En todas las historias de Espana no se hallan tantos caballeros de un linage y nombre notados por valerosos caballeros y valientes milites como deste nombre de Rojas.”

Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 8.

[2] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 5.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, pp. 319, 320.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 48, 57.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 14, sec. 4, 5.—Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. pp. 364, 365.

[3] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 267, 268.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 22.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 6, pp. 329, 330.—

Machiavelli, Legazione Prima a Roma, let. 36.

[4] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 110.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 189.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, fol. 266.

—Zurita, Historia del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 60.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 270.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 84.

[5] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 189.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 22, 23.—Guicciardini, Istoria, p. 330.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 448, 449.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 110.—

Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 14, sec. 6.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 60.—Senarega, apud Muratori, Rerum Ital.

Script., tom. xxiv. p. 579.

[6] Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, pp. 330, 331.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 449-451.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, ubi supra.—

Varillas, Hist. de Louis XII., tom. i. pp. 416-418.—Ammirato, Istorie Florentine, tom. iii. lib. 28, p. 273.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom.

iii. p. 555.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, pp. 84, 85.—Giovio, Vitae Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 268.

[8] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 190.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 452, 453.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 23.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, p. 331.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 16.—

Chronica del Gran Capitan, ubi supra.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, pp. 84, 85.—

Ammirato, Istorie Fiorentine, ubi supra.—Varillas, Hist. de Louis XII., tom. i. pp. 416-418.

[8] Soon after the rout of the Garigliano, Bembo produced the following sonnet, which most critics agree was intended, although no name appears in it, for Gonsalvo de Cordova.

“Ben devria farvi onor d’ eterno esempio Napoli vostra, e ‘n mezzo al suo bel monte Scolpirvi in lieta e ooronata fronte, Gir trionfando, e dar i voti al tempio: Poi che l’ avete all’ orgoglioso ed empio Stuolo ritolta, e pareggiate l’ onte; Or ch’ avea piu la voglia e le man pronte A far d’ Italia tutta acerbo scempio.

Torcestel voi, Signor, dal corso ardito, E foste tal, ch’ ancora esser vorebbe A por di qua dall’ Alpe nostra il piede.

L’ onda Tirrena del suo sangue crebbe, E di tronchi resto coperto il lito,

E gli angelli ne fer secure prede.”

Opere, tom. ii. p. 57.

[9] The Curate of Los Palacios sums up the loss of the French, from the time of Gonsalvo’s occupation of Barleta to the surrender of Gaeta, in the following manner; 6000 prisoners, 14,000 killed in battle, a still greater number by exposure and fatigue, besides a considerable body cut off by the peasantry. To balance this bloody roll, he computes the Spanish loss at two hundred slain in the field! Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 191.

[10] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 110.—Zurita, Anales, ubi supra.—Garibay, Compendio, lib. 19, cap. 16.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. pp. 296, 97.

Guicciardini, who has been followed in this by the French writers, fixes the date of the rout at the 28th of December. If, however, it occurred on Friday, as he, and every authority, indeed, asserts, it must have been on the 29th, as stated by the Spanish historians. Istoria, lib. 6, p. 330.

[11] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 268.

[12] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 268, 269.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 111.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 270.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, p. 331.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 61.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 454, 455.—Sismondi, Hist.

des Francais, tom. xv. cap. 29.

[13] Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 61.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 454, 455.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 190.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 4.

No particular mention was made of the Italian allies in the capitulation.

It so happened that several of the great Angevin lords, who had been taken in the preceding campaigns of Calabria, were found in arms in the place.

(Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 252, 253, 269.) Gonsalvo, in consequence of this manifest breach of faith, refusing to regard them as comprehended in the treaty, sent them all prisoners of state to the dungeons of Castel Nuovo in Naples. This action has brought on him much unmerited obloquy with the French writers. Indeed, before the treaty was signed, if we are to credit the Italian historians, Gonsalvo peremptorily refused to include the Neapolitan lords within it. Thus much is certain; that, after having been taken and released, they were now found under the French banners a second time. It seems not improbable, therefore, that the French, however naturally desirous they may have been of protection for their allies, finding themselves unable to enforce it, acquiesced in such an equivocal silence with respect to them as, without apparently compromising their own honor, left the whole affair to the discretion of the Great Captain.

With regard to the sweeping charge made by certain modern French historians against the Spanish general, of a similar severity to the other Italians indiscriminately, found in the place, there is not the slightest foundation for it in any contemporary authority. See Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. p. 254.—Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. p. 456.—Varillas, Hist de Louis XII., tom. i. pp. 419, 420.

[14] Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 5, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xvi.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 190.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 269, 270.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, cap. 111.

[15] Brantome, who visited the banks of the Garigliano, some fifty years after this, beheld them in imagination thronged with the shades of the illustrious dead, whose bones lay buried in its dreary and pestilent marshes. There is a sombre coloring in the vision of the old chronicler, not unpoetical. Vies des Hommes Illustres, disc. 6.

[16] Garnier, Hist. de France, tom. v. pp. 456-458.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, fol. 269, 270.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. i. lib. 6, pp. 332, 337.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 173.

[17] Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 86.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 23.—

Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 190.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, ubi supra.—Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. pp. 254-256.

[18] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, fol. 270, 271.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. p. 298.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 1.—

Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. fol. 359.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 190, 191.

[19] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 271.

[20] “Per servir sempre, vincitrice o vinia.”

The Italians began at this early period to feel the pressure of those woes, which a century and a half later wrung out of Filicaja the beautiful lament, which has lost something of its touching graces, even under the hand of Lord Byron.

[21] Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 64.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib.

6, pp. 340, 341.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, ubi supra.—Carta del Gran Capitan, MS.

[22] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 270, 271.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 8, cap. 1.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 24.

[23] Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 6, p. 338.—Zurita, Hist. del Rey Hernando, tom. i. lib. 5, cap. 64.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, rey 30, cap.

14.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, pp. 85, 86.

[24] Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 66.

The campaign against Louis XII. had cost the Spanish crown 331
cuentos or millions of maravedies, equivalent to 9,268,000 dollars of the present time. A moderate charge enough for the conquest of a kingdom; and made still lighter to the Spaniards by one-fifth of the whole being drawn from Naples itself. See Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. fol. 359.

[25] The treaty is to be found in Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. no.

26, pp. 51-53.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 64.—Machiavelli, Legazione Seconda a Francia, let. 9, Feb. 11.

[26] Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. ii. disc. 11.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 5, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xvi.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p.

85.—Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. pp. 255-260. See also Memoires de Bayard, chap. 25; the good knight, “sans peur et sans reproche,” made one of this intrepid little band, having joined Louis d’Ars after the capitulation of Gaeta.

[27] Machiavelli, Arte della Guerra. lib. 2.—Machiavelli considers the victory over D’Aubigny at Seminara as imputable in a great degree to the peculiar arms of the Spaniards, who, with their short swords and shields, gliding in among the deep ranks of the Swiss spearmen, brought them to close combat, where the former had the whole advantage. Another instance of the kind occurred at the memorable battle of Ravenna some years later.

Ubi supra.

[28] “Prima,” says Livy pithily, speaking of the Gauls in the time of the Republic, “eorum proelia plus quam virorum, postrema minu quam foeminarum.” Lib. 10, cap. 28.

[29] Two of the most distinguished of these were the Colonnas, Prospero and Fabrizio, of whom frequent mention has been made in our narrative. The best commentary on the military reputation of the latter, is the fact, that he is selected by Machiavelli as the principal interlocutor in his Dialogues on the Art of War.

[30] See Dubos, Ligue de Cambray, dissert. prelim., p. 60.—This French writer has shown himself superior to national distinctions, in the liberal testimony which he bears to the character of these brave troops. See a similar strain of panegyric from the chivalrous pen of old Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. i. disc. 27.

CHAPTER XVI.

ILLNESS AND DEATH OF ISABELLA.—HER CHARACTER.

1504.

Decline of the Queen’s Health.—Alarm of the Nation.—Her Testament.—And Codicil.—Her Resignation and Death.—Her Remains Transported to Granada.

—Isabella’s Person.—Her Manners.—Her Character.—Parallel with Queen Elizabeth.

The acquisition of an important kingdom in the heart of Europe, and of the New World beyond the waters, which promised to pour into her lap all the fabled treasures of the Indies, was rapidly raising Spain to the first rank of European powers. But, in this noontide of her success, she was to experience a fatal shock in the loss of that illustrious personage, who had so long and so gloriously presided over her destinies. We have had occasion to notice more than once the declining state of the queen’s health during the last few years. Her constitution had been greatly impaired by incessant personal fatigue and exposure, and by the unremitting activity of her mind. It had suffered far more severely, however, from a series of heavy domestic calamities, which had fallen on her with little intermission since the death of her mother in 1496. The next year, she followed to the grave the remains of her only son, the heir and hope of the monarchy, just entering on his prime; and in the succeeding, was called on to render the same sad offices to the best beloved of her daughters, the amiable queen of Portugal.

The severe illness occasioned by this last blow terminated in a dejection of spirits, from which she never entirely recovered. Her surviving children were removed far from her into distant lands; with the occasional exception, indeed, of Joanna, who caused a still deeper pang to her mother’s affectionate heart, by exhibiting infirmities which justified the most melancholy presages for the future.

Far from abandoning herself to weak and useless repining, however, Isabella sought consolation, where it was best to be found, in the exercises of piety, and in the earnest discharge of the duties attached to her exalted station. Accordingly, we find her attentive as ever to the minutest interests of her subjects; supporting her great minister Ximenes in his schemes of reform, quickening the zeal for discovery in the west, and, at the close of the year 1503, on the alarm of the French invasion, rousing her dying energies, to kindle a spirit of resistance in her people. These strong mental exertions, however, only accelerated the decay of her bodily strength, which was gradually sinking under that sickness of the heart, which admits of no cure, and scarcely of consolation.

In the beginning of that very year she had declined so visibly, that the cortes of Castile, much alarmed, petitioned her to provide for the government of the kingdom after her decease, in case of the absence or incapacity of Joanna. [1] She seems to have rallied in some measure after this, but it was only to relapse into a state of greater debility, as her spirits sunk under the conviction, which now forced itself on her, of her daughter’s settled insanity.

Early in the spring of the following year, that unfortunate lady embarked for Flanders, where, soon after her arrival, the inconstancy of her husband, and her own ungovernable sensibilities, occasioned the most scandalous scenes. Philip became openly enamoured of one of the ladies of her suite, and his injured wife, in a paroxysm of jealousy, personally assaulted her fair rival in the palace, and caused the beautiful locks, which had excited the admiration of her fickle husband, to be shorn from her head. This outrage so affected Philip, that he vented his indignation against Joanna in the coarsest and most unmanly terms, and finally refused to have any further intercourse with her. [2]

The account of this disgraceful scene reached Castile in the month of June. It occasioned the deepest chagrin and mortification to the unhappy parents. Ferdinand soon after fell ill of a fever, and the queen was seized with the same disorder, accompanied by more alarming symptoms. Her illness was exasperated by anxiety for her husband, and she refused to credit the favorable reports of his physicians while he was detained from her presence. His vigorous constitution, however, threw off the malady, while hers gradually failed under it. Her tender heart was more keenly sensible than his to the unhappy condition of their child, and to the gloomy prospects which awaited her beloved Castile. [3]

Her faithful follower, Martyr, was with the court at this time in Medina del Campo. In a letter to the count of Tendilla, dated October 7th, he states that the most serious apprehensions were entertained by the physicians for the queen’s fate. “Her whole system,” he says, “is pervaded by a consuming fever. She loathes food of every kind, and is tormented with incessant thirst, while the disorder has all the appearance of terminating in a dropsy.” [4]

In the mean while, Isabella lost nothing of her solicitude for the welfare of her people, and the great concerns of government. While reclining, as she was obliged to do a great part of the day, on her couch, she listened to the recital or reading of whatever occurred of interest, at home or abroad. She gave audience to distinguished foreigners, especially such Italians as could acquaint her with particulars of the late war, and, above all, in regard to Gonsalvo de Cordova, in whose fortunes she had always taken the liveliest concern. [5] She received with pleasure, too, such intelligent travellers, as her renown had attracted to the Castilian court. She drew forth their stores of various information, and dismissed them, says a writer of the age, penetrated with the deepest admiration of that masculine strength of mind, which sustained her so nobly under the weight of a mortal malady. [6]

This malady was now rapidly gaining ground. On the 15th of October we have another epistle of Martyr, of the following melancholy tenor. “You ask me respecting the state of the queen’s health. We sit sorrowful in the palace all day long, tremblingly waiting the hour, when religion and virtue shall quit the earth with her. Let us pray that we may be permitted to follow hereafter where she is soon to go. She so far transcends all human excellence, that there is scarcely anything of mortality about her. She can hardly be said to die, but to pass into a nobler existence, which should rather excite our envy than our sorrow. She leaves the world filled with her renown, and she goes to enjoy life eternal with her God in heaven. I write this,” he concludes, “between hope and fear, while the breath is still fluttering within her.” [7]

The deepest gloom now overspread the nation. Even Isabella’s long illness had failed to prepare the minds of her faithful people for the sad catastrophe. They recalled several ominous circumstances which had before escaped their attention. In the preceding spring, an earthquake, accompanied by a tremendous hurricane, such as the oldest men did not remember, had visited Andalusia, and especially Carmona, a place belonging to the queen, and occasioned frightful desolation there. The superstitious Spaniards now read in these portents the prophetic signs, by which Heaven announces some great calamity. Prayers were put up in every temple; processions and pilgrimages made in every part of the country for the recovery of their beloved sovereign,—but in vain. [8]

Isabella, in the mean time, was deluded with no false hopes. She felt too surely the decay of her bodily strength, and she resolved to perform what temporal duties yet remained for her, while her faculties were still unclouded.

On the 12th of October she executed that celebrated testament, which reflects so clearly the peculiar qualities of her mind and character. She begins with prescribing the arrangements for her burial. She orders her remains to be transported to Granada, to the Franciscan monastery of Santa Isabella in the Alhambra, and there deposited in a low and humble sepulchre, without other memorial than a plain inscription on it. “But,”

she continues, “should the king, my lord, prefer a sepulchre in some other place, then my will is that my body be there transported, and laid by his side; that the union we have enjoyed in this world, and, through the mercy of God, may hope again for our souls in heaven, may be represented by our bodies in the earth.” Then, desirous of correcting by her example, in this last act of her life, the wasteful pomp of funeral obsequies to which the Castilians were addicted, she commands that her own should be performed in the plainest and most unostentatious manner, and that the sum saved by this economy should be distributed in alms among the poor.

She next provides for several charities, assigning, among others, marriage portions for poor maidens, and a considerable sum for the redemption of Christian captives in Barbary. She enjoins the punctual discharge of all her personal debts within a year; she retrenches superfluous offices in the royal household, and revokes all such grants, whether in the forms of lands or annuities, as she conceives to have been made without sufficient warrant. She inculcates on her successors the importance of maintaining the integrity of the royal domains, and, above all, of never divesting themselves of their title to the important fortress of Gibraltar.

After this, she comes to the succession of the crown, which she settles on the infanta Joanna, as “queen proprietor,” and the archduke Philip as her husband. She gives them much good counsel respecting their future administration; enjoining them, as they would secure the love and obedience of their subjects, to conform in all respects to the laws and usages of the realm, to appoint no foreigner to office,-an error, into which Philip’s connections, she saw, would be very likely to betray them, —and to make no laws or ordinances, “which necessarily require the consent of cortes,” during their absence from the kingdom. [9] She recommends to them the same conjugal harmony which had ever subsisted between her and her husband; she beseeches them to show the latter all the deference and filial affection “due to him beyond every other parent, for his eminent virtues;” and finally inculcates on them the most tender regard for the liberties and welfare of their subjects.

She next comes to the great question proposed by the cortes of 1503, respecting the government of the realm in the absence or incapacity of Joanna. She declares that, after mature deliberation, and with the advice of many of the prelates and nobles of the kingdom, she appoints King Ferdinand her husband to be the sole regent of Castile, in that exigency, until the majority of her grandson Charles; being led to this, she adds, “by the consideration of the magnanimity and illustrious qualities of the king, my lord, as well as his large experience, and the great profit which will redound to the state from his wise and beneficent rule.” She expresses her sincere conviction that his past conduct affords a sufficient guarantee for his faithful administration, but, in compliance with established usage, requires the customary oath from him on entering on the duties of the office.

She then makes a specific provision for her husband’s personal maintenance, which, “although less than she could wish, and far less than he deserves, considering the eminent services he had rendered the state,”

she settles at one-half of all the net proceeds and profits accruing from the newly discovered countries in the west; together with ten million maravedies annually, assigned on the alcavalas of the grand-masterships of the military orders.

After some additional regulations, respecting the descent of the crown on failure of Joanna’s lineal heirs, she recommends in the kindest and most emphatic terms to her successors the various members of her household, and her personal friends, among whom we find the names of the marquis and marchioness of Moya, (Beatrice de Bobadilla, the companion of her youth,) and Garcilasso de la Vega, the accomplished minister at the papal court.

And, lastly, concluding in the same beautiful strain of conjugal tenderness in which she began, she says, “I beseech the king my lord, that he will accept all my jewels, or such as he shall select, so that, seeing them, he may be reminded of the singular love I always bore him while living, and that I am now waiting for him in a better world; by which remembrance he may be encouraged to live the more justly and holily in this.”

Six executors were named to the will. The two principal were the king and the primate Ximenes, who had full powers to act in conjunction with any one of the others. [10]

I have dwelt the more minutely on the details of Isabella’s testament, from the evidence it affords of her constancy in her dying hour to the principles which had governed her through life; of her expansive and sagacious policy; her prophetic insight into the evils to result from her death,—evils, alas! which no forecast could avert; her scrupulous attention to all her personal obligations; and that warm attachment to her friends, which could never falter while a pulse beat in her bosom.

After performing this duty, she daily grew weaker, the powers of her mind seeming to brighten as those of her body declined. The concerns of her government still occupied her thoughts; and several public measures, which she had postponed through urgency of other business, or growing infirmities, pressed so heavily on her heart, that she made them the subject of a codicil to her former will. It was executed November 23d, only three days before her death.

Three of the provisions contained in it are too remarkable to pass unnoticed. The first concerns the codification of the laws. For this purpose, the queen appoints a commission to make a new digest of the statutes and pragmaticas, the contradictory tenor of which still occasioned much embarrassment in Castilian jurisprudence. This was a subject she always had much at heart; but no nearer approach had been made to it, than the valuable, though insufficient work of Montalvo, in the early part of her reign; and, notwithstanding her precautions, none more effectual was destined to take place till the reign of Philip the Second.

[11]

The second item had reference to the natives of the New World. Gross abuses had arisen there since the partial revival of the repartimientos, although Las Casas says, “intelligence of this was carefully kept from the ears of the queen.” [12] Some vague apprehension of the truth, however, appears to have forced itself on her; and she enjoins her successors, in the most earnest manner, to quicken the good work of converting and civilizing the poor Indians, to treat them with the greatest gentleness, and redress any wrongs they may have suffered in their persons or property.

Lastly, she expresses her doubts as to the legality of the revenue drawn from the alcavalas, constituting the principal income of the crown.

She directs a commission to ascertain whether it were originally intended to be perpetual, and if this were done with the free consent of the people; enjoining her heirs, in that event, to collect the tax so that it should press least heavily on her subjects. Should it be found otherwise, however, she directs that the legislature be summoned to devise proper measures for supplying the wants of the crown,—“measures depending for their validity on the good pleasure of the subjects of the realm.” [13]

Such were the dying words of this admirable woman; displaying the same respect for the rights and liberties of the nation, which she had shown through life, and striving to secure the blessings of her benign administration to the most distant and barbarous regions under her sway.

These two documents were a precious legacy bequeathed to her people, to guide them when the light of her personal example should be withdrawn for ever.

The queen’s signature to the codicil, which still exists among the manuscripts of the royal library at Madrid, shows, by its irregular and scarcely legible characters, the feeble state to which she was then reduced. [14] She had now adjusted all her worldly concerns, and she prepared to devote herself, during the brief space which remained, to those of a higher nature. It was but the last act of a life of preparation. She had the misfortune, common to persons of her rank, to be separated in her last moments from those whose filial tenderness might have done so much to soften the bitterness of death. But she had the good fortune, most rare, to have secured for this trying hour the solace of disinterested friendship; for she beheld around her the friends of her childhood, formed and proved in the dark season of adversity.

As she saw them bathed in tears around her bed, she calmly said, “Do not weep for me, nor waste your time in fruitless prayers for my recovery, but pray rather for the salvation of my soul.” [15] On receiving the extreme unction, she refused to have her feet exposed, as was usual on that occasion; a circumstance, which, occurring at a time when there can be no suspicion of affectation, is often noticed by Spanish writers, as a proof of that sensitive delicacy and decorum, which distinguished her through life. [16] At length, having received the sacraments, and performed all the offices of a sincere and devout Christian, she gently expired a little before noon, on Wednesday, November 26th, 1504, in the fifty-fourth year of her age, and thirtieth of her reign. [17]

“My hand,” says Peter Martyr, in a letter written on the same day to the archbishop of Granada, “falls powerless by my side, for very sorrow. The world has lost its noblest ornament; a loss to be deplored not only by Spain, which she has so long carried forward in the career of glory, but by every nation in Christendom; for she was the mirror of every virtue, the shield of the innocent, and an avenging sword to the wicked. I know none of her sex, in ancient or modern times, who in my judgment is at all worthy to be named with this incomparable woman.” [18]

No time was lost in making preparations for transporting the queen’s body unembalmed to Granada, in strict conformity to her orders. It was escorted by a numerous cortege of cavaliers and ecclesiastics, among whom was the faithful Martyr. The procession began its mournful march the day following her death, taking the route through Arevalo, Toledo, and Jaen.

Scarcely had it left Medina del Campo, when a tremendous tempest set in, which continued with little interruption during the whole journey. The roads were rendered nearly impassable; the bridges swept away, the small streams swollen to the size of the Tagus, and the level country buried under a deluge of water. Neither sun nor stars were seen during their whole progress. The horses and mules were borne down by the torrents, and the riders in several instances perished with them. “Never,” exclaims Martyr, “did I encounter such perils, in the whole of my hazardous pilgrimage to Egypt.” [19]

At length, on the 18th of December, the melancholy and way-worn cavalcade reached the place of its destination; and, amidst the wild strife of the elements, the peaceful remains of Isabella were laid, with simple solemnities, in the Franciscan monastery of the Alhambra. Here, under the shadow of those venerable Moslem towers, and in the heart of the capital which her noble constancy had recovered for her country, they continued to repose till after the death of Ferdinand, when they were removed to be laid by his side, in the stately mausoleum of the cathedral church of Granada. [20]

I shall defer the review of Queen Isabella’s administration, until it can be done in conjunction with that of Ferdinand; and shall confine myself at present to such considerations on the prominent traits of her character, as have been suggested by the preceding history of her life.

Her person, as mentioned in the early part of the narrative, was of the middle height, and well proportioned. She had a clear, fresh complexion, with light blue eyes and auburn hair,—a style of beauty exceedingly rare in Spain. Her features were regular, and universally allowed to be uncommonly handsome. [21] The illusion which attaches to rank, more especially when united with engaging manners, might lead us to suspect some exaggeration in the encomiums so liberally lavished on her. But they would seem to be in a great measure justified by the portraits that remain of her, which combine a faultless symmetry of features with singular sweetness and intelligence of expression.

Her manners were most gracious and pleasing. They were marked by natural dignity and modest reserve, tempered by an affability which flowed from the kindliness of her disposition. She was the last person to be approached with undue familiarity; yet the respect which she imposed was mingled with the strongest feelings of devotion and love. She showed great tact in accommodating herself to the peculiar situation and character of those around her. She appeared in arms at the head of her troops, and shrunk from none of the hardships of war. During the reforms introduced into the religious houses, she visited the nunneries in person, taking her needle-work with her, and passing the day in the society of the inmates.

When travelling in Galicia, she attired herself in the costume of the country, borrowing for that purpose the jewels and other ornaments of the ladies there, and returning them with liberal additions. [22] By this condescending and captivating deportment, as well as by her higher qualities, she gained an ascendency over her turbulent subjects, which no king of Spain could ever boast.

She spoke the Castilian with much elegance and correctness. She had an easy fluency of discourse, which, though generally of a serious complexion, was occasionally seasoned with agreeable sallies, some of which have passed into proverbs. [23] She was temperate even to abstemiousness in her diet, seldom or never tasting wine; [24] and so frugal in her table, that the daily expenses for herself and family did not exceed the moderate sum of forty ducats. [25] She was equally simple and economical in her apparel. On all public occasions, indeed, she displayed a royal magnificence; [26] but she had no relish for it in private, and she freely gave away her clothes [27] and jewels, [28] as presents to her friends. Naturally of a sedate, though cheerful temper, [29] she had little taste for the frivolous amusements which make up so much of a court life; and, if she encouraged the presence of minstrels and musicians in her palace, it was to wean her young nobility from the coarser and less intellectual pleasures to which they were addicted. [30]

Among her moral qualities, the most conspicuous, perhaps, was her magnanimity. She betrayed nothing little or selfish, in thought or action.

Her schemes were vast, and executed in the same noble spirit in which they were conceived. She never employed doubtful agents or sinister measures, but the most direct and open policy. [31.] She scorned to avail herself of advantages offered by the perfidy of others. [32] Where she had once given her confidence, she gave her hearty and steady support; and she was scrupulous to redeem any pledge she had made to those who ventured in her cause, however unpopular. She sustained Ximenes in all his obnoxious but salutary reforms. She seconded Columbus in the prosecution of his arduous enterprise, and shielded him from the calumny of his enemies. She did the same good service to her favorite, Gonsalvo de Cordova; and the day of her death was felt, and, as it proved, truly felt by both, as the last of their good fortune. [33] Artifice and duplicity were so abhorrent to her character, and so averse from her domestic policy, that when they appear in the foreign relations of Spain, it is certainly not imputable to her.

She was incapable of harboring any petty distrust, or latent malice; and, although stern in the execution and exaction of public justice, she made the most generous allowance, and even sometimes advances, to those who had personally injured her. [34]

But the principle, which gave a peculiar coloring to every feature of Isabella’s mind, was piety. It shone forth from the very depths of her soul with a heavenly radiance, which illuminated her whole character.

Fortunately, her earliest years had been passed in the rugged school of adversity, under the eye of a mother who implanted in her serious mind such strong principles of religion as nothing in after life had power to shake. At an early age, in the flower of youth and beauty, she was introduced to her brother’s court; but its blandishments, so dazzling to a young imagination, had no power over hers; for she was surrounded by a moral atmosphere of purity,

“Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.” [35]

Such was the decorum of her manners, that, though encompassed by false friends and open enemies, not the slightest reproach was breathed on her fair name in this corrupt and calumnious court.

She gave a liberal portion of her time to private devotions, as well as to the public exercises of religion. [36] She expended large sums in useful charities, especially in the erection of hospitals and churches, and the more doubtful endowments of monasteries. [37] Her piety was strikingly exhibited in that unfeigned humility, which, although the very essence of our faith, is so rarely found; and most rarely in those whose great powers and exalted stations seem to raise them above the level of ordinary mortals. A remarkable illustration of this is afforded in the queen’s correspondence with Talavera, in which her meek and docile spirit is strikingly contrasted with the puritanical intolerance of her confessor.

[38] Yet Talavera, as we have seen, was sincere, and benevolent at heart.

Unfortunately, the royal conscience was at times committed to very different keeping; and that humility which, as we have repeatedly had occasion to notice, made her defer so reverentially to her ghostly advisers, led, under the fanatic Torquemada, the confessor of her early youth, to those deep blemishes on her administration, the establishment of the Inquisition, and the exile of the Jews.

But, though blemishes of the deepest dye on her administration, they are certainly not to be regarded as such on her moral character. It will be difficult to condemn her, indeed, without condemning the age; for these very acts are not only excused, but extolled by her contemporaries, as constituting her strongest claims to renown, and to the gratitude of her country. [39] They proceeded from the principle, openly avowed by the court of Rome, that zeal for the purity of the faith could atone for every crime. This immoral maxim, flowing from the head of the church, was echoed in a thousand different forms by the subordinate clergy, and greedily received by a superstitious people. [40] It was not to be expected, that a solitary woman, filled with natural diffidence of her own capacity on such subjects, should array herself against those venerated counsellors, whom she had been taught from her cradle to look to as the guides and guardians of her conscience.

However mischievous the operations of the Inquisition may have been in Spain, its establishment, in point of principle, was not worse than many other measures, which have passed with far less censure, though in a much more advanced and civilized age. [41] Where, indeed, during the sixteenth, and the greater part of the seventeenth century, was the principle of persecution abandoned by the dominant party, whether Catholic or Protestant? And where that of toleration asserted, except by the weaker?

It is true, to borrow Isabella’s own expression, in her letter to Talavera, the prevalence of a bad custom cannot constitute its apology.

But it should serve much to mitigate our condemnation of the queen, that she fell into no greater error, in the imperfect light in which she lived, than was common to the greatest minds in a later and far riper period.

[42]

Isabella’s actions, indeed, were habitually based on principle. Whatever errors of judgment be imputed to her, she most anxiously sought in all situations to discern and discharge her duty. Faithful in the dispensation of justice, no bribe was large enough to ward off the execution of the law. [43] No motive, not even conjugal affection, could induce her to make an unsuitable appointment to public office. [44] No reverence for the ministers of religion could lead her to wink at their misconduct; [45] nor could the deference she entertained for the head of the church, allow her to tolerate his encroachments on the rights of her crown. [46] She seemed to consider herself especially bound to preserve entire the peculiar claims and privileges of Castile, after its union under the same sovereign with Aragon. [47] And although, “while her own will was law,” says Peter Martyr, “she governed in such a manner that it might appear the joint action of both Ferdinand and herself,” yet she was careful never to surrender into his hands one of those prerogatives which belonged to her as queen proprietor of the kingdom. [48]

Isabella’s measures were characterized by that practical good sense, without which the most brilliant parts may work more to the woe than to the weal of mankind. Though engaged all her life in reforms, she had none of the failings so common in reformers. Her plans, though vast, were never visionary. The best proof of this is, that she lived to see most of them realized.

She was quick to discern objects of real utility. She saw the importance of the new discovery of printing, and liberally patronized it from the first moment it appeared. [49] She had none of the exclusive, local prejudices, too common with her countrymen. She drew talent from the most remote quarters to her dominions, by munificent rewards. She imported foreign artisans for her manufactures; foreign engineers and officers for the discipline of her army; and foreign scholars to imbue her martial subjects with more cultivated tastes. She consulted the useful in all her subordinate regulations; in her sumptuary laws, for instance, directed against the fashionable extravagances of dress, and the ruinous ostentation, so much affected by the Castilians in their weddings and funerals. [50] Lastly, she showed the same perspicacity in the selection of her agents; well knowing that the best measures become bad in incompetent hands.

But, although the skilful selection of her agents was an obvious cause of Isabella’s success, yet another, even more important, is to be found in her own vigilance and untiring exertions. During the first busy and bustling years of her reign, these exertions were of incredible magnitude.

She was almost always in the saddle, for she made all her journeys on horseback; and she travelled with a rapidity, which made her always present on the spot where her presence was needed. She was never intimidated by the weather, or the state of her own health; and this reckless exposure undoubtedly contributed much to impair her excellent constitution. [51]

She was equally indefatigable in her mental application. After assiduous attention to business through the day, she was often known to sit up all night, dictating despatches to her secretaries. [52] In the midst of these overwhelming cares, she found time to supply the defects of her early education by learning Latin, so as to understand it without difficulty, whether written or spoken; and indeed, in the opinion of a competent judge, to attain a critical accuracy in it. [53] As she had little turn for light amusements, she sought relief from graver cares by some useful occupation appropriate to her sex; and she left ample evidence of her skill in this way, in the rich specimens of embroidery, wrought with her own fair hands, with which she decorated the churches. She was careful to instruct her daughters in these more humble departments of domestic duty; for she thought nothing too humble to learn, which was useful. [54]

With all her high qualifications, Isabella would have been still unequal to the achievement of her grand designs, without possessing a degree of fortitude rare in either sex; not the courage, which implies contempt of personal danger,—though of this she had a larger share than falls to most men; [55] nor that which supports its possessor under the extremities of bodily pain,—though of this she gave ample evidence, since she endured the greatest suffering her sex is called to bear, without a groan; [56]

but that moral courage, which sustains the spirit in the dark hour of adversity, and, gathering light from within to dispel the darkness, imparts its own cheering influence to all around. This was shown remarkably in the stormy season which ushered in her accession, as well as through the whole of the Moorish war. It was her voice that decided never to abandon Alhama. [57] Her remonstrances compelled the king and nobles to return to the field, when they had quitted it, after an ineffectual campaign. As dangers and difficulties multiplied, she multiplied resources to meet them; and, when her soldiers lay drooping under the evils of some protracted siege, she appeared in the midst, mounted on her war-horse, with her delicate limbs cased in knightly mail; [58] and, riding through their ranks, breathed new courage into their hearts by her own intrepid bearing. To her personal efforts, indeed, as well as counsels, the success of this glorious war may be mainly imputed; and the unsuspicious testimony of the Venetian minister, Navagiero, a few years later, shows that the nation so considered it. “Queen Isabel,” says he, “by her singular genius, masculine strength of mind, and other virtues most unusual in our own sex, as well as hers, was not merely of great assistance in, but the chief cause of the conquest of Granada. She was, indeed, a most rare and virtuous lady, one of whom the Spaniards talk far more than of the king, sagacious as he was, and uncommon for his time.” [59]

Happily, these masculine qualities in Isabella did not extinguish the softer ones which constitute the charm of her sex. Her heart overflowed with affectionate sensibility to her family and friends. She watched over the declining days of her aged mother, and ministered to her sad infirmities with all the delicacy of filial tenderness. [60] We have seen abundant proofs how fondly and faithfully she loved her husband to the last, [61] though this love was not always as faithfully requited. [62]

For her children she lived more than for herself; and for them too she died, for it was their loss and their afflictions which froze the current of her blood, before age had time to chill it. Her exalted state did not remove her above the sympathies of friendship. [63.] With her friends she forgot the usual distinctions of rank, sharing in their joys, visiting and consoling them in sorrow and sickness, and condescending in more than one instance to assume the office of executrix on their decease. [64] Her heart, indeed, was filled with benevolence to all mankind. In the most fiery heat of war, she was engaged in devising means for mitigating its horrors. She is said to have been the first to introduce the benevolent institution of camp hospitals; and we have seen, more than once, her lively solicitude to spare the effusion of blood even of her enemies. But it is needless to multiply examples of this beautiful, but familiar trait in her character. [65]

It is in these more amiable qualities of her sex, that Isabella’s superiority becomes most apparent over her illustrious namesake, Elizabeth of England, [66] whose history presents some features parallel to her own.

Both were disciplined in early life by the teachings of that stern nurse of wisdom, adversity. Both were made to experience the deepest humiliation at the hands of their nearest relative, who should have cherished and protected them. Both succeeded in establishing themselves on the throne after the most precarious vicissitudes. Each conducted her kingdom, through a long and triumphant reign, to a height of glory, which it had never before reached. Both lived to see the vanity of all earthly grandeur, and to fall the victims of an inconsolable melancholy; and both left behind an illustrious name, unrivalled in the subsequent annals of their country.

But, with these few circumstances of their history, the resemblance ceases. Their characters afford scarcely a point of contact. Elizabeth, inheriting a large share of the bold and bluff King Harry’s temperament, was haughty, arrogant, coarse, and irascible; while with these fiercer qualities she mingled deep dissimulation and strange irresolution.

Isabella, on the other hand, tempered the dignity of royal station with the most bland and courteous manners. Once resolved, she was constant in her purposes, and her conduct in public and private life was characterized by candor and integrity. Both may be said to have shown that magnanimity which is implied by the accomplishment of great objects in the face of great obstacles. But Elizabeth was desperately selfish; she was incapable of forgiving, not merely a real injury, but the slightest affront to her vanity; and she was merciless in exacting retribution. Isabella, on the other hand, lived only for others,—was ready at all times to sacrifice self to considerations of public duty; and, far from personal resentments, showed the greatest condescension and kindness to those who had most sensibly injured her; while her benevolent heart sought every means to mitigate the authorized severities of the law, even towards the guilty.

[67]

Both possessed rare fortitude. Isabella, indeed, was placed in situations, which demanded more frequent and higher displays of it than her rival; but no one will doubt a full measure of this quality in the daughter of Henry the Eighth. Elizabeth was better educated, and every way more highly accomplished than Isabella. But the latter knew enough to maintain her station with dignity; and she encouraged learning by a munificent patronage. [68] The masculine powers and passions of Elizabeth seemed to divorce her in a great measure from the peculiar attributes of her sex; at least from those which constitute its peculiar charm; for she had abundance of its foibles,—a coquetry and love of admiration, which age could not chill; a levity, most careless, if not criminal; [69] and a fondness for dress and tawdry magnificence of ornament, which was ridiculous, or disgusting, according to the different periods of life in which it was indulged. [70] Isabella, on the other hand, distinguished through life for decorum of manners, and purity beyond the breath of calumny, was content with the legitimate affection which she could inspire within the range of her domestic circle. Far from a frivolous affectation of ornament or dress, she was most simple in her own attire, and seemed to set no value on her jewels, but as they could serve the necessities of the state; [71] when they could be no longer useful in this way, she gave them away, as we have seen, to her friends.

Both were uncommonly sagacious in the selection of their ministers; though Elizabeth was drawn into some errors in this particular, by her levity, [72] as was Isabella by religious feeling. It was this, combined with her excessive humility, which led to the only grave errors in the administration of the latter. Her rival fell into no such errors; and she was a stranger to the amiable qualities which led to them. Her conduct was certainly not controlled by religious principle; and, though the bulwark of the Protestant faith, it might be difficult to say whether she were at heart most a Protestant or a Catholic. She viewed religion in its connection with the state, in other words, with herself; and she took measures for enforcing conformity to her own views, not a whit less despotic, and scarcely less sanguinary, than those countenanced for conscience’ sake by her more bigoted rival. [73]

This feature of bigotry, which has thrown a shade over Isabella’s otherwise beautiful character, might lead to a disparagement of her intellectual power compared with that of the English queen. To estimate this aright, we must contemplate the results of their respective reigns.

Elizabeth found all the materials of prosperity at hand, and availed herself of them most ably to build up a solid fabric of national grandeur.

Isabella created these materials. She saw the faculties of her people locked up in a deathlike lethargy, and she breathed into them the breath of life for those great and heroic enterprises, which terminated in such glorious consequences to the monarchy. It is when viewed from the depressed position of her early days, that the achievements of her reign seem scarcely less than miraculous. The masculine genius of the English queen stands out relieved beyond its natural dimensions by its separation from the softer qualities of her sex. While her rival’s, like some vast but symmetrical edifice, loses in appearance somewhat of its actual grandeur from the perfect harmony of its proportions.

The circumstances of their deaths, which were somewhat similar, displayed the great dissimilarity of their characters. Both pined amidst their royal state, a prey to incurable despondency, rather than any marked bodily distemper. In Elizabeth it sprung from wounded vanity, a sullen conviction that she had outlived the admiration on which she had so long fed,—and even the solace of friendship, and the attachment of her subjects. Nor did she seek consolation, where alone it was to be found, in that sad hour.

Isabella, on the other hand, sunk under a too acute sensibility to the sufferings of others. But, amidst the gloom which gathered around her, she looked with the eye of faith to the brighter prospects which unfolded of the future; and, when she resigned her last breath, it was amidst the tears and universal lamentations of her people.

It is in this undying, unabated attachment of the nation, indeed, that we see the most unequivocal testimony to the virtues of Isabella. In the downward progress of things in Spain, some of the most ill-advised measures of her administration have found favor and been perpetuated, while the more salutary have been forgotten. This may lead to a misconception of her real merits. In order to estimate these, we must listen to the voice of her contemporaries, the eye-witnesses of the condition in which she found the state, and in which she left it. We shall then see but one judgment formed of her, whether by foreigners or natives.

The French and Italian writers equally join in celebrating the triumphant glories of her reign, and her magnanimity, wisdom, and purity of character. [74] Her own subjects extol her as “the most brilliant exemplar of every virtue,” and mourn over the day of her death as “the last of the prosperity and happiness of their country.” [75] While those who had nearer access to her person are unbounded in their admiration of those amiable qualities, whose full power is revealed only in the unrestrained intimacies of domestic life. [76] The judgment of posterity has ratified the sentence of her own age. The most enlightened Spaniards of the present day, by no means insensible to the errors of her government, but more capable of appreciating its merits than those of a less instructed age, bear honorable testimony to her deserts; and, while they pass over the bloated magnificence of succeeding monarchs, who arrest the popular eye, dwell with enthusiasm on Isabella’s character, as the most truly great in their line of princes. [77]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 11.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 84.

[2] Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 16.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 271, 272.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 46.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1504.

[3] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 46, 47.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 273.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1504.

[4] Opus Epist., epist. 274.

[5] A short time before her death, she received a visit from the distinguished officer, Prospero Colonna. The Italian noble, on being presented to King Ferdinand, told him, that “he had come to Castile to behold the woman, who from her sick bed ruled the world;” “ver una senora que desde la cama mandava al mundo.” Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 8.—Carta de Gonzalo, MS.

[6] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 47.

Among the foreigners introduced to the queen at this time, was a celebrated Venetian traveller, named Vianelli, who presented her with a cross of pure gold set with precious stones, among which was a carbuncle of inestimable value. The liberal Italian met with rather an uncourtly rebuke from Ximenes, who told him, on leaving the presence, that “he had rather have the money his diamonds cost, to spend in the service of the church, than all the gems of the Indies.” Ibid.

[7] Opus Epist., epist. 276.

[8] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 200, 201.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1504.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 16.—Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, pp. 423, 424.

[9] “Ni fagan fnera de los dichos mis Reynos e Senorios, Leyes e Prematicas, ni las otras cosas que en Cortes se deven hazer segand las Leyes de ellos;” (Testamento, apud Dormer, Discursos Varios, p. 343;) an honorable testimony to the legislative rights of the cortes, which contrasts strongly with the despotic assumption of preceding and succeeding princes.

[10] I have before me three copies of Isabella’s testament; one in MS., apud Carbajal, Anales, ano 1504; a second printed in the beautiful Valencia edition of Mariana, tom. ix. apend. no. 1; and a third published in Dormer’s Discursos Varios de Historia, pp. 314-388. I am not aware that it has been printed elsewhere.

[11] The “Ordenanjas Reales de Castilla,” published in 1484, and the “Pragmaticas del Reyno,” first printed in 1503, comprehend the general legislation of this reign; a particular account of which the reader may find in Part I. Chapter 6, and Part II. Chapter 26, of this History.

[12] Las Casas, who will not be suspected of sycophancy, remarks, in his narrative of the destruction of the Indies, “Les plus grandes horreurs de ces guerres et de cette boucherie commencerent aussitot qu’on sut en Amerique que la reine Isabelle venait de mourir; car jusqu’alors il ne s’etait pas commis autant de crimes dans l’ile Espagnole, et l’on avait meme eu soin de les cacher a cette princesse, parce qu’elle ne cessait de recommander de traiter les Indiens avec douceur, et de ne rien negliger pour les rendre heureux: j’ai vu, ainsi que beaucoup d’Espagnols, les lettres qu’elle ecrivait a ce sujet, et les ordres qu’elle envoyait; ce qui prouve que cette admirable reine aurait mis fin a tant de cruautes, si elle avait pu les connaitre.” Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p. 21.

[13] The original codicil is still preserved among the manuscripts of the Royal Library at Madrid. It is appended to the queen’s testament in the works before noticed.

[14] Clemencin has given a fac-simile of this last signature of the queen, in the Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 21.

[15] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii.

lib. 19, cap. 16.

[16] Arevalo, Historia Palentina, MS., apud Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. p. 572.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—Garibay, Compendio, ubi supra.

[17] Isabella was born April 22d, 1451, and ascended the throne December 12th, 1474.

[18] Opus Epist., epist. 279.

[19] Opus Epist., epist. 280.—The text does not exaggerate the language of the epistle.

[20] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 201.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1504.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 16.—Zurita, tom. v.

lib. 5, cap. 84.—Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 23.

[21] The Curate of Los Palacios remarks of her, “Fue muger hermosa, de muy gentil cuerpo, e gesto, e composicion.” (Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 201.) Pulgar, another contemporary, eulogizes “el mirar muy gracioso, y honesto, las facciones del rostro bien puestas, la cara toda muy hermosa.” (Reyes Catolicos, part. 1, cap. 4.) L. Marineo says, “Todo lo que avia en el rey de dignidad, se hallava en la reyna de graciosa hermosura, y en entrambos se mostrava una majestad venerable, aunque a juyzio de muchos la reyna era de mayor hermosura.” (Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.) And Oviedo, who had likewise frequent opportunities of personal observation, does not hesitate to declare, “En hermosura puestas delante de S. A. todas las mugeres que yo he visto, ninguna vi tan graciosa, ni tanto de ver como su persona.”

Quincuagenas, MS.

[22] Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 8.

[23] Ibid., ubi supra.

[24] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.—Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part. 1, cap, 4.

[25] Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. p. 323.

[26] Such occasions have rare charms, of course, for the gossipping chroniclers of the period. See, among others, the gorgeous ceremonial of the baptism and presentation of Prince John at Seville, 1478, as related by the good Curate of Los Palacios. (Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 32, 33.) “Isabella was surrounded and served,” says Pulgar, “by grandees and lords of the highest rank, so that it was said she maintained too great pomp; pompa demasiada.” Reyes Catolicos, part. 1, cap. 4.

[27] Florez quotes a passage from an original letter of the queen, written soon after one of her progresses into Galicia, showing her habitual liberality in this way. “Decid a dona Luisa, que porque vengo de Galicia desecha de vestidos, no le envio para su hermana; que no tengo agora cosa buena; mas yo ge los enviare presto buenos.” Reynas Catholicas, tom. ii.

839.

[28] See the magnificent inventory presented to her daughter-in-law, Margaret of Austria, and to her daughter Maria, queen of Portugal, apud Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 12.

[29] “Alegre,” says the author of “Carro de las Donas,” “de una alegria honesta y mui mesurada.” Ibid., p. 558.

[30] Among the retainers of the court, Bernaldez notices “la moltitud de poetas, de trobadores, e musicos de todas partes.” Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 201.

[31] “Queria que sus cartas e mandamientos fuesen complidos con diligencia.” Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part. 1, cap. 4

[32] See a remarkable instance of this, in her treatment of the faithless Juan de Corral, noticed in Part I. Chapter 10, of this History.

[33] The melancholy tone of Columbus’s correspondence after the queen’s death, shows too well the color of his fortunes and feelings. (Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. pp. 341 et seq.) The sentiments of the Great Captain were still more unequivocally expressed, according to Giovio. “Nec multis inde diebus Regina fato concessit, incredibili cum dolore atque jactura Consalvi; nam ab ea tanquam alumnus, ac in ejus regia educatus, cuncta quae exoptari possent virtutis et dignitatis incrementa ademptum fuisse fatebatur, rege ipso quanquam minus benigno parumque liberali nunquam reginae voluntati reluctari anso. Id vero praeclare tanquam verissimum apparuit elata regina.” Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 275.

[34] The reader may recall a striking example of this, in the early part of her reign, in her great tenderness and forbearance towards the humors of Carillo, archbishop of Toledo, her quondam friend, but then her most implacable foe.

[35] Isabella at her brother’s court might well have sat for the whole of Milton’s beautiful portraiture.

“So dear to heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her.

Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And, in clear dream and solemn vision.

Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind,

And turns it by degrees to the soul’s essence, Till all be made immortal.”

[36] “Era tanto,” says L. Marineo, “el ardor y diligencia que tenia cerca el culto divino, que aunque de dia y de noche estava muy ocupada en grandes y arduos negocios de la governacion de muchos reynos y senorios, parescia que su vida era mas contemplativa que activa. Porque siempre se hallava presente a los divinos oficios y a la palabra de Dios. Era tanta su atencion que si alguno de los que celebravan o cantavan los psalmos, o otras cosas de la yglesia errava alguna dicion o syllaba, lo sintia y lo notava, y despues como maestro a discipulo se lo emendava y corregia.

Acostumbrava cada dia dezir todas las horas canonicas demas de otras muchas votivas y extraordinarias devociones que tenia.” Cosas Memorables, fol. 183.

[37] Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part. 1, cap. 4.—Lucio Marineo enumerates many of these splendid charities.—(Cosas Memorables, fol. 165.) See also the notices scattered over the Itinerary (Viaggio in Spagna) of Navagiero, who travelled through the country a few years after.

[38] The archbishop’s letters are little better than a homily on the sins of dancing, feasting, dressing, and the like, garnished with scriptural allusions, and conveyed in a tone of sour rebuke, that would have done credit to the most canting Roundhead in Oliver Cromwell’s court. The queen, far from taking exception at it, vindicates herself from the grave imputations with a degree of earnestness and simplicity, which may provoke a smile in the reader. “I am aware,” she concludes, “that custom cannot make an action, bad in itself, good; but I wish your opinion, whether, under all the circumstances, these can be considered bad; that, if so, they may be discontinued in future.” See this curious correspondence in Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 13.

[39] Such encomiums become still more striking in writers of sound and expansive views like Zurita and Blancas, who, although flourishing in a better instructed age, do not scruple to pronounce the Inquisition “the greatest evidence of her prudence and piety, whose uncommon utility, not only Spain, but all Christendom, freely acknowledged!” Blancas, Commentarii, p. 263.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 1, cap. 6.

[40] Sismondi displays the mischievous influence of these theological dogmas in Italy, as well as Spain, under the pontificate of Alexander VI.

and his immediate predecessors, in the 90th chapter of his eloquent and philosophical “Histoire des Republiques Italiennes.”

[41] I borrow almost the words of Mr. Hallam, who, noticing the penal statutes against Catholics under Elizabeth, says, “They established a persecution, which fell not at all short in principle of that for which the Inquisition had become so odious.” (Constitutional History of England, (Paris, 1827,) vol. i. chap. 3.) Even Lord Burleigh, commenting on the mode of examination adopted in certain cases by the High Commission court, does not hesitate to say, the interrogatories were “so curiously penned, so full of branches and circumstances, as he thought the inquisitors of Spain used not so many questions to comprehend and to trap their preys.”

Ibid., chap. 4.

[42] Even Milton, in his essay on the “Liberty of Unlicensed Printing,”

the most splendid argument, perhaps, the world had then witnessed in behalf of intellectual liberty, would exclude Popery from the benefits of toleration, as a religion which the public good required at all events to be extirpated. Such were the crude views of the rights of conscience entertained in the latter half of the seventeenth century, by one of those gifted minds, whose extraordinary elevation enabled it to catch and reflect back the coming light of knowledge, long before it had fallen on the rest of mankind.

[43] The most remarkable example of this, perhaps, occurred in the case of the wealthy Galician knight, Yanez de Lugo, who endeavored to purchase a pardon of the queen by the enormous bribe of 40,000 doblas of gold. The attempt failed, though warmly supported by some of the royal counsellors.

The story is well vouched. Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part. 2, cap. 97.—L.

Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 180.

[44] The reader may recollect a pertinent illustration of this, on the occasion of Ximenes’s appointment to the primacy. See Part II. Chapter 5, of this History.

[45] See, among other instances, her exemplary chastisement of the ecclesiastics of Truxillo. Part I. Chapter 12, of this History.

[46] Ibid., Part I. Chapter 6, Part II. Chapter 10, et alibi. Indeed, this independent attitude was shown, as I have more than once had occasion to notice, not merely in shielding the rights of her own crown, but in the boldest remonstrances against the corrupt practices and personal immorality of those who filled the chair of St. Peter at this period.

[47] The public acts of this reign afford repeated evidence of the pertinacity with which Isabella insisted on reserving the benefits of the Moorish conquests and the American discoveries for her own subjects of Castile, by whom and for whom they had been mainly achieved. The same thing is reiterated in the most emphatic manner in her testament.

[48] Opus Epist., epist. 31.

[49] Mem. de la. Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. p. 49.

[50] The preamble of one of her pragmaticas against this lavish expenditure at funerals, contains some reflections worth quoting for the evidence they afford of her practical good sense. “Nos deseando proveer e remediar al tal gasto sin provecho, e considerando que esto no redunda en sufragio e alivio de las animas de los defuntos,” etc. “Pero los Catolicos Christianos que creemos que hai otra vida despues desta, donde las animas esperan folganza e vida perdurable, desta habemos de curar e procurar de la ganar por obras meritorias, e no por cosas transitorias e vanas como son los lutos e gastos excesivos,” Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi.

318.

[51] Her exposure in this way on one occasion brought on a miscarriage.

According to Gomez, indeed, she finally died of a painful internal disorder, occasioned by her long and laborious journeys. (De Rebus Gestis, fol. 47.) Giovio adopts the same account. (Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 275.) The authorities are good, certainly; but Martyr, who was in the palace, with every opportunity of correct information, and with no reason for concealment of the truth, in his private correspondence with Tendilla and Talavera, makes no allusion whatever to such a complaint, in his circumstantial account of the queen’s illness.

[52] Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. vii. p. 411.—Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. p. 29.

[53] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.—“Pronunciaba con primor el latin, y era tan habil en la prosodia, que si erraban algun acento, luego le corregia.” Idem., apud Florez, Reynas Catholicas, tom. ii. pp. 834.

[54] If we are to believe Florez, the king wore no shirt but of the queen’s making. “Preciabase de no haverse puesto su marido camisa, que elle no huviesse hilado y cosido.” (Reynas Catholicas, tom. ii. p. 832.) If this be taken literally, his wardrobe, considering the multitude of her avocations, must have been indifferently furnished.

[55] Among many evidences of this, what other need be given than her conduct at the famous riot at Segovia? Part I. Chapter 6, of this History.

[56] Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part. 1, cap. 4.—“No fue la Reyna,” says L.

Marineo, “de animo menos fuerte para sufrir los dolores corporales. Porque como yo fuy informado de las duenas que le servian en la camara, ni en los dolores que padescia de sus enfermidades, ni en los del parto (que es cosa de grande admiracion) nunca la vieron quexar se; antes con increyble y maravillosa fortaleza los suffria y dissimulava.” (Cosas Memorables, fol.

186.) To the same effect writes the anonymous author of the “Carro de las Donas,” apud Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. p. 559.

[57] “Era firme en sus propositos, de los quales se retraia con gran dificultad.” Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part. 1, cap. 4.

[58] The reader may refresh his recollection of Tasso’s graceful sketch of Erminia in similar warlike panoply.

“Col durissimo acciar preme ed offende Il delicato collo e l’aurea chioma;

E la tenera man lo scudo prende

Pur troppo grave e insopportabil soma.

Cosi tutta di ferro intorno splende,

E in atto militar se stessa doma.”

Gerusalemme Liberata, canto 6, stanza 92.

[59] Viaggio, fol. 27.

[60] We find one of the first articles in the marriage treaty with Ferdinand enjoining him to cherish, and treat her mother with all reverence, and to provide suitably for her royal maintenance. (Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Apend. no. 1.) The author of the “Carro de las Donas” thus notices her tender devotedness to her parent, at a later period. “Y esto me dijo quien lo vido por sus proprios ojos, que la Reyna Dona Isabel, nuestra senora, cuando estaba alli en Arevalo visitando a su madre, ella misma por su persona servia a su misma madre. E aqui tomen ejemplo los hijos como han de servir a sus padres, pues una Reina tan poderosa y en negocios tan arduos puesta, todos los mas de los anos (puesto todo aparte y pospuesto) iba a visitar a su madre y la servia humilmente.” Viaggio, p. 557.

[61] Among other little tokens of mutual affection, it may be mentioned that not only the public coin, but their furniture, books, and other articles of personal property, were stamped with their initials, F & I, or emblazoned with their devices, his being a yoke, and hers a sheaf of arrows. (Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 3.) It was common, says Oviedo, for each party to take a device, whose initial corresponded with that of the name of the other; as was the case here, with jugo and flechas.

[62] Marineo thus speaks of the queen’s discreet and most amiable conduct in these delicate matters. “Amava en tanta manera al Rey su marido, que andava sobre aviso con celos a ver si el amava a otras. Y si sentia que mirava a alguna dama o donzella de su casa con senal de amores, con mucha prudencia buscava medios y maneras con que despedir aquella tal persona de su casa, con su mucha honrra y provecho.” (Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.) There was unfortunately too much cause for this uneasiness. See Part II.

Chapter 24, of this History.

[63] The best beloved of her friends, probably, was the marchioness of Moya, who, seldom separated from her royal mistress through life, had the melancholy satisfaction of closing her eyes in death. Oviedo, who saw them frequently together, says, that the queen never addressed this lady, even in later life, with any other than the endearing title of hija marquesa, “daughter marchioness.” Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 1, dial. 23

[64] As was the case with Cardenas, the comendador mayor, and the grand cardinal Mendoza, to whom, as we have already seen, she paid the kindest attentions during their last illness. While in this way she indulged the natural dictates of her heart, she was careful to render every outward mark of respect to the memory of those whose rank or services entitled them to such consideration. “Quando,” says the author so often quoted, “quiera que fallescia alguno de los grandes de su reyno, o algun principe Christiano, luego embiavan varones sabios y religiosos para consolar a sus heredores y deudos. Y demas desto se vestian de ropas de luto en testimonio del dolor y sentimiento que hazian.” L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 185.

[65] Her humanity was shown in her attempts to mitigate the ferocious character of those national amusements, the bull-fights, the popularity of which throughout the country was too great, as she intimates in one of her letters, to admit of her abolishing them altogether. She was so much moved at the sanguinary issue of one of these combats, which she witnessed at Arevalo, says a contemporary, that she devised a plan, by guarding the horns of the bulls, for preventing any serious injury to the men and horses; and she never would attend another of these spectacles until this precaution had been adopted. Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.

[66] Isabella, the name of the Catholic queen, is correctly rendered into English by that of Elizabeth.

[67] She gave evidence of this, in the commutation of the sentence she obtained for the wretch who stabbed her husband, and whom her ferocious nobles would have put to death, without the opportunity of confession and absolution, that “his soul might perish with his body!” (See her letter to Talavera.) She showed this merciful temper, so rare in that rough age, by dispensing altogether with the preliminary barbarities, sometimes prescribed by the law in capital executions. Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 13.

[68] Hume admits, that, “unhappily for literature, at least for the learned of this age, Queen Elizabeth’s vanity lay more in shining by her own learning, than in encouraging men of genius by her liberality.”

[69] Which of the two, the reader of the records of these times may be somewhat puzzled to determine.—If one need be convinced how many faces history can wear, and how difficult it is to get at the true one, he has only to compare Dr. Lingard’s account of this reign with Mr. Turner’s.

Much obliquity was to be expected, indeed, from the avowed apologist of a persecuted party, like the former writer. But it attaches, I fear, to the latter in more than one instance,—as in the reign of Richard III., for example. Does it proceed from the desire of saying something new on a beaten topic, where the new cannot always be true? Or, as is most probable, from that confiding benevolence, which throws somewhat of its own light over the darkest shades of human character? The unprejudiced reader may perhaps agree, that the balance of this great queen’s good and bad qualities is held with a more steady and impartial hand by Mr. Hallam than any preceding writer.

[70] The unsuspicious testimony of her godson, Harrington, places these foibles in the most ludicrous light. If the well-known story, repeated by historians, of the three thousand dresses left in her wardrobe at her decease, be true, or near truth, it affords a singular contrast with Isabella’s taste in these matters.

[71] The reader will remember how effectually they answered this purpose in the Moorish war. See Part I. Chapter 14, of this History.

[72] It is scarcely necessary to mention the names of Hatton and Leicester, both recommended to the first offices in the state chiefly by their personal attractions, and the latter of whom continued to maintain the highest place in his sovereign’s favor for thirty years or more, in despite of his total destitution of moral worth.

[73] Queen Elizabeth, indeed, in a declaration to her people, proclaims, “We know not, nor have any meaning to allow, that any of our subjects should be molested, either by examination or inquisition, in any matter of faith, as long as they shall profess the Christian faith.” (Turner’s Elizabeth, vol. ii. p. 241, note.) One is reminded of Parson Thwackum’s definition in “Tom Jones,” “When I mention religion, I mean the Christian religion; and not only the Christian religion, but the Protestant religion; and not only the Protestant religion, but the church of England.” It would be difficult to say which fared worst, Puritans or Catholics, under this system of toleration.

[74] “Quum generosi,” says Paolo Giovio, speaking of her, “prudentisque animi magnitudine, tum pudicitiae et pietatis laude antiquis heroidibus comparanda.” (Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 205.) Guicciardini eulogizes her as “Donna di onestissimi costumi, e in concetto grandissimo nei Regni suoi di magnanimita e prudenza.” (Istoria, lib. 6.) The loyal serviteur
notices her death in the following chivalrous strain. “L’an 1506, une des plus triumphantes e glorieuses dames qui puis mille ans ait este sur terre alla de vie a trespas; ce fut la royne Ysabel de Castille, qui ayda, le bras arme, a conquester le royaulme de Grenade sur les Mores. Je veux bien asseurer aux lecteurs de ceste presente hystoire, que sa vie a este telle, qu’elle a bien merite couronne de laurier apres sa mort.” Memoires de Bayard, chap. 26.—See also Comines, Memoires, chap. 23.—Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 27.—et al. auct.

[75] I borrow the words of one contemporary; “Quo quidem die omnis Hispaniae felicitas, omne decus, omnium virtutum pulcherrimum specimen interiit,” (L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, lib. 21,)—and the sentiments of all.

[76] If the reader needs further testimony of this, he will find abundance collected by the indefatigable Clemencin, in the 21st Ilust. of the Mem.

de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi.

[77] It would be easy to cite the authority over and over again of such writers as Marina, Sempere, Llorente, Navarrete, Quintana, and others, who have done such honor to the literature of Spain in the present century. It will be sufficient, however, to advert to the remarkable tribute paid to Isabella’s character by the Royal Spanish Academy of History; who in 1805
appointed their late secretary, Clemencin, to deliver a eulogy on that illustrious theme; and who raised a still nobler monument to her memory, by the publication, in 1821, of the various documents compiled by him for the illustration of her reign, as a separate volume of their valuable Memoirs.

CHAPTER XVII.

FERDINAND REGENT.—HIS SECOND MARRIAGE.—DISSENSIONS WITH PHILIP.—

RESIGNATION OF THE REGENCY.

1504-1506.

Ferdinand Regent.—Philip’s Pretensions.—Ferdinand’s Perplexities.—

Impolitic Treaty with France.—The King’s Second Marriage.—Landing of Philip and Joanna.—Unpopularity of Ferdinand.—His Interview with his Son-in-law.—He resigns the Regency.

