The situation of these unfortunate princes was in the highest degree embarrassing. The neutrality they had so long and sedulously maintained was now to be abandoned; and their choice, whichever party they espoused, must compromise their possessions on one or the other side of the Pyrenees, in exchange for an ally, whose friendship had proved by repeated experience quite as disastrous as his enmity. In this dilemma they sent ambassadors into Castile, to obtain some modification of the terms, or at least to protract negotiations till some definitive arrangement should be made with Louis the Twelfth. [9]

On the 17th of July, their plenipotentiaries signed a treaty with that monarch at Blois, by which France and Navarre mutually agreed to defend each other, in case of attack, against all enemies whatever. By another provision, obviously directed against Spain, it was stipulated, that neither nation should allow a passage to the enemies of the other through its dominions. And, by a third, Navarre pledged herself to declare war on the English now assembled in Guipuscoa, and all those co-operating with them. [10]

Through a singular accident, Ferdinand was made acquainted with the principal articles of this treaty before its signature. [11] His army had remained inactive in its quarters around Victoria, ever since the landing of the English. He now saw the hopelessness of further negotiation, and, determining to anticipate the stroke prepared for him, commanded his general to invade without delay, and occupy Navarre.

The duke of Alva crossed the borders on the 21st of July, proclaiming that no harm should be offered to those who voluntarily submitted. On the 23d, he arrived before Pampelona. King John, who all the while he had been thus dallying with the lion, had made no provision for defence, had already abandoned his capital, leaving it to make the best terms it could for itself. On the following day, the city, having first obtained assurance of respect for all its franchises and immunities, surrendered; "a circumstance," devoutly exclaims King Ferdinand, "in which we truly discern the hand of our blessed Lord, whose miraculous interposition has been visible through all this enterprise, undertaken for the weal of the church, and the extirpation of the accursed schism." [12]

The royal exile, in the mean while, had retreated to Lumbier, where he solicited the assistance of the duke of Longueville, then encamped on the northern frontier for the defence of Bayonne. The French commander, however, stood too much in awe of the English, still lying in Guipuscoa, to weaken himself by a detachment into Navarre; and the unfortunate monarch, unsupported, either by his own subjects or his new ally, was compelled to cross the mountains, and take refuge with his family in France. [13]

The duke of Alva lost no time in pressing his advantage; opening the way by a proclamation of the Catholic king, that it was intended only to hold possession of the country as security for the pacific disposition of its sovereigns, until the end of his present expedition against Guienne. From whatever cause, the Spanish general experienced so little resistance, that in less than a fortnight he overran and subdued nearly the whole of Upper Navarre. So short a time sufficed for the subversion of a monarchy, which, in defiance of storm and stratagem, had maintained its independence unimpaired, with a few brief exceptions, for seven centuries. [14]

On reviewing these extraordinary events, we are led to distrust the capacity and courage of a prince, who could so readily abandon his kingdom, without so much as firing a shot in its defence. John had shown, however, on more than one occasion, that he was destitute of neither. He was not, it must be confessed, of the temper best suited to the fierce and stirring times on which he was cast. He was of an amiable disposition, social and fond of pleasure, and so little jealous of his royal dignity, that he mixed freely in the dances and other entertainments of the humblest of his subjects. His greatest defect was the facility with which he reposed the cares of state on favorites, not always the most deserving. His greatest merit was his love of letters. [15] Unfortunately, neither his merits nor defects were of a kind best adapted to extricate him from his present perilous situation, or enable him to cope with his wily and resolute adversary. For this, however, more commanding talents might well have failed. The period had arrived, when, in the regular progress of events, Navarre must yield up her independence to the two great nations on her borders; who, attracted by the strength of her natural position, and her political weakness, would be sure, now that their own domestic discords were healed, to claim each the moiety, which seemed naturally to fall within its own territorial limits. Particular events might accelerate or retard this result, but it was not in the power of human genius to avert its final consummation.

King Ferdinand, who descried the storm now gathering on the side of France, resolved to meet it promptly, and commanded his general to cross the mountains, and occupy the districts of Lower Navarre. In this he expected the co-operation of the English. But he was disappointed. The marquis of Dorset alleged that the time consumed in the reduction of Navarre made it too late for the expedition against Guienne, which was now placed in a posture of defence. He loudly complained that his master had been duped by the Catholic king, who had used his ally to make conquests solely for himself; and, in spite of every remonstrance, he re-embarked his whole force, without waiting for orders; "a proceeding," says Ferdinand in one of his letters, "which touches me most deeply, from the stain it leaves on the honor of the most serene king my son-in-law, and the glory of the English nation, so distinguished in times past for high and chivalrous emprize." [16]

The duke of Alva, thus unsupported, was no match for the French under Longueville, strengthened, moreover, by the veteran corps returned from Italy, with the brave La Palice. Indeed, he narrowly escaped being hemmed in between the two armies, and only succeeded in anticipating by a few hours the movements of La Palice, so as to make good his retreat through the pass of Roncesvalles, and throw himself into Pampelona. [17] Hither he was speedily followed by the French general, accompanied by Jean d'Albret. On the 27th of November, the besiegers made a desperate though ineffectual assault on the city, which was repeated with equal ill fortune on the two following days. The beleaguering forces, in the mean time, were straitened for provisions; and at length, after a siege of some weeks, on learning the arrival of fresh reinforcements under the duke of Najara, [18] they broke up their encampment, and withdrew across the mountains; and with them faded the last ray of hope for the restoration of the unfortunate monarch of Navarre. [19]

On the 1st of April, in the following year, 1513, Ferdinand effected a truce with Louis the Twelfth, embracing their respective territories west of the Alps. It continued a year, and at its expiration was renewed for a similar time. [20] This arrangement, by which Louis sacrificed the interests of his ally the king of Navarre, gave Ferdinand ample time for settling and fortifying his new conquests; while it left the war open in a quarter, where he well knew, others were more interested than himself to prosecute it with vigor. The treaty must be allowed to be more defensible on the score of policy, than of good faith. [21] The allies loudly inveighed against the treachery of their confederate, who had so unscrupulously sacrificed the common interest, by relieving France from the powerful diversion he was engaged to make on her western borders. It is no justification of wrong, that similar wrongs have been committed by others; but those who commit them (and there was not one of the allies, who could escape the imputation, amid the political profligacy of the times,) certainly forfeit the privilege to complain. [22]

Ferdinand availed himself of the interval of repose, now secured, to settle his new conquests. He had transferred his residence first to Burgos and afterwards to Logrono, that he might be near the theatre of operations. He was indefatigable in raising reinforcements and supplies, and expressed his intention at one time, notwithstanding the declining state of his health, to take the command in person. He showed his usual sagacity in various regulations for improving the police, healing the domestic feuds,—as fatal to Navarre as the arms of its enemies,—and confirming and extending its municipal privileges and immunities, so as to conciliate the affections of his new subjects. [23]

On the 23d of March, 1513, the estates of Navarre took the usual oaths of allegiance to King Ferdinand. [24] On the 15th of June, 1515, the Catholic monarch by a solemn act in cortes, held at Burgos, incorporated his new conquests into the kingdom of Castile. [25] The event excited some surprise, considering his more intimate relations with Aragon. But it was to the arms of Castile that he was chiefly indebted for the conquest; and it was on her superior wealth and resources that he relied for maintaining it. With this was combined the politic consideration, that the Navarrese, naturally turbulent and factious, would be held more easily in subordination when associated with Castile, than with Aragon, where the spirit of independence was higher, and often manifested itself in such bold assertion of popular rights, as falls most unwelcome on a royal ear. To all this must be added the despair of issue by his present marriage, which had much abated his personal interest in enlarging the extent of his patrimonial domains.

Foreign writers characterize the conquest of Navarre as a bold, unblushing usurpation, rendered more odious by the mask of religious hypocrisy. The national writers, on the other hand, have employed their pens industriously to vindicate it; some endeavoring to rake a good claim for Castile out of its ancient union with Navarre, almost as ancient, indeed, as the Moorish conquest. Others resort to considerations of expediency, relying on the mutual benefits of the connection to both kingdoms; arguments which prove little else than the weakness of the cause. [26] All lay more or less stress on the celebrated bull of Julius the Second, of February 18th, 1512, by which he excommunicated the sovereigns of Navarre, as heretics, schismatics, and enemies of the church, releasing their subjects from their allegiance, laying their dominions under an interdict, and delivering them over to any who should take, or had already taken, possession of them. [27] Most, indeed, are content to rest on this, as the true basis and original ground of the conquest. The total silence of the Catholic king respecting this document, before the invasion, and the omission of the national historians since to produce it, have caused much skepticism as to its existence. And, although its recent publication puts this beyond doubt, the instrument contains, in my judgment, strong internal evidence for distrusting the accuracy of the date affixed to it, which should have been posterior to the invasion; a circumstance materially affecting the argument; and which makes the papal sentence, not the original basis of the war, but only a sanction subsequently obtained to cover its injustice, and authorize retaining the fruits of it. [28]

But, whatever authority such a sanction may have had in the sixteenth century, it will find little respect in the present, at least beyond the limits of the Pyrenees. The only way, in which the question can be fairly tried, must be by those maxims of public law universally recognized as settling the intercourse of civilized nations; a science, indeed, imperfectly developed at that time, but in its general principles the same as now, founded, as these are, on the immutable basis of morality and justice.

