DEATH
OF
THE MARQUIS OF CADIZ.
The renowned Roderigo Ponce de
Leon, Marquis Duke of Cadiz, was
unquestionably the most distinguished
among the cavaliers of Spain, for his
zeal, enterprise, and heroism, in the
great crusade of Granada. He began
the war by the capture of Alhama; he
was engaged in almost every inroad and
siege of importance during its continuance;
and he was present at the surrender
of the capital, which was the
closing scene of the conquest. The renown
he thus acquired was sealed by
his death, in the forty-eighth year of his
age, which happoned almost immediately
at the close of his triumphs, and before a
leaf of his laurels had time to wither.
He died at his palace, in the city of
Seville, on the twenty-seventh day of
August, 1492, but a few months after
the surrender of Granada, and of an
illness caused by the exposure and fatigues
he had undergone in this memorable
war. That honest chronicler, Andres
Bernaldes, the curate of Los Palacios,
who was a contemporary of the marquis,
draws his portrait from actual knowledge
and observation. "He was universally
cited," says he, "as the most
perfect model of chivalrous virtue of the
age. He was temperate, chaste, and
rigidly devout; a benignant commander,
a valiant defender of his vassals, a great
lover of justice, and an enemy to all
flatterers, liars, robbers, traitors, and
poltroons. His ambition was of a lofty
kind; he sought to distinguish himself
and his family by heroic and resounding
deeds, and to increase the patrimony
of his ancestors by the acquisition of
castles, domains, vassals, and other
princely possessions. His recreations
were all of a warlike nature: he delighted
in geometry, as applied to fortifications,
and spent much time and treasure
in erecting and repairing fortresses.
He relished music, but of a military
kind; the sound of clarious and sackbuts,
of drums and trumpets. Like a
true cavalier, he was a protector of the
sex on all occasions, and an injured
woman never applied to him in vain for
redress. His prowess was so well
known, and his courtesy to the fair,
that the ladies of the court, when they
accompanied the queen to the wars,
rejoiced to find themselves under his
protection; for, wherever his banner
was displayed, the Moors dreaded to adventure.
He was a faithful and devoted
friend, but a formidable enemy; for he
was slow to forgive, and his vengeance
was persevering and terrible.
The death of this good cavalier spread
grief and lamentation throughout all
ranks; for he was universally honoured
and beloved. His relations, dependents,
and companions in arms, put on mourning
for his loss; and so numerous were
they, that half of Seville was clad in
black. None, however, deplored his
death more deeply and sincerely than
his friend and chosen companion, Don
Alonso de Aguilar.
The funeral ceremonies were of the
most solemn and sumptuous kind. The
body of the marquis was arrayed in a
costly shirt, a doublet of brocade, a sayo,
or long robe of black velvet, a marlota, or
Moorish tunic of brocade, that reached to
the feet, and scarlet stockings. His sword,
superbly gilt, was girded to his side, as he
used to wear it when in the field. Thus
magnificently attired, the body was enclosed
in a coffin, which was covered
with black velvet, and decorated with a
cross of white damask. It was then
placed on a sumptuous bier, in the centre
of the great hall of the palace.
Here the duchess made great lamentation
over the body of her lord, in which
she was joined by her train of damsels
and attendants, as well as by the pages
and esquires, and innumerable vassals of
the marquis.
In the close of the evening, just before
the "Ave Maria," the funeral train issued
from the palace. Ten banners were
borne around the bier, the particular
trophies of the marquis, won from the
Moors by his valour in individual enterprises,
before King Ferdinand had commenced
the war of Granada. The procession
was swelled by an immense train
of bishops, priests, and friars of different
orders, together with the civil and military
authorities, and all the chivalry of
Seville; headed by the Count of Cifuentes,
at that time intendente, or commander of
the city. It moved slowly and solemnly
through the strects, stopping occasionally,
and chanting litanies and responses.
Two hundred and forty waxen tapers
shed a light like the day about the bier.
The balconies and windows were crowded
with ladies, who shed tears as the
funeral train passed by; while the women
of the lower classes were loud in their
lamentations, as if bewailing the loss of a
father or a brother. On approaching
the convent of St. Augustine, the monks
came forth with the cross and tapers, and
eight censers, and conducted the body
into the church, where it lay in state until
all the vigils were performed by the
different orders, after which it was deposited
in the family-tomb of the Ponces in
the same church, and the ten banners
were suspended over the sepulchre.[132]
His tomb, with the banners mouldering
above it, remained for ages an object
of veneration with all who had read or
heard of his virtues and achievements.
In the year 1810, however, the chapel
was sacked by the French, its altars
overturned, and the sepulchres of the
family of the Ponces shattered to pieces.
The present Duchess of Benavente, the
worthy descendant of this illustrious and
heroic line, has since piously collected
the ashes of her ancestors, restored the
altar, and repaired the chapel. The
sepulchres, however, were utterly destroyed,
and an inscription of gold letters,
on the wall of the chapel, to the right of
the altar, is now all that denotes the place
of sepulture of the brave Roderigo Ponce
de Leon.