The death of Isabella gives a new complexion to our history, a principal object of which has been the illustration of her personal character and public administration. The latter part of the narrative, it is true, has been chiefly occupied with the foreign relations of Spain, in which her interference has been less obvious than in the domestic. But still we have been made conscious of her presence and parental supervision, by the maintenance of order, and the general prosperity of the nation. Her death will make us more sensible of this influence; since it was the signal for disorders which even the genius and authority of Ferdinand were unable to suppress.

While the queen’s remains were yet scarcely cold, King Ferdinand took the usual measures for announcing the succession. He resigned the crown of Castile, which he had worn with so much glory for thirty years. From a platform raised in the great square of Toledo, the heralds proclaimed, with sound of trumpet, the accession of Philip and Joanna to the Castilian throne, and the royal standard was unfurled by the duke of Alva, in honor of the illustrious pair. The king of Aragon then publicly assumed the title of administrator or governor of Castile, as provided by the queen’s testament, and received the obeisance of such of the nobles as were present, in his new capacity. These proceedings took place on the evening of the same day on which the queen expired. [1]

A circular letter was next addressed to the principal cities, requiring them, after the customary celebration of the obsequies of their late sovereign, to raise the royal banners in the name of Joanna; and writs were immediately issued in her name, without mention of Philip’s, for the convocation of a cortes to ratify these proceedings. [2]

The assembly met at Toro, January 11th, 1505. The queen’s will, or rather such clauses of it as related to the succession, were read aloud, and received the entire approbation of the commons, who, together with the grandees and prelates present, took the oaths of allegiance to Joanna, as queen and lady proprietor, and to Philip as her husband. They then determined that the exigency, contemplated in the testament, of Joanna’s incapacity, actually existed, [3] and proceeded to tender their homage to King Ferdinand, as the lawful governor of the realm in her name. The latter in turn made the customary oath to respect the laws and liberties of the kingdom, and the whole was terminated by an embassy from the cortes, with a written account of its proceedings, to their new sovereigns in Flanders. [4]

All seemed now done, that was demanded for giving a constitutional sanction to Ferdinand’s authority as regent. By the written law of the land, the sovereign was empowered to nominate a regency, in case of the minority or incapacity of the heir apparent. [5] This had been done in the present instance by Isabella, and at the earnest solicitation of the cortes, made two years previously to her death. It had received the cordial approbation of that body, which had undeniable authority to control such testamentary provisions. [6] Thus, from the first to the last stage of the proceeding, the whole had gone on with a scrupulous attention to constitutional forms. Yet the authority of the new regent was far from being firmly seated; and it was the conviction of this, which had led him to accelerate measures.

Many of the nobles were extremely dissatisfied with the queen’s settlement of the regency, which had taken air before her death; and they had even gone so far as to send to Flanders before that event, and invite Philip to assume the government himself, as the natural guardian of his wife. [7]

These discontented lords, if they did not refuse to join in the public acts of acknowledgment to Ferdinand at Toro, at least were not reserved in intimating their dissatisfaction. [8] Among the most prominent were the marquis of Villena, who may be said to have been nursed to faction from the cradle, and the duke of Najara, both potent nobles, whose broad domains had been grievously clipped by the resumption of the crown lands so scrupulously enforced by the late government, and who looked forward to their speedy recovery under the careless rule of a young, inexperienced prince like Philip. [9]

But the most efficient of his partisans was Don Juan Manuel, Ferdinand’s ambassador at the court of Maximilian. This nobleman, descended from one of the most illustrious houses in Castile, was a person of uncommon parts; restless and intriguing, plausible in his address, bold in his plans, but exceedingly cautious, and even cunning, in the execution of them. He had formerly insinuated himself into Philip’s confidence, during his visit to Spain, and, on receiving news of the queen’s death, hastened without delay to join him in the Netherlands.

Through his means, an extensive correspondence was soon opened with the discontented Castilian lords; and Philip was persuaded, not only to assert his pretensions to undivided supremacy in Castile, but to send a letter to his royal father-in-law, requiring him to resign the government at once, and retire into Aragon. [10] The demand was treated with some contempt by Ferdinand, who admonished him of his incompetency to govern a nation like the Spaniards, whom he understood so little, but urged him at the same time to present himself before them with his wife, as soon as possible.

[12]

Ferdinand’s situation, however, was far from comfortable. Philip’s, or rather Manuel’s, emissaries were busily stirring up the embers of disaffection. They dwelt on the advantages to be gained from the free and lavish disposition of Philip, which they contrasted with the parsimonious temper of the stern old Catalan, who had so long held them under his yoke. [13] Ferdinand, whose policy it had been to crush the overgrown power of the nobility, and who, as a foreigner, had none of the natural claims to loyalty enjoyed by his late queen, was extremely odious to that jealous and haughty body. The number of Philip’s adherents increased in it every day, and soon comprehended the most considerable names in the kingdom.

The king, who watched these symptoms of disaffection with deep anxiety, said little, says Martyr, but coolly scrutinized the minds of those around him, dissembling as far as possible his own sentiments. [14] He received further and more unequivocal evidence, at this time, of the alienation of his son-in-law. An Aragonese gentleman, named Conchillos, whom he had placed near the person of his daughter, obtained a letter from her, in which she approved in the fullest manner of her father’s retaining the administration of the kingdom. The letter was betrayed to Philip; the unfortunate secretary was seized and thrown into a dungeon, and Joanna was placed under a rigorous confinement, which much aggravated her malady.

[15]

With this affront, the king received also the alarming intelligence, that the emperor Maximilian and his son Philip were tampering with the fidelity of the Great Captain; endeavoring to secure Naples in any event to the archduke, who claimed it as the appurtenance of Castile, by whose armies its conquest, in fact, had been achieved. There were not wanting persons of high standing at Ferdinand’s court, to infuse suspicions, however unwarrantable, into the royal mind, of the loyalty of his viceroy, a Castilian by birth, and who owed his elevation exclusively to the queen.

[16]

The king was still further annoyed by reports of the intimate relations subsisting between his old enemy, Louis the Twelfth, and Philip, whose children were affianced to each other. The French monarch, it was said, was prepared to support his ally in an invasion of Castile, for the recovery of his rights, by a diversion in his favor on the side of Roussillon, as well as of Naples. [17]

The Catholic king felt sorely perplexed by these multiplied embarrassments. During the brief period of his regency, he had endeavored to recommend himself to the people by a strict and impartial administration of the laws, and the maintenance of public order. The people, indeed, appreciated the value of a government under which they had been protected from the oppressions of the aristocracy more effectually than at any former period. They had testified their good-will by the alacrity with which they confirmed Isabella’s testamentary dispositions, at Toro. But all this served only to sharpen the aversion of the nobles.

Some of Ferdinand’s counsellors would have persuaded him to carry measures with a higher hand. They urged him to resume the title of King of Castile, which he had so long possessed as husband of the late queen; [18] and others even advised him to assemble an armed force, which should overawe all opposition to his authority at home, and secure the country from invasion. He had facilities for this in the disbanded levies lately returned from Italy, as well as in a considerable body drawn from his native dominions of Aragon, waiting his orders on the frontier. [19] Such violent measures, however, were repugnant to his habitual policy, temperate and cautious. He shrunk from a contest, in which even success must bring unspeakable calamities on the country, [20] and, if he ever seriously entertained such views, [21] he abandoned them, and employed his levies on another destination in Africa. [22] His situation, however, grew every hour more critical. Alarmed by rumors of Louis’s military preparations, for which liberal supplies were voted by the states general; trembling for the fate of his Italian possessions; deserted and betrayed by the great nobility at home; there seemed now no alternative left for him but to maintain his ground by force, or to resign at once, as required by Philip, and retire into Aragon. This latter course appears never to have been contemplated by him. He resolved at all hazards to keep the reins in his own grasp, influenced in part, probably, by the consciousness of his rights, as well as by a sense of duty, which forbade him to resign the trust he had voluntarily assumed into such incompetent hands as those of Philip and his counsellors; and partly, no doubt, by natural reluctance to relinquish the authority which he had enjoyed for so many years. To keep it, he had recourse to an expedient, such as neither friend nor foe could have anticipated.

He saw the only chance of maintaining his present position lay in detaching France from the interests of Philip, and securing her to himself. The great obstacle to this was their conflicting claims on Naples. This he proposed to obviate by proposals of marriage to some member of the royal family, in whose favor these claims, with the consent of King Louis, might be resigned. He accordingly despatched a confidential envoy privately into France, with ample instructions for arranging the preliminaries. This person was Juan de Enguera, a Catalan monk of much repute for his learning, and a member of the royal council. [23]

Louis the Twelfth had viewed with much satisfaction the growing misunderstanding betwixt Philip and his father-in-law, and had cunningly used his influence over the young prince to foment it. He felt the deepest disquietude at the prospect of the enormous inheritance which was to devolve on the former, comprehending Burgundy and Flanders, Austria, and probably the Empire, together with the united crowns of Spain and their rich dependencies. By the proposed marriage, a dismemberment might be made at least of the Spanish monarchy; and the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon, passing under different sceptres, might serve, as they had formerly done, to neutralize each other. It was true, this would involve a rupture with Philip, to whose son his own daughter was promised in marriage. But this match, extremely distasteful to his subjects, gradually became so to Louis, as every way prejudicial to the interests of France. [24]

Without much delay, therefore, preliminaries were arranged with the Aragonese envoy, and immediately after, in the month of August, the count of Cifuentes, and Thomas Malferit, regent of the royal chancery, were publicly sent as plenipotentiaries on the part of King Ferdinand, to conclude and execute the treaty.

It was agreed, as the basis of the alliance, that the Catholic king should be married to Germaine, daughter of Jean de Foix, viscount of Narbonne, and of one of the sisters of Louis the Twelfth, and granddaughter to Leonora, queen of Navarre,—that guilty sister of King Ferdinand, whose fate is recorded in the earlier part of our History. The princess Germaine, it will be seen, therefore, was nearly related to both the contracting parties. She was at this time eighteen years of age, and very beautiful. [25] She had been educated in the palace of her royal uncle, where she had imbibed the free and volatile manners of his gay, luxurious court. To this lady Louis the Twelfth consented to resign his claims on Naples, to be secured by way of dowry to her and her heirs, male or female, in perpetuity. In case of her decease without issue, the moiety of the kingdom recognized as his by the partition treaty with Spain was to revert to him. It was further agreed, that Ferdinand should reimburse Louis the Twelfth for the expenses of the Neapolitan war, by the payment of one million gold ducats, in ten yearly instalments; and lastly, that a complete amnesty should be granted by him to the lords of the Angevin or French party in Naples, who should receive full restitution of their confiscated honors and estates. A mutual treaty of alliance and commerce was to subsist henceforth between France and Spain, and the two monarchs, holding one another, to quote the words of the instrument, “as two souls, in one and the same body,” pledged themselves to the maintenance and defence of their respective rights and kingdoms against every other power whatever. This treaty was signed by the French king at Blois, October 12th, 1505, and ratified by Ferdinand the Catholic, at Segovia, on the 16th of the same month. [26]

Such were the disgraceful and most impolitic terms of this compact, by which Ferdinand, in order to secure the brief possession of a barren authority, and perhaps to gratify some unworthy feelings of revenge, was content to barter away all those solid advantages, flowing from the union of the Spanish monarchies, which had been the great and wise object of his own and Isabella’s policy. For, in the event of male issue,—and that he should have issue was by no means improbable, considering he was not yet fifty-four years of age,—Aragon and its dependencies must be totally severed from Castile. [27] In the other alternative, the splendid Italian conquests, which after such cost of toil and treasure he had finally secured to himself, must be shared with his unsuccessful competitor. In any event, he had pledged himself to such an indemnification of the Angevin faction in Naples, as must create inextricable embarrassment, and inflict great injury on his loyal partisans, into whose hands their estates had already passed. And last, though not least, he dishonored by this unsuitable and precipitate alliance his late illustrious queen, the memory of whose transcendent excellence, if it had faded in any degree from his own breast, was too deeply seated in those of her subjects, to allow them to look on the present union otherwise than as a national indignity.

So, indeed, they did regard it; although the people of Aragon, in whom late events had rekindled their ancient jealousy of Castile, viewed the match with more complacency, as likely to restore them to that political importance which had been somewhat impaired by the union with their more powerful neighbor. [28]

The European nations could not comprehend an arrangement, so irreconcilable with the usual sagacious policy of the Catholic king. The petty Italian powers, who, since the introduction of France and Spain into their political system, were controlled by them more or less in all their movements, viewed this sinister conjunction as auspicious of no good to their interests or independence. As for the archduke Philip, he could scarcely credit the possibility of this desperate act, which struck off at a blow so rich a portion of his inheritance. He soon received confirmation, however, of its truth, by a prohibition from Louis the Twelfth, to attempt a passage through his dominions into Spain, until he should come to some amicable understanding with his father-in-law. [29]

Philip, or rather Manuel, who exercised unbounded influence over his counsels, saw the necessity now of temporizing. The correspondence was resumed with Ferdinand, and an arrangement was at length concluded between the parties, known as the concord of Salamanca, November 24th, 1505. The substance of it was, that Castile should be governed in the joint names of Ferdinand, Philip, and Joanna, but that the first should be entitled, as his share, to one-half of the public revenue. This treaty, executed in good faith by the Catholic king, was only intended by Philip to lull the suspicions of the former, until he could effect a landing in the kingdom, where, he confidently believed, nothing but his presence was wanting to insure success. He completed the perfidious proceeding by sending an epistle, well garnished with soft and honeyed phrase, to his royal father-
in-law. These artifices had their effect, and completely imposed, not only on Louis, but on the more shrewd and suspicious Ferdinand. [30]

On the 8th of January, 1506, Philip and Joanna embarked on board a splendid and numerous armada, and set sail from a port in Zealand. A furious tempest scattered the fleet soon after leaving the harbor; Philip’s ship, which took fire in the storm, narrowly escaped foundering; and it was not without great difficulty that they succeeded in bringing her, a miserable wreck, into the English port of Weymouth. [31] King Henry the Seventh, on learning the misfortunes of Philip and his consort, was prompt to show every mark of respect and consideration for the royal pair, thus thrown upon his island. They were escorted in magnificent style to Windsor, and detained with dubious hospitality for nearly three months.

During this time, Henry the Seventh availed himself of the situation and inexperience of his young guest so far as to extort from him two treaties, not altogether reconcilable, as far as the latter was concerned, with sound policy or honor. [32] The respect which the English monarch entertained for Ferdinand the Catholic, as well as their family connection, led him to offer his services as a common mediator between the father and son. He would have persuaded the latter, says Lord Bacon, “to be ruled by the counsel of a prince, so prudent, so experienced, and so fortunate as King Ferdinand;” to which the archduke replied, “If his father-in-law would let him govern Castile, he should govern him.” [33]

At length Philip, having reassembled his Flemish fleet at Weymouth, embarked with Joanna and his numerous suite of courtiers and military retainers, and reached Coruna, in the northwestern corner of Galicia, after a prosperous voyage, on the 28th of April.

A short time previous to this event, the count of Cifuentes having passed into France for the purpose, the betrothed bride of King Ferdinand quitted that country under his escort, attended by a brilliant train of French and Neapolitan lords. [34] On the borders, at Fontarabia, she was received by the archbishop of Saragossa, Ferdinand’s natural son, with a numerous retinue, composed chiefly of Aragonese and Catalan nobility, and was conducted with much solemnity to Duenas, where she was joined by the king.

In this place, where thirty years before he had been united to Isabella, he now, as if to embitter still further the recollections of the past, led to the altar her young and beautiful successor. “It seemed hard,” says Martyr, in his quiet way, “that these nuptials should take place so soon, and that too in Isabella’s own kingdom of Castile, where she had lived without peer, and where her ashes are still held in as much veneration as she enjoyed while living.” [35]

It was less than six weeks after this that Philip and Joanna landed at Coruna. Ferdinand, who had expected them at some nearer northern port, prepared without loss of time to go forward and receive them. He sent on an express to arrange the place of meeting with Philip, and advanced himself as far as Leon. But Philip had no intention of such an interview at present. He had purposely landed in a remote corner of the country, in order to gain time for his partisans to come forward and declare themselves. Missives had been despatched to the principal nobles and cavaliers, and they were answered by great numbers of all ranks, who pressed forward to welcome and pay court to the young monarch. [36] Among them were the names of most of the considerable Castilian families, and several, as Villena and Najara, were accompanied by large, well-appointed retinues of armed followers. The archduke brought over with him a body of three thousand German infantry, in complete order. He soon mustered an additional force of six thousand native Spaniards, which, with the chivalry who thronged to meet him, placed him in a condition to dictate terms to his father-in-law; and he now openly proclaimed, that he had no intention of abiding by the concord of Salamanca, and that he would never consent to an arrangement prejudicing in any degree his and his wife’s exclusive possession of the crown of Castile. [37] It was in vain that Ferdinand endeavored to gain Don Juan Manuel to his interests by the most liberal offers. He could offer nothing to compete with the absolute ascendency which the favorite held over his young sovereign. It was in vain that Martyr, and afterwards Ximenes, were sent to the archduke, to settle the grounds of accommodation, or at least the place of interview with the king. Philip listened to them with courtesy, but would abate not a jot of his pretensions; and Manuel did not care to expose his royal master to the influence of Ferdinand’s superior address and sagacity in a personal interview. [38]

Martyr gives a picture, by no means unfavorable, of Philip at this time.

He had an agreeable person, a generous disposition, free and open manners, with a certain nobleness of soul, although spurred on by a most craving ambition. But he was so ignorant of affairs, that he became the dupe of artful men, who played on him for their own purposes. [39]

Ferdinand, at length, finding that Philip, who had now left Coruna, was advancing by a circuitous route into the interior, on purpose to avoid him, and that all access to his daughter was absolutely refused, could no longer repress his indignation; and he prepared a circular letter, to be sent to the different parts of the country, calling on it to rise and aid him in rescuing the queen, their sovereign, from her present shameful captivity. [40] It does not appear that he sent it. He probably found that the call would not be answered; for the French match had lost him even that degree of favor, with which he had been regarded by the commons; so the very expedient, on which he relied for perpetuating his authority in Castile, was the chief cause of his losing it altogether.

He was doomed to experience still more mortifying indignities. By the orders of the marquis of Astorga and the count of Benevente, he was actually refused admittance into those cities; while proclamation was made by the same arrogant lords, prohibiting any of their vassals from aiding or harboring his Aragonese followers. “A sad spectacle, indeed,” exclaims the loyal Martyr, “to behold a monarch, yesterday almost omnipotent, thus wandering a vagabond in his own kingdom, refused even the sight of his own child!” [41]

Of all the gay tribe of courtiers who fluttered around him in his prosperity, the only Castilians of note who now remained true were the duke of Alva and the count of Cifuentes. [42] For even his son-in-law, the constable of Castile, had deserted him. There were some, however, at a distance from the scene of operations, as the good Talavera, for instance, and the count of Tendilla, who saw with much concern the prospect of changing the steady and well-tried hand, which had held the helm for more than thirty years, for the capricious guidance of Philip and his favorites. [43]

An end was at length put to this scandalous exhibition, and Manuel, whether from increased confidence in his own resources, or the fear of bringing public odium on himself, consented to trust his royal charge to the peril of an interview. The place selected was an open plain near Puebla de Senabria, on the borders of Leon and Galicia. But, even then, the precautions taken were of a kind truly ludicrous, considering the forlorn condition of King Ferdinand. The whole military apparatus of the archduke was put in motion, as if he expected to win the crown by battle.

First came the well-appointed German spearmen, all in fighting order.

Then, the shining squadrons of the noble Castilian chivalry, and their armed retainers. Next followed the

“Ayer era Rey de Espana, oy no lo soy de una villa; ayer villas y castillos, oy ninguno posseya; ayer tenia criados,” etc.

The lament of King Roderic, in this fine old ballad, would seem hardly too extravagant in the mouth of his royal descendant. archduke, seated on his war-horse and encompassed by his body-guard; while the rear was closed by the long files of archers and light cavalry of the country. [44]

Ferdinand, on the other hand, came into the field attended by about two hundred nobles and gentlemen, chiefly Aragonese and Italians, riding on mules, and simply attired in the short black cloak and bonnet of the country, with no other weapon than the sword usually worn. The king trusted, says Zurita, to the majesty of his presence, and the reputation he had acquired by his long and able administration.

The Castilian nobles, brought into contact with Ferdinand, could not well avoid paying their obeisance to him. He received them in his usual gracious and affable manner, making remarks, the good humor of which was occasionally seasoned with something of a more pungent character. To the duke of Najara, who was noted for being a vain-glorious person, and who came forward with a gallant retinue in all the panoply of war, he exclaimed, “So, duke, you are mindful as ever, I see, of the duties of a great captain!” Among others, was Garcilasso de la Vega, Ferdinand’s minister formerly at Rome. Like many of the Castilian lords, he wore armor under his dress, the better to guard against surprise. The king, embracing him, felt the mail beneath, and, tapping him familiarly on the shoulder, said, “I congratulate you, Garcilasso; you have grown wonderfully lusty since we last met.” The desertion, however, of one who had received so many favors from him, touched him more nearly than all the rest.

As Philip drew near, it was observed he wore an anxious, embarrassed air, while his father-in-law maintained the same serene and cheerful aspect as usual. After exchanging salutations, the two monarchs alighted, and entered a small hermitage in the neighborhood, attended only by Manuel and Archbishop Ximenes. They had no sooner entered, than the latter, addressing the favorite with an air of authority it was not easy to resist, told him, “It was not meet to intrude on the private concerns of their masters,” and, taking his arm, led him out of the apartment and coolly locked the door on him, saying at the same time, that “He would serve as porter.” The conference led to no result. Philip was well schooled in his part, and remained, says Martyr, immovable as a rock. [45]

There was so little mutual confidence between the parties, that the name of Joanna, whom Ferdinand desired so much to see, was not even mentioned during the interview. [46]

But, however reluctant Ferdinand might be to admit it, he was no longer in a condition to stand upon terms; and, in addition to the entire loss of influence in Castile, he received such alarming accounts from Naples, as made him determine on an immediate visit in person to that kingdom. He resolved, therefore, to bow his head to the present storm, in hopes that a brighter day was in reserve for him. He saw the jealousy hourly springing up between the Flemish and Castilian courtiers, and he probably anticipated such misrule as would afford an opening, perhaps with the good-will of the nation, for him to resume the reins, so unceremoniously snatched from his grasp. [47]

At any rate, should force be necessary, he would be better able to employ it effectively, with the aid of his ally, the French king, after he had adjusted the affairs of Naples. [48]

Whatever considerations may have influenced the prudent monarch, he authorized the archbishop of Toledo, who kept near the person of the archduke, to consent to an accommodation on the very grounds proposed by the latter. On the 27th of June, he signed and solemnly swore to an agreement, by which he surrendered the entire sovereignty of Castile to Philip and Joanna, reserving to himself only the grand-masterships of the military orders, and the revenues secured by Isabella’s testament. [49]

On the following day, he executed another instrument of most singular import, in which, after avowing in unequivocal terms his daughter’s incapacity, he engages to assist Philip in preventing any interference in her behalf, and to maintain him, as far as in his power, in the sole, exclusive authority. [50]

Before signing these papers, he privately made a protest, in the presence of several witnesses, that what he was about to do was not of his own free will, but from necessity, to extricate himself from his perilous situation, and shield the country from the impending evils of a civil war.

He concluded with asserting, that, so far from relinquishing his claims to the regency, it was his design to enforce them, as well as to rescue his daughter from her captivity, as soon as he was in a condition to do so.

[51] Finally, he completed this chain of inconsistencies by addressing a circular letter, dated July 1st, to the different parts of the kingdom, announcing his resignation of the government into the hands of Philip and Joanna, and declaring the act one which, notwithstanding his own right and power to the contrary, he had previously determined on executing, so soon as his children should set foot in Spain. [52]

It is not easy to reconcile this monstrous tissue of incongruity and dissimulation with any motives of necessity or expediency. Why should he, so soon after preparing to raise the kingdom in his daughter’s cause, thus publicly avow her imbecility, and deposit the whole authority in the hands of Philip? Was it to bring odium on the head of the latter, by encouraging him to a measure which he knew must disgust the Castilians? [53] But Ferdinand by this very act shared the responsibility with him. Was it in the expectation that uncontrolled and undivided power, in the hands of one so rash and improvident, would the more speedily work his ruin? As to his clandestine protest, its design was obviously to afford a plausible pretext at some future time for reasserting his claims to the government, on the ground, that his concessions had been the result of force. But then, why neutralize the operation of this, by the declaration, spontaneously made in his manifesto to the people, that his abdication was not only a free, but most deliberate and premeditated act? He was led to this last avowal, probably, by the desire of covering over the mortification of his defeat; a thin varnish, which could impose on nobody.

The whole of the proceedings are of so ambiguous a character as to suggest the inevitable inference, that they flowed from habits of dissimulation too strong to be controlled, even when there was no occasion for its exercise. We occasionally meet with examples of a similar fondness for superfluous manoeuvring in the humbler concerns of private life.

After these events, one more interview took place between King Ferdinand and Philip, in which the former prevailed on his son-in-law to pay such attention to decorum, and exhibit such outward marks of a cordial reconciliation, as, if they did not altogether impose on the public, might at least throw a decent veil over the coming separation. Even at this last meeting, however, such was the distrust and apprehension entertained of him, that the unhappy father was not permitted to see and embrace his daughter before his departure. [54]

Throughout the whole of these trying scenes, says his biographer, the king maintained that propriety and entire self-possession, which comported with the dignity of his station and character, and strikingly contrasted with the conduct of his enemies. However much he may have been touched with the desertion of a people, who had enjoyed the blessings of peace and security under his government for more than thirty years, he manifested no outward sign of discontent. On the contrary, he took leave of the assembled grandees with many expressions of regard, noticing kindly their past services to him, and studying to leave such an impression, as should efface the recollection of recent differences. [55] The circumspect monarch looked forward, no doubt, to the day of his return. The event did not seem very improbable; and there were other sagacious persons besides himself, who read in the dark signs of the times abundant augury of some speedy revolution. [56]

* * * * *

The principal authorities for the events in this Chapter, as the reader may remark, are Martyr and Zurita. The former, not merely a spectator, but actor in them, had undoubtedly the most intimate opportunities of observation. He seems to have been sufficiently impartial too, and prompt to do justice to what was really good in Philip’s character; although that of his royal master was of course calculated to impress the deepest respect on a person of Martyr’s uncommon penetration and sagacity. The Aragonese chronicler, however, though removed to a somewhat further distance as to time, was from that circumstance placed in a point of view more favorable for embracing the whole field of action, than if he had taken part and jostled in the crowd, as one of it. He has accordingly given much wider scope to his survey, exhibiting full details of the alleged grievances, pretensions, and policy of the opposite party; and, although condemning them himself without reserve, has conveyed impressions of Ferdinand’s conduct less favorable, on the whole, than Martyr.

But neither the Aragonese historian, nor Martyr, nor any contemporary writer, native or foreign, whom I have consulted, countenances the extremely unfavorable portrait which Dr. Robertson has given of Ferdinand in his transactions with Philip. It is difficult to account for the bias which this eminent historian’s mind has received in this matter, unless it be that he has taken his impressions from the popular notions entertained of the character of the parties, rather than from the circumstances of the particular case under review; a mode of proceeding extremely objectionable in the present instance, where Philip, however good his natural qualities, was obviously a mere tool in the hands of corrupt and artful men, working exclusively for their own selfish purposes.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 52.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

279.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 20, cap. 1.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1504.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 9.

“Sapientiae alii,” says Martyr, in allusion to those prompt proceedings, “et summae bonitati adscribunt; alii, rem novam admirati, regem incusant, remque arguunt non debuisse fieri.” Ubi supra.

[2] Philip’s name was omitted, as being a foreigner, until he should have taken the customary oath to respect the laws of the realm, and especially to confer office on none but native Castilians. Zurita, Anales, tom. v.

lib. 5, cap. 84.

[3] The maternal tenderness and delicacy, which had led Isabella to allude to her daughter’s infirmity only in very general terms, are well remarked by the cortes. See the copy of the original act in Zurita, tom. vi. lib.

6, cap. 4.

[4] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 15, sec. 2.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 3.—Marina, Teoria, part. 2, cap. 4.—

Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 12.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 9.

[5] Siete Partidas, part. 2, tit. 15, ley 3.

Guicciardini, with the ignorance of the Spanish constitution natural enough in a foreigner, disputes the queen’s right to make any such settlement. Istoria, lib. 7.

[6] See the whole subject of the powers of cortes in this particular, as discussed very fully and satisfactorily by Marina, Teoria, part. 2, cap 13.

[7] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 203.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 15, sec. 3.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 274, 277.

[8] Zurita’s assertion, that all the nobility present did homage to Ferdinand, (Anales, tom. vi. cap. 3,) would seem to be contradicted by a subsequent passage. Comp. cap. 4.

[9] Isabella in her will particularly enjoins on her successors never to alienate or to restore the crown lands recovered from the marquisate of Villena. Dormer, Discursos Varios, p. 331.

[10] “Nor was it sufficient,” says Dr. Robertson, in allusion to Philip’s pretensions to the government, “to oppose to these just rights, and to the inclination of the people of Castile, the authority of a testament, the genuineness of which was perhaps doubtful, and its contents to him appeared certainly to be iniquitous.” (History of the Reign of the Emperor Charles V., (London, 1796,) vol. ii. p. 7.) But who ever intimated a doubt of its genuineness, before Dr. Robertson? Certainly no one living at that time; for the will was produced before cortes, by the royal secretary, in the session immediately following the queen’s death; and Zurita has preserved the address of that body, commenting on the part of its contents relating to the succession. (Anales, tom. vi. cap. 4.) Dr. Carbajal, a member of the royal council, and who was present, as he expressly declares, at the approval of the testament, “a cuyo otorgamiento y aun ordenacion me halle,” has transcribed the whole of the document in his Annals, with the signatures of the notary and the seven distinguished persons who witnessed its execution. Dormer, the national historiographer of Aragon, has published the instrument with the same minuteness in his “Discursos Varios,” “from authentic MSS. in his possession,” “escrituras autenticas en mi poder.” Where the original is now to be found, or whether it be in existence, I have no knowledge. The codicil, as we have seen, with the queen’s signature, is still extant in the Royal Library at Madrid.

[12] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 282.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib.

6, cap. 1.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 53.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 12.

[13] “Existimantes,” says Giovio, “sub florentissimo juvene rege aliquanto liberius atque licentius ipsorum potentia fruituros, quam sub austero et parum liberali, ut aiebant, sene Catalano.” Vitae Illust. Virorum, p.

277.

[14] “Rex quaecunque versant atque ordiuntur, sentit, dissimulat et animos omnium tacitus scrutatur.” Opus Epist., epist. 289.

[15] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 15, sec. 4.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 18.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

286.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 8.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.—Oviedo had the story from Conchillos’s brother.

[16] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 275-277.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 6, cap. 5, 11.—Ulloa, Vita de Carlo V., fol. 25.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 15, sec. 3.

[17] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 290.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 94.

[18] The vice-chancellor Alonso de la Caballeria, prepared an elaborate argument in support of Ferdinand’s pretensions to the regal authority and title, less as husband of the late queen, than as the lawful guardian and administrator of his daughter. See Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. cap. 14.

[19] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 5, 15.—Lanuza, Historias, tom.

i. lib. 1, cap. 18.

[20] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 291.

[21] Robertson speaks with confidence of Ferdinand’s intention to “oppose Philip’s landing by force of arms,” (History of Charles V., vol. ii. p.

13,) an imputation, which has brought a heavy judgment on the historian’s head from the clever author of the “History of Spain and Portugal.”

(Lardner’s Cabinet Cyclopaedia.) “All this,” says the latter, “is at variance with both truth and probability; nor does Ferreras, the only authority cited for this unjust declamation, afford the slightest ground for it.” (Vol. ii. p. 286, note.) Nevertheless, this is so stated by Ferreras, (Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. p. 282,) who is supported by Mariana, (Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 16,) and, in the most unequivocal manner, by Zurita, (Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 21,) a much higher authority than either. Martyr, it is true, whom Dr. Dunham does not appear to have consulted on this occasion, declares that the king had no design of resorting to force. See Opus Epist., epist. 291, 305.

[22] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 202.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1505.

[23] Before venturing on this step, it was currently reported, that Ferdinand had offered his hand, though unsuccessfully, to Joanna Beltraneja, Isabella’s unfortunate competitor for the crown of Castile, who still survived in Portugal. (Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap.

14.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. vi. lib. 28, cap. 13.—et al.) The report originated, doubtless, in the malice of the Castilian nobles, who wished in this way to discredit the king still more with the people. It received, perhaps, some degree of credit from a silly story, in circulation, of a testament of Henry IV. having lately come into Ferdinand’s possession, avowing Joanna to be his legitimate daughter. See Carbajal, (Anales, MS., ano 1474,) the only authority for this last rumor.

Robertson has given an incautious credence to the first story, which has brought Dr. Dunham’s iron flail somewhat unmercifully on his shoulders again; yet his easy faith in the matter may find some palliation, at least sufficient to screen him from the charge of wilful misstatement, in the fact, that Clemencin, a native historian, and a most patient and fair inquirer after truth, has come to the same conclusion. (Mem. de la Acad.

de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 19.) Both writers rely on the authority of Sandoval, an historian of the latter half of the sixteenth century, whose naked assertion cannot be permitted to counterbalance the strong testimony afforded by the silence of contemporaries and the general discredit of succeeding writers. (Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 10.) Sismondi, not content with this first offer of King Ferdinand, makes him afterwards propose for a daughter of King Emanuel, or in other words, his own granddaughter! Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. chap. 30.

[24] Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 15.—Seyssel, Hist. de Louys XII., pp.

223-229.

[25] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 7, sec. 4.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 58.—Salazar de Mendoza, Monarquia, tom. i. p. 410.

“Laquelle,” says Fleurange, who had doubtless often seen the princess, “etoit bonne et fort belle princesse, du moins elle n’avoit point perdu son embonpoint.” (Memoires, chap. 19.) It would be strange if she had at the age of eighteen. Varillas gets over the discrepancy of age between the parties very well, by making Ferdinand’s at this time only thirty-seven years! Hist. de Louis XII., tom. i. p. 457.

[26] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. no 40, pp. 72-74.

[27] These dependencies did not embrace, however, the half of Granada and the West Indies, as supposed by Mons. Gaillard, who gravely assures us, that “Les etats conquis par Ferdinand etoient conquetes de communaute, dont la moitie appartenoit au mari, et la moitie aux enfans.” (Rivalite, tom. iv. p. 306.) Such are the gross misconceptions of fact, on which this writer’s speculations rest!

[28] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 19.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 16.

[29] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 15, sec. 8.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 21.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 7.

He received much more unequivocal intimation in a letter from Ferdinand, curious as showing that the latter sensibly felt the nature and extent of the sacrifices he was making. “You,” says he to Philip, “by lending yourself to be the easy dupe of France, have driven me most reluctantly into a second marriage; have stripped me of the fair fruits of my Neapolitan conquests,” etc. He concludes with this appeal to him. “Sit satis, fili, pervagatum; redi in te, si filius, non hostis accesseris; his non obstantibus, mi filius, amplexabere. Magna est paternae vis naturae.”

Philip may have thought his father-in-law’s late conduct an indifferent commentary on the “paternae vis naturae.” See the king’s letter quoted by Peter Martyr in his correspondence with the count of Tendilla. Opus Epist., epist 293.

[30] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 23.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap, 16.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 292.—Zurita has transcribed the whole of this dutiful and most loving epistle. Ubi supra.

Guicciardini considers Philip as only practising the lessons he had learned in Spain, “le arti Spagnuole.” (Istoria, lib. 7.) The phrase would seem to have been proverbial with the Italians, like the “Punica fides,”

which their Roman ancestors fastened on the character of their African enemy;—perhaps with equal justice.

[31] Joanna, according to Sandoval, displayed much composure in her alarming situation. When informed by Philip of their danger, she attired herself in her richest dress, securing a considerable sum of money to her person, that her body, if found, might be recognized, and receive the obsequies suited to her rank. Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 10.

[32] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 204—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 186.—Bacon, Hist. of Henry VII., Works, vol. v. pp. 177-179.—Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 7.—Rymer, Foedera, tom. xiii. pp. 123-132.

One was a commercial treaty with Flanders, so disastrous as to be known in that country by the name of “malus intercursus;” the other involved the surrender of the unfortunate duke of Suffolk.

[33] Bacon, Hist. of Henry VII., Works, vol. v. p. 179.

[34] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 36.—Memoires de Bayard, chap. 26.

[35] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 300.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 36.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 203.

“Some affirmed,” says Zurita, “that Isabella, before appointing her husband to the regency, exacted an oath from him, that he would not marry a second time.” (Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 84.) This improbable story, so inconsistent with the queen’s character, has been transcribed with more or less qualification by succeeding historians from Mariana to Quintana.

Robertson repeats it without any qualification at all. See History of Charles V., vol. ii. p. 6.

[36] “Quisque enim in spes suas pronus et expeditus, commodo serviendum,”

says Giovio, borrowing the familiar metaphor, “et orientem solem potius quam occidentem adorandum esse dictitabat.” Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 278.

[37] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 29, 30.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 57.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 204.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 304, 305.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—

Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 10.

[38] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 306, 308, 309.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 59.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 278.

[39] “Nil benignius Philippo in terris, nullus inter orbis principes animosior, inter juvenes pulchrior,” etc. (Opus Epist., epist. 285.) In a subsequent letter he thus describes the unhappy predicament of the young prince; “Nescit hic juvenis, nescit quo se vertat, hinc avaris, illinc ambitiosis, atque utrimque vafris hominibus circumseptus alienigena, bonae naturae, apertique animi. Trahetur in diversa, perturbabitur ipse atque obtundetur. Omnia confundentur. Utinam vana praedicem!” Epist. 308.

[40] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 2.

[41] Opus Epist., epist. 308.

[42]

“Ipsae amicos res optimae pariunt, adversae probant.”

Pub. Syrus.

[43] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 306, 311.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, p. 143.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 19.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 19.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 10.

[44] The only pretext for all this pomp of war was the rumor, that the king was levying a considerable force, and the duke of Alva mustering his followers in Leon;—rumors willingly circulated, no doubt, if not a sheer device of the enemy. Zurita, Anales, lib. 7, cap. 2.

[45] “Durior Caucasia rupe, paternum nihil auscultavit.” Opus Epist., epist. 310.

[46] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 43.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, pp. 146-149.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap.

20.---Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 5.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 61, 62.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 15.—

Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS, cap.

204.

[47] Lord Bacon remarks, in allusion to Philip’s premature death, “There was an observation by the wisest of that court, that, if he had lived, his father would have gained upon him in that sort, as he would have governed his councils and designs, if not his affections.” (Hist. of Henry VII., Works, vol. v. p. 180.) The prediction must have been suggested by the general estimation of their respective characters; for the parties never met again after Ferdinand withdrew to Aragon.

[48] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 8.

[49] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 204.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 7.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 210.

[50] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 8.

[51] Zurita, Anales, ubi supra.

[52] Idem, ubi supra.

Ferdinand’s manifesto, as well as the instrument declaring his daughter’s incapacity, are given at length by Zurita. The secret protest rests on the unsupported authority of the historian; and surely a better authority cannot easily be found, considering his proximity to the period, his resources as national historiographer, and the extreme caution and candor with which he discriminates between fact and rumor. It is very remarkable, however, that Peter Martyr, with every opportunity for information, as a member of the royal household, apparently high in the king’s confidence, should have made no allusion to this secret protest in his correspondence with Tendilla and Talavera, both attached to the royal party, and to whom he appears to have communicated all matters of interest without reserve.

[53] This motive is charitably imputed to him by Gaillard. (Rivalite, tom.

iv. p. 311.) The same writer commends Ferdinand’s habilite, in extricating himself from his embarrassments by the treaty, “auquel il fit consentir Philippe dans leur entrevue”! p. 310.

[54] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 10.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 21.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 64.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 210.

[55] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 10.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1. quinc. 3, dial. 9.

[56] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 10.—See also the melancholy vaticinations of Martyr, (Opus Epist., epist. 311,) who seems to echo back the sentiments of his friends Tendilla and Talavera.

CHAPTER XVIII.

COLUMBUS.—HIS RETURN TO SPAIN.—HIS DEATH.

1504-1506.

Return of Columbus from his Fourth Voyage.—His Illness.—Neglected by Ferdinand.—His Death.—His Person.—And Character.

While the events were passing, which occupy the beginning of the preceding chapter, Christopher Columbus returned from his fourth and last voyage. It had been one unbroken series of disappointment and disaster. After quitting Hispaniola, and being driven by storms nearly to the island of Cuba, he traversed the Gulf of Honduras, and coasted along the margin of the golden region, which had so long flitted before his fancy. The natives invited him to strike into its western depths in vain, and he pressed forward to the south, now solely occupied with the grand object of discovering a passage into the Indian Ocean. At length, after having with great difficulty advanced somewhat beyond the point of Nombre de Dios, he was compelled by the fury of the elements, and the murmurs of his men, to abandon the enterprise, and retrace his steps. He was subsequently defeated in an attempt to establish a colony on terra firma, by the ferocity of the natives; was wrecked on the island of Jamaica, where he was permitted to linger more than a year, through the malice of Ovando, the new governor of St. Domingo; and finally, having re-embarked with his shattered crew in a vessel freighted at at his own expense, was driven by a succession of terrible tempests across the ocean, until, on the 7th of November, 1504, he anchored in the little port of St. Lucar, twelve leagues from Seville. [1]

In this quiet haven, Columbus hoped to find the repose his broken constitution and wounded spirit so much needed, and to obtain a speedy restitution of his honors and emoluments from the hand of Isabella. But here he was to experience his bitterest disappointment. At the time of his arrival, the queen was on her death-bed; and in a very few days Columbus received the afflicting intelligence, that the friend, on whose steady support he had so confidently relied, was no more. It was a heavy blow to his hopes, for “he had always experienced favor and protection from her,”

says his son Ferdinand, “while the king had not only been indifferent, but positively unfriendly to his interests.” [2] We may readily credit, that a man of the cold and prudent character of the Spanish monarch would not be very likely to comprehend one so ardent and aspiring as that of Columbus, nor to make allowance for his extravagant sallies. And, if nothing has hitherto met our eye to warrant the strong language of the son, yet we have seen that the king, from the first, distrusted the admiral’s projects, as having something unsound and chimerical in them.

The affliction of the latter at the tidings of Isabella’s death is strongly depicted in a letter written immediately after to his son Diego.

“It is our chief duty,” he says, “to commend to God most affectionately and devoutly the soul of our deceased lady, the queen. Her life was always Catholic and virtuous, and prompt to whatever could redound to His holy service; wherefore, we may trust, she now rests in glory, far from all concern for this rough and weary world.” [3]

Columbus, at this time, was so much crippled by the gout, to which he had been long subject, that he was unable to undertake a journey to Segovia, where the court was, during the winter. He lost no time, however, in laying his situation before the king through his son Diego, who was attached to the royal household. He urged his past services, the original terms of the capitulation made with him, their infringement in almost every particular, and his own necessitous condition. But Ferdinand was too busily occupied with his own concerns, at this crisis, to give much heed to those of Columbus, who repeatedly complains of the inattention shown to his application. [4] At length, on the approach of a milder season, the admiral, having obtained a dispensation in his favor from the ordinance prohibiting the use of mules, was able by easy journeys to reach Segovia, and present himself before the monarch. [5]

He was received with all the outward marks of courtesy and regard by Ferdinand, who assured him that “he fully estimated his important services, and, far from stinting his recompense to the precise terms of the capitulation, intended to confer more ample favors on him in Castile.”

[6]

These fair words, however, were not seconded by actions. The king probably had no serious thoughts of reinstating the admiral in his government. His successor, Ovando, was high in the royal favor. His rule, however objectionable as regards the Indians, was every way acceptable to the Spanish colonists; [7] and even his oppression of the poor natives was so far favorable to his cause, that it enabled him to pour much larger sums into the royal coffers, than had been gleaned by his more humane predecessor. [8]

The events of the last voyage, moreover, had probably not tended to dispel any distrust, which the king previously entertained of the admiral’s capacity for government. His men had been in a state of perpetual insubordination; while his letter to the sovereigns, written under distressing circumstances, indeed, from Jamaica, exhibited such a deep coloring of despondency, and occasionally such wild and visionary projects, as might almost suggest the suspicion of a temporary alienation of mind. [9]

But whatever reasons may have operated to postpone Columbus’s restoration to power, it was the grossest injustice to withhold from him the revenues secured by the original contract with the crown. According to his own statement, he was so far from receiving his share of the remittances made by Ovando, that he was obliged to borrow money, and had actually incurred a heavy debt for his necessary expenses. [10] The truth was, that, as the resources of the new countries began to develop themselves more abundantly, Ferdinand felt greater reluctance to comply with the letter of the original capitulation; he now considered the compensation as too vast and altogether disproportioned to the services of any subject; and at length was so ungenerous as to propose that the admiral should relinquish his claims, in consideration of other estates and dignities to be assigned him in Castile. [11] It argued less knowledge of character, than the king usually showed, that he should have thought the man, who had broken off all negotiations on the threshold of a dubious enterprise, rather than abate one tittle of his demands, would consent to such abatement when the success of that enterprise was so gloriously established.

What assistance Columbus actually received from the crown at this time, or whether he received any, does not appear. He continued to reside with the court, and accompanied it in its removal to Valladolid. He no doubt enjoyed the public consideration due to his high repute and extraordinary achievements; though by the monarch he might be regarded in the unwelcome light of a creditor, whose claims were too just to be disavowed, and too large to be satisfied.

With spirits broken by this unthankful requital of his services, and with a constitution impaired by a life of unmitigated hardship, Columbus’s health now rapidly sunk under the severe and reiterated attacks of his disorder. On the arrival of Philip and Joanna, he addressed a letter to them, through his brother Bartholomew, in which he lamented the infirmities which prevented him from paying his respects in person, and made a tender of his future services. The communication was graciously received, but Columbus did not survive to behold the young sovereigns.

[12]

His mental vigor, however, was not impaired by the ravages of disease, and on the 19th of May, 1506, he executed a codicil, confirming certain testamentary dispositions formerly made, with special reference to the entail of his estates and dignities, manifesting, in his latest act, the same solicitude he had shown through life, to perpetuate an honorable name. Having completed these arrangements with perfect composure, he expired on the following day, being that of our Lord’s ascension, with little apparent suffering, and in the most Christian spirit of resignation. [13] His remains, first deposited in the convent of St.

Francis at Valladolid, were, six years later, removed to the Carthusian monastery of Las Cuevas at Seville, where a costly monument was raised over them by King Ferdinand, with the memorable inscription, “A Castilla y a Leon

Nuevo mundo dio Colon;”

“the like of which,” says his son Ferdinand, with as much truth as simplicity, “was never recorded of any man in ancient or modern times.”

[14] From this spot his body was transported, in the year 1536, to the island of St. Domingo, the proper theatre of his discoveries; and, on the cession of that island to the French, in 1795, was again removed to Cuba, where his ashes now quietly repose in the cathedral church of its capital.

[15]

There is considerable uncertainty as to Columbus’s age, though it seems probable it was not far from seventy at the time of his death. [16] His person has been minutely described by his son. He was tall and well made, his head large, with an aquiline nose, small light-blue or grayish eyes, a fresh complexion and red hair, though incessant toil and exposure had bronzed the former, and bleached the latter, before the age of thirty. He had a majestic presence, with much dignity, and at the same time affability of manner. He was fluent, even eloquent in discourse; generally temperate in deportment, but sometimes hurried by a too lively sensibility into a sally of passion. [17] He was abstemious in his diet, indulged little in amusements of any kind, and, in truth, seemed too much absorbed by the great cause to which he had consecrated his life, to allow scope for the lower pursuits and pleasures, which engage ordinary men. Indeed, his imagination, by feeding too exclusively on this lofty theme, acquired an unnatural exaltation, which raised him too much above the sober realities of existence, leading him to spurn at difficulties, which in the end proved insurmountable, and to color the future with those rainbow tints, which too often melted into air.

This exalted state of the imagination was the result in part, no doubt, of the peculiar circumstances of his life. For the glorious enterprise which he had achieved almost justified the conviction of his acting under the influence of some higher inspiration than mere human reason, and led his devout mind to discern intimations respecting himself in the dark and mysterious annunciations of sacred prophecy. [18]

That the romantic coloring of his mind, however, was natural to him, and not purely the growth of circumstances, is evident from the chimerical speculations, in which he seriously indulged before the accomplishment of his great discoveries. His scheme of a crusade for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre was most deliberately meditated, and strenuously avowed from the very first date of his proposals to the Spanish government. His enthusiastic communications on the subject must have provoked a smile from a pontiff like Alexander the Sixth; [19] and may suggest some apology for the tardiness, with which his more rational projects were accredited by the Castilian government. But these visionary fancies never clouded his judgment in matters relating to his great undertaking; and it is curious to observe the prophetic accuracy, with which he discerned, not only the existence, but the eventual resources of the western world; as is sufficiently evinced by his precautions, to the very last, to secure the full fruits of them, unimpaired, to his posterity.

Whatever were the defects of his mental constitution, the finger of the historian will find it difficult to point to a single blemish in his moral character. His correspondence breathes the sentiment of devoted loyalty to his sovereigns. His conduct habitually displayed the utmost solicitude for the interests of his followers. He expended almost his last maravedi in restoring his unfortunate crew to their native land. His dealings were regulated by the nicest principles of honor and justice. His last communication to the sovereigns from the Indies remonstrates against the use of violent measures in order to extract gold from the natives, as a thing equally scandalous and impolitic. [20] The grand object to which he dedicated himself seemed to expand his whole soul, and raised it above the petty shifts and artifices, by which great ends are sometimes sought to be compassed. There are some men, in whom rare virtues have been closely allied, if not to positive vice, to degrading weakness. Columbus’s character presented no such humiliating incongruity. Whether we contemplate it in its public or private relations, in all its features it wears the same noble aspect. It was in perfect harmony with the grandeur of his plans, and their results, more stupendous than those which Heaven has permitted any other mortal to achieve. [21]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Martyr, De Rebus Oceanicis, dec. 3, lib. 4.—Benzoni, Novi Orbis Hist., lib. 1, cap. 14.—Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 88-

108.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 5, cap. 2-12; lib. 6, cap. 1-13.—Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. pp. 282-325.

The best authorities for the fourth voyage are the relations of Mendez and Porras, both engaged in it; and above all the admiral’s own letter to the sovereigns from Jamaica. They are all collected in the first volume of Navarrete. (Ubi supra.) Whatever cloud may be thrown over the early part of Columbus’s career, there is abundant light on every step of his path after the commencement of his great enterprise.

[2] Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.

[3] Cartas de Colon, apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 341.

[4] See his interesting correspondence with his son Diego; now printed for the first time by Senor Navarrete from the original MSS. in the duke of Veragua’s possession. Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 338 et seq.

[5] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 6, cap. 14.—Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.

For an account of this ordinance see Part II. Chapter 3, note 12, of this History.

[6] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 6, cap. 14.

[7] Ibid., dec. 1, lib. 5, cap. 12.

[8] Ibid., dec. 1, lib. 5, cap. 12; lib. 6, cap. 16-18.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 14.

[9] This document exhibits a medley, in which sober narrative and sound reasoning are strangely blended with crazy dreams, doleful lamentation, and wild schemes for the recovery of Jerusalem, the conversion of the Grand Khan, etc. Vagaries like these, which come occasionally like clouds over his soul, to shut out the light of reason, cannot fail to fill the mind of the reader, as they doubtless did those of the sovereigns at the time, with mingled sentiments of wonder and compassion. See Cartas de Colon, apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 296.

[10] Ibid., p. 338.

[11] Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, lib. 6, cap. 14.

[12] Navarrete has given the letter, Coleccion de Viages, tom. iii. p.

530.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, ubi supra.

[13] Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, p. 429.—Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 131.—

Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom, ii., Doc. Dipl., 158.

[14] Hist. del Almirante, ubi supra.

The following eulogium of Paolo Giovio is a pleasing tribute to the deserts of the great navigator, showing the high estimation in which he was held, abroad as well as at home, by the enlightened of his own day.

“Incomparabilis Liguribus honos, eximium Italiae decus, et praefulgidum jubar seculo nostro nasceretur, quod priscorum heroum, Herculis, et Liberi patris famam obscuraret. Quorum memoriam grata olim mortalitas aeternis literarum monumentis coelo consecrarit.” Elogia Virorum Illust., lib. 4, p. 123.

[15] Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. ii., Doc. Dipl., 177.

On the left of the grand altar of this stately edifice, is a bust of Columbus, placed in a niche in the wall, and near it a silver urn, containing all that now remains of the illustrious voyager. See Abbot’s “Letters from Cuba,” a work of much interest and information, with the requisite allowance for the inaccuracies of a posthumous publication.

[16] The various theories respecting the date of Columbus’s birth cover a range of twenty years, from 1436 to 1456. There are sturdy objections to either of the hypotheses; and the historian will find it easier to cut the knot than to unravel it. Comp. Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i.

Intr., sec. 54.—Munoz, Hist. del Nuevo-Mundo, lib. 2, sec. 12.—Spotorno, Memorials of Columbus, pp. 12, 25.—Irving, Life of Columbus, vol. iv.

book 18, chap. 4.

[17] Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 3.—Novi Orbis Hist., lib.

1, cap. 14.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 6, cap. 15.

[18] See the extracts from Columbus’s book of Prophecies, (apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom, ii., Doc. Dipl., no. 140,) as still existing in the Bibliotheca Colombina at Seville.

[19] See his epistle to the most selfish and sensual of the successors of St. Peter, in Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom, ii., Doc. Dipl., no.

145.

[20] “El oro, bien que segun informacion el sea mucho, no me parescio bien ni servicio de vuestras Altezas de se le tomar por via de robo. La buena orden evitara escandolo y mala fama,” etc. Cartas de Colon, apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 310.

[21] Columbus left two sons, Fernando and Diego. The former, illegitimate, inherited his father’s genius, says a Castilian writer, and the latter, his honors and estates. (Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, ano 1506.) Fernando, besides other works now lost, left a valuable memoir of his father, often cited in this history. He was a person of rather uncommon literary attainments, and amassed a library, in his extensive travels, of 20,000
volumes, perhaps the largest private collection in Europe at that day.

(Ibid., ano 1539.) Diego did not succeed to his father’s dignities, till he had obtained a judgment in his favor against the crown from the Council of the Indies, an act highly honorable to that tribunal, and showing that the independence of the courts of justice, the greatest bulwark of civil liberty, was well maintained under King Ferdinand. (Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. ii., Doc. Dipl., nos. 163, 164; tom. iii., Supl. Col.

Dipl., no. 69.) The young admiral subsequently married a lady of the great Toledo family, niece of the duke of Alva. (Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 8.) This alliance with one of the most ancient branches of the haughty aristocracy of Castile, proves the extraordinary consideration, which Columbus must have attained during his own lifetime. A new opposition was made by Charles V. to the succession of Diego’s son; and the latter, discouraged by the prospect of this interminable litigation with the crown, prudently consented to commute his claims, too vast and indefinite for any subject to enforce, for specific honors and revenues in Castile. The titles of Duke of Veragua and Marquis of Jamaica, derived from the places visited by the admiral in his last voyage, still distinguish the family, whose proudest title, above all that monarchs can confer, is, to have descended from Columbus. Spotorno, Memorials of Columbus, p. 123.

CHAPTER XIX.

REIGN AND DEATH OF PHILIP I.—PROCEEDINGS IN CASTILE.—FERDINAND VISITS

NAPLES.

1506.

Philip and Joanna.—Their Reckless Administration.—Ferdinand Distrusts Gonsalvo.—He Sails for Naples.—Philip’s Death and Character.—The Provisional Government.—Joanna’s Condition.—Ferdinand’s Entry into Naples.—Discontent Caused by his Measures there.

King Ferdinand had no sooner concluded the arrangement with Philip, and withdrawn into his hereditary dominions, than the archduke and his wife proceeded towards Valladolid, to receive the homage of the estates convened in that city. Joanna, oppressed with an habitual melancholy, and clad in the sable habiliments better suited to a season of mourning than rejoicing, refused the splendid ceremonial and festivities, with which the city was prepared to welcome her. Her dissipated husband, who had long since ceased to treat her not merely with affection, but even decency, would fain have persuaded the cortes to authorize the confinement of his wife, as disordered in intellect, and to devolve on him the whole charge of the government. In this he was supported by the archbishop of Toledo, and some of the principal nobility. But the thing was distasteful to the commons, who could not brook such an indignity to their own “natural sovereign;” and they were so stanchly supported by the admiral Enriquez, a grandee of the highest authority from his connection with the crown, that Philip was at length induced to abandon his purpose, and to content himself with an act of recognition similar to that made at Toro. [1] No notice whatever was taken of the Catholic king, or of his recent arrangement transferring the regency to Philip. The usual oaths of allegiance were tendered to Joanna as queen and lady proprietor of the kingdom, and to Philip as her husband, and finally to their eldest son, prince Charles, as heir apparent and lawful successor on the demise of his mother. [2]

By the tenor of these acts the royal authority would seem to be virtually vested in Joanna. From this moment, however, Philip assumed the government into his own hands. The effects were soon visible in the thorough revolution introduced into every department. Old incumbents in office were ejected without ceremony, to make way for new favorites. The Flemings, in particular, were placed in every considerable post, and the principal fortresses of the kingdom intrusted to their keeping. No length or degree of service was allowed to plead in behalf of the ancient occupant. The marquis and marchioness of Moya, the personal friends of the late queen, and who had been particularly recommended by her to her daughter’s favor, were forcibly expelled from Segovia, whose strong citadel was given to Don Juan Manuel. There were no limits to the estates and honors lavished on this crafty minion. [3]

The style of living at the court was on the most thoughtless scale of wasteful expenditure. The public revenues, notwithstanding liberal appropriations by the late cortes, were wholly unequal to it. To supply the deficit, offices were sold to the highest bidder. The income drawn from the silk manufactures of Granada, which had been appropriated to defray King Ferdinand’s pension, was assigned by Philip to one of the royal treasurers. Fortunately, Ximenes obtained possession of the order and had the boldness to tear it in pieces. He then waited on the young monarch and remonstrated with him on the recklessness of measures which must infallibly ruin his credit with the people. Philip yielded in this instance; but, although he treated the archbishop with the greatest outward deference, it is not easy to discern the habitual influence over his counsels claimed for the prelate by his adulatory biographers. [4]

All this could not fail to excite disgust and disquietude throughout the nation. The most alarming symptoms of insubordination began to appear in different parts of the kingdom. In Andalusia, in particular, a confederation of the nobles was organized, with the avowed purpose of rescuing the queen from the duress, in which it was said she was held by her husband. At the same time the most tumultuous scenes were exhibited in Cordova, in consequence of the high hand with which the Inquisition was carrying matters there. Members of many of the principal families, including persons of both sexes, had been arrested on the charge of heresy. This sweeping proscription provoked an insurrection, countenanced by the marquis of Priego, in which the prisons were broken open, and Lucero, an inquisitor who had made himself deservedly odious by his cruelties, narrowly escaped falling into the hands of the infuriated populace. [5] The grand inquisitor, Deza, archbishop of Seville, the steady friend of Columbus, but whose name is unhappily registered on some of the darkest pages of the tribunal, was so intimidated as to resign his office. [6] The whole affair was referred to the royal council by Philip, whose Flemish education had not predisposed him to any reverence for the institution; a circumstance, which operated quite as much to his prejudice, with the more bigoted part of the nation, as his really exceptionable acts. [7]

The minds of the wise and the good were filled with sadness, as they listened to the low murmurs of popular discontent, which seemed to be gradually swelling into strength for some terrible convulsion; and they looked back with fond regret to the halcyon days, which they had enjoyed under the temperate rule of Ferdinand and Isabella.

The Catholic king, in the mean time, was pursuing his voyage to Naples. He had been earnestly pressed by the Neapolitans to visit his new dominions, soon after the conquest. [8] He now went, less, however, in compliance with that request, than to relieve his own mind, by assuring himself of the fidelity of his viceroy, Gonsalvo de Cordova. That illustrious man had not escaped the usual lot of humanity; his brilliant successes had brought on him a full measure of the envy, which seems to wait on merit like its shadow. Even men like Rojas, the Castilian ambassador at Rome, and Prospero Colonna, the distinguished Italian commander, condescended to employ their influence at court to depreciate the Great Captain’s services, and raise suspicions of his loyalty. His courteous manners, bountiful largesses, and magnificent style of living were represented as politic arts, to seduce the affections of the soldiery and the people. His services were in the market for the highest bidder. He had received the most splendid offers from the king of France and the pope. He had carried on a correspondence with Maximilian and Philip, who would purchase his adhesion, if possible, to the latter, at any price; and, if he had not hitherto committed himself by any overt act, it seemed probable he was only waiting to be determined in his future course by the result of King Ferdinand’s struggle with his son-in-law. [9]

These suggestions, in which some truth, as usual, was mingled with a large infusion of error, gradually excited more and more uneasiness in the breast of the cautious and naturally distrustful Ferdinand. He at first endeavored to abridge the powers of the Great Captain by recalling half the troops in his service, notwithstanding the unsettled state of the kingdom. [10] He then took the decisive step of ordering his return to Castile, on pretence of employing him in affairs of great importance at home. To allure him more effectually, he solemnly pledged himself by an oath to transfer to him, on his landing in Spain, the grandmastership of St. Jago, with all its princely dependencies and emoluments, the noblest gift in the possession of the crown. Finding all this ineffectual, and that Gonsalvo still procrastinated his return on various pretexts, the king’s uneasiness increased to such a degree, that he determined to press his own departure for Naples, and bring back, if not too late, his too powerful vassal. [11]

On the 4th of September, 1506, Ferdinand embarked at Barcelona, on board a well-armed squadron of Catalan galleys, taking with him his young and beautiful bride, and a numerous train of Aragonese nobles. On the 24th of the month, after a boisterous and tedious passage, he reached the port of Genoa. Here, to his astonishment, he was joined by the Great Captain, who, advised of the king’s movements, had come from Naples with a small fleet to meet him. This frank conduct of his general, if it did not disarm Ferdinand of his suspicions, showed him the policy of concealing them; and he treated Gonsalvo with all the consideration and show of confidence, which might impose, not merely on the public, but on the immediate subject of them. [12]

The Italian writers of the time express their astonishment that the Spanish general should have so blindly trusted himself into the hands of his suspicious master. [13] But he, doubtless, felt strong in the consciousness of his own integrity. There appears to have been no good reason for impeaching this. His most equivocal act was his delay to obey the royal summons. But much weight is reasonably due to his own explanation, that he was deterred by the distracted state of the country, arising from the proposed transfer of property to the Angevin barons, as well as from the precipitate disbanding of the army, which it required all his authority to prevent from breaking into open mutiny. [14] To these motives may be probably added the natural, though perhaps unconscious reluctance to relinquish the exalted station, little short of absolute sovereignty, which he had so long and so gloriously filled.

