Her daughter Berenguela, brought up in the midst of these influences, developed a strong and self-reliant character which early in her career gave proof of its existence. In accord with that policy which has so often obtained in the monarchies of Europe, it was decided that a foreign alliance with some strong ruling house would redound to advantage; and so great was the prestige of Castile at this time, that Alfonso found no difficulty in arranging a marriage with Conrad, Count of Suabia, the son of the great Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. As might have been expected, this marriage was nothing but a political arrangement which was to benefit Castile, and in which the will of Berenguela, the person most interested, had not been consulted in any manner whatever. It is not on record that Eleanor was opposed to this arrangement for her daughter, not from any lack of independent spirit,—for she came of a self-willed race, as the erratic life of her brother, Richard Coeur de Lion, will show,—but because such marriages were the common lot of the royal maidens of her time and were accepted as matters of necessity. It must be remembered that the ideals of marriage were yet much undeveloped and that "husband" and "lover" were rarely, if ever, synonymous terms. It appears that the emperor not only consented to this marriage between his son and Eleanor's daughter, but was much in favor of the project and more than anxious to see the consummation of it all, as Eleanor had brought Gascony to her husband as a marriage portion, and the prospective inheritance of Berenguela was a goodly one.

Fortunately for Berenguela, the marriage was postponed until she had attained her majority; and when that day of partial freedom came, she boldly declared that she would not marry the German prince, that she did not know him and did not love him, and that nothing could force her to such a bargain of herself. Great was the consternation in her father's court, and great was the dismay in the North when Frederick Barbarossa was told of this haughty Spanish maiden who refused the honor of an alliance with his imperial house. The case was well-nigh unique; the mediaeval world was startled in its traditional routine, and Berenguela's audacity became the talk of every court in Europe. Prayers and entreaties were in vain, so firmly did she stand her ground in spite of the countless specious arguments which were used to bend her will, and, finally, the matter was dropped and considered a closed incident. "Woman sees deep; man sees far. To the man the world is his heart; to the woman the heart is her world;" so says Christian Grabbe, and this epigram may well be applied to Berenguela's case. Her heart was her world, and she fought for it, and in her victory she won, not only for herself, but for Spain as well. And it came about in this way. Berenguela was married, and with her own consent, to Alfonso IX., King of Leon, who had of late made war upon her father, and with this marriage and the peace which followed between the two countries, Spain prospered for a time.

This Alfonso of Leon had already made one marriage venture which had come to grief, for he had previously wedded the Princess Teresa of Portugal, and his marriage had been forcibly dissolved by Pope Innocent III., who was then, as Hume puts it, "riding rough-shod over the nations of Christendom." This divorce had been pronounced on the ground that the young couple were too closely related to each other; and as they ventured to resist, they were for a time excommunicated. So Alfonso and Teresa were finally separated, though not until several children had been born to them, and then the young king led Berenguela to the altar. This marriage, in its immediate result, was but a repetition of what had gone before. The pope annulled it promptly on the same grounds of consanguinity, and turned a deaf ear to every plea for reconsideration. The case was not an unusual one; many marriages which were far less regular in form had been sanctioned by this new Roman Caesar; and the result of the marriage could be but for the benefit of Rome, as domestic peace in Spain gave assurance of more successful opposition to the Moslem rule. But the pope was firm, his holy permission had not been obtained before the marriage had been celebrated, and, piqued at this unintended slight which had been put upon his august authority, he revealed his littleness by this show of spite.

Rebellious under this harsh decree because of its manifest injustice, Alfonso and Berenguela endeavored to hold out against the pontiff, and for seven years they lived together as man and wife, making their home in Leon. Their life was to some degree a happy one together, children were born to them, but ever about their path was the shadow of doubt that was cast by the pope's decree. As a sad and pitiful end to it all, Berenguela, a mother though not a wife, was forced to return to her father's court in Castile, leaving the eldest son, Fernando, with the father. In but one thing had the pope shown any mercy for this wedded pair, and that was when he had consented to recognize the legitimacy of their children; so Fernando could now be considered, without any doubt, as the rightful heir to Leon. Meanwhile, Alfonso III. of Castile, Berenguela's father, had won new laurels at the great battle known as the Navas de Tolosa, where the Moors had suffered a crushing defeat, and Castile was more than ever the leading Spanish power. But soon after Berenguela's arrival, her father went to his long rest, and the crown descended to his oldest son, Enrico, who was but a boy of ten. Queen Eleanor was first intrusted with the administration of affairs, but she soon followed her husband, dying within a month after this power had been conferred upon her, and the regency passed by common consent to the prudent care of Berenguela, who was, according to Hume, "the fittest ruler in all Spain, the most prudent princess in all Christendom." This regency, however, was not a time of peace and quiet, for the death of the old king had given opportunity for the turbulent Lords of Lara to break forth again in open revolt, and after a year of ineffectual resistance Berenguela was compelled, in the interests of domestic harmony, to surrender the person of her young brother into the control of Alvaro Nunez, the leader of the opposition, who at once began to rule the kingdom with a heavy hand. What Berenguela's fate would have been and what Castile's if this usurper had been allowed to remain for a long time in power is a matter for conjecture, but Alvaro's dreams of success were soon shattered. Through some whim of fate it happened that the young king was accidentally killed one morning as he was at play in the courtyard of the palace, and Berenguela, as the only lawful heir, became the Queen of Castile in her own right. In this trying moment, clear-headed as usual, she gave further proof of her astuteness. She realized that her husband might in some way try to make political capital out of the situation and might try to work in his own interests rather than in those of their son. For the young Fernando, recognized as heir to Leon, would now, as the prospective ruler of Castile, be heir to a larger estate than that of his father, and Alfonso was not a man big enough to rejoice in this fact, as Berenguela well knew. Accordingly, she sent speedy messengers to Alfonso before the news of the death of the young King Enrico had reached him, and asked that her son might come to her for a visit. The invitation was innocent enough, to all appearances, and the request was granted, but no sooner was the young prince safe within the boundaries of Castile than Berenguela called a meeting of the States-General of her kingdom, and there, after having received the homage of her nobles, in the midst of a most brilliant gathering, she announced her intention of abdicating in favor of her son, the heir to Leon. There was some objection to this move, as Berenguela was so universally beloved that all were loath to lose her from the sovereign's chair. She took great pains to point out to them the advantage which would undoubtedly accrue to the country as the result of this prospective union with Leon, assured them that her interests would ever be theirs, and that she would at all times counsel her son and help him in every way within her power; and finally, her will prevailed and the abdication was approved.

Alfonso of Leon was more than irate when he learned of young Enrico's death and realized the meaning of his son's visit to Castile, and he immediately collected a large army and declared war upon his son. Berenguela had foreseen this as the probable result of her course of action and was not entirely unprepared in the emergency. The ultimate peace and prosperity which might come to Spain with the definite union of Castile and Leon were matters of such importance in her eyes that she did not now hesitate to give of her personal wealth, even her jewels, as Isabella did in a later day, to further the interests of the cause for which she was contending. The goodness and sweetness of character possessed by this great queen made such an impression upon all those who came within the circle of her influence, and her cause was so manifestly just, that her troops were filled with the zeal which knows no defeat, and the conflict was a short one. Through Berenguela's diplomatic action the war was brought to an end, harmony was restored between Castile and Leon, and the united armies of the two countries were sent into southern Spain to make further attack upon the Moorish strongholds.

Now comes an interesting moment in the queen's career, the moment when she was planning with all her wisdom for her son's marriage and his future success. The interminable commotion and discord, the vexatious factional quarrels, and the undying hatreds which had been engendered by a long series of Spanish intermarriages, had so filled her with disgust that she determined, now that the union of Castile and Leon was practically complete, to go outside of this narrow circle in her search for a suitable mate for the young King Fernando. Her choice fell upon the Princess Beatrice of Suabia, cousin of the emperor and member of the same house which she had scorned in her younger days. But the Princess Beatrice was fair and good, the young people were eager for the marriage, and there was no good reason why the thing should not be done. Before this wedding, Berenguela decided that her son must be received into the order of knighthood. There was the customary period of courtly ceremony, with games and gay festivals and much feasting, which lasted for several days, and then came the sacred, final rites, which ended with the accolade. The youthful king and would-be knight was taken, all clothed in white, by two "grave and ancient" chevaliers to the chapel of the monastery of Las Huelgas, near the old city of Burgos, and there, having placed his arms piously upon the altar, he passed the night alone, "bestowing himself in orisons and prayers." When the daybreak came, he confessed to a priest, heard matins, and then went to rest and prepare himself for the final scene. When he was at length brought back to the chapel, there was a most imposing company awaiting him, composed of all the knights of Castile and many others from far distant countries who had come to wage war against the Moors; and in the presence of them all, from the sanctified hands of his noble mother, came the magic touch which made a man of him. The next day, in the great cathedral at Burgos, the wedding was celebrated, for the German princess had come to Spain for the function, and there was much pomp and much show of silks and brocades and the glitter of gold and silver was backed by the glitter of steel.

