MENDOZA

1500-1575.

The third in this trio of friendly poets was of a very different

character. Mendoza was gifted neither with Boscan's mild benevolence nor

Garcilaso's tenderness. That he was the friend of these men, and

addicted to literature, is his chief praise. Endowed with talents, of a

high and haughty disposition, his firmness degenerated into severity,

and his valour into vehemence of temper. He was shrewd, worldly and

arrogant, but impassioned and resolute. He possessed many of those high

qualities, redeeming, while they were stained by pride, which in that

age distinguished the Spanish cavalier; for in those days, the freedom

enjoyed by the Castilian nobility was but lately crushed, and its

generous influence still survived in their manners and domestic habits.

It was characteristic of that class of men, that, when Charles V. asked

a distinguished one among them to receive the Constable Bourbon in his

house, the noble acquiesced in the commands of his sovereign, but

announced at the same time, his intention of razing his house to the

ground, as soon as the traitor had quitted it.

Don Diego Hurtado de Mendoza (and to give him all the titles enumerated

by his Spanish biographer), Knight Commander of the Houses of Calatrava

and Badajoz, in the order of Alcantara, of the council of Charles V.,

and his ambassador to Venice, Rome, England, and the council of Trent,

captain-general of Siena, and gonfalonier of the holy Roman church, was

born in the city of Granada, about the year 1500. He was of noble

extraction on both sides,--his father being second count of Tendilla,

and first marquis of Mondejar; his mother, donna Francisca Pacheco,

daughter of don Juan Pacheco, marquis of Villena. Being the fifth son,

Diego was destined for the church, and from his most tender years

received a literary education. He was sent to the university of

Salamanca, where he studied theology, and became a proficient in the

Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic languages, to which he applied himself

with diligence. Yet, though a laborious student, gayer literature

engaged his attention; and while still at Salamanca, he wrote Lazarillo

de Tormes, a tale at once declaratory of the originality of his genius.

The graphic descriptions, the penetration into character, the worldly

knowledge, the vivacity and humour, bespeak an author of more advanced

years. Who that has read it, can forget the proud and poor hidalgo, who

shared with Lazarillo his dry crusts; or the seven ladies who had one

esquire between them; or the silent and sombre master whose actions were

all mysteries, and whose locked-up wealth, used with so much secrecy and

discretion, yet brings on him the notice of the inquisition? It is

strange that, in after life, Mendoza did not, full of experience and

observation, revert to this species of writing. As it is, it stands a

curious specimen of the manners of his times, and as the origin of Gil

Blas; almost we had said of Don Quixote, and is the more admirable, as

being the production of a mere youth.

Mendoza probably found the clerical profession ill-suited to his tastes;

he became a soldier and a statesman; and particularly in the latter

capacity his talents were appreciated by the emperor Charles V. He was

appointed ambassador[21] to Venice; and, in the year 1545, was deputed

by his sovereign to attend the council of Trent, where he made a learned

and elegant oration, which was universally admired, and confirmed the

opinion already entertained of his talents, so that he was first

promoted ambassador to Rome, and in 1547, he was named governor and

captain-general of Siena. This was a difficult post; and Mendoza

unfortunately acquitted himself neither with credit nor success.

Before the imperial and French arms had found in Italy a lists in which

to contend, this country had been torn by the Ghibeline and Guelphic

factions; and these names remained as watchwards after the spirit of

them had passed away. When the French and Spaniards struggled for

pre-eminence, the Spaniards, as imperialists, naturally espoused the

interests of the Ghibeline cause, to which Siena was invariably a

partisan. The Spaniards prevailed. At the treaty of Cambria, the emperor

became possessed of acknowledged sway over a large portion of that fair

land: over the remainder he exercised an influence scarcely less

despotic. Florence, adhering with tenacious fondness to her ancient

republican institutions, was besieged: it capitulated, and, after some

faint show of temporising on the part of Charles, the chief of the

Medici family was made sovereign with the title grand duke.