He had, indeed, lorded it over his viceroyalty with most princely sway.

But he had assumed no powers to which he was not entitled by his services and peculiar situation. His public operations in Italy had been uniformly conducted for the advantage of his country, and, until the late final treaty with France, were mainly directed to the expulsion of that power beyond the Alps. [15] Since that event, he had busily occupied himself with the internal affairs of Naples, for which he made many excellent provisions, contriving by his consummate address to reconcile the most conflicting interests and parties. Although the idol of the army and of the people, there is not the slightest evidence of an attempt to pervert his popularity to an unworthy purpose. There is no appearance of his having been corrupted, or even dazzled, by the splendid offers repeatedly made him by the different potentates of Europe. On the contrary, the proud answer recorded of him, to Pope Julius the Second, breathes a spirit of determined loyalty, perfectly irreconcilable with anything sinister or selfish in his motives. [16] The Italian writers of the time, who affect to speak of these motives with some distrust, were little accustomed to such examples of steady devotion; [17] but the historian, who reviews all the circumstances, must admit that there was nothing to justify such distrust, and that the only exceptionable acts in Gonsalvo’s administration were performed not to advance his own interests, but those of his master, and in too strict obedience to his commands. King Ferdinand was the last person who had cause to complain of them.

After quitting Genoa, the royal squadron was driven by contrary winds into the neighboring harbor of Portofino, where Ferdinand received intelligence, which promised to change his destination altogether. This was the death of his son-in-law, the young king of Castile.

This event, so unexpected and awfully sudden, was occasioned by a fever, brought on by too violent exercise at a game of ball, at an entertainment made for Philip by his favorite, Manuel, in Burgos, where the court was then held. Through the unskilfulness of his physicians, as it was said, who neglected to bleed him, the disorder rapidly gained ground, [18] and on the sixth day after his attack, being the 25th of September, 1506, he breathed his last. [19] He was but twenty-eight years old, of which brief period he had enjoyed, or endured, the “golden cares” of sovereignty but little more than two months, dating from his recognition by the cortes.

His body, after being embalmed, lay in state for two days, decorated with the insignia,—the mockery of royalty, as it had proved to him,—and was then deposited in the convent of Miraflores near Burgos, to await its final removal to Granada, agreeably to his last request. [20]

Philip was of the middle height; he had a fair, florid complexion, regular features, long flowing locks, and a well-made, symmetrical figure. Indeed, he was so distinguished for comeliness both of person and countenance, that he is designated on the roll of Spanish sovereigns as Felipe el Hermoso, or the Handsome. [21] His mental endowments were not so extraordinary. The father of Charles the Fifth possessed scarcely a single quality in common with his remarkable son. He was rash and impetuous in his temper, frank, and careless. He was born to great expectations, and early accustomed to command, which seemed to fill him with a crude, intemperate ambition, impatient alike of control or counsel. He was not without generous, and even magnanimous sentiments; but he abandoned himself to the impulse of the moment, whether for good or evil; and, as he was naturally indolent and fond of pleasure, he willingly reposed the burden of government on others, who, as usual, thought more of their own interests than those of the public. His early education exempted him from the bigotry characteristic of the Spaniards; and, had he lived, he might have done much to mitigate the grievous abuses of the Inquisition. As it was, his premature death deprived him of the opportunity of compensating, by this single good act, the manifold mischiefs of his administration.

This event, too improbable to have formed any part of the calculations of the most far-sighted politician, spread general consternation throughout the country. The old adherents of Ferdinand, with Ximenes at their head, now looked forward with confidence to his re-establishment in the regency.

Many others, however, like Garcilasso de la Vega, whose loyalty to their old master had not been proof against the times, viewed this with some apprehension. [22] Others, again, who had openly from the first linked their fortunes to those of his rival, as the duke of Najara, the marquis of Villena, and, above all, Don Juan Manuel, saw in it their certain ruin, and turned their thoughts towards Maximilian, or the king of Portugal, or any other monarch, whose connection with the royal family might afford a plausible pretext for interference in the government. On Philip’s Flemish followers the tidings fell like a thunderbolt, and in their bewilderment they seemed like so many famished birds of prey, still hovering round the half-devoured carcass from which they had been unceremoniously scared.

[23]

The weight of talent and popular consideration was undoubtedly on the king’s side. The most formidable of the opposition, Manuel, had declined greatly in credit with the nation during the short, disastrous period of his administration; while the archbishop of Toledo, who might be considered as the leader of Ferdinand’s party, possessed talents, energy, and reputed sanctity of character, which, combined with the authority of his station, gave him unbounded influence over all classes of the Castilians. It was fortunate for the land, in this emergency, that the primacy was in such able hands. It justified the wisdom of Isabella’s choice, made in opposition, it may be remembered, to the wishes of Ferdinand, who was now to reap the greatest benefit from it.

That prelate, foreseeing the anarchy likely to arise on Philip’s death, assembled the nobility present at the court, in his own palace, the day before this event took place. It was there agreed to name a provisional council, or regency, who should carry on the government, and provide for the tranquillity of the kingdom. It consisted of seven members, with the archbishop of Toledo at its head, the duke of Infantado, the grand constable and the admiral of Castile, both connected with the royal family, the duke of Najara, a principal leader of the opposite faction, and two Flemish lords. No mention was made of Manuel. [24]

The nobles, in a subsequent convention on the 1st of October, ratified these proceedings, and bound themselves not to carry on private war, or attempt to possess themselves of the queen’s person, and to employ all their authority in supporting the provisional government, whose term was limited to the end of December. [25]

A meeting of cortes was wanting to give validity to their acts, as well as to express the popular will in reference to a permanent settlement of the government. There was some difference of opinion, even among the king’s friends, as to the expediency of summoning that body at this crisis; but the greatest impediment arose from the queen’s refusal to sign the writs.

[26]

This unhappy lady’s condition had become truly deplorable. During her husband’s illness, she had never left his bedside; but neither then, nor since his death, had been seen to shed a tear. She remained in a state of stupid insensibility, sitting in a darkened apartment, her head resting on her hand, and her lips closed, as mute and immovable as a statue. When applied to, for issuing the necessary summons for the cortes, or to make appointments to office, or for any other pressing business, which required her signature, she replied, “My father will attend to all this when he returns; he is much more conversant with business than I am; I have no other duties now, but to pray for the soul of my departed husband.” The only orders she was known to sign were for paying the salaries of her Flemish musicians; for in her abject state she found some consolation in music, of which she had been passionately fond from childhood. The few remarks which she uttered were discreet and sensible, forming a singular contrast with the general extravagance of her actions. On the whole, however, her pertinacity in refusing to sign anything was attended with as much good as evil, since it prevented her name from being used, as it would undoubtedly have often been, in the existing state of things, for pernicious and party purposes. [27]

Finding it impossible to obtain the queen’s co-operation, the council at length resolved to issue the writs of summons in their own name, as a measure justified by necessity. The place of meeting was fixed at Burgos in the ensuing month of November; and great pains were taken, that the different cities should instruct their representatives in their views respecting the ultimate disposition of the government. [28]

Long before this, indeed immediately after Philip’s death, letters had been despatched by Ximenes and his friends to the Catholic king, acquainting him with the state of affairs, and urging his immediate return to Castile. He received them at Portofino. He determined, however, to continue his voyage, in which he had already advanced so far, to Naples.

The wary monarch perhaps thought, that the Castilians, whose attachment to his own person he might with some reason distrust, would not be the less inclined to his rule after having tasted the bitterness of anarchy. In his reply, therefore, after briefly expressing a decent regret at the untimely death of his son-in-law, and his uudoubting confidence in the loyalty of the Castilians to their queen, his daughter, he prudently intimates that he retains nothing but kindly recollections of his ancient subjects, and promises to use all possible despatch in adjusting the affairs of Naples, that he may again return to them. [29]

After this, the king resumed his voyage, and having touched at several places on the coast, in all which he was received with great enthusiasm, arrived before the capital of his new dominions in the latter part of October. All were anxious, says the great Tuscan historian of the time, to behold the prince who had acquired a mighty reputation throughout Europe for his victories both over Christian and infidel; and whose name was everywhere revered for the wisdom and equity with which he had ruled in his own kingdom. They looked to his coming, therefore, as an event fraught with importance, not merely to Naples, but to all Italy, where his personal presence and authority might do so much to heal existing feuds, and establish permanent tranquillity. [30] The Neapolitans, in particular, were intoxicated with joy at his arrival. The most splendid preparations were made for his reception. A fleet of twenty vessels of war came out to meet him and conduct him into port; and, as he touched the shores of his new dominions, the air was rent with acclamations of the people, and with the thunders of artillery from the fortresses, which crowned the heights of the city, and from the gallant navy which rode in her waters. [31]

The faithful chronicler of Los Palacios, who generally officiates as the master of ceremonies on these occasions, dilates with great complacency on all the circumstances of the celebration, even to the minutest details of the costume worn by the king and his nobility. According to him, the monarch was arrayed in a long, flowing mantle of crimson velvet, lined with satin of the same color. On his head was a black velvet bonnet, garnished with a resplendent ruby, and a pearl of inestimable price. He rode a noble white charger, whose burnished caparisons dazzled the eye with their splendor. By his side was his young queen, mounted on a milk-
white palfrey, and wearing a skirt or undergarment of rich brocade, and a French robe, simply fastened with clasps or loops of fine wrought gold.

On the mole they were received by the Great Captain, who, surrounded by his guard of halberdiers, and his silken array of pages wearing his device, displayed all the pomp and magnificence of his household. After passing under a triumphal arch, where Ferdinand swore to respect the liberties and privileges of Naples, the royal pair moved forward under a gorgeous canopy, borne by the members of the municipality, while the reins of their steeds were held by some of the principal nobles. After them followed the other lords and cavaliers of the kingdom, with the clergy, and ambassadors assembled from every part of Italy and Europe, bearing congratulations and presents from their respective courts. As the procession halted in the various quarters of the city, it was greeted with joyous bursts of music from a brilliant assemblage of knights and ladies, who did homage by kneeling down and saluting the hands of their new sovereigns. At length, after defiling through, the principal streets and squares, it reached the great cathedral, where the day was devoutly closed with solemn prayer and thanksgiving. [32]

Ferdinand was too severe an economist of time, to waste it willingly on idle pomp and ceremonial. His heart swelled with satisfaction, however, as he gazed on the magnificent capital thus laid at his feet, and pouring forth the most lively expressions of a loyalty, which of late he had been led to distrust. With all his impatience, therefore, he was not disposed to rebuke this spirit by abridging the season of hilarity. But, after allowing sufficient scope for its indulgence, he devoted himself assiduously to the great purposes of his visit.

He summoned a parliament general of the kingdom, where, after his own recognition, oaths of allegiance were tendered to his daughter Joanna and her posterity, as his successors, without any allusion being made to the rights of his wife. This was a clear evasion of the treaty with France.

But Ferdinand, though late, was too sensible of the folly of that stipulation which secured the reversion of his wife’s dower to the latter crown, to allow it to receive any sanction from the Neapolitans. [33]

Another, and scarcely less disastrous provision of the treaty he complied with in better faith. This was the reestablishment of the Angevin proprietors in their ancient estates; the greater part of which, as already noticed, had been parcelled out among his own followers, both Spaniards and Italians. It was, of course, a work of extraordinary difficulty and vexation. When any flaw or impediment could be raised in the Angevin title, the transfer was evaded. When it could not, a grant of other land or money was substituted, if possible. More frequently, however, the equivalent, which probably was not very scrupulously meted out, was obliged to be taken by the Aragonese proprietor. To accomplish this the king was compelled to draw largely on the royal patrimony in Naples, as well as to make liberal appropriations of land and rents in his native dominions. As all this proved insufficient, he was driven to the expedient of replenishing the exchequer by draughts on his new subjects.

[34]

The result, although effected without violence or disorder, was unsatisfactory to all parties. The Angevins rarely received the full extent of their demands. The loyal partisans of Aragon saw the fruits of many a hard-fought battle snatched from their grasp, to be given back again to their enemies. [35] Lastly, the wretched Neapolitans, instead of the favors and immunities incident to a new reign, found themselves burdened with additional imposts, which, in the exhausted state of the country, were perfectly intolerable. So soon were the fair expectations formed of Ferdinand’s coming, like most other indefinite expectations, clouded over by disappointment; and such were some of the bitter fruits of the disgraceful treaty with Louis the Twelfth. [36]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Marina tells an anecdote too long for insertion here, in relation to this cortes, showing the sturdy stuff of which a Castilian commoner in that day was made. (Teoria, part. 2, cap. 7.) It will scarcely gain credit without a better voucher than the anonymous scribbler from whom he has borrowed it.

[2] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 22.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 11.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap.

15.

Joanna on this occasion was careful to inspect the powers of the deputies herself, to see they were all regularly authenticated. Singular astuteness for a mad woman!

[3] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 312.—Mariana, Hist. De Espana, tom.

ii. lib. 28, cap. 22.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 21.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 65.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 1, dial. 23.

[4] Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 65.—

Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, rey 30, cap. 16.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 14.

[5] Lucero (whom honest Martyr, with a sort of back-handed pun, usually nicknames Tenebrero) resumed his inquisitorial functions on Philip’s death. Among his subsequent victims was the good archbishop Talavera, whose last days were embittered by his persecution. His insane violence at length provoked again the interference of government. His case was referred to a special commission, with Ximenes at its head. Sentence was pronounced against him. The prisons he had filled were emptied. His judgments were reversed, as founded on insufficient and frivolous grounds.

But alas! what was this to the hundreds he had consigned to the stake, and the thousands he had plunged in misery? He was in the end sentenced,—not to be roasted alive,—but to retire to his own benefice, and confine himself to the duties of a Christian minister! Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 77.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist, 333, 334, et al.—Llorente, Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. i. chap. 10, art. 3, 4.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., dial, de Deza.

[6] Oviedo has given an ample notice of this prelate, Ferdinand’s confessor, in one of his dialogues. He mentions a singular taste, in one respect, quite worthy of an inquisitor. The archbishop kept a tame lion in his palace, which used to accompany him when he went abroad, and lie down at his feet when he said mass in the church. The monster had been stripped of his teeth and claws when young, but he was “espantable en su vista e aspeto,” says Oviedo, who records two or three of his gambols, lion’s play, at best. Quincuagenas, MS.

[7] Llorente, Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. i. chap. 10, art. 3, 4.—

Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, rey 30, cap.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 333, 334, et al.

“Toda la gente,” says Zurita, in reference to this affair, “noble y de limpia sangre se avia escandalizado dello;” (Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap.

11;) and he plainly intimates his conviction, that Philip’s profane interference brought Heaven’s vengeance on his head, in the shape of a premature death. Zurita was secretary of the Holy Office in the early part of the sixteenth century. Had he lived in the nineteenth, he might have acted the part of a Llorente. He was certainly not born for a bigot.

[8] Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.

[9] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 276.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom.

ii. rey 30, cap. 16.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 5, 11, 17, 27, 31; lib. 7, cap, 14.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 123.—Gonsalvo, in a letter to the king dated July 2, 1506, alludes bitterly to these unfounded imputations on his honor. Cartas, MS.

[10] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, lib. 28, cap. 12.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 6, cap. 5.

[11] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 6.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom.

iv. p. 12, ed. di Milano, 1803.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 280.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.

[12] Giannone, Istoria de Napoli, ubi supra.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—

Buonaccorsi Diario, p. 123.—Capmany, Mem. de Barcelona, tom. i. p. 152.—

“Este,” says Capmany of the squadron which bore the king from Barcelona, “se puede decir fue el ultimo armamento que salio de aquella capital.”

[13] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 30.—Machiavelli, Legazione Seconda a Roma, let. 23.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.

[14] Zurita, Anales, lib. 6, cap. 31.

[15] My limits will not allow room for the complex politics and feuds of Italy, into which Gonsalvo entered with all the freedom of an independent potentate. See the details, apud Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap.

112-127.—Sismondi, Republiques Italiennes, tom. xiii. chap. 103.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iii. p. 235 et alibi.—Zurita, Anales, tom.

vi. lib. 6, cap. 7, 9.—Carta del Gran Capitan, MS.

[16] Zurita, Anales, lib. 6, cap. 11.

[17] “Il Gran Capitan,” says Guicciardini, “conscio dei sospetti, i quali il re forse non vanamente aveva avuti di lui,” etc. (Istoria, tom, iv. p. 30.) This way of damning a character by surmise, is very common with Italian writers of this age, who uniformly resort to the very worst motive as the key of whatever is dubious or inexplicable in conduct. Not a sudden death, for example, occurs, without at least a sospetto of poison from some hand or other. What a fearful commentary on the morals of the land!

[18] Philip’s disorder was lightly regarded at first by his Flemish physicians; whose practice and predictions were alike condemned by their coadjutor Lodovico Marliano, an Italian doctor, highly commended by Martyr, as “inter philosophos et medicos lucida lampas.” ‘He was at least the better prophet on this occasion. Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

313.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 14.

[19] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.—Fortunately for Ferdinand’s reputation, Philip’s death was attended by too unequivocal circumstances, and recorded by too many eyewitnesses, to admit the suggestion of poison. It seems he drank freely of cold water while very hot. The fever he brought on was an epidemic, which at that time afflicted Castile. Machiavelli, Legazione Seconda a Roma, let. 29.—Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, ano 1506.

[20] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 313, 316.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 206.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 66.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 11.

[21] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187, 188.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., ubi supra.

Martyr, touched with the melancholy fate of his young sovereign, pays the following not inelegant, and certainly not parsimonious tribute to his memory, in a letter written a few days after his death, which, it may be noticed, he makes a day earlier than other contemporary accounts. “Octavo Calendas Octobris animam emisit ille juvenis, formosus, pulcher, elegans, animo pollens et ingesio, procerae validaeque naturae, uti flos vernus evanuit.” Opus Epist., epist. 316.

[22] Garcilasso de la Vega appears to have been one of those dubious politicians, who, to make use of a modern phrase, are always “on the fence.” The wags of his day applied to him a coarse saying of the old duke of Alva in Henry IV.‘s time, “Que era como el perro del ventero, que ladra a los de fuera, y muerde a los de dentro.” Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib.

7, cap. 39.

[23] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 2.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 206.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 22.

[24] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 15.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 1.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 317.—Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, ano 1506.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 67.

[25] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 16.

I find no authority for the statement made by Alvaro Gomez (De Rebus Gestis, fol. 68), and faithfully echoed by Robles (Vida de Ximenez, cap.

17) and Quintanilla (Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 14), that Ximenes filled the office of sole regent at this juncture. It is not warranted by Martyr, (Opus Epist., epist. 317,) and is contradicted by the words of the original instrument cited as usual by Zurita, (ubi supra.) The archbishop’s biographers, one and all, claim as many merits and services for their hero, as if, like Quintanilla, they were working expressly for his beatification.

[26] The duke of Alva, the staunch supporter of King Ferdinand in all his difficulties, objected to calling the cortes together, on the grounds, that the summonses, not being by the proper authority, would be informal; that many cities might consequently refuse to obey them, and the acts of the remainder be open to objection, as not those of the nation; that, after all, should cortes assemble, it was quite uncertain under what influences it might be made to act, and whether it would pursue the course most expedient for Ferdinand’s interests; and finally, that if the intention was to procure the appointment of a regency, this had already been done by the nomination of King Ferdinand at Toro, in 1505; that to start the question anew was unnecessarily to bring that act into doubt.

The duke does not seem to have considered that Ferdinand had forfeited his original claim to the regency by his abdication; perhaps, on the ground, that it had never been formally accepted by the commons. I shall have occasion to return to this hereafter. See the discussion in extenso, apud Zurita, Anales, lib. 7, cap. 26.

[27] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 318.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 2.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 71-73.

[28] Zurita, Anales, lib. 7, cap. 22.

[29] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, ano 1506.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 317.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 68, 69, 71.

Shall we wrong Ferdinand much by applying to him the pertinent verses of Lucan, on a somewhat similar occasion?

“Tutumque putavit Jam bonus esse socer; lacrymas non sponte cadentes Effudit, gemitusque expressit pectore laeto, Non aliter manifesta putans abscondere mentis Gaudia, quam lacrymis.”

Pharsalia, lib. 9.

[30] “Un re glorioso per tante vittorie avute contro gl’ Infedeli, e contro i Cristiani, venerabile per opinione di prudenza, e del quale risonava fama Cristianissima, che avesse con singolare giustizia, e tranquillita governato i reami suoi.” Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p.

31.—Also Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 124.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib.

30, cap. 1.

[31] Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 31.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 278, 279.—

Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, lib. 7.

[32] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 210.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 7, cap. 20.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, ubi supra.—Garibay, Compendio, lib. 20, cap. 9.

[33] Zurita, Anales, ubi supra.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. pp. 72, 73.

[34] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 129.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 71.

[35] Such, for example, was the fate of the doughty little cavalier, Pedro de la Paz, the gallant Leyva, so celebrated in the subsequent wars of Charles V., the ambassador Rojas, the Quixotic Paredes, and others. The last of these adventurers, according to Mariana, endeavored to repair his broken fortunes by driving the trade of a corsair in the Levant. Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 4.

[36] If any one would see a perfect specimen of the triumph of style, let him compare the interminable prolixities of Zurita with Mariana, who, in this portion of his narrative, has embodied the facts and opinions of his predecessor, with scarcely any alteration, save that of greater condensation, in his own transparent and harmonious diction. It is quite as great a miracle in its way as the rifacimento of Berni.

CHAPTER XX.

FERDINAND’S RETURN AND REGENCY.—GONSALVO’S HONORS AND RETIREMENT.

1506-1509

Joanna’s Mad Conduct.—She Changes her Ministers.—Disorders in Castile.—

Ferdinand’s Politic Behavior.—He Leaves Naples.—His Brilliant Reception by Louis XII.—Honors to Gonsalvo.—Ferdinand’s Return to Castile.—His Excessive Severity.—Neglect of the Great Captain.—His Honorable Retirement.

While Ferdinand was thus occupied in Naples, the representatives of most of the cities, summoned by the provisional government, had assembled in Burgos. Before entering on business, they were desirous to obtain the queen’s sanction to their proceedings. A committee waited on her for that purpose, but she obstinately refused to give them audience. [1]

She still continued plunged in moody melancholy, exhibiting, however, occasionally the wildest freaks of insanity. Towards the latter end of December, she determined to leave Burgos, and remove her husband’s remains to their final resting-place in Granada. She insisted on seeing them herself, before her departure. The remonstrances of her counsellors, and the holy men of the monastery of Miraflores, proved equally fruitless.

Opposition only roused her passions into frenzy, and they were obliged to comply with her mad humors. The corpse was removed from the vault; the two coffins of lead and wood were opened, and such as chose gazed on the mouldering relics, which, notwithstanding their having been embalmed, exhibited scarcely a trace of humanity. The queen was not satisfied till she touched them with her own hand, which she did without shedding a tear, or testifying the least emotion. The unfortunate lady, indeed, was said never to have been seen to weep, since she detected her husband’s intrigue with the Flemish courtesan.

The body was then placed on a magnificent car, or hearse, drawn by four horses. It was accompanied by a long train of ecclesiastics and nobles, who, together with the queen, left the city on the night of the 20th of December. She made her journeys by night, saying, that “a widow, who had lost the sun of her own soul, should never expose herself to the light of day.” When she halted, the body was deposited in some church or monastery, where the funeral services were performed, as if her husband had just died; and a corps of armed men kept constant guard, chiefly, as it would seem, with the view of preventing any female from profaning the place by her presence. For Joanna still retained the same jealousy of her sex, which she had unhappily so much cause to feel during Philip’s lifetime.

[2]

In a subsequent journey, when at a short distance from Torquemada, she ordered the corpse to be carried into the court-yard of a convent, occupied, as she supposed, by monks. She was filled with horror, however, on finding it a nunnery, and immediately commanded the body to be removed into the open fields. Here she encamped with her whole party at dead of night; not, however, until she had caused the coffins to be unsealed, that she might satisfy herself of the safety of her husband’s relics; although it was very difficult to keep the torches, during the time, from being extinguished by the violence of the wind, and leaving the company in total darkness. [3]

These mad pranks, savoring of absolute idiocy, were occasionally checkered by other acts of more intelligence, but not less startling. She had early shown a disgust to her father’s old counsellors, and especially to Ximenes, who, she thought, interfered too authoritatively in her domestic concerns. Before leaving Burgos, however, she electrified her husband’s adherents, by revoking all grants made by the crown since Isabella’s death. This, almost the only act she was ever known to sign, was a severe blow to the courtly tribe of sycophants, on whom the golden favors of the late reign had been so prodigally showered. At the same time she reformed her privy council, by dismissing the present members, and reinstating those appointed by her royal mother, sarcastically telling one of the ejected counsellors, that, “he might go and complete his studies at Salamanca.” The remark had a biting edge to it, as the worthy jurist was reputed somewhat low in his scholarship. [4]

These partial gleams of intelligence, directed in this peculiar way too, led many to discern the secret influence of her father. She still, however, pertinaciously refused to sanction any measures of cortes for his recall; and, when pressed by that body on this and other matters, at an audience which she granted before leaving Burgos, she plainly told them “to return to their quarters, and not to meddle further in the public business without her express commands.” Not long after this, the legislature was prorogued by the royal council for four months.

The term assigned for the provisional government expired in December, and was not renewed. No other regency was appointed by the nobles; and the kingdom, without even the shadow of protection afforded by its cortes, and with no other guide but its crazy sovereign, was left to drift at random amidst the winds and waves of faction. This was not slow in brewing in every quarter, with the aid especially of the overgrown nobles, whose license, on such occasions as this, proved too plainly, that public tranquillity was not founded so much on the stability of law, as on the personal character of the reigning sovereign. [5]

The king’s enemies, in the mean time, were pressing their correspondence with the emperor Maximilian, and urging his immediate presence in Spain.

Others devised schemes for marrying the poor queen to the young duke of Calabria, or some other prince, whose years or incapacity might enable them to act over again the farce of King Philip. To add to the troubles occasioned by this mesh of intrigue and faction, the country, which of late years had suffered from scarcity, was visited by a pestilence, that fell most heavily on the south. In Seville alone, Bernaldez reports the incredible number of thirty thousand persons to have fallen victims to it.

[6]

But, although the storm was thus darkening from every quarter, there was no general explosion, to shake the state to its foundations, as in the time of Henry the Fourth. Orderly habits, if not principles, had been gradually formed. under the long reign of Isabella. The great mass of the people had learned to respect the operation, and appreciate the benefits of law; and notwithstanding the menacing attitude, the bustle, and transitory ebullitions of the rival factions, there seemed a manifest reluctance to break up the established order of things, and, by deeds of violence and bloodshed, to renew the days of ancient anarchy.

Much of this good result was undoubtedly to be attributed to the vigorous counsels and conduct of Ximenes, [7] who, together with the grand constable and the duke of Alva, had received full powers from Ferdinand to act in his name. Much is also to be ascribed to the politic conduct of the king. Far from an intemperate zeal to resume the sceptre of Castile, he had shown throughout a discreet forbearance. He used the most courteous and condescending style, in his communications to the nobles and the municipalities, expressing his entire confidence in their patriotism, and their loyalty to the queen, his daughter. Through the archbishop, and other important agents, he had taken effectual measures to soften the opposition of the more considerable lords; until, at length, not only such accommodating statesmen as Garcilasso de la Vega, but more sturdy opponents, as Villena, Benavente, and Bejar, were brought to give in their adhesion to their old master. Liberal promises, indeed, had been made by the emperor, in the name of his grandson Charles, who had already been made to assume the title of King of Castile. But the promises of the imperial braggart passed lightly with the more considerate Castilians, who knew how far they usually outstripped his performance, and who felt, on the other hand, that their true interests were connected with those of a prince, whose superior talents and personal relations all concurred to recommend him to the seat, which he had once so honorably occupied. The great mass of the common people, too, notwithstanding the temporary alienation of their feelings from the Catholic king by his recent marriage, were driven by the evils they actually suffered, and the vague apprehension of greater, to participate in the same sentiments; so that, in less than eight months from Philip’s death, the whole nation may be said to have returned to its allegiance to its ancient sovereign. The only considerable exceptions were Don Juan Manuel and the duke of Najara. The former had gone too far to recede, and the latter possessed too chivalrous, or too stubborn, a temper to do so. [8]

At length, the Catholic monarch, having completed his arrangements at Naples, and waited until the affairs of Castile were fully ripe for his return, set sail from his Italian capital, June 4th, 1507. He proposed to touch at the Genoese port of Savona, where an interview had been arranged between him and Louis the Twelfth. During his residence in Naples, he had assiduously devoted himself to the affairs of the kingdom. He had avoided entering into the local politics of Italy, refusing all treaties and alliances proposed to him by its various states, whether offensive or defensive. He had evaded the importunate solicitations and remonstrances of Maximilian in regard to the Castilian regency, and had declined, moreover, a personal conference proposed to him by the emperor, during his stay in Italy. After the great work of restoring the Angevins to their estates, he had thoroughly reorganized the interior administration of the kingdom; creating new offices, and entirely new departments. He made large reforms, moreover, in the courts of law, and prepared the way for the new system, demanded by its relations as a dependency of the Spanish monarchy.

Lastly, before leaving the city, he acceded to the request of the inhabitants for the re-establishment of their ancient university. [9]

In all these sagacious measures, he had been ably assisted by his viceroy, Gonsalvo de Cordova. Ferdinand’s deportment towards the latter had been studied, as I have said, to efface every uncomfortable impression from his mind. On his first arrival, indeed, the king had condescended to listen to complaints, made by certain officers of the exchequer, of Gonsalvo’s waste and misapplication of the public moneys. The general simply asked leave to produce his own accounts in his defence. The first item, which he read aloud, was two hundred thousand seven hundred and thirty-six ducats, given in alms to the monasteries and the poor, to secure their prayers for the success of the king’s enterprise. The second was seven hundred thousand four hundred and ninety-four ducats to the spies employed in his service.

Other charges equally preposterous followed; while some of the audience stared incredulous, others laughed, and the king himself, ashamed of the paltry part he was playing, dismissed the whole affair as a jest. The common saying of cuentas del Gran Capitan, at this day, attests at least the popular faith in the anecdote. [10]

From this moment, Ferdinand continued to show Gonsalvo unbounded marks of confidence; advising with him on all important matters, and making him the only channel of royal favor. He again renewed, in the most emphatic manner, his promise to resign the grand-mastership of St. Jago in his favor, on their return to Spain, and made formal application to the pope to confirm it. [11] In addition to the princely honors already conferred on the Great Captain, he granted him the noble duchy of Sessa, by an instrument, which, after a pompous recapitulation of his stately titles and manifold services, [12] declares that these latter were too great for recompense. Unfortunately for both king and subject, this was too true.

[13]

Gonsalvo remained a day or two behind his royal master in Naples, to settle his private affairs. In addition to the heavy debts incurred by his own generous style of living, he had assumed those of many of his old companions in arms, with whom the world had gone less prosperously than with himself. The claims of his creditors, therefore, had swollen to such an amount, that, in order to satisfy them fully, he was driven to sacrifice part of the domains lately granted him. Having discharged all the obligations of a man of honor, he prepared to quit the land, over which he had ruled with so much splendor and renown for nearly four years.

The Neapolitans in a body followed him to the vessel; and nobles, cavaliers, and even ladies of the highest rank lingered on the shore to bid him a last adieu. Not a dry eye, says the historian, was to be seen.

So completely had he dazzled their imaginations, and captivated their hearts, by his brilliant and popular manners, his munificent spirit, and the equity of his administration,—qualities more useful, and probably more rare in those turbulent times, than military talent. He was succeeded in the office of grand constable of the kingdom by Prospero Colonna, and in that of viceroy by the count of Ribagorza, Ferdinand’s nephew. [14]

On the 28th of June, the royal fleet of Aragon entered the little port of Savona, where the king of France had already been waiting for it several days. The French navy was ordered out to receive the Catholic monarch, and the vessels on either side, gayly decorated with the national flags and ensigns, rivalled each other in the beauty and magnificence of their equipments. King Ferdinand’s galleys were spread with rich carpets and awnings of yellow and scarlet, and every sailor in the fleet exhibited the same gaudy-colored livery of the royal house of Aragon. Louis the Twelfth came to welcome his illustrious guests, attended by a gallant train of his nobility and chivalry; and, in order to reciprocate, as far as possible, the confidence reposed in him by the monarch with whom he had been so recently at deadly feud, immediately went on board the vessel of the latter. [15] Horses and mules richly caparisoned awaited them at the landing. The French king, mounting his steed, gallantly placed the young queen of Aragon behind him. His cavaliers did the same with the ladies of her suite, most of them French women, though attired, as an old chronicler of the nation rather peevishly complains, after the Spanish fashion; and the whole party, with the ladies en croupe, galloped off to the royal quarters in Savona. [16]

Blithe and jocund were the revels, which rung through the halls of this fair city, during the brief residence of its royal visitors. Abundance of good cheer had been provided by Louis’s orders, writes an old cavalier, [17] who was there to profit by it; and the larders of Savona were filled with the choicest game, and its cellars well stored with the delicious wines of Corsica, Languedoc, and Provence. Among the followers of Louis were the marquis of Mantua, the brave La Palice, the veteran D’Aubigny, and many others of renown, who had so lately measured swords with the Spaniards on the fields of Italy, and who now vied with each other in rendering them these more grateful, and no less honorable, offices of chivalry. [18]

As the gallant D’Aubigny was confined to his apartment by the gout, Ferdinand, who had always held his talents and conduct in high esteem, complimented him by a visit in person. But no one excited such general interest and attention as Gonsalvo de Cordova, who was emphatically the hero of the day. At least, such is the testimony of Guicciardini, who will not be suspected of undue partiality. Many a Frenchman there had had bitter experience of his military prowess. Many others had grown familiar with his exploits in the exaggerated reports of their country-men. They had been taught to regard him with mingled feelings of fear and hatred, and could scarcely credit their senses, as they beheld the bugbear of their imaginations distinguished above all others for “the majesty of his presence, the polished elegance of his discourse, and manners in which dignity was blended with grace.” [19]

But none were so open in their admiration as King Louis. At his request, Gonsalvo was admitted to sup at the same table with the Aragonese sovereigns and himself. During the repast he surveyed his illustrious guest with the deepest interest, asking him various particulars respecting those memorable campaigns, which had proved so fatal to France. To all these the Great Captain responded with becoming gravity, says the chronicler; and the French monarch testified his satisfaction, at parting, by taking a massive chain of exquisite workmanship from his own neck, and throwing it round Gonsalvo’s. The historians of the event appear to be entirely overwhelmed with the magnitude of the honor conferred on the Great Captain, by thus admitting him to the same table with three crowned heads; and Guicciardini does not hesitate to pronounce it a more glorious epoch in his life than even that of his triumphal entry into the capital of Naples. [20]

During this interview, the monarchs held repeated conferences, at which none were present but the papal envoy, and Louis’s favorite minister, D’Amboise. The subject of discussion can only be conjectured by the subsequent proceedings, which make it probable that it related to Italy; and that it was in this season of idle dalliance and festivity, that the two princes, who held the destinies of that country in their hands, matured the famous league of Cambray, so disastrous to Venice, and reflecting little credit on its projectors, either on the score of good faith or sound policy. But to this we shall have occasion to return hereafter. [21]

At length, after enjoying for four days the splendid hospitality of their royal entertainer, the king and queen of Aragon re-embarked, and reached their own port of Valencia, after various detentions, on the 20th of July, 1507. Ferdinand, having rested a short time in his beautiful capital, pressed forward to Castile, where his presence was eagerly expected. On the borders, he was met by the dukes of Albuquerque and Medina Celi, his faithful follower the count of Cifuentes, and many other nobles and cavaliers. He was soon after joined by deputies from many of the principal cities in the kingdom, and, thus escorted, made his entry into it by the way of Monteagudo, on the 21st of August. How different from the forlorn and outcast condition, in which he had quitted the country a short year before! He intimated the change in his own circumstances, by the greater state and show of authority which he now assumed. The residue of the old Italian army, just arrived under the celebrated Pedro Navarro, count of Oliveto, [22] preceded him on the march; and he was personally attended by his alcaldes, alguazils, and kings-at-arms, with all the appropriate insignia of royal supremacy. [23] At Tortoles he was met by the queen, his daughter, accompanied by Archbishop Ximenes. The interview between them had more of pain than pleasure in it. The king was greatly shocked by Joanna’s appearance; for her wild and haggard features, emaciated figure, and the mean, squalid attire in which she was dressed, made it difficult to recognize any trace of the daughter, from whom he had been so long separated. She discovered more sensibility on seeing him, than she had shown since her husband’s death, and henceforth resigned herself to her father’s will with little opposition. She was soon after induced by him to change her unsuitable residence for more commodious quarters at Tordesillas. Her husband’s remains were laid in the monastery of Santa Clara, adjoining the palace, from whose windows she could behold his sepulchre. From this period, although she survived forty-seven years, she never quitted the walls of her habitation. And, although her name appeared jointly with that of her son, Charles the Fifth, in all public acts, she never afterwards could be induced to sign a paper, or take part in any transactions of a public nature. She lingered out a half century of dreary existence, as completely dead to the world, as the remains which slept in the monastery of Santa Clara beside her. [24]

From this time the Catholic king exercised an authority nearly as undisputed, and far less limited and defined than in the days of Isabella.

So firm did he feel in his seat, indeed, that he omitted to obtain the constitutional warrant of cortes. He had greatly desired this at the late irregular meeting of that body. But it broke up, as we have seen, without effecting anything; and, indeed, the disaffection of Burgos and some other principal cities at that time, must have made the success of such an application very doubtful. But the general cordiality, with which Ferdinand was greeted, gave no ground for apprehending such a result at present.

Many, indeed, of his partisans objected to any intervention of the legislature in this matter, as superfluous; alleging that he held the regency as natural guardian of his daughter, nominated, moreover, by the queen’s will, and confirmed by the cortes at Toro. These rights, they argued, were not disturbed by his resignation, which was a compulsory act, and had never received any express legislative sanction; and which, in any event, must be considered as intended only for Philip’s lifetime, and to be necessarily determined with that.

But, however plausible these views, the irregularity of Ferdinand’s proceedings furnished an argument for disobedience on the part of discontented nobles, who maintained, that they knew no supreme authority but that of their queen, Joanna, till some other had been sanctioned by the legislature. The whole affair was finally settled, with more attention to constitutional forms, in the cortes held at Madrid, October 6th, 1510, when the king took the regular oaths as administrator of the realm in his daughter’s name, and as guardian of her son. [25]

Ferdinand’s deportment, on his first return, was distinguished by a most gracious clemency, evinced not so much, indeed, by any excessive remuneration of services, as by the politic oblivion of injuries. If he ever alluded to these, it was in a sportive way, implying that there was no rancor or ill-will at heart. “Who would have thought,” he exclaimed one day to a courtier near him, “that you could so easily abandon your old master, for one so young and inexperienced?” “Who would have thought,”

replied the other with equal bluntness, “that my old master would have outlived my young one?” [26]

With all this complaisance, however, the king did not neglect precautions for placing his authority on a sure basis, and fencing it round so as to screen it effectually from the insults to which it had been formerly exposed. He retained in pay most of the old Italian levies, with the ostensible purpose of an African expedition. He took good care that the military orders should hold their troops in constant readiness, and that the militia of the kingdom should be in condition for instant service. He formed a body-guard to attend the royal person on all occasions. It consisted at first of only two hundred men, armed and drilled after the fashion of the Swiss ordonnance, and placed under the command of his chronicler, Ayora, an experienced martinet, who made some figure at the defence of Salsas. This institution probably was immediately suggested by the garde du corps of Louis the Twelfth, at Savona, which, altogether on a more formidable scale, indeed, had excited his admiration by the magnificence of its appointments and its thorough discipline. [27]

Notwithstanding the king’s general popularity, there were still a few considerable persons, who regarded his resumption of authority with an evil eye. Of these Don Juan Manuel had fled the kingdom before his approach, and taken refuge at the court of Maximilian, where the counsellors of that monarch took good care that he should not acquire the ascendency he had obtained over Philip. The duke of Najara, however, still remained in Castile, shutting himself up in his fortresses, and refusing all compromise or obedience. The king without hesitation commanded Navarro to march against him with his whole force. Najara was persuaded by his friends to tender his submission, without waiting the encounter; and he surrendered his strong-holds to the king, who, after detaining them some time in his keeping, delivered them over to the duke’s eldest son. [28]

With another offender he dealt more sternly. This was Don Pedro de Cordova, marquis of Priego, who, the reader may remember, when quite a boy, narrowly escaped the bloody fate of his father, Alonso de Aguilar, in the fatal slaughter of the Sierra Vermeja. This nobleman, in common with some other Andalusian lords, had taken umbrage at the little estimation and favor shown them, as they conceived, by Ferdinand, in comparison with the nobles of the north; and his temerity went so far, as not only to obstruct the proceedings of one of the royal officers, sent to Cordova to inquire into recent disturbances there, but to imprison him in the dungeons of his castle of Montilla.

This outrage on the person of his own servant exasperated the king beyond all bounds. He resolved at once to make such an example of the offender, as should strike terror into the disaffected nobles, and shield the royal authority from the repetition of similar indignities. As the marquis was one of the most potent and extensively allied grandees in the kingdom, Ferdinand made his preparations on a formidable scale, ordering, in addition to the regular troops, a levy of all between the ages of twenty and seventy throughout Andalusia. Priego’s friends, alarmed at these signs of the gathering tempest, besought him to avert it, if possible, by instant concession; and his uncle, the Great Captain, urged this most emphatically, as the only way of escaping utter ruin.

The rash young man, finding himself likely to receive no support in the unequal contest, accepted the counsel, and hastened to Toledo, to throw himself at the king’s feet. The indignant monarch, however, would not admit him into his presence, but ordered him to deliver up his fortresses, and to remove to the distance of five leagues from the court. The Great Captain soon after sent the king an inventory of his nephew’s castles and estates, at the same time deprecating his wrath, in consideration of the youth and inexperience of the offender.

Ferdinand, however, without heeding this, went on with his preparations, and, having completed them, advanced rapidly to the south. When arrived at Cordova, he ordered the imprisonment of the marquis. A formal process was then instituted against him before the royal council, on the charge of high treason. He made no defence, but threw himself on the mercy of his sovereign. The court declared, that he had incurred the penalty of death, but that the king, in consideration of his submission, was graciously pleased to commute this for a fine of twenty millions of maravedies, perpetual banishment from Cordova and its district, and the delivery of his fortresses into the royal keeping, with the entire demolition of the offending castle of Montilla. This last, famous as the birth-place of the Great Captain, was one of the strongest and most beautiful buildings in all Andalusia. [29] Sentence of death was at the same time pronounced against several cavaliers, and other inferior persons concerned in the affair, and was immediately executed.

The Castilian aristocracy, alarmed and disgusted by the severity of a sentence, which struck down one of the most considerable of their order, were open in their remonstrances to the king, beseeching him, if no other consideration moved him in favor of the young nobleman, to grant something to the distinguished services of his father and his uncle. The latter, as well as the grand constable, Velasco, who enjoyed the highest consideration at court, were equally pressing in their solicitations.

Ferdinand, however, was inexorable; and the sentence was executed. The nobles chafed in vain; although the constable expostulated with the king in a tone, which no subject in Europe but a Castilian grandee would have ventured to assume. Gonsalvo coolly remarked, “It was crime enough in Don Pedro to be related to me.” [30]

This illustrious man had had good reason to feel, before this, that his credit at court was on the wane. On his return to Spain, he was received with unbounded enthusiasm by the nation. He was detained by illness a few days behind the court, and his journey towards Burgos to rejoin it, on his recovery, was a triumphal procession the whole way. The roads were thronged with multitudes so numerous, that accommodations could scarcely be found for them in the towns on the route. [31] For they came from the remotest parts of the country, all eager to catch a glimpse of the hero, whose name and exploits, the theme of story and of song, were familiar to the meanest peasant in Castile. In this way he made his entry into Burgos, amid the cheering acclamations of the people, and attended by a cortege of officers, who pompously displayed on their own persons, and the caparisons of their steeds, the rich spoils of Italian conquests.

The old count of Urena, his friend, who, with the whole court, came out by Ferdinand’s orders to receive him, exclaimed with a prophetic sigh, as he saw the splendid pageant come sweeping by, “This gallant ship, I fear, will require deeper water to ride in than she will find in Castile!” [32]

Ferdinand showed his usual gracious manners in his reception of Gonsalvo.

It was not long, however, before the latter found that this was all he was to expect. No allusion was made to the grand-mastership. When it was at length brought before the king, and he was reminded of his promises, he contrived to defer their performance under various pretexts; until, at length, it became too apparent, that it was his intention to evade them altogether.

While the Great Captain and his friends were filled with an indignation, at this duplicity, which they could ill suppress, a circumstance occurred to increase the coldness arising in Ferdinand’s mind towards his injured subject. This was the proposed marriage (a marriage which, from whatever cause, never took place [33]) of Gonsalvo’s daughter Elvira, to his friend the constable of Castile. [34] Ferdinand had designed to secure her large inheritance to his own family, by an alliance with his grandson, Juan de Aragon, son of the archbishop of Saragossa. His displeasure, at finding himself crossed in this, was further sharpened by the petulant spirit of his young queen. The constable, now a widower, had been formerly married to a natural daughter of Ferdinand. Queen Germaine, adverting to his intended union with the lady Elvira, unceremoniously asked him, “If he did not feel it a degradation to accept the hand of a subject, after having wedded the daughter of a king?” “How can I feel it so,” he replied, alluding to the king’s marriage with her, “when so illustrious an example has been set me!” Germaine, who certainly could not boast the magnanimity of her predecessor, was so stung with the retort, that she not only never forgave the constable, but extended her petty resentment to Gonsalvo, who saw the duke of Alva from this time installed in the honors he had before exclusively enjoyed, of immediate attendance on her royal person whenever she appeared in public. [35]

However indifferent Gonsalvo may have been to the little mortifications inflicted by female spleen, he could no longer endure his residence at a court, where he had lost all consideration with the sovereign, and experienced nothing but duplicity and base ingratitude. He obtained leave, without difficulty, to withdraw to his own estates; where, not long after, the king, as if to make some amends for the gross violation of his promises, granted him the royal city of Loja, not many leagues from Granada. It was given to him for life, and Ferdinand had the effrontery to propose, as a condition of making the grant perpetual to his heirs, that Gonsalvo should relinquish his claim to the grandmastership of St. Jago.

But the latter haughtily answered, “He would not give up the right of complaining of the injustice done him, for the finest city in the king’s dominions.” [36]

From this time he remained on his estates in the south, chiefly at Loja, with an occasional residence in Granada, where he enjoyed the society of his old friend and military instructor, the count of Tendilla. He found abundant occupation in schemes for improving the condition of his tenantry, and of the neighboring districts. He took great interest in the fate of the unfortunate Moriscoes, numerous in this quarter, whom he shielded as far as possible from the merciless grasp of the Inquisition, while he supplied teachers and other enlightened means for converting them, or confirming them in a pure faith. He displayed the same magnificence and profuse hospitality in his living that he had always done. His house was visited by such intelligent foreigners as came to Spain, and by the most distinguished of his countrymen, especially the younger nobility and cavaliers, who resorted to it, as the best school of high-bred and knightly courtesy, He showed a lively curiosity in all that was going on abroad, keeping up his information by an extensive correspondence with agents, whom he regularly employed for the purpose in the principal European courts. When the league of Cambray was adjusted, the king of France and the pope were desirous of giving him the command of the allied armies. But Ferdinand had injured him too sensibly, to care to see him again at the head of a military force in Italy. He was as little desirous of employing him in public affairs at home, and suffered the remainder of his days to pass away in distant seclusion; a seclusion, however, not unpleasing to himself, nor unprofitable to others. [37] The world called it disgrace; and the old count of Urena exclaimed, “The good ship is stranded at last, as I predicted!” “Not so,” said Gonsalvo, to whom the observation was reported; “she is still in excellent trim, and waits only the rising of the tide, to bear away as bravely as ever.” [38]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib, 29, cap. 2.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 29.

[2] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 324, 332, 339, 363.—Mariana, Hist.

de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 3.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1506.—

Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 206.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap.

17.

“Childish as was the affection,” says Dr. Dunham, “of Joanna for her husband, she did not, as Robertson relates, cause the body to be removed from the sepulchre after it was buried, and brought to her apartment. She once visited the sepulchre, and, after affectionately gazing on the corpse, was persuaded to retire. Robertson seems not to have read, at least not with care, the authorities for the reign of Fernando.” (History of Spain and Portugal, vol. ii. p. 287, note.) Whoever will take the trouble to examine these authorities, will probably not find Dr. Dunham much more accurate in the matter than his predecessor. Robertson, indeed, draws largely from the Epistles of Peter Martyr, the best voucher for this period, which his critic apparently has not consulted. In the very page preceding that in which he thus taxes Robertson with inaccuracy, we find him speaking of Charles VIII. as the reigning monarch of France; an error not merely clerical, since it is repeated no less than three times. Such mistakes would be too trivial for notice in any but an author, who has made similar ones the ground for unsparing condemnation of others.

[3] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 339.

A foolish Carthusian monk, “laevi sicco folio levior,” to borrow Martyr’s words, though more knave than fool probably, filled Joanna with absurd hopes of her husband’s returning to life, which, he assured her, had happened, as he had read, to a certain prince, after he had been dead fourteen years. As Philip was disembowelled, he was hardly in a condition for such an auspicious event. The queen, however, seems to have been caught with the idea. (Opus Epist., epist. 328.) Martyr loses all patience at the inventions of this “blactero cucullatus,” as he calls him in his abominable Latin, as well as at the mad pranks of the queen, and the ridiculous figure which he and the other grave personages of the court were compelled to make on the occasion. It is impossible to read his Jeremiads on the subject without a smile. See, in particular, his whimsical epistle to his old friend, the archbishop of Granada. Opus Epist., epist. 333.

[4] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 3.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 26, 38, 54.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 72.—

Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 11.

[5] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 16.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 346.—Zurita, Anales, lib. 7, cap. 36-38.—Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, ano 1507.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 206.

The duke of Medina Sidonia, son of the nobleman who bore so honorable a part in the Granadine war, mustered a large force by land and sea for the recovery of his ancient patrimony of Gibraltar.—Isabella’s high-spirited friend, the marchioness of Moya, put herself at the head of a body of troops with better success, during her husband’s illness, and re-established herself in the strong fortress of Segovia, which Philip had transferred to Manuel. (Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 343.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 207.) “No one lamented the circumstance,” says Oviedo. The marchioness closed her life not long after this, at about sixty years of age. Her husband, though much older, survived her.

Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 1, dial. 23.

[6] Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 208.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 71.—

Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 2.

The worthy Curate of Los Palacios does not vouch for this exact amount from his own knowledge. He states, however, that 170 died, out of his own little parish of 500 persons, and he narrowly escaped with life himself, after a severe attack. Ubi supra.

[7] Ximenes equipped and paid out of his own funds a strong corps, for the ostensible purpose of protecting the queen’s person, but quite as much to enforce order by checking the turbulent spirit of the grandees; a stretch of authority, which this haughty body could ill brook. (Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17.) Zurita, indeed, who thinks the archbishop had a strong relish for sovereign power, accuses him of being “at heart much more of a king than a friar.” (Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 29.) Gomez, on the contrary, traces every political act of his to the purest patriotism. (De Rebus Gestis, fol. 70, et alib.) In the mixed motives of action, Ximenes might probably have been puzzled himself, to determine how much belonged to the one principle, and how much to the other.

[8] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 351.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 21.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 19, 22, 25, 30, 39.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv.

76, ed Milano, 1803.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 12.

[9] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1-5.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.

—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 129.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 210.

—Signorelli, Coltura nelle Sicilie, tom. iv. p. 84.

The learned Neapolitan civilian, Giannone, bears emphatic testimony to the general excellence of the Spanish legislation for Naples. Ubi supra.

[10] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 102.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3.

[11] Machiavelli expresses his astonishment, that Gonsalvo should have been the dupe of promises, the very magnitude of which made them suspicious. “Ho sentito ragionare di questo accordo fra Consalvo e il Re, e maravigliarsi ciascuno che Consalvo se ne fidi; e quanto qual Re e stato piu liberale verso di lui, tanto piu, ne insospettisce la brigata,
pensando che il Re abbi fatto per assicurarlo, e per poterne meglio disporre sotto questa sicurta.” (Legazione Seconda a Roma, let. 23, Oct.

6.) But what alternative had he, unless indeed that of open rebellion, for which he seems to have had no relish? And, if he had, it was too late after Ferdinand was in Naples.

[12] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 3.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 7, cap. 6, 49.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 279.

“Vos el ilustre Don Gonzalo Hernandez de Cordoba,” begins the instrument, “Duque de Terra Nova, Marques de Santangelo y Vitonto, y mi Condestable del reyno de Napoles, nuestro muy charo y muy amado primo, y uno del nuestro secreto Consejo,” etc. (See the document, apud Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. Apend. no. 1.) The revenues from his various estates amounted to 40,000 ducats. Zurita speaks of another instrument, a public manifesto of the Catholic king, proclaiming to the world his sense of his general’s exalted services and unimpeachable loyalty. (Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 8, cap. 3.) This sort of testimony seems to contain an implication not very flattering, and on the whole is so improbable, that I cannot but think the Aragonese historian has confounded it with the grant of Sessa, bearing precisely the same date, February 25th, and containing also, though incidentally, and as a thing of course, the most ample tribute to the Great Captain.—Comp. also Pulgar, Sum., p. 138.

[13] Tacitus may explain why. “Beneficia eo usque laeta sunt, dum videntur exsolvi posse; ubi multum antevenere, pro gratia odium redditur.”

(Annales, lib. 4. sec. 18.) “Il n’est pas si dangereux,” says Rochefoucault, in a more caustic vein, “de faire du mal a la plupart des hommes, que de leur faire trop de bien.”

[14] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 280, 281.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 20, cap. 9.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.—

Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap 5.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 72.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 4.

[15] “Spettacolo certamente memorabile, vedere insieme due Re potentissimi tra tutti i Principi Cristiani, stati poco innanzi si acerbissimi inimici, non solo riconciliati, e congiunti di parentado, ma deposti i segni dell’

odio, e della memoria delle offese, commettere ciascuno di loro la vita propria in arbitrio dell’ altro con non minore confidenza, che se sempre fossero stati concordissimi fratelli.” (Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p.

75.) This astonishment of the Italian is an indifferent tribute to the habitual good faith of the times.

[16] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 3, chap. 38.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 132.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII, p. 204.

Germaine appears to have been no great favorite with the French chroniclers. “Et y estoit sa femme Germaine de Fouez, qui tenoit une marveilleuse audace. Elle fist peu de compte de tous les Francois, mesmement de son frere, le gentil duc de Nemours.” (Memoires de Bayard, chap. 27, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xv.) See also Fleurange, (Memoires, chap. 19, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xvi.) who notices the same arrogant bearing.

[17] For fighting, and feasting, and all the generous pastimes of chivalry, none of the old French chroniclers of this time rivals D’Auton.

He is the very Froissart of the sixteenth century. A part of his works still remains in manuscript. That which is printed retains the same form, I believe, in which it was given to the public by Godefroy, in the beginning of the seventeenth century; while many an inferior chronicler and memoirmonger has been published and republished, with all the lights of editorial erudition.

[18] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 3, chap. 38.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., ubi supra.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, lib. 7.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 201.

[19] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. pp. 76, 77.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, p. 282.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 4.

“Ma non dava minore materia ai ragionamenti il Gran Capitano, al quale non erano meno volti gli occhi degli uomini per la fama del suo valore, e per la memoria di tante vittorie, la quale faceva, che i Franzesi, ancora che vinti tante volte di lui, e che solevano avere in sommo odio, e orrore il suo nome, non si saziassero di contemplarlo e onorarlo. ***** E accresceva l’ammirazione degli uomini la maesta eccellente della presenza sua, la magnificenza delle parole, i gesti, e la maniera piena di gravita condita di grazia: ma sopra tutti il Re di Francia,” etc. Guicciardini, ubi supra.

[20] Brantome, Vies des Hommes Illustres, disc. 6.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 4.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. pp. 77, 78.—

D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., ubi supra.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. p. 319.—Memoires de Bayard, chap. 27, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xv.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 210.—

Pulgar, Sumario, p. 195.

[21] D’Auton, Hist. de Louys XII., part. 3, chap. 38.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 133.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 36.

[22] King Ferdinand had granted him the title and territory of Oliveto in the kingdom of Naples, in recompense for his eminent services in the Italian wars. Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. p. 178.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 190.

[23] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 210.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 8, cap. 4, 7.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 358.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 74.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.

[24] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 75.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

363.—Zurita, Anales, lib. 8, cap. 49.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 13.

Philip’s remains were afterwards removed to the cathedral church of Granada; where they were deposited, together with those of his wife Joanna, in a magnificent sepulchre erected by Charles V., near that of Ferdinand and Isabella. Pedraza, Antiguedad de Granada, lib. 3, cap. 7.—

Colmenar, Delices de l’Espagne et du Portugal, (Leide, 1715,) tom. iii. p.

490.

[25] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 26, 34; lib. 9, cap. 20.

See the bold language of the protest of the marquis of Priego, against this assumption of the regency by the Catholic king. “En caso tan grande,”

he says, “que se trata de gobernacion de grandes reinos e senorios justa e razonable cosa fuera, e seria que fueramos llamados e certificados de ello, porque yo e los otros caballeros grandes e las ciudades e alcaldes mayores vieramos lo que debiamos hacer e consentir como vasallos e leales servidores de la reina nuestra senora, porque la administration e gobernacion destos reinos se diera e concediera a quien las leyes destos reynos mandan que se den e encomienden en caso,” etc. (MS. de la Biblioteca de la Real Acad. de Hist., apud Marina, Teoria, tom. ii. part.

2, cap. 18.) Marina, however, is not justified in regarding Ferdinand’s subsequent convocation of cortes for this purpose, as a concession to the demands of the nation. (Teoria, ubi supra.) It was the result of the treaty of Blois, with Maximilian, guaranteed by Louis XII., the object of which was to secure the succession to the archduke Charles. Zurita, Anales, lib. 8, cap. 47.

[26] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 282.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 4.

[27] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 8, cap. 10.—MSS. de Torres y de Oviedo, apud Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 6.—D’Auton, Hist.

de Louys XII., part. 3, chap. 38.

The Catholic king was very minute in his inquiries, according to Auton, “du faict et de l’estat des gardes du Roy, et de ses Gentilshommes, qu’il reputoit a grande chose, et triomphale ordonnance.” Ubi supra.

[28] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 210.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 363.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 75.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 8, cap. 15.

[29] “Montiliana,” writes Peter Martyr, “illa atria, quae vidisti aliquando, multo auro, multoque ebore compta ornataque, proh dolor!

funditus dirui sunt jussa.” (Opus Epist., epist. 405.) He was well acquainted with the lordly halls of Montilla, for he had been preceptor to their young master, who was a favorite pupil, to judge from the bitter wailings of the kind-hearted pedagogue over his fate. See epist. 404, 405.

[30] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 215.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 392, 393, 405.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 284.—

Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 8, cap. 20, 21, 22.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1507.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 20, cap. 10.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 6.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i.

13.

[31] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p, 282.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 197.

[32] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 210.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, ubi supra.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 5.

[33] Quintana errs in stating that Dona Elvira married the constable.

(Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. p. 321.) He had two wives, Dona Blanca de Herrera, and Dona Juana de Aragon, and at his death was laid by their side in the church of Santa Clara de Medina del Pomar. (Salazar de Mendoza, Dignidades, lib. 3, cap. 21.) Elvira married the count of Cabra. Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 42.

[34] Bernardino de Velasco, grand constable of Castile, as he was called, par excellence, succeeded in 1492 to that dignity, which became hereditary in his family. He was third count of Haro, and was created by the Catholic sovereigns, for his distinguished services, duke of Frias. He had large estates, chiefly in Old Castile, with a yearly revenue, according to L. Marineo, of 60,000 ducats. He appears to have possessed many noble and brilliant qualities, accompanied, however, with a haughtiness, which made him feared, rather than loved. He died in February, 1512, after a few hours’ illness, as appears by a letter of Peter Martyr. Opus Epist., epist. 479.—Salazar de Mendoza, Dignidades, ubi supra.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 23.

[35] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, pp. 282, 283.

[36] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 284, 285.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 6.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 208.

[37] The inscription on Guicciardini’s monument might have been written on Gonsalvo’s.

“Cujus negotium, an otium gloriosius incertum.”

See Pignotti, Storia della Toscana, (Pisa, 1813,) tom. ix. p. 155.

[38] Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. pp. 322-334.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 286.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7-9.—

Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 560.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv.

pp. 77, 78.

CHAPTER XXI.

XIMENES.—CONQUESTS IN AFRICA—UNIVERSITY OF ALCALA.—POLYGLOT BIBLE.

1508-1510.

Enthusiasm of Ximenes.—His Warlike Preparations.—He Sends an Army to Africa.—Storms Oran.—His Triumphant Entry.—The King’s Distrust of Him.

—He Returns to Spain.—Navarro’s African Conquests.—Magnificent Endowments of Ximenes.—University of Alcala.—Complutensian Polyglot.

The high-handed measures of Ferdinand, in regard to the marquis of Priego and some other nobles, excited general disgust among the jealous aristocracy of Castile. But they appear to have found more favor with the commons, who were probably not unwilling to see that haughty body humbled, which had so often trampled on the rights of its inferiors. [1] As a matter of policy, however, even with the nobles, this course does not seem to have been miscalculated; since it showed, that the king, whose talents they had always respected, was now possessed of power to enforce obedience, and was fully resolved to exert it.

Indeed, notwithstanding a few deviations, it must be allowed that Ferdinand’s conduct on his return was extremely lenient and liberal; more especially, considering the subjects of provocation he had sustained, in the personal insults and desertion of those, on whom he had heaped so many favors. History affords few examples of similar moderation on the restoration of a banished prince, or party. In fact, a violent and tyrannical course would not have been agreeable to his character, in which passion, however strong by nature, was habitually subjected to reason. The present, as it would seem, excessive acts of severity are to be regarded, therefore, not as the sallies of personal resentment, but as the dictates of a calculating policy, intended to strike terror into the turbulent spirits, whom fear only could hold in check.

