[180] During the reign of the Catholic Monarchs, the Mendoza family produced no poets or historians. Santillana's sons and grandsons continued to act as patrons of the arts, and some of their clients were among the most distinguished authors of the period. Santillana's descendants also collected impressive libraries, and some of these men are known to have been men of erudition; but not one of them produced a work of literature. By the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Mendoza looked on the family's Renaissance literary accomplishment as a thing of the past. These generations revered the literary talents of their ancestors, just as they revered their military exploits; but literary creativity was no longer a part of their active lives. Instead, they channeled their creative energies into architecture, building a series of palaces, churches, and schools in Guadalajara and Granada -- the visible reminders of the Mendoza wealth and splendor. Throughout the Trastámara period, the most prestigious esthetic styles had been inspired by Avignon, Florence, and then Rome, as the Spanish traveled to and from the papal court and absorbed its taste. This had been true for both the Mendoza and the letrados.

During the reign of the Catholic Monarchs, however, the leaders of Castilian society turned to the courts of northern Europe and to their own medieval past for their artistic inspiration. Even in esthetics, an overtly safe issue that did not offend religious sensibilities or require the new expertise of the universities, most of the Mendoza followed the lead of the constable and the duke of Infantado and adapted to the new style. Only Tendilla and his sons would battle to maintain the Renaissance [181] esthetic tradition. When the Tendilla extended their efforts into the emotionally charged issue of religion, the dimensions of the Mendoza failure became apparent: they did not have the political power, the intellectual prestige, or the personal influence to protect the family tradition, much less to impose it on the society of sixteenth-century Spain.

Many members of the Mendoza family were enthusiastic book collectors, regarding the libraries they had inherited as evidence of their ancestors' literary accomplishments. In order to perpetuate the family's intellectual reputation and remind future generations of this aspect of the family's history, they built some of the largest collections of their day and tried to attach them to more permanent institutions within the estate, such as the mayorazgo or a monastery. In his will, drawn up in 1475, the first duke of Infantado, ordered his eldest son to incorporate the books of the marquis of Santillana into the mayorazgo

so that they may always go with and be attached to the other property in the mayorazgo... because I greatly desire that he and his descendants should give themselves to study, as the marquis my lord, may he rest in peace, and I and our ancestors did, firmly believing our persons and house to be greatly improved and elevated by it.⁽¹⁾

I have always heard it said that the library which is in this house was part of the mayorazgo and I leave it to the count of Saldaña my grandson and successor, including the books which the duke my lord and father inherited as well as those which I have accumulated and together with this I leave and bequeath to him the falcons, as many as there may be.⁽²⁾

Given the intellectual atmosphere of a Castile dominated by letrados and the lack of intellectual leadership in the Mendoza family, it may have been inevitable that the Mendoza libraries became increasingly popular in their tastes. In 1455, the constable's grandfather, Pedro [182] Fernández de Velasco, first count of Haro, had commissioned many translations and transcriptions and donated them to the Hospital de la Veracruz, which he had founded on his estate of Medina de Pomar. Velasco's son and grandsons continued to donate books to this library throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, apparently at the expense of building up a library in their own household. Since the donations were selected for a monastery, the collection became overwhelmingly ecclesiastical and devotional in content. Cardinal Mendoza was also an active book collector and left a library of considerable value, although typically episcopal in its emphasis on canon and civil law. The Infantado library shunned these subjects in favor of literature, the patristics, and how-to-do-it books on subjects of interest to the nobility: law, letter writing, agriculture, hunting, architecture.⁽³⁾

The Mendoza libraries reveal the changing reading preferences of their owners in a generation otherwise singularly uncommunicative about its literary tastes: in all the library inventories there is an increased emphasis on devotional works; and in the case of the Infantado library, a new taste for the novel of chivalry. Novels of chivalry, inspired by Catalán adventures in the eastern Mediterranean and by the Breton chivalric cycles, had circulated in Spain as early as the fourteenth century, but they were not important in the intellectual life of Castile, and they do not appear in even the largest private libraries, such as that of Santillana.

Santillana was interested in "caballería"; and inspired by Bruni's treatment of the subject, exchanged letters on its nature with don Alfonso de Cartagena, citing historical examples from the Roman histories, etymological evidence, and the opinions of Cicero and other classical authorities.⁽⁴⁾ To Santillana and his generation, caballería meant nobility rather than chivalry; but by the end of the century, this concept of caballería was replaced by the standards of the novel of chivalry, with its lovesick knights, courtly manners, and fantasies of war. These novels were the most widely read works of the end of the fifteenth century, and they became a craze after the publication of Amadís de Gaula in 1508, even among the Mendoza. It is curious that Infantado was indirectly responsible for the spread of this fad to France, for Francis I read the Amadís Cycle while he was lodged in Infantado's palace as a prisoner of war after Pavía and later ordered its translation into French.⁽⁵⁾ This sort of romanticized knight errantry had long been popular at the Burgundian court,⁽⁶⁾ but for the Mendoza the adoption of the novel of chivalry marked an important shift in their literary interests from classical antiquity to the medieval past.

[183] While the dukes of Infantado -- and the royal court -- took up the literary tastes of northern Europe, Tendilla continued that interest in ancient history and the Latin classics typical of his ancestors. Without an inventory of Tendilla's library, it is impossible to be sure of what books he owned, but his letters give many indications of his reading habits.

During most of his tenure as captain general, Tendilla does not seem to have done much reading. His letters for 1504 through 1512 rarely mention books of any kind, and his few references to literary and historical matters are vague. In the summer of 1506, when he heard that Fernando and Philip had negotiated the agreement of Villafáfila while at a distance of four leagues from each other, he was reminded of the romance of the Cid and the Muslim.⁽⁷⁾ These vague references to works Tendilla had read in his youth are largely replaced in the last two years of his life by specific references to works he was reading for the first time or works he was carefully rereading and annotating. This change in his reading habits was the result of his retirement and his increasing isolation from the local administration. As early as the spring of 1514, Tendilla claimed that he had "no other pastime but to read and write with my own hand in some books which I began a few days ago because I would like to finish them before I die."⁽⁸⁾ By the time of his death in 1515, he had finished reading Augustine and Josephus and had reread and annotated Aeneus Sylvius' Historia de Bohemia.⁽⁹⁾ There is no indication in his letters that he ever took up reading the popular chivalric novels; the books he wanted to finish before he died were classics from the Roman period and a history written by an Italian humanist pope whom he had seen and admired on his first visit to Italy in 1458. There is perhaps no greater evidence of Tendilla's conservatism than this Renaissance reading list, begun at the age of seventy-two, a full generation after the Renaissance had ceased to be fashionable in Castile.

As erudites themselves and patrons of erudition, the Mendoza developed their esthetic preferences in equally divergent directions. Those who remained loyal to Infantado and the constable associated themselves, peripherally, with universities and produced, or sponsored the production of, works that found favor at the court. Juan Hurtado de Mendoza, señor of Fresno de Torote and himself a poet of modest talents, often acted as a judge in poetry contests at the University of Alcalá.⁽¹⁰⁾ Cardinal Cisneros asked the third duke of Infantado to be the patron of the University of Alcalá, although the relationship seems to have been distasteful to both. Cisneros wrote to the third Infantado: "If [184] I didn't esteem you, I would not have made you patron of my beloved university," and Infantado replied: "And if I didn't respect and want to serve you in such a great undertaking, I would not have taken the patronage of it."⁽¹¹⁾

Cardinal Mendoza maintained a large household of clients, relatives, students, and employees. Of these, the most erudite was Diego de Muros, who was secretary to the cardinal for many years, became bishop of Mondoñedo and then of Oviedo, and founded the Colegio Mayor de San Salvador de Oviedo in Salamanca in 1517. His most important publication was an edition of the Carmen Paschale of Sedulius (Valladolid, 1517), a pale reflection of the Mendoza preference for Christian works in classical forms.⁽¹²⁾

