1504-1506.
Return of Columbus from his Fourth Voyage.—His Illness.—Neglected byFerdinand.—His Death.—His Person.—And Character.
While the events were passing, which occupy the beginning of the preceding chapter, Christopher Columbus returned from his fourth and last voyage. It had been one unbroken series of disappointment and disaster. After quitting Hispaniola, and being driven by storms nearly to the island of Cuba, he traversed the Gulf of Honduras, and coasted along the margin of the golden region, which had so long flitted before his fancy. The natives invited him to strike into its western depths in vain, and he pressed forward to the south, now solely occupied with the grand object of discovering a passage into the Indian Ocean. At length, after having with great difficulty advanced somewhat beyond the point of Nombre de Dios, he was compelled by the fury of the elements, and the murmurs of his men, to abandon the enterprise, and retrace his steps. He was subsequently defeated in an attempt to establish a colony on terra firma, by the ferocity of the natives; was wrecked on the island of Jamaica, where he was permitted to linger more than a year, through the malice of Ovando, the new governor of St. Domingo; and finally, having re-embarked with his shattered crew in a vessel freighted at at his own expense, was driven by a succession of terrible tempests across the ocean, until, on the 7th of November, 1504, he anchored in the little port of St. Lucar, twelve leagues from Seville. [1]
In this quiet haven, Columbus hoped to find the repose his broken constitution and wounded spirit so much needed, and to obtain a speedy restitution of his honors and emoluments from the hand of Isabella. But here he was to experience his bitterest disappointment. At the time of his arrival, the queen was on her death-bed; and in a very few days Columbus received the afflicting intelligence, that the friend, on whose steady support he had so confidently relied, was no more. It was a heavy blow to his hopes, for "he had always experienced favor and protection from her," says his son Ferdinand, "while the king had not only been indifferent, but positively unfriendly to his interests." [2] We may readily credit, that a man of the cold and prudent character of the Spanish monarch would not be very likely to comprehend one so ardent and aspiring as that of Columbus, nor to make allowance for his extravagant sallies. And, if nothing has hitherto met our eye to warrant the strong language of the son, yet we have seen that the king, from the first, distrusted the admiral's projects, as having something unsound and chimerical in them.
The affliction of the latter at the tidings of Isabella's death is strongly depicted in a letter written immediately after to his son Diego. "It is our chief duty," he says, "to commend to God most affectionately and devoutly the soul of our deceased lady, the queen. Her life was always Catholic and virtuous, and prompt to whatever could redound to His holy service; wherefore, we may trust, she now rests in glory, far from all concern for this rough and weary world." [3]
Columbus, at this time, was so much crippled by the gout, to which he had been long subject, that he was unable to undertake a journey to Segovia, where the court was, during the winter. He lost no time, however, in laying his situation before the king through his son Diego, who was attached to the royal household. He urged his past services, the original terms of the capitulation made with him, their infringement in almost every particular, and his own necessitous condition. But Ferdinand was too busily occupied with his own concerns, at this crisis, to give much heed to those of Columbus, who repeatedly complains of the inattention shown to his application. [4] At length, on the approach of a milder season, the admiral, having obtained a dispensation in his favor from the ordinance prohibiting the use of mules, was able by easy journeys to reach Segovia, and present himself before the monarch. [5]
He was received with all the outward marks of courtesy and regard by Ferdinand, who assured him that "he fully estimated his important services, and, far from stinting his recompense to the precise terms of the capitulation, intended to confer more ample favors on him in Castile." [6]
These fair words, however, were not seconded by actions. The king probably had no serious thoughts of reinstating the admiral in his government. His successor, Ovando, was high in the royal favor. His rule, however objectionable as regards the Indians, was every way acceptable to the Spanish colonists; [7] and even his oppression of the poor natives was so far favorable to his cause, that it enabled him to pour much larger sums into the royal coffers, than had been gleaned by his more humane predecessor. [8]
The events of the last voyage, moreover, had probably not tended to dispel any distrust, which the king previously entertained of the admiral's capacity for government. His men had been in a state of perpetual insubordination; while his letter to the sovereigns, written under distressing circumstances, indeed, from Jamaica, exhibited such a deep coloring of despondency, and occasionally such wild and visionary projects, as might almost suggest the suspicion of a temporary alienation of mind. [9]
But whatever reasons may have operated to postpone Columbus's restoration to power, it was the grossest injustice to withhold from him the revenues secured by the original contract with the crown. According to his own statement, he was so far from receiving his share of the remittances made by Ovando, that he was obliged to borrow money, and had actually incurred a heavy debt for his necessary expenses. [10] The truth was, that, as the resources of the new countries began to develop themselves more abundantly, Ferdinand felt greater reluctance to comply with the letter of the original capitulation; he now considered the compensation as too vast and altogether disproportioned to the services of any subject; and at length was so ungenerous as to propose that the admiral should relinquish his claims, in consideration of other estates and dignities to be assigned him in Castile. [11] It argued less knowledge of character, than the king usually showed, that he should have thought the man, who had broken off all negotiations on the threshold of a dubious enterprise, rather than abate one tittle of his demands, would consent to such abatement when the success of that enterprise was so gloriously established.
What assistance Columbus actually received from the crown at this time, or whether he received any, does not appear. He continued to reside with the court, and accompanied it in its removal to Valladolid. He no doubt enjoyed the public consideration due to his high repute and extraordinary achievements; though by the monarch he might be regarded in the unwelcome light of a creditor, whose claims were too just to be disavowed, and too large to be satisfied.
With spirits broken by this unthankful requital of his services, and with a constitution impaired by a life of unmitigated hardship, Columbus's health now rapidly sunk under the severe and reiterated attacks of his disorder. On the arrival of Philip and Joanna, he addressed a letter to them, through his brother Bartholomew, in which he lamented the infirmities which prevented him from paying his respects in person, and made a tender of his future services. The communication was graciously received, but Columbus did not survive to behold the young sovereigns. [12]
His mental vigor, however, was not impaired by the ravages of disease, and on the 19th of May, 1506, he executed a codicil, confirming certain testamentary dispositions formerly made, with special reference to the entail of his estates and dignities, manifesting, in his latest act, the same solicitude he had shown through life, to perpetuate an honorable name. Having completed these arrangements with perfect composure, he expired on the following day, being that of our Lord's ascension, with little apparent suffering, and in the most Christian spirit of resignation. [13] His remains, first deposited in the convent of St. Francis at Valladolid, were, six years later, removed to the Carthusian monastery of Las Cuevas at Seville, where a costly monument was raised over them by King Ferdinand, with the memorable inscription,
"A Castilla y á LeonNuevo mundo dió Colon;"
"the like of which," says his son Ferdinand, with as much truth as simplicity, "was never recorded of any man in ancient or modern times." [14] From this spot his body was transported, in the year 1536, to the island of St. Domingo, the proper theatre of his discoveries; and, on the cession of that island to the French, in 1795, was again removed to Cuba, where his ashes now quietly repose in the cathedral church of its capital. [15]
There is considerable uncertainty as to Columbus's age, though it seems probable it was not far from seventy at the time of his death. [16] His person has been minutely described by his son. He was tall and well made, his head large, with an aquiline nose, small light-blue or grayish eyes, a fresh complexion and red hair, though incessant toil and exposure had bronzed the former, and bleached the latter, before the age of thirty. He had a majestic presence, with much dignity, and at the same time affability of manner. He was fluent, even eloquent in discourse; generally temperate in deportment, but sometimes hurried by a too lively sensibility into a sally of passion. [17] He was abstemious in his diet, indulged little in amusements of any kind, and, in truth, seemed too much absorbed by the great cause to which he had consecrated his life, to allow scope for the lower pursuits and pleasures, which engage ordinary men. Indeed, his imagination, by feeding too exclusively on this lofty theme, acquired an unnatural exaltation, which raised him too much above the sober realities of existence, leading him to spurn at difficulties, which in the end proved insurmountable, and to color the future with those rainbow tints, which too often melted into air.