We must go back a step beyond the war, to the proximate cause of it. This was Ferdinand's demand of a free passage for his troops through Navarre. The demand was perfectly fair, and in ordinary cases would doubtless have been granted by a neutral nation. But that nation must, after all, be the only judge of its propriety, and Navarre may find a justification for her refusal on these grounds. First, that, in her weak and defenceless state, it was attended with danger to herself. Secondly, that, as by a previous and existing treaty with Spain, the validity of which was recognized in her new one of July 17th with France, she had agreed to refuse the right of passage to the latter nation, she consequently could not grant it to Spain without a violation of her neutrality. [29] Thirdly, that the demand of a passage, however just in itself, was coupled with another, the surrender of the fortresses, which must compromise the independence of the kingdom. [30]

But although, for these reasons, the sovereigns of Navarre were warranted in refusing Ferdinand's request, they were not therefore authorized to declare war against him, which they virtually did by entering into a defensive alliance with his enemy Louis the Twelfth, and by pledging themselves to make war on the English and their confederates; an article pointedly directed at the Catholic king.

True, indeed, the treaty of Blois had not received the ratification of the Navarrese sovereigns; but it was executed by their plenipotentiaries duly authorized; and, considering the intimate intercourse between the two nations, was undoubtedly made with their full knowledge and concurrence. Under these circumstances, it was scarcely to be expected, that King Ferdinand, when an accident had put him in possession of the result of these negotiations, should wait for a formal declaration of hostilities, and thus deprive himself of the advantage of anticipating the blow of his enemy.

The right of making war would seem to include that of disposing of its fruits; subject, however, to those principles of natural equity, which should regulate every action, whether of a public or private nature. No principle can be clearer, for example, than that the penalty should be proportioned to the offence. Now that inflicted on the sovereigns of Navarre, which went so far as to dispossess them of their crown, and annihilate the political existence of their kingdom, was such as nothing but extraordinary aggressions on the part of the conquered nation, or the self-preservation of the victors, could justify. As neither of these contingencies existed in the present case, Ferdinand's conduct must be regarded as a flagrant example of the abuse of the rights of conquest. We have been but too familiar, indeed, with similar acts of political injustice, and on a much larger scale, in the present civilized age. But, although the number and splendor of the precedents may blunt our sensibility to the atrocity of the act, they can never constitute a legitimate warrant for its perpetration.

While thus freely condemning Ferdinand's conduct in this transaction, I cannot go along with those, who, having inspected the subject less minutely, are disposed to regard it as the result of a cool, premeditated policy from the outset. The propositions originally made by him to Navarre appear to have been conceived in perfect good faith. The requisition of the fortresses, impudent as it may seem, was nothing more than had been before made in Isabella's time, when it had been granted, and the security subsequently restored, as soon as the emergency had passed away. [31] The alternative proposed, of entering into the Holy League, presented many points of view so favorable to Navarre, that Ferdinand, ignorant, as he then was, of the precise footing on which she stood with France, might have seen no improbability in her closing with it. Had either alternative been embraced, there would have been no pretext for the invasion. Even when hostilities had been precipitated by the impolitic conduct of Navarre, Ferdinand (to judge, not from his public manifestoes only, but from his private correspondence) would seem to have at first contemplated holding the country only till the close of his French expedition. [32] But the facility of retaining these conquests, when once acquired, was too strong a temptation. It was easy to find some plausible pretext to justify it, and obtain such a sanction from the highest authority, as should veil the injustice of the transaction from the world,—and from his own eyes. And that these were blinded is but too true, if, as an Aragonese historian declares, he could remark on his death-bed, "that, independently of the conquest having been undertaken at the instance of the sovereign pontiff, for the extirpation of the schism, he felt his conscience as easy in keeping it, as in keeping his crown of Aragon." [33]

* * * * *

I have made use of three authorities exclusively devoted to Navarre, in the present History. 1. "L'Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, par un des Secretaires Interprettes de sa Maieste" Paris, 1596, 8vo. This anonymous work, from the pen of one of Henry IV.'s secretaries, is little else than a meagre compilation of facts, and these deeply colored by the national prejudices of the writer. It derives some value from this circumstance, however, in the contrast it affords to the Spanish version of the same transactions. 2. A tract entitled "Aelii Antonii Nebrissensis de Bello Navariensi Libri Duo." It covers less than thirty pages folio, and is chiefly occupied, as the title imports, with the military events of the conquest by the duke of Alva. It was originally incorporated in the volume containing its learned author's version, or rather paraphrase, of Pulgar's Chronicle, with some other matters; and first appeared from the press of the younger Lebrija, "apud inclytam Granatam, 1545." 3. But the great work illustrating the history of Navarre is the "Annales del Reyno;" of which the best edition is that in seven volumes, folio, from the press of Ibanez, Pamplona, 1766. Its typographical execution would be creditable to any country. The three first volumes were written by Moret, whose profound acquaintance with the antiquities of his nation has made his book indispensable to the student of this portion of its history. The fourth and fifth are the continuation of his work by Francisco de Aleson, a Jesuit who succeeded Moret as historiographer of Navarre. The two last volumes are devoted to investigations illustrating the antiquities of Navarre, from the pen of Moret, and are usually published separately from his great historic work. Aleson's continuation, extending from 1350 to 1527, is a production of considerable merit. It shows extensive research on the part of its author, who, however, has not always confined himself to the most authentic and accredited sources of information. His references exhibit a singular medley of original contemporary documents, and apocryphal authorities of a very recent date. Though a Navarrese, he has written with the impartiality of one in whom local prejudices were extinguished in the more comprehensive national feelings of a Spaniard.

FOOTNOTES

[1] See Part I. Chapters 10, 12.

[2] Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 567, 570.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 34, cap. 1, fol.—Diccionario Geografico-Historico de Espana, por la Real Academia de la Historia, (Madrid, 1802,) tom. ii. p. 117.

[3] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 13.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 9, cap. 54.—Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. p. 500.

[4] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, ubi supra.

[5] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, p. 147.—See also the king's letter to Deza, dated at Burgos, July 20th, 1512, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 235.

[6] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. p. 245.—Herbert, Life and Raigne of Henry VIII., (London, 1649,) p. 20.—Holinshed, Chronicles, p.568, (London, 1810.)—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ix. p. 315.

His Valencian editors correct his text, by substituting marquis of Dorchester!

[7] The young poet, Garcilasso de la Vega, gives a brilliant sketch of this stern old nobleman in his younger days, such as our imagination would scarcely have formed of him at any period.

"Otro Marte 'n guerra, en corte Febo. Mostravase mancebo en las senales del rostro, qu' eran tales, qu' esperanca i cierta confianca claro davan a cuantos le miravan; qu' el seria, en quien s' informaria un ser divino." Obras, ed. de Herrera, p. 505.

[8] Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 3.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi lib. 10, cap. 4, 5.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 15.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 488.—Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., ubi supra.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 25.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 25.

[9] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 7, 8.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 487.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 25.

[10] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no. 69.—Carta del Rey a D. Diego Deza, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 235.

[11] A confidential secretary of King Jean of Navarre was murdered in his sleep by his mistress. His papers, containing the heads of the proposed treaty with France, fell into the hands of a priest of Pampelona, who was induced by the hopes of a reward to betray them to Ferdinand. The story is told by Martyr, in a letter dated July 18th, 1512. (Opus Epist., epist. 490.) Its truth is attested by the conformity of the proposed terms with those of the actual treaty.

[12] Carta del Rey a D. Diego Deza, Burgos, July 26th, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 620- 627.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 495.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 15.

Bernaldez has incorporated into his chronicle several letters of King Ferdinand, written during the progress of the war. It is singular, that, coming from so high a source, they should not have been more freely resorted to by the Spanish writers. They are addressed to his confessor, Deza, archbishop of Seville, with whom Bernaldez, curate of a parish in his diocese, was, as appears from other parts of his work, on terms of intimacy.

