Chapter LVIII (5)

The murder of the Grand-master of Santiago, slain by his brother's order, and the death of the unfortunate French princess, who found a tyrant where she expected a husband, are recorded in the Romances of the Master Don Fadrique, and of Blanche de Bourbon. The fate of Blanche, attributed by contemporary chroniclers and modern historians to Don Pedro's orders, is one of the blackest of the stains upon his character. The poor queen died in the castle of Jerez--some say by poison, others by the mace of an arbalister of the guard. She had lived but twenty-five years, ten of which she had passed in prison. There is no appearance or probability that Maria Padilla instigated her assassination. That favourite was kind-hearted and merciful, and on more than one occasion we find her interceding with the king for the lives of his enemies and prisoners, and weeping when her supplications proved fruitless. The ballad makes free with fact, and sacrifices truth to poetry. It was dramatically correct that the mistress should instigate the wife's death. "Be not so sad, Doña Maria de Padilla," says the king; "if I married twice, it was for your advantage, and to show my contempt for this Blanche of Bourbon. I send her to Medina Sidonia, to work me a banner--the ground, colour of her blood, the embroidery, of her tears. This banner, Doña Maria, I will have it made for you:" and forthwith the ruthless arbalister departs, after a knight had refused to do the felon deed. "Oh France, my noble country! oh my Bourbon blood!" cries poor Blanche; "to-day I complete my seventeen years, and enter my eighteenth. What have I done to you, Castile? The crowns you gave me were crowns of blood and sighs!" And thus she laments till the mace falls, "and the brains of her head are strewed about the hall." The song-writer, amongst other liberties, has struck eight years off the victim's age, perhaps with the idea of rendering her more interesting. The exact manner of her death seems uncertain, although Ayala agrees with the ballad, and most subsequent historians have followed his version. M. Mérimée is disposed to exculpate Pedro, alleging the complete inutility of the murder, and that ten years of captivity and ill treatment were sufficient to account for the queen's death. Admitting the latter plea, we cannot see in it a diminution of the crime. In either case Pedro was the murderer of his hapless wife, who was innocent of all offence against him; and his extraordinary aversion for whom might well give rise, in that superstitious age, to the tales of sorcery and magic charms already quoted. The details of Don Fadrique's death are more precise and authentic, as it was also more merited. But, although the Master of Santiago had been guilty of many acts of treason, and at the time of his death was conspiring against the king, his execution by a brother's order, and before a brother's eyes, is shocking and repugnant. It was Don Fadrique's policy, at that moment, to parade the utmost devotion to Pedro, the better to mask his secret plans. Arriving one day at Seville, on a visit to the king, he found the latter playing at draughts with a courtier. True to his habits of dissimulation, Pedro, who only a few hours previously had decided on the Master's death, received him with a frank air and pleasant smile, and gave him his hand to kiss; and then, seeing that he was well attended, bade him take up his quarters, and then return. After visiting Maria Padilla, who gazed at him with tears in her eyes,--knowing his doom, but not daring to warn him,--Fadrique went down into the court, found his escort gone, and the gates shut. Surprised and uneasy, he hesitated what to do, when two knights summoned him to the king's apartments, in a detached building within the walls of the Alcazar.

"At the door stood Pero Lopez Padilla, chief of the
mace-bearers of the guard, with four of his people. Don
Fadrique, still accompanied by the Master of Calatrava (Diego
Padilla) knocked at the door. Only one of its folds opened,
and within appeared the king, who forthwith exclaimed, 'Pero
Lopez, arrest the Master!'--'Which of the two, sire?'
inquired the officer, hesitating between Don Fadrique and Don
Diego de Padilla. 'The Master of Santiago!' replied the king
in a voice of thunder. Immediately Pero Lopez, seizing Don
Fadrique's arm, said, 'You are my prisoner.' Don Fadrique,
astounded, made no resistance; when the king cried out,
'Arbalisters, kill the Master of Santiago!' Surprise, and
respect for the red cross of St James, for an instant
fettered the men to the spot. Then one of the knights of the
palace, advancing to the door, said: 'Traitors! what do you?
Heard you not the king's command to kill the Master?' The
arbalisters lifted the mace, when Don Fadrique, vigorously
shaking off the grasp of Pero Lopez, sprang back into the
court with the intention of defending himself. But the hilt
of his sword, which he wore under the large mantle of his
order, was entangled with the belt, and he could not draw.
Pursued by the arbalisters, he ran to and fro in the court,
avoiding their blows, but unable to get his sword out. At
last one of the king's guards, named Nuño Fernandez, struck
him on the head with his mace, and knocked him down; and the
three others immediately showered their blows upon the fallen
man, who lay bathed in his blood when Don Pedro came down
into the court, seeking the knights of Santiago, to slay them
with their chief."

In the very chamber of Maria Padilla, the assassin-king gave with his own hand the first stab to his brother's esquire, who had taken refuge there. Leaving the ensanguined boudoir, (Maria Padilla's apartments in the Alcazar were a sort of harem, where much oriental pomp was observed,) he returned to the Master, and finding he still breathed, he gave his dagger to an African slave to despatch him. Then he sat down to dinner in an apartment two paces distant from his brother's corpse.

It is a relief to turn from acts of such unnatural barbarity to the traits of chivalrous generosity that sparkle, at long intervals, it is true, upon the dark background of Pedro's character. One of these, connected with a singularly romantic incident, is attested by Alonzo Martinez de Talavera, chaplain of John II. of Castile, a chronicler M. Mérimée is disposed to hold in high esteem. In one of his campaigns against his rebellious brethren and their Arragonese allies, the king laid siege to the castle of Cabezon, belonging to Count Trastamare; and whose governor, summoned to yield, refused even to parley.