This exalted state of the imagination was the result in part, no doubt, of the peculiar circumstances of his life. For the glorious enterprise which he had achieved almost justified the conviction of his acting under the influence of some higher inspiration than mere human reason, and led his devout mind to discern intimations respecting himself in the dark and mysterious annunciations of sacred prophecy. [18]
That the romantic coloring of his mind, however, was natural to him, and not purely the growth of circumstances, is evident from the chimerical speculations, in which he seriously indulged before the accomplishment of his great discoveries. His scheme of a crusade for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre was most deliberately meditated, and strenuously avowed from the very first date of his proposals to the Spanish government. His enthusiastic communications on the subject must have provoked a smile from a pontiff like Alexander the Sixth; [19] and may suggest some apology for the tardiness, with which his more rational projects were accredited by the Castilian government. But these visionary fancies never clouded his judgment in matters relating to his great undertaking; and it is curious to observe the prophetic accuracy, with which he discerned, not only the existence, but the eventual resources of the western world; as is sufficiently evinced by his precautions, to the very last, to secure the full fruits of them, unimpaired, to his posterity.
Whatever were the defects of his mental constitution, the finger of the historian will find it difficult to point to a single blemish in his moral character. His correspondence breathes the sentiment of devoted loyalty to his sovereigns. His conduct habitually displayed the utmost solicitude for the interests of his followers. He expended almost his last maravedi in restoring his unfortunate crew to their native land. His dealings were regulated by the nicest principles of honor and justice. His last communication to the sovereigns from the Indies remonstrates against the use of violent measures in order to extract gold from the natives, as a thing equally scandalous and impolitic. [20] The grand object to which he dedicated himself seemed to expand his whole soul, and raised it above the petty shifts and artifices, by which great ends are sometimes sought to be compassed. There are some men, in whom rare virtues have been closely allied, if not to positive vice, to degrading weakness. Columbus's character presented no such humiliating incongruity. Whether we contemplate it in its public or private relations, in all its features it wears the same noble aspect. It was in perfect harmony with the grandeur of his plans, and their results, more stupendous than those which Heaven has permitted any other mortal to achieve. [21]
[1] Martyr, De Rebus Oceanicis, dec. 3, lib. 4.—Benzoni, Novi Orbis Hist., lib. 1, cap. 14.—Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 88- 108.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 5, cap. 2-12; lib. 6, cap. 1-13.—Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. pp. 282-325.
The best authorities for the fourth voyage are the relations of Mendez and Porras, both engaged in it; and above all the admiral's own letter to the sovereigns from Jamaica. They are all collected in the first volume of Navarrete. (Ubi supra.) Whatever cloud may be thrown over the early part of Columbus's career, there is abundant light on every step of his path after the commencement of his great enterprise.
[2] Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.
[3] Cartas de Colon, apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 341.
[4] See his interesting correspondence with his son Diego; now printed for the first time by Señor Navarrete from the original MSS. in the duke of Veragua's possession. Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 338 et seq.
[5] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 6, cap. 14.—Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.
For an account of this ordinance see Part II. Chapter 3, note 12, of thisHistory.
[6] Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 6, cap. 14.
[7] Ibid., dec. 1, lib. 5, cap. 12.
[8] Ibid., dec. 1, lib. 5, cap. 12; lib. 6, cap. 16-18.—Garibay, Compendio, tom. ii. lib. 19, cap. 14.
[9] This document exhibits a medley, in which sober narrative and sound reasoning are strangely blended with crazy dreams, doleful lamentation, and wild schemes for the recovery of Jerusalem, the conversion of the Grand Khan, etc. Vagaries like these, which come occasionally like clouds over his soul, to shut out the light of reason, cannot fail to fill the mind of the reader, as they doubtless did those of the sovereigns at the time, with mingled sentiments of wonder and compassion. See Cartas de Colon, apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 296.
[10] Ibid., p. 338.
[11] Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, lib. 6, cap. 14.
[12] Navarrete has given the letter, Coleccion de Viages, tom. iii. p. 530.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, ubi supra.
[13] Zuñiga, Annales de Sevilla, p. 429.—Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 108.—Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 131.— Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom, ii., Doc. Dipl., 158.
[14] Hist. del Almirante, ubi supra.
The following eulogium of Paolo Giovio is a pleasing tribute to the deserts of the great navigator, showing the high estimation in which he was held, abroad as well as at home, by the enlightened of his own day. "Incomparabilis Liguribus honos, eximium Italiae decus, et praefulgidum jubar seculo nostro nasceretur, quod priscorum heroum, Herculis, et Liberi patris famam obscuraret. Quorum memoriam grata olim mortalitas aeternis literarum monumentis coelo consecrarit." Elogia Virorum Illust., lib. 4, p. 123.
[15] Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. ii., Doc. Dipl., 177.
On the left of the grand altar of this stately edifice, is a bust of Columbus, placed in a niche in the wall, and near it a silver urn, containing all that now remains of the illustrious voyager. See Abbot's "Letters from Cuba," a work of much interest and information, with the requisite allowance for the inaccuracies of a posthumous publication.
[16] The various theories respecting the date of Columbus's birth cover a range of twenty years, from 1436 to 1456. There are sturdy objections to either of the hypotheses; and the historian will find it easier to cut the knot than to unravel it. Comp. Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. Intr., sec. 54.—Muñoz, Hist. del Nuevo-Mundo, lib. 2, sec. 12.—Spotorno, Memorials of Columbus, pp. 12, 25.—Irving, Life of Columbus, vol. iv. book 18, chap. 4.
[17] Fernando Colon, Hist. del Almirante, cap. 3.—Novi Orbis Hist., lib. 1, cap. 14.—Herrera, Indias Occidentales, dec. 1, lib. 6, cap. 15.
[18] See the extracts from Columbus's book of Prophecies, (apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom, ii., Doc. Dipl., no. 140,) as still existing in the Bibliotheca Colombina at Seville.
[19] See his epistle to the most selfish and sensual of the successors of St. Peter, in Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom, ii., Doc. Dipl., no. 145.
[20] "El oro, bien que segun informacion el sea mucho, no me paresció bien ni servicio de vuestras Altezas de se le tomar por via de robo. La buena orden evitará escándolo y mala fama," etc. Cartas de Colon, apud Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. i. p. 310.