Soon King Fernando was in the saddle again, riding away toward the south, leading a great host of knights, and one Moorish town after another fell into their hands. While besieging Jaen, Fernando learned of his father's death, which had occurred suddenly. Berenguela summoned her son to return with all possible speed, but without waiting for his arrival she set out at once for Leon, thinking that there might be work to do. Nor was she wrong. Alfonso of Leon, jealous of his wife's great renown and his son's growing success, and knowing that the union of Castile and Leon was her most cherished project, deliberately left Leon to his two daughters, Sancha and Dulce, children of his first marriage, with Teresa of Portugal, perfectly sure that their claims could not find adequate legal support, as these children had never been legitimized after the pope's annulment of this marriage, but contented at the thought that he had probably left an inheritance of dispute and possible warfare which might be sufficient to make Bereuguela's plans miscarry. But in this he reckoned without his host. Berenguela conducted her affairs with the utmost discretion, conciliated the Leonese nobility, caused her son to be proclaimed king, and brought about a permanent union of the two countries without the loss of a single drop of blood. Having accomplished this task, her next care was to provide in some suitable way for Alfonso's two daughters. This she was under no obligation to do, but her sense of justice left no other course of conduct open to her. She arranged a meeting with their mother Teresa, who had long since retired to a convent, and, journeying to the Portuguese frontier, at Valencia de Alcantara in Galicia, these two women, each the unwedded wife of the same man, came together to settle the claims of their children to their dead husband's throne. The whole matter was discussed in the most friendly way, and Berenguela was able to carry her point that there should be no attempt to unseat Fernando from the throne of Leon, and at the same time she made a proposition, by way of indemnity, which Teresa, speaking for her daughters, was quite ready to accept. The infantas were given by Fernando a pension of fifteen thousand gold doubloons, in return for which they formally agreed to abandon all claim to Leon, and this pension, under Berenguela's direction, was paid in all faith and honor. In November of the year 1246 this great queen died, and, according to her own direction, she was buried at Burgos "in plain and humble fashion."

No better eulogy of her life and labors can ever be written than that which is found in Burke's history of Spain, and no excuse is needed for giving it in its entirety: Berenguela was one of those rare beings who seems to have been born to do right and to have done it. From her earliest youth she was a leading figure, a happy and noble influence in one of the most contemptible and detestable societies of mediaeval Christendom. Married of her own free will to a stranger and an enemy, that she might bring peace to two kingdoms, she was ever a true and loyal wife; unwedded by ecclesiastical tyranny in the very flower of her young womanhood, she was ever a faithful daughter of the Church; inheriting a crown when she had proved her own capacity for royal dominion, she bestowed it on a strange and absent son, with no thought but for the good of her country and of Christendom; and finally, as queen-mother and ever faithful counsellor, she accepted all the difficulties of government, while the glory of royalty was reserved for the king whom she had created. Berenguela was ever present in the right place, and at the proper time, and her name is associated only with what is good and worthy and noble in an age of violence and wrong and robbery; when good faith was well-nigh unknown, when bad men were all-powerful, when murder was but an incident in family life, and treason the chief feature in politics.



Chapter XVI

The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries

In the early days of the thirteenth century, Pedro II. of Aragon had married the somewhat frivolous, yet devout, Maria of Montpellier, whose mother had been a Greek princess of Constantinople; and when a son was born of this marriage, Maria, who foresaw a great future for her child, was most desirous that he should have an Apostolic patron. There was the embarrassment of the choice, however, as Maria did not wish to neglect or cast a slight upon eleven saints while giving preference to one, and, finally, the queen's father confessor, Bishop Boyl, devised the following plan. Twelve tapers, each consecrated to an Apostle, were to be lighted, and the child was to be named in honor of the candle which burned the longest. Southey, in somewhat prolix and doggerel verse, has given the following account of the ceremony:

"The tapers were short and slender too, Yet to the expectant throng, Before they to the socket burnt, The time, I trow, seemed long.

"The first that went out was St. Peter, The second was St. John, And now St. Mattias is going, And now St. Mathew is gone.

"Next there went St. Andrew, Then goes St. Philip too; And see, there is an end Of St. Bartholomew.

"St. Simon is in the snuff, But it is a matter of doubt, Whether he or St. Thomas could be said, Soonest to have gone out.

"There are only three remaining, St. Jude and the two Saints James, And great was then Queen Mary's hope, For the best of all good names.

"Great was then Queen Mary's hope, But greater her fear, I guess, When one of the three went out, And that one was St. James the less.

"They are now within less than quarter inch, The only remaining two. When there came a thief in St James, And it made a gutter too.

"Up started Queen Mary, Up she sate in her bed, 'I can never call him Judas,' She clasped her hands and said.

'I never can call him Judas!' Again did she exclaim. 'Holy Mother, preserve us! It is not a Christian name.'

"She opened her hands and clasped them again, And the infant in the cradle Set up a cry, a lusty cry, As loud as he was able.

"'Holy Mother, preserve us!' The Queen her prayer renewed, When in came a moth at the window, And fluttered about St. Jude.

"St. James had fallen in the socket, But as yet the flame is not out, And St. Jude hath singed the silly moth, That flutters so idly about.

"And before the flame and the molten wax, That silly moth could kill, It hath beat out St. Jude with its wings, But St. James is burning still.

"Oh, that was a joy for Queen Mary's heart, The babe is christened James, The Prince of Aragon hath got, The best of all good names.

"Glory to Santiago, The mighty one in war, James he is called, and he shall be King James the Conqueror.

"Now shall the Crescent wane, The Cross be set on high, In triumph upon many a mosque, Woe, woe to Mawmetry!"

So Jayme the youth was named, Jayme being the popularly accepted Aragonese form for James, and early in life he entered upon an active career which soon showed him to possess a strong and crafty nature, though he was at the same time brutal, rough, and dissolute. In his various schemes for conquest and national expansion, he stopped at nothing which might ensure the success of his undertakings, and in particular did he attempt by matrimonial ventures of various kinds to increase his already large domain. This rather unusual disregard of the sacredness of the marriage relation, even for that time, may have been induced to some extent by the atmosphere in which he passed his youthful days; for his mother, the devout Queen Maria, in spite of all her pious zeal for the Church, was pleasure-loving, and in the excitement of court life it was whispered that she had looked with favor more than once upon some gallant troubadour from Provence who had written verses in her honor. Jayme's first marriage was with Eleanor of Castile, Berenguela's sister, but when he discovered that the young Castilian king, Fernando, was strong and capable and that there was no possibility whatever of an ultimate union of Aragon and Castile, at least within his own time, he promptly divorced Eleanor, and then wedded Yolande, the daughter of King Andrew of Hungary. Yolande's eldest son, Pedro, was married to Constance, daughter of King Manfred of Sicily, for purely political reasons; and when the King of France opposed this alliance as one detrimental to the best interests of the pope, who was being much aided at this time by Gallican support, Jayme cleverly silenced this complaint by marrying his daughter Isabel to Philip, the French dauphin. This daring King of Aragon had dreams of a great Romance Empire which might extend all over the southern part of Europe, with Aragon as its centre, and it was to this end that he bent all his energies. While he was not able to realize this fond hope, he was remarkably successful; and not a little of his success must be attributed to his lack of sentiment and his practical view of the matrimonial question.

With his conquests and the corresponding prosperity which is to be seen in Castile at the same general period, Christian Spain slowly became the most civilized and enlightened country in all Europe. Spain was rich, there was much culture and refinement, and her artistic manufactures excited the wonder of the world. With the knights who were coming in ever increasing numbers to do battle against the Moors, now that the time of the Crusades had passed, there came a goodly number of the troubadours and minstrels who had recently been driven from Provence by the cruel Simon de Montfort at the time of the Albigensian massacres, and the whole condition of Spanish society was such that the stern simplicity of the early Spaniards quickly disappeared. So great was the craze for poetry and for glittering entertainments and a lavish display of wealth, that Don Jayme felt called upon to take some restraining measures. Aragon, as well as Castile, was filled with the wealth of captured Moorish cities, there was a new sense of national security with each successive Christian victory, luxuries of all kinds were being brought within the reach of the people as the result of a newly aroused spirit of commercialism, and, all in all, to a warlike king, the situation was fraught with danger. Accordingly, Jayme determined to take matters into his own hands, and he proceeded to issue a number of sumptuary laws which were far from mild. Food was regulated, minstrels were not allowed to sit at the same table with ladies and gentlemen, most rigid rules were formulated against the abuse of gold, silver, and tinsel trimmings on the dresses of the women, and of the men as well, and the use of ermine and of all fine and Costly furs was carefully restricted. In Castile the same movement was taking place, and Alfonso X., who followed Fernando, issued similar laws, wherein women were forbidden to wear any bright colors, to adorn their girdles with pearls, or to border their skirts with either gold or silver thread. As in Italy at about the same time, and notably in Florence, extravagant wedding feasts were condemned, no presents of garments were permitted, and the whole cost of a bride's trousseau could not exceed sixty maravedis, a maravedi being a gold coin containing about sixty grains of the yellow metal.

