At this period it was Charles’ misfortune to make enemies on every side. As the constitution of Valencia required that he should be present, to fulfil the compact with his people, he should, doubtless, have hastened thither, and, by yielding prompt obedience to the laws, have removed all pretext for rebellion. The same imprudence, the same disregard of established custom, made him summon the cortes of Castile and Leon to meet him at Santiago; a thing never before attempted by the most arbitrary of his predecessors. To the murmurs produced by this innovation, the ministers paid no attention: on the contrary, they did all they could to fan the flame of discontent, by interfering in the return of the deputies, and by bribing such as they could not nominate to submit in everything to the royal will.
Toledo displaced the deputies whom it had chosen, and nominated others more submissive to the popular voice. It next prevailed on some other towns to join in insisting on the following concessions: that the king should not leave Spain; that he should require no subsidy; that, instead of conferring dignities on foreigners, he should deprive the possessors of those which they actually held; that no money, under any pretext whatever, should leave the kingdom; that offices should cease to be venal; and that the cortes should be assembled, according to ancient custom, in some town of Leon or Castile, not in an angle of Galicia. Most of these demands were reasonable enough; but the first two were insulting, and all were sure to be highly unpalatable to the court. The deputies who bore them waited on Charles, now at Valladolid, on his way to Galicia, and with some difficulty obtained an audience. He told them, however, that he was in too much haste to take the subject into consideration; but that, if they would meet him near Tordesillas, he would commune with them. To Tordesillas they accordingly repaired; but a report being maliciously spread in Valladolid that he was not only about to leave the kingdom, but to take away his mother, the populace were excited to the highest pitch. A Portuguese lace-maker mischievously ascended the tower of a church, the bell of which was never sounded except on extraordinary occasions, and rang with such good-will that six thousand men were speedily under arms.
It was immediately resolved that all the Flemings should be put to death; but the intended victims had timely intimation of their danger, and with the king fled at midnight, the rain descending in torrents, to Tordesillas, where they arrived at daybreak. The authorities of Valladolid showed great activity in the apprehension of the ringleaders in the riot, and a few were punished; but the king, who was naturally clement, ordered the remainder to be liberated. He now hastened towards Galicia, the Toledan deputies closely following him, and at every town requesting an audience; but he refused to see them until they reached Santiago.
On the first day of April, 1520, the states were opened in the convent of San Francisco. The speech from the throne laid stress on the necessity of the king’s immediate voyage to Germany; on the expenses with which it would be attended, as well as on that which had been incurred in preparations for war with the infidels; and ended by demanding a gratuity. For a moment the deputies were silent; but those of Salamanca rose, and protested that they could not take the accustomed oath of allegiance unless the king would comply with the demands which had been presented to him. They were immediately supported by a deputy of Toledo, who asserted that, rather than consent to anything prejudicial, either to the city he represented or to the kingdom, he would sacrifice his life. Emboldened by the example, the delegates of Seville, Cordova, Zamora, Toro, and Avila joined with the three, and the business of the assembly was for some days interrupted. Nothing can better show the degraded state in which the cortes were held, and the power which the crown had been accustomed to exercise over the proceedings—debates were unknown among them—than the next step of the king: it was no less than to order the Toledan deputies, the most violent of the party, to leave the court. In vain did they petition: they were compelled to obey. When the news reached Toledo, the population was in an uproar; and their anger still further inflamed by the arrest of two of their magistrates, Juan de Padilla, and Ferdinand Davalos. Whether a royal order was sent for the arrest, or a citation for the appearance of both, is doubtful: the mob opposed its execution; and would have murdered the corregidor, the alcalde, and alguacil mayor, had not all three contrived to escape. The fortress and gates, with the government of the city, were now seized by the mob, and the royal officers expelled. The example was imitated by the whole kingdom of Murcia. When intelligence of these events reached Santiago, the king proposed to march on Toledo, and inflict a summary vengeance on that city; but his ministers—fearing that if he remained any longer in Spain he would risk the imperial crown, some members of the diet having already threatened to proceed to a second election—dissuaded him from his purpose. The states were now transferred to Corunna, where, with some reluctance,—so effectually had the royal influence been exercised in the interim,—a considerable subsidy was granted to the monarch. The great cities, however, refused to sanction it; and even the few deputies who voted it accompanied it by requests exceedingly obnoxious to the court. Anxious to take possession of the brilliant dignity which awaited him, and perhaps to escape from so troubled a kingdom, Charles closed the cortes, and prepared to embark. He left the regency of Castile to Cardinal Adrian; of Aragon, to Don Juan de Lanuza; of Valencia, to the count de Melito; and he intrusted the command of the troops to approved officers. The choice of Adrian, a foreigner, was peculiarly offensive to the nobles and deputies at court: they solicited another; but Charles, who generally adhered to his plans with uncommon tenacity, refused to change. In May he embarked, and proceeded to England, to concert with Henry VIII the means of humbling the power of the French king.