[21] Columbus left two sons, Fernando and Diego. The former, illegitimate, inherited his father's genius, says a Castilian writer, and the latter, his honors and estates. (Zuñiga, Annales de Sevilla, año 1506.) Fernando, besides other works now lost, left a valuable memoir of his father, often cited in this history. He was a person of rather uncommon literary attainments, and amassed a library, in his extensive travels, of 20,000 volumes, perhaps the largest private collection in Europe at that day. (Ibid., año 1539.) Diego did not succeed to his father's dignities, till he had obtained a judgment in his favor against the crown from the Council of the Indies, an act highly honorable to that tribunal, and showing that the independence of the courts of justice, the greatest bulwark of civil liberty, was well maintained under King Ferdinand. (Navarrete, Coleccion de Viages, tom. ii., Doc. Dipl., nos. 163, 164; tom. iii., Supl. Col. Dipl., no. 69.) The youngadmiralsubsequently married a lady of the great Toledo family, niece of the duke of Alva. (Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 2, dial. 8.) This alliance with one of the most ancient branches of the haughty aristocracy of Castile, proves the extraordinary consideration, which Columbus must have attained during his own lifetime. A new opposition was made by Charles V. to the succession of Diego's son; and the latter, discouraged by the prospect of this interminable litigation with the crown, prudently consented to commute his claims, too vast and indefinite for any subject to enforce, for specific honors and revenues in Castile. The titles of Duke of Veragua and Marquis of Jamaica, derived from the places visited by the admiral in his last voyage, still distinguish the family, whose proudest title, above all that monarchs can confer, is, to have descended from Columbus. Spotorno, Memorials of Columbus, p. 123.
1506.
Philip and Joanna.—Their Reckless Administration.—Ferdinand DistrustsGonsalvo.—He Sails for Naples.—Philip's Death and Character.—TheProvisional Government.—Joanna's Condition.—Ferdinand's Entry intoNaples.—Discontent Caused by his Measures there.
King Ferdinand had no sooner concluded the arrangement with Philip, and withdrawn into his hereditary dominions, than the archduke and his wife proceeded towards Valladolid, to receive the homage of the estates convened in that city. Joanna, oppressed with an habitual melancholy, and clad in the sable habiliments better suited to a season of mourning than rejoicing, refused the splendid ceremonial and festivities, with which the city was prepared to welcome her. Her dissipated husband, who had long since ceased to treat her not merely with affection, but even decency, would fain have persuaded the cortes to authorize the confinement of his wife, as disordered in intellect, and to devolve on him the whole charge of the government. In this he was supported by the archbishop of Toledo, and some of the principal nobility. But the thing was distasteful to the commons, who could not brook such an indignity to their own "natural sovereign;" and they were so stanchly supported by the admiral Enriquez, a grandee of the highest authority from his connection with the crown, that Philip was at length induced to abandon his purpose, and to content himself with an act of recognition similar to that made at Toro. [1] No notice whatever was taken of the Catholic king, or of his recent arrangement transferring the regency to Philip. The usual oaths of allegiance were tendered to Joanna as queen and lady proprietor of the kingdom, and to Philip as her husband, and finally to their eldest son, prince Charles, as heir apparent and lawful successor on the demise of his mother. [2]
By the tenor of these acts the royal authority would seem to be virtually vested in Joanna. From this moment, however, Philip assumed the government into his own hands. The effects were soon visible in the thorough revolution introduced into every department. Old incumbents in office were ejected without ceremony, to make way for new favorites. The Flemings, in particular, were placed in every considerable post, and the principal fortresses of the kingdom intrusted to their keeping. No length or degree of service was allowed to plead in behalf of the ancient occupant. The marquis and marchioness of Moya, the personal friends of the late queen, and who had been particularly recommended by her to her daughter's favor, were forcibly expelled from Segovia, whose strong citadel was given to Don Juan Manuel. There were no limits to the estates and honors lavished on this crafty minion. [3]
The style of living at the court was on the most thoughtless scale of wasteful expenditure. The public revenues, notwithstanding liberal appropriations by the late cortes, were wholly unequal to it. To supply the deficit, offices were sold to the highest bidder. The income drawn from the silk manufactures of Granada, which had been appropriated to defray King Ferdinand's pension, was assigned by Philip to one of the royal treasurers. Fortunately, Ximenes obtained possession of the order and had the boldness to tear it in pieces. He then waited on the young monarch and remonstrated with him on the recklessness of measures which must infallibly ruin his credit with the people. Philip yielded in this instance; but, although he treated the archbishop with the greatest outward deference, it is not easy to discern the habitual influence over his counsels claimed for the prelate by his adulatory biographers. [4]
All this could not fail to excite disgust and disquietude throughout the nation. The most alarming symptoms of insubordination began to appear in different parts of the kingdom. In Andalusia, in particular, a confederation of the nobles was organized, with the avowed purpose of rescuing the queen from the duress, in which it was said she was held by her husband. At the same time the most tumultuous scenes were exhibited in Cordova, in consequence of the high hand with which the Inquisition was carrying matters there. Members of many of the principal families, including persons of both sexes, had been arrested on the charge of heresy. This sweeping proscription provoked an insurrection, countenanced by the marquis of Priego, in which the prisons were broken open, and Lucero, an inquisitor who had made himself deservedly odious by his cruelties, narrowly escaped falling into the hands of the infuriated populace. [5] The grand inquisitor, Deza, archbishop of Seville, the steady friend of Columbus, but whose name is unhappily registered on some of the darkest pages of the tribunal, was so intimidated as to resign his office. [6] The whole affair was referred to the royal council by Philip, whose Flemish education had not predisposed him to any reverence for the institution; a circumstance, which operated quite as much to his prejudice, with the more bigoted part of the nation, as his really exceptionable acts. [7]
The minds of the wise and the good were filled with sadness, as they listened to the low murmurs of popular discontent, which seemed to be gradually swelling into strength for some terrible convulsion; and they looked back with fond regret to the halcyon days, which they had enjoyed under the temperate rule of Ferdinand and Isabella.
The Catholic king, in the mean time, was pursuing his voyage to Naples. He had been earnestly pressed by the Neapolitans to visit his new dominions, soon after the conquest. [8] He now went, less, however, in compliance with that request, than to relieve his own mind, by assuring himself of the fidelity of his viceroy, Gonsalvo de Cordova. That illustrious man had not escaped the usual lot of humanity; his brilliant successes had brought on him a full measure of the envy, which seems to wait on merit like its shadow. Even men like Rojas, the Castilian ambassador at Rome, and Prospero Colonna, the distinguished Italian commander, condescended to employ their influence at court to depreciate the Great Captain's services, and raise suspicions of his loyalty. His courteous manners, bountiful largesses, and magnificent style of living were represented as politic arts, to seduce the affections of the soldiery and the people. His services were in the market for the highest bidder. He had received the most splendid offers from the king of France and the pope. He had carried on a correspondence with Maximilian and Philip, who would purchase his adhesion, if possible, to the latter, at any price; and, if he had not hitherto committed himself by any overt act, it seemed probable he was only waiting to be determined in his future course by the result of King Ferdinand's struggle with his son-in-law. [9]
These suggestions, in which some truth, as usual, was mingled with a large infusion of error, gradually excited more and more uneasiness in the breast of the cautious and naturally distrustful Ferdinand. He at first endeavored to abridge the powers of the Great Captain by recalling half the troops in his service, notwithstanding the unsettled state of the kingdom. [10] He then took the decisive step of ordering his return to Castile, on pretence of employing him in affairs of great importance at home. To allure him more effectually, he solemnly pledged himself by an oath to transfer to him, on his landing in Spain, the grandmastership of St. Jago, with all its princely dependencies and emoluments, the noblest gift in the possession of the crown. Finding all this ineffectual, and that Gonsalvo still procrastinated his return on various pretexts, the king's uneasiness increased to such a degree, that he determined to press his own departure for Naples, and bring back, if not too late, his too powerful vassal. [11]
On the 4th of September, 1506, Ferdinand embarked at Barcelona, on board a well-armed squadron of Catalan galleys, taking with him his young and beautiful bride, and a numerous train of Aragonese nobles. On the 24th of the month, after a boisterous and tedious passage, he reached the port of Genoa. Here, to his astonishment, he was joined by the Great Captain, who, advised of the king's movements, had come from Naples with a small fleet to meet him. This frank conduct of his general, if it did not disarm Ferdinand of his suspicions, showed him the policy of concealing them; and he treated Gonsalvo with all the consideration and show of confidence, which might impose, not merely on the public, but on the immediate subject of them. [12]
The Italian writers of the time express their astonishment that the Spanish general should have so blindly trusted himself into the hands of his suspicious master. [13] But he, doubtless, felt strong in the consciousness of his own integrity. There appears to have been no good reason for impeaching this. His most equivocal act was his delay to obey the royal summons. But much weight is reasonably due to his own explanation, that he was deterred by the distracted state of the country, arising from the proposed transfer of property to the Angevin barons, as well as from the precipitate disbanding of the army, which it required all his authority to prevent from breaking into open mutiny. [14] To these motives may be probably added the natural, though perhaps unconscious reluctance to relinquish the exalted station, little short of absolute sovereignty, which he had so long and so gloriously filled.