"Yet the whole garrison of the castle consisted but of ten
esquires, Castilian exiles; but behind thick and lofty walls,
in a tower built on perpendicular rocks, and against which
battering engines could not be brought, ten resolute men
might defend themselves against an army, and need only yield
to famine. The place being well provisioned, the siege was
likely to be long. But the ten esquires, all young men, were
better able bravely to repulse an assault than patiently to
endure the tedium of a blockade. Time hung heavy upon their
hands, they wanted amusement, and at last they insolently
insisted that the governor should give them women to keep
them company in their eyrie. Now, the only women in Cabezon
were the governor's wife and daughter. 'If you do not deliver
them to us, to be dealt with as we list,' said the garrison
to the governor, 'we abandon your castle, or, better still,
we open its gate to the King of Castile!' In such an
emergency, the code of chivalrous honour was stringent. At
the siege of Tarifa, Alonzo Perez de Guzman, summoned to
surrender the town, under penalty of seeing his son massacred
before his eyes, answered the Moors by throwing them his
sword, wherewith to slay the child. This action, which
procured the governor of Tarifa the surname of Guzman the
Good, was a _fazaña_ (an exploit)--one of those heroic
precedents which everyman of honour was bound to imitate.
_Permittitur homicidium filii potius quam deditio castelli_,
is the axiom of a doctor in chivalry of that epoch. The
governor of Cabezon, as magnanimous in his way as Guzman the
Good, so arranged matters that his garrison no longer thought
of abandoning him. But two of the esquires, less corrupt than
their comrades, conceived a horror of their treason, and
escaped from the castle. Led before the king, they informed
him of the mutiny they had witnessed, and of its
consequences. Don Pedro, indignant, forthwith entreated the
governor to let him do justice on the offenders. In exchange
for those felons, he offered ten gentlemen of his army, who,
before entering Cabezon, should take a solemn oath to defend
the castle against all assailants, even against the king
himself, and to die at their posts with the governor. This
proposal having been accepted, the king had the traitors
quartered, and their remains were afterwards burned. Through
the colours with which a romantic imagination has adorned
this incident, it is difficult to separate truth from
fiction; but we at least distinguish the popular opinion of
the character of Don Pedro--a strange amalgamation of
chivalrous sentiments, and of love of justice, carried to
ferocity."

There was very little justice, or gratitude either, in the king's treatment of his Jew treasurer. Don Simuel el Levi,[29] Israelite though he was, had proved himself a stancher friend and more loyal subject than any Christian of Pedro's court. He had borne him company in his captivity--had aided his escape--had renovated his finances--had been his minister, treasurer, and confidant. Suddenly Simuel was thrown into prison. On the same day, and throughout the kingdom, his kinsmen and agents were all arrested. His crime was his prodigious wealth. Pedro, ignorant of the resources of trade, could not believe that his treasurer had grown rich otherwise than at his expense. Simuel's property was seized; then, as he was suspected of having concealed the greater part of his treasures, he was taken to Seville and put to the torture, under which he expired. The king is said to have found in his coffers large sums of gold and silver, besides a quantity of jewels and rich stuffs, all of which he confiscated. A sum of 300,000 doubloons was also found in the hands of Simuel's relatives, receivers under his orders: this proceeded from the taxes, whose collection was intrusted to him, and was about to be paid into the king's exchequer. There is reason to believe, adds M. Mérimée, that Levi, like Jacques Coeur a century later, was the victim of the ignorance and cupidity of a master he had faithfully served.[30]

We have dwelt so long upon the early pages of this history, and have so often been led astray by the interest of the notes and anecdotes with which they are thickly strewn, that we have left ourselves without space for a notice of those portions of the bulky volume most likely to rivet the attention of the English reader. When the _Grandes Compagnies_--those formidable condottieri, who, for a time, may be said to have ruled in France--crossed the Pyrenees to fight for Henry of Trastamare, whilst the troops of England and Guyenne came to the help of Pedro; when the great champions of their respective countries, Edward the Black Prince and Bertrand du Guesclin, bared steel in the civil strife of Spain,--then came the tug of war and fierce encounter--then did the tide of battle roll its broad impetuous stream. For even at that remote period, although Spain boasted a valiant chivalry and stubborn men-at-arms, her wars were often a series of skirmishes, surprises, treacheries, and camp-intrigues, rather than of pitched battles in the field. The same sluggishness and indolence on the part of Spanish generals, so conspicuous at the present day, was then frequently observable. We read of divisions--whose timely arrival would have changed the fate of a battle--coming up so slowly that their friends were beaten before they appeared; of generals marching out, and marching back again, without striking a single blow; or remaining, for days together, gazing at their opponents without risking an attack. Even then, the Spaniards were a nation of guerillas.

"Accustomed to a war of rapid skirmishes against the Moors,
they had adopted their mode of fighting. Covered with light
coats of mail, or with doublets of quilted cloth, mounted on
light and active horses, their _genetaires_ (light horsemen)
hurled their javelins at a gallop, then turned bridle,
without caring to keep their ranks. With the exception of the
military orders, better armed and disciplined than the
_genetaires_, the Spanish cavalry were unable to offer
resistance in line to the English or French men-at-arms."