[13] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 15.—Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, p. 622.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 4.—"Jean d'Albret you were born," said Catharine to her unfortunate husband, as they were flying from their kingdom, "and Jean d'Albret you will die. Had I been king, and you queen, we had been reigning in Navarre at this moment." (Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 26.) Father Abarca treats the story as an old wife's tale, and Garibay as an old woman for repeating it. Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.

[14] Manifiesto del Rey D. Fernando, July 30th, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 5.— Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 26.

[15] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 2.—Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 603, 604.

[16] 16 See the king's third letter to Deza, Logrono, November 12th, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap. 12.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 7.— Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 499.—Herbert, Life of Henry VIII., p. 24.—Holinshed, Chronicles, p. 571.

[17] Garcilasso de la Vega alludes to these military exploits of the duke, in his second eclogue.

"Con mas ilustre nombre los arneses de los fieros Franceses abollava." Obras, ed. de Herrera, p. 505.

[18] Such was the power of the old duke of Najara, that he brought into the field on this occasion 1100 horse and 3000 foot, raised and equipped on his own estates. Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 507.

[19] Memoires de Bayard, chap. 55, 56.—Fleurange, Memoires, chap. 33.— Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 8, 9.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1512.

Jean and Catharine d'Albret passed the remainder of their days in their territories on the French side of the Pyrenees. They made one more faint and fruitless attempt to recover their dominions during the regency of Cardinal Ximenes. (Carbajal, Anales, MS., cap. 12.) Broken in spirits, their health gradually declined, and neither of them long survived the loss of their crown. Jean died June 23d, 1517, and Catharine followed on the 12th of February of the next year;—happy, at least, that, as misfortune had no power to divide them in life, so they were not long separated by death. (Histoire du Royaume de Navarre, p. 643.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 20, 21.) Their bodies sleep side by side in the cathedral church of Lescar, in their own dominions of Bearne; and their fate is justly noticed by the Spanish historians as one of the most striking examples of that stern decree, by which the sins of the fathers are visited on the children to the third and fourth generation.

[20] Flassan, Diplomatie Francaise, tom. i. p 296.—Rymer, Foedera, tom. xiii. pp. 350-352.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 11, p82, lib. 12, p. 168.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap 22.—"Fu cosa ridicola," says Guicciardini in relation to this truce, "che nei medesimi giorni, che la si bandiva solennemente per tutta. Ja Spagna, venne en araldo a significargli in nome del Re d'Ingbilterra gli apparati potentissimi, che ei faceva per assaltare la Francia, e a sollecitare che egli medesimamente movesse, secondo che aveva promesso, la guerra dalla parte di Spagna." Istoria, tom. vi. lib. 12, p. 84.

[21] Francesco Vettori, the Florentine ambassador at the papal court, writes to Machiavelli, that he lay awake two hours that night speculating on the real motives of the Catholic king in making this truce, which, regarded simply as a matter of policy, he condemns in toto. He accompanies this with various predictions respecting the consequences likely to result from it. These consequences never occurred, however; and the failure of his predictions may be received as the best refutation of his arguments. Machiavelli, Opere, Lett. Famigl. Aprile 21 1513.

[22] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. vi. lib. II, pp. 81, 82.—Machiavelli, Opere, ubi supra.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 538.

On the 5th of April a treaty was concluded at Mechlin, in the names of Ferdinand, the king of England, the emperor, and the pope. (Rymer, Foedera, tom. xiii. pp. 354-358.) The Castilian envoy, Don Luis Carroz, was not present at Mechlin, but it was ratified and solemnly sworn to by him, on behalf of his sovereign, in London, April 18th. (Ibid., tom. xiii. 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 Orthes, and if made with the privity of King Ferdinand, must be allowed to be a gratuitous display of perfidy, not easily matched in that age. As such, of course, it is stigmatized by the French historians, that is the later ones, for I find no comment on it in contemporary writers. (See Rapin, History of England, translated by Tindal, (London, 1785-9,) vol. ii. pp. 93, 94. Sismondi, Hist. des Francais, tom. xv. p. 626.) Ferdinand, when applied to by Henry VIII. to ratify the acts of his minister, in the following summer, refused, on the ground that the latter had transcended his powers. (Herbert, Life of Henry VIII., p. 29.) The Spanish writers are silent. His assertion derives some probability from the tenor of one of the articles, which provides, that in case he refuses to confirm the treaty, it shall still be binding between England and the emperor; language which, as it anticipates, may seem to authorize, such a contingency.

Public treaties have, for obvious reasons, been generally received as the surest basis for history. One might well doubt this, who attempts to reconcile the multifarious discrepancies and contradictions in those of the period under review. The science of diplomacy, as then practised, was a mere game of finesse and falsehood, in which the more solemn the protestations of the parties, the more ground for distrusting their sincerity.

[23] Carta del Rey a Don Diego Deza, Nov. 12th, 1512, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 236.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 16.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 13, 36, 43.— Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1512.

[24] Hist. du Royaume de Navarre, pp. 629, 630.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 16.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 30, cap. 1.

[25] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 92.—Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1515.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 30, cap. 1.—Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom, v. lib. 35, cap. 7.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 26.

[26] The honest canon Salazar de Mendoza, (taking the hint from Lebrija, indeed,) finds abundant warrant for Ferdinand's treatment of Navarre in the hard measure dealt by the Israelites of old to the people of Ephron, and to Sihon, king of the Amorites. (Monarquia, tom. i. lib. 3, cap. 6.) It might seem strange, that a Christian should look for authority in the practices of the race he so much abominates, instead of the inspired precepts of the Founder of his religion! But in truth your thoroughbred casuist is apt to be very little of a Christian.

[27] See the original bull of Julius II., apud Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ix. Apend. no. 2, ed. Valencia, 1796.—"Joannem et Catharinam," says the bull, in the usual conciliatory style of the Vatican, "perditionis filios,—excommunicatos, anathemizatos, maledictos, aeterni supplicii reos," etc., etc. "Our armies swore terribly in Flanders, cried my uncle Toby,—but nothing to this. For my own part I could not have a heart to curse my dog so."

[28] The ninth volume of the splendid Valencian edition of Mariana contains in the Appendix the famous bull of Julius II. of Feb. 18th, 1512, the original of which is to be found in the royal archives of Barcelona. The editor, Don Francisco Ortiz y Sanz, has accompanied it with an elaborate disquisition, in which he makes the apostolic sentence the great authority for the conquest. It was a great triumph undoubtedly, to be able to produce the document, to which the Spanish historians had been so long challenged in vain by foreign writers, and the existence of which might well be doubted, since no record of it appears on the papal register. (Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.) Paris de Grassis, maitre des ceremonies of the chapel of Julius II. and Leo X., makes no mention of bull or excommunication, although very exact and particular in reporting such facts. (Brequigny, Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque du Roy, tom. ii. p. 570.) There is no reason that I know for doubting the genuineness of the present instrument. There are conclusive reasons to my mind, however, for rejecting its date, and assigning it to some time posterior to the conquest.

1st. The bull denounces John and Catharine as having openly joined themselves to Louis XII., and borne arms with him against England, Spain, and the church; a charge for which there was no pretence till five months later.—2d. With this bull the editor has given another, dated Rome, July 21st, 1512, noticed by Peter Martyr. (Opus Epist., epist. 497.) This latter is general in its import, being directed against all nations whatever, engaged in alliance with France against the church. The sovereigns of Navarre are not even mentioned, nor the nation itself, any further than to warn it of the imminent danger in which it stood of falling into the schism. Now it is obvious that this second bull, so general in its import, would have been entirely superfluous in reference to Navarre, after the publication of the first; while, on the other hand, nothing could be more natural than that these general menaces and warnings, having proved ineffectual, should be followed by the particular sentence of excommunication contained in the bull of February.—3d. In fact, the bull of February makes repeated allusion to a former one, in such a manner as to leave no doubt that the bull of July 21st is intended; since not only the sentiments, but the very form of expression, are perfectly coincident in both for whole sentences together.—4th. Ferdinand makes no mention of the papal excommunication, either in his private correspondence, where he discusses the grounds of the war, or in his manifesto to the Navarrese, where it would have served his purpose quite as effectually as his arms. I say nothing of the negative evidence afforded by the silence of contemporary writers, as Lebrija, Carbajal, Bernaldez, and Martyr, who, while they allude to a sentence of excommunication passed in the consistory, or to the publication of the bull of July, give no intimation of the existence of that of February; a silence altogether inexplicable. The inference from all this is, that the date of the bull of February 18th, 1512, is erroneous; that it should be placed at some period posterior to the conquest, and consequently could not have served as the ground of it; but was probably obtained at the instance of the Catholic king, in order, by the odium which it threw on the sovereigns of Navarre, as excommunicate, to remove that under which he lay himself, and at the same time secure what might be deemed a sufficient warrant for retaining his acquisitions.