To this energetic course he was stimulated, as was said, by the counsels of Ximenes. This eminent prelate had now reached the highest ecclesiastical honors short of the papacy. Soon after Ferdinand’s restoration, he received a cardinal’s hat from Pope Julius the Second; [2]

and this was followed by his appointment to the office of inquisitor general of Castile, in the place of Deza, archbishop of Seville. The important functions devolved on him by these offices, in conjunction with the primacy of Spain, might be supposed to furnish abundant subject and scope for his aspiring spirit. But his views, on the contrary, expanded with every step of his elevation, and now fell little short of those of an independent monarch. His zeal glowed fiercer than ever for the propagation of the Catholic faith. Had he lived in the age of the crusades, he would indubitably have headed one of those expeditions himself; for the spirit of the soldier burned strong and bright under his monastic weeds. [3]

Indeed, like Columbus, he had formed plans for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, even at this late day. [4] But his zeal found a better direction in a crusade against the neighboring Moslems of Africa, who had retaliated the wrongs of Granada by repeated descents on the southern coasts of the Peninsula, calling in vain for the interference of government. At the instigation and with the aid of Ximenes, an expedition had been fitted out soon after Isabella’s death, which resulted in the capture of Mazarquivir, an important port, and formidable nest of pirates, on the Barbary coast, nearly opposite Carthagena. He now meditated a more difficult enterprise, the conquest of Oran. [5]

This place, situated about a league from the former, was one of the most considerable of the Moslem possessions in the Mediterranean, being a principal mart for the trade of the Levant. It contained about twenty thousand inhabitants, was strongly fortified, and had acquired a degree of opulence by its extensive commerce, which enabled it to maintain a swarm of cruisers, that swept this inland sea, and made fearful depredations on its populous borders. [6]

No sooner was Ferdinand quietly established again in the government, than Ximenes urged him to undertake this new conquest. The king saw its importance, but objected the want of funds. The cardinal, who was prepared for this, replied, that “he was ready to lend whatever sums were necessary, and to take sole charge of the expedition, leading it, if the king pleased, in person.” Ferdinand, who had no objection to this mode of making acquisitions, more especially as it would open a vent for the turbulent spirits of his subjects, readily acquiesced in the proposition.

The enterprise, however disproportionate it might seem to the resources of a private individual, was not beyond those of the cardinal. He had been carefully husbanding his revenues for some time past, with a view to this object; although he had occasionally broken in upon his appropriations, to redeem unfortunate Spaniards, who had been swept into slavery. He had obtained accurate surveys of the Barbary coast from an Italian engineer named Vianelli. He had advised, as to the best mode of conducting operations, with his friend Gonsalvo de Cordova, to whom, if it had been the king’s pleasure, he would gladly have intrusted the conduct of the expedition. At his suggestion, that post was now assigned to the celebrated engineer, Count Pedro Navarro. [7]

No time was lost in completing the requisite preparations. Besides the Italian veterans, levies were drawn from all quarters of the country, especially from the cardinal’s own diocese. The chapter of Toledo entered heartily into his views, furnishing liberal supplies, and offering to accompany the expedition in person. An ample train of ordnance was procured, with provisions and military stores for the maintenance of an army four months. Before the close of the spring, in 1509, all was in readiness, and a fleet of ten galleys and eighty smaller vessels rode in the harbor of Carthagena, having on board a force, amounting in all to four thousand horse and ten thousand foot. Such were the resources, activity, and energy, displayed by a man whose life, until within a very few years, had been spent in cloistered solitudes, and in the quiet practices of religion, and who now, oppressed with infirmities more than usual, had passed the seventieth year of his age.

In accomplishing all this, the cardinal had experienced greater obstacles than those arising from bodily infirmity or age. His plans had been constantly discouraged and thwarted by the nobles, who derided the idea of “a monk fighting the battles of Spain, while the Great Captain was left to stay at home, and count his beads like a hermit.” The soldiers, especially those of Italy, as well as their commander Navarro, trained under the banners of Gonsalvo, showed little inclination to serve under their spiritual leader. The king himself was cooled by these various manifestations of discontent. But the storm, which prostrates the weaker spirit, serves only to root the stronger more firmly in its purpose; and the genius of Ximenes, rising with the obstacles it had to encounter, finally succeeded in triumphing over all, in reconciling the king, disappointing the nobles, and restoring obedience and discipline to the army. [8]

On the 16th of May, 1509, the fleet weighed anchor, and on the following day reached the African port of Mazarquivir. No time was lost in disembarking; for the fires on the hill-tops showed that the country was already in alarm. It was proposed to direct the main attack against a lofty height, or ridge of land, rising between Mazarquivir and Oran, so near the latter as entirely to command it. At the same time, the fleet was to drop down before the Moorish city, and by opening a brisk cannonade, divert the attention of the inhabitants from the principal point of assault.

As soon as the Spanish army had landed, and formed in order of battle, Ximenes mounted his mule, and rode along the ranks. He was dressed in his pontifical robes, with a belted sword at his side. A Franciscan friar rode before him, bearing aloft the massive silver cross, the archiepiscopal standard of Toledo. Around him were other brethren of the order, wearing their monastic frocks, with scimitars hanging from their girdles. As the ghostly cavalcade advanced, they raised the triumphant hymn of Vexilla regis, until at length the cardinal, ascending a rising ground, imposed silence, and made a brief but animated harangue to his soldiers. He reminded them of the wrongs they had suffered from the Moslems, the devastation of their coasts, and their brethren dragged into merciless slavery. When he had sufficiently roused their resentment against the enemies of their country and religion, he stimulated their cupidity by dwelling on the golden spoil, which awaited them in the opulent city of Oran; and he concluded his discourse by declaring, that he had come to peril his own life in the good cause of the Cross, and to lead them on to battle, as his predecessors had often done before him. [9]

The venerable aspect and heart-stirring eloquence of the primate kindled a deep, reverential enthusiasm in the bosoms of his martial audience, which showed itself by the profoundest silence. The officers, however, closed around him at the conclusion of the address, and besought him not to expose his sacred person to the hazard of the fight; reminding him, that his presence would probably do more harm than good, by drawing off the attention of the men to his personal safety. This last consideration moved the cardinal, who, though reluctantly, consented to relinquish the command to Navarro, and, after uttering his parting benediction over the prostrate ranks, he withdrew to the neighboring fortress of Mazarquivir.

The day was now far spent, and dark clouds of the enemy were seen gathering along the tops of the sierra, which it was proposed first to attack. Navarro, seeing this post so strongly occupied, doubted whether his men would be able to carry it before nightfall, if indeed at all, without previous rest and refreshment, after the exhausting labors of the day. He returned, therefore, to Mazarquivir, to take counsel of Ximenes.

The latter, whom he found at his devotions, besought him “not to falter at this hour, but to go forward in God’s name, since both the blessed Saviour and the false prophet Mahomet conspired to deliver the enemy into his hands.” The soldier’s scruples vanished before the intrepid bearing of the prelate, and, returning to the army, he gave instant orders to advance.

[10]

Slowly and silently the Spanish troops began their ascent up the steep sides of the sierra, under the friendly cover of a thick mist, which, rolling heavily down the skirts of the hills, shielded them for a time from the eye of the enemy. As soon as they emerged from it, however, they were saluted with showers of balls, arrows, and other deadly missiles, followed by the desperate charges of the Moors, who, rushing down, endeavored to drive back the assailants. But they made no impression on the long pikes and deep ranks of the latter, which remained unshaken as a rock. Still the numbers of the enemy, fully equal to those of the Spaniards, and the advantages of their position enabled them to dispute the ground with fearful obstinacy. At length Navarro got a small battery of heavy guns to operate on the flank of the Moors. The effect of this movement was soon visible. The exposed sides of the Moslem column, finding no shelter from the deadly volleys, were shaken and thrown into disorder.

The confusion extended to the leading files, which now, pressed heavily by the iron array of spearmen in the Christian van, began to give ground.

Retreat was soon quickened into a disorderly flight. The Spaniards pursued; many of them, especially the raw levies, breaking their ranks, and following up the flying foe without the least regard to the commands or menaces of their officers; a circumstance which might have proved fatal, had the Moors had strength or discipline to rally. As it was, the scattered numbers of the Christians, magnifying to the eye their real force, served only to increase the panic, and accelerate the speed of the fugitives. [11]

While this was going on, the fleet had anchored before the city, and opened a very heavy cannonade, which was answered with equal spirit from sixty pieces of artillery which garnished the fortifications. The troops on board, however, made good their landing, and soon joined themselves to their victorious countrymen, descending from the sierra. They then pushed forward in all haste towards Oran, proposing to carry the place by escalade. They were poorly provided with ladders, but the desperate energy of the moment overleaped every obstacle; and planting their long pikes against the walls, or thrusting them into the crevices of the stones, they clambered up with incredible dexterity, although they were utterly unable to repeat the feat the next day in cold blood. The first who gained the summit was Sousa, captain of the cardinal’s guard, who, shouting forth “St. Jago and Ximenes,” unfurled his colors, emblazoned with the primate’s arms on one side, and the Cross on the other, and planted them on the battlements. Six other banners were soon seen streaming from the ramparts; and the soldiers leaping into the town got possession of the gates, and threw them open to their comrades. The whole army now rushed in, sweeping everything before it. Some few of the Moors endeavored to make head against the tide, but most fled into the houses and mosques for protection. Resistance and flight were alike unavailing. No mercy was shown; no respect for age or sex; and the soldiery abandoned themselves to all the brutal license and ferocity, which seem to stain religious wars above every other. It was in vain Navarro called them off. They returned like bloodhounds to the slaughter, and never slackened, till at last, wearied with butchery, and gorged with the food and wine found in the houses, they sunk down to sleep promiscuously in the streets and public squares. [12]

The sun, which on the preceding morning had shed its rays on Oran, flourishing in all the pride of commercial opulence, and teeming with a free and industrious population, next rose on it a captive city, with its ferocious conquerors stretched in slumber on the heaps of their slaughtered victims. [13] No less than four thousand Moors were said to have fallen in the battle, and from five to eight thousand were made prisoners. The loss of the Christians was inconsiderable. As soon as the Spanish commander had taken the necessary measures for cleansing the place from its foul and dismal impurities, he sent to the cardinal, and invited him to take possession of it. The latter embarked on board his galley, and, as he coasted along the margin of the city, and saw its gay pavilions and sparkling minarets reflected in the waters, his soul swelled with satisfaction at the glorious acquisition he had made for Christian Spain.

It seemed incredible, that a town so strongly manned and fortified, should have been carried so easily.

As Ximenes landed and entered the gates, attended by his train of monkish brethren, he was hailed with thundering acclamations by the army as the true victor of Oran, in whose behalf Heaven had condescended to repeat the stupendous miracle of Joshua, by stopping the sun in his career. [14] But the cardinal, humbly disclaiming all merits of his own, was heard to repeat aloud the sublime language of the Psalmist, “Non nobis, Domine, non nobis,” while he gave his benedictions to the soldiery. He was then conducted to the alcazar, and the keys of the fortress were put into his hand. The spoil of the captured city, amounting, as was said, to half a million of gold ducats, the fruit of long successful trade and piracy, was placed at his disposal for distribution. But that which gave most joy to his heart was the liberation of three hundred Christian captives, languishing in the dungeons of Oran. A few hours after the surrender, the mezuar of Tremecen arrived with a powerful reinforcement to its relief; but instantly retreated on learning the tidings. Fortunate, indeed, was it, that the battle had not been deferred to the succeeding day. This, which must be wholly ascribed to Ximenes, was by most referred to direct inspiration. Quite as probable an explanation may be found in the boldness and impetuous enthusiasm of the cardinal’s character. [15]

The conquest of Oran opened unbounded scope to the ambition of Ximenes; who saw in imagination the banner of the Cross floating triumphant from the walls of every Moslem city on the Mediterranean. He experienced, however, serious impediments to his further progress. Navarro, accustomed to an independent command, chafed in his present subordinate situation, especially under a spiritual leader, whose military science he justly held in contempt. He was a rude, unlettered soldier, and bluntly spoke his mind to the primate. He told him, “his commission under him terminated with the capture of Oran; that two generals were too many in one army; that the cardinal should rest contented with the laurels he had already won, and, instead of playing the king, go home to his flock, and leave fighting to those to whom the trade belonged.” [16]

But what troubled the prelate more than this insolence of his general, was a letter which fell into his hands, addressed by the king to Count Navarro, in which he requested him to be sure to find some pretence for detaining the cardinal in Africa, as long as his presence could be made any way serviceable. Ximenes had good reason before to feel that the royal favor to him flowed from selfishness, rather than from any personal regard. The king had always wished the archbishopric of Toledo for his favorite, and natural son, Alfonso of Aragon. After his return from Naples, he importuned Ximenes to resign his see, and exchange it for that of Saragossa, held by Alfonso; till, at length, the indignant prelate replied, “that he would never consent to barter away the dignities of the church; that if his Highness pressed him any further, he would indeed throw up the primacy, but it should be to bury himself in the friar’s cell from which the queen had originally called him.” Ferdinand, who, independently of the odium of such a proceeding, could ill afford to part with so able a minister, knew his inflexible temper too well ever to resume the subject. [17]

With some reason, therefore, for distrusting the good-will of his sovereign, Ximenes put the worst possible construction on the expressions in his letter. He saw himself a mere tool in Ferdinand’s hands, to be used so long as occasion might serve, with the utmost indifference to his own interests or convenience. These humiliating suspicions, together with the arrogant bearing of his general, disgusted him with the further prosecution of the expedition; while he was confirmed in his purpose of returning to Spain, and found an obvious apology for it in the state of his own health, too infirm to encounter, with safety, the wasting heats of an African summer.

Before his departure, he summoned Navarro and his officers about him, and, after giving them much good counsel respecting the government and defence of their new acquisitions, he placed at their disposal an ample supply of funds and stores, for the maintenance of the army several months. He then embarked, not with the pompous array and circumstance of a hero returning from his conquests, but with a few domestics only, in an unarmed galley, showing, as it were, by this very act, the good effects of his enterprise, in the security which it brought to the before perilous navigation of these inland seas. [18]

Splendid preparations were made for his reception in Spain, and he was invited to visit the court at Valladolid, to receive the homage and public testimonials due to his eminent services. But his ambition was of too noble a kind to be dazzled by the false lights of an ephemeral popularity.

He had too much pride of character, indeed, to allow room for the indulgence of vanity. He declined, these compliments, and hastened without loss of time to his favorite city of Alcala. There, too, the citizens, anxious to do him honor, turned out under arms to receive him, and made a breach in the walls, that he might make his entry in a style worthy of a conqueror. But this also he declined choosing to pass into the town by the regular avenue, with no peculiar circumstances attending his entrance, save only a small train of camels, led by African slaves, and laden with gold and silver plate from the mosques of Oran, and a precious collection of Arabian manuscripts, for the library of his infant university of Alcala.

He showed similar modesty and simplicity in his deportment and conversation. He made no allusion to the stirring scenes in which he had been so gloriously engaged; and, if others made any, turned the discourse into some other channel, particularly to the condition of his college, its discipline, and literary progress, which, with the great project for the publication of his famous Polyglot Bible, seemed now almost wholly to absorb his attention. [19]

His first care, however, was to visit the families in his diocese, and minister consolation and relief, which he did in the most benevolent manner, to those who were suffering from the loss of friends, whether by death or absence, in the late campaign. Nor did he in his academical retreat lose sight of the great object which had so deeply interested him, of extending the empire of the Cross over Africa. From time to time he remitted supplies for the maintenance of Oran; and he lost no opportunity of stimulating Ferdinand to prosecute his conquests.

The Catholic king, however, felt too sensibly the importance of his new possessions to require such admonition; and Count Pedro Navarro was furnished with ample resources of every kind, and, above all, with the veterans formed under the eye of Gonsalvo de Cordova. Thus placed on an independent field of conquest, the Spanish general was not slow in pushing his advantages. His first enterprise was against Bugia, whose king, at the head of a powerful army, he routed in two pitched battles, and got possession of his flourishing capital. Algiers, Tennis, Tremecen, and other cities on the Barbary coast, submitted one after another to the Spanish arms. The inhabitants were received as vassals of the Catholic king, engaging to pay the taxes usually imposed by their Moslem princes, and to serve him in war, with the addition of the whimsical provision, so often found in the old Granadine treaties, to attend him in cortes. They guaranteed, moreover, the liberation of all Christian captives in their dominions; for which the Algerines, however, took care to indemnify themselves, by extorting the full ransom from their Jewish residents. It was of little moment to the wretched Israelite which party won the day, Christian or Mussulman; he was sure to be stripped in either case. [20]

On the 26th of July, 1510, the ancient city of Tripoli, after a most bloody and desperate defence, surrendered to the arms of the victorious general, whose name had now become terrible along the whole northern borders of Africa. In the following month, however, he met with a serious discomfiture in the island of Gelves, where four thousand of his men were slain or made prisoners. [21] This check in the brilliant career of Count Navarro put a final stop to the progress of the Castilian arms in Africa under Ferdinand. [22]

The results already obtained, however, were of great importance, whether we consider the value of the acquisitions, being some of the most opulent marts on the Barbary coast, or the security gained for commerce, by sweeping the Mediterranean of the pestilent hordes of marauders, which had so long infested it. Most of the new conquests escaped from the Spanish crown in later times, through the imbecility or indolence of Ferdinand’s successors. The conquests of Ximenes, however, were placed in so strong a posture of defence, as to resist every attempt for their recovery by the enemy, and to remain permanently incorporated with the Spanish empire.

[23]

This illustrious prelate, in the mean while, was busily occupied, in his retirement at Alcala de Henares, with watching over the interests and rapid development of his infant university. This institution was too important in itself, and exercised too large an influence over the intellectual progress of the country, to pass unnoticed in a history of the present reign.

As far back as 1497, Ximenes had conceived the idea of establishing a university in the ancient town of Alcala, where the salubrity of the air, and the sober, tranquil complexion of the scenery, on the beautiful borders of the Henares, seemed well suited to academic study and meditation. He even went so far as to obtain plans at this time for his buildings from a celebrated architect. Other engagements, however, postponed the commencement of the work till 1500, when the cardinal himself laid the cornerstone of the principal college, with a solemn ceremonial, [24] and invocation of the blessing of Heaven on his designs.

From that hour, amidst all the engrossing cares of church and state, he never lost sight of this great object. When at Alcala, he might be frequently seen on the ground, with the rule in his hand, taking the admeasurements of the buildings, and stimulating the industry of the workmen by seasonable rewards. [25]

The plans were too extensive, however, to admit of being speedily accomplished. Besides the principal college of San Ildefonso, named in honor of the patron saint of Toledo, there were nine others, together with an hospital for the reception of invalids at the university. These edifices were built in the most substantial manner, and such parts as admitted of it, as the libraries, refectories, and chapels, were finished with elegance, and even splendor. The city of Alcala underwent many important and expensive alterations, in order to render it more worthy of being the seat of a great and flourishing university. The stagnant water was carried off by drains, the streets were paved, old buildings removed, and new and spacious avenues thrown open. [26]

At the expiration of eight years, the cardinal had the satisfaction of seeing the whole of his vast design completed, and every apartment of the spacious pile carefully furnished with all that was requisite for the comfort and accommodation of the student. It was, indeed, a noble enterprise, more particularly when viewed as the work of a private individual. As such it raised the deepest admiration in Francis the First, when he visited the spot, a few years after the cardinal’s death. “Your Ximenes,” said he, “has executed more than I should have dared to conceive; he has done, with his single hand, what in France it has cost a line of kings to accomplish.” [27]

The erection of the buildings, however, did not terminate the labors of the primate, who now assumed the task of digesting a scheme of instruction and discipline for his infant seminary. In doing this, he sought light wherever it was to be found; and borrowed many useful hints from the venerable university of Paris. His system was of the most enlightened kind, being directed to call all the powers of the student into action, and not to leave him a mere passive recipient in the hands of his teachers. Besides daily recitations and lectures, he was required to take part in public examinations and discussions, so conducted as to prove effectually his talent and acquisitions. In these gladiatorial displays, Ximenes took the deepest interest, and often encouraged the generous emulation of the scholar by attending in person.

Two provisions may be noticed as characteristic of the man. One, that the salary of a professor should be regulated by the number of his disciples.

Another, that every professor should be re-eligible at the expiration of every four years. It was impossible, that any servant of Ximenes should sleep on his post. [28]

Liberal foundations were made for indigent students, especially in divinity. Indeed, theological studies, or rather such a general course of study as should properly enter into the education of a Christian minister, was the avowed object of the institution. For the Spanish clergy up to this period, as before noticed, were too often deficient in the most common elements of learning. But in this preparatory discipline, the comprehensive mind of Ximenes embraced nearly the whole circle of sciences taught in other universities. Out of the forty-two chairs, indeed, twelve only were dedicated to divinity and the canon law; while fourteen were appropriated to grammar, rhetoric, and the ancient classics; studies, which probably found especial favor with the cardinal, as furnishing the only keys to a correct criticism and interpretation of the Scriptures.

[29]

Having completed his arrangements, the cardinal sought the most competent agents for carrying his plans into execution; and this indifferently from abroad and at home. His mind was too lofty for narrow local prejudices, and the tree of knowledge, he knew, bore fruit in every clime. [30] He took especial care, that the emolument should be sufficient to tempt talent from obscurity, and from quarters however remote, where it was to be found. In this he was perfectly successful, and we find the university catalogue at this time inscribed with the names of the most distinguished scholars in their various departments, many of whom we are enabled to appreciate by the enduring memorials of erudition, which they have bequeathed to us. [31]

In July, 1508, the cardinal received the welcome intelligence, that his academy was opened for the admission of pupils; and in the following month the first lecture, being on Aristotle’s Ethics, was publicly delivered.

Students soon flocked to the new university, attracted by the reputation of its professors, its ample apparatus, its thorough system of instruction, and, above all, its splendid patronage, and the high character of its founder. We have no information of their number in Ximenes’s lifetime; but it must have been very considerable, since no less than seven thousand came out to receive Francis the First on his visit to the university, within twenty years after it was opened. [32]

Five years after this period, in 1513, King Ferdinand, in an excursion made for the benefit of his declining health, paid a visit to Alcala. Ever since his return from Oran, the cardinal, disgusted with public life, had remained with a few brief exceptions in his own diocese, devoted solely to his personal and professional duties. It was with proud satisfaction that he now received his sovereign, and exhibited to him the noble testimony of the great objects, to which his retirement had been consecrated. The king, whose naturally inquisitive mind no illness could damp, visited every part of the establishment, and attended the examinations, and listened to the public disputations of the scholars with interest. With little learning of his own, he had been made too often sensible, of his deficiencies not to appreciate it in others. His acute perception readily discerned the immense benefit to his kingdom, and the glory conferred on his reign by the labors of his ancient minister, and he did ample justice to them in the unqualified terms of his commendation.

It was on this occasion that the rector of San Ildefonso, the head of the university, came out to receive the king, preceded by his usual train of attendants, with their maces or wands of office. The royal guard, at this exhibition, called out to them to lay aside these insignia, as unbecoming any subject in the presence of his sovereign. “Not so,” said Ferdinand, who had the good sense to perceive that majesty could not be degraded by its homage to letters; “not so; this is the seat of the Muses, and those, who are initiated in their mysteries, have the best right to reign here.”

[33]

In the midst of his pressing duties, Ximenes found time for the execution of another work, which would alone have been sufficient to render his name immortal in the republic of letters. This was his famous Bible, or Complutensian Polyglot, as usually termed, from the place where it was printed. [34] It was on the plan, first conceived by Origen, of exhibiting in one view the Scriptures in their various ancient languages. It was a work of surpassing difficulty, demanding an extensive and critical acquaintance with the most ancient, and consequently the rarest, manuscripts. The character and station of the cardinal afforded him, it is true, uncommon facilities. The precious collection of the Vatican was liberally thrown open to him, especially under Leo the Tenth, whose munificent spirit delighted in the undertaking. [35] He obtained copies, in like manner, of whatever was of value in the other libraries of Italy, and, indeed, of Europe generally; and Spain supplied him with editions of the Old Testament of great antiquity, which had been treasured up by the banished Israelites. [36] Some idea may be formed of the lavish expenditure in this way, from the fact that four thousand gold crowns were paid for seven foreign manuscripts, which, however, came too late to be of use in the compilation. [37]

The conduct of the work was entrusted to nine scholars, well skilled in the ancient tongues, as most of them had evinced by works of critical acuteness and erudition. After the labors of the day, these learned sages were accustomed to meet, in order to settle the doubts and difficulties which had arisen in the course of their researches, and, in short, to compare the results of their observations. Ximenes, who, however limited his attainments in general literature, [38] was an excellent biblical critic, frequently presided, and took a prominent part in these deliberations. “Lose no time, my friends,” he would say, “in the prosecution of our glorious work; lest, in the casualties of life, you should lose your patron, or I have to lament the loss of those, whose services are of more price in my eyes than wealth and worldly honors.”

[39]

The difficulties of the undertaking were sensibly increased by those of the printing. The art was then in its infancy, and there were no types in Spain, if indeed in any part of Europe, in the Oriental character.

Ximenes, however, careful to have the whole executed under his own eye, imported artists from Germany, and had types cast in the various languages required, in his foundries at Alcala. [40] The work when completed occupied six volumes folio; [41] the first four devoted to the Old Testament, the fifth to the New; the last containing a Hebrew and Chaldaic vocabulary, with other elementary treatises of singular labor and learning. It was not brought to an end till 1517, fifteen years after its commencement, and a few months only before the death of its illustrious projector. Alvaro Gomez relates, that he had often heard John Broccario, the son of the printer, [42] say, that when the last sheet was struck off, he, then a child, was dressed in his best attire, and sent with a copy to the cardinal. The latter, as he took it, raised his eyes to Heaven, and devoutly offered up his thanks, for being spared to the completion of this good work. Then, turning to his friends who were present, he said, that “of all the acts which distinguished his administration, there was none, however arduous, better entitled to their congratulation than this.” [43]

This is not the place, if I were competent, to discuss the merits of this great work, the reputation of which is familiar to every scholar. Critics, indeed, have disputed the antiquity of the manuscripts used in the compilation, as well as the correctness and value of the emendations. [44]

Unfortunately, the destruction of the original manuscripts, in a manner which forms one of the most whimsical anecdotes in literary history, makes it impossible to settle the question satisfactorily. [45] Undoubtedly, many blemishes may be charged on it, necessarily incident to an age when the science of criticism was imperfectly understood, [46] and the stock of materials much more limited, or at least more difficult of access, than at the present day. [47] After every deduction, however, the cardinal’s Bible has the merit of being the first successful attempt at a polyglot version of the Scriptures, and consequently of facilitating, even by its errors, the execution of more perfect and later works of the kind. [48] Nor can we look at it in connection with the age, and the auspices under which it was accomplished, without regarding it as a noble monument of piety, learning, and munificence, which entitles its author to the gratitude of the whole Christian world.

Such were the gigantic projects which amused the leisure hours of this great prelate. Though gigantic, they were neither beyond his strength to execute, nor beyond the demands of his age and country. They were not like those works, which, forced into being by whim, or transitory impulse, perish with the breath that made them; but, taking deep root, were cherished and invigorated by the national sentiment, so as to bear rich fruit for posterity. This was particularly the case with the institution at Alcala. It soon became the subject of royal and private benefaction.

Its founder bequeathed it, at his death, a clear revenue of fourteen thousand ducats. By the middle of the seventeenth century, this had increased to forty-two thousand, and the colleges had multiplied from ten to thirty-five. [49]

The rising reputation of the new academy, which attracted students from every quarter of the Peninsula to its halls, threatened to eclipse the glories of the ancient seminary at Salamanca, and occasioned bitter jealousies between them. The field of letters, however, was wide enough for both, especially as the one was more immediately devoted to theological preparation, to the entire exclusion of civil jurisprudence, which formed a prominent branch of instruction at the other. In this state of things, their rivalry, far from being productive of mischief, might be regarded as salutary, by quickening literary ardor, too prone to languish without the spur of competition. Side by side the sister universities went forward, dividing the public patronage and estimation. As long as the good era of letters lasted in Spain, the academy of Ximenes, under the influence of its admirable discipline, maintained a reputation inferior to none other in the Peninsula, [50] and continued to send forth its sons to occupy the most exalted posts in church and state, and shed the light of genius and science over their own and future ages. [51]

FOOTNOTES

[1] On his return from Cordova, he experienced a most loyal and enthusiastic reception from the ancient capital of Andalusia. The most interesting part of the pageant was the troops of children, gayly dressed, who came out to meet him, presenting the keys of the city and an imperial crown, after which the whole procession moved under thirteen triumphal arches, each inscribed with the name of one of his victories. For a description of these civic honors, see Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 216, and Zuniga, Annales de Sevilla, ano 1508.

[2] He obtained this dignity at the king’s solicitation, during his visit to Naples. See Ferdinand’s letter, apud Quintanilla, copied from the archives of Alcala. Archetypo, Apend. no. 15.

[3] “Ego tamen dum universas ejus actiones comparo,” says Alvaro Gomez, “magis ad bellica exercitia a natura effictum esse judico. Erat enim vir animi invicti et sublimis, omniaque in melius asserere conantis.” De Rebus Gestis, fol. 95.

[4] From a letter of King Emanuel of Portugal, it appears that Ximenes had endeavored to interest him, together with the kings of Aragon and England, in a crusade to the Holy Land. There was much method in his madness, if we may judge from the careful survey he had procured of the coast, as well as his plan of operations. The Portuguese monarch praises in round terms the edifying zeal of the primate, but wisely confined himself to his own crusades in India, which were likely to make better returns, at least in this world, than those to Palestine. The letter is still preserved in the archives of Alcala; see a copy in Quintanilla, Archetype, Apend. no. 16.

[5] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 15.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 77.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1507.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 15; lib. 29, cap.

9.

[6] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 418.

[7] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 96-100.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 218—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 413.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7.

[8] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 100-102.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, ubi supra.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 19.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 218.

[9] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., ubi supra.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 8, cap. 30.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 108.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., dial. de Ximenez.

[10] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 108-110.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib.

3, cap. 19.—Zurita, Anales, lib. 8, cap. 30.

[11] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 418.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 218.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 110, 111.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 18.

[12] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, ubi supra.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 218.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 22.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., ubi supra.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 19.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1509.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 15.

[13] “Sed tandem somnus ex labore et vino obortus eos oppressit, et cruentis hostium cadaveribus tanta securitate et fiducia indormierunt, ut permulti in Oranis urbis plateis ad multam diem stertuerint.” Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 111.

[14] To accommodate the Christians, as the day was far advanced when the action began, the sun was permitted to stand still several hours; there is some discrepancy as to the precise number; most authorities, however, make it four. There is no miracle in the whole Roman Catholic budget, better vouched than this. It is recorded by four eye-witnesses, men of learning and character. It is attested, moreover, by a cloud of witnesses, who depose to have received it, some from tradition, others from direct communication with their ancestors present in the action; and who all agree that it was matter of public notoriety and belief at the time. See the whole formidable array of evidence set forth by Quintanilla.

(Archetypo, pp. 236 et seq. and Apend. p. 103.) It was scarcely to have been expected that so astounding a miracle should escape the notice of all Europe, where it must have been as apparent as at Oran. This universal silence may be thought, indeed, the greater miracle of the two.

[15] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 218.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 22.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 113.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i.

lib. 1, cap. 22.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp.

Carlos V., tom. i. p. 15.

[16] Flechier, Histoire de Ximenes, pp. 308, 309.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 18.

[17] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, p. 107.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 117.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 16.—“The worthy brother,” says Sandoval of the prelate, “thought his archbishopric worth more than the good graces of a covetous old monarch.”

[18] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 420.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol.

118.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 20.

[19] Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 20.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 119, 120.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 8, cap. 30.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 22.

[20] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 9, cap. 1, 2, 4, 13.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 435-437.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 20.—

Mariana, Hist. de Espana, lib. 29, cap. 22.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol.

122-124.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 222.—Zurita gives at length the capitulation with Algiers, lib. 9, cap. 13.

[21] Chenier, Recherches sur les Manures, tom. ii. pp. 355, 356.—It is but just to state, that this disaster was imputable to Don Garcia de Toledo, who had charge of the expedition, and who expiated his temerity with his life. He was eldest son of the old duke of Alva, and father of that nobleman, who subsequently acquired such gloomy celebrity by his conquests and cruelties in the Netherlands. The tender poet, Garcilasso de la Vega, offers sweet incense to the house of Toledo, in one of his pastorals, in which he mourns over the disastrous day of Gelves; “O patria lagrimosa, i como buelves
los ojos a los Gelves sospirando!”

The death of the young nobleman is veiled under a beautiful simile, which challenges comparison with the great masters of Latin and Italian song, from whom the Castilian bard derived it.

“Puso en el duro suelo la hermosa cara, como la rosa matutina, cuando ya el sol declina ‘l medio dia; que pierde su alegria, i marchitando va la color mudando; o en el campo cual queda el lirio blanco, qu’ el arado crudamente cortado al passar dexa; del cual aun no s’ alexa pressuroso aquel color hermoso, o se destierra; mas ya la madre tierra descuidada, no l’ administra nada de su aliento, qu’ era el sustentamiento i vigor suyo; tal esta el rostro tuyo en el arena, fresca rosa, acucena blanea i pura.”

Garcilasso de la Vega, Obras, ed. de Herrera, pp. 507, 508.

[22] The reader may feel some curiosity respecting the fate of count Pedro Navarro. He soon after this went to Italy, where he held a high command, and maintained his reputation in the wars of that country, until he was taken by the French in the great battle of Ravenna. Through the carelessness or coldness of Ferdinand he was permitted to languish in captivity, till he took his revenge by enlisting in the service of the French monarch. Before doing this, however, he resigned his Neapolitan estates, and formally renounced his allegiance to the Catholic king; of whom, being a Navarese by birth, he was not a native subject. He unfortunately fell into the hands of his own countrymen in one of the subsequent actions in Italy, and was imprisoned at Naples, in Castel Nuovo, which he had himself formerly gained from the French. Here he soon after died; if we are to believe Brantome, being privately despatched by command of Charles V., or, as other writers intimate, by his own hand. His remains, first deposited in an obscure corner of the church of Santa Maria, were afterwards removed to the chapel of the great Gonsalvo, and a superb mausoleum was erected over them by the prince of Sessa, grandson of the hero. Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 124.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. pp. 226, 289, 406.—Brantome, Vies des Hommes Illustres, disc. 9.

—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 190-193.

[23] Ximenes continued to watch over the city which he had so valiantly won, long after his death. He never failed to be present in seasons of extraordinary peril. At least the gaunt, gigantic figure of a monk, dressed in the robes of his order, and wearing a cardinal’s hat, was seen, sometimes stalking along the battlements at midnight, and, at others, mounted on a white charger and brandishing a naked sword in the thick of the fight. His last appearance was in 1643, when Oran was closely beleaguered by the Algerines. A sentinel on duty saw a figure moving along the parapet one clear, moonlight night, dressed in a Franciscan frock, with a general’s baton in his hand. As soon as it was hailed by the terrified soldier, it called to him to “tell the garrison to be of good heart, for the enemy should not prevail against them.” Having uttered these words, the apparition vanished without ceremony. It repeated its visit in the same manner on the following night, and, a few days after, its assurance was verified by the total discomfiture of the Algerines, in a bloody battle under the walls. See the evidence of these various apparitions, as collected, for the edification of the court of Rome, by that prince of miracle-mongers, Quintanilla. (Archetypo, pp. 317, 335, 338, 340.) Bishop Flechier appears to have no misgivings as to the truth of these old wives’ tales. (Histoire de Ximenes, liv. 6.) Oran, after resisting repeated assaults by the Moors, was at length so much damaged by an earthquake, in 1790, that it was abandoned, and its Spanish garrison and population were transferred to the neighboring city of Mazarquivir.

[24] The custom, familiar at the present day, of depositing coins and other tokens, with inscriptions bearing the names of the architect and founder and date of the building, under the corner-stone was observed on this occasion, where it is noticed as of ancient usage, more prisco.

Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 28.

[25] Flechier, Histoire de Ximenes, p. 597.

[26] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 16.—

Quintanilla, Archetypo, p. 178.—Colmenar, Delices de l’Espagne, tom. ii.

pp. 308-310.—Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 7,—who notices particularly the library, “piena di molti libri et Latini et Greci et Hebraici.”

The good people accused the cardinal of too great a passion for building; and punningly said, “The church of Toledo had never had a bishop of greater edification, in every, sense than Ximenes.” Flechier, Histoire de Ximenes, p. 597.

[27] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 79.

[28] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 82-84.

[29] Navagiero says, it was prescribed the lectures should be in Latin.

Viaggio, fol. 7.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 16.

Of these professorships, six were appropriated to theology; six to canon law; four to medicine; one to anatomy; one to surgery; eight to the arts, as they were called, embracing logic, physics, and metaphysics; one to ethics; one to mathematics; four to the ancient languages; four to rhetoric; and six to grammar. One is struck with the disproportion of the mathematical studies to the rest. Though an important part of general education, and consequently of the course embraced in most universities, it had too little reference to a religious one, to find much favor with the cardinal.

[30] Lampillas, in his usual patriotic vein, stoutly maintains that the chairs of the university were all supplied by native Spaniards. “Trovo in Spagna,” he says of the cardinal, “tutta quella scelta copia di grandi uomini, quali richiedeva la grande impresa,” etc. (Letteratura Spagnuola, tom. i, part. 2, p. 160.) Alvaro Gomez, who flourished two centuries earlier, and personally knew the professors, is the better authority. De Rebus Gestis, fol. 80-82.

[31] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 13.

Alvaro Gomez knew several of these savans whose scholarship (and he was a competent judge) he notices with liberal panegyric. De Rebus Gestis, fol. 80 et seq.

[32] Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 17.

[33] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 86.

The reader will readily call to mind the familiar anecdote of King Charles and Dr. Busby.

[34] “Alcala de Henares,” says Martyr in one of his early letters, “quae dicitur esse Complutum. Sit, vel ne, nil mihi curae.” (Opus Epist., epist.

254.) These irreverent doubts were uttered before it had gained its literary celebrity. L. Marineo derives the name Complutum from the abundant fruitfulness of the soil,—“cumplumiento que tiene de cada cosa.”

Cosas Memorables, fol. 13.

[35] Ximenes acknowledges his obligations to his Holiness, in particular for the Greek MSS. “Atque ex ipsis [exemplaribus] quidem Graeca Sanctitati tuae debemus; qui ex ista Apostolica bibliotheca antiquissimos tam Veteris quam Novi codices perquam humane ad nos misisti.” Biblia Polyglotta, (Compluti, 1514-17,) Prologo.

[36] “Maximam,” says the cardinal in his Preface, “laboris nostri partem in eo praecipue fuisse versatam; ut et virorum in linguarum cognitione eminentissimorum opera uteremur, et castigatissima omni ex parte vetustissimaque exemplaria pro archetypis haberemus; quorum quidem, tam Hebraeorum quam Graecorum ac Latinorum, multiplicem copiam, variis ex locis, non sine summo labore conquisivimus.” Biblia Polyglotta, Compluti, Prologo.

[37] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 39.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 10.

[38] Martyr speaks of Ximenes, in one of his epistles, as “doctrina singulari oppletum.” (Opus Epist., epist. 108.) He speaks with more distrust in another; “Aiunt esse virum, si non literis, morum taraen sanctitate egregium.” (Epist. 160.) This was written some years later, when he had better knowledge of him.

[39] Quintanilla, Archetype, lib. 3, cap. lo.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 38.

The scholars employed in the compilation were the venerable Lebrija, the learned Nunez, or Pinciano, of whom the reader has had some account, Lopez de Zuniga, a controversialist of Erasmus, Bartholomeo de Castro, the famous Greek Demetrius Cretensis, and Juan de Vergara;—all thorough linguists, especially in the Greek and Latin. To these were joined Paulo Coronel, Alfonso a physician, and Alfonso Zamora, converted Jews, and familiar with the Oriental languages. Zamora has the merit of the philological compilations relative to the Hebrew and Chaldaic, in the last volume, lidem auct. ut supra; et Suma de la Vida de Cisneros, MS.

[40] Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 10.

[41] The work was originally put at the extremely low price of six ducats and a half a copy. (Biblia Polyglotta Compluti, Praefix.) As only 600
copies, however, were struck off, it has become exceedingly rare and valuable. According to Brunei, it has been sold as high as L63.

[42] “Industria et solertia honorabilis viri Arnaldi Guillelmi de Brocario, artis impressoris Magistri. Anno Domini 1517. Julii die decimo.”

Biblia Polyglotta Compluti. Postscript to 4th and last part of Vetus Test.

[43] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 38. The part devoted to the Old Testament contains the Hebrew original with the Latin Vulgate, the Septuagint version, and the Chaldaic paraphrase, with Latin translations by the Spanish scholars. The New Testament was printed in the original Greek, with the Vulgate of Jerome. After the completion of this work, the cardinal projected an edition of Aristotle on the same scale, which was unfortunately defeated by his death. Ibid., fol. 39.

[44] The principal controversy on this subject was carried on in Germany between Wetstein and Goeze; the former impugning, the latter defending the Complutensian Bible. The cautious and candid Michaelis, whose prepossessions appear to have been on the side of Goeze, decides ultimately, after his own examination, in favor of Wetstein, as regards the value of the MSS. employed; not however as relates to the grave charge of wilfully accommodating the Greek text to the Vulgate. See the grounds and merits of the controversy, apud Michaelis, Introduction to the New Testament, translated by Marsh, vol. ii. part 1, chap. 12, sec. 1; part 2, notes.

[45] Professor Moldenhauer, of Germany, visited Alcala in 1784, for the interesting purpose of examining the MSS. used in the Complutensian Polyglot. He there learned that they had all been disposed of, as so much waste paper, (membranas inutiles) by the librarian of that time to a rocket-maker of the town, who soon worked them up in the regular way of his vocation! He assigns no reason for doubting the truth of the story.

The name of the librarian, unfortunately, is not recorded. It would have been as imperishable as that of Omar. Marsh’s Michaelis, vol. ii. part l, chap. 12, sec. 1, note.

[46] The celebrated text of “the three witnesses,” formerly cited in the Trinitarian controversy, and which Porson so completely overturned, rests in part on what Gibbon calls “the honest bigotry of the Complutensian editors.” One of the three Greek manuscripts, in which that text is found, is a forgery from the Polyglot of Alcala, according to Mr. Norton, in his recent work, “The Evidences of the Genuineness of the Gospels,” (Boston, 1837, vol. i. Additional Notes, p. xxxix.),—a work which few can be fully competent to criticize, but which no person can peruse without confessing the acuteness and strength of its reasoning, the nice discrimination of its criticism, and the precision and purity of its diction. Whatever difference of opinion may be formed as to some of its conclusions, no one will deny that the originality and importance of its views make it a substantial accession to theological science; and that, within the range permitted by the subject, it presents, on the whole, one of the noblest specimens of scholarship, and elegance of composition, to be found in our youthful literature.

[47] “Accedit,” says the editors of the Polyglot, adverting to the blunders of early transcribers, “ubicunque Latinorum codicum varietas est, aut depravatae lectionis suspitio (id quod librariorum imperitia simul et negligentia frequentissime accidere videmus), ad primam Scriptunae originem recurrendum est.” Biblia Polyglotta, Compluti, Prologo.

[48] Tiraboschi adduces a Psalter, published in four of the ancient tongues, at Genoa, in 1516, as the first essay of a polyglot version.

(Letteratura Italiana, tom. viii. p. 191.) Lampillas does not fail to add this enormity to the black catalogue which he has mustered against the librarian of Modena. (Letteratura Spagnuola, tom. ii. part. 2, p. 290.) The first three volumes of the Complutensian Bible were printed before 1516, although the whole work did not pass the press till the following year.

[49] Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 17.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., dial. de Ximeni.

Ferdinand and Isabella conceded liberal grants and immunities to Alcala on more than one occasion. Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 43, 45.

[50] Erasmus, in a letter to his friend Vergara, in 1527, perpetrates a Greek pun on the classic name of Alcala, intimating the highest opinion of the state of science there. “Gratulor tibi, ornatissime adolescens, gratulor vestrae Hispaniae ad pristinam eruditionis laudem veluti postliminio reflorescenti. Gratulor Compluto, quod duorum praesulum Francisci et Alfonsi felicibus auspiciis sic efflorescit omni genere studiorum, ut jure optimo pamplouton appellare possimus.” Epistolae, p.

771.

[51] Quintanilla is for passing the sum total of the good works of these worthies of Alcala to the credit of its founder. They might serve as a makeweight to turn the scale in favor of his beatification. Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 17.

CHAPTER XXII.

WARS AND POLITICS OF ITALY. 1508-1513.

League of Cambray.—Alarm of Ferdinand.—Holy League.—Battle of Ravenna.

—Death of Gaston de Foix.—Retreat of the French.—The Spaniards Victorious.

The domestic history of Spain, after Ferdinand’s resumption of the regency, contains few remarkable events. Its foreign relations were more important. Those with Africa have been already noticed, and we must now turn to Italy and Navarre.

The possession of Naples necessarily brought Ferdinand within the sphere of Italian politics. He showed little disposition, however, to avail himself of it for the further extension of his conquests. Gonsalvo, indeed, during his administration, meditated various schemes for the overthrow of the French power in Italy, but with a view rather to the preservation than enlargement of his present acquisitions. After the treaty with Louis the Twelfth, even these designs were abandoned, and the Catholic monarch seemed wholly occupied with the internal affairs of his kingdom, and the establishment of his rising empire in Africa. [1]

The craving appetite of Louis the Twelfth, on the other hand, sharpened by the loss of Naples, sought to indemnify itself by more ample acquisitions in the north. As far back as 1504, he had arranged a plan with the emperor, for the partition of the continental possessions of Venice, introducing it into one of those abortive treaties at Blois for the marriage of his daughter. [2] The scheme is said to have been communicated to Ferdinand in the royal interview at Savona. No immediate action followed, and it seems probable that the latter monarch, with his usual circumspection, reserved his decision until he should be more clearly satisfied of the advantages to himself. [3]

At length the projected partition was definitely settled by the celebrated treaty of Cambray, December 10th, 1508, between Louis the Twelfth and the emperor Maximilian, in which the pope, King Ferdinand, and all princes who had any claims for spoliations by the Venetians, were invited to take part. The share of the spoil assigned to the Catholic monarch was the five Neapolitan cities, Trani, Brindisi, Gallipoli, Pulignano, and Otranto, pledged to Venice for considerable sums advanced by her during the late war. [4] The Spanish court, and, not long after, Julius the Second, ratified the treaty, although it was in direct contravention of the avowed purpose of the pontiff to chase the barbarians from Italy. It was his bold policy, however, to make use of them first for the aggrandizement of the church, and then to trust to his augmented strength and more favorable opportunities for eradicating them altogether.

Never was there a project more destitute of principle or sound policy.

There was not one of the contracting parties, who was not at that very time in close alliance with the state, the dismemberment of which he was plotting. As a matter of policy, it went to break down the principal barrier, on which each of these powers could rely for keeping in check the overweening ambition of its neighbors, and maintaining the balance of Italy. [5] The alarm of Venice was quieted for a time by assurances from the courts of France and Spain, that the league was solely directed against the Turks, accompanied by the most hypocritical professions of good-will, and amicable offers to the republic. [6]

The preamble of the treaty declares, that, it being the intention of the allies to support the pope in a crusade against the infidel, they first proposed to recover from Venice the territories of which she had despoiled the church and other powers, to the manifest hindrance of these pious designs. The more flagitious the meditated enterprise, the deeper was the veil of hypocrisy thrown over it in this corrupt age. The true reasons for the confederacy are to be found in a speech delivered at the German diet, some time after, by the French minister Helian. “We,” he remarks, after enumerating various enormities of the republic, “we wear no fine purple; feast from no sumptuous services of plate; have no coffers overflowing with gold. We are barbarians. Surely,” he continues in another place, “if it is derogatory to princes to act the part of merchants, it is unbecoming in merchants to assume the state of princes.” [7] This, then, was the true key to the conspiracy against Venice; envy of her superior wealth and magnificence, hatred engendered by her too arrogant bearing, and lastly the evil eye, with which kings naturally regard the movements of an active, aspiring republic. [8]

To secure the co-operation of Florence, the kings of France and Spain agreed to withdraw their protection from Pisa, for a stipulated sum of money. There is nothing in the whole history of the merchant princes of Venice so mercenary and base, as this bartering away for gold the independence, for which this little republic had been so nobly contending for more than fourteen years. [9]

Early in April, 1509, Louis the Twelfth crossed the Alps at the head of a force which bore down all opposition. City and castle fell before him, and his demeanor to the vanquished, over whom he had no rights beyond the ordinary ones of war, was that of an incensed master taking vengeance on his rebellious vassals. In revenge for his detention before Peschiera, he hung the Venetian governor and his son from the battlements. This was an outrage on the laws of chivalry, which, however hard they bore on the peasant, respected those of high degree. Louis’s rank, and his heart it seems, unhappily, raised him equally above sympathy with either class.

[10]

On the 14th of May was fought the bloody battle of Agnadel, which broke the power of Venice, and at once decided the fate of the war. [11]

Ferdinand had contributed nothing to these operations, except by his diversion on the side of Naples, where he possessed himself without difficulty of the cities allotted to his share. They were the cheapest, and if not the most valuable, were the most permanent acquisitions of the war, being reincorporated in the monarchy of Naples.

Then followed the memorable decree, by which Venice released her continental provinces from their allegiance, authorizing them to provide in any way they could for their safety; a measure, which, whether originating in panic or policy, was perfectly consonant with the latter.

[12] The confederates, who had remained united during the chase, soon quarrelled over the division of the spoil. Ancient jealousies revived. The republic, with cool and consummate diplomacy, availed herself of this state of feeling.

Pope Julius, who had gained all that he had proposed, and was satisfied with the humiliation of Venice, now felt all his former antipathies and distrust of the French return in full force. The rising flame was diligently fanned by the artful emissaries of the republic, who at length effected a reconciliation on her behalf with the haughty pontiff. The latter, having taken this direction, went forward in it with his usual impetuosity. He planned a new coalition for the expulsion of the French, calling on the other allies to take part in it. Louis retaliated by summoning a council to inquire into the pope’s conduct, and by marching his troops into the territories of the church. [13]

The advance of the French, who had now got possession of Bologna, alarmed Ferdinand. He had secured the objects for which he had entered into the war, and was loath to be diverted from enterprises in which he was interested nearer home, “I know not,” writes Peter Martyr, at this time, “on what the king will decide. He is intent on following up his African conquests. He feels natural reluctance at breaking with his French ally.

But I do not well see how he can avoid supporting the pope and the church, not only as the cause of religion, but of freedom. For if the French get possession of Rome, the liberties of all Italy and of every state in Europe are in peril.” [14]

The Catholic king viewed it in this light, and sent repeated and earnest remonstrances to Louis the Twelfth, against his aggressions on the church, beseeching him not to interrupt the peace of Christendom, and his own pious purpose, more particularly, of spreading the banners of the Cross over the infidel regions of Africa. The very sweet and fraternal tone of these communications filled the king of France, says Guicciardini, with much distrust of his royal brother; and he was heard to say, in allusion to the great preparations which the Spanish monarch was making by sea and land, “I am the Saracen against whom they are directed.” [14]

To secure Ferdinand more to his interests, the pope granted him the investiture, so long withheld, of Naples, on the same easy terms on which it was formerly held by the Aragonese line. His Holiness further released him from the obligation of his marriage treaty, by which the moiety of Naples was to revert to the French crown, in case of Germaine’s dying without issue. This dispensing power of the successors of St. Peter, so convenient for princes in their good graces, is undoubtedly the severest tax ever levied by superstition on human reason. [15]

On the 4th of October, 1511, a treaty was concluded between Julius the Second, Ferdinand, and Venice, with the avowed object of protecting the church,—in other words, driving the French out of Italy. [16] From the pious purpose to which it was devoted, it was called the Holy League. The quota to be furnished by the king of Aragon was twelve hundred heavy and one thousand light cavalry, ten thousand foot, and a squadron of eleven galleys, to act in concert with the Venetian fleet. The combined forces were to be placed under the command of Hugo de Cardona, viceroy of Naples, a person of polished and engaging address, but without the resolution or experience requisite to military success. The rough old pope sarcastically nicknamed him “Lady Cardona.” It was an appointment, that would certainly have never been made by Queen Isabella. Indeed, the favor shown this nobleman on this and other occasions was so much beyond his deserts, as to raise a suspicion in many, that he was more nearly allied by blood to Ferdinand, than was usually imagined. [17]

Early in 1512, France, by great exertions, and without a single confederate out of Italy, save the false and fluctuating emperor, got an army into the field superior to that of the allies in point of numbers, and still more so in the character of its commander. This was Gaston de Foix, duke de Nemours, and brother of the queen of Aragon. Though a boy in years, for he was but twenty-two, he was ripe in understanding, and possessed consummate military talents. He introduced a severer discipline into his army, and an entirely new system of tactics. He looked forward to his results with stern indifference to the means by which they were to be effected. He disregarded the difficulties of the roads, and the inclemency of the season, which had hitherto put a check on military operations.

Through the midst of frightful morasses, or in the depth of winter snows, he performed his marches with a celerity unknown in the warfare of that age. In less than a fortnight after leaving Milan, he relieved Bologna, then besieged by the allies, made a countermarch on Brescia, defeated a detachment by the way, and the whole Venetian army under its walls; and, on the same day with the last event, succeeded in carrying the place by storm. After a few weeks’ dissipation of the carnival, he again put himself in motion, and, descending on Ravenna, succeeded in bringing the allied army to a decisive action under its walls. Ferdinand, well understanding the peculiar characters of the French and of the Spanish soldier, had cautioned his general to adopt the Fabian policy of Gonsalvo, and avoid a close encounter as long as possible. [18]

This battle, fought with the greatest numbers, was also the most murderous, which had stained the fair soil of Italy for a century. No less than eighteen or twenty thousand, according to authentic accounts, fell in it, comprehending the best blood of France and Italy. [19] The viceroy Cardona went off somewhat too early for his reputation. But the Spanish infantry, under the count Pedro Navarro, behaved in a style worthy of the school of Gonsalvo. During the early part of the day, they lay on the ground, in a position which sheltered them from the deadly artillery of Este, then the best mounted and best served of any in Europe. When at length, as the tide of battle was going against them, they were brought into the field, Navarro led them at once against a deep column of landsknechts, who, armed with the long German pike, were bearing down all before them. The Spaniards received the shock of this formidable weapon on the mailed panoply with which their bodies were covered, and, dexterously gliding into the hostile ranks, contrived with their short swords to do such execution on the enemy, unprotected except by corselets in front, and incapable of availing themselves of their long weapon, that they were thrown into confusion, and totally discomfited. It was repeating the experiment more than once made during these wars, but never on so great a scale, and it fully established the superiority of the Spanish arms. [20]

The Italian infantry, which had fallen back before the landsknechts, now rallied under cover of the Spanish charge; until at length the overwhelming clouds of French gendarmerie, headed by Ives d’Allegre, who lost his own life in the melee, compelled the allies to give ground. The retreat of the Spaniards, however, was conducted with admirable order, and they preserved their ranks unbroken, as they repeatedly turned to drive back the tide of pursuit. At this crisis, Gaston de Foix, flushed with success, was so exasperated by the sight of this valiant corps going off in so cool and orderly a manner from the field, that he made a desperate charge at the head of his chivalry, in hopes of breaking it.

Unfortunately, his wounded horse fell under him. It was in vain his followers called out, “It is our viceroy, the brother of your queen!” The words had no charm for a Spanish ear, and he was despatched with a multitude of wounds. He received fourteen or fifteen in the face; good proof, says the loyal serviteur, “that the gentle prince had never turned his back.” [21]

There are few instances in history, if indeed there be any, of so brief, and at the same time so brilliant a military career, as that of Gaston de Foix; and it well entitled him to the epithet his countrymen gave him of the “thunderbolt of Italy.” [22] He had not merely given extraordinary promise, but in the course of a very few months had achieved such results, as might well make the greatest powers of the peninsula tremble for their possessions. His precocious military talents, the early age at which he assumed the command of armies, as well as many peculiarities of his discipline and tactics, suggest some resemblance to the beginning of Napoleon’s career.

Unhappily, his brilliant fame is sullied by a recklessness of human life, the more odious in one too young to be steeled by familiarity with the iron trade to which he was devoted. It may be fair, however, to charge this on the age rather than on the individual, for surely never was there one characterized by greater brutality, and more unsparing ferocity in its wars. [23] So little had the progress of civilization done for humanity.

It is not until a recent period, that a more generous spirit has operated; that a fellow-creature has been understood not to forfeit his rights as a man, because he is an enemy; that conventional laws have been established, tending greatly to mitigate the evils of a condition, which with every alleviation is one of unspeakable misery; and that those who hold the destinies of nations in their hands have been made to feel, that there is less true glory, and far less profit, to be derived from war, than from the wise prevention of it.

The defeat at Ravenna struck a panic into the confederates. The stout heart of Julius the Second faltered, and it required all the assurances of the Spanish and Venetian ministers to keep him staunch to his purpose.

King Ferdinand issued orders to the Great Captain to hold himself in readiness for taking the command of forces to be instantly raised for Naples. There could be no better proof of the royal consternation. [24]

The victory of Ravenna, however, was more fatal to the French than to their foes. The uninterrupted successes of a commander are so far unfortunate, that they incline his followers, by the brilliant illusion they throw around his name, to rely less on their own resources, than on him whom they have hitherto found invincible; and thus subject their own destiny to all the casualties which attach to the fortunes of a single individual. The death of Gaston de Foix seemed to dissolve the only bond which held the French together. The officers became divided, the soldiers disheartened, and, with the loss of their young hero, lost all interest in the service. The allies, advised of this disorderly state of the army, recovered confidence, and renewed their exertions. Through Ferdinand’s influence over his son-in-law, Henry the Eighth of England, the latter had been induced openly to join the League in the beginning of the present year. [25] The Catholic king had the address, moreover, just before the battle to detach the emperor from France, by effecting a truce between him and Venice. [26] The French, now menaced and pressed on every side, began their retreat under the brave La Palice, and, to such an impotent state were they reduced, that, in less than three months after the fatal victory, they were at the foot of the Alps, having abandoned not only their recent, but all their conquests in the north of Italy. [27]

The same results now took place as in the late war against Venice. The confederates quarrelled over the division of the spoil. The republic, with the largest claims, obtained the least concessions. She felt that she was to be made to descend to an inferior rank in the scale of nations.

Ferdinand earnestly remonstrated with the pope, and subsequently, by means of his Venetian minister, with Maximilian, on this mistaken policy. [28]

But the indifference of the one, and the cupidity of the other, were closed against argument. The result was precisely what the prudent monarch foresaw. Venice was driven into the arms of her perfidious ancient ally, and on the 23d of March, 1513, a definitive treaty was arranged with France for their mutual defence. [29] Thus the most efficient member was alienated from the confederacy. All the recent advantages of the allies were compromised. New combinations were to be formed, and new and interminable prospects of hostility opened.

Ferdinand, relieved from immediate apprehensions of the French, took comparatively little interest in Italian politics. He was too much occupied with settling his conquests in Navarre. The army, indeed, under Cardona still kept the field in the north of Italy. The viceroy, after re-establishing the Medici in Florence, remained inactive. The French, in the mean while, had again mustered in force, and crossing the mountains encountered the Swiss in a bloody battle at Novara, where the former were entirely routed. Cardona, then rousing from his lethargy, traversed the Milanese without opposition, laying waste the ancient territories of Venice, burning the palaces and pleasure-houses of its lordly inhabitants on the beautiful banks of the Brenta, and approaching so near to the “Queen of the Adriatic” as to throw a few impotent balls into the monastery of San Secondo.

The indignation of the Venetians and of Alviano, the same general who had fought so gallantly under Gonsalvo at the Garigliano, hurried them into an engagement with the allies near La Motta, at two miles’ distance from Vicenza. Cardona, loaded with booty and entangled among the mountain passes, was assailed under every disadvantage. The German allies gave way before the impetuous charge of Alviano, but the Spanish infantry stood its ground unshaken, and by extraordinary discipline and valor succeeded in turning the fortunes of the day. More than four thousand of the enemy were left on the field, and a large number of prisoners, including many of rank, with all the baggage and artillery, fell into the hands of the victors. [30]

Thus ended the campaign of 1513; the French driven again beyond the mountains; Venice cooped up within her sea-girt fastnesses, and compelled to enrol her artisans and common laborers in her defence,—but still strong in resources, above all in the patriotism and unconquerable spirit of her people. [31]

* * * * *

Count Daru has supplied the desideratum, so long standing, of a full, authentic history of a state, whose institutions were the admiration of earlier times, and whose long stability and success make them deservedly an object of curiosity and interest to our own. The style of the work, at once lively and condensed, is not that best suited to historic writing, being of the piquant, epigrammatic kind, much affected by French writers.

The subject, too, of the revolutions of empire, does not afford room for the dramatic interest, attaching to works which admit of more extended biographical development. Abundant interest will be found, however, in the dexterity with which he has disentangled the tortuous politics of the republic; in the acute and always sensible reflections with which he clothes the dry skeleton of fact; and in the novel stores of information he has opened. The foreign policy of Venice excited too much interest among friends and enemies in the day of her glory, not to occupy the pens of the most intelligent writers. But no Italian chronicler, not even one intrusted with the office by the government itself, has been able to exhibit the interior workings of the complicated machinery so satisfactorily as M. Daru has done, with the aid of those voluminous state papers, which were as jealously guarded from inspection, until the downfall of the republic, as the records of the Spanish Inquisition.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iii. lib. 5, p. 257, ed. Milano, 1803.—

Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 7, 9, et alibi.

[2] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no. 30.—Flassan, Diplomatie Francaise, tom. i. pp. 282, 283.

[3] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 78.

[4] Flassan, Diplomatie Francaise, tom. i. lib. 2, p. 283.—Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part 1, no. 52.

[5] This argument, used by Machiavelli against Louis’s rupture with Venice, applies with more or less force to all the other allies. Opere, Il Principe, cap. 3.

[6] Du Bos, Ligue de Cambray, tom. i. pp. 66, 67.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 36, 37. Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 141.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. ii. lib. 7.

[7] See a liberal extract from this harangue, apud Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. liv. 23,—also apud Du Bos, Ligue de Cambray, tom. i. p. 240 et seq.—The old poet, Jean Marot, sums up the sins of the republic in the following verse:

“Autre Dieu n’ont que l’or, c’est leur creance.”

Oeuvres de Clement Marot, avec les Ouvrages de Jean Marot, (La Haye, 1731,) tom. v. p. 71.