The infantry of Spain, afterwards esteemed the best in Europe, was at that time so lightly considered as to be rarely enumerated in the strength of an army. The English footsoldiers, on the other hand, had already achieved a brilliant reputation. "Armed with tall bows of yew," says M. Mérimée, "they sheltered themselves behind pointed stakes planted in the ground, and, thus protected against cavalry, let fly arrows an ell long, which few cuirasses could resist." The equipment of the English cavalry was far superior to that of the Spanish horsemen. Ayala recapitulates, with astonishment, the various pieces of armour in use amongst those northern warriors. Plates of steel and forged iron were worn over jerkins of thick leather, and even over shirts of mail. The bull-dog courage of the men was not less remarkable than the strength of their defensive arms. It is interesting to read of the exploits of a handful of English soldiers on the very ground where, four hundred and forty-six years later, an army of that nation crushed the hosts of France. Sir Thomas Felton, seneschal of Guyenne, was attacked, when at a considerable distance from the English army, near Ariñiz, two leagues from Vitoria, by more than three thousand French gendarmes and Spanish light horse.

"Felton had but two hundred men-at arms, and as many archers.
He lost not courage, but dismounted his cavalry, and drew
them up on a steep hillock. His brother, William Felton,
alone refused to quit his horse. With lance in rest, he
charged into the midst of the Castilians, and at the first
blow drove his weapon completely through the body and iron
armour of a foe; he was immediately cut to pieces. His
comrades, closing round their banner, defended themselves,
for several hours, with the courage of despair. At last the
adventurers, headed by the Marshal d'Audeneham and the Bègue
de Vilaines, dismounted, and, forming column, broke the
English phalanx, whilst the Spanish cavalry charged it in
rear. All were slain in the first fury of victory, but the
heroic resistance of this scanty band of Englishmen struck
even their enemies with admiration. The memory of Felton's
glorious defeat is preserved in the province, where is still
shown, near Ariñiz, the hillock upon which, after fighting an
entire day, he fell, covered with wounds. It is called, in
the language of the country, _Ingles-mendi_, the English
Hill."

This gallant but unimportant skirmish comprised (with the exception of a dash made by Don Tello at the English foragers, of whom he killed a good number) all the fighting that took place at that time upon the plain of Vitoria; although some historians have made that plain the scene of the decisive battle fought soon afterwards, between Edward of England and Don Pedro on the one hand, and du Guesclin and Henry of Trastamare on the other. Toreno correctly indicates the ground of this action, which occurred on the right bank of the Ebro, between Najera and Navarrete. It is true that the Prince of Wales offered battle near Vitoria, drawing up his army on the heights of Santo Romano, close to the village of Alegria, just in the line of the flight of the French when beaten in 1813. The Prince did this boldly and confidently, although anxious for the coming up of his rear-guard, which was still seven leagues off. "That day," says Froissart, "the prince had many a pang in his heart, because his rear-guard delayed so long to come." But the enemy were in no haste to attack. Only a day or two previously, Don Henry had assembled his captains in council of war, "to communicate to them," says M. Mérimée, "a letter the King of France had written him, urging him not to tempt fortune by risking a battle against so able a general as the Prince of Wales, and such formidable soldiers as the veteran bands he commanded. Bertrand du Guesclin, Marshal d'Audeneham, and most of the French adventurers, were of the same opinion--frankly declaring that, in regular battle, the English were invincible. Du Guesclin's advice was to harass them by continual skirmishes," &c., &c.; and the result of the council was, that Don Henry resolved to keep as much as possible on the defensive, and in the mountains, where his light troops had a great advantage over their enemies, who were heavily armed, and unaccustomed to a guerilla warfare. It had been well for him had he adhered to this resolution, instead of allowing himself to be carried away by his ardour, and by the confidence with which a successful skirmish had inspired him. In vain du Guesclin, and the other captains, tried to detain him in rear of the little river Najerilla: declaring his intention of finishing the war by one decisive combat, he led his army into the plain. When the Black Prince, who little expected such temerity, was informed of the movement--"By St George!" he exclaimed, "in yonder bastard there lives a valiant knight!" Then he proceeded to take up his position for the fight that now was certain to take place. "At sunrise, Count Henry beheld the English army drawn up in line, in admirable order; their gay banners and pennons floating above a forest of lances. Already all the men-at-arms had dismounted.[31]... The Prince of Wales devoutly offered up a prayer, and, having called heaven to witness the justice of his cause, held out his hand to Don Pedro: 'Sir King,' he said, 'in an hour you will know if you are King of Castile.' Then he cried out, 'Banners forward, in the name of God and St George!"

We will not diminish, by extract or abridgment, the pleasure of those of our readers who may peruse M. Mérimée's masterly and picturesque account of the battle, whose triumphant termination was tarnished by an act of ferocious cruelty on the part of the Castilian king. Don Pedro had proved himself, as usual, a gallant soldier in the fight; and long after the English trumpets had sounded the recall, he spurred his black charger on the track of the fugitive foe. At last, exhausted by fatigue, he was returning to the camp, when he met a Gascon knight bringing back as prisoner Iñigo Lopez Orozco, once an intimate of the king's, but who had abandoned him after his flight from Burgos. In spite of the efforts of the Gascon to protect him, Pedro slew his renegade adherent in cold blood, and with his own hand. The English were indignant at this barbarous revenge, and sharp words were exchanged between Pedro and the Black Prince. Indeed, it was hardly possible that sympathy should exist between the generous and chivalrous Edward and his blood-thirsty and crafty ally, and this dispute was the first symptom of the mutual aversion they afterwards exhibited. From the very commencement, the Prince of Wales appears to have espoused the cause of legitimacy in opposition to his personal predilections. His admiration of Count Henry, and good opinion of his abilities, frequently breaks out. After the signal victory of Najera, which seemed to have fixed the crown of Castile more firmly than ever upon Pedro's brow, Edward was the only man who judged differently of the future. "The day after the battle, when the knights charged by him to examine the dead and the prisoners came to make their report, he asked in the Gascon dialect, which he habitually spoke: '_E lo bort, es mort ó pres?_ And the Bastard, is he killed or taken?' The answer was, that he had disappeared from the field of battle, and that all trace of him was lost. '_Non ay res faït!_' exclaimed the prince; 'Nothing is done.'"

