The History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella the Catholic — Volume 3

by William Hickling Prescott

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.