[8] See the undisguised satisfaction, with which Martyr, a Milanese, predicts (Opus Epist., epist. 410), and Guicciardini, a Florentine, records the humiliation of Venice. (Istoria, lib. 4, p. 137.) The arrogance of the rival republic does not escape the satirical lash of Machiavelli;

“San Marco, impetuoso ed importuno,

Credendosi haver sempre il vento in poppa, Non si curu di rovinare ognuno;

Ne vidde come la potenza troppa

Era nociva.”

Dell’ Asino d’Oro, cap. 5.

[9] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, lib. 29, cap. 15.—Ammirato, Istorie Florentine, tom. iii. lib. 28, p. 286.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

423.

Louis XII. was in alliance with Florence, but insisted on 100,000 ducats as the price of his acquiescence in her recovery of Pisa. Ferdinand, or rather his general, Gonsalvo de Cordova, had taken Pisa under his protection, and the king insisted on 50,000 ducats for his abandonment of her. This honorable transaction resulted in the payment of the respective amounts to the royal jobbers; the 50,000 excess of Louis’s portion being kept a profound secret from Ferdinand, who was made to believe by the parties that his ally received only a like sum with himself. Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. pp. 78, 80, 156, 157.

[10] Memoires de Bayard, chap. 30.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 8.—

Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 183.

Jean Marot describes the execution in the following cool and summary style.

“Ce chastelain de la, aussi le capitaine, Pour la derrision et response vilaine Qu’ils firent au herault, furent pris et sanglez Puis devant tout le monde pendus et estranglez.”

Oeuvres, tom. v. p. 158.

[11] The fullest account, probably, of the action is in the “Voyage de Venise” of Jean Marot. (Oeuvres, tom. v. pp. 124-139.) This pioneer of French song, since eclipsed by his more polished son, accompanied his master, Louis XII., on his Italian expedition, as his poet chronicler; and the subject has elicited occasionally some sparks of poetic fire, though struck out with a rude hand. The poem is so conscientious in its facts and dates, that it is commended by a French critic as the most exact record of the Italian campaign. Ibid. Remarques, p. 16.

[12] Foreign historians impute this measure to the former motive, the Venetians to the latter. The cool and deliberate conduct of this government, from which all passion, to use the language of the abbe Du Bos, seems to have been banished, may authorize our acquiescence in the statement most flattering to the national vanity. See the discussion apud Ligue de Cambray, pp. 126 et seq.

[13] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 221.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 7.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 416.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. pp. 178, 179, 190, 191; tom. v. pp. 71, 82-86.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, lib. 7, 9, 10.

[14] Opus Epist., epist. 465.Memoires de Bayard, chap. 46.-Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 26.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 225.

[14] Istoria, lib. 9, p. 135.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1511.—

Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 225.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 465.

Machiavelli’s friend Vettori, in one of his letters, speaks of the Catholic king as the principal author of the new coalition against France, and notices three hundred lances which he furnished the pope in advance, for this purpose. (Machiavelli, Opere, Lettere Famigliari, no. 8.) He does not seem to understand that these lances were part of the services due for the fief of Naples. The letter above quoted of Martyr, a more competent and unsuspicious authority, shows Ferdinand’s sincere aversion to a rupture with Louis at the present juncture; and a subsequent passage of the same epistle shows him too much in earnest in his dissuasives, to be open to the charge of insincerity. “Ut mitibus verbis ipsum, Reginam ejus uxorem, ut consiliarios omnes Cabanillas alloquatur, ut agant apud regem suum de pace, dat in frequentibus mandatis.” Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., ubi supra.—See further, epist. 454.

[15] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., no. 441.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom.

ii. lib. 29, cap. 24.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 164.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 18.

The act of investiture was dated July 3d, 1510. In the following August, the pontiff remitted the feudal services for the annual tribute of a white palfrey, and the aid of 300 lances when the estates of the church should be invaded. (Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 9, cap. 11.) The pope had hitherto refused the investiture, except on the most exorbitant terms; which so much disgusted Ferdinand, that he passed by Ostia on his return from Naples, without condescending to meet his Holiness, who was waiting there for a personal interview with him. Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

353.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 73.

[16] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, p. 207.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap. 5.—Rymer, Foedera, tom. xiii. pp. 305-308.

[17] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom., v. lib. 10, p. 208.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. ii. lib. 12.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap. 5, 14.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 483.

Vettori, it seems, gave credence to the same suggestion. “Spagna ha sempre amato assai questo suo Vicere, e per errore che abbia fatto non l’ha gustigato, ma piu presto fatto piu grande, e si puo pensare, come molti dicono, che sia suo figlio, e che abbia in pensiero lasciarlo Re di Napoli.” Machiavelli, Opere, let. di 16 Maggio, 1514.

According to Aleson, the king would have appointed Navarro to the post of commander-in-chief, had not his low birth disqualified him for it in the eyes of the allies. Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 12.

[18] Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 230, 231.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, pp. 260-272.—Giovio, Vita Leonis X., apud Vitae Illust. Virorum, lib. 2, pp. 37, 38.—Memoires de Bayard, chap. 48.—

Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 26-28.

[19] Ariosto introduces the bloody rout of Ravenna among the visions of Melissa; in which the courtly prophetess (or rather poet) predicts the glories of the house of Este.

“Nuoteranno i destrier fino alla pancia Nel sangue uman per tutta la campagna; Ch’ a seppellire il popol verra inanco Tedesco, Ispano, Greco, Italo, e Franco.”

Orlando Furioso, canto 3, st. 55.

[20] Brantome, Vies des Hommes Illustres, disc. 6.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, pp. 290-305.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 231, 233.—Memoires de Bayard, chap. 54.—Du Bellay, Memoires, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xvii. p. 234.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap.

29, 30.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. ii. lib. 12.

Machiavelli does justice to the gallantry of this valiant corps, whose conduct on this occasion furnishes him with a pertinent illustration, in estimating the comparative value of the Spanish, or rather Roman arms, and the German. Opere, tom. iv., Arte della Guerra, lib. 2, p. 67.

[21] Memoires de Bayard, chap. 54.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib.

10, pp. 306-309.—Peter Martyr, epist. 483.—Brantome, Vies des Hommes Illustres, disc. 24.

The best, that is, the most perspicuous and animated description of the fight of Ravenna, among contemporary writers, will be found in Guicciardini (ubi supra); among the modern, in Sismondi, (Republiques Italiennes, tom. xiv. chap. 109,) an author, who has the rare merit of combining profound philosophical analysis with the superficial and picturesque graces of narrative.

[22] “Le foudre de l’Italie.” (Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. p. 391.)—
light authority, I acknowledge, even for a sobriquet.

[23] One example may suffice, occurring in the war of the League, in 1510.

When Vicenza was taken by the Imperialists, a number of the inhabitants, amounting to one, or, according to some accounts, six thousand, took refuge in a neighboring grotto, with their wives and children, comprehending many of the principal families of the place. A French officer, detecting their retreat, caused a heap of faggots to be piled up at the mouth of the cavern and set on fire. Out of the whole number of fugitives only one escaped with life; and the blackened and convulsed appearance of the bodies showed too plainly the cruel agonies of suffocation. (Memoires de Bayard, chap. 40.—Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, tom. ii. lib. 10.) Bayard executed two of the authors of this diabolical act on the spot. But the “chevalier sans reproche” was an exception to, rather than an example of, the prevalent spirit of the age.

[24] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, pp. 310-312, 322, 323.—

Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom.

ii. lib. 30, cap. 9.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, p. 288.—

Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1512.—See also Lettera di Vettori, Maggio 16, 1514, apud Machiavelli, Opere.

[25] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. p. 137.

He had become a party to it as early as November 17, of the preceding year; he deferred its publication, however, until he had received the last instalment of a subsidy, that Louis XII. was to pay him for the maintenance of peace. (Rymer, Foedera, tom. xiii. pp. 311-323.—Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. p. 385.) Even the chivalrous Harry the Eighth could not escape the trickish spirit of the age.

[26] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, p. 320.

[27] Memoires de Bayard, chap. 55.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 31.—

Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. viii. pp. 380, 381.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, pp. 335, 336.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi; lib. 10, cap, 20.

[28] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 44-48.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 11, p. 52.

Martyr reports a conversation that he had with the Venetian minister in Spain, touching this business. Opus Epist., epist. 520.

[29] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no. 86.

[30] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 11, pp. 101-138.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 523.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap.

21.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 36, 37.—Also an original letter of King Ferdinand to Archbishop Deza, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap.

242.

Alviano died a little more than a year after this defeat, at sixty years of age. He was so much beloved by the soldiery, that they refused to be separated from his remains, which were borne at the head of the army for some weeks after his death. They were finally laid in the church of St.

Stephen in Venice; and the senate, with more gratitude than is usually conceded to republics, settled an honorable pension on his family.

[31] Daru, Hist. de Venise, tom. iii. pp. 615, 616.

CHAPTER XXIII.

CONQUEST OF NAVARRE.

1512-1513.

Sovereigns of Navarre.—Ferdinand Demands a Passage.—Invasion and Conquest of Navarre.—Treaty of Orthes.—Ferdinand Settles his Conquests.

—His Conduct Examined.—Gross Abuse of the Victory.

While the Spaniards were thus winning barren laurels on the fields of Italy, King Ferdinand was making a most important acquisition of territory nearer home. The reader has already been made acquainted with the manner in which the bloody sceptre of Navarre passed from the hands of Eleanor, Ferdinand’s sister, after a reign of a few brief days, into those of her grandson Phoebus. A fatal destiny hung over the house of Foix; and the latter prince lived to enjoy his crown only four years, when he was succeeded by his sister Catharine.

It was not to be supposed, that Ferdinand and Isabella, so attentive to enlarge their empire to the full extent of the geographical limits which nature seemed to have assigned it, would lose the opportunity now presented of incorporating into it the hitherto independent kingdom of Navarre, by the marriage of their own heir with its sovereign. All their efforts, however, were frustrated by the queen mother Magdaleine, sister of Louis the Eleventh, who, sacrificing the interests of the nation to her prejudices, evaded the proposed match, under various pretexts, and in the end effected a union between her daughter and a French noble, Jean d’Albret, heir to considerable estates in the neighborhood of Navarre.

This was a most fatal error. The independence of Navarre had hitherto been maintained less through its own strength, than the weakness of its neighbors. But, now that the petty states around her had been absorbed into two great and powerful monarchies, it was not to be expected, that so feeble a barrier would be longer respected, or that it would not be swept away in the first collision of those formidable forces. But, although the independence of the kingdom must be lost, the princes of Navarre might yet maintain their station by a union with, the reigning family of France or Spain. By the present connection with a mere private individual they lost both the one and the other. [1]

Still the most friendly relations subsisted between the Catholic king and his niece during the lifetime of Isabella. The sovereigns assisted her in taking possession of her turbulent dominions, as well as in allaying the deadly feuds of the Beaumonts and Agramonts, with which they were rent asunder. They supported her with their arms in resisting her uncle Jean, viscount of Narbonne, who claimed the crown on the groundless pretext of its being limited to male heirs. [2] The alliance with Spain was drawn still closer by the avowed purpose of Louis the Twelfth to support his nephew, Gaston de Foix, in the claims of his deceased father. [3] The death of the young hero, however, at Ravenna, wholly changed the relations and feelings of the two countries. Navarre had nothing immediately to fear from France. She felt distrust of Spain on more than one account, especially for the protection afforded the Beaumontese exiles, at the head of whom was the young count of Lerin, Ferdinand’s nephew. [4]

France, too, standing alone, and at bay against the rest of Europe, found the alliance of the little state of Navarre of importance to her, especially at the present juncture, when the project of an expedition against Guienne, by the combined armies of Spain and England, naturally made Louis the Twelfth desirous to secure the good-will of a prince, who might be said to wear the keys of the Pyrenees as the king of Sardinia did those of the Alps, at his girdle. With these amicable dispositions, the king and queen of Navarre despatched their plenipotentiaries to Blois, early in May, soon after the battle of Ravenna, with full powers to conclude a treaty of alliance and confederation with the French government. [5]

In the mean time, June 8th, an English squadron arrived at Passage, in Guipuscoa, having ten thousand men on board under Thomas Grey, marquis of Dorset, [6] in order to cooperate with King Ferdinand’s army in the descent on Guienne. This latter force, consisting of two thousand five hundred horse, light and heavy, six thousand foot, and twenty pieces of artillery, was placed under Don Fadrique de Toledo, the old duke of Alva, grandfather of the general, who wrote his name in indelible characters of blood in the Netherlands, under Philip the Second. [7] Before making any movement, however, Ferdinand, who knew the equivocal dispositions of the Navarrese sovereigns, determined to secure himself from the annoyance which their strong position enabled them to give him on whatever route he adopted. He accordingly sent to request a free passage through their dominions, with the demand, moreover, that they should intrust six of their principal fortresses to such Navarrese as he should name, as a guarantee for their neutrality during the expedition. He accompanied this modest proposal with the alternative, that the sovereigns should become parties to the Holy League, engaging in that case to restore certain places in his possession, which they claimed, and pledging the whole strength of the confederacy to protect them against any hostile attempts of France. [8]

The situation of these unfortunate princes was in the highest degree embarrassing. The neutrality they had so long and sedulously maintained was now to be abandoned; and their choice, whichever party they espoused, must compromise their possessions on one or the other side of the Pyrenees, in exchange for an ally, whose friendship had proved by repeated experience quite as disastrous as his enmity. In this dilemma they sent ambassadors into Castile, to obtain some modification of the terms, or at least to protract negotiations till some definitive arrangement should be made with Louis the Twelfth. [9]

On the 17th of July, their plenipotentiaries signed a treaty with that monarch at Blois, by which France and Navarre mutually agreed to defend each other, in case of attack, against all enemies whatever. By another provision, obviously directed against Spain, it was stipulated, that neither nation should allow a passage to the enemies of the other through its dominions. And, by a third, Navarre pledged herself to declare war on the English now assembled in Guipuscoa, and all those co-operating with them. [10]

Through a singular accident, Ferdinand was made acquainted with the principal articles of this treaty before its signature. [11] His army had remained inactive in its quarters around Victoria, ever since the landing of the English. He now saw the hopelessness of further negotiation, and, determining to anticipate the stroke prepared for him, commanded his general to invade without delay, and occupy Navarre.

The duke of Alva crossed the borders on the 21st of July, proclaiming that no harm should be offered to those who voluntarily submitted. On the 23d, he arrived before Pampelona. King John, who all the while he had been thus dallying with the lion, had made no provision for defence, had already abandoned his capital, leaving it to make the best terms it could for itself. On the following day, the city, having first obtained assurance of respect for all its franchises and immunities, surrendered; “a circumstance,” devoutly exclaims King Ferdinand, “in which we truly discern the hand of our blessed Lord, whose miraculous interposition has been visible through all this enterprise, undertaken for the weal of the church, and the extirpation of the accursed schism.” [12]

The royal exile, in the mean while, had retreated to Lumbier, where he solicited the assistance of the duke of Longueville, then encamped on the northern frontier for the defence of Bayonne. The French commander, however, stood too much in awe of the English, still lying in Guipuscoa, to weaken himself by a detachment into Navarre; and the unfortunate monarch, unsupported, either by his own subjects or his new ally, was compelled to cross the mountains, and take refuge with his family in France. [13]

The duke of Alva lost no time in pressing his advantage; opening the way by a proclamation of the Catholic king, that it was intended only to hold possession of the country as security for the pacific disposition of its sovereigns, until the end of his present expedition against Guienne. From whatever cause, the Spanish general experienced so little resistance, that in less than a fortnight he overran and subdued nearly the whole of Upper Navarre. So short a time sufficed for the subversion of a monarchy, which, in defiance of storm and stratagem, had maintained its independence unimpaired, with a few brief exceptions, for seven centuries. [14]

On reviewing these extraordinary events, we are led to distrust the capacity and courage of a prince, who could so readily abandon his kingdom, without so much as firing a shot in its defence. John had shown, however, on more than one occasion, that he was destitute of neither. He was not, it must be confessed, of the temper best suited to the fierce and stirring times on which he was cast. He was of an amiable disposition, social and fond of pleasure, and so little jealous of his royal dignity, that he mixed freely in the dances and other entertainments of the humblest of his subjects. His greatest defect was the facility with which he reposed the cares of state on favorites, not always the most deserving.

His greatest merit was his love of letters. [15] Unfortunately, neither his merits nor defects were of a kind best adapted to extricate him from his present perilous situation, or enable him to cope with his wily and resolute adversary. For this, however, more commanding talents might well have failed. The period had arrived, when, in the regular progress of events, Navarre must yield up her independence to the two great nations on her borders; who, attracted by the strength of her natural position, and her political weakness, would be sure, now that their own domestic discords were healed, to claim each the moiety, which seemed naturally to fall within its own territorial limits. Particular events might accelerate or retard this result, but it was not in the power of human genius to avert its final consummation.

King Ferdinand, who descried the storm now gathering on the side of France, resolved to meet it promptly, and commanded his general to cross the mountains, and occupy the districts of Lower Navarre. In this he expected the co-operation of the English. But he was disappointed. The marquis of Dorset alleged that the time consumed in the reduction of Navarre made it too late for the expedition against Guienne, which was now placed in a posture of defence. He loudly complained that his master had been duped by the Catholic king, who had used his ally to make conquests solely for himself; and, in spite of every remonstrance, he re-embarked his whole force, without waiting for orders; “a proceeding,” says Ferdinand in one of his letters, “which touches me most deeply, from the stain it leaves on the honor of the most serene king my son-in-law, and the glory of the English nation, so distinguished in times past for high and chivalrous emprize.” [16]

The duke of Alva, thus unsupported, was no match for the French under Longueville, strengthened, moreover, by the veteran corps returned from Italy, with the brave La Palice. Indeed, he narrowly escaped being hemmed in between the two armies, and only succeeded in anticipating by a few hours the movements of La Palice, so as to make good his retreat through the pass of Roncesvalles, and throw himself into Pampelona. [17] Hither he was speedily followed by the French general, accompanied by Jean d’Albret.

On the 27th of November, the besiegers made a desperate though ineffectual assault on the city, which was repeated with equal ill fortune on the two following days. The beleaguering forces, in the mean time, were straitened for provisions; and at length, after a siege of some weeks, on learning the arrival of fresh reinforcements under the duke of Najara, [18] they broke up their encampment, and withdrew across the mountains; and with them faded the last ray of hope for the restoration of the unfortunate monarch of Navarre. [19]

On the 1st of April, in the following year, 1513, Ferdinand effected a truce with Louis the Twelfth, embracing their respective territories west of the Alps. It continued a year, and at its expiration was renewed for a similar time. [20] This arrangement, by which Louis sacrificed the interests of his ally the king of Navarre, gave Ferdinand ample time for settling and fortifying his new conquests; while it left the war open in a quarter, where he well knew, others were more interested than himself to prosecute it with vigor. The treaty must be allowed to be more defensible on the score of policy, than of good faith. [21] The allies loudly inveighed against the treachery of their confederate, who had so unscrupulously sacrificed the common interest, by relieving France from the powerful diversion he was engaged to make on her western borders. It is no justification of wrong, that similar wrongs have been committed by others; but those who commit them (and there was not one of the allies, who could escape the imputation, amid the political profligacy of the times,) certainly forfeit the privilege to complain. [22]

Ferdinand availed himself of the interval of repose, now secured, to settle his new conquests. He had transferred his residence first to Burgos and afterwards to Logrono, that he might be near the theatre of operations. He was indefatigable in raising reinforcements and supplies, and expressed his intention at one time, notwithstanding the declining state of his health, to take the command in person. He showed his usual sagacity in various regulations for improving the police, healing the domestic feuds,—as fatal to Navarre as the arms of its enemies,—and confirming and extending its municipal privileges and immunities, so as to conciliate the affections of his new subjects. [23]

On the 23d of March, 1513, the estates of Navarre took the usual oaths of allegiance to King Ferdinand. [24] On the 15th of June, 1515, the Catholic monarch by a solemn act in cortes, held at Burgos, incorporated his new conquests into the kingdom of Castile. [25] The event excited some surprise, considering his more intimate relations with Aragon. But it was to the arms of Castile that he was chiefly indebted for the conquest; and it was on her superior wealth and resources that he relied for maintaining it. With this was combined the politic consideration, that the Navarrese, naturally turbulent and factious, would be held more easily in subordination when associated with Castile, than with Aragon, where the spirit of independence was higher, and often manifested itself in such bold assertion of popular rights, as falls most unwelcome on a royal ear.

To all this must be added the despair of issue by his present marriage, which had much abated his personal interest in enlarging the extent of his patrimonial domains.

Foreign writers characterize the conquest of Navarre as a bold, unblushing usurpation, rendered more odious by the mask of religious hypocrisy. The national writers, on the other hand, have employed their pens industriously to vindicate it; some endeavoring to rake a good claim for Castile out of its ancient union with Navarre, almost as ancient, indeed, as the Moorish conquest. Others resort to considerations of expediency, relying on the mutual benefits of the connection to both kingdoms; arguments which prove little else than the weakness of the cause. [26] All lay more or less stress on the celebrated bull of Julius the Second, of February 18th, 1512, by which he excommunicated the sovereigns of Navarre, as heretics, schismatics, and enemies of the church, releasing their subjects from their allegiance, laying their dominions under an interdict, and delivering them over to any who should take, or had already taken, possession of them. [27] Most, indeed, are content to rest on this, as the true basis and original ground of the conquest. The total silence of the Catholic king respecting this document, before the invasion, and the omission of the national historians since to produce it, have caused much skepticism as to its existence. And, although its recent publication puts this beyond doubt, the instrument contains, in my judgment, strong internal evidence for distrusting the accuracy of the date affixed to it, which should have been posterior to the invasion; a circumstance materially affecting the argument; and which makes the papal sentence, not the original basis of the war, but only a sanction subsequently obtained to cover its injustice, and authorize retaining the fruits of it. [28]

But, whatever authority such a sanction may have had in the sixteenth century, it will find little respect in the present, at least beyond the limits of the Pyrenees. The only way, in which the question can be fairly tried, must be by those maxims of public law universally recognized as settling the intercourse of civilized nations; a science, indeed, imperfectly developed at that time, but in its general principles the same as now, founded, as these are, on the immutable basis of morality and justice.

We must go back a step beyond the war, to the proximate cause of it. This was Ferdinand’s demand of a free passage for his troops through Navarre.

The demand was perfectly fair, and in ordinary cases would doubtless have been granted by a neutral nation. But that nation must, after all, be the only judge of its propriety, and Navarre may find a justification for her refusal on these grounds. First, that, in her weak and defenceless state, it was attended with danger to herself. Secondly, that, as by a previous and existing treaty with Spain, the validity of which was recognized in her new one of July 17th with France, she had agreed to refuse the right of passage to the latter nation, she consequently could not grant it to Spain without a violation of her neutrality. [29] Thirdly, that the demand of a passage, however just in itself, was coupled with another, the surrender of the fortresses, which must compromise the independence of the kingdom. [30]

But although, for these reasons, the sovereigns of Navarre were warranted in refusing Ferdinand’s request, they were not therefore authorized to declare war against him, which they virtually did by entering into a defensive alliance with his enemy Louis the Twelfth, and by pledging themselves to make war on the English and their confederates; an article pointedly directed at the Catholic king.

True, indeed, the treaty of Blois had not received the ratification of the Navarrese sovereigns; but it was executed by their plenipotentiaries duly authorized; and, considering the intimate intercourse between the two nations, was undoubtedly made with their full knowledge and concurrence.

Under these circumstances, it was scarcely to be expected, that King Ferdinand, when an accident had put him in possession of the result of these negotiations, should wait for a formal declaration of hostilities, and thus deprive himself of the advantage of anticipating the blow of his enemy.

The right of making war would seem to include that of disposing of its fruits; subject, however, to those principles of natural equity, which should regulate every action, whether of a public or private nature. No principle can be clearer, for example, than that the penalty should be proportioned to the offence. Now that inflicted on the sovereigns of Navarre, which went so far as to dispossess them of their crown, and annihilate the political existence of their kingdom, was such as nothing but extraordinary aggressions on the part of the conquered nation, or the self-preservation of the victors, could justify. As neither of these contingencies existed in the present case, Ferdinand’s conduct must be regarded as a flagrant example of the abuse of the rights of conquest. We have been but too familiar, indeed, with similar acts of political injustice, and on a much larger scale, in the present civilized age. But, although the number and splendor of the precedents may blunt our sensibility to the atrocity of the act, they can never constitute a legitimate warrant for its perpetration.

While thus freely condemning Ferdinand’s conduct in this transaction, I cannot go along with those, who, having inspected the subject less minutely, are disposed to regard it as the result of a cool, premeditated policy from the outset. The propositions originally made by him to Navarre appear to have been conceived in perfect good faith. The requisition of the fortresses, impudent as it may seem, was nothing more than had been before made in Isabella’s time, when it had been granted, and the security subsequently restored, as soon as the emergency had passed away. [31] The alternative proposed, of entering into the Holy League, presented many points of view so favorable to Navarre, that Ferdinand, ignorant, as he then was, of the precise footing on which she stood with France, might have seen no improbability in her closing with it. Had either alternative been embraced, there would have been no pretext for the invasion. Even when hostilities had been precipitated by the impolitic conduct of Navarre, Ferdinand (to judge, not from his public manifestoes only, but from his private correspondence) would seem to have at first contemplated holding the country only till the close of his French expedition. [32] But the facility of retaining these conquests, when once acquired, was too strong a temptation. It was easy to find some plausible pretext to justify it, and obtain such a sanction from the highest authority, as should veil the injustice of the transaction from the world,—and from his own eyes.

And that these were blinded is but too true, if, as an Aragonese historian declares, he could remark on his death-bed, “that, independently of the conquest having been undertaken at the instance of the sovereign pontiff, for the extirpation of the schism, he felt his conscience as easy in keeping it, as in keeping his crown of Aragon.” [33]

* * * * *

I have made use of three authorities exclusively devoted to Navarre, in the present History. 1. “L’Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, par un des Secretaires Interprettes de sa Maieste” Paris, 1596, 8vo. This anonymous work, from the pen of one of Henry IV.‘s secretaries, is little else than a meagre compilation of facts, and these deeply colored by the national prejudices of the writer. It derives some value from this circumstance, however, in the contrast it affords to the Spanish version of the same transactions. 2. A tract entitled “Aelii Antonii Nebrissensis de Bello Navariensi Libri Duo.” It covers less than thirty pages folio, and is chiefly occupied, as the title imports, with the military events of the conquest by the duke of Alva. It was originally incorporated in the volume containing its learned author’s version, or rather paraphrase, of Pulgar’s Chronicle, with some other matters; and first appeared from the press of the younger Lebrija, “apud inclytam Granatam, 1545.” 3. But the great work illustrating the history of Navarre is the “Annales del Reyno;” of which the best edition is that in seven volumes, folio, from the press of Ibanez, Pamplona, 1766. Its typographical execution would be creditable to any country. The three first volumes were written by Moret, whose profound acquaintance with the antiquities of his nation has made his book indispensable to the student of this portion of its history. The fourth and fifth are the continuation of his work by Francisco de Aleson, a Jesuit who succeeded Moret as historiographer of Navarre. The two last volumes are devoted to investigations illustrating the antiquities of Navarre, from the pen of Moret, and are usually published separately from his great historic work. Aleson’s continuation, extending from 1350 to 1527, is a production of considerable merit. It shows extensive research on the part of its author, who, however, has not always confined himself to the most authentic and accredited sources of information. His references exhibit a singular medley of original contemporary documents, and apocryphal authorities of a very recent date. Though a Navarrese, he has written with the impartiality of one in whom local prejudices were extinguished in the more comprehensive national feelings of a Spaniard.

FOOTNOTES

[1] See Part I. Chapters 10, 12.

[2] Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 567, 570.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 34, cap. 1, fol.—Diccionario Geografico-Historico de Espana, por la Real Academia de la Historia, (Madrid, 1802,) tom. ii.

117.

[3] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 13.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 9, cap. 54.—Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. p. 500.

[4] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, ubi supra.

[5] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, p. 147.—See also the king’s letter to Deza, dated at Burgos, July 20th, 1512, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 235.

[6] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. p. 245.—Herbert, Life and Raigne of Henry VIII., (London, 1649,) p. 20.—Holinshed, Chronicles, p.568, (London, 1810.)—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ix. p. 315.

His Valencian editors correct his text, by substituting marquis of Dorchester!

[7] The young poet, Garcilasso de la Vega, gives a brilliant sketch of this stern old nobleman in his younger days, such as our imagination would scarcely have formed of him at any period.

“Otro Marte ‘n guerra, en corte Febo.

Mostravase mancebo en las senales del rostro, qu’ eran tales, qu’ esperanca i cierta confianca claro davan a cuantos le miravan; qu’ el seria, en quien s’ informaria un ser divino.”

Obras, ed. de Herrera, p. 505.

[8] Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 3.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi lib. 10, cap. 4, 5.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap.

15.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 488.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., ubi supra.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 25.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 25.

[9] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 7, 8.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 487.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 25.

[10] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no. 69.—Carta del Rey a D. Diego Deza, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 235.

[11] A confidential secretary of King Jean of Navarre was murdered in his sleep by his mistress. His papers, containing the heads of the proposed treaty with France, fell into the hands of a priest of Pampelona, who was induced by the hopes of a reward to betray them to Ferdinand. The story is told by Martyr, in a letter dated July 18th, 1512. (Opus Epist., epist.

490.) Its truth is attested by the conformity of the proposed terms with those of the actual treaty.

[12] Carta del Rey a D. Diego Deza, Burgos, July 26th, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 620-

627.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 495.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 15.

Bernaldez has incorporated into his chronicle several letters of King Ferdinand, written during the progress of the war. It is singular, that, coming from so high a source, they should not have been more freely resorted to by the Spanish writers. They are addressed to his confessor, Deza, archbishop of Seville, with whom Bernaldez, curate of a parish in his diocese, was, as appears from other parts of his work, on terms of intimacy.

[13] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 15.—Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, p. 622.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap.

4.—“Jean d’Albret you were born,” said Catharine to her unfortunate husband, as they were flying from their kingdom, “and Jean d’Albret you will die. Had I been king, and you queen, we had been reigning in Navarre at this moment.” (Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 26.) Father Abarca treats the story as an old wife’s tale, and Garibay as an old woman for repeating it. Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.

[14] Manifiesto del Rey D. Fernando, July 30th, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 5.—

Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 26.

[15] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 2.—Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 603, 604.

[16] 16 See the king’s third letter to Deza, Logrono, November 12th, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom.

ii. lib. 30, cap. 12.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 7.—

Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 499.—Herbert, Life of Henry VIII., p.

24.—Holinshed, Chronicles, p. 571.

[17] Garcilasso de la Vega alludes to these military exploits of the duke, in his second eclogue.

“Con mas ilustre nombre los arneses de los fieros Franceses abollava.”

Obras, ed. de Herrera, p. 505.

[18] Such was the power of the old duke of Najara, that he brought into the field on this occasion 1100 horse and 3000 foot, raised and equipped on his own estates. Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 507.

[19] Memoires de Bayard, chap. 55, 56.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 33.—

Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 8, 9.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1512.

Jean and Catharine d’Albret passed the remainder of their days in their territories on the French side of the Pyrenees. They made one more faint and fruitless attempt to recover their dominions during the regency of Cardinal Ximenes. (Carbajal, Anales, MS., cap. 12.) Broken in spirits, their health gradually declined, and neither of them long survived the loss of their crown. Jean died June 23d, 1517, and Catharine followed on the 12th of February of the next year;—happy, at least, that, as misfortune had no power to divide them in life, so they were not long separated by death. (Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, p. 643.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 20, 21.) Their bodies sleep side by side in the cathedral church of Lescar, in their own dominions of Bearne; and their fate is justly noticed by the Spanish historians as one of the most striking examples of that stern decree, by which the sins of the fathers are visited on the children to the third and fourth generation.

[20] Flassan, Diplomatie Francaise, tom. i. p 296.—Rymer, Foedera, tom.

xiii. pp. 350-352.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 11, p82, lib. 12, p. 168.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap 22.—“Fu cosa ridicola,” says Guicciardini in relation to this truce, “che nei medesimi giorni, che la si bandiva solennemente per tutta. Ja Spagna, venne en araldo a significargli in nome del Re d’Ingbilterra gli apparati potentissimi, che ei faceva per assaltare la Francia, e a sollecitare che egli medesimamente movesse, secondo che aveva promesso, la guerra dalla parte di Spagna.” Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 12, p. 84.

[21] Francesco Vettori, the Florentine ambassador at the papal court, writes to Machiavelli, that he lay awake two hours that night speculating on the real motives of the Catholic king in making this truce, which, regarded simply as a matter of policy, he condemns in toto. He accompanies this with various predictions respecting the consequences likely to result from it. These consequences never occurred, however; and the failure of his predictions may be received as the best refutation of his arguments. Machiavelli, Opere, Lett. Famigl. Aprile 21 1513.

[22] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. vi. lib. II, pp. 81, 82.—Machiavelli, Opere, ubi supra.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 538.

On the 5th of April a treaty was concluded at Mechlin, in the names of Ferdinand, the king of England, the emperor, and the pope. (Rymer, Foedera, tom. xiii. pp. 354-358.) The Castilian envoy, Don Luis Carroz, was not present at Mechlin, but it was ratified and solemnly sworn to by him, on behalf of his sovereign, in London, April 18th. (Ibid., tom. xiii.

363.) By this treaty, Spain agreed to attack France in Guienne, while the other powers were to cooperate by a descent on other quarters. (See also Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no 79.) This was in direct contradiction of the treaty signed only five days before at Orthes, and if made with the privity of King Ferdinand, must be allowed to be a gratuitous display of perfidy, not easily matched in that age. As such, of course, it is stigmatized by the French historians, that is the later ones, for I find no comment on it in contemporary writers. (See Rapin, History of England, translated by Tindal, (London, 1785-9,) vol. ii. pp.

93, 94. Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. p. 626.) Ferdinand, when applied to by Henry VIII. to ratify the acts of his minister, in the following summer, refused, on the ground that the latter had transcended his powers. (Herbert, Life of Henry VIII., p. 29.) The Spanish writers are silent. His assertion derives some probability from the tenor of one of the articles, which provides, that in case he refuses to confirm the treaty, it shall still be binding between England and the emperor; language which, as it anticipates, may seem to authorize, such a contingency.

Public treaties have, for obvious reasons, been generally received as the surest basis for history. One might well doubt this, who attempts to reconcile the multifarious discrepancies and contradictions in those of the period under review. The science of diplomacy, as then practised, was a mere game of finesse and falsehood, in which the more solemn the protestations of the parties, the more ground for distrusting their sincerity.

[23] Carta del Rey a Don Diego Deza, Nov. 12th, 1512, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib.

35, cap. 16.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 13, 36, 43.—

Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1512.

[24] Hist. du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 629, 630.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 16.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 30, cap. 1.

[25] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 92.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1515.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 30, cap. 1.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom, v. lib. 35, cap. 7.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 26.

[26] The honest canon Salazar de Mendoza, (taking the hint from Lebrija, indeed,) finds abundant warrant for Ferdinand’s treatment of Navarre in the hard measure dealt by the Israelites of old to the people of Ephron, and to Sihon, king of the Amorites. (Monarquia, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 6.) It might seem strange, that a Christian should look for authority in the practices of the race he so much abominates, instead of the inspired precepts of the Founder of his religion! But in truth your thoroughbred casuist is apt to be very little of a Christian.

[27] See the original bull of Julius II., apud Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ix. Apend. no. 2, ed. Valencia, 1796.—“Joannem et Catharinam,” says the bull, in the usual conciliatory style of the Vatican, “perditionis filios,—excommunicatos, anathemizatos, maledictos, aeterni supplicii reos,” etc., etc. “Our armies swore terribly in Flanders, cried my uncle Toby,—but nothing to this. For my own part I could not have a heart to curse my dog so.”

[28] The ninth volume of the splendid Valencian edition of Mariana contains in the Appendix the famous bull of Julius II. of Feb. 18th, 1512, the original of which is to be found in the royal archives of Barcelona.

The editor, Don Francisco Ortiz y Sanz, has accompanied it with an elaborate disquisition, in which he makes the apostolic sentence the great authority for the conquest. It was a great triumph undoubtedly, to be able to produce the document, to which the Spanish historians had been so long challenged in vain by foreign writers, and the existence of which might well be doubted, since no record of it appears on the papal register.

(Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.) Paris de Grassis, maitre des ceremonies of the chapel of Julius II. and Leo X., makes no mention of bull or excommunication, although very exact and particular in reporting such facts. (Brequigny, Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque du Roy, tom. ii. p. 570.) There is no reason that I know for doubting the genuineness of the present instrument. There are conclusive reasons to my mind, however, for rejecting its date, and assigning it to some time posterior to the conquest.

1st. The bull denounces John and Catharine as having openly joined themselves to Louis XII., and borne arms with him against England, Spain, and the church; a charge for which there was no pretence till five months later.—2d. With this bull the editor has given another, dated Rome, July 21st, 1512, noticed by Peter Martyr. (Opus Epist., epist. 497.) This latter is general in its import, being directed against all nations whatever, engaged in alliance with France against the church. The sovereigns of Navarre are not even mentioned, nor the nation itself, any further than to warn it of the imminent danger in which it stood of falling into the schism. Now it is obvious that this second bull, so general in its import, would have been entirely superfluous in reference to Navarre, after the publication of the first; while, on the other hand, nothing could be more natural than that these general menaces and warnings, having proved ineffectual, should be followed by the particular sentence of excommunication contained in the bull of February.—3d. In fact, the bull of February makes repeated allusion to a former one, in such a manner as to leave no doubt that the bull of July 21st is intended; since not only the sentiments, but the very form of expression, are perfectly coincident in both for whole sentences together.—4th. Ferdinand makes no mention of the papal excommunication, either in his private correspondence, where he discusses the grounds of the war, or in his manifesto to the Navarrese, where it would have served his purpose quite as effectually as his arms. I say nothing of the negative evidence afforded by the silence of contemporary writers, as Lebrija, Carbajal, Bernaldez, and Martyr, who, while they allude to a sentence of excommunication passed in the consistory, or to the publication of the bull of July, give no intimation of the existence of that of February; a silence altogether inexplicable. The inference from all this is, that the date of the bull of February 18th, 1512, is erroneous; that it should be placed at some period posterior to the conquest, and consequently could not have served as the ground of it; but was probably obtained at the instance of the Catholic king, in order, by the odium which it threw on the sovereigns of Navarre, as excommunicate, to remove that under which he lay himself, and at the same time secure what might be deemed a sufficient warrant for retaining his acquisitions.

Readers in general may think more time has been spent on the discussion than it is worth. But the important light, in which it is viewed by those who entertain more deference for a papal decree, is sufficiently attested by the length and number of disquisitions on it, down to the present century.

[29] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no. 69.

[30] According to Galindez de Carbajal, only three fortresses were originally demanded by Ferdinand. (Anales, MS., ano 1512.) He may have confounded the number with that said to have been finally conceded by the king of Navarre; a concession, however, which amounted to little, since it excluded by name two of the most important places required, and the sincerity of which may well be doubted, if, as it would seem, it was not made till after the negotiations with France had been adjusted. See Zurita, Anales, lib. 10, cap. 7.

[31] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 1, 3.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 13.

[32] See King Ferdinand’s letter, July 20th, and his manifesto, July 30th, 1512, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 235.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 7.

[33] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.

CHAPTER XXIV.

DEATH OF GONSALVO DE CORDOVA.—ILLNESS AND DEATH OF FERDINAND.—HIS

CHARACTER.

1513-1516.

Gonsalvo Ordered to Italy.—General Enthusiasm.—The King’s Distrust.—

Gonsalvo in Retirement.—Decline of his Health.—His Death and Noble Character.—Ferdinand’s Illness.—It Increases.—He Dies.—His Character.

—A Contrast to Isabella.—The Judgment of his Contemporaries.

Notwithstanding the good order which King Ferdinand maintained in Castile by his energetic conduct, as well as by his policy of diverting the effervescing spirits of the nation to foreign enterprise, he still experienced annoyance from various causes. Among these were Maximilian’s pretensions to the regency, as paternal grandfather of the heir apparent.

The emperor, indeed, had more than once threatened to assert his preposterous claims to Castile in person; and, although this Quixotic monarch, who had been tilting against windmills all his life, failed to excite any powerful sensation, either by his threats or his promises, it furnished a plausible pretext for keeping alive a faction hostile to the interests of the Catholic king.

In the winter of 1509, an arrangement was made with the emperor, through the mediation of Louis the Twelfth, by which he finally relinquished his pretensions to the regency of Castile, in consideration of the aid of three hundred lances, and the transfer to him of the fifty thousand ducats, which Ferdinand was to receive from Pisa. [1] No bribe was too paltry for a prince, whose means were as narrow, as his projects were vast and chimerical. Even after this pacification, the Austrian party contrived to disquiet the king, by maintaining the archduke Charles’s pretensions to the government in the name of his unfortunate mother; until at length, the Spanish monarch came to entertain not merely distrust, but positive aversion, for his grandson; while the latter, as he advanced in years, was taught to regard Ferdinand as one, who excluded him from his rightful inheritance by a most flagrant act of usurpation. [2]

Ferdinand’s suspicious temper found other grounds for uneasiness, where there was less warrant for it, in his jealousy of his illustrious subject Gonsalvo de Cordova. This was particularly the case, when circumstances had disclosed the full extent of that general’s popularity. After the defeat of Ravenna, the pope and the other allies of Ferdinand urged him in the most earnest manner to send the Great Captain into Italy, as the only man capable of checking the French arms, and restoring the fortunes of the league. The king, trembling for the immediate safety of his own dominions, gave a reluctant assent, and ordered Gonsalvo to hold himself in readiness to take command of an army to be instantly raised for Italy. [3]

These tidings were received with enthusiasm by the Castilians. Men of every rank pressed forward to serve under a chief, whose service was itself sufficient passport to fame. “It actually seemed,” says Martyr, “as if Spain were to be drained of all her noble and generous blood. Nothing appeared impossible, or even difficult, under such a leader. Hardly a cavalier in the land, but would have thought it a reproach to remain behind. Truly marvellous,” he adds, “is the authority which he has acquired over all orders of men!” [4]

Such was the zeal with which men enlisted under his banner, that great difficulty was found in completing the necessary levies for Navarre, then menaced by the French. The king, alarmed at this, and relieved from apprehensions of immediate danger to Naples, by subsequent advices from that country, sent orders greatly reducing the number of forces to be raised. But this had little effect, since every man, who had the means, preferred acting as a volunteer under the Great Captain to any other service, however gainful; and many a poor cavalier was there, who expended his little all, or incurred a heavy debt, in order to appear in the field in a style becoming the chivalry of Spain.

Ferdinand’s former distrust of his general was now augmented tenfold by this evidence of his unbounded popularity. He saw in imagination much more danger to Naples from such a subject, than from any enemy, however formidable. He had received intelligence, moreover, that the French were in full retreat towards the north. He hesitated no longer, but sent instructions to the Great Captain at Cordova, to disband his levies, as the expedition would be postponed till after the present winter; at the same time inviting such as chose to enlist in the service of Navarre. [5]

These tidings were received with indignant feelings by the whole army. The officers refused, nearly to a man, to engage in the proposed service.

Gonsalvo, who understood the motives of this change in the royal purpose, was deeply sensible to what he regarded as a personal affront. He, however, enjoined on his troops implicit obedience to the king’s commands.

Before dismissing them, as he knew that many had been drawn into expensive preparations far beyond their means, he distributed largesses among them, amounting to the immense sum, if we may credit his biographers, of one hundred thousand ducats. “Never stint your hand,” said he to his steward, who remonstrated on the magnitude of the donative; “there is no mode of enjoying one’s property, like giving it away.” He then wrote a letter to the king, in which he gave free vent to his indignation, bitterly complaining of the ungenerous requital of his services, and asking leave to retire to his duchy of Terranova in Naples, since he could be no longer useful in Spain. This request was not calculated to lull Ferdinand’s suspicions. He answered, however, “in the soft and pleasant style, which he knew so well how to assume,” says Zurita; and, after specifying his motives for relinquishing, however reluctantly, the expedition, he recommended Gonsalvo’s return to Loja, at least until some more definite arrangement could be made respecting the affairs of Italy.

Thus condemned to his former seclusion, the Great Captain resumed his late habits of life, freely opening his mansion to persons of merit, interesting himself in plans for ameliorating the condition of his tenantry and neighbors, and in this quiet way winning a more unquestionable title to human gratitude than when piling up the blood-
stained trophies of victory. Alas for humanity, that it should have deemed otherwise! [6]

Another circumstance, which disquieted the Catholic king, was the failure of issue by his present wife. The natural desire of offspring was further stimulated by hatred of the house of Austria, which made him eager to abridge the ample inheritance about to descend on his grandson Charles. It must be confessed, that it reflects little credit on his heart or his understanding, that he should have been so ready to sacrifice to personal resentment those noble plans for the consolidation of the monarchy, which had so worthily occupied the attention both of himself and of Isabella, in his early life. His wishes had nearly been realized. Queen Germaine was delivered of a son, March 3d, 1509. Providence, however, as if unwilling to defeat the glorious consummation of the union of the Spanish kingdoms, so long desired and nearly achieved, permitted the infant to live only a few hours. [7]

Ferdinand repined at the blessing denied him, now more than ever. In order to invigorate his constitution, he resorted to artificial means. [8] The medicines which he took had the opposite effect. At least from this time, the spring of 1513, he was afflicted with infirmities before unknown to him. Instead of his habitual equanimity and cheerfulness, he became impatient, irritable, and frequently a prey to morbid melancholy. He lost all relish for business, and even for amusements, except field sports, to which he devoted the greater part of his time. The fever which consumed him made him impatient of long residence in any one place, and during these last years of his life the court was in perpetual migration. The unhappy monarch, alas! could not fly from disease, or from himself. [9]

In the summer of 1515, he was found one night by his attendants in a state of insensibility, from which it was difficult to rouse him. He exhibited flashes of his former energy after this, however. On one occasion he made a journey to Aragon, in order to preside at the deliberations of the cortes, and enforce the grant of supplies, to which the nobles, from selfish considerations, made resistance. The king failed, indeed, to bend their intractable tempers, but he displayed on the occasion all his wonted address and resolution. [10]

On his return to Castile, which, perhaps from the greater refinement and deference of the people, seems to have been always a more agreeable residence to him than his own kingdom of Aragon, he received intelligence very vexatious, in the irritable state of his mind. He learned that the Great Captain was preparing to embark for Flanders, with his friend the count of Urena, the marquis of Priego his nephew, and his future son-in-
law, the count of Cabra. Some surmised that Gonsalvo designed to take command of the papal army in Italy; others, to join himself with the archduke Charles, and introduce him, if possible, into Castile. Ferdinand, clinging to power more tenaciously as it was ready to slip of itself from his grasp, had little doubt that the latter was his purpose. He sent orders therefore to the south, to prevent the meditated embarkation, and, if necessary, to seize Gonsalvo’s person. But the latter was soon to embark on a voyage, where no earthly arm could arrest him. [11]

In the autumn of 1515 he was attacked by a quartan fever. Its approaches at first were mild. His constitution, naturally good, had been invigorated by the severe training of a military life; and he had been so fortunate, that, notwithstanding the free exposure of his person to danger, he had never received a wound. But, although little alarm was occasioned at first by his illness, he found it impossible to throw it off; and he removed to his residence in Granada, in hopes of deriving benefit from its salubrious climate. Every effort to rally the declining powers of nature proved unavailing; and on the 2d of December, 1515, he expired in his own palace at Granada, in the arms of his wife, and his beloved daughter Elvira. [12]

The death of this illustrious man diffused universal sorrow throughout the nation. All envy and unworthy suspicion died with him. The king and the whole court went into mourning. Funeral services were performed in his honor, in the royal chapel and all the principal churches of the kingdom.

Ferdinand addressed a letter of consolation to his duchess, in which he lamented the death of one, “who had rendered him inestimable services, and to whom he had ever borne such sincere affection!” [13] His obsequies were celebrated with great magnificence in the ancient Moorish capital, under the superintendence of the count of Tendilla, the son and successor of Gonsalvo’s old friend, the late governor of Granada. [14] His remains, first deposited in the Franciscan monastery, were afterwards removed and laid beneath a sumptuous mausoleum in the church of San Geronimo; [15] and more than a hundred banners and royal pennons, waving in melancholy pomp around the walls of the chapel, proclaimed the glorious achievements of the warrior who slept beneath. [16] His noble wife, Dona Maria Manrique, survived him but a few days. His daughter Elvira inherited the princely titles and estates of her father, which, by her marriage with her kinsman, the count of Cabra, were perpetuated in the house of Cordova. [17]

Gonsalvo, or, as he is called in Castilian, Gonzalo Hernandez de Cordova, was sixty-two years old at the time of his death. His countenance and person are represented to have been extremely handsome; his manners, elegant and attractive, were stamped with that lofty dignity, which so often distinguishes his countrymen. “He still bears,” says Martyr, speaking of him in the last years of his life, “the same majestic port as when in the height of his former authority; so that every one who visits him acknowledges the influence of his noble presence, as fully as when, at the head of armies, he gave laws to Italy.” [18]

His splendid military successes, so gratifying to Castilian pride, have made the name of Gonsalvo as familiar to his countrymen as that of the Cid, which, floating down the stream of popular melody, has been treasured up as a part of the national history. His shining qualities, even more than his exploits, have been often made the theme of fiction; and fiction, as usual, has dealt with them in a fashion to leave only confused and erroneous conceptions of both. More is known of the Spanish hero, for instance, to foreign readers from Florian’s agreeable novel, than from any authentic record of his actions. Yet Florian, by dwelling only on the dazzling and popular traits of his hero, has depicted him as the very personification of romantic chivalry. This certainly was not his character, which might be said to have been formed after a riper period of civilization than the age of chivalry. At least, it had none of the nonsense of that age,—its fanciful vagaries, reckless adventure, and wild romantic gallantry. [19] His characteristics were prudence, coolness, steadiness of purpose, and intimate knowledge of man. He understood, above all, the temper of his own countrymen. He may be said in some degree to have formed their military character; their patience of severe training and hardship, their unflinching obedience, their inflexible spirit under reverses, and their decisive energy in the hour of action. It is certain that the Spanish soldier under his hands assumed an entirely new aspect from that which he had displayed in the romantic wars of the Peninsula.

Gonsalvo was untainted with the coarser vices characteristic of the time.

He discovered none of that griping avarice, too often the reproach of his countrymen in these wars. His hand and heart were liberal as the day. He betrayed none of the cruelty and licentiousness, which disgrace the age of chivalry. On all occasions he was prompt to protect women from injury or insult. Although his distinguished manners and rank gave him obvious advantages with the sex, he never abused them; [20] and he has left a character, unimpeached by any historian, of unblemished morality in his domestic relations. This was a rare virtue in the sixteenth century.

Gonsalvo’s fame rests on his military prowess; yet his character would seem in many respects better suited to the calm and cultivated walks of civil life. His government of Naples exhibited much discretion and sound policy; [21] and there, as afterwards in his retirement, his polite and liberal manners secured not merely the good-will, but the strong attachment, of those around him. His early education, like that of most of the noble cavaliers who came forward before the improvements introduced under Isabella, was taken up with knightly exercises, more than intellectual accomplishments. He was never taught Latin, and had no pretensions to scholarship; but he honored and nobly recompensed it in others. His solid sense and liberal taste supplied all deficiencies in himself, and led him to select friends and companions from among the most enlightened and virtuous of the community. [22]

On this fair character there remains one foul reproach. This is his breach of faith in two memorable instances; first, to the young duke of Calabria, and afterwards to Caesar Borgia, both of whom he betrayed into the hands of King Ferdinand, their personal enemy; and in violation of his most solemn pledges. [23] True, it was in obedience to his master’s commands, and not to serve his own purposes; and true also, this want of faith was the besetting sin of the age. But history has no warrant to tamper with right and wrong, or to brighten the character of its favorites by diminishing one shade of the abhorrence which attaches to their vices.

They should rather be held up in their true deformity, as the more conspicuous from the very greatness with which they are associated. It may be remarked, however, that the reiterated and unsparing opprobrium with which foreign writers, who have been little sensible to Gonsalvo’s merits, have visited these offences, affords tolerable evidence that they are the only ones of any magnitude that can be charged on him. [24]

As to the imputation of disloyalty, we have elsewhere had occasion to notice its apparent groundlessness. It would be strange, indeed, if the ungenerous treatment which he had experienced ever since his return from Naples had not provoked feelings of indignation in his bosom. Nor would it be surprising, under these circumstances, if he had been led to regard the archduke Charles’s pretensions to the regency, as he came of age, with a favorable eye. There is no evidence, however, of this, or of any act unfriendly to Ferdinand’s interests. His whole public life, on the contrary, exhibited the truest loyalty; and the only stains that darken his fame were incurred by too unhesitating devotion to the wishes of his master. He is not the first nor the last statesman, who has reaped the royal recompense of ingratitude, for serving his king with greater zeal than he had served his Maker.

Ferdinand’s health, in the mean time, had declined so sensibly, that it was evident he could not long survive the object of his jealousy. [25] His disease had now settled into a dropsy, accompanied with a distressing affection of the heart. He found difficulty in breathing, complained that he was stifled in the crowded cities, and passed most of his time, even after the weather became cold, in the fields and forests, occupied, as far as his strength permitted, with the fatiguing pleasures of the chase. As the winter advanced, he bent his steps towards the south. He passed some time, in December, at a country-seat of the duke of Alva, near Placentia, where he hunted the stag. He then resumed his journey to Andalusia, but fell so ill on the way, at the little village of Madrigalejo, near Truxillo, that it was found impossible to advance further. [26]

The king seemed desirous of closing his eyes to the danger of his situation as long as possible. He would not confess, nor even admit his confessor into his chamber. [27] He showed similar jealousy of his grandson’s envoy, Adrian of Utrecht. This person, the preceptor of Charles, and afterwards raised through his means to the papacy, had come into Castile some weeks before, with the ostensible view of making some permanent arrangement with Ferdinand in regard to the regency. The real motive, as the powers which he brought with him subsequently proved, was, that he might be on the spot when the king died, and assume the reins of government. Ferdinand received the minister with cold civility, and an agreement was entered into, by which the regency was guaranteed to the monarch, not only during Joanna’s life, but his own. Concessions to a dying man cost nothing. Adrian, who was at Guadalupe at this time, no sooner heard of Ferdinand’s illness, than he hastened to Madrigalejo. The king, however, suspected the motives of his visit. “He has come to see me die,” said he; and, refusing to admit him into his presence, ordered the mortified envoy back again to Guadalupe. [28]

At length the medical attendants ventured to inform the king of his real situation, conjuring him if he had any affairs of moment to settle, to do it without delay. He listened to them with composure, and from that moment seemed to recover all his customary fortitude and equanimity. After receiving the sacrament, and attending to his spiritual concerns, he called his attendants around his bed, to advise with them respecting the disposition of the government. Among those present, at this time, were his faithful followers, the duke of Alva, and the marquis of Denia, his majordomo, with several bishops and members of his council. [29]

The king, it seems, had made several wills. By one, executed at Burgos, in 1512, he had committed the government of Castile and Aragon to the infante Ferdinand during his brother Charles’s absence. This young prince had been educated in Spain under the eye of his grand-father, who entertained a strong affection for him. The counsellors remonstrated in the plainest terms against this disposition of the regency. Ferdinand, they said, was too young to take the helm into his own hands. His appointment would be sure to create new factions in Castile; it would raise him up to be in a manner a rival of his brother, and kindle ambitious desires in his bosom, which could not fail to end in his disappointment, and perhaps destruction. [30]

The king, who would never have made such a devise in his better days, was more easily turned from his purpose now, than he would once have been. “To whom then,” he asked, “shall I leave the regency?” “To Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo,” they replied. Ferdinand turned away his face, apparently in displeasure; but after a few moments’ silence rejoined, “It is well; he is certainly a good man, with honest intentions. He has no importunate friends or family to provide for. He owes everything to Queen Isabella and myself; and, as he has always been true to the interests of our family, I believe he will always remain so.” [31]

He, however, could not so readily abandon the idea of some splendid establishment for his favorite grandson; and he proposed to settle on him the grand-masterships of the military orders. But to this his attendants again objected, on the same grounds as before; adding, that this powerful patronage was too great for any subject, and imploring him not to defeat the object which the late queen had so much at heart, of incorporating it with the crown. “Ferdinand will be left very poor then,” exclaimed the king, with tears in his eyes. “He will have the good-will of his brother,”

replied one of his honest counsellors, “the best legacy your Highness can leave him.” [32]

The testament, as finally arranged, settled the succession of Aragon and Naples on his daughter Joanna and her heirs. The administration of Castile during Charles’s absence was intrusted to Ximenes, and that of Aragon to the king’s natural son, the archbishop of Saragossa, whose good sense and popular manners made him acceptable to the people. He granted several places in the kingdom of Naples to the infante Ferdinand, with an annual stipend of fifty thousand ducats, chargeable on the public revenues. To his queen Germaine he left the yearly income of thirty thousand gold florins, stipulated by the marriage settlement, with five thousand a year more during widowhood. [33] The will contained, besides, several appropriations for pious and charitable purposes, but nothing worthy of particular note. [34] Notwithstanding the simplicity of the various provisions of the testament, it was so long, from the formalities and periphrases with which it was encumbered, that there was scarce time to transcribe it in season for the royal signature. On the evening of the 22d of January, 1516, he executed the instrument; and a few hours later, between one and two of the morning of the 23d, Ferdinand breathed his last. [35] The scene of this event was a small house belonging to the friars of Guadalupe. “In so wretched a tenement,” exclaims Martyr, in his usual moralizing vein, “did this lord of so many lands close his eyes upon the world.” [36]

Ferdinand was nearly sixty-four years old, of which forty-one had elapsed since he first swayed the sceptre of Castile, and thirty-seven since he held that of Aragon. A long reign; long enough, indeed, to see most of those whom he had honored and trusted of his subjects gathered to the dust, and a succession of contemporary monarchs come and disappear like shadows. [37] He died deeply lamented by his native subjects, who entertained a partiality natural towards their own hereditary sovereign.

The event was regarded with very different feelings by the Castilian nobles, who calculated their gains on the transfer of the reins from such old and steady hands into those of a young and inexperienced master. The commons, however, who had felt the good effect of this curb on the nobility, in their own personal security, held his memory in reverence as that of a national benefactor. [38]

Ferdinand’s remains were interred, agreeably to his orders, in Granada. A few of his most faithful adherents accompanied them; the greater part being deterred by a prudent caution of giving umbrage to Charles. [39] The funeral train, however, was swelled by contributions from the various towns through which it passed. At Cordova, especially, it is worthy of note, that the marquis of Priego, who had slender obligations to Ferdinand, came out with all his household to pay the last melancholy honors to his remains. They were received with similar respect in Granada, where the people, while they gazed on the sad spectacle, says Zurita, were naturally affected as they called to mind the pomp and splendor of his triumphal entry on the first occupation of the Moorish capital. [40]

By his dying injunctions, all unnecessary ostentation was interdicted at his funeral. His body was laid by the side of Isabella’s in the monastery of the Alhambra; and the year following, [41] when the royal chapel of the metropolitan church was completed, they were both transported thither. A magnificent mausoleum of white marble was erected over them, by their grandson, Charles the Fifth. It was executed in a style worthy of the age.

The sides were adorned with figures of angels and saints, richly sculptured in bas-relief. On the top reposed the effigies of the illustrious pair, whose titles and merits were commemorated in the following brief, and not very felicitous inscription.

“MAHOMETICAE SECTAE PROSTRATORES, ET HAERETICAE PERVICACIAE EXTINCTORES, FERNANDUS ARAGONUM, ET HELISABETA CASTELLAE, VIR ET UXOR UNANIMES, CATHOLICI APPELLATI, MARMOREO CLAUDUNTUR HOC TUMULO.” [42]

King Ferdinand’s personal appearance has been elsewhere noticed. “He was of the middle size,” says a contemporary, who knew him well. “His complexion was fresh; his eyes bright and animated; his nose and mouth small and finely formed, and his teeth white; his forehead lofty and serene; with flowing hair of a bright chestnut color. His manners were courteous, and his countenance seldom clouded by anything like spleen or melancholy. He was grave in speech and action, and had a marvellous dignity of presence. His whole demeanor, in fine, was truly that of a great king.” For this flattering portrait Ferdinand must have sat at an earlier and happier period of his life. [43]

His education, owing to the troubled state of the times, had been neglected in his boyhood, though he was early instructed in all the generous pastimes and exercises of chivalry. [44] He was esteemed one of the most perfect horsemen of his court. He led an active life, and the only kind of reading he appeared to relish was history. It was natural that so busy an actor on the great political theatre should have found peculiar interest and instruction in this study. [45]

He was naturally of an equable temper, and inclined to moderation in all things. The only amusement for which he cared much was hunting, especially falconry, and that he never carried to excess till his last years. [46] He was indefatigable in application to business. He had no relish for the pleasures of the table, and, like Isabella, was temperate even to abstemiousness in his diet. [47] He was frugal in his domestic and personal expenditure; partly, no doubt, from a willingness to rebuke the opposite spirit of wastefulness and ostentation in his nobles. He lost no good opportunity of doing this. On one occasion, it is said, he turned to a gallant of the court noted for his extravagance in dress, and laying his hand on his own doublet, exclaimed, “Excellent stuff this; it has lasted me three pair of sleeves!” [48] This spirit of economy was carried so far as to bring on him the reproach of parsimony. [49] And parsimony, though not so pernicious on the whole as the opposite vice of prodigality, has always found far less favor with the multitude, from the appearance of disinterestedness, which the latter carries with it. Prodigality in a king, however, who draws not on his own resources, but on the public, forfeits even this equivocal claim to applause. But, in truth, Ferdinand was rather frugal, than parsimonious. His income was moderate; his enterprises numerous and vast. It was impossible that he could meet them without husbanding his resources with the most careful economy. [50] No one has accused him of attempting to enrich his exchequer by the venal sale of office, like Louis the Twelfth, or by griping extortion, like another royal contemporary, Henry the Seventh. He amassed no treasure, [51] and indeed died so poor, that he left scarcely enough in his coffers to defray the charges of his funeral. [52]

Ferdinand was devout; at least he was scrupulous in regard to the exterior of religion. He was punctual in attendance on mass; careful to observe all the ordinances and ceremonies of his church; and left many tokens of his piety, after the fashion of the time, in sumptuous edifices and endowments for religious purposes. Although not a superstitious man for the age, he is certainly obnoxious to the reproach of bigotry; for he co-operated with Isabella in all her exceptionable measures in Castile, and spared no effort to fasten the odious yoke of the Inquisition on Aragon, and subsequently, though happily with less success, on Naples. [53]

Ferdinand has incurred the more serious charge of hypocrisy. His Catholic zeal was observed to be marvellously efficacious in furthering his temporal interests. [54] His most objectionable enterprises, even, were covered with a veil of religion. In this, however, he did not materially differ from the practice of the age. Some of the most scandalous wars of that period were ostensibly at the bidding of the church, or in defence of Christendom against the infidel. This ostentation of a religious motive was indeed very usual with the Spanish and Portuguese. The crusading spirit, nourished by their struggle with the Moors, and subsequently by their African and American expeditions, gave such a religious tone habitually to their feelings, as shed an illusion over their actions and enterprises, frequently disguising their true character, even from themselves.