The Black Prince spoke in a prophetic spirit: the sequel proved the wisdom of his words. The battle of Najera was fought on the 3d April 1367. Two years later, less eleven days, on the 23d March 1369--Edward and his gallant followers having in the interim returned to Guyenne, disgusted with the ingratitude and bad faith of the king they had replaced upon his throne--the Bastard was master of Spain, where Don Pedro's sole remaining possession was the castle of Montiel, within whose walls the fallen monarch was closely blockaded. Negotiations ensued, in which Bertrand du Guesclin shared, and in which there can be little doubt he played a treacherous part. It is to the credit of M. Mérimée's impartiality, that he does not seek to shield the French hero, but merely urges, in extenuation of his conduct, the perverted morality and strange code of knightly honour accepted in those days. By whomsoever lured, in the night-time Pedro left his stronghold, expecting to meet, outside its walls, abettors and companions of a meditated flight. Instead of such aid, he found himself a captive, and presently he stood face to face with Henry of Trastamare. The brothers bandied insults, a blow was dealt, and they closed in mortal strife. Around them a circle of chevaliers gazed with deep interest at this combat of kings. Pedro, the taller and stronger man, at first had the advantage. Then a bystander--some say du Guesclin, others, an Arragonese, Rocaberti--pulled the king by the leg as he held his brother under him, and changed the fortune of the duel. What ensued is best told in the words of Lockhart's close and admirable version of a popular Spanish ballad:--

"Now Don Henry has the upmost,
Now King Pedro lies beneath;
In his heart his brother's poniard
Instant finds its bloody sheath.

Thus with mortal gasp and quiver,
While the blood in bubbles well'd,
Fled the fiercest soul that ever
In a Christian bosom dwell'd."

FOOTNOTES:

[20] _Histoire de Don Pédre I^{er}, Roi de Castille._ Par PROSPER MÉRIMÉE, de l'Académie Française. Pp. 586. Paris, 1848.

[21] _Blackwood's Magazine_, No. CCCLXXX.

[22] The _ricos hombres_, literally rich men, did not yet bear titles, which were reserved for members of the royal family. Thus, Henry de Trastamare was commonly designated as "the Count," he being the only one in Castile. When crowned at Burgos, in 1366, he lavished the titles of count and marquis, previously so charily bestowed, not only upon the magnates of the land, but upon Bertrand Duguesclin, Sir Hugh Calverley, Denia the Arragonese, and other foreign adventurers and allies. "Such was the generosity, or rather the profusion of the new king, that it gave rise to a proverbial expression long current in Spain: _Henry's favours_ (_Mercedes Enriquenas_) was thenceforward the term applied to recompenses obtained before they were deserved."--MÉRIMÉE, p. 451-2. A _rico hombre_ was created by receiving at the king's hand a banner and a cauldron (_Pendon y Caldera_)--the one to guide his soldiers, the other to feed them. The fidalgos or hidalgos (from _hijodalgo_, the son of somebody) were dependants of the _ricos hombres_, as these were of the king. "Every nobleman had a certain number of gentlemen who did him homage, and held their lands in fee of him. In their turn, these gentlemen had vassals, so that the labourer had many masters, whose orders were often contradictory. These mediæval institutions gave rise to strange complications, only to be unravelled by violence. Nevertheless, the laws and national usages directed the vassal, whatever his condition, to obey his immediate superior. Thus, a mere knight did not incur penalty of treason by taking arms against the king by order of the rich-man to whom he paid homage."--MÉRIMÉE, p. 29. Some curious illustrations are subjoined. In 1334, Alphonso took the field against an insubordinate vassal, and besieged him in his town of Lerma. Garcia de Padilla, a knight attached to the rebel, seeing an amicable arrangement impossible, boldly demanded of Don Alphonso a horse and armour, to go and fight under the banner of his liege lord. The king instantly complied with his request, warning him, however, that if taken, he should pay with his head for his fidelity to the lord of Lerma. "I distinguish," says M. MÉRIMÉE, "in the action and words of Don Alphonso, the contrast of the knight and the king united in the same man. The one yields to his prejudices of chivalrous honour, the other will have the rights of his crown respected. The customs of the age and the dictates of policy contend in the generous monarch's breast."--P. 30.