It was in the midst of this brilliant period of national well-being that Spain was called upon to celebrate a wedding festival which far surpassed in magnificence anything that had ever before been seen among the Christians of the peninsula. The sister of King Alfonso X. of Castile, Eleanor, was given in marriage to Edward Plantagenet, the attractive young heir to the English throne, and it was in honor of this event that all Burgos was in gala dress in the month of October, 1254. All were on tiptoe with excitement, crowds thronged into the old cathedral city, and the windows and housetops were black with people, on that eventful day when the stalwart prince rode in through the great gate, with a glittering train of nobles at his back, to claim his bride. Prince Edward was a magnificent specimen of physical manhood, towering almost head and shoulders above his fellows, and the gorgeous entertainments which were prepared for him and his followers gave good opportunity for all to witness his courtly grace and his distinguished bearing. The chronicles of the time are full of the most superlative descriptions of this whole affair, and often they seem lost in wonderment, lacking words with which to describe the scene properly. Before the wedding, in accord with mediaeval custom, Edward received knighthood at the hands of King Alfonso. In that same old monastery at Las Huelgas where the youth Fernando had kept his lonely vigil before he had been knighted by his noble mother, Queen Berenguela, the English prince now kept his watch; and when the morning came and he stood, tall and fair, clothed in a robe of white, ready to receive the accolade, before a company of chosen knights and ladies, the scene must have been wonderfully impressive. The bride, Eleanor, had been a great favorite with all her people, of both high and low degree, and all were glad to see that the future seemed to smile upon her.

A worthy companion to the wise Berenguela is found in the person of Maria de Molina, the wife of Sancho IV., called the Ferocious, King of Castile. His reign, which had extended over a period of eleven years, came to a close with his death in the year 1295, and in all that time there had been nothing but discord and confusion, warfare and assassination, as Sancho's claim to the throne had been disputed by several pretenders, and they lost no occasion to harass him by plot and revolution. It may well be imagined, then, that when he died, leaving his throne to his son Fernando, a child of nine, the situation was most perplexing for the queen-mother, who had been made regent, by the terms of her husband's will, until Fernando should become of age. A further matter which tended to complicate the situation was the fact that the marriage between Sancho and Maria had never been sanctioned by the pope, as the two were within the forbidden limits of consanguinity, and he had refused to grant his special dispensation. With this doubt as to her son's legitimacy, Maria was placed in a position which was doubly hard, and if she had not been a woman of keen diplomacy and great wisdom, she would never have been able to steer her ship of state in safety amid so many threatening dangers. Her first care was to induce the pope to grant, after much persuasion, the long-deferred dispensation which legalized her marriage; and this matter settled, she was ready to enter the conflict and endeavor to maintain her rights. The first to attempt her overthrow was the Infante Juan, the young king's uncle, who made an alliance with the Moorish king of Granada and assumed a threatening attitude. Maria sent against him her greatest nobles, Haro, and the Lords of Lara; but she had been deceived in the loyalty of these followers, as they promptly deserted the regent's cause and, with all their men, went over to the insurgents and helped to make more powerful the coalition which was forming against the infant king. For a brief moment Maria was in despair and felt almost ready to yield in the face of the opposition, as the hostile combination now included Portugal, Aragon, Navarre, France, and Granada, and it was their intent to separate the kingdoms of Leon and Castile if possible and undo all that Berenguela had labored so hard and with such success to accomplish. Inasmuch as this was, above all else, a quarrel which concerned the nobility, a contention which had its rise in the jealousy and mutual distrust of several powerful houses, Maria, with a keen knowledge of the situation, and with a sagacity which was rather surprising in a woman untrained in politics or government, decided to win to her side the great mass of the common people, with whom she had always lived in peace and harmony. Her first act was to call a meeting of the Cortes in Valladolid, which was the only city upon which she could depend in this crisis. The Cortes speedily acknowledged Fernando IV. as king, and with this encouragement Maria de Molina set bravely about her arduous task of organization and defence. Few of the nobles rallied to her support, but she soon won over the chartered towns by the liberal treatment she accorded them in matters of taxation and by her protection of the various civic brotherhoods which had been organized by the people that they might defend themselves from the injustice of the nobility, which was now showing itself in countless tyrannical and petty acts. She labored early and late, conducted her government in a most businesslike manner, convoked the Cortes in regular session every year, and by the sheer force of her integrity and her moral strength she finally quelled all internal disturbances and brought back the government to its former strength and solidity. In the year 1300 Fernando was declared king in his own right, at the age of fourteen, and then, for a short time, it looked as if all that the regent had sought to accomplish might suddenly be nullified. The king, inclined to be arrogant, and with his head somewhat turned as the result of his sudden accession to power, was prevailed upon to listen to evil counsellors, who tried in every way to make him believe that Maria had administered her regency with an eye to her own interests, and that much of the revenue which legally belonged to him had been diverted to her own private uses. Fernando, in spite of all his mother's goodness, was simple enough to believe these idle tales, and, in most unfilial and suspecting fashion, he sternly ordered Maria to render up a detailed account of her stewardship during his minority. Maria was much affected by this thoughtless and inconsiderate act, but before she had had time to reply or attempt her own defence in any way, a storm of indignation broke forth from the free towns, and Fernando was informed that he would not be allowed to enter the town of Medina del Campo, where the Leonese Cortes was to be held, unless he restored his mother to favor and brought her with him to the assembly. Fernando knew enough to fear the veiled threat which this communication contained, and the queen-regent appeared with him at the opening of the session. The scene which followed is pathetic in the extreme, and shows the magnanimity and unselfishness of Maria in a most striking manner. She spoke to the members of the Cortes, recalled their former struggles against the encroachments of the nobles, and urged them to prudent action, that there might be no further occasion for domestic strife. Loyalty to country and to king were the keynotes of her speech, and before she had finished, those who had assembled in anger, ready to renounce their allegiance on account of Fernando's shameful treatment of his mother, were now willing to forgive and pardon for that same mother's sake. This point once established and a loyal following secured, Maria proceeded to give in detail that account of her stewardship which had been called for, and she had no trouble in showing that her administration had been above reproach. Then it was that Fernando made public acknowledgment of the fact that he had been led astray by evil-minded advisers; and the Cortes adjourned, faithful to the king and more than ever devoted to his mother. At Fernando's death in 1312, Maria de Molina was again called to the regency, so great was her reputation for wisdom and fair play; and when she ended her public career, in 1324, all hastened to do honor to her memory, and she was called Maria the Great, a title which has never been bestowed upon any other queen-regent in Spain. Her reputation for goodness was unchanged by the lapse of time, her goodness stands approved to-day, and two dramatists, Tirso de Molina and Roca de Togores, have depicted her as a heroine in their plays.

Under the reign of Alfonso XI., Castile was rent by two factions, one in support of the king's wife, Maria of Portugal, and the other friendly to his beautiful mistress, Leonora de Guzman. When a youth of seventeen, Alfonso had fallen captive to the charms of the fair Leonora; but his grandmother, Maria de Molina, actuated by political motives, had forced him to marry the Infanta Maria of Portugal. What might have been expected came to pass: Maria was the queen in name, but Leonora was the queen in fact. After three years had passed and no heir to the throne had been born, Alfonso threatened to plead his kinship as a reason and get a divorce; but Leonora, anticipating the trouble into which this might plunge the country, as Alfonso was eager to marry her as soon as the divorce should have been granted, urged him not to bring about this separation and did all in her power to make him abide by the arrangement which had been made for him. Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that two sons were finally born to Maria and the succession was assured, Leonora was by far the most influential woman in the kingdom, and was in every way better fitted to rule as queen than the neglected Maria. Leonora had her court and her courtiers, and had not only the love but the respect and confidence of the king, and exercised a considerable interest in affairs of state for a space of twenty years. So established was her position at the court, that she was allowed unhindered to found an order of merit, whose members wore a red ribbon and were called Caballeros de la Banda. This order was for the promotion of courtesy and knightly behavior, as it seems that there was still much crudity of manner in Castile; and according to Miss Yonge, the ceremonious Arabs complained that the Castilians were brave men, but that they had no manners, and entered each other's houses freely without asking permission. Finally, after the battle of Salado in 1340, which was a great triumph for Alfonso and the Christians, the king was induced to part definitely with his mistress. Maria, the true wife, had long been jealous of her power and had lost no opportunity to bring about her downfall. In the course of their long relationship Leonora had borne ten children to the king, and her beauty, if accounts be true, was in no way impaired; but, as he grew older, Alfonso could see more clearly the complications which might ensue if he persisted in this double course; and so, with a heavy heart, he consented to the separation, but not without having given to Leonora the well-fortified city of Medina-Sidonia, while her children were so well provided for that the royal revenues were sadly depleted. With the death of Alfonso in 1350 came the opportunity which Queen Maria had long since sought in vain, an opportunity for revenge. Leonora was summoned to Seville, that Maria might consult with her with regard to the interests of her children; and when the one-time mistress showed some disinclination to accept this invitation and gave evident signs of distrust, two noblemen of Maria's following pledged their honor for her safety. Assured by this show of good faith, Leonora went to Seville as she had been summoned, but no sooner had she entered the walls of the city than she was made a prisoner at Maria's order, dragged about in chains after the court, which was travelling to Burgos, and finally she was sent to Talavera, where she met an ignominious death at the hands of a servant, who cruelly strangled her. Strange to say, this act caused no special comment at the time, for, in spite of Leonora's general popularity, her influence had been of such incalculable harm to Maria and her followers in more ways than one, that their revenge was taken somewhat as a matter of course. Maria, however, in this display of savagery, had done more than she had anticipated; for, although she had continually tried to excite her son to this revenge upon her rival, her desire for bloody satisfaction had been satisfied at Leonora's death, and she now tried to have Pedro treat Leonora's sons as his own brothers, but all to no purpose. Young Pedro was cruel by nature; the early training which he had received from her hands had in no way softened him, and as a natural result, when he came to the throne and became his own master, he soon made himself known and feared by his many terrible and wicked deeds; and so marked did this fierce trait of character appear, that he was ever known as Pedro the Cruel, much to his mother's shame.