Siena, Ghibeline from ancient association, and always adhering to the

imperial party, was not the less enslaved. Without openly interfering in

its institutions, the emperor used his influence for the election of the

duke of Amalfi as chief of the republic. The duke, a man of small

capacity, was entirely led by Giulio Salvi and his six brothers. This

family, thus exalted, displayed intolerable arrogance: it placed itself

above the law; and the fortunes, the wives and children, of their

fellow-citizens, became the victims.

The Sienese made their complaints to the emperor, on his return from his

expedition against Algiers; while, at the same time, Cosmo I., whose

favourite object was to possess himself of Siena, declared that the

Salvi were conspiring to deliver that town into the hands of the French,

and so once more to give that power a footing in Italy. The emperor,

roused by an intimation of this design, deputed an officer to reform the

government of Siena. A new oligarchy was erected, and the republic was

brought into absolute dependence on the commands of the emperor.

Siena was quieted, but not satisfied, while a new treaty between Charles

V. and France took from them their hope of recurring to the assistance

of the latter. After the peace, don Juan de Luna commanded at Siena,

with a small Spanish garrison. But still the seeds of discontent and of

revolt, fostered by an ardent attachment to their ancient institutions,

lay germinating in the hearts of the citizens. Charles never sent pay to

his soldiers: during time of war they lived by booty, in time of peace,

by extortion; love of liberty, and hatred of their oppressors, joined to

cause them to endeavour to throw off the foreign yoke. On the 6th of

February 1545, the people rose in tumult; about thirty nobles were

killed, the rest took refuge in the palace with don Juan de Luna. The

troops of Cosmo I. hovered on the frontier. He, perhaps, fostered the

revolt for his own ends; at least, he was eager to take advantage of it,

and wished the Spanish governor to call in his aid to quell it. But don

Juan wanted either resolution or foresight; he allowed the Spanish

garrison to be dismissed, and, finally, a month afterwards, was forced

to quit the town, accompanied by the obnoxious members of the

aristocracy.

For sometime Siena enjoyed the popular liberty which they had attained,

till circumstances led the emperor to fear that the French would gain

power there; and he resolved to reduce the city to unqualified

submission. Mendoza was then ambassador at Rome. Charles named him

captain-general of Siena, and gave him orders to introduce a Spanish

garrison, and even to build a citadel for its protection. Mendoza

obeyed: as the subject of a despotic sovereign, he felt no remorse in

crushing the liberties of a republic. He did not endeavour to

conciliate, nor to enforce respect by the justice of his measures. He

held the discontented and outraged citizens in check by force of arms

only; disarming them, and delivering them up to the insolence and

extortion of the Spanish soldiery. They could obtain no protection

against all the thousand injuries, thefts, and murders to which they

were subjected. Mendoza, haughty and unfeeling, became the object of

universal hatred. Complaints against him were carried to the emperor,

and, when these remained without effect, his life was attempted by

assassination: on one occasion his horse was killed under him by a

musket shot, aimed at himself. But Mendoza was as personally fearless as

he was proud; and the sternness that humanity could not mitigate, was

not softened by the suggestions of caution.

Affairs of import called him away from his government. On the death of

Paul III. his presence was required at Rome to influence the election of

a new pope. He left Siena, together with the unfinished citadel and its

garrison, under the command of don Juan Franzesi, and repaired to watch

the progress of the conclave. Through his intrigues the cardinal del

Monte was elected, who took the name of Julian III. The new pope,

elected through Spanish influence, adhered to the emperor's interests.

He instantly yielded the great point of contention between Paul III. and

Charles V., and consented to the restitution of the general council to

Trent. Mendoza twice attended this council for the purpose of bringing

the cardinals and prelates to a better understanding. On his return the

pope named him gonfaloniere of the church; and in this character he

subdued Orazio Farnese, who had rebelled. Besides these necessary causes

of absence from his government, he was accused of protracting his stay

in Rome on account of an amorous intrigue in which he was engaged, and

which occasioned a great deal of scandal.