[23] "It were a great error to attribute to Spain, in the 14th century, the religious passions and intolerant spirit that animated it in the 16th. In the wars between Moors and Christians, politics had long had a far larger share than fanaticism.... Although the Inquisition had been established more than a century, its power was far from being what it afterwards became. As to Jews and Moors, they were subject to the jurisdiction of the Holy Office only when they sought, by word or writing, to turn Christians from the faith of their fathers; and even then, royal authorisation was necessary before they could be prosecuted. And the kings showed themselves, in general, little disposed to let the clergy increase their influence. In 1350, Peter IV. of Arragon rigorously forbade ecclesiastics to infringe on secular jurisdiction.... There was much lukewarmness in matters of religion; and to this, perhaps, is to be attributed the very secondary part played by the clergy in all the political debates of the 14th century. The inferior clergy, living and recruiting its ranks amongst the people, shared the ignorance and rudeness of the latter. Such was the prevalent immorality, that a great number of priests maintained concubines, who were vain of the holy profession of their lovers, and claimed particular distinctions. The conduct of these ecclesiastics occasioned no scandal, but the luxury affected by their mistresses often excited the envy of rich citizens, and even of noble ladies. Repeatedly, and always in vain, the Cortes launched decrees intended to repress the insolence of the _damoiselles de prétres_, (_barraganas de clérigos_,) who formed a distinct class or caste, enjoying special privileges, and sufficiently numerous to require the invention of laws for them alone."--MÉRIMÉE, p. 34 to 38. These passages tend to explain what might otherwise seem incomprehensible--the passive submission of the Spanish priesthood to encroachments upon their temporal goods. Since then they have rarely shown themselves so enduring; and the mere hint of an attack upon their power or opulence has usually been the signal for mischievous intrigue, and often for bloody strife. It is a question, (setting aside the _barraganas_, although these, up to no remote date, may be said to have been rather _veiled_ than suppressed,) whether the Spanish priests of the 14th century were not nearly as enlightened as their successors of the 19th. They certainly were far more tolerant. "Arab language and literature," M. Mérimée tells us, "were cultivated in schools founded under ecclesiastical patronage."

In the Cortes held at Valladolid, in 1351, we find Don Pedro rejecting the petitions of the clergy, who craved restitution of the revenues appropriated by the crown, to their prejudice, under his father's reign.

[24] In various details of Don Pedro's life and character we trace resemblance to the eastern despot, although there seems no foundation for the charges of infidelity brought against him towards the close of his reign, and which may partly have originated, perhaps, in his close alliance with the Granadine Moors, a body of whose light cavalry for some time formed his escort. Contiguity of territory, commercial intercourse, and political necessities, had assimilated to a certain extent the manners and usages of Spaniards and Saracens, and given the former an oriental tinge, of which, even at the present day, faint vestiges are here and there perceptible. Don Pedro's orientalism was particularly perceptible in the mode of many of the executions that ensanguined his reign. He had constantly about him a band of cross-bowmen who waited on his nod, and recoiled from no cruelty. Occasionally we find him sending one of them to some distant place to communicate and execute the doom of an offending subject. This recalls the Turkish mute and bowstring. These death-dealing archers seem to have employed mace and dagger more frequently than axe or cord. They were assassins rather than executioners. They officiated in the case of Garci Laso. "Alburquerque, impatient of delay, warned the king that it was time to give final orders. Don Pedro, accustomed to repeat those of his minister, bade two of Alburquerque's gentlemen go tell the prisoner's guards to despatch him. The arbalisters, blind instruments of the king's will, mistrusted an order transmitted to them by Alburquerque's people, and desired to receive it from their master's mouth. One of them went to ask him what was to be done with Garci Laso. 'Let him be killed!' replied the king. This time duly authorised, the arbalister ran to the prisoner, and struck him down with a blow of a mace upon his head. His comrades finished him with their daggers. The body of Garci Laso was thrown upon the public square, where the king's entrance was celebrated, according to Castilian custom, by a bull-fight. The bulls trampled the corpse, and tossed it upon their horns. It was taken from them for exhibition upon a scaffold, where it remained a whole day. At last it was placed upon a bier, which was fixed upon the rampart of Camparanda. It was the treatment reserved for the bodies of great malefactors."--MÉRIMÉE, p. 73.

[25] "In 1339, Don Gonzalo Martinez, Master of Alcantara, having rebelled against the king Don Alphonso, was besieged and taken in his castle of Valencia, and Coronel presided at his execution."--_Chronica de Don Alphonso XI._, p. 385.

[26] The Castilian tongue is rich in words descriptive of grace in women. Spain is, certainly, the country where that quality is most common. I will cite only a few of those expressions, indicative of shades easier to appreciate than to translate. _Garbo_ is grace combined with nobility; _donayre_, elegance of bearing, vivacity of wit; _salero_, voluptuous and provocative grace; _zandunga_, the kind of grace peculiar to the Andalusians--a happy mixture of readiness and nonchalance. People applaud the _garbo_ or _donayre_ of a duchess, the _salero_ of an actress, the _zandunga_ of a gipsy of Jerez.--MÉRIMÉE, p. 110.

[27] The enchantment of Don Pedro by Maria Padilla is a popular tradition in Andalusia, where the memory of both is vividly preserved. It is further added, that Maria Padilla was a queen of the gipsies--their _bari crallisa_--consequently consummate mistress of the art of concocting philters. Unfortunately, the gipsies were scarcely seen in Europe till a century later. The author of the _Première Vie du Pape Innocent VI._ gravely relates that Blanche, having made her husband a present of a golden girdle, Maria Padilla, assisted by a Jew, a notorious sorcerer, changed it into a serpent, one day that the king had it on. The surprise of the king and his court may be imagined, when the girdle began to writhe and hiss; whereupon the Padilla easily succeeded in persuading her lover that Blanche was a magician bent upon destroying him by her arts.--MÉRIMÉE, p. 120.

[28] ZUÑIGA, _Anales de Sevilla_.--"The people say, that Maria Coronel, pursued by Don Pedro, in the suburb of Triana, plunged her head into a pan in which a gipsy was cooking fritters. I was shown the house in front of which the incident occurred, and I was desired to remark, as an incontrovertible proof, that it is still inhabited by gipsies, whose kitchen is in the open street."--MÉRIMÉE, p. 247.