"If you ever feel disposed, Samivel, to go a-marryin' anybody,—no matter who,—just you shut yourself up in your own room, if you've got one, and pison yourself off-hand,"—such was the sententious advice of the elder Weller, as recorded by Charles Dickens in the immortal pages of the Pickwick Papers; and investigation will show that in all literatures, from the earliest times, similar warnings have been uttered to men who contemplated matrimony. A Tuscan proverb says: "in buying horses and in taking a wife, shut your eyes tight and commend yourself to God;" and a sage of Araby has remarked: "Before going to war, say a prayer; before going to sea, say two prayers; before marrying, say three prayers;" but the majority of men since the world began have been content to close their eyes tightly or utter their three prayers and take the goods the gods provide. Pedro the Cruel was no exception to this rule, and his capricious ventures in search of married bliss would fill many pages. According to Burke, "he was lawfully married in 1352 to the lady who passed during her entire life as his mistress, Maria de Padilla; he was certainly married to Blanche of Bourbon in 1353; and his seduction, or rather his violation, of Juana de Castro was accomplished by a third profanation of the sacrament, when the Bishops of Salamanca and Avila, both accessories to the king's scandalous bigamy, pronounced the blessing of the Church upon his brutal dishonor of a noble lady." Whether Pedro was ever married to Maria de Padilla is still an open question, but, if not his wife, she was his mistress for many years and had great power over him. The details of all this life of intrigue are somewhat confused, but enough is known to make it clear that Pedro was as cruel in love as in war and politics.

The queen-mother, ignorant of her son's marriage to Maria de Padilla, or deciding to ignore it, prevailed upon Pedro to ask for the hand of Blanche, the daughter of the Duke of Bourbon, and sister to Jeanne, wife to Charles, the heir of France. His request was granted, and the king sent his half-brother, the Master of Santiago, one of Leonora's sons, to fetch the bride to Spain. While this journey was being made, Pedro fell in love with one of the noble ladies in waiting of Dona Isabel of Albuquerque, and so great was his passion for this dark-eyed damsel that it was with difficulty that he could be prevailed upon to leave her and go to greet the French princess when she finally arrived in Valladolid. But he tore himself away, went to Blanche, and was married with great pomp and ceremony. Some had said before the marriage that Maria de Padilla must have bewitched Pedro, so great was his infatuation; and three days after the wedding a strange thing happened, which caused people to shake their heads again and suggest the interference of the powers of sorcery. For, after this short time, Pedro rode away from Valladolid and his new queen and went to Montalvao, where Maria de Padilla was waiting to receive him. Just what had happened, it is somewhat difficult to discover, and the story is told that the king, listening to scandalous talk, was made to believe that his royal messenger and half-brother, Fadrique, had played the role of Sir Tristram as he brought the lady back, and that she had been a somewhat willing Isolde. There were others who said that Blanche, knowing the king's volatile disposition and of his relations with the notorious Maria, had endeavored upon the eve of her marriage to seek aid from the arts of magic in her effort to win the love of her husband, and had obtained from a Jewish sorcerer a belt which she was told would make Pedro faithful, kind, and true. But the story goes on to say that this wizard had been bribed by Maria de Padilla; and when the king tried on the girdle which his wife presented, it forthwith was changed into a hideous serpent, which filled him with such disgust that he could no longer bear the sight of her. Don Alfonso of Albuquerque, who had first introduced Pedro to Maria de Padilla, now tried to take her away from him, in the hope that he might be prevailed upon to return to his wife, the unfortunate Blanche. This so angered the king that he resolved upon Don Alfonso's death, and if it had not been for the timely warning given by Maria, this gentleman would certainly have been assassinated. This action on Maria's part, however, was the occasion for a fresh outburst of anger; and Pedro left, wooed Dona Juana de Castro in stormy fashion, and induced her to marry him, on the statement that he had made a secret protest against Blanche and that the pope would soon annul this marriage. Thomas Hardy has said that the most delicate women get used to strange moral situations, and there must have been something of this in Juana's makeup, or she would never have been forced into so shameful a position; but, however that may be, she was made to rue the day, as the king left her the next morning for Maria, his Venus Victrix, and never went to see her again, although he gave her the town of Duefias and allowed her to be addressed as "queen." The chronicles of the time tell of the remarkable beauty of Maria and of the adulation she enjoyed in the heyday of her prosperity. As an instance of the extreme gallantry of the courtiers, we are informed that, with King Pedro, it was their custom to attend the lovely favorite at her bath and, upon her leaving it, to drink of its water.

The fate of Blanche was still hanging in the balance. Pedro, on leaving her so abruptly, had left orders that she be taken to his palace at Toledo, but Blanche, fearing to trust herself to his power, tried to slip from his grasp and finally succeeded in doing so. Arrived in Toledo, she asked permission, before entering the palace, to go to the cathedral, for mass; and once within the walls of the sanctuary, she refused to go back to her guards, demanded the right of protection which the churches had always possessed in the Middle Ages, and, finally, told her story with such dramatic effect, that the clergy crowded about her, the nobles unsheathed their swords and swore to uphold her cause, and a revolution was begun which soon assumed great proportions and so frightened Pedro that he consented to take back his wife and send away the baleful Maria. For four years his nobles kept stern watch over him, and he was never allowed to ride out of his palace without a guard of a thousand men at his heels, so fearful were they that he might break away from them, surround himself again with evil counsellors, and recommence his career of wantonness and crime. Their efforts were at last of no avail, as he eluded his followers one day upon a hunting expedition, through the kindly intervention of a heavy fog, rode off to Segovia, ordered his mother, who had been exercising a practical regency during this period, to send him the great seal of state, and then he proceeded to wreak vengeance upon all those who had been instrumental in his humiliation. Blanche was sent to prison at Medina-Sidonia on a trumped-up charge, was shamefully treated during the time of her captivity, and died in 1359, in the same year that Maria de Padilla, discredited and cast aside, also found rest in death. Pitiful as these stories are, they serve to show that women, even at this time, when Spain was the seat of learning and refinement for all Europe, were but the servants of their lords and masters, and that passion still ran riot, while justice sat upon a tottering seat.

In Aragon, near the close of this fourteenth century, similar scenes of cruelty were enacted, although the king, Juan I., cannot be compared for cruelty with the infamous Pedro. Burke has said that if Pedro was not absolutely the most cruel of men, he was undoubtedly the greatest blackguard who ever sat upon a throne, and King Juan was far from meriting similar condemnation. Sibyl de Foix, his stepmother, had exercised so strange and wonderful a power over his father, that when Juan came to the throne he was more than eager to turn upon this enchantress and make her render up the wide estates which the late king had been prevailed upon to leave to her. It is actually asserted that Juan charged Sibyl with witchcraft and insisted that she had bewitched his father and that she had all sorts of mysterious dealings with Satan and his evil spirits. Whatever the truth may have been, the unhappy queen only escaped torture and death by surrendering all of the property which had been given her. Juan was by no means a misogynist, however, for he was noted for his gallantry, and his beautiful queen, Violante, was surrounded by a bevy of court beauties who were famed throughout all Christendom at this time. Juan's capital at Saragossa was the talk of all Europe. It became famed for its elegance, was a veritable school of good manners and courtly grace, and to it flocked poets and countless gentlemen who were knightly soldiers of fortune, only too willing to serve a noble patron who knew how to appreciate the value of their chivalry. Violante was the acknowledged leader of this gay and brilliant world; at her instigation courts of love are said to have been established, and in every way did she try to reproduce the brilliant social life which had been the wonder and admiration of the world before Simon de Montfort had blighted the fair life of Provence. More than ever before in Spain, women were put into positions of prominence in this court; and so great was the poetic and literary atmosphere which surrounded them, that they were known more than once to try their hands at verse making. Their attempts were modest, however, and no one has ever been tempted to quote against them Alphonse Karr's well-known epigram: "A woman who writes, commits two sins: she increases the number of books, and she decreases the number of women;" for they were content, for the most part, to be the source of inspiration for their minstrel knights. Violante's gay court was looked upon with questioning eye, however, by the majority of her rude subjects, and, finally, when the sum demanded from the Cortes each year for the maintenance of this brilliant establishment continued to increase in a most unreasonable manner, the Cortes called a halt, Violante was obliged to change her mode of life, and the number of her ladies in waiting was reduced by half, while other unnecessary expenses were cut in proportion.