Readers in general may think more time has been spent on the discussion than it is worth. But the important light, in which it is viewed by those who entertain more deference for a papal decree, is sufficiently attested by the length and number of disquisitions on it, down to the present century.

[29] Dumont, Corps Diplomatique, tom. iv. part. 1, no. 69.

[30] According to Galindez de Carbajal, only three fortresses were originally demanded by Ferdinand. (Anales, MS., ano 1512.) He may have confounded the number with that said to have been finally conceded by the king of Navarre; a concession, however, which amounted to little, since it excluded by name two of the most important places required, and the sincerity of which may well be doubted, if, as it would seem, it was not made till after the negotiations with France had been adjusted. See Zurita, Anales, lib. 10, cap. 7.

[31] Aleson, Annales de Navarra, tom. v. lib. 35, cap. 1, 3.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. iii. lib. 29, cap. 13.

[32] See King Ferdinand's letter, July 20th, and his manifesto, July 30th, 1512, apud Bernaldez, Reyes Catolicos, MS., cap. 235.—Lebrija, De Bello Navariensi, lib. 1, cap. 7.

[33] Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 21.



CHAPTER XXIV.

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

1513-1516.

Gonsalvo Ordered to Italy.—General Enthusiasm.—The King's Distrust.— Gonsalvo in Retirement.—Decline of his Health.—His Death and Noble Character.—Ferdinand's Illness.—It Increases.—He Dies.—His Character. —A Contrast to Isabella.—The Judgment of his Contemporaries.

Notwithstanding the good order which King Ferdinand maintained in Castile by his energetic conduct, as well as by his policy of diverting the effervescing spirits of the nation to foreign enterprise, he still experienced annoyance from various causes. Among these were Maximilian's pretensions to the regency, as paternal grandfather of the heir apparent. The emperor, indeed, had more than once threatened to assert his preposterous claims to Castile in person; and, although this Quixotic monarch, who had been tilting against windmills all his life, failed to excite any powerful sensation, either by his threats or his promises, it furnished a plausible pretext for keeping alive a faction hostile to the interests of the Catholic king.

In the winter of 1509, an arrangement was made with the emperor, through the mediation of Louis the Twelfth, by which he finally relinquished his pretensions to the regency of Castile, in consideration of the aid of three hundred lances, and the transfer to him of the fifty thousand ducats, which Ferdinand was to receive from Pisa. [1] No bribe was too paltry for a prince, whose means were as narrow, as his projects were vast and chimerical. Even after this pacification, the Austrian party contrived to disquiet the king, by maintaining the archduke Charles's pretensions to the government in the name of his unfortunate mother; until at length, the Spanish monarch came to entertain not merely distrust, but positive aversion, for his grandson; while the latter, as he advanced in years, was taught to regard Ferdinand as one, who excluded him from his rightful inheritance by a most flagrant act of usurpation. [2]

Ferdinand's suspicious temper found other grounds for uneasiness, where there was less warrant for it, in his jealousy of his illustrious subject Gonsalvo de Cordova. This was particularly the case, when circumstances had disclosed the full extent of that general's popularity. After the defeat of Ravenna, the pope and the other allies of Ferdinand urged him in the most earnest manner to send the Great Captain into Italy, as the only man capable of checking the French arms, and restoring the fortunes of the league. The king, trembling for the immediate safety of his own dominions, gave a reluctant assent, and ordered Gonsalvo to hold himself in readiness to take command of an army to be instantly raised for Italy. [3]

These tidings were received with enthusiasm by the Castilians. Men of every rank pressed forward to serve under a chief, whose service was itself sufficient passport to fame. "It actually seemed," says Martyr, "as if Spain were to be drained of all her noble and generous blood. Nothing appeared impossible, or even difficult, under such a leader. Hardly a cavalier in the land, but would have thought it a reproach to remain behind. Truly marvellous," he adds, "is the authority which he has acquired over all orders of men!" [4]

Such was the zeal with which men enlisted under his banner, that great difficulty was found in completing the necessary levies for Navarre, then menaced by the French. The king, alarmed at this, and relieved from apprehensions of immediate danger to Naples, by subsequent advices from that country, sent orders greatly reducing the number of forces to be raised. But this had little effect, since every man, who had the means, preferred acting as a volunteer under the Great Captain to any other service, however gainful; and many a poor cavalier was there, who expended his little all, or incurred a heavy debt, in order to appear in the field in a style becoming the chivalry of Spain.

Ferdinand's former distrust of his general was now augmented tenfold by this evidence of his unbounded popularity. He saw in imagination much more danger to Naples from such a subject, than from any enemy, however formidable. He had received intelligence, moreover, that the French were in full retreat towards the north. He hesitated no longer, but sent instructions to the Great Captain at Cordova, to disband his levies, as the expedition would be postponed till after the present winter; at the same time inviting such as chose to enlist in the service of Navarre. [5]

These tidings were received with indignant feelings by the whole army. The officers refused, nearly to a man, to engage in the proposed service. Gonsalvo, who understood the motives of this change in the royal purpose, was deeply sensible to what he regarded as a personal affront. He, however, enjoined on his troops implicit obedience to the king's commands. Before dismissing them, as he knew that many had been drawn into expensive preparations far beyond their means, he distributed largesses among them, amounting to the immense sum, if we may credit his biographers, of one hundred thousand ducats. "Never stint your hand," said he to his steward, who remonstrated on the magnitude of the donative; "there is no mode of enjoying one's property, like giving it away." He then wrote a letter to the king, in which he gave free vent to his indignation, bitterly complaining of the ungenerous requital of his services, and asking leave to retire to his duchy of Terranova in Naples, since he could be no longer useful in Spain. This request was not calculated to lull Ferdinand's suspicions. He answered, however, "in the soft and pleasant style, which he knew so well how to assume," says Zurita; and, after specifying his motives for relinquishing, however reluctantly, the expedition, he recommended Gonsalvo's return to Loja, at least until some more definite arrangement could be made respecting the affairs of Italy.

Thus condemned to his former seclusion, the Great Captain resumed his late habits of life, freely opening his mansion to persons of merit, interesting himself in plans for ameliorating the condition of his tenantry and neighbors, and in this quiet way winning a more unquestionable title to human gratitude than when piling up the blood- stained trophies of victory. Alas for humanity, that it should have deemed otherwise! [6]

Another circumstance, which disquieted the Catholic king, was the failure of issue by his present wife. The natural desire of offspring was further stimulated by hatred of the house of Austria, which made him eager to abridge the ample inheritance about to descend on his grandson Charles. It must be confessed, that it reflects little credit on his heart or his understanding, that he should have been so ready to sacrifice to personal resentment those noble plans for the consolidation of the monarchy, which had so worthily occupied the attention both of himself and of Isabella, in his early life. His wishes had nearly been realized. Queen Germaine was delivered of a son, March 3d, 1509. Providence, however, as if unwilling to defeat the glorious consummation of the union of the Spanish kingdoms, so long desired and nearly achieved, permitted the infant to live only a few hours. [7]

Ferdinand repined at the blessing denied him, now more than ever. In order to invigorate his constitution, he resorted to artificial means. [8] The medicines which he took had the opposite effect. At least from this time, the spring of 1513, he was afflicted with infirmities before unknown to him. Instead of his habitual equanimity and cheerfulness, he became impatient, irritable, and frequently a prey to morbid melancholy. He lost all relish for business, and even for amusements, except field sports, to which he devoted the greater part of his time. The fever which consumed him made him impatient of long residence in any one place, and during these last years of his life the court was in perpetual migration. The unhappy monarch, alas! could not fly from disease, or from himself. [9]

In the summer of 1515, he was found one night by his attendants in a state of insensibility, from which it was difficult to rouse him. He exhibited flashes of his former energy after this, however. On one occasion he made a journey to Aragon, in order to preside at the deliberations of the cortes, and enforce the grant of supplies, to which the nobles, from selfish considerations, made resistance. The king failed, indeed, to bend their intractable tempers, but he displayed on the occasion all his wonted address and resolution. [10]