The most famous of the cardinal's clients was Hernando del Pulgar, but he is also the most difficult to assess intellectually because his relationship with the cardinal created a conflict of interest with his duties as royal chronicler. Pulgar was not directly employed by the cardinal, but his royal pension was partly paid by cardinal Mendoza: in the mercedes reform carried out in 1480, Pulgar was reported to be receiving thirty-five thousand maravedís per annum from the royal revenues assigned to the cardinal.⁽¹³⁾ Pulgar was proud of his close friendship with the cardinal and with the whole Mendoza family, and he imitated their works and used their styles as justification for his own.⁽¹⁴⁾ His collection of biographical sketches, the Claros varones, was intended to be a more erudite continuation of Guzmán's Generaciones; and when someone criticized him for inserting humor into serious works, he used the Mendoza as an example of the validity of this technique:

You accuse me likewise of being proud because I sometimes write jocular things and certainly, sir, underneath, you tell the truth; but I have seen those noble and magnificent men the marquis of Santillana, don Iñigo López de Mendoza; and don Diego Hurtado de Mendoza his son, duke of Infantado; and Fernán Pérez de Guzmán, señor of Batres, and other notable men write passages of great doctrine, sprinkling them with some funny things which give wit to the truth.⁽¹⁵⁾

The most notorious of the cardinal's secretaries was Alvar Gómez de Ciudad Real (d. 1491), a prime example of the deudo that bound patrons and clients together over generations. Alvar Gómez's father, Fernán Gómez de Ciudad Real (b. 1388), was a godson of Pedro López de Ayala, who had held him at the baptismal font; he became a bachelor in medicine by the age of twenty-four and later physician to Juan II and don Alvaro de Luna.⁽¹⁸⁾ The son, Alvar Gómez (or Alvar García), became secretary to Enrique IV, and Palencia heaped abuse on him:

A certain Alvar García de Villarreal, an ignorant man, stupid, of obscure origin and low inclinations, and who, for these very reasons, Enrique IV named as his secretary when he had hardly ascended the throne, as if the profession and its exercise should correspond by right to a person inexpert, obscure, and of loose morals.⁽¹⁹⁾

The variety and diffuseness of the works produced by Mendoza clients in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries is indicative of the lack of focus in the intellectual life of the Mendoza households in Guadalajara. Lacking strong commitment to any person, institution, or idea outside the family itself, the Mendoza would drift through the changing intellectual styles of the sixteenth century, taking up and enjoying whatever was current.

[186] These amorphous attitudes are a striking contrast to the Tendilla stubbornness in clinging to the esthetics of the fifteenth-century Mendoza. We have seen that Tendilla provided support and encouragement to Hernán Núñez de Toledo, whose Renaissance humanism satisfied Tendilla's notions of the Mendoza family's intellectual tradition.⁽²¹⁾ In his own writing, Tendilla displayed a strict adherence to the language and rhetoric fashionable in the caballero society of his youth which he had imbibed in the household of his grandfather, Santillana, with disastrous consequences. Tendilla's effectiveness in arguing with the letrados, with whom he already had serious substantive disagreements, was seriously weakened by his refusal to speak to them in a style they respected.

In theory, Tendilla admired the brevity his ancestors praised as the most effective vehicle for argument. When he wrote letters of recommendation, this was the characteristic he praised most highly: "This is a good man of few words."⁽²²⁾ He despised people who were verbose: Juan Hurtado de Mendoza "is a very forceful and daring man of few words who doesn't beat around the bush like Pero López" de Orozco.⁽²³⁾ When he wrote on professional matters in which he could maintain his detachment, his style was clear and to the point. When he wrote to someone he disliked or wanted to impress, he became cagily manipulative. On one of the rare occasions when he wrote to the Italian humanist, Pietro Martire d'Anghiera, whom Tendilla had brought to Spain although he habitually snubbed him, asking him to translate into Latin the inscription he wanted to put on the tomb of his brother, the archbishop of Seville, he employed the false modesty and flattery which were clichés of the time, claiming that he was sending him the inscription "so that you will put it in Latin because I lack that language when you are absent."⁽²⁴⁾ When he wrote to prelates whose erudition and Latin he respected, he could never resist inserting a few passages in Latin and making frequent allusions to the classics and the Bible. The intimate, humorous style, verging on the sacrilegious, he used in letters to his fellow nobles and the rambling, confessional intimacy of his letters to his agent, Francisco Ortiz, are a contrast to the sobriety and caution of his letters to letrados and royal secretaries. But when Tendilla wrote on religious issues, he became so carried away with the passion of his arguments that he lost sight of the audience and slipped into the rhetoric and colloquialisms most familiar and convincing to him, which must have been ineffective with the letrados.

This sort of impassioned argument, based on authorities no longer acceptable or convincing, became particularly frequent in Tendilla's [187] letters during the spring of 1514, when the government refused to relax its edict against Morisco clothing. As the government hardened its position, Tendilla's arguments became more impassioned and less effective. By May, his arguments were based almost entirely on the sources that would have been familiar and convincing to his ancestors, Santillana and Guzmán:

What, sir, is his highness doing, ordering that the Morisco clothing must be abandoned? Does he think that this is such a trivial thing? I swear by God that the kingdom will lose more than a million ducats in changing and buying clothes and doesn't the king realize that this way he is hardening those overseas [in Africa] to not become his subjects without resisting with their blood first? Doesn't he know that the clothing which the women in Rome wore when they were gentiles they still wear now? And so that you, sir, can speak about this with the authority of a doctor and even one such as Saint Augustine, read, your grace, in the nineteenth book of the City of Cod in the nineteenth chapter and you will see what he says. And what clothing, sir, did we here in Spain wear until the coming of king Enrique the Bastard and how did we wear our hair except in the Morisco style, and at what table did we eat? Did the kings stop being Christians and saints because of this? No, sir, by God.⁽²⁵⁾

In the last few years of his life, Tendilla took up arguments from another historical source, the Jewish Wars of Josephus. He sometimes urges Ortiz to use examples from Josephus in his speeches to the court, and it is clear that Tendilla was well aware of the parallel between the Moriscos and the ancient Jews as rebellious religious minorities. In 1514, for example, he instructed Ortiz to warn the court against believing the local Morisco regidor, Miguel de León, -- who had promised the Moriscos that he would be able to have the edict against Morisco clothing lifted -- [188] by drawing a parallel with the promises of Jonathan the swindler who led a group of Jews to destruction in the same way.⁽²⁶⁾ In this case, Tendilla was arguing not only from a historical period (ancient Rome) that was no longer the model of the royal court but also from a source that must have been distasteful to the court because it was Jewish. We can imagine how the members of the royal council, who were becoming more and more suspicious of anything smacking of Judaism, might react to an argument that cited Josephus as its authority.

In the heightened atmosphere of religious extremism and suspicion prevalent in the royal council, Tendilla continued to use the historicist and eclectic arguments fashionable in his youth. He seems never to have realized how ineffectual this type of argument had become, nor did he ever recognize the irony of using a Jewish source to argue Christian religious issues. For Tendilla, the Roman model was still the best; and he was as incapable of adopting the new styles as he was of adopting the letrados' theories.

The most enduring example of Mendoza adaptation to the northern styles entering Castile was their taste for Flemish architecture. The structures built by the admiral and Santillana were typical of fifteenth-century Castilian architecture: they are built around a central open courtyard; the walls are plain and finished with ashlars; and the exterior walls are designed to functional, not esthetic, standards. The doors, windows, and other apertures are placed for functional convenience, and from the outside of the building appear haphazardly arranged; decoration is superficially applied to the wall surface immediately above the entrance but to no other portion of the wall; and all the apertures are designed with a strong, fortresslike simplicity. Neither the apertures nor the decoration give any indication of the number or levels of the interior floors. The beauty of these buildings is in their massive but pleasing proportions and their tasteful balance between rectangular walls and circular towers. Decoration is almost negligible as an esthetic factor in this style.

