him in the conquest which before he
had successfully opposed. It is a singular instance of the
extent to which Italian princes were controlled by policy and
reason.

[2] Vespasiano's _Life of Alfonso_ (_Vite di Uomini Illustri_,
pp. 48-72) is a model of agreeable composition and vivid
delineation. It is written of course from the scholar's more
than the politician's point of view. Compare with it Giovio,
_Elogia_, and Pontanus, _de Liberalitate_.

The generous humanity of Alfonso endeared him greatly to the
Neapolitans. During the half-century in which so many Italian princes
succumbed to the dagger of their subjects, he, in Naples, where,
according to Pontano, 'nothing was cheaper than the life of a man,'
walked up and down unarmed and unattended. 'Why should a father fear
among his children?' he was wont to say in answer to suggestions of the
danger of this want of caution. The many splendid qualities by which he
was distinguished were enhanced rather than obscured by the romance of
his private life. Married to Margaret of Castile, he had no legitimate
children; Ferdinand, with whom he shared the government of Naples in
1443, and whom he designated as his successor in 1458, was supposed to
be his son by Margaret de Hijar. It was even whispered that this
Ferdinand was the child of Catherine the wife of Alfonso's brother
Henry, whom Margaret, to save the honor of the king, acknowledged as her
own. Whatever may have been the truth of this dark history, it was known
for certain that the queen had murdered her rival, the unhappy Margaret
de Hijar, and that Alfonso never forgave her or would look upon her from
that day. Pontano, who was Ferdinand's secretary, told a different tale.
He affirmed that the real father of the Duke of Calabria was a Marrano
of Valentia. This last story is rendered probable by the brusque
contrast between the character of Alfonso and that of Ferdinand.

It would be terrible to think that such a father could have been the
parent of such a son. In Ferdinand the instinct of liberal culture
degenerated into vulgar magnificence; courtesy and confidence gave place
to cold suspicion and brutal cruelty. His ferocity bordered upon
madness. He used to keep the victims of his hatred in cages, where their
misery afforded him the same delight as some men derived from watching
the antics of monkeys.[1] In his hunting establishment were repeated
the worst atrocities of Bernabo