[29] We have already adverted to the religious tolerance of the time, and to the intermixture of Mussulmans and Christians: M. Mérimée gives some curious details on this subject. The nobility of Castile made no difficulty to grant the _Don_ to the Moorish cavaliers, and the rich Jew bankers obtained the same distinction, then very rare amongst the Christians themselves. Thus Ayala, the chronicler, speaks of Don Farax, Don Simuel, Don Reduan, &c.; although of Spaniards he gives the Don only to the princes of the blood, to a few very powerful _ricos hombres_, to certain great officers of the crown, and to the masters of the military orders of knights. The Andalusian Moors were frequently treated as equals by the chevaliers of Castile; but this is far less astonishing than that the Jews should have attained to high honours and office. Pedro, however, seems always to have had a leaning towards them, and the Israelites, on their part, invariably supported him. He was more than once, in the latter part of his reign, heard to say that the Moors and Hebrews were his only loyal subjects. At Miranda, on the Ebro, in 1360, the populace, stirred up by Henry of Trastamare, massacred the Jews, and pillaged their dwellings. The object of the Count was to compromise the townspeople, and thus to attach them indissolubly to his cause. When Pedro arrived, he had the ringleaders of the riot arrested; and, in his presence, the unhappy wretches were burned alive, or boiled in immense cauldrons. Obsolete laws were revived, to justify these terrible executions; but the crime of the offenders was forgotten in the horror excited by such barbarous punishments. It was just after these scenes of cruelty that a priest, coming from Santo-Domingo de la Calzada, craved private audience of the king, 'Sire,' said he, 'my Lord Saint Dominick has appeared to me in a dream, bidding me warn you that, if you do not amend your life, Don Henry, your brother, will slay you with his own hand.' This prophecy, on the eve of a battle between the brothers, was probably the result of fanatical hatred, on the part of the priests towards a king now generally accused of irreligion. Whatever dictated it, Pedro was at first startled by the prophet's confident and inspired air, but soon he thought it was a stratagem of his enemies to discourage him and his troops. The priest, who persisted that his mission was from St Dominick, was burned alive in front of the army.--MÉRIMÉE, pp. 35, 290, 299, &c.

[30] "According to the interpolator of the chronicle of the _Despensero Mayor_, Simuel Levi, whose death he erroneously fixes in the year 1366, was denounced to the king by several Jews, envious of his immense riches. Simuel, on being put to the torture, died of indignation, '_de puro corage_,' says the anonymous author, whom I copy, since I cannot understand him. There were found, in a vault beneath his house, three piles of gold and silver lingots, so lofty 'that a man standing behind them was not seen.' The king, on beholding this treasure, exclaimed--'If Don Simuel had given me the third part of the smallest of these heaps, I would not have had him tortured. How could he consent to die rather than speak?' _Sumario de los Reyes de España_, p. 73. Credat Judæus Apella."--MÉRIMÉE, p. 317.

Don Pedro was often accused of avarice, although it appears probable that his fondness of money sprang from his experience of the power it gave, and of its absolute necessity in the wars in which he was continually engaged, rather than from any abstract love of gold. When, after his flight from Spain in 1366, his treasures were traitorously given up to his rival by Admiral Boccanegra, who had been charged to convey them to Portugal, they amounted to thirty-six quintals of gold, (something like fourteen hundred thousand pounds sterling--a monstrous sum in those days,) besides a quantity of jewels.

[31] The custom of the time, according to Froissart and others. On the march, most of the soldiers, sometimes even the archers, were on horseback; but when the hour of battle arrived, spurs were removed, horses sent away, and lances shortened. When the time came for flight and pursuit, the combatants again sprang into their saddles.

THE OPENING OF THE SESSION.

The British Parliament has again been summoned to resume its labours. The period which intervened between the close of the last, and the opening of the present session, was fraught with great anxiety to those who believed that the cause of order and peace depended upon the check that might be given to the democratic spirit, then raging so fearfully throughout Europe. France, under the dictatorship of Cavaignac, had emerged a little from the chaotic slough into which she had been plunged by the wickedness, imbecility, and treason of a junta of self-constituted ministers--men who held their commissions from the sovereign mob of Paris, and who were ready, for that sovereign's sake, to ruin and prostrate their country. Foremost among these ministers was Lamartine, a theorist whose intentions might be good, but whose exorbitant vanity made him a tool in the hands of others who had embraced revolution as a trade. Of this stamp were Ledru-Rollin, Louis Blanc, and, we may add, Marrast,--men who had nothing to lose, but everything to gain, from the continuance of popular disorder. Fortunately, the daring attempt of June--which, if it had succeeded, would have surrendered Paris to be sacked--was suppressed with sufficient bloodshed. Military domination took the place of helpless democratic fraternity; the barricades went down amidst the thunder of the cannon, and the rascaldom of the Faubourg St Antoine found, to their cost, that they were not yet altogether triumphant. Of the subsequent election of Louis Napoleon to the presidentship we need not speak. It would be in vain, under present circumstances, to speculate upon the probable destinies of France. All that we have to remark now is her attitude, which, we think, is symptomatic of improvement. The socialist theories are wellnigh exploded. Equality may exist in name, but it is not recognised as a reality. The provinces have suffered enough from revolution to abhor the thought of anarchy; and they long for any government strong and resolute enough to enforce the laws, and to stamp with its heel on the head of the Jacobin hydra.

