MS., año 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 tantâ securitate et fiduciâ 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 Católicos, 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] Fléchier, 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 España, lib. 29, cap. 22.–Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 122-124.–Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 222.–Zurita gives at length the capitulation with Algiers, lib. 9, cap. 13.
[21] Chénier, 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 Brantôme, 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.–Brantôme, 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 Fléchier appears to have no misgivings as to the truth of these old wives’ tales. (Histoire de Ximenés, 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] Fléchier, Histoire de Ximenés, p. 597.
[26] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.–Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 16.– Quintanilla, Archetypo, p. 178.–Colmenar, Délices 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.” Fléchier, Histoire de Ximenés, 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. “Trovó 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] “Alcalá 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 istâ Apostolicâ bibliothecâ antiquissimos tam Veteris quam Novi codices perquam humane ad nos misisti.” Biblia Polyglotta, (Compluti, 1514-17,) Prólogo.
[36] “Maximam,” says the cardinal in his Preface, “laboris nostri partem in eo praecipue fuisse versatam; ut et virorum in linguarum cognitione eminentissimorum operâ 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, Prólogo.
[37] Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 39.–Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 10.
[38] Martyr speaks of Ximenes, in one of his epistles, as “doctrinâ 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 Nuñez, or Pinciano, of whom the reader has had some account, Lopez de Zuñiga, 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 £63.
[42] “Industriâ et solertiâ 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 Alcalá 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 Alcalá, 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 imperitiâ simul et negligentiâ frequentissimè accidere videmus), ad primam Scriptunae originem recurrendum est.” Biblia Polyglotta, Compluti, Prólogo.
[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 Alcalá 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 Alcalá, 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 Alcalá 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 Hélian. “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’Allègre, who lost his own life in the _mêlée_, 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 Française, tom. i. pp. 282, 283.
[3] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 78.
[4] Flassan, Diplomatie Française, 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 créance.”
Oeuvres de Clément 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 España, 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] Mémoires de Bayard, chap. 30.–Fleurange, Mémoires, chap. 8.– Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 183.
Jean Marot describes the execution in the following cool and summary style.
“Ce chastelain de là, aussi le capitaine, Pour la derrision et response vilaine
Qu’ils firent au hérault, 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 abbé 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 Católicos, MS., cap. 221.–Fleurange, Mémoires, 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.-Mémoires de Bayard, chap. 46.–Fleurange, Mémoires, chap. 26.–Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 225.
[14] Istoria, lib. 9, p. 135.–Carbajal, Anales, MS., año 1511.– Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, 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 España, 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 España, 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 España, 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 Vicerè, e per errore che abbia fatto non l’ha gustigato, ma più presto fatto più grande, e si può 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 Católicos, 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.–Mémoires de Bayard, chap. 48.– Fleurange, Mémoires, 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 verrâ inanco Tedesco, Ispano, Greco, Italo, e Franco.” Orlando Furioso, canto 3, st. 55.
[20] Brantôme, Vies des Hommes Illustres, disc. 6.–Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, pp. 290-305.–Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 231, 233.–Mémoires de Bayard, chap. 54.–Du Bellay, Mémoires, apud Petitot, Collection des Mémoires, tom. xvii. p. 234.–Fleurange, Mémoires, 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] Mémoires de Bayard, chap. 54.–Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. v. lib. 10, pp. 306-309.–Peter Martyr, epist. 483.–Brantôme, 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, (Républiques 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, Rivalité, 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. (Mémoires 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.– Chrónica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7.–Mariana, Hist. de España, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap. 9.–Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, p. 288.– Carbajal, Anales, MS., año 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 Français, 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] Mémoires de Bayard, chap. 55.–Fleurange, Mémoires, 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 España, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap. 21.–Fleurange, Mémoires, chap. 36, 37.–Also an original letter of King Ferdinand to Archbishop Deza, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, 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 Orthès.–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 Logroño, 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 Secrétaires Interprettes de sa Maiesté” 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 Ibañez, 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 Geográfico-Histórico de España, por la Real Academia de la Historia, (Madrid, 1802,) tom. ii. p. 117.
[3] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 13.–Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 9, cap. 54.–Sismondi, Hist. des Français, 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 Católicos, 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 España, 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 señales
del rostro, qu’ eran tales, qu’ esperança i cierta confiança 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 Católicos, 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 Católicos, 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 Católicos, 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 Católicos, 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, Logroño, November 12th, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 236.–Mariana, Hist. de España, 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] Mémoires de Bayard, chap. 55, 56.–Fleurange, Mémoires, chap. 33.– Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 8, 9.–Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.–Carbajal, Anales, MS., año 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 Française, 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 España, 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. p. 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 Orthès, 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 Français, 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 Católicos, 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., año 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., año 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. (Monarquía, 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 España, 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, _maître des cérémonies_ 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. (Bréquigny, Manuscrits de la Bibliothèque 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., año 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 Católicos, 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 Ureña, 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, Doña 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