He had, indeed, lorded it over his viceroyalty with most princely sway. But he had assumed no powers to which he was not entitled by his services and peculiar situation. His public operations in Italy had been uniformly conducted for the advantage of his country, and, until the late final treaty with France, were mainly directed to the expulsion of that power beyond the Alps. [15] Since that event, he had busily occupied himself with the internal affairs of Naples, for which he made many excellent provisions, contriving by his consummate address to reconcile the most conflicting interests and parties. Although the idol of the army and of the people, there is not the slightest evidence of an attempt to pervert his popularity to an unworthy purpose. There is no appearance of his having been corrupted, or even dazzled, by the splendid offers repeatedly made him by the different potentates of Europe. On the contrary, the proud answer recorded of him, to Pope Julius the Second, breathes a spirit of determined loyalty, perfectly irreconcilable with anything sinister or selfish in his motives. [16] The Italian writers of the time, who affect to speak of these motives with some distrust, were little accustomed to such examples of steady devotion; [17] but the historian, who reviews all the circumstances, must admit that there was nothing to justify such distrust, and that the only exceptionable acts in Gonsalvo's administration were performed not to advance his own interests, but those of his master, and in too strict obedience to his commands. King Ferdinand was the last person who had cause to complain of them.
After quitting Genoa, the royal squadron was driven by contrary winds into the neighboring harbor of Portofino, where Ferdinand received intelligence, which promised to change his destination altogether. This was the death of his son-in-law, the young king of Castile.
This event, so unexpected and awfully sudden, was occasioned by a fever, brought on by too violent exercise at a game of ball, at an entertainment made for Philip by his favorite, Manuel, in Burgos, where the court was then held. Through the unskilfulness of his physicians, as it was said, who neglected to bleed him, the disorder rapidly gained ground, [18] and on the sixth day after his attack, being the 25th of September, 1506, he breathed his last. [19] He was but twenty-eight years old, of which brief period he had enjoyed, or endured, the "golden cares" of sovereignty but little more than two months, dating from his recognition by the cortes. His body, after being embalmed, lay in state for two days, decorated with the insignia,—the mockery of royalty, as it had proved to him,—and was then deposited in the convent of Miraflores near Burgos, to await its final removal to Granada, agreeably to his last request. [20]
Philip was of the middle height; he had a fair, florid complexion, regular features, long flowing locks, and a well-made, symmetrical figure. Indeed, he was so distinguished for comeliness both of person and countenance, that he is designated on the roll of Spanish sovereigns as Felipe el Hermoso, or the Handsome. [21] His mental endowments were not so extraordinary. The father of Charles the Fifth possessed scarcely a single quality in common with his remarkable son. He was rash and impetuous in his temper, frank, and careless. He was born to great expectations, and early accustomed to command, which seemed to fill him with a crude, intemperate ambition, impatient alike of control or counsel. He was not without generous, and even magnanimous sentiments; but he abandoned himself to the impulse of the moment, whether for good or evil; and, as he was naturally indolent and fond of pleasure, he willingly reposed the burden of government on others, who, as usual, thought more of their own interests than those of the public. His early education exempted him from the bigotry characteristic of the Spaniards; and, had he lived, he might have done much to mitigate the grievous abuses of the Inquisition. As it was, his premature death deprived him of the opportunity of compensating, by this single good act, the manifold mischiefs of his administration.
This event, too improbable to have formed any part of the calculations of the most far-sighted politician, spread general consternation throughout the country. The old adherents of Ferdinand, with Ximenes at their head, now looked forward with confidence to his re-establishment in the regency. Many others, however, like Garcilasso de la Vega, whose loyalty to their old master had not been proof against the times, viewed this with some apprehension. [22] Others, again, who had openly from the first linked their fortunes to those of his rival, as the duke of Najara, the marquis of Villena, and, above all, Don Juan Manuel, saw in it their certain ruin, and turned their thoughts towards Maximilian, or the king of Portugal, or any other monarch, whose connection with the royal family might afford a plausible pretext for interference in the government. On Philip's Flemish followers the tidings fell like a thunderbolt, and in their bewilderment they seemed like so many famished birds of prey, still hovering round the half-devoured carcass from which they had been unceremoniously scared. [23]
The weight of talent and popular consideration was undoubtedly on the king's side. The most formidable of the opposition, Manuel, had declined greatly in credit with the nation during the short, disastrous period of his administration; while the archbishop of Toledo, who might be considered as the leader of Ferdinand's party, possessed talents, energy, and reputed sanctity of character, which, combined with the authority of his station, gave him unbounded influence over all classes of the Castilians. It was fortunate for the land, in this emergency, that the primacy was in such able hands. It justified the wisdom of Isabella's choice, made in opposition, it may be remembered, to the wishes of Ferdinand, who was now to reap the greatest benefit from it.
