Tranquil State of Granada.—Mild Policy of Talavera.—Clergy Dissatisfied
with it.—Violent Measures of Ximenes.—His Fanaticism.—Its Mischievous
Effects.—Insurrection in Granada.—Tranquillity Restored.—Baptism of the
Inhabitants.
Moral energy, or constancy of purpose, seems to be less properly an independent power of the mind than a mode of action, by which its various powers operate with effect. But, however this may be, it enters more largely, perhaps, than mere talent, as commonly understood, into the formation of what is called character, and is often confounded by the vulgar with talent of the highest order. In the ordinary concerns of life, indeed, it is more serviceable than brilliant parts; while, in the more important, these latter are of little weight without it, evaporating only in brief and barren flashes, which may dazzle the eye by their splendor, but pass away and are forgotten.
The importance of moral energy is felt not only, where it would be expected, in the concerns of active life, but in those more exclusively of an intellectual character, in deliberative assemblies, for example, where talent, as usually understood, might be supposed to assert an absolute supremacy, but where it is invariably made to bend to the controlling influence of this principle. No man destitute of it can be the leader of a party; while there are few leaders, probably, who do not number in their ranks minds from which they would be compelled to shrink in a contest for purely intellectual pre-eminence.
This energy of purpose presents itself in a yet more imposing form when stimulated by some intense passion, as ambition, or the nobler principle of patriotism or religion; when the soul, spurning vulgar considerations of interest, is ready to do and to dare all for conscience' sake; when, insensible alike to all that this world can give or take away, it loosens itself from the gross ties which bind it to earth, and, however humble its powers in every other point of view, attains a grandeur and elevation, which genius alone, however gifted, can never reach.
But it is when associated with exalted genius, and under the action of the potent principles above mentioned, that this moral energy conveys an image of power, which approaches, nearer than anything else on earth, to that of a divine intelligence. It is, indeed, such agents that Providence selects for the accomplishment of those great revolutions, by which the world is shaken to its foundations, new and more beautiful systems created, and the human mind carried forward at a single stride, in the career of improvement, further than it had advanced for centuries. It must, indeed, be confessed, that this powerful agency is sometimes for evil, as well as for good. It is this same impulse, which spurs guilty Ambition along his bloody track, and which arms the hand of the patriot sternly to resist him; which glows with holy fervor in the bosom of the martyr, and which lights up the fires of persecution, by which he is to win his crown of glory. The direction of the impulse, differing in the same individual under different circumstances, can alone determine whether he shall be the scourge or the benefactor of his species.
These reflections have been suggested by the character of the extraordinary person brought forward in the preceding chapter, Ximenes de Cisneros, and the new and less advantageous aspect, in which he must now appear to the reader. Inflexible constancy of purpose formed, perhaps, the most prominent trait of his remarkable character. What direction it might have received under other circumstances it is impossible to say. It would be no great stretch of fancy to imagine, that the unyielding spirit, which in its early days could voluntarily endure years of imprisonment, rather than submit to an act of ecclesiastical oppression, might under similar influences have been aroused, like Luther's, to shake down the ancient pillars of Catholicism, instead of lending all its strength to uphold them. The latter position, however, would seem better assimilated to the constitution of his mind, whose sombre enthusiasm naturally prepared him for the vague and mysterious in the Romish faith, as his inflexible temper did for its bold and arrogant dogmas. At any rate, it was to this cause he devoted the whole strength of his talents and commanding energies.
We have seen, in the preceding chapter, with what promptness he entered on the reform of religious discipline, as soon as he came into office, and with what pertinacity he pursued it, in contempt of all personal interest and popularity. We are now to see him with similar zeal devoting himself to the extirpation of heresy; with contempt not merely of personal consequences, but also of the most obvious principles of good faith and national honor.
Nearly eight years had elapsed since the conquest of Granada, and the subjugated kingdom continued to repose in peaceful security under the shadow of the treaty, which guaranteed the unmolested enjoyment of its ancient laws and religion. This unbroken continuance of public tranquillity, especially difficult to be maintained among the jarring elements of the capital, whose motley population of Moors, renegades, and Christians suggested perpetual points of collision, must be chiefly referred to the discreet and temperate conduct of the two individuals whom Isabella had charged with the civil and ecclesiastical government. These were Mendoza, count of Tendilla, and Talavera, archbishop of Granada.
The former, the brightest ornament of his illustrious house, has been before made known to the reader by his various important services, both military and diplomatic. Immediately after the conquest of Granada he was made alcayde and captain general of the kingdom, a post for which he was every way qualified by his prudence, firmness, enlightened views, and long experience. [1]
The latter personage, of more humble extraction, [2] was Fray Fernando de Talavera, a Hieronymite monk, who, having been twenty years prior of the monastery of Santa Maria del Prado, near Valladolid, was made confessor of Queen Isabella, and afterwards of the king. This situation necessarily gave him considerable influence in all public measures. If the keeping of the royal conscience could be safely intrusted to any one, it might certainly be to this estimable prelate, equally distinguished for his learning, amiable manners, and unblemished piety; and, if his character was somewhat tainted with bigotry, it was in so mild a form, so far tempered by the natural benevolence of his disposition, as to make a favorable contrast to the dominant spirit of the time. [3]