and Rodamont maintained the bridge of Montpellier, for the sake of the lady of his love, it is yet all plain matter of fact, spread out in becoming style, by an eyewitness, with a full account of the ceremonies, both of chivalry and of religion, that accompanied it. The theory of the whole is, that Quiñones, in acknowledgment of being prisoner to a noble lady, had, for some time, weekly worn her chains; and that he was now to ransom himself from this fanciful imprisonment by the payment of a certain number of real spears broken by him and his friends in fair fight. All this, to be sure, is fantastic enough. But the ideas of love, honor, and religion displayed in the proceedings of the champions,[296] who hear mass devoutly every day, and yet cannot obtain Christian burial for the Aragonese knight who is killed, and in the conduct of Quiñones himself, who fasts each Thursday, partly, it should seem, in honor of the Madonna, and partly in honor of his lady,—these and other whimsical incongruities are still more fantastic. They seem, indeed, as we read their record, to be quite worthy of the admiration expressed for them by Don Quixote in his argument with the wise canon,[297] but hardly worthy of any other; so that we are surprised, at first, when we find them specially recorded in the contemporary Chronicle of King John, and filling, long afterwards, a separate chapter in the graver Annals of Zurita. And yet such a grand tournament was an important event in the age when it happened, and is highly illustrative of the contemporary manners.[298] History and chronicle, therefore, alike did well to give it a place; and, indeed, down to the present time, the curious and elaborate record of the details and ceremonies of the Passo Honroso is of no little value as one of the best exhibitions that remain to us of the genius of chivalry, and as quite the best exhibition of what has been considered the most characteristic of all the knightly institutions.
The other work of the same period to which we have referred gives us, also, a striking view of the spirit of the times; one less picturesque, indeed, but not less instructive. It is called “El Seguro de Tordesillas,” the Pledge or the Truce of Tordesillas, and relates to a series of conferences held in 1439, between John the Second and a body of his nobles, headed by his own son, who, in a seditious and violent manner, interfered in the affairs of the kingdom, in order to break down the influence of the Constable de Luna.[299] It receives its peculiar name from the revolting circumstance, that, even in the days of the Passo Honroso, and with some of the knights who figured in that gorgeous show for the parties, true honor was yet sunk so low in Spain, that none could be found on either side of this great quarrel,—not even the King or the Prince,—whose word would be taken as a pledge for the mere personal safety of those who should be engaged in the discussions at Tordesillas. It was necessary, therefore, to find some one not strictly belonging to either party, who, invested with higher powers and even with supreme military control, should become the depositary of the general faith, and, exercising an authority limited only by his own sense of honor, be obeyed alike by the exasperated sovereign and his rebellious subjects.[300]
This proud distinction was given to Pedro Fernandez de Velasco, commonly called the Good or Faithful Count Haro; and the “Seguro de Tordesillas,” prepared by him some time afterwards, shows how honorably he executed the extraordinary trust. Few historical works can challenge such absolute authenticity. The documents of the case, constituting the chief part of it, are spread out before the reader; and what does not rest on their foundation rests on that word of the Good Count to which the lives of whatever was most distinguished in the kingdom had just been fearlessly trusted. As might be expected, its characteristics are simplicity and plainness, not elegance or eloquence. It is, in fact, a collection of documents, but it is an interesting and a melancholy record. The compact that was made led to no permanent good. The Count soon withdrew, ill at ease, to his own estates; and in less than two years his unhappy and weak master was assailed anew, and besieged in Medina del Campo, by his rebellious family and their adherents.[301] After this, we hear little of Count Haro, except that he continued to assist the king from time to time, in his increasing troubles, until, worn out with fatigue of body and mind, he retired from the world, and passed the last ten years of his life in a monastery, which he had himself founded, and where he died at the age of threescore and ten.[302]
Chronicles of Particular Persons.—But while remarkable events, like the Passage of Arms at Orbigo and the Pledge of Tordesillas, were thus appropriately recorded, the remarkable men of the time could hardly fail occasionally to find fit chroniclers.
Pero Niño, Count de Buelna, who flourished between 1379 and 1453, is the first of them. He was a distinguished naval and military commander in the reigns of Henry the Third and John the Second; and his Chronicle is the work of Gutierre Diez de Gamez, who was attached to his person from the time Pero Niño was twenty-three years old, and boasted the distinction of being his standard-bearer in many a rash and bloody fight. A more faithful chronicler, or one more imbued with knightly qualities, can hardly be found. He may be well compared to the “Loyal Serviteur,” the biographer of the Chevalier Bayard; and, like him, not only enjoyed the confidence of his master, but shared his spirit.[303] His accounts of the education of Pero Niño, and of the counsels given him by his tutor;[304] of Pero’s marriage to his first wife, the lady Constance de Guebara;[305] of his cruises against the corsairs and Bey of Tunis;[306] of the part he took in the war against England, after the death of Richard the Second, when he commanded an expedition that made a descent on Cornwall, and, according to his chronicler, burnt the town of Poole and took Jersey and Guernsey;[307] and finally, of his share in the common war against Granada, which happened in the latter part of his life and under the leading of the Constable Alvaro de Luna,[308] are all interesting and curious, and told with simplicity and spirit. But the most characteristic and amusing passages of the Chronicle are, perhaps, those that relate, one to Pero Niño’s gallant visit at Girfontaine, near Rouen, the residence of the old Admiral of France, and his gay young wife,[309] and another to the course of his true love for Beatrice, daughter of the Infante Don John, the lady who, after much opposition and many romantic dangers, became his second wife.[310] Unfortunately, we know nothing about the author of all this entertaining history except what he modestly tells us in the work itself; but we cannot doubt that he was as loyal in his life as he claims to be in his true-hearted account of his master’s adventures and achievements.