It will not be so easy to acquit Ferdinand of the reproach of perfidy which foreign writers have so deeply branded on his name, [55] and which those of his own nation have sought rather to palliate than to deny. [56]

It is but fair to him, however, even here, to take a glance at the age. He came forward when government was in a state of transition from the feudal forms to those which it has assumed in modern times; when the superior strength of the great vassals was circumvented by the superior policy of the reigning princes. It was the dawn of the triumph of intellect over the brute force, which had hitherto controlled the movements of nations, as of individuals. The same policy which these monarchs had pursued in their own domestic relations, they introduced into those with foreign states, when, at the close of the fifteenth century, the barriers that had so long kept them asunder were broken down. Italy was the first field, on which the great powers were brought into anything like a general collision. It was the country, too, in which this crafty policy had been first studied, and reduced to a regular system. A single extract from the political manual of that age [57] may serve as a key to the whole science, as then understood.

“A prudent prince,” says Machiavelli, “will not, and ought not to observe his engagements, when it would operate to his disadvantage, and the causes no longer exist which induced him to make them.” [58] Sufficient evidence of the practical application of the maxim may be found in the manifold treaties of the period, so contradictory, or, what is to the same purpose for our present argument, so confirmatory of one another in their tenor, as clearly to show the impotence of all engagements. There were no less than four several treaties in the course of three years, solemnly stipulating the marriage of the archduke Charles and Claude of France.

Louis the Twelfth violated his engagements, and the marriage after all never took place. [59]

Such was the school in which Ferdinand was to make trial of his skill with his brother monarchs. He had an able instructor in his father, John the Second, of Aragon, and the result showed that the lessons were not lost on him. “He was vigilant, wary, and subtile,” writes a French contemporary, “and few histories make mention of his being outwitted in the whole course of his life.” [60] He played the game with more adroitness than his opponents, and he won it. Success, as usual, brought on him the reproaches of the losers. This is particularly true of the French, whose master, Louis the Twelfth, was more directly pitted against him. [61] Yet Ferdinand does not appear to be a whit more obnoxious to the charge of unfairness than his opponent. [62] If he deserted his allies when it suited his convenience, he, at least, did not deliberately plot their destruction, and betray them into the hands of their deadly enemy, as his rival did with Venice, in the league of Cambray. [63] The partition of Naples, the most scandalous transaction of the period, he shared equally with Louis; and if the latter has escaped the reproach of the usurpation of Navarre, it was because the premature death of his general deprived him of the pretext and means for achieving it. Yet Louis the Twelfth, the “father of his people,” has gone down to posterity with a high and honorable reputation. [64]

Ferdinand, unfortunately for his popularity, had nothing of the frank and cordial temper, the genial expansion of the soul, which begets love. He carried the same cautious and impenetrable frigidity into private life, that he showed in public. “No one,” says a writer of the time, “could read his thoughts by any change of his countenance.” [65] Calm and calculating, even in trifles, it was too obvious that everything had exclusive reference to self. He seemed to estimate his friends only by the amount of services they could render him. He was not always mindful of these services. Witness his ungenerous treatment of Columbus, the Great Captain, Navarro, Ximenes,—the men who shed the brightest lustre, and the most substantial benefits, on his reign. Witness also his insensibility to the virtues and long attachment of Isabella, whose memory he could so soon dishonor by a union with one every way unworthy to be her successor.

Ferdinand’s connection with Isabella, while it reflected infinite glory on his reign, suggests a contrast most unfavorable to his character. Hers was all magnanimity, disinterestedness, and deep devotion to the interests of her people. His was the spirit of egotism. The circle of his views might be more or less expanded, but self was the steady, unchangeable centre.

Her heart beat with the generous sympathies of friendship, and the purest constancy to the first, the only object of her love. We have seen the measure of his sensibilities in other relations. They were not more refined in this; and he proved himself unworthy of the admirable woman with whom his destinies were united, by indulging in those vicious gallantries, too generally sanctioned by the age. [66] Ferdinand, in fine, a shrewd and politic prince, “surpassing,” as a French writer, not his friend, has remarked, “all the statesmen of his time in the science of the cabinet,” [67] may be taken as the representative of the peculiar genius of the age. While Isabella, discarding all the petty artifices of state policy, and pursuing the noblest ends by the noblest means, stands far above her age.

In his illustrious consort Ferdinand may be said to have lost his good genius. [68] From that time his fortunes were under a cloud. Not that victory sat less constantly on his banner; but at home he had lost “All that should accompany old age,

As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends.”

His ill-advised marriage disgusted his Castilian subjects. He ruled over them, indeed, but more in severity than in love. The beauty of his young queen opened new sources of jealousy; [69] while the disparity of their ages, and her fondness for frivolous pleasure, as little qualified her to be his partner in prosperity, as his solace in declining years. [70] His tenacity of power drew him into vulgar squabbles with those most nearly allied to him by blood, which settled into a mortal aversion. Finally, bodily infirmity broke the energies of his mind, sour suspicions corroded his heart, and he had the misfortune to live, long after he had lost all that could make life desirable.

Let us turn from this gloomy picture to the brighter season of the morning and meridian of his life; when he sat with Isabella on the united thrones of Castile and Aragon, strong in the love of his own subjects, and in the fear and respect of his enemies. We shall then find much in his character to admire; his impartial justice in the administration of the laws; his watchful solicitude to shield the weak from the oppression of the strong; his wise economy, which achieved great results without burdening his people with oppressive taxes; his sobriety and moderation; the decorum, and respect for religion, which he maintained among his subjects; the industry he promoted by wholesome laws and his own example; his consummate sagacity, which crowned all his enterprises with brilliant success, and made him the oracle of the princes of the age.

Machiavelli, indeed, the most deeply read of his time in human character, imputes Ferdinand’s successes, in one of his letters, to “cunning and good luck, rather than superior wisdom.” [71] He was indeed fortunate; and the “star of Austria,” which rose as his declined, shone not with a brighter or steadier lustre. But success through a long series of years sufficiently, of itself, attests good conduct. “The winds and waves,” says Gibbon, truly enough, “are always on the side of the most skilful mariner.” The Florentine statesman has recorded a riper and more deliberate judgment in the treatise, which he intended as a mirror for the rulers of the time. “Nothing,” says he, “gains estimation for a prince like great enterprises. Our own age has furnished a splendid example of this in Ferdinand of Aragon. We may call him a new king, since from a feeble one he has made himself the most renowned and glorious monarch of Christendom; and, if we ponder well his manifold achievements, we must acknowledge all of them very great, and some truly extraordinary.” [72]

Other eminent foreigners of the time join in this lofty strain of panegyric. [73] The Castilians, mindful of the general security and prosperity they had enjoyed under his reign, seem willing to bury his frailties in his grave. [74] While his own hereditary subjects, exulting with patriotic pride in the glory to which he had raised their petty state, and touched with grateful recollections of his mild, paternal government, deplore his loss in strains of national sorrow, as the last of the revered line, who was to preside over the destinies of Aragon, as a separate and independent kingdom. [75]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 21.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 8, cap. 45, 47. 834.

[2] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 55, 69.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 531.

[3] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 486.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 2.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, p. 288.

[4] Opus Epist., epist. 487.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 201.

[5] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, p. 289.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7, 8.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 38.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 498.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 201.

[6] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap. 14.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 290, 291.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7, 8, 9.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 28.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. pp. 328-332.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 20.—Pulgar, Sumario, pp. 201-208.

[7] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1509.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 55.

[8] They are detailed with such curious precision by Martyr,—who is much too precise, indeed, for our pages,—as to leave little doubt of the fact.

Opus Epist., epist. 531.

[9] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1513, et seq.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 188.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 146.—Sandoval, Hist.

del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 27.

“Non idem est vultus,” says Peter Martyr of the king in a letter dated in October, 1513, “non eadem facultas in audiendo, non eadem lenitas. Tria sunt illi, ne priores resumat vires, opposita: senilis aetas; secundum namque agit et sexagesimum annum: uxor, quam a latere nunquam abigit: et venatus coeloque vivendi cupiditas, quae illum in sylvis detinet, ultra quam in juvenili aetate, citra salutem, fas esset.” Opus Epist., epist.

529.

[10] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 93, 94.—Carbajal, Anales MS., ano 1515.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 550.

[11] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 96.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 23.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 292.

[12] Giovio Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 271, 292.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 9.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 560.—

Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1515.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 20, cap. 23.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 209.

[13] See a copy of the original letter in the Chronica del Gran Capitan, (fol. 164.) It is dated Jan. 3d, 1516, only three weeks before Ferdinand’s death.

[14] Peter Martyr notices the death of this estimable nobleman, full of years and of honors, in a letter dated July 18th, 1515. It is addressed to Tendilla’s son, and breathes the consolation flowing from the mild and philosophical spirit of its amiable author. The count was made marquis of Mondejar by Ferdinand, a short time before his death. His various titles and dignities, including the government of Granada, descended to his eldest son, Don Luis, Martyr’s early pupil; his genius was inherited in full measure by a younger, the famous Diego Hurtado de Mendoza.

[15] The following inscription is placed over them.

“GONZALI FERNANDEZ DE CORDOVA,

Qui propria virtute

Magni Ducis nomen

Proprium sibi fecit,

Ossa,

Perpetuae tandem

Luci restituenda,

Huic interea tumulo

Credita sunt;

Gloria minime consepulta.”

[16] Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 24.

On the top of the monument was seen the marble effigy of the Great Captain, armed and kneeling. The banners and other military trophies, which continued to garnish the walls of the chapel, according to Pedraza, as late as 1600, had disappeared before the eighteenth century; at least we may infer so from Colmenar’s silence respecting them in his account of the sepulchre. Pedraza, Antiguedad de Granada, fol. 114.—Colmenar, Delices de l’Espagne, tom. iii p. 505.

[+-7] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 9.—Giovio, Vitae Illust.

Virorum, fol. 292.

Gonsalvo was created duke of Terra Nuova and Sessa, and marquis of Bitonto, all in Italy, with estates of the value of 40,000 ducats rent. He was also grand constable of Naples, and a nobleman of Venice. His princely honors were transmitted by Dona Elvira to her son, Gonzalo Hernandez de Cordova, who filled the posts, under Charles V., of governor of Milan, and captain general of Italy. Under Philip II., his descendants were raised to a Spanish dukedom, with the title of Dukes of Baena. L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 24.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 41.—Salazar de Mendoza, Dignidades, p. 307.

[18] Opus Epist., epist. 498.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, p. 292.—

Pulgar, Sumario, p. 212.

[19] Gonsalvo assumed for his device a cross-bow moved by a pulley, with the motto, “Ingenium superat vires.” It was characteristic of a mind trusting more to policy than force and daring exploit. Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. i. p. 75.

[20] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 271.

[21] Ibid., p. 281.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1, 5.

[22] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 271.

“Amigo de sus amigos, iQue Senor para criados

Y parientes!

iQue enemigo de enemigos!

iQue maestro de esforzados

Y valientes!

iQue seso para discretos!

iQue gracia para donosos!

iQue razon!

Muy benigno a los sugetos,

Y a los bravos y danosos

Un leon.”

Coplas de Don Jorge Manrique.

[23] Borgia, after his father Alexander VI.‘s death, escaped to Naples under favor of a safe conduct signed by Gonsalvo. Here, however, his intriguing spirit soon engaged him in schemes for troubling the peace of Italy, and, indeed, for subverting the authority of the Spaniards there; in consequence of which the Great Captain seized his person, and sent him prisoner to Castile. Such, at least, is the Spanish version of the story, and of course the one most favorable to Gonsalvo. Mariana dismisses it with coolly remarking, that “the Great Captain seems to have consulted the public good, in the affair, more than his own fame; a conduct well worthy to be pondered and emulated by all princes and rulers!” Hist. de Espana, lib. 28, cap. 8.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 72.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, pp. 302, 303.

[24] That but one other troubled him, appears from the fact (if it be a fact) of Gonsalvo’s declaring, on his death-bed, that “there were three acts of his life which he deeply repented.” Two of these were his treatment of Borgia and the duke of Calabria. He was silent respecting the third. “Some historians suppose,” says Quintana, “that by this last he meant his omission to possess himself of the crown of Naples when it was in his power!” These historians, no doubt, like Fouche, considered a blunder in politics as worse than a crime.

[25] The miraculous bell of Velilla, a little village in Aragon, nine leagues from Saragossa, about this time gave one of those prophetic tintinnabulations, which always boded some great calamity to the country.

The side on which the blows fell denoted the quarter where the disaster was to happen. Its sound, says Dr. Dormer, caused dismay and contrition, with dismal “fear of change,” in the hearts of all who heard it. No arm was strong enough to stop it on these occasions, as those found to their cost who profanely attempted it. Its ill-omened voice was heard for the twentieth and last time, in March, 1679. As no event of importance followed, it probably tolled for its own funeral.—See the edifying history, in Dr. Diego Dormer, of the miraculous powers and performances of this celebrated bell, as duly authenticated by a host of witnesses.

Discursos Varios, pp. 198-244.

[26] Carbajal, Anales, MS., anos 1513-1516.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol.

146.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 542, 558, 561, 564. Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 99.

Carbajal states, that the king had been warned, by some soothsayer, to beware of Madrigal, and that he had ever since avoided entering into the town of that name in Old Castile. The name of the place he was now in was not precisely that indicated, but corresponded near enough for a prediction. The event proved, that the witches of Spain, like those of Scotland,

“Could keep the word of promise to the ear, And break it to the hope.”

The story derives little confirmation from the character of Ferdinand. He was not superstitious, at least while his faculties were in vigor.

[27] “A la verdad,” says Carbajal, “le tento mucho el enemigo en aquel paso con incredulidad que le ponia de no morir tan presto, para que ni confesase ni recibiese los Sacramentos.” According to the same writer, Ferdinand was buoyed up by the prediction of an old sybil, “la beata del Barco,” that “he should not die till he had conquered Jerusalem.” (Anales, MS., cap. 2.) We are again reminded of Shakespeare, “It hath been prophesied to me many years I should not die but in Jerusalem.”

King Henry IV.

[28] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 1.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, ubi supra.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 565.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp.

Carlos V., tom. i. p. 35.

[29] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 2.

Dr. Carbajal, who was a member of the royal council, was present with him during the whole of his last illness; and his circumstantial and spirited narrative of it forms an exception to the general character of his itinerary.

[30] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 2.

[31] Ibid., ubi supra.

[32] Ibid., ubi supra.

[33] Ferdinand’s gay widow did not long enjoy this latter pension. Soon after his death, she gave her hand to the marquis of Brandenburg, and, he dying, she again married the prince of Calabria, who had been detained in a sort of honorable captivity in Spain, ever since the dethronement of his father, King Frederic. (Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 4, dial.

44.) It was the second sterile match, says Guicciardini, which Charles V., for obvious politic reasons, provided for the rightful heir of Naples.

Istoria, tom. viii. lib. 15, p. 10.

[34] Ferdinand’s testament is to be found in Carbajal, Anales, MS.—

Dormer, Discursos Varies, p. 393 et seq.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, ed.

Valencia, tom. ix. Apend. no. 2.

[35] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.—The queen was at Alcala de Henares, when she received tidings of her husband’s illness.

She posted with all possible despatch to Madrigalejo, but, although she reached it on the 20th, she was not admitted, says Gomez, notwithstanding her tears, to a private interview with the king, till the testament was executed, a few hours only before his death. De Rebus Gestis, fol. 147.

[36] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol.

188.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 148.

“Tot regnorum dominus, totque palmarum cumulis ornatus, Christianae religionis amplificator et prostrator hostium, Rex in rusticana obiit casa, et pauper contra hominum opinionem obiit.” Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 588.—Brantome, (Vies des Hommes Illustres, Footnote: p.

72,) who speaks of Madrigalejo as a “meschant village,” which he had seen.

[37] Since Ferdinand ascended the throne he had seen no less than four kings of England, as many of France, and also of Naples, three of Portugal, two German emperors, and half a dozen popes. As to his own subjects, scarcely one of all those familiar to the reader in the course of our history now survived, except, indeed, the Nestor of his time, the octogenarian Ximenes.

[38] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 100.—Blancas, Commentarii, p.

275.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 25.

[39] Zurita, Anales, ubi supra.

The honest Martyr was one of the few who paid this last tribute of respect to their ancient master. “Ego ut mortuo debitum praestem,” says he, in a letter to Prince Charles’s physician, “corpus ejus exanime, Granatam, sepulchro sedem destinatam, comitabor.” Opus Epist., epist. 566.

[40] Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 100.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 572.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 24.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 5.

[41] Mem de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Illust. 21. According to Pedraza, this event did not take place till 1525. Antiguedad de Granada, lib. 3, cap. 7.

[42] Pedraza, Antiguedad de Granada, lib. 3, cap. 7.—“Assai bello per Spagna;” says Navagiero, who, as an Italian, had a right to be fastidious.

(Viaggio, fol. 23.) The artist, however, was not a Spaniard; at least common tradition assigns the work to Philip of Burgundy, an eminent sculptor of the period, who has left many specimens of his excellence in Toledo and other parts of Spain. (Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. p.

577.) Laborde’s magnificent work contains an engraving of the monuments of the Catholic sovereigns and Philip and Joanna; “qui rappellent la renaissance des arts en Italie, et sont, a la fois d’une belle execution et d’une conception noble.” Laborde, Voyage Pittoresque, tom. ii. p. 25.

[43] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.

Pulgar’s portrait of the king, taken also in the morning of his life, the close of which the writer did not live to see, is equally bright and pleasing. “Habia,” says he,” una gracia singular, que qualquier con el fablese, luego le amaba e le deseaba servir, porque tenia la communicacion amigable.” Reyes Catolicos, p. 36.

[44] “He tilted lightly,” says Pulgar, “and with a dexterity not surpassed by any man in the kingdom.” Reyes Catolicos, ubi supra.

[45] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 153.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 24.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p.

37.

[46] Pulgar, indeed, notices his fondness for chess, tennis, and other games of skill, in early life. Reyes Catolicos, part. 2, cap. 3.

[47] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.—Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part. 2, cap. 3.

“Stop and dine with us,” he was known to say to his uncle, the grand admiral Henriquez; “we are to have a chicken for dinner today.” (Sempere, Hist, del Luxo, tom. ii. p. 2, nota.) The royal cuisine would have afforded small scope for the talents of a Vatel or an Ude.

[48] Sempere, Hist. del Luxo, ubi supra.

[49] Machiavelli, by a single coup de pinceau, thus characterizes, or caricatures, the princes of his time. “Un imperatore instabile e vario; un re di Francia sdegnoso e pauroso; un re d’Inghilterra ricco, feroce, e cupido di gloria; un re di Spagna taccagno e avaro; per gli altri re, io no li conosco.”

[50] The revenues of his own kingdom of Aragon were very limited. His principal foreign expeditions were undertaken solely on account of that crown; and this, notwithstanding the aid from Castile, may explain, and in some degree excuse, his very scanty remittances to his troops.

[51] On one occasion, having obtained a liberal supply from the states of Aragon, (a rare occurrence,) his counsellors advised him to lock it up against a day of need. “Mas el Rey,” says Zurita, “que siempre supo gastar su dinero provechosamente, y nunca fue escosso en despendello en las cosas del estado, tuvo mas aparejo para emplearlo, que para encerrarlo.”

(Anales, tom. vi. fol. 225.) The historian, it must be allowed, lays quite as much emphasis on his liberality as it will bear.

[52] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 24.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 100.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 566.

“Vix ad funeris pompam et paucis familiaribus praebendas vestes pullatas, pecuniae apud eum, neqne alibi congestae repertae sunt; quod nemo unquam de vivente judicavit.” (Peter Martyr, ubi supra.) Guicciardini alludes to the same fact, as evidence of the injustice of the imputations on Ferdinand; “Ma accade,” adds the historian, truly enough, “quasi sempre per il giudizio corrotto degli uomini, che nei Re e piu lodata la prodigalita, benche a quella sia annessa la rapacita, che la parsimonia congiunta con l’astinenza dalla roba di altri.” (Istoria, tom. vi. lib.

12, p. 273.)

The state of Ferdinand’s coffers formed, indeed, a strong contrast to that of his brother monarch’s, Henry VII., “whose treasure of store,” to borrow the words of Bacon, “left at his death, under his own key and keeping, amounted unto the sum of eighteen hundred thousand pounds sterling; a huge mass of money, even for these times.” (Hist. of Henry VII., Works, vol. v.

183.) Sir Edward Coke swells this huge mass to “fifty and three hundred thousand pounds”! Institutes, part 4, chap. 35.

[53] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 24.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.—Zurita, Anales, lib. 9, cap. 26.

Ferdinand’s conduct in regard to the Inquisition in Aragon displayed singular duplicity. In consequence of the remonstrance of cortes, in 1512, in which that high-spirited body set forth the various usurpations of the Holy Office, Ferdinand signed a compact, abridging its jurisdiction. He repented of these concessions, however, and in the following year obtained a dispensation from Rome from his engagements. This proceeding produced such an alarming excitement in the kingdom, that the monarch found it expedient to renounce the papal brief, and apply for another, confirming his former compact. (Llorente, Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. i. pp. 371 et seq.) One may well doubt whether bigotry entered as largely, as less pardonable motives of state policy, into this miserable juggling.

[54] “Disoit-on,” says Brantome, “que la reyne Isabella de Castille estoit une fort devote et religieuse princesse, et que luy, quel grand zele qu’il y eust, n’estoit devotieux que par ypocrisie, couvrant ses actes et ambitions par ce sainct zele de religion.” (Oeuvres, tom. i. p. 70.) “Copri,” says Guicciardini, “quasi tutte le sue eupidita sotto colore di onesto zelo della religione e di santa intenzione al bene comune.”

(Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 12, p. 274.) The penetrating eye of Machiavelli glances at the same trait. II Principe, cap. 21.

[55] Guicciardini, Istoria, lib. 12, p. 273.—Du Bellay, Memoires, apud Petitot, Collection des Memoires, tom. xvii. p. 272.—Giovio, Hist. sui Temporis, lib. 11, p. 160; lib. 16, p. 336.—Machiavelli, Opere, tom. ix.

Lett. Diverse, no. 6, ed. Milano, 1805.—Herbert, Life of Henry VIII., p.

63.—Sismondi, Republiques Italiennes, tom. xvi. cap. 112.—Voltaire sums up Ferdinand’s character in the following pithy sentence. “On l’appellait en Espagne le sage, le prudent; en Italie le pieux; en France et a Londres le perfide.” Essai sur les Moeurs, chap. 114.

[56] “Home era de verdad,” says Pulgar, “como quiera que las necesidades grandes en que le pusieron las guerras, le facian algunas veces variar.”

(Reyes Catolicos, part. 2, cap. 3.) Zurita exposes and condemns this blemish in his hero’s character, with a candor which does him credit. “Fue muy notado, no solo de los estrangeros, pero de sus naturales, que no guardava la verdad, y fe que prometia; y que se anteponia siempre, y sobrepujava el respeto de su propria utilidad, a lo que era justo y honesto.” Anales, tom. vi. fol. 406.

[57] Charles V., in particular, testified his respect for Machiavelli, by having the “Principe” translated for his own use.

[58] Machiavelli, Opera, tom. vi.—Il Principe, cap. 18, ed. Genova, 1798.

[59] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, nos. 7, 11, 28, 29.—

Seyssel, Hist. de Louys XII., pp. 228-230.—St. Gelais, Hist. de Louys XII., p. 184.

[60] Memoires de Bayard, chap. 61.—“This prince,” says Lord Herbert, who was not disposed to overrate the talents, any more than the virtues, of Ferdinand, “was thought the most active and politique of his time. No man knew better how to serve his turn on everybody, or to make their ends conduce to his.” Life of Henry VIII., p. 63.

[61] According to them, the Catholic king took no great pains to conceal his treachery. “Quelqu’un disant un jour a Ferdinand, que Louis XII.

l’accusoit de l’avoir trompe trois fois, Ferdinand parut mecontent qn’il lui ravit une partie de sa gloire; Il en a bien menti, l’ivrogne, dit-il, avec toute la grossierete du temps, je l’ai trompe plus de dix.” (Gaillard, Rivalite, tom. iv. p. 240.) The anecdote has been repeated by other modern writers, I know not on what authority. Ferdinand was too shrewd a politician, to hazard his game by playing the braggart.

[62] Paolo Giovio strikes the balance of their respective merits in this particular, in the following terms. “Ex horum enim longe maximorum nostrae tempestatis regum ingeniis, et turn liquido et multum antea praclare compertum est, nihil omnino sanctum et inviolabile, vel in rite conceptis sancitisque foederibus reperiri, quod, in proferendis imperiis augendisque opibus, apud eos nihil ad illustris famae decus interesset, dolone et nusquam sine fallaciis, an fide integra veraque virtute niterentur.” Hist.

sui Temporis, lib. 11, p. 160.

[63] An equally pertinent example occurs in the efficient support he gave Caesar Borgia in his flagitious enterprises against some of the most faithful allies of France. See Sismondi, Republiques Italiennes, tom.

xiii. cap. 101.

[64] Read the honeyed panegyrics of Seyssel, St. Gelais, Voltaire even, to say nothing of Gaillard, Varillas, e lulti quanti, undiluted by scarce a drop of censure. Rare indeed is it to find one so imbued with the spirit of philosophy, as to raise himself above the local or national prejudices which pass for patriotism with the vulgar. Sismondi is the only writer in the French language, that has come under my notice, who has weighed the deserts of Louis XII. in the historic balance with impartiality and candor. And Sismondi is not a Frenchman.

[65] Giovio, Hist. sui Temporis, lib. 16, p. 335.

[66] Ferdinand left four natural children, one son and three daughters.

The former, Don Alonso de Aragon, was born of the viscountess of Eboli, a Catalan lady. He was made archbishop of Saragossa when only six years old.

There was little of the religious profession, however, in his life. He took an active part in the political and military movements of the period, and seems to have been even less scrupulous in his gallantries than his father. His manners in private life were attractive, and his public conduct discreet. His father always regarded him with peculiar affection, and intrusted him with the regency of Aragon, as we have seen, at his death.

Ferdinand had three daughters, also, by three different ladies, one of them a noble Portuguese. The eldest child was named Dona Juana, and married the grand constable of Castile. The others, each named Maria, embraced the religious profession in a convent in Madrigal. L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 188.—Salazar de Mendoza, Monarquia, tom. i. p.

410.

[67] “Enfin il surpassa tous les Princes de son siecle en la science du Cabinet, et c’est a lui qu’on doit attribuer le premier et le souverain usage de la politique moderne.” Varillas, Politique de Ferdinand, liv. 3, disc. 10.

[68] Brantome notices a sobriquet which his countrymen had given to Ferdinand. “Nos Francois appelloient ce roy Ferdinand Jehan Gipon, je ne scay pour quelle derision; mais il nous cousta bon, et nous fist bien du mal, et fust un grand roy et sage.” Which his ancient editor thus explains: “Gipon de i’italien giubone, c’est que nous appellons jupon et jupe; voulant par la taxer ce prince de s’etre laisse gouverner par Isabelle, reine de Castille, sa femme, dont il endossoit la jupe, pour ainsi dire, pendant qu’elle portoit les chausses.” (Vies des Hommes Illustres, disc. 5.) There is more humor than truth in the etymology. The gipon was part of a man’s attire, being, as Mr. Tyrwhitt defines it, “a short cassock,” and was worn under the armor. Thus Chaucer, in the Prologue to his “Canterbury Tales,” says of his knight’s dress, “Of fustian he wered a gipon

Alle besmotred with his habergeon.”

Again, in his “Knighte’s Tale,”

“Som wol ben armed in an habergeon,

And in a brest-plate, and in a gipon.”

[69] When Ferdinand visited Aragon, in 1515, during his troubles with the cortes, he imprisoned the vice-chancellor, Antonio Augustin; being moved to this, according to Carbajal, by his jealousy of that minister’s attentions to his young queen. (Anales, MS., ano 1515.) It is possible.

Zurita, however, treats it as mere scandal, referring the imprisonment to political offences exclusively. Anales, tom. vi. fol. 393.—See also Dormer, Anales de la Corona de Aragon, (Zaragoza, 1697,) lib. 1, cap. 9.

[70] “Era poco hermosa,” says Sandoval, who grudges her even this quality, “algo coja, amiga mucho de holgarse, y andar en banquetes, huertos y jardines, y en fiestas. Introduxo esta Senora en Castilla comidas soberbias, siendo los Castellanos, y sun sus Reyes muy moderados en esto.

Pasabansele pocos dias que no convidase, 6 fuese convidada. La que mas gastaba en fiestas y banquetes con ella, era mas su amiga.” Hist. del Emp.

Carlos V., tom. i. p. 12.

[71] Opere, tom. ix. Lettere Diverse, no. 6, ed. Milano, 1805. His correspondent, Vettori, is still more severe in his analysis of Ferdinand’s public conduct. (Let. di 16 Maggio, 1514.) These statesmen were the friends of France, with whom Ferdinand was at war; and personal enemies of the Medici, whom that prince re-established in the government.

As political antagonists therefore, every way, of the Catholic king, they were not likely to be altogether unbiassed in their judgments of his policy.—These views, however, find favor with Lord Herbert, who had evidently read, though he does not refer to, this correspondence. Life of Henry VIII., p. 63.

[72] Opere, tom. vi. II Principe, cap. 21, ed. Genova, 1798.

[73] Martyr, who had better opportunities than any other foreigner for estimating the character of Ferdinand, affords the most honorable testimony to his kingly qualities, in a letter written when the writer had no motive for flattery, after that monarch’s death, to Charles V.‘s physician. (Opus Epist., epist. 567.) Guicciardini, whose national prejudices did not lie in this scale, comprehends nearly as much in one brief sentence. “Re di eccellentissimo consiglio, e virtu, e nel quale, se fosse stato constante nelle promesse, no potresti facilmente riprendere cosa alcuna.” (Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 12, p. 273.) See also Brantome, (Oeuvres, tom. iv. disc. 5.)—Giovio, with scarcely more qualification, Hist. sui Temporis, lib. 16, p. 336.—Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 27,—et alios.

[74] “Principe el mas senalado,” says the prince of the Castilian historians, in his pithy manner, “en valor y justicia y prudencia que en muchos siglos Espana tuvo. Tachas a nadie pueden faltar sea por la fragilidad propia, o por la malicia y envidia agena que combate principalmente los altos lugares. Espejo sin duda por sus grandes virtudes en que todos los Principes de Espana se deben mirar.” (Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ix. p. 375, cap. ult.) See also a similar tribute to his deserts, with greater amplification, in Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib.

20, cap. 24.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 148.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 42.—Ferreras, Hist. d’Espagne, tom. ix. p. 426 et seq.—et plurimis auct. antiq. et recentibus.

[75] See the closing chapter of the great Aragonese annalist, who terminates his historic labors with the death of Ferdinand the Catholic.

(Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 100.) I will cite only one extract from the profuse panegyrics of the national writers; which attests the veneration in which Ferdinand’s memory was held in Aragon. It is from one, whose penis never prostituted to parasitical or party purposes, and whose judgment is usually as correct as the expression of it is candid. “Quo plangore ac lamentatione universa civitas complebatur. Neque solum homines, sed ipsa tecta, et parietes urbis videbantur acerbum illius, qui omnibus charissimus erat, interitum lugere. Et merito. Erat enim, ut scitis, exemplum prudentiae ac fortitudinis: summae in re domestica continentiae: eximiae in publica dignitatis: humanitatis praeterea, ac leporis admirabilis. ***** Neque eos solum, sed omnes certe tanta amplectebatur benevolentia, ut interdum non nobis Rex, sed uniuscujusque nostrum genitor ac parens videretur. Post ejus interitum omnis nostra juventus languet, deliciis plus dedita quam deceret: nec perinde, ac debuerat, in laudis et gloriae cupiditate versatur. ***** Quid plura?

nulla res fuit in usu bene regnandi posita, quae illius Regis scientiam effugeret. ***** Fuit enim aeximia corporis venustate praeditus. Sed pluris facere deberent consiliorum ac virtutum suarum, quam posteris reliquit, effigiem: quibus denique factum videmus, ut ab eo usque ad hoc tempus, non solum nobis, sed Hispaniae cunctae, diuturnitas pacis otium confirmarit. Haec aliaque ejusmodi quotidie a nostris senibus de Catholici Regis memoria enarrantur: quae a rei veritate nequaquam abhorrent.”

Blancas, Commentarii, p. 276.

CHAPTER XXV.

ADMINISTRATION, DEATH, AND CHARACTER OF CARDINAL XIMENES.

1516, 1517.

Ximenes Governor of Castile.—Charles Proclaimed King.—Ximenes’s Domestic Policy.—He Intimidates the Nobles.—Public Discontents.—Charles Lands in Spain.—His Ingratitude to Ximenes.—The Cardinal’s Illness and Death.—

His Extraordinary Character.

The personal history of Ferdinand the Catholic terminates, of course, with the preceding chapter. In order to bring the history of his reign, however, to a suitable close, it is necessary to continue the narrative through the brief regency of Ximenes, to the period when the government was delivered into the hands of Ferdinand’s grandson and successor, Charles the Fifth.

By the testament of the deceased monarch, as we have seen, Cardinal Ximenez de Cisneros was appointed sole regent of Castile. He met with opposition, however, from Adrian, the dean of Louvain, who produced powers of similar purport from Prince Charles. Neither party could boast a sufficient warrant for exercising this important trust; the one claiming it by the appointment of an individual, who, acting merely as regent himself, had certainly no right to name his successor; while the other had only the sanction of a prince, who, at the time of giving it, had no jurisdiction whatever in Castile. The misunderstanding which ensued, was finally settled by an agreement of the parties to share the authority in common, till further instructions should be received from Charles. [1]

It was not long before they arrived. They confirmed the cardinal’s authority in the fullest manner; while they spoke of Adrian only as an ambassador, They intimated, however, the most entire confidence in the latter; and the two prelates continued as before to administer the government jointly. Ximenes sacrificed nothing by this arrangement; for the tame and quiet temper of Adrian was too much overawed by the bold genius of his partner, to raise any opposition to his measures. [2]

The first requisition of prince Charles, was one that taxed severely the power and popularity of the new regent. This was to have himself proclaimed king; a measure extremely distasteful to the Castilians, who regarded it not only as contrary to established usage, during the lifetime of his mother, but as ah indignity to her. It was in vain that Ximenes and the council remonstrated on the impropriety and impolicy of the measure.

[3] Charles, fortified by his Flemish advisers, sturdily persisted in his purpose. The cardinal, consequently, called a meeting of the prelates and principal nobles in Madrid, to which he had transferred the seat of government, and whose central position and other local advantages made it, from this time forward, with little variation, the regular capital of the kingdom. [4] The doctor Carbajal prepared a studied and plausible argument in support of the measure. [5] As it failed, however, to produce conviction in his audience, Ximenes, chafed by the opposition, and probably distrusting its real motives, peremptorily declared, that those who refused to acknowledge Charles as king, in the present state of things, would refuse to obey him when he was so. “I will have him proclaimed in Madrid to-morrow,” said he, “and I doubt not every other city in the kingdom will follow the example.” He was as good as his word; and the conduct of the capital was imitated, with little opposition, by all the other cities in Castile. Not so in Aragon, whose people were too much attached to their institutions to consent to it, till Charles first made oath in person to respect the laws and liberties of the realm. [6]

The Castilian aristocracy, it may be believed, did not much relish the new yoke imposed on them by their priestly regent. On one occasion, it is said, they went in a body and demanded of Ximenes by what powers he held the government so absolutely. He referred them for answer to Ferdinand’s testament and Charles’s letter. As they objected to these, he led them to a window of the apartment, and showed them a park of artillery below, exclaiming, at the same time. “There are my credentials, then!” The story is characteristic; but, though often repeated, must be admitted to stand on slender authority. [7]

One of the regent’s first acts was the famous ordinance, encouraging the burgesses, by liberal rewards, to enroll themselves into companies, and submit to regular military training, at stated seasons. The nobles saw the operation of this measure too well, not to use all their efforts to counteract it. In this they succeeded for a time, as the cardinal, with his usual boldness, had ventured on it without waiting for Charles’s sanction, and in opposition to most of the council. The resolute spirit of the minister, however, eventually triumphed over all resistance, and a national corps was organized, competent, under proper guidance, to protect the liberties of the people, but which, unfortunately, was ultimately destined to be turned against them. [8]

Armed with this strong physical force, the cardinal now projected the boldest schemes of reform, especially in the finances, which had fallen into some disorder in the latter days of Ferdinand. He made a strict inquisition into the funds of the military orders, in which there had been much waste and misappropriation; he suppressed all superfluous offices in the state, retrenched excessive salaries, and cut short the pensions granted by Ferdinand and Isabella, which he contended should determine with their lives. Unfortunately, the state was not materially benefited by these economical arrangements, since the greater part of what was thus saved was drawn off to supply the waste and cupidity of the Flemish court, who dealt with Spain with all the merciless rapacity that could be shown to a conquered province. [9]

The foreign administration of the regent displayed the same courage and vigor. Arsenals were established in the southern maritime towns, and a numerous fleet was equipped in the Mediterranean, against the Barbary corsairs. A large force was sent into Navarre, which defeated an invading army of French; and the cardinal followed up the blow by demolishing the principal fortresses of the kingdom; a precautionary measure, to which, in all probability, Spain owes the permanent preservation of her conquest.

[10]

The regent’s eye penetrated to the farthest limits of the monarchy. He sent a commission to Hispaniola, to inquire into, and ameliorate, the condition of the natives. At the same time he earnestly opposed (though without success, being overruled in this by the Flemish counsellors,) the introduction of negro slaves into the colonies, which, he predicted, from the character of the race, must ultimately result in a servile war. It is needless to remark, how well the event has verified the prediction. [11]

It is with less satisfaction that we must contemplate his policy in regard to the Inquisition. As head of that tribunal, he enforced its authority and pretensions to the utmost. He extended a branch of it to Oran, and also to the Canaries, and the New World. [12] In 1512, the new Christians had offered Ferdinand a large sum of money to carry on the Navarrese war, if he would cause the trials before that tribunal to be conducted in the same manner as in other courts, where the accuser and the evidence were confronted openly with the defendant. To this reasonable petition Ximenes objected, on the wretched plea, that, in that event, none would be found willing to undertake the odious business of informer. He backed his remonstrance with such a liberal donative from his own funds, as supplied the king’s immediate exigency, and effectually closed his heart against the petitioners. The application was renewed in 1516, by the unfortunate Israelites, who offered a liberal supply in like manner to Charles, on similar terms. But the proposal, to which his Flemish counsellors, who may be excused, at least, from the reproach of bigotry, would have inclined the young monarch, was firmly rejected through the interposition of Ximenes. [13]

The high-handed measures of the minister, while they disgusted the aristocracy, gave great umbrage to the dean of Louvain, who saw himself reduced to a mere cipher in the administration. In consequence of his representations a second, and afterwards a third minister was sent to Castile, with authority to divide the government with the cardinal. But all this was of little avail. On one occasion, the co-regents ventured to rebuke their haughty partner, and assert their own dignity, by subscribing their names first to the despatches, and then sending them to him for his signature. But Ximenes coolly ordered his secretary to tear the paper in pieces, and make out a new one, which he signed, and sent out without the participation of his brethren. And this course he continued during the remainder of his administration. [14]

The cardinal not only assumed the sole responsibility of the most important public acts, but, in the execution of them, seldom condescended to calculate the obstacles or the odds arrayed against him. He was thus brought into collision, at the same time, with three of the most powerful grandees of Castile; the dukes of Alva and Infantado, and the count of Urena. Don Pedro Giron, the son of the latter, with several other young noblemen, had maltreated and resisted the royal officers, while in the discharge of their duty. They then took refuge in the little town of Villafrata, which they fortified and prepared for a defence. The cardinal without hesitation mustered several thousand of the national militia, and, investing the place, set it on fire, and deliberately razed it to the ground. The refractory nobles, struck with consternation, submitted. Their friends interceded for them in the most humble manner; and the cardinal, whose lofty spirit disdained to trample on a fallen foe, showed his usual clemency by soliciting their pardon from the king. [15]

But neither the talents nor authority of Ximenes, it was evident, could much longer maintain subordination among the people, exasperated by the shameless extortions of the Flemings, and the little interest shown for them by their new sovereign. The most considerable offices in church and state were put up to sale; and the kingdom was drained of its funds by the large remittances continually made, on one pretext or another, to Flanders. All this brought odium, undeserved indeed, on the cardinal’s government; [16] for there is abundant evidence, that both he and the council remonstrated in the boldest manner on these enormities; while they endeavored to inspire nobler sentiments in Charles’s bosom, by recalling the wise and patriotic administration of his grandparents. [17] The people, in the mean while, outraged by these excesses, and despairing of redress from a higher quarter, loudly clamored for a convocation of cortes, that they might take the matter into their own hands. The cardinal evaded this as long as possible. He was never a friend to popular assemblies, much less in the present inflamed state of public feeling, and in the absence of the sovereign. He was more anxious for his return than any other individual, probably, in the kingdom. Braved by the aristocracy at home, thwarted in every favorite measure by the Flemings abroad, with an injured, indignant people to control, and oppressed, moreover, by infirmities and years, even his stern, inflexible spirit could scarcely sustain him under a burden too grievous, in these circumstances, for any subject. [18]

At length, the young monarch, having made all preliminary arrangements, prepared, though still in opposition to the wishes of his courtiers, to embark for his Spanish dominions. Previously to this, on the 13th of August, 1516, the French and Spanish plenipotentiaries signed a treaty of peace at Noyon. The principal article stipulated the marriage of Charles to the daughter of Francis the First, who was to cede, as her dowry, the French claims on Naples. The marriage, indeed, never took place. But the treaty itself may be considered as finally adjusting the hostile relations which had subsisted, during so many years of Ferdinand’s reign, with the rival monarchy of France, and as closing the long series of wars, which had grown out of the league of Cambray. [19]

On the 17th of September, 1517, Charles landed at Villaviciosa, in the Asturias. Ximenes at this time lay ill at the Franciscan monastery of Aguilera, near Aranda on the Douro. The good tidings of the royal landing operated like a cordial on his spirits, and he instantly despatched letters to the young monarch, filled with wholesome counsel as to the conduct he should pursue, in order to conciliate the affections of the people. He received at the same time messages from the king, couched in the most gracious terms, and expressing the liveliest interest in his restoration to health.

The Flemings in Charles’s suite, however, looked with great apprehension to his meeting with the cardinal. They had been content that the latter should rule the state, when his arm was needed to curb the Castilian aristocracy; but they dreaded the ascendency of his powerful mind over their young sovereign, when brought into personal contact with him. They retarded this event, by keeping Charles in the north as long as possible.

In the mean time, they endeavored to alienate his regards from the minister by exaggerated reports of his arbitrary conduct and temper, rendered more morose by the peevishness of age. Charles showed a facility to be directed by those around him in early years, which gave little augury of the greatness to which he afterwards rose. [20]

By the persuasions of his evil counsellors, he addressed that memorable letter to Ximenes, which is unmatched, even in court annals, for cool and base ingratitude. He thanked the regent for all his past services, named a place for a personal interview with him, where he might obtain the benefit of his counsels for his own conduct, and the government of the kingdom; after which he would be allowed to retire to his diocese, and seek from Heaven that reward, which Heaven alone could adequately bestow! [21]

Such was the tenor of this cold-blooded epistle, which, in the language of more than one writer, killed the cardinal. This, however, is stating the matter too strongly. The spirit of Ximenes was of too stern a stuff to be so easily extinguished by the breath of royal displeasure. [22] He was, indeed, deeply moved by the desertion of the sovereign whom he had served so faithfully, and the excitement which it occasioned brought on a return of his fever, according to Carbajal, in full force. But anxiety and disease had already done its work upon his once hardy constitution; and this ungrateful act could only serve to wean him more effectually from a world that he was soon to part with. [23]

In order to be near the king, he had previously transferred his residence to Roa. He now turned his thoughts to his approaching end. Death may be supposed to have but little terrors for the statesman, who in his last moments could aver, “that he had never intentionally wronged any man; but had rendered to every one his due, without being swayed, as far as he was conscious, by fear or affection.” Yet Cardinal Richelieu on his death-bed declared the same! [24]

As a last attempt, he began a letter to the king. His fingers refused, however, to perform their office, and after tracing a few lines he gave it up. The purport of these seems to have been, to recommend his university at Alcala to the royal protection. He now became wholly occupied with his devotions, and manifested such contrition for his errors, and such humble confidence in the divine mercy, as deeply affected all present. In this tranquil frame of mind, and in the perfect possession of his powers, he breathed his last, November 8th, 1517, in the eighty-first year of his age, and the twenty-second since his elevation to the primacy. The last words that he uttered were those of the Psalmist, which he used frequently to repeat in health, “In te, Domine, speravi,”—“In thee, Lord, have I trusted.”

His body, arrayed in his pontifical robes, was seated in a chair of state, and multitudes of all degrees thronged into the apartment to kiss the hands and feet. It was afterwards transported to Alcala, and laid in the chapel of the noble college of San Ildefonso, erected by himself. His obsequies were celebrated with great pomp, contrary to his own orders, by, all the religious and literary fraternities of the city; and his virtues commemorated in a funeral discourse by a doctor of the university, who, considering the death of the good a fitting occasion to lash the vices of the living, made the most caustic allusion to the Flemish favorites of Charles, and their pestilent influence on the country. [25]

Such was the end of this remarkable man; the most remarkable, in many respects, of his time. His character was of that stern and lofty cast, which seems to rise above the ordinary wants and weaknesses of humanity; his genius of the severest order, like Dante’s and Michael Angelo’s in the regions of fancy, impresses us with ideas of power, that excite admiration akin to terror. His enterprises, as we have seen, were of the boldest character. His execution of them equally bold. He disdained to woo fortune by any of those soft and pliant arts, which are often the most effectual.

He pursued his ends by the most direct means. In this way he frequently multiplied difficulties; but difficulties seemed to have a charm for him, by the opportunity they afforded of displaying the energies of his soul.

With these qualities he combined a versatility of talent, usually found only in softer and more flexible characters. Though bred in the cloister, he distinguished himself both in the cabinet and the camp. For the latter, indeed, so repugnant to his regular profession, he had a natural genius, according to the testimony of his biographer; and he evinced his relish for it, by declaring, that “the smell of gunpowder was more grateful to him than the sweetest perfume of Arabia!” [26] In every situation, however, he exhibited the stamp of his peculiar calling; and the stern lineaments of the monk were never wholly concealed under the mask of the statesman, or the visor of the warrior. He had a full measure of the religious bigotry which belonged to the age; and he had melancholy scope for displaying it, as chief of that dread tribunal, over which he presided during the last ten years of his life. [27]

He carried the arbitrary ideas of his profession into political life. His regency was conducted on the principles of a military despotism. It was his maxim, that “a prince must rely mainly on his army for securing the respect and obedience of his subjects.” [28] It is true he had to deal with a martial and factious nobility, and the end which he proposed was to curb their licentiousness, and enforce the equitable administration of justice; but, in accomplishing this, he showed little regard to the constitution, or to private rights. His first act, the proclaiming of Charles king, was in open contempt of the usages and rights of the nation.

He evaded the urgent demands of the Castilians for a convocation of cortes; for it was his opinion, “that freedom of speech, especially in regard to their own grievances, made the people insolent and irreverent to their rulers.” [29] The people, of course, had no voice in the measures which involved their most important interests. His whole policy, indeed, was to exalt the royal prerogative, at the expense of the inferior orders of the state. [30] And his regency, short as it was, and highly beneficial to the country in many respects, must be considered as opening the way to that career of despotism, which the Austrian family followed up with such hard-hearted constancy.

But, while we condemn the politics, we cannot but respect the principles of the man. However erroneous his conduct in our eyes, he was guided by his sense of duty. It was this, and the conviction of it in the minds of others, which constituted the secret of his great power. It made him reckless of difficulties, and fearless of all personal consequences. The consciousness of the integrity of his purposes rendered him, indeed, too unscrupulous as to the means of attaining them. He held his own life cheap, in comparison with the great reforms that he had at heart. Was it surprising, that he should hold as lightly the convenience and interests of others, when they thwarted their execution?

His views were raised far above considerations of self. As a statesman, he identified himself with the state; as a churchman, with the interests of his religion. He severely punished every offence against these. He as freely forgave every personal injury. He had many remarkable opportunities of showing this. His administration provoked numerous lampoons and libels.

He despised them, as the miserable solace of spleen and discontent, and never persecuted their authors. [31] In this he formed an honorable contrast to Cardinal Richelieu, whose character and condition suggest many points of resemblance with his own.

His disinterestedness was further shown by his mode of dispensing his large revenues. It was among the poor, and on great public objects. He built up no family. He had brothers and nephews; but he contented himself with making their condition comfortable, without diverting to their benefit the great trusts confided to him for the public. [32] The greater part of the funds which he left at his death was settled on the university of Alcala. [33]

He had, however, none of that pride, which would make him ashamed of his poor and humble relatives. He had, indeed, a confidence in his own powers, approaching to arrogance, which led him to undervalue the abilities of others, and to look on them as his instruments rather than his equals. But he had none of the vulgar pride founded on wealth or station. He frequently alluded to his lowly condition in early life, with great humility, thanking Heaven, with tears in his eyes, for its extraordinary goodness to him. He not only remembered, but did many acts of kindness to his early friends, of which more than one touching anecdote is related.

Such traits of sensibility, gleaming through the natural austerity and sternness of a disposition like his, like light breaking through a dark cloud, affect us the more sensibly by contrast.

He was irreproachable in his morals, and conformed literally to all the rigid exactions of his severe order, in the court as faithfully as in the cloister. He was sober, abstemious, chaste. In the latter particular, he was careful that no suspicion of the license which so often soiled the clergy of the period, should attach—to him. [34] On one occasion, while on a journey, he was invited to pass the night at the house of the duchess of Maqueda, being informed that she was absent. The duchess was at home, however, and entered the apartment before he retired to rest. “You have deceived me, lady,” said Ximenes, rising in anger; “if you have any business with me, you will find me tomorrow at the confessional.” So saying, he abruptly left the palace. [35]

He carried his austerities and mortifications so far, as to endanger his health. There is a curious brief extant of Pope Leo the Tenth, dated the last year of the cardinal’s life, enjoining him to abate his severe penance, to eat meat and eggs on the ordinary fasts, to take off his Franciscan frock, and sleep in linen and on a bed. He would never consent, however, to divest himself of his monastic weeds. “Even laymen,” said he, alluding to the custom of the Roman Catholics, “put these on when they are dying; and shall I, who have worn them all my life, take them off at that time!” [36]

Another anecdote is told in relation to his dress. Over his coarse woollen frock, he wore the costly apparel suited to his rank. An impertinent Franciscan preacher took occasion one day before him to launch out against the luxuries of the time, especially in dress, obviously alluding to the cardinal, who was attired in a superb suit of ermine, which had been presented to him. He heard the sermon, patiently to the end, and after the services were concluded, took the preacher into the sacristy, and, having commended the general tenor of his discourse, showed under his furs and fine linen the coarse frock of his order, next his skin. Some accounts add, that the friar, on the other hand, wore fine linen under his monkish frock. After the cardinal’s death, a little box was found in his apartment, containing the implements with which he used to mend the rents of his threadbare garment, with his own hands. [37]

With so much to do, it may well be believed, that Ximenes was avaricious of time. He seldom slept more than four, or at most four hours and a half.

He was shaved in the night, hearing at the same time some edifying reading. He followed the same practice at his meals, or varied it with listening to the arguments of some of his theological brethren, generally on some subtile question of school divinity. This was his only recreation.

He had as little taste as time for lighter and more elegant amusements. He spoke briefly, and always to the point. He was no friend of idle ceremonies, and useless visits; though his situation exposed him more or less to both. He frequently had a volume lying open on the table before him, and when his visitor stayed too long, or took up his time with light and frivolous conversation, he intimated his dissatisfaction by resuming his reading. The cardinal’s book must have been as fatal to a reputation as Fontenelle’s ear trumpet. [38]

I will close this sketch of Ximenes de Cisneros with a brief outline of his person. His complexion was sallow; his countenance sharp and emaciated; his nose aquiline; his upper lip projected far over the lower.

His eyes were small, deep-set in his head, dark, vivid, and penetrating.

His forehead ample, and, what was remarkable, without a wrinkle, though the expression of his features was somewhat severe. [39] His voice was clear, but not agreeable; his enunciation measured and precise. His demeanor was grave, his carriage firm and erect; he was tall in stature, and his whole presence commanding. His constitution, naturally robust, was impaired by his severe austerities and severer cares; and, in the latter years of his life, was so delicate as to be extremely sensible to the vicissitudes and inclemency of the weather. [40]

I have noticed the resemblance which Ximenes bore to the great French minister, Cardinal Richelieu. It was, after all, however, more in the circumstances of situation, than in their characters; though the most prominent traits of these were not dissimilar. [41] Both, though bred ecclesiastics, reached the highest honors of the state, and indeed, may be said to have directed the destinies of their countries. [42] Richelieu’s authority, however, was more absolute than that of Ximenes, for he was screened by the shadow of royalty; while the latter was exposed, by his insulated and unsheltered position, to the full blaze of envy, and, of course, opposition. Both were ambitious of military glory, and showed capacity for attaining it. Both achieved their great results by that rare union of high mental endowments and great efficiency in action, which is always irresistible.

The moral basis of their characters was entirely different. The French cardinal’s was selfishness, pure and unmitigated. His religion, politics, his principles in short, in every sense, were subservient to this.

Offences against the state he could forgive; those against himself he pursued with implacable rancor. His authority was literally cemented with blood. His immense powers and patronage were perverted to the aggrandizement of his family. Though bold to temerity in his plans, he betrayed more than once a want of true courage in their execution. Though violent and impetuous, he could stoop to be a dissembler. Though arrogant in the extreme, he courted the soft incense of flattery. In his manners he had the advantage over the Spanish prelate. He could be a courtier in courts, and had a more refined and cultivated taste. In one respect, he had the advantage over Ximenes in morals. He was not, like him, a bigot.

He had not the religious basis in his composition, which is the foundation of bigotry.—Their deaths were typical of their characters. Richelieu died, as he had lived, so deeply execrated, that the enraged populace would scarcely allow his remains to be laid quietly in the grave. Ximenes, on the contrary, was buried amid the tears and lamentations of the people; his memory was honored even by his enemies, and his name is reverenced by his countrymen, to this day, as that of a Saint.

* * * * *

Dr. Lorenzo Galindez de Carbajal, one of the best authorities for transactions in the latter part of our History, was born of a respectable family, at Placencia, in 1472. Little is gathered of his early life, but that he was studious in his habits, devoting himself assiduously to the acquisition of the civil and canon law. He filled the chair of professor in this department, at Salamanca, for several years. His great attainments and respectable character recommended him to the notice of the Catholic queen, who gave him a place in the royal council. In this capacity, he was constantly at the court, where he seems to have maintained himself in the esteem of his royal mistress, and of Ferdinand after her death. The queen testified her respect for Carbajal, by appointing him one of the commissioners for preparing a digest of the Castilian law. He made considerable progress in this arduous work; but how great is uncertain, since, from whatever cause, (there appears to be a mystery about it,) the fruits of his labor were made public; a circumstance deeply regretted by the Castilian jurists. (Asso y Manuel, Instituciones, Introd. p. 99.) Carbajal left behind him several historical works, according to Nic.

Antonio, whose catalogue, however, rests on very slender grounds.

(Bibliotheca Nova, tom. ii. p. 3.) The work by which he is best known to Spanish scholars, is his “Anales del Rey Don Fernando el Catolico,” which still remains in manuscript. There is certainly no Christian country, for which the invention of printing, so liberally patronized there at its birth, has done so little as for Spain. Her libraries teem at this day with manuscripts of the greatest interest for the illustration of every stage of her history; but which, alas! in the present gloomy condition of affairs, have less chance of coming to the light, than at the close of the fifteenth century, when the art of printing was in its infancy.

Carbajal’s Annals cover the whole ground of our narrative, from the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, to the coming of Charles V. into Spain. They are plainly written, without ambition of rhetorical show or refinement. The early part is little better than memoranda of the principal events of the period, with particular notice of all the migrations of the court. In the concluding portion of the work, however, comprehending Ferdinand’s death, and the regency of Ximenes, the author is very full and circumstantial. As he had a conspicuous place in the government, and was always with the court, his testimony in regard to this important period is of the highest value as that of an eye-witness and an actor, and, it may be added, a man of sagacity and sound principles. No better commentary on the merit of his work need be required, than the brief tribute of Alvaro Gomez, the accomplished biographer of Cardinal Ximenes. “Porro Annales Laurentii Galendi Caravajali, quibus vir gravissimus rerumque illarum cum primis particeps quinquaginta ferme annorum memoriam complexus est, haud vulgariter meam operam juverunt.” De Rebus Gestis, Praefatio.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 8.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 18.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 150.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib.

4, cap. 5.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., dial. de Ximeni.

[2] Carbajal has given us Charles’s epistle, which is subscribed “El Principe.” He did not venture on the title of king in his correspondence with the Castilians, though he affected it abroad. Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 10.

[3] The letter of the council is dated March 14th, 1516. It is recorded by Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 10.

[4] It became permanently so in the following reign of Philip II.

Semanario Erudito, tom. iii. p. 79.

[5] Carbajal penetrates into the remotest depths of Spanish history for an authority for Charles’s claim. He can find none better, however, than the examples of Alfonso VIII. and Ferdinand III.; the former of whom used force, and the latter obtained the crown by the voluntary cession of his mother. His argument, it is clear, rests much stronger on expediency, than precedent. Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 11.

[6] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 151 et seq.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 9-11.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 2, cap. 2.—Dormer, Anales de Aragon, lib. 1, cap. 1, 13.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist.

572, 590, 603.—Sandoval, Hist, del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 53.

[7] Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 18.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 158.—

Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 2, cap. 4.

Alvaro Gomez finds no better authority than vulgar rumor for this story.

According to Robles, the cardinal, after this bravado, twirled his cordelier’s belt about his fingers, saying, “he wanted nothing better than that to tame the pride of the Castilian nobles with!” But Ximenes was neither a fool nor a madman; although his over-zealous biographers make him sometimes one, and sometimes the other. Voltaire, who never lets the opportunity slip of seizing a paradox in character or conduct, speaks of Ximenes as one “qui, toujours vetu en cordelier, met son faste a fouler sous ses sandales le faste Espagnol.” Essai sur les Moeurs, chap. 121.

[8] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 13.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 4, cap. 5.—Sempere, Hist. des Cortes, chap. 25.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 159.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.

[9] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 174 et seq.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 18.-Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 13.

[10] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 11.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. p. 327.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 570.—

Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 4, cap. 5.

[11] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 164, 165.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, tom. i. p. 278.—Las Casas, Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p. 239.

Robertson states the ground of Ximenes’s objection to have been, the iniquity of reducing one set of men to slavery, in order to liberate another. (History of America, vol. i. p. 285.) A very enlightened reason, for which, however, I find not the least warrant in Herrera, (the authority cited by the historian,) nor in Gomez, nor in any other writer.

[12] Llorente, Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. i, chap. 10, art. 5.

[13] Paramo, De Origine Inquisitionis, lib. 2, tit. 2, cap. 5.—Llorente, Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. i. chap. 11, art. l.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 184, 185.

[14] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 2.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 189, 190.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 18.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 581.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.

“Ni properaveritis,” says Martyr in a letter to Marliano, Prince Charles’s physician, “ruent omnia. Nescit Hispania parere non regibus, aut non legitime regnaturis. Nauseam inducit magnanimis viris hujus fratris, licet potentis et reipublicae amatoris, gubernatio. Est quippe grandis animo, et ipse, ad aedificandum literatosqne viros fovendum natus magis qnam ad imperandum, bellicis colloquiis et apparatibus gaudet.” Opus Epist., epist. 573.

[15] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 198-201.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 567, 584, 590.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 3, 6.—

Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p.

73.

[16] In a letter to Marliano, Martyr speaks of the large sums, “ab hoc gubernatore ad vos missae, sub parandae classis praetextu.” (Opus Epist., epist. 576.) In a subsequent epistle to his Castilian correspondents, he speaks in a more sarcastic tone. “Bonus ille frater Ximenez Cardinalis gubernator thesauros ad Belgas transmittendos coacervavit. ***** Glacialis Oceani accolae ditabuntur, vestra expilabitur Castilla.” (Epist. 606.) From some cause or other, it is evident the cardinal’s government was not at all to honest Martyr’s taste. Gomez suggests, as the reason, that his salary was clipped off in the general retrenchment, which he admits was a very hard case. (De Rebus Gestis, fol. 177.) Martyr, however, was never an extravagant encomiast of the cardinal, and one may imagine much more creditable reasons, than that assigned, for his disgust with him now.

[17] See a letter in Carbajal, containing this honest tribute to the illustrious dead. (Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 4.) Charles might have found an antidote to the poison of his Flemish sycophants in the faithful counsels of his Castilian ministers.

[18] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 602.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol.

194.-Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 18.

Martyr, in a letter written just before the king’s landing, notices the cardinal’s low state of health and spirits. “Cardinalis gubernator Matriti febribus aegrotaverat; convaluerat; nunc recidivavit. ***** Breves fore dies illius, medici automant. Est octogenario major; ipse regis adventum affectu avidissimo desiderare videtur. Sentit sine rege non rite posse corda Hispanorum moderari ac regi.” Epist. 598.

[19] Flassan, Diplomatic Francais, tom. i. p. 313.—Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no. 106.

[20] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 9.—Dormer, Anales de Aragon, lib. 1. cap. 1.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 43.—Dolce, Vita di. Carlo V., p. 12.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 212.—Sandoval, Hist, del Emp.

Carlos V., tom. i. p. 83.

[21] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ubi supra.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 215.

—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 84.

[22] “Cette terrible lettre qui fut la cause de sa mort,” says Marsollier, plumply; a writer who is sure either to misstate or overstate. (Ministere du Card. Ximenez, p. 447.) Byron, alluding to the fate of a modern poet, ridicules the idea of

“The mind, that fiery particle,

Being extinguished by an Article!”