REVOLT OF THE GERMANEROS AND THE COMUNEROS[78]
The departure of the king was not likely to assuage the turbulence of the times. If the opposition, so long as it was constitutionally exercised, was just, and even laudable, it had now degenerated into rebellion, and patriotism been succeeded by schemes of personal ambition. In Toledo, Padilla, by pretending to follow the popular current, guided it at his will: his wife, Doña Maria Pacheco, who had greater talents and even greater ambition than himself, headed the popular processions, and by her presence authorised some revolting scenes. From Murcia the governor, the marquis de los Velez, had been expelled, and a royal officer, who had been sent to institute proceedings against the guilty, compelled to flee for his life, followed by eight thousand of the combined rebels.
The example of these great places was too attractive to remain inoperative. Segovia immediately rose, and hung two of the magistrates. The mob were, above all, anxious to murder their deputies, of whom both had agreed to the subsidy at Corunna; but one of them, wisely distrustful of their intention, had not returned: the other, who returned at midnight, was dragged along the streets to the place of execution. The monks of San Francisco issued from their cloisters, with the holy sacrament: the interference was unavailing; nor was it without difficulty that permission could be obtained for a confessor to attend him. A monk approached, and though the office was speedily performed, loud murmurs were raised, by the murderous herd, at the time so unnecessarily lost. They again seized the rope, dragged the deputy along, and, though he was dead before they reached the gallows, hung him on the same tree that had proved fatal to two preceding victims.
Though Valladolid was honoured with the abode of Adrian and the council of regency, the rabble rose to put the deputies to death; and when these, too, had the good fortune to escape, even the cardinal was arrested, but, as it appears, soon released, through the interposition of the nobles and clergy. Burgos was still more criminal. Unable to find the bishop or his brethren, individuals peculiarly obnoxious, the rioters, headed by a cutler, burned a house in which many valuable archives were consumed. They next proceeded in search of a royal favourite, whose house shared the same fate. He was overtaken, dragged from the church where he had sought sanctuary, brought to Burgos, and committed to prison, where he immediately died from the effect of the blows he had received. Not satisfied with taking his life, they dragged his corpse through the city, and suspended it, the head downwards, from the public gallows. The arrival at Madrid of a royal magistrate, said to be proceeding to Toledo to try the rebels, raised the rioters, who swore to take his life; and, as he was fortunate enough to escape, they deposed the magistrates, elected others, seized all the arms they could find, and summoned the governor of the Alcazar to remit that fortress into their hands; but he had fidelity enough to set them at defiance. The siege was prosecuted: a mine was sprung, the gallant handful of defenders was destroyed, and the place capitulated. Finally, at Avila, Guadalajara, and Siguenza, the legitimate authority was overthrown; brute force, murder, rape, and plunder reigned in its stead.
The rebellious communities agreed to act in concert for the common cause, and to send their representatives to Avila, to hold a sort of national cortes. Accordingly, Toledo, Madrid, Guadalajara, Soria, Murcia, Cuenca, Segovia, Avila, Salamanca, Toro, Zamora, Leon, Valladolid, Burgos, and Ciudad Rodrigo, successively and within short intervals, joined their respective deputies, while from several of these places troops daily arrived. For some time, however, nothing important was attempted: the royalist general, Fonseca, was too busily occupied in raising troops to assail Segovia; and Ronquillo was too weak to take the field. The weakness of the regent, who in fear of violence expressed his disapprobation of the hostilities commenced by Fonseca, redoubled their audacity. Anarchy was now at its height.