From 1475 to 1512, Santillana's children and grandchildren engaged in large-scale building projects; and the structures they put up have survived as the outstanding (and earliest) examples of a new Flemish style so closely associated with the reign of the Catholic Monarchs that it has popularly been called "Isabelline."⁽²⁷⁾ The first and second dukes of Infantado built a fortress-palace at Real de Manzanares which illustrates the changing architectural tastes of the Mendoza family.⁽²⁸⁾ The first Infantado constructed the building in two phases: in the first, the fortress itself was built, with the typical single entry, smooth walls, [189] irregularly placed apertures, and harmoniously proportioned rectangular walls and circular towers; in the second, Infantado must have employed Italian stonemasons, for the smaller towers of this later phase are finished in a pattern of decorative half-spheres typical of Bolognese workmanship. Italian workmen were probably also responsible for the graceful cornice and parapet surmounting the walls and towers. The third and final phase of the construction was carried out after 1480 by the second Infantado, who added the large main tower and enclosed a portion of the parapet to form an airy covered gallery. The main tower is hexagonal, and the gallery has windows with stone frames carved in the shape of ogive arches. All the work of this final phase must have been the work of Flemish artists: it is delicate, graceful, flamboyant, and depends upon decoration for its esthetic impact.

The first building constructed entirely in the new Flemish style was the Palacio del Infantado in Guadalajara. The first Infantado razed the old family residences to build the present palace, a three-story structure built around a central square patio, which is circumscribed by a two-story gallery. The major innovation lies in the design of the patio's columns, arches, and balustrades and in the design and decoration of the façade. The arches of the patio are shaped like flamboyant trefoils and decorated, like the balustrades, with plaster and stone, carved and molded into intricate leaves, flowers, animals, and vines. The fifteenth-century columns are fluted in a spiral design, and both the fluting and the capitals are decorated with leafy vines, so that the impression is that the patio is encircled by trees whose leafy branches and trunks are entwined with vines. The Palacio del Infantado is the finest example of what has aptly been called "gothique délirant," combining the graceful curves of nature in its decorative elements with the severe simplicity of the ashlars and structural elements.⁽²⁹⁾

Santillana's eldest daughter, Mencía de Mendoza, wife of the constable of Castile, built one of the most important religious structures in this flamboyant gothic style -- the Capilla del Condestable in the cathedral of Burgos. The chapel differs from other gothic religious structures in the octagonal shape of its lantern -- which became the model for the main lantern of the cathedral -- and in the harmonious proportions and balancing of otherwise conventional gothic elements. The ashlars on the interior are decorated with stone and plaster carvings in lacelike detail, with the same motifs as the decoration on the façade of the Palacio del Infantado -- hairy satyrs lifting their clubs and family shields entwined with vines, flowers, and leaves. These buildings, with their flamboyant forms and decorative themes from nature, mark an important shift to [190] northern European artistic influences. They seem to translate into stone and plaster the graceful curves and loving attention to naturalistic detail of the international gothic painting style.

Architecture was one aspect of art in which Tendilla showed innovation; and even here he remained true to the Mendoza tradition -- he followed the lead of the papal court. During his embassy to Innocent VIII in 1486-1487, Tendilla had been charged by his uncle, cardinal Mendoza, with the reconstruction of the Roman basilica of Santa Croce. It would have been natural for him to be impressed by the architectural projects of the papal chancellor, Rodrigo Borgia, whose friendship with the Mendoza was crucial to the success of Tendilla's embassy and whose preference for Renaissance architecture had been known to Tendilla since 1472, when cardinals Mendoza and Borgia met in Valencia and Guadalajara to negotiate the alliance between the Mendoza and the Catholic Monarchs in the Castilian succession dispute. Borgia was already engaged in building projects in Rome by 1472, and the cardinals spent their leisure time discussing "la obra del romano" while they were in Guadalajara.⁽³⁰⁾ Cardinal Mendoza and the members of his household, including his nephews, Tendilla and the duke of Medinaceli, had all been converted to the Renaissance style by these conversations, but it was not until Tendilla's embassy to Rome in 1486-1487 that they were able to put their architectural ideas into effect. Tendilla must have made himself knowledgeable about Roman styles and techniques before engaging an architect and workmen for the reconstruction of Santa Croce, and he brought back to Castile both his own newly acquired expertise and the Italian-trained architect, Lorenzo Vázquez.

The first building in Castile to be influenced by this Roman style was the colegio de Santa Cruz at the University of Valladolid.⁽³¹⁾ In 1479, cardinal Mendoza received a papal license for the college, and construction was completed by 1491; but when the cardinal saw the building for the first time, he was so displeased with its awkward proportions and the mediocrity of its traditional style that he ordered a complete remodeling in the Roman style. For this he employed Lorenzo Vázquez who determined that only the superficial portions of the façade could be demolished without weakening the structure. He then put a Roman touch to the building by rebuilding the upper levels of the façade and adding half columns and a cornice in classical designs. Vázquez then moved to Guadalajara where he became master of works for the cardinal, supervising the final stages of the cardinal's new residence and designing an elegant classical gallery for the patio of the parochial church of Santa María, commissioned by the cardinal. After the cardinal's death in [191] 1495, Vázquez continued to work in the Roman style for members of the Mendoza family who had been part of the cardinal's household. In the last years of the century, Vázquez designed and built the palace in Cogolludo for the duke of Medinaceli; before 1507, he had completed the house of Antonio de Mendoza in Guadalajara; and at the time of his death, he was building the monastery of San Antonio in Mondéjar for Tendilla.

The most important innovations introduced by Vázquez were his treatment of the façade as an esthetic object and his use of classical decorative elements. The palace in Cogolludo is built on the traditional plan with a central courtyard, but the arches of the gallery are Roman, supported by classical columns. The façade of the building is covered with rusticated stone, the entrance is placed in the center of the façade, and the windows are symmetrically spaced. A decorative line is sculpted across the entire width of the façade, serving as window sill and indicating the two interior floor levels. The entrance is flanked by classical half-columns, and a tondo directly above the door encloses the family coat of arms in a classical wreath. Throughout the palace in Cogolludo, Vázquez employed Renaissance principles of architecture. He integrated structural and decorative elements, emphasized the horizontal, and used classical orders and decoration. While Medinaceli could afford to use the best materials, Tendilla could supply Vázquez with only the poorest of local bricks and stone for the monastery of San Antonio de Mondéjar. Today it is in ruins, used as a corral by local farmers. Even the ruins have all the daring and beauty of Lorenzo Vázquez's work -- soaring Roman arches and a floor plan proportioned to a single module.⁽³²⁾ Like the early Italian imitators of Roman architecture, most of the Mendoza and their architects considered the classical architectural orders and sumptuous decoration to be the essence of Roman architecture. Only Vázquez in his later years, while working for Tendilla, concerned himself with the problems of proportion and measurement that had become the preoccupation of late fifteenth-century Italian architects, a concern which is a constant theme of Tendilla's letters on architectural subjects.

In view of the Mendoza family's literary tradition, it is not surprising that some members of the family turned to ancient Rome and the papal court for inspiration when architecture became their major artistic interest. The Roman model, however, did not become popular during the reign of the Catholic Monarchs. Most of the Mendoza followed the leadership of the duke of Infantado and built in the gothic style; and even the monarchs adopted this style when they began building, late in the reign. The only Roman structures of the reign of the Catholic [192] Monarchs were built by a few members of the Mendoza family deeply influenced by cardinal Mendoza; and after 1504, only by the two mavericks of the family -- Tendilla and Cenete. It has been noted that an enthusiasm for Roman architectural models was widespread among the "imperialists" under Charles V;⁽³³⁾ but during the reign of the Catholic Monarchs, it was limited to those Mendoza who clung most tenaciously to the old, particularist view of the Castilian monarchy and saw themselves as the cultural heirs of the ancient Romans.