Austria, on the other side, has done her duty nobly. Astounded as we certainly were at the outbreak of revolution in Vienna, we had yet that confidence, in the spirit and loyalty of the old Teutonic chivalry, that we never for a moment believed that the mighty fabric of ages would be allowed to crumble down, or the imperial crown to fall from the head of the descendant of the Cæsars. And so it has proved. The revolt occasioned in the southern provinces by the co-operation of Jacobinism, under the specious mask of nationality, with the mean and selfish ambition of an intriguing Italian potentate, has been triumphantly suppressed. Vienna, after experiencing the horrors of ruffian occupation--after having seen assassination rife in her streets, and the homes of her burghers delivered over to the lust and pillage of the anarchists--has again returned to her fealty. The insurrections in Bohemia and Hungary have been met by the strong arm of power; the schemes of treason and of faction have been discomfited; nor can modern history afford us nobler examples of heroism and devotion than have been exhibited by Windischgrätz and Jellachich. Whilst the democratic press, even in this country, was sympathising with the insurgents--whilst treason, murder, and rapine were palliated and excused, and fulsome and bombastic panegyrics pronounced upon the leading demagogues of the movement--we have watched the efforts of Austria towards the recovery of her equilibrium, with an anxiety which we scarcely can express; because we felt convinced that, upon her success or her defeat, upon the maintenance of her position as a colossal united power, or her division into petty states, depended, in a large measure, the future tranquillity of Europe. Most happily she has succeeded, and has thereby given the death-blow to the hopes of the besotted visionaries at Frankfort. The Central Power of Germany, as that singular assemblage of mountebanks, with a weak old imbecile at their head, has been somewhat facetiously denominated--that pseudo-parliament, which, without power to enforce its decrees, or any comprehensible scheme of action, has arrogated to itself the right of over-riding monarchies--is gradually dwindling into contempt. Even Frederick-William of Prussia, its chief supporter and stay, has found out his vast mistake in yielding to the democratic principle as the means of ultimately securing for himself the rule of a united Germany. The attempt has already wellnigh cost him the crown which he wears. He now sees, as he might have seen earlier, but for the mists of interest and ambition, that the present movement was essentially a democratic one, and that its leaders merely held out the phantom of resuscitated imperialism in order to make converts, and to strike more effectually at every hereditary constitution. The farce cannot, in the ordinary nature of things, last much longer. Without Austria, Bavaria, and Prussia, there is no central power at all. The Frankfort parliament, as it at present exists, can be compared to nothing except a great Masonic assemblage. In humble imitation of the brethren of the mystic tie, it is solemnly creating grand chancellors, grand seneschals, and, for aught we know, grand tylers also for an empire which is not in existence; and, without a farthing in its treasury, is decreeing civil lists and bounties to its imperial grand master! Unfortunately, the state of Europe has been such that we cannot afford to laugh even at such palpable fooleries. They tend to prolong excitement and disorder throughout a considerable portion of the Continent; and already, through such antics, we have been on the eve of a general war, occasioned by the unjust attempts to deprive Denmark of her Schleswig provinces. The sooner, therefore, that the parliament of Frankfort ceases to have an existence the better. It hardly can exist if the larger states do their duty, without jealousy of each other, but with reference to the common weal.

But though the democratic progress, under whatsoever form it appeared, has thus received a check in northern Europe, it is still raging with undiminished violence in the south. British diplomatic relations with the See of Rome have received the _coup-de-grace_, in the forcible expulsion of the Sovereign Pontiff from his territories! The leading reformer of the age--the propagandist successor of St Peter--has surrendered his pastoral charge, and fled from the howling of his flock, now suddenly metamorphosed into wolves. There, as elsewhere, liberalism has signalised itself by assassination. The star of freedom, of which Lord Minto was the delegated prophet, has appeared in the form of a bloody and terrific meteor. Even revolutionised France felt her bowels moved by some latent Christian compunction, and prepared an armament to rescue, if needful, the unfortunate patriarch from his children. More recently, the Grand-duke of Tuscany--a prince whose mild rule and kindly government were such that democracy itself could frame no articulate charge against him, beyond the fact of his being a sovereign--has been compelled to abandon his territory, and to take refuge elsewhere.

Such is the state of the continent of Europe at the opening of the new session of Parliament--a state which, while it undeniably leaves great room for hope, and in some measure indicates a return to more settled principles of government, is very far from conveying an assurance of lasting tranquillity. It is now just a year since the sagacious Mr Cobden issued the second part of his prophecies to atone for the failure of the first. The repeal of the corn laws, and the other free-trade measures, having not only failed to enrich this country at the ratio of a hundred millions sterling annually--the premium which was confidently offered by the Manchester Association, as the price of their experiment--but, having somehow or other been followed by a calamitous deficit in the ordinary revenue, the member for the West Riding bethought himself of a new agitation for the disbandment of the British army, and the suppression of the navy, founded upon the experiences which he had gathered in the course of his Continental ovations. He told his faithful myrmidons that all Europe was in a state of profound peace, and that war was utterly impossible. They echoed the cry, and at once, as if by magic, the torch of revolution was lighted up in every country save our own. Nor are we entitled to claim absolute exemption. Chartism exhibited itself at home in a more daring manner than ever before: nor do we wonder at this, since the depreciation of labour in the home market, the direct result of Peel's injudicious tariffs, drove many a man, from sheer desperation, into the ranks of the disloyal. Ireland was pacified only by a strong demonstration of military force; and, had that been withdrawn, rebellion was the inevitable consequence. Still, though his promises are thus shown to be utterly false, the undaunted Free-trader, in the teeth of facts and logic, persists in maintaining his conclusions. Again he shouts, raves, and agitates for an extensive military reduction; and, lo! the next Indian mail brings tidings of the war in the Punjaub!