On his return to Castile, which, perhaps from the greater refinement and deference of the people, seems to have been always a more agreeable residence to him than his own kingdom of Aragon, he received intelligence very vexatious, in the irritable state of his mind. He learned that the Great Captain was preparing to embark for Flanders, with his friend the count of Urena, the marquis of Priego his nephew, and his future son-in- law, the count of Cabra. Some surmised that Gonsalvo designed to take command of the papal army in Italy; others, to join himself with the archduke Charles, and introduce him, if possible, into Castile. Ferdinand, clinging to power more tenaciously as it was ready to slip of itself from his grasp, had little doubt that the latter was his purpose. He sent orders therefore to the south, to prevent the meditated embarkation, and, if necessary, to seize Gonsalvo's person. But the latter was soon to embark on a voyage, where no earthly arm could arrest him. [11]

In the autumn of 1515 he was attacked by a quartan fever. Its approaches at first were mild. His constitution, naturally good, had been invigorated by the severe training of a military life; and he had been so fortunate, that, notwithstanding the free exposure of his person to danger, he had never received a wound. But, although little alarm was occasioned at first by his illness, he found it impossible to throw it off; and he removed to his residence in Granada, in hopes of deriving benefit from its salubrious climate. Every effort to rally the declining powers of nature proved unavailing; and on the 2d of December, 1515, he expired in his own palace at Granada, in the arms of his wife, and his beloved daughter Elvira. [12]

The death of this illustrious man diffused universal sorrow throughout the nation. All envy and unworthy suspicion died with him. The king and the whole court went into mourning. Funeral services were performed in his honor, in the royal chapel and all the principal churches of the kingdom. Ferdinand addressed a letter of consolation to his duchess, in which he lamented the death of one, "who had rendered him inestimable services, and to whom he had ever borne such sincere affection!" [13] His obsequies were celebrated with great magnificence in the ancient Moorish capital, under the superintendence of the count of Tendilla, the son and successor of Gonsalvo's old friend, the late governor of Granada. [14] His remains, first deposited in the Franciscan monastery, were afterwards removed and laid beneath a sumptuous mausoleum in the church of San Geronimo; [15] and more than a hundred banners and royal pennons, waving in melancholy pomp around the walls of the chapel, proclaimed the glorious achievements of the warrior who slept beneath. [16] His noble wife, Dona Maria Manrique, survived him but a few days. His daughter Elvira inherited the princely titles and estates of her father, which, by her marriage with her kinsman, the count of Cabra, were perpetuated in the house of Cordova. [17]

Gonsalvo, or, as he is called in Castilian, Gonzalo Hernandez de Cordova, was sixty-two years old at the time of his death. His countenance and person are represented to have been extremely handsome; his manners, elegant and attractive, were stamped with that lofty dignity, which so often distinguishes his countrymen. "He still bears," says Martyr, speaking of him in the last years of his life, "the same majestic port as when in the height of his former authority; so that every one who visits him acknowledges the influence of his noble presence, as fully as when, at the head of armies, he gave laws to Italy." [18]

His splendid military successes, so gratifying to Castilian pride, have made the name of Gonsalvo as familiar to his countrymen as that of the Cid, which, floating down the stream of popular melody, has been treasured up as a part of the national history. His shining qualities, even more than his exploits, have been often made the theme of fiction; and fiction, as usual, has dealt with them in a fashion to leave only confused and erroneous conceptions of both. More is known of the Spanish hero, for instance, to foreign readers from Florian's agreeable novel, than from any authentic record of his actions. Yet Florian, by dwelling only on the dazzling and popular traits of his hero, has depicted him as the very personification of romantic chivalry. This certainly was not his character, which might be said to have been formed after a riper period of civilization than the age of chivalry. At least, it had none of the nonsense of that age,—its fanciful vagaries, reckless adventure, and wild romantic gallantry. [19] His characteristics were prudence, coolness, steadiness of purpose, and intimate knowledge of man. He understood, above all, the temper of his own countrymen. He may be said in some degree to have formed their military character; their patience of severe training and hardship, their unflinching obedience, their inflexible spirit under reverses, and their decisive energy in the hour of action. It is certain that the Spanish soldier under his hands assumed an entirely new aspect from that which he had displayed in the romantic wars of the Peninsula.

Gonsalvo was untainted with the coarser vices characteristic of the time. He discovered none of that griping avarice, too often the reproach of his countrymen in these wars. His hand and heart were liberal as the day. He betrayed none of the cruelty and licentiousness, which disgrace the age of chivalry. On all occasions he was prompt to protect women from injury or insult. Although his distinguished manners and rank gave him obvious advantages with the sex, he never abused them; [20] and he has left a character, unimpeached by any historian, of unblemished morality in his domestic relations. This was a rare virtue in the sixteenth century.

Gonsalvo's fame rests on his military prowess; yet his character would seem in many respects better suited to the calm and cultivated walks of civil life. His government of Naples exhibited much discretion and sound policy; [21] and there, as afterwards in his retirement, his polite and liberal manners secured not merely the good-will, but the strong attachment, of those around him. His early education, like that of most of the noble cavaliers who came forward before the improvements introduced under Isabella, was taken up with knightly exercises, more than intellectual accomplishments. He was never taught Latin, and had no pretensions to scholarship; but he honored and nobly recompensed it in others. His solid sense and liberal taste supplied all deficiencies in himself, and led him to select friends and companions from among the most enlightened and virtuous of the community. [22]

On this fair character there remains one foul reproach. This is his breach of faith in two memorable instances; first, to the young duke of Calabria, and afterwards to Caesar Borgia, both of whom he betrayed into the hands of King Ferdinand, their personal enemy; and in violation of his most solemn pledges. [23] True, it was in obedience to his master's commands, and not to serve his own purposes; and true also, this want of faith was the besetting sin of the age. But history has no warrant to tamper with right and wrong, or to brighten the character of its favorites by diminishing one shade of the abhorrence which attaches to their vices. They should rather be held up in their true deformity, as the more conspicuous from the very greatness with which they are associated. It may be remarked, however, that the reiterated and unsparing opprobrium with which foreign writers, who have been little sensible to Gonsalvo's merits, have visited these offences, affords tolerable evidence that they are the only ones of any magnitude that can be charged on him. [24]

As to the imputation of disloyalty, we have elsewhere had occasion to notice its apparent groundlessness. It would be strange, indeed, if the ungenerous treatment which he had experienced ever since his return from Naples had not provoked feelings of indignation in his bosom. Nor would it be surprising, under these circumstances, if he had been led to regard the archduke Charles's pretensions to the regency, as he came of age, with a favorable eye. There is no evidence, however, of this, or of any act unfriendly to Ferdinand's interests. His whole public life, on the contrary, exhibited the truest loyalty; and the only stains that darken his fame were incurred by too unhesitating devotion to the wishes of his master. He is not the first nor the last statesman, who has reaped the royal recompense of ingratitude, for serving his king with greater zeal than he had served his Maker.

Ferdinand's health, in the mean time, had declined so sensibly, that it was evident he could not long survive the object of his jealousy. [25] His disease had now settled into a dropsy, accompanied with a distressing affection of the heart. He found difficulty in breathing, complained that he was stifled in the crowded cities, and passed most of his time, even after the weather became cold, in the fields and forests, occupied, as far as his strength permitted, with the fatiguing pleasures of the chase. As the winter advanced, he bent his steps towards the south. He passed some time, in December, at a country-seat of the duke of Alva, near Placentia, where he hunted the stag. He then resumed his journey to Andalusia, but fell so ill on the way, at the little village of Madrigalejo, near Truxillo, that it was found impossible to advance further. [26]

The king seemed desirous of closing his eyes to the danger of his situation as long as possible. He would not confess, nor even admit his confessor into his chamber. [27] He showed similar jealousy of his grandson's envoy, Adrian of Utrecht. This person, the preceptor of Charles, and afterwards raised through his means to the papacy, had come into Castile some weeks before, with the ostensible view of making some permanent arrangement with Ferdinand in regard to the regency. The real motive, as the powers which he brought with him subsequently proved, was, that he might be on the spot when the king died, and assume the reins of government. Ferdinand received the minister with cold civility, and an agreement was entered into, by which the regency was guaranteed to the monarch, not only during Joanna's life, but his own. Concessions to a dying man cost nothing. Adrian, who was at Guadalupe at this time, no sooner heard of Ferdinand's illness, than he hastened to Madrigalejo. The king, however, suspected the motives of his visit. "He has come to see me die," said he; and, refusing to admit him into his presence, ordered the mortified envoy back again to Guadalupe. [28]