By 1485, most of the Mendoza had abandoned the traditional Castilian architectural and literary standards for the standards of the north. Though they could no longer dominate the intellectual and religious life of Castile, they could sponsor the most lavish examples of the artistic fashions of the country. But by turning to the Middle Ages and the north instead of classical antiquity and the papal court for their esthetic standards, these generations were abandoning the Mendoza tradition just as they were abandoning it in political matters.

It is significant that those who adopted this new esthetic standard were the same Mendoza who followed the constable and the duke of Infantado in the political turmoil of the succession and regency conflicts after 1504. Tendilla, who refused to place family unity before family tradition and refused consequently to accept the political leadership of Infantado, did not adopt new esthetic standards. Furthermore, Tendilla never gave up his role as an erudite and as a patron of Renaissance art and letters. Thus the Mendoza family divided into two factions artistically and intellectually along the same lines it had divided politically. Infantado and most of the Mendoza followed a flexible political policy and an esthetic standard open to the new influences coming in from northern Europe. Tendilla followed an extremely traditional political policy and intellectual and religious standards conservative and resistant to new sources of influence. During his lifetime, the Mendoza tradition had become anachronistic and suspect, yet Tendilla clung to it as if it were still prestigious and influential. While the church, the monarchs, the councillors, and the secretaries were thinking and acting in terms of centralized monarchy, theology, and reform and the Mendoza of Guadalajara were enjoying the arts of the Burgundian court, Tendilla continued to advocate old policies and think in terms of particularism; and he continued to use the eclectic and historicist rhetoric of his ancestors and follow the artistic leadership of the papal court. Tendilla's failure to win favor at the royal court and his inability to influence royal policy were largely due to his continued adherence to the Mendoza tradition in a society which had rejected that tradition.

[193] Tendilla was most separated from the letrados and the new policies of the monarchy by his adherence to the standards of religious toleration and eclecticism characteristic of his ancestors. These religious attitudes are notable because they had become a political liability, both because of his position as governor of the largest convert population in Spain and because of the changed attitudes toward religious heterogeneity at the royal court. Tendilla was personally sympathetic to the Moriscos, and he was acutely aware of the political leverage he could command as mediator between the Morisco community and the royal government. As the royal government became more intolerant of the Moriscos, Tendilla's ability to win concessions for them decreased, and he found himself regarded with suspicion by Cisneros and other zealous doctors. As his political effectiveness declined, Tendilla's statements about the Moriscos, the Inquisition, and religion in general became more strident. This in turn further decreased his effectiveness in arguing with the promoters of the new policies.

For Tendilla's own religious attitudes, the problem of the Moriscos created some confusion and tensions, especially over the question of the efficacy of works. Tendilla was himself a great practitioner of good works. The accounts of his works fill many pages: acts of charity; donations to religious causes; foundations of churches, monasteries, and hospitals; commissions for religious works of art and shrines; and the acquisition of many papal indulgences for himself, his family, and his tenants.⁽³⁴⁾ He continued to perform these works as long as he was financially able, but he was not sure that they were efficacious or even good Christian practice. At one point in 1514, for example, Tendilla wondered if God had not sent the archbishop of Granada to punish him for his pride in thinking that he was a good Christian just because he was doing good works, for Tendilla remembered reading in a vernacular source that "those who confess, take communion, and give alms and listen continuously to masses and sermons are poorer Christians than those who do neither one nor the other."⁽³⁵⁾ If he had not actually read Guzmán's statement on this subject, he must have read something very like it; and the distinction Guzmán had drawn between good works and the motives which prompted them Tendilla applied, in reverse, to the Moriscos. When the Inquisition in Córdoba began to persecute the Moriscos in 1506, Tendilla objected that whatever errors the converts had committed in practice they were not culpable because they had not sinned "with their hearts."⁽³⁶⁾

Tendilla knew as well as anyone that the Moriscos were not sincere Christians, but he placed the blame for this on the zealots who had [194] forced the conversions rather than on the Moriscos themselves. He had always agreed with archbishop Talavera that only education, persuasion, and good example should be used to bring about conversion and that these same methods should be used to bring those who had been forcibly converted to a sincere belief in Christ. To Tendilla, true conversion could occur only in freedom. To this end, he tried to set a good example himself, he treated the Moriscos' unorthodox customs with generosity and toleration, and he encouraged his subordinates to do likewise.⁽³⁷⁾

In the ten years during which Tendilla coped with the problem of the Inquisition and the Moriscos (1506-1515), he developed a series of arguments based largely on St. Paul and St. Augustine. We do not know what the response of the letrados was to these arguments. We cannot even be sure that Tendilla's letters are a response to the letrados' arguments, for he often deliberately misunderstood or befuddled an issue out of stubbornness or obtuseness. But if the arguments about the Inquisition and the Moriscos were focused on the questions of faith and works, as Tendilla's letters indicate, then the church in Spain must already have developed arguments for the necessity of works before Luther attacked this position in 1517.

Tendilla's attitude toward faith and works was confused, but his attitude toward converts was clearly one of moderation and benevolence. While his tolerance of Morisco practices may be attributed in part to his political needs, his friendship with and protection of conversos had no political motivation and could only have been a manifestation of religious views. He employed conversos in important positions in his household throughout his life; and his agent at court, Francisco Ortiz, was a converso. One of the difficulties in dealing with this subject in relation to Tendilla is that we cannot be sure who was and who was not a converso, for Tendilla does not speak in these terms. He does describe specific men as "a good Christian" or "a bad Christian" but this description is based on his assessment of the man's character and not on racial or religious background. Captain Pedro López de Orozco was a "bad Christian." But Tendilla's physician, Iñigo López, whom we must assume to be a converso because of his name and profession, was "a good Christian."⁽³⁸⁾ His unawareness of the sensitivity of this issue, in fact, aroused the anger of Francisco Ortiz; and Tendilla, after protesting his innocence in typical terms of even-handed judgment, fought back with a biting satire of the letrados' arguments:

What you wrote me about the complaint I have about conversos gave me a good laugh because people complain about their father and their [195] sons and no one holds it against them. Because of this I looked over what I wrote to you and what I wrote to my sister and even what I wrote to the licenciado [Vargas, his consuegro] and I don't find any threat in it for just because I say that I am dissatisfied does not seem to me to deserve such reprehension. The truth is, I tell you that I am -- and with plenty of reason because although some of them may serve me well I have never received ill except from their hand and they don't have any regard for any good work which may have been done for them and if someone does ill to one of them they all take it personally and let this be said with great reverence, as those who dispute say.⁽³⁹⁾

Tendilla's attitude toward other, broader religious issues was equally traditional. He persisted in judging the religious policies of the church in the same way he judged the political policies of the government -- by their consequences. His most frequent argument against the Inquisition is that it leads to tragic consequences -- riots, repression, and resentment. He urged the inquisitors to use prudence in their proceedings and to temper their rigor with good sense.⁽⁴⁰⁾ When an inquisitor arrived in the kingdom of Granada to begin proceedings in Guadix, Tendilla tried to smooth the way for him in order to avoid violence within royal jurisdiction.⁽⁴¹⁾ Above all, Tendilla refused to allow the arguments of the inquisitors to distract him from what he considered the essential consideration in any religious policy -- a moderation that would prevent violence. He once warned the inquisitors of Córdoba, "If you tell me that what is of God must precede everything, I say that to have temperance is of God and anything else is from I don't know whom."⁽⁴²⁾