The Sienese were on the alert to take advantage of his absence. The

rapacity and ill faith displayed by Mendoza effectually weaned them from

all attachment to the imperial cause; and when fresh war broke out

between Charles and the French king, the Sienese solicited the aid of

the latter to deliver them from a tyranny they were unable any longer to

endure. The grand duke of Florence had reason to complain of the

Spaniards, and especially of Mendoza, who treated him as the vassal of

the emperor; yet he was unwilling that the French should gain footing in

Tuscany, and besides hoped to advance his own interests, and to add

Siena to his dukedom. He discovered a correspondence between that town

and the French, and revealed it to Mendoza, offering the aid of an armed

force in the emperor's favour. Mendoza, distrusting the motive of his

offers, rejected them. He applied to the pope for assistance; but

Julian, offended by his conduct on various occasions, evaded the request

and remained neutral. Meanwhile, Mendoza, either ignorant of the

imminence of the danger, or despising the power of the enemy, took no

active measures to prevent the mischief which menaced his government.

The Sienese exiles assembled together, and put themselves under the

command of a leader in the French pay. They marched towards Siena, and

arriving before the gates on the evening of the 26th of July 1552,

proclaimed _Liberty!_ The people, though unarmed, rose at the cry. They

admitted the exiles, and drove the garrison, which merely consisted of

400 soldiers, from the convent of San Domenico, in which they had

fortified themselves, and pursued them to the citadel, which was badly

fortified and badly victualled. After a few days Franzesi capitulated,

and Siena was lost to the emperor. Mendoza was accused of various faults

on this occasion; of weakening the garrison, and of not putting, through

avarice, the citadel in a state of defence; and, above all, of delay,

when he had been warned by Cosmo, and not being on the spot himself to

secure the power of his master in the town. These faults, joined to the

hatred in which he was held, caused the emperor not long after (1554) to

recall him to Spain.

While thus employed in Italy as a statesman and a soldier, his active

mind led him also to other pursuits. Many inedited philosophical works

of his are to be found in Spanish libraries. He wrote a paraphrase of

Aristotle, and a translation into Spanish of the Mechanics of that

philosopher; he composed Political Commentaries, and a history of the

taking of Tunis. In the library of manuscripts at Florence, Sedano tells

us there exists a volume in quarto entitled, "Various Works of D. Diego

de Mendoza, ambassador of his majesty to Venice, Turkey, and England."

On all occasions he showed himself an enthusiastic lover of learning,

and a liberal patron of learned men; as a proof of which the bookseller

Paulus Manutius dedicated his edition of Cicero to him. Since the days

of Petrarch, no man had been so eager to collect Greek manuscripts. He

sent to Greece and Mount Athos to procure them, and even made their

acquisition a clause in a political treaty with the Sultan. He thus

collected a valuable library, which at his death he bequeathed to Philip

II., and it forms a precious portion of the library of the Escurial.

It is, however, as a poet that his name is most distinguished in

literature. He was a friend of Boscan, and entered into his views for

enlarging the sphere of Spanish poetry by the introduction of the

Italian style. Though a hitter enemy to the spirit of liberty in Italy,

he could yet appreciate and profit by the highly advanced state of

poetry and literature in that country, of which this very spirit was the

parent.

It is mentioned in the record of his employments, that he went

ambassador to England and Turkey; but it is uncertain at what time these

journies were performed; probably before his return to Spain in 1554.

Considerable obscurity is thrown over the latter years of his life. That

is, no sufficient pains has been taken to throw light upon them. His

manuscript works would, doubtless, if consulted, tell us more about him

than is at present known. He devoted a portion of the decline of his

life to study and literature; but it would seem that on his return from

Italy, he did not immediately retire from active life, as it is

mentioned by some of his biographers that he continued member of the

council of state under Philip II. and was present at the battle of St.