At length the medical attendants ventured to inform the king of his real situation, conjuring him if he had any affairs of moment to settle, to do it without delay. He listened to them with composure, and from that moment seemed to recover all his customary fortitude and equanimity. After receiving the sacrament, and attending to his spiritual concerns, he called his attendants around his bed, to advise with them respecting the disposition of the government. Among those present, at this time, were his faithful followers, the duke of Alva, and the marquis of Denia, his majordomo, with several bishops and members of his council. [29]

The king, it seems, had made several wills. By one, executed at Burgos, in 1512, he had committed the government of Castile and Aragon to the infante Ferdinand during his brother Charles's absence. This young prince had been educated in Spain under the eye of his grand-father, who entertained a strong affection for him. The counsellors remonstrated in the plainest terms against this disposition of the regency. Ferdinand, they said, was too young to take the helm into his own hands. His appointment would be sure to create new factions in Castile; it would raise him up to be in a manner a rival of his brother, and kindle ambitious desires in his bosom, which could not fail to end in his disappointment, and perhaps destruction. [30]

The king, who would never have made such a devise in his better days, was more easily turned from his purpose now, than he would once have been. "To whom then," he asked, "shall I leave the regency?" "To Ximenes, archbishop of Toledo," they replied. Ferdinand turned away his face, apparently in displeasure; but after a few moments' silence rejoined, "It is well; he is certainly a good man, with honest intentions. He has no importunate friends or family to provide for. He owes everything to Queen Isabella and myself; and, as he has always been true to the interests of our family, I believe he will always remain so." [31]

He, however, could not so readily abandon the idea of some splendid establishment for his favorite grandson; and he proposed to settle on him the grand-masterships of the military orders. But to this his attendants again objected, on the same grounds as before; adding, that this powerful patronage was too great for any subject, and imploring him not to defeat the object which the late queen had so much at heart, of incorporating it with the crown. "Ferdinand will be left very poor then," exclaimed the king, with tears in his eyes. "He will have the good-will of his brother," replied one of his honest counsellors, "the best legacy your Highness can leave him." [32]

The testament, as finally arranged, settled the succession of Aragon and Naples on his daughter Joanna and her heirs. The administration of Castile during Charles's absence was intrusted to Ximenes, and that of Aragon to the king's natural son, the archbishop of Saragossa, whose good sense and popular manners made him acceptable to the people. He granted several places in the kingdom of Naples to the infante Ferdinand, with an annual stipend of fifty thousand ducats, chargeable on the public revenues. To his queen Germaine he left the yearly income of thirty thousand gold florins, stipulated by the marriage settlement, with five thousand a year more during widowhood. [33] The will contained, besides, several appropriations for pious and charitable purposes, but nothing worthy of particular note. [34] Notwithstanding the simplicity of the various provisions of the testament, it was so long, from the formalities and periphrases with which it was encumbered, that there was scarce time to transcribe it in season for the royal signature. On the evening of the 22d of January, 1516, he executed the instrument; and a few hours later, between one and two of the morning of the 23d, Ferdinand breathed his last. [35] The scene of this event was a small house belonging to the friars of Guadalupe. "In so wretched a tenement," exclaims Martyr, in his usual moralizing vein, "did this lord of so many lands close his eyes upon the world." [36]

Ferdinand was nearly sixty-four years old, of which forty-one had elapsed since he first swayed the sceptre of Castile, and thirty-seven since he held that of Aragon. A long reign; long enough, indeed, to see most of those whom he had honored and trusted of his subjects gathered to the dust, and a succession of contemporary monarchs come and disappear like shadows. [37] He died deeply lamented by his native subjects, who entertained a partiality natural towards their own hereditary sovereign. The event was regarded with very different feelings by the Castilian nobles, who calculated their gains on the transfer of the reins from such old and steady hands into those of a young and inexperienced master. The commons, however, who had felt the good effect of this curb on the nobility, in their own personal security, held his memory in reverence as that of a national benefactor. [38]

Ferdinand's remains were interred, agreeably to his orders, in Granada. A few of his most faithful adherents accompanied them; the greater part being deterred by a prudent caution of giving umbrage to Charles. [39] The funeral train, however, was swelled by contributions from the various towns through which it passed. At Cordova, especially, it is worthy of note, that the marquis of Priego, who had slender obligations to Ferdinand, came out with all his household to pay the last melancholy honors to his remains. They were received with similar respect in Granada, where the people, while they gazed on the sad spectacle, says Zurita, were naturally affected as they called to mind the pomp and splendor of his triumphal entry on the first occupation of the Moorish capital. [40]

By his dying injunctions, all unnecessary ostentation was interdicted at his funeral. His body was laid by the side of Isabella's in the monastery of the Alhambra; and the year following, [41] when the royal chapel of the metropolitan church was completed, they were both transported thither. A magnificent mausoleum of white marble was erected over them, by their grandson, Charles the Fifth. It was executed in a style worthy of the age. The sides were adorned with figures of angels and saints, richly sculptured in bas-relief. On the top reposed the effigies of the illustrious pair, whose titles and merits were commemorated in the following brief, and not very felicitous inscription.

"MAHOMETICAE SECTAE PROSTRATORES, ET HAERETICAE PERVICACIAE EXTINCTORES, FERNANDUS ARAGONUM, ET HELISABETA CASTELLAE, VIR ET UXOR UNANIMES, CATHOLICI APPELLATI, MARMOREO CLAUDUNTUR HOC TUMULO." [42]

King Ferdinand's personal appearance has been elsewhere noticed. "He was of the middle size," says a contemporary, who knew him well. "His complexion was fresh; his eyes bright and animated; his nose and mouth small and finely formed, and his teeth white; his forehead lofty and serene; with flowing hair of a bright chestnut color. His manners were courteous, and his countenance seldom clouded by anything like spleen or melancholy. He was grave in speech and action, and had a marvellous dignity of presence. His whole demeanor, in fine, was truly that of a great king." For this flattering portrait Ferdinand must have sat at an earlier and happier period of his life. [43]

His education, owing to the troubled state of the times, had been neglected in his boyhood, though he was early instructed in all the generous pastimes and exercises of chivalry. [44] He was esteemed one of the most perfect horsemen of his court. He led an active life, and the only kind of reading he appeared to relish was history. It was natural that so busy an actor on the great political theatre should have found peculiar interest and instruction in this study. [45]

He was naturally of an equable temper, and inclined to moderation in all things. The only amusement for which he cared much was hunting, especially falconry, and that he never carried to excess till his last years. [46] He was indefatigable in application to business. He had no relish for the pleasures of the table, and, like Isabella, was temperate even to abstemiousness in his diet. [47] He was frugal in his domestic and personal expenditure; partly, no doubt, from a willingness to rebuke the opposite spirit of wastefulness and ostentation in his nobles. He lost no good opportunity of doing this. On one occasion, it is said, he turned to a gallant of the court noted for his extravagance in dress, and laying his hand on his own doublet, exclaimed, "Excellent stuff this; it has lasted me three pair of sleeves!" [48] This spirit of economy was carried so far as to bring on him the reproach of parsimony. [49] And parsimony, though not so pernicious on the whole as the opposite vice of prodigality, has always found far less favor with the multitude, from the appearance of disinterestedness, which the latter carries with it. Prodigality in a king, however, who draws not on his own resources, but on the public, forfeits even this equivocal claim to applause. But, in truth, Ferdinand was rather frugal, than parsimonious. His income was moderate; his enterprises numerous and vast. It was impossible that he could meet them without husbanding his resources with the most careful economy. [50] No one has accused him of attempting to enrich his exchequer by the venal sale of office, like Louis the Twelfth, or by griping extortion, like another royal contemporary, Henry the Seventh. He amassed no treasure, [51] and indeed died so poor, that he left scarcely enough in his coffers to defray the charges of his funeral. [52]

Ferdinand was devout; at least he was scrupulous in regard to the exterior of religion. He was punctual in attendance on mass; careful to observe all the ordinances and ceremonies of his church; and left many tokens of his piety, after the fashion of the time, in sumptuous edifices and endowments for religious purposes. Although not a superstitious man for the age, he is certainly obnoxious to the reproach of bigotry; for he co-operated with Isabella in all her exceptionable measures in Castile, and spared no effort to fasten the odious yoke of the Inquisition on Aragon, and subsequently, though happily with less success, on Naples. [53]

Ferdinand has incurred the more serious charge of hypocrisy. His Catholic zeal was observed to be marvellously efficacious in furthering his temporal interests. [54] His most objectionable enterprises, even, were covered with a veil of religion. In this, however, he did not materially differ from the practice of the age. Some of the most scandalous wars of that period were ostensibly at the bidding of the church, or in defence of Christendom against the infidel. This ostentation of a religious motive was indeed very usual with the Spanish and Portuguese. The crusading spirit, nourished by their struggle with the Moors, and subsequently by their African and American expeditions, gave such a religious tone habitually to their feelings, as shed an illusion over their actions and enterprises, frequently disguising their true character, even from themselves.