Tendilla also objected to the Inquisition because he thought it was being imposed on the kingdom of Granada by men who did not know the region and who underestimated the local reaction to it. He pointed out that religious considerations, no matter how correct, must not be allowed to blind the church to the peculiarities of the local situation and that "there never was anything in the world better ruled than Rome, but many errors have been made in this way of not believing those who have their hands in the dough."⁽⁴³⁾

On every issue of religious significance, Tendilla was opposed to the most popular and prestigious attitudes in the Castile of the Catholic [196] Monarchs -- he advocated toleration toward Muslims and Jews; he doubted the efficacy of works; he judged converts on the basis of their merits rather than their lineage; he opposed the Inquisition on religious, political, and jurisdictional grounds. With these attitudes and with his animosity toward the most powerful prelate in Castile -- Cisneros -- it is no wonder that Tendilla was regarded with suspicion by the royal court.⁽⁴⁴⁾

Tendilla never succeeded in persuading the royal government to change its policies toward the Moriscos: the Inquisition continued to operate in the kingdom of Granada, and the edict against Morisco clothing was used as a continual threat to the Moriscos. He lost control over appointments to military offices in Granada, his influence in the city council declined steadily, and the royal government began to follow military policies in direct contradiction to his advice. Tendilla knew that all of these misfortunes were the result of his failure to make an impression on the royal officials with his letters and memorials, but he attributed this failure to the hostile interpretations of secretaries who were his enemies and of letrados who were hair-splitting and zealous. Tendilla's failure to convince the royal court of his point of view was his greatest failure of all, yet he never realized the degree to which this failure was due to his own rhetoric. Castilians, and many other Europeans at this time, were increasingly attuned to zealous and hair-splitting arguments in religious questions; and Tendilla's letters -- old-fashioned with their pleas for tolerance, their use of Jewish and pagan as well as Christian sources, and their argument from historical example and natural consequences -- fell on deaf ears.

Tendilla's tenacity in maintaining the traditions of the Mendoza family in the face of changing social and intellectual fashions would also characterize his descendants and lead to the same dismal results. Tendilla's eldest son, Luis, and Luis's eldest son, the second and third marquises of Mondéjar, inherited Tendilla's positions as captain general of the kingdom of Granada and alcaide of the Alhambra, and they also inherited his policies of toleration toward the Moriscos and antagonism toward the chancillería of Granada.⁽⁴⁵⁾

Throughout the sixteenth century, and especially in the reign of Philip II, the Mondéjar's relations with the central government deteriorated steadily. The royal councils took an ever more rigid attitude toward the Moriscos' nonconformity, and the Mondéjars continued to defend Morisco customs. Like Tendilla, the Mondéjars were unable to protect either the Moriscos or themselves, and they found it necessary to take offices in the central government. Luis accepted the position of viceroy [197] of Navarre in 1543 -- a sure sign of his need for greater financial resources. His eldest son assumed the responsibilities of the captaincy general of Granada. Neither Luis in Navarre nor his son in Granada could protect their interests at the royal court; and in 1546, Luis accepted the position of president of the Council of Castile. Luis thus accepted publicly a situation Tendilla had recognized privately: he could no longer influence royal policy from a distance and had to take up residence at the royal court in order to make his voice heard there.

Even this drastic move could not save the Mondéjars and the Moriscos from their enemies in the Council of Castile and in the chancillería of Granada. The great conflict of the sixteenth century between Morisco and Christian zealots, which culminated in the second rebellion of the Alpujarras in 1568, was simply an elaboration of the conflicts which had engulfed Tendilla at the beginning of the century. The lines between the captain general and the Moriscos, on the one hand, and the chancillería of Granada, the Inquisition, and the royal government, on the other, had been drawn during the succession crisis of 1504-1508; and Tendilla's policies during that crucial period would become the policies of his descendants in the reign of Philip II. Tendilla's policy of toleration toward the Moriscos had not been a manifestation of a new, open society in Castile but the continuation of a Mendoza family tradition which can be traced back to the works of Ayala, Guzmán, and Santillana. Much of the failure of Mondéjar policy, therefore, may simply be ascribed to its anachronism -- it was old-fashioned and conservative to be tolerant in a society open to the dogmatism and intolerance of sixteenth-century Europe.

What saved Luis and the entire Granada branch of the Mendoza family was deudo with Charles V, a deudo Luis created through strenuous political and personal service to the emperor. During the Comunero revolt in 1520 and 1521, the duke of Infantado played a cautious waiting game to see which side would win. He did not take a strong stand in support of the monarchy until after his son, the count of Saldaña, had declared in favor of the rebels; and Infantado had publicly to repudiate the count and his party. In contrast, Luis had been the first nobleman in Andalucía to declare in the name of Charles as soon as the news of Fernando's death reached Granada, and he had been an early and staunch military opponent of the Comunero revolt. His sister, María Pacheco, and her husband, Juan de Padilla, had been leading the rebels in Toledo.

These political moves made it easier for Luis to gain the emperor's friendship during 1526, when the royal couple spent their honeymoon [198] in the Alhambra. From the time of Charles's stay in the Alhambra through the rest of his reign, Luis poured his resources into the imperial ventures: the attack on the Muslim outpost of Peñón de los Vélez off the coast of Africa, the Tunis expedition in 1535, and Charles's military expeditions in France and Italy. Through these services, Luis was able to win from Charles the viceroyalties and posts in the royal councils that enabled him to balance to some degree the power of the chancillería of Granada in local politics.⁽⁴⁶⁾

It was through Charles's honeymoon in Granada that the Mendoza's Renaissance style also came to enjoy a brief period of official support. By the time of his marriage, Charles had already assumed the title of Holy Roman Emperor and was assuming with it many of the trappings that his chancellor, Mercurino Gattinara (1465-1530), associated with the ancient Roman emperors. He signed himself "Carolus" instead of "Yo el Rey," grew a beard in imitation of ancient Roman busts, and added the word "Caesar" to the form in which he was to be addressed. This search for an ancient Roman style fitted neatly with the Tendilla preference for the "estilo romano," or Renaissance style in monuments and architecture. In Granada, Charles could see the rising walls of the new cathedral, which after a false start on a medieval plan, was being built on a Renaissance plan believed to be an imitation of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Tendilla had been involved in the evolution of the cathedral's design, acting as arbitrator on behalf of the king in architects' disputes over proportions; and Luis now had the opportunity to oversee the construction of an even larger secular project on behalf of the emperor.

Charles had fallen in love with the Alhambra and decided to build a modern palace there which would more aptly serve his court.⁽⁴⁷⁾ As architect for this, his one great building project, he employed Pedro Machuca, who had designed the elaborate arches and tableaux that the city of Granada constructed for the emperor's entrance into the city. Machuca had been a disciple of Michelangelo in Rome, but it appears that there was not much work for a Renaissance architect in early sixteenth-century Spain, for when Charles met him, he was employed as one of Luis's escuderos -- a position also held by his ancestor and namesake under the first count of Tendilla.

The palace Machuca designed for Charles was purely Renaissance; but after Charles left Spain, his royal councillors in Castile repeatedly overruled Luis, interfered with Machuca's plans, and prevented him from using the advanced Renaissance styles and construction techniques he had learned in Rome. Charles himself, having seen true Renaissance [199] architecture for the first time in Italy, finally approved Machuca's plans when he returned to Spain in 1533. Thus Granada, under the influence of the Mendoza, came to have Europe's only Renaissance cathedral and one of her largest Renaissance palaces -- architectural anachronisms in a Spain already evolving its own plateresque style by adding Renaissance and Isabelline decorative elements to the traditional Castilian style.