Chapter XVII

The Age of Isabella—Spanish Unity

In the first half of the fifteenth century in Spain there was one woman, Isabella of Portugal, who deserves to be remembered for her many good qualities and for the fact that she was the mother of the great Queen Isabella. It was as the wife of John II. of Castile that the elder Isabella was brought into the political life of the time and made to play her part. This King John was one of the weakest and in some ways the most inefficient of monarchs, for, in spite of his intelligence, his good manners, and his open and substantial appreciation of the learned men of his time, his political life was contemptible, as he was completely under the control of the court favorite, Alvaro de Luna. Alvaro de Luna era el hombre mas politico, disimulado, y astuto de su tiempo [Alvaro de Luna was the most politic, deceitful, and astute man of his time], so says the Spanish historian Quintana; and as Burke puts it, he had the strongest head and the bravest heart in all Castile. There was no one to excel him in knightly sport, no one lived in greater magnificence, and he was, in truth, "the glass of fashion, the mould of form, the observed of all observers." To this perfect knight, the king was a mere puppet who could be moved this way or that with perfect impunity. So complete was the ascendency of Luna, that it is said on good authority that the king hesitated to go to bed until he had received his favorite's permission. When King John's first wife, Maria of Portugal, died in 1445, it was his desire to marry a princess of the royal house of France; but, for his own reasons, the Lord of Luna willed otherwise, and the king, submissive, obeyed orders and espoused Isabella of Portugal, a granddaughter of King John I. No sooner had this fiery princess taken her place beside King John, after their marriage in 1450, than she began to assert her independence in a way which caused great scandal at the court and brought dismay to the heart of Alvaro de Luna. Isabella opposed the plans of this masterful nobleman at every turn, refused to accept his dictation about the slightest matter, declined to make terms with him in any way, and declared herself entirely beyond his control, in spite of the fact that he had been responsible for her marriage. King John was at first as much surprised as any of the other people at the boldness of his young queen, but he soon saw that it would be possible, with Isabella's aid, to throw off the hateful yoke which Luna had put about his neck, and this is what took place in a very short time. The queen was more than a match for all who opposed her, court intrigues, instigated by Luna, were to no avail, and in the end he had to give up, beaten by a woman, and one whom he had hoped to make his agent, or ally, in the further subjection of the king. A year after the marriage of John and Isabella, the Princess Isabella was born, and with her advent there came new hope for Spain.

In the neighboring little kingdom of Navarre there was another princess who lived at about the same time, who distinguished herself not by the same boldness of manner perhaps, but by a quiet dignity, and by a wise and temperate spirit which was often sorely tried. Blanche, Princess of Navarre, had been married in 1419 to the Prince of Aragon, John; but in the early years of their married life, before Navarre, the substantial part of Blanche's marriage portion, came under her definite control, the young prince spent the most of his time in Castile, where he was connected with many of the court intrigues which were being woven around the romantic figure of Alvaro de Luna. Finally, Blanche became Queen of Navarre, upon her father's death in 1425, but John was still too much concerned with his Castilian affairs to care to leave them and come to take his place at the side of his wife's throne. For three years Blanche was left to her own devices, and during that time she ruled her little state without the aid or assistance of king or prime minister, and was so eminently successful in all her undertakings that her capacity was soon a matter of favorable comment. Finally, in 1428, John was forced to leave Castile, as Luna had gained the upper hand for the moment, and he considered this as a favorable opportunity to go to Navarre and gain recognition as Queen Blanche's husband. Accordingly, he went in great state to Pamplona, the capital city, and there, with imposing ceremonies, the public and official coronation of John and Blanche was celebrated. At the same time, Blanche's son Charles was recognized as his mother's successor in her ancestral kingdom. But Navarre was not a congenial territory for King John, who was of a restless, impulsive disposition; and he was so bored by the provincial gayety of Pamplona that after a very short stay he could endure it no longer, and set off for Italy, leaving Blanche in entire control as before. Navarre was a sort of halfway ground between France and the various governments of Spain, and was often the centre of much intrigue and plotted treachery; but John was so completely overshadowed now by Luna's almost absolute power, that he knew there was no field for his activity at home. Blanche, however, was confronted more than once by the most delicate situations, as her good city of Pamplona was constantly filled with the agents of foreign powers; but so firm was the queen's character, and so careful were her judgments, that she was able to administer her government until her death, in 1441, with much success and very little criticism.

The next woman to occupy a conspicuous place in the annals of Aragon and Navarre is Dona Juana Henriquez, the second wife of this same John II. Dona Juana was the daughter of Don Fadrique Henriquez, Admiral of Castile, who had become the most influential man in the kingdom during a moment of temporary disgrace for Alvaro de Luna; and at this time of his success, for factional reasons, John considered that an alliance with the admiral might further his own plans with respect to Castile. This second wife was not a woman of high birth, and was totally unaccustomed to the new surroundings in which she found herself placed; but with the quick adaptive power which is possessed by women to so marked a degree, Juana was soon able to hold her own at court and to make a good showing, in fact, on any occasion. She was a very beautiful woman, of the traditional Spanish type, with dark eyes and dark hair, and a very engaging manner, and to her cleverness she joined a great ambition which made her unceasing in her efforts for her husband's advancement. She was inclined to be haughty and domineering in tone, was not overscrupulous, as might have been expected of one who had lived in the atmosphere of the Castilian court at this time, and the sum total of her efforts did little more than to perpetuate the period of strife and turmoil. The admiral, Don Fadrique, was in control for but a short time; and upon the return to power of Alvaro, John was driven out of the country, after being wounded in battle, and the admiral himself was killed in the fighting at Olmedo. John took his wife with him to Pamplona, where he now went, as that city offered him a most convenient exile. His return to his wife's country was not made in peace, for no sooner had he arrived than he proceeded to dispossess his son Charles, who had been openly acknowledged as his mother's heir at the time of her coronation. In the warfare which ensued, and which was a snarl of petty, selfish interests, Juana did yeoman service in her husband's cause. At the time of her hurried flight to Navarre, she had tarried for a short time in the little town of Sos, in Aragon, and there she had given birth to a son, Fernando, who was to be instrumental in bringing peace and glory to Spain in spite of the fact that he first saw the light in the midst of such tumult and confusion. Notwithstanding her delicate condition, Juana was soon in the thick of the fray, as she hastened to the town of Estella, which had been threatened, fortified the place, and defended it effectually from all the attacks made upon it by the hostile forces. She seems to have been a born fighter, and, though her efforts may often have been misdirected, she must have exerted a powerful influence upon the mind of her son, who was to show himself at a later day as good a fighter in a larger cause.

To turn back to Castile now for a time, in the labyrinth of this much involved period, where the duplication of names and the multiplicity of places makes it difficult to thread one's way intelligently, it will be found that the court, during the reign of Henry IV., was chiefly distinguished by its scandalous immorality. Quintana, in his volume entitled the Grandezas de Madrid, gives enough information on the subject to reveal the fact that the roues of that period could learn little from their counterparts to-day, as the most shameless proceedings were of everyday occurrence, and men and women both seemed to vie with each other in their wickedness. It would be somewhat unjust to include the great body of the people in this vicious class, as the most conspicuous examples of human degradation and degeneracy were to be found at the court, but the fact remains that public ideas in regard to moral questions were very lax; the clergy was corrupt, and the moral tone of the whole country was deplorably low, as judged by the standards of to-day. Women deceived their husbands with much the same relish as Boccaccio depicts in his Decameron; passions were everywhere the moving forces, in the higher and lower classes as well, and nowhere was there to be seen the continence which comes from an intelligent self-control.