It will not be so easy to acquit Ferdinand of the reproach of perfidy which foreign writers have so deeply branded on his name, [55] and which those of his own nation have sought rather to palliate than to deny. [56] It is but fair to him, however, even here, to take a glance at the age. He came forward when government was in a state of transition from the feudal forms to those which it has assumed in modern times; when the superior strength of the great vassals was circumvented by the superior policy of the reigning princes. It was the dawn of the triumph of intellect over the brute force, which had hitherto controlled the movements of nations, as of individuals. The same policy which these monarchs had pursued in their own domestic relations, they introduced into those with foreign states, when, at the close of the fifteenth century, the barriers that had so long kept them asunder were broken down. Italy was the first field, on which the great powers were brought into anything like a general collision. It was the country, too, in which this crafty policy had been first studied, and reduced to a regular system. A single extract from the political manual of that age [57] may serve as a key to the whole science, as then understood. "A prudent prince," says Machiavelli, "will not, and ought not to observe his engagements, when it would operate to his disadvantage, and the causes no longer exist which induced him to make them." [58] Sufficient evidence of the practical application of the maxim may be found in the manifold treaties of the period, so contradictory, or, what is to the same purpose for our present argument, so confirmatory of one another in their tenor, as clearly to show the impotence of all engagements. There were no less than four several treaties in the course of three years, solemnly stipulating the marriage of the archduke Charles and Claude of France. Louis the Twelfth violated his engagements, and the marriage after all never took place. [59]

Such was the school in which Ferdinand was to make trial of his skill with his brother monarchs. He had an able instructor in his father, John the Second, of Aragon, and the result showed that the lessons were not lost on him. "He was vigilant, wary, and subtile," writes a French contemporary, "and few histories make mention of his being outwitted in the whole course of his life." [60] He played the game with more adroitness than his opponents, and he won it. Success, as usual, brought on him the reproaches of the losers. This is particularly true of the French, whose master, Louis the Twelfth, was more directly pitted against him. [61] Yet Ferdinand does not appear to be a whit more obnoxious to the charge of unfairness than his opponent. [62] If he deserted his allies when it suited his convenience, he, at least, did not deliberately plot their destruction, and betray them into the hands of their deadly enemy, as his rival did with Venice, in the league of Cambray. [63] The partition of Naples, the most scandalous transaction of the period, he shared equally with Louis; and if the latter has escaped the reproach of the usurpation of Navarre, it was because the premature death of his general deprived him of the pretext and means for achieving it. Yet Louis the Twelfth, the "father of his people," has gone down to posterity with a high and honorable reputation. [64]

Ferdinand, unfortunately for his popularity, had nothing of the frank and cordial temper, the genial expansion of the soul, which begets love. He carried the same cautious and impenetrable frigidity into private life, that he showed in public. "No one," says a writer of the time, "could read his thoughts by any change of his countenance." [65] Calm and calculating, even in trifles, it was too obvious that everything had exclusive reference to self. He seemed to estimate his friends only by the amount of services they could render him. He was not always mindful of these services. Witness his ungenerous treatment of Columbus, the Great Captain, Navarro, Ximenes,—the men who shed the brightest lustre, and the most substantial benefits, on his reign. Witness also his insensibility to the virtues and long attachment of Isabella, whose memory he could so soon dishonor by a union with one every way unworthy to be her successor.

Ferdinand's connection with Isabella, while it reflected infinite glory on his reign, suggests a contrast most unfavorable to his character. Hers was all magnanimity, disinterestedness, and deep devotion to the interests of her people. His was the spirit of egotism. The circle of his views might be more or less expanded, but self was the steady, unchangeable centre. Her heart beat with the generous sympathies of friendship, and the purest constancy to the first, the only object of her love. We have seen the measure of his sensibilities in other relations. They were not more refined in this; and he proved himself unworthy of the admirable woman with whom his destinies were united, by indulging in those vicious gallantries, too generally sanctioned by the age. [66] Ferdinand, in fine, a shrewd and politic prince, "surpassing," as a French writer, not his friend, has remarked, "all the statesmen of his time in the science of the cabinet," [67] may be taken as the representative of the peculiar genius of the age. While Isabella, discarding all the petty artifices of state policy, and pursuing the noblest ends by the noblest means, stands far above her age.

In his illustrious consort Ferdinand may be said to have lost his good genius. [68] From that time his fortunes were under a cloud. Not that victory sat less constantly on his banner; but at home he had lost

"All that should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends."

His ill-advised marriage disgusted his Castilian subjects. He ruled over them, indeed, but more in severity than in love. The beauty of his young queen opened new sources of jealousy; [69] while the disparity of their ages, and her fondness for frivolous pleasure, as little qualified her to be his partner in prosperity, as his solace in declining years. [70] His tenacity of power drew him into vulgar squabbles with those most nearly allied to him by blood, which settled into a mortal aversion. Finally, bodily infirmity broke the energies of his mind, sour suspicions corroded his heart, and he had the misfortune to live, long after he had lost all that could make life desirable.

Let us turn from this gloomy picture to the brighter season of the morning and meridian of his life; when he sat with Isabella on the united thrones of Castile and Aragon, strong in the love of his own subjects, and in the fear and respect of his enemies. We shall then find much in his character to admire; his impartial justice in the administration of the laws; his watchful solicitude to shield the weak from the oppression of the strong; his wise economy, which achieved great results without burdening his people with oppressive taxes; his sobriety and moderation; the decorum, and respect for religion, which he maintained among his subjects; the industry he promoted by wholesome laws and his own example; his consummate sagacity, which crowned all his enterprises with brilliant success, and made him the oracle of the princes of the age.

Machiavelli, indeed, the most deeply read of his time in human character, imputes Ferdinand's successes, in one of his letters, to "cunning and good luck, rather than superior wisdom." [71] He was indeed fortunate; and the "star of Austria," which rose as his declined, shone not with a brighter or steadier lustre. But success through a long series of years sufficiently, of itself, attests good conduct. "The winds and waves," says Gibbon, truly enough, "are always on the side of the most skilful mariner." The Florentine statesman has recorded a riper and more deliberate judgment in the treatise, which he intended as a mirror for the rulers of the time. "Nothing," says he, "gains estimation for a prince like great enterprises. Our own age has furnished a splendid example of this in Ferdinand of Aragon. We may call him a new king, since from a feeble one he has made himself the most renowned and glorious monarch of Christendom; and, if we ponder well his manifold achievements, we must acknowledge all of them very great, and some truly extraordinary." [72]

Other eminent foreigners of the time join in this lofty strain of panegyric. [73] The Castilians, mindful of the general security and prosperity they had enjoyed under his reign, seem willing to bury his frailties in his grave. [74] While his own hereditary subjects, exulting with patriotic pride in the glory to which he had raised their petty state, and touched with grateful recollections of his mild, paternal government, deplore his loss in strains of national sorrow, as the last of the revered line, who was to preside over the destinies of Aragon, as a separate and independent kingdom. [75]

FOOTNOTES

[1] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 21.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 8, cap. 45, 47. 834.

[2] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 55, 69.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 531.

[3] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 486.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 2.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, p. 288.

[4] Opus Epist., epist. 487.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 201.

[5] Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, lib. 3, p. 289.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7, 8.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 38.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 498.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 201.

[6] Mariana, Hist. de Espana, tom. ii. lib. 30, cap. 14.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 290, 291.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 7, 8, 9.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 28.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, tom. i. pp. 328-332.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 20.—Pulgar, Sumario, pp. 201-208.

[7] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1509.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 55.

[8] They are detailed with such curious precision by Martyr,—who is much too precise, indeed, for our pages,—as to leave little doubt of the fact. Opus Epist., epist. 531.

[9] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1513, et seq.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 188.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 146.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 27.

"Non idem est vultus," says Peter Martyr of the king in a letter dated in October, 1513, "non eadem facultas in audiendo, non eadem lenitas. Tria sunt illi, ne priores resumat vires, opposita: senilis aetas; secundum namque agit et sexagesimum annum: uxor, quam a latere nunquam abigit: et venatus coeloque vivendi cupiditas, quae illum in sylvis detinet, ultra quam in juvenili aetate, citra salutem, fas esset." Opus Epist., epist. 529.

[10] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 93, 94.—Carbajal, Anales MS., ano 1515.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 550.

[11] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 96.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 23.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 292.