Public attention, during the recess, has been very generally directed to the state of the finances of the country. No wonder. Last year, in proposing the first of his abortive budgets, Lord John Russell distinctly calculated the probable excess of the expenditure over the income at the sum of three millions and a quarter; to balance which he asked for an augmentation of the income tax--a proposal which the nation very properly scouted. But, whilst we state now, as we stated then, our determined opposition to the increase of the direct taxation of the country, we must remark that the free-trade party were hardly justified in withholding their support from a minister who had played their game with such unimpeachable docility, in an emergency directly resulting from the operation of their cherished system. The statement of Sir Charles Wood, to the effect that, during the last six years, the nation had remitted seven and a half millions of annual taxation, ought surely to have had the effect of an argument upon these impenetrable men. Seven millions and a half had been sacrificed before the Moloch of free trade. Good, benevolent, plain-dealing Sir Robert, and profound, calculating Lord John, had each, in preparing their annual estimates, lopped off some productive branch of the customs, and smilingly displayed it to the country, as a proof of their desire to lessen the weight of the national burdens. That our revenue should fall was, of course, a necessary consequence. Fall it did, and that with such rapidity that Sir Robert Peel dared not take off the income tax, which he had imposed upon the country with a distinct and solemn pledge that it was merely to be temporary in its duration, but handed it over as a permanent legacy to his successor, who coolly proposed to augment it! Now it really required no reflection at all to see that, if our statesmen chose, for the sake of popularity or otherwise, thus to tamper with the revenue, and to lessen the amount of the customs, a deficit must, sooner or later, occur. Not the least baneful effect of the policy pursued by Sir Robert Peel has been the system of calculating the estimates so low, and adapting the income so closely to the national expenditure, that a surplus, to be handed over to the commissioners for the reduction of the national debt, is now a tradition. We have abandoned the idea of a surplus, nor can it ever again be realised under the operation of the present system. Instead of a surplus we have a permanent income tax, and, more than that, a fresh debt incurred by us, under Whig management, of no less than ten millions.

Such being the state of our finances, the question naturally suggests itself to the mind of every thinking man, how are we to find a remedy? The Financial Reform Associations--which are nothing else than the bastard spawn of the Anti-Corn-law League--are perfectly ready with their answer. They see no difficulty about it at all. "Act," they say, "upon the same principle which every man adopts in private life. Since your income has fallen off, reduce your expenditure. Cut your coat according to your cloth. Find out what are the most expensive items of your estimates, and demolish these. If you can't afford to have an army, don't keep one. Your navy is anything but a source of income; put it down. In this way you will presently find that you can make out a satisfactory balance-sheet."

This is the pounds, shillings, and pence view of the case, and its supporters are determined to enforce it. Dull statistical pamphlets, inveighing against the enormous expense of our establishments, are compiled by pompous pseudo-economists, and circulated by the million. Looking to the past, it requires no familiarity to predict, that, as sure as winter follows autumn, so certainly will the Whigs yield to the pressure from without. Nay, it is not a prediction; for already, in the Queen's speech, an intimation to that effect has been given. Now this is a matter of vital moment to every one of us. We are now verging towards the point which we have long foreseen, when the effects of unprincipled legislation will be wrested into an argument against the maintenance of the national greatness. We have a battle to fight involving a more important stake than ever. We must fight that battle under circumstances of great disadvantage; for not only has treachery thinned our ranks, but the abandonment of public principle by a statesman whose hairs have grown gray in office, has given an example of laxity most pernicious to the morals of the age. But not the less readily do we go forward at the call of honour and duty, knowing that our cause is truth, and confident, even now, that truth must ultimately prevail.

In the first place, let us set ourselves right with these same Financial Reform Associations, so that no charge may be brought against us of factious opposition to salutary improvement. We have perused several of their tracts with great care; but, being tolerably familiar with their statistics already, we have not acquired any large stock of additional information. They point, however, to many things which are most undoubted abuses. That a reform is necessary in many civil departments of the state, has long been our expressed opinion. Money is not only misapplied, but the revenues which ought to be drawn from some portions of the public property, find their way into private pockets, and are not accounted for. We do not doubt that the dockyards are largely jobbed, and that the nation suffers considerable loss by a partial and nefarious system of private instead of public contracts. We are no admirers of sinecures, of unnecessary commissionerships, or the multiplication of useless offices. The department of Woods and Forests is an Augean stable, which requires a thorough cleansing. It is notoriously the most inefficient and the worst served of the public boards, and it has permitted and winked at peculation to an extent which is almost incredible. We desire to have the public accounts better kept, and some security given that the officials will do their duty. We wish to see patronage fairly and honourably exercised. We wish to see abuse corrected, curbed, and abolished.

And why is this not done? Simply for this reason--that we are cursed with a government in every way unfit for their charge. The present ruling family party have not among them a vestige of a public virtue. Jobbing with the Whigs is not an exceptional case--it is a living principle. It is more to them than the liberty of the press: it is like the air they breathe; if they have it not, they die. They keep their adherents together solely by the force of jobbing. Look at their Irish Trevellyan jobs, their commissions, their unblushing and unparalleled favouritism! Never, in any one instance, have they attempted to save a shilling of the public revenue, when, by doing so, they would interfere with the perquisites of some veteran servitor of their order. We know this pretty well in Scotland, where jobbing flourishes all the better because we are denied the superintendence of a separate Secretary of State--an office which is imperatively called for. The present is undeniably a time for the exertion of strict economy in every department, and yet ministers will not vouchsafe to commence it in their own. During the last two years, various offices which are not hereditary, which are notorious sinecures, and which are nevertheless endowed with large salaries, have become vacant; and, in every case, these have been filled up by Lord John Russell, on the broad ground that the government could not afford to dispense with such valuable patronage.