In the midst of this carnival of vice and corruption, King Henry, the older brother of the Princess Isabella, was a most striking figure. He had been divorced from his first wife, Blanche of Aragon, on the ground of impotence, but had succeeded, in spite of this humiliation, in contracting another alliance, this time with the beautiful, but not overscrupulous, Juana of Portugal. Beltran de Cueva, a brilliant nobleman, was the favorite and influential person at the court at this time, and his gradual rise to favor had been due in no small measure to the protection of the new queen, who was Beltran's all but acknowledged mistress and took no pains to conceal the matter at any time. In fact, at a great tournament held near Madrid in 1461, soon after Juana's arrival at the court, Beltran posed as her preferred champion, and held the lists against all comers in defence of his mistress's preeminent and matchless beauty. The king was far from displeased at this liaison between Beltran and the queen, and he was so delighted at the knight's unvarying success in this tournament, that the story goes that he founded a monastery upon the spot and named it, in honor of Saint Jerome and Beltran, San Geronimo del Paso, or of the "passage of arms"! The king was little moved by all this, for the simple reason that he was paying a most ardent court at the same time to one of the queen's ladies in waiting. This Lady Guiomar, his mistress, was beautiful, but bold and vicious, as her relations with such a king demonstrate, but for a time at least she was riding upon the crest of the wave. Proud in her questionable honor, and daring to be jealous of the real queen, she made King Henry pay dearly for her favors, and she was soon installed in a palace of her own and living in a splendor and magnificence which rivalled that of the queen herself. The Archbishop of Seville, strange to relate, openly espoused her cause. Her insolent and domineering ways were a fit counterpart to those of the queen, and the unfortunate people were soon making open complaint. Beltran, the king in fact, was the open and accepted favorite of the queen, and Henry, the king in name only, was devoting himself to a vain and shallow court beauty who wished to be a veritable queen and longed for the overthrow of her rival! Such was the sad spectacle presented to the world by Castile at this time, but the crisis was soon to come which would clarify the air and lead to a more satisfactory condition in the state. Matters were hastened to their climax when the queen gave birth, in 1462, to a daughter who was called after her mother, Juana; but so evident was the paternity of this pitiful little princess, that she was at once christened La Beltraneja in common parlance; and by that sobriquet she is best known in history. It is doubtful if the sluggish moral natures of this time would have been moved by this fact, if the king had not insisted that this baby girl should be acknowledged as his daughter and heiress to the crown of Castile. This was too much for the leaders of the opposition, and they demanded that Henry's younger brother, Alfonso, be recognized as his successor. This proposition brought about civil warfare, which was ended by Alfonso's death in 1468, and then Isabella was generally recognized as the real successor to her unworthy brother Henry, in spite of the claims he continued to put forth in favor of La Beltraneja.

Before the cessation of domestic hostilities, Isabella had been sorely tried by various projects which had been advanced for her marriage. She had been brought up by her mother, Queen Isabella, in the little town of Arevalo, which had been settled upon her at the time of the death of her husband, King John II. There, in quiet and seclusion, quite apart from the vice and tumult of the capital, the little princess had been under the close tutelage of the Church, as her mother had grown quite devout with advancing years; and as Isabella ripened into womanhood, it became evident that she possessed a high seriousness and a strength of character quite unusual. Still, all was uncertain as to her fate. Her brother Henry had first endeavored to marry her to Alfonso V. of Portugal, the elder and infamous brother of his own shameless queen, but Isabella had declined this alliance on the ground that it had not been properly ratified by the Cortes of Castile, and as a result the plan was soon dropped. In the midst of the rebellion which had broken out after Henry's attempt to foist La Beltraneja upon the state, he had proposed as a conciliatory measure that one of the most turbulent of the factional leaders, Don Pedro Giron, Grand Master of Calatrava, should wed Isabella, and the offer had been accepted. This man, who was old enough to be her father, was stained with vice, in spite of his exalted position in the religious Order of Calatrava, and his character was so notoriously vile that the mere mention of such an alliance was nothing short of insult to Isabella. Again she did not allow herself to be dominated by her brother, and after announcing that she utterly refused to consent to such an arrangement, she shut herself up in her apartments and declared her intention of resisting any attempts which might be made to coerce her. But the king gave no heed to her remonstrances, and made arrangements for the wedding festivities, the bridegroom having been summoned. The pope had absolved the profligate grand master from his vows of celibacy, which he had never kept, and poor Isabella, sustained only by the moral support of her courageous mother, was beginning to quake and tremble, as she knew not what might happen, and the prospect for her future happiness was far from good. A providential illness overcame the dreaded bridegroom when he was less than forty leagues from Madrid, as it turned out, and Isabella was able to breathe again freely.

With the death of the younger Alfonso, there were many who urged Isabella to declare herself at once as the Queen of Castile and to head a revolution against her brother, the unworthy Henry. Her natural inclinations, as well as the whole character of her early education, had made her devout, almost bigoted, by nature, and it was but natural that her advisers at this time in her career were mostly members of the clergy, who saw in this young queen-to-be a great support for the Spanish Church in the future. But this girl of sixteen was wiser than her advisers, for she refused to head a revolution, and contented herself with a claim to the throne upon her brother's death. Such a claim necessarily had to run counter to the claim of the dubious Princess Juana, and to discredit her cause as much as possible her sobriquet La Beltraneja was zealously revived. Sure of the support of the clergy, and still wishing to be near to her advisers, Isabella went to the monastery at Avila, where, it is said, deputations from all parts of Castile came to entreat her to assume the crown at once. Her policy of delay made possible an interview between sister and brother, at which Henry, unable to withstand the manifest current of public sentiment, agreed to accept Isabella as his successor and as the lawful heir to the throne of Castile. With this question settled in this satisfactory way, the matter of Isabella's marriage again became an affair of national importance. There were suitors in plenty, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, brother of Edward IV. of England, and the Duke of Guienne, brother of Louis XI. and heir to the French throne, being among the number; but the young Isabella, influenced as much by policy as by any personal feeling in the matter, had decided that she would wed Fernando, son of John II. of Aragon and his second wife, the dashing Dona Juana Henriquez, and nothing would change her from this fixed purpose. In a former day it had been a woman, Queen Berenguela, who had labored long and successfully for the union of Castile and Leon; and now another woman, this time a girl still in her teens, was laboring for a still greater Spanish unity, which will consolidate the interests of the two kingdoms of Aragon and Castile and give to all Spain the peace which was now such a necessity to the future well-being of the country. There were numerous obstacles thrown in the way of this marriage, which was not pleasing to all of the Castilian factions. The Archbishop of Seville tried to kidnap Isabella to prevent it, and would have done so but for the activity of another prelate, the Archbishop of Toledo, who rescued the unfortunate maiden and carried her off to sure friends in Valladolid, where she awaited Fernando's coming.

Burke gives an admirable description of Isabella at this time, in the following lines: "That royal and noble lady was then in the full bloom of her maiden beauty. She had just completed her eighteenth year. In stature somewhat superior to the majority of her countrywomen, and inferior to none in personal grace and charm, her golden hair and her bright blue eyes told perhaps of her Lancastrian ancestry. Her beauty was remarkable in a land where beauty has never been rare; her dignity was conspicuous in a country where dignity is the heritage not of a class but of a nation. Of her courage, no less than of her discretion, she had already given abundant proofs. Bold and resolute, modest and reserved, she had all the simplicity of a great lady born for a great position. She became in after life something of an autocrat and overmuch of a bigot. But it could not be laid to the charge of a persecuted princess of nineteen that she was devoted to the service of her religion." Such was Isabella when she married Fernando; and the wedding was quietly celebrated at Valladolid, in the house of a friend, Don Juan de Vivero, while the warlike Archbishop of Toledo had charge of the ceremony. Never was there a simpler royal wedding in all the annals of Spanish history: there was no throng of gay nobles, there were none of the customary feasts or tournaments, there was no military display, no glitter of jewels, no shimmer of silks and satins, but all was quiet and serious, and the few guests at this solemn consecration seemed impressed with the dignity of the occasion. The pathway of the young princess was not all strewn with roses, however, as her marriage seemed to enrage her degenerate brother and to stimulate him to new deeds of unworthiness. In spite of the fact that King Henry's shameless conduct in private life had been given a severe rebuke, by implication at least, at the time that Isabella was being urged on all sides to declare herself as queen and dispossess her brother, this perverted monarch continued his profligate career in most open fashion. He had not only one mistress but many of them at the court, he loaded them with riches and with favors, and often, in a somewhat questionable excess of religious zeal, he appointed them to posts of honor and importance in conventual establishments! No sooner had Isabella's wedding been celebrated than Henry began to stir up trouble again, declared that the queen's daughter, La Beltraneja, was the only lawful heir to his estates, and to further his projects he succeeded in arranging for a betrothal ceremony between this young woman and the young Duke of Guienne, heir presumptive to the crown of France, who had been one of Isabella's suitors, as will be remembered. This French alliance, threatening for a moment, was soon impaired by the unexpected death of the young duke, and Isabella's position was strengthened daily by the growing disbelief in La Beltraneja's legitimacy. To give in detail an account of all the plots which were concocted against Isabella would take many chapters in itself, for she met with bitter opposition in spite of the fact that she seems to have won the sympathies of the larger part of the population of the two countries.