The persistence of such anachronisms among the sixteenth-century descendants of Tendilla was most pronounced in the life and works of Tendilla's youngest son, Diego Hurtado de Mendoza (1504-1575).⁽⁴⁸⁾ Diego was the most brilliant and cosmopolitan of all the Mendoza, and he is regarded by Spanish intellectual historians as "the last of the Spanish Renaissance men."⁽⁴⁹⁾ Although Diego was only twelve years old when Tendilla died, he seems to have been more deeply influenced by his father's ideas than the other sons, probably because Tendilla took over supervision of his young children's education and activities after Diego's mother died in 1510. Tendilla intended the boy for a position in the church, but because of the hostility of the archbishop of Granada he was not able to get the necessary episcopal permission for Diego to take holy orders. Diego entered the imperial diplomatic service about 1530 and quickly rose to the top of his profession. He served as imperial ambassador to Venice (1539-1547) and Rome (1547-1552), imperial legate to the first session of the Council of Trent, and governor of Siena. When his failure to prevent a revolt of the Sienese in 1552 ended his career as a diplomat, he returned to Spain where he filled a series of minor positions. After a scandalous incident in the royal palace, he was sent in exile to the frontier of Granada just in time to become a witness and chronicler of the second uprising of the Alpujarras.

It has been suggested that Diego's humanist skills and accomplishments were the product of his more than fifteen years' residence in Italy and his association with Agostino Nifo and Montes de Oca in Rome and Padua.⁽⁵⁰⁾ Certainly, there is ample evidence that Diego was at home with the humanists of sixteenth-century Italy. His methods in diplomacy have been described as Machiavellian, and he shared the imperialist enthusiasms of Erasmus and Gattinara. He was fluent in Latin, Greek, and Arabic; and he translated Aristotle's Mechanics from Greek into Spanish. He wrote poetry and history and maintained correspondence and friendships with several noted Italian humanists. He was an avid and knowledgeable collector of ancient coins, sculpture, and manuscripts, as well as modern paintings, manuscripts, and incunabula. He was appointed to the crucial post in Venice because Charles V's wars and diplomacy were as much dependent upon libel and propaganda as they were on military [200] weapons, and Diego as a humanist had the necessary rhetorical skills to carry on such a propaganda war.⁽⁵¹⁾

Diego far exceeded his father and his ancestors in his professional mastery of linguistic, philological, and rhetorical skills; but instead of adopting the values of his own age of the Counter Reformation, he remained loyal to the esthetic and religious values of Tendilla. His esthetic values, with their emphasis on the Romans, were superficially compatible with the heady dreams of imperialism at the court of Charles V, but Diego's supposed imperialism was in fact based on traditions that had little connection with Charles's empire and none at all with the Spain of Philip II. These attitudes are displayed most fully in Diego's history of the second uprising of the Alpujarras, De la guerra de Granada. The tone of the work is calm, even-handed, controlled. Superficially it appears that everyone was at fault and that Diego is not taking sides. As many critics have noted, the work is an obvious imitation of Tacitus and Sallust; but there is hardly a passage which when closely examined does not emerge as an elegant and erudite expression of Tendilla's anachronistic attitudes. For example, Diego's introductory summation of the war he is about to describe is a skillful imitation of Tacitas:

In short, to fight every day with the enemy, the cold, heat, hunger, lack of ammunition and equipment; everywhere new attacks, continuous deaths, until we closed with the enemy, a nation bellicose, vigorous, armed and confident in their position, favored by the Berbers and Turks, defeated, subdued, taken from their land and dispossessed of their houses and goods; prisoners bound man, woman, and child, captives sold at auction, or brought to inhabit lands far from theirs, captivity and transportation no less than that of other peoples which can be read in histories. A doubtful victory and with results so dangerous that sometimes one doubts if it was us or the enemy that God wanted to punish, until at the end, it was revealed that we were the threatened and they the punished.⁽⁵²⁾

It came to private causes and passions, even to asking judges of boundaries, not for divisions or lots of land like the Romans and our ancestors, but with the hope of restoring to the king or the public that which [the Moriscos] had occupied, and the intention of throwing some out of their inheritances. This was one of the sources of the destruction of Granada.⁽⁵³⁾

Another assumption Diego held in common with his father was that these pernicious changes in the system of justice were the result of the infusion of large numbers of letrados into the judicial system and the substitution of their justice through written law for the old seigneurial justice through arbitration. In Sallustian terms, Diego described the change from a Granada dominated by the captain general to a Granada dominated by the chancillería:

The city and kingdom used to be governed as among settlers and companions; a form of justice by arbitration, sentiments united, resolutions implemented in common to the public good: this was ended with the life of the older generation. The zealots entered, division over trivial matters between the ministers of justice and of war, written agreements confirmed by cédulas, each one of the parties deriving an understanding of them according to his own opinion; the one desiring to be treated as an equal, the other to preserve his superiority, behaving with more dissimulation than modesty.⁽⁵⁴⁾

Such ideas were not easily tolerated in the Spain of Philip II; but even in the reign of Charles V, Diego's religious attitudes made him suspect. His intervention in the first session of the Council of Trent in particular brought Diego into conflict with the Spain of the Counter Reformation. As the faithful spokesman for the emperor, Diego used all of his considerable rhetorical talents to urge the council to make reform of the church hierarchy its first matter of business. On this issue, he had the full support of the Spanish prelates, led by his cousins the cardinals of Jaén, Pedro Pacheco, and Coria, Francisco de Mendoza. But this imperialist party within the Spanish delegation -- made up of noble prelates without theological training -- immediately came into conflict with the Spanish theologians, who wanted to make a definitive codification of the church's position on Justification the first order of business.⁽⁵⁶⁾ Even after the theologians and papal party had won this point, Diego continued to argue against the theologians and thereby made a bitter enemy of Domingo de Soto. Soto was a member of the theology faculty at Salamanca. He had received his theological education at Alcalá and Paris and was the principal architect of the council's decree on Justification.⁽⁵⁷⁾ We do not know exactly what Diego argued in his debates with Soto; but on the basis of his own statement a few years later -- when Soto had become the imperial confessor -- Diego must have been opposed to a theological settlement of this issue:

You might tell Monseigneur [de Grenvelle] that the confessor does not like me because in Trent I defended a doctor Herrera whom he had slandered, calling him a heretic in the presence of many bishops. Besides, I refused to let him print at my expense a commentary about Aristotle's Physics; and furthermore, in our debates I always upheld against him and against Saint Thomas the part of Averroës, a thing I would not have done, had I known he would become the confessor. Also, [he dislikes me] because I know more philosophy than he.⁽⁵⁸⁾

Diego was convinced that the decree on Justification would lead to the worst abuse of all -- works without faith. This preoccupation with the dangers that might arise from an overemphasis on works was just the sort of attitude that Soto labeled heretical in several prelates at the Council of Trent, and it does verge on Luther's "faith without works." Yet it would be gratuitous to describe Diego as a secret Protestant or even as open to the religious ideas of northern Europe, for these same attitudes are fully developed in the letters and works of Tendilla and his fifteenth-century ancestors. Nor is it likely that Diego, when he argued from Averroës, advocated "the oneness of the passive intellect in all men; the denial of personal immortality to the individual, cogitative soul; the eternity of the world."⁽⁶¹⁾ With that typical Renaissance and Mendoza suspicion of scholasticism and theology, it is more probable that Diego had used the Averroists' theory of the "double truth" to argue against a theological definition of Justification at Trent. Augustine himself had intimated the usefulness of this approach:

And so, since we are too weak to discover the truth by reason alone and for this reason need the authority of sacred books... it seemed to me all the more right that the authority of Scripture should be respected and accepted with the purest faith, because while all can read it with ease, it also has a deeper meaning in which its great secrets are locked away. Its plain language and simple style make it accessible to everyone, and yet it absorbs the attention of the learned.⁽⁶²⁾

Through all the intellectual and religious shifts of the sixteenth century, Diego, his brother Luis, and his nephew, the third marquis [204] of Mondéjar, maintained the Mendoza tradition in religion and esthetics, to their own political and economic disadvantage. In the Counter Reformation Spain of Philip II, there was no room for statesmen with Renaissance values; and the Tendilla branch of the Mendoza continued the social decline begun by Tendilla.