[12] Giovio Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 271, 292.—Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 9.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 560.— Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1515.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 20, cap. 23.—Pulgar, Sumario, p. 209.

[13] See a copy of the original letter in the Chronica del Gran Capitan, (fol. 164.) It is dated Jan. 3d, 1516, only three weeks before Ferdinand's death.

[14] Peter Martyr notices the death of this estimable nobleman, full of years and of honors, in a letter dated July 18th, 1515. It is addressed to Tendilla's son, and breathes the consolation flowing from the mild and philosophical spirit of its amiable author. The count was made marquis of Mondejar by Ferdinand, a short time before his death. His various titles and dignities, including the government of Granada, descended to his eldest son, Don Luis, Martyr's early pupil; his genius was inherited in full measure by a younger, the famous Diego Hurtado de Mendoza.

[15] The following inscription is placed over them.

"GONZALI FERNANDEZ DE CORDOVA,

Qui propria virtute Magni Ducis nomen Proprium sibi fecit, Ossa, Perpetuae tandem Luci restituenda, Huic interea tumulo Credita sunt; Gloria minime consepulta."

[16] Navagiero, Viaggio, fol. 24.

On the top of the monument was seen the marble effigy of the Great Captain, armed and kneeling. The banners and other military trophies, which continued to garnish the walls of the chapel, according to Pedraza, as late as 1600, had disappeared before the eighteenth century; at least we may infer so from Colmenar's silence respecting them in his account of the sepulchre. Pedraza, Antiguedad de Granada, fol. 114.—Colmenar, Delices de l'Espagne, tom. iii p. 505.

[+-7] Chronica del Gran Capitan, lib. 3, cap. 9.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, fol. 292.

Gonsalvo was created duke of Terra Nuova and Sessa, and marquis of Bitonto, all in Italy, with estates of the value of 40,000 ducats rent. He was also grand constable of Naples, and a nobleman of Venice. His princely honors were transmitted by Dona Elvira to her son, Gonzalo Hernandez de Cordova, who filled the posts, under Charles V., of governor of Milan, and captain general of Italy. Under Philip II., his descendants were raised to a Spanish dukedom, with the title of Dukes of Baena. L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 24.—Ulloa, Vita di Carlo V., fol. 41.—Salazar de Mendoza, Dignidades, p. 307.

[18] Opus Epist., epist. 498.—Giovio, Vita Magni Gonsalvi, p. 292.— Pulgar, Sumario, p. 212.

[19] Gonsalvo assumed for his device a cross-bow moved by a pulley, with the motto, "Ingenium superat vires." It was characteristic of a mind trusting more to policy than force and daring exploit. Brantome, Oeuvres, tom. i. p. 75.

[20] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 271.

[21] Ibid., p. 281.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1, 5.

[22] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 271.

"Amigo de sus amigos, iQue Senor para criados Y parientes! iQue enemigo de enemigos! iQue maestro de esforzados Y valientes! iQue seso para discretos! iQue gracia para donosos! iQue razon! Muy benigno a los sugetos, Y a los bravos y danosos Un leon." Coplas de Don Jorge Manrique.

[23] Borgia, after his father Alexander VI.'s death, escaped to Naples under favor of a safe conduct signed by Gonsalvo. Here, however, his intriguing spirit soon engaged him in schemes for troubling the peace of Italy, and, indeed, for subverting the authority of the Spaniards there; in consequence of which the Great Captain seized his person, and sent him prisoner to Castile. Such, at least, is the Spanish version of the story, and of course the one most favorable to Gonsalvo. Mariana dismisses it with coolly remarking, that "the Great Captain seems to have consulted the public good, in the affair, more than his own fame; a conduct well worthy to be pondered and emulated by all princes and rulers!" Hist. de Espana, lib. 28, cap. 8.—Zurita, Anales, tom. v. lib. 5, cap. 72.—Quintana, Espanoles Celebres, pp. 302, 303.

[24] That but one other troubled him, appears from the fact (if it be a fact) of Gonsalvo's declaring, on his death-bed, that "there were three acts of his life which he deeply repented." Two of these were his treatment of Borgia and the duke of Calabria. He was silent respecting the third. "Some historians suppose," says Quintana, "that by this last he meant his omission to possess himself of the crown of Naples when it was in his power!" These historians, no doubt, like Fouche, considered a blunder in politics as worse than a crime.

[25] The miraculous bell of Velilla, a little village in Aragon, nine leagues from Saragossa, about this time gave one of those prophetic tintinnabulations, which always boded some great calamity to the country. The side on which the blows fell denoted the quarter where the disaster was to happen. Its sound, says Dr. Dormer, caused dismay and contrition, with dismal "fear of change," in the hearts of all who heard it. No arm was strong enough to stop it on these occasions, as those found to their cost who profanely attempted it. Its ill-omened voice was heard for the twentieth and last time, in March, 1679. As no event of importance followed, it probably tolled for its own funeral.—See the edifying history, in Dr. Diego Dormer, of the miraculous powers and performances of this celebrated bell, as duly authenticated by a host of witnesses. Discursos Varios, pp. 198-244.

[26] Carbajal, Anales, MS., anos 1513-1516.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 146.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 542, 558, 561, 564. Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 99.

Carbajal states, that the king had been warned, by some soothsayer, to beware of Madrigal, and that he had ever since avoided entering into the town of that name in Old Castile. The name of the place he was now in was not precisely that indicated, but corresponded near enough for a prediction. The event proved, that the witches of Spain, like those of Scotland,

"Could keep the word of promise to the ear, And break it to the hope."

The story derives little confirmation from the character of Ferdinand. He was not superstitious, at least while his faculties were in vigor.

[27] "A la verdad," says Carbajal, "le tento mucho el enemigo en aquel paso con incredulidad que le ponia de no morir tan presto, para que ni confesase ni recibiese los Sacramentos." According to the same writer, Ferdinand was buoyed up by the prediction of an old sybil, "la beata del Barco," that "he should not die till he had conquered Jerusalem." (Anales, MS., cap. 2.) We are again reminded of Shakespeare,

"It hath been prophesied to me many years I should not die but in Jerusalem." King Henry IV.

[28] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 1.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, ubi supra.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 565.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 35.

[29] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 2.

Dr. Carbajal, who was a member of the royal council, was present with him during the whole of his last illness; and his circumstantial and spirited narrative of it forms an exception to the general character of his itinerary.

[30] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516, cap. 2.

[31] Ibid., ubi supra.

[32] Ibid., ubi supra.

[33] Ferdinand's gay widow did not long enjoy this latter pension. Soon after his death, she gave her hand to the marquis of Brandenburg, and, he dying, she again married the prince of Calabria, who had been detained in a sort of honorable captivity in Spain, ever since the dethronement of his father, King Frederic. (Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 4, dial. 44.) It was the second sterile match, says Guicciardini, which Charles V., for obvious politic reasons, provided for the rightful heir of Naples. Istoria, tom. viii. lib. 15, p. 10.

[34] Ferdinand's testament is to be found in Carbajal, Anales, MS.— Dormer, Discursos Varies, p. 393 et seq.—Mariana, Hist. de Espana, ed. Valencia, tom. ix. Apend. no. 2.

[35] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.—The queen was at Alcala de Henares, when she received tidings of her husband's illness. She posted with all possible despatch to Madrigalejo, but, although she reached it on the 20th, she was not admitted, says Gomez, notwithstanding her tears, to a private interview with the king, till the testament was executed, a few hours only before his death. De Rebus Gestis, fol. 147.

[36] Carbajal, Anales, MS., ano 1516.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 188.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 148.

"Tot regnorum dominus, totque palmarum cumulis ornatus, Christianae religionis amplificator et prostrator hostium, Rex in rusticana obiit casa, et pauper contra hominum opinionem obiit." Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 588.—Brantome, (Vies des Hommes Illustres, Footnote: p. 72,) who speaks of Madrigalejo as a "meschant village," which he had seen.

[37] Since Ferdinand ascended the throne he had seen no less than four kings of England, as many of France, and also of Naples, three of Portugal, two German emperors, and half a dozen popes. As to his own subjects, scarcely one of all those familiar to the reader in the course of our history now survived, except, indeed, the Nestor of his time, the octogenarian Ximenes.

[38] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 10, cap. 100.—Blancas, Commentarii, p. 275.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 25.

[39] Zurita, Anales, ubi supra.

The honest Martyr was one of the few who paid this last tribute of respect to their ancient master. "Ego ut mortuo debitum praestem," says he, in a letter to Prince Charles's physician, "corpus ejus exanime, Granatam, sepulchro sedem destinatam, comitabor." Opus Epist., epist. 566.