In the midst of this continual intrigue came the news of King Henry's death in 1474, and then Isabella, who had been biding her time, was proclaimed queen by her own orders, and the proclamation was made at Segovia, which was then her place of residence. As a mere matter of curiosity, it may be interesting to record the long list of titles which actually belonged to Isabella at this time. She was Queen of Castile, Aragon, Leon, Sicily, Granada, Toledo, Valencia, Galicia, the Mallorcas, Seville, Sardinia, Cordova, Corsica, Murcia, Jaen, the Algarves, Alguynias, Gibraltar, the Canary Islands, Countess of Barcelona, Sovereign Lady of Biscay and Molina, Duchess of Athens and Neopatria, Countess of Roussillon, Cerdagne, Marchioness of Ovistan and Goziano! After assuming the heavy burden implied by this somewhat overpowering list of titles, the young queen's first serious annoyance came from her husband, strange as the case may seem. Fernando of Aragon was the nearest living male representative of King Henry, and he somewhat selfishly began to take steps to supplant Isabella in her succession. Little did he know his wife, however, if he imagined it possible to deprive her of Castile, and events soon showed that she was the stronger of the two. At her orders, the laws and precedents with regard to royal succession were carefully examined, and it was soon published abroad that there was no legal objection to her assumption of power. Fernando was appeased to some degree by certain concessions made by his wife, their daughter Juana was recognized as heiress of Castile, and, all in all, in spite of his disgruntled state of mind, he wisely concluded to remain at Isabella's side and help to fight her battles. A new cause for alarm soon appeared: another of Isabella's former suitors, Alfonso, King of Portugal, was affianced to the pitiful La Beltraneja, the two were proclaimed King and Queen of Castile, and the country was at once invaded by a hostile force. Isabella interested herself personally in the equipment of her troops, she faced every emergency bravely, and after a short campaign her banners were triumphant and all things seemed to indicate that an era of peace had been begun. The pope dissolved the marriage between Alfonso and La Beltraneja soon after, and these two unhappy mortals forthwith retired from the world, she to the convent of Saint Clare at Coimbra, while the poor king resigned his crown and became a Franciscan monk. So great, in fact, was Isabella's victory at this time, and so keen was her appreciation of the fact that her greatest cause for alarm had been completely removed from the scene of action, that she walked barefooted in a procession to the church of Saint Paul at Tordesillas, to express her feeling of thanksgiving for her great success.

Following close upon the heels of this last stroke of good fortune for Castile came the news that the old King of Aragon, Fernando's father, was dead, and now, in truth, came that unity of Spain which had been the dream of more than one Utopian mind in days gone by. With fortune smiling upon them in so many ways, the sovereigns of this united realm were still confronted by many serious problems of government, especially in Castile, which called for speedy settlement. The long years of weak and vicious administration had filled the country with all kinds of abuses, and the task of internal improvement was difficult enough to cause even a stouter heart to quail. The queen in all these matters displayed a rare sagacity and developed a rare faculty for handling men which stood her in good stead. The recalcitrant nobles and the rebellious commoners were all brought to terms by her influence, and her power was soon unquestioned. She had an army at her back and a crowd of officers ready to carry out and enforce her instructions to the letter, but, more than all this, her great and personal triumph was the result of her tremendous personal power and magnetism. She travelled all over Spain in a most tireless fashion, she met the people in a familiar manner, and showed her sympathy for them in countless ways; but there was always about her something of that divinity which doth hedge a king, which made all both fear and respect her. No nook or corner of the whole country was too remote, her visits covered the whole realm, and everywhere it was plain to see that her coming had been followed by the most satisfactory results. Having thus created a great and mighty public sentiment in her favor, Isabella was not slow to attack the great questions of national reforms, which were sadly in need of her attention. She boldly curtailed the privileges of the grandees of Spain, and to such good effect that she transformed, in an incredibly short space of time, the most turbulent aristocracy on the continent into a body of devoted and submissive retainers, the counterpart of which was not to be found in any other country of Europe. Her wide grasp of affairs is seen in the support she was willing to give to Columbus in his voyage overseas, and time and time again she showed herself equal to the most trying situations in a way which was most surprising in one of her age and experience. Her firmness of character was ever felt, although her manners were always mild and her whole attitude was calculated to conciliate rather than to antagonize.

Pure and discreet in every way, Isabella was ever a zealous Christian, and she never failed to aid the Church when the means were within her reach. The gradual decline of the Moorish power in Spain had given rise to a most unfortunate spirit of religious intolerance, with which Isabella was soon called upon to deal, and her action in this matter is but characteristic of the time in which she lived. Spain was filled with Jews, who had settled unmolested under the Moslem rule, and there were also many Moriscoes, or people of mixed Spanish and Moorish origin; and these unfortunates were now to be submitted to the tortures of that diabolical institution known as the Inquisition, because they were not enthusiastic in their support of the Catholic religion. Isabella tried to oppose the introduction of these barbarous practices into Castile, but by specious argument her scruples were overcome and she was made to bow to the will of the pope and his legates. In the workings of the Inquisition little distinction was made between men and women, and both seem to have suffered alike at the hands of these cruel ministers of the Church. In 1498, for the first time, it was decreed that men and women held under arrest by order of the inquisitor should be provided with separate prisons, and it is easy to imagine from this one statement that Isabella must have been very much of a bigot, or she could not have allowed so flagrant an abuse to exist for any length of time, no matter what the occasion for it. When the power of the inquisitor seemed about to extend to the Jews for the first time, they offered to Fernando and Isabella thirty thousand pieces of silver, for the final campaigns against the Moors, if they might be allowed to live unmolested. The proposition was being favorably entertained, when Torquemada, the chief inquisitor, suddenly appeared before the king and queen, with a crucifix in his uplifted hand; and if the traditional account be true, he addressed them in these words: "Judas sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver, your highnesses are about to do the same for thirty thousand; behold Him, take Him, and hasten to sell Him." Impressed by this dramatic presentation of the subject, Isabella was impelled to sign the decrees which banished the Jews from Spain and led to so much slaughter and persecution. All of this side of Isabella's character causes some expression of surprise perhaps, but it must be remembered that her religious zeal and enthusiasm were such that anyone who dared to oppose the power of Rome in any way could have no claim upon her of any kind.

This same trait of character is everywhere prominent in Isabella's treatment of the Moors. In the year 1487 the important Moorish city of Malaga was compelled finally to surrender to the armies of Fernando and Isabella after a most heroic defence, but these Christian rulers could feel no pity for their unfortunate captives, and were unwilling to show any sense of appreciation of their valor. Accordingly, the whole population of some fifteen thousand people was sold into slavery and scattered throughout Europe! Prescott, in his history of the time of Fernando and Isabella, states that the clergy in the Spanish camp wanted to have the whole population put to the sword, but to this Isabella would not consent. Burke gives the following details with regard to the fate of all these prisoners of war: "A hundred choice warriors were sent as a gift to the pope. Fifty of the most beautiful girls were presented to the Queen of Naples, thirty more to the Queen of Portugal, others to the ladies of her court, and the residue of both sexes were portioned off among the nobles, the knights, and the common soldiers of the army, according to their rank and influence." If Isabella showed herself tender-hearted in not allowing a regular massacre of these poor Moors, she was far less compassionate with regard to the Jews and the renegade Christians who were within the walls of Malaga when the city was taken. These poor unfortunates were burned at the stake, and Albarca, a contemporary Church historian, in describing the scene, says that these awful fires were "illuminations most grateful to the Catholic piety of Fernando and Isabella."

Isabella shows this same general mental temper in her whole attitude to war and warlike deeds, for she seems to have possessed little of that real sentiment or pity which women are supposed to show. Tolstoi has said that the first and chief thing that should be looked for in a woman is fear, but this remark cannot be applied in any way to Isabella, for no fear was ever found in her. In the camp at Granada, in those last days of struggle, the queen appeared on the field daily, superbly mounted, and dressed in complete armor; and she gave much time to the inspection of the quarters of the soldiers and reviewed the troops at her pleasure. One day she said, in talking to some of her officers, that she would like to go nearer to the city walls for a closer inspection of the place, whereupon a small escort of chosen men was immediately detailed to take the queen to a better point for observing the city and its means of defence. They all advanced boldly, the queen in the front rank, and so angered the Moors by their insolence, so small was their party, that the gates of the city suddenly opened and a large body of citizens came forth to punish them for their temerity. In spite of the unequal numbers, the Christian knights, inspired by the presence and the coolness of their queen, who was apparently unmoved by the whole scene, performed such miracles of valor that two thousand Moors were slain in a short time and their fellows compelled to retire in confusion.

With the conquest of the Moors, the spreading of the influence of Spain beyond the seas became a more immediate question. Its solution, however, was still prevented by the theories of statesmen and theologians. Columbus had won the queen to his cause during the famous audience at the summer court at Salamanca, when he was presented to the sovereigns by Cardinal de Mendoza, at which interview, we are told, he "had no eyes for any potentate but Isabella." But after years of disappointment to Columbus, the queen was again the great power to further his project: she offered to pledge her crown jewels to defray the cost of the expedition. Thus a speedy issue was obtained, and to Isabella's determination Spain owes a glory which gilds the reign of this queen with imperishable lustre.