That prelate, foreseeing the anarchy likely to arise on Philip's death, assembled the nobility present at the court, in his own palace, the day before this event took place. It was there agreed to name a provisional council, or regency, who should carry on the government, and provide for the tranquillity of the kingdom. It consisted of seven members, with the archbishop of Toledo at its head, the duke of Infantado, the grand constable and the admiral of Castile, both connected with the royal family, the duke of Najara, a principal leader of the opposite faction, and two Flemish lords. No mention was made of Manuel. [24]
The nobles, in a subsequent convention on the 1st of October, ratified these proceedings, and bound themselves not to carry on private war, or attempt to possess themselves of the queen's person, and to employ all their authority in supporting the provisional government, whose term was limited to the end of December. [25]
A meeting of cortes was wanting to give validity to their acts, as well as to express the popular will in reference to a permanent settlement of the government. There was some difference of opinion, even among the king's friends, as to the expediency of summoning that body at this crisis; but the greatest impediment arose from the queen's refusal to sign the writs. [26]
This unhappy lady's condition had become truly deplorable. During her husband's illness, she had never left his bedside; but neither then, nor since his death, had been seen to shed a tear. She remained in a state of stupid insensibility, sitting in a darkened apartment, her head resting on her hand, and her lips closed, as mute and immovable as a statue. When applied to, for issuing the necessary summons for the cortes, or to make appointments to office, or for any other pressing business, which required her signature, she replied, "My father will attend to all this when he returns; he is much more conversant with business than I am; I have no other duties now, but to pray for the soul of my departed husband." The only orders she was known to sign were for paying the salaries of her Flemish musicians; for in her abject state she found some consolation in music, of which she had been passionately fond from childhood. The few remarks which she uttered were discreet and sensible, forming a singular contrast with the general extravagance of her actions. On the whole, however, her pertinacity in refusing to sign anything was attended with as much good as evil, since it prevented her name from being used, as it would undoubtedly have often been, in the existing state of things, for pernicious and party purposes. [27]
Finding it impossible to obtain the queen's co-operation, the council at length resolved to issue the writs of summons in their own name, as a measure justified by necessity. The place of meeting was fixed at Burgos in the ensuing month of November; and great pains were taken, that the different cities should instruct their representatives in their views respecting the ultimate disposition of the government. [28]
Long before this, indeed immediately after Philip's death, letters had been despatched by Ximenes and his friends to the Catholic king, acquainting him with the state of affairs, and urging his immediate return to Castile. He received them at Portofino. He determined, however, to continue his voyage, in which he had already advanced so far, to Naples. The wary monarch perhaps thought, that the Castilians, whose attachment to his own person he might with some reason distrust, would not be the less inclined to his rule after having tasted the bitterness of anarchy. In his reply, therefore, after briefly expressing a decent regret at the untimely death of his son-in-law, and his uudoubting confidence in the loyalty of the Castilians to their queen, his daughter, he prudently intimates that he retains nothing but kindly recollections of his ancient subjects, and promises to use all possible despatch in adjusting the affairs of Naples, that he may again return to them. [29]
After this, the king resumed his voyage, and having touched at several places on the coast, in all which he was received with great enthusiasm, arrived before the capital of his new dominions in the latter part of October. All were anxious, says the great Tuscan historian of the time, to behold the prince who had acquired a mighty reputation throughout Europe for his victories both over Christian and infidel; and whose name was everywhere revered for the wisdom and equity with which he had ruled in his own kingdom. They looked to his coming, therefore, as an event fraught with importance, not merely to Naples, but to all Italy, where his personal presence and authority might do so much to heal existing feuds, and establish permanent tranquillity. [30] The Neapolitans, in particular, were intoxicated with joy at his arrival. The most splendid preparations were made for his reception. A fleet of twenty vessels of war came out to meet him and conduct him into port; and, as he touched the shores of his new dominions, the air was rent with acclamations of the people, and with the thunders of artillery from the fortresses, which crowned the heights of the city, and from the gallant navy which rode in her waters. [31]
The faithful chronicler of Los Palacios, who generally officiates as the master of ceremonies on these occasions, dilates with great complacency on all the circumstances of the celebration, even to the minutest details of the costume worn by the king and his nobility. According to him, the monarch was arrayed in a long, flowing mantle of crimson velvet, lined with satin of the same color. On his head was a black velvet bonnet, garnished with a resplendent ruby, and a pearl of inestimable price. He rode a noble white charger, whose burnished caparisons dazzled the eye with their splendor. By his side was his young queen, mounted on a milk- white palfrey, and wearing a skirt or undergarment of rich brocade, and a French robe, simply fastened with clasps or loops of fine wrought gold.
On the mole they were received by the Great Captain, who, surrounded by his guard of halberdiers, and his silken array of pages wearing his device, displayed all the pomp and magnificence of his household. After passing under a triumphal arch, where Ferdinand swore to respect the liberties and privileges of Naples, the royal pair moved forward under a gorgeous canopy, borne by the members of the municipality, while the reins of their steeds were held by some of the principal nobles. After them followed the other lords and cavaliers of the kingdom, with the clergy, and ambassadors assembled from every part of Italy and Europe, bearing congratulations and presents from their respective courts. As the procession halted in the various quarters of the city, it was greeted with joyous bursts of music from a brilliant assemblage of knights and ladies, who did homage by kneeling down and saluting the hands of their new sovereigns. At length, after defiling through, the principal streets and squares, it reached the great cathedral, where the day was devoutly closed with solemn prayer and thanksgiving. [32]
Ferdinand was too severe an economist of time, to waste it willingly on idle pomp and ceremonial. His heart swelled with satisfaction, however, as he gazed on the magnificent capital thus laid at his feet, and pouring forth the most lively expressions of a loyalty, which of late he had been led to distrust. With all his impatience, therefore, he was not disposed to rebuke this spirit by abridging the season of hilarity. But, after allowing sufficient scope for its indulgence, he devoted himself assiduously to the great purposes of his visit.
He summoned a parliament general of the kingdom, where, after his own recognition, oaths of allegiance were tendered to his daughter Joanna and her posterity, as his successors, without any allusion being made to the rights of his wife. This was a clear evasion of the treaty with France. But Ferdinand, though late, was too sensible of the folly of that stipulation which secured the reversion of his wife's dower to the latter crown, to allow it to receive any sanction from the Neapolitans. [33]
Another, and scarcely less disastrous provision of the treaty he complied with in better faith. This was the reestablishment of the Angevin proprietors in their ancient estates; the greater part of which, as already noticed, had been parcelled out among his own followers, both Spaniards and Italians. It was, of course, a work of extraordinary difficulty and vexation. When any flaw or impediment could be raised in the Angevin title, the transfer was evaded. When it could not, a grant of other land or money was substituted, if possible. More frequently, however, the equivalent, which probably was not very scrupulously meted out, was obliged to be taken by the Aragonese proprietor. To accomplish this the king was compelled to draw largely on the royal patrimony in Naples, as well as to make liberal appropriations of land and rents in his native dominions. As all this proved insufficient, he was driven to the expedient of replenishing the exchequer by draughts on his new subjects. [34]
The result, although effected without violence or disorder, was unsatisfactory to all parties. The Angevins rarely received the full extent of their demands. The loyal partisans of Aragon saw the fruits of many a hard-fought battle snatched from their grasp, to be given back again to their enemies. [35] Lastly, the wretched Neapolitans, instead of the favors and immunities incident to a new reign, found themselves burdened with additional imposts, which, in the exhausted state of the country, were perfectly intolerable. So soon were the fair expectations formed of Ferdinand's coming, like most other indefinite expectations, clouded over by disappointment; and such were some of the bitter fruits of the disgraceful treaty with Louis the Twelfth. [36]
[1] Marina tells an anecdote too long for insertion here, in relation to this cortes, showing the sturdy stuff of which a Castilian commoner in that day was made. (Teoría, part. 2, cap. 7.) It will scarcely gain credit without a better voucher than the anonymous scribbler from whom he has borrowed it.
[2] Mariana, Hist. de España, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 22.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 11.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 15.
Joanna on this occasion was careful to inspect the powers of the deputies herself, to see they were all regularly authenticated. Singular astuteness for a mad woman!
[3] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 312.—Mariana, Hist. De España, tom. ii. lib. 28, cap. 22.—Lanuza, Historias, tom. i. lib. 1, cap. 21.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 65.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 1, dial. 23.
[4] Robles, Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 65.— Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, rey 30, cap. 16.—Quintanilla, Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 14.