1. "Porque yo desseo mucho quel et sus descendientes se den al estudio como el marques mi señor que sancta gloria aya e yo e nuestros antecesores lo fecimos creyendo mucho por ello ser crescidas e alzadas nuestras personas e casas." Cited by Amador de los Ríos, Vida, p. 131.

2. "Declaro que la libreria que en esta casa esta, siempre oi decir que era del mayorazgo expreso la dejo al conde de Saldaña mi nieto y subcesor asi los libros que del duque mi señor y padre herede como los que yo he acrecentado y juntamente con esto le dejo y mando los halcones pocos o muchos que quedaron." Osuna, 1763/11.

3. Antonio Paz y Melia, "Biblioteca fundada por el conde de Haro (Pedro Fernández de Velasco) en 1455," Revista de Archivos, Bibliotecas, y Museos, 3^a época, 1 (1897), 18-24.

4. Santillana, Obras, pp. 487-490. For don Alfonso's ideas on this subject, see G.L. Boarino, "Alonso de Cartagena's 'Doctrinal de los Cavalleros,' Text, Tradition and Sources," Ph.D. diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1965.

5. Chandler and Schwartz, A New History of Spanish Literature, pp. 168-169; Amada López de Meneses, "Francisco I de Francia y otros ilustres extranjeros en Guadalajara en 1525," Cuadernos de Historia de España, 39-40 (1965), 309-364.

6. For an extensive discussion of the chivalric novel at the Burgundian court during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, see Johan Huizinga, The Waning of the Middle Ages, New York, 1949.

7. "Se va el uno cuatro leguas uno de otro que parece al romance del Cid y del moro." Copiador, Tendilla to the marquesa del Priego, [4 July 1506].

8. "No tengo otro pasatiempo sino leer y escribir de mi mano en unos libros que a dias que comiença hacer porque querria acabar los antes que me muriese." Copiador, Tendilla to Ortiz, 10 March 1514.

9. Tendilla's citations of Josephus and Augustine are specifically to chapter and verse, and his progress through these works can be traced by the progress of the citations. He finished Josephus in the spring of 1514 and Augustine in early 1515. Mondéjar, in the seventeenth century, utilized Tendilla's marginalia in the Historia de Bohemia, Mondéjar, ff. 217-217v.

10. Alonso, Dos españoles, pp. 63-75.

11. "Si no os estimase no os hubiera hecho patrono de mi querida universidad complutense," and "Y si yo no os respetase y quisiese servir en tan grande empresa no hubiera tomado el patronazgo della." Cited in Layna, Guadalajara, III, 29-30.

12. Azcona, La elección, p. 226; Andrés Martín, "Evangelismo," p. 13.

13. Matilla Tascón, Las declaratorias, pp. 190-191.

14. Letras, XII.

15. Ibid., XXI.

16. Ibid., XXXI; Francisco Cantera Burgos, "Fernando del Pulgar y los conversos," Sefarad, 4 (1944), 295-348.

17. Carriazo, Nota preliminar to Crónica by Pulgar.

18. See his 105 letters in Centón epistolario del bachiller Hernán Gómez de Cibdadreal, físico del muy poderoso e sublimado rey d. Juan el segundo de este nombre, in BAE, 13: 1-36.

19. Palencia, Crónica de Enrique IV, I, 167.

20. Osuna, 1873/29; García López, Biblioteca, p. 157; Otis H. Green, "On the 'coplas castellanas' in the 'Siglo de Oro,'" Homenaje a Rodríguez-Moñino, Madrid, 1966, I, 214.

21. See pp. 145-146.

22. "Este es un onbre de bien y de pocas palabras." Copiador, Tendilla to the duke of Alba, 10 April 1514.

23. "ques un onbre muy esforzado y muy atrevido y de pocas palabras que no acuchilla el aire como Pero Lopez." Copiador, Tendilla to Francisco Ortiz, 6 October 1514.

24. "Para que me lo hagais en latin porque yo carezco de aquel lenguaje vos absente." Registro, Tendilla to Pietro Martire, 17 July 1509.

25. "Que cosa es señor mandar su al. quitar los vestidos moriscos. Piensa que es asi cosa liviana. Juro por Dios con los que han de tornar a comprar mas cuesta al reyno de un milion de ducados y no se acuerda el rey n.s. que con esto se hace un tallo a los de allende para no ser suyos sino derremada la sangre primero. Ni sabe como en Roma el habito que trayan las mugeres siendo gentiles traen ahora y porque mejor podais señor hablar en esto con autoridad de dotor y tal como San Agostino lea y. m. en el libro diez y nueve del Civitate Dei en el diez e nueve capitulo y veres que dize. Pues nosotros señor en España hasta la venida del rey don Enrique el bastardo que habito que cabello trayamos sino el morisco y en que mesa comiamos. Dejaban los reyes de ser Christianos y santos por eso. No por Dios señor." Copiador, Tendilla to the comendador mayor de Castilla, 12 May 1514.

26. "El otro es como uno que llamaban Junatas de quien hace mencion Josefo De Belo Judaico en el capitulo cinquenta y uno del libro setimo." Copiador, Tendilla to the marquesa del Priego, [4 July 1506].

27. The term "gothic" is ill-defined in current Spanish usage and can mean anything from "Visigothic" to "pre-Renaissance." I am using it as Bayon does, for a style introduced into Castile after 1480 having many parallels to international gothic painting. We now know that all the royal structures in this style were built by Fernando after Isabel's death in 1504, but the Spanish still call the style "Isabelline." The following observations on architecture are my own, based on the plates and information in Vicente Lampérez y Romea, Arquitectura civil española de los siglos I al XVIII, Madrid, 1922, vol. I; El castillo de la Calahorra; Los Mendoza del siglo XV y el castillo del Real de Manzanares; Damien Bayou, L'Architecture en Castille an XV^e siècle, Paris, 1967.

28. The chronology of the building phases of this fortress has been studied by Lampérez, Los Mendoza. Infantado must also have employed Italian stonemasons for the construction of the principal wall of the Palacio del Infantado, whose façade is finished with stone carved in a diamond-point pattern. Infantado imitated only those Italian features which were contemporary rather than antique. These Italian stone finishes were popular in Castile for a few years after 1480. The most famous examples are the Casa de los Picos in Segovia and the Casa de las Conchas in Salamanca.

29. Bayou, Architecture, p. 228.

30. Medina y Mendoza, Vida del cardenal, pp. 191-192. On Borgia's architectural projects, see Michael Mallett, The Borgias, The Rise and Fall of a Renaissance Dynasty, London, 1969.

31. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, this style was referred to as "estilo romano," or "estilo antiguo." In modern times it is sometimes also called "estilo Mendoza."

32. M. Gómez Moreno, "Hacia Lorenzo Vázquez," Archivo Español de Arte, 1 (1925), 1-40.

33. Earl Rosenthal, "The Image of Roman Architecture in Renaissance Spain," Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 52 (1958), 336.

34. Mondéjar, ff. 189v-196v.

35. "Por ventura me dio Dios aquel angel de estañas para que me quite la soberbia de buen Christiano que tengo. No se en que me lo vido ni en que libro de romance leyo que los que confiesan, comulgan, y dan limosna, y oyen continuo misas y sermones sean peores Christianos que los que ni en uno ni en otro no lo son." Copiador, Tendilla to Carvajal, [1 September 1514].

36. Copiador, Tendilla to conde de Cabra and marqués de Friego, 18 June 1506.

37. "Tanbien recibi merced en lo que dezis que hazes y hares por los nuevamente convertidos. Obligacion tenemos todos a ellos pues no se conbidaron ellos syno que los hezimos entrar por fuerza y mayor que la tuvieramos sy se conbidaran pero obligados somos a acordarnos de como se hizo." Copiador, Tendilla to the alcaide of Almería, 20 May 1515.