Chapter XVIII

The Women of the Sixteenth Century

The wealth which had come to Spain as the result of her conquests in Moorish territory, and, far more, the treasure which was beginning to pour into the country from the new Spanish possessions beyond the seas, brought to the old peninsula a possibility for lavish and brilliant display in dress which was by no means disregarded. All Europe, in this same period of the Renaissance, had been undergoing to a greater or less degree this social transformation, but the looms of Valencia and Granada furnished the silks and brocades which other countries bought with eagerness, and Spain may be considered very properly as the home of all this courtly show. The wonderful gold cloths which were woven by the deft fingers of the Moriscoes were everywhere prized by fine ladies and ardent churchmen, for there was no finer material for a fetching robe of state in all the world, and no altar cloth or priestly robe could possess excelling beauty and not owe a debt to Spain. Someone has said that women are compounds of plain-sewing and make-believe, daughters of Sham and Hem, and, without questioning the truth of the statement, the same remark might be applied to both the clergy and the women of this period at least, if "fine-sewing" be substituted for "plain-sewing" in the epigram. Isabella herself, in spite of her well-known serious character, dressed in a way which was magnificent beyond belief, and the smallest provincial court was a marvel of brave array. Never had the women adorned themselves so splendidly before, the fashions were made and followed with much scrupulous precision, and so great was the sum of money expended by people of all classes, high and low, that the far-seeing and prudent began to fear the consequences. It is said that on more than one occasion the Cortes deplored the prevalent extravagance and the foolish pride which made even the laboring classes vie in richness of dress with the nobility, "whereby they not only squander their own estate, but bring poverty and want to all." When, however, Fernando and Isabella discovered that gold was being used in large amounts in the weaving of these costly tissues, they issued an order which not only prohibited the wearing of this finery, but inflicted heavy penalties upon all those who should import, sell, or manufacture any textures containing gold or silver threads!

While Her Most Catholic Majesty was issuing edicts of this kind relating to the material affairs of life, it must not be supposed that she was in any way neglecting the humanities, for the truth is quite the contrary. Never before had such encouragement been given to learning by a Spanish sovereign, and never before had there been so little jealousy of foreigners in the matter of scholarship. Isabella was the leader in this broad movement, and from all parts of Europe she summoned distinguished men in science and literature, who were installed at her court in positions of honor or were given chairs in the universities. The final expulsion of the Moors had brought about an era of peace and quiet which was much needed, as Spain had been rent by so much warfare and domestic strife, and for so many years, that the more solid attainments in literature had been much neglected, and the Spanish nobles were covered with but a polite veneer of worldly information and knowledge which too often cracked and showed the rough beneath. Isabella endeavored to change this state of affairs, and by her own studies, and by her manifest interest in the work of the schools, she soon succeeded in placing learning in a position of high esteem, even among the nobles, who did not need it for their advancement in the world. Paul Jove wrote: "No Spaniard was accounted noble who was indifferent to learning;" and so great was the queen's influence, that more than one scion of a noble house was glad to enter upon a scholarly career and hold a university appointment. It may well be imagined that in all this new intellectual movement which was stimulated by Isabella, it was the sober side of literature and of scholarship which was encouraged, as a light and vain thing such as lyric poetry would have been as much out of place in the court of the firm defender of the Catholic faith as the traditional bull in the traditional china shop. Isabella, under priestly influences, favored and furthered the revival of interest in the study of Greek and Latin, and it is in this realm of classical study that the scholars of the time were celebrated.

The power of example is a wonderful thing always, and in the present instance the direct results of Isabella's interest in education may be seen in the fact that many of the women of her day began to show an unusual interest in schools and books. The opportunities for an education were not limited to the members of the sterner sex, and it appears that both men and women were eager to take advantage of the many new opportunities which were afforded them at this epoch. A certain Dona Beatriz de Galindo was considered the greatest Latin scholar among the women of her time, and for several years her praises were sounded in all the universities. Finally, Dona Beatriz was appointed special teacher in the Latin language to the queen herself; and so great was her success with this royal pupil, that she was rewarded with the title la Latina, by which she was commonly known ever after. According to a Spanish proverb, "the best counsel is that of a woman," and surely Isabella acted upon that supposition. This is not all, however, for not only was a woman called to give lessons to the queen, but women were intrusted with important university positions, which they filled with no small credit to themselves. Good Dr. Holmes has said: "Our ice-eyed brain-women are really admirable if we only ask of them just what they can give and no more," but the bluestockings of Isabella's day were by no means ice-eyed or limited in their accomplishments, and they managed to combine a rare grace and beauty of the dark southern type with a scholarship which was most unusual, all things taken into consideration. Dona Francisca de Lebrija, a daughter of the great Andalusian humanist Antonio de Lebrija, followed her father's courses in the universities of Seville, Salamanca, and Alcala, and finally, in recognition of her great talents, she was invited to lecture upon rhetoric before the Alcala students. At Salamanca, too, there was a liberal spirit shown toward women, and there it was that Dona Lucia de Medrano delivered a course of most learned lectures upon classical Latinity. These are merely the more illustrious among the learned women of the time, and must not be considered as the only cases on record. Educational standards for the majority of both men and women were not high, as a matter of course, and, from the very nature of things, there were more learned men than learned women; but the fact remains that Isabella's position in the whole matter, her desire to learn and her desire to give other women the same opportunity and the same desire, did much to encourage an ambition of this kind among the wives and daughters of Spain. The queen was a conspicuous incarnation of woman's possibilities, and her enlightened views did much to broaden the feminine horizon. Where she led the way others dared to follow, and the net result was a distinct advance in national culture.

In spite of all this intellectual advance, the game of politics was still being played, and women were still, in more than one instance, the unhappy pawns upon the board who were sacrificed from time to time in the interest of some important move. The success of Spanish unity had aroused Spanish ambition, Fernando and Isabella had arranged political marriages for their children, and the sixteenth century was to show that, in one instance at least, this practical and utilitarian view of the marriage relation brought untold misery and hardship to one poor Spanish princess. In each case the royal alliances which were contracted by the Spanish rulers for their various children were the subject of much careful planning and negotiation, and yet, in spite of it all, these measures constitute the most conspicuous failure in all their long reign. Particularly pathetic and distressing is the story of the poor Princess Juana, whose prospects were most brilliant and whose destiny was most cruel. Juana was married in 1496 to the Archduke Philip of Austria, Governor of the Netherlands and heir to the great domain of his father, the Emperor Maximilian, and the wedding had been celebrated in a most gorgeous fashion. It was in the month of August that a splendid Spanish fleet set out from Laredo, a little port between Bilbao and Santander, to carry the Spanish maiden to her waiting bridegroom. As is usual in such affairs, the beauty of the girl had been much extolled, and the archduke, then in his eighteenth year, was all aglow with hope and expectation. Watchmen had been posted to keep a lookout for the ships from Spain, and when they finally came in sight with their glistening white sails and their masts and spars all gay with flags and streamers, salutes were fired and they received a royal welcome. The Spanish admiral in person led the Princess Juana to meet her affianced husband, and soon after, in the great cathedral at Lille, the two young people were married in the midst of great festivities. It seems almost pitiful to think of the human side of all this great and glittering show. Juana was barely seventeen years of age, alone, without mother or father or sister or brother, in a strange land, in the midst of a strange court, where all about her were speaking a strange language, and the wife of a youth whom she had never seen until the eve of her marriage! For a few long weeks Juana was somewhat reserved in her new surroundings, and in her heart she longed again for Spain; but as the days passed she became accustomed to her new home, took pleasure in the greater liberty which was now accorded her as a married woman, and soon, neglected by her parents, so far as any show of affection was concerned, she learned to grow indifferent to them and to all their interests. By the year 1500, however, Juana had become a most important person, as death had claimed her brother and her older sisters and she now remained the rightful heir not only to Aragon, but to her mother's realm of Castile as well. This fact caused much uneasiness in Spain, as such an outcome was most unexpected. Secret agents who had been sent to Flanders to inquire into the political and religious views of the archduchess brought back most discouraging reports. It was asserted that she was no longer a careful Catholic, that she "had little or no devotion," and that she was "in the hands of worthless clerics from Paris." As a matter of fact, Juana, once freed from the ecclesiastical restraints which had been imposed upon her in her younger days by her pious mother, did what it was most natural for her to do,—she went to the opposite extreme. Spain, at that time, with its Inquisition and its fervid zeal for Rome, was the most religious country in Europe, while in the Netherlands there was a growing liberal spirit which attracted the archduchess. It must have been annoying to her to feel that her mother, Isabella, was in a constant fret about the condition of her soul, while otherwise she was treated with a distant formality, entirely devoid of a mother's love, and it is no small wonder that she refused to accept a spiritual director and father confessor who had been sent from Spain to save her from perdition.