[5] Lucero (whom honest Martyr, with a sort of back-handed pun, usually nicknames Tenebrero) resumed his inquisitorial functions on Philip's death. Among his subsequent victims was the good archbishop Talavera, whose last days were embittered by his persecution. His insane violence at length provoked again the interference of government. His case was referred to a special commission, with Ximenes at its head. Sentence was pronounced against him. The prisons he had filled were emptied. His judgments were reversed, as founded on insufficient and frivolous grounds. But alas! what was this to the hundreds he had consigned to the stake, and the thousands he had plunged in misery? He was in the end sentenced,—not to be roasted alive,—but to retire to his own benefice, and confine himself to the duties of a Christian minister! Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 77.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist, 333, 334, et al.—Llorente, Hist. de l'Inquisition, tom. i. chap. 10, art. 3, 4.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., dial, de Deza.
[6] Oviedo has given an ample notice of this prelate, Ferdinand's confessor, in one of his dialogues. He mentions a singular taste, in one respect, quite worthy of an inquisitor. The archbishop kept a tame lion in his palace, which used to accompany him when he went abroad, and lie down at his feet when he said mass in the church. The monster had been stripped of his teeth and claws when young, but he was "espantable en su vista é aspeto," says Oviedo, who records two or three of his gambols, lion's play, at best. Quincuagenas, MS.
[7] Llorente, Hist. de l'Inquisition, tom. i. chap. 10, art. 3, 4.— Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, rey 30, cap.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 333, 334, et al.
"Toda la gente," says Zurita, in reference to this affair, "noble y de limpia sangre se avia escandalizado dello;" (Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 11;) and he plainly intimates his conviction, that Philip's profane interference brought Heaven's vengeance on his head, in the shape of a premature death. Zurita was secretary of the Holy Office in the early part of the sixteenth century. Had he lived in the nineteenth, he might have acted the part of a Llorente. He was certainly not born for a bigot.
[8] Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.
[9] Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 276.—Abarca, Reyes de Aragon, tom. ii. rey 30, cap. 16.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 5, 11, 17, 27, 31; lib. 7, cap, 14.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 123.—Gonsalvo, in a letter to the king dated July 2, 1506, alludes bitterly to these unfounded imputations on his honor. Cartas, MS.
[10] Mariana, Hist. de España, lib. 28, cap. 12.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 5.
[11] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 6.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 12, ed. di Milano, 1803.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, p. 280.—Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.
[12] Giannone, Istoria de Napoli, ubi supra.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.— Buonaccorsi Diario, p. 123.—Capmany, Mem. de Barcelona, tom. i. p. 152.— "Este," says Capmany of the squadron which bore the king from Barcelona, "se puede decir fué el último armamento que salió de aquella capital."
[13] Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 30.—Machiavelli, Legazione Seconda a Roma, let. 23.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.
[14] Zurita, Anales, lib. 6, cap. 31.
[15] My limits will not allow room for the complex politics and feuds of Italy, into which Gonsalvo entered with all the freedom of an independent potentate. See the details, apud Chrónica del Gran Capitan, lib. 2, cap. 112-127.—Sismondi, Républiques Italiennes, tom. xiii. chap. 103.— Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iii. p. 235 et alibi.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 6, cap. 7, 9.—Carta del Gran Capitan, MS.
[16] Zurita, Anales, lib. 6, cap. 11.
[17] "Il Gran Capitan," says Guicciardini, "conscio dei sospetti, i quali il reforse non vanamenteaveva avuti di lui," etc. (Istoria, tom, iv. p. 30.) This way of damning a character by surmise, is very common with Italian writers of this age, who uniformly resort to the very worst motive as the key of whatever is dubious or inexplicable in conduct. Not a sudden death, for example, occurs, without at least asospettoof poison from some hand or other. What a fearful commentary on the morals of the land!
[18] Philip's disorder was lightly regarded at first by his Flemish physicians; whose practice and predictions were alike condemned by their coadjutor Lodovico Marliano, an Italian doctor, highly commended by Martyr, as "inter philosophos et medicos lucida lampas." 'He was at least the better prophet on this occasion. Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 313.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 14.
[19] Oviedo, Quincuagenas, MS., bat. 1, quinc. 3, dial. 9.—Fortunately for Ferdinand's reputation, Philip's death was attended by too unequivocal circumstances, and recorded by too many eyewitnesses, to admit the suggestion of poison. It seems he drank freely of cold water while very hot. The fever he brought on was an epidemic, which at that time afflicted Castile. Machiavelli, Legazione Seconda a Roma, let. 29.—Zuñiga, Annales de Sevilla, año 1506.
[20] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 313, 316.—Bernaldez, ReyesCatólicos, MS., cap. 206.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 66.—Carbajal,Anales, MS., año 1506.—L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—Sandoval,Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., tom. i. p. 11.
[21] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187, 188.—Sandoval, Hist. del Emp. Carlos V., ubi supra.
Martyr, touched with the melancholy fate of his young sovereign, pays the following not inelegant, and certainly not parsimonious tribute to his memory, in a letter written a few days after his death, which, it may be noticed, he makes a day earlier than other contemporary accounts. "Octavo Calendas Octobris animam emisit ille juvenis, formosus, pulcher, elegans, animo pollens et ingesio, procerae validaeque naturae, uti flos vernus evanuit." Opus Epist., epist. 316.
[22] Garcilasso de la Vega appears to have been one of those dubious politicians, who, to make use of a modern phrase, are always "on the fence." The wags of his day applied to him a coarse saying of the old duke of Alva in Henry IV.'s time, "Que era como el perro del ventero, que ladra a los de fuera, y muerde a los de dentro." Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 39.
[23] Mariana, Hist. de España, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 2.—Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 206.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 22.
[24] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 15.—Mariana, Hist. de España, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 1.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 317.—Zuñiga, Annales de Sevilla, año 1506.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 67.
[25] Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 16.
I find no authority for the statement made by Alvaro Gomez (De Rebus Gestis, fol. 68), and faithfully echoed by Robles (Vida de Ximenez, cap. 17) and Quintanilla (Archetypo, lib. 3, cap. 14), that Ximenes filled the office of sole regent at this juncture. It is not warranted by Martyr, (Opus Epist., epist. 317,) and is contradicted by the words of the original instrument cited as usual by Zurita, (ubi supra.) The archbishop's biographers, one and all, claim as many merits and services for their hero, as if, like Quintanilla, they were working expressly for his beatification.
[26] The duke of Alva, the staunch supporter of King Ferdinand in all his difficulties, objected to calling the cortes together, on the grounds, that the summonses, not being by the proper authority, would be informal; that many cities might consequently refuse to obey them, and the acts of the remainder be open to objection, as not those of the nation; that, after all, should cortes assemble, it was quite uncertain under what influences it might be made to act, and whether it would pursue the course most expedient for Ferdinand's interests; and finally, that if the intention was to procure the appointment of a regency, this had already been done by the nomination of King Ferdinand at Toro, in 1505; that to start the question anew was unnecessarily to bring that act into doubt. The duke does not seem to have considered that Ferdinand had forfeited his original claim to the regency by his abdication; perhaps, on the ground, that it had never been formally accepted by the commons. I shall have occasion to return to this hereafter. See the discussionin extenso, apud Zurita, Anales, lib. 7, cap. 26.
[27] Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 318.—Mariana, Hist. de España, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 2.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 71-73.
[28] Zurita, Anales, lib. 7, cap. 22.
[29] L. Marineo, Cosas Memorables, fol. 187.—Zuñiga, Annales de Sevilla, año 1506.—Peter Martyr, Opus Epist., epist. 317.—Gomez, De Rebus Gestis, fol. 68, 69, 71.
Shall we wrong Ferdinand much by applying to him the pertinent verses ofLucan, on a somewhat similar occasion?