The frown of a critic, however, might as well prove fatal as that of a king. In both cases, I imagine, it would be hard to prove any closer connection between the two events, than that of time.

[23] “Con aquel despedimiento,” says Galindez de Carbajal, “con esto acabo de tantos servicios luego que Ilego esta carta el Cardenal rescibio alteracion y tomole recia calentnra que en pocos dias le des-pacho.”

(Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 9.) Gomez tells a long story of poison administered to the cardinal in a trout, (De Rebus Gestis, fol. 206.) Others say, in a letter from Flanders, (see Moreri, Dictionnaire Historique, voce Ximenes.) Oviedo notices a rumor of his having been poisoned by one of his secretaries; but vouches for the innocence of the individual accused, whom he personally knew. (Quincuagenas, MS., dial, de Xim.) Reports of this kind were too rife in these days, to deserve credit, unless supported by very clear evidence. Martyr and Carbajal, both with the court at the time, intimate no suspicion of foul play.

[24] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 9.—Gomez, de Rebus Gestis, fol. 213, 214.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 4, cap. 8.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.

“‘Voila mon juge, qui prononcera bientot ma sentence. Je le prie de tout mon coeur de me condamner, si, dans mon ministere, je me suis propose autre chose que le bien de la religion et celui de l’etat.’ Le lendemain, au point du jour, il voulut recevoir l’extreme onction.” Jay, Histoire du Ministere du Cardinal Richelieu, (Paris, 1816,) tom. ii. p. 217.

[25] Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 18.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 215-

217.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 4, cap. 12-15; who quotes Marano, an eye-witness.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 9, who dates the cardinal’s death December 8th, in which he is followed by Lanuza.

The following epitaph, of no great merit, was inscribed on his sepulchre, composed by the learned John Vergara in his younger days.

“Condideram musis Franciscus grande lyceum, Condor in exiguo nune ego sarcophago.

Praelextam junxi saccho, galeamque galero, Frater, dux, praesul, cardineusque pater.

Quin virtute reel junctum est diadema cucullo, Cum mibi regnanti paruit Hesperia.”

[26] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 160.—Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17.

—“And who can doubt,” exclaimed Gonzalo de Oviedo, “that powder, against the infidel, is incense to the Lord?” Quincuagenas, MS.

[27] During this period, Ximenes “permit la condamnation,” to use the mild language of Llorente, of more than 2500 individuals to the stake, and nearly 50,000 to other punishments! (Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. i.

chap. 10, art. 5; tom. iv. chap. 46.) In order to do justice to what is really good in the characters of this age, one must absolutely close his eyes against that odious fanaticism, which enters more or less into all, and into the best, unfortunately, most largely.

[28] “Persuasum haberet, non alia ratione animos humanos imperia aliorum laturos, nisi vi facta aut adhibita. Quare pro certo affirmare solebat, nullum unquam principem exteris populis formidini, aut suis reverentiae fuisse, nisi comparato militum exercitu, atque omnibus belli instrumentis ad manum paratis.” (Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 95.) We may well apply to the cardinal what Cato, or rather Lucan, applied to Pompey; “Praetulit arma togae; sed pacem armatus amavit.”

Pharsalia, lib. 9.

[29] “Nulla enim re magis populos insolescere, et irreverentiam omnem exhibere, quam cum libertatem loquendi nacti sunt, et pro libidine suas vulgo jactant querimonias.” Gomez quotes the language of Ximenes in his correspondence with Charles. De Rebus Gestis, fol. 194.

[30] Oviedo makes a reflection, showing that he conceived the cardinal’s policy better than most of his biographers. He states, that the various immunities, and the military organization, which he gave to the towns enabled them to raise the insurrection, known as the war of the “comunidades,” at the beginning of Charles’s reign. But he rightly considers this as only an indirect consequence of his policy, which made use of the popular arm only to break down the power of the nobles, and establish the supremacy of the crown. Quincuagenas, MS., dial, de Xim.

[31] Quincuagenas, MS., ubi supra. Mr. Burke notices this noble trait, in a splendid panegyric which he poured forth on the character of Ximenes, at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s table, as related by Madame d’Arblay, in the last, and not least remarkable of her productions. (Memoirs of Dr. Burney, vol.

ii. pp. 231 et seq.) The orator, if the lady reports him right, notices, as two of the cardinal’s characteristics, his freedom from bigotry and despotism!

[32] Their connection with so distinguished a person, however enabled most of them to form high alliances; of which Oviedo gives some account.

Quincuagenas, MS.

[33] “Die, and endow a college or a cat!”

The verse is somewhat stale, but expresses, better than a page of prose can, the credit due to such posthumous benefactions, when they set aside the dearest natural ties for the mere indulgence of a selfish vanity, which motives cannot be imputed to Ximenes. He had always conscientiously abstained from appropriating his archi-episcopal revenues, as we have seen, to himself or his family. His dying bequest, therefore, was only in keeping with his whole life.

[34] The good father Quintanilla vindicates his hero’s chastity, somewhat at the expense of his breeding. “His purity was unexampled,” says he. “He shunned the sex, like so many evil spirits; looking on every woman as a devil, let her be never so holy. Had it not been in the way of his professional calling, it is not too much to say he would never have suffered his eyes to light on one of them!” Archetypo, p. 80.

[35] Flechier, Histoire de Ximenes, liv. 6, p. 634.

[36] Quintanilla has given the brief of his Holiness in extenso, with commentaries thereon, twice as long. See Archeotypo, lib. 4, cap. 10.

[37] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 219.—Quintanilla, Archetype, lib. 2, cap. 4. The reader may find a pendant to this anecdote in a similar one recorded of Ximenes’s predecessor, the grand cardinal Mendoza, in Part II.

Chapter 5, of this History. The conduct of the two primates on the occasion, was sufficiently characteristic.

[38] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, ubi supra.—

Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 13.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 2, cap. 5, 7, 8; who cites Dr. Vergara, the cardinal’s friend. It is Baron Grimm, I think, who tells us of Fontenelle’s habit of dropping his trumpet when the conversation did not pay him for the trouble of holding it up. The good-
natured Reynolds, according to Goldsmith, could “shift his trumpet” on such an emergency also.

[39] Ximenes’s head was examined some forty years after his interment, and the skull was found to be without sutures. (Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol.

218.) Richelieu’s was found to be perforated with little holes. The abbe Richard deduces a theory from this, which may startle the physiologist even more than the facts. “On ouvrit son Test, on y trouva 12 petits trous par ou s’exhaloient les vapeurs de son cerveau, ce qui fit qu’ il n’eut jamais aucun mal de tete; au lieu que le Test de Ximenes etoit sans suture, a quoi l’on attribua les effroyables douleurs de tete qu’il avoit presque toujours.” Parallele, p. 177.

[40] Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 18.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 218.

[41] A little treatise has been devoted to this very subject, entitled “Parallele du Card. Ximenes et du Card. Richelieu, par Mons. l’Abbe Richard; a Trevoux, 1705.” 222 pp. 12mo. The author, with a candor rare indeed, where national vanity is interested, strikes the balance without hesitation in favor of the foreigner Ximenes.

[42] The catalogue of the various offices of Ximenes occupies near half a page of Quintanilla. At the time of his death, the chief ones that he filled were, those of archbishop of Toledo, and consequently primate of Spain, grand chancellor of Castile, cardinal of the Roman church, inquisitor-general of Castile, and regent.

CHAPTER XXVI.

GENERAL REVIEW OF THE ADMINISTRATION OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA.

Policy of the Crown.—Towards the Nobles.—The Clergy.—Consideration of the Commons.—Advancement of Prerogative.—Legal Complications.—The Legal Profession.—Trade.—Manufactures.—Agriculture.—Restrictive Policy.—

Revenues.—Progress of Discovery.—Colonial Administration.—General Prosperity.—Increase of Population.—Chivalrous Spirit.—The Period of National Glory.

We have now traversed that important period of history, comprehending the latter part of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century; a period when the convulsions, which shook to the ground, the ancient political fabrics of Europe, roused the minds of its inhabitants from the lethargy in which they had been buried for ages. Spain, as we have seen, felt the general impulse. Under the glorious rule of Ferdinand and Isabella, we have beheld her, emerging from chaos into a new existence; unfolding, under the influence of institutions adapted to her genius, energies of which she was before unconscious; enlarging her resources from all the springs of domestic industry and commercial enterprise; and insensibly losing the ferocious habits of a feudal age, in the refinements of an intellectual and moral culture.

In the fulness of time, when her divided powers had been concentrated under one head, and the system of internal economy completed, we have seen her descend into the arena with the other nations of Europe, and in a very few years achieve the most important acquisitions of territory, both in that quarter and in Africa; and finally crowning the whole by the discovery and occupation of a boundless empire beyond the waters. In the progress of the action, we may have been too much occupied with its details, to attend sufficiently to the principles which regulated them.

But now that we have reached the close, we may be permitted to cast a parting glance over the field that we have traversed, and briefly survey the principal steps by which the Spanish sovereigns, under Divine Providence, led their nation up to such a height of prosperity and glory.

Ferdinand and Isabella, on their accession, saw at once that the chief source of the distractions of the country lay in the overgrown powers, and factious spirit, of the nobility. Their first efforts, therefore, were directed to abate these as far as possible. A similar movement was going forward, in the other European monarchies; but in none was it crowned with so speedy and complete success as in Castile, by means of those bold and decisive measures, which have been detailed in an early chapter of this work. [1] The same policy was steadily pursued during the remainder of their reign; less indeed by open assault than by indirect means. [2]

Among these, one of the most effectual was the omission, to summon the privileged orders to cortes, in several of the most important sessions of that body. This so far from being a new stretch of prerogative, was only an exercise of the anomalous powers already familiar to the crown, as elsewhere noticed. [3] Nor does it seem to have been viewed as a grievance by the other party, who regarded these meetings with the more indifference, since their aristocratic immunities exempted them from the taxation, which was generally the prominent object of them. But, from whatever cause proceeding, by this impolitic acquiescence they surrendered, undoubtedly, the most valuable of their rights,—one which has enabled the British aristocracy to maintain its political consideration unimpaired, while that of the Castilian has faded away into an empty pageant. [4]

Another practice steadily pursued by the sovereigns, was to raise men of humble station to offices of the highest trust; not, however, like their contemporary, Louis the Eleventh, because their station was humble, in order to mortify the higher orders, but because they courted merit, wherever it was to be found; [5]—a policy much and deservedly commended by the sagacious observers of the time. [6] The history of Spain does not probably afford another example of a person of the lowly condition of Ximenes, attaining, not merely the highest offices in the kingdom, but eventually its uncontrolled supremacy. [7] The multiplication of legal tribunals, and other civil offices, afforded the sovereigns ample scope for pursuing this policy, in the demand created for professional science.

The nobles, intrusted hitherto with the chief direction of affairs, now saw it pass into the hands of persons, who had other qualifications than martial prowess or hereditary rank. Such as courted distinction, were compelled to seek it by the regular avenues of academic discipline. How extensively the spirit operated, and with what brilliant success, we have already seen. [8] But, whatever the aristocracy may have gained in refinement of character, it resigned much of its prescriptive power, when it condescended to enter the arena on terms of equal competition with its inferiors for the prizes of talent and scholarship.

Ferdinand pursued a similar course in his own dominions of Aragon, where he uniformly supported the commons, or may more properly be said to have been supported by them, in the attempt to circumscribe the authority of the great feudatories. Although he accomplished this, to a considerable extent, their power was too firmly intrenched behind positive institutions to be affected like that of the Castilian aristocracy, whose rights had been swelled beyond their legitimate limits by every species of usurpation. [9]

With all the privileges retrieved from this order, is still possessed a disproportionate weight in the political balance. The great lords still claimed some of the most considerable posts, both civil and military. [10]

Their revenues were immense, and their broad lands covered unbroken leagues of extent in every quarter of the kingdom. [11] The queen, who reared many of their children in the royal palace, under her own eye, endeavored to draw her potent vassals to the court; [12] but many, still cherishing the ancient spirit of independence, preferred to live in feudal grandeur, surrounded by their retainers in their strong castles, and wait there, in grim repose, the hour when they might sally forth and reassert by arms their despoiled authority. Such a season occurred on Isabella’s death. The warlike nobles eagerly seized it; but the wily and resolute Ferdinand, and afterwards the iron hand of Ximenes, kept them in check, and prepared the way for the despotism of Charles the Fifth, round whom the haughty aristocracy of Castile, shorn of substantial power, were content to revolve as the satellites of a court, reflecting only the borrowed splendors of royalty.

The Queen’s government was equally vigilant in resisting ecclesiastical encroachment. It may appear otherwise to one who casts a superficial glance at her reign, and beholds her surrounded always by a troop of ghostly advisers, and avowing religion as the great end of her principal operations at home and abroad. [13]

It is certain, however, that, while in all her acts she confessed the influence of religion, she took more effectual means than any of her predecessors, to circumscribe the temporal powers of the clergy. [14] The volume of her pragmaticas is filled with laws designed to limit their jurisdiction, and restrain their encroachments on the secular authorities.

[15] Towards the Roman See, she maintained, as we have often had occasion to notice, the same independent attitude. By the celebrated concordat made with Sixtus the Fourth, in 1482, the pope conceded to the sovereigns the right of nominating to the higher dignities of the church. [16] The Holy See, however, still assumed the collation to inferior benefices, which were too often lavished on non-residents, and otherwise unsuitable persons. The queen sometimes extorted a papal indulgence granting the right of presentation, for a limited time; on which occasions she showed such alacrity, that she is known to have disposed, in a single day, of more than twenty prebends and inferior dignities. At other times, when the nomination made by his Holiness, as not unfrequently happened, was distasteful to her, she would take care to defeat it, by forbidding the bull to be published until laid before the privy council; at the same time sequestrating the revenues of the vacant benefice, till her own requisitions were complied with. [17]

She was equally solicitous in watching over the morals of the clergy, inculcating on the higher prelates to hold frequent pastoral communication with their suffragans, and to report to her such as were delinquent. [18]

By these vigilant measures, she succeeded in restoring the ancient discipline of the church, and weeding out the sensuality and indolence, which had so long defiled it; while she had the inexpressible satisfaction to see the principal places, long before her death, occupied by prelates, whose learning and religious principle gave the best assurance of the stability of the reformation. [19] Few of the Castilian monarchs have been brought more frequently into collision, or pursued a bolder policy, with the court of Rome. Still fewer have extorted from it such important graces and concessions; a circumstance, which can only be imputed, says a Castilian writer, “to singular good fortune and consummate prudence;” [20]

to that deep conviction of the queen’s integrity, we may also add, which disarmed resistance, even in her enemies.

The condition of the commons under this reign was probably, on the whole, more prosperous than in any other period of the Spanish history. New avenues to wealth and honors were opened to them; and persons and property were alike protected under the fearless and impartial administration of the law. “Such was the justice dispensed to every one under this auspicious reign,” exclaims Marineo, “that nobles and cavaliers, citizens and laborers, rich and poor, masters and servants, all equally partook of it.” [21] We find no complaints of arbitrary imprisonment, and no attempts, so frequent both in earlier and later times, at illegal taxation. In this particular, indeed, Isabella manifested the greatest tenderness for her people. By her commutation of the capricious tax of the alcavala for a determinate one, and still more by transferring its collection from the revenue officers to the citizens themselves, she greatly relieved her subjects. [22]

Finally, notwithstanding the perpetual call for troops for the military operations in which the government was constantly engaged, and notwithstanding the example of neighboring countries, there was no attempt to establish that iron bulwark of despotism, a standing army; at least, none nearer than that of the voluntary levies of the hermandad, raised and paid by the people. The queen never admitted the arbitrary maxims of Ximenes in regard to the foundation of government. Hers was essentially one of opinion, not force. [23] Had it rested on any other than the broad basis of public opinion, it could not have withstood a day the violent shocks, to which it was early exposed, nor have achieved the important revolution that it finally did, both in the domestic and foreign concerns of the country.

The condition of the kingdom, on Isabella’s accession, necessarily gave the commons unwonted consideration. In the tottering state of her affairs, she was obliged to rest on their strong arm for support. It did not fail her. Three sessions of the legislature, or rather the popular branch of it, were held during the two first years of her reign. It was in these early assemblies, that the commons bore an active part in concocting the wholesome system of laws, which restored vitality and vigor to the exhausted republic. [24]

After this good work was achieved, the sessions of that body became more rare. There was less occasion for them, indeed, during the existence of the hermandad, which was, of itself, an ample representation of the Castilian commons, and which, by enforcing obedience to the law at home, and by liberal supplies for foreign war, superseded, in a great degree, the call for more regular meetings of cortes. [25] The habitual economy, too, not to say frugality, which regulated the public, as well as private expenditure of the sovereigns, enabled them, after this period, with occasional exceptions, to dispense with other aid than that drawn from the regular revenues of the crown.

There is every ground for believing that the political franchises of the people, as then understood, were uniformly respected. The number of cities summoned to cortes, which had so often varied according to the caprices of princes, never fell short of that prescribed by long usage. On the contrary, an addition was made by the conquest of Granada, and, in a cortes held soon after the queen’s death, we find a most narrow and impolitic remonstrance of the legislature itself, against the alleged unauthorized extension of the privilege of representation. [26]

In one remarkable particular, which may be thought to form a material exception to the last observations, the conduct of the crown deserves to be noticed. This was, the promulgation of pragmaticas, or royal ordinances, and that to a greater extent, probably, than under any other reign, before or since. This important prerogative was claimed and exercised, more or less freely, by most European sovereigns in ancient times. Nothing could be more natural, than that the prince should assume such authority, or that the people, blind to the ultimate consequences, and impatient of long or frequent sessions of the legislature, should acquiesce in the temperate use of it. As far as these ordinances were of an executive character, or designed as supplementary to parliamentary enactments, or in obedience to previous suggestions of cortes, they appear to lie open to no constitutional objections in Castile. [27] But it was not likely that limits, somewhat loosely defined, would be very nicely observed; and under preceding reigns this branch of prerogative had been most intolerably abused. [28]

A large proportion of these laws are of an economical character, designed to foster trade and manufactures, and to secure fairness in commercial dealings. [29] Many are directed against the growing spirit of luxury, and many more occupied with the organization of the public tribunals. Whatever be thought of their wisdom in some cases, it will not be easy to detect any attempt to innovate on the settled principles of criminal jurisprudence, or on those regulating the transfer of property. When these were to be discussed, the sovereigns were careful to call in the aid of the legislature; an example which found little favor with their successors. [30] It is good evidence of the public confidence in the government, and the generally beneficial scope of these laws, that, although of such unprecedented frequency, they should have escaped parliamentary animadversion. [31] But, however patriotic the intentions of the Catholic sovereigns, and however safe, or even salutary, the power intrusted to such hands, it was a fatal precedent, and under the Austrian dynasty became the most effectual lever for overturning the liberties of the nation.

The preceding remarks on the policy observed towards the commons in this reign must be further understood as applying with far less qualification to the queen, than to her husband. The latter, owing perhaps to the lessons which he had derived from his own subjects of Aragon, “who never abated one jot of their constitutional rights,” says Martyr, “at the command of a king,” [32] and whose meetings generally brought fewer supplies to the royal coffers, than grievances to redress, seems to have had little relish for popular assemblies. He convened them as rarely as possible in Aragon, [33] and when he did, omitted no effort to influence their deliberations. [34] He anticipated, perhaps, similar difficulties in Castile, after his second marriage had lost him the affections of the people. At any rate, he evaded calling them together on more than one occasion imperiously demanded by the constitution; [35] and, when he did so, he invaded their privileges, [36] and announced principles of government, [37] which formed a discreditable, and, it must be admitted, rare exception to the usual tenor of his administration. Indeed, the most honorable testimony is borne to its general equity and patriotism, by a cortes convened soon after the queen’s death, when the tribute, as far as she was concerned, still more unequivocally, must have been sincere. [38]

A similar testimony is afforded by the panegyrics and the practice of the more liberal Castilian writers, who freely resort to this reign, as the great fountain of constitutional precedent. [39]

The commons gained political consideration, no doubt, by the depression of the nobles; but their chief gain lay in the inestimable blessings of domestic tranquillity, and the security of private rights. The crown absorbed the power, in whatever form, retrieved from the privileged orders; the pensions and large domains, the numerous fortified places, the rights of seigniorial jurisdiction, the command of the military orders, and the like. Other circumstances conspired to raise the regal authority still higher; as, for example, the international relations then opened with the rest of Europe, which, whether friendly or hostile, were conducted by the monarch alone, who, unless to obtain supplies, rarely condescended to seek the intervention of the other estates; the concentration of the dismembered provinces of the Peninsula under one government; the immense acquisitions abroad, whether from discovery or conquest, regarded in that day as the property of the crown, rather than of the nation; and, finally, the consideration flowing from the personal character, and long successful rule, of the Catholic sovereigns. Such were the manifold causes, which, without the imputation of a criminal ambition, or indifference to the rights of their subjects, in Ferdinand and Isabella, all combined to swell the prerogative to an unprecedented height under their reign.

This, indeed, was the direction in which all the governments of Europe, at this period, were tending. The people, wisely preferring a single master to a multitude, sustained the crown in its efforts to recover from the aristocracy the enormous powers it so grossly abused. This was the revolution of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The power thus deposited in a single hand, was found in time equally incompatible with the great ends of civil government; while it gradually accumulated to an extent, which threatened to crush the monarchy by its own weight. But the institutions derived from a Teutonic origin have been found to possess a conservative principle, unknown to the fragile despotisms of the east. The seeds of liberty, though dormant, lay deep in the heart of the nation, waiting only the good time to germinate. That time has at length arrived.

Larger experience, and a wider moral culture, have taught men not only the extent of their political rights, but the best way to secure them. And it is the reassertion of these by the great body of the people, which now constitutes the revolution going forward in most of the old communities of Europe. The progress of liberal principles must be controlled, of course, by the peculiar circumstances and character of the nation; but their ultimate triumph, in every quarter, none can reasonably distrust. May it not be abused.

The prosperity of the country, under Ferdinand and Isabella, its growing trade and new internal relations, demanded new regulations, which, as before noticed, were attempted to be supplied by the pragmaticas.

This was adding, however, to the embarrassments of a jurisprudence already far too cumbrous. The Castilian lawyer might despair of a critical acquaintance with the voluminous mass of legislation, which, in the form of municipal charters, Roman codes, parliamentary statutes, and royal ordinances, were received as authority in the courts. [40] The manifold evils resulting from this unsettled and conflicting jurisprudence, had led the legislature repeatedly to urge its digest into a more simple and uniform system. Some approach was made towards this in the code of the “Ordenancas Reales,” compiled in the early part of the queen’s reign. [41]

The great body of Pragmaticas, subsequently, issued, were also collected into a separate volume by her command, [42] and printed the year before her death. These two codes may therefore be regarded as embracing the ordinary legislation of her reign. [43]

In 1505, the celebrated little code, called “Leyes de Tore,” from the place where the cortes was held, received the sanction of that body. [44]

Its laws, eighty-four in number, and designed as supplementary to those already existing, are chiefly occupied with the rights of inheritance and marriage. It is here that the ominous term “mayorazgo” may be said to have been naturalized in Castilian jurisprudence. [45] The peculiar feature of these laws, aggravated in no slight degree by the glosses of the civilians, [46] is the facility which they give to entails; a fatal facility, which, chiming in with the pride and indolence natural to the Spanish character, ranks them among the most efficient agents of the decay of husbandry and the general impoverishment of the country.

Besides these codes, there were the “Leyes de la Hermandad,” [47] the “Quaderno de Alcavalas,” with others of less note for the regulation of trade, made in this reign. [48] But still the great scheme of a uniform digest of the municipal law of Castile, although it occupied the most distinguished jurisconsults of the time, was unattained at the queen’s death. [49] How deeply it engaged her mind in that hour, is evinced by the clause in her codicil, in which she bequeaths the consummation of the work, as an imperative duty, to her successors. [50] It was not completed till the reign of Philip the Second; and the large proportion of Ferdinand and Isabella’s laws, admitted into that famous compilation, shows the prospective character of their legislation, and the uncommon discernment with which it was accommodated to the peculiar genius and wants of the nation. [51]

The immense increase of empire, and the corresponding development of the national resources, not only demanded new laws, but a thorough reorganization of every department of the administration. Laws may be received as indicating the dispositions of the ruler, whether for good or for evil; but it is in the conduct of the tribunals that we are to read the true character of his government. It was the upright and vigilant administration of these, which constituted the best claim of Ferdinand and Isabella to the gratitude of their country. To facilitate the despatch of business, it was distributed among a number of bureaus or councils, at the head of which stood the “royal council,” whose authority and functions I have already noticed. [52] In order to leave this body more leisure for its executive duties, a new audience, or chancery, as it was called, was established at Valladolid, in 1480, whose judges were drawn from the members of the king’s council. A similar tribunal was instituted, after the Moorish conquests, in the southern division of the monarchy; and both had supreme jurisdiction over all civil causes, which were carried up to them from the inferior audiences throughout the kingdom. [53]

The “council of the supreme” was placed over the Inquisition with a special view to the interests of the crown; an end, however, which it very imperfectly answered, as appears from its frequent collision with the royal and secular jurisdictions. [54] The “council of the orders” had charge, as the name imports, of the great military fraternities. [55] The “council of Aragon” was intrusted with the general administration of that kingdom and its dependencies, including Naples; and had besides extensive jurisdiction as a court of appeal. [56] Lastly, the “council of the Indies” was instituted by Ferdinand, in 1511, for the control of the American department. Its powers, comprehensive as they were in its origin, were so much enlarged under Charles the Fifth and his successors, that it became the depository of all law, the fountain of all nominations, both ecclesiastical and temporal, and the supreme tribunal, where all questions, whether of government or trade in the colonies, were finally adjudicated. [57]

Such were the forms, which the government assumed under the hands of Ferdinand and Isabella. The great concerns of the empire were brought under the control of a few departments, which looked to the crown as their common head. The chief stations were occupied by lawyers, who were alone competent to the duties; and the precincts of the court swarmed with a loyal militia, who, as they owed their elevation to its patronage, were not likely to interpret the law to the disparagement of prerogative. [58]

The greater portion of the laws of this reign are directed, in some form or other, as might be expected, to commerce and domestic industry. Their very large number, however, implies an extraordinary expansion of the national energy and resources, as well as a most earnest disposition in the government to foster them. The wisdom of these efforts, at all times, is not equally certain. I will briefly enumerate a few of the most characteristic and important provisions.

By a pragmatic of 1500, all persons, whether natives or foreigners, were prohibited from shipping goods in foreign bottoms, from a port where a Spanish ship could be obtained. [59] Another prohibited the sale of vessels to foreigners. [60] Another offered a large premium on all vessels of a certain tonnage and upwards; [61] and others held out protection and various immunities to seamen. [62] The drift of the first of these laws, like that of the famous English navigation act, so many years later, was, as the preamble sets forth, to exclude foreigners from the carrying trade; and the others were equally designed to build up a marine, for the defence, as well as commerce of the country. In this, the sovereigns were favored by their important colonial acquisitions, the distance of which, moreover, made it expedient to employ vessels of greater burden than those hitherto used. The language of subsequent laws, as well as various circumstances within our knowledge, attest the success of these provisions. The number of vessels in the merchant service of Spain, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, amounted to a thousand, according to Campomanes. [63] We may infer the flourishing condition of their commercial marine from their military, as shown in the armaments sent at different times against the Turks, or the Barbary corsairs. [64] The convoy which accompanied the infanta Joanna to Flanders, in 1496, consisted of one hundred and thirty vessels, great and small, having a force of more than twenty thousand men on board; a formidable equipment, inferior only to that of the far-famed “Invincible Armada.” [65]

A pragmatic was passed, in 1491, at the petition of the inhabitants of the northern provinces, requiring English and other foreign traders to take their returns in the fruits or merchandise of the country, and not in gold or silver. This law seems to have been designed less to benefit the manufacturer, than to preserve the precious metals in the country. [66] It was the same in purport with other laws prohibiting the exportation of these metals, whether in coin or bullion. They were not new in Spain, nor indeed peculiar to her. [67] They proceeded on the principle that gold and silver, independently of their value as a commercial medium, constituted, in a peculiar sense, the wealth of a country. This error, common, as I have said, to other European nations, was eminently fatal to Spain, since the produce of its native mines before the discovery of America, [68] and of those in that quarter afterwards, formed its great staple. As such, these metals should have enjoyed every facility for transportation to other countries, where their higher value would afford a corresponding profit to the exporter.

The sumptuary laws of Ferdinand and Isabella are open, for the most part, to the same objections with those just noticed. Such laws, prompted in a great degree, no doubt, by the declamations of the clergy against the pomp and vanities of the world, were familiar, in early times, to most European states. There was ample scope for them in Spain, where the example of their Moslem neighbors had done much to infect all classes with a fondness for sumptuous apparel, and a showy magnificence of living. Ferdinand and Isabella fell nothing short of the most zealous of their predecessors, in their efforts to restrain this improvident luxury. They did, however, what few princes on the like occasions have done—enforced the precept by their own example. Some idea of their habitual economy, or rather frugality, may be formed from a remonstrance presented by the commons to Charles the Fifth, soon after his accession, which represents his daily household expenses as amounting to one hundred and fifty thousand maravedies; while those of the Catholic sovereigns were rarely fifteen thousand, or one-
tenth of that sum. [69]

They passed several salutary laws for restraining the ambitious expenditure at weddings and funerals, as usual, most affected by those who could least afford it. [70] In 1494, they issued a pragmatic, prohibiting the importation or manufacture of brocades, or of gold or silver embroidery, and also plating with these metals. The avowed object was to check the growth of luxury and the waste of the precious metals. [71]

These provisions had the usual fate of laws of this kind. They gave an artificial and still higher value to the prohibited article. Some evaded them. Others indemnified themselves for the privation, by some other, and scarcely less expensive variety of luxury. Such, for example, were the costly silks, which came into more general use after the conquest of Granada. But here the government, on remonstrance of the cortes, again interposed its prohibition, restricting the privilege of wearing them to certain specified classes. [72] Nothing, obviously, could be more impolitic than these various provisions directed against manufactures, which, under proper encouragement, or indeed without any, from the peculiar advantages afforded by the country, might have formed an important branch of industry, whether for the supply of foreign markets, or for home consumption.

Notwithstanding these ordinances, we find one, in 1500, at the petition of the silk-growers in Granada, against the introduction of silk thread from the kingdom of Naples; [73] thus encouraging the production of the raw material, while they interdicted the uses to which it could be applied.

Such are the inconsistencies into which a government is betrayed by an over-zealous and impertinent spirit of legislation!

The chief exports of the country in this reign were the fruits and natural products of the soil, the minerals, of which a great variety was deposited in its bosom, and the simpler manufactures, as sugar, dressed skins, oil, wine, steel, etc. [74] The breed of Spanish horses, celebrated in ancient times, had been greatly improved by the cross with the Arabian. It had, however, of late years fallen into neglect; until the government, by a number of judicious laws, succeeded in restoring it to such repute, that this noble animal became an extensive article of foreign trade. [75] But the chief staple of the country was wool; which, since the introduction of English sheep at the close of the fourteenth century, had reached a degree of fineness and beauty that enabled it, under the present reign, to compete with any other in Europe. [76]

To what extent the finer manufactures were carried, or made an article of export, is uncertain. The vagueness of. statistical information in these early times has given rise to much crude speculation and to extravagant estimates of their resources, which have been met by a corresponding skepticism in later and more scrutinizing critics. Capmany, the most acute of these, has advanced the opinion, that these coarser cloths only were manufactured in Castile, and those exclusively for home consumption. [77]

The royal ordinances, however, imply, in the character and minuteness of their regulations, a very considerable proficiency in many of the mechanic arts. [78] Similar testimony is borne by intelligent foreigners, visiting or residing in the country at the beginning of the sixteenth century; who notice the fine cloths and manufacture of arms in Segovia, [79] the silks and velvets of Granada and Valencia, [80] the woollen and silk fabrics of Toledo, which gave employment to ten thousand artisans, [81] and curiously wrought plate of Valladolid, [82] and the fine cutlery and glass manufactures of Barcelona, rivalling those of Venice. [83]

The recurrence of seasons of scarcity, and the fluctuation of prices, might suggest a reasonable distrust of the excellence of the husbandry under this reign. [84] The turbulent condition of the country may account for this pretty fairly during the early part of it. Indeed, a neglect of agriculture, to the extent implied by these circumstances, is wholly irreconcilable with the general tenor of Ferdinand and Isabella’s legislation, which evidently relies on this as the main spring of national prosperity. It is equally repugnant, moreover, to the reports of foreigners, who could best compare the state of the country with that of others at the same period. They extol the fruitfulness of a soil, which yielded the products of the most opposite climes; the hills clothed with vineyards and plantations of fruit trees, much more abundant, it would seem, in the northern regions, than at the present day; the valleys and delicious vegas, glowing with the ripe exuberance of southern vegetation; extensive districts, now smitten with the curse of barrenness, where the traveller scarce discerns the vestige of a road or of a human habitation, but which then teemed with all that was requisite to the sustenance of the populous cities in their neighborhood. [85]

The inhabitant of modern Spain or Italy, who wanders amid the ruins of their stately cities, their grass-grown streets, their palaces and temples crumbling into dust, their massive bridges choking up the streams they once proudly traversed, the very streams themselves, which bore navies on their bosoms, shrunk into too shallow a channel for the meanest craft to navigate,—the modern Spaniard who surveys these vestiges of a giant race, the tokens of his nation’s present degeneracy, must turn for relief to the prouder and earlier period of her history, when only such great works could have been achieved; and it is no wonder that he should be led, in his enthusiasm, to invest it with a romantic and exaggerated coloring.

[86] Such a period in Spain cannot be looked for in the last, still less in the seventeenth century, for the nation had then reached the lowest ebb of its fortunes; [87] nor in the close of the sixteenth, for the desponding language of cortes shows that the work of decay and depopulation had then already begun. [88] It can only be found in the first half of that century, in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, and that of their successor, Charles the Fifth; in which last, the state, under the strong impulse it had received, was carried onward in the career of prosperity, in spite of the ignorance and mismanagement of those who guided it.

There is no country which has been guilty of such wild experiments, or has showed, on the whole, such profound ignorance of the true principles of economical science, as Spain under the sceptre of the family of Austria.

And, as it is not always easy to discriminate between their acts and those of Ferdinand and Isabella, under whom the germs of much of the subsequent legislation may be said to have been planted, this circumstance has brought undeserved discredit on the government of the latter. Undeserved, because laws, mischievous in their eventual operation, were not always so at the time for which they were originally devised; not to add, that what was intrinsically bad, has been aggravated ten fold under the blind legislation of their successors. [89] It is also true, that many of the most exceptionable laws sanctioned by their names, are to be charged on their predecessors, who had ingrafted their principles into the system long before; [90] and many others are to be vindicated by the general practice of other nations, which authorized retaliation on the score of self-defence. [91]

Nothing is easier than to parade abstract theorems,—true in the abstract,—in political economy; nothing harder than to reduce them to practice. That an individual will understand his own interests better than the government can, or, what is the same thing, that trade, if let alone, will find its way into the channels on the whole most advantageous to the community, few will deny. But what is true of all together is not true of any one singly; and no one nation can safely act on these principles, if others do not. In point of fact, no nation has acted on them since the formation of the present political communities of Europe.

All that a new state, or a new government in an old one, can now propose to itself is, not to sacrifice its interests to a speculative abstraction, but to accommodate its institutions to the great political system, of which it is a member. On these principles, and on the higher obligation of providing the means of national independence in its most extended sense, much that was bad in the economical policy of Spain, at the period under review, may be vindicated.

It would be unfair to direct our view to the restrictive measures of Ferdinand and Isabella, without noticing also the liberal tenor of their legislation in regard to a great variety of objects. Such, for example, are the laws encouraging foreigners to settle in the country; [92] those for facilitating communication by internal improvements, roads, bridges, canals, on a scale of unprecedented magnitude; [93] for a similar attention to the wants of navigation, by constructing moles, quays, lighthouses along the coast, and deepening and extending the harbors, “to accommodate,” as the acts set forth, “the great increase of trade;” for embellishing and adding in various ways to the accommodations of the cities; [94] for relieving the subject from onerous tolls and oppressive monopolies; [95] for establishing a uniform currency and standard of weights and measures throughout the kingdom, [96] objects of unwearied solicitude through this whole reign; for maintaining a police, which, from the most disorderly and dangerous, raised Spain, in the language of Martyr, to be the safest country in Christendom [97] for such equal justice, as secured to every man the fruits of his own industry, inducing him to embark his capital in useful enterprises; and, finally, for enforcing fidelity to contracts, [98] of which the sovereigns gave such a glorious example in their own administration, as effectually restored that public credit, which is the true basis of public prosperity.

While these important reforms were going on in the interior of the monarchy, it experienced a greater change in its external condition by the immense augmentation of its territory. The most important of its foreign acquisitions were those nearest home, Granada and Navarre; at least, they were the ones most capable, from their position, of being brought under control, and thoroughly and permanently identified with the Spanish monarchy. Granada, as we have seen, was placed under the sceptre of Castile, governed by the same laws, and represented in its cortes, being, in the strictest sense, part and parcel of the kingdom. Navarre was also united to the same crown. But its constitution, which bore considerable analogy to that of Aragon, remained substantially the same as before. The government, indeed, was administered by a viceroy; but Ferdinand made as few changes as possible, permitting it to retain its own legislature, its ancient courts of law, and its laws themselves. So the forms, if not the spirit of independence, continued to survive its union with the victorious state. [99]

The other possessions of Spain were scattered over the various quarters of Europe, Africa, and America. Naples was the conquest of Aragon; or, at least, made on behalf of that crown. The queen appears to have taken no part in the conduct of that war, whether distrusting its equity, or its expediency, in the belief that a distant possession in the heart of Europe would probably cost more to maintain than it was worth. In fact, Spain is the only nation, in modern times, which has been able to keep its hold on such possessions for any very considerable period; a circumstance implying more wisdom in her policy than is commonly conceded to her. The fate of the acquisitions alluded to forms no exception to the remark; and Naples, like Sicily, continued permanently ingrafted on the kingdom of Aragon.

A fundamental change in the institutions of Naples became requisite to accommodate them to its new relations. Its great offices of state and its legal tribunals were reorganized. Its jurisprudence, which, under the Angevin race, and even the first Aragonese, had been adapted to French usages, was now modelled on the Spanish. The various innovations were conducted by the Catholic king with his usual prudence; and the reform in the legislation is commended by a learned and impartial Italian civilian, as breathing a spirit of moderation and wisdom. [100] He conceded many privileges to the people, and to the capital especially, whose venerable university he resuscitated from the decayed state into which it had fallen, making liberal appropriations from the treasury for its endowment.

The support of a mercenary army, and the burdens incident to the war, pressed heavily on the people during the first years of his reign. But the Neapolitans, who, as already noticed, had been transferred too often from one victor to another to be keenly sensible to the loss of political independence, were gradually reconciled to his administration, and testified their sense of its beneficent character by celebrating the anniversary of his death, for more than two centuries, with public solemnities, as a day of mourning throughout the kingdom. [101]

But far the most important of the distant acquisitions of Spain were those secured to her by the genius of Columbus and the enlightened patronage of Isabella. Imagination had ample range in the boundless perspective of these unknown regions; but the results actually realized from the discoveries, during the queen’s life, were comparatively insignificant. In a mere financial view, they had been a considerable charge on the crown.

This was, indeed, partly owing to the humanity of Isabella, who interfered, as we have seen, to prevent the compulsory exaction of Indian labor. This was subsequently, and immediately after her death indeed, carried to such an extent, that nearly half a million of ounces of gold were yearly drawn from the mines of Hispaniola alone. [102] The pearl fisheries, [103] and the culture of the sugar-cane, introduced from the Canaries, [104] yielded large returns under the same inhuman system.

Ferdinand, who enjoyed, by the queen’s testament, half the amount of the Indian revenues, was now fully awakened to their importance. It would be unjust, however, to suppose his views limited to immediate pecuniary profits; for the measures he pursued were, in many respects, well contrived to promote the nobler ends of discovery and colonization. He invited the persons most eminent for nautical science and enterprise, as Pinzon, Solis, Vespucci, to his court, where they constituted a sort of board of navigation, constructing charts, and tracing out new routes for projected voyages. [105] The conduct of this department was intrusted to the last-mentioned navigator, who had the glory, the greatest which accident and caprice ever granted to man, of giving his name to the new hemisphere.

Fleets were now fitted out on a more extended scale, which might vie, indeed, with the splendid equipments of the Portuguese, whose brilliant successes in the east excited the envy of their Castilian rivals. The king occasionally took a share in the voyage, independently of the interest which of right belonged to the crown. [106.]

The government, however, realized less from these expensive enterprises than individuals, many of whom, enriched by their official stations, or by accidentally falling in with some hoard of treasure among the savages, returned home to excite the envy and cupidity of their countrymen. [107]

But the spirit of adventure was too high among the Castilians to require such incentive, especially when excluded from its usual field in Africa and Europe. A striking proof of the facility, with which the romantic cavaliers of that day could be directed to this new career of danger on the ocean, was given at the time of the last-meditated expedition into Italy under the Great Captain. A squadron of fifteen vessels, bound for the New World, was then riding in the Guadalquivir. Its complement was limited to one thousand two hundred men; but, on Ferdinand’s countermanding Gonsalvo’s enterprise, more than three thousand volunteers, many of them of noble family, equipped with unusual magnificence for the Italian service, hastened to Seville, and pressed to be admitted into the Indian armada. [108] Seville itself was in a manner depopulated by the general fever of emigration, so that it actually seemed, says a contemporary, to be tenanted only by women. [109]

In this universal excitement, the progress of discovery was pushed forward with a success, inferior, indeed, to what might have been effected in the present state of nautical skill and science, but extraordinary for the times. The winding depths of the Gulf of Mexico were penetrated, as well as the borders of the rich but rugged isthmus, which connects the American continents. In 1512, Florida was discovered by a romantic old knight, Ponce de Leon, who, instead of the magical fountain of health, found his grave there. [110] Solis, another navigator, who had charge of an expedition, projected by Ferdinand, [111] to reach the South Sea by the circumnavigation of the continent, ran down the coast as far as the great Rio de la Plata, where he also was cut off by the savages. In 1513, Vasco Nunez de Balboa penetrated, with a handful of men, across the narrow part of the Isthmus of Darien, and from the summit of the Cordilleras, the first of Europeans, was greeted with the long-promised vision of the southern ocean. [112] The intelligence of this event excited a sensation in Spain, inferior only to that caused by the discovery of America. The great object which had so long occupied the imagination of the nautical men of Europe, and formed the purpose of Columbus’s last voyage, the discovery of a communication with these far western waters, was accomplished. The famous spice islands, from which the Portuguese had drawn such countless sums of wealth, were scattered over this sea; and the Castilians, after a journey of a few leagues, might launch their barks on its quiet bosom, and reach, and perhaps claim, the coveted possessions of their rivals, as falling west of the papal line of demarkation. Such were the dreams, and such the actual progress of discovery, at the close of Ferdinand’s reign.

Our admiration of the dauntless heroism displayed by the early Spanish navigators, in their extraordinary career, is much qualified by a consideration of the cruelties with which it was tarnished; too great to be either palliated or passed over in silence by the historian. As long as Isabella lived, the Indians found an efficient friend and protector; but “her death,” says the venerable Las Casas, “was the signal for their destruction.” [113] Immediately on that event, the system of repartimientos, originally authorized, as we have seen, by Columbus, who seems to have had no doubt, from the first, of the crown’s absolute right of property over the natives, [114] was carried to its full extent in the colonies. [115] Every Spaniard, however humble, had his proportion of slaves; and men, many of them not only incapable of estimating the awful responsibility of the situation, but without the least touch of humanity in their natures, were individually intrusted with the unlimited disposal of the lives and destinies of their fellow-creatures. They abused this trust in the grossest manner; tasking the unfortunate Indian far beyond his strength, inflicting the most refined punishments on the indolent, and hunting down those who resisted or escaped, like so many beasts of chase, with ferocious bloodhounds. Every step of the white man’s progress in the New World, may be said to have been on the corpse of a native. Faith is staggered by the recital of the number of victims immolated in these fair regions within a very few years after the discovery; and the heart sickens at the loathsome details of barbarities, recorded by one, who, if his sympathies have led him sometimes to over-color, can never be suspected of wilfully misstating facts, of which he was an eye-witness. [116] A selfish indifference to the rights of the original occupants of the soil, is a sin which lies at the door of most of the primitive European settlers, whether papist or puritan, of the New World. But it is light, in comparison with the fearful amount of crimes to be charged on the early Spanish colonists; crimes that have, perhaps, in this world, brought down the retribution of Heaven, which has seen fit to turn this fountain of inexhaustible wealth and prosperity to the nation into the waters of bitterness.

It may seem strange, that no relief was afforded by the government to these oppressed subjects. But Ferdinand, if we may credit Las Casas, was never permitted to know the extent of the injuries done to them. [117] He was surrounded by men in the management of the Indian department, whose interest it was to keep him in ignorance. [118] The remonstrances of some zealous missionaries led him, [119] in 1501, to refer the subject of the repartimientos to a council of jurists and theologians. This body yielded to the representations of the advocates of the system, that it was indispensable for maintaining the colonies, since the European was altogether unequal to labor in this tropical climate; and that it, moreover, afforded the only chance for the conversion of the Indian, who, unless compelled, could never be brought in contact with the white man.

[120]

On these grounds, Ferdinand openly assumed for himself and his ministers the responsibility of maintaining this vicious institution; and subsequently issued an ordinance to that effect, accompanied, however, by a variety of humane and equitable regulations for restraining its abuse.

[121] The license was embraced in its full extent; the regulations were openly disregarded. [122] Several years after, in 1515, Las Casas, moved by the spectacle of human suffering, returned to Spain, and pleaded the cause of the injured native, in tones which made the dying monarch tremble on his throne. It was too late, however, for the king to execute the remedial measures he contemplated. [123] The efficient interference of Ximenes, who sent a commission for the purpose to Hispaniola, was attended with no permanent results. And the indefatigable “protector of the Indians” was left to sue for redress at the court of Charles, and to furnish a splendid, if not a solitary example there, of a bosom penetrated with the true spirit of Christian philanthropy. [124]

I have elsewhere examined the policy pursued by the Catholic sovereigns in the government of their colonies. The supply of precious metals yielded by them eventually proved far greater than had ever entered into the conception of the most sanguine of the early discoverers. Their prolific soil and genial climate, moreover, afforded an infinite variety of vegetable products, which might have furnished an unlimited commerce with the mother country. Under a judicious protection, their population and productions, steadily increasing, would have enlarged to an incalculable extent the general resources of the empire. Such, indeed, might have been the result of a wise system of legislation.

But the true principles of colonial policy were sadly misunderstood in the sixteenth century. The discovery of a world was estimated, like that of a rich mine, by the value of its returns in gold and silver. Much of Isabella’s legislation, it is true, is of that comprehensive character, which shows that she looked to higher and far nobler objects. But with much that is good, there was mingled, as in most of her institutions, one germ of evil, of little moment at the time, indeed, but which, under the vicious culture of her successors, shot up to a height that overshadowed and blighted all the rest. This was the spirit of restriction and monopoly, aggravated by the subsequent laws of Ferdinand, and carried to an extent under the Austrian dynasty, that paralyzed colonial trade.

Under their most ingeniously perverse system of laws, the interests of both the parent country and the colonies were sacrificed. The latter, condemned to look for supplies to an incompetent source, were miserably dwarfed in their growth; while the former contrived to convert the nutriment which she extorted from the colonies into a fatal poison. The streams of wealth which flowed in from the silver quarries of Zacatecas and Potosi, were jealously locked up within the limits of the Peninsula.

The great problem, proposed by the Spanish legislation of the sixteenth century, was the reduction of prices in the kingdom to the same level as in other European nations. Every law that was passed, however, tended, by its restrictive character, to augment the evil. The golden tide, which, permitted a free vent, would have fertilized the region through which it poured, now buried the land under a deluge which blighted every green and living thing. Agriculture, commerce, manufactures, every branch of national industry and improvement, languished and fell to decay; and the nation, like the Phrygian monarch, who turned all that he touched to gold, cursed by the very consummation of its wishes, was poor in the midst of its treasures.

From this sad picture, let us turn to that presented by the period of our History, when, the clouds and darkness having passed away, a new morn seemed to break upon the nation. Under the firm but temperate sway of Ferdinand and Isabella, the great changes we have noticed were effected without convulsion in the state. On the contrary, the elements of the social system, which before jarred so discordantly, were brought into harmonious action. The restless spirit of the nobles was turned from civil faction to the honorable career of public service, whether in arms or letters. The people at large, assured of the security of private rights, were occupied with the different branches of productive labor. Trade, as is abundantly shown by the legislation of the period, had not yet fallen into the discredit which attached to it in later times. [125] The precious metals, instead of flowing in so abundantly as to palsy the arm of industry, served only to stimulate it. [126]

The foreign intercourse of the country was every day more widely extended.

Her agents and consuls were to be found in all the principal ports of the Mediterranean and the Baltic. [127] The Spanish mariner, instead of creeping along the beaten track of inland navigation, now struck boldly across the great western ocean. The new discoveries had converted the land trade with India into a sea trade; and the nations of the Peninsula, who had hitherto lain remote from the great highways of commerce, now became the factors and carriers of Europe.

The flourishing condition of the nation was seen in the wealth and population of its cities, the revenues of which, augmented in all to a surprising extent, had increased, in some, forty and even fifty fold beyond what they were at the commencement of the reign; [128] the ancient and lordly Toledo; Burgos, with its bustling, industrious traders; [129]

Valladolid, sending forth its thirty thousand warriors from its gates, where the whole population now scarcely reaches two-thirds of that number; [130] Cordova, in the south, and the magnificent Granada, naturalizing in Europe the arts and luxuries of the east; Saragossa, “the abundant,” as she was called from her fruitful territory; Valencia, “the beautiful;”

Barcelona, rivalling in independence and maritime enterprise the proudest of the Italian republics; [131] Medina del Campo, whose fairs were already the great mart for the commercial exchanges of the Peninsula; [132] and Seville, [133] the golden gate of the Indies, whose quays began to be thronged with merchants from the most distant countries of Europe.

The resources of the inhabitants were displayed in the palaces and public edifices, fountains, aqueducts, gardens, and other works of utility and ornament. This lavish expenditure was directed by an improved taste.

Architecture was studied on purer principles than before, and, with the sister arts of design, showed the influence of the new connection with Italy in the first gleams of that excellence, which shed such lustre over the Spanish school at the close of the century. [134] A still more decided impulse was given to letters. More printing presses were probably at work in Spain in the infancy of the art, than at the present day. [135] Ancient seminaries were remodelled; new ones were created. Barcelona, Salamanca, and Alcala, whose cloistered solitudes are now the grave, rather than the nursery of science, then swarmed with thousands of disciples, who, under the generous patronage of the government, found letters the surest path to preferment. [136] Even the lighter branches of literature felt the revolutionary spirit of the times, and, after yielding the last fruits of the ancient system, displayed new and more beautiful varieties, under the influence of Italian culture. [137]

With this moral development of the nation, the public revenues, the sure index, when unforced, of public prosperity, went on augmenting with astonishing rapidity. In 1474, the year of Isabella’s accession, the ordinary rents of the Castilian crown amounted to 885,000 reals; [138] in 1477, to 2,390,078; in 1482, after the resumption of the royal grants, to 12,711,591; and finally in 1504, when the acquisition of Granada [139] and the domestic tranquillity of the kingdom had encouraged the free expansion of all its resources, to 26,283,334; or thirty times the amount received at her accession. [140] All this, it will be remembered, was derived from the customary established taxes, without the imposition of a single new one. Indeed, the improvements in the mode of collection tended materially to lighten the burdens on the people.

The accounts of the population at this early period are, for the most part, vague and unsatisfactory. Spain, in particular, has been the subject of the most absurd, though, as it seems, not incredible estimates, sufficiently evincing the paucity of authentic data. [141] Fortunately, however, we labor under no such embarrassment as regards Castile in Isabella’s reign. By an official report to the crown on the organization of the militia, in 1492, it appears that the population of the kingdom amounted to 1,500,000 vecinos or householders; or, allowing four and a half to a family (a moderate estimate), to 6,750,000 souls. [142]

This census, it will be observed, was limited to the provinces immediately composing the crown of Castile, to the exclusion of Granada, Navarre, and the Aragonese dominions. [143] It was taken, moreover, before the nation had time to recruit from the long and exhausting struggle of the Moorish war, and twenty-five years before the close of the reign, when the population, under circumstances peculiarly favorable, must have swelled to a much larger amount. Thus circumscribed, however, it was probably considerably in advance of that of England at the same period. [144] How have the destinies of the two countries since been reversed?

The territorial limits of the monarchy, in the mean time, went on expanding beyond example;—Castile and Leon, brought under the same sceptre with Aragon and its foreign dependencies, Sicily and Sardinia; with the kingdoms of Granada, Navarre, and Naples; with the Canaries, Oran, and the other settlements in Africa; and with the islands and vast continents of America. To these broad domains, the comprehensive schemes of the sovereigns would have added Portugal; and their arrangements for this, although defeated for the present, opened the way to its eventual completion under Philip the Second. [145]

The petty states, which had before swarmed over the Peninsula, neutralizing each other’s operations, and preventing any effective movement abroad, were now amalgamated into one whole. Sectional jealousies and antipathies, indeed, were too sturdily rooted to be wholly extinguished; but they gradually subsided, under the influence of a common government, and community of interests. A more enlarged sentiment was infused into the people, who, in their foreign relations, at least, assumed the attitude of one great nation. The names of Castilian and Aragonese were merged in the comprehensive one of Spaniard; and Spain, with an empire which stretched over three-quarters of the globe, and which almost realized the proud boast that the sun never set within her borders, now rose, not to the first class only, but to the first place, in the scale of European powers.

The extraordinary circumstances of the country tended naturally to nourish the lofty, romantic qualities, and the somewhat exaggerated tone of sentiment, which always pervaded the national character. The age of chivalry had not faded away in Spain, as in most other lands. [146] It was fostered, in time of peace, by the tourneys, jousts, and other warlike pageants, which graced the court of Isabella. [147] It gleamed out, as we have seen, in the Italian campaigns under Gonsalvo de Cordova, and shone forth in all its splendors in the war of Granada. “This was a right gentle war,” says Navagiero, in a passage too pertinent to be omitted, “in which, as firearms were comparatively little used, each knight had the opportunity of showing his personal prowess; and rare was it, that a day passed without some feat of arms and valorous exploit. The nobility and chivalry of the land all thronged there to gather renown. Queen Isabel, who attended with her whole court, breathed courage into every heart.

There was scarce a cavalier, who was not enamoured of some one or other of her ladies, the witness of his achievements, and who, as she presented him his weapons, or some token of her favor, admonished him to bear himself like a true knight, and show the strength of his passion by his valiant deeds. [148] What knight so craven then,” exclaims the chivalrous Venetian, “that he would not have been more than a match for the stoutest adversary; or who would not sooner have lost his life a thousand times, than return dishonored to the lady of his love. In truth,” he concludes, “this conquest may be said to have been achieved by love, rather than by arms.” [149]

The Spaniard was a knight-errant, in its literal sense, [150] roving over seas on which no bark had ever ventured, among islands and continents where no civilized man had ever trodden, and which fancy peopled with all the marvels and drear enchantments of romance; courting danger in every form, combating everywhere, and everywhere victorious. The very odds presented by the defenceless natives among whom he was cast, “a thousand of whom,” to quote the words of Columbus, “were not equal to three Spaniards,” was in itself typical of his profession; [151] and the brilliant destinies to which the meanest adventurer was often called, now carving out with his good sword some “El Dorado” more splendid than fancy had dreamed of, and now overturning some old barbaric dynasty, were full as extraordinary as the wildest chimeras which Ariosto ever sang, or Cervantes satirized.

His countrymen who remained at home, feeding greedily on the reports of his adventures, lived almost equally in an atmosphere of romance. A spirit of chivalrous enthusiasm penetrated the very depths of the nation, swelling the humblest individual with lofty aspirations, and a proud consciousness of the dignity of his nature. “The princely disposition of the Spaniards,” says a foreigner of the time, “delighteth me much, as well as the gentle nurture and noble conversation, not merely of those of high degree, but of the citizen, peasant, and common laborer.” [152] What wonder that such sentiments should be found incompatible with sober, methodical habits of business, or that the nation indulging them should be seduced from the humble paths of domestic industry to a brilliant and bolder career of adventure. Such consequences became too apparent in the following reign. [153]

In noticing the circumstances that conspired to form the national character, it would be unpardonable to omit the establishment of the Inquisition, which contributed so largely to counterbalance the benefits resulting from Isabella’s government; an institution which has done more than any other to stay the proud march of human reason; which, by imposing uniformity of creed, has proved the fruitful parent of hypocrisy and superstition; which has soured the sweet charities of human life, [154]

and, settling like a foul mist on the goodly promise of the land, closed up the fair buds of science and civilization ere they were fully opened.

Alas, that such a blight should have fallen on so gallant and generous a people! That it should have been brought on it too by one of such unblemished patriotism and purity of motive, as Isabella! How must her virtuous spirit, if it be permitted the departed good to look down on the scene of their earthly labors, mourn over the misery and moral degradation, entailed on her country by this one act! So true is it, that the measures of this great queen have had a permanent influence, whether for good or evil, on the destinies of her country.

The immediate injury inflicted on the nation by the spirit of bigotry in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, although greatly exaggerated, [155]

was doubtless serious enough. Under the otherwise beneficent operation of their government, however, the healthful and expansive energies of the state were sufficient to heal up these and deeper wounds, and still carry it onward in the career of prosperity. With this impulse, indeed, the nation continued to advance higher and higher, in spite of the system of almost unmingled evil pursued in the following reigns. The glories of this later period, of the age of Charles the Fifth, as it is called, must find their true source in the measures of his illustrious predecessors. It was in their court that Boscan, Garcilasso, Mendoza, and the other master-
spirits were trained, who moulded Castilian literature into the new and more classical forms of later times. [156] It was under Gonsalvo de Cordova, that Leyva, Pescara, and those great captains with their invincible legions were formed, who enabled Charles the Fifth to dictate laws to Europe for half a century. And it was Columbus, who not only led the way, but animated the Spanish navigator with the spirit of discovery.

Scarcely was Ferdinand’s reign brought to a close, before Magellan completed, what that monarch had projected, the circumnavigation of the southern continent; the victorious banners of Cortes had already penetrated into the golden realms of Montezuma; and Pizarro, a very few years later, following up the lead of Balboa, embarked on the enterprise which ended in the downfall of the splendid dynasty of the Incas.

Thus it is, that the seed sown under a good system continues to yield fruit in a bad one. The season of the most brilliant results, however, is not always that of the greatest national prosperity. The splendors of foreign conquest in the boasted reign of Charles the Fifth were dearly purchased by the decline of industry at home, and the loss of liberty. The patriot will see little to cheer him in this “golden age” of the national history, whose outward show of glory will seem to his penetrating eye only the hectic brilliancy of decay. He will turn to an earlier period, when the nation, emerging from the sloth and license of a barbarous age, seemed to renew its ancient energies, and to prepare like a giant to run its course; and glancing over the long interval since elapsed, during the first half of which the nation wasted itself on schemes of mad ambition, and in the latter has sunk into a state of paralytic torpor, he will fix his eye on the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, as the most glorious epoch in the annals of his country.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Ante, Part I., Chapter 6.

[2] Among the minor means for diminishing the consequence of the nobility, may be mentioned the regulation respecting the “privilegios rodados”; instruments formerly requiring to be countersigned by the great lords and prelates, but which, from the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, were submitted for signature only, to officers especially appointed for the purpose. Salazar de Mendoza, Dignidades, lib. 2, cap. 12.

[3] Ante, Introd. Sect. 1.

[4]A pertinent example of this policy of the sovereigns occurred in the cortes of Madrigal, 1476; where, notwithstanding the important subjects of legislation, none but the third estate were present. (Pulgar Reyes Catolicos, p. 94.) An equally apposite illustration is afforded by the care to summon the great vassals to the cortes of Toledo, in 1480, when matters nearly touching them, as the revocation of their honors and estates, were under discussion, but not till then. Ibid., p. 165.

[5] The same principle made them equally vigilant in maintaining the purity of those in office. Oviedo mentions, that in 1497 they removed a number of jurists, on the charge of bribery and other malversation, from their seats in the royal council. Quincuagenas, MS., dial. de Grizio.

[6] See a letter of the council to Charles V., commending the course adopted by his grandparents in their promotions to office, apud Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1517, cap. 4.

[7] Yet strange instances of promotion are not wanting in Spanish history; witness the adventurer Ripperda, in Philip V.‘s time, and the Prince of the Peace, in our own; men, who, owing their success less to their own powers, than the imbecility of others, could lay no claim to the bold and independent sway exercised by Ximenes.

[8] Ante, Part I., Chapter 19.—“No os parece a vos,” says Oviedo, in one of his Dialogues, “que es mejor ganado eso, que les da su principe por sus servicios, e lo que llevan justamente de sus oficios, que lo que se adquiere robando capas agenas, e matando e vertiendo sangre de Cristianos?” (Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.) The sentiment would have been too enlightened for a Spanish cavalier of the fifteenth century.

[9] In the cortes of Calatayud, in 1515, the Aragonese nobles withheld the supplies, with the design of compelling the crown to relinquish certain rights of jurisdiction, which it assumed over their vassals. “Les parecio,” said the archbishop of Saragossa, in a speech on the occasion, “que auian perdido mucho, en que el ceptro real cobrasse lo suyo, por su industria. ***** Esto los otros estados del reyno lo atribuyeron a gran virtud: y lo estimauan por beneficio inmortal.” (Zurita, Anales, tom. vi.

lib. 10, cap. 93.) The other estates, in fact, saw their interests too clearly, not to concur with the crown in this assertion of its ancient prerogative. Blancas, Modo de Proceder, fol. 100.

[10] Such, for example, were those of great chancellor, of admiral, and of constable of Castile. The first of these ancient offices was permanently united by Isabella with that of archbishop of Toledo. The office of admiral became hereditary, after Henry III., in the noble family of Enriquez, and that of constable in the house of Velasco. Although of great authority and importance in their origin, and, indeed, in the time of the Catholic sovereigns, these posts gradually, after becoming hereditary, declined into mere titular dignities. Salazar de Mendoza, Dignidades, lib.

2, cap. 8, 10; lib. 3, cap. 21.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 24.