Quentin, fought in 1557. One of the last adventures recorded of him is

characteristic of the vehemence of his temper. While at court, he had a

quarrel with a noble who was his rival in the affections of a lady. His

antagonist, in a fit of exasperation, unsheathed a dagger; but before he

could use it, Mendoza seized him and threw him from the balcony where

they were standing, into the street below. In all countries in those

days, a personal assault within the precincts of a royal court was

looked upon as a very serious offence, and Spanish etiquette caused it

to be regarded in a still more heinous light. Still Mendoza was not the

aggressor: and his punishment was limited to a short imprisonment, where

he amused himself by addressing the lady of his love in various

redondillas.

Much of the latter part of his life was spent in retirement in his

native city of Granada, given up to study and literature. He here

composed the most esteemed of his prose works--the "History of the War

of the Moriscos in Granada." The style of this work is exceedingly pure.

He took the Latin authors Sallust and Cæsar for his models; and being

an eye-witness of the events he records, his narrative is highly

interesting.

While in Italy, he had written a state paper, addressed to the emperor,

dissuading him from selling the duchy of Milan to the pope, which was

conceived in so free a style, that Sandoval, in quoting it in his

history, believed it necessary to soften its expressions. In the same

way this acute observer perceived the faults of the Spanish government

against the Moriscos, and alluded to, although he did not dare blame

them.

Philip II., a bigoted tyrant, drove this portion of his subjects to

despair. Mendoza tells us that just before their revolt, "the

inquisition began to persecute them more than ever. The king ordered

them to quit the Morisco language, and all commerce and communication

one with the other: he took from them their negro slaves, whom they had

brought up with the same kindness as if they had been their children: he

forced them to cast off their Arab dress, in which they held invested a

large capital, and obliged them, at a great expense, to adopt the

Castilian costume. He forced the women to appear with uncovered faces,

opening all that portion of their houses which they were accustomed to

keep closed; and both of these orders appeared intolerable to this

jealous people. It was spread abroad also that he intended to possess

himself of their children, and to educate them in Castile: he forbade

the use of baths, which contributed at once to their cleanliness and

pleasure. Their music, songs, feasts, and weddings, held according to

their manners and customs, and all assemblies of a joyful nature, were

already interdicted; and these new regulations were published without

augmenting the guards, without sending troops, without reinforcing the

garrisons or establishing new ones."[22]

The effect of such a system on a proud and valorous people, passionately

attached to their religion and customs, might be anticipated. The Moors

collected arms secretly, and laid up stores in the rugged mountains of

the Alpujarra: they chose for king the young Fernando de Valor,

descended from their ancient sovereigns, who assumed the name of Aben

Humeya. The progress of the revolt, however, met with various checks,

and they did not receive the aid they expected from the sultan Selim.

Instead, therefore, of taking Granada, their war became guerilla; and

the spirit of vengeance incited them to the exercise of frightful

cruelties, by way of reprisal, on the Christian prisoners who fell into

their hands. An army was sent against them, commanded by don John of

Austria, natural son of Charles V..; Mendoza's nephew, the marquis of

Mondejar, was one of the principal generals under him: Mendoza,

therefore, had full opportunity to learn the details of the war, which

terminated in the success of the Spaniards, whose cruelties rivalled

those of the unfortunate rebels. The Moriscos were put down by the

massacre of several villages, and the selling of the inhabitants of a

whole territory into slavery. This total destruction of the Morisco

people is described by Mendoza, with a truth that prevented his history

from being published until 1610, and even then with great omissions: a

complete edition did not appear till 1776.

After a retreat of some years, Mendoza appeared at court again in his

old age, at Valladolid: his reputation caused him to be admired as an

oracle; his erudition and genius commanded universal respect. He enjoyed

these honours but a few months, and died in the year 1575.

There are few men of whom the Spaniards are more proud than Mendoza,

whom, to distinguish from other poets of the same name, they usually

call the Ambassador. "Most certain it is," says Sedano, "that from the

importance and diversity of his employments, he was considered one of

the most famous among the many great men which that age produced. His

ardent mind was perpetually employed in the support of the glory of his

sovereign and the honour of his country; and in all the transactions in

which he was employed, his zeal, his integrity, his deep policy, his

penetration, and his understanding shone out; and the very faults of

which he is accused, must be attributed to the envy and hatred of his

enemies."