"Tutumque putavitJam bonus esse socer; lacrymas non sponte cadentesEffudit, gemitusque expressit pectore laeto,Non aliter manifesta putans abscondere mentisGaudía, quam lacrymis."Pharsalia, lib. 9.
[30] "Un re glorioso per tante vittorie avute contro gl' Infedeli, e contro i Cristiani, venerabile per opinione di prudenza, e del quale risonava fama Cristianissima, che avesse con singolare giustizia, e tranquillità governato i reami suoi." Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 31.—Also Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 124.—Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.
[31] Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 31.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, pp. 278, 279.— Bembo, Istoria Viniziana, lib. 7.
[32] Bernaldez, Reyes Católicos, MS., cap. 210.—Zurita, Anales, tom. vi. lib. 7, cap. 20.—Giovio, Vitae Illust. Virorum, ubi supra.—Garibay, Compendio, lib. 20, cap. 9.
[33] Zurita, Anales, ubi supra.—Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. pp. 72, 73.
[34] Giannone, Istoria di Napoli, lib. 30, cap. 1.—Summonte, Hist. di Napoli, tom. iv. lib. 6, cap. 5.—Buonaccorsi, Diario, p. 129.— Guicciardini, Istoria, tom. iv. p. 71.
[35] Such, for example, was the fate of the doughty little cavalier, Pedro de la Paz, the gallant Leyva, so celebrated in the subsequent wars of Charles V., the ambassador Rojas, the Quixotic Paredes, and others. The last of these adventurers, according to Mariana, endeavored to repair his broken fortunes by driving the trade of a corsair in the Levant. Hist. de España, tom. ii. lib. 29, cap. 4.
[36] If any one would see a perfect specimen of the triumph of style, let him compare the interminable prolixities of Zurita with Mariana, who, in this portion of his narrative, has embodied the facts and opinions of his predecessor, with scarcely any alteration, save that of greater condensation, in his own transparent and harmonious diction. It is quite as great a miracle in its way as therifacimentoof Berni.
1506-1509
Joanna's Mad Conduct.—She Changes her Ministers.—Disorders in Castile.—Ferdinand's Politic Behavior.—He Leaves Naples.—His Brilliant Receptionby Louis XII.—Honors to Gonsalvo.—Ferdinand's Return to Castile.—HisExcessive Severity.—Neglect of the Great Captain.—His HonorableRetirement.
While Ferdinand was thus occupied in Naples, the representatives of most of the cities, summoned by the provisional government, had assembled in Burgos. Before entering on business, they were desirous to obtain the queen's sanction to their proceedings. A committee waited on her for that purpose, but she obstinately refused to give them audience. [1]
She still continued plunged in moody melancholy, exhibiting, however, occasionally the wildest freaks of insanity. Towards the latter end of December, she determined to leave Burgos, and remove her husband's remains to their final resting-place in Granada. She insisted on seeing them herself, before her departure. The remonstrances of her counsellors, and the holy men of the monastery of Miraflores, proved equally fruitless. Opposition only roused her passions into frenzy, and they were obliged to comply with her mad humors. The corpse was removed from the vault; the two coffins of lead and wood were opened, and such as chose gazed on the mouldering relics, which, notwithstanding their having been embalmed, exhibited scarcely a trace of humanity. The queen was not satisfied till she touched them with her own hand, which she did without shedding a tear, or testifying the least emotion. The unfortunate lady, indeed, was said never to have been seen to weep, since she detected her husband's intrigue with the Flemish courtesan.
The body was then placed on a magnificent car, or hearse, drawn by four horses. It was accompanied by a long train of ecclesiastics and nobles, who, together with the queen, left the city on the night of the 20th of December. She made her journeys by night, saying, that "a widow, who had lost the sun of her own soul, should never expose herself to the light of day." When she halted, the body was deposited in some church or monastery, where the funeral services were performed, as if her husband had just died; and a corps of armed men kept constant guard, chiefly, as it would seem, with the view of preventing any female from profaning the place by her presence. For Joanna still retained the same jealousy of her sex, which she had unhappily so much cause to feel during Philip's lifetime. [2]
In a subsequent journey, when at a short distance from Torquemada, she ordered the corpse to be carried into the court-yard of a convent, occupied, as she supposed, by monks. She was filled with horror, however, on finding it a nunnery, and immediately commanded the body to be removed into the open fields. Here she encamped with her whole party at dead of night; not, however, until she had caused the coffins to be unsealed, that she might satisfy herself of the safety of her husband's relics; although it was very difficult to keep the torches, during the time, from being extinguished by the violence of the wind, and leaving the company in total darkness. [3]
These mad pranks, savoring of absolute idiocy, were occasionally checkered by other acts of more intelligence, but not less startling. She had early shown a disgust to her father's old counsellors, and especially to Ximenes, who, she thought, interfered too authoritatively in her domestic concerns. Before leaving Burgos, however, she electrified her husband's adherents, by revoking all grants made by the crown since Isabella's death. This, almost the only act she was ever known to sign, was a severe blow to the courtly tribe of sycophants, on whom the golden favors of the late reign had been so prodigally showered. At the same time she reformed her privy council, by dismissing the present members, and reinstating those appointed by her royal mother, sarcastically telling one of the ejected counsellors, that, "he might go and complete his studies at Salamanca." The remark had a biting edge to it, as the worthy jurist was reputed somewhat low in his scholarship. [4]
These partial gleams of intelligence, directed in this peculiar way too, led many to discern the secret influence of her father. She still, however, pertinaciously refused to sanction any measures of cortes for his recall; and, when pressed by that body on this and other matters, at an audience which she granted before leaving Burgos, she plainly told them "to return to their quarters, and not to meddle further in the public business without her express commands." Not long after this, the legislature was prorogued by the royal council for four months.
The term assigned for the provisional government expired in December, and was not renewed. No other regency was appointed by the nobles; and the kingdom, without even the shadow of protection afforded by its cortes, and with no other guide but its crazy sovereign, was left to drift at random amidst the winds and waves of faction. This was not slow in brewing in every quarter, with the aid especially of the overgrown nobles, whose license, on such occasions as this, proved too plainly, that public tranquillity was not founded so much on the stability of law, as on the personal character of the reigning sovereign. [5]
The king's enemies, in the mean time, were pressing their correspondence with the emperor Maximilian, and urging his immediate presence in Spain. Others devised schemes for marrying the poor queen to the young duke of Calabria, or some other prince, whose years or incapacity might enable them to act over again the farce of King Philip. To add to the troubles occasioned by this mesh of intrigue and faction, the country, which of late years had suffered from scarcity, was visited by a pestilence, that fell most heavily on the south. In Seville alone, Bernaldez reports the incredible number of thirty thousand persons to have fallen victims to it. [6]
But, although the storm was thus darkening from every quarter, there was no general explosion, to shake the state to its foundations, as in the time of Henry the Fourth. Orderly habits, if not principles, had been gradually formed. under the long reign of Isabella. The great mass of the people had learned to respect the operation, and appreciate the benefits of law; and notwithstanding the menacing attitude, the bustle, and transitory ebullitions of the rival factions, there seemed a manifest reluctance to break up the established order of things, and, by deeds of violence and bloodshed, to renew the days of ancient anarchy.
Much of this good result was undoubtedly to be attributed to the vigorous counsels and conduct of Ximenes, [7] who, together with the grand constable and the duke of Alva, had received full powers from Ferdinand to act in his name. Much is also to be ascribed to the politic conduct of the king. Far from an intemperate zeal to resume the sceptre of Castile, he had shown throughout a discreet forbearance. He used the most courteous and condescending style, in his communications to the nobles and the municipalities, expressing his entire confidence in their patriotism, and their loyalty to the queen, his daughter. Through the archbishop, and other important agents, he had taken effectual measures to soften the opposition of the more considerable lords; until, at length, not only such accommodating statesmen as Garcilasso de la Vega, but more sturdy opponents, as Villena, Benavente, and Bejar, were brought to give in their adhesion to their old master. Liberal promises, indeed, had been made by the emperor, in the name of his grandson Charles, who had already been made to assume the title of King of Castile. But the promises of the imperial braggart passed lightly with the more considerate Castilians, who knew how far they usually outstripped his performance, and who felt, on the other hand, that their true interests were connected with those of a prince, whose superior talents and personal relations all concurred to recommend him to the seat, which he had once so honorably occupied. The great mass of the common people, too, notwithstanding the temporary alienation of their feelings from the Catholic king by his recent marriage, were driven by the evils they actually suffered, and the vague apprehension of greater, to participate in the same sentiments; so that, in less than eight months from Philip's death, the whole nation may be said to have returned to its allegiance to its ancient sovereign. The only considerable exceptions were Don Juan Manuel and the duke of Najara. The former had gone too far to recede, and the latter possessed too chivalrous, or too stubborn, a temper to do so. [8]
At length, the Catholic monarch, having completed his arrangements at Naples, and waited until the affairs of Castile were fully ripe for his return, set sail from his Italian capital, June 4th, 1507. He proposed to touch at the Genoese port of Savona, where an interview had been arranged between him and Louis the Twelfth. During his residence in Naples, he had assiduously devoted himself to the affairs of the kingdom. He had avoided entering into the local politics of Italy, refusing all treaties and alliances proposed to him by its various states, whether offensive or defensive. He had evaded the importunate solicitations and remonstrances of Maximilian in regard to the Castilian regency, and had declined, moreover, a personal conference proposed to him by the emperor, during his stay in Italy. After the great work of restoring the Angevins to their estates, he had thoroughly reorganized the interior administration of the kingdom; creating new offices, and entirely new departments. He made large reforms, moreover, in the courts of law, and prepared the way for the new system, demanded by its relations as a dependency of the Spanish monarchy. Lastly, before leaving the city, he acceded to the request of the inhabitants for the re-establishment of their ancient university. [9]
In all these sagacious measures, he had been ably assisted by his viceroy, Gonsalvo de Cordova. Ferdinand's deportment towards the latter had been studied, as I have said, to efface every uncomfortable impression from his mind. On his first arrival, indeed, the king had condescended to listen to complaints, made by certain officers of the exchequer, of Gonsalvo's waste and misapplication of the public moneys. The general simply asked leave to produce his own accounts in his defence. The first item, which he read aloud, was two hundred thousand seven hundred and thirty-six ducats, given in alms to the monasteries and the poor, to secure their prayers for the success of the king's enterprise. The second was seven hundred thousand four hundred and ninety-four ducats to the spies employed in his service. Other charges equally preposterous followed; while some of the audience stared incredulous, others laughed, and the king himself, ashamed of the paltry part he was playing, dismissed the whole affair as a jest. The common saying ofcuentas del Gran Capitan, at this day, attests at least the popular faith in the anecdote. [10]
From this moment, Ferdinand continued to show Gonsalvo unbounded marks of confidence; advising with him on all important matters, and making him the only channel of royal favor. He again renewed, in the most emphatic manner, his promise to resign the grand-mastership of St. Jago in his favor, on their return to Spain, and made formal application to the pope to confirm it. [11] In addition to the princely honors already conferred on the Great Captain, he granted him the noble duchy of Sessa, by an instrument, which, after a pompous recapitulation of his stately titles and manifold services, [12] declares that these latter were too great for recompense. Unfortunately for both king and subject, this was too true. [13]
Gonsalvo remained a day or two behind his royal master in Naples, to settle his private affairs. In addition to the heavy debts incurred by his own generous style of living, he had assumed those of many of his old companions in arms, with whom the world had gone less prosperously than with himself. The claims of his creditors, therefore, had swollen to such an amount, that, in order to satisfy them fully, he was driven to sacrifice part of the domains lately granted him. Having discharged all the obligations of a man of honor, he prepared to quit the land, over which he had ruled with so much splendor and renown for nearly four years. The Neapolitans in a body followed him to the vessel; and nobles, cavaliers, and even ladies of the highest rank lingered on the shore to bid him a last adieu. Not a dry eye, says the historian, was to be seen. So completely had he dazzled their imaginations, and captivated their hearts, by his brilliant and popular manners, his munificent spirit, and the equity of his administration,—qualities more useful, and probably more rare in those turbulent times, than military talent. He was succeeded in the office of grand constable of the kingdom by Prospero Colonna, and in that of viceroy by the count of Ribagorza, Ferdinand's nephew. [14]
On the 28th of June, the royal fleet of Aragon entered the little port of Savona, where the king of France had already been waiting for it several days. The French navy was ordered out to receive the Catholic monarch, and the vessels on either side, gayly decorated with the national flags and ensigns, rivalled each other in the beauty and magnificence of their equipments. King Ferdinand's galleys were spread with rich carpets and awnings of yellow and scarlet, and every sailor in the fleet exhibited the same gaudy-colored livery of the royal house of Aragon. Louis the Twelfth came to welcome his illustrious guests, attended by a gallant train of his nobility and chivalry; and, in order to reciprocate, as far as possible, the confidence reposed in him by the monarch with whom he had been so recently at deadly feud, immediately went on board the vessel of the latter. [15] Horses and mules richly caparisoned awaited them at the landing. The French king, mounting his steed, gallantly placed the young queen of Aragon behind him. His cavaliers did the same with the ladies of her suite, most of them French women, though attired, as an old chronicler of the nation rather peevishly complains, after the Spanish fashion; and the whole party, with the ladiesen croupe, galloped off to the royal quarters in Savona. [16]
Blithe and jocund were the revels, which rung through the halls of this fair city, during the brief residence of its royal visitors. Abundance of good cheer had been provided by Louis's orders, writes an old cavalier, [17] who was there to profit by it; and the larders of Savona were filled with the choicest game, and its cellars well stored with the delicious wines of Corsica, Languedoc, and Provence. Among the followers of Louis were the marquis of Mantua, the brave La Palice, the veteran D'Aubigny, and many others of renown, who had so lately measured swords with the Spaniards on the fields of Italy, and who now vied with each other in rendering them these more grateful, and no less honorable, offices of chivalry. [18]
As the gallant D'Aubigny was confined to his apartment by the gout, Ferdinand, who had always held his talents and conduct in high esteem, complimented him by a visit in person. But no one excited such general interest and attention as Gonsalvo de Cordova, who was emphatically the hero of the day. At least, such is the testimony of Guicciardini, who will not be suspected of undue partiality. Many a Frenchman there had had bitter experience of his military prowess. Many others had grown familiar with his exploits in the exaggerated reports of their country-men. They had been taught to regard him with mingled feelings of fear and hatred, and could scarcely credit their senses, as they beheld the bugbear of their imaginations distinguished above all others for "the majesty of his presence, the polished elegance of his discourse, and manners in which dignity was blended with grace." [19]