38. "[Orozco] no es hombre para fiarle cargo ninguno porque es loco y mal Christiano." Copiador, Tendilla to Francisco Ortiz, 12 August 1514. "Juro por Dios que le [Iñigo López] tengo por tan bueno Christiano como al mejor que bay en Granada." Copiador, Tendílla to Vargas, 12 May 1514.

39. "Lo que me escrevis sobre la quexa que tengo de conversos me ha hecho reír un rato porque de su padre y de su hijo se suelen los onbres quexar y no les hazen mal. Por eso yo mire lo que os escrevi a vos y lo que escrevi a mi hermana y aun lo que escrevi al licenciado y no fallo amenaza ninguna en ella pues porque diga que esto quexoso no me parece digno de tanta reprehension. En verdad os digo que lo estoy y con mucha razon porque aunque algunos delios me sirvan bien nunca recivi mal sino por su mano y ningund acatamiento tienen a buena obra que se les aya hecho y sy haze onbre mal a uno toman lo todos por si y esto sea dicho con mucha reverencia como dizen los que disputan." Copiador, Tendilla to Francisco Ortiz, 12 May 1514.

40. Copiador, Tendilla to lic. Concha, 27 May 1515.

41. "Lo que me parece es que vos señor sy fuerdes a lugar de señorio temples el rigor quanto pudieredes porque hablando con vos claramente yo recelo que sy en alguna parte an de osar hacer algun atrevimiento a de ser antes en señorio que en realengo y por esto querria y me parece que deyes de ay yr derecho a Almuñecar y pasar a la parte de Velez Malaga." Copiador, Tendilla to lic. Concha, 1 June 1515.

42. "Y sy me decis que lo de Dios a de preceder a todo digo que tener esta templanza es lo de Dios y es otro no se de quien." Copiador, Tendilla to the inquisitors of Córdoba, 18 June 1506.

43. "No habia en el mundo cosa mejor regada que Roma mas muchos yerros se hazian de esta manera por no creer a los que tenian las manos en la masa." Copiador, Tendilla to comendador mayor de Calatrava, 9 October 1514.

44. "Señor, lo que sea de haber por errado es que digan tal dia, 'Por vuestra negligencia se perdio esto,' y 'Porque vos les decis esto y esto contra la fe o conforme a los ritos de su sete no son Christianos.' Quando fuere ahorquen me mas que digan al rey, 'Perdido esta el reyno y el marques hace que no sean Christianos,' y que por palabras generales sin prueba de cosa particular se encarezcan mis servicios que los he hecho muy grandes y muy señalados en el ausencia de su al. y en su presencia y que su al. me quite el favor y credito con la gente para darlo a sus enemigos que asi lo digo claro no creo que es bien." Copiador, Tendilla to comendador mayor de Castilla, 12 May 1514.

45. On the policies of the marquises of Mondéjar, see Elliott, Imperial Spain, pp. 232-237. My interpretation differs only slightly from Elliott's.

46. "El marqués de Mondéjar con los alcaldes del crimen de la Chancillería de Granada, sobre competencia de jurisdicción: El real consejo acuerda amonestar a los alcaldes por haberse excedido en sus atribuciones," ARCHG, 321, 4319/10; "Auto del real consejo para que el presidente y oidores de la Chancillería de Granada no den a nadie licencia para llevar armas," ARCHG, 321, 4430/107.

47. For Renaissance architecture in Spain, see Earl E. Rosenthal, The Cathedral of Granada: A Study in the Spanish Renaissance, Princeton, 1961; idem, Diego Siloe arquitecto de la catedral de Granada, Granada, 1966; idem, "The Image of Roman Architecture in Renaissance Spain," Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 52 (1958), 329-346; idem, "The Invention of the Columnar Device of Emperor Charles V at the Court of Burgundy in Flanders in 1516," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 36 (1973), 198-230; idem, "The Lombard Sculptor Niccolò da Corte in Granada from 1537 to 1552," Art Quarterly, 29 (1966), 209-244; idem, "The Lost 'Quarto de las Helias' in the Arabic Palace on the Alhambra," in Miscelánea de estudios dedicados al profesor Antonio Marín Ocete, Granada, 1974 pp. 933-943. For the architectural projects which Tendilla must have observed during his embassy to Rome in 1486-1487, see Torgill Magnuson, Studies in Roman Quattrocento Architecture, Rome, 1958.

48. On Diego's life and works, see González Palencia, Vida, and Spivakovsky, Son of the Alhambra. Spivakovsky brings to light a great deal of new material.

49. José Antonio Maravall, Carlos V y el pensamiento politico del Renacimiento, Madrid, 1960, pp. 314-315.

50. Spivakovsky, Son of the Alhambra, pp. 38-43.

51. Maravall, Carlos V, p. 64.

52. "En fin, pelearse cada día con enemigos, frío, calor, hambre, falta de munición y aparejos, en todas partes daños nuevos, muertes a la continua hasta que vimos a los enemigos, nación belicosa, entera, armada y confiada en el sitio, en el favor de los bárbaros y turcos, vencida y rendida, sacada de su tierra y desposeída de sus casas y bienes; presos atados hombres y mugeres, niños, captivos vendidos en almoneda o llevados a habitar tierras lexos de la suya: captiverio y transmigración no menor que la que de otras gentes se lee por las historias; vitoria dudosa y de sucesos tan peligrosa que alguna vez se tuvo duda si éramos nosotros o los enemigos a quien Dios quiera castigar, hasta que el fin descubrió que nosotros éramos los amenaçados y ellos los castigados." De la guerra de Granada, pp. 2-3. Helen Nader, "Josephus and Diego Hurtado de Mendoza," Romance Philology, 26 (1973), 554-555.

53. "Vínose a causas y pasiones particulares, hasta pedir jueces de términos, no para divisiones o suertes de tierra, como los romanos y nuestros pasados, sino con voz de restituirse a el rey o al público lo que tenían ocupado, e intento de echar algunos de sus heredamientos. Este fué uno de los principios en la destruición de Granada." De la guerra de Granada, p. 11.

54. "Governávase la ciudad y el reino como entre pobladores y compañeros; una forma de justicia arbitraria, unidos los pensamientos, las resoluciones encaminadas en común al bien público: esto se acabó con la vida de los viejos. Entraron los celos, la división sobre cosas livianas entre los ministros de justicia y de guerra, las concordias en escripto confirmadas por cédulas, trayendo el entendimiento dellas por cada una de las partes a su opinión; el querer la una no sufrir igual, y la otra conservar la superioridad, tratada con más disimulación que modestia." Ibid.

55. "Cada nación, cada profesión, cada estado usa su manera de hábito y todos son cristianos; nosotros moros, porque vestimos a la morisca, como si tragésemos la ley en el vestido y no en el coraçon." Ibid., p. 21.

56. Throughout the first session, the Spanish theologians at Trent sided with the papal party and the theologians from the University of Paris, a fact that can be attributed to their educational backgrounds. Of the twenty-five Spanish theologians at Treat, fourteen can be identified. Of these, eight received their theological training at Paris, one at Valladolid, three at Alcalá, and two at Salamanca where they were taught by Paris graduates. Compiled from Constancio Gutiérrez, Españoles en Trento, Valladolid, 1951.

57. This, at least, is what don Diego believed, according to a letter to Charles V, 28 October 1546, cited by Spivakovsky, Son of the Alhambra, p. 143.

58. English translation by Spivakovsky, ibid., pp. 139-140.

59. Ibid., p. 145.

60. Francesco Petrarch, "On His Own Ignorance and That of Many Others," in The Renaissance Philosophy of Man, ed. Ernst Cassirer et al. Chicago: Phoenix Books, 1956, p. 105.

61. Spivakovsky, Son of the Alhambra, p. 145.

62. Confessions, Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1961, p. 117.