We may not, perhaps, be ready to echo much of this praise. The oppressor

of a free people must always hold an obnoxious position; and when to the

severe and unpitying system he adopted towards others, we find that he

indulged his own passions even to the detriment of his sovereign's

interests, we feel somewhat of contempt mingled with resentment. We are

told that in person he was tall and robust, dignified in his deportment,

but ugly in the face. His complexion was singularly dark, and the

expression of his countenance haughty; his eyes were vivacious and

sparkling; and we may believe that his irregular and harsh features were

redeemed in some degree by the intellect that informed them.

In judging of him as a poet, he falls far short of Garcilaso; but in

some respects he may be considered as superior to Boscan. His short and

simple poems, named in Spanish vilancicos, are full of life and spirit,

and are fitted to become popular from the simplicity and yet vivacity of

their sentiments and versification: they are the sparkling emanations of

the passions, expressed at the moment, with all the ardour of living

emotion. Indeed, he so far indulged in this sort of composition,

tempting to one who feels that he can thus impart, and so perhaps obtain

sympathy for, the emotions that boil within him, that most of his

smaller poems remain inedited as being too free; the Spanish press never

being permitted to put forth works of a licentious nature. His epistles

imitated from Horace, want elegance and harmony; but they are forcible,

and full of excellent sense and good feeling. He could not rise to the

sublime. There is a complimentary ode of his addressed to cardinal

Espinosa, on his assuming the hat, for the writing of which, we are told

by his secretary, that he prepared by three days' study of Pindar; but

it breathes no Pindaric fire; there is bathos rather than height in the

similes he makes, drawn from the purple of the cardinal's new dress, and

the crimson colours with which the sun invests the empyreum. Mendoza was

not an imaginative poet; and it is observable, that when a person, not

such by nature, deals in the ideal, the result is rather the ridiculous

than the sublime. Acute, earnest, playful, passionate, but neither

tender nor sublime, if we except a few of his minor love poems, we read

Mendoza's verses rather to become acquainted with the man than seek the

soul of poetry in his compositions.

[Footnote 21: The penetration with which Mendoza saw through the lofty

pretensions of diplomacy, and the keenness of his observation, which

stripped this science of all its finery, is forcibly expressed in one of

his epistles, He exclaims--

"O embaxadores, puros majaderos,

que si los reges quieren engañar,

comiençan por nosotros los primeros.

Nuestro major negocio es, no dañar,

y jamas hacer cosa, ni dezilla,

que no corramos riesgo de enseñar."

O ye ambassadors! ye simpletons! When kings wish to deceive they begin

first with us.--Our chief business is to do no harm, and never to do or

say anything, that we may not run the risk of making others as wise as

ourselves.]

[Footnote 22: Mendoza felt himself obliged in his own person to refrain

from all censure on the edicts of his sovereign. But in a speech he

introduced after the manner of Sallust, as spoken by one of the chiefs,

he conveyed, in forcible terms, his sense of the persecution which the

unhappy Moors endured. The conspirator exclaims: "What hinders a man,

speaking Castilian, from following the law of the prophet, or one who

speaks Morisco from following that of Jesus? They take our children to

their congregations and schools, teaching them arts which our ancestors

forbade, that purity of the law might not be disturbed nor its truth

disputed. We are threatened at every hour that they shall be taken from

the arms of their mothers and the bringing up of their fathers, and

carried into distant lands, where they will forget our customs, and

learn to become the enemies of the fathers who begot them, and the

mothers who bore them. We are ordered to cast off our national dress,

and to adopt the Castilian. Germans dress after one manner, the French

after another, the Greeks after another. The clergy have a peculiar

garb--youths one sort of dress--old men another--each nation, and each

profession, and each rank, adopts its own style of dress. Yet all are

Christians. And we Moors--why do we dress in the Morisco, as if our

faith hung in our garb--not in our hearts?"]