[11] The duke of Infantado, head of the ancient house of Mendoza, whose estates lay in Castile, and, indeed, in most of the provinces of the kingdom, is described by Navagiero as living in great magnificence. He maintained a body guard of 200 foot, besides men-at-arms; and could muster more than 30,000 vassals. (Viaggio, fol. 6, 33.) Oviedo makes the same statement. (Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 1, dial. 8.) Lucio Marineo, among other things in his curious farrago, has given an estimate of the rents, “poco mas 6 menos,” of the great nobility of Castile and Aragon, whose whole amount he computes at one-third of those of the whole kingdom. I will select a few of the names familiar to us in the present narrative.

Enriquez, admiral of Castile, 50,000 ducats income, equal to $440,000.

Velasco, constable of Castile, 60,000 ducats income, estates in Old Castile.

Toledo, duke of Alva, 50,000 ducats income, estates in Castile and Navarre.

Mendoza, duke of Infantado, 50,000 ducats income, estates in Castile and other provinces.

Guzman, duke of Medina Sidonia, 55,000 ducats income, estates in Andalusia.

Cerda, duke of Medina Celi, 30,000 ducats income, estates in Castile and Andalusia.

Ponce de Leon, duke of Arcos, 25,000 ducats income, estates in Andalusia.

Pacheco, duke of Escalona (marquis of Villena), 60,000 ducats income, estates in Castile.

Cordova, duke of Sessa, 60,000 ducats income, estates in Naples and Andalusia.

Aguilar, marquis of Priego, 40,000 ducats income, estates in Andalusia and Estremadura.

Mendoza, count of Tendilla, 15,000 ducats income, estates in Castile.

Pimentel, count of Benavente, 60,000 ducats income, estates in Castile.

Giron, count of Urena, 20,000 ducats income, estates in Andalusia.

Silva, count of Cifuentes, 10,000 ducats income, estates in Andalusia.

(Cosas Memorables, fol. 24, 25.) The estimate is confirmed, with some slight discrepancies, by Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 18, 33, et alibi. See also Salazar de Mendoza, Dignidades, discurso 2.

[12] “En casa de aquellos Principes estaban las hijas de los principales senores 6 cavalleros por damas de la Reyna 6 de las Infantas sus hijas, y en la corte andaban todos los mayorazgos y hijos de grandes 4 los mas heredados de sus reynos.” Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 4, dial 44.

[13] “Como quier que oia el parecer de personal religiosas e de los otros letrados que cerca della eran, pero la mayor parte seguia las cosas por su arbitrio.” Pulgar, Reyes Catolicos, part 1, cap. 4.

[14] Lucio Marineo has collected many particulars respecting the great wealth of the Spanish clergy in his time. There were four metropolitan sees in Castile.

Toledo, income 80,000 ducats.

St. James, ” 24,000 ”

Seville, ” 20,000 ”

Granada, ” 10,000 ”

There were twenty-nine bishoprics, whose aggregate revenues, very unequally apportioned, amounted to 251,000 ducats. The church livings in Aragon were much fewer and leaner than in Castile. (Cosas Memorables, fol.

23.) The Venetian Navagiero, speaks of the metropolitan church of Toledo, as “the wealthiest in Christendom;” its canons lived in stately palaces, and its revenues, with those of the archbishopric, equalled those of the whole city of Toledo. (Viaggio, fol. 9.) He notices also the great opulence of the churches of Seville, Guadalupe, etc., fol. 11, 13.

[15] See Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 11, 140, 141, 171, et loc. al.—From one of these ordinances, it appears the clergy were not backward in remonstrating against what they deemed an infringement of their rights.

(Fol. 172.) The queen, however, while she guarded against their usurpations, interfered more than once, with her usual sense of justice, on their application, to shield them from the encroachments of the civil tribunals. Riol, Informe, apud Semanario Erudito, tom. iii. pp. 98, 99.

[16] See Part I., Chapter 6, of this History.

[17] See examples of this in Riol, Informe, apud Semanario Erudito, tom.

iii. pp. 95-102.—Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 14.

[18] Riol, Informe, apud Semanario Erudite, tom. iii. p. 94.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 182.

[19] Oviedo bears emphatic testimony to this. “En nuestros tiempos ha habido en Espana de nuestra Nacion grandes varones Letrados, excelentes Perlados y Religiosos y personas que por suos habilidades y sciencias han subido a las mas altas dignidades de Capelos e de Arzobispados y todo lo que mas se puede alcanzar, en la Iglesia de Dios.” Quincuagenas, MS., dial. de Talavera.—Col. de Cedulas, tom. i. p. 400.

[20] “Lo qne debe admirar es, que en el tiempo mismo que se contendia con tanto ardor, obtuvieron los Reyes de la Santa Sede mas gracias y privilegios que ninguno de sus sucesores; prueba de su felicidad y de su prudentisima conducta.” Riol, Informe, apud Semanario Erudito, tom. in. p.

95.

[21] “Porque la igualidad de la justicia que los bienauenturados Principes hazian era tal, que todos los hombres de qualquier condicion que fuessen: aora nobles, y caualleros: aora plebeyos, y labradores, y riejos, o pobres, flacos, o fuertes, senores, o sieruos en lo que a la justicia tocaua todos fuessen iguales.” Cosas Memorables, fol. 180.

[22] These beneficial changes were made with the advice, and through the agency of Ximenes. (Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 24.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, p. 181.) The alcavala, a tax of one-tenth on all transfers of property, produced more than any other branch of the revenue. As it was originally designed, more than a century before, to furnish funds for the Moorish war, Isabella, as we have seen in her testament, entertained great scruples as to the right to continue it, without the confirmation of the people, after that was terminated. Ximenes recommended its abolition, without any qualification, to Charles V., but in vain. (Idem auct., ubi supra.) Whatever be thought of its legality, there can be no doubt it was one of the most successful means ever devised by a government for shackling the industry and enterprise of its subjects.

[23] A pragmatic was issued, September 18th, 1495, prescribing the weapons and the seasons for a regular training of the militia. The preamble declares, that it was made at the instance of the representatives of the cities and the nobles, who complained, that, in consequence of the tranquillity, which the kingdom, through the divine mercy had for some years enjoyed, the people were very generally unprovided with arms, offensive or defensive, having sold or suffered them to fall into decay, insomuch that, in their present condition, they would be found wholly unprepared to meet either domestic disturbance, or foreign invasion.

(Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 83.) What a tribute does this afford, in this age of violence, to the mild, paternal character of the administration?

[24] The most important were those of Madrigal, in 1476, and of Toledo, in 1480, to which I have often had occasion to refer. “Las mas notables,” say Asso and Mannel, in reference to the latter, “y famosas de este Reynado, en el qual podemos asegurar, que tuvo principio el mayor aumento, y arreglo de nuestra Jurisprudencia.” (Instituciones, Introd., p. 91.) Marina notices this cortes with equal panegyric. (Teoria, tom. i. p. 75.) See also Sempere, Hist. des Cortes, p. 197.

[25] See Part I. Chapters 10, 11, et alibi.

[26] At Valladolid, in 1506. The number of cities having right of representation, “que acostumbran continuamente embiar procuradores a cortes,” according to Pulgar, was seventeen. (Reyes Catolicos, cap. 95.) This was before Granada was added. Martyr, writing some years after that event, enumerates only sixteen, as enjoying the privilege. (Opus Epist., epist. 460.) Pulgar’s estimate, however, is corroborated by the petition of the cortes of Valladolid, which, with more than usual effrontery, would limit the representation to eighteen cities, as prescribed “por algunas leyes e inmemorial uso.” Marina, Teoria, tom. i. p. 161.

[27] Many of these pragmaticas purport, in their preambles, to be made at the demand of cortes; many more at the petition of corporations or individuals; and many from the good pleasure of the sovereigns, bound to “remedy all grievances, and provide for the exigencies of the state.”

These ordinances very frequently are stated to have been made with the advice of the royal council. They were proclaimed in the public squares of the city, in which they were executed, and afterwards in those of the principal towns in the kingdom. The doctors Asso and Manuel divide pragmaticas into two classes; those made at the instance of cortes, and those emanating from the “sovereign, as supreme legislator of the kingdom, moved by his anxiety for the common weal.” “Muchos de este genero,” they add, “contiene el libro raro intitulado Pragmaticas del Reyno, que se imprimio la primera vez en Alcala en 1528.” (Instituciones, Introd., p. 110.) This is an error;—see note 43, infra.

[28] “Por la presente prematicasencion,” said John II., in one of his ordinances, “lo cual todo e cada cosa dello e parte dello quiero e mando e ordeno que se guarde e compla daqui adelante para siempre jamas en todas las cibdades e villas e logares non embargante cualesquier leyes e fueros e derechos e ordenamientos, constituciones e posesiones e prematicas-
senciones, e usos e costumbres, ca en cuanto a est oatane yo los abrogo e derogo.” (Marina, Teoria, tom. ii. p. 216.) This was the very essence of despotism, and John found it expedient to retract these expressions, on the subsequent remonstrance of cortes.

[29] Indeed, it is worthy of remark, as evincing the progress of civilization under this reign, that most of the criminal legislation is to be referred to its commencement, while the laws of the subsequent period chiefly concern the new relations which grow out of an increased domestic industry. It is in the “Ordenancas Reales,” and “Leyes de la Hermandad,”

both published by 1485, that we must look for the measures against violence and rapine.

[30] Thus, for example, the important criminal laws of the Hermandad, and the civil code called the “Laws of Toro,” were made under the express sanction of the commons. (Leyes de la Hermandad, fol. l.—Quaderno de las Leyes y Nuevas Decisiones hechas y ordenadas en la Ciudad de Toro, (Medina del Campo, 1555,) fol. 49.) Nearly all, if not all, the acts of the Catholic sovereigns introduced into the famous code of the “Ordenancas Reales,” were passed in the cortes of Madrigal, in 1476, or Toledo, in 1480.

[31] It should be stated, however, that the cortes of Valladolid, in 1506, two years after the queen’s death, enjoined Philip and Joanna to make no laws without the consent of cortes; remonstrating, at the same time, against the existence of many royal pragmaticas, as an evil to be redressed. “Y por esto se establecio lei que no hiciesen ni renovasen leyes sino en cortes. ***** Y porque fuera de esta orden se han hecho muchas prematicas de que estos vuestros reynos se tienen por agraviados, manden que aquellas se revean y provean y remedien los agravios que las tales prematicas tienen.” (Marina, Teoria, tom. ii. p. 218.) Whether this is to be understood of the ordinances of the reigning sovereigns, or their predecessors, may be doubted. It is certain, that the nation, however it may have acquiesced in the exercise of this power by the late queen, would not have been content to resign it to such incompetent hands, as those of Philip and his crazy wife.

[32] “Liberi patriis legibus, nil imperio Regis gubernantur.” Opus Epist., epist. 438.

[33] Capmany, however, understates the number, when he limits it to four sessions only during this whole reign. Practica y Estilo, p. 62.

[34] See Part II., Chapter 12, note 7, of this History.—“Si quis aliquid,” says Martyr, speaking of a cortes general held at Monzon, by Queen Germaine, “sibi contra jus illatum putat, aut a regia corona quaequam deberi existimat, nunquam dissolvuntur conventus, donec conquerenti satisfiat, neque Regibus parere in exigendis pecuniis, solent aliter. Regina quotidie scribit, se vexari eorum petitionibus, nec exsolvere se quire, quod se maxime optare ostendit. Rex imminentis necessitatis bellicae vim proponit, ut in aliud tempus querelas differant, per literas, per nuntios, per ministros, conventum praesidentesque hortatur monetque, et summissis fere verbis rogare videtur.” 1512. (Opus Epist., epist. 493.) Blancas notices Ferdinand’s astuteness, who, instead of money granted by the Aragonese with difficulty and reservations, usually applied for troops at once, which were furnished and paid by the state. (Modo de Proceder, fol. 100, 101.) Zurita tells us, that both the king and queen were averse to meetings of cortes in Castile oftener than absolutely necessary, and both took care, on such occasions, to have their own agents near the deputies, to influence their proceedings. “Todas las vezes que en lo passado el Rey, y la Reyna dona Isabel llamauan a cortes en Castilla, temian de las llamar: y despues de llamodos, y ayuntados los procuradores, ponian tales personas de su parte, que continuamente se juntassen con ellos; por escusar lo que podria resultar de aquellos ayuntamientos: y tambien por darles a entender, que no tenian tanto poder, quanto ellos se imaginauan.” (Anales, tom. vi. fol. 96.) This course is as repugnant to Isabella’s character as it is in keeping with her husband’s.

Under their joint administration, it is not always easy to discriminate the part which belongs to each. Their respective characters, and political conduct in affairs where they were separately concerned, furnish us a pretty safe clue to our judgment in others.

[35] As, for example, both when he resigned, and resumed the regency. See Part II., Chapters 17, 20.

[36] In the first cortes after Isabella’s death, at Toro, in 1505, Ferdinand introduced the practice, which has since obtained, of administering an oath of secrecy to the deputies, as to the proceedings of the session; a serious wound to popular representation. (Marina, Teoria, tom. i. p. 273.) Capmany (Practica y Estilo, p. 232.) errs in describing this as “un arteficio Maquiavelico inventado por la politica Alemana.”

The German Machiavelism has quite sins enough in this way to answer for.

[37] The introductory law to the “Leyes de Toro” holds this strange language; “Y porque al rey pertenesce y ha poder de hazer fueros y leyes, y de las interpretar y emendar donde vieren que cumple,” etc. (Leyes de Toro, fol. 2.) What could John II., or any despot of the Austrian line, claim more?

[38] See the address of the cortes, in Marina, Teoria, tom. p. 282.

[39] Among the writers repeatedly cited by me, it is enough to point out the citizen Marina, who has derived more illustrations of his liberal theory of the constitution from the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella than from any other; and who loses no opportunity of panegyric on their “paternal government,” and of contrasting it with the tyrannical policy of later times.

[40] Marina enumerates no less than nine separate codes of civil and municipal law in Castile, by which the legal decisions were to be regulated, in Ferdinand and Isabella’s time. Ensayo Historico-Critico, sobre la Antigua Legislacion de Castilla, (Madrid, 1808,) pp. 383-386.—

Asso y Manuel, Instituciones, Introd.

[41] See Part I., Chapter 6, of this History.

[42] “A collection,” says senor Clemencin, “of the last importance, and indispensable to a right understanding of the spirit of Isabella’s government, but, nevertheless, little known to Castilian writers, not excepting the most learned of them.” (Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi.

Ilust. 9.) No edition of the Pragmaticas has appeared since the publication of Philip II.‘s “Nueva Recopilacion,” in 1567, in which a large portion of them are embodied. The remainder having no further authority, the work has gradually fallen into oblivion. But, whatever be the cause, the fact is not very creditable to professional science in Spain.

[43] The earliest edition was at Alcala de Henares, printed by Lanzalao Polono, in 1503. It was revised and prepared for the press by Johan Ramirez, secretary of the royal council, from whom the work is often called “Pragmaticas de Ramirez.” It passed through several editions by 1550. Clemencin (ubi supra) enumerates five, but his list is incomplete, as the one in my possession, probably the second, has escaped his notice.

It is a fine old folio, in black letter, containing in addition some ordinances of Joanna, and the “Laws of Toro,” in 192 folios. On the last is this notice by the printer. “Fue ympressa la presente obra en la muy noble y muy leal cibdad de Senilla, por Juan Varela ympressor de libros.

Acabose a dos dias del mes de otubre de mill y quinientos y veynte anos.”

The first leaf after the table of contents exhibits the motives of its publication. “E porque como algunas de ellas (pragmaticas sanciones e cartas) ha mucho tiempo que se dieron, e otras se hicieron en diversos tiempos, estan derramadas por muchas partes, no se saben por todos, e aun muchas de las dichas justicias no tienen comlida noticia de todas ellas, paresciendo ser necesario e provechoso; mandamos fi los del nuestro consejo que las hiciesen juntar e corregir e impremir,” etc.

[44] “Leyes de Toro,” say Asso and Manuel, “veneradas tanto desde entonces, que se les dio el primer lugar de valimiento sobre todas las del Reyno.” Instituciones, Introd. p. 95.

[45] See the sensible memorial of Jovellanos, “Informe al Real y Supremo Consejo en el Expediente de Ley Agraria.” Madrid, 1795.

There have been several editions of this code, since the first of 1505.

(Marina, Ensayo, No. 450.) I have copies of two editions, in black letter, neither of them known to Marina; one, above noticed, printed at Seville, in 1520; and the other at Medina del Campo, in 1555, probably the latest.

The laws were subsequently incorporated in the “Nueva Recopilacion.”

[46] “Esta ley,” says Jovellanos, “que los jurisconsultos llaman a boca llena injusta y barbara, lo es mucho mas por la extension quelos pragmaticas le dieron en sus comentarios.” (Informe, p. 76, nota.) The edition of Medina del Campo, in 1555, is swelled by the commentaries of Miguel de Cifuentes, till the text, in the language of bibliographers, looks like “cymba in oceano.”

[47] Ante, Part I., Chapter 6.

[48] Leyes del Quaderno Nuevo de las Rentas de las Alcavalas y Franquezas, hecho en la Vega de Granada, (Salamanca, 1550); a little code of 37
folios, containing 147 laws for the regulation of the crown rents. It was made in the Vega of Granada, December 10th, 1491. The greater part of these laws, like so many others of this reign, have been admitted into the “Nueva Recopilacion.”

[49] the head of these, undoubtedly, must be placed Dr. Alfonso Diaz de Montalvo, noticed more than once in the course of this History. He illustrated three successive reigns by his labors, which he continued to the close of a long life, and after he had become blind. The Catholic sovereigns highly appreciated his services, and settled a pension on him of 30,000 maravedies. Besides his celebrated compilation of the “Ordenancas Reales,” he wrote commentaries on the ancient code of the “Fuero Real,” and on the “Siete Partidas,” printed for the first time under his own eye, in 1491. (Mendez, Typographia Espanola, p. 183.) Marina (Ensayo, p. 405) has bestowed a beautiful eulogium on this venerable lawyer, who first gave to light the principal Spanish codes, and introduced a spirit of criticism into the national jurisprudence.

[50] This gigantic work was committed, wholly or in part, to Dr. Lorenzo Galindez de Carbajal. He labored many years on it, but the results of his labors, as elsewhere noticed, have never been communicated to the public.

See Asso y Manuel, Instituciones, pp. 50, 99.—Marina, Ensayo, pp. 392, 406, and Clemencin, whose Ilust. 9 exhibits a most clear and satisfactory view of the legal compilations under this reign.

[51] Lord Bacon’s comment on Henry VII.‘s laws, might apply with equal force to these of Ferdinand and Isabella. “Certainly his times for good commonwealth’s laws did excel. ***** For his laws, whoso marks them well, are deep, and not vulgar; not made upon the spur of a particular occasion for the present, but out of providence of the future, to make the estate of his people still more and more happy; after the manner of the legislators in ancient and heroical times.” Hist. of Henry VII., Works, (ed. 1819,) vol. v. p. 60.

[52] Ante, Part I., Chapter 6.

[53] Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 24, 30, 39.—Recop. de las Leyes, (ed.

1640,) tom. i. lib. 2, tit. 5, leyes 1, 2, 3, 11, 12, 20; tit. 7, ley 1.—

Ordenancas Reales, lib. 2. tit. 4. The southern chancery, first opened at Ciudad Real, in 1494, was subsequently transferred by the sovereigns to Granada.

[54] Ante, Part I., Chapter 7, note 39.

[55] Ante, Part I., Chapter 6, note 34.

[56] Riol, Informe, apud Seminario Erudito, tom. iii. p. 149.—It consisted of a vice chancellor, as president, and six ministers, two from each of the three provinces of the crown. It was consulted by the king on all appointments and matters of government. The Italian department was committed to a separate tribunal, called the council of Italy, in 1556.

Capmany (Mem. de Barcelona, tom. iv. Apend. 17) has explained at length the functions and authority of this institution.

[57] See the nature and broad extent of these powers, in Recop. de Leyes de las Indias, tom. i. lib. 2, tit. 2, leyes 1, 2.—Also Solorzano, Politica Indiana, tom. ii. lib. 5, cap. 15; who goes no further back than the remodelling of this tribunal under Charles V.—Riol, Informe, apud Semanario Erudito, tom. iii. pp. 159, 160.

The third volume of the Semanario Erudito, pp. 73-233, contains a report, drawn up, by command of Philip V., in 1726, by Don Santiago Augustin Riol, on the organization and state of the various tribunals, civil and ecclesiastical, under Ferdinand and Isabella; together with an account of the papers contained in their archives. It is an able memorial, replete with curious information. It is singular that this interesting and authentic document should have been so little consulted, considering the popular character of the collection in which it is preserved. I do not recollect ever to have met with a reference to it in any author. It was by mere accident, in the absence of a general index, that I stumbled on it in the mare magnum in which it is engulfed.

[58] “Pusieron los Reyes Catolicos,” says the penetrating Mendoza, “el govierno de la justicia, i cosas publicas en manos de Letrados, gente media entre los grandes i pequenos, sin ofensa de los linos ni de los otros. Cuya profesion eran letras legales, comedimiento, secreto, verdad, vida liana, i sin corrupcion de costumbres.” Guerre de Granada, p. 15.

[59] Granada, September 3d, Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 135.—A pragmatic of similar import was issued by Henry III. Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom, i., Introd. p. 46.

[60] Granada, August 11th, 1501. Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 137.

[61] Alfaro, November 10th, 1495. Ibid., fol. 136.

[62] See a number of these, collected by Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, Introd. pp. 43, 44.

[63] Cited by Robertson, History of America, vol. iii. p. 305.

[64] The fleet fitted out against the Turks, in 1482, consisted of seventy sail, and that under Gonsalvo, in 1500, of sixty, large and small. (Ante, Part I., Chapter 6: Part II., Chapter 10.) See other expeditions, enumerated by Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 50.

[65] Cura de los Palacios, MS., cap. 153; who, indeed, estimates the complement of this fleet at 25,000 men; a round number, which must certainly include persons of every description. The Invincible Armada consisted, according to Dunham, of about 130 vessels, large and small, 20,000 soldiers, and 8,000 seamen. (History of Spain and Portugal, vol. v.

59.) The estimate falls below that of most writers.

[66] En el real de la vega de Granada, December 20th. (Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 133.) “Y les apercibays,” enjoins the ordinance, “que los marauedis porque los vendieren los ban de sacar de nuestros reynos en mercadurias: y ni en oro ni en plata ni en moneda amonedada de manera que no pueden pretender ygnorancia: y den fiancas lianas y abonadas de lo fazer y cumplir assi: y si fallaredes que sacan o lieuan oro o plata o moneda contra el tenor y forma de las dichas leyes y desta nuestra carta mandamos vos que gelo torneys: y sea perdido como las dichas leyes mandan, y demas cayan y incurran en las penas en las leyes de nuestros reynos contenidas contra los que sacan oro o plata o moneda fuera dellos sin nuestra licencia y mandado: las quales executad en ellosy en sus fiadores.”

[67] Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 92, 134.—These laws were as old as the fourteenth century in Castile, and had been renewed by every succeeding monarch, from the time of John I. (Ordenancas Reales, lib. 6, tit. 9, leyes 17-22.) Similar ones were passed under the contemporary princes, Henry VII. and Henry VIII. of England, James IV. of Scotland, etc.

[68]—“Balucis malleator Hispanae,” says Martial, noticing the noise made by the gold-beaters, hammering out the Spanish ore, as one of the chief annoyances which drove him from the capital, (lib. 12, ep. 57.) See also the precise statement of Pliny, cited Part I., Chapter 8, of this History.

[69] “Porque haciendose ansi al modo e costumbre de los dichos senores Reyes pasados, cesaran los inmensos gastos y sin provecho que la mesa e casa de S. M. se hacen; pues el dano desto notoriamente paresce porque se halla en el plato real y en los platos que se hacen a los privados e criados de su casa gastarse cada mio dia ciento y cincuenta mil maravedis; y los Catolicos Reyes D. Hernando e Dona Isabel, seyendo tan excelentes y tan poderosos, en su plato y en el plato del principe D. Joan que haya gloria, e de las senoras infantas con gran numero y multitud de damas no se gastar cada un dia, seyetido mui abastados como de tales Reyes, mas de doce a quince mil maravedis.” Peticion de la Junta de Tordesillas, October 20, 1520, apud Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 230.

[70] In 1493; repeated in 1501. Recop. de las Leyes, tom. ii. fol. 3.—In 1502. Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 139.

[71] At Segovia, September 2d; also in 1496 and 1498. Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 123, 125, 126.

[72] At Granada, in 1499.—This on petition of cortes, in the year preceding. Sempere, in his sensible “Historia del Luxo,” has exhibited the series of the manifold sumptuary laws in Castile. It is a history of the impotent struggle of authority, against the indulgence of the innocent propensities implanted in our nature, and naturally increasing with increasing wealth and civilization.

[73] En la nombrada y gran ciudad de Granada, Agosto 20. Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 135.

[74] Pragmaticas del Reyno, passim.—Diccionario Geografico-Hist. de Espana, tom. i. p. 333—Capmany, Mem. de Barcelona, tom. iii. part 3, cap.

2.—Mines of lead, copper, and silver were wrought extensively in Guipuzcoa and Biscay.—Col. de Ced., tom. i. no. 25.

[75] Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 127, 128.—Ante, Part II., Chapter 3, note 12.—The cortes of Toledo, in 1525, complained, “que habia tantos caballos Espanoles en Francia como en Castilla.” (Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. p. 285.) The trade, however, was contraband; the laws against the exportation of horses being as ancient as the time of Alfonso XI. (See also Ordenancas Reales, fol. 85, 86.) Laws can never permanently avail against national prejudices. Those in favor of mules have been so strong in the Peninsula, and such the consequent decay of the fine breed of horses, that the Spaniards have been compelled to supply themselves with the latter from abroad. Bourgoanne reckons that 20,000 were annually imported into the country from France, at the close of the last century. Travels in Spain, tom. i. chap. 4.

[76] Hist. del Luxo, tom. i. p. 170.—“Tiene muchas ouejas,” says Marineo, “cuya lana estan singular, que no solamente se aprouechan della en Espana, mas tambien se lleua en abundancia a otras partes.” (Cosas Memorables, fol. 3.) He notices especially the fine wool of Molina, in whose territory 400,000 sheep pastured, fol. 19.

[77] Mem. de Barcelona, tom. iii. pp. 338, 339.—“Or if ever exported,” he adds, “it was at some period long posterior to the discovery of America.”

[78] Pragmaticas del Reyno, passim.—Many of them were designed to check impositions, too often practised in the manufacture and sale of goods, and to keep them up to a fair standard.

[79] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 11.

[80] Ibid., fol. 19.—Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 26.—The Venetian minister, however, pronounces them inferior to the silks of his own country.

[81] “Proueyda,” says Marineo, “de todos officios, y artes mecanicas que en ella se exercitan mucho: y principalmente en lanor, y exercicio de lanas, y sedas. Por las quales dos cosas biuen en esta ciudad mas de diez mil personas. Es de mas desto la ciudad muy rica, por los grandes tratos de mercadurias.” Cosas Memorables, fol. 12.

[82] Ibid., fol. 15.—Navagiero, a more parsimonious eulogist, remarks, nevertheless, “Sono in Valladolid assai artefici di ogni sorte, e se vi lavora benessimo de tutte le arti, e sopra tutto d’Argenti, e vi son tanti argenteri quanti non sono in due altre terre.” Viaggio, fol. 35.

[83] Geron. Paulo, a writer at the close of the fifteenth century, cited by Capmany, Mem. de Barcelona, tom. i. part. 3, p. 23.

[84] The twentieth Ilustracion of Senor Clemencin’s invaluable compilation contains a table of prices of grain, in different parts of the kingdom, under Ferdinand and Isabella. Take, for example, those of Andalusia. In 1488, a. year of great abundance, the fanega of wheat sold in Andalusia for 50 maravedies; in 1489 it rose to 100; in 1505, a season of great scarcity, to 375, and even 600; in 1508, it was at 306; and in 1509, it had fallen to 85 maravedies. Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. pp. 551, 552.

[85] Compare, for example, the accounts of the environs of Toledo and Madrid, the two most considerable cities in Castile, by ancient and modern travellers. One of the most intelligent and recent of the latter, in his journey between these two capitals, remarks, “There is sometimes a visible track, and sometimes none; most commonly we passed over wide sands. The country between Madrid and Toledo, I need scarcely say, is ill peopled and ill cultivated; for it is all a part of the same arid plain, that stretches on every side around the capital; and which is bounded on this side by the Tagus. The whole of the way to Toledo, I passed through only four inconsiderable villages; and saw two others at a distance. A great part of the land is uncultivated, covered with furze and aromatic plants; but here and there some corn land is to be seen.” (Inglis, Spain in 1830, vol. i. p. 366.) What a contrast does all this present to the language of the Italians, Navagiero and Marineo, in whose time the country around Toledo “surpassed all other districts of Spain, in the excellence and fruitfulness of the soil;” which, “skilfully irrigated by the waters of the Tagus, and minutely cultivated, furnished every variety of fruit and vegetable produce to the neighboring city.” While, instead of the sunburnt plains around Madrid, it is described as situated “in the bosom of a fair country, with an ample territory, yielding rich harvests of corn and wine, and all the other aliments of life.” Cosas Memorables, fol. 12, 13.—

Viaggio, fol. 7, 8.

[86] Capmany has well exposed some of these extravagances. (Mem. de Barcelona, tom. in. part. 3, cap. 2.) The boldest of them, however, may find a warrant in the declarations of the legislature itself. “En los lugares de obrages de lanas,” asserts the cortes of 1594, “donde se solian labrar veinte y treinta mil arrobas, no se labran hoi seis, y donde habia senores de ganado de grandisima cantidad, han disminuido en la misma y mayor proporcion, acaeciendo lo mismo en todas las otras cosas del comercio universal y particular. Lo cual hace que no haya ciudad de las principales destos reinos ni lugar ninguno, de donde no falte notable vecindad, como se echa bien de ver en la muchedumbre de casas que estan cerradas y despobladas, y en la baja que han dado los arrendamientos de las pocas que se arriendan y habitan.” Apud Mem. de la Acad. de Hist, tom.

vi. p. 304.

[87] A point which most writers would probably agree in fixing at 1700, the year of Charles II.‘s death, the last and most imbecile of the Austrian dynasty. The population of the kingdom at this time, had dwindled to 6,000,000. See Laborde, (Itineraire, tom. vi. pp. 125, 143, ed. 1830), who seems to have better foundation for this census than for most of those in his table.

[88] See the unequivocal language of cortes, under Philip II. (supra.) With every allowance, it infers an alarming decline in the prosperity of the nation.

[89] One has only to read, for an evidence of this, the lib. 6, tit. 18, of the “Nueva Recopilacion,” on “cosas prohibidas;” the laws on gilding and plating, lib. 5, tit. 24; on apparel and luxury, lib. 7, tit. 12; on woollen manufactures, lib. 7, tit. 14-17, et legas al. Perhaps no stronger proof of the degeneracy of the subsequent legislation can be given, than by contrasting it with that of Ferdinand and Isabella in two important laws. 1. The sovereigns, in 1492, required foreign traders to take their returns in the products and manufactures of the country. By a law of Charles V., 1552, the exportation of numerous domestic manufactures was prohibited, and the foreign trader, in exchange for domestic wool, was required to import into the country a certain amount of linen and woollen fabrics. 2. By an ordinance, in 1500, Ferdinand and Isabella prohibited the importation of silk thread from Naples, to encourage its production at home. This appears from the tenor of subsequent laws to have perfectly succeeded. In 1552, however, a law was passed, interdicting the export of manufactured silk, and admitting the importation of the raw material. By this sagacious provision, both the culture of silk, and the manufacture were speedily crushed in Castile.

[90] See examples of these, in the reigns of Henry III., and John II, (Recop. de las Leyes, tom. ii. fol. 180, 181.) Such also were the numerous tariffs fixing the prices of grain, the vexatious class of sumptuary laws, those for the regulation of the various crafts, and, above, all, on the exportation of the precious metals.

[91] The English Statute Book alone will furnish abundant proof of this, in the exclusive regulations of trade and navigation existing at the close of the fifteenth century. Mr. Sharon Turner has enumerated many, under Henry VIII., of similar import with, and, indeed, more partial in their operation than, those of Ferdinand and Isabella. History of England, vol.

iv. pp. 170 et seq.

[92] Ordenancas Reales, lib. 6, tit. 4, ley 6.

[93] Archivo de Simancas; in which most of these ordinances appear to be registered. Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 11.

[94] “Ennoblescense los cibdades e villas en tener casas grandes e bien fechas en que fragan sus ayuntamientos e concejos,” etc. (Ordenancas Reales, lib. 7, tit. 1, ley 1.) Senor Clemencin has specified the nature and great variety of these improvements, as collected from the archives of the different cities of the kingdom. Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi.

Ilustracion ll.—Col. de Cedulas, tom. iv. no. 9.

[95] Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 63. 91, 93.—Recop. de las Leyes, lib. 5, tit. 11, ley 12.—Among the acts for restricting monopolies may be mentioned one, which prohibited the nobility and great landholders from preventing their tenants’ opening inns and houses of entertainment without their especial license. (Pragmaticas del Reyno, 1492, fol. 96.) The same abuse, however, is noticed by Mad. d’Aulnoy, in her “Voyage d’Espagne,” as still existing, to the great prejudice of travellers, in the seventeenth century. Dunlop, Memoirs of Philip IV. and Charles II., vol. ii. chap. 11.

[96] Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 93-112.—Recop. de las Leyes, lib. 5, tit. 21, 22.

[97] “Ut nulla unquam per se tuta regio, tutiorem se fuisse jactare possit.” Opus Epist., epist. 31.

[98] For various laws tending to secure this, and prevent frauds in trade, see Ordenancas Reales, lib. 3, tit. 8, ley 5.—Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol.

45, 66, 67, et alibi.—Col. de Cedulas, tom. i. no. 63.

[99] The fullest, though a sufficiently meagre, account of the Navarrese constitution, is to be found in Capmany’s collection, “Practica y Estilo,”

(pp. 250-258,) and in the “Diccionario Geografico Hist, de Espana,” (tom.

ii. pp. 140-143.) The historical and economical details in the latter are more copious.

[100] “Queste furono,” says Giannone, “le prime leggi che ci diedero gli Spagnuoli: leggi tutte provvide e savie, nello stabilir delle quali furono veramente gli Spagnuoli piu d’ ogni altra nazione avveduti, e piu esatti imitatori de’ Romani.” Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 5.

[101] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 29, cap. 4; lib. 30, cap. 1, 2, 5.—Signorelli, Coltura nelle Sicilie, tom. iv. p. 84.—Every one knows the persecutions, the exile, and long imprisonment, which Giannone suffered for the freedom with which he treated the clergy, in his philosophical history. The generous conduct of Charles of Bourbon to his heirs is not so well known. Soon after his accession to the throne of Naples, that prince settled a liberal pension on the son of the historian, declaring, that “it did not comport with the honor and dignity of the government, to permit an individual to languish in indigence, whose parent had been the greatest man, the most useful to the state, and the most unjustly persecuted, that the age had produced.” Noble sentiments, giving additional grace to the act which they accompanied. See the decree, cited by Corniani, Secoli della Letteratura Italiana, (Brescia, 1804-1813,) tom.

ix. art. 15.

[102] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 6, cap. 18.—According to Martyr, the two mints of Hispaniola yielded 300,000 lbs. of gold annually.

De Rebus Oceanicis, dec. 1, lib. 10.

[103] The pearl fisheries of Cuhagua were worth 75,000 ducats a year.

Herrera, Indian Occidentales, dec 1, lib 7, cap. 9.

[104] Oviedo, Historia Natural de las Indias, lib. 4, cap. 8.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 165.

[105] Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. iii. documentos 1-13.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1. lib. 7, cap. 1.

[106] Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. iii. pp. 48, 134.

[107] Bernardin de Santa Clara, treasurer of Hispaniola, amassed, during a few years’ residence there, 96,000 ounces of gold. This same nouveau riche used to serve gold dust, says Herrera, instead of salt, at his entertainments. (Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 7, cap. 3.) Many believed, according to the same author, that gold was so abundant, as to be dragged up in nets from the beds of the rivers! Lib. 10, cap. 14.

[108] Ante, Part II., Chapter 24.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 10, cap. 6, 7.

[109] “Per esser Sevilla nel loco che e, vi vanno tanti di loro alle Indie, che la citta resta mal popolata, e quasi in man di donne.”

(Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 15.) Horace said, fifteen centuries before, “Impiger extremes curris mercator ad Indos, Per mare pauperiem fugieus, per saxa, per ignes.”

Epist. i. 1.

[110] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 9, cap. 10.—Almost all the Spanish expeditions in the New World, whether on the northern or southern continent, have a tinge of romance, beyond what is found in those of other European nations. One of the most striking and least familiar of them is that of Ferdinand de Soto, the ill-fated discoverer of the Mississippi, whose bones bleach beneath its waters. His adventures are told with uncommon spirit by Mr. Bancroft, vol. i. chap. 2, of his History of the United States.

[111] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 2, lib. 1, cap. 7.

[112] The life of this daring cavalier forms one in the elegant series of national biographies by Quintana, “Vidas de Espanoles Celebres,” (tom. ii.

pp. 1-82), and is familiar to the English reader in Irving’s “Companions of Columbus.” The third volume of Navarrete’s laborious compilation is devoted to the illustration of the minor Spanish voyagers, who followed up the bold track of discovery, between Columbus and Cortes. Coleccion de Viages.

[113] Las Casas, Memoires, Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p. 189.

[114] “Y crean (Vuestras Altezas) questa isla y todas las otras son asi suyas corao Castilla, que aqui no falta salvo asiento y mandarles hacer lo que quisieren.” Primera Carta de Colon, apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 93.

[115] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 8, cap. 9.—Las Casas, Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. pp. 228, 229.

[116] See the various Memorials of Las Casas, some of them expressly prepared for the council of the Indies. He affirms, that more than 12,000,000 lives were wantonly destroyed in the New World, within thirty-
eight years after the discovery, and this in addition to those exterminated in the conquest of the country. (Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p. 187.) Herrera admits that Hispaniola was reduced, in less than twenty-five years, from 1,000,000 to 14,000 souls. (Indias Occidentales, dec. 1. lib. 10, cap. 12.) The numerical estimates of a large savage population, must, of course, be in a great degree hypothetical. That it was large, however, in these fair regions, may readily be inferred from the facilities of subsistence, and the temperate habits of the natives.

The minimum sum in the calculation, when the number had dwindled to a few thousand, might be more easily ascertained.

[117] Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p. 228.

[118] One resident at the court, says the bishop of Chiapa, was proprietor of 800, and another of 1100 Indians. (Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p.

238.) We learn their names from Herrera. The first was Bishop Fonseca, the latter the comendador Conchillos, both prominent men in the Indian department. (Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 9, cap. 14.) The last-named person was the same individual sent by Ferdinand to his daughter in Flanders, and imprisoned there by the archduke Philip. After that prince’s death, he experienced signal favors from the Catholic king, and amassed great wealth as secretary of the Indian board. Oviedo has devoted one of his dialogues to him. Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.

[119]The Dominican and other missionaries, to their credit be it told, labored with unwearied zeal and courage for the conversion of the natives, and the vindication of their natural rights. Yet these were the men, who lighted the fires of the Inquisition in their own land. To such opposite results may the same principle lead, under different circumstances!

[120] Las Casas concludes an elaborate memorial, prepared for the government, in 1542, on the best means of arresting the destruction of the aborigines, with two propositions. 1. That the Spaniards would still continue to settle in America, though slavery were abolished, from the superior advantages for acquiring riches it offered over the Old World. 2.

That if they would not, this would not justify slavery, since “God forbids us to do evil that good may come of it.” Rare maxim, from a Spanish churchman of the sixteenth century! The whole argument, which comprehends the sum of what has been since said more diffusely in defence of abolition, is singularly acute and cogent. In its abstract principles it is unanswerable, while it exposes and denounces the misconduct of his countrymen, with a freedom which shows the good bishop knew no other fear than that of his Maker.

[121] Recop. de Leyes de las Indias, August 14th, 1509, lib. 6, tit. 8, ley l.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 9, cap. 14.

[122] The text expresses nearly enough the subsequent condition of things in Spanish America. “No government,” says Heeren, “has done so much for the aborigines as the Spanish.” (Modern History, Bancroft’s trans., vol.

i. p. 77.) Whoever peruses its colonial codes, may find much ground for the eulogium. But are not the very number and repetition of these humane provisions sufficient proof of their inefficacy?

[123] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 2, lib. 2, cap. 3.—Las Casas, Memoire, apud Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p. 239.

[124] In the remarkable discussion between the doctor Sepulveda and Las Casas, before a commission named by Charles V., in 1550, the former vindicated the persecution of the aborigines by the conduct of the Israelites towards their idolatrous neighbors. But the Spanish Fenelon replied, that “the behavior of the Jews was no precedent for Christians; that the law of Moses was a law of rigor; but that of Jesus Christ, one of grace, mercy, peace, good-will, and charity.” (Oeuvres, ed. de Llorente, tom. i. p. 374.) The Spaniard first persecuted the Jews, and then quoted them as an authority for persecuting all other infidels.

[125] It is only necessary to notice the contemptuous language of Philip II.‘s laws, which designate the most useful mechanic arts, as those of blacksmiths, shoemakers, leather-dressers, and the like, as “oficios viles y baxos.”

A whimsical distinction prevails in Castile, in reference to the more humble occupations. A man of gentle blood may be a coachman, lacquey, scullion, or any other menial, without disparaging his nobility, which is said to sleep in the mean while. But he fixes on it an indelible stain, if he exercises any mechanical vocation. “Hence,” says Capmany, “I have often seen a village in this province, in which the vagabonds, smugglers, and hangmen even, were natives, while the farrier, shoemaker, etc., was a foreigner.” (Mem. de Barcelona, tom. i. part. 3, p. 40; tom.

iii. part. 2, pp. 317, 318.) See also some sensible remarks on the subject, by Blanco White, the ingenious author of Doblado’s Letters from Spain, p. 44.

[126] “The interval between the acquisition of money, and the rise of prices,” Hume observes,” is the only time when increasing gold and silver are favorable to industry.” (Essays, part 2, essay 3.) An ordinance of June 13th, 1497, complains of the scarcity of the precious metals, and their insufficiency to the demands of trade. (Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol.

93.) It appears, however, from Zuniga, that the importation of gold from the New World began to have a sensible effect on the prices of commodities, from that very year. Annales de Sevilla, p. 415.

[127] Mr. Turner has made several extracts from the Harleian MSS., showing that the trade of Castile with England was very considerable in Isabella’s time. (History of England, vol. iv. p. 90.) A pragmatic of July 21st, 1494, for the erection of a consulate at Burgos, notices the commercial establishments in England, France, Italy, and the Low Countries. This tribunal, with other extensive privileges, was empowered to hear and determine suits between merchants; “which,” says the plain spoken ordinance, “in the hands of lawyers are never brought to a close; porque se presentauan escritos y libelos de letrados de manera que por mal pleyto que fuesse le sostenian los letrados de manera que los hazian immortales.” (Pragmaticas del Reyno, fol. 146-148.) This institution rose soon to be of the greatest importance in Castile.

[128] The sixth volume of the Memoirs of the Academy of History contains a schedule of the respective revenues afforded by the cities of Castile, in the years 1477, 1482, and 1504; embracing, of course, the commencement and close of Isabella’s reign. The original document exists in the archives of Simancas. We may notice the large amount and great increase of taxes in Toledo, particularly, and in Seville; the former thriving from its manufactories, and the latter from the Indian trade. Seville, in 1504, furnished near a tenth of the whole revenue. Ilustracion 5.

[129] “No ay en ella,” says Marineo of the latter city, “gente ociosa, ni baldia, sino que todos trabajan, ansi mugeres como hombres, y los chicos como los grandes, buscando la vida con sus manos, y con sudores de sus carnes. Unos exercitan las artes mecanicas: y otros las liberales. Los que tratan las mercaderias, y hazen rica la ciudad, son muy fieles, y liberales.” (Cosas Memorables, fol. 16.) It will not be easy to meet, in prose or verse, with a finer colored picture of departed glory, than Mr.

Slidell has given of the former city, the venerable Gothic capital, in his “Year in Spain,” chap. 12.

[130] Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 60.

[131] It was a common saying in Navagiero’s time, “Barcelona la ricca, Saragossa la barta, Valentia la hermosa.” (Viaggio, fol. 5.) The grandeur and commercial splendor of the first-named city, which forms the subject of Capmany’s elaborate work, have been sufficiently displayed in Part I., Chapter 2, of this History.

[132] “Algunos suponen,” says Capmany, “que estas ferias eran ya famosas en tiempo de los Reyes Catolicos,” etc. (Mem. de Barcelona, tom.

iii. p. 356.) A very cursory glance at the laws of this time, will show the reasonableness of the supposition. See the Pragmaticas, fol. 146, and the ordinances from the archives of Simancas, apud Mem. de Acad., tom. vi.

pp. 249, 252, providing for the erection of buildings and other accommodations for the “great resort of traders.” In 1520, four years after Ferdinand’s death, the city, in a petition to the regent, represented the losses sustained by its merchants in the recent fire, as more than the revenues of the crown would probably be able to meet for several years. (Ibid., p. 264.) Navagiero, who visited Medina some six years later, when it was rebuilt, bears unequivocal testimony to its commercial importance. “Medina e buona terra, e piena di buone case, abondante assai se non che le tante ferie che se vi fanno ogn’ anno, e il concorso grande che vi e di tutta Spagna, fanno pur che il tutto si paga piu di quel che si faria…. La feria e abondante certo di molte cose, ma sopra tutto di speciarie assai, che vengono di Portogallo; ma le maggior faccende che se vi facciano sono cambij.” Viaggio, fol. 36.

[133]

“Quien no vio a Sevilla No vio maravilla.”

The proverb, according to Zuniga, is as old as the time of Alonso XI.

Annales de Sevilla, p. 183.

[134] The most eminent sculptors were, for the most part, foreigners;—as Miguel Florentin, Pedro Torregiano, Felipe de Borgona,—chiefly from Italy, where the art was advancing rapidly to perfection in the school of Michael Angelo. The most successful architectural achievement was the cathedral of Granada, by Diego de Siloe. Pedraza, Antiguedad de Granada, fol. 82.—Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 16.

[135] At least so says Clemencin, a competent judge. “Desde los mismos principios de su establecimiento fue mas comun la imprenta en Espana que lo es al cabo de trescientos anos dentro ya del siglo decimonono.” Elogio de Dona Isabel, Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi.

[136] Ante, Introduction, Sect. 2; Part 1., Chapter 19; Part II., Chapter 21.—The “Pragmaticas del Reyno” comprises various ordinances, defining the privileges of Salamanca and Valladolid, the manner of conferring degrees, and of election to the chairs of the universities, so as to obviate any undue influence or corruption. (Fol. 14-21.) “Porque,” says the liberal language of the last law, “los estudios generales donde las ciencias se leen y aprenden effuercan las leyes y fazen a los nuestros subditos y naturales sabidores y honrrados y acrecientan virtudes: y porque en el dar y assignar de las catedras salariadas deue auer toda libertad porque sean dadas a personas sabidores y cientes.” (Taracona, October 5th, 1495.) If one would see the totally different principles on which such elections have been conducted in modern times, let him read Doblado’s Letters from Spain, pp. 103-107. The university of Barcelona was suppressed in the beginning of the last century. Laborde has taken a brief survey of the present dilapidated condition of the others, at least as it was in 1830, since which it can scarcely have mended. Itineraire, tom. vi.

144, et seq.

[137] See the concluding note to this chapter.

Erasmus, in a lively and elegant epistle to his friend, Francis Vergara, Greek professor at Alcala, in 1527, lavishes unbounded panegyric on the science and literature of Spain, whose palmy state he attributes to Isabella’s patronage, and the co-operation of some of her enlightened subjects. “----Hispaniae vestrae, tanto successu, priscam eruditionis gloriam sibi postliminio vindicanti. Quae quum semper et regionis amoenitate fertilitaleque, semper ingeniorum eminentium ubere proventu, semper bellica laude floruerit, quid desiderari poterat ad summam felicitatem, nisi ut studiorum et religionis adjungeret ornamenta, quibus aspirante Deo sic paucis annis effloruit ut caeteris regionibus quamlibet hoc decorum genere praecellentibus vel invidiae queat esse vel exemplo….

Vos istam felicitatem secundum Deum debetis laudatissimae Reginarum Elisabetae, Francisco Cardinali quondam, Alonso Fonsecae nunc Archiepiscopo Toletano, et si qui sunt horum similes, quorum autoritas tuetur, benignitas alit fovetque bonas artes.” Epistolae, p. 978.

[138] The sums in the text express the real de vellon; to which they have been reduced by Senor Clemencin, from the original amount in maravedis, which varied very materially in value in different years.

Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Ilust. 5.

[139] The kingdom of Granada appears to have contributed rather less than one-eighth of the whole tax.

[140] In addition to the last-mentioned sum, the extraordinary service voted by cortes, for the dowry of the infantas, and other matters, in 1504, amounted to 16,113,014 reals de vellon; making a sum total for that year, of 42,396,348 reals. The bulk of the crown revenues was derived from the alcavalas, and the tercias, or two-ninths of the ecclesiastical tithes. These important statements were transcribed from the books of the escribania mayor de rentas, in the archives of Simancas. Ibid., ubi supra.

[141] The pretended amount of population has been generally in the ratio of the distance of the period taken, and, of course, of the difficulty of refutation. A few random remarks of ancient writers have proved the basis for the wildest hypotheses, raising the estimates to the total of what the soil, under the highest possible cultivation, would be capable of supporting. Even for so recent a period as Isabella’s time, the estimate commonly received does not fall below eighteen or twenty millions. The official returns, cited in the text, of the most populous portion, of the kingdom, fully expose the extravagance of preceding estimates.

[142] These interesting particulars are obtained from a memorial, prepared by order of Ferdinand and Isabella, by their contador, Alonso de Quintanilla, on the mode of enrolling and arming the militia, in 1492; as a preliminary step to which, he procured a census of the actual population of the kingdom. It is preserved in a volume entitled Relaciones tocantes a la junta de la Hernandad, in that rich national repository, the archives of Simancas. See a copious extract apud Mem. de la Acad. de Hist., tom. vi. Apend. 12.

[143] I am acquainted with no sufficient and authentic data for computing the population, at this time, of the crown of Aragon, always greatly below that of the sister kingdom. I find as little to be relied on, notwithstanding the numerous estimates, in one form or another, vouchsafed by historians and travelers, of the population of Granada. Marineo enumerates fourteen cities and ninety-seven towns (omitting, as he says, many places of less note,) at the time of the conquest; a statement obviously too vague for statistical purposes. (Cosas Memorables, fol.

179.) The capital, swelled by the influx from the country, contained, according to him, 200,000 souls at the same period. (Fol. 177.) In 1506, at the time of the forced conversions, we find the numbers in the city dwindled to fifty, or at most, seventy thousand. (Comp. Bleda, Coronica, lib. 5, cap. 23, and Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 159.) Loose as these estimates necessarily are, we have no better to guide us in calculating the total amount of the population of the Moorish kingdom, or of the losses sustained by the copious emigrations, during the first fifteen years after the conquest; although there has been no lack of confident assertion, as to both, in later writers. The desideratum, in regard to Granada, will now probably not be supplied; the public offices in the kingdom of Aragon, if searched with the same industry as those in Castile, would doubtless afford the means for correcting the crude estimates, so current respecting that country.

[144] Hallam, in his “Constitutional History of England,” estimates the population of the realm, in 1485, at 3,000,000, (vol. i. p. 10.) The discrepancies, however, of the best historians on this subject, prove the difficulty of arriving at even a probable result. Hume, on the authority of Sir Edward Coke, puts the population of England (including people of all sorts) a century later, in 1588, at only 900,000. The historian cites Lodovico Guicciardini, however, for another estimate, as high as 2,000,000, for the same reign of Queen Elizabeth. History of England, vol.

vi. Append. 3.

[145] Philip II. claimed the Portuguese crown in right of his mother and his wife, both descended from Maria, third daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, who, as the reader may remember, married King Emanuel.

[146] Old Caxton mourns over the little honor paid to the usages of chivalry in his time; and it is sufficient evidence of its decay in England, that Richard III. thought it necessary to issue an ordinance requiring those possessed of the requisite L40 a year, to receive knighthood. (Turner, History of England, vol. iii. pp. 391, 392.) The use of artillery was fatal to chivalry; a consequence well understood, even at the early period of our History. At least, so we may infer from the verses of Ariosto, where Orlando throws Cimosco’s gun into the sea.

“Lo tolse e disse: Accio piu non istea Mai cavalier per te d’essere ardito;

Ne quanto il buono val, mai piu si vanti Il rio per te valer, qui giu rimanti.”

Orlando Furioso, canto 9, st. 90.

[147] “Quien podra, contar,” exclaims the old Curate of Los Palacios, “la grandeza, el concierto de su corte, la cavalleria de los Nobles de toda Espana, Duques, Maestres, Marqueses e Ricos homes; los Galanes, las Damas, las Fiestas, los Torneos, la Moltitud de Poetas e trovadores,” etc. Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 201.

[148] Oviedo notices the existence of a lady-love, even with cavaliers who had passed their prime, as a thing of quite as imperative necessity in his day, as it was afterwards regarded by the gallant knight of La Mancha.

“Costumbre es en Espana entre log senores de estado que venidos a la corte, aunque no esten enamorados o que pasen de la mitad de la edad fingir que aman por servir y favorescer a alguna dama, y gastar como quien son en fiestas y otras cosas que se ofrescen de tales pasatiempos y amores, sin que les de pena Cupido.” Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 1, dial. 28.

[149] Viaggio, fol. 27.

Andrea Navagiero, whose itinerary has been of such frequent reference in these pages, was a noble Venetian, born in 1483. He became very early distinguished, in his cultivated capital, for his scholarship, poetical talents, and eloquence, of which he has left specimens, especially in Latin verse, in the highest repute to this day with his countrymen. He was not, however, exclusively devoted to letters, but was employed in several foreign missions by the republic. It was on his visit to Spain, as minister to Charles V., soon after that monarch’s accession, that he wrote his Travels; and he filled the same office at the court of Francis I., when he died, at the premature age of forty-six, in 1529. (Tiraboschi, Letteratura Italiana, tom. vii. part. 3, p. 228, ed. 1785.) His death was universally lamented by the good and the learned of his time, and is commemorated by his friend, Cardinal Bembo, in two sonnets, breathing all the sensibility of that tender and elegant poet. (Rime, Son. 109, 110.) Navagiero becomes connected with Castilian literature by the circumstance of Boscan’s referring to his suggestion the innovation he so successfully made in the forms of the national verse. Obras, fol. 20, ed. 1543.

[150] Fernando de Pulgar, after enumerating various cavaliers of his acquaintance, who had journeyed to distant climes in quest of adventures and honorable feats of arms, continues, “E oi decir de otros Castellanos que con animo de Caballeros fueron por los Reynos estrafios a facer armas con qualquier Caballero que quisiere facerlas con ellos, e por ellas ganaron honra para si, e fama de valientes y esforzados Caballeros para los Fijosdalgos de Castilla.” Claros Varones, tit. 17.

[151] “Son todos,” says the Admiral, “de ningun ingenio en las armas, y muy cobardes, que mil no aguadarian tres!” (Primer Viage de Colon.) What could the bard of chivalry say more?

“Ma quel ch’al timor non diede albergo, Estima la vil turba e l’arme tante

Quel che dentro alla mandra all’ aer cupo, Il numer dell’ agnelle estimi il lupo.”

Orlando Furioso, canto 12.

[152] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 30.

[153] “I Spagnoli,” says the Venetian minister, “non solo in questo paese di Granata, ma in tutto ‘l resto della Spagna medesimamente, non sono molto industriosi, ne piantano, ne lavorano volontieri la terra; ma se danno ad altro, e piu volontieri vanno alia guerra, o alle Indie ad acquistarsi faculta, che per tal vie.” (Viaggio, fol. 25.) Testimonies to the same purport thicken, as the stream of history descends. See several collected by Capmany (Mem. de Barcelona, tom. iii. pp. 358, et seq.), who certainly cannot be charged with ministering to the vanity of his countrymen.

[154] One may trace its immediate influence in the writings of a man like the Curate of Los Palacios, naturally, as it would seem, of an amiable, humane disposition; but who complacently remarks, “They (Ferdinand and Isabella) lighted up the fires for the heretics, in which, with good reason, they have burnt, and shall continue to burn, so long as a soul of them remains”! (Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 7.) It becomes more perceptible in the literature of later times, and, what is singular, most of all in the lighter departments of poetry and fiction, which seem naturally devoted to purposes of pleasure. No one can estimate the full influence of the Inquisition in perverting moral sense, and infusing the deadly venom of misanthropy into the heart, who has not perused the works of the great Castilian poets, of Lope de Vega, Ercilla, above all Calderon, whose lips seem to have been touched with fire from the very altars of this accursed tribunal.

[155] The late secretary of the Inquisition has made an elaborate computation of the number of its victims. According to him, 13,000 were publicly burned by the several tribunals of Castile and Aragon, and 191,413 suffered other punishments, between 1481, the date of the commencement of the modern institution, and 1518. (Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. iv. chap. 46.) Llorente appears to have come to these appalling results by a very plausible process of calculation, and without any design to exaggerate. Nevertheless, his data are exceedingly imperfect, and he has himself, on a revision, considerably reduced, in his fourth volume, the original estimates in the first. I find good grounds for reducing them still further. 1. He quotes Mariana, for the fact, that 2000 suffered martyrdom at Seville, in 1481, and makes this the basis of his calculations for the other tribunals of the kingdom. Marineo, a contemporary, on the other hand, states, that “in the course of a few years they burned nearly 2000 heretics;” thus not only diffusing this amount over a greater period of time, but embracing all the tribunals then existing in the country. (Cosas Memorables, fol. 164.) 2. Bernaldez states, that five-sixths of the Jews resided in the kingdom of Castile.

(Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 110.) Llorente, however, has assigned an equal amount of victims to each of the five tribunals of Aragon, with those of the sister kingdom, excepting only Seville.

One might reasonably distrust Llorente’s tables, from the facility with which he receives the most improbable estimates in other matters, as, for example, the number of banished Jews, which he puts at 800,000. (Hist. de l’Inquisition, tom. i. p. 261.) I have shown, from contemporary sources, that this number did not probably exceed 160,000, or, at most, 170,000.

(Part I., Chapter 17.) Indeed, the cautious Zurita, borrowing, probably, from the same authorities, cites the latter number. (Anales, tom. v. fol.

9.) Mariana, who owes so much of his narrative to the Aragonese historian, converting, as it would appear, these 170,000 individuals into families, states the whole in round numbers, at 800,000 souls. (Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 26, cap. 1.) Llorente, not content with this, swells the amount still further, by that of the Moorish exiles, and by emigrants to the New World, (on what authority?) to 2,000,000; and, going on with the process, computes that this loss may fairly infer one of 8,000,000
inhabitants to Spain, at the present day! (Ibid., ubi supra.) Thus the mischief imputed to the Catholic sovereigns goes on increasing in a sort of arithmetical progression, with the duration of the monarchy.

Nothing is so striking to the imagination as numerical estimates; they speak a volume in themselves, saving a world of periphrasis and argument; nothing is so difficult to form with exactness, or even probability, when they relate to an early period; and nothing more carelessly received, and confidently circulated. The enormous statements of the Jewish exiles, and the baseless ones of the Moorish, are not peculiar to Llorente, but have been repeated, without the slightest qualification or distrust, by most modern historians and travellers.

[156] In the two closing Chapters of Part I. of this History, I have noticed the progress of letters in this reign; the last which displayed the antique coloring and truly national characteristics of Castilian poetry. There were many circumstances, which operated, at this period, to work an important revolution, and subject the poetry of the Peninsula to a foreign influence. The Italian Muse, after her long silence, since the age of the tricentisti, had again revived, and poured forth such ravishing strains, as made themselves heard and felt in every corner of Europe.

Spain, in particular, was open to their influence. Her language had an intimate affinity with the Italian. The improved taste and culture of the period led to a diligent study of foreign models. Many Spaniards, as we have seen, went abroad to perfect themselves in the schools of Italy; while Italian teachers filled some of the principal chairs in the Spanish universities. Lastly, the acquisition of Naples, the land of Sannazaro and of a host of kindred spirits, opened an obvious communication with the literature of that country. With the nation thus prepared, it was not difficult for a genius like that of Boscan, supported by the tender and polished Garcilasso, and by Mendoza, whose stern spirit found relief in images of pastoral tranquillity and ease, to recommend the more finished forms of Italian versification to their countrymen. These poets were all born in Isabella’s reign. The first of them, the principal means of effecting this literary revolution, singularly enough, was a Catalan, whose compositions in the Castilian proved the ascendency which this dialect had already obtained. The second, Garcilasso de la Vega, was son of the distinguished statesman and diplomatist of that name, so often noticed in our History; and Mendoza was a younger son of the amiable count of Tendilla, the governor of Granada, whom he resembled in nothing but his genius. Both the elder Garcilasso and Tendilla had represented their sovereigns at the papal court, where they doubtless became tinctured with that relish for the Italian, which produced such results in the education of their children.

The new revolution penetrated far below the superficial forms of versification; and the Castilian poet relinquished, with his redondillas
and artless asonantes, the homely, but heartful themes of the olden time; or, if he dwelt on them, it was with an air of studied elegance and precision, very remote from the Doric simplicity and freshness of the romantic minstrelsy. If he aspired to some bolder theme, it was rarely suggested by the stirring and patriotic recollections of his nation’s history. Thus, nature and the rude graces of a primitive age gave way to superior refinement and lettered elegance; many popular blemishes were softened down, a purer and nobler standard was attained, but the national characteristics were effaced; beauty was everywhere, but it was the beauty of art, not of nature. The change itself was perfectly natural. It corresponded with the external circumstances of the nation, and its transition from an insulated position to a component part of the great European commonwealth, which subjected it to other influences and principles of taste, and obliterated, to a certain extent, the peculiar features of the national physiognomy.

How far the poetic literature of Castile was benefited by the change, has been matter of long and hot debate between the critics of the country, in which I shall not involve the reader. The revolution, however, was the growth of circumstances, and was immediately effected by individuals, belonging to the age of Ferdinand and Isabella. As such, I had originally proposed to devote a separate chapter to its illustration. But I have been deterred from it by the unexpected length, to which the work has already extended, as well as by the consideration, on a nearer view, that these results, though prepared under a preceding reign, properly fall under the domestic history of Charles V.; a history which still remains to be written. But who will attempt a pendant to the delineations of Robertson?

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