Next after Pero Niño’s Chronicle comes that of the Constable Don Alvaro de Luna, the leading spirit of the reign of John the Second, almost from the moment when, yet a child, he appeared as a page at court, in 1408, down to 1453, when he perished on the scaffold, a victim to his own haughty ambition, to the jealousy of the nobles nearest the throne, and to the guilty weakness of the king. Who was the author of the Chronicle is unknown.[311] But, from internal evidence, he was probably an ecclesiastic of some learning, and certainly a retainer of the Constable, much about his person, and sincerely attached to him. It reminds us, at once, of the fine old Life of Wolsey by his Gentleman Usher, Cavendish; for both works were written after the fall of the great men whose lives they record, by persons who had served and loved them in their prosperity, and who now vindicated their memories with a grateful and trusting affection, which often renders even their style of writing beautiful by its earnestness, and sometimes eloquent. The Chronicle of the Constable is, of course, the oldest. It was composed between 1453 and 1460, or about a century before Cavendish’s Wolsey. It is grave and stately, sometimes too stately; but there is a great air of reality about it. The account of the siege of Palenzuela,[312] the striking description of the Constable’s person and bearing,[313] the scene of the royal visit to the favorite in his castle at Escalona, with the festivities that followed,[314] and, above all, the minute and painful details of the Constable’s fall from power, his arrest, and death,[315] show the freedom and spirit of an eyewitness, or, at least, of a person entirely familiar with the whole matter about which he writes. It is, therefore, among the richest and most interesting of the old Spanish chronicles, and quite indispensable to one who would comprehend the troubled spirit of the period to which it relates; the period known as that of the bandos, or armed feuds, when the whole country was broken into parties, each in warlike array, fighting for its own head, but none fully submitting to the royal authority.
The last of the chronicles of individuals written in the spirit of the elder times, that it is necessary to notice, is that of Gonzalvo de Córdova, “the Great Captain,” who flourished from the period immediately preceding the war of Granada to that which begins the reign of Charles the Fifth; and who produced an impression on the Spanish nation hardly equalled since the earlier days of that great Moorish contest, the cyclus of whose heroes Gonzalvo seems appropriately to close up. It was about 1526 that the Emperor Charles the Fifth desired one of the favorite followers of Gonzalvo, Hernan Perez del Pulgar, to prepare an account of his great captain’s life. A better person could not easily have been selected. For he is not, as was long supposed, Fernando del Pulgar, the wit and courtier of the time of Ferdinand and Isabella.[316] Nor is the work he produced the poor and dull Chronicle of the life of Gonzalvo first printed in 1580, or earlier, and often attributed to him.[317] But he is that bold knight who, with a few followers, penetrated to the very centre of Granada, then all in arms, and, affixing an Ave Maria, with the sign of the cross, to the doors of the principal mosque, consecrated its massive pile to the service of Christianity, while Ferdinand and Isabella were still beleaguering the city without; an heroic adventure, with which his country rang from side to side at the time, and which has not since been forgotten either in its ballads or in its popular drama.[318]
As might be expected from the character of its author,—who, to distinguish him from the courtly and peaceful Pulgar, was well called “He of the Achievements,” El de las Hazañas,—the book he offered to his monarch is not a regular life of Gonzalvo, but rather a rude and vigorous sketch of him, entitled “A Small Part of the Achievements of that Excellent Person called the Great Captain,” or, as is elsewhere yet more characteristically said, “of the achievements and solemn virtues of the Great Captain, both in peace and war.”[319] The modesty of the author is as remarkable as his adventurous spirit. He is hardly seen at all in his narrative, while his love and devotion to his great leader give a fervor to his style, which, notwithstanding a frequent display of very unprofitable learning, renders his work both curious and striking, and brings out his hero in the sort of bold relief in which he appeared to the admiration of his contemporaries. Some parts of it, notwithstanding its brevity, are remarkable even for the details they afford; and some of the speeches, like that of the Alfaquí to the distracted parties in Granada,[320] and that of Gonzalvo to the population of the Abbaycin,[321] savor of eloquence as well as wisdom. Regarded as the outline of a great man’s character, few sketches have more an air of truth; though, perhaps, considering the adventurous and warlike lives both of the author and his subject, nothing in the book is more remarkable than the spirit of humanity that pervades it.[322]
Chronicles of Travels.—In the same style with the histories of their kings and great men, a few works should be noticed in the nature of travels, or histories of travellers, though not always bearing the name of Chronicles.
The oldest of them, which has any value, is an account of a Spanish embassy to Tamerlane, the great Tartar potentate and conqueror. Its origin is curious. Henry the Third of Castile, whose affairs, partly in consequence of his marriage with Catherine, daughter of Shakspeare’s “time-honored Lancaster,” were in a more fortunate and quiet condition than those of his immediate predecessors, seems to have been smitten in his prosperity with a desire to extend his fame to the remotest countries of the earth; and for this purpose, we are told, sought to establish friendly relations with the Greek Emperor at Constantinople, with the Sultan of Babylon, with Tamerlane or Timour Bec the Tartar, and even with the fabulous Prester John of that shadowy India which was